#like. personality. behavior. all of it. The Same.

[eveningcherryblossoms]

It's A Beta Life, Not A Better Life | Part 11

A platonic yandere Batfam x neglected beta reader story

In the end, you didn't tell Duke what you were.

It was cowardly of you, perhaps. Disrespectful of Duke's person. But when you looked straight into his eyes and remembered the boy you protected back then, remembered how he hadn't forgotten you either and now chatted with you so happily...

You didn't want to–sully it? Ruin it? By telling him how now you were a beta too. You didn't want to stop chatting like this, you didn't want to start empathizing with Duke over how awful it was to live as a beta in this world, you didn't want to put Duke at risk for knowing what you were.

But you didn't want to lie to him either, so in the end you asked Duke, "Actually, I'm... Well, I kind of miss you? Can we... if you don't mind, can we hang out, from time to time?"

Duke looked a bit surprised, then abashed, then eventually–pleased. He beamed. "Sure thing! It'd be great to hang out with you again, Reader!"

The two of you traded smiles, followed by phone numbers. Starting that day, you and Duke began to hang out–only from time to time, considering you still had to prepare and Duke himself had his own thing to do, but whenever you couldn't meet you still messaged or called each other.

It was nice.

It was fun.

It was, unbeknownst to you, the last month you could spend peacefully before the worst happened:

The Waynes found out.

The Wayne pack did not care about you.

For the past nine years, ever since they knew of your existence and you came to live at the manor with them, all the pack members from that time and subsequent ones had displayed their lack of care for you openly. Shamelessly. Guiltlessly, as neglecting you wasn't a wrong thing to them.

But when Bruce summoned his chosen children to the manor for a pack meeting concerning you, they all turned up.

Damian returned from school as soon as class ended–although that was his regular habit. Tim shambled down the stairs from his room where he'd been sleeping off the high of solving three cold cases. Jason arrived accompanied by the loud revving engine of his bike. Dick burst in at the last minute, hair askew despite still looking as though it had been artistically arranged that way, before all but throwing the whole length of his body on a chaise.

"This better be super important, B," groaned Dick, half-muffled into a cushion. "Oh my God. When I meet whoever it is has been leaking all those stuffs I'm gonna kiss them. Kill them. Both. Either. Oh my God I'm tired."

"We do not kill," reminded Bruce. Dick flipped him off.

"We do not talk about Reader at pack meetings either," added Tim evidently without thinking, judging from how he winced after blurting that out. Though the way Damian glared and flashed a knife his way likely also contributed.

Jason snorted. "So what's this about, B? The pup finally bit off more than they could chew, or did they chew your handmade Italian leather shoes?"

"Refrain from equating my sibling's behavior to a dog, Todd," Damian snarled. Jason sneered and opened his mouth likely to provoke Damian, but was cut off by Alfred coughing pointedly.

"If you two young gentlemen would be so good to listen to Master Bruce's answer, please?"

A mumbled sorry Alfie and similar sounds were uttered by not only Jason and Damian, but also Dick and Tim. Bruce observed all but one of his children and felt a mixture of fondness and pain.

Fondness for his children. Pain for you, who somehow had been overlooked by everyone in the pack including himself.

But not anymore. Nevermore, Bruce swore to himself.

He spoke, "It has come to my attention... at the very least, that I have been neglecting Reader."

A series of frown answers him.

"You, Bruce?" Dick paused, rising from his prone position on the chaise. "...I might have been the same. In my defense, well. You guys know what is happening in 'Haven right now."

Tim nodded, hesitantly adding, "I've been trying to talk with them these past few months, but... I never did before..."

Jason scoffed, but self-consciously averted his gaze. "I took it for granted you'd take care of your biological kid yourself, B. I–the me from–before, wouldn't want to discover how welcome he'd be. And after... Eh." He shrugged, still not looking at anyone.

Damian alone looked at his brothers one by one, clearly confused in spite of the forbidding scowl on his face, before directing his gaze to Bruce in disbelief.

"Am I meant to conclude that you not treating Reader as pack member was not deliberate?"

Everyone exploded at that. Bruce reeled despite remaining seated on his armchair.

"Gods, Dami, of course it wasn't?!"

"Hold on, hold on. You knew?"

"Old man!" Jason snapped, eyes now flashing fiery and green at Bruce. "Tell me you didn't!"

Bruce slowly blinked once, twice, like a man concussed. His face pale and his voice hoarse when he finally spoke, "Yes, Damian. I didn't–sincerely, I didn't notice."

The disbelief on Damian's face was now mixed with anger and disgust. "So you are telling me," he intoned, "that I could have laid claim on my blood sibling from the start?"

"You were going to...?" Dick's voice faltered as a thought struck him. "Guys," he called, "who assisted Reader back when they presented?"

Tim, Jason and Bruce traded uneasy glances with each other. Bruce paled even more at this and hurriedly sought Alfred, silently pleading that at least his always-reliable butler, his sole caretaker after his parents' passing, his pack omega had been there for you when no one else was.

His heart sank when Alfred pressed his lips and refused to meet anyone's eyes.

Dick began to tremble. "Nobody did? None of you did?" He whirled towards Bruce. "B, how could you?! You know how dangerous a first heat can be! You told me all about it when you sat through my first heat!"

Tim shrank into his seat, palm over his horrified face. His brain very likely going at mach speed at the implication and various possibilities while his mouth was only able to mutter "Oh my God, oh my God–"

Bruce himself seemed to be experiencing the same thing as Tim, before he belatedly realized something odd.

"Heat?" Bruce looked back at Dick, bewildered. "Dick, Reader is an alpha."

"They're what?"

Not only Dick, but Tim stopped at that. Jason blinked the green off his eyes, confused as well, but in opposite direction.

"Of fucking course kid's an alpha? They snarled at me when I–hold on." This time, it was him who turned to Bruce. "Hey, B, did you know Reader is attending Park Row High?"

"They what?"

"Attending Park Row fucking High. According to their files, they'd been there since freshman year. They're a junior now. I confronted them about being there in Crime Alley to keep an eye on me under your order or something, and they told me you probably knew nothing about it."

Tim all but leaped to his laptop, fingers rapidly clicking to hack your academic files. Meanwhile, Dick shook his head, unable to come to terms with the concept of you being an alpha instead of an omega like your mother.

"Reader is not an alpha. They never said they were–" Suddenly he stopped, realizing that you never explicitly said you were an omega either.

But. But if you weren't an alpha... or an omega...

"Tt."

As Damian clicked his tongue, for some reasons everyone fell silent. Even Tim paused his hacking to look at Damian, whose eyes swept the great room and all its occupants with condescension before he went on,

"I don't care what my sibling is. Now that I know I did not need to wait until I become pack alpha, I shall claim Reader as my beta."

A literal bomb could not stun the rest of the pack more. They either stood or sat still, stupefied. Until an alarm set to their respective phones or other devices suddenly rang, alerting them to an even more urgent matter.

An Arkham breakout.

Despite the alarm blaring through the whole city, you remained rooted to your seat, earphones on from when you listened in on the Waynes via the bugs you made yourself.

You still felt the figurative icy water down your spine hearing Damian state his intention for you. Your hands shook. Your eyes stared without your brain registering anything. You had no idea how many times in a minute you thanked fates for deciding to plant those bugs and make the program to alert you exactly for a situation like this.

Had you not done so, had you cluelessly been there...!

Blindly, you groped for an inhaler. You wheezed to yourself, remembering how you thought that had to be excessively prepared of you to get an inhaler alongside the rest of your med supplies. Dimly, you wondered if you were dissociating.

You had to leave. Run away. Hide? Fake your death? The timing was perfect actually, what with Joker out there.

You wheezed again until you choked. For a brief moment, you scolded yourself for not having the forethought to prepare a fake corpse to dump. Was this a panic attack?

Wait, you heard them speaking again.

"–suit up."

"Robin, you're with me."

"Red Hood–"

"I'm fucking peachy, Nightwing. Shut it."

Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a freaking minute.

All those names–weren't they...? But wouldn't it mean the Waynes–legally your family members–were the vigilantes of Gotham?

You hadn't even finished wrapping your head around the idea when you heard something else. Something almost as terrifying, actually.

The window nearest you shattered by the swing of a crowbar. With a stifled gasp you rolled away, arms shielding your face from the glass shards. Before you lowered them, you could already tell who it was from their speaking.

"WHAT'S THIS?! A LITTLE BIRDIE FALLING OUT OF THEIR NEST! C'MON, BIRDIE, LET'S PLAY A GAME WITH UNCLE JOKER!!! HAHAHAHA!!!"

A/N: *evil dramatic music intensifying*

We're getting to the climax, folks! Brace yourselves, I predict about three to five chapters left!! This one is kinda rushed in pacing I think but hopefully you guys still like it. Please send asks and replies to motivate me! 🙏

Btw in case it was unclear, the scene with Duke in the first half happened on the FIFTH month mark right after Damian left Chinatown. So reader still had one (1) month left with Duke before the Batfam found out in the second part on the SIXTH month mark. Yeah yeah I know it was unnecessarily complicated, my bad 💕

Also catch Alfred trying to avoid confessing he had been deliberately neglecting reader lmao

P. S. Question. Does the tag still work if it can't be clicked? Like it's just the name with the @ symbol, does it still work or is there a limit to how many people I can add to the tag list?

Taglist: @randomlyappearingartist @bellethesleepypotato @nirvanaxx1942 @tenswife @galaxypurplerose @shycreatorreview @cupid73 @time-shardz @mikusamsan @simpingpandas @kore-of-the-underworld @elmichi0 @mirabilis-polaris @farsketch @altumsomnum @hai-there-how-are-you @vanessa-boo @ashjade19 @yandere-enthusiast @a-lurking-fae @hyperfixatedcatlover @leeiasure @luckynemi @lowkeyjarrr @lunoorbonoor @deathbynarcisstick @tacendxx @staarflowerr @anonlikesfics @magical-panda2 @whognuthis @arwenyukiamoto @hon3ydewcaram3l @lilyalone @jazzyspaceghost @teabutnerdy @bunbunbread @darktrashpoetry @conqcakes @sleepdeprivedcrappywriter @unrelatedlily @ciatin @ratchetprime211 @mybones537 @anonasatoruu @vikkus-main @shqyou @sitepathos @ee-1ovelifedownthedrain @totallynotacat13 @ratterpatter @hayourdadgon @justannie18 @jungkooks-tiny-waist @holderoflostmemories @woodscranesbill @neverdead2 @iansimpsforeveryone @numbu5 @eas-kat @hanz-176 @alishii @holyfishbailiffpeanut @type-ink @mysh-lynnn @juskonutoh

[evilwetbread]

ok so i’d like to talk about this actually!!! i’ve seen quite a few people share this particular sentiment about rags and i’d like to give my two cents on why i said “instead of” rather than “and” when talking about ragatha’s fawn response. (no hate against this particular reblog of course!! it was just the quickest example i could find)

first i’d like to clarify that i 100% agree that ragatha’s behavior can be destructive, both towards herself and to others.

she doesn’t know how to regulate her emotions because she’s spent so long repressing them, which gives her this “subdued and agreeable” veneer that keeps others from really getting to know her as a person. and when she does let her negativity show, it comes out more explosively, because she’s never let herself air out her issues in a healthy way, which makes her normally happy demeanor seem less genuine.

when i say she isn’t toxically positive, i don’t mean that in the sense that she’s done no wrong. i just don’t really think it’s a very effective descriptor for her flaws personally.

toxic positivity is usually defined as downplaying other people’s problems or dismissing them entirely, usually out of discomfort or lack of sympathy, but i don’t really think ragatha does this? at least not in a conventionally “toxically positive” way

the issues that the other characters have with her is less based on dismissal of their problems, and more because she’s never entirely honest about her feelings and opinions, which makes her encouragements seem superficial. when the others have had problems or moments of sadness, ragatha resorts to consoling, rather than dismissal- less “well just look on the bright side” and more “i’m sorry, hopefully things will get better soon” type stuff.

the issue here is that it’s impossible to tell whether or not she really means what she says, which is why she’s not very close with anyone. for all they know, she secretly hates everyone, or doesn’t give a rat’s ass what happens to them. to jax’s point, when you spend all of your time comforting other people in the same way, you start to seem 2 dimensional- especially when, at a surface level, it looks like you yourself don’t ever have moments of distress or vulnerability.

ragatha is narratively a mirror of jax; defending herself with a false identity in the opposite way, by forcing herself to be a support for others, and feeling completely inadequate when people don’t want that support.

all that being said, i totally get why some people see rags as toxically positive, and while i agree that there are some aspects of her personality that lean in that direction, i don’t feel like it encompasses why the others keep her at arm’s length, if that makes sense. the whole situation feels too complex to me to really define it as one Specific thing.

i guess this is my long-winded way of saying: i think a lot of these issues stem from fawn response, but that doesn’t necessarily mean i think she’s not at fault haha

wanted to talk ab this little detail in this scene that i find Sad

ragatha’s first instinct here was to panic and brace herself for some kind of verbal backlash because of the outburst earlier. pomni didn’t even sound mad or irritated in her delivery, but ragatha’s expression still 100% reads “she must be upset with me for yelling”

whoever said that her feigned optimism is a fawn response instead of toxic positivity hit the nail Right on the head i think.

her mom must have been pretty awful

[ybklix]

young and beautiful

𐙚 pairing: lee felix x fem!reader

♡ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: The love of your life, and you begin to reflect on your future. ౨ৎ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔: fluff, suggestive smut, established relationship, idol felix implied. ⊹ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 3k

young and beautiful by lana del rey

masterlist ⭒ taglist

wen’s note: hot summer nights, mid july... 🚬 (it's art, i love lana so much and i couldnt miss the chance of another year without writing something around this song at the right timing lol, happy mid july!); it reminded me when hyunjin showed felix this song and he was falling asleep to lana's voice lol

Felix had thought it through enough. He had considered it enough, gone through enough silent crises, but now he knew—he had always known—but this time he was extremely determined. You are the love of his life.

And everyone around him, in his world and close circle, knew that he loved you intensely.

So, with his heart almost in his throat, his skin pale and his mouth dry, he invited you on this trip. He used the excuse that he wanted a vacation with you and had organized everything in secret to surprise you with the news, hoping you wouldn’t question him.

You didn’t. You knew your boyfriend was spontaneous, absent-minded, but when it came to serious things, things he truly took seriously, his expression changed completely; he smiled little and looked at you intensely as he said, “I know your schedule is free these days and we’re supposed to rest here, but since my schedule is also free... but how about going to France with me?”

That time, you examined his face, his serious expression, the way he breathed, and you thought then that it was a trick... Your mind immediately deceived you, and your chest tightened a little, thinking that he was about to tell you that he suddenly had business in France, something to cover with the luxury brand he worked for, and that his invitation was his subtle way of telling you that he would be busy but needed you with him. Just as he had done many times before, and you always adapted to him.

“France?” you replied, “Did something suddenly come up that you have to go?”

At least you were direct that time. But Felix was doing his best not to tremble with nerves right in front of you, as he really didn’t want you to suspect anything at all.

“No. Of course not. I mean, I planned a trip for the two of us.”

And those were the most wonderful days, although Felix had to admit that he was still quite nervous. How was he supposed to know what to do next? Every part of him felt like he was about to faint and lose consciousness.

You… you had no idea, you were having a great time, falling more in love with Felix with every second you spent with him, spending the first two days in Paris and, on the second day, to start the third day of your trip, he suggested you pack again, not believing what he was saying. Another spontaneous trip to another place far from the busy city, a place abundant with nature, beautiful lakes, and all the bright and beautiful things that, to Felix, made you look even more beautiful surrounded by them: flowers, natural landscapes…

He was very specific with you, telling you that he wanted you to wear that pink dress he suggested you pack from the beginning, using the sweet excuse, “Oh, I have a suit with pink details and I want us to match! We can take lots of pictures together, honey!” And then he proceeded to kiss you tenderly, so you packed it, without the slightest suspicion of his true intentions.

However, you were certainly beginning to notice some strange behavior in Felix, as if he seemed paranoid or was very attentive to his surroundings, and you thought it was because you were both taking a dangerous risk by going out in public to enjoy your time together like any normal person. But Felix wasn’t just any normal person, not in the eyes of others, not in the eyes of the public. But the thought was short-lived, because every night he was the same again, the same vulnerable Felix in your arms, the one who has to hug you to sleep well, the one who tells you every one of his jokes and waits to see your smile at every moment. He was your boyfriend again, the love of your life, whose closeness and touch made you swoon and question over and over again how it was possible that you could love someone so much? How could you feel so intensely whenever you were with him?

The two of you moved each other’s worlds in the sweetest, purest, and best way possible.

Upon arriving at the place, you were completely amazed. It was beautiful, and you couldn’t help but have a lot of questions for your boyfriend: “What? Why? Felix, what is this place? How long have you been planning this? Where did you even find it?”

“I just want this trip to be so special and unforgettable.”

You had no idea that he had been planning this beautiful trip for months—and the other and most important thing, and the real purpose of the trip—because someone like Felix couldn’t just leave the city where he worked as often as he pleased. And then, you began to appreciate his effort, and an almost inhuman burden of tenderness filled your soul. He was loving you, spoiling you… but why so suddenly? Why during the middle of a hot July summer? Why did you think your boyfriend was so attached to the idea that this particular trip together, unlike the others, would be particularly perfect?

You could see it and feel it, Felix’s determination and focus. You knew him so well. Something was up, but you couldn’t exactly point your finger at what.

But you began to suspect something when you saw how gorgeous Felix looked in that suit he didn’t show you at first, but just did a moment ago. In addition to doing everything he could to style his hair properly—since he was used to the hard work of his stylists—he asked you for a little help and also nervously asked you, with his big, bright, tender-hearted eyes, if he would look good in the photos looking like that, without makeup.

But of course, there was absolutely nothing to worry about with you. He knew you would look stunning in any photo, wearing anything. You were the most beautiful woman in his eyes, and his heart beat intensely every time he saw you wearing makeup and that dress, taking his breath away and making his mind fantasize about the sweet idea... that in the future, that emotion of his and that image of you that he was treasuring forever in his memory would transform into a warmer and more unforgettable day. A moment forever, once in a lifetime.

You laughed, thinking he was overreacting, that it would just be a couple of photos taken with your cell phones. You kissed the bridge of his nose and appreciated his freckles, telling him that he looked beautiful just the way he was.

And finally, Felix’s plan was set in motion. A romantic and unforgettable dinner, still with the light of day supporting you on what would be, for Felix, his most difficult day so far.

“It’s... very nice, Felix, really, why are you trying so hard to surprise me?”

The scenery was beautiful. A beautiful garden, surrounded by flowers, with a romantically decorated table and chairs, the table set with food, ready for you two lovers to sit down, enjoy, and chat. It was like a fairy tale.

Felix was truly overwhelmed, nervous, not even sure if he could eat a bite, but he had to act like he was fine. Until now, the most genuine of his emotions had been loving you.

“We needed this kind of date... planned, beautiful, not just on special occasions like our anniversary, Valentine’s Day, or our birthdays... I just want to spoil you,” he replied, coming closer to you, taking you by the waist, and looking at you adoringly. “I love you.”

And being with you certainly made everything easier for Felix. You never failed to impress him with how you softened his soul, if that was even possible, and if it was, you were the only one capable of that and much more... of awakening in him something so pure and overwhelming that he never wanted it to stop; the feeling was sweetly addictive. It was you. It was love.

But after finishing eating and chatting, and after drinking a little wine, he felt the pressure again; it was becoming real.

He was going to do it.

“Should we explore the place?” he said suddenly, nervous and swallowing, his Adam’s apple moving in his throat.

“Sure,” you replied, worrying slightly about him.

Felix quickly got up from his chair and took your hand. The beautiful garden impressed you, and the lovely sight of your boyfriend walking through it was simply wonderful, so between giggles, compliments, and gentle caresses, you took pictures of him, without even knowing that you were capturing a before and after for him and for both of you, a special transformation in who you were, in your relationship, and in your love.

He guided you around the place, telling you a little about how his French friend had suggested the perfect place, that he had been planning it since March to relax with you, and all the little things, telling you only the surface of the truth. Because the truth was that Felix and you had been boyfriend and girlfriend for a long time, you had gone through many ups and downs, sometimes the downs were so strong and destructive that they overshadowed the ups, but you stayed together because you loved each other and couldn’t leave each other, because you knew exactly what you were getting into when you got involved with someone like him, and you both discussed it, knowing that his life was hectic and revolved around perfection... and yet you took the risk, you tried, and you both fought for the connection you had, which is still very strong and lasting to this day.

And even though his life was seemingly perfect, for him, there was nothing better than being with you. So... he thought about it a lot, had many crises, questioned everything, because in the end, you were both still very young and he was at the peak of his career... but the feeling and thought kept him awake at night. He loved you too much, he couldn’t imagine a life without you, you had known each other for years, you had been together for years... was it the right time to take the next step?

Felix thought it over many times, spoke seriously with his sisters, his father, his mother, seeking advice, comfort, and support. He was desperate, but the only thing he was sure of was how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, and if that meant an official ceremony to seal your love—in front of the church, which fascinated him more than anything—alongside your closest family and friends, he would do it. He will marry you.

Even though you had already had that kind of conversation, openly and genuinely confessing that one day you would get married, live together, and spend the rest of your lives with each other. At first, it was corny, those confessions you used to make in your most vulnerable moments, when your heart seemed to rule your brain, and it stayed that way for a while. Then it became more serious, confirming that you did want to marry each other, and you talked seriously about it, that in a couple of years... when he turned past 25, when he will be maybe 27, 28, and getting married before 30 was the ideal plan for both of you; that you would love an intimate proposal, without excess, without exaggerated decoration, that it would be a unique, magical moment, just you and him. You were planning your future together, with racing hearts, shining eyes, and words full of hope.

But he couldn’t wait any longer. And he knew you couldn’t either. You were still too young, but it all just felt right. A life together with you.

Felix stopped dead in his tracks. It was the right place. In front of the pond, nature filling the air with its scent and decorating your bodies. It was the perfect shot.

“I have something very important to tell you.”

He said that, nervously. It was time. He stood in front of you, took your hands, looked at the ground, licked his lips, and looked up to stare at you. He was almost trembling.

You nodded, signaling that you were listening attentively. You admired Felix; he looked so handsome today, and you thought about how perfect this trip had been, that there was nothing more Felix than this, his romantic dates, tinged with beautiful flowers and the perfect undertones of a fairy tale. It was typical to think about taking you to Paris, to explore the place popularly known as romantic... but he was still himself, gave it his touch, he made it more magical, beautiful. You felt like a princess right now.

A few seconds of silence passed, and his serious, sparkling gaze and tense body perpetuated everything and made your world spin. Your heart began to race, and you almost trembled beside him. You couldn’t believe it was true, but you knew exactly what it was.

“You know... I love you so, so much,” he almost began to stammer, his pulse betraying him, “and...”

Felix blinked, thinking, right, this is the part where you kneel, Felix; feeling overwhelmed that he was about to give his speech standing in front of you.

You watched him do it, slowly, and your world stopped right there. You opened your eyes in surprise, and suddenly every particle in your body became so sensitive, and you felt your blood flow drop abruptly from your body. It was happening. You looked at Felix, vulnerably kneeling in front of you, struggling to form words, his eyes shining when he saw you.

“I just can’t imagine what my life would be like without you in it. I want you in it—in my life, forever. I want to grow old with you, plan every little move I make... together with you, I want to love you, take care of you until my last breath. I want you to love me like you do forever and be by my side... Y/n, please—”

Felix was about to cry, his voice trembling with a lump in his throat, letting out thoughts he had kept locked away in his mind and heart. He sometimes found it hard to cry, sometimes it was so easy, being vulnerable with you became his favorite thing. He didn’t know how to truly express himself at that moment; he even wrote a speech in the notes on his phone, prepared himself, memorized it, wrote down what he loved most about you, but he completely forgot it when he was standing there in front of you. He knew you understood.

It was a sweet speech... in which he reflected on his strict and hard life and how your arrival was the most sincere proof of love. Felix, in his world of glamour, had seen and felt it all, lived a brilliant world of luxury, experienced love in many areas—the public adoring him... but there was nothing like the different world you made him feel; absolutely nothing compared to you and your warm soul, the way you saw the world, the way you loved him.

He finally took the engagement ring box out of his pocket and showed it to you—the most beautiful and exquisite diamond—his hands trembling, on the verge of the sweetest collapse. But the ring was no more dazzling than the question and the memory that will always live in your mind until the end of your days. From the precious image of the love of your life saying:

“Will you marry me?”

You felt dizzy, then the adrenaline rushed through you. A flood of emotions all at once, only to be summed up in a happy:

“Yes! Felix, yes!”

He stood up, almost staggering from the lack of strength, but he felt a great relief as soon as you leapt at him and felt your warm arms around his body. As soon as your bodies touched and you breathed in each other’s scent, you broke down completely, sweet sobs of happiness, warm tears of love decorating each other’s cheeks.

He held you tight, holding on to that moment.

“I love you so much, Felix,” you confessed, hugging him tightly and in a weak whisper, you were so fragile and vulnerable.

Felix respected your wish. The proposal was intimate, just you, him, and the beautiful memories, and a very private photographer he hired to hide behind a bush and capture the sweetest of moments.

With the ring on your finger, your bodies trembling and your souls vulnerable, you both spent your first night as each other’s fiancés. Felix promised to spend the rest of his life with you.

And as you both got ready for bed, you couldn’t help but blurt out, still stunned by the idea of being with him, walking down the altar... growing up, starting a family, having a home...

“Are you really going to love me even when I’m old? Wow, it’s just that—I’m speechless.”

In the superficial world Felix lived in, with beauty surrounding him wherever he went... all that lost its meaning. What good was that beauty if it made him feel so lonely in his saddest moments? What good was that beauty if what he admired most about you was your soul, and he knew that you would evolve as a person—alongside him—you would grow... but you would always remain the same person he fell in love with.

That night, your bodies became one, your hands on his back with your ring brushing against his skin and naked body. You yielded to each other, whispering and panting each other’s names, writhing in pleasure and love until you fell deeply exhausted.

One of many nights of passion and intense love for the rest of your lives, in the future.

𐙚 general taglist: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @lolareadsimagines @ayyonoona @do-you-remember-summer-127 @wildtokay @korthbum @hyune-sssne @oddracha @choso4u @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @bokkiesluv @thvsuga @myrkhive

[stzrgirl4norris]

beautiful people - LN4

Lando Norris x Reader (smau)

summary: fancy dinners and events can leave lando feeling overwhelmed, but thankfully he has the right person by his side to remind him what it feels like to be a normal human being from time to time

this is based on this request by my baby !!

liked by mclaren, yourinstagram, oscarpiastri and 2,720,034 others

Lando gala prep: mission elegance 

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georgerussell63 Lando, that’s the look of “what have I signed up for” 😂

carlossainz55 Where is your tie?

> lando elegance is subjective, carlos

maxverstappen1 Looking good man!

> lando thanks max, i learned from the best 😉

mclaren Gala glam ready!

> yourinstagram barely. he spent 40 minutes fighting with the steamer.

yourinstagram you’re lucky you’re cute because the tie situation was tragic

> lando bold words from someone who cried over fake lashes > yourinstagram THEY WOULDN’T STICK

oscarpiastri I helped him pick the shoes, you’re welcome world

>lando you picked the black pair. they were ALL black. > oscarpiastri still counts

danielricciardo i expect nothing less than a 10/10 strut on the carpet

>lando if i trip it’s your fault

charles_leclerc Elegant? You were blasting ABBA in the dressing room I could hear it

lewishamilton Clean 👏🏽👏🏽 now don’t spill anything this year

> lando no promises 🥂

user you look like a boy band member

>user RIGHT?? 

user wait why does he look like he’s about to propose

> user if he does she better say YES

user okay but he cleans up SO WELL???

user my mom just said “who’s that charming young man”

user the curls have entered a formal era 😭👏

pierregasly next year we coordinate outfits. bros in bowties.

> lando deal. pink velvet? > pierregasly you KNOW i’m in

user 10/10 styling. but also: what cologne are you wearing??

user lando in formalwear is my roman empire

user you and yourinstagram are the prom king & queen of the grid and i won’t be taking questions

> user they would definitely spike the punch

user now who’s gonna get lipstick on that collar first 👀

liked by lando, yourbff, alexandrasaintmleux and 200,382 others

yourinstagram first time in full glam, kind of excited, kind of sad they didn’t allow me to eat pasta

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user her mascara game is strong!

> yourbff she cried once and it didn’t move. elite.

user Obsessed. This look is EVERYTHING.

user aesthetic goals

> user she looks like a bridgerton disney princess character

lando you literally yelled “I AM GOD” in the mirror

>yourinstagram i stand by it > lando slay queen behavior, tbh

user they really banned carbs?? criminal

> yourinstagram right??? i almost caused a scene

user SHE’S NOT JUST A PLUS ONE SHE’S THE MOMENT

user11/10. lando is trembling.

lilymhe wait you’re not even in the main gala yet and you already won??

danielricciardo the fact you’re glam and still threatening violence over ravioli is beautiful

> yourinstagram i contain multitudes

mclaren someone please let her eat pasta 😭

> yourinstagram PLEASE speak to whoever’s in charge

user this pic cured my depression

> user girl i saw this and booked a facial appointment

user okay but this is red carpet material

> yourinstagram next year i want a cape

user where are the pics with lando??

user i need the makeup breakdown IMMEDIATELY

user she’s elegance, she’s beauty, she’s probably hiding snacks in her purse

user this entire vibe is “rich girl who bites”

user her and lando are entering their power couple couture phase

user i would let her run me over in heels

user if she walked past me like this i’d simply evaporate

> user same babe. wouldn’t even try to survive

alexandrasaintmleux STOP you look like you were born to wear diamonds

> yourinstagram and yet they wouldn’t let me touch the bread basket

carmenmmundt did you smuggle cookies in your clutch like last time?

> yourinstagram …allegedly

user is it just me or is she slowly becoming the it girl of the paddock??

f1 not just you. she walked in and everyone stared. even the security

user i love her cause she’ll wear a 3k gown and still threaten someone over carbs

> user she’s the voice of the people

user can we get a behind-the-scenes GRWM???

user max said “wow” under his breath when she walked in. I was THERE. yourinstagram he just wanted my seat at the table don’t let him fool you

user how is she real. HOW

user i gasped. genuinely gasped. this is WAG excellence

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F1 #F1Gala2025 — elegance meets elite. 

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user Lando looks… ready to bolt

user elegance on point

user he gave up on the tie i'm crying

user  they all look like they got dressed by Vogue

user are they enjoying this?

> user Charles is. George is pretending. Lando wants to go home.

user why does George look like he owns a vineyard in Italy?

user Lewis??? that’s ART

> user i can’t look directly at the photos i might combust

user George walked in like he knows he’s hot

> user as he should

user why is Lewis always giving mafia boss energy?

user all the boys look like perfume ads and i’m not okay

user Max probably rather be racing

user they all look like they’re attending the wedding of someone they don’t like but the open bar is good

user i need a behind-the-scenes of them figuring out how to pose

user we need a grid-wide catwalk next year

> f1 noted. 👀

🎵beautiful people - ed sheeran

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lando midnight cravings > glitz and glamour

(tagged: yourinstagram)

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user now that’s the vibe 🎵

> yourinstagram tux in one hand, waffle cone in the other > user priorities straight 😭

user she's finally eating her pasta 🥹

> lando she ate mine too 😔 > yourinstagram worth it.

yourinstagram pure joy

> lando you looked too good to be crying over canapés 😌

user you’re gonna freeze 😉

user love this energy!

user gala? i don’t know her.

user he’s actually glowing

charles_leclerc you left us alone with the board of sponsors 😡

> lando you looked busy pretending to enjoy the shrimp cocktail > yourinstagram you were so brave for that

oscarpiastri classic.🙄

>lando jealous? > oscarpiastri extremely. > yourinstagram we brought you a cone. we just… ate it

maxverstappen1 I can't believe you two 😤

> lando max... can't you really?

georgerussell63 some of us stayed to network. just saying.

> lando some of us chose serotonin😌 > yourinstagram enjoy your shrimp tower, George

user this is Cinderella but chaotic

user this is such main character behavior

user I need someone to ditch a gala for me too pls user no but the fact that they risked PR chaos for ice cream?? legends user someone check on their PR manager 💀 user if this isn’t love idk what is 😭 user lando’s in his romcom boyfriend era and I’m NOT OKAY

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, lilyzneimer, lando and 299,300 others

yourinstagram we saw a shooting star! ⭐🤩

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georgerussell63 that ocean shot is perfect

> yourinstagram you’d love the breeze out here > lando you’re not invited

user fairytale but real

user the notebook meets la la land

user aesthetic unlocked

user teach me your ways pls

lando you made the wish before I could 😑

> yourinstagram mine was better anyway 😌 > lando rude.

alexandrasaintmleux this feels like a dream 😍

> yourinstagram it really was

user the moonlight got me weak

user they said "galas are for the boring" and disappeared✨

oscarpiastri next time I’m coming with

> lando only if you bring kinder > yourinstagram and a blanket. that wind was disrespectful

lilyzneimer you two are too cute it’s actually unfair 🫠

> yourinstagram miss you already 🥺

user I just KNOW y’all kissed under the stars

user the stars, the beach, the messy hair… may this love find me pls

user I need this on a Pinterest board immediately

user this is why I believe in love again

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lando recovery mode activated: pasta classes, card gamos, and ceramic lessons💭🍳

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user i bet your ceramic looked like her boob

> lando …no comment 😅 > yourinstagram don’t give him ideas PLEASE

yourbff ok but yn did he do the dishes?

> yourinstagram only after I beat him at uno twice > lando lies. it was once. and I let you win > yourinstagram you absolutely did not

user at-home love is best love

user this is what healing looks like

user she’s in her "taught him how to boil water" homewife era

charles_leclerc glad they made it to breakfast lol

user never want this to end

user these pics = wholesome energy

user y’all in your "just us and carbs" chapter and I support that

user every slide is a serotonin boost

user i want what they have (and the ravioli recipe pls)

oscarpiastri how do I join ceramic club?

> lando we don’t need another plate with weird holes in it > yourinstagram he’s just mad because mine was cute

mclaren does this count as active recovery? 🤔

> lando if by "active" you mean eating 3 servings, then yes

user slide 3 is SO domestic it actually made me emotional

user not lando in his boyfriend househusband arc 😭

user if this is what "recovery" looks like I want to be hungover too

user okay but who won the card games??

> yourinstagram me. obviously. > lando I demand a rematch. no wine next time. > yourbff there was wine?! no wonder

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yourinstagram landinho, charlie and nice views 🌻❤️

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lando by the nice view you mean... me 🙂‍↕️

> yourinstagram sure babe… you and the mountain 😌 > lilyzneimer she meant the dog and you know it 🐶 > oscarpiastri can confirm. dog was cuter.

user landinho is sending me 😭

user I need a lando, a charlie, AND a view immediately

user how are y’all this cute and chill all the time

> maxverstappen1 they’re not. Lando cried over a bee last week. > lando ONE TIME

charles_leclerc can’t believe I wasn’t the Charlie in question

> yourinstagram one day 😌 > lando don’t encourage him

user give charlie a treat for me pls 🐾

user slide 1 made me gasp. like actually gasp.

user sunflower energy and boyfriend lighting 🌻🫶

user the way she looks at him>>>

oscarpiastri I hope Charlie got gelato

> lando he did. I didn’t. justice for me

user landinho is canon now

>user the way I’m putting that on a shirt > user landinho and charlinho out on a stroll 🫡

user i can't believe i lived to see lando experiencing real love

user they escaped the gala, made pasta, kissed under the stars, and now this??

danielricciardo Charlie has more fans than both of you combined

> lando he’s already getting brand deals > yourinstagram he’s in talks with Pawda and Arfmani 🐾💼

georgerussell63 shocking how peaceful Lando looks without an Xbox controller

> yourinstagram he hasn’t touched a screen in 36 hours. miracles exist

[all-my-love-for-harry]

Through the Dark, Back to You

pairing; jake seresin x fem!reader

summary; A former profiler. A fighter pilot. A past that refuses to stay buried. When old ghosts resurface in San Diego, the truth becomes the most dangerous thing of all.

word count; 10.5k

warnings; violence, mentions of kidnapping (nothing graphic), mentions of past torture (nothing graphic), protective!jake, found family, angst, inaccurate references (most likely, google can only do so much), usage of y/n like once

a/n; welcome to a top gun maverick x criminal minds story that nobody asked for! i thought this concept was interesting and criminal minds is one of my favorite shows so i thought why the hell not. idk if i need to say this but this isn't propaganda, i just like the show lol

masterlist

When Jake met you, you were still in the FBI — sharp, focused, and far too busy to notice the way the world tilted slightly when you walked by. He’d only been stationed in Virginia for a couple of weeks, still getting used to the slower rhythm of land life, wandering around town alone when it happened.

You came bursting out of a coffee shop, balancing a cup of black coffee in one hand and what looked like a thousand overstuffed folders in the other. You were mid-apology to the person behind you when he caught the door and held it open for you. You looked up just long enough to murmur a breathless, “Thanks,” then disappeared toward the parking lot, car keys already in your teeth.

Jake didn’t even have time to respond.

Back then, he thought you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen — not in the obvious way, but in the way that made something stir in his chest before he could name it. Your glasses framed your face in a way that made your eyes look even sharper, and your hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail that swayed with every purposeful step. And those trousers? God help him. They clung to you like a second skin, and even though he hadn’t meant to stare, you didn’t give him much choice when you practically jogged down the street like a woman with a world to fix.

Jake was embarrassed to admit he came back to that same coffee shop every single day that week, hoping to see you again — always ordering the same thing, always pretending it was a coincidence. He didn’t.

Just when he was about to give up and chalk you up as one of life’s fleeting moments, there you were. Standing in line on a Thursday morning, hair down this time and wearing another pair of slacks that sent his brain short-circuiting all over again. You were scrolling through your phone, not paying him any mind — not until he stepped into your line of sight with that easy, practiced grin and said, “Hey, I think fate’s trying to give me a second chance.”

You raised a brow at him. “To do what?”

He shrugged. “To ask for your number before you outrun me again.”

And for the first time that week, you smiled.

He tried to impress you with everything he had — the full Seresin charm, that devilish grin, and of course, his shiny, high-flying Navy career. Fighter jets, call signs, a few well-placed smirks. He figured he had you hooked by the time the drinks hit the table. But you? You were the one who blew his damn socks off. Cool as anything, you mentioned — almost shyly — that you were an FBI agent. Supervisory Special Agent for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Twenty-six years old and finishing your third doctorate. He almost choked on his beer. You said it like it was no big deal, as if anyone could waltz into Quantico at twenty-two years old and profile serial killers for a living. And you blushed when he stared at you like you hung the damn moon.

You talked for hours. About books you loved. About cases you couldn’t talk about, but still carried weight in your voice. About what it felt like to walk into a room and know things no one else could. And Jake, in return, told you about flying — the terrifying beauty of it, the stillness above the clouds, the kind of silence that lets you hear your own heartbeat. He’d never opened up like that with anyone before, but somehow with you, it wasn’t difficult. It felt natural. Easy.

You asked smart questions. He made you laugh. And when the sun dipped low behind the trees and drinks turned to dinner, he walked you to your car and told you he really hoped you’d let him see you again.

You did.

And after that, everything shifted. The dates kept coming — restaurants, long drives, lazy evenings in your apartment with Chinese takeout and documentaries playing in the background while you rattled off facts that he pretended not to be wildly impressed by. You never made him feel like less — not for not being academic, not for only having one degree, not for the way he sometimes couldn’t find the words for how he felt. You just… saw him. All of him. And he fell fast.

He liked how you pushed your glasses up when you were concentrating. How you kept stacks of books everywhere — bedside, kitchen counter, even the bathroom. He liked that you blushed when he complimented you, even though you could walk into the BAU and face monsters without flinching.

Jake never meant to fall in love. Especially not while he was stationed in a place that wasn’t meant to be permanent. But then again, he never expected someone like you — someone whose heart was as terrifyingly big as your brain.

It got serious fast. Not because either of you pushed it, but because the connection was undeniable. Solid. You were the calm to his storm, the reason he didn’t feel like he had to constantly prove himself. And he became your safe place, the one person who didn’t look at you like you were a machine made to solve puzzles — he saw the person behind the profile. The soft girl who lit up when he made her pancakes, who fell asleep with a book on her chest, who told him she trusted him before she even realized she had.

And when the bad days came — the cases that left you quieter than usual, the nights when your hands trembled after the phone rang — he didn’t ask for details. He just held you, steady and silent, until you came back to him.

Because Jake Seresin, the man who’d flown through combat zones and trained for worst-case scenarios, had never been more sure of anything than he was of you.

Things were good. So good.

The kind of good Jake hadn’t believed in before you — quiet mornings with your legs tangled in his, the warmth of your laughter echoing through the kitchen, your voice humming from the shower while he shaved. He used to think permanence was a trap, a thing you tolerated. But with you, it was a gift. Something sacred. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been that happy. Maybe he never had been.

You still worked cases, still left on sudden flights, still called him from hotel rooms at 2 a.m. with sleepy murmurs and updates about how close your team was to catching another monster. He hated the danger, hated the way you shouldered the worst of humanity and still came home with softness in your eyes. But he never said a word. You were brilliant. Brave. Made of steel and light. And he wasn’t going to be the reason you dimmed.

Until the day the phone rang, and everything changed.

It was a Tuesday. He remembered because he had just come back from base and had stopped by the market to pick up your favorite tea — the one with the ridiculous packaging and citrusy notes you claimed helped you sleep after a hard case. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he answered without checking. The voice on the other end froze the blood in his veins.

“Jake. It’s JJ. Something’s happened.”

His chest tightened. “What do you mean?”

“Things went sideways on a case. Local police compromised the perimeter. The unsub — he took her.”

The world tilted.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. He barely remembered the rest of the call, only the sound of JJ’s voice — controlled, but heavy with guilt and urgency. The rest was a blur. The market aisles faded, the colors dimmed, his legs moved on instinct. He didn’t remember getting in the car. Didn’t remember driving. Just the rage, the helplessness burning under his skin. The awful weight of knowing the woman he loved — his person — had been taken, and there was nothing he could do.

Hours passed in slow motion. The team worked the case. He wasn’t allowed to be part of it. He wasn’t FBI, wasn’t trained for this kind of war. He was trained to fight, to act — not to wait by a phone, useless.

And then, finally — movement. They found the unsub. A cabin in the woods, middle of nowhere. The team breached, and Jake was already in the car before anyone gave him permission.

He got there right as they were pulling you out.

You stumbled down the front steps of the cabin, leaning heavily on Hotch, your face pale, blood smeared down your arm. Your shirt was torn. There were bruises blooming across your neck, cuts along your hands and collarbone, and your eyes — God, your eyes. Distant. Frightened. Not you.

Jake didn’t breathe. Couldn’t. He froze there in the clearing, heart clawing at his ribs as you blinked at the sunlight like you didn’t even know what day it was. You were barely standing.

When you finally looked up and saw him, your knees buckled.

He caught you before you hit the ground, dropping with you into the dirt as your arms trembled around his neck. You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to. He could feel it — the pain, the fear, the way you clung to him like he was the only real thing left in the world.

And in that moment, Jake Seresin — the man who never broke under pressure, never flinched in a cockpit — cracked straight down the middle.

He didn’t cry. He couldn’t. But something inside him fractured, and it never quite healed the same.

The weeks that followed were slow and brutal.

You didn’t go back to work. Not right away. Not at all, eventually.

The Bureau offered you time, space, therapy, support — but even stepping into the field office again made your skin crawl. The air felt heavier. The walls too close. And the faces — all so kind, all so understanding — reminded you of how it felt to be on the other side of the case. To be the victim. The file.

Jake never once rushed you. Not when you couldn’t sleep, not when the night terrors made you bolt upright gasping for air. He would just sit with you, arms wrapped around your trembling shoulders, whispering soft reassurances into your hair while your fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline.

You stopped wearing your badge. Stopped carrying your gun. Jake didn’t say anything when you quietly tucked it into the drawer one night and never looked at it again. He just kissed your temple and pulled you closer.

The decision to leave the FBI wasn’t sudden — it was slow, like mourning something you once loved. A part of you that had always felt unshakable suddenly… didn’t fit anymore. The BAU was home once. Now it felt like a cage.

Jake never tried to talk you out of it.

He listened — really listened — when you told him you couldn’t keep doing it. That something in you had changed. That you couldn’t stomach another crime scene, another case that mirrored your own trauma. That you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life surviving your own job.

“I’m done,” you whispered one night, curled into his chest on the couch, the television flickering softly in the background. “I can’t go back, Jake. Not even if I wanted to.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Then don’t.”

You blinked up at him. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” he said, brushing his fingers through your hair. “You gave enough. You don’t owe that job your soul.”

And he meant it.

Within a month, he’d put in a transfer request. Florida. A clean slate. Somewhere warm, somewhere far from Quantico, somewhere you could finally breathe again. He didn't even ask if you wanted to come — he knew you wouldn't want him to leave without you. Just like you knew he'd never go if you stayed.

You found a small apartment near the beach. Quiet. Sunlight through the windows in the morning. Jake would make coffee while you read the paper with your feet in his lap. It wasn’t flashy, but it was yours. And for the first time in a long time, peace didn’t feel like a distant memory — it felt possible.

Eventually, you started doing research again — privately contracted, flexible hours, all on your terms. It wasn’t field work, but it let you keep your mind sharp. It gave you purpose without reopening old wounds. You let your team — Spencer, Derek, Penelope, the rest of them — stay close. They still called, still checked in. And you still loved them. But the life you’d built with Jake… this was something new. Something whole.

You’d survived the worst. And somehow, when the dust finally settled, he was still right there — steady, gentle, and endlessly proud of you.

Three years.

It had been three years since the worst day of your lives, and tonight — watching you laugh across a bar table in San Diego, lit by string lights and nursing a cherry soda with lime — it felt like the storm had finally passed.

The Hard Deck was buzzing. Music low, the crash of the waves just outside the open doors, and the unmistakable sound of pilots trying to out-charm one another over pool and beer. You were tucked neatly between Natasha and Bob, both hanging on to a story you were telling with shy amusement. Something about the physics of a sonic boom. Or maybe how memory consolidation works during REM sleep. Jake couldn’t quite hear — he was too distracted watching the way your nose scrunched when you got excited.

He leaned against the bar beside Coyote and grinned into his beer.

“You’re staring again,” Javy muttered, nudging him with an elbow.

Jake didn’t even try to deny it. “Can you blame me?”

Across the bar, Fanboy burst into laughter. “Wait, wait — Doc,” he said, catching his breath and pointing at you, “are you seriously telling me you taught yourself Latin for fun?”

You blushed instantly, ducking your head. “I didn’t teach myself. I… dabbled.”

“Dabbled,” Phoenix repeated, shooting Jake a deadpan look. “Okay, Casanova, so when exactly did you trap a shy little genius in your pilot net, and how much bribery was involved?”

Jake chuckled, sliding his beer down on the counter. “Hey, I didn’t trap her. She saw the dimples, and that was it.”

“Must’ve been the dimples,” Bob said seriously, adjusting his glasses. “Or the blinding humility.”

They all laughed, and you rolled your eyes affectionately before giving Jake a smile — one of those soft, private ones that still made his chest ache a little. No one at the table knew the weight behind that look. No one knew what it meant to be here, whole and laughing, after everything you’d been through.

To them, you were you — Jake’s brilliant, bookish partner with the shy smile and the scarily fast brain. They knew you worked in research now. They knew you freelanced for universities, occasionally gave talks at conferences. They knew you could solve a crossword in two minutes flat and had a secret obsession with crime podcasts.

But they didn’t know the other things.

They didn’t know about the badge in the drawer. The gun you hadn’t touched in years. The BAU, the cases, the nightmares. They didn’t know what Jake had seen when he carried you out of that forest cabin — or how hard you’d fought to reclaim the light in your voice again.

And you liked it that way. You liked that, to them, you were just you.

Not a profile. Not a headline. Not a survivor.

Just you.

And Jake? He liked it too. He liked seeing you safe, happy, leaning into a life that didn’t ask you to bleed for it.

Still, every now and then — like tonight — he would catch you watching the room a second longer than necessary. Clocking exits. Reading posture. Tracking movement the way only someone trained to do so would. And he’d know the past wasn’t gone. Just quieter now. Sleeping beneath the surface.

Later that night, the world was quieter.

The bar’s laughter and music had been traded for the soft hum of your apartment’s old ceiling fan, the rhythmic whisper of waves in the distance, and the occasional creak of wood beneath Jake’s bare feet as he padded into the kitchen.

You were curled up on the couch, knees tucked beneath you, one of your oversized sweatshirts slipping off your shoulder. A half-read book rested on your stomach, your glasses tilted slightly as you blinked sleepily toward him. Jake returned with two mugs — tea for you, decaf for him — and handed yours over with that lopsided smile you’d never been able to resist.

“You’re officially two yawns away from drooling on that chapter,” he said, settling in beside you and slinging an arm around your shoulder.

“I was just resting my eyes,” you mumbled.

He snorted. “Sure you were, Doc.”

You leaned into him, the scent of clean cotton and faint sandalwood grounding you instantly. His thumb traced slow circles on your arm. For a while, neither of you spoke.

Then Jake said it, casually but carefully, “Hey. Don’t forget your session next week.”

You nodded against him, voice quiet. “I won’t.”

“You’ve been doing good,” he added softly. “Even with everything.”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, your fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt, grounding yourself in the fabric — in him.

“I still have those dreams,” you admitted.

Jake nodded. “I know.”

“But they don’t control me anymore.”

He kissed your temple. “Because you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

You smiled faintly, eyes fluttering shut as his hand found yours and threaded your fingers together.

You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. But tonight, you were home.

The morning was still.

The kind of still that only settled in when Jake was on base — when the apartment sighed in his absence and sunlight stretched through the windows without interruption. You had a mug of tea cooling on the counter and your laptop open in front of you, filled with half-written notes for a research proposal you were supposed to finish by the end of the week.

You were wearing one of Jake’s old Navy shirts, sleeves pushed up, hair still damp from your shower, glasses sliding down your nose. You felt normal. Safe. Steady.

And then your phone rang.

Not your work line. Not a research contact.

Jennifer Jareau.

Your blood ran cold.

You didn’t answer at first. Just stared at the name until the call went to voicemail.

It rang again, five seconds later.

You picked up on the third ring. “JJ?”

“Hey,” she said softly. “I’m sorry to call like this. I know it’s been a long time.”

You swallowed, already bracing. “What’s going on?”

There was a pause, weighted and heavy.

“We’ve got a case. San Diego. And the unsub’s MO… it’s almost identical to him.”

Your hand tightened around the edge of the counter. “JJ—”

“I know. I know you’re not active anymore. I wouldn’t ask unless we were sure. But we pulled old files, reviewed your case. This guy’s escalation pattern, the signatures—” she exhaled. “It’s too close. We don’t know if it’s him or a copycat, but—”

“No.” You said it before you could think. Before fear could disguise itself as bravery. “I can’t, JJ.”

“Sweetheart—”

“I can’t,” you repeated, firmer this time. “I haven’t stepped back into that world in three years. I’m not that person anymore. I’m not… I can’t go back.”

There was silence on the other end. And then, quietly, “I understand. I really do. Just… if you change your mind, we’ll be here.”

You ended the call without saying goodbye.

For a long while, you just stood there. Staring at the mug. At your notes. At the sunlight.

Then you closed your laptop, set the tea aside, and waited for Jake.

He came home just after five.

You were on the couch, legs curled under you, blanket tugged tight around your shoulders even though it wasn’t cold. The second he walked in, you looked up, and something in your face made him pause.

He crossed the room in three long strides, crouched in front of you, hands gentle on your knees. “Hey. What happened?”

You handed him your phone. The screen still showed JJ’s missed call.

“She wants me to consult on a case,” you said, voice quiet. “It’s here. In San Diego.”

Jake didn’t ask who the case was about. He knew. He saw it in your eyes — that far-off flicker of something old and sharp you tried so hard to bury.

“She said the unsub’s MO is almost identical.”

Jake’s jaw tensed. “You told her no, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I did.”

Relief sagged his shoulders, but not completely. “Good. You don’t owe them that, baby. You survived once. That should’ve been enough.”

“I know.” You reached for his hand and threaded your fingers through his. “It just… shook me.”

Jake lifted your joined hands to his lips and kissed your knuckles. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. “You’re not going back there. Not unless you decide to. No guilt. No pressure.”

You nodded again, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his. “Thank you.”

“Always.”

The Hard Deck was buzzing in the late afternoon haze — pool balls cracking, old rock humming through the speakers, and the smell of sea air drifting in from the open doors. The Daggers were in their usual spot near the windows, spread out around a table littered with fries, drinks, and the kind of stories that kept getting taller with every telling.

You sat beside Jake, half-listening to Fanboy retell another story about how he "heroically" saved Payback from a malfunctioning landing gear. Jake, as always, muttered corrections under his breath just for you, and you bit back a smile as you leaned into his shoulder.

The front door opened with a soft chime.

Jake glanced toward the entrance — and stilled.

He knew them instantly.

Emily Prentiss and Derek Morgan. Not in suits, but unmistakably federal. There was a certain tension in their posture, a focus in the way they scanned the bar. The last time Jake had seen either of them, it had been in a hospital hallway. He hadn’t forgotten.

He felt your body react a split second later — a stillness in your limbs, like prey hearing a branch crack in the woods. Your hand tensed where it rested on your thigh. Your breath hitched just slightly. Jake reached under the table, brushing his fingers against yours. You didn’t look at him, but your fingers curled around his.

“They’re not here for me,” you whispered, barely audible.

“You sure?”

“No.”

The two agents didn’t head toward you. They didn’t even seem to notice you — not yet. They moved like they were used to this, splitting up without a word, blending in with the crowd.

Jake watched carefully as Derek veered toward the pool tables and Emily headed for the regulars near the bar, both of them asking quiet questions with easy smiles and notepads tucked discreetly in their back pockets.

“Uh…” Coyote squinted after them. “Are those feds?”

“Definitely,” Jake murmured.

“Why are feds here?” Phoenix asked, brows lifted.

Fanboy leaned back in his chair. “Maybe someone finally reported how much you cheat at darts.”

Jake didn’t laugh. He was still watching them. Derek made his way over, casual as ever, flashing his badge just briefly to the group.

“Sorry to bother you all — Derek Morgan, FBI. We’re working a case in the area. Just trying to get a sense of the neighborhood.”

“Did we do something?” Bob asked, half-joking, half-worried.

Derek chuckled. “Nah, nothing like that. Just asking around. We’ve had a string of abductions not far from here — young women, mid-twenties, approached late at night. Pattern’s tight enough we think it might be the same guy.”

“Jesus,” Payback muttered.

Derek’s eyes scanned the group. “You all stationed nearby?”

“North Island,” Coyote said. “We’re pilots.”

“Got it. Any of you regulars here?”

“Three times a week, minimum,” Fanboy said proudly.

“Good. Just keep an eye out. Someone acting out of place, someone who gives you a bad feeling — it might be something.” Derek gave a faint, reassuring smile. “If you remember anything, let the bartender know. She's got our contact info.”

Phoenix leaned forward. “Wait — what department did you say you were from?”

“BAU,” Derek said. “Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“Is that like… psych stuff?”

“Kind of,” Emily added as she joined them. “We analyze crime scenes and build profiles based on behavior. Try to predict who we’re looking for before they hurt anyone else.”

Fanboy blinked. “So you’re… like crime psychics.”

Jake sighed. “No, Mickey. They’re profilers.”

You didn’t speak.

Emily’s eyes swept over the table then — calm, unreadable — and landed briefly on you.

She didn’t react. Just gave the smallest nod. Barely perceptible.

Jake felt you tense again.

The agents thanked the group and moved on to the next table, just as quickly as they’d arrived.

Silence settled for a beat.

Phoenix looked around. “Okay, but real talk — Doc, you okay?”

You managed a tiny smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah. Just didn’t expect to see the FBI during happy hour.”

Jake was still watching the agents. Still holding your hand.

Still wondering exactly how long it would be before they came back — and what they’d ask when they did.

The apartment was quiet.

It was late — later than you meant to be awake — but sleep hadn’t come easy since the agents showed up at the Hard Deck. You’d curled up on the couch with a blanket, the TV murmuring in the background while the muted glow from the screen flickered across the living room.

You weren’t really watching.

Not until the news anchor said the words.

“The body of a young woman was discovered early this morning in a wooded area east of San Diego. Authorities have not confirmed whether this case is linked to a string of similar attacks, but sources suggest the victim shares key physical characteristics with those in previous cases…”

You sat up straight, blood draining from your face.

The screen changed to a stock image of a taped-off forest scene. Dim, impersonal. Detached.

But it wasn’t impersonal to you.

Your hair color. Mid-twenties. Slender. Last seen leaving a bar alone.

She could’ve been you.

She was you — in every way that mattered.

Your hands started to shake. You pressed them into your thighs to stop it. A slow, sick heat crept up your spine, curling behind your ribs. Not fear. Not exactly. Something heavier. Older.

Guilt.

She didn’t get out.

You did.

You stood up, moved through the apartment like a ghost. Jake’s jacket was slung over the back of the kitchen chair, his boots still by the door. He wasn’t home yet — still on base, running late from whatever flight debrief got dragged out past midnight.

Your phone was already in your hand.

You didn’t even remember picking it up.

You pulled up JJ’s contact. Your finger hovered above call.

The key turned in the door.

You froze.

Jake stepped in, looking exhausted but warm. His eyes landed on you immediately — the glow from the TV casting you in soft, pale light.

“Hey, baby,” he said gently, tugging off his boots. “Why’re you up? It’s late.”

You didn’t answer right away. Just looked at him.

He noticed the tension in your shoulders instantly. “What happened?”

You turned the TV down, not off. The news replayed silently behind you. Same words. Same picture of a girl who could’ve been you.

“They found another body,” you said softly. “In the woods.”

Jake’s expression shifted. Eyes sharp. Back straight.

“She looked like me,” you added.

He crossed the room, slow but firm, his hands cupping your elbows as he looked you over. “You okay?”

You nodded. But it wasn’t true. “I need to help.”

Jake stilled. “No.”

“Jake—”

“No.” He let go of your arms, stepping back, jaw clenched. “You don’t need to. You said no. You said you were done.”

“I didn’t know how close it was,” you snapped, louder than you meant. “She could’ve been me.”

“And that’s exactly why you shouldn’t go anywhere near it.”

You stared at him. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

“You didn’t sit here. You built a new life. You survived.”

“And what if the next girl doesn’t?”

That stopped him.

You stepped closer, voice trembling now. “I can help them, Jake. I know how this guy thinks. I lived it. If they’re asking for me, it’s because they’re running out of time.”

Jake ran a hand down his face. “You think I don’t know that?”

His voice cracked.

“You think I don’t wake up every damn day and remember what it was like when I thought I’d lost you? You want to walk back into that world? What if you don’t come out this time?”

You were quiet for a moment.

Then: “I already didn’t come out the same.”

Jake flinched.

You swallowed hard. “But this is who I am, Jake. It always was. And if I don’t do something — if I stay silent while more girls die — I don’t know if I can live with that.”

He looked at you like he wanted to argue. Like he needed to.

But he didn’t.

He just stepped back and turned away.

The space between you stretched with silence.

The bedroom was quiet.

No music. No podcast humming from the bathroom. Just the steady sounds of two people moving through a silence too big to fill with small talk. The tension hadn’t boiled over into anger — not really — but it lingered like steam on the mirror. Heavy. Unresolved.

You brushed your teeth. Jake stripped off his clothes until he was only in his underwear. Neither of you spoke.

He pulled back the sheets while you tied your hair up, eyes flicking toward you once, then away. You both slid into bed like you always did — his side, your side, the familiarity of it muscle memory by now — but the usual warmth was slower to settle.

You lay on your back. Eyes on the ceiling. The cool fabric of the pillowcase beneath your cheek.

Then Jake shifted beside you, just enough to reach for you. His arm curled around your waist, tugging you gently toward him until your cheek rested against his naked chest and your hand settled over his heart.

It was the sound of it — steady, alive — that finally let your body ease.

He sighed, long and quiet. His voice was rough around the edges when he finally spoke.

“I just got you back.”

You didn’t answer. Not yet.

Jake’s fingers moved in slow circles on your lower back. “I watched them carry you out of that cabin, and I didn’t think I’d ever see you breathe again. You were half-conscious and bleeding, and I remember thinking, God, please — I’ll give anything if she just comes back to me.”

You closed your eyes, curling into him tighter.

“I know you’re strong. I know you’re more capable than anyone I’ve ever met,” he continued, voice low. “And I know your old team wouldn’t be asking unless they really thought you could make a difference.”

He paused.

“But I also know how much it broke you. How long it took to feel safe again. How many nights I held you while you couldn’t even speak.”

Your throat ached.

He tilted his head just slightly, pressing his lips to the top of yours.

“I’m not trying to hold you back,” he said quietly. “I’m just… terrified. That the second you walk into that case, you’ll forget how far you’ve come. That you’ll carry it all again. Alone.”

“I won’t,” you whispered.

Jake nodded. “I believe you. I do.”

His hand found yours under the blanket and squeezed it gently.

“If you do this, I’ll support you,” he said. “Completely. But I need you to promise me one thing.”

You looked up at him, eyes soft in the dark.

“Keep me in the loop,” he said. “Not just on the case. On you. Don’t shut me out. Don’t pretend to be okay if you’re not. I can’t lose you again. Not in any way.”

“I promise.”

The words came out hoarse, but real.

You rested your head back on his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat, steady beneath your ear. And when his arms wrapped around you again, tighter this time, you knew he meant every word.

The police station smelled like old coffee and fluorescent lights.

It was early, the morning fog still clinging to the coastline as you pushed through the front doors, the weight of a world you hadn’t touched in three years settling instantly onto your shoulders.

You didn’t wear your old badge. No holster. No Kevlar vest or Bureau ID clipped to your waistband. Just slacks, a blouse, your favorite trench coat, and a plain manila folder clutched tightly in your hand — full of notes you’d stayed up rereading until two a.m.

The moment you walked in, you spotted them.

The BAU.

Hotch stood near the whiteboard, arms crossed, jaw tight as ever — the same unreadable expression you remembered so well. JJ was flipping through a file at the table. Emily leaned against the back wall, sipping her coffee, and Spencer sat half-curled in a desk chair, mumbling something to himself about wound trajectories while tapping a pen against his knee. Rossi and Derek were mid-discussion over the case board, which was already cluttered with photographs, maps, and victim profiles.

No one noticed you at first.

And then JJ looked up.

Her face softened instantly. “You came.”

Everyone turned.

There was no dramatic rush, no gasps or tears — just a long, heavy moment where everyone looked at you like you were both the past and the answer to a question they hadn’t been able to solve on their own.

Spencer stood up first. “You look—”

“Different?” you offered, half smiling.

He shook his head. “Just… stronger.”

You crossed the room slowly, letting yourself breathe a little as you exchanged hugs — tight ones from JJ and Emily, a warm one-armed clasp from Hotch that still somehow said more than words. Rossi didn’t hug you, just rested a hand on your shoulder, his eyes full of something like pride. Derek waited last, pulling you into a long, quiet embrace.

“You sure about this?” he asked against your temple.

“No,” you said honestly.

He pulled back, smiled. “Good. Means you’re smart.”

Hotch nodded toward the board. “We’ll get right to it. You remember the original details?”

“Yeah. Five victims. All local. All grabbed within a few blocks of where they were last seen, usually alone. Strangled. Some bruising consistent with being restrained. Age range: 23 to 27. All the same hair color.”

Spencer blinked. “You already read the files?”

“Skimmed. Jake printed them out for me last night.”

JJ looked a little surprised. “Jake’s okay with you helping?”

“No,” you said softly. “But he’s supporting me anyway.”

That quieted the room a beat.

Rossi gestured toward a chair. “We’ve already established behavioral patterns — consistent escalation, no clear stressor event. But the most recent victim was dumped. Which is a first.”

You nodded. “He didn’t take pride in his disposal before. That could mean he’s getting sloppy, or he wants her found.”

“Or he’s trying to send a message,” Emily added.

“Could be,” you said. “Or… he’s copying someone.”

The air stilled.

JJ exhaled slowly. “You think it’s him.”

“I don’t know what I think,” you admitted. “But the similarities are close. Closer than coincidence.” “He took me after I went out for coffee,” you said, voice quiet but controlled. “I don’t know how he got so close without me noticing, but… I blacked out almost instantly. Probably chloroform.”

Emily folded her arms. “You were gone for two days.” JJ looked down.

Spencer hesitated. “Do you… remember anything else? From when he had you?”

Your voice was steady, but something in your chest clenched tight. “Some things.”

No one rushed you. The room went still, waiting.

You drew in a breath. “He kept me blindfolded. The entire time. I couldn’t see him, not even once. But I remember other things. His voice. His hands. The way he moved. He always walked in from the left. He hummed sometimes — “Danny Boy,” I think. He smelled like cigarettes and cheap aftershave.”

Emily leaned forward slightly. “Did he ever say why he took you?”

“Not directly.” You swallowed hard. “But he said I was the first one who made him wait. That I was smart. He sounded impressed.”

Hotch’s brow furrowed. “And then he let you go.”

You shook your head, a chill brushing over your skin. “No. He didn’t let me go. He ran. He heard you coming — I don’t know how, maybe your sirens — but he bolted. Left me tied to a beam in the corner of that cabin and vanished. I could hear Rossi shouting my name outside, and I started screaming.”

Spencer sat forward, pen still in his hand but forgotten. “He had time. More than enough to kill you.”

You nodded slowly. “I’ve thought about that every day since.”

Derek folded his arms. “He’s never done that before. Every other victim…”

“—Was found dead,” you finished for him.

JJ’s eyes met yours. “You were the only one he let live.”

“No,” you said softly. “I was the only one he chose not to kill.”

There was a long silence.

Rossi finally spoke. “You think you were the start of something different. A new phase.”

“I think… I was the unfinished chapter.”

That shifted the air in the room.

Hotch straightened near the board. “We need to consider that this is the same unsub, returned to finish what he started. Or a disciple. Someone replicating his crimes, but deviating from the original. Either way, your insight — your memory — is our best shot at stopping him.”

You exhaled slowly, nodding. “Then let’s stop him.”

JJ stepped forward and gently rested a hand on your shoulder. “It’s good to have you back.”

You didn’t say it out loud — but it was good to be back.

Even if it was terrifying.

Even if it meant facing everything you'd fought so hard to forget.

The case board was dense with detail now — pinned photographs, strings of mapped movements, a timeline of abductions that had started to tighten like a noose.

You stood near the window, arms crossed, watching the late-morning sun start to burn through the marine layer. The room was heavy with tension and quiet calculation — the kind that comes when everyone’s already running worst-case scenarios in their heads.

“Maybe it wasn’t personal,” you said aloud, your voice cutting through the stillness. “He said I made him wait, but… it wasn’t months. It couldn’t have been. I wasn’t living in that part of town more than a couple of weeks when it happened. There was nothing special about me — it was random. Just bad luck.”

Spencer nodded from where he sat, one leg tucked beneath him. “That tracks. If he’d been watching you for months, we’d have found some record of it — footage, sightings, something. But there was nothing.”

Emily added quietly, “Which means it’s about access. Opportunity.”

Rossi leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. “That makes him more dangerous. Less predictable.”

Everyone was gathered tightly around the table now — two laptops open, printouts spread between coffee cups and scribbled notes, the case board slowly growing heavier with faces.

Spencer had pulled up a detailed map of the victim’s last known location: San Diego State. A red marker blinked against the cluster of student buildings.

You stared at it a long moment.

JJ glanced up from her file. “That’s where you do some of your consulting, isn’t it?”

You blinked, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. I have a research partnership with their psychology department. I’m there once, maybe twice a week.”

Hotch’s jaw ticked. “Were you there this week?”

“I was. Yesterday.”

Rossi looked up sharply. “So you were at the same location less than twenty-four hours before the abduction?”

You swallowed hard. “Yes.”

"First victim was taken outside the bar you say you frequent, The Hard Deck." Spencer pointed out.

No one said anything for a moment. The implications hung heavy.

Emily broke the silence. “Okay, let’s take a step back. If we assume this is the same unsub as before — that he took you, chose not to kill you, and now he’s resumed — then we need to figure out what changed. What made him pick up again now. Something had to trigger it.”

You stood a little straighter. “Nothing’s changed.”

Derek gave you a look. “Come on, doc. Think. Any media? Interviews? Public lectures?”

You shook your head. “No press. I’ve been low profile. Completely.”

Spencer hesitated, then turned his laptop around slowly. “What about Jake?”

Your breath caught when you saw the image on the screen.

A local news clipping — North Island Naval Officer Promoted to Commander — with a photo of Jake in uniform, standing proud at the front of a hangar during the ceremony. You were just over his shoulder, half-turned, smiling up at him.

The caption read: Commander Jake Seresin with wife, Dr. [Your Name], after the ceremony.

The air in the room shifted again. Tighter. Sharper.

JJ’s voice was quiet. “That ran two weeks ago.”

You closed your eyes.

Emily leaned forward. “And if he saw it…”

“Then he knows where I am,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Hotch didn’t look surprised. “He let you live, but he never forgot you. Maybe you were the exception — the one who got away. But if he’s resurfaced now, and he’s abducting from locations connected to you, it changes everything.”

“He’s not just continuing his old pattern,” Derek said, voice tight. “He’s starting a new one. And you’re the center.”

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut.

You weren’t collateral anymore.

You were the target.

Not for revenge.

For obsession.

Rossi rubbed a hand over his mouth. “We’re not looking at a traditional spree. We’re looking at a fixation. Controlled. Personal. He let you live because he didn’t want it to end.”

“And now he’s picked up the story again,” Spencer said. “From his perspective, the last chapter was unfinished.”

JJ looked across the table. “He saw that photo. It put you back in his orbit.”

And this girl — the one from San Diego State — she wasn’t random. She was a message.

You stepped back from the table, breath shallow, head spinning.

The only thing you could think of was: Jake.

You were still staring at the photo on Spencer’s screen when Derek leaned forward, voice gentle.

“Hey,” he said, getting your attention. “I know it’s a big ask, and I know you’ve already done more than enough just by showing up—but if you’re okay with it, I think we should try a cognitive interview.”

You blinked. “Right now?”

“Soon,” he said. “Only if you’re up for it. I’ll walk you through the process slow—we won’t push. But sometimes going back into the sensory details can surface things you didn’t know you remembered.”

You hesitated, your hands curling tightly around the back of the chair. “He had me blindfolded,” you whispered. “All I had were sounds. Smells. Vibes. But… yeah. Okay. We can try.”

Derek gave a small, reassuring nod. “You set the pace.”

You nodded, then reached for your phone.

If what the team suspected was true—if this man had somehow found you again, after all these years—it wasn’t just you at risk anymore.

Jake had to know.

Jake stood at the wing of a parked F/A-18, sweat clinging to the back of his neck under his flight suit as he looked over a checklist with a tech. His mind wasn’t in it. Hadn’t been all day. Not since you'd left that morning with that look in your eyes—something resolved and haunted at the same time.

His phone buzzed against his hip.

He barely registered the name before answering. “Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

Your voice came fast, tight, rushed. “Jake. We got confirmation. Another girl’s missing. She was taken from the SDSU campus.”

Jake stiffened. “That’s where you—”

“I know. The team thinks this might be about me. They think he might’ve seen that article from your promotion ceremony. They think he might be here because of that.”

The breath caught in his lungs.

No.

He started walking without realizing. Past the jet, across the tarmac.

“I’m on my way,” he said. “Stay in the building. Stay with Hotch or Morgan. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Jake—”

But he was already hanging up.

Rooster looked up from his toolbox as Jake rushed across the hangar floor, moving fast—too fast. There was no post-flight sarcasm, no teasing, not even a wave.

“Where the hell’s he going?” Payback asked.

Phoenix narrowed her eyes. “That didn’t look like a lunch break.”

“He looked pale,” Fanboy muttered. “Did something happen?”

Bob tilted his head. “Maybe family emergency?”

Rooster was already setting down his wrench. “I’m gonna find Mav.”

Maverick barely glanced up as Rooster, Phoenix, and Bob stepped into the doorway.

“Mav,” Bradley said, arms crossed. “Something’s wrong with Hangman. He just ran off base like the damn world was ending.”

Maverick exhaled, slow and quiet, then turned to fully face them.

He looked at each of them for a long moment before speaking.

“He’s fine,” Mav said.

“Doesn’t look fine,” Phoenix shot back. “What’s going on?”

Maverick rubbed a hand over his jaw. He didn’t want to be the one to say it—but he also knew secrets like this had a shelf life. And if Jake was racing to the PD, they’d find out soon enough.

“She used to be FBI,” he said finally.

That stopped all three of them in their tracks.

“What?” Phoenix asked.

“She was with the Behavioral Analysis Unit,” Mav continued, voice even. “Profiling serial offenders. Got recruited young. Bright. Gifted.” He paused. “And three years ago, she was kidnapped by a subject they were tracking. Held for two days. Barely made it out.”

Silence fell like a brick.

“They think he might be back,” Maverick finished quietly. “And that he’s in San Diego.”

Phoenix’s eyes widened. “That’s what this is about.”

The room was dimmer now. The blinds were half-closed to block the afternoon sun, casting soft shadows across the case board. Derek was prepping the small adjacent interview room — chairs facing each other, lights low, a bottle of water set on the table. You sat on the edge of your chair, elbows on your knees, trying to slow your breathing.

You could do this.

You had to.

But your fingers trembled slightly as you picked at the cap of the pen in your hand, mind skipping in and out of memory. That smell. That song. That freezing cold air from the cabin floorboards. It all crawled back up when you least expected it.

The door burst open down the hallway.

Heavy boots. Fast steps. A sharp voice at the front desk — not angry, just worried.

“Commander Seresin,” Hotch said without looking up. “Right on time.”

You turned just as Jake appeared at the threshold of the room, still in uniform, the top half of his flight suit tied around his waist, white undershirt damp at the collar.

His eyes landed on you instantly.

He crossed the room in three long strides.

“Hi,” you said, voice soft.

Jake cupped your face with both hands and kissed your forehead, breathing you in like he was checking to make sure you were still solid, still here. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.”

He glanced toward the board — the faces, the photos, the growing map of chaos. His jaw clenched. “You called me. You said it might be about you.”

“I didn’t want to wait until I was home.”

Jake shook his head, pulling a chair closer to yours and sitting so your knees touched. “You made the right call.”

Behind you, Derek stepped into the room again.

“You must be Jake,” he said.

“Yeah. Thanks for taking care of her.”

“She’s about to do a cognitive interview. You’re welcome to stay, long as it’s helpful to her.”

Jake looked to you.

You nodded.

“I want you there.”

Derek gave you a small smile. “All right. We’ll take it slow. Nothing heavy. Just a conversation.”

You and Jake followed him into the smaller room — cold walls, no windows, one camera quietly rolling behind glass. You sat across from Derek, Jake beside you, one arm draped protectively along the back of your chair.

Derek spoke gently.

“You remember the basics of how this works, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Sensory details. Emotion over fact. Let memory take the lead.”

“Exactly. So just close your eyes when you’re ready, and start from somewhere that feels safe. Doesn’t have to be the beginning.”

Jake gave your hand a light squeeze.

You took a breath.

And let yourself fall backward into the dark.

The walls felt closer with your eyes closed.

Derek’s voice was soft, grounded. “You’re doing great. Just take us back to the morning before it happened. Start anywhere that feels clear.”

You nodded slowly, fingers curling against the armrest.

“I was leaving my apartment,” you said, quietly. “It was a Friday. Cold for spring. I remember I forgot my gloves and thought about going back for them, but I didn’t. I had a coffee order in already and I was late.”

Jake stayed silent beside you, unmoving. Just a steady presence. Solid. Safe.

“I walked the same route as always. Past the little bookstore on 9th. The woman inside always had a candle burning — vanilla and sandalwood. I could smell it as I passed.”

Derek’s voice came again. “Do you remember seeing anyone? Or feeling like you were being followed?”

You hesitated. “No. It was normal. People walking dogs, cars driving by. There was a guy smoking outside the bodega. He asked for spare change, and I told him sorry, not today. That’s the last person I remember talking to.”

You paused, heartbeat starting to pick up.

“I got my coffee. Black. I took the lid off — it was too hot to drink, and I remember the smell hit me really strong. Burnt roast. Like it had been sitting too long. I almost didn’t drink it.”

You breathed out shakily, the air in your lungs starting to constrict. “I think… I think that’s when it happened.”

Derek leaned forward slightly. “What do you remember next?”

“I was walking back toward my car. It was parked behind the café, in that little lot next to the alley. It was quiet.”

Your pulse quickened. You could hear it in your ears.

Jake shifted beside you. “You okay?”

You nodded tightly, but your voice faltered. “I remember… someone said my name. But I don’t think I recognized the voice. It was like… like I had just enough time to turn.”

The silence buzzed.

“And then I couldn’t breathe.”

You opened your eyes, chest rising faster.

Derek’s voice was lower now. “Was there anything about that voice? Accent? Tone? Did he sound young?”

Your hands started to tremble. “Deep voice. Calm. Like… calm in a way that felt wrong. It didn’t match the situation.”

Jake reached for your arm. “That’s enough—”

But you shook your head. “No—wait. Wait. I remember something.”

The room froze.

Your breathing was shallow but even, eyes wide now. You were back in the memory but fighting to stay afloat.

“I heard a sound before I passed out,” you said slowly. “It was… soft. Mechanical. Like a click. No—like a button being pushed. Over and over. I didn’t remember it before because it felt unimportant, but—”

You looked at Derek. “He was clicking a pen.”

“A pen?”

You nodded quickly. “Not a nervous tic. Rhythmic. Like… tap, tap, tap. And he kept doing it. I remember it in the dark. When I was tied up. He’d pace and click it. He wanted me to hear it.”

Spencer’s voice crackled through the speaker in the room. “That’s a behavioral trigger. A dominance cue. Like a metronome — asserting control through rhythm.”

Derek looked at you seriously. “That’s huge. Most of his behavior’s been postmortem. But this—this gives us a pre-attack ritual.”

Jake leaned closer, his voice barely audible. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded again, this time more firmly. “I’m okay.”

The cognitive interview had ended fifteen minutes ago, but your body still felt wired — like adrenaline was buzzing just beneath your skin. Jake hadn't left your side. He stood just behind your chair now, one hand on your shoulder, the other flexing and unflexing at his side like he was barely holding something back.

The rest of the team was gathered around the long table, and Penelope Garcia’s voice filled the room over speakerphone.

“Okay, sunshine squad,” she chirped, the only person in the world who could sound cheery in a serial murder case. “So I pulled every known offender, vagrant, or suspicious person with priors within a five-mile radius of the café our Doc was taken from. I cross-referenced that with clicky-pen sales in the immediate area and—just kidding, I’m good, but not that good.”

A few chuckles lightened the tension — even yours.

“Garcia,” Hotch said calmly. “Stick to profiles matching age, behavioral cues, and any psychiatric holds post-incident.”

“Already on it, Captain No-Fun,” Garcia replied. “Based on the pen-clicking, the blindfolds, the lack of sexual assault but intense need for control, we’re likely looking at a male, late 30s to mid-40s, antisocial tendencies, possibly diagnosed or undiagnosed OCPD. And guess what? I got three possible matches within driving distance of San Diego State. All were either arrested or flagged for mental health-related complaints in the past five years.”

On the big screen, three DMV photos popped up.

Your stomach lurched at the sight of them.

Jake stiffened behind you, feeling the shift in your body even before you spoke.

Derek glanced over. “You recognize anyone?”

You leaned forward slightly, eyes scanning each face. The first man—no. The second—no.

But the third.

The third made your skin crawl.

Thinning brown hair. Soft jaw. Unremarkable features. But something behind his eyes flickered—like he knew something you didn’t.

You reached out slowly and tapped the screen with a trembling finger.

“That’s him,” you said quietly. “That’s the guy who asked me for change. Outside the bodega. The day I was taken.”

Silence fell like a hammer.

Spencer looked up, voice suddenly sharp. “That’s not just a match. That’s confirmation. He was at the scene minutes before the abduction.”

“His name’s Albert Kane,” Garcia said, voice now taut and serious. “Lived off the grid for a few years after a psych evaluation flagged him as a potential risk. He dropped off my radar… but if he resurfaced in San Diego…”

Hotch was already reaching for his phone. “Then he’s our unsub. And we don’t have time.”

You sat back, heart pounding. Jake’s hand slid from your shoulder to your back, warm and grounding.

“You did good, darlin’,” he murmured softly near your ear. “Really good.”

But all you could think about now was the girl. The one still missing. Somewhere in the city. Maybe already trapped in a cabin just like the one you barely escaped.

The room had transformed into a war room — coffee refills forgotten, printouts slapped onto the board, and maps laid flat on the table like battle plans.

Spencer tapped a red marker against the screen, zooming in on a cluster of pins outside the city. “Albert Kane was born in Idaho, but he’s moved constantly — Colorado, Nevada, Oregon, and now California. The only stable pattern is the terrain. He favors isolated wooded areas, usually within two hours of a major freeway.”

JJ spoke next, flipping through Kane’s file. “Three years ago, he was flagged after being forcibly removed from a wellness retreat. Paranoia, manipulation, and clear signs of obsessive control behavior. The facility didn’t press charges, just wanted him gone.”

“And now he’s escalated,” Hotch added, arms crossed. “Likely triggered when he saw her face in the paper. The woman who got away. He’s trying to recreate the original event — only this time, he’s in control from the start.”

Rossi gestured to a map of the outer San Diego County area. “We’re assuming he’s repeating the cabin setup. Garcia, do we have eyes on isolated structures he could be using?”

Penelope’s voice buzzed over speaker. “Sending three viable options now — all rented in the last six weeks under aliases I’ve connected to Kane in the past. One of them was booked with a prepaid debit card used in San Diego two days ago.”

“Got it.” Derek grabbed the printout as it came through. “Cabin off Route 94. About forty-five minutes from here. No neighbors. No cell reception.”

“That’s our target,” Hotch said. “We move now.”

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a faint hum over the now-quiet station. The tension that had built over the past few hours had finally snapped — the girl was alive. Bruised, scared, but alive.

You’d cried when Emily called it in.

She’d said the words gently, like she knew you’d been holding your breath all day: “We got her. She’s safe. And we’ve got him in cuffs.”

Jake had just sat down beside you in the waiting room, hand tightly holding yours. He pressed a kiss to your temple and hadn’t let go since.

Now, the hum of engine brakes echoed outside as one of the SUVs pulled up out front.

You looked up just in time to see them dragging him in.

Albert Kane — cuffed, wild-eyed, struggling like an animal. Blood on his cheek, likely from the takedown. Dirt under his nails. Disheveled. Unhinged.

You didn’t mean to stand. You just… did.

And that’s when he saw you.

For a split second, everything stopped.

Then he lunged.

“It was for you!” he screamed, spittle flying, veins straining in his neck. “All of it! They were nothing—nothing compared to you! You were supposed to see it! You were supposed to understand—”

Jake moved like a loaded gun — explosive, furious, ready to tear him apart.

“Don’t you dare talk to her!”

His voice boomed across the station, eyes burning with a rage you had never seen in him before. He lunged forward, but—

Derek caught him mid-step, slamming a hand against his chest and pushing him back, muscle against muscle.

“Jake.” Derek’s voice was steel. “Not worth it. Not here. Not now.”

Jake struggled against the restraint for a breathless second — then collapsed back a half-step, shoulders rising and falling with shallow, furious breaths.

Kane was screaming, being dragged out of the hallway. “I saved you! You were supposed to save me!”

And then he was gone.

The door slammed behind him.

The room was silent.

You were shaking.

Jake turned toward you slowly, his fury replaced by something else — horror, helplessness, grief. He reached you in two long strides and pulled you into his chest.

You crumbled.

Arms around his waist, face buried in the soft fabric of his undershirt, you broke down. Your shoulders shook with quiet sobs you didn’t even realize you were holding in.

Jake’s hand cupped the back of your head, his lips pressing to your temple.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. He’s done. It’s over. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

You clung to him tightly.

“I didn’t think I’d ever have to see him again,” you choked out.

Jake leaned his forehead to yours. “I’d kill him with my bare hands if I could. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you whispered. You nodded, forehead resting on his chest.

Derek watched from a short distance, his jaw tight but his eyes warm.

“We’ll take it from here,” he said gently. “Go home. You both need rest.”

Jake didn’t answer. He just gathered you against his side, nodding once as if to say thank you, and walked you out the front door into the night.

[...]

The sun was slipping below the horizon, casting long golden streaks across the water and painting the sky in soft pastels. The Hard Deck buzzed with life — laughter, clinking glasses, music humming low in the background. But in the back corner, where the picnic tables sat half in shadow, a very unusual group was taking over.

“Okay, but seriously,” Derek said, nursing a beer and looking across the table at Phoenix. “You’re telling me they call him Hangman because of his ego?”

“Because of his everything,” she said with a grin, nudging Jake across the table. “He earned that callsign the minute he opened his mouth.”

“Y’all are just jealous,” Jake said, reclining like a man who finally had something worth relaxing into. “I have style. Presence. Charisma.”

“You have tantrums,” Rooster chimed in, tipping his drink toward Spencer, who blinked slowly like he’d just watched an exotic bird speak. “This guy once argued with an entire vending machine.”

“He kicked it,” Bob added helpfully.

Emily leaned forward, “I love him.”

You sat sandwiched between JJ and Natasha, both women gently teasing you about how long you’d kept two entire identities hidden — genius profiler and Navy pilot’s wife.

“I knew you were smart,” JJ said, bumping your shoulder. “But this is some next-level secret agent business.”

“I’m telling you,” Natasha laughed, “I feel like I’ve been living in an episode of a spy drama.”

“You were,” Rossi added dryly from behind his wine glass.

Even Hotch looked amused, the faintest tug at the corner of his mouth.

“I still can’t believe you guys didn’t know,” Emily said, sipping a beer. “I mean, come on. ‘Doc’?”

“She told us she had a PhD,” Fanboy shrugged. “Didn’t think it came with a federal badge and a body count.”

Everyone laughed.

Across the table, Jake looked at you — relaxed, glowing in the amber light, your eyes crinkled from smiling. He reached under the table and found your hand, lacing your fingers with his.

You looked at him and smiled, and he mouthed a quiet, “You okay?”

You nodded. “I am now.”

It wasn’t loud, wasn’t dramatic. But it was true.

You were whole. And you were home.

As the sun finally slipped beneath the waterline, the Daggers and the BAU raised their glasses in a mismatched toast — to friendship, to healing, to the weird little twist of fate that brought them all together.

And for the first time in years, the past didn’t feel quite so heavy.

You’d carried it. You’d survived it.

And now, you could finally set it down.

[grayve-mistake]

THINGS YOU CAN DO TO AVOID BEING THIS PERSON (AND OTHER RED FLAGS)

Communicate openly and honestly when you have an issue with someone. Don't talk behind their backs, don't bottle it up until it festers and explodes, just ask about what's bothering you. Good friends will hear you out (and yeah, you might disagree on some things. That's normal too. Have a conversation anyway!)

Don't jump to conclusions or accusations about their character while emotions are high. Doing this will make the situation more hostile and creates unnecessary tension and mistrust.

("I disagree with what you said/I feel uncomfortable, is there a way to avoid this in the future?/let's talk about it", not "what you posted is weird and I think you have a problem". People don't like feeling antagonized and will be more willing to listen if you don't!)

Communicate about your personal needs. It's ok to have boundaries and triggers and things you'd rather not hear about. It's not ok to expect other people to read your mind or be able to remember something you said once 3 1/2 years ago at the bottom of a long thread with 2 likes on it.

Write trigger lists in your group chats! Talk directly to the people you're close to about it! If someone is otherwise harmless but does/has something triggering or upsetting to you specifically, it's ok to just not interact with them personally. It doesn't have to be a callout, you can just block people, actually.

If it's someone you know in-person and the trigger is still present, then it might be time to have a one-on-one discussion with them about it and see what compromises you both can make for a more comfortable atmosphere.

TALK BIG ISSUES OUT PRIVATELY. The really important shit that could lead to a fracture in the relationship should only be discussed in an environment where you both feel safe and like you can have a say. Dogpiling will get you nowhere and makes the person you should WANT to actually ADDRESS the issue in a responsible way suddenly feel cornered and threatened, and will likely cause them to double down. No one's immune to this.

"Callouts" should be an absolute last resort AFTER you've privately discussed the issue and only if it's continuous and causing a serious amount of harm to multiple people. Avoid callout posts whenever possible. Try to leave personal issues out of the public eye when you can.

Try to hold yourself to the same standards you hold other people. If you wouldn't be able to accommodate someone in the ways you're asking everyone else to accommodate you, that might be entitlement! Work on it, try to remember that you're imperfect too and that's normal. If you feel comfortable calling out other people for all kinds of things but can't handle any constructive criticism of your own, it might be time to rethink some things about your approach. It's hard, it'll never not be hard, but try to listen when people try to start a conversation with you about an issue THEY'RE having, too. You aren't always in the right! People fuck up all the time! Talk about your own perspectives and where you're coming from and try to reach a point of understanding with eachother to resolve the problem.

Finally, and maybe most importantly:

This goes for both sides of the issue! Friend group feels toxic or unwelcoming? Unaccomodating? Tense? You can just leave!

It doesn't have to require long callout posts and twitter essays. If an environment seems like it's promoting unhealthy or problematic behaviors you're always allowed to just get outta there! You don't gotta justify yourself! Sometimes you just gotta trust your gut and step away. You can't always control what other people do but you can control your own actions in response, and that's important.

(These are all just based on my personal experience with these kinds of issues as someone who spends a little too much time online and has seen a lot over the years, so if you have any more input feel free to add it in the notes!)

anyway in the hopes that i can save just one person from living the horror of my 20s: if you have a friend that seems a little too invested in callouts i hope you can get out of there safely

[69spicykitty]

Roommates AU - HCS

warnings: wc: 1K, college roommates au, cait is a bit jealous/possessive, nsfw

notes: english is not my first language so forgive me for any mistakes and lack of diversity on my vocabulary, constructive criticism is appreciated

♡ At first she didn't like you, not at all. You were messy, and talked too much, always asking a lot of questions.

♡ With the days going on she started to like you a tad bit more, you talked too much? yes. But was kind, smart and had a very nice ass. It was round, well defined… She honestly wanted to put her hands on it and never let go… Wait. She shouldn't be thinking those things about her roommate, right? 

♡ You have liked her since the first interaction, she was calm, collected, elegant and super intelligent, with an insanely pretty face. She was a whole package, and for your disgrace eventually you found out she was a lesbian. Was bad because even though you could have a chance with her at the same time you probably didn't have any, since she always acted like she disliked you.

♡ The things between you two started to happen on exams week, you studied a lot but Caitlyn? She didn't sleep, eat, she was seeking the highest grade - yes, she is the kind that needs academic validation,  of course - and neglect herself in the way. 

But you were a very attentive person and noticed her behavior and patterns. If you order food, you would order two and silently place it on her desk then walk away. If she slept mid studying session you would cover her with a blanket. She noticed all that and definitely started to grow fond of you. 

♡ Each day you two got closer, more comfortable with each other. Went to class together even though you two had different classes you would go with her or get back to the dorm with her. Lunch together? Yes. Watching a movie or a show before bed? Definitely. 

♡ The problem with all that started when one of your classmates got a bit closer to you, he would arrive with you at the cafeteria, smiling a bit too much at you. When he touches your arm she almost pukes on jealousy.

Because of him getting too close, too touchy, she starts to wait for you outside the class door like a guard dog, she didn't want him spading not even one second more with you. You find that weird but she brushes off saying she just was passing by and chose to wait for you.

♡ The poor boy stayed being a bit too friendly with you, and she hated it even the thought of it. So she in a really nice and kind way threatened to end his social life if he kept trying to be more than a classmate to you. You got confused all of the sudden he was being so weird but didn't think much of it.

♡ That was until every person that got too friendly or smiled at you in a way that she didn't like, they would stop talking to you out of nowhere.

♡ One day you were renting to your closest classmates that you were having a hard time making friends and on getting some action on your social life and she said “of course you are, your roommate makes everyone that seems interested in you run away.” At first you thought that your friend was being insane,  but you kept thinking about it for quite some time and realized that she was right. Everytime Caitlyn saw you with someone shortly after they would get distant. 

♡ You decided to confront her about it, but you were never even though everything was point to her doing that, looked a bit off… Why would she do that? One day you gathered all your courage to confront her about it. “Caitlyn, why are you making everyone that gets closest to me get away from me?”

At first Caitlyn was quiet for a while realizing that you notice what she has been doing, but she finally spoke. “Because I don't like them getting too close to what is mine.” She simply said it was the most normal thing. 

♡ At that very same day she basically claimed you and asked you to be her girlfriend. You were confused at first since you thought that she disliked you, but now everything made sense and you always liked her, so why not?

♡ Caitlyn being your girlfriend was the most wonderful thing that ever happened! She was careful, and paid attention to everything that you said. If you were craving something it wouldn't take long to her order you or even take you out to eat. 

♡ She definitely loves to spoil you, lucky for her that she was filthy rich so she could do and buy what she wanted for you without any worries. 

♡ You on the other hand was a normal college student, a bit broke so you would spoil her on your budget. You knew all the kinds of manual stuff, crochet, drawing, baking, cooking. And you did all that to your amazing girlfriend. 

You even gifted her a knitted sweater made by your very own hand on Christmas. It was a navy blue color to match her beautiful blue hair and keep her warm.

nsfw headcanons 

♡ You were kinky but Caitlyn was even more, she was up for pretty much anything and always wanted to try new stuff, new toys, new places, new positions. 

♡ Caitlyn buys sexual toys for you, she likes to watch you use them on yourself or use on you. Both drive her insane, all the noises you make using those turn her on. 

♡ Study sessions can easily turn on her fucking you against the desk, your face pressed against the papers you two were using to study. 

♡ Picking up a book in the library? She ends up pressing you against the bookshelves with her hands inside your pants finger fucking you, her other hand on your mouth blocking all the moans you want to let it out. 

end notes: let me know what you think and if I should keep writing more of this au! 🖤

♡ If you smile too much at someone, give too much attention she will make you remember who you should be paying attention to.

[jikooklove9795]

I don't even know where to begin with this Jikook live. Ever since they came back, it's like they made a secret pact to drive us all insane. I'm barely hanging on here. But I'm loving every second of it!

Let’s start with the exact day they chose to go live. July 14th SK time. Silver Day. A couple’s day. A quick glance through the years and it’s giving "nothing is accidental with these two":

2019 Silver Day

Jungkook posts a Jikook pic with the caption “Jimin hyung’s big smile”.

2022 Silver Day

Jimin casually crashes the JITB party wearing that Maison Margiela necklace, tied to the 11/8 Jikook code.

2023 Silver Day

Jimin hops on a flight from SK to the US to go see Jungkook. And guess what? That very trip gave us the first two episodes of AYS.

And now, 2025 Silver Day, guess who’s back? Going live. Causing emotional collapse across Jikook nation. Like clockwork.

So is it a stretch to say I scratched the word coincidence out of my dictionary long ago when it comes to Jikook?

These two know exactly what they’re doing. And when it happens year after year after year… at some point you’ve got to admit: They’re not hinting anymore. They’re declaring. Loudly. They want to be seen, they want to be acknowledged, as a couple. In this together. For life.

Let’s start with that hug. So soft, so full of quiet warmth and Jungkook's smile while being hugged

The next moment?? Jimin just casually drops the fact that Jungkook comes into his room while he’s sleeping, stands there in total silence, films him, and then just… leaves???

And Jungkook just followed it up with singing "I'll go to you. I promise you" directly to Jimin and sealed it with a pinky promise.

HELLO??? Watching someone sleep while taking videos of them. That’s not normal behavior unless you’re that person's bf/gf, partner, or some soft-core vampire in love.

Because think about it, nothing about it feels casual. If I'm being honest its low key obsessive in the softest way. The level of intimacy, the audacity of Jimin making such a revelation. Ummatched. Once again, Jimin’s out here shoving the “we are not just friends” agenda right in our faces with zero remorse. This moment really took me back to their hickey incident. Different days but same level of jaw dropping energy.

He's been so obsessed with giving out all kinds of TMIs related to their sleep routine. From Jungkook's alarm to his snoring details, seeing his face first thing in the morning to how Jungkook visits Jimin's room often. What's next pillow talk transcripts??!!

So Jimin, how long do we have to wait for you to finally say that you guys are sharing the bed? Because I know what you're trying to do 😭

What even was this??!! And the way Jungkook turned his head real fast to look at Jimin after Jimin used that extra soft baby tone

Next up. Jungkook reads the “you two look good together” comment. He really does love reading the ones that ship them, doesn’t he? I mean, let’s not forget the time he said “Jeon Jimin”, not once, but twice. He's playing his cards very intentionally

Jungkook teasing Jimin with that “So who the hell did you wait for?” while watching WHO was hilarious

Jimin totally didn’t see that coming. He stuttered. It was giving:

Jungkook to Jimin: Oh you thought teasing was your thing? Let’s see how you handle this.

And let’s not forget, they completely skipped over that billboard moment in the MV. Like… we saw it.

MUST TOUCH MUST TOUCH AND FEEL HIM ALL OVER

Jimin: Do you want to get disciplined?

Jungkook: If I get disciplined here, how are you gonna do it, hyung?

BE SO SERIOUS JEON JUNGKOOK??? That was WILD behavior

Okay! When's the wedding, Jungkook??!!

The way Jimin was whiny here wanting to end the live together and go to sleep

The fake sleeping after that and the peeking at each other.

What fanfic was this??!!

At this point all thats left is for them to just lean in and say screw it.

Ending it with this:

[lvrpiastri]

I’M LOVESTRUCK (AND LOOKING OUT THE WINDOW) ; OP81.

synopsis: An alternate universe (AU) where Oscar Piastri, your awkward boyfriend and coworker at the Daily Planet, is the one and only Superman…and you find out.

trigger warnings: Use of Y/N; Use of feminine pronouns from the reader’s perspective; Descriptions of romantic acts and behaviors; Suggestive remarks; Descriptions of violent events

a message from the author: This idea took ahold of me earlier and it would not let me go. I think Oscar would make the most adorkable Clark Kent and the sexiest Superman… You can argue with the wall. This fic is, obviously, heavily based on Superman, and the title is from Taylor Swift’s eponymous song from her Speak Now album. I enjoyed writing this fic, and I hope you like reading it! 🫶

It was more plausible that a nuclear bomb would strike the heart of the city, obliterating everything in a hundred-mile radius, than for Oscar Piastri, the sweet and mild-mannered reporter, to be Superman. The hero was legendary, saving families from burning houses and apprehending gunmen. Meanwhile, Oscar was clumsy and awkward, fondly nicknamed “Butterfingers” by some senior editors. He could barely get two sentences out without stammering and turning red.

It just did not make any sense that those two polar opposite personalities were one and the same. 

You sighed, running back the footage again, exhaustion biting at your temples. The clock at the corner of your laptop screen read half past midnight, but you weren’t going to rest until the pieces in this inexplicable puzzle clicked in your sleep-deprived mind.

Oscar Piastri… Superman…The names blended together like alphabet soup until the letters were meaningless and your vision blurred.

You had been working at the Daily Planet for nearly a quarter of a year by the time Oscar was accepted into his role as a reporter-slash-journalist. He worked alongside you on a handful of investigative stories, constructing leads and expertly interviewing suspects. Despite all his gawkiness, something came alive when he was in the middle of a case; he was talkative (to the point that an outsider not clued into the topic would think he was having a hysterical breakdown) and, for lack of better words, a genius. He had entered your orbit abruptly, and you never wanted him to leave.

His desk was orderly, with only a small Venus flytrap and a framed photo of him and his fluffy white dog sitting on the surface. The wallpaper on his computer was the default glowing blue-tiled one, with no personalizations made whatsoever. Even his Google profile was set on “Guest”. Even though Oscar had his chatty moments, finding out his personal history – something as uncomplicated as his hometown or date of birth – was equivalent to invading Fort Knox. He was impenetrable.

You invited him on a coffee date – discussed as “just a hangout to discuss a potential article” – after you had known him for a few weeks. He accepted, blushing bright pink and stuttering so furiously it took him three attempts to choke a sentence out. The sight of a six-foot-tall, buff man looking flustered was absolutely endearing. You were sold, your heart falling for him hook, line, and sinker the more time you spent in his company.

Then, sometime around winter, when the snow was about to fall over the city, Oscar spent a night over at your apartment. He was an incredible houseguest, preparing a mouthwatering dish you had never tried before called Salmon Wellington and even watching a cringey teenage romcom from the 2000s without a single complaint leaving his lips. Nothing romantic or sexual had happened, unless you counted the bulge in his boxers that you had felt when you had woken up the next morning, his warm body pressed against yours. 

He was polite, courteous, never crossing any boundaries. Actually, it was slightly frustrating how he never initiated any sort of physical touch without asking beforehand. The hand holding, the soft kisses on your cheek, had all been preceded by a question and a long conversation that intended to quell his worries that he was behaving inappropriately. Consent was never a joke, but he took the concept to a whole other level.

The only snag you picked up on was his tendency to randomly disappear. In the middle of work meetings, during fire drills…He would be there one minute, and gone the next, as if he had suddenly sprouted wings and taken flight. You didn’t think much of it; even as an investigative journalist, you didn’t assume the worst of people. There must have been an excuse for it, and you consistently gave him the benefit of the doubt.

But the more that you thought about it and connected the fragments, the more obvious it became that Oscar was, in fact, a superhuman being tasked with saving the world. 

There had been one day when you had come into work, and Oscar’s collared shirt was singed at the hem. He blamed it on an ironing mishap, but somehow, it seemed odd. Another time, you watched as Oscar consumed five protein bars in the span of an hour. You didn’t say anything – it rubbed you the wrong way, yet you were more than eager to pin it on a crazy “gym culture” trend.

Now that the truth had been revealed, you had no idea how you were going to confront Oscar about it. The secret would stay between the two of you, one hundred percent. You wouldn’t endanger his life by gossiping about it with your friends, no matter how interesting and juicy the tidbit was. You had to be suave, not accusatory – casual and calm, like it was simply a quirk he couldn’t erase. A lovable eccentricity of sorts.

You woke up to your face plastered to your keyboard, drool sticking on your skin. The laptop had died hours before, the screen dark. With a groan, you straightened up, your joints cracking with the movement. The bedside clock read seven a.m., just thirty minutes before you had to be at work. For some reason, your alarm had not gone off.

You swore under your breath, dragging yourself out of the chair and fumbling through your closet to find a suitable outfit for work – a pleated Ann Taylor blouse and linen twill pants from Michael Kors. Coffee was a necessity, and your next goal to achieve. Watching it brew in the maker was a special sort of torture as you drummed your fingers on the granite counter.

Your phone lit up, buzzing with the sound of a notification, and your heart swooped in your chest as you picked it up.

Oscar.

[OSCAR] Good morning. Are you coming into work today? I’m bringing some donuts in.

You grinned, the idea of baked pastries sounding absolutely wonderful to your empty stomach. The last meal you had eaten had been almost twelve hours ago; a simple microwaveable dish that was about to expire.

[YOU] Donuts sound amazing. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes – I can’t wait!

And then you remembered the mission that lay ahead; the inevitable clash that would ensue when you told Oscar what you knew… that his secret identity wasn’t so secret anymore.

Oscar gave you a chaste hug when he saw you at the office, his eyes lighting up behind the classic black frames he always wore. “Glad you’re here,” he said while he handed you a Boston creme donut – your favorite. “I need your help on something.”

You nodded, mouth full of powdered sugar and vanilla custard. “Yeah, what’s up?”

He led you to his desk, sitting down on his spinning chair and unlocking his computer with a quick tap of his fingers. “I’m about to send you my article on the Morris case. Can you read over it and proofread? I want the wording to be just right,” he asked. “You’re the best writer here.”

“You’re flattering me,” you said, waving the compliment away, but privately dying over it. You hoped your face wasn’t too red; maybe you could blame it on the heat…if it wasn’t frigid outdoors. “But sure, yeah, I can do it. No problem. Check your inbox later, OK?”

Oscar’s face split into a wide grin. “Thank you so much. You’re incredible.”

“Oh, and by the way – are you coming over tonight? There’s a new episode of that thriller show. I’ve been waiting to watch it,” you informed him, and the tips of his ears turned red. 

He nodded. “Yeah. I should be able to.”

“Great.” You beamed at him. “OK, I’m going to go work on my assignment. I’ll see you later.”

Oscar knocked on your door that night, his formal polo shirt exchanged for a cozy navy button up jumper and gray sweatpants. He held a bouquet of orchids and a box of chocolates in his hands, kissing you on the top of your head as he entered your apartment. “I know it’s not our anniversary, but I saw these at the store and I thought of you,” he confessed. “It’s cringey, so if you don’t want to accept, you don’t have to.”

You shook your head, taken aback. “Of course I will! What kind of person would I have to be to decline free chocolates? I’m not a mad woman.”

Oscar chuckled. “Right.”

You led him to the living room once you had set down the chocolates and safely put the flowers in a vase filled with water. Oscar’s favorite green-and-blue patterned wool blanket was already draped over the couch, the television on and loaded at the waiting screen for the streaming service platform. A mug of raspberry tea rested on the table, and Oscar picked it up carefully. 

“I’m ready to watch,” he announced, tugging the blanket over his body and snuggling close to you. “Let’s go.”

The episode concluded an hour later, suspense keeping you at the edge of your seat as the main character finally faced the villain who had been stringing them along the whole show. There were plenty of jumpscares, making you seek comfort in Oscar’s embrace, something he was grateful for.

“That was amazing,” Oscar said, eyes wide while the credits rolled in front of him. “I think I might have to sleep with the lights on for a while now, though.”

You bobbed your head in agreement, flicking the television off. “I’m super paranoid now.”

“Me too.” 

You craned your head up at Oscar, courage suddenly spiking within you like a drug addict finally meeting their high. “I need to talk to you about something,” you stated carefully, the words falling out of your mouth before you could think twice.

Oscar’s expression immediately shuttered, defenses scrambling to be built. “What’s the matter?”

“I…um…” You faltered, swallowing back a lump in your throat. “I saw footage from the bank robbery last week.” His eyebrows furrowed, still not catching on to what you were insinuating. “Superman walked into the bank, all suited up…and he left the bank dressed like you. There’s no evidence of him leaving, only you – and you weren’t there before. I checked every minute, from every angle. The similarities are startling. It’s a crazy allegation to make, but the signs are there.”

You looked at Oscar, waiting for a reaction, but none came. He looked at you with the same unemotional stare. “You think that I’m Superman?” Oscar finally said, a disbelieving laugh bursting free. “That’s…Y/N, I don’t know how you could –”

“I saw footage from inside the bank as well. He’s unmistakably you; I recognize the voice. The volume might be louder, the tone more gravelly, but I’m not stupid. I know he’s you.” The words came out sharp as knives, and you took a breath to calm down.

Oscar’s head jerked to the side. “And I’m telling you it’s not true.”

“So you’re telling me to ignore the evidence that’s right in front of my eyes?” you retorted, annoyance flaring inside before you could stop it.

“I can’t,” Oscar bit out furiously. “I didn’t want you to know about this. I wish you didn’t know about it. I don’t want to pull you into the mess that is my life. I can’t risk you getting hurt.”

You flinched. “Well, I do know. You can’t delete it from my memory. So you’re going to have to come to terms with it, because I’m here.”

“And what if someone kidnaps you? What if someone uses you for bait once they figure out how vulnerable I am when you’re involved?” Oscar dropped his head, avoiding your gaze. “The last thing I want is for you to be hurt.”

Without thinking, you flung yourself into Oscar’s lap, your lips colliding with his. A low groan escaped him, and his arms caged you in, the kiss becoming more passionate and visceral. “I understand that you have experience playing the hero, but you better ignore your savior complex,” you implored him. “You have no right to pull away. The moment you reciprocated my kisses was the moment you relinquished the ability to leave me.”

Oscar’s mouth thinned. “I want to protect you.”

“Then protect me by staying by my side, not abandoning me.”

His grip on your body tightened, protectiveness etched in every line of his features. “I’ll never leave you.”

“Good.” You tilted your head up to meet his eyes. “Because you might be the Man of Steel, but you’re also my boyfriend. And that means you’re stuck with me, for the rest of your life. For better or for worse.”

Credits: Dividers — @dollywons

[yourkneecapsaremine]

yes they are. the BITE model applies to them perfectly. although they’re somewhat tame compared to other groups, and a bit more variance is allowed among individual beliefs and choices, this is largely because they don’t have the power to enforce things on the same scale as the amish for example.

behavior:

promote dependence and obedience (taught that there is no happiness or hope for you outside the cult. the people in the cult are your number 1 support system, who you always help you if you experience any hardship ((for example when my mom broke her ankle, for about a week various members of the organization brought us meals to help us out.) these are your brothers and sisters, your best friends.)

restrict or control sexuality (no premarital sex, no homosexuality, no oral or anal sex, no masturbation. these are all considered “perverted desires of the flesh”)

control clothing and hairstyle (you can never wear anything “immodest” that brings reproach on jehovah’s name. no dyed hair, no long hair for men, no piercings (unless they’re on the ear), no jewelry for men, dresses have to be below the knees, no clothes too tight that highlight the body, etc. etc.)

information (this one is huge with these guys):

deliberately withhold and distort information (facts and news are always twisted into a way that supports them. the organization is never in the wrong. will cite scientific facts without a source.)

forbid you from speaking with ex-members or critics (okay so their policy on this one has only recently changed. it used to be, that if you were baptized as one of jehovah’s witnesses, and then you left, you were ex-communicated (your friend may not have been baptized, that’s why they still lived with their family). not even your family was allowed to speak with you. after intense criticism on this now the ex-communication is now a lot more lax and it’s just like a “proceed with caution” thing)

discourage access to non-cult sources of information (jw.org is the number one most trusted resource. see something on the news that criticizes jw’s? its not true. fact check on jw.org. never allowed to engage with apostates (people who actively slander their faith) in any sort of discourse because they may weaken your faith. very dangerous. renew your faith by associating with members of the organization)

divide information into insider vs. outsider information (goes hand-in-hand with the last one. any outsider information cannot be trusted, and is created either by ignorant people who don’t truly know god or by evil people who seek to bring reproach on his name)

generate and use propaganda extensively (have this monthly news broadcast where they talk abt current events, give stories about jws around the world, talk about the bible, etc. release articles and stuff on their website. propaganda always reinforces us vs. them ideas)

thought:

instill black vs. white, us vs. them, good vs. evil thinking (overgeneralizes outsiders, paint them as either ignorant or immoral. believes that they are all suffering immensely without jehovah in their lives. a sort of perverse glee at the idea of all the sinners being killed during armageddon)

change your identity (they literally call it “taking off the old personality and putting on the new personality.” new personality involves changing bad habits, styles, thoughts, etc. and being more in line with god)

emotional:

label some emotions as evil, worldly, sinful, or wrong

promote feelings of guilt, shame, & unworthiness (this one is a little strange because they also give advice on how to stop feeling super guilty for your past actions, like they don’t want it to hinder you. but basically you are constantly told that god’s undeserved kindness is the only reason sinful humans have any chance at redemption. we are inherently selfish animals, but god in all his mercy allows us to serve him anyway.)

shun you if you disobey or disbelieve (until recently)

teach that there is no happiness or peace outside the group (having jehovah in your life is the only way to make it fulfilling and happy. without him we’re all just on the miserable march towards death. jehovah’s standards and rules make us happier and more agreeable, he knows what’s best)

America has a weird relationship with cults where they’re terrified of small cults (or organizations they think are cults) but completely normalized massive cults that hurt many more people (eg: LDS Church, Jehovah’s Witnesses, the Amish, Scientology, most Megachurches)

[yellowf1nch]

Minors do not interact, slight suggestive themes (vague mentions of sex/intimacy)

This is about the game lore, so potentially spoilers but nothing that necessarily comes for anyone's routes except Skylar

Edit: I finished speaking all the lore points in game, a more comprehensive and less speculative post can be found here.

Actually getting lore from Skylar (for those who haven't and are interested), realizing that nothing physically connects the player and the dateables (aside from perhaps real sensations regarding pain/hearing or vision), but any kind of intimacy is more like the consciousnesses are merging, so... more akin to mech pilots. A spiritual/metaphysical connection. The dateables are also existing in a slightly different reality, the dateviators are actually functioning as a kind of quantum bridge/translator to not only allow the dateables to manifest in our reality, but to give them a recognizable form and-- to let them be able to communicate with us, as apparently they speak an entirely different language... [so no, you are not actually pleasuring yourself on your furniture, but if that's how you want to imagine having fun in a fictional world, that is of course, your prerogative :)]

For those that would take an interest, this could potentially mean the dateables are all completely inexperienced with human intimacy (this is backed up by the fact a lot of their cultures/quips/etc. are similar but very different to ours), so navigating that first time as humans would be potentially very tender and new for them. [Although many seem to be very knowledgeable, just a fun idea.] Their being from a different reality also explains how they eat/where they keep possessions/where they go if they aren't being drawn forth by the dateviators, and how some are able to have mild space-time altering abilities (like being able to take you to places by changing your physical size). The dateables also exist on an entirely different time scale, some being canonically hundreds of years old, though physically (and I presume when they are Realized) are not. This is also how some characters have families, places of origin, or other backgrounds that are well beyond the scope of the house the player lives in. Their physical components, that exist in our reality, can be from Norway, Italy, Russia, etc., but as "people" they reside in an adjacent reality.

[Now for some of my own hypotheses, reading far too much into the "suspension of disbelief"]

It can also explain how some characters have multiple instances (Dorian, Abel, Lux, Wyndolyn, Curt&Rod, Shelley, etc.); basically existing at the same time in multiple places. The slight shifts in Dorian's personality are [I personally believe] him simply compartmentalizing and acting in ways that are more needed for where he is. For example, Tiny Dorian is an instance of Dorian that isn't of the same dimensions as normal, so his complex and behavior express his frustration in not being able to appear as he normally does (imagine trying to talk to someone through a window, versus a keyhole). Someone like Amir, however, has only one kind of physical appearance because he is less one for changing himself to suit different tasks. It may be Amir is also more of the reflection itself, as opposed to the mirror.

This can also be used to explain how only sometimes do objects seem to be able to hear/see the player's interactions with other objects, but not constantly (they have to be intentionally doing so); and, how the dateables are able to see/hear/feel the player interactions without the dateviators, but still can't interact with the player in that way (so it's not like the player bumps into Koa as a man every time one sits on the sofa).

[Many more questions about this. This was just some information I thought was interesting to mention for anyone who didn't get it in game. If you write/want to imagine things to be otherwise, I am not the arbiter of what is right or wrong, it is all fictional :) For those who don't know where to find this information, talk to Skylar! In her "menus" select the options to chat to her.]

[Spoiler!! This is also how you unlock a friendship/love ending with her.]

Here is a follow-up post for this lore.

[supremefloof]

episode 15 thoughts

I love ghostblade and whatever is wrong with him (ep 15 spoilers ahead)

right off the bat, we learn that yup ghostblade did indeed kill little johnnies dad. his name is "Sheng" and he dies in year 22. he's got naturey powers!

omg i can't help it ghostblade was frying me this entire episode. this is so comically edgy and it's for sure on purpose LMAO

large and loving family full of laughter and food. bro was just too overstimulated 😭 to be fair though if I perceived the world like this exactly i would also crash out

become the COOLEST ASSASIN lmfaooooooo

makes me think though this is the mindset of someone with over 175 kills. like he has carried this mindset from childhood, even including his childhood ideas about ghosts/curses.

The butcher shop is Mo Butchers, and his chinese hero name is Mo Sha, neat detail!

this ep made me go back to ghostblade's pv, and in this one I noticed that you can actually see the sign mentioned "three-peat X". wish I saw this before the mistranslations got me so confused

we have definitely not seen all of Ghostblade's backstory. like, for one, where did he learn this?? in his other pv it shows him in a surgeons office or something so probably there.

okay. I've been pretty satirical so far. but I just KNOW ghostblade's character is going to have a bit more to it than his insanely silly fumbling, and i'm going to see SO MUCH annoying misinterpretation of it on other social media.

like... methinks he's an unreliable narrator. maybe even lying to my face perhaps

this entire thing as he talks is like soooo edgy and cool but like. that pig is crying. that pig has human eyes. this line is so suspicious. ghostblade is a CHILD here.

he pretty privileged his way to heroism lmaooo

although... seeing how committed rock was to the yang cheng bit it's possible that this was set up as well. I mean, how does one become an assassin hero anyways off of fomo thirst trapping

an affective disorder is, defined according to wikipedia:

any of a group of conditions of mental and behavioral disorder where the main underlying characteristic is a disturbance in the person's mood.

and also his name is Wang Yi. and he DID talk at some point.

WHY DOES SHANG LOOK LIKE THAT?? and ghostblade gave him an ick I think

"I finally left that place to become the coolest assassin, and I picked out the coolest name: ghostblade" is that sass

aaaaand there it is! greed, violence, knowing too much, etc. it's all wrong.

MG.........what are you cooking here..... what did Sheng know?? this also proves that MG has been silencing people since wayyy before yang cheng.

omg is big johnny a curse or a last blessing from Sheng?? that's so cool

Zhang Lan and that fuckass bagel alley

DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN. THJIS IS SO UNSERIOUS I LOVE HIM

he was def trying to aura farm here

awwww this is cuteeeee. ghostblade in wedding clothes :000000000

the way the priest just carries on as usual while she says i do on her phone.

Is that the same guy??????

HE'S SMILING! and also, Zhan Lan's name in his phone is literally just "HER."

oh my god they were in love. they were freaking it on the regular. GB is worried about her health but the marriage shatters becaujse she didnt get pregnant nonchalantly enough 😭

thats a brand new sentence huh

NO REALLY. WHAT'S THE STORY HERE? why is him killing people in the same artstyle as his overstimulating childhood

oughhh him hugging the bunny... cut to THIS lolll. Also, birds

no literally WHAT IS THIS GHOSTBLADE? the stalking scenes with the serious music... I love this show sm

omg @/spotlightlover you called it gb thought Nuonuo's stalker was someone else 💀

another thing to support the unreliable narrator thing, or even that the entire episode is generally satirical in some sense: the Loli-GB fight scene looks WAY cooler from his POV

oh in general I love the animation style of this ep!! it's very pretty

I also love when GB is expressive! glad he's not just wearing the same expression constantly.

It seems like he lives on a Tower Floor and has been for ages.

damn so that's why rock was weirded out that he didn't pick up. ghostblade has literally nobody else that could possibly be talking to him.

love this super pretty shot. This feels to me like GB is finally realizing and understanding love for family... and maybe even the love he grew up with but didn't quite receive.

rocks expression at the end... that was definitely not his intention. or maybe he wasn't expecting ghostblade to do anything by himself like ever.

I feel like this episode maybe had an important theme that I didn't quite pick up?

he does feel very autistic coded

yeahhhh this is one of my favorite heroes so far. super fun episode as well!

[vampiricram1]

Did people like forget what like feminism is

Fella like they have alot of the time.

It's supposed to be intersectional

Is supposed to be a fight against patriarchy that's oppressing every human on this planet

Not used as a weapon against those speaking about their pain

Not as an excuse to perpetuate that pain

It's not meant to weed out anything remotely associated with what's they've branded as your "other"

When did hating masculinity either perceived or ones own self personhood replace destroying the patriarchy?

Cause if you think (not the person I reblogged this from this is for anyone reading my post that might be doing this stuff)

Hating trans men's for wanting to be what they perceive as masculine and love there own truth

Hating trans women for trying to be in women's spaces and call them "male bodies"

Hating all men feeling the pain of patriarchy themselves and the stress and corrupted society it credited and are dealing with mental issues that are directly related to the patriarchy oppressive hand on us all and treating them talking about their pain like it's not real

Giving up on guys as a social class saying we shosint try to reach out to the insecure kids who are being influenced by horrible fascists because you think somehow this twelve your old understands the entire patriarchy and isn't trying to activity defend it and isn't jsut an insecure little twerp that's gravitating to the only person talking to him and so he ends up swapped up in an ideology that perpetuated his fears and insecurities instead of showing him a more productive path

Or any form of bigoted behavior or speech towards anyone at all

In any way

You don't deserve to call yourself a feminist

Cause you aren't one

You don't actually truly care about liberation

You don't care about intersectionality

You don't care about eh human being right in front of you suffering

You care about beating down on a perceived other you've labeled as a threat

It's more comfortable for you to take out all your anger on a other group

You have the same ideological baseline as other fascists

Your beating down on a perceived other because you want to place the group you like at the top

Not because you want to seriously liberate anyone and tear down the corrupted system and it's tentacles itself

I know I often don't go on big rants like this but I've been fighting fights like this for awhile I'm all of the left wing spaces I've been in

And I'd be amiss if I didn't make it clear

Transandrophobia/misandry

Is not ok

Its not a solution to the problems it just feeds them

And bigots are not welcome on my blog

Of any shape or form

I may have gotten a little of topic from the main point of transandrophobia but it's pretty clear to me this is related to all the other battles I've been fighting

And theirs a lot of similar though likes arguments and behavior that greatly worries me to see from people claiming to be apart of communities I'm in

Also like uh

When Somone experiencing any kind of oppression is talking about their oppression

Listen to them

Like listen to what they have to say and take it seriously omg

Don't try to get people to "prove it" then walk back the goalposts every time they directly talk about or show you what's happening

Also God I hate some reddit mod teams

I think asking an oppressed demographic to prove they're not bad is, in fact, still an act of contributing to their oppression.

[cupidlovesastro]

looking for your moon sign? check here!

❄️other post you could enjoy!🧊

uranus in composite chart

air sign observations

being hard to understand

aquarius represents rebellion, uniqueness, individuality, coldness, revolution, change, humanitarianism, freedom, friendliness, intelligence, technology, innovation, community

moon represents emotions, intuitions, comforts, unconscious mind, instincts, spirituality, motherhood, fertility, femininity, and your home

topics in this post- emotions, comforts, good mom traits, bad mom traits, aquarius moon face, your house/ room, aquarius moon celebrities

♒︎ emotionally, aquarius moons can be very cold and distant. they can come off non chalantly and uncaring because of this. the thing about aquarius moons is that they can me emotionally unpredictable as well. sometimes they are more careless, and don’t care but other times they care deeply and things hurt a lot. they may also have a tendency to have “inappropriate” emotions, emotions that may not match the situation they’re in. like laughing when something sad is happening, or feeling little to nothing in stressful situations. although they can have deep and intense feelings, they can change and flee just as quickly as they came. they also like to be able to express their feelings freely, without judgment, or ridicule, and especially without being told how they should feel. they don’t need their way of expressing their inner self to be like everyone else. another thing about aquarius moons is that they may feel the need to have a support system/ group to support their feelings. something i’ve realized about aquarius moons (even 11h placements as well) they will use having people on their side to make someone else look bad or degrade the other persons feelings.

♒︎ things that comfort these individuals are things such as being able to express their differences to others without judgement or ridicule. they also find comfort in making things better than they already are and when they work on projects they like to do it their own way. free expression brings them peace and even creativity. they may enjoy things like graphic design, digital art, etc. they can be very visual people. they’re also deep humanitarians so connecting with those around them and getting to know more about others can also give them a sense of fulfillment

♒︎ good aquarius moon moms were the fun and unpredictable moms. the moms who would randomly ask if you want ice cream and then take you to an ice cream shop. these were also the moms that support your weird ideas and individualistic traits. you may have been different from your siblings (if you have any) but your mother didn’t single you out because of it, she loved and supported you all the same. she may have also been very independent and individualistic herself. she possibly didn’t like being told what to do. she may have also been the kind of mom that lets you do whatever you want, like if you wanted to go to the park she’d let you, or if you wanted to lay in bed all day, she’d let you. i also see her being the mom that encouraged you to donate to thrift shops and often participated in community activities or had you participating in those activities. she encouraged your growth and changes. lastly, i see her being the mom that sense silly memes or gifs, and may even have social media herself

♒︎ bad aquarius moon moms may have been very absent in your life. they were unpredictable, wether that was in their presence, emotions, or behaviors. they also could’ve made you move from home to home, and switching schools constantly. she was colder and more distant with you, and could’ve acted like she didn’t care about you. she could’ve also be extreme in her beliefs and stood behind them, no matter how bad. she could’ve been odd herself, maybe in her way of speaking, acting, feelings, etc. she was hard to read. she didn’t value your emotions, and only used logic when talking to you, even if it was about your feelings. she likely had a low tolerance for emotions, and made it hard for you to express your vulnerability.

♒︎ the aquarius moon face tends to have medium or thicker eyebrows, bigger and either have a round forehead or square forehead, square jawlines, the men tend to have little to no cheek, while the women have fuller and more padded cheeks with smile lines, skinnier noses, thin to medium lips

⬇️apply this to your room, if you don’t own a house ⬇️

♒︎ your house looks very different from others in the neighborhood, wether that’s interiors or exteriors. lots of blues, greens, and some purple could be used in your house. even colors like black as well. your house is very innovative compared to others. there could be spiritual things in your house like crystals, or things from a niche aesthetic. your house may also just be very chaotic in nature and possibly changing all the time. you could be the person who has parties at your house or friend get togethers at your house. maybe even a little club like book club, art club, etc.

♒︎ aquarius moon celebrities- billie eilish, trisha paytas, britney spears, eminem, marilyn monroe, jesus christ, princess diana, john lennon, charles manson, ashton kutcher, shawn mendes, muhammad ali

[holasoythecreator]

pairing> mc/reader x yandere Caleb

warings> kidnapping, suicidal thoughts, caleb speaks very nicely to be the perpetrator but he is, shitty and criminal behaviors in general by caleb ofc, stockholm syndrome, depersonalization, angst???? i dunno, i dun usually write for others, or write in english to be fair

word count> 900

Since my funeral, everything’s been the same. And I don’t mean the same as before, of course not, my world completely changed after that.

I wish I could say the only constant is Caleb, that he’s the one thing I’ve kept from my old life. But I refuse. I refuse to believe that the man he is now and the one I knew when I was young are the same person.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m really dead after all. That this is hell. I think the funeral Caleb staged in my honor to erase me from every record and every search was real.

I died on December 16th, and everything’s been the same since.

There are no differences between Wednesday and Sunday, only between the days when he’s here and when he’s not. I don’t bother checking the dates; I don’t want to know how long I’ve been here. Or how long my friends have missed me. Or worse, how long it’s been since they got over me.

I don’t want them to move on. I want to haunt their memories forever, I want them to suspect, to look for me, to stop Caleb in the street and ask about me every time they recognize him.

I want them to parrot over and over, “Im sorry about your sister, that must’ve been hard.” I don’t care if they think I’m dead — I just want to exist in someone’s mind.

Now I live in a cabin. He visits sometimes; he doesn’t live here. He spends more time on the fleet than with me. And I don’t know if that makes me feel relieved or furious.

Caleb makes sure I have everything I need to survive. And to stay busy. That way I won’t start thinking, not even by accident, about hanging myself from a tree.

I think it didn’t work.

There are cameras everywhere, like the ones he had in his apartment at Skyhaven, like the ones he used to put in my clothes, or the one he set up in my place to see if Xavier was visiting me too often.

My privacy was never really mine.

I realized it too late.

“You’re more… alive when I’m home,” he said once, as if this were remotely similar to a home.

“What do you mean?”

He was touching my skin as he spoke. Not like it was skin, but like it was a treasure**.**

Maybe that’s what it was.

People keep their treasures hidden away, in places no one will ever find them.

“Every time I check the cameras, your eyes are empty,” he whispered, like it was a secret, or like someone might overhear. “But now... they don’t.”

Of course not. He’s the only human contact I have left.

The first months — weeks, days, hours, or god-knows-what — I preferred loneliness a hundred times over being near Caleb. A long time ago I stopped considering the days when he’s not here as actual days.

What the hell is a day, anyway? Twenty-four hours, sure. And what are hours? How do I know when one ends and the next one begins if every second feels so distant from the next?

I still remember what a second is only because I can count them.

I wonder how long it’ll take me to forget that too.

I still count the seconds until my death.

“You grew all this by yourself…” he sounded proud, as he looked over my plants, holding me just as close as always. “How are the bees going? Do you like ‘em?”

“Fine. I like them.”

He already knew that. He’d seen it on the cameras.

He kissed the slope between my neck and shoulder, proud.

“Did you know you can make candles with beeswax?” he asked. “I’ll print you a tutorial so you can try it whenever you like.”

I liked that.

Those tiny traces of freedom he let me have.

“Thanks.”

Thanks for what?

The dragonfly tried to escape when Caleb and I got too close, but it stopped mid-air and “flew” back toward us, and landed in my hands. Then he deactivated his Evol, and I had to trap it between my fingers so it wouldn’t get away again.

“Did you get a good look?” he asked, guiding me toward the cabin’s porch so we could sit.

“Yeah.”

“Does it remin’ you of anything?”

“The Meganeura.”

“Bingo!” he grinned, proud. “This is the closest modern species to the Meganeura from the Carboniferous period.”

I let it go again, but Caleb made it land on the table in front of us so I could look at it better.

“Can I keep it?”

“In a terrarium?”

“Uh-huh.”

He shook his head, a little sad to have to say no.

“Dragonflies can’t live in captivity. Trust me, I checked,” do I have another option? “Adults need open spaces to fly and natural sunlight, otherwise they get stressed and their wings can get damaged.”

I stared at the huge dragonfly in front of us, still, wrapped in a soft orange and dark blue glow. It could die with just a little more pressure —Caleb knew it, and so did the dragonfly, apparently. It could move, but if it did, it would get hurt. Killed, in the worst case.

It was beautiful. Majestic like the Meganeura. Maybe not as big, but it didn’t need to be for me to admire it.

Maybe it’ll become my favorite animal.

I loved it.

I wanted to take a picture, but I had nothing to take one with.

Maybe if we kept it, it wouldn’t last long, but I could look at it a little longer.

…

“Let it go, please.”

you can take the addicted out of the addiction but not the addiction out of the addicted?? i used to write a lot of content like this before. but then i stopped, and now the fever is coming back, stronger than ever (im working on a visual novel)

no gona lie im scarid

[cliffs-sniperrifle]

DS2 RANT WITH SPOILERS:

People being so loudly wrong about higgs and his writing in DS2 is slowly starting to kill me cause I don’t think we love the same character AT ALL.

I’m writing this with no hate so please don’t take it personally but I’m getting annoyed at how badly y’all wanna defend higgs from his actions.

I LOVE how awful he is in DS2. How that rage has festered inside him to lash out at everything yet desperate to keep playing games because he needs to be entertained. He is such a tragic villain and that is the POINT. It’s not bad writing for someone to be written so complex. Kojima is not writing for us to hate higgs. We are supposed to sympathize and feel sorry for him, but also angry at how this grown ass man is throwing temper tantrums because he refuses to take some accountability for the things he’s done. Hurting fragile, killing others, etc.

And I HATE that people try and go “oh but what abt amelie she’s worse and manipulated him?” Do you not remember the end of DS1?? The part where she cut herself off from everyone to suffer alone to prevent the exctinction?? Why do people keep ignoring that as if she’s not repenting?? It lowkey feels misogynistic the way people are comparing higgs to fragile and amelie, when these 3 are all complex individuals. Higgs and fragile are DIRECT parallels! The way they are written is purposeful and not trying to paint higgs as simply evil and “doesn’t deserve help”. If that was the case, why even give us scenes of him at the end grieving and crying? Why even add lore about him being abused as a child at all if kojima wanted to paint him as some one-dimensional villain.

Some people want to infantilize this grown man and reduce him to nothing but his trauma to excuse all the bad he’s done out of his own volition. Fragile and sam are there to be direct parallels to higgs character, to prove him wrong.

Yes, it is sad that higgs didn’t get help. In another universe I wish he did but then this wouldn’t make for a story if everyone just got therapy and held hands. Sometimes the abused become abusers and yall refuse to accept that. It’s a real, sad thing but it doesn’t excuse his actions and behavior. Higgs is complex and nuanced because of his backstory but to reduce him to just his trauma takes away that complexity. You don’t want higgs, you want someone to soothe and coddle. Higgs was going to end up like this in DS2, because in all the years he spent repenting on the beach like amelie, he decides to take no accountability and become worse out of pure anger and spite.

Trauma and abuse affects everyone in different ways. In no way am I, or DS2, trying to hate higgs for not being the perfect victim, however, trauma and abuse does NOT excuse the choices he’s made and thats what some of you are failing to grasp. Higgs is not the only person with trauma or abuse in this story and you guys trying to compare who’s had it “harder” are missing the point.

I’m sorry if this upsets some people to hear but I’m so tired of hearing people say DS2 is trying to “make victims look like bad people” or that DS2 is awful all because kojima didn’t write a redemption arc for the man who abused and killed fragile and tried to kill a baby (and bragged about killing said baby).

Higgs is NOT the first ever villain to have a tragic backstory that does not get redeemed and he will certainly not be the last. And I highly doubt this is the last we ever see of him unless kojima says otherwise.