#who gets in her way to justify her means) which she has been doing. and no good she has done is from the kindness of her heart.

[cathodic-clairvoyant]

There's a lot about discussion of hdwr that baffles me (not all discussion to be clear, because i do think there's a lot of good discussion about hdwr. But equally so are there the ones that make you wonder if you're reading the same story) and I think one that is especially annoying is the constant infantilization of miwa as this passive eternal victim. It drives me up a wall because this is quite literally an issue she's struggled with within the text of the story! She had an arc about how she dislikes how people treat her this way like towards the beginning of the story! And like even ignoring that, this story is about like nuanced and realistic portrayals of being in relationships and learning how to navigate them and so it's like what's the point if you're going to immediately reduce the characters to "the victim" and "the victimizers?" Is that even interesting? Is that a useful lens to look at interpersonal relationships?

[n1ghtwarden]

she won the idgaf war in the shadowfell

[please-picturemeintheweeds]

..

[lizziesangel]

can you do another one shot of introverted reader and extroverted qb Rafe and he just follows her around and still crushes on her and then he like asks her out or something you can make this in your own way

finally part two!! ⟢ part one

as the self-defense unit wraps up, you and lana grab your things and head toward the locker rooms. the air between you is lighter now, the drills and awkward encounters behind you—for the moment, at least. lana nudges you with her shoulder, her mischievous grin already in place.

“did you see what happened to jason in the middle of class?” she asks, barely containing her laughter. “i mean, secondhand embarrassment doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

you stifle a laugh, glancing over at her. “what did he think was going to happen? asking mia out in the middle of the drills? who even does that?”

lana throws her hands up dramatically. “exactly! like, dude, we’re learning how to escape a chokehold, and he’s over here trying to escape the friend zone. bad timing, jason. bad. timing.”

you snort, unable to hold back your amusement. “and then mia’s face? she looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole.”

“she didn’t even say anything! she just shook her head and walked away!” lana cackles, practically doubling over as she recalls the moment. “poor guy stood there for a solid ten seconds, looking like he’d just been hit by a bus.”

“it was funny,” you admit, “but also kind of sad. like, imagine building up all that courage just to get publicly rejected.”

lana shakes her head, still giggling. “i mean, yeah, i felt bad for him. for, like, half a second. but you have to admit, it was iconic. mia didn’t even blink.”

you laugh, the image replaying in your mind, but then lana’s smirk takes on a different edge. she gives you a sly look, and you immediately know you’re in trouble.

“speaking of moments,” she begins, dragging out the words, “what’s going on with you and rafe cameron?”

your laughter dies in your throat, replaced by a groan. “oh my gosh, lana. nothing is going on.”

“nothing?” she echoes, raising an eyebrow. “girl, he was staring at you like you were the answer to all of life’s questions. and don’t even try to deny it—i saw it.”

you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “he wasn’t staring. he was just… focused on the drill.”

“focused on you,” she corrects, wagging a finger at you. “i mean, i can’t blame him. you two looked like the cover of some YA romance novel over there, all wrist grabs and lingering eye contact.”

“lana, oh my gosh, stop.” you shove her lightly, your face burning. “it’s not like that.”

“oh, but you wish it was?” she teases, wiggling her eyebrows.

“no!” you insist, laughing despite yourself. “you’re so annoying.”

lana grins triumphantly, but before she can press further, you narrow your eyes and shift the spotlight. “okay, let’s talk about you and topper, then.”

her smug expression falters. “what about me and topper?” she asks, feigning innocence.

you mimic her earlier teasing tone. “oh, nothing. just that you were blushing a lot while you two were partnered up. and don’t even try to deny it—i saw it.”

“i was not blushing,” she huffs, but her face betrays her, turning pink at the accusation.

“you so were!” you shoot back, laughing. “and don’t think i didn’t notice how he kept leaning in to talk to you, all ‘are you okay? is my grip too tight?’”

“okay, first of all, he was just being polite,” lana retorts, crossing her arms. “second of all, you’re deflecting.”

“am i, though?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow. “because it sounds to me like someone has a little crush.”

lana groans, throwing her head back dramatically. “fine! whatever! he’s cute, okay? but he’s also topper thornton, which means he’s probably, like, ninety percent annoying and ten percent tolerable.”

you smirk. “sounds like someone’s trying to justify their feelings.”

“and it sounds like someone’s avoiding the fact that rafe cameron was basically undressing them with his eyes,” she fires back.

the two of you dissolve into laughter, your playful banter echoing down the hallway. for all the awkwardness of the class, you can’t help but feel grateful for moments like this—light, ridiculous, and completely you.

it’s been a week since the self-defense class, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about rafe cameron since then. not that you’d admit it to lana.

she’d never let you hear the end of it. right now, though, you’re trying to focus on your spanish class, scribbling notes as señor martinez drones on about verb conjugations. lana is sitting to your left, doodling absentmindedly in her notebook, while rafe is on your right, leaning back in his chair with a bored expression that says he’d rather be anywhere else.

you try not to notice how close he’s sitting. or how his cologne lingers faintly in the air. definitely not noticing.

“señor cameron,” señor martinez suddenly says, breaking through the hum of your thoughts. you glance up to see the older man staring pointedly at rafe, his thick-rimmed glasses slipping down his nose. “por favor, conteste esta pregunta. ¿cómo se dice, ‘i like to play football’ en español?”

rafe blinks, his posture straightening slightly. you can tell from the way his brow furrows that he has no idea what the answer is. he shifts in his seat, his gaze darting toward you briefly before landing back on the teacher.

“uh…” he starts, clearly stalling. “yo… gusta… uh…”

you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, trying not to laugh at his obvious struggle. he looks genuinely panicked now, scratching the back of his neck like it’ll somehow help him come up with the right words.

without thinking, you lean slightly toward him and scribble on the edge of your notebook: me gusta jugar al fútbol.

sliding the notebook closer to him with your left hand, you tap the words lightly with your pen before sitting back, acting like nothing happened. rafe’s eyes dart to the paper, and then to you. he catches on quickly, his lips twitching into a small, grateful smile.

“me gusta jugar al fútbol,” he repeats, his pronunciation a little off but passable. he looks up at señor martinez, who nods approvingly.

“muy bien, señor cameron,” the teacher says before moving on to the next victim in his line of questioning.

rafe exhales quietly, and you feel his shoulder brush yours as he leans closer, whispering just loud enough for you to hear. “thanks. i owe you one.”

you shrug, keeping your eyes on your notebook. “you’ll survive.”

“yeah, because of you,” he says, his tone teasing but sincere. you can feel his gaze lingering on you, and your cheeks warm involuntarily.

lana, who has been unusually quiet, suddenly clears her throat dramatically. “i see you two are getting along nicely,” she whispers, her voice dripping with mock innocence.

you nudge her under the desk with your foot, shooting her a warning look. “focus, lana.”

“oh, i am,” she replies with a grin, glancing pointedly between you and rafe.

you and lana walk out of spanish class, your bags slung over your shoulders as you weave through the bustling hallway. the faint smell of old textbooks and cleaning supplies lingers in the air, blending with the hum of chatter from other students.

“so,” lana says, adjusting the strap of her bag and glancing at you, “are we pretending that señor martinez’s lecture didn’t put the entire class to sleep?”

you snort. “you mean only you? i saw you zoning out halfway through.”

“hey, i was conserving my energy,” she defends, holding up her hands. “that conjugation nonsense was not giving what it needed to give.”

you laugh softly, shaking your head as the two of you make your way toward your lockers. the conversation shifts to weekend plans, lana animatedly describing some pop-up event she wants to drag you to, when someone passes by on your right.

it’s him.

“hey,” he says, his voice breaking through your conversation like a gentle ripple. he’s walking just slow enough to catch your attention without completely stopping. “thanks for earlier. you saved me with that spanish sentence.”

he flashes you a smile—not the usual cocky smirk you’ve seen him give other people, but something softer, genuine. the kind that makes your chest tighten unexpectedly.

“oh, uh, no problem,” you manage to say, your voice steady despite the warmth creeping up your neck.

he gives a small nod, the corners of his mouth tugging upward just a little more, and then continues walking past you, blending into the crowd.

lana waits until he’s out of earshot before turning to you, her eyebrows raised and her grin positively devious. “okay. what was that?”

you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “he was just saying thank you.”

“mmm, sure,” she says, drawing out the words. “because guys like rafe cameron totally go out of their way to say thank you for help in class.”

“it’s called being polite,” you counter, though your voice wavers slightly, betraying your attempt at indifference.

“polite?” lana mimics, her voice dripping with mockery. “girl, he smiled at you like you just solved all his problems. that was not polite; that was something else.”

you shake your head, biting back a smile. “you’re ridiculous.”

“am i?” she teases, bumping her shoulder into yours. “or am i just really good at spotting crush vibes when i see them?”

you groan, quickening your pace to escape her relentless teasing, but the fluttery feeling in your chest doesn’t go away.

a few days rolls by, and it’s time for PE again. the memory of last week’s self-defense unit still lingers in your mind, though you’ve done your best to push it aside. unfortunately, lana hasn’t let you live it down.

“back to the battlefield,” she says dramatically as you walk into the gym together, her water bottle swinging in her hand. “do you think coach davis will make us pair up the same way as last time?”

you glance at her, trying to gauge whether she’s genuinely curious or just looking for an opportunity to tease you again. “i don’t know,” you reply, keeping your tone casual. “probably. he seems like a ‘stick to the plan’ kind of guy.”

lana smirks, nudging you lightly. “good news for you, then.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, feigning innocence as you open your water bottle and take a sip.

“oh, nothing,” she replies with a sly grin. “just that a certain quarterback might be looking forward to this more than you think.”

“ooh, look,” lana adds in a whisper, nudging you with her elbow as you make your way toward your spot. “there’s your favorite partner.”

you glance over instinctively and spot rafe standing with the rest of the football team. he’s tossing a basketball between his hands, chatting with topper and a couple of others, looking relaxed and completely at ease.

you try not to linger too long, but as if sensing your gaze, he looks up and meets your eyes. his lips curve into a small, knowing smile, and you quickly look away, your heart doing an unintentional somersault.

“stop it,” you mutter to lana, who’s practically vibrating with excitement at your reaction.

“i’m not even doing anything,” she says innocently, though the smug look on her face says otherwise.

you roll your eyes, but before you can fire back, coach davis claps his hands together, gathering the class’s attention.

“alright, folks!” he booms. “we’re picking up where we left off last week. same pairs, same drills, new moves.”

lana shoots you a triumphant look, barely able to contain her laugh. “told you.”

“shut up,” you mutter under your breath, your cheeks already warming as you glance toward the corner of the gym. sure enough, there’s rafe, standing with the other football players, tossing a basketball between his hands and looking entirely unbothered by the world around him.

when your name is called, followed by rafe’s, you take a deep breath and start walking toward him, feeling Lana’s smug gaze on your back the entire way.

“guess it’s us again,” he says, stopping in front of you. his tone is casual, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“lucky me,” you reply, trying to sound neutral as you set your water bottle on the floor, though your voice comes out a little more sarcastic than you intended.

he chuckles, his hands resting lightly on his hips. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

you roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

“ready for round two?” he asks, his tone teasing but warm. there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—maybe amusement, maybe anticipation—but you don’t dwell on it for long.

“i’m ready if you are,” you reply, trying to match his confidence.

this week’s drills involve more complex moves—blocking, evading, and redirecting. rafe listens to coach davis’s explanation but keeps sneaking glances at you, like he’s more interested in your reaction than the actual instructions. you catch him once, and he quickly looks away, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish grin.

when it’s time to practice, rafe takes his position in front of you, his hands raised slightly. “alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

you narrow your eyes playfully. “don’t go easy on me.”

his grin widens. “wouldn’t dream of it.”

the first few attempts are clumsy, just like last week, but this time, there’s an unspoken ease between you. the tension feels lighter, replaced by a strange sort of rhythm. when you stumble on one of the blocks, rafe catches your arm instinctively, steadying you without a second thought.

“you okay?” he asks, his voice soft.

“yeah,” you reply quickly, brushing it off. “just lost my balance.”

“good thing i’m here, then,” he says, his grin returning. he’s teasing, but there’s a sincerity in his tone that makes your stomach flip.

as the drill continues, you notice how his confidence contrasts with the careful way he moves around you, never pushing too hard, always adjusting to your pace. it’s almost… considerate. by the end of the session, you’re both slightly out of breath, your cheeks flushed—not just from the exercise.

rafe is surprisingly focused, following coach’s instructions and helping you figure out the movements without making it awkward—well, mostly. he adjusts his stance a couple of times, his hands hovering near your arms to guide you, but he never oversteps, which you appreciate.

“alright, now try shifting your weight forward,” he says, watching as you attempt to push him off balance.

you give it your best shot, planting your feet and leaning into the motion, but he barely moves, his footing solid.

“okay, not bad,” he says, grinning. “but maybe try using a little more…” he pauses, clearly searching for the right word.

“force?” you supply, raising an eyebrow.

“yeah, that.” he nods, his grin widening. “don’t be afraid to go for it.”

you try again, this time putting more effort into the movement. to your surprise, he actually stumbles back a step, his expression shifting to mock surprise.

“whoa—okay,” he says, holding up his hands in surrender. “you’ve got some hidden strength there.”

you laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “yeah, sure. i’m terrifying.”

“hey, i’m just saying,” he replies, his tone teasing. “remind me not to mess with you.”

lana, paired with topper a few feet away, catches the exchange and immediately starts making faces at you behind rafe’s back. you shoot her a glare, mouthing stop while trying not to laugh.

“what’s so funny?” rafe asks, glancing between you and lana.

“nothing,” you say quickly, straightening up and avoiding his gaze.

laa smirks, her voice carrying just enough for you to hear. “oh, it’s definitely something.”

you groan inwardly, already dreading whatever teasing lana has planned for later. for now, though, you focus on the drill, pretending not to notice the way rafe’s smile lingers just a little

the end of class rolls around, and as everyone starts clearing up and heading toward the locker rooms, rafe lingers near you, casually adjusting the strap of his gym bag. lana notices, of course, and shoots you a knowing look before wandering off toward the door with topper trailing behind her.

you sling your water bottle over your shoulder, about to follow, when rafe steps a little closer. “hey,” he says, his tone casual but with just a hint of hesitation.

“hi,” you reply, glancing up at him curiously.

“so, uh…” he rubs the back of his neck, his usual confidence slipping for just a moment. “are you going to the game tonight?”

you blink, caught a little off guard. “the football game?”

“yeah,” he gives a short laugh, as if there’s any other game he could be talking about. “i mean, it’s kind of a big one. with a rival school and all that.”

you chew on your lip, considering. “ah, i don’t know. i haven’t really thought about it.”

“oh, come on,” he says, a teasing edge creeping into his tone. “i’m playing tonight.”

“i know,” you say with a faint laugh. “you’re the captain.”

there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—maybe amusement, maybe something else entirely. “right. so… you’ll come?”

before you can answer, lana reappears, practically materializing out of thin air. “we’ll be there!” she announces brightly, cutting off whatever excuse you were about to come up with.

your head snaps toward her, eyes wide. “we will?”

“yeah,” lana says, completely unbothered by your subtle glare. “wouldn’t miss it.”

rafe’s grin widens, his gaze flickering between you and lana. “great. see you tonight, then.”

just as you’re about to protest—or at least question why lana is suddenly speaking for you—topper walks by, overhearing the last bit of the conversation. he stops, turning to lana with a raised eyebrow.

“you’re going to the game?” he asks, his tone curious but laced with something else, something like amusement.

lana tilts her head at him, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. “why? you don’t want me there?”

topper stares at her for a second, then shakes his head, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile. “no, i didn’t say that.”

“good,” lana replies breezily, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “because we’ll be there.”

topper blinks, momentarily at a loss for words, before recovering with a lopsided grin. “cool. yeah. that’s… cool.”

you glance between them, unsure whether to roll your eyes or laugh. meanwhile, rafe is still standing next to you, watching the whole exchange unfold with an amused look on his face.

“see you tonight,” rafe says again, this time directing it more toward you. his voice is quieter, as if it’s just for you, and there’s something in his tone that makes your stomach flip.

“yeah,” you manage, your voice a little softer than you intended. “see you.”

rafe’s grin widens, his eyes lighting up in a way that makes your chest tighten. “great. see you then.”

as he walks away with topper, lana nudges you with her elbow, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“you’re welcome,” she says, grinning.

“oh my gosh, did you see the way he was looking at you? you’re so going to that game.”

“lana,” you groan, but she’s already steering you toward the door, topper trailing behind like a lost puppy.

“oh, and topper?” lana calls over her shoulder. “you’d better actually play well tonight if i’m showing up.”

topper laughs, running a hand through his hair. “don’t worry, i’ll make it worth your while.”

“you’re welcome, by the way,” she says, grinning.

“for what?” you ask, even though you already know where this is going.

“getting us prime seats to watch your boy play tonight,” she teases.

you groan, shaking your head. “he’s not my—”

“oh, save it,” she interrupts, laughing. “i’m just saying, this is gonna be very entertaining.”

you shoot lana a look, but she just grins, completely unfazed. “you realize your boy is going to be there as well.”

“ahhh, this is going to be so much fun,” she says, and for some reason, you can’t help but smile too.

you and lana are in her room, sorting through her closet to find something suitable for the football game. clothes are strewn across her bed, some tossed on the floor, and lana is holding up a navy sweater against herself in the mirror.

“what about this? casual but cute, right?” she asks, turning to you.

“it’s cute,” you say, trying not to laugh at the chaos around you. “but are we really dressing up for a football game?”

lana shoots you a look. “first of all, yes. second of all, you need to look extra cute. for a special reason.”

lana holds up a cropped sweater, frowning. “do i go with this? or the green one with the little buttons?”

“the green one,” you say without hesitation. “it makes your eyes pop.”

she nods thoughtfully, tossing the sweater onto a growing pile of rejected options. “okay, green it is. what about you? you can’t just show up in your usual jeans and hoodie. this is a game. there’s a whole vibe.”

before you can respond, lana’s younger sister amalia bursts into the room, a bundle of energy as always. she’s clutching a bowl of popcorn, her hair in a loose braid. at fifteen, she has that untamed curiosity that makes her impossible to ignore.

“what’s going on in here?” amalia asks, plopping down on the floor and grabbing one of lana’s discarded sneakers.

“getting ready for the game,” lana says, tossing the sweater onto the bed and grabbing a scarf.

amalia plops onto the corner of the bed, narrowly avoiding a pile of jeans. “so, like… are you going because you actually care about football, like, someone specific?”

“amalia!” you gasp, laughing, while lana groans.

“obviously, we’re going for the game,” lana says, dragging out the last word like it’s painfully obvious.

“sure you are,” amalia says, smirking. she looks at you. “so, which is it? topper or rafe?”

both lana and you freeze mid-motion, slowly turning to look at her. “what?” you say in unison, your voices dripping with confusion and maybe a hint of panic.

“oh my god, it is true.” amalia���s eyes widen, her tone full of mock scandal. “i mean, i heard you talking on the phone,” she says nonchalantly, taking a bite of her granola bar.

lana’s face contorts into a mix of horror and disbelief. “you were eavesdropping?”

“no!” amalia says defensively, though her grin betrays her. “i just walked past your room, and i heard you say something about rafe. or was it topper? honestly, you were talking so fast, i couldn’t tell.”

“besides, we have thin walls. i can hear every conversation you have.”

you bury your face in your hands while lana groans loudly, tossing a sweatshirt at the younger sister. “you’re the absolute worst, you know that?”

she giggles, dodging the sweatshirt. “what? i’m just curious! so, which one is it? rafe or topper?”

“neither,” you say quickly, trying to sound as calm as possible. “we’re just going because… we have nothing better to do.”

amalia doesn’t look convinced, her eyes darting between the two of you like she’s trying to crack a code. “uh-huh. sure.”

you bury your face in your hands. “can we not do this right now?”

“oh, come on,” she says, grinning. “i have to live vicariously through you guys. my life is so boring.”

her older sister snickers. “you’re fifteen, amalia. you’re supposed to have a boring life.”

amalia rolls her eyes. “whatever. you’re lucky mom and dad aren’t here, or they’d totally make me go with you guys.”

lana points to the door, her tone firm. “okay, get out. now. before i tell mom you stole her granola bars again.”

amalia gasps dramatically, clutching the half-eaten bar to her chest. “you wouldn’t.”

with a huff, amalia stands and heads for the door, but not before throwing one last grin over her shoulder. “fine, but if you don’t tell me what happens tonight, i’m stealing your makeup.”

“go away, amalia!” lana yells, and the door slams shut behind her.

“you’re such a snitch,” could be heard from the other side of the door.

as the silence settles, you and lana exchange a look, and then burst into laughter.

“she’s impossible,” you say, shaking your head.

lana smirks, reaching for her eyeliner. “she’s also not wrong about you and rafe, though.”

you grab a pillow and throw it at her. “shut up!”

the stadium lights flood the field as you and lana make your way to the bleachers. the energy in the air is palpable, the crowd buzzing with excitement as the game is set to begin. the school colors are everywhere—navy and red banners, painted faces, and a sea of matching shirts.

lana’s decked out in navy, her outfit effortlessly stylish, while you’re in red, wearing your school hoodie with pride. she loops her arm through yours as you weave through the crowd.

“this is so chaotic,” lana says, laughing as you dodge a group of cheerleaders running toward the sidelines.

“you’re the one who wanted to come early,” you tease.

“early means we get good seats,” she replies, tugging you along.

as you near the edge of the bleachers, a familiar figure catches your eye. rafe is standing by the fence near the field, already in his uniform, looking every bit the golden boy quarterback he is. his helmet is tucked under one arm, and he’s talking to a teammate, but the moment he spots you, his face lights up.

he steps away, jogging over. “hey!”

“hi,” you reply, a little breathless from the crowd.

“i, uh, saved you and lana some seats,” he says, gesturing toward a spot near the middle of the bleachers, right in prime view of the field.

“oh, thanks!” you say, genuinely surprised and a little touched.

“of course,” he says casually, but there’s a flicker of something in his tone that makes your stomach flip.

meanwhile, lana has already found her focus—topper is lingering a few steps away, looking effortlessly cool in his jersey. she doesn’t waste any time sidling up to him, her voice light and playful as she says, “topper, is this your game face, or do you always look this serious?”

topper smirks, tilting his head at her. “you tell me. think it’s intimidating enough?”

“intimidating? not quite,” she teases, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

you glance at her, rolling your eyes slightly but smiling. she’s clearly in her element, and for a moment, you’re distracted by their banter.

“hey,” rafe says, drawing your attention back to him.

you look up at him, his expression softer now. “yeah?”

“so, i was thinking…” he starts, trailing off for just a second before giving you a teasing look.

you arch an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer. “really? you were thinking?”

his grin deepens, and he nudges your arm lightly with his elbow. “yeah, shut up. i was thinking…” he pauses again, this time looking a little nervous, though he hides it well. “if i win this game tonight, would you… wanna go out with me?”

you blink, caught completely off guard. his words hang in the air for a moment, and you can’t help the way your lips curve into a smile.

“seriously?” you ask, your voice soft but full of amusement.

“dead serious,” he replies, his eyes locked on yours, a mix of confidence and vulnerability in his expression.

your smile widens, warmth blooming in your chest. “well… i guess i’ll have to cheer extra loud, then.”

his grin stretches across his face, brighter than you’ve ever seen it. “i’ll hold you to that.”

before you can say anything else, lana suddenly appears at your side, her cheeks slightly pink from talking to topper. “come on, we need to grab those seats before someone else does.”

rafe nods, stepping back but keeping his eyes on you. “i’ll see you after the game?”

you nod, your heart still racing. “good luck, captain.”

“thanks,” he says, his voice warm, before jogging back toward his team.

as you and lana make your way to the bleachers, she nudges you with her elbow, her grin mischievous. “sooo… what was that about?”

you shrug, trying to play it cool, but the smile tugging at your lips gives you away.

“uh-huh,” she says, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “you’re so coming to every game from now on.”

you laugh, feeling a little giddy. maybe you just might.

the game has been intense, and the crowd is on edge. the scoreboard has been a back-and-forth battle, but now, as the clock winds down, rafe's team is trailing by just a few points. the stands are buzzing with nervous energy as the players huddle on the field.

you’re perched on the edge of your seat, your eyes glued to rafe, who is looking more focused than ever. he’s been carrying the weight of the game ever since their second best star player was taken out with an injury. it’s clear that he’s frustrated, his jaw clenched as he scans the field, but there’s something else in his eyes: determination.

topper stands beside him, clearly trying to keep up with the intensity, but it’s hard not to notice that rafe’s doing most of the work. he’s calling the plays, directing the team, and every move he makes looks calculated—almost like he’s pushing his limits, but you can see in the way he carries himself that he’s not going to give up.

the clock is ticking down, seconds slipping away like sand in an hourglass.

“come on, come on!” lana mutters beside you, her voice almost lost in the roar of the crowd. you glance at her, her eyes fixed on rafe and topper, and then at the field. the tension is so thick you could almost cut it with a knife.

rafe takes the ball, his eyes scanning for an opening. he’s got no choice now; it’s all on him. he fakes a pass to topper, sending the defenders rushing toward him, then in one swift motion, he dodges a tackle and charges down the field. the crowd rises to its feet, the energy growing with every step rafe takes.

you can’t help but hold your breath as you watch him break through the last line of defense, topper sprinting beside him, staying just close enough to act as backup. rafe’s legs move like they’re made of steel, his eyes locked on the end zone.

with seconds left on the clock, he passes the ball to topper, who’s just a few yards from the end zone. topper catches it and pivots, leaping into the air just as a defender tries to block him. time seems to slow as the ball arcs through the air and lands perfectly in topper’s hands. the crowd erupts as he crosses the goal line, securing the game-winning touchdown.

you can barely hear yourself think over the deafening roar of the crowd. you jump up with lana, both of you screaming and clapping in excitement. rafe’s face lights up as the team floods onto the field to congratulate topper, but he’s still scanning the crowd for someone.

you catch his eye, and for a split second, everything else fades away. his grin is wide, the exhaustion and tension melting off his face, replaced by sheer triumph.

“looks like you’ll be getting that date after all,” lana says, her voice full of teasing as she nudges you, but you barely hear her. all you can focus on is rafe’s smile, the way he’s looking at you from across the field.

you can feel your heart skip a beat as the final whistle blows. the game is over, and against all odds, rafe’s team pulled through.

lana cheers next to you, but you’re still staring at rafe, a grin tugging at the corner of your lips. he winks at you, the energy of the win still buzzing in his movements.

it’s official: rafe cameron just won the game—and, if you’re being honest, you think he just might’ve won a little bit of your heart too, especially when he was looking right at you after winning the game.

MASTERLIST

CURRENT TAGLIST⋆⭒˚｡⋆

@maybankslover ⟢ @honeyluvsatj ⟢ @zazidot ⟢ @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 ⟢ @lunaleah ⟢ @maybanksangel ⟢ @wtfdudesblog. ⟢ @niktwazny303. ⟢ @outerbanksloverp4l ⟢ @slut4you ⟢ @maybanksgirl69 ⟢ @hstbsl06 ⟢ @percysley

[totalswag]

Please a Drew and reader. They are in the dating faze getting to know each other. However Drew is having some trouble getting to know her. Reader has been in a quite toxic relationship before with a guy that could be mean, did not like when she was being physically loving (holding hands, kissing, hugging) brushing her off literally and could sometimes make her feel like she was being a burden whenever she was talking, which in turn has made her not open up to much, in fear, that she will come off as annoying. When they are having a date at home, Drew pulls her close to hold her and kiss her forehead, but she pulls away after awhile. He then brings up what has been bothering him, afraid, sad and a bit nervous that she does not like him as much as he likes her.

you can trust me — DREW STARKEY

authors note hi baby! thank you for the request and sorry it came so late when you initially requested. life has been crazy since my semester has begun.

REQUEST— open

summary holding back when it comes to physical touch and being your complete self in a new relationship with someone new.

warning(s) mentions of past toxic relationships, insecurities, questioning self-worth.

Drew and you have been seeing each other for almost a month. You haven't felt so happy in a long time to be with someone that values, supports, and loves you for who you are.

Meeting him was unexpected but came into your life when you needed him the most. Drew is very gentle with you and patient in ways you couldn't describe.

Drew has noticed that you are reluctant to touch him and quickly pull away or get nervous before taking his hand. This is something he has noticed about you as you have spent more time with him. He wants to know why you're like this but wants you to be comfortable.

Both are getting to know one other. You haven't gathered the guts to discuss your previous relationship with your ex, who treated you like dirt and never wanted you to touch him. Whether it be holding hands, kissing, embracing, or any other physical contact.

Physical touch is a part of your love language. So being pushed away from someone you care about while attempting to express your feelings for them makes you feel burdened.

Your ex ruined you in a lot of ways.

Once you met Drew, immediately knowing you can be yourself with him without him retaliating. But, you haven't showed him that side of you yet because of your past.

Drew invited you to his apartment for dinner tonight and prepared your favorite pasta dish. He understands you've had a difficult week at work, so he thought inviting you over for dinner would cheer you up.

"Thank you for dinner, Drew; it was delicious," you say, smiling sweetly as you finish your pasta.

"I really appreciate that, Y/N," he says with a smile. "I'm always open to making you dinner."

He’s so sweet

Drew and you cleaned the kitchen before heading to the living room to watch a movie to end the night. He thought it would be good to bring out the food and drinks while you waited on the couch.

"What movie do you wanna watch?" With the TV remote in his left hand while looking at the movie selections.

"Uhh pitch perfect" you reply.

Drew nods in agreement, clicking the movie.

Drew tries to wrap his right arm around your shoulder and kiss you on the forehead halfway through the film, but you pull away hesitantly.

"Everything alright, Y/N?" he frowns with emotion and confusion, "did I do something wrong?"

Your heart fell as the question hovered there. You had been sensing this for days, even weeks, so you knew it was coming. But now that it was here, you were at a loss for words, unable to respond or justify it without driving him away.

When you eventually raised your head to meet his, you could feel the sorrow in his eyes, which tightened your chest. Your voice was barely heard as you murmured, "No, you didn't do anything wrong."

Everything in you was crumbling all together.

"Then why?" With a hand sweeping through his hair, he trailed off, unsure of how to carry on. "Why are you putting distance between us? Are you —? When he began again, you could hear his hesitation and fragility in his voice. "Do you not like me as much as I like you?"

Please don't say that

His words punched you in the gut— hitting you so deep. This wasn't fair to him what so ever. You like him as much as he likes you. Feelings are mutual.

"It's not that," you answered hastily, your voice shaking as you tried to fight back the tears that were about to fall. Yes, Drew, I do like you. Many times.

"So why," He asked. Seeking answers, he gazed at you, his eyes darting over yours. "What makes me think that you're scared to let me in?"

Fiddling with your fingers, trying to gather the words to say. You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. Drew knows about your last relationship but not the whole gist.

“I’ve been hurt before,” you began, your voice trembling. “My last relationship… it wasn’t good. He made me feel like I was too much, like I was annoying whenever I tried to talk or show affection. He’d brush me off, make me feel like I was a burden. And I guess… I guess I’m afraid of that happening again.”

Drew's expression softens with hurt, anger, and confusion. He continues to let you speak while holding your hands in reassurance—thumb gently circling over your knuckles. You can't help but let a few tears as you speak.

"I'm so sorry you went through that."

"It's not your fault. I've gotten so used to holding everything in, I didnt want you to think of me differently and walk away from me" you confess with your chest.

Drew's other hand reached up to softly cup your cheek and use his thumb to wipe away the tears while his grip on your hand tightened. He said, "You're not going to drive me away," and you might believe him because of the quiet passion in his voice. 

"Y/N, I like you just the way you are. I was immediately drawn to your lovely demeanor and am still doing so now. Nothing you are doing is wrong. His eyes never leaving yours, "We can take this at any pace you want and I'll still be here."

You feel a sense of relief fall off your shoulders. The fear you've been holding back slowly drifts away.

"I want you to show how much you like me whether that be words or physical touch. I would never pull you away."

You didn't push away as he moved in to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. For the first time in a long time, you felt as though maybe—just maybe—you could begin to lower your barriers as you allowed yourself to lean into him and experience the warmth and security of his embrace.

my taglist!

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account.

@winterrrnight @chenslucy @rosezza @rafeyslamb @runningfrom2am @starkeyvhs @diqldrunks

[whorekneecentral]

Sticky Fingers

Sebastian Vettel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: dad!seb, seb referring to himself as daddy, cheesy flirting, oral (m!receiving), the use of daddy in a sexual context, penetrative sex (p in v), breeding kink, hint to pregnancy kink if you squint, creampie, a touch of cum play, finger sucking, mommy kink but in a joking way.

Word Count: 2,112

Author's Note: would it really be me if I didn't start it off with my favourite dilf on the planet?? happy holidays to everyone who celebrates in whatever way you do and to those of you who don't, I hope you have a wonderful winter season!!

merry smutmas series

--

Your husband spends his first Christmas at home since his retirement and he went a little.. a lot over board. 

It had been a long year; Sebastian had been driving you mad as much as it was nice to have him home. A full year of retirement and Seb was making sure this holiday season was the best one yet.

Last year, after he retired, you had practically already gotten everything together for the holidays. Sebastian helped decorate and do activities with your daughter but this year, he was hands on from day one. He insisted you guys get a real tree as well as decorate the whole house from top to bottom. You couldn't count how many times he had you running to the store to pick up something for him and his newest holiday project.

Your daughter was upstairs in her bed, fast asleep with her messy blonde curls all scattered over the pillow when you checked on her. Sebastian had put her to bed while you had gone to take a shower.

Usually, you'd find him in bed by now or in the living room, finally working on the insanely long list of tv shows Charles had recommended to him over the years.

Tonight was different, the house was quiet and you couldn't seem to spot your husband anywhere as you made your way through the house.

A light peeked out from around the corner, the door to the basement slightly ajar and you pulled it open, slowly making your way downstairs.

You can see Sebastian from behind, the man freezes when he hears the creaking of the stairs. "It's just me," you announced, the man visibly relaxed, turning to smile at you.

"What are you doing down here?" You asked, finally making it down the stairs. "So secretive, are you jerking off?" You jokingly asked, Sebastian rolled his eyes.

"Don't need to do that when I have you," he raises his eyebrows and it was your turn to roll your eyes.

"Whatever Seb," you laughed, "seriously, what are you doing down here?"

"Trying to wrap this," Sebastian steps to the side, revealing the massive box that was behind him. On the front was a photo of the doll house your daughter wanted.. the ridiculously expensive dollhouse that is. It's not that you two didn't get your daughter what she wanted but she had to earn it. Just because her father is who he is and the fact that he has money, doesn't mean she should get whatever she wants.

You raise her as a normal kid, not some spoiled brat who gets whatever they want.

You huffed, arms folded over your chest as you looked at your husband. "Sebastian, you didn't."

He glances between you and the dollhouse. "What?"

"Do you know how expensive that is?"

"Yeah duh, I bought it babe." He says as if he was stating the obvious, which he was.

He takes a step towards you, grabbing your arms to unfold them, "listen, I know you don't want me to just buy her whatever she wants but it's Christmas and she did really well on her first term report card, remember ?" Sebastian smiles at you, trying to justify his purchase.

You sigh, nodding. You always gave in, both he and his daughter knew as much.

You reach up, holding his face. "You're the best daddy a girl could ask for."

From the moment the words left your mouth, you could see the gears turning in his head. Sebastian's hands grab your ass, squeezing it when he leans in to give you a kiss. "I know I am," he whispers against your lips and you know he did not mean it in the same way you had said it.

Laughing, you lean back in your husband's arms. "Only you can make that dirty."

The man swings you in the direction of your couch, dropping you down on it before getting on top of you. "I'll show you dirty," he says, kissing you once again.

Your legs wrapped around your husband, holding him against you. Seb's lips are all over you, hands slipping between the two of you, pulling on the hem of his t-shirt until he stops to take it off.

"Don't look at me like that," he teases, pushing your shirt up to kiss down your stomach. "Like what?" You breathe, head tipped back into the cushions.

"Like you want to fuck me."

"I'd give you another baby right now, Sebastian."

The man freezes, looking up at you. There's a wicked smile on his face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. Sebastian moves to between your legs, settling there for a minute as he presses kisses along your bare skin, following the trail from your hip, down your thighs to between them.

Your hand tangles in his blonde curls, giving it a tug and pulling him off of you before he can get to what he really wants. The man's brows furrow, looking at you. "Sweetheart," he huffs, fingers dragging along the bare skin of your thighs.

You give him a shove back with your foot, sitting up. Sebastian watches as you move him to sit and you move from the couch to the floor. Seb reaches for the pillow, dropping in front of you so you'd have some sort of cushioning; he knows even though this was your idea, you'd blame him for sore knees tomorrow.

"You're sure?" He asks, watching as your manicured nails tugs on the strings on his sweats. "Absolutely," you say, your eyes fixed on him as your hands rub up his thighs.

Seb watches as you lick your hand, his head tips back and a soft moan slips out when you wrap your hand around him, moving it up and down slowly.

His eyes don't move from you, watching your every move. His lips parted slightly, as if he was going to say something but he can't bring himself to. You lean forward, a hand wrapped around the base of his cock, the other resting on his thigh. Sebastian groans, teeth sinking into his bottom lip when you wrap your lips around him.

"God-" he breathed, his arm hung over the armrest and his head tipped back into the couch.

His eyes flutter shut when you hollow your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down. You glance up at your husband; eyes shut, his hand reaching down to tangle in your hair - pulling it into a makeshift ponytail.

You move yourself up a bit, lips still around the tip and your hand quickly replaces where your mouth was. Sebastian finally opens his eyes, looking down at you again just as your tongue swirls around the tip.

His hips involuntarily buck upwards, forcing you down on him a little bit more. "Oh fuc- baby, do that- yeah." He's out of breath when he whispers the words.

That was a reaction only you could get out of him.

It was killing him but he forces himself to pull you up off of him, your hand wraps around his cock, moving it slowly. "What?" You asked, your tongue running across your bottom lip - the sight alone makes his cock twitch in your hand; you smile at the reaction.

"I was gonna cum."

"So? I'm not complaining." You tell him, leaning forward to rest your cheek on his thigh. Sebastian reaches down, his knuckles brushing over your cheek - red and flushed.

You looked so beautiful like this.

Sebastian smiles, "I know but.. what if I wanted to try for one more?"

"One more?" You asked, brows furrowed as you looked up at the man. It takes you a moment, your husband's glance was suggestive, as if you were meant to remember something - "Oh!" You giggled, sitting up straight now. "I mean.. yeah."

"So.." he grabs your arm, carefully pulling you up. "C'mere."

Climbing onto your husband's lap, you straddle him and your hand rests on his shoulder to balance yourself. Seb reaches between the two of you, his wrist brushing against your bare cunt when he goes to line himself up with you.

The slightest touch causes you to lean into him; watching him react to you sucking him off was enough to get you worked up.

"All for me?" He looks at you, kissing along your throat.

You hum, teasing him. "Not like I can say it's for your teammate anymore."

Sebastian smiles, his free hand on your hip as you sink down onto him. Your lips parted, his name slipped from between them. As much as he loved to hear you, he didn't want to wake up the sleeping child upstairs - he kissed you, muffling the sweet sounds coming from you.

You liked to be in control up to a certain point, Seb's hands rested on your hips as you bounced on his lap, setting the pace.

After a moment, Seb's hands begin to wander; this man could never settle, not even during sex. His hands move from your hips to the curve of your spine to the back of your neck, holding a firm grip there. You couldn't exactly move, not that you wanted too, but Sebastian forces you down, gently as always, to kiss you. You bite his bottom lip, giving it a gentle pull when he feels you clench around his cock.

"You're - fuck." he moans, making you giggle.

Your hand rests on his jaw, fingers tapping his stubble covered cheek. "I'm what, daddy?"

"You're evil," he mumbles, his hand on your lower back before he flips the two of you. You end up under him, legs wrapped around his hips.

A hand moves to behind his shoulder, your perfectly red nails dig into his pale skin, the marks you left matched the colour of your nails; very festive, you thought to yourself.

Seb's face is buried into the crook of your neck, kissing down to that one spot he knows drives you crazy. "Seb-" you cut yourself off with a moan when you feel his fingers on your clit.

"What was that?" He taunts, watching as your eyes close, back arched, his chest pressed to yours. His lips travel down to your chest, kissing over your tits and as far as he could go. Your nails dig into him once more, Seb feels you clench around him.

"Seb- I'm gonna, fuck-" you mumble and he hums in response, kissing along your jaw.

"Go on, I'm right here baby. C'mon, be good for me." He whispers, he grabs your hand, pulling it to rest on your lower stomach. "Can you feel that, hm? You'd look so pretty with a baby in you - fuck, drove me crazy last time."

You mumble something he doesn't quite catch but from the look on your face, you were going along with everything.

"Please Seb," your lips are on his, begging him for any and everything."

"Please what, sweetheart?" His eyes find yours, "what do you want? You want me to cum in you?"

"Let me make you a daddy again, Seb."

The man groans, your legs tightening around him. "Fuck, okay," he breathes, cheat heaving when you clench around him once more, the tighten knot in your lower stomach comes undone. You find yourself calling his name; the sound and sight of you was something Sebastian never wanted to forget. He finds himself following shortly after you, dropping down on top of you.

Seb moves off of you, pulling out in the process. A soft whimper slipping past your lips at the loss of fullness. He tsks, smiling to himself. His finger drags along your pussy, he watches how you react to his touch, pushing his finger into you to fuck what's slipping back into you.

Before you realize, his hands moved from between your legs to your lips. "Open," he tells you and you do, the man putting his finger between your lips, letting you suck it clean.

He smiles, watching in approval before you let his finger go with a pop. "Good girl," he whispers, holding your jaw when he kisses you.

Seb shifts the two of you, letting you cuddle into his side. His hand rubs along your side, your leg stretched out over his lap.

"You okay?"

"Perfect," you smile, your hand on his chest.

"Well, when we do get up-" he starts but you cut him off, already knowing where he's going. "I'll help you wrap it." You tell him, making him laugh.

"You're the best mommy a girl could ask for," he says and you make a face, laughing. "Doesn't work that way babe."

"Ew, no - I didn't mean like that, you freak."

"Oh shut up," you shook your head, reaching up to kiss your husband.

--

taglist:  @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls@wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

[picturejasper20]

Steven Universe as a character is someone who has been mischaracterized and flanderized over the years, to the point people who aren't into the fandom or haven't watched the show believe that mischaracterization to be a fact rather that a product that comes from memes and jokes

The truth is that Steven often fights in the series when it is needed, usually by fusing with someone else like Connie or Amethyst since he is still developing his powers in the original series. He doesn't cry when he has to fight back or defend himself, with exception if the person attacking is someone he considers a friend. Because, yes, for a 14-15 old teenager it isn't fun having to do something like that and it can be traumatic.

He also doesn't start to cry the moment someone refuses to change their mind or is being mean. He often isn't afraid to be sarcastic or call that person out. He didn't cry when Aquamarine mocked him in ¨Stuck Together¨ nor when Jasper didn't apologize for poofing Amethyst in ¨Crack the Whip¨

However, what we see is sometimes him blaming himself for not being able to help people that, more often than not, have been hurt by Rose Quartz, his mother, in some way. After Season 3, Steven fears a lot that he is going to become like Rose and he is going to hurt people the way like she did.

In general Steven deals with an Atlas complex in the show. He feels like he has to fix his mother mistakes and deal with ¨what she left behind¨ even when Rose wanted for him to be his own person as seen in the tape she left for him as it was revealed in the episode ¨Lion 4: The Alternate Ending¨.

Steven also defines his identity a lot for being to help other people and fix their problems. He believes that he has to be ¨useful¨ for others. So when he believes that he failed to help someone, that may lead him to think that he isn't living up to his ¨purpose¨ or that he is a failure as a person.

In reality, he isn't that much different from other hero protagonists from other animated shows. Those who are kind and emphatic and willing to listen to other people and give them a second chance if the person changes their ways. You probably like an animated show that has a protagonist like this. (Who was probably taken inspiration from Steven if the series came out after SU).

The main difference, i think, is that Steven goes a bit more than those protagonists do when it comes to listening to other people, understand their motivations and give them another chance if they regret their actions. A lot has to do with how he is aware that his enemies (usually gems) act the way the do because of the system they were born into rather ¨they are evil just because¨. He gets that their motivations come from the system that hurt them or lead them to believe that their actions are justified.

Another common mischaracterization is that Steven becomes super buddies with every person he helps...when this isn't always the case. There are some occasions that Steven shows discomfort around people who he has given a second chance. Just because he gives them a second chance doesn't mean that he immediately considers them close friends, maybe allies at best.

A good example of this is the gif above of Steven's interactions with White Diamond in ¨Homeworld Bound¨. White Diamond touches Steven very close to where his gem is- which makes Steven distressed since in his battle again White, she ripped his gem out to prove that Pink was still ¨alive¨. In most of the episode Steven shows to be very uncomfortable around the Diamonds and Spinel, to some extent. They bring him bad memories, which is the main reason he has been doing everything to avoid going to them to ask for their help until this point in Steven Universe Future. He even almost accidentally hurts White's gem by smashing her head against a pillar when she lets him control her to talk to himself. This being result of a intrusive ¨vengeful¨ thought.

I wouldn't say that Steven hates the Diamonds,but- he doesn't want to be their friend neither and wants to avoid in general because he feels nervous and bad around them. It's something like ¨I'm glad that you are changing but i don't want to be associated with you. Please, i would appreciate if you kept your distance from me.¨ dynamic.

On last point, Steven is someone who usually pushes his feelings down in certain situations and buries them down, which has led him to have strong emotional outbursts in bad moments. He usually prefers to ignore his own problems and take priority on others. Again, this comes a lot from his desire to be useful and be needed, making him trying to ignore how he feels about certain people and pretend that he is doing fine.

This explains why we don't see him lash out that much to others in the original series, and, why he feels so frustrated and angry in Future, since all that anger and negative feelings can't no longer be ignored as they used to and they are having a negative impact in Steven's mental health. This, of course, isn't meant to be seen is a healthy coping mechanism. It is in fact potrayed as something pretty self-destructive for Steven, as a huge flaw of his, that over time he comes to learn that it isn't the best way for him to deal with his problems.

These are some of the most common misconceptions i have seen about Steven's character online. I could go in more depth with some of them but i think the points should be clear enough. This could be considered a general analysis of how Steven is as a character and how he operates, leaving aside more specific things that can be covered in other posts.

[canine-economy]

On Swansea’s (often understated) role in Mouthwashing

I say this as a big swansea fan but I don’t rlly understand why ppl are acting like he’s not also complicit in what happened to Anya? AUs where “Anya tells Swansea” and he jumps to violently defend her don’t make sense to me because canonically she does tell him, as he admits to Jimmy. But swansea represents another way of interacting with the capitalist heteropatriarchy that ALSO harms victims: holistic jadedness and resignation.

Swansea is across the board unkind to the Tulpar crew. We can’t forget that he calls anya a “so-called nurse”

and says this to Jimmy, which (if unintentionally) reiterates Jimmy’s own warped perception of Anya’s usefulness and competence. This allows Jimmy to feel justified in his imagination of the nurse’s inferiority. Swansea’s clear lack of respect for Jimmy does less to hurt Jimmy than his lack of respect for Anya harms Anya, because at the end of the day, Swansea’s attitude is contextualized by the violent culture it exists in and he does nothing to reconcile with that when Jimmy becomes the captain. His resignation can thus be weaponized even by Jimmy, a man who Swansea disrespects but whose power he doesn’t try to meaningfully jeopardize, because his across-the-board disdain punches people already marginalized by the environment twice as hard as it does those with power.

Swansea doesn’t position himself as an ally, he positions himself as willfully uninvolved in everything, an observer to the shitshow ride to hell. Just because he dislikes Jimmy doesn’t mean he aligns with Anya. He makes it clear that he’s not on her side, either. After a life of doing what he felt was expected of him, Swansea on the Tulpar looks out for Swansea and Swansea’s comfort. In trying to situate himself outside of the politics of it all as an older white man, he simply allows them to play out. The toxic culture keeps existing, playing out in the microcosm that is this freighter, and Swansea in all his experience recognizes that shit has hit the fan and elects to coast through it, even explicitly numbing himself to it by breaking his sobriety. It is, of course, hard to force yourself to be sober—to see clearly. But had Swansea forced himself to get involved sooner, he might have set a precedent for Daisuke to recognize Jimmy’s abuse, which could have saved Daisuke’s life as well as created a safe space for Anya. But Swansea’s inaction forces both victims to confront an abuser on their own, unable to reap benefits from his privilege and experience.

Jimmy is clearly intimidated by swansea in a way he is not by Anya, Daisuke, or a post-crash Curly (Swansea, for example, physically manifests as an aggressor in Jimmy’s “responsibility sequences”, and Jimmy ties Swansea up to avoid what he sees as the real possibility of pushback that he doesn’t conceive of Anya being able to do). Swansea has a power he does not act on or with until it is far, far too late. In fact, he acknowledges in his final monologue that he was dissatisfied with the discomfort with opening his eyes and living an exemplary “good man”s life. The best days of his life are ones in which he’s belligerently drunk—days in which he didn’t have to hold himself accountable. He regrets the life he spent performing for higher-ups and we watch him reject it by scorning Captain Jimmy, but he also doesn’t want to be held responsible for helping other people when it’s their turn to endure the expectations and violence from similar (if not the same) higher powers. Tragically, he possesses the hindsight to recognize that how he acted on the Tulpar consequently wasn’t what Daisuke needed out of a role model, leading to Daisuke becoming a victim. His hands-off approach to emotional engagement with his young male intern (another symptom of patriarchal gender norms) may have been to avoid Daisuke turning out miserable and jaded like himself, but it doesn’t actually indicate to an already-confused Daisuke what the dangers of that attitude are. Swansea never admits his own shortcomings in a tangible way which, had they come from a man with experience and prestige like himself, may have shifted that culture that failed Anya. She comes to him with the story not because he has situated himself as any earnest friend, but likely out of desperation on a ship Jimmy now controls.

When we allow “the machine” (Swansea’s own words) to beat us down to the point that we don’t find it productive to challenge unjust power dynamics, we become complicit. I think too many people get hung up on his disdain for Jimmy and Jimmy’s fear of Swansea as a marker of allyship with Anya, but the truth is that Swansea. Is a bad ally. He’s hardly one at all. His long stint in the demanding capitalist environment molded a perfectly complicit result out of him, as it aspires to do, even if Swansea bitterly recognizes that. Jimmy’s overt violence from a position of power is a different and much more brutal approach to abuse enabled by people who have been left too tired and bitter to care that he does it. A man who could’ve intimidated and even threatened Jimmy is too resigned to try until there is literally nobody but himself left to fight for, which is an attitude carefully cultivated among the lower rungs of hierarchies to keep the top safe. Swansea in particular seems very unhappy with the capitalistic, patriarchal expectations laid out for him as a father, husband, and laborer. This becomes particularly resonant when you realize the symbolism of his role as mechanic: a job that can be deeply unpersonal, tasked with keeping the ship (the machine, if you will) itself going while other roles are more focused on managing the humans inside of it (e.g. nurse, captain). His decision to just stop trying and spare himself the grief instead of questioning why those expectations exist and how they would hurt the others onboard only delays him being directly targeted by Jimmy and doesn’t interrupt the latter’s violence.

Not a single man in mouthwashing is innocent in Anya’s victimhood. This is a statement tentatively uninclusive of Daisuke, because I think the game very deliberately positions him outside of manhood through his youth and thus struggling with the concept of “fitting in” to the patriarchy. Curly, Jimmy, and Swansea all represent different failures that ultimately perpetuate Anya’s suffering and force her to defend herself and finally take her life into her own hands. A holistic analysis of rape culture in MW necessarily engages with all three of them. Only not being a friend and ally to rapists and other male abusers isn’t enough, and Swansea proves it.

[ficandkaboodle]

Analyses of Most Ghost Characters be like…

Terzo was a tragic and extremely deep figure who, based off observations provided by his ghouls and Bishop Necropolitis, was a brilliant mind whose ideas were bastardized and squandered, which resulted in a disappointed and bitter husk of a man who still made an effort to display kindness. However, we will likely never truly know the full story of who he was because he lied so damn often.

Most of how we perceive Secondo is arguably the result of Sister badmouthing him as well as ghouls being brutally candid about how he acted in interviews. However, there’s reason to believe Secondo might’ve been just as multifaceted as Terzo, in that he wasn’t being his complete self to the audience. There’s evidence that could suggest Secondo did not enjoy being Papa in its entirety so much as the perks, which were ironically also hindered by him being Papa at the end of the day. It’s not hard to interpret him as someone who might not have enjoyed being a part of the bloodline at the end of the day because of what it meant he had to sacrifice.

Copia is a manchild, likely as a result of how he grew up: Orphaned, likely a social outcast, very likely undiagnosed. As a result, he might’ve become convinced that the only way to rise above it was to become someone worthy of adoration: Papa. But even after he ascended, his troubles didn’t stop: He had to learn his parentage, didn’t address the fact that his brothers were now dead, and spent the last few months he had with the woman he now knew was his mother dissociating because he developed a fear of death. This fear, mind you, that easily ties back into the theorized likelihood that he placed his self-worth into his success. And this is before getting into his willingness to be a puppet —

Papa Nihil’s complexities come in the form of his tendencies to escape reality and the consequences these brought. He was very likely an absent father, which would have had effects on his sons (say, attention-seeking tendencies; a distrust in authority; abandonment issues). In fact, the only things he seems to seek from his youth is his extremely short-lived music career and his unstable relationship with a woman who ultimately kept quiet about their son(s) they conceived together and ultimately played his lust and delusions against him to play nepotism. And by leaning into this, he got his own children killed. He only “became a father” after he died, and it’s sad that he actually seems his most lucid then. What’s all the more mind-boggling and makes you wonder about his tenure is his ability to be in the moment and try and convince Cardi to learn to do the same. It makes you curious: Was Nihil actually a good Papa when he wasn’t distracted?

Sister Imperator is willfully emotionally constipated and will justify it as being “for the good of the church”. She has definitely been affected by her decisions and what she’s done, from her relationship with Nihil to her giving up her babies and watching them at a distance, only interacting from a work standpoint. She lies, keeps secrets, has people killed off, all to tie her spawn into the position as Papa, which is curious considering her position means she’s already above the station of Papa. She does care about Cardi, but she doesn’t care for him the way he needs to be and, as a result, arguably only exacerbates his anxious tendencies. She’s an extremely interesting character but it’s so easy to water her down to just being manipulative and evil.

………………

Analyses of Primo —

Primo is fucking crazy man I don’t — Like, he might be a serial killer; he would punch a panda for profit; we aren’t even entirely certain he’s human like I would legit headcanon that Primo is a changeling and the fandom would run with it because what choice do we have, he honestly actually could be!!!

[thewulf]

The Analyst's Arrival || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - Hi can I request a hotch x bau reader? I'm sure its been done before but I just love your hotch fics!! When Strauss hires the reader without Aaron Hotchner's approval, tensions run high. Hotch is distant and a little mean, but the reader's unwavering positivity and kindness start to chip away at his walls... Read Rest Here

A/N: Really loved writing this one. Hope you all enjoy!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader,

Word Count: 4.2k

TW: Yelling, gunshots (non wounded), general CM triggers

The BAU conference room hums quietly with the usual pre-meeting chatter. Derek flicks a crumpled paper ball at Spencer who is engrossed in his latest physics journal. While JJ shares weekend plans with Prentiss. The light mood does little to ease the stiffness in Aaron Hotchner’s posture as he stands at the head of the table with his folders organized neatly in front of him.

The door swings open and Erin Strauss steps in. It was a rare occurrence that immediately draws everyone’s attention. You follow behind her, your confident stride belying the curious glances you receive from the team.

"Good morning, everyone," Strauss begins. Her voice pulling the room into a focused silence. "I’d like you to meet Agent Y/N L/N. She’s joining us from the NYPD where she served in the Major Crimes unit. Agent L/N has a sharp analytical mind and extensive field experience which I’m confident will be invaluable to our team."

Hotchner's eyes narrow slightly, not at you, but at the way Strauss seems to relish the surprise on his face. He had not been informed of this decision—a move that didn't just sidestep his authority but outright ignored it. A move he hated.

As polite smiles and nods pass around the room, Hotchner remains motionless. His gaze finally landing on you. You seem unaffected by the tension your presence has stirred as you returned his scrutiny with a polite, unwavering smile.

"I'm very excited to be here and look forward to working with each of you," you spoke. Your voice steady and warm. "I’ve heard only the best about the BAU team."

"Thank you Agent L/N," Strauss cuts in smoothly. "I’ll leave you in Agent Hotchner’s capable hands." With a final nod Strauss exits, the click of her heels echoing a stark finality to her departure.

There is a brief silence as you linger in the doorway. "Why don’t we get started then?" Hotchner says. His tone more a command than a suggestion. "Morgan, Reid, can you bring Agent L/N up to speed on the current case?"

As the team dives into the details of their latest unsolved case Hotch observes you. You listen intently, asking pertinent questions that demonstrate not just your understanding but your capability to dive right into the deep end. Despite his initial resistance he can't help but admit—albeit grudgingly—that you seem competent.

Yet as the meeting progresses Hotch feels a gnawing sense of irritation. It isn't directed at you, but at Strauss and the situation he’s been forced into. Watching you interact with his team, a part of him wants to see what you can do. To see if Strauss’s confidence in you is justified. But as the leader of the BAU and with walls built from years of leadership, admitting that will take a bit more than just a good first impression.

In the days following your introduction the BAU team falls into a familiar rhythm with you, gradually weaving you into the fabric of their tightly knit group. Spencer shares book recommendations, curious about your interests. While Morgan teases lightly, testing your sense of humor. Prentiss and JJ involve you in their lunch outings often asking about your experiences with the NYPD.

However, Hotchner maintains a professional distance. During briefings he is succinct, his interactions with you strictly businesslike. His questions about your reports are pointed and perhaps harsher than necessary. You sense his doubt. Not just in his words but in the lingering looks that question your conclusions or the slight frown when you speak up during meetings.

One afternoon you're updating the team on a profile you've been developing. "Based on the victimology the unsub is likely someone with a deep-seated resentment towards authority figures. Possibly stemming from a troubled childhood," you explain as you clicked through the presentation slides.

"Seems like a stretch without more evidence," Hotchner interrupts abruptly. His critique hangs in the air. Heavier than the typical scrutiny profiles usually receive. You notice a brief exchange of looks among the team, but they remain silent.

Despite this you maintain your composure, responding calmly. "I'll dive deeper into the case files and see if I can substantiate that with more specific behaviors," you assure him with a nod that's meant to show both your respect for his experience and your confidence in your own skills.

As you work later in the quiet of the empty briefing room refining your profile, Hotchner watches from his office. The light from his desk lamp casts a long shadow and his expression is unreadable. The easy acceptance from others contrasts starkly with his skepticism and it's clear that you have yet to earn his trust.

One evening as you're the last two in the office Hotchner approaches your desk with his usual resolve towards you. "Agent L/N, I want our profiles to be watertight. I can't have assumptions without solid evidence," he states. His voice low and firm.

"I understand, sir," you reply, meeting his gaze. "I appreciate your guidance. I'm here to learn and contribute as effectively as I can."

There's a pause, a moment where something unspoken passes between you. Perhaps it's the acknowledgment of your dedication, or maybe it's Hotchner wrestling with his own reluctance to accept change. He nods curtly and leaves you to your work.

Despite the cold front you don't let it dampen your spirit. Instead, you double down on your efforts, pouring over case files late into the night. You were determined to prove your worth not just to Hotchner, but to yourself. Your positivity and commitment slowly chip away at the team's initial reservations and even though Hotchner remains distant you start to feel like a part of the BAU family.

As weeks pass your insights during case reviews become sharper. Your suggestions more intuitive. The team begins to rely on your judgment. They sought out your opinion, and slowly, very slowly, you notice a thaw in Hotchner's demeanor—a nod here, a less critical question there.

But the wall he has built around him isn't one to crumble quickly and you know that gaining Hotchner's full trust will be a marathon, not a sprint. Still, your unwavering kindness and the diligent sparkle in your eyes during every case discussion continue to sow seeds of change. Even in the stony ground of Hotch’s reserved heart.

A couple of weeks later and Hotch finally decides you’re ready to join the team in the field instead of staying behind with Penelope. Not that you didn’t like working with her you were just craving to do what you were hired to do.

The air is thick with tension as the BAU team arrives at the suspected hideout of the unsub at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. It's late, the darkness only broken by the beams of flashlights and the occasional flicker of police sirens in the distance. Hotchner's orders are clear and concise. His voice a calm command over the sound of rustling tactical gear.

"Reid, Y/N, you're with me. Morgan, Prentiss, take the east side. Radio if you make contact. Everyone, stay sharp," Hotchner instructs. His eyes scanning the perimeter before leading you and Reid towards the main entrance.

The warehouse is a labyrinth of shadows and echoing spaces. A place that seems to absorb sound and light alike. You follow Hotch with your senses heightened every training you’ve undergone pulsing through your veins. As you navigate through a maze of crates and discarded machinery, a noise—a soft scuffle, almost imperceptible—catches your attention. You signal to Hotchner and Reid pointing towards a dark corridor off to the left.

"Stay here, cover us," Hotchner whispers. His gun raised as he edges toward the sound with Reid close behind.

You position yourself with your back to a solid surface, gun aimed at the corridor. Your mind races through various scenarios, but nothing prepares you for the sight of a figure lunging out of the shadows. Heading straight for Reid with a knife glinting in the dim light.

Without a moment's hesitation you break cover, tackling Reid out of the knife’s path. The impact sends you both sprawling to the ground just as Hotchner turns, firing off two quick shots. The unsub goes down, a groan echoing off the walls.

"Reid, you okay?" Hotchner is immediately by your side. His usual stoic demeanor replaced by concern.

"Yeah, thanks to Y/N," Reid gasps. His eyes wide with the adrenaline of the near miss.

Hotchner turns to you. His expression unreadable for a moment. Then, slowly his features soften, the corners of his eyes crinkling not with frustration, but something akin to gratitude. "Good work, Agent L/N. That was quick thinking."

Your heart pounds not just from the action but also from Hotchner's acknowledgment. "Just doing my job, sir," you manage to choke out though the gravity of the moment isn't lost on you.

As the team secures the scene and paramedics check over everyone Hotchner keeps glancing your way, his gaze lingering longer than usual. In those looks there’s a new respect, perhaps even a reassessment of his earlier doubts about you.

Later, as the team debriefs back at the BAU, Hotch publicly commends your actions. "Agent L/N’s instincts and bravery tonight might have saved Dr. Reid’s life and potentially others. Excellent work."

The team’s applause is warm, genuine, and you can't help but feel a surge of pride. More than the praise it’s Hotchner’s nod of respect towards you that marks a significant shift. It's a turning point not just in your relationship with him but in your place within the team. Your actions have not only proven your worth, but they’ve begun to dismantle the walls Hotchner had built around himself, brick by brick.

In the weeks following the intense warehouse operation the dynamic within the BAU team subtly shifts. You are no longer just the new agent. You have proven yourself as a vital part of the team. Hotchner notices the change not only in how the team interacts with you but also in his own perceptions.

One crisp autumn morning as the trees outside the Quantico offices burst with gold and russet hues, Hotchner finds himself observing you from across the bullpen. You’re assisting Morgan with recalibrating the physical training program for new recruits. The ease with which you handle the task, balancing Morgan’s strength with strategic insights, does not go unnoticed by Hotchner. There's a gentleness mixed with competence in your approach. A stark contrast to the decisive action you displayed in the field.

Later that day, you offer to stay late to help Morgan review the training schedules, ensuring they are optimized for the team’s needs. Garcia joins in eager to add her tech-savvy touch. Hotchner overhears laughter from the office you’re sharing, a sound that is light and genuine, making him pause as he packs up for the night. The sound of friendship and shared effort makes the BAU feel more like a tight nit family and he realizes you are a big part of that shift.

During a team briefing the following week Hotch openly seeks your opinion on the psychological conditioning aspects of the training program. As you outline your thoughts by citing recent research and adaptive training methods he listens intently. The team watches this interaction, clearly seeing Hotchner’s respect for you which influences their own views.

When the team encounters a critical situation with a string of high intensity raids you suggest an innovative tactical maneuver that saves valuable time and minimizes risk. Watching you handle the pressure with composed determination Hotch feels a significant shift within himself—a deep-seated respect for your skills and a growing admiration for your resilience.

It’s not just your professional competence that reshapes his thoughts but also your empathy and dedication. You take the time to ensure that the team is not only prepared physically but supported mentally. A role that enriches the team in ways Hotchner hadn't anticipated.

One evening as everyone is about to leave you pass by Hotchner’s office. He calls you in, an impromptu gesture that surprises even him. “Agent L/N,” he begins, his voice reflecting a mix of professional respect and something more tentative. “I’ve been meaning to say… your work, especially in these past weeks, has been exemplary. I initially misjudged you and I want you to know I appreciate what you bring to the team.”

Your response is a nod accompanied by a warm smile, but his words catch you off guard and a faint blush colors your cheeks. “Thank you, sir. I’m just glad to be here, and I really truly appreciate your guidance.”

It's then, in that quiet moment, as the setting sun casts a warm glow through his office window highlighting the blush on your face and the sincerity in your eyes that Hotchner sees something he hadn't fully allowed himself to recognize before. The softness of the light, the quiet dignity with which you accept his praise and the undeniable warmth of your smile strike him profoundly.

For a brief moment Hotchner is silent, observing you not just as a capable agent but as a person whose presence has subtly but indelibly changed the fabric of the team—and his own perceptions. The realization that he finds you beautiful, in more ways than one, surfaces quietly but powerfully in his mind. This acknowledgment isn't just about your physical appearance but encompasses the entirety of your influence on him and the team.

As you leave his office with a certain lightness in your step. The thoughtful look on Hotchner's face mark a turning point. It's a small almost imperceptible moment, but it’s one where personal and professional lines blur slightly, hinting at deeper unspoken possibilities that neither of you may yet fully understand.

The next case up had been grueling with long hours and high stakes that left the entire team feeling the weight of their responsibilities. As the post-case debrief wraps up in the BAU conference room the team disperses, leaving behind a palpable relief mixed with the usual fatigue. But as everyone else heads out to grasp at some much-needed rest, Hotchner lingers at the conference table organizing his notes with more care than perhaps necessary.

Seeing you gathering your belongings slowly he finds the resolve to address the change he's felt brewing within him. "Agent L/N, could I have a moment?" he asks. His voice much softer than usual.

You nod, curious, setting your bag down and returning to the table. The room is quiet now, lit only by the dim lights left on for the night shift.

Hotchner takes a deep breath, his demeanor uncharacteristically open. "I owe you an apology," he starts. His eyes meeting yours. "When you first joined the team, I was... less than welcoming. I questioned your capabilities. Not because of any fault in your record or your behavior, but because I was resistant to the change you represented."

You listen, surprised by his candor, as he continues, "I've always insisted on control, on predictability. After everything I’ve been through, it seemed like the only way to protect the team, to protect my family from further loss. But I've come to realize that I was protecting myself more than anyone."

Hotchner pauses. His gaze shifting away momentarily before returning to yours, more intense, more vulnerable. "You’ve brought a new perspective to the team, a resilience and warmth that I didn't know we needed. You've saved lives, not just through your actions in the field but by being who you are. And...” he hesitates, the next words clearly weighing heavily on him, “and I find myself grateful, not just for your contributions to the team, but for the light you've brought into my life."

Your heart skips a beat at his words. The formal barriers between you melting away in the quiet honesty of the moment. “Thank you, Hotch," you respond, your voice low. You were touched by his admission. "I’ve always admired your dedication and getting to see this side of you, it means a lot."

Hotchner nods with a slight smile breaking through his usual reserve. "I guess what I’m really trying to say is, I would like to... explore this, whatever this is, with you. If you’re open to it," he adds quickly, almost awkwardly.

As the room quiets and you acknowledge Aaron Hotchner’s feelings. Even though your elated you feel that pit of dread form in your stomach. Aaron was your superior… a shadow of concern passes over your face, quickly deepening into visible anxiety. "Hotch," you start, your voice carrying a mix of hope and worry that quickly spirals into panic. "What about Strauss? If things change between us... I mean, if we do this, couldn’t it really complicate things? What if it impacts the team, or your position, or—"

Seeing your distress, Hotchner steps closer. His expression softening significantly as he picks up on your escalating fears. "Hey," he interjects gently, his tone soothing. "Let’s just take a moment, okay?"

You pause, your breath shaky, caught up in the whirlwind of potential consequences that his words had unwittingly unleashed.

Hotchner reaches out slowly. He was giving you time to accept his comfort before his hands rest lightly on your shoulders. "We're not going to rush into anything," he assures you, his voice calm and steady. "Yes, there are risks, and you’re absolutely right to consider them. But we’re not in this alone. We have a team that supports us, and we have each other."

His words help, but it's the firm comforting presence of his hands, the warmth from his touch, that really begins to calm your racing thoughts. "We'll be careful," he continues. "We’ll make decisions together. I respect you too much to let this cause you any distress. If it ever becomes too much, we stop and we stay professional. That’s a promise."

Your breathing slows, steadied by his reassurances. Looking into his eyes you find a sincere commitment there. A steadiness that you’ve always admired in him now directed towards nurturing whatever might grow between you.

Seeing that you’re still tense, Hotchner does something he rarely does—he pulls you gently into a hug. It’s a careful gesture making sure to respect the boundaries but offering comfort. "We’ll handle whatever comes, together," he murmurs. "You're not in this alone."

The hug was unexpected but deeply comforting. It helps to dissolve the last of your apprehensions. You let out a slow breath, allowing yourself to lean into the embrace. You felt a sense of safety in his support.

"Thank you, Hotch," you manage to say with your voice muffled slightly against his shoulder. "I needed to hear that. One step at a time. I can do that."

"One step at a time," he confirms. Giving you a reassuring squeeze before stepping back to respect your space. "We have all the time we need."

As you both leave the conference room, your steps feel lighter. The burden of immediate decisions lifted. With Hotch’s support you feel ready to face whatever challenges might come knowing that not just the weight of the case, but also the weight of new possibilities could be shared.

In the weeks that follow your relationship with Hotchner develops quietly but deeply. Both of you are cautious, acutely aware of the professional boundaries that must be maintained in the intense environment of the BAU. Yet outside of those walls, in the small, stolen moments you find together, a new world seems to unfold. A world where you can be just Aaron and Y/N, not agents with burdens too heavy to bear alone.

You start with simple coffee dates after long shifts where the conversation drifts from case debriefs to shared interests in literature and quiet confessions about your lives outside the FBI. These moments are a revelation, filled with laughter and soft looks that linger longer than necessary. They are moments that stitch the fabric of your relationship tighter with every thread of shared vulnerability and joy.

Aaron, who has always been guarded with his emotions, finds in you an understanding ear and a comforting presence. You learn about his son, Jack, about the painful loss of his wife, and how these experiences shaped him, not just as an agent but as a man who fiercely protects those he loves. Your empathy and gentle encouragement help him navigate the lingering shadows of his past. Allowing him to embrace the possibility of happiness again.

For you, Aaron becomes the person you didn’t know you needed in his strength. His steadfast nature and unyielding integrity inspire you, guiding you through the complexities of your role within the BAU. His belief in your abilities boosts your confidence and his support becomes your anchor in the turbulent sea of your demanding careers.

Together you navigate the highs and lows of life at the BAU. After particularly harrowing cases it’s Aaron who helps you decompress by taking long walks by the lake near your apartment or simply sitting together in comfortable silence. And it’s you who brings light into his evenings with Jack making sure to join them for movie nights and slowly becoming part of the family he holds dear.

The relationship does not go unnoticed by the team but the respect you both maintain at work ensures that your personal lives enrich your professionalism rather than detract from it. Your colleagues see the subtle changes—how Aaron smiles a bit more, how you’re both more relaxed despite the demands of your job.

After a few months of dating, you and Aaron walk hand in hand along the quiet paths of a nearby park, he stops, pulling you close. The city lights cast a soft glow around you, and the world feels like it’s holding its breath. "Y/N, these past months have shown me something I hadn’t dared to hope for," he says, his voice low and full of emotion. "That it’s possible to find light even in the darkest places. You’ve brought that light into my life."

You smile while reaching up to touch his face gently. "And you’ve shown me that strength isn’t just about holding up the world on your own, but knowing when to share the load," you reply, your heart full. "I love you, Aaron."

"I love you too, Y/N," he whispers, and as he leans down to kiss you, it feels like a promise. A promise of a future together where love and understanding can thrive amidst the chaos of the life you’ve chosen.

As autumn turns into winter the relationship between you and Aaron blooms amidst the frosty edges of the season, weaving warmth into the crisp air around you. Your love, quiet but profound, becomes the silent strength that both of you draw from during the demanding days at the BAU.

One chilly December evening after a usually tough case that had stretched your limits and tested your resilience, Aaron plans something special to celebrate not just the end of the case but the life you are building together. When you arrive at his house after the long day, you find the living room transformed into a cozy winter wonderland. It was complete with soft blankets, flickering candles, and a fireplace that crackles with warmth.

Jack was at a sleepover and Aaron greets you at the door with a gentle smile dressed in a comfortable sweater that makes him look homier than ever. "I thought we could use a quiet night in," he smiles while leading you into the room.

The table is set with your favorite foods and there’s a gentle playlist humming through the speakers filled with songs that have slowly become 'yours'. Aaron pulls out a chair for you, his manners impeccable as always, but his eyes are shining with a joy that is purely personal. As you eat, the conversation flows easily—plans for the holiday, funny anecdotes from the day, shared dreams for the future. After dinner Aaron leads you to the couch where a blanket is draped invitingly. He sits beside you pulling you close into his side, and you nestle against him feeling the steady beat of his heart.

“Y/N,” Aaron murmurs, his voice soft in the quiet of the room, “when I think about all we’ve been through, I realize every moment led me right here, to this. To us. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

You look up at him touched by the sincerity in his voice. “And I can’t imagine a better person to share my life with,” you reply. Your hand finding his. “You make everything... brighter. More beautiful.”

Aaron smiles, his gaze tender. “I have something for you,” he says while reaching into his pocket to pull out a small, exquisitely wrapped box. He opens it to reveal a delicate silver necklace with a pendant that glimmers softly in the firelight—a compass.

“It’s to remind us that no matter where we go or what cases we face, we’ll always find our way back to each other,” he explains. His fingers brushing lightly over the pendant before fastening it around your neck.

You touch the pendant overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gift. “It’s perfect, Aaron. Just like this night, like this.”

He leans in with his lips meeting yours in a kiss that is slow and sweet, a seal over promises made and kept. The rest of the evening passes in gentle laughter, shared kisses, and dreams whispered between the folds of blankets under the watchful glow of firelight and twinkling stars outside your window.

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: (Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mrs-ssa-hotch @panandinpain0 @viscade @kreepja @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kajjaka @guacam011y

[witchlingcirce]

Caitlyn’s rage is sooo interesting and I’m really liking the way there going with it.

Because rage and grief isn’t something you just get over in a matter of time- it’s something that’s all consuming, something you think about all the time. The combination of the two, grieving someone you lost and wanting to get revenge for them is something that would inherently make you act out of character. This is best displayed when Caitlyn is talking about the two things running through her head, Jinx, and her mother.

Because Caitlyn HAS been acting out of character (rightfully so), and this is so well highlighted at the end of episode 3, the fight and the CaitVi breakup.

I think the scene where she goes to shoot Jinx and the kid is there, Caitlyn is STILL willing to try and shoot Jinx even if Isha is there. In Caitlyn’s mind, she wasn’t going to shoot Isha- but I think it brings up a point of do the means justify the ends??

And than with the breakup scene, Caitlyn refers to Vi as Jinx’s “blood”, which imo was Caitlyn looking down on Vi for being from the undercity and also being related to Jinx. And than Vi compares Caitlyn to Jinx, which leads to Caitlyn hitting her.

Caitlyn hitting Vi honestly really surprised me, Caitlyn for the most part is not a violent person or a person who typically lashes out with violence. I feel like this again things up the “do thr means justify the ends” it’s clear Caitlyn is willing to hurt the people she loves for revenge- and so I’m interested to see how her character progresses !!! Especially since characters like Ambessa, are egging her on for the first.

So exciteddd to see her character progress further 🤞🤞

[kaeyachi]

some kaeya facts that i want to remind everyone with because I miss him so much! (no angst this time i swear!!...but if you all want angst, I could also deliver hehehe)

1. Kaeya tells the children of Mondstadt some stories! Specifically, one that some forgot or didn't know of is that he has told the orphans under the church's care some horror story about the light in the lamp posts :D He had been shown to do a story telling to Klee while at the Veluriyam Mirage and he has also been reading to Klee her bedtime stories as well

2. Kaeya made Klee's survival rules! Kaeya has definitely done his part on preventing Klee from destroying Mondstadt before Celestia ever could (well, at least lessened the amount of times Mond gets bombed anyway). Anyone else think Kaeya purposely let Klee explode the Good Hunter's stove to avoid going to the Chasm? No? Ok-

3. He takes the attention when he dances! Depending on which language you hear it from, it is either a good or a bad thing. However, I am on team good thing simply because some mercenaries invited him to go dancing with them while he was in Sumeru ( very interesting information, Kaeya! Glad to know they found you so attractive that they did something they don't usually do!)

4. If you call him kind, he will attempt to look mean (and he fails at it lmao), and if he is not being mean, he will try to deny it. The traveler once listed down the kind things he had done for Captain Wu, a Liyue npc, and Kaeya proceeds to tell us that he records people who owe him (which is a lie. He forgot the person he helped TWICE. What he does have a record of is a well-detailed list of Treasure Hoarders and their rankings + patrol areas in Mondstadt). Another instance was during Jean's story quest where Kaeya planned the appreciation party for Jean where he gave the traveler all the credit

5. He is a great gift giver! (unless that person is Diluc because otherwise he will find the ugliest thing ever and gift that... arguably, that kinda sounds like amazing gift giving if we are talking about being an annoying sibling). He remembers passing commentary from friends and coworkers and gifts them accordingly.

6. He has his own intel network (and I'm theorizing that it is just a group of people he has helped before that insisted on paying him back in this way). Kaeya, after some heavy insistence from Captain Wu, asks him if he wants to be a friend or be part of his intel network and follow his commands no matter what. Vile, one of his known informants, also gave us a glimpse as to what it takes to be part of Kaeya's network, and that is the ability to decipher codes and read messages in between.

7. He is incredibly reliable as a knight! Not only do the people of Mondstadt agree that he is the more approachable cavalry captain between him and Diluc, but it is also a known fact that Kaeya has never failed to complete a mission to date (except the one during Diluc's 18th). Nearly every citizen of Mondstadt adores him and knows how reliable he is. Arguably, this success rate could be attributed to his "end justifies the means" mindset that not all find enjoyable, but he is definitely the person to ask if you want something done. Vile has once mentioned that she could just ask Kaeya to do the charming and convincing for her, dubbing him as a prince charming for it.

8. He is one of the people who spends so much time with Klee (potentially attributed by the fact that he also has more free time compared to others). He spends so much time with her that Klee mentions a few interesting things about Kaeya, such as the fact that Albedo draws Kaeya frequently (enough times that Albedo says Kaeya could be drawn by him easily. yes, it's that "three strokes" line lmao) and the fact that Kaeya has saved Klee from solitary confinement a lot. He is shown to be a very effective person when it comes to corralling Klee without making her feel bad as even when he was trying to berate her, he still ended up giving her a possible reward if she listens.

9. He is very meticulous. He willingly spends the time to get himself ready in the clothes that he is wearing, and he likes embellishments. He really is quite the perfectionist in his actions as well. (very Alberich of him!✌️) We can also see this in his handwriting that has been described as "beautiful" and again with his near perfect track record as a knight.

[yallemagne]

I'm watching people trauma bond with Calypso from EPIC in real-time. Y'all. A character can be a woman and be a rapist at the same time. And her being a woman doesn't mean that ACTUALLY there's some trauma in her past that justifies her imprisoning men on her island and taking them to bed against their will, it means that she's a rapist that just happens to also be a woman.

I love how Calypso is depicted in EPIC, she's just dripping with a nastiness that is only matched by Penelope's entitled suitors. She's sugary sweet at the outset, but when Odysseus rather violently rejects her, she laughs at his rejection, saying he's adorable when he's angry and that he doesn't have any choice but to submit to her will as a god. And then she goes right back to the sweet lover in paradise ruse!!! It's sickening! She denies his autonomy because it gets in the way of the fantasy romance that she's forcing upon him.

So, I'm frustrated with people trying to paint it as though she's the victim in the situation, that what she's doing is somehow okay because she's a pretty woman and they feel bad for her. That's so patronizing.

I've seen people justify her behaviour by saying she's lonely. Tough shit get a hobby. Being starved for affection has never justified being an abuser.

I've seen people insist she truly cares about Odysseus because she tries to talk him down from suicide... but an abuser talking you down from taking drastic measures to escape their abuse isn't them showing genuine care, it's them not wanting the game to end, it's them exerting control over your very life. If anything, it's more disturbing because she is the one who drove him to be suicidal. So she's playing this game where she drives him to the precipice and then tries to lure him back down with "reminders" of "their love", those reminders actually being of the words of his dead loved ones that she's pilfered and warped as though they were her own.

The most ridiculous argument I've seen in defending Calypso's behaviour is saying that we can't use terms like "rapist" for her because "it was a different time" so "it's not certain whether or not what she did would be considered non-consensual for the time"... Like must I even point out that... that sleeping with someone against their will has always been and will always be rape? Anyway, her actions fit the ancient definition of rape to a t anyhow, so it's weird to try and weaponize "cultural differences" for the sake of having plausible deniability in Calypso's favour. Rape is also used to mean kidnapping, which is why we have pieces titled the Rape of Ganymede, the Rape of Persephone, etc..

Even if Jorge were to come out and say that, somehow, nothing sexual took place on Calypso's island in seven years, that despite her explicitly telling Odysseus that his "no" means nothing to her as a goddess she somehow never went so far as to sexually assault him... it doesn't make her abuse any less bad that she spared him that one trauma! Like holy shit dude.

Imagine if there was an adaptation that featured Zeus' rape of Io, and the audience responded to every literally dehumanizing action Zeus took against Io by saying "ooohh but he's lonely. i feel bad for him the most he's just a widdle lonely baby man. his wife is so meaaan."

[shezzabee]

What are your thoughts on the idea that Inho's obsession with Gihun might do with the fact that Gihun reminds him of his dead wife?

I'm biased because I absolutely eat it up. I never been the same after seeing a post here that compared Gihun's s1 smiling photo with a photo of Inho's wife smiling.

There's also the fact that in s2 ep4, Inho called his wife stubborn, and how theres no point in arguing with her once she set her mind on something (going through her pregnancy despite her being very sick).

It made me think of Gihun's dedication of finding the Recruiter/Salesman, his insistance on being put back in the game...and him not listening to Inho when being told to get on the plane.

With this in mind, Inho's "Just get on the plane. It's for your own good." can be read more that just one man telling another man with who he shares similar trauma, to get the good life he doesn't have (but it's absolutely valid!!)

It could also be Inho (without realizing it) pleading for Gihun (his wife) to listen to him (the doctors), and (this time) survive. But just like with his wife, Gihun isn't budging with his decision. He made up his mind, go argue with a wall.

(Now it doesn't mean that Inho saw his wife in Gihun in an instance. It happens slowly as Inho gets closer to him)

Hi! Thanks for the question. I think I know the post you’re referring to—my shipper brain absolutely devoured that too, not gonna lie. XD

Even beyond the shipping lens, though, everything you’ve said really resonates. It feels like the core of their dynamic, doesn’t it? In-ho is clearly drawn to something about Gi-hun’s refusal to compromise on his principles, his unshakable belief in humanity, and his conviction that things can still turn out for the better. The only other person In-ho has explicitly mentioned as being just as stubborn as Gi-hun is his late wife, which feels like a significant parallel.

Now, of course, this is all speculation, and we won’t know In-ho’s full motivations until Season 3 (hopefully) sheds some light. But I don’t think In-ho has ever truly moved on from his wife’s death. He’s still grieving, still carrying the weight of that loss. He’s angry—angry at himself for not being there when his wife and child died, angry at the world for the circumstances that led to it, and probably angry at the Games themselves for existing. (I’ll die on the hill that In-ho hates the Games, despite being their enforcer.) He’s also angry at humanity at large for failing people in need, for letting the world get to this point.

And I think there’s a part of him that’s angry at his wife, too, (don't kill me, hear me out). She was self-sacrificing to a fault, willing to risk her own life to save their unborn child. That mirrors what we see in Gi-hun, especially at the end of Season 1. In the final game, after Sang-woo is defeated, Gi-hun refuses to abandon his morals to win, even when the easier path is right in front of him. That kind of unyielding determination, that refusal to bend—even at great personal cost—has to strike a nerve with In-ho.

Since In-ho can’t confront his late wife or tell her she was wrong to risk it all, to leave him alone, he directs all that unresolved grief and anger toward Gi-hun instead. Gi-hun becomes a constant, painful reminder of everything In-ho lost—and everything he’s come to resent about the world.

So, what does In-ho do? He sets out to break Gi-hun. To tear apart everything and everyone Gi-hun cares about until all that’s left is despair. Maybe then, In-ho can finally say: “See? There’s no point. None of it means anything. You were wrong—just like she was wrong.”

It’s a cruel and calculated move, but also deeply human. If he can prove that Gi-hun’s ideals and morals are meaningless, it would, in a twisted way, justify the choices In-ho has made and the person he’s become.

In the end, it’s not just about Gi-hun or his late wife. It’s about In-ho’s own pain, his need to make sense of the senseless, and his desperate attempt to validate the path he’s taken—even if it’s at the expense of someone who still believes in the good.

[yesimwriting]

oh my god yes i'm very much interested in a drabble about my favourite besties kissing as besties do!!!!!!!!

the one that i really can't stop thinking about is the "i trust you more than anyone else" stuff like it's me and you against the world i'm such a sucker for that!! especially since felix is surrounded by people who wanna be close to him all the time and as easy going and open as he seems with anyone, it's of course on an entirely different level with reader

ugh the intimacy of it all makes me melt i love them😭😭

you get the vision!!

also had to start off a little angstier than usual bc the bestie kiss ™️ is only justifiable if both of them are upset enough to be more focused on being close than anything else, y'know

----

The taste lingers. The bitterness infects all it touches, poisoning you from the inside out as you down the drink that some guy pushed into your hand a few minutes ago.

A familiar warning briefly flashes to the front of your mind. Don't take drinks from strangers...especially not drinks that you didn't see them make. One of a hundred safety rules that you usually adhere to.

You've never really under the self destructive urge after drinking thing. Maybe it's just being tired. Maybe it's just this.

You wipe at your eyes with your palm, only remembering the products you had so carefully applied to your skin a few hours ago after the fact.

"Are you--" A familiar voice cuts through the music. You blink once, but it's not enough to force your eyes to adjust, so you try again. After screwing your eyes shut for a second, you can finally make out the person in front of you. Annabel. "You don't look like you're doing too good."

Your irritation has nothing to do with her, and yet seeing her standing there, effortlessly flawless with a slight edge that just fits here, you feel the knot in your stomach tighten. But that's not her fault, so as stabiliy and politely as possible, you answer, "I'm...fine."

She regards you for a moment, eyebrows pinching together in uncertainty. "Why don't we find Felix, yeah?"

Why does everyone always assume that Felix is the solution to all of your problems? "I'm okay," you try again, voice a little more certain, "really."

Annabel still doesn't seem too convinced. She turns her head, scanning the crowded room. It doesn't take long for her to find Felix. It never does.

He's sitting on a loveseat that's been pushed towards the edge of the room. A few people are standing around him, a girl is sitting on the chair's arm, her legs swung over his lap.

"And he seems..." You force your face to remain neutral as your eyes finally land on him. "Busy."

Annabel looks back at you, her lips pressing together. Her expression only adds to your unease. "He wouldn't mind. It's you."

You shake your head, the motion adding to your slight nausea. Usually, you wouldn't think twice about sticking by Felix's side. Especially in this kind of setting, but after the words the two of you exchanged earlier, everything feels off its axis.

You're not used to fighting with Felix. It's such a foreign concept that the strange tension that had you walking away from him earlier probably doesn't even constitute an actual argument. But it's enough to make you feel out of place.

Swallowing once, you force yourself to focus on Annabel. "I think I just need some air." Annabel's still regarding you with uncertainty. "I'll be back in a minute, and if I feel sick or anything, I'll go get Felix." She doesn't move until someone calls her name. "Go. Have fun. I'll see you."

Annabel nods once, giving you a polite smile before leaving.

The door is near where Felix is sitting, which means there's no leaving without walking past him. There's enough of a crowd around him that him not noticing is a likely option, so you feel safe crossing the room.

You push your way through the room, eyes trained on the ground to help your balance. It's also a good excuse to not look at Felix as you reach the door.

There are stragglers--a group of girls chatting and giggling in front of the door, some guys doing shots, a girl in the middle of a phone call that looks painful.

You walk around the side of the house until you find an empty section of the sidewalk. The party feels far away here, even though the only thing dividing you is a few cars, a mailbox, and a streetlight. You sit and let yourself pretend that the bit of distance you've managed to create means something.

You could actually leave. Sure, this is a slightly off campus house party, but it's only a few blocks away from the street that'll take you to your dorm. You did walk here, but that was when you were focused, sober, and you had Felix with you.

But that's--you brought cash. You think. Maybe you should call a cab. It's not the worst idea. You drop your attention to the ground, instinctually searching for your purse.

Ugh. Your purse. Felix. You gave it to Felix.

Okay, you're still an independent person. This is probably for the best. It's never a good idea to leave a party without at least telling the person you came with, and this way it won't be a big deal. You'll ask for your purse so that you can call a cab. He probably won't even care.

You just need a minute to get it together. Then you'll be able to go back in, tap Felix on his shoulder, and get your purse. He won't even have to get that girl off his lap.

It is such a double standard. Felix completely forgetting about you is perfectly fine, but you talk to one person that isn't more Felix's friend than yours at one of these things and that must mean you're trying to replace him as a best friend.

Maybe you've been deluding yourself, convincing yourself that your friendship means more than it actually does. The thought makes it hard to breathe right.

"It's cold out."

Your palms press into asphalt as you snap your head to find the source of the sound. Felix. A lump wedges itself in your throat. "I'm fine." He takes a step forward. "I just wanted some air."

You turn your head, forcing yourself to stare ahead. Soft footsteps, the crunching of asphalt echoes, somehow sharper than the music coming from the house. Felix sits.

He's farther than he usually is.

You lift your hands, taking your time brushing your fingers against your palms to get rid of the debris that indented itself into your skin. "You um--you have my purse, right?" You fold your hands against your lap. "I need my phone. I--I need to call a taxi."

"What?" His voice doesn't come out angry, but there's a flatness there that burrows deep into the pit of your stomach. It almost feels disappointed. "Why?"

You squeeze your hands together, "I want to go home." You still can't look at him. "I want to go back to my room." Your voice starts to crack on the last word. Nails instinctually dig into your knee.

Felix sighs, angling himself towards you, "You don't have to do that." His voice is soft, cautious. "If you want to leave, I'll take you."

"No," you shake your head once, attention still focused forward to keep him from noticing the fact that your eyes are now watering. All of this feels so dumb, so small. Why are you almost crying? "It's okay, you're having fun, I can get back by myself."

He lets out another breath, moving his arm so that his hand sits between both of you. "You're drunk."

"So are you."

A beat of silence that feels like an attempt at admitting that he's more than just drunk. You saw Tyler--or Trevor, or maybe Timothy--wandering the halls. Some guy whose name you can never remember because he only shows up at the end of nights, when you're too out of it to do much more than just be happy. He's known for carrying--and sharing--harder stuff.

Not that you'd know. There's nowhere that Felix won't take you, nothing that he keeps from you. That's part of the beauty of your friendship, the lack of judgement. But Felix isn't fond of you participating in everything all the time.

If you ever show interest in anything on a night that Felix isn't feeling too sure about, he'll offer to get you whatever you want later, when it's just the two of you. Maybe you'd mind his concern if you cared about getting high more.

You can feel Felix's stare, the weight of his full attention. "You don't actually think I'm going to let you go anywhere alone, after drinking, in the middle of the night."

There's a patience there that makes it hard to sit still. You turn your head, finally looking at him, "I'm fine. I can--" You cut yourself off with a slight sniffle.

You wipe at your face with the side of your palm. Felix's eyebrows are pinched together. You don't know what to make of the way he's watching you. Felix lifts his hand, fingers finding their way against your jaw before you can move. "You're upset."

Pressing your lips together, you try to force yourself to look as neutral as possible. "I'm fine." He doesn't move. "You should go back to your party, Felix."

"The party?" His expression briefly contorts in confusion. "I don't care about the party." Your vision is starting to blur. "There are other parties. You're crying." Felix shifts his hand up your face, his thumb brushing against the apple of your cheek.

You try to take a stabilizing breath, "It's not a big deal." You will yourself to move, to rely on him less. "I don't think I'm going to be any fun tonight, you should go, and I--I'll talk you tomorrow."

He frowns. "You don't have to be any fun." Felix shouldn't have to coddle you. Embarrassment and guilt further knot your stomach. "If you want to sit here, we can sit here. If you want to go inside, we can go inside. If you want to go home, we'll go home."

"Earlier," you manage, focusing on keeping your voice as even as possible, "When we--" Tears pool in your eyes, something at the back of your throat constricts. "I didn't--I don't know--"

You're not making sense, forcing out fragments of thoughts that don't work together. Felix seems to understand anyway, his thumb grazing against your cheek. "We don't have to talk about that now." You nod slowly. "If you still want to go home, let me take you."

You attempt a full breath, "But what ab--"

He tilts his head in a way that makes it feel like he's telling you a secret, "If you ask about the party again, I'm calling you delusional."

You roll your eyes. It's a relatively lame threat, but it serves its purpose. The corner of your mouth tugs itself upwards, your lips pressed together to hold in a partial laugh. "Okay."

Felix's hand slips from the side of your face and finds a new place against your shoulder. "Yeah? Let's go then."

He stands first and then extends an arm to help you. His stability makes it easier.

There is no laughter or pausing on sidewalks to try to hold onto each other. The two of you are quiet, but Felix does keep your fingers intertwined the entire way back to his dorm.

You don't think to question where he's taking you until you're in his room. "Felix." The walk had been good for you, the fresh air and time to gather your thoughts providing enough of a reprieve for you to get it together. "I want to go to sleep."

"Yeah," he mumbles, "I know, I'll get you your favorite shirt."

Your eyes focus on the ground. "I think I should sleep in my room tonight."

Felix sighs, turning away from the door. "You're trying to leave again."

The accusation only half makes sense, but there's a quietness to his voice that gets to you. All the nervous, alcohol fueled energy is coming back with a vengeance. "When have I ever left you?"

Felix scoffs, the sound bitter. "You left me tonight." If his voice was any less raspy, any less urging, you likely would have laughed. He's the one that got mad at you. "You just--you walked away from me. Like I didn't even matter to you."

The a thinly veiled sadness there that almost feels nervous. He can't meet your gaze. The pride encouraging you to stand still bleeds from you. Without its heat, its fire, there's not much keeping you stable.

You move forward, footsteps cautious. "Felix." You stretch a hand forward, fingers brushing against his forearm. He doesn't move. "Of course you matter to me. So much." Your fingers bend around his wrist. "You're my best friend."

He turns his arm. Your body tenses, preparing for his rejection. Felix's hand squeezes yours. There's a tension in his hold, but you embrace it all the same. "You walked away from me."

You take another step towards him, freehand finding his arm. "That's why." He sets a hand against you waist. The contact is firm, unforgiving. There's still hurt, but the only thing more unthinkable than holding on is letting go. "What you say means so much to me, because you're my best friend." His fingers press into your side. "And you were upset--and there were so many people--" Tears prick the corner of your eyes. "And I couldn't do that there."

"No." He squeezes your hand. "No, don't--don't cry, we're okay." As if to prove his point, Felix pulls you closer. The movement's too sudden for you to keep your balance on your own. You tighten your hold on Felix's arm. "Still my best girl, yeah?"

This is nowhere near the closest you've ever been to him. He has a hand on your hip, but that's far from the touchiest he's ever been. It shouldn't--he shouldn't be this distracting. It takes you a second too long to remember to nod.

He angles his head downwards, his cheek finding a place against your shoulder. Felix's breath is warm against your neck. "Wouldn't leave me."

You nod, moving your hand to rest against his back. Felix relaxes against you. It's not easy to stay stable with the alcohol still in your system and Felix's weight on you, but you manage.

"No." You mean it so much it almost hurts to get out. You'd never walk away from him. There's nothing like your bond with Felix. You could talk to him, be around him forever without feeling drained. "Of course not."

Felix turns his head, brushing his lips against your neck. "Stay over, then?" The question is soft, fragile. It'd be smart to create distance. If tonight's proven anything, it's that you're too attached to him. "Please?"

You smooth your knuckles against his spine. "Okay." He presses a kiss against your shoulder. "Yeah. I'll stay."

He hugs you even tighter. "No more tears, alright?"

You squeeze him back. "Alright."

For awhile, the two of you stay like that. There's nothing left to say, and that still manages to be comfortable. Silence is never uncomfortable with Felix.

He eventually shifts to place a kiss against the side of your neck. "We should get ready for bed."

You hum once in agreement. Neither of you move. Things are simple when you factor out the rest of the world. Things are easy when it's just you and Felix.

An overwhelming wave of fondness brings you back. As gently as possible, you start the process of untangling limbs. Felix pouts at you, expression drowsier than before.

Your fingers carefully brush his hair out of his face. "I need to change."

Felix fully straightens. His hand finds the back of your head. He pulls you towards him, pressing a kiss against your forehead. "Okay."

He lets go of you before walking towards his dresser. Felix opens the top drawer and finds your usual sleep shirt. You take it before entering his bathroom.

Going out outfits are cute, but there's something about the moment you get home that immediately forces every ounce of discomfort to hit all at once. You shed the restrictive layers before pulling Felix's T-shirt over your head.

You swear there's some kind of rich guy secret to keeping clothes this soft. A combination of fabric, fancy detergent, and some third thing that's reserved for those in the know.

You turn on the sink, ready to wash what's left of the night off of your face. Felix has never gotten rid of or moved anything you've left in here. What's left of your buzz has you more emotional than usual, making the evidence of your life in his space heavier than it should be.

The feeling is good and bad all at once. Your attachment to Felix is the kind of thing that can only come from fully understanding someone. But there's an inherent danger in knowing someone like that, carrying about them like that. Especially Felix, who has everyone so he doesn't need anyone.

You splash some more water onto your face, attempting to shake off any lingering angst. You don't want to dissect your friendship until it eventually falls apart into nothingness.

When you finally step back into his room, Felix is sitting on his bed, back pressed against the wall. He's managed to change into pajama pants, but seems to be struggling with everything else. His shirt's half unbuttoned, and his fingers are actively working at undoing the rest of them. Felix's movements are slow and clumsy as he tugs on the fabric.

Wow. Maybe you were right to think he was high. "Hey." He looks up at you, hands still attempting to pull apart his shirt. There's something endearing about the clumsiness. He drops his head back down to refocus."Do you--uh--do you need help?"

He angles his head to one side, a smile playing at his lips. "Are you asking to undress me?"

Heat burns through your chest, leaving you hollow. You approach his dresser, leaving your neatly folded outfit on the wooden surface. "Figure out your own shirt."

"No," his sigh is light, almost a laugh, "'M kidding." Your glare only seems to add to his easygoing mood. He smiles, dropping a hand to pat the space next to him. "Come here."

You give in with a sigh, crossing the room and sitting at the foot of his bed. He reaches forward, briefly squeezing your shoulder before returning to work on his shirt. It's hard to watch him stumble through undoing a single button, just to have to start the process all over again.

You pull your legs onto the bed, turning to fully face him. Your knee is pressed against his thigh.

"Lovie," he hums, as if your presence is some kind of revelation.

"Felix." He grins, hands releasing his shirt in favor of trying to grasp your arm. "Wait--" His fingers wrap around your wrist. "I'm--trying--" He pulls your hand towards him, placing a kiss against your knuckles. You laugh. "I'm trying to help you."

He tugs on your arm. His pull isn't harsh, but the unexpectedness of it paired with your buzz makes it enough to throw off your balance. Your freehand presses against the mattress in an attempt to stabilize yourself. Felix laughs, tugging on you again.

Fighting your own fit of giggles, you instinctually push yourself onto your knees in an attempt to regain some control. Felix gives you a second to find your footing. You gently pull his hand off of your forearm and set it on his lap. He frowns.

You extend your arms, placing your hands on his shoulders. Part of the reason for it is to help keep you stable, the rest of it is to keep him focused. He looks up at you, eyes pools of hesitant affection. "Stay still."

He lets you reach for his shirt. "Y'don't have to, I'm okay."

Shrugging, you continue to work at unclasping his buttons. "It's okay, I like helping you."

You unbutton the few buttons that are left. "Better?" Felix nods. "I'll get you a pajama shirt."

Before you can get far, Felix grabs your hand. "We're..." He focuses on bending and straightening your fingers. "Good, right?"

There's something soft about the question, almost shy. "Yeah." He turns over your palm, tracing the lines etched into your skin. "Of course we're good." You adjust, crossing your legs beneath you to sit down.

"Honestly, I was thinking about it, and part of the reason I was upset is because..." This is harder to admit than you thought it'd be. "You seemed really okay without me, and that--I don't know. It's dumb, because I really do want you to be happy, but it made me feel a little replaceable, I guess."

"What?"

You sigh, dropping your attention to your intertwined hands. "I know, I said it was dumb." You pause, eyes darting up to look at him. His expression isn't judgmental or like he needs space. You can't fully read his expression, but nothing about the way he's looking at you feels unkind. "I only mentioned it to be honest, I don't like the idea of keeping se--"

He pulls on your arm again, this time his hold a little firmer. You're closer now. Felix's other hand finds your hip, anchoring you in place. You're too confused to do anything but blink at him.

Felix lets go of your arm, fingers finding their way beneath your chin. He angles your head so that all of your attention is on him. Your lips part, a half thought out question is on the tip of your tongue when Felix leans towards you. His lips meet yours.

You're still, shock and something a lot more electric rendering you in capable of anything else. This isn't the first time Felix has pressed his lips against yours. He's affectionate, especially when drinking is involved. He'll brush his lips against yours after taking a shot together, or just because at the end of a long night. It's not an everyday thing, but it's happened from time to time.

This--this isn't that. He's lingering, lips parting so that his teeth can graze against your bottom lip. Felix pulls away just enough to look you in the eye. His thumb brushes across your cheek.

"You're my best friend." Felix's words are so urging, so pleading you nod before you can think. "Best mate. You're the--the only one that gets me. Really gets me." His hand moves to the back of your head, pulling you back to him.

Any sense of hesitance vanishes the second time he kisses you. He's all consuming, lips dragging against yours with a desperate patience that's dizzying. It's disorientating, the desire to be that much closer to someone when there's no way to get there.

Felix's hand finds your back. He pushes you towards him. There's no good way to oblige. You try anyway, shifting your weight back onto your knees. Felix pulls you forward by your waist. You're too focused on him to realize what's happening until you're on his lap.

He takes his time letting you go, teeth tugging on your bottom lip. "I trust you more than anyone." Felix leans back in, placing a quick kiss against your lips. "You're not replaceable." He squeezes your shoulder. "You know that, right?"

Still breathless, you nod. He's watching you with so much patience, so much care it's almost hard to bare.

His thumb smooths circles against your shoulder. "Let's go to bed, yeah?"

You lift his hand off your thigh to press a kiss against the back of his palm. "Yeah, lets go to bed."

He squeezes your shoulder once before letting you go. You move off of his lap carefully.

Felix sits up enough to push his shirt off of his shoulders. Your eyes instinctually fall to his sheets. "Do you want me to get you a shirt?"

"Why? Distracted?"

You roll your eyes in an attempt to the fact that you are struggling to look at him. "Shut up."

He grins as he pulls back his sheets. "M'okay." You take the opportunity to slip beneath the layers of fabric. Felix waits until you're settled to crawl beneath the sheets. "It's warm enough, even with you stealing my blankets."

"I do not," the sentence is more of a mock gasp than anything else. Felix shifts onto his side before collapsing his weight on you. "Felix."

"What?" He rests his cheek against your chest. "This is the only way to keep you from taking my sheets."

You sigh, feigning annoyance as your fingers find his hair. "Rude. I'm a great bed sharer."

Felix lets out a partial laugh against the side of your neck. His hand finds your hip. "You are pretty great."

Your hand trails down towards his back, nails grazing against the bare skin. "You are, too."

Silence stretches between the two of you for so long you assume that he's already fallen asleep. Felix has a talent for drifting off in the blink of an eye.

"Lovie?" He whispers the term so lowly you almost convince yourself the sound is a figment of your imagination.

"Yeah?"

You can feel the shift in his breathing. "It's you and me--just you and me, when it comes down to it." His thumb brushes up and down your side. "You know that."

He relaxes as your fingers trail down the start of his spine. "Yeah. Of course I know that." A part of you feels naive for believing his words so easily. He's too adored to just be your Felix at the end of the day, and yet-- "Just you and me."

Felix leaves an open mouthed kiss against collarbone. It's the kind of warm that leaves goosebumps breaking out everywhere the contact can't be felt. "Good."

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny

[yandere-daydreams]

hi. so this is kind of a random musing that doesn't have anything to do with what youve been talking abt on your blog recently so feel free to ignore it, but i love how you write yandere nanami and between going live and an ask one of my followers sent me i kinda had a revelation. i wanted to see if you had any thoughts.

i think that before meeting reader nanami would be a virgin.

even if were talking non yandere nanami, i don't think he's ever had sex. i can't see nanami being the kind of person who likes hookup culture - he doesn't want to be used by someone - but i don't think he'd be able to justify getting in a romantic relationship because his job is so dangerous. he wouldn't want to die one day and leave his partner widowed. so he stays celibate, he's come to terms with the fact that he'll die untouched.

(he just jerks himself to freaky ass porn to get his fix (maybe even a camgirl hehe))

at least, until he meets a woman who makes all of his morality fly out the window.

suddenly, his sex drive is higher then ever. he's cumming into his fist every night to the thought of this special girl doing abhorrent things on his dick. he loves her. he's never loved someone this much in his entire life so she has to be the one to deflower him. that's probably one of the most romantic things someone can do in his mind, so it has to be her. she's his soulmate

all of this to say, i think nanami would kidnap reader and force her to teach him how to have sex through some fucked up means. it just tickles something in me imagining how stupidly giddy he'd be, so unabashedly pathetic as he undresses a woman for the first time.

like, him holding her hand with his forehead pressed to hers, cumming inside of her, jumping through as many mental hurdles necessary to justify what he's doing (or maybe just not caring bc she'll come around eventually, right?)

i love your work. thank you for listening to my ramble. <3

tw - non/con, kidnapping, manipulation, delusional behavior.

no no no i agree entirely,,, no amount of propaganda can convince me that any of the jjk men every had their dicks touched before the age of twenty-five at least, with nanami probably being the worst offender among them. i mean, he doesn't really connect with people outside of the sorcerer world, not really, not in a meaningful enough way to lead to that kind of intimacy, and as for other sorcerers... no. just no. he'd rather die a virgin than resort to anything as desperate as that, which is quickly becoming a very tangible reality.

and then he meets you (or, alternative, stumbled onto your stream at some ungodly hour, his cock already in his hand and his pleasure-deprived brain frantic for something soft and pliable to latch onto), and he decides that it might not be so bad to consider alternatives after all.

i can see it going one of two ways: if he has any reason at all to believe that you're also a virgin, whether or not it's true, he'll immediately lose all patience. if that wasn't the case, he might be able to take his time, stalk you for a few months before consummating your blooming relationship, but now he's on a clock, now he has to get to you before someone else does. he still tries to make it romantic, lights candles and brings you flowers and all that, but he's rushed, panicked, babbling incoherently about 'being each other's firsts' as he haphazardly undresses you. it's a miracle he remembers to do any prep at all - he's just in such a rush to be inside of you, to be the first and only person to every know what it's like to fully, genuinely actually be with you. if there's any pain, he'll comfort you later, make up for two and a half decades of abstinence with his tongue and hands, but only after he's already ruined you for anyone else.

if you're not a virgin and he can't make himself believe you are, then he'd probably go a little less absolutely feral (at first, i mean). don't get me wrong, you're still getting kidnapped asap, but rather than a beacon of innocence and purity that he can taint, you're the corruption forcing him to fall from grace, and he's going to want you to act like it. he's got a list of virginities he needs to to take (his first handjob, his fist blowjob, the first hickey, etc.), and between every milestone, he's going to want you to teach him how to pleasure you, even if you're still insisting you'd rather not let him touch you at all. he wants your full participation - it doesn't matter how many times he makes you cum on his tongue while you're sobbing into your pillow and trying to block him out, he's not going to stop until he hears your sweet voice encouraging with the little 'right there, kento's and 'good boy's he's made you rehearse. by the time you actually take his virginity, he's going to have made you feel dirtier than you ever could've made him feel, but so long as he's the one you're feeling dirty with, nanami doesn't really mind. not when he's buried inside you, his chest pressed into yours and he's too lost in his own pleasure to think the tears staining your cheeks are anything but beautiful.

anyway loser virgin nanami you will live forever. perhaps loser virgin gojo will pay for his crimes next.