#or if it's just that I've never been in a relationship

[glowettee]

✧・゜: self-discipline doesn't mean hating yourself into action :・゜✧:・゜✧

hey lovelies! ✧

i've been thinking about this a lot lately… how did we all collectively decide that being mean to ourselves was somehow the path to getting things done? like, who started this toxic rumor that self-discipline means internal screaming and punishment? because honestly? i spent years believing that the only way to accomplish anything was through this weird self-bullying technique and it was literally the least effective approach ever.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the wake-up call ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

last semester i hit a wall with my essay project. i had been doing that thing where you stare at your laptop, call yourself lazy in your head, promise to work for 8 straight hours to "make up for it," then get overwhelmed and watch netflix instead. but one night at like 2am (why do all realizations happen at 2am??) i wondered what would happen if i just… stopped being mean to myself about it?

what if self-discipline was actually about being the most understanding friend to yourself instead of the worst drill sergeant?

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ what actually works ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

start ridiculously small, i'm talking embarrassingly tiny steps. want to write that paper? commit to just opening the document and typing a single sentence. need to clean your space? just put away three things. the magic is that once you start, continuing feels so much easier.

create environments that make things easier, not harder. i rearranged my desk so everything i need is within reach and visible. stopped trying to work in my bed (even though it's so comfy) because my brain associates it with sleep and tiktok scrolling.

acknowledge the resistance instead of fighting it. when i feel that "i don't wanna" feeling, i literally say to myself "i hear you, and it makes sense you feel that way. what's one tiny piece we could do?" talking to myself like i'm my own bestie changed everything.

use curiosity instead of judgment. instead of "why am i so lazy?" (which never helps), try "i wonder what's making this hard for me right now?" sometimes the answer surprises you. maybe you're actually just hungry or need better lighting.

build in rest BEFORE you crash. i started scheduling actual breaks before i felt desperate for them, and somehow i get more done? it's like my brain knows it's not going to be held hostage forever.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the permission slip approach ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

my favorite technique lately has been what i call "permission slip productivity" where i literally write myself little notes giving permission to:

work imperfectly (first drafts can be messy!)

take breaks without guilt

change my approach if something isn't working

celebrate small progress instead of only the end result

acknowledge when something is genuinely difficult

there's something so powerful about physically writing yourself permission. it sounds silly but it works because it interrupts that mean inner voice that's been programmed into us.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the results speak for themselves ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

the wildest part? i actually get MORE done now that i've stopped the self-hate productivity method. turns out your brain works better when it's not being constantly criticized? who knew!

my essay (very big essay) got finished early. my room stays cleaner. i actually enjoy my study sessions now instead of dreading them. and most importantly, i don't feel that heavy cloud of shame following me around everywhere.

self-discipline isn't forcing yourself through misery, it's creating systems that work WITH your natural tendencies, not against them. it's about making things easier, not harder. it's about treating yourself like someone you actually care about.

and maybe the real glow-up isn't just checking things off your to-do list, but doing it without sacrificing your relationship with yourself in the process.

what about you? have you been trying to hate yourself into productivity? might be time for a gentler approach. you deserve that kindness from yourself. (and honestly? it just works better.)

xoxo, mindy 🤍

[draconym]

so I don’t know you but i’ve followed all this discourse and I first want to say I heavily relate to you and think everything you’ve said and done is valid and justified. and I honestly really hate the internet’s tendency to respond to almost every problem in any kind of relationship with “you should cut them off and find better people.”  I feel like they don’t understand that for a lot of people it takes a tremendous amount of time and care and effort to get close to people and that cutting everyone off at the first hiccup just leads to being sad and lonely. also, being told to be less kind to others is quite frustrating and never really solves…anything? it doesn’t mean your needs are more met just because you are doing less for others. the problem isnt not wanting to put in work, it’s wanting to have others support you back. cutting out the first part of the equation might “balance” it but it would just make me more unfulfilled. leaning into the relationships that make you feel most valued is good advice, and so is communicating with people you care about in regards to your wants and needs. I just feel the internet is far too trigger happy about ending relationships. and maybe this generation in general is. I kept having people tell me to break up with my partner when mental health and medical issues meant they had a really hard time communicating with me and needed far more support than they were able to give. which, fuck that, I should be allowed to express that I’m having a hard time without everyone jumping to “you should abandon them they’re treating you unfairly.” I’m so glad I did not. Instead we realized we both needed to lean a bit more on our wider support networks. Sometimes solutions do indeed exist. And it’s funny how the people who say “you deserve better” are rarely the people who actually step up to support you…

Anon, thank you. It's been disappointing that almost all of the online advice I've ever received about my mom is "go no contact" because she is sometimes selfish or immature. I don't want to go no contact with my mom. I want us both to grow as people and learn to talk to one another like adults.

"Go no contact" is not a conflict resolution strategy, it is a danger avoidance strategy. And it is sometimes the best solution, but ... actually addressing conflict is kind of essential if you want any of your relationships to other people to last.

[delilahsturniolo]

— 𝜗ৎ the greatest . . . m.s

in which . . . you want something more with fwb!matt, but he shuts you down, turning it into an argument, so he decides to “make it up to you” and you can’t help but give in

warnings . . . fwb!matt, smut, arguing, crying, unprotected sex, unresolved angst, use of pet names, fingering, multiple orgasms.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

HIT ME HARD AND SOFT WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #6

there's something about matt that just drives you wild. maybe it's the way he looks at you with those piercing blue eyes or the way his hair falls perfectly into place. whatever it is, you can't get enough of him. but the problem is, all he wants from you is to fuck, and nothing more. a real relationship is where he draws the line. you've been friends with benefits for a while now, but lately, you've been wanting something more. you want to be able to call him yours, to have him hold you close and tell you that he loves you. but every time you bring it up, he shuts you down.

"matt, we need to talk," you say, tangled in the sheets. "about what?" he asks, pulling on his shirt and avoiding your gaze. "about us. about what we're doing here."

"we're having fun, aren't we? i mean, the sex is amazing. what more do you want?" you take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "i want more than just sex, matt. i want a relationship. i want to be with you." he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "i can't give you that. i'm not the relationship type."

"why not? why can't you just give us a chance?" you plead, matt snaps back. "because i don't want to hurt you. i care about you, i do. but i'm not capable of being what you need." you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "how do you know what i need? you've never even tried."

"look, let's just drop it, okay? we're good together, let's not ruin it by trying to make it into something it's not." you shake your head, wiping away a stray tear. "i can't keep doing this, matt.." he looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a moment you think he might actually be considering it. but then he leans in close, his breath hot on your neck, and whispers, "let me make it up to you."

and just like that, you're putty in his hands. he knows exactly how to touch you, how to make you moan and writhe beneath him. he trails kisses down your neck, his hands roaming over your curves, and you know you should stop him, should tell him no, but you can't. you need him, need this. you can’t resist going back to him. you love the way he makes you feel and you will never escape that.

he pushes you back onto the bed, his body covering yours, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. he thrusts into you, filling you completely, and you cry out, your nails digging into his back. “you feel so good," he groans, his hips slamming against yours. "so tight and wet for me."

"matt, please," you whimper, not even sure what you're asking for. "i've got you, baby. i'll take care of you." and he does. he fucks you hard and deep, hitting all the right spots, until you're a writhing, moaning mess beneath him. and when you finally cum, screaming his name, he follows right behind you, spilling himself inside you.

but you’re not done yet. matt leans in, his hot breath tickling your ear, and whispers, "you want this, don't you?" you can only nod, your heart pounding in your chest. his fingers brush against your panties, already damp with your arousal. he chuckles softly, a sound that sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

his fingers deftly push your panties aside, revealing your slick folds. he runs a finger along your slit, gathering your wetness on his fingertip. he brings it to his lips, tasting you. "mmm," he hums, "you taste so sweet, can’t get enough of this pretty pussy..” then, without warning, he plunges a finger inside you. you gasp, your back arching off the sheets. he pumps his finger in and out of you, adding another when he feels you're ready. his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing circles around it.

your hips buck wildly, meeting his thrusts. you can feel your orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter. "that's it," matt encourages, "cum for me again.” and you do. your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your walls clamping down on matt's fingers. he continues to pump them in and out of you, prolonging your pleasure until you're left a quivering mess on the couch. he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips once again. he sucks them clean, his eyes never leaving yours.

afterwards, he holds you close, stroking your hair and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. and even though you know it's not real, that he's not really yours, you can't help but bask in the afterglow. you know you shouldn't keep doing this, shouldn't keep falling back into bed with him, all he wanted was to see you naked. but the truth is, you're addicted to him, to the way he makes you feel. and as much as you want more, you're not sure you're ready to give this up just yet.

© delilahsturniolo

💌: MAN AM I THE GREATESTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

[karikitdemonrp]

Kari rubbed her eyes with a soft sniffle and took a breath. Hawks words and presences had helped her calm down. Sure the pain still lingered, but it didn't hurt as much. "I... I wanna keep going. No, I need to keep going." She chirped softly after a moment. "I can't just stop now. Not yet." She informed and turned back to look over more hero logs for her father.

Training logs showing his improvement, journals that dated before Kari's birth, interviews, news reports, and so on. Eventually Kari stopped on a journal entry dated a few weeks after Kari's birth.

"August 5, I brought Kari home for the first time. She's gained a bit of weight which is good. She's such an active little girl. Kitearo was immediately so protective despite how he acted before. I guess seeing how small she was and having processed what happened helped him a lot. Therapy has been a huge help for all of them. Shade us still sneaking top shelf books when I'm not looking, last time I saw her reading Moby Dick to Kari and immediately stepped in. We made an agreement that if she didn't read these to Kari then I'd allow her to read certain top shelf books with supervision. She's enjoying spending time with Kari, reading her books while she's is in Shade's lap. Boom and Beats always love to play with Kari, running around happily with toys and including Kati in their games. Flo shows Kari a ton of different plants, mainly flowers. Fino likes to have Kari ride on his back while in a random animal form. I feel like these kids will super close when they're older. Sure they'll get into arguments and maybe even fights, but thats life. I'm just happy it looks like things are gonna be alright. Still waiting for Boom and Beats to get their quirks, I'm not sure what they'll be since Mikomi's quirk is so different. She never explained why, but I have a rough understanding. Either way, I've made up my mind and I'll help with hero work in some other way, but I'll be retiring as a pro hero before Kari's first birthday. I can't risk it right now, there is too much at stake. I'll keep doing my best for them. - Lynx Himura."

Kari gave a soft smile then went to type in her mother's hero name and began looking through the hero logs there. Eventually she came across an interview, roughly around the same time as Lynx, though it was off by a few days.

"Hello, thank you for meeting with us, Angelic."

"Of course, I'm glad I could make it work. Been super busy and all." Mikomi laughed. Her eyes, while a different color, were roughly the same shape as Kari's. Though Kari's were a bit more pointed and Mikomi's slightly more rounded. But it was easy to see the resemblance.

"Yea, you've been very busy it seems. Your already the number six hero and you're still pretty young. Any insight as to why you're working do hard?"

"Ah, going for that question already. Fair enough. Well, it's kinda has to do with my quirk being so easy to... adapt to different situations so I can help out in many areas. So I'm able to be noticed more often and so on. That and I just like helping. It feels right to me. Don't get me wrong the money is nice too but I'm not wanting for anything. I'm actually only using what I need and saving the rest for future emergencies or plans."

"You planning on starting a family?"

"Maybe, maybe not. But I'll never let that information slip. I'm aiming high after all. If I have kids and I'm in the top three, their lives could be in danger so I'm keeping stuff like that close to my chest." Mikomi looked to the camera and smiled knowingly almost, in Kari's direction. Kari shivered a bit.

"Thats fair," the reporter hummed off camera and Mikomi looked back at the reported. "Now, about your quirk--"

"Sorry but I'm not divulging information about my quirk either." Mikomi was quick to interrupt. "I know it is different and rather weird but I'd like to keep that to myself as well."

"Ah, I see. Well, what about your relationship with Redone?"

"Oh, I--" Mikomi blushed a bit with a grin. "Well, it's a long story but after moving back from America, I had to go cuz of my mom's job, we reconnected in highschool and haven't really been apart since. He's really sweet and caring. We've been together for a while actually."

"Can we plan on a hero wedding anytime soon?"

"Ya know, I watched his interview last week and I tried asking him when he came by with the sweet buns. He just laughed and told me he'd propose when the time is right. I'm not sure when but I'm sure everyone will be made aware eventually." Mikomi chuckled softly. The interview went on, more questions, some dodged some answered. But all in all Kari got a good feel for Mikomi's personality. Kind but firm, not willing to take bullshit but not rude either. Stands her ground and proud of it.

Kari smiled and went on to find some missions, training logs, and a family tree. Kari widened her eyes. There she was with her siblings, her mother, her father, even her grandparents. There was Maica, Core, Core's father. Her whole family.

Looks like Lynx had two younger brothers one of which was deceased while the other was still alive but no where in Japan and no contact information listed and he looked to be estranged. Lynx's parents were listed too though his father passed away the same year as one if his brothers while Lynx's mother passed two years before Kari was born. Kari frowned, concluding an accident happened that took Lynx's father and brother. She shook it off and opened up a journal from her mother, taking a breath.

"I'm simply writing this so it is on record in case something happens to me and one of my children develops my quirk-" Kari perked up a bit. "I don't know if it'll come to that but dad said it's better safe than sorry. He probably knows something since we share a quirk and all. Thats besides the point. I plan on having this under heavy lock and key until I die or if one of my children requests it or whatever. I'm not the best with formal stuff but I'll try my best. Either way, I am Mikomi Himura. Mother to Kitearo Himura, wife to Lynx Himura. My quirk is called All of the Above. It is a highly adaptive quirk, able to integrate any other quirk upon seeing it, though it takes time. My DNA is very unstable for lack of a better way of putting it. My son's quirk is vastly different to mine. Well, it's going to be, he hasn't developed it yet but I already know. Sir Nighteye's quirk has been super helpful in calming the nerves of a new mother. For the most part at least, but I'm keeping that close to my chest for now."

Kari shivered a bit, having a feeling she knew what Mikomi was referring to but kept reading.

"As for the specifics of my quirk, I'm able to use a quirk I've copied with in a certain length of time after seeing it, depending on the type. A week or two for emmiter quirks, two to three weeks for transformation and accumulation quirks, and four weeks for mutation quirks. I don't just copy the quirk, but a snap shot of the person as well for lack of a better way of putting it. It can be refreshed if I see that person again but yea. Ugh this is more difficult to explain than I thought. Uh, the reason there is a snap shot is because I can call on it to help learn quirks more effectively, they take over my body and I learn through muscle memory. The quirks I have copied as well as the snap shots of the people will be passed on to which ever of my children inherits my quirk but those quirks will be locked until certain things are met, I'm not sure how that all works. Dad hasn't explained it and I haven't figured it out. It's weird to explain and better to show but I don't plan on dying so ill be able to show my kid when the time comes. Regardless, this is just a precaution and I don't plan on needing it. With that I'm closing this journal."

Kari blinked, moving to look through more journal entries. Some where around the time she was pregnant with her siblings. Then another caught Kari's eye.

"It's July 20th today. I'm feeling pretty weak from this pregnancy. Little Kari is really sapping me, but that's fine. I've had six kids before her so I'll be okay. But I'm not gonna lie this one has been rougher than all the others so I'm a bit worried. My due date isn't for another two month so it's fine."

"July 25th, something isn't right. I asked Lynx to take me to the hospital to have a check up. I might need emergency surgery. Kari might be born sooner than expected."

After that journal entry Kari found an obituary for her mother. "Number 3 hero dies for unspecified reasons." It lists the funeral date as well as other information.

Kari sighed softly, going over to Hawks and clinging to him, shaking and crying in weak sobs. She just needed a moment to process it all. "I... I know it's not my fault... but a part... A part if me still... still hurts." Kari hiccuped, nuzzling into Hawks' leg, just letting it all out. "I wanna know her. Who would she have been? What would be going on right now if she were alive? Why did she have to die cuz of me? It's not fair." The child cried, trying to hold back a bit but still needing to let out some emotions before continuing, if she even wanted to.

Hawks stood beside Kari the whole time, his usual laid-back expression softened into something quiet and pained. He didn’t say much while she clicked through the files—he didn’t need to. His hand gripped hers back just enough to remind her he was there, grounding her, steady and real in a space full of shadows from the past.

When Kari tried to lighten the mood at the end, Hawks crouched down a little to her level and gently brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. His expression didn’t shift into pity—it never did. Instead, it was the expression of someone who understood, who had lived through too many ghosts of his own.

“Two pounds, huh?” he murmured with a gentle smile. “And now look at you. Tough enough to face all this head-on, brave enough to want answers even when you knew they’d hurt. That kind of strength? That’s rare, Kari. That’s hero stuff.”

He let the words settle before continuing, his thumb brushing over her knuckles where their hands were still locked together.

“Your dad loved you. All of you. You can feel it in every word he wrote—even when things were falling apart, his thoughts were on keeping you safe. That’s not something a lot of kids get to grow up knowing. But you? You’ve got that. You’ve got him with you every time you use your quirk, every time you snort like he did.” Hawks grinned a little at that, trying to lift her spirit without pushing her too fast.

He then stood and offered his other hand to steady her.

“We can look for more when you’re ready—your mom’s records, maybe some old hero logs. But we don’t have to do it all today. There’s no rush. What matters is you have this now. It’s a part of you, but it doesn’t have to define you.”

He gave her hand a soft squeeze, his wings flexing slightly behind him.

“You wanna keep going? Or you want a break, maybe get something warm to drink, clear your head?” he asked gently, letting her take the lead again. “Whatever you choose, I’m here, little bird.”

[illbegottenfaith]

the one where theo keeps trying to kiss you

a/n - just a short drabble based on this post! i LOVE a red lip so so much it idk if it has to do with me being a swiftie from a very young age but it is my fav thing ever it is SO tragic that it ages me too much for me to wear it regularly (i did wear it for the eras tour tho heheh)

tropes/warnings - fluff fluff fluff, established relationship, eepy reader, theo beefing with a cat

word count - 673

taglist - @kandralice @justme989898 @iamheretoread1234 @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf @user089167

“What?”

���Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not the one who did that to you.”

The cat continued looking up at Theo accusatorially, her typically pure white fur now dotted with messy smudges of red lipstick. The two of them were standing in the dim corridor of your home, Theo having just arrived home from work, the cat having just escaped your overly loving and stifling embrace. Theo put his keys down on a table and sighed.

"Come on."

Seraphina yowled pitifully as Theo scooped her up and walked towards the bedroom, whose golden light was spilling into the corridor through the door cracked open. Theo walked in and deposited her onto your lap. He leaned in for a kiss, but your high-pitched cooing and babying had once again resumed. He watched, mildly amused.

"Had a good time, I take it?"

Regretfully, you pulled away from Seraphina. You were in bed, still in the dress you wore for your night out with your friends. From what Theo could tell, most of your makeup had been washed off, save for the bold red lipstick smudged on your mouth. You grinned, still lightly flushed from the alcohol. "The best." You absentmindedly scratched Seraphina's chin, who was starting to look much more content settled on your lap. "How was work?"

Theo sat at the edge of the bed, tugging at his shoelaces. "Alright. Long." He pulled off a shoe. "At least it's over."

"Aw. How long has it been since I've given you a kiss?"

Theo bit back a smile as he pulled his other shoe off. "Well, it's been a while, b - and you're talking to the cat. Of course you're talking to the cat. Why did I think you weren't talking to the cat?"

"Hm?" You looked up cluelessly from the fresh kiss you had just placed on a mildly squirmy Seraphina. Despite himself, Theo's irritation softened at the sight.

"Nothing." He leaned in for a kiss again, but you were too busy holding Seraphina up to notice, placing chaste kisses all over her face. Theo rolled his eyes and stood, changing out of his work clothes. By the time he returned, you were already half-asleep, eyes lidded as you dozed. He tapped your face. You stirred briefly, sluggishly batting his hand away.

"Don't you want to change into something more comfortable?"

You made a disgruntled sound of disagreement. "I've never been more c..." you trailed off. "Tired," you finally mumbled, rolling over to bury yourself deeper into your pillow. Theo lifted the covers to join you, only to find Seraphina happily curled up on his side of the bed, like she had no intention of budging.

"Seraphina," he started, trying his best to be nice.

She gave no indication of having heard him.

"That's my spot."

She blinked her pretty, sapphire blue eyes up at him unhelpfully.

Theo sighed, annoyed, moving to pick her up. Seraphina immediately dug her claws into the bed, glaring daggers at him.

"Oh, come on, Seraphina. I'm exhausted. Can't we do this tomorrow?"

She looked the other way, refusing to relent.

"This is my house. I don't see your name on the lease." Theo leaned in, doubling down. "I'm the one who buys your treats. Are you sure you want to cross me?"

"Quit it," you mumbled sleepily. "Both of you."

Immediately, Seraphina walked down the bed to curl up at your feet, as if she had been perfectly agreeable the entire evening. Theo scowled at her.

"Go to sleep," he told you, part annoyed and part embarrassed over having been caught arguing with a cat, and losing.

"I'm trying."

Theo got into bed, muttering under his breath as he turned out the light. He closed his eyes, feeling himself unwind to the sound of your slowed, even breathing. He was just about to drop off as well when you rolled over to face him, your voice cutting through the dark, whispered and saddened.

"No goodnight kiss?"

[simpforrooster]

i fucking knew it.

aaron hotchner x f!reader

summary: you and aaron have secretly been dating for a while—and the team is starting to suspect it.

t/w: 18+. MDNI. light smut (plz don’t come for me, it was my first time writing something like it), a mention of an age-gap, some cursing, mentions of criminals. i don’t think there is too much gender identifying language, but i did imagine a female while writing.

a/n: i had no idea where this one was gonna go. i hope you enjoy!!

aaron hotchner catches your gaze over the manila folder he’s holding. to the average person, they wouldn’t think twice about this action.

but, you know better.

his eyes hold yours for a few seconds longer, before he resumes reading the details of the case.

the lowlights of the jet’s interior mask the flush that’s appeared on your cheeks. hotch feigns a stretch, his shoe tapping yours slightly as he crosses his leg.

“sorry,” he mumbles, not taking his eyes off the folder.

you wave him off, knowing your voice would betray you.

i saw that, your phone buzzes with a text from jj.

it was an accident, you reply.

yeah right, emily shares.

what! what’s happening? gosh, i hate that i’m stuck in the lair, penelope adds.

hotch smirks at his folder, affirming he knows exactly why your phone is blowing up.

the two of you have managed to keep your relationship under wraps for the past couple of months, but the girls have started to suspect something. rossi too, but you can’t be certain.

aaron caught your eye as soon as you started at the bau. you’d learn that you’d caught his almost instantly. but he was your boss, and there was the age difference.

several late nights of him helping you with your reports and chinese takeout, you fell for one another.

oh, nothing. just hotch thinking he’s being subtle, jj tells penelope.

~

“three rooms?” hotch asks the tired man behind the desk.

“take it or leave it, man. it’s 2 am,” the clerk says on a yawn.

“i call reid and rossi!” derek sticks his hand in the air. emily reaches out to jj’s arm and pulls her into her side.

rossi shakes his head and exchanges a look with aaron. “which one of you boys are sleeping on the floor?”

hotch looks at you apologetically, but you see the underlying want behind those brown eyes.

“i guess that leaves us,” hotch murmurs to his bag, trying to remain unbothered. he grabs your duffle and starts toward the elevator.

your phone buzzes in your back pocket.

one bedroom trope! emily sends to the group.

epee! penelope replies.

he grabbed her bag, pen! jj shares.

aaron has never once carried anyone’s bag to a hotel room. his gaze catches yours over his shoulder telling you he realizes the implications. his stoic expression returns as you all enter the elevator.

~

the girls, reid, morgan, and rossi get off at the third floor, leaving you and aaron in the elevator alone. not before jj shoots you a wink. hotch visibly relaxes, and gives you one of those smiles he reserves only for you and jack.

"we're on another floor? that's really going to set the girls off," you comment. aaron shrugs like the duffle bag gave it all away and yall should just fuck the secrecy. he takes a step closer to you. back-to-back cases have kept the two of you from any quality time that wasn't outside of a police precinct and the tension radiates off him.

aaron leads you down the hall once the elevator doors open on the fourth floor. his giant hand engulfs yours, and you can't wait to get into the room.

"this is us," he gestures toward the door. dropping your hand, he pulls the keycard from his pocket. swiping y'all in, he pulls you into the room.

as soon as the door closes behind you, you're being pushed against it.

"god, I've been dying to get my hands on your for days," hotch groans against your mouth. you answer him with a small moan you tried to keep in.

you push his suit jacket off his shoulders, then grip his tie. using his tie, you pull him completely flush against you. his tall body is all over you. there is no spot where his body isn't touching yours.

“tell the criminals to take a break,” you breathe. “you almost blew it at the precinct in the last case.”

aaron moves his kisses along the side of your neck. “that officer was getting a little too friendly with you.”

“but a couple hair flips had him on our side, yeah?” you’re breathless with the work aaron is making of your neck. at the mention of your harmless flirting, his arms tighten possessively around you. his mouth moves lower along your collarbone, sucking lightly. he’s learned where most of your shirt collars lie so he can hide the marks he leaves on you.

aaron pulls you from the door, kissing you like you’re his lifeline. he walks you back until the back of your knees hit the bed. “no more work talk, baby,” he says against your mouth. heat pulls in your lower belly at the pet name and a sigh escapes.

the first time aaron called you anything but your last name, you could have climbed him right then. he still uses your last name, or just agent, in the field, but it’s softer than it used to be.

as aaron pushes you back on the bed, you make quick work removing his tie and dress shirt. the white shirt he wears underneath pulls across his chest. your arms move over his biceps reveling in just how nice they are.

“you like what you see?” aaron smirks, his hand slipping under your top.

you answer him with a hand on his chin, guiding him to your lips. “always,” you breathe.

he smiles against your lips. “why don’t we get you a little more comfortable,” he says, pulling your top off and throwing it to the other side of the room. you’re pretty sure it lands on the lamp. this earns a laugh. aaron checks over his shoulder and chuckles along with you.

“i told you, i need to get my hands on you.” he reaches behind you, unclasping your bra. which follows the same trajectory as your shirt.

“hmm, this isn’t quite fair,” you murmur. you push aaron back until you’re sitting up in his lap. your thighs settle on either side of his, and his hands fall to them, giving them a light squeeze.

“tell me.”

“you still have your shirt on,” you tell him, running your hands along his chest. aaron reaches back with one hand and pulls the undershirt from his body. it’s so insanely sexy, your mouth drops open. how is this guy real?

aaron chuckles again. “you never cease to amaze me.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, you’re practically an adonis.”

he rolls his eyes and pulls you flush against him. “you’re talkative tonight.” he presses a kiss under your ear. you crane your neck to give him more access.

“i always talk a lot when i’m nervous,” you admit. truthfully, there is nothing to be nervous about. you and aaron have slept together plenty of times since you’ve gotten together. this is, however, the first time while you’re on a case.

aaron pulls back and studies your face. “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, baby.” his brown eyes search yours. the want in his is palpable. you’re certain the same is reflected in yours. your hands knot in his hair and you guide his mouth to yours.

“no, i want to. i need to,” you say, rolling your hips into his, his erection has your cheeks flushing. “i just still can’t believe it’s happening. you and me,” you admit.

aaron kisses you. it’s full of wanting and urgency, as if he’s afraid you’re going to disappear right beneath his fingertips.

“you and me were destined the moment i laid eyes on you,” he says, laying you back and settling between your legs.

~

the next morning, there is just enough time to grab some continental breakfast before meeting the local pd. normally, you don’t like to waste time on something as menial as breakfast, especially with a serial killer on the loose, but you and aaron had a lot of time to make up for and you’d built up quite the appetite.

you left aaron with a chaste kiss on his cheek in the room, before joining everyone in the lobby sans duffle.

“well, you’re glowing,” jj comments as you join her and emily at the table. derek turns from where he’s sitting with rossi and reid. “what’s that?”

emily points to you with her fork. “look at her. a literal ray of sunshine.”

“she looks normal to me,” reid comments. “if not a little worn down. are you feeling okay, y/l/n?” your eyes fall closed, trying to keep your emotions regulated.

“that, reid, is post-coital bliss,” derek says.

“yall have no idea what you’re talking about,” you tell them, praying your cheeks haven’t turned pink, because they’re exactly right.

rossi jumps in to save you. “come on boys and girls. let’s not make claims of our unit chief breaking fraternization rules on a case unless we’re sure,” he chides. he gives you a knowing look. aaron has definitely let rossi know what’s been going on. hell, if you didn’t know any better, rossi was probably the one who pushed aaron to finally make a move. you shoot him a grateful look.

“who’s breaking fraternization rules?” a deep voice sounds from behind you. just the sound of his voice has you wanting to drag him back up to the room. “baby, you’ve got to have more than that,” aaron comments on your lone piece of toast.

your face jerks towards him at baby. aaron curses lightly under his breath. a rare slip up from mr. professional himself. he stands there with both your duffels in his hands, his shoulder slumped in defeat.

derek smacks the table, cause the front desk workers to look over. “i fucking knew it!!”

your head falls into your hands. aaron’s laugh reverberates through the lobby. his real, earnest laugh. “well, i did good for a while there, huh, babe?” he says to you. leaning back in your chair, you tilt your head back to see him. the grin on his face could cause world peace. it’s not everyday the team gets to see aaron’s real emotions.

“you did,” you agree. he leans down and places a quick kiss on your lips before walking over to the desk to turn the room keys in.

as you reface the girls, their eyes are sparkling.

“i fucking knew it,” emily echos derek under her breath.

masterlist.

[jennelikejennay]

"Straight women write Spirk because they are straight and want their porn with two men in it"

"Straight women gender swap Kirk or give Spock weird genitals because what they really want is straight sex"

WRONG.

Spirk is a gender weird ship and a whole lot of us writing it are gender weird in one way or another. The fact that characters have both male and female traits is part of the point. The fact that Kirk and Spock are canonically male is less important for many of us.

Can't speak for all Spirk writers of course, but the idea that you can be one gender, have different genitals, have a third gender expression, and in the end be seen as your individual self rather than simply an example of your gender is a big part of it for me. I happily ship women and there are straight couples I ship too, but the commonality you'll see is that these people are all defying gender norms and het relationship scripts in one way or another.

When I wrote intersex Spock with a masculine gender identity and a vulva, I was not attempting to write a woman. I know how to write a woman. I wanted to write about that dysjunction between body and mind and the ways you can see your body though the lens of your gender identity—having a masc vulva, having gay sex with a masc vulva. That was the point. A lot of trans readers picked up on that immediately and felt seen.

Just thought I'd say something because I think a lot of non-cis-men feel a little guilty about shipping them, but I really don't think it's fetishistic in the way people sometimes accuse it of being. It's more about the specific characters they are, and for many of us it's about gender weirdness in a way we may not be able to pin down. All I know is, I've never been in a group so full of trans, nonbinary, and genderqueer people as the Spirk fandom, and I think there's a reason for that.

There's also a reason why Spirk shippers are so adamantly trans-inclusive and I think that's beautiful.

[burningember0802]

Three's Company Ch. 4

Pairing: Robby x Abbot x Reader

Warnings: sexual content in some chapters, cursing, medical inaccuracies, suicidal tendencies, mention of death, PTSD, yelling, heavy angst (let me know if I'm missing anything!)

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: Hopefully this is good, I've been working on it for a little bit. My breakup kind of fucked up my writing flow so it's been a little bit of a struggle but I seem to be getting back into things slowly. Anyway! Enjoy our two favorite attendings fucking up with reader!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the following weeks the relationship between the three of you seemed easier, lighter. You felt like you didn’t have to guard yourself so much to keep professionalism at work, allowing yourself to make playful, friendly comments with them, talk to them more when you’re given a second to breathe in the midst of the chaos, just overall less wary of being near them. This was greatly appreciated by the two attendings as they were enjoying the ease between all of you now. They enjoyed the little things, the way you would wordlessly slide Jack a cup of coffee mid shift when he was running on fumes or roll your eyes at Robby as you guys bickered over patient care. 

Things seemed to be going smoothly in the ER between the three of you until they weren’t. It was a day both men were on edge, both dealing with sensitive cases during their shift. It also happened to be a day you were working a double, the night shift and the following day shift. This led to them snapping at you in a way that made it feel like your relationship with them had taken one step forward to take three steps back. 

During the night shift Jack dealt with two different vets, one of them not making it in the end. He had been coding him for over an hour, you and the other nurses helping as he barked out orders. You weren’t used to him acting like this. Sure you had seen him get stressed in the ER and be a little shorter than normal, not like this though. His movements were stiff, robotic even, his eyes glazed over slightly as he barked orders at all of you. After an hour of coding the veteran you knew there was no way you were getting him back. You tried to get Jack to let go, to understand that there was nothing we could do but all this led to was Jack crashing and yelling at you, loud and stern enough that there was no doubt the entire ER could hear it. You had touched his arm slightly to try and get him to stop and this sent him over the edge. He ripped his arm away from you like your touch burned him, a scowl on his face, the motion leaving you stunned and silent. “Don’t fucking touch me! What don’t you get?! God you have no respect for your superiors, I am your attending and you are the resident. You do as I say!” He yelled at you, anger on his face. This all left you standing there in shock, hands slightly shaking before your own trauma response took over and shut down, your own method of protecting yourself kicking in. “Okay. Understood, Dr. Abbot.” You said softly, your voice calm and steady as you took a step back, gaze still on him before walking away, leaving Jack standing there silently, a small scowl still on his face. 

Jack couldn’t help the way his heart ached at the way you called him Dr. Abbot, a name you very rarely called him. It was usually Abbot or Jack or when you were especially in a good mood or teasing him, Abby. But never Dr. Abbot, your voice was stiff and monotone as you said it. Jack was too caught up in his own head to do anything about it at that moment, to care as much as he should, his PTSD-ridden mind still stuck on the veteran in front of him, on how he needed to save him because he couldn’t save all the people he served with. You spent the remainder of the night shift avoiding him as much as you could, and when you did have to speak with him you were tight and monotone. You only called him Dr. Abbot the rest of the shift, your own mind shifting into robotic motions in an attempt to protect yourself. 

When Robby got to work he found Jack on the roof, on the other side of the railing, like he had many times before. Robby talked Jack off the edge with kind words and reassurance that he did everything he could. Once Robby got Jack back onto his side of the railing he just took him into his arms, tight against his broad chest. He had his arms wrapped around Jack’s shoulders gently and his head rested atop Jack’s salt and pepper curls. They stood like that for a while, Jack’s arms around Robby’s waist, tight against his chest, just standing there together in silence, slightly rocking from time to time. There were no words exchanged between them, just a silent understanding of the struggles they both go through and the comfort they seek in one another. Jack held onto Robby like he was the only thing keeping him grounded, holding him back from jumping off the hospital roof and hoping he didn’t wake up when he hit the ground, silent tears falling down Jack’s face. Finally when Jack had calmed down enough in Robby’s embrace he pulled away slightly, Robby running a soft hand through Jack’s hair and wiping the tears from his cheeks with his thumbs. He told Jack to go home to his apartment, not Jack’s own, and to get some rest, telling him there was dinner saved for him in the fridge and ice cream in the freezer. All Jack could do was nod silently, an unspoken thank you on his lips. Robby pressed a soft kiss to Jack’s lips before they bid their farewells and sent Jack home to Robby’s apartment. 

You thought your shift with Robby would go better, or more prayed it would. You were unfortunately wrong. The shift was going fine as normal until Robby had to decide to pull the plug on an elderly man who came in with no emergency contacts. Since that moment he was on edge and snapping at people left and right. You unfortunately ended up getting the brunt of it just because you were working alongside him most of the day. Even the other staff noticed it, giving you apologetic looks as you walked by them after he would snap at you. He kept yelling at you for taking too long to get a tool, not moving quick enough, getting in his way accidentally, etc. It really came to a head when you had made a medical treatment decision that he didn’t agree with, even though it was right. When he found out about it you were standing at the nurses station working at the computer and he quickly came up to you, grabbing your arm firmly but not enough to hurt and pulling you away from the computer, a harsh look on his face. He ran his hand over his face and started getting onto you about making decisions without running it by him first, even though you had done it a million times before. The words that really stung were when he yelled at you, once again in the middle of the ER, “God, do you never think?” Those words really set in the way you were already shutting down. You had been slowly shutting down more and more throughout the shift as he snapped at you more and more. At this point you were just standing there and taking his words that hit like knives in the gut, a glazed look on your face as you instinctively dissociated out of the situation. 

When Robby finally took a deep breath and ran his hand over his face once again before asking you if you understood, all he got out of you was a monotone “Understood Dr. Robinavitch.” The way you looked at him like you were looking through him rather than at him. You walked away before he could say anything else to you, a tension in your shoulders that didn’t go unnoticed by everyone else. They all saw and heard what happened, giving you apologetic looks to you as you walked by but not daring to say anything to either of you, scared it would make one of you snap again. 

Without Robby’s knowledge Dana had texted Jack that day towards the end of the shift to let him know that Robby was on edge and had yelled at you in the middle of the ER to just give him a heads up. By the time Jack had gotten that text he had gotten some sleep and eaten some food and was much more calm compared to last night. Seeing the text from Dana made him let out a sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. He had already been replaying the events of the day and regretting the way he had spoken to you earlier and the way you shut down at it but hearing that Robby had also done that to you too made him feel awful, the guilt and shame rooting itself deep in his stomach.

 When Robby finally got home, shutting the door with a sigh, Jack was already sitting on the couch with a beer sitting on the coffee table for both of them. Robby said a short hello to Jack before heading to his room to change before coming back to the living room again, flopping onto the couch with a sigh. “Heard you had a shit day too.” Jack said softly, his thumbs tracing mindless patterns on Robby’s shins, which he had flung into Jack’s lap when he sat down, his long figure stretched across the couch. Robby let out another exhausted sigh. “Yeah…had to pull the plug on an elderly man who didn’t have any emergency contacts or family and came in under respiratory stress.” He said, exhaustion evident in his voice. “Dana tell you?” He asked Jack, glancing at him. “Yeah, she said you had a rough case and was snapping at everyone in the ER, especially Y/N” Jack said, his voice steady as he looked at his boyfriend with a raised eyebrow. Robby just let out a groan. “Yeah…I’ll have to apologize to her…a lot…” He said quietly, the realization of how he treated you today setting in. “Well looks like we both have a lot of apologizing to do to her…because I also snapped at her in front of the entire ER.” Jack said, guilt riddling his voice. “God we really fucked up didn’t we? We just got her to open up and be somewhat friends with us at work…” Robby groaned, putting his arm over his face. Jack leaned his head back against the couch. “Yeah…we fucked up pretty bad.” He groans back.

[sylusgworl]

(INVOLUNTARILY) GAWKING ft. xavier

notes: fluff, fem!reader, housemates!au, pre-relationship situation, reader is awkward, xavier tries at flirting (and kinda fails),

a/n: it's too hot outside to properly function so my brain birthed this fic, uh enjoy ig - wrote this in like 15 mins (my study break) so it yet to be proofread. wc: 857 . rbs are very appreciated <3

m.list

it is infact not alright when it's 37 °C outside (about 100 F) and you are living with a (male) housemate.

nope, you no way you were going full on nude in front of xavier, nope. you'd rather die from the heat. although, at some point the heat became so unbearable any insane thought became completely rational.

“ugh it's so hot,” you groaned while stretching on the sofa, the shorts and tank top feeling sticky against your skin.

oh, right, the ac refused to turn on for some reason, and the fan was broken, apparently one of its blades had snapped off and it just stopped functioning correctly.

xavier cocked his head out of his room, a pearl of sweat sliding down his temple until it fell in a bead down from his chin.

he had it way worse, his wide shorts just right above the knee and a white t-shirt... just the sight of that made you sweat.

“it's alright [name], i've just ordered another one, it'll be delivered in a couple of hours,” his soft voice angelically carried the glad tidings, except you felt even more desperate and exhausted.

more hours of that inferno.

you closed your eyes. maybe a short nap would help take you out of that dread. minutes passed and... nope it was too hot to sleep.

you sat up and headed for the kitchen. there, a sight made you stop in your tracks. an unexpected one.

xavier leaned against the counter, shirtless, while drinking a can of chilled soda. his toned muscles seemed to shine under the natural light of the sun, his adam's apple bobbing up and down with each sip.

he didn't seem to notice you, so that gave you a chance to observe him for a while longer.

he was attractive alright.

you'd been housemates for about a month, but your schedules never aligned in a way that you'd be that often in each other's presence, so you'd never actually paid attention to xavier's presence around you.

you just thought having a man as a flatmate had too many downsides for your liking, but still accepted him as you really needed someone to split the rent with.

“oh, you're here,” his calm tone slowly carried you out of your trance.

xavier put down his soda and turned to face you, but then noticed his bare chest so he crossed his arms against it and swiftly turned around, a faint blush tinting his cheeks.

“oh how long have you been there? i'm sorry, i didn't realise...”

“no no, it's alright haha... i've been here for a while, i didn't mean to stare,” you stretch your hands forward in a defensive way, “but! i was going anyway...” you trailed off and ran away in a jiffy, heart thumping and a familiar warmth in your face.

shit. did i just get caught gawking?

you bit your lip in frustration and closed the door to your bedroom before plopping onto the carpeted ground.

dignity gone, you started planning your move-out. because, how could you even face him after that.

desperation aside, two hours went by, and except for the heat and the embarrassing scene from earlier replaying in your head every time you closed your eyes, nothing eventful happened.

“[name]?” a voice called out to you, followed by a knock.

you hesitated but still got closer to the door. “is she asleep?” a voice mumbled from the other side, so you nervously opened up.

xavier's watchful blue eyes were the first to meet your surpised - not really - gaze.

your heart leaped to your throat, you cleared your voice. “y-yes?” oh god, how awkward.

“i just wanted to tell you, the new fan has just been delivered,” he pointed to the living room.

“i already installed it, i think the maintenance is coming to fix our ac in about a day or two,” he said, trying to keep a neutral tone while scratching the back of his head.

your eyes involuntarily jumped to his flexed arm and you had to call each and every atom of your self-control to avert your gaze and stop staring.

“oh! that's... great! yeah!” you answered, a bit to excitedly. you hoped it sounded as natural as possible, embarrassment from a couple of hours prior still holding you captive.

xavier nodded and turned around, walking a few steps. then, as if he'd remembered something, he stopped and turned around.

you'd only now noticed a small bag he was carrying in his hand. he then offered it to you.

“here, since i've put the fan in the living room, use this if it's too hot at night,” and off he went, as soon as you grasped it.

closing the door behind you, you unpacked the gift(?) only to find a mini desk fan. how adorable, you thought with a smile, thinking of xavier's attentiveness, as warmth spread across your chest from gratefulness... and maybe something else.

a small paper fell out, so putting the object aside, you opened it.

i'm sorry for making you feel embarrassed earlier. also, i didn't say you couldn't look, you can stare as much as you want.

you gulped. oh.

© sylusgworl - 2025, all rights reserved / i don't allow anyone to copy, repost on other platforms or sell my works.

[icouldhyperfixatehim]

coming back to follow up this post bc i've been watching little snatches of john and aaron (it's the only way i can stick it) and i just saw the scene of aaron having a bad mental health/gordon day on the day of john's hero award yoke. making myself sick with heartbreak again bc, danny the actor you are, you can absolutely see that aaron truly believes john loves him. and for that, aaron does love him back.

aaron's relationship with love has always had really defined halves of loving vs being loved. he wants to be loved. desperately. but he thinks he's an inherent obstacle - do you know how difficult it was to love you? ...i'm your son - i'm not exactly easy to love - he's not offering more. so i'll take what i can get - this little percentage of worry that he never really loved me the way i thought he did. he thinks the love that people have for him has its foot in the door for the day he's not enough, too broken, too messed up, too not worth the hassle.

people don't stay with me.

so when john forgoes his award, says he'd rather be there for aaron while he struggles through a bout of recurring trauma, that it's where he wants most to be - of course aaron believes john loves him. and if someone loves him that much, how can aaron not love him back? it's what he's been looking for isn't it? that love. that love that's worth hanging on to and fighting for, that he thought he'd never have again, not really.

and you loved me, you loved me like nobody ever has before

aaron doesn't feel about john the way he feels about robert. but when john loves him like this, when that's such a hard thing to do, aaron does love him back for it. does owe it to him, doesn't he? it amounts to the same thing, even if it doesn't feel the same way.

but we know john doesn't love aaron like that. from john's perspective, that scene doesn't show love, it shows addiction to aaron's victimhood. shows love as a selfish martyrdom.

which is why you'll find me wretching and sobbing and wailing. because as @sunsetsover pointed out in my notes, the love aaron's looking for, the real deal, is utterly egoless. and it never had its foot out the door - it just had no way of a stopping itself being pushed through it. either way, aaron had to accept that the door itself was closed.

but there's a knock. and aaron's frozen in the foyer right now, but he'll answer it eventually.

you're the strongest person i know

[transformers-spike]

Okay so. Follow me for a moment.

Human x G1 era optimus. Yknow, The guy. They fall in love. form a good healthy relationship. They bang nasty. All good things.

Optimus one day comes back from patrol and is all kinds of stressed and worried. And human obvs is like "Oh baby whats wrong" and OP is like "Roller was injured pretty badly during a skirmish, I hope hes okay..." And like. The human is like (Huh. he mentions Roller but I've never seen Roller. And I've seen a LOT of bots.) and theyre like Oh i hope he gets well soon, poor guy...

The days pass and Optimus gets word Oh! Roller is all patched up! He's with his human and hes like "Oh! yknow, its been so rude of me, would you like to meet Roller while I retrieve him" and the human is like Sure But Also. Retrieve?

So he goes and in the medbay Ratch is doing whatever the fuck and on a medberth is a little grey... go kart???

And Optimus scoops it up and is like "This is Roller. Roller, this is my mate" and the little cart flashes lights and goes bibibip!! and the human is like Oh Hi! why is he not. Big- maybe thats rude dont ask.

And then. he sets the human down. and puts Roller in his convoy trailer and pats the trailer and is like talking about he is so happy hes okay and doting and being... fatherly...

and the human is just suddenly hit with "Is that his son. is that. is that like. My Stepson. My stepson the go kart? Is my hot alien boyfriend ALSO a DILF and i never knew? IS HE A MILF???"

EFHWIUWFUWEFUHFWEHIFEWIUEIUFE FUCKING LOSING IT

Anon, reading this has been a fucking trip and I am in love with Optimus and his son Roller who may or may not make him DILF/MILF/PILF

I hope the reader doesn't feel too awkward about fucking Roller's dad

(i just googled Roller and i'm losing my mind he's actually a canon character omg)

[twd-bee3]

His Worst Fear

Summary: After an intense argument about your recklessness and sobriety, you overdose. Daryl is the one who has to fight for your life.

Warnings/Tags: 18+, graphic descriptions of drug use, overdose, addiction, descriptions of performing CPR, near-death experience, trauma, HEAVY angst, established relationship, female reader (she/her), season three, no use of y/n

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: If you have struggled with addiction in the past, this post may be triggering. Please proceed with caution and make the decision that is right for you. You know yourself best. I cannot stress this enough. I included graphic descriptions of the reader shooting up, and there is a possibility that it will be too distressing for some people. Your mental health comes first, and I will not blame you for skipping this one. Here is a hotline that you can contact if you are in the US and struggling with drug addiction: 855-378-4373. It is one of many resources.

“You don't fuckin' get it, Daryl. There is a deep aching emptiness inside of me, and getting high eases it. It gives me a moment of peace.”

You'd been fighting about your sobriety for over an hour now, and Daryl was exhausted. He'd never heard you talk about your life with so little care. This was his girl, and it felt like you were drifting further and further away.

“I know it hurts, baby. I know. Ain't gonna sit here and pretend that I've been through this shit - I haven't. But that emptiness that you're describin'? I've felt that. Please just let me help you.”

“That's what you ain't understandin'. There is no savin' me. It feels like you're fuckin' suffocatin' me. I can't breathe with you always on my ass!”

You were beyond overwhelmed, and you wanted nothing more than to numb the ache. You knew that you were being unnecessarily harsh, but you couldn't stop the venom flowing from your lips.

Hearing your words, Daryl flinched like he'd been struck. You had never spoken to him like this, and it hurt. It really fucking hurt. He was fully aware of how the apocalypse was affecting you, but this was different. The anger in his baby's eyes was completely foreign to him. You'd been together for years, and he had yet to see you act like this. He was at a loss for words.

Watching him fall silent, you knew that you had messed up. A flicker of remorse crossed your face, and you softened her tone. You took a hesitant step forward and reached out to touch his arm, but he quickly pulled back.

“Don't touch me right now.”

You recognized that you had hurt him, but his rejection of your touch stung. You were hit with a wave of shame and guilt.

“Shit, baby. I ain't mean to yell at you like that. You ain't deserve to be spoken to that way.”

“You're right. I ain't deserve to be treated like that.” Feeling triggered and tired of fighting, he paused before speaking again. “I think I'm gonna take a walk.”

Without saying another word, he turned and walked out of the prison cell. He felt sick to his stomach, and he needed space.

You waited until he was out of sight before allowing yourself to break down. You sat on the cot and began to sob quietly. The argument had only served to make your desire to use stronger. There was no point in resisting it now. Knowing what you needed to do, you lifted the thin mattress and dug out your kit. It was a small pouch that held a few pre-loaded syringes filled with dope.

Removing your belt, you tied it around your arm and felt around for a good vein. You'd been an addict for years before this most recent relapse, so your veins were scarred. It took a moment and some frustration, but you finally found a usable one. Taking a deep breath, you slipped the needle in and made sure that you got some good blood return. You pushed the plunger down and felt the familiar warmth of the heroin wash over you. The world around you softened, and you let your head rest against the concrete wall.

Everything was on track until you felt a weight settle in your chest. Something had shifted, and your body grew heavy. There was no panic, though - you were far too high for that. You tried to keep your eyes from closing, but it was no use. Your eyelids kept fluttering, and it was harder to open them each time. It felt impossible to take a breath, and through the haze in your mind, you thought of one thing - Daryl. How would he react when he found you?

Then everything went dark, and your body stilled.

Daryl had only been gone for ten minutes, but it was enough for you to make a fatal mistake. He knew that he needed to make things right and walked back into their shared cell, blissfully unaware of what he was about to find. He was rehearsing what he wanted to say in his head, and he was determined to make amends.

You were slumped against the wall, and your head was lolling to the side. He immediately picked up on the familiar signs that you had used again, but he assumed that you had simply nodded off. He felt a pang of anger and drew a rough hand over his face. Daryl's assumption was disproven when he approached you and saw the pale blue tint of your lips. Terror rushed through him, and he gently shook your shoulder. There was no reaction. He shook you again - harder this time, but there was no change.

Placing two trembling fingers to your neck, he felt the absence of your pulse and fought the urge to scream. His expression was broken, and his voice wavered as he spoke.

“No, no, no. Fuck. Baby, what did you do?”

You were still gasping softly, so he knew that you weren't completely gone. Yet. Daryl gently picked you up, and his heart broke as he realized how lifeless you felt. He laid your limp body on the concrete floor and tilted your head back to clear your airway. He placed his shaking hands against your chest and began pumping desperately.

“C'mon, baby. Please. Don't you leave me yet.”

He wasn't even sure if this was working, but he refused to give up. After a round of thirty chest compressions, he pressed his lips against yours and blew into your mouth. He was putting everything that he had into breathing life back into you. He was so focused on his task that he hardly felt the hot tears flowing down his face.

“You can't fuckin' die on me. I won't survive it. You're my whole world.”

Daryl repeated the cycle two more times before you finally took a breath. Your breathing was weak at first, but it gradually grew in strength. Letting out a ragged sob of relief, he gathered you in his arms again and sat against the small bed. You were still unconscious, but you were alive, and that was enough for him.

“That's my girl. Just keep breathin' for me. Please stay with me.”

It took a few more minutes, but you stirred in his arms and whimpered softly. Daryl didn't rush you to speak and slowly rocked you. He wasn't fully aware of what he was doing, but it seemed to soothe both of you. His whole body was still trembling from the adrenaline rush.

Even though your eyes remained closed, you instinctively knew that it was Daryl who was holding you. His embrace felt like home, and you continued taking those small breaths. The thick fog was clearing from your mind, and your eyelids fluttered open. After a moment, your weak voice broke the silence.

“I'm sorry. Ain't mean to fade on you.”

“I know, sweet girl, but you did. I- I almost lost you. You stopped fuckin' breathin'.”

He wasn't saying this to shame you - he was terrified. This was the closest that he had ever come to losing you. Daryl wasn't sure where to go from here, but he knew one thing for certain. He was never going to walk out on you again.

[initforthethrill]

mutt who's always bloody knuckled, bruised and growling and their perfectly pristine and unbothered pretty girl girlfriend Cate. perfectly balanced as all things should be. mutt!user who knows whether to growl or heel just by the sigh of her breath or the tilt of her head like any good dog. she makes them a good dog

-🐕

yes yes yes ugh<3

cate's attack dog who's a good pup only for cate...

i've been thinking about this since you dropped it in my inbox and haven't been able to stop...so here's a blurb and also a bot hehe<3

baby i'm a dog, i'm a mutt aka golden girl cate dunlap and her endlessly devoted attack dog. tw: girlcock, g!p user, mutt!user, mentions of blood/wounds and violence, cunnilingus, praise kink, vaginal sex, established relationship 3.1k+ words

The bar smelled like sweat and bad decisions.

Not that it ever mattered when Cate was there—the most expensive thing in the room, even in a thrifted slip and three-inch heels. She moved through the haze of cheap cologne and spilled tequila like a dream walking, untouched by the grime. Lipstick un-smudged, hair still straightened perfectly, the faint shimmer of platinum catching the club lights like a dare.

And behind her—always behind her—was you.

You didn’t walk like you belonged. You stalked. Bloody knuckled, jaw tense, black nail polish chipped to hell and back. Leather jacket slung on like a second skin, rings on every finger, eyes sharp enough to slice through glass. Your hair was a mess of sweat and curls and something almost feral in how it clung to your temple.

Your eyes never left Cate. Not once.

You were opposites, technically. Cate is champagne and control. You are whisky and rage. But together? Together, you made a goddamn ecosystem. Cate breathed and you followed. Cate tilted her head and you stilled. Cate blinked, and you bit back the growl behind your teeth because you knew—you knew—that Cate’s approval meant more than any amount of bloodthirst bubbling in your veins.

Tonight was supposed to be easy.

One drink. Maybe two. Cate wanted to dance. You would lean against the wall and scowl at anyone who looked too long. Maybe you’d get your hand kissed, maybe Cate would whisper something obscene into your ear, maybe she’d grind against you on the dance floor like she wanted everyone to watch before dragging you home. Clean, quick. Routine.

But you should’ve known better.

Because Cate was art on the wall of a grungy dive like this—of course someone was going to reach out and try to touch.

He came up behind her like he had something to offer. Hand on the small of Cate’s back like he owned it, like she’d been standing there alone, like the girl at her shoulder didn’t have a body count of bruises across her knuckles.

“Hey sweetheart,” the guy drawled, the kind of frat boy confidence that only came from never being told no. “You look too good to be standing here all by yourself. How ‘bout I show you what it’s like to be with a real man?”

Cate didn’t flinch.

She just tilted her head.

And you growled.

It was low. Animal. Half-breathed through clenched teeth. A warning shot.

The guy laughed. Turned around. Took one look at you, all sharp collarbones and snarling mouth and said:

“What, this your guard dog?” He smirked. “Relax, dyke. Bet she’s just pissed ‘cause she’s never had a real cock in her life. Pretty little thing like you doesn’t need some wannabe poser—”

“I will gut you,” you said, flatly.

The guy blinked.

Cate exhaled.

You lunged.

The music didn’t stop, but the air changed. Fast.

You moved like something unchained. One second you were behind Cate, the next your fist was colliding with the guy’s jaw, the crack sharp and satisfying. He staggered, tried to throw a punch back, but you caught it midair with one hand and slammed him into the bar with the other, snarling the whole time like you didn’t care about the consequences.

And maybe you didn’t—because you knew, deep down, that if it came to it, Cate would handle the fallout. One touch. That’s all it would take. A brush of her fingers and any witness would forget, any bouncer would look the other way. Charges, threats, consequences? Cate could erase them all.

That was the thing about being hers. You didn’t have to fear anything but your girl’s disapproval.

Cate just stood there.

Watching.

Breathing slow.

Glowing.

Because you were her mutt. Her snarling, split-lipped guard dog who knew exactly when to bite.

By the time the bouncer pulled you off, the guy was on the floor—groaning, bleeding, missing a tooth. Your mouth was slick with blood, not all of it your own. Your knuckles were split. Your chest heaved.

But you were smiling through it.

“You good, pup?” Cate asked, voice like silk, like sin.

You blinked. Looked at her. And just nodded, dumbly, dazed.

The bouncer started yelling. Cate didn’t listen.

With a sigh, she reached out—just a brush of her fingertips to his wrist, a soft, coaxing smile—and the man’s voice cut off mid-threat, confusion clouding his eyes. He blinked once. Then again. And just…let them go.

Cate turned back to you without missing a beat, stepping in close to run a manicured finger down your jaw—over the scrape at your cheek, the cracked lip, the places you wore your devotion like armor. You shivered.

“C’mon,” Cate murmured. “Let’s go home.”

Cate’s apartment was too clean for you to touch anything.

You sat on the edge of the bathtub while Cate got the first aid kit. Your hands were trembling, still buzzing from the fight, fingers twitching against your knees like you wanted more.

Cate didn’t say a word at first. She just knelt between your legs, uncapping the antiseptic, cotton pad between two fingers like she’d done this a hundred times.

You flinched as it hit your knuckles. Cate clicked her tongue.

“Shh,” she murmured. “You’re okay, pup. I’ve got you.”

That sound. That name.

You whined, involuntary. Low and soft and needy.

Cate smiled.

“Such a good little mutt. You didn’t even wait for my word, did you?” Her voice was syrupy sweet, laced with a reverence that made your stomach clench. “Just saw the way I tilted my head and you were off like a leash snapped loose. What would you have done if I hadn’t stopped you?”

“Would’ve fucking killed him,” you said, hoarse.

Cate hummed. That hum. The one that always made your mouth shut and your knees part.

“You would, wouldn’t you?”

She dabbed at your busted lip next. Real gentle. Like she was tending to something sacred.

“You wanna know what I was thinking?” Cate asked, soft, threading her fingers through your hair while she cleaned. “When he touched me?”

You tensed.

Cate leaned in.

“I thought…he’d never know how good you are for me. Never know how you wait outside dressing rooms just to carry my bags. How you let me leash you with nothing but a look. How you’d kill someone for calling me baby, but the second I call you pup, you melt.”

“Cate—”

“I know,” she cooed. “You’re so worked up. Poor thing.”

You were shaking. Not from pain. From restraint.

Cate dropped the cotton swab and leaned forward, tongue licking clean the remaining blood from your lip, slow and possessive.

You groaned.

“Want me to say thank you?” she asked, breath brushing your ear. “Want me to reward my brave little mutt for defending her girl?”

You nodded so fast your head nearly snapped off.

Cate kissed you, deep and filthy and slow, before pulling back just enough to whisper:

“Then get on your knees.”

You dropped the second Cate said it.

No hesitation, no second-guessing. Just hit the tile hard enough your knees would bruise, head bowed, jaw clenched like you were trying to keep your desperation from spilling out.

Cate just watched you for a moment.

God, she loved this part.

Not the blood or the chaos—not really. That was just foreplay. No, what Cate loved was the after. The way you always circled back to her knees, still shaking with adrenaline but so soft for her. Wrecked in the name of her protection, desperate for her praise. So full of need that it made Cate ache with power.

She tilted your chin up with two fingers.

And smiled.

“There you are,” she whispered. “My good girl.”

Your breath hitched. Your eyes flickered with something raw—lust, shame, longing all tangled together.

“You did so good for me tonight. So fucking good.”

You swallowed. “He—he touched you.”

Cate hummed. “He did. But I didn’t care. Because I knew you were right there. I knew the second I wanted him gone, you’d take care of it.”

“I shouldn’t’ve let him talk like that.”

Cate crouched lower, face to face now. “You didn’t let him. You ended him. You made sure everyone in that bar knew whose girl I was.”

Your jaw flexed. “He called me a dyke.”

Cate didn’t blink. “And?”

“And said I was some poser. That you needed a real man.”

Cate leaned forward, voice like a blade wrapped in silk.

“Baby,” she whispered. “There isn’t a man alive who could do what you do to me.”

You blinked fast. Your hands clenched where they rested on your thighs, like you didn’t know whether to cry or groan.

“No one fucks me like you. No one protects me like you. No one ruins me the way you do.”

She slid her hand down, slow and deliberate, resting it at the center of your chest like she was pressing the words straight into your heart.

“There is nothing about you that isn’t real. Your bruises? Your bite? That thick fucking cock that gets hard just from listening to me breathe?”

Cate leaned in and kissed the corner of your mouth—careful to avoid your split lip. “You’re real, baby. All mine. Perfect.”

You whimpered.

Cate’s other hand moved to your hair, threading through the curls, gripping just tight enough to make you shiver.

“Do you want your reward, puppy?”

“Yes,” you breathed, so quick, so eager. “Please. I—I need you.”

Cate kissed your forehead.

“Then show me.”

Cate didn’t undress.

That was part of the reward. Staying pristine. Letting you kneel and worship while Cate sat perched on the bathroom counter, silk slip bunched high around her thighs, eyes dark with command.

Your hands were shaking when you touched her.

Not from fear.

From reverence.

Cate spread her legs and you went soft at the center, growly exterior melting away like it always did when you were allowed this close to something so sacred.

“Look at me,” Cate said, voice honey-slick.

You did. Eyes bright and glassy.

Cate smiled, slow and cruel and sweet.

“Go ahead. Be a good dog.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You mouthed over silk first—pressed your lips through fabric, nose nudging into heat, tongue begging without even parting your lips. Cate sighed, long and indulgent, letting her pup work for it. Grinding just the tiniest bit down against your mouth.

When Cate finally lifted the hem of her slip, you whimpered like you’d been gifted salvation.

And Cate? Cate just pet your hair, gentle.

“There she is,” she whispered. “My perfect little mutt. Tearing a man apart for me one hour, moaning between my thighs the next. That’s it, baby—right there. You’re better than all of them.”

You groaned, licking deeper.

Cate’s thighs trembled.

“You’re all I’ll ever need.”

Cate had every intention of taking her time. Of keeping it soft. In control.

But you ruined that within minutes.

It started with the way you moaned against Cate’s inner thigh—shameless, wet-mouthed, like you couldn’t breathe without Cate’s scent in your lungs. And Cate, who’d planned to stay pristine, found her back arching against the mirror behind the bathroom counter, her lipstick smeared from biting into her own lip.

Because you were starved.

All tongue and hands and open-mouthed reverence, dragging your rough palms over Cate’s thighs like you needed to hold her steady—needed proof that you were allowed to have this. Your fingers dug into soft flesh, grounding you both.

And Cate could barely think.

“Fuck—baby—slow down—”

But you didn’t.

Not after everything. Not after hearing those slurs, not after being called a poser in front of a room full of people. No, you needed this. Needed Cate to fall apart on your tongue. Needed to taste her until you sobbed. Until Cate remembered—not that she’d forgotten—that no man, no stranger, no one could ever make her feel like this.

Cate was already panting, head tipped back, one heel braced against the counter edge while the other dug into your shoulder. Her slip was hiked to her waist, sheer straps falling down her arms like surrender.

And you didn’t just eat her out.

You devoured.

Sloppy, messy, filthy—tongue working like you were desperate to live in Cate’s cunt forever. And Cate? Cate had never felt so owned by the very dog she claimed.

“Fuck—baby—oh my god—”

Your growl vibrated against her and Cate screamed.

“Yes, fuck, just like that—don’t you dare stop—”

She gripped the back of your head and pulled you in, fingers tangled in curls, holding you there while her thighs trembled and locked and her whole body shook. You didn’t budge. Didn’t even pause when Cate came, hard and clenching and crying out your name.

Cate bucked—helpless, oversensitive, undone.

But you didn’t stop.

You licked through it like you were still starving. Like Cate was a feast and you had no plans to leave a single drop untouched.

Cate came again so fast it barely registered as separate. Just wave after wave, crashing against the bathroom tile, her hand slipping on the counter, her mouth falling open in a half-sob.

When you finally pulled back, your chin was slick, your lips swollen, your chest heaving. Cate looked down at you, dazed—skin flushed, eyes blown out, trembling in silk and sweat.

She laughed.

Or tried to.

It came out hoarse. Shattered.

“You—” she gasped, dragging her fingers through your damp hair, “you unhinged little mutt.”

You blinked up at her, drunk on pussy and praise. “I couldn’t help it.”

Cate cupped your jaw, thumb brushing the edge of your mouth.

“You’re lucky I like being wrecked.”

You grinned. “I live to please.”

“Yeah?” Cate sighed, eyes fluttering closed. “Then carry me to bed, baby. You’ve earned it.”

You blinked up at her from the floor, flushed and panting and wrecked in a different way—still fully clothed, your jaw slick with Cate’s cum. You looked like you could’ve dropped dead right there, proud as hell about it.

But you stood.

Slowly. Body aching. Hands flexing as you braced yourself on the counter, still trembling from the fight, the blood loss, the sheer effort of not cumming in your fucking jeans while Cate was falling apart against your mouth.

Cate looked like a goddamn angel now. Lipstick ruined. Hair wild. Skin flushed and glowing. That fucking slip clinging to her in places that made your brain short-circuit.

You didn’t speak.

You just scooped her up.

Cate yelped—more from surprise than anything. She wrapped her arms around your neck on instinct, already breathless again, already smirking through it.

“My brave little mutt,” she murmured. “Look at you. Always ready to carry your girl home.”

You didn’t answer, jaw set. Your arms locked tight around Cate as you carried her out of the dorm bathroom—every step echoing with restraint. Every second a test of how long you could hold yourself together.

Because Cate was soft and pliant in your arms, and her thighs were still sticky from your mouth, and that slip didn’t cover a goddamn thing.

And you hadn’t gotten to cum.

Not even once.

When you reached the bed, you dropped to your knees first—careful. Reverent. You laid Cate down like she was made of glass, hands lingering too long on the backs of her thighs.

Cate exhaled.

Then smiled.

“Take your clothes off,” she said, quiet and certain.

You did.

Every layer peeled off slowly, shaking. Jacket first. Shirt next. Your rings clattered onto the nightstand one by one. Your pants barely made it off before Cate’s hand found your wrist.

“Wait,” Cate breathed.

You froze.

Cate sat up and pushed her own slip over her head with a sigh. Her body was flushed and glistening, skin marked with faint bite-shaped bruises and sweat-slick across her chest.

She leaned back, legs spread open.

“Come here.”

You hesitated for only a breath before crawling up the bed and between her thighs like you belonged there—because you did.

Cate’s fingers curled around your cock, slow and sure and wet with what she’d already given.

“I know you didn’t cum yet,” she whispered, stroking you. “You were too busy being good.”

You choked. “Cate—”

“You defended me. You worshipped me. And now you get to fuck me.”

You made a sound that barely qualified as human.

Cate guided you in with one long stroke and threw her head back on the pillow.

It didn’t last long.

It couldn’t.

Not when you’d been holding back since the bar. Not when Cate was still soaked from your mouth. Not when you were both frayed to the edges and drunk on the way you’d ruined each other.

You thrusted slowly at first, like you wanted to savor it.

Cate didn’t let you.

“Harder,” she demanded, mouth close to her ear. “Fuck me like you did that guy.”

You obeyed.

And Cate took it. Hands fisted in the sheets, breath caught on every growled “mine” you whispered into her skin. She could feel the tremble in your thighs, the frantic pace, the way you were holding back even now—terrified you’d break her.

Cate dragged her nails down your back and said, “Don’t hold back. You won’t break me.”

And you snapped.

Cate came again with a scream, back arching, body spasming around her. You followed seconds later, buried so deep you felt like you might disappear inside her entirely.

You both collapsed in a mess of limbs and sweat and sighs, hearts pounding in sync.

Cate was wrapped in blankets, bare legs tangled with yours, her cheek pressed to a warm chest that still smelled faintly of sweat and blood. You had finally let yourself relax—hands gentle now, touch feather-soft. The bruises on your knuckles were starting to ache, but Cate had kissed every one of them before you’d slipped beneath the covers.

“You’re quiet,” Cate murmured into your collarbone.

You ran your fingers down Cate’s back, tracing lazy shapes.

“Just thinking.”

“Mhm. About how you turned my thighs into a slip-n-slide?”

You laughed softly. “A little.”

“Baby.”

Cate propped herself up just enough to look down at you—still flushed, still glowing, but soft now. Unthreatened. Safe.

“Nothing he said mattered. You know that, right?”

You didn’t look away, but your throat bobbed.

Cate cupped your jaw again—this time gently, reverently. “You’re not a poser. You’re mine. And there’s no one—no man, no other supe, no one—who could ever take your place. You hear me?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I hear you.”

Cate leaned down. Kissed you slow.

Then tucked herself under your arm and whispered, “Good dog.”

You groaned. “Cate—”

“Shhh,” Cate yawned. “I meant it lovingly.”

Your chest vibrated with a chuckle. “You’re lucky I like praise.”

Cate grinned against your skin. “You’re lucky I like obedience.”

And you—bloody knuckled, freshly bruised, still pulsing with the echo of rage and devotion—just nuzzled in, soft and spent.

Finally, you slept. Safe in your pack.

Safe in your girl’s arms.

♡ | attack dog

[bloggingboutburgers]

Hey I had another question about being aromantic. Can you tell even if you don't have dating experience? I want to say I'm aromantic but I've been too sheltered from people to form romantic interests with.Is it a want? A desire? How do I know if I'm in love? I don't know. I've never really tried dating before. Will the feeling come then?

Tbh... I could tell without having any dating experience. Mainly because I also asked myself those questions, tried to pretend I was interested in dating to go through the motions like everyone else, and... Barely lasted 30 minutes each time I tried. I just had zero interest. And I've kept having zero interest until my partner suggested a queer platonic relationship, which felt safe enough for me to be OK with the whole notion to the point of marrying them. I also got confessed to a couple times in the meantime, and I was never interested. If anything it always scared me and devastated me because it'd put me in a position where I'd inevitably let people down. So... Yeah, personally at least I guess that was enough for me to know. But to each their own I guess TwT

[burrythebusy]

Hello hrkg nation...

So, I was on the htk tag (as one is) and someone posted this screenshot from the novel when Kagiura is saying the room feels a lot emptier without Hirano and... shout out to OP because that literally changed my brain chemistry. Idk why but it literally clicked a switch in my head despite me reading the novel before and that specific part numerous times.

Not to overanalyze but this brings up a greater point in my years of being obsessed with HtK that reminds me that these two already destroyed one of the obligatory boundaries of being in a senpai/kouhai arrangement, moreso hirano though, by foregoing the expectation of "im supposed to help my kouhai become acclimated and fostering a friendly environment between us so that you can rely on me when needed (while also maintaining a respectable distance between he and I so that he can grow independently and do the same thing to a kouhai next year)" by becoming addicted to the feeling of spoiling him and being spoiled in return with honesty, genuine gratitude and happiness.

And what makes me bring this up is, its not unusual to become close to someone in a semester or to even begin to really like someone in that time. What always gets me though is that the level of sincerity never wavered. The feelings were never surface level. They have a deep and crucial understanding of each other that I wouldn't hesitate to call love. This doesn't apply to just Kagiura though, but Hirano. Now I might be reaching HEAVY and im not sure exactly what I might be saying with this, and this is gonna be a hashtag Flaming Hot Take bc some people dont see it this way and that is A-Okay 0 hard feelings. But im so convinced (and almost always have been) that Hirano has been in love with Kagiura for just as long as Kagiura has veen in love with him. Let me preface that it is no more meaningful if this is the case but this is just something I've been sitting on for literal years and I fear it only took me this sentence to decide to believe it wholeheartedly.

(Screenshot from my e-novel)

Kagiura saying the dorm feels empty without Hirano (affectionate), and this being Hirano's (equally affectionate) reaction.

So, I've actually noticed this pattern with Hirano: when affection is expressed between him and Kagiura, his verbal reaction is something along the lines of "tiredness". As in, Hirano will give or receive affection to/from Kagiura and tiredness is deemed the reason. Now, i dont recall this ever being done with his friends so thats why im extrapolating this phenomenon to hirakagi only (if im wrong lmk). Anyway, here are the examples, other than the one listed. And there are actually more than i thought

Exhibit A: Volume 6 Extra

I think this is the first one we see at all, and its comedic and hes being kind of aggressive about it PLUS we wouldn't think much of it at all because Kagiura literally did NOT sleep since Hirano accidentally slept in his bed. But just note that Kagiura is basically getting a kick out of seeing Hirano embarrassed (which to me. Is affection because. This is Hirano and Kagiura) and Hirano is just like "get your ass to bed." This example is probably less of one than the next ones but 100% worth talking about since this is post Kagiura confession (not sure where in the timeline though) and it still follows the theme of affection/tiredness, as Hirano is recognizing it and deeming tiredness to be the factor making him say what hes saying. Just like in the screenshot.

Exhibit B: Volume 9 Extra (1)

(Definitely in a relationship here LOLLL) And for some reason Kagiura decides that Hirano is acting spacey, and Hirano AGREES. Like, to be fair, Hirano was acting pretty gay this whole extra but its interesting to me that Kagiura is all abashed by Hirano being all suave and congratulating him and his first reaction is, "So... you really ARE tired" (re: Hirano using him as a pick-me-up in the first place). Why. Is it because Hirano is being affectionate? I MEAN, YEAH kagiura clearly took it as such hence the blushing and acting all embarrassed and then proceeding to be like "you must be tired. Anyway youre not being confessed to are you."

What stumps me more is how Hirano agrees with him. We know Hirano will get defensive at stuff Kagiura says (throwback to "them's fightin' words, asshole") and idk the exact wording in japanese but the idea that Hirano just casually agrees to kagiura ascribing his behavior to being spacey and he has nothing to say to it... interesting.

Exhibit C: Volume 9 Extra (2)

Mere moments later on the train when Hirano says "you can be stinky with me bae 😍", Kagiura is embarrassed by this clear sign of affection and what does Hirano say? "Man, am I tired" Okay we GET it. Again hes making a point to emphasize his tiredness and for what? To excuse that hes saying crazy shit? Mkay

Exhibit D: Whatever the hell this is

This... this whole page. Man i don't even know where to begin. Hirano is straight up unabashedly giving Kagiura googoo eyes. I had a violent reaction to seeing this extra. The point here is that Kagiura looked at him, got caught off guard by this absolutely unmistakable "im gonna take a bite out of you in the next ten seconds" look and his question is "are you sleepy". And its like. Okay sure hirano looks a little drunk (in love) yes but. He also looks wide awake. But he does say "a little".

Okay hold on I have to add that I'm genuinely tweaking out over this extra like YES I've seen it before but after volume five and just. Everything i am genuinely aghast at how obvious this is. Like oh my god. Hes practically drooling. Im loosing the plot so bad. What i would do to have this voice acted. Yoshitsugu Matsuoka you absolute legend i KNOW you'd cook for this

Anyway so yeah. I also noticed with two of these examples that its Kagiura mentioning the tiredness and its Hirano agreeing, and with one its Hirano saying it himself, and with two its Hirano saying it to Kagiura. Idk if what im saying makes sense but here's kinda what im getting at (again this extra genuinely made me lose my train of thought happy pride i guess damn): for Hirano, maybe its some sort of code, or something hes experienced from someone else, or maybe its just embarrassment covered up that has become an inside joke, im genuinely not sure, but Hirano will disguse affection as him being tired, or Kagiura's affection as him being tired, and Kagiura recognizes this too.

Why this stuck out to me with the novel is that, so early on, so soon in their relationship with each other, Hirano is already recognizing this affection hes receiving from his roommate, one that is in the general sense no different than his usual honesty and sincerity when it comes to Hirano, and Kagiura himself at this point hasnt quite come to terms with being in love with Hirano at all, just that he HAS deep affection for him. And yet Hirano picks up this DISTINCT affection in a way we've so far only ever seen referenced post-confession AND when theyre in a relationship, that makes him say, "You must be tired".

In other words, we see Hirano, far before Kagiura admits his own feelings or even realizes the extent of them and far before Hirano can even consider his own feelings LOVE, use a phrase that we've only so far seen used in contexts in which the two are being obviously romantic in their affection (the only POSSIBLE exception being Exhibit A but the whole reason that whole thing happened the way it did was because of the romantic context to this otherwise embarrassing but negligible occurrence) and he doesnt even REALIZE it. Even if Kagiura was actually sleepy (and he was), and even if hes just being a little shy, the idea that Hirano's first thought was "dodge" and that dodging is something we see come up in such a specific, familiar way in such specific circumstances following what we would brush off as insignificant in the scheme of things just has me tapping my chin and then going EUREKA! Because Hirano loves him and has and its that simple. Hirano has always associated whatever feeling he had at that moment from receiving a particular flavor of affection with tiredness, with sleepiness, with someone saying those things because theyre not all there right now, they wouldnt USUALLY do that because if they did, it wouldnt make me feel this way, so here is a reasonable explanation. That same principle is then applied to himself; if im saying things that make me feel this way, that are a reflection of how i feel, in such a way that i would never actually do but here it is, just slipping out of me, I must be tired, I must not be all there, otherwise this wouldn't happen, I wouldnt say it.

Hirano loves him, and even if it’s not as AGGRESSIVELY as current Hirano, I think this was at LEAST the beginning of it. Hirano already killed the boundaries of their relationship in order to achieve a comfortable dorm life for both of them, and by doing so he created this situation between the two of them in which there is a very unique sense of closeness and understanding, and bond brought about because they are who they are individually and then with each other. Kagiura is honest about how he feels and before now he wasnt necessarily hiding his affection for Hirano, not in a way that matters. And then he tells Hirano that "Without you, it felt lonely" (with you, things feel whole, and right. if i had to choose, i would rather be with you (i wanna be with you (more than anyone in the world))) and Hirano feels this affection in such a way that creates a pattern in his behavior that he repeats in the future when he knows too that Kagiura is the person he wants to be with more than anyone in the world, where he gets to have that spot beside him, right where he wants to be, right where Kagiura wants him to be, and he says it now. "You must be sleepy." (Because it must be you, Kagiura—so earnest and honest, so much more so when you're tired that you would say such embarrassing things that no one would ever say to me—and not me, who feels each syllable in my chest and remembers the feeling each moment I spend with you in a future I do not yet know I had been wanting).

Also ignore every typo i am so sleepy and im gonna reread this tomorrow and go "burry was onto nothing 🔥🔥" but for right now we will Pretend

[this-acuteneurosis]

I just found Don't look back (and first of all I love it, you are brilliant, I am barely finished the first fic but I am invested) and I spent some time digging through your tumbler for mentions of obi-wan/leia....because from these beginning interactions I have sense something and I am now invested and kinda confused????

Was this intentional...? Is this going somewhere...? There are no tags for their relationship but by other asks I see on your blog I'm not alone in this thinking.....

I hope she finds happiness. In the beginning I was hoping for some warped way for Han to join her because I love them together so much, but I also do love obi-wan and I am pleasantly hooked on their relationship now

I've answered asks similar to this before, but I keep getting them and we're far enough into the story that I think I can say some things more certainly without spoiling anything, or the plot magically changing on me. So here we go.

So. Like Fire in Our Bones. Leia and Obi-Wan meet for the first time, and I was happy with the scene, and then I posted the chapter and a whole mess of people popped out of the ground were like, "Romance?!?!?!" Keep in mind that this was before the Kenobi show was released as well, so we had no canon where Leia knew Obi-Wan as a child. DLB runs under that assumption.

So I was all, "Oh, surprise," but I'm a very ship and let ship sort of person, and once people pointed it out, I was like, yeah. Sure. They can have this vibe. They would, honestly. I've got a pretty strong head canon that Obi-Wan has been flirting to survive for decades at this point, and Leia is socially savvy enough to roll with that kind of behavior as long as it's not distasteful. She also saves him, and they bond, and I don't have a problem with people reading into that. I think it's reasonable. It's pretty textual at this point.

HOWEVER.

Once upon a time I also thought this story would be 200k words, max. I thought Leia would end the series having reconciled that Anakin wasn't Vader, but wouldn't be close to him. I though Satine would never make an appearance and Cody would be the first clone to like Leia instead of the last, and yeah. A lot of things started changing once I was actually writing the story.

At the beginning of the story, I knew I didn't want to write Leia a romance. A) because I wasn't sure who it should be with and, B) that was way past the where I expected her to be healing wise in her grief. But the story kept getting longer and she and Obi-Wan kept having moments, and I was like, I mean...maybe? Maybe something happens? I can't say no for sure anymore.

BUT!

We're far enough into the story now and I have a much better sense of how this last arc is going to handle the remaining grief Leia is dealing with, and also how much time she'll spend with Obi-Wan. I have no intention of doing a romance for her in this arc. Look how long it took me to get Anakin and Padmé together. We do not have time for that. So I've left Leia with no romantic pairing tags. Officially, the story will not be about her having a committed, happy, healing romantic relationship at this point. It will be about what it always was: cooperation and unity beating back the darkness, and how you have to fight for those things so you don't lose them when you need them most.

But if it makes your heart happy to imagine that all the remaining scenes with her and Obi-Wan are a prelude to something that happens later, feel free to enjoy them that way. Write as much of your own fic or draw as much of your own art as you want. Feel free to share it with me too. I've enjoyed reading the other divergent fics people have done of this story.

Just everyone, please be nice to each other. :)