#I’ve been working up to doing something for me lately and so that’s something I’m still working toward

[requiemforthepoets]

this is me trying 𖦹 OP81

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: growing up, the only thing you know is that you need to be strong, provide, and take care of your sister. but being with oscar, it was different, he made you feel things—that it’s okay to not be fine, vulnerable, and to be taken care of.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have this fic finished the other day but i was debating on whether to post it or not, but here we are. it’s been a while too since i last wrote for oscar, and this is like a comfort (?) fic idk lol. also, can i just say that LANDO ON POLE FOR THE SG GP!!! 😭🧡 ok, i hope you guys will have fun reading this one. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, eldest daughter syndrome, no use of y/n, cursing, unnamed sister, named friend, and parents death

You were sitting in the living room, surrounded by case files and legal books, trying your best to prepare for the court trial that you’ll be doing soon, but your mind was elsewhere. You can't focus on the work that you’re working on in front of you, no matter how hard you try. Your phone buzzed, and you almost didn’t answer, thinking it’s just another work call, but when you saw Blaire, your friend’s name, flash on the screen you quickly picked up, expecting a casual chat.

“Hey, Blaire, how are you?” You greeted her, trying to mask your exhaustion.

Her voice on the other end was hesitant, not the usual warm tone that you’re used to. “Hey…I really hate to bring this up, but I was wondering when you would be able to repay the five thousand dollars?”

Your stomach dropped. “Repay?” You repeated, utterly confused. “What do you mean five thousand dollars?”

The conversation between you and Blaire unraveled quickly. She explained how she had lent the money to your sister out of need, thinking it was for you or with your approval. Rage bubbled in your chest, your pulse quickened, at this point all you can see is red. You thanked her hastily, barely able to end the call before fury overtook you. Without thinking, you dialed your sister’s number, the beeps echoing in your ear like a countdown to an explosion.

“Hello?” Her voice was casual, completely unaware of the storm coming her way.

“What the actual fuck did you do?!” You yelled, not caring if it was late at night. “You borrowed five fucking thousand dollars from Blaire without asking me!? How could you?!”

There was a pause, a brief moment where you could almost feel her shrug through the phone. “Oh my god, can you relax? It’s not like you can't afford it. It’s not that big of a deal, you can just easily pay for it with how big you’re making, it’s barely a scratch on your bank account!” You couldn’t believe what you were actually hearing.

“Not a big deal? Did you spend the money already? Do you have any fucking idea how humiliating it is for me that you did this without even consulting me? You think just because I make good money, I’ll fix every mess you create?” You were seething.

“Well, yeah,” she responded with a laugh, clearly not grasping the gravity of the situation. “You’re my older sister. Isn’t it your job to take care of me, right?”

Your grip on your phone tightened. “I’ve been taking care of you your whole life! I’m working myself to the bone just to make sure you have everything you need, sending you to that fancy school that you’ve always wanted so you can have a better future, and this is how you repay me? By lying and stealing?”

The silence on the other end of the line felt heavy, but your anger has not subsided. She mumbled something that sounded like a half assed apology, but it was already too late for that. You immediately hung up and slammed the phone down on the table, heart racing, pulse pounding in your ears. Anger still swirling inside you like a storm, the words of your sister still echoing in your mind. You can just easily pay for it with how big you’re making. Her carelessness, lack of respect—it hit harder than anything you had experienced before. It wasn’t about the money, you could handle the five thousand dollars easily, but the way she completely dismissed your hard work, as if it was nothing, as if your sacrifice and years of struggle meant nothing—that was what burned deep. It hurts like fucking hell.

You sat down there on the couch, trying to calm yourself down, tears started to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back. You didn’t cry. You cannot cry. You have always been strong your whole life—the provider, carer, and protector. That’s who you were. No one had ever taken care of you, not since your parents passed away when you were fifteen and your sister is only ten. It has always been you, alone, against the world, and now, it felt like even your sister was against you.

You didn’t hear Oscar enter the living room until his voice, soft but firm, broke through the silence. “Hey, I heard you from our room. Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, your body automatically stiffening instinctively and continued browsing through your documents like nothing happened.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry,” you lied, though the quiver in your voice betrayed you.

Oscar walked over and sat down beside you on the couch, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. “You don’t always have to be fine,” he said quietly. “Tell me, what happened?”

You exhaled sharply, your hands trembling as you ran them through your hair. “It’s my sister,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. “She borrowed money from Blaire. Five thousand dollars. Without even telling me. Now, she’s acting like it’s my job to fix it.”

“Five thousand? That’s a lot.” Oscar frowned, his brows knitting in concern.

“I know,” you said, “she doesn’t even care. She just assumes I’ll take care of it, like I always do every time she gets into stupid situations. She thinks just because I earn good money, I’m supposed to fix everything.” Your voice cracked, and before you could stop it, the tears you had been holding back for so long finally broke free. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Oscar. I’m always the one fixing things, I’m always the one who has to be strong.”

Oscar didn’t say anything for a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes filled with understanding. Then, without a word, he pulled you into his arms. You tensed at first, still not used to being vulnerable, but Oscar’s embrace was warm, grounding. Slowly, your body relaxed into his, and the weight of the world seemed to lift just a little as you rested your head against his chest.

“It’s not fair,” you whispered to him. “I’ve always had to be the strong one. I’m tired, Oscar. I’m so fucking tired. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

His hand gently stroked your back, his voice soft and reassuring. “I know. It’s okay to be tired. You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your eyes searching his face, “I just don’t know how to let anyone help me,” you admitted, voice barely audible. “I’ve been doing this for so long, I don’t know how to not be the one in control.”

“I get that. But you don’t have to do it all alone anymore. I’m here. Let me be strong for you, too.” Oscar smiled gently, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The idea of letting someone else carry even a fraction of the weight feels completely foreign to you. But as you looked at Oscar, his eyes full of sincerity, something inside you shifted. Maybe, it’s time you let it all fall down, you didn’t have to carry everything on your shoulders all the time.

“What am I supposed to do about her?” You asked, your voice small but steady now.

Oscar sighed softly, thinking for a moment. “You have all the right to be angry and upset. Your feelings are valid,” he said. “She needs to learn that actions have consequences. But at the same time, she’s your sister. She’s young, and sometimes young people tend to make mistakes. You’ve been doing everything for so long that she probably hasn’t learned how to take responsibility for herself yet.”

You nodded, wiping your eyes. “Yeah, maybe. But I can’t just let her think she can keep doing this.”

“No,” he agreed. “But you also don’t have to do this alone. We can figure it out together.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t alone. Maybe you didn’t always have to be the strong one, the provider, the protector. With Oscar by your side, you could learn how to let someone else carry the weight with you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning into him once more. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Oscar smiled, pressing a soft tender kiss to your forehead. “You’ll never have to find out, I’m not going anywhere, my love.”

The next morning, you stared at the screen of your laptop, fingers moving quickly over the keys as you finished drafting the contract. The legal jargon was familiar, comforting even, but the fact that you had to use it against your own sister left a bitter taste in your mouth. The contract was firm, direct, and laid out the consequences clearly: five thousand dollars, to be repaid in installments, with interest and penalties if the deadline is missed. You hated doing it—your heart never felt so heavy—but you knew it was necessary. You had been too lenient for far too long, if she didn’t learn this now, she might never understand the true value of money and the responsibility that came with it. It was time for her to learn the hard truths you had known your entire life.

Oscar was sitting across the table, sipping his coffee, watching you in silence. “You’ve finished it?” He asked gently. You had told him last night that you need to straighten everything out, and told him your plan, in which he quickly supported you.

You nodded, eyes scanning the contract one last time before saving it. “Yeah. She’s not going to like it, but this has to be done.” You sighed, “I’ve been too lenient, too forgiving. I can’t keep cleaning up after her messes.”

“You’re doing the right thing.” He said as he reached over, placing his hand over yours. “It’s tough, but you’re teaching her a lesson she won’t forget.”

“I hope so,” you sighed, glancing out the window, the weight of responsibility pressing down on you once more. “I’ve never been one to ask for anything back, but she needs to learn that she can’t just treat me like this. I want her to be successful, but she can’t rely on me forever.”

Later that day, you booked a flight for her to Monaco, and notified her about the flight schedule. She was studying in Switzerland, and it would be a four hour flight from Switzerland to Monaco. It was time to have this conversation face-to-face. You couldn’t keep allowing her to avoid responsibility just because you were miles apart. This is a conversation that is long overdue.

A couple of days later, she arrived at your and Oscar’s shared apartment. She seemed different—more subdued, perhaps. You could tell the weight of your anger still lingered in her mind. She greeted you cautiously, her eyes flickering to Oscar, who stood nearby, his presence calm but protective.

“Sit down,” you said, pointing to the couch.

She looked at you, clearly trying to gauge your mood, but she did as she was told. You sat across from her, with Oscar by your side, and the freshly printed contract lying on the table between you. The tension in the living room was thick.

“I had already settled your debt with Blaire,” you began, your voice calm but firm. “But this conversation is not just about the money. It’s about respect, about responsibility.”

“I said I was sorry.” She crossed her arms, trying to play it cool.

“Sorry doesn’t fix this,” you snapped, your patience was already running thin, barely hanging on by a thread. “I have been providing for you because I want nothing but the best for you. But what you did was careless, and you disrespected everything I’ve done for you. You didn’t even ask me before borrowing that money, and then you just blatantly assumed I would handle it. You do this every time to me, you always get me into awkward and humiliating situations.”

She bit her lip, her attitude wavering. “I know, but you make so much—”

“That’s not the point!” You cut her off, about to lose your cool but Oscar had managed to calm you down by softly caressing your back. “Yes, I make good amount of money, but that money just doesn’t magically appear. I have worked hard, harder than you can imagine, to get to where I am. Do you want to know what’s worse? What’s worse is that you’re not even thinking about how hard it is to earn that money, how I burn myself off everyday. So I’m making you earn it back.” You slid the contract towards her.

“What’s this?” She looked down at it, then back at you, looking all confused.

“It’s an agreement,” you said. “I’ve decided to give you the five thousand dollars. Consider what you bought from that money as a gift, because I know you’ve been doing well in school, and it’s been a while since I’ve given you anything. But this will never happen again. You owe me that money, and you're going to pay it back. Every cent of it, with interest.” Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to protest, but you cut her off before she could even speak.

“This is not negotiable. I’m still going to support you, I’m still going to pay for your tuition, but you need to learn how hard it is to earn this kind of money. You’re going to work for it, and I'll expect proof—payslips, records—everything. If you miss a payment, there will be penalties added, and if you refuse or try to make a fool out of me, I’m not afraid to take legal action.”

“You’d sue me? Your own sister?” She stared at you in disbelief.

“Yes, I would,” you said coldly. “I don’t want to, but you’ve left me with no choice. You are already eighteen and will turn nineteen in two months, you are already capable of knowing what’s right and wrong. You need to understand that I’m not going to bail you out every time you mess up, this is your responsibility now.”

For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. Her face was a mix of shock and anger, but you could tell the gravity of the situation was already starting to sink in.

“I’m not trying to be harsh,” you said softly, leaning forward. “But I’ve been in your shoes, and I know firsthand how hard life can be. I have shielded you from that, and maybe that was my mistake. But if you’re going to succeed in this world, you need to understand that nothing is free, nothing in life is free. Everything comes with a cost.”

Oscar then leaned forward, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “Look, we’re not doing this to hurt you,” he added, tone gentle but firm. “But this is a wake-up call. You need to understand how your sister has worked so hard, and how important it is that you start contributing. No one’s saying you have to do it alone, but you have to start doing something.”

Your sister’s eyes shifted between the two of you, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of guilt in her expression. She glanced back down at the contract, and you handed her a pen.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll do it. I’ll pay you back.” Her attitude and defiance slowly faded from her face.

“Good.” You nodded, “then sign it.”

She hesitated for only a moment before scribbling her signature across the bottom of the contract. You felt a strange mixture of relief and sadness, knowing you had to be this tough, but also hoping it would be the turning point she needed.

“You can stay with us while you’re in Monaco,” you told her, “but I expect you to find a job as soon as possible. If you fail to keep up with your end of the deal, there will be consequences. Understood?”

“Understood.” She nodded, though her expression was still a mix of resentment and defeat.

You exhaled, feeling a small sense of relief wash over you. This wasn’t easy, and you hated having to be this strict with her, but it had to be done. Oscar wrapped his arm around you, his touch grounding as soon as you watched your sister head towards the guest room.

“You did the right thing,” he said quietly.

“I hope so,” you whispered, leaning into him. “I just want her to grow up.”

“Don’t worry, she will.” Oscar assured you, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. “With you as her sister, she doesn’t have much of a choice,”

Later that evening, the apartment finally fell quiet, dinner was definitely awkward and quiet, but with your sister already tucked away in the guest room, the weight of everything you had said and done began to settle in. You were sitting at the edge of the bed, heart heavy and mind replaying what had happened earlier over and over. The way your sister had looked at you—hurt and angry—it cut deeper that you were willing to admit.

You had always been strong, but this strength had come with a cost. Now, sitting in the stillness of the night, the reality of your actions hit you like a tidal wave. It wasn’t just the contract or the money, it was the fear—the fear that in trying to teach her a lesson, you might have pushed her too far. That in being the disciplinarian, you had damaged something that might never fully recover or heal.

Oscar entered the room quietly, sensing the shift in your mood. He sat beside you, his presence had always been comforting, but it wasn’t enough to stop the flood of emotions you had been holding back.

“Was I too harsh, Osc?” You whispered, voice barely audible.

He frowned slightly, tilting his head to look at you. “No, you weren’t. She needed to hear all of it.”

“I know,” you replied, voice trembling. “But what if I lose her because of this? What if she hates me for it?”

You felt your tears welling up again, but this time you couldn’t stop them anymore. They spilled down your cheeks, unchecked, as you finally let go of the tension and frustration you had been carrying.

“I’m not being harsh to punish her, I just want her to understand how hard life is, how much I’ve sacrificed. But what if all she sees is me being cruel?”

Oscar pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you as you broke down. You rested your head on his chest, sobs coming in waves, guilt and fear crashing over you. You had always been strong for so long—too long—and now, it felt like everything was unraveling.

“She’s my baby sister,” you choked out between sobs. “I don’t want to lose her. But I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want her to think I’m just some heartless person who only cares about money.”

Oscad held you tighter, his voice calm and steady as he spoke. “She won’t hate you. Not forever. She’s upset now, sure. But she’s young, and right now, she probably doesn’t understand why you’re doing this. But she will, trust me. One day, she’ll look back at it and realize that you did this because you love her.”

You shook your head, your chest tightening with the weight of your emotions. “I feel like I’m always the one who has to be the bad guy. I never get to be the one who’s just there for her, to support her without judgment.”

Oscar stroked your hair gently, his voice soothing. “You’ve done more for her than anyone else ever could. You’ve given her everything. You’re not the bad guy, you’re her protector, even when it means being tough on her. Yeah, maybe this will cause a rift for now, but it won’t last. She’ll come around, she’ll see that you’re doing this because you care.”

You pulled away slightly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “What if she doesn’t?”

“She will,” Oscar said firmly. “But even if it takes time, you can’t keep beating yourself up for doing what’s right. You’re teaching her a lesson that no one else will. You’re giving her the tools to grow up, to be responsible. Sometimes, that means being tough. That’s tough love.”

You nodded, but the guilt still gnawed at you. “I just wish I didn’t have to be this person all the time. The one who fixes things, who keeps everyone in line.”

“I know. But you’re not doing this alone anymore, okay? I’m here. Whenever it feels like it’s too much, rest on me. You can always rest on me.”

You leaned into him again, his warmth easing the ache that you’re feeling inside of you. “I just hope she understands someday,” you whispered.

“She will,” Oscar said softly, kissing the top of your head. “And until then, you’ve done what you needed to do. You’ve set her on the right path, and that’s what matters.”

As the tears slowly subsided, you felt a flicker of hope, knowing that even though this was hard, it was necessary. Even if your sister doesn't see it now, you could only hope that one day, she would understand that everything you did was out of love.

The weight on your shoulders became a little lighter, knowing that Oscar was right. Even if it took time, even if there were still battles to fight, you knew you weren’t facing them alone anymore, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to breathe. You had done what needed to be done. Now it was up to your sister to follow through.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗔𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗕𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗨𝗽 𝗮𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 | 𝗠𝗮𝗸𝗻𝗮𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗣𝘁𝟭

Warnings: None

Maknaeline x Reader. Angst.

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ᒍIᔕᑌᑎG

Jisung was always the one to make people laugh, to brighten the room with his energy and humor. His smile was contagious, his jokes quick, and his laughter a sound you cherished immensely. But what people didn’t see, what Jisung hid behind his laughter, was his fear - the constant nagging doubt that told him he wasn’t good enough. Sure people could tell he was an anxious mess. He talked about with Stays, opened up to many people about his anxiety. But few people truly understood what exactly was harbored within that.

You knew that information, of course. You’d been by his side long enough to see the cracks in his playful exterior; and even his anxious exterior. But even you hadn’t realized how deep those insecurities ran - you thought you did. But it wasn't until you accidentally hit a nerve you didn’t know was there that you understood the depth of it; maybe even deeper than anyone else did.

It was late at night, and you and Jisung were lying on the floor of his living room, watching music videos. It was something you often did when he needed to unwind after long studio sessions. He was particularly quiet tonight, though, his usual playfulness replaced by something more subdued.

“Are you okay?” you asked, nudging him gently with your foot.

Jisung shrugged, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Yeah, just tired.”

You weren’t convinced. “You sure? You’ve been kind of quiet all night. I miss hearing your voice, yeobo.”

He hesitated before finally sighing. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just feeling...off.”

You sat up, concerned. “Off how?” You paused the video you were watching and turned all of your attention to him.

He shifted uncomfortably, sitting up too, and running a hand through his hair. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing you feel is stupid,” you said softly, encouraging him to open up.

Jisung gave you a half-hearted smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve just been feeling like...maybe I’m not doing enough? Like, no matter how hard I work, it’s never enough to be at the level I should be. I see the other guys, and sometimes it feels like they’re ahead of me in everything. Better rappers, better singers...even better at being funny.”

You frowned, surprised at the confession. “Jisung, that’s not true. You’re amazing at all those things.” You knew first hand. You got to see all of that up close while being held in his arms, while kissing him goodbye, or cuddling. You got to see him for him...yet he couldn't even see himself?

He gave a bitter laugh, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Maybe. But it doesn’t feel like it.”

You weren’t sure how to respond. You hated seeing him like this, so wrapped up in his doubts that he couldn’t see how talented he truly was. But you didn't know if anything you would say would make it better. So, in a misguided attempt to lighten the mood, you joked, “Well, at least you’ve got that cute quokka thing going for you, right? No one can beat you at that.”

It was meant to make him laugh, to break the tension. But instead, Jisung’s face fell, his expression crumbling in a way that made your heart stop.

"Bab-"

He stood up abruptly, the sudden movement startling you. “So, that’s it? I’m just the cute, funny guy? That’s all people see?” His boba eyes met yours in a frantic worry.

Your eyes widened in shock. “Jisung, no, that’s not what I meant-”

“But that’s what you said!” he snapped, his voice rising, something sharp and hurt laced in every word. “I’m just the guy people laugh at. The one who makes everyone else look better because I’m the ‘funny one.’ The one who is always anxious and pitied! I’m not taken seriously. Not by you, not by anyone.” He cried.

“That’s not true!” you protested, standing up and reaching out for him, but he pulled away.

“Isn’t it?” His voice cracked, and you could see the vulnerability behind the anger. “You’re just like everyone else. You think I’m a joke?Something to pity?”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “Jisung, that’s not it at all. I didn’t mean-”

“I can’t do this right now,” he interrupted, his tone flat, as if he was trying to push down the emotions threatening to spill over. “I need to be alone.”

And just like that, he walked out of the room, leaving you standing there, speechless and devastated. The door to his bedroom closed with a soft click, and you were left with the echo of your words - the ones you hadn’t meant to say, the ones that had hurt him so deeply.

You sank down in front his door, wanting to be near him even in the slightest sense. The tears you held finally slipping down your cheeks. You had only wanted to make him smile, but instead, you had struck right at the heart of his insecurities. And now, you weren’t sure how to fix it.

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ᖴEᒪI᙭

Felix was like the sun. His warmth radiated from every word, every smile, every laugh. Being around him was like basking in the glow of a never-ending summer day. But what people didn’t realize, what Felix kept hidden so well, was the fear that lingered just beneath the surface - the fear that, no matter how bright he tried to shine, the shadows would always be there.

You and Felix had been inseparable for months. It wasn’t just his warmth that drew you to him; it was the way he made everything feel lighter, easier. He was the light in your life, and you were sure you were the same for him. You needed him like you needed oxygen.

But that night, something shifted.

It had been a long day for both of you, and Felix had been uncharacteristically solemn. He’d barely said anything since you arrived at his apartment, his usual playfulness replaced with a strange tension that had settled in the air like a storm waiting to break.

You were sitting on the couch together, watching a movie, huddled up in a blanket due to the freezing living room; product of your broken heater, but his focus was elsewhere. He kept fidgeting, his fingers playing with the sleeve of his hoodie, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Lix, are you okay, baby?” you asked softly, reaching out to touch his arm.

He flinched slightly at your touch, pulling his arm away before giving you a tight smile, and then in regret letting his arm rest into yours slightly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

You frowned. That wasn’t the Felix you knew. He'd never flinch at your touch or pull away; rather the opposite. Normally, he’d be snuggling up against you, cracking jokes, or commenting on the movie, but tonight he was distant, like he was somewhere far away.

“Are you sure?” you pressed, concern lacing your voice. “You’ve seemed off all day, love.”

Felix shrugged, avoiding your gaze. “I’m fine, really.” His lips were turned downwards, his eyes not looking as bright as they usually did.

You weren’t convinced, but you didn’t want to push too hard. So, you tried to lighten the mood instead, hoping to bring back the Felix you knew. “Maybe you’re just tired of hearing me talk. I mean, you’ve been so quiet tonight, maybe I’ve been boring you to death.” You took a breath and straightened your posture. "I'll stop yapping if you want some quiet. I wouldn't want to rain on the sunshine boy's day." You said patting his head, but he pulled away harshly this time.

It was meant as a joke, something playful to ease the tension. But the second the words left your mouth, Felix’s face changed. His expression hardened, and he stood up abruptly, startling you.

“Is that what you think?” he asked, his voice low, but there was an edge to it that you hadn’t heard before.

You blinked, confused by the sudden change in his demeanor. “What? No, I was just joking, Lix-”

“Yeah, well, maybe it’s not funny,” he snapped, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt. “Maybe I’m not in the mood to laugh right now.”

Your heart sank at the sight of him standing there, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched. You hadn’t meant to upset him - you had just been trying to make things better, but it was clear now that you’d only made them worse.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you said quickly, standing up and reaching for him, but Felix stepped back, shaking his head.

“It’s not about that,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s about everything.”

“Everything?” you repeated, your voice small. “Felix, what are you talking about? Did I do something wrong? Are we breaking up?”

He let out a bitter laugh, one that sounded so wrong coming from him. “It’s about how no matter what I do, I’m always the one who’s ‘cute’ or ‘sweet’ or ‘sunshine,’ never anything else. Just that. Never enough.”

“Felix, you’re more than enough,” you said, your voice shaking as you stepped closer to him. “You’re amazing in every way-” You didn't know what he was talking about. What did he mean by "never enough"? What did he mean by "just that"?

“Am I?” he interrupted, his voice rising. “Because sometimes it feels like I’m just here to make everyone else feel better. Like I’m only worth something because I’m the one always smiling, always making everyone laugh. But what happens when I’m not? What happens when I can’t be that ‘sunshine’ everyone expects me to be? Then what?”

His words hit you hard, and for the first time, you could see how much weight Felix had been carrying. He had always been the bright one, the happy one, the one who brought light into any room. But beneath that light was a darkness he’d kept hidden, a fear of never being seen for who he truly was.

“Felix, that’s not true,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you took another step toward him. “You’re not just some...some image of sunshine to me. You’re so much more than that.” Your eyes were watery and you tried to stay strong and blink the tears away. You rubbed your face and sniffed, trying to wipe the beginning flow of a stream of snot. "I...love you for much more than that..."

But Felix didn’t seem to hear you. He was lost in his own thoughts, spiraling further into his insecurities, and you could see the hurt etched on his face.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, his eyes dark with frustration. “You don’t understand what it’s like to feel like you could become useless any second; to go from enough to not enough in an instant - to feel like the only thing you’re good at is pretending everything’s fine. And that that is the only reason people like you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. What could you say to make him believe you? To make him see that he was more than enough, that his value didn’t depend on always being the happy one?

“I’m tired,” Felix finally whispered, his voice so soft it was barely audible. “I’m tired of pretending. I'm tired of everything, to be honest.”

The vulnerability in his words broke your heart, and you reached out for him again, this time gently taking his hand in yours. But Felix didn’t look at you. His gaze was fixed on the floor, as if he couldn’t bear to face you.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of everything unsaid. You didn't want to break up. Ever. “Please, Lixxie talk to me?" Your voice was hanging by a thread.

One that was instantly snapped as Felix didn’t respond, just pulling his hand away from yours, his body tense with a pain you couldn’t reach. And without even a final glance, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving you standing there in the cold room and a silence that rivaled it.

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ᔕEᑌᑎGᗰIᑎ

Seungmin had always been known for his calm demeanor and quiet strength. He didn’t outwardly seek attention like others, but his presence was undeniable - a steadying force in any storm. He someone people could rely on, the one who would always be there, quietly doing his best.

But there were things Seungmin never said out loud, things he buried beneath his composed exterior.

Lately, you had noticed a shift in him. The small, easy moments you used to share had been replaced by a distance you couldn’t quite explain. His responses were shorter, his smiles less frequent, and though he never said it, something was clearly weighing on him.

You were worried about it. Your two-year anniversary around the corner, and it made you wonder if he was considering ending things. Maybe he was tired of you?

It had been another long day at the dorm, and you were hanging out with Seungmin in the living room, just trying to enjoy some downtime. But there was an unspoken tension between you, and every attempt at conversation seemed to hit a wall.

“Seungmin, is everything okay?” you asked, your voice soft but filled with concern. He had been so quiet lately, and you were worried that something was wrong. "Did I do something to upset you?"

Seungmin looked up from his phone, his expression carefully neutral. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, but there was a slight edge to his voice, one you hadn’t heard from him before. "And no, you didn't."

You frowned, not convinced. “Are you sure? You’ve seemed really distant lately...like something’s bothering you. And- And I just wanted to make sure I didn't accidentally hurt your feelings or something...”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if he didn’t want to have this conversation. “I’m just tired. It’s nothing.”

But you knew it wasn’t nothing. There was something beneath the surface, something he wasn’t saying, and you hated feeling like you were being shut out. Seungmin wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but he had never been this distant before.

“You don’t have to tell me everything,” you said gently, trying to reach him. “But I’m here if you need to talk. You don’t have to handle everything on your own, you know?”

Seungmin’s eyes flickered for a moment, but then his walls came back up. He shrugged, giving you a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m handling it.”

That was when the frustration bubbled up inside you. You weren’t angry at him, but the distance he was creating hurt, and you didn’t know how to bridge the gap.

In simplest terms: he was scaring you.

“Seungmin, you can’t keep everything bottled up forever,” you said, your voice a little sharper than you intended. “You don’t have to pretend like everything’s fine all the time.”

Seungmin’s jaw clenched, and for the first time, you saw something flicker in his eyes - something like hurt, or maybe frustration. But it disappeared just as quickly.

“I’m not pretending,” he said quietly, but there was a coldness in his voice now.

You didn’t want to push him, but you couldn’t just sit there and pretend like everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t. You couldn't let whatever was bothering him fester even more; because if that would result in the end of your relationship than you wouldn't be able to live with yourself for not trying to save it. “It feels like you’re shutting me out, Seungmin. And I don’t know why.”

He was quiet for a long moment, and just when you thought he wasn’t going to respond, he stood up abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe because I am shutting you out.”

The words were so quiet you almost didn’t hear them, but when they finally sank in, your heart dropped.

“What?” you whispered, standing up to face him. “Seungmin, why...why won't you just explain to me what I did?”

"Sometimes I feel like I'm not who everyone thinks I am."

"Min what do you mean by that?"

"Nothing-"

"Why won't you tell me?"

Seungmin’s eyes were dark with frustration now, and for the first time, you saw a crack in his usually calm demeanor. “Because maybe I don't want to tell you!" He shouts.

The weight of his words hit you like a semi.

“Seungmin, whatever is wrong please- tell me,” you said quickly, taking a step closer to him. "We're supposed to rely on each other in times like these. You can rely on me just like I can rely on you-"

But before you could finish, Seungmin cut you off, his voice laced with bitterness. “Isn't that the problem?” He let out a sarcastic laugh. "I'm the reliable one? So much so that I'm known as the quiet one who is always there when people need him? Like need him need him?"

Your throat tightened, and you felt a lump forming in your chest. You had no idea he felt this way, no idea he had been struggling with this sense of invisibility.

Was that what he was struggling with?

Because for some reason you felt as if it was much more than what you were assuming. But maybe your assumption was correct?

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, reaching for him, but Seungmin took a step back, shaking his head. "If you feel invisible-"

“Don’t,” he muttered, his voice strained. “I need...I just need some space right now. I don't think you could even understand if I tried to explain.”

And before you could say anything else, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving you standing there in the suffocating silence, your heart aching with the weight of everything unsaid.

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ᒍEOᑎGIᑎ

You’d always admired Jeongin for his youthful spirit and the way he managed to balance the pressures of his career with a bright, playful attitude. But beneath that light-hearted exterior, you knew there were layers to him - things he didn’t always reveal. His role as the youngest in Stray Kids often came with expectations that weighed heavily on him, but Jeongin rarely spoke about it unless he was feeling vulnerable.

Today had been one of those days where he seemed a bit quieter than usual. You had both decided to hang out at the dorm, hoping to unwind after his busy schedule. Everything was normal, at first. You were teasing him about his latest performance, laughing about something silly he did on stage. He had been smiling, but there was a hint of something in his eyes that made you pause.

"You're so lucky, Innie," you said without thinking, the words slipping out as you laughed. "Everyone always loves the maknae. You get all the attention without even trying." It was true.

He didn't even try catching your attention, but the minute you saw him you had an unmistakable attraction; an irrepressible pull to him.

Jeongin's smile faltered, his dimple disappearing, and his eyes dropped to the floor. He didn’t respond right away, which was unusual for him. You realized too late that what you’d said had hit a nerve. You had only meant it as a lighthearted comment, but there was an underlying truth to it that stung.

"Innie?" you asked cautiously, your laughter fading as you noticed the sudden shift in his demeanor.

Jeongin stood up slowly, turning away from you as he ran a hand through his hair. His movements were tense, his back rigid as he faced the wall.

"Jeongin...what's wrong?" you asked softly, feeling a knot form in your stomach. You hadn’t meant to upset him.

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You think it’s lucky? Being the youngest, being the one everyone looks at like I’m some kind of...kid."

Your heart dropped. "No, I didn’t mean it like that baby I mean-"

"But that’s what you think, right?" Jeongin interrupted, his voice quiet, but hardening. He turned to face you, and you were taken aback by the hurt in his eyes. "You think because I’m the maknae, I don’t have to try? That everything’s just handed to me? Because thats what you make it seem like..."

The guilt washed over you in waves. You had never imagined that your words would trigger something so deep, but now you could see just how much he had been holding in. Jeongin had always laughed off his role as the youngest, but now you realized it had weighed on him far more than you knew.

"Jeongin, that’s not what I think at all," you said, your voice trembling with regret, and your bottom lip turning downwards. "I didn’t mean to make it sound like that."

He clenched his fists, his expression a mix of frustration and sadness. "Do you know how hard it is to be seen as a kid all the time? No matter what I do, people look at me like I’m just the cute, young one. Like I can’t be serious, like I don’t work as hard as everyone else."

You could feel the pain behind his words, and it broke your heart. "I’m sorry," you whispered, stepping closer to him. "I didn’t know you felt this way."

Jeongin shook his head, stepping back as if he didn’t want you to get too close. "Of course you didn’t," he muttered bitterly. "Because I don’t talk about it. I don’t complain. I just...deal with it. And if it comes up I just laugh it off because I'm a kid. That's all my hyungs see and all the fans see and all you see."

He looked down at the floor, his shoulders slumping. The silence between you felt heavy, and you didn’t know how to fix what you had unintentionally broken. You had hurt him, and you weren’t sure if he would let you in to make it right.

"Maybe I should go," Jeongin said suddenly, his voice cold and distant.

Panic rose in your chest- did you mess everything up? Did something you see as a small issue snowball into a major catalyst of your happiness? "No, wait-"

But before you could stop him, Jeongin grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. His retreating figure left you standing there, feeling helpless, your heart aching with guilt. You had never seen him like this - so vulnerable, so fragile. And it was your words that had caused those cracks to appear.

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@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

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[breezymichelle99]

Wheel Work 🛞 | LN

Summary: After a scary moment with a fan. You and Lando try to work past the tough reality of what he does for a living.

Warnings: driving over the speed limit, aggressive fans, some stalking, scared Lando, scared reader, feelings of having a heart attack, mentions of crashing, emotional damage, some sexual innuendo but all fluff.

As always if I missed something let me know.

Mostly pure Lando fluff. 🩷

It was rare during the season that Lando was home in Monaco with you. But this particular week he was home enjoying some alone time with you and some of his friends that he hadn’t seen in a while. He had gone to a boys day out with Max where they enjoyed the gym and a round of golf. He was on the way home from the golf course when he called you, frantic.

“Baby?” He asks. You hear the panic and fear in his voice and you immediately stand up off the couch. “Lando? What’s wrong baby?” You ask back, panic now setting into your voice. Silence filled the line but you could hear the sound of his Lambo engine working over time; the only time you had ever heard his car sound like that was when he was pushing the pedal to the floor racing late night through the streets of Monaco, making your eyes widen and thighs clench turning you on as he worked the wheel around the tight turns of the Monaco streets.

“Lando talk to me please, what is happening?” you hear the brakes squeal and then the roar of the engine revving once again. You were pacing the floor in your shared apartment ready to grab your keys and find him via his location on your phone. “There are fans following me, they have been following me since I left the golf course. I can’t lose them and we are currently zooming though the streets of Monaco. Baby I don’t know what to do, I’m literally driving like I’m in my formula one car right now. I don’t want them to follow me home so I’ve just been driving around hoping they give up and leave me be.” His breathing is erratic.

“Baby. Call the cops right now, please I’m begging you.“ you say begging him to hang up and call 911. “Baby please I don’t want to hang up with you.” He says. You try to hold back tears as you try to figure out what your next move is. “Okay, keep talking to me Lan, okay? I’m going to go next door and borrow Carlos’s phone to call, stay on the phone, keep talking please and please be careful. I love you.” You whisper as you run out the door leaving it wide open as you run across the hall full speed, Lan still on the phone trying to talk to you.

You bang furiously on Carlos’s door. “Carlos please open up.” You scream begging, as you continue to bang on the door until he finally opens up. “Y|N what’s wrong?” “I need to borrow your phone right now please, Lan is in trouble.” He hands the phone over immediately, you pull up Lando’s location and dial 911. “Lan? baby I’m with Carlos I’m calling the police right now.” You say as you dial. There is a long pause before he responds and you know he’s focusing. “Okay baby, please hurry.” You hear him say and you feel the heartbeat in your ears at the scared tone of his voice.

“Hello, yes I have an emergency. My boyfriend is Formula One driver Lando Norris, and he is currently (gives location). A fan is following him in his car and they are driving at a high rate of speed. They have been following him for about 25 minutes. He feels extremely unsafe and the situation is reaching dangerous speeds. Please send someone immediately he’s not wanting to drive home and let them know where he lives. He’s on the phone with me right now.” You give the dispatcher a description of the car Lando was driving and the car that was following him.

“Miss, it looks like we do have a unit in the area. Please ask Mr. Norris to continue on home. The unit will stop the car following him and then someone will be in touch with him later to file a report. Looks like the unit is currently in pursuit..” “Oh my God, thank you so much. I will tell him right away. God, thank you.” you hang up the phone with the dispatcher after a few more questions, giving it back to Carlos who was looking at you wanting details immediately. “Lando the dispatcher said there is a unit right behind you. They advise you to drive home safely and the PD will be in touch to file the report.” You hear his breathing even out as soon as he hears the sirens. “They are pulling the car over now. I’m on my way home to you..” You hear the sirens and you finally exhale. “Do you want me to stay on the phone with you Lan?” You ask. “ Please, baby.” he whispers. You can tell he’s still scared. “All right baby I’m here.” You say your heartbeat, racing in your chest. Carlos makes a joke about having sushi ready for him for lunch. Lando laughs and gags but appreciates the distraction. “pass.” he says, and you and Carlos both laugh. “ Alright baby. I’m on my way up to you, I just parked in the garage.” “Alright I’ll be waiting.” You say.. “I love you, baby, thank you.” his voice is an exhausted whisper. “ I love you, Lando.” You say hanging up.

“Thank you.” You whisper to Carlos. “Hey it’s nothing glad everything is OK..” he says hugging you tight, make sure my boy is OK. I’ll check on him later.” “you know I will..” you smile, leaving Carlos and heading back to your apartment that you shared with Lando. You were waiting for him in the living room, pacing the floor. You wouldn’t settle until he was in your arms. He was in your arms before the door even closed. You could feel his heart slamming in his chest. “ It's OK, baby. You’re home. You’re safe, I'm right here..” You hold him tightly letting him relax in your arms. “ I was so scared baby.” he whispers nuzzling into your neck. “ I know, baby I can only imagine, that was not OK and I hope when they ask, you press charges because that was very unsafe and incredibly dangerous for you and for them I can only imagine what might have happened” you had started to cry at the thought of this causing an accident. “Hey I’m OK. Everything is OK.” he says, wiping your tears away with his long fingers. You weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself. After a few moments, you both settle down.

Lando is lying in your arms, sound asleep, finally safe, finally relaxed. Your fingers running through his curly mullet. You were still crying, you couldn’t help it, the thought of losing him was never something you wanted to envision. You needed to make a statement. Not only were you scared, but you were furious. You snap a photo of him sleeping in your lap and you take to social media.

“Lando loves his fans more than anything, and the support of his fans means everything to him, but when you are literally stalking him in a car at a high rate of speed through the streets of Monaco. You have crossed a line. Following him for miles and you clearly can see he’s attempting to get away and feels unsafe, but yet you continue. The feeling I felt in my chest when he called me panic, clear in his voice. I will never forget it. Having access to him is a privilege that he allows his fans. And a few people can ruin it for the majority, I’m just asking that you please please please be respectful when you see Lando out and about or even at the track, he’s a human being regardless of his formula status and he should be allowed to go golfing with Max and come home safely to me without incident. I don’t want him to be unreachable to his fans because he feels unsafe. You wouldn’t want this to happen to your loved one so let’s please think logically and responsibly when interacting. He is pretty good about being fair to his fans. Let’s remember that he doesn’t have to be. I love you guys and I love watching Lan interacting with you all, but let’s respect his boundaries. Please I wouldn’t want any of you to feel the way he or I felt today. He is finally safe and relaxed, taking a nap in my arms.”

You put your phone down and snuggle into him. You hear him groan at the readjustment, but he’s still asleep. you sigh. Scared to close your eyes for the fear he may disappear, you continue watching him until your phone starts ringing. It was Max F. “Hello?” You whisper doing everything you can to be as quiet as you can so you don’t wake Lando. “I just saw your post, is he OK?” You sigh. “ Physically yes.” You look down at your sleeping boyfriend finally at peace. “I can’t even begin to explain to you the sound of fear in his voice, the way his heart was pounding in his chest when he got home, me on the phone literally not knowing what was happening. What if something had gone wrong?” You say crying again. You hear Max sigh. “ I know Y|N. It was such a scary situation and I can only imagine how you both were feeling at that moment. I’m glad everything is OK.” he says. You're not really sure what else to say right now. “I can have him call you when he wakes up.” You say.. “Yeah, that would be great. Thanks. Glad he’s OK.” Max says. You hang up. Putting your phone back down and snuggling back into Lando finally allowing yourself to fall asleep.

When you woke up, the weight of Lando’s body had gone from yours. You panicked getting up immediately. “Easy baby, I'm right here.” He says looking at you from the kitchen island. Your heart rate steadies as he wraps his arms around you tightly. “ I love you, you know that right?” he says, looking down at you with those gorgeous green eyes. “You saw my post, didn’t you?” You chuckle and blush. “ I did.” he says with a small smile, there was a comfortable silence between the two of you. “ I couldn’t help it Lan, what happened was so unfair and unsafe and dangerous for you. That should never be OK, ever. All I can think about is what if something had happened? What would have happened if there was a crash? What if something happened to you? I would never be able to live without you.” His lips stop your words.

You know there are risks that he takes every single time he gets behind the wheel of his car on the track, but this wasn’t the Monaco Grand Prix. This was real life and he shouldn’t have to take those same risks because of a crazy fan. “I appreciate how much you love me, baby..” he says with a smile. “forever, Lan” you smile back as he touches your cheek with his fingers. You could tell he was still worried, you could see it in his eyes. “Are you OK?” You ask, running your fingers across his cheek. He melted into your touch.” I think so.” he whispers, his lips. “What is it?” You ask him, you could see the conflict in his eyes. “ I am damn near starving though,” he laughs. You laugh too. “Well then, let’s do something about that. Want to help me in the kitchen?” you ask him knowing he wouldn’t want to leave and get back in the car right now so you would be better off to just make him something at home.

“I would love nothing more” he says, following behind you to the kitchen. You grab a few things from the fridge; milk and eggs and then a large bowl with flour and vanilla. Instructing lando to mix here and stir there. Him tossing flour at you as you squeal his name. “Lando Norris, will you behave please.” you giggle as he wraps his arms around you as you stand in front of the stove, making the pancakes the two of you had somehow managed to put together. “Absolutely not.” he says, kissing your neck. “Lan..” you whine as he does his best to distract you from the task at hand. “If you want to eat something you better quit.” you warn, which earns a raised eyebrow from him and you know immediately where his mind went. “Seriously.” you laugh and roll your eyes at your silly boyfriend. He laughs as he sets the table. “Nutella?” you ask him. He grins and shakes his head yes. You knew him so well. “How bout ice cream?” you look back at him. “Spoiling me are you?” he chuckles. “Fine, no ice cream.” you say shoving it back in the freezer. He whines. “Babyyy no, I'm only kidding, I would love some.” he says the sad puppy dog eyes, doing you in. You never could resist those gorgeous eyes.

Thank you.” he says, kissing your cheek as you meet him at the table with a plate of pancakes with ice cream and nutella. He pulls you close for a moment looking up at you with those beautiful eyes once again. “I'm so grateful for you.” he whispers. And you know he is secretly trying to thank you for coming to his rescue this morning. You sigh, touching his face with your fingertips. “You know no matter where you are in the world, what time it is, or how long it would take me to get there, I would cross the entire fucking world for you Lando Norris, anytime, any day, all you have to do is say the word and I’ll be there.” you say kissing his lips gently, slowly. You pull your lips from his, trying to savor the moment but also not wanting his breakfast to get cold. “Come on now, time to eat.” you whisper, pulling yourself from his arms so you don’t get all emotional again. The two of you enjoy your pancakes with a few laughs before settling into a comfortable silence as you finish your breakfast.

He helps you clear the table and then stands beside you as you wash the dishes. Both singing some song he had put on to fill the silence. “Thank you for helping me.” you say with a kiss as he continues to help you. “Thanks for making my favorite.” he says leaning in to kiss your forehead as you lean back against the counter. “Anything for you, Lan.” you say with a smirk. “Anything?” he questions with that boyish grin you knew meant trouble, his eyebrow raised. You run your fingertips across his perfect pouty lips. “Anything.” you whisper. “Mmm.” he groaned and you knew instantly he was feeling better as he set you up on the counter, settling his muscled body between your thighs, kissing your neck. “Lan.” you moan his name in his ear. And he can't help the smirk that crosses his lips.

Lando’s phone rings, interrupting the moment. He saw it was Max and looked at you for the okay to take the call. You nod. “He called me earlier but you were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you.” you say. He nods, kissing your lips. “To be continued, my love.” he smirks. “Gunna hold you to that Norris.” you giggle. He takes the call with Max, knowing he probably needed his bestie right now. You hop off the counter and finish the dishes.

Later that day the police would come by and take a statement from Lando regarding the incident that morning, Lando doing as he promised and pressing charges against the fans in question, to not only let everyone know that this kind of behavior was not okay but as a warning to anyone who would think this was okay in the future, that this kind of behavior from his “fans.” would not be tolerated. He also released a statement on social media backing your earlier statement. At the end of the day everyone was safe and happy and you and Lando headed into another exciting race weekend ready for anything, as long as you could handle it together there wasn’t anything you couldn’t get through.

The end.

[theshift]

The Deal Part 2 (Reuploaded)

The first week as Lukas was pure exhilaration. For years, Marco had been weighed down by responsibilities—running a business, maintaining a crumbling marriage, and keeping up appearances in the upper-class world. But now, in Lukas’ lean, agile body, Marco felt untethered, like he had shed the chains of his old life. Every movement, every glance in the mirror, reminded him of his newfound freedom. He couldn’t get over how effortlessly Lukas carried himself—how easy it was to slip into a life without strings attached.

Lukas’ job at his office was simple, almost mind-numbingly so, but that suited Marco perfectly. No stress, no high-stakes decisions, just a few hours a day of mundane work. But the real thrill came at night.

Marco found himself drawn to bars, nightlife, and dating apps—anonymously exploring the side of his sexuality he’d buried for so long. He indulged in hookups with men and women alike, basking in the freedom to be someone else. He reveled in the casual, unburdened encounters, the excitement of living without the weight of his old life’s judgment. Every morning he would wake up feeling more like Lukas and less like Marco.

Yet Marco's initial thrill at living in Lukas’ skin had morphed into something more complex. The simplicity of the life he had borrowed was no longer enough. He craved the power and control he had in his real life, but wearing Lukas’ face had given him something different—access to people who didn’t see him as the calculating businessman but as someone unassuming, approachable. It opened doors to the kind of men he had never encountered in his high-stakes corporate world. The tension between them was delicious. Marco had met rugged men in the bar who smelled of sweat, leather, and cigarettes, the kinds of men who didn’t give a damn about luxury but commanded respect in a different way. There was something raw about them that Marco found deeply attractive. These men were real, unrefined, and authentic in ways he hadn’t allowed himself to be in years. Vincent, though, had been the turning point. He was sophisticated, ambitious, and had taken a liking to Lukas—well, to Marco wearing Lukas’ skin.

Vincent had approached Marco at Luka's company's late night casual networking event, drink in hand, eyes scanning the room before landing on Marco-as-Lukas with a smile that was equal parts charm and calculation.

Vincent: "There you are. I was beginning to think you'd slipped away again." His tone was playful, but there was an edge to it, the subtle challenge of a man used to getting what he wanted.

Marco (as Lukas) turned, offering a boyish grin that felt foreign on his face, but fitting for the persona he’d adopted. Vincent was every bit the kind of man Marco used to conquer in business, but tonight, the game was different.

Marco: "You think I'd sneak off without saying goodbye? That’s not my style." His voice was lighter, teasing, playing into the role of the carefree, younger man Vincent thought he was. "Besides, you’re the most interesting thing here. Why would I leave?"

Vincent chuckled, the sound rich and smooth, like the bourbon in his glass. "You flatter me, Lukas. But I’ve seen you watching everything, soaking it in like someone who’s never been in a room like this before." He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough to make the conversation feel intimate. "Tell me, what do you really think?"

Marco leaned against the bar, keeping his posture relaxed, easygoing—nothing like the power stance he would’ve taken as Marco. "Oh, you know..." he began, feigning innocence, "it's a lot bigger than what I’m used to. Flashy. Expensive." He paused, locking eyes with Vincent and letting his smile turn just a shade darker. "But it’s not the room that makes the night interesting, is it? It’s the company."

Vincent's eyes gleamed with interest, clearly taken with the charm. He swirled his drink, considering the words. "You’re different from the others, Lukas. Most guys in this town don’t even know what they’re missing, but you... you seem curious. Like you want something more."

Marco shrugged, his expression mischievous. "Maybe I do. Maybe I’m tired of the same old thing. Figured I’d let someone like you show me what else is out there." He let the words hang, perfectly calculated, knowing exactly how Vincent would interpret them.

Vincent took the bait, leaning in, his gaze intense. "I can show you things you’ve never even dreamed of, Lukas." His voice was low, dripping with intent. You’ve got potential—could be so much more than what you are now."

Marco suppressed a smirk, playing into the role of the eager protégé. "You really think so?" His voice softened, feigning vulnerability. He let a brief silence pass, before adding with just the right amount of edge: "I mean, it’s not like I’m completely green, Vincent. I can handle myself. But... I wouldn’t mind someone showing me the ropes."

Vincent’s smile widened, clearly enjoying the game as much as Marco. "I bet you can handle yourself just fine. But a little guidance never hurt anyone." He reached out, his hand resting casually on Marco’s arm. "You’ve got the charm, the looks—everything you need to make it big. Just need to play your cards right. Stick close to me, and you’ll go places."

Marco (as Lukas) tilted his head, the hint of a challenge creeping into his tone. "And what do you get out of it, huh? Guys like you don’t do things out of charity. You’ve got an angle. I can tell."

Vincent chuckled again, clearly amused by Lukas’ feigned boldness. "Oh, I like you even more now. Sharp, aren’t you? Well, let’s just say I enjoy investing in the right people. And you... you're an investment I’m willing to make." He leaned closer, voice dropping to a near whisper. "But only if you’re up for the ride."

Marco let his lips curl into a knowing smirk, the predatory glint of the real man shining through just for a second. He leaned in slightly, their proximity intensifying the moment. "I think you’ll find I’m full of surprises, Vincent. You might be biting off more than you can chew."

Vincent’s eyes flashed with excitement, oblivious to the hidden meaning in Marco’s words. He saw a young, hungry man ready to be molded, and that was exactly what Marco wanted. "I like a challenge, Lukas. Don’t let me down."

Marco raised his glass, clinking it lightly against Vincent’s. "Oh, I won’t. But remember, it’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for."

As the night deepened, the tension between them thickened, the air filled with promises of secrets and power. Marco, playing the role of Lukas, had Vincent hooked, all while hiding the truth beneath a mask of youth and ambition. It was a dangerous game, but one Marco knew how to play better than anyone. And Vincent, despite his confidence, had no idea he was dealing with a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Something darker began to brew inside of Marcos. The more he tasted this freedom, the more he realized he couldn’t—wouldn’t—go back. A voice in the back of his mind whispered, “Why should you?” He ignored it at first, but with each passing day, the temptation to stay in Lukas’ body grew stronger, irresistible.

--

Lukas had crafted a morning routine that had become his sanctuary amid the chaos of Marco’s life. He would rise early, allowing the soft glow of dawn to spill into the room, illuminating the contours of his reflection in the mirror. Each day began with a ritual: a splash of cold water on his face to shake off the remnants of sleep, some light running in the morning, followed by edging session playing with his new borrowed member. Each stroke getting Lukas horny from the sight of seeing Marco's body pleasuring itself. Something he could only have hoped to imagine when he fantasized about being with Marco, but now it was his reality.

As he stood before the mirror, he couldn’t help but admire the features that had been borrowed from Marco—strong jawline, sculpted muscles, and that enchanting beard that seemed to whisper of adventure. He snapped a quick selfie, the camera capturing a glimpse of the man he had momentarily become. He traced his fingers along his cheeks, reveling in the unfamiliar sensation of confidence that washed over him. There was something undeniably attractive about Marco, a magnetic charisma that seeped into Lukas' very being, leaving him both enthralled and envious.

He relished the sound of Marco's voice echoing in his mind—the way it rolled off his tongue, thick with an accent that made even the simplest words feel like poetry. It was a voice that commanded attention, and in those fleeting moments of quiet, Lukas felt a thrill at the thought of embodying such presence. But as the day wore on, that initial allure began to fade, and he was faced with the harsh reality of the life he was now navigating.

Lukas was drowning. Marco’s life was a far cry from the easy-going world he had known. Running a business felt like trying to steer a ship in a storm—meetings, deadlines, pressure mounting with every passing day. The people around Marco were sharp, watching Lukas with keen eyes, expecting him to perform. Every moment was a struggle to keep up, to pretend he knew what Marco knew.

But it was Marco’s family that terrified him the most.

Serena, Marco’s wife, seemed distant, almost cold, though Lukas couldn’t tell if that was how their marriage had always been or if she was starting to suspect something. But it was Marco’s two sons, Ethan and Daniel, who posed the real challenge. They were home for winter break, and Lukas was thrown into the deep end—expected to be their father, to navigate years of inside jokes, shared memories, and father-son dynamics he had no grasp of.

The tension came to a head one evening at dinner. Ethan had been quiet, but Daniel watched him closely, eyes sharp. Then Daniel asked, seemingly innocently, “Dad, remember that fishing trip we took a few summers ago? When we caught that massive bass?”

Lukas felt his stomach drop. His mind raced—he didn’t remember anything about a fishing trip. He scrambled, piecing together bits of information Marco had casually mentioned, but it was like fumbling in the dark.

“Oh, yeah… that was a good one,” Lukas mumbled, trying to sound convincing. He forced a laugh, but Daniel’s eyes didn’t leave him. There was a flicker of doubt in his son’s gaze, a knowing look that made Lukas’ pulse quicken. He had to be careful. One more slip-up, and the illusion would shatter.

That night, Lukas lay in bed, his heart pounding. He couldn’t do this anymore. Marco’s life was suffocating him. He needed out.

The only plus side were at events and high-profile gatherings, Lukas, wearing Marco’s skin, found himself gravitating toward men Marco would have likely brushed off in another life. Among these men was Richard—a sharp, ambitious figure who wielded power like a weapon. Lukas could see it in the way Richard moved through a room, his presence commanding attention and respect. Yet, there was something else about Richard, something that softened behind closed doors.

Richard had been watching Lukas-as-Marco for weeks. His glances lingered just a little too long, and his smile held a certain knowing edge. Lukas, under the pressure of maintaining Marco’s image, had mostly avoided him, understanding the dangerous game that flirting with one of Marco’s powerful business partners could become. But tonight was different. Lukas was tired of carrying the weight of Marco’s responsibilities, and Richard’s eyes were burning into him from across the room.

Lukas decided to play along, just for tonight

As the event wound down, Richard approached, his gaze piercing through the crowd. He sidled up next to Lukas, drink in hand, and a cigar in his mouth, his tone smooth and suggestive. "Marco, you’ve been keeping your distance lately. Starting to think you’re avoiding me." His smile was coy, eyes glinting with challenge.

Lukas turned, letting the faintest smirk play on his lips. "Avoiding you, Richard? Now, why would I do that?" He sipped his drink leisurely, tilting his head just enough to meet Richard’s gaze head-on, the flicker of mischief evident.

"You tell me." Richard’s voice lowered, laced with innuendo. "You’ve been...different lately. Bolder, I’d say. I like it."

Lukas let the compliment hang between them for a moment before responding, his voice casual but dripping with flirtation. "I’ve found there are some advantages to stepping out of the box. Keeps things... interesting." His eyes danced with amusement as he leaned a little closer, just enough for Richard to catch the subtle shift in energy.

Richard raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Is that so? Well, I’ve always appreciated a man who knows how to keep things interesting. But you—" He gestured with his glass, "—you’ve been a bit of a mystery lately. And I do love a good mystery."

Lukas chuckled, a soft, knowing sound. "A mystery? Me? I thought I was an open book, Richard. What you see is what you get." The lie tasted delicious on his tongue. He knew he was playing with fire, but for the first time in weeks, it felt good—liberating, even.

Richard’s gaze sharpened, his smirk deepening. "Oh, Marco, you and I both know that’s far from the truth. There’s always more beneath the surface with you. And I like uncovering secrets." He leaned in, his breath warm as he added, "What’s changed? What’s made you loosen up all of a sudden?"

Lukas shrugged, pretending to be thoughtful. "Maybe I’ve just learned to stop taking things so seriously. Life’s too short for all that, don’t you think?" He let his fingers brush the edge of Richard’s sleeve, a calculated move that sent a silent message.

Richard’s eyes flicked down to the touch, a spark of something darker flashing in them. "I couldn’t agree more," he murmured, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "But something tells me you’ve got more on your mind than just living in the moment."

Lukas smiled, all charm and mystery. "Perhaps," he said, leaning back casually, "but some things are better left unsaid. Keeps people guessing."

Richard chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the game. "You’re good, Marco. Very good. But don’t think I won’t find out what you’re really after."

Lukas raised his glass, his eyes locking with Richard’s. "I wouldn’t dream of stopping you."

The tension between them simmered, charged and electric. Lukas could feel the thrill of the game pulsing in his veins, the subtle dance of power and attraction intoxicating. For a moment, he forgot he was in Marco’s skin, forgot the risks—this was his release, his way of letting off steam from the crushing pressure of being someone else. It was exhilarating.

But Richard, ever the predator, wasn’t one to let his prey slip away so easily. "You know," Richard said, his voice dropping an octave, "I’ve always had a soft spot for men who keep me on my toes. It’s rare to find someone who can play at my level."

Lukas leaned in, his voice low and teasing. "Maybe you’ve just been playing with the wrong people, Richard. Some of us are just waiting for the right moment to strike."

Richard’s eyes gleamed with amusement, but beneath it was something hungrier. "Is that a challenge, Marco?"

Lukas let a slow, deliberate smile spread across his face. "It’s whatever you want it to be."

Richard paused, studying Lukas with a new intensity. "Careful, Marco," he warned, though his tone was laced with approval. "Play too hard, and you might find yourself in over your head."

Lukas tilted his head, unfazed. "I think I’ll take my chances."

The air between them crackled with the unspoken tension, both men pushing and pulling in a game neither wanted to lose. For Lukas, this was his outlet, a moment to let go of the suffocating role of Marco and indulge in something riskier, more thrilling. But Richard was dangerous. One wrong step, and Lukas could unravel everything.

Still, as the night continued, Lukas couldn’t help but savor the adrenaline coursing through him. For now, he was winning the game, and that was enough.

--

After a month of silence, the day came when Lukas and Marco were supposed to swap back. Lukas arrived at Marco’s house, jittery with anticipation. He was desperate to shed this life, and to return to his own body. Marco, in Lukas’ body, seemed eerily calm. Too calm.

They went upstairs, the house quiet except for the ticking of the clock. As Lukas reached to peel off Marco’s skin, a wave of relief washed over him—but it didn’t last. No matter how hard he tried, the suit wouldn’t budge. Panic surged through him.

"Marco, it’s not coming off," Lukas’ voice wavered, his hands trembling as he tugged at the skin suit.

Marco, still wearing Lukas' body, stood back, watching him with an unsettling calmness. "Try again," he said, his tone too casual.

Lukas pulled harder, but it was useless. The suit had fused with him, like a second skin. His heartbeat thundered in his ears as the realization dawned on him. He turned to Marco, eyes wide with fear.

“What the hell is happening?”

Marco sighed, finally stepping forward, his expression hardening. "I didn’t want it to come to this, Lukas. But there’s something I didn’t tell you."

Lukas felt the world tilting. "What do you mean?"

"I had the ability to lock the suits. From the moment we swapped, I made sure we couldn’t undo it unless I wanted to."

Lukas’ breath hitched. His blood ran cold as Marco’s words sank in. "You—what?" he stammered, his voice rising. "Unlock it. Now."

Marco shook his head slowly. "No, Lukas. I’m not going back."

Lukas’ legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the bed. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the betrayal. "You planned this the whole time… You never wanted to switch back."

Marco laughed, shaking his head. “You wanted this, remember? You wanted to know what it felt like to be me. Don't lie and admit that you enjoy being me And I... well, I got a little attached to being you.”

Lukas lunged forward, grabbing Marco by the collar. The strangeness of seeing his own face reacting with surprise only fueled his rage. “You don’t get to just decide this!” Lukas shouted, his grip tightening.

But Marco only smirked, calm and collected. “What are you going to do, Lukas? Beat yourself up?”

Lukas faltered for a moment, realizing the futility of his aggression. 

Marco’s gaze darkened, his calm facade finally breaking. "I can’t go back. You don’t understand. My life—it’s a cage. And this, being you, it’s the only freedom I’ve felt in years." He stepped closer, towering over Lukas. "You’ll get used to it. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out," Marco said coldly.

Lukas felt his world spin. Could he really let this happen? Marco, living his life indefinitely, while he remained trapped in Marco’s skin, playing the role of someone he wasn’t?

“I’ll... I’ll tell Serena,” Lukas stammered, grasping at straws. “I’ll tell everyone what you did.”

Marco’s eyes narrowed, his grin fading. “You think they’ll believe you? I’m you now. You look like me. You sound like me. Who do you think they’ll believe?”

The reality hit Lukas like a punch to the gut. Marco was right. He was trapped in Marco’s body, and no one would believe him if he tried to tell them the truth. Marco had all the power now, and Lukas was helpless to stop him.

“You’re stuck, Lukas,” Marco said softly, his tone almost pitying. “We both are, in a way. But we can make the best of it. You keep living my life, I keep living yours, and maybe—just maybe—we both come out better for it.”

--

Had to continue the story since so many of you requested. Should I do part 3? Let me know.  - The Shift

[mariacallous]

When most Americans think of fascism, they picture a Hitlerian hellscape of dramatic action: police raids, violent coups, mass executions. Indeed, such was the savagery of Nazi Germany, Stalinist Russia, and Vichy France. But what many people don’t appreciate about tyranny is its “banality,” Timothy Snyder tells me. “We don’t imagine how a regime change is going to be at the dinner table. The regime change is going to be on the sidewalk. It’s going to be in your whole life.”

Snyder, a Yale history professor and leading scholar of Soviet Russia, was patching into Zoom from a hotel room in Kyiv, where the specter of authoritarianism looms large as Ukraine remains steeped in a yearslong military siege by Vladimir Putin. It was late at night and he was still winding down from, and gearing up for, a packed schedule—from launching an institution dedicated to the documentation of the war, to fundraising for robotic-demining development, to organizing a conference for a new Ukrainian history project. “I’ve had kind of a long day and a long week, and if this were going to be my sartorial first appearance in Vanity Fair, I would really want it to go otherwise,” he joked.

But the rest of our conversation was no laughing matter. It largely centered, to little surprise, on Donald Trump and how the former president has put America on a glide path to fascism. Too many commentators were late to realize this. Snyder, however, has been sounding the alarm since the dawn of Trumpism itself, invoking the cautionary tales of fascist history in his 2017 book, On Tyranny, and in The Road to Unfreedom the year after. It’s been six years since the latter, and Snyder is now out with a new book, On Freedom, a personal and philosophical attempt to flip the valence of America’s most lauded—and loaded—word. “We Americans tend to think that freedom is a matter of things being cleared away, and that capitalism does that work for us. It is a trap to believe in this,” he writes. “Freedom is not an absence but a presence, a life in which we choose multiple commitments and realize combinations of them in the world.”

In an interview with Vanity Fair, which has been edited for length and clarity, Snyder unpacks America’s “strongman fantasy,” encourages Democrats to reclaim the concept of freedom, and critiques journalists for pushing a “war fatigue” narrative about the Russian invasion of Ukraine. “There’s just something so odd about Americans being tired of this war. We can get bored of it or whatever, but how can we be tired?” he asks. “We’re not doing a damn thing.”

Vanity Fair: The things we associate with freedom—free speech, religious liberty—have been co-opted by the Republican Party. Do you think you could walk me through how that happened historically and how Democrats could take that word back?

Timothy Snyder: Yeah. I think the way it happened historically is actually quite dark there. There’s an innocent way of talking about this, which is to say, “Oh, some people believe in negative freedom and some people believe in positive freedom—and negative freedom just means less government and positive freedom means more government.” And when you say it like that, it just sounds like a question of taste. And who knows who’s right?

Whereas historically speaking, to answer your question, the reason why people believe in negative freedom is that they’re enslaving other people, or they are oppressing women, or both. The reason why you say freedom is just keeping the government off my back is that the central government is the only force that’s ever going to enfranchise those slaves. It’s the only force which is ever going to give votes to those women. And so that’s where negative freedom comes from. I’m not saying that everybody who believes in negative freedom now owns slaves or oppresses women, but that’s the tradition. That’s the reason why you would think freedom is negative, which on its face is a totally implausible idea. I mean, the notion that you can just be free because there’s no government makes no sense, unless you’re a heavily drugged anarchist.

And so, as the Republican Party has also become the party of race in our country, it’s become the party of small government. Unfortunately, this idea of freedom then goes along for the ride, because freedom becomes freedom from government. And then the next step is freedom becomes freedom for the market. That seems like a small step, but it’s a huge step because if we believe in free markets, that means that we actually have duties to the market. And Americans have by and large accepted that, even pretty far into the center or into the left. If you say that term, “free market,” Americans pretty generally won’t stop you and say, “Oh, there’s something problematic about that.” But there really is: If the market is free, that means that you have a duty to the market, and the duty is to make sure the government doesn’t intervene in it. And once you make that step, you suddenly find yourself willing to accept that, well, everybody of course has a right to advertise, and I don’t have a right to be free of it. Or freedom of speech isn’t really for me; freedom of speech is for the internet.

And that’s, to a large measure, the world we live in.

You have a quote in the book about this that distills it well: “The countries where people tend to think of freedom as freedom to are doing better by our own measures, which tend to focus on freedom from.”

Yeah, thanks for pulling that out. Even I was a little bit struck by that one. Because if you’re American and you talk about freedom all the time and you also spend all your time judging other countries on freedom, and you decide what the measures are, then you should be close to the top of the list—but you’re not. And then you ask, “Why is that?” When you look at countries like Sweden, Norway, Denmark, France, Germany, or Ireland—that are way ahead of us—they’re having a different conversation about freedom. They don’t seem to talk about freedom as much as we do, but then when they do, they talk about it in terms of enabling people to do things.

And then you realize that an enabled population, a population that has health care and retirement and reliable schools, may be better at defending things like the right to vote and the right to freedom of religion and the right to freedom of speech—the things that we think are essential to freedom. And then you realize, Oh, wait, there can be a positive loop between freedom to and freedom from. And this is the big thing that Americans get a hundred percent wrong. We think there’s a tragic choice between freedom from and freedom to—that you’ve got to choose between negative freedom and positive freedom. And that’s entirely wrong.

What do you make of Kamala Harris’s attempt to redeem the word?

It makes me happy if it’s at the center of a political discussion. And by the way, going back to your first question, it’s interesting how the American right has actually retreated from freedom. It has been central for them for half a century, but they are now actually retreating from it, and they’ve left the ground open for the Democrats. So, politically, I’m glad they’re seizing it—not just because I want them to win, but also because I think on the center left or wherever she is, there’s more of a chance for the word to take on a fuller meaning. Because so long as the Republicans can control the word, it’s always going to mean negative freedom.

I can’t judge the politics that well, but I think it’s philosophically correct and I think we end up being truer to ourselves. Because my big underlying concern as an American is that we have this word which we’ve boxed into a corner and then beaten the pulp out of, and it really doesn’t mean anything anymore. And yet it’s the only imaginable central concept I can think of for American political theory or American political life.

Yeah, it’s conducive to the joy-and-optimism approach that the Democrats are taking to the campaign. Freedom to is about enfranchisement; it’s about empowerment; it’s about mobility.

Totally. Can I jump in there with another thought?

Of course.

I think JD Vance is the logical extension of where freedom as freedom from gets you. Because one of the things you say when freedom is negative—when it’s just freedom from—is that the government is bad, right? You say the government is bad because it’s suppressive. But then you also say government is bad because it can’t do anything. It’s incompetent and it’s dysfunctional. And it’s a small step from there to a JD Vance–type figure who is a doomer, right? He’s a doomer about everything. His politics is a politics of impotence. His whole idea is that government will fail at everything—that there’s no point using government, and in fact, life is just sort of terrible in general. And the only way to lead in life is to kind of be snarky about other people. That’s the whole JD Vance political philosophy. It’s like, “I’m impotent. You’re impotent. We’re all impotent. And therefore let’s be angry.”

Did you watch the debate?

No, I’m afraid I didn’t. I’m in the wrong time zone.

There was a moment that struck me, and I think it would strike you too: Donald Trump openly praised Viktor Orbán, as he has done repeatedly in the past. But he said, explicitly, Orbán is a good guy because he’s a “strongman,” which is a word that he clearly takes to be a compliment, not derogatory. You’ve written about the strongman fantasy in your Substack, so I’m curious: What do you think Trump is appealing to here?

Well, I’m going to answer it in a slightly different way, and then I’ll go back to the way you mean it. I think he’s tapping into one of his own inner fantasies. I think he looks around the world and he sees that there’s a person like Orbán, who’s taken a constitutional system and climbed out of it and has managed to go from being a normal prime minister to essentially being an extraconstitutional figure. And I think that’s what Trump wants for himself. And then, of course, the next step is a Putin-type figure, where he’s now an unquestioned dictator.

For the rest of us, I think he’s tapping—in a minor key—into inexperience, and that was my strongman piece that you kindly mentioned. Americans don’t really think through what it would mean to have a government without the rule of law and the possibility of throwing the bums out. I think we just haven’t thought that through in all of its banality: the neighbors denouncing you, your kids not having social mobility because you maybe did something wrong, having to be afraid all the damn time. African Americans and some immigrants have a sense of this, but in general, Americans don’t get that. They don’t get what that would be like.

So that’s a minor key. The major key, though, is the 20% or so of Americans who really, I think, authentically do want an authoritarian regime, because they would prefer to identify personally with a leader figure and feel good about it rather than enjoy freedom.

You mentioned the word banality, which makes me think of Hannah Arendt’s theory of the “banality of evil.” What would the banality of authoritarianism look like in America?

So let me first talk about the nonbanality of evil, because our version of evil is something like, and I don’t want to be too mean, but it’s something like this: A giant monster rises out of the ocean and then we get it with our F-16s or F-35s or whatever. That’s our version of evil. It’s corporeal, it’s obviously bad, and it can be defeated by dramatic acts of violence.

And we apply that to figures like Hitler or Stalin, and we think, Okay, what happened with Hitler was that he was suddenly defeated by a war. Of course he was defeated by a war, but he did some dramatic and violent things to come to power, but his coming to power also involved a million banalities. It involved a million assimilations, a million changes of what we think of as normal. And it’s our ability to make things normal and abnormal which is so terrifying. It’s like an animal instinct on our part: We can tell what the power wants us to do, and if we don’t think about it, we then do it. In authoritarian conditions, this means that we realize, Oh, the law doesn’t really apply anymore. That means my neighbor could have denounced me for anything, and so I better denounce my neighbor first. And before you know it, you’re in a completely different society, and the banality here is that instead of just walking down the street thinking about your own stuff, you’re thinking, Wait a minute, which of my neighbors is going to denounce me?

Americans think all the time about getting their kids into the right school. What happens in an authoritarian country is that all of that access to social mobility becomes determined by obedience. And as a parent, suddenly you realize you have to be publicly loyal all the time, because one little black mark against you ruins your child’s future. And that’s the banality right there. In Russia, everybody lives like that, because any little thing you do wrong, and your kid has no chance. They get thrown out of school; they can’t go to university.

We don’t imagine how a regime change is going to be at the dinner table. The regime change is going to be on the sidewalk. It’s going to be in your whole life. It’s not going to be some external thing. It’s not like this strongman is just going to be some bad person in the White House, and then eventually the good guys will come and knock him out. When the regime changes, you change and you adapt, and you look around as everyone else is adapting and you realize, Well, everyone else adapting is a new reality for me, and I’m probably going to have to adapt too. Trump wants to be a strongman. He’s already tried a ​​ coup d’état. He makes it clear that he wants to be a different regime. And so if you vote him in, you’re basically saying, “Okay, strongman, tell me how to adapt.”

Yeah, we could talk about Project 2025 all day. This new effort to bureaucratize tyranny—which was not in place in 2020—could really make the banal aspect a reality because it’s enforced by the administrative state, which is going to be felt by Americans at a quotidian level.

I agree with what you say. If I were in business, I would be terrified of Project 2025 because what it’s going to lead to is favoritism. You’re never going to get approvals for your stuff unless you’re politically close to administration. It’s going to push us toward a more Hungary-like situation, where the president’s pals’ or Jared Kushner’s pals’ companies are going to do fine. But everybody else is going to have to pay bribes. Everyone else is going to have to make friends.

It’s anticompetitive.

Yeah, it’s going to generate a very, very uneven playing field where certain people are going to be favored and become oligarchs. And most of the rest of us are going to have a hard time. Also, the 40,000 [loyalists Trump wants to replace the administrative state with] are going to be completely incompetent. When people stop getting their Social Security checks, they’re going to realize that the federal government—which they’ve been told is so dysfunctional—actually did do some things. It’s going to be chaos. The only way to get anything done is to have a phone number where you can call somebody at someplace in the government and say, “Make my thing a priority.” The chaos of the administration state feeds into the strongman thing. And since that’s true, the strongman view starts to become natural for you because it’s the only way to get anything done.

You’ve studied Russian information warfare pretty extensively. A few weeks ago the Justice Department indicted two employees of the Russian state media outlet RT for their role in surreptitiously funding a right-wing US media outfit as part of a foreign-influence-peddling scheme, which saw them pull the wool over a bunch of right-wing media personalities. Do you think this type of thing is the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Russian information warfare?

Of course. It’s the tip of the iceberg, and I want to refer back to 2016. It was much bigger in 2016 than we recognized at the time. The things that the Obama administration was concerned with—like the actual penetration of state voting systems and stuff—that was really just nothing compared to all of the internet stuff they had going. And we basically caught zilcho of that before the election itself. And I think the federal government is more aware of it this time, but also the Russians are doing different things this time, no doubt.

I’m afraid what I think is that there are probably an awful lot of people who are doing this—including people who are much more important in the media than those guys—and that there’s just no way we’re going to catch very many of them before November. That’s my gut feeling.

While we’re on Russia, I do want to talk about Ukraine, especially since you’re there right now. I think one of the most unfortunate aspects of [the media’s coverage of] foreign wars—the Ukraine war and also the Israel-Hamas war—is just the way they inevitably fade into the background of the American news cycle, especially if no American boots are on the ground. I’m curious if this dynamic frustrates you as a historian.

Oh, a couple points there. One is, I’m going to point out slightly mean-spiritedly that the stories about war fatigue in Ukraine began in March 2022. As a historian, I am a little bit upset at journalists. I don’t mean the good ones. I don’t mean the guys I just saw who just came back from the front. [I mean] the people who are sitting in DC or New York or wherever, who immediately ginned up this notion of war fatigue and kept asking everybody from the beginning, “When are you going to get tired of this war?” We turned war fatigue into a topos almost instantaneously. And I found that really irresponsible because you’re affecting the discourse. But also, I feel like there was a kind of inbuilt laziness into it. If war fatigue sets in right away, then you have an excuse never to go to the country, and you have an excuse never to figure out what’s going on, and you have an excuse never to figure out why it’s important.

So I was really upset by that, and also because there’s just something so odd about Americans being tired of this war. We can get bored of it or whatever, but how can we be tired? We’re not doing a damn thing. We’re doing nothing. I mean, there’s some great individual Americans who are volunteering and giving supplies and stuff, but as a country, we’re not doing a damn thing. I mean, a tiny percentage of our defense budget—which would be going to other stuff anyway—insead goes to Ukraine.

And by the way, Ukrainians understand that Americans have other things to think about. I was not very far from the front three days ago talking to soldiers, and their basic attitude about the election and us was, like, “Yeah, you got your own things to think about. We understand. It’s not your war.” But as a historian, the thing which troubles me is pace, because with time, all kinds of resources wear down. And the most painful is the Ukrainian human resource. That’s probably a terribly euphemistic word, but people die and people get wounded and people get traumatized. Your own side runs out of stuff.

We were played by the Russians, psychologically, about the way wars are fought. And that stretched out the war. That’s the thing which bothers me most. You win wars with pace and you win wars with surprise. You don’t win wars by allowing the other side to dictate what the rules are and stretching everything out, which is basically what’s happened. And with that has come a certain amount of American distraction and changing the subject and impatience. I think journalists have made a mistake by making it into a kind of consumer thing where they’re sort of instructing the public that it’s okay to be bored or fatigued. And then I think the Biden administration made a mistake by not doing things at pace and allowing every decision to take weeks and months and so on.

What do you think another Trump presidency would mean for the war and for America’s commitment to Ukraine?

I think Trump switches sides and puts American power on the Russian side, effectively. I think Trump cuts off. He’s a bad dealmaker—that’s the problem. I mean, he’s a good entertainer. He’s very talented; he’s very charismatic. In his way, he’s very intelligent, but he’s not a good dealmaker. And a) ending wars is not a deal the way that buying a building is a deal, and b) even if it were, he’s consistently made bad deals his whole career and lost out and gone bankrupt.

So you can’t really trust him with something like this, even if his intentions were good—and I don’t think his intentions are good. Going back to the strongman thing, I think he believes that it’s right and good that the strong defeat and dominate the weak. And I think in his instinctual view of the world, Putin is pretty much the paradigmatic strongman—the one that he admires the most. And because he thinks Putin is strong, Putin will win. The sad irony of all this is that we are so much stronger than Russia. And in my view, the only way Russia can really win is if we flip or if we do nothing. So, because Trump himself is so psychologically weak and wants to look up to another strongman, I think he’s going to flip. But even if I’m wrong about that, I think he’s incompetent to deal with a situation like this. Because he wants the quick affirmation of a deal. And if the other side knows you’re in a hurry, then you’ve already lost from the beginning.

[rylem33]

Rushing into It

Lily stood tall in front of the mirror, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. She admired the reflection staring back at her—a body she had designed down to the last detail. Her platinum blonde hair, perfect tan, and fit, toned physique were all thanks to her invention. “It worked,” she whispered to herself. “I can’t believe how well it worked.” She ran her hands over her flat stomach and curvier hips, marveling at how easily she had transformed.

Behind her, Maddie was equally thrilled. She turned from side to side, admiring her own reflection. Her sleek brown hair framed her face perfectly, and the fitted white blazer hugged her curves in ways her old body never could. “This is incredible,” Maddie said, her eyes lighting up as she adjusted the blazer over her chest. “Lily, you really outdid yourself this time.”

Lily gave a confident smile, adjusting her skirt. “I told you it’d work. I mean, this is some next-level stuff. Temporary physical transformation, perfect for us to blend in at the sorority rush tonight. We’ll look like we belong—just long enough to see what it’s like.”

She turned to Maddie, her eyes gleaming with pride. “You have no idea how long this took me to build. I’ve been working on it for months. Late nights, constant revisions, tweaking every little detail. It’s the most advanced thing I’ve ever made. It altered our physical appearance completely.”

“Just for one night,” Maddie added, grinning. “We’ll fit right in, get the experience, and by the end of the night, poof—we’re back to normal.”

Lily nodded, smoothing her new blonde hair and glancing at the clock. “Exactly. One night of not being laughed at and scorned for being smart.  One night of being pretty instead of plain.”

The two girls exchanged excited looks, adrenaline rushing through them. “We’re going to kill it tonight,” Maddie said, eyes gleaming with anticipation. “I mean, look at us.”

Lily laughed. “Oh, for sure. No one will even know we’re us.”

But as she turned to the mirror one last time, something nagged at the back of her mind. Her smile wavered slightly. “You feel okay, right?” she asked, casually at first.

Maddie glanced over at her, still smiling. “Yeah, I feel amazing. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Lily said slowly, pressing her fingers to her temples. “I just… maybe it’s nothing, but I feel a little… off.” She tried to shake the feeling. “Like… I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.”

Maddie shrugged, not giving it much thought. “You’re just overthinking it. We’re fine.”

Lily nodded, but something still felt wrong. “Yeah, maybe. It’s just… I’ve been so focused on how we look, but what if—”

Maddie smirked, adjusting her top and examining her new curves with satisfaction. “Yeah, well, we definitely look the part for rush now.” She glanced at the clock, watching the seconds tick closer to the event. “And we’ll blend right in, no problem.”

Lily twirled a lock of her hair around her finger, then suddenly frowned. “Wait, what’s rush again?” she asked, blinking in confusion.

Maddie froze mid-pose, her eyes narrowing. “Lily, don’t be stupid. We’re rushing the sorority tonight. You know, the whole reason we used the device?”

“Ohhh, yeah! Rush!” Lily nodded enthusiastically, her confusion disappearing as quickly as it had come. “Right! So… what do we do there again?”

Maddie’s lips thinned into a straight line. “Are you serious right now?” Her voice was sharp, but Lily just blinked innocently.

Lily let out a small laugh, bouncing on her toes. “It’s fine! I mean, how hard can it be? We just go in, talk to some girls, have fun, right?” Her smile was so genuine, it was almost painful. “Do you think they’ll have, like, snacks? Oh! Maybe cupcakes!”

A cold chill settled in Maddie’s stomach. She looked at the device on the desk. “Lily, the transformation… it’s not just physical, is it?”

Lily blinked again, her smile faltering for a second before returning. “Huh? Oh, no, no, it’s totally fine! I’m just, like, maybe a little tired or something?” She twirled another strand of her hair around her finger, her eyes glassy.

Maddie grabbed her by the shoulders. “Lily, focus. You made the device. You know how it works. How do we change back?”

Lily’s smile wavered as her brows knitted in confusion. “Oh, um… the device… right.” She paused, her blue eyes clouding over as she tried to focus. “It’s… temporary? Yeah, like… um…

Maddie rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath. “I should’ve known you’d end up like this.”

Lily blinked. “Huh? What’d you say?”

“Nothing,” Maddie snapped, suddenly feeling a sharp pang of irritation. She was concerned, this could be bad.  Really bad.

But then Lily opened her mouth again. “Do you think I should, like, curl my hair more or just leave it straight? Oh! Maybe I should’ve gone with a pink top! Pink is so cute, don’t you think? I mean, blonde and pink—”

“Lily!” Maddie barked, glaring at her. “Shut up for five minutes, okay?”

Lily’s mouth snapped shut, her eyes widening. She looked like a scolded puppy, her lip trembling slightly before a nervous giggle bubbled up. “Oh, okay! I can be quiet! Totally quiet!” she said quickly. Then, not a second later: “So, what are we gonna say when we meet the girls?”

Maddie groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples. “I can’t believe this is happening… you’re a complete airhead.”

Lily cocked her head, looking puzzled. “Airhead? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re being stupid, Lily,” Maddie snapped, unable to stop the venom from dripping into her voice. “You can’t even remember why we’re here, and you keep asking me the dumbest questions!”

Lily’s eyes welled up, and her lower lip jutted out in a pout. “I’m not stupid, Maddie! I’m just… I’m just excited, okay?” Her voice trembled slightly. “Besides, I, like, totally remembered what rush is. I just—”

“Shut. Up.” Maddie’s patience had worn thin. “If you ask me one more thing, I swear, I’ll—”

Lily blinked, tilting her head in that confused way that Maddie was beginning to despise. “Why are you being so mean?”

“Because you’re annoying me,” Maddie snapped, her voice louder now, more forceful. “And I don’t have time to babysit a ditzy blonde right now, okay?”

Lily’s face fell, but instead of standing up for herself, she just looked away, playing with a strand of her hair, her mind drifting to something else entirely. “I’m not a ditz,” she muttered quietly, but it was as if she didn’t even believe it.

Maddie sighed, rubbing her temples. “We need to focus, Lily. We need to get through tonight without embarrassing ourselves. Can you do that? Or are you going to ask me if cupcakes will be served again?”

Lily gave a small, nervous giggle. “Cupcakes would be nice, though.”

Maddie rolled her eyes, muttering to herself. “This is a nightmare.”

Maddie stood there, trying to maintain control. Lily’s mindless questions were grating on her.  Her patience was shot.  Her concern, replaced by something else.  

She glanced over at Lily, who was now humming to herself, completely oblivious. “God, I can’t believe I’m stuck with you,” Maddie muttered under her breath. “How did I ever think you were the smart one?”

Lily turned, her face bright and cheerful. “What’s that, Maddie?”

“Nothing,” Maddie snapped, her irritation building. “Just… forget it. You probably wouldn’t understand anyway.”

Lily blinked a few times, then smiled. “Okay!” She went back to adjusting her top, clearly unfazed.

Maddie stared at her, her jaw clenched. She could feel her frustration bubbling over, and with every second, she found herself wanting to lash out. Why was Lily so dumb? Why did she have to be stuck with someone so… so beneath her?

Maddie’s eye twitched. She was done. “I am going to be the best damn sorority girl they’ve ever seen. And you—just keep your mouth shut and look pretty.”

Lily’s face brightened. “Yay! I can totally do that!”

“Of course you can,” Maddie muttered under her breath, already regretting the idea of not testing the device’s mental effects first. But there was no going back. Not when they both looked so… perfect.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️ HELLO

Oh jeez more than your usual 129. Okay let's GO.

198 for 🛏️:

---

Buck is chasing it like a fucking drug.

“Your eyes are really pretty,” Buck tells Eddie one evening, when the glow of the setting sun shifts the brown to a warm bronze. “I’ve always thought that, you know.”

It’s forward. It’s risky. But the bright, happy look on Eddie’s face when he hears it is so entirely intoxicating. And it’s not just Buck. In fact, it’s not even mostly Buck. Eddie is just as bad, if not worse. 

“I love your laugh.”

“I could listen to you talk about this for hours.”

“You smell really good today.”

And eventually Buck realizes that, okay yes, things have shifted. But also, Eddie has always been like this? He has always praised as much as he teases. He has always showered Buck with such devastatingly sweet things to Buck that Buck’s lungs have stopped working. They’re just changing in tone, a little. And Buck is just advancing in his own understanding of the way they make him feel. 

He didn’t get it, years ago, when Eddie told Buck there was no one in the world he trusted more with Christopher. He didn’t get that the breathless feeling was more than just platonic devotion. He’s starting to get it. He feels like a camera lens, finally coming into focus.

So eventually, when it keeps happening, Buck can’t keep playing chicken.

They’ve got a movie set up on Buck’s laptop. Eddie’s freshly showered. His hair is damp, smelling like Buck’s green tea and ginger shampoo that he’s been using. The one that apparently smells really good. Buck slides a bit closer to Eddie, until they’re a little tangled together. Eddie’s thumb is rubbing small circles over the bone of Buck’s wrist. Something he’s been doing more and more lately.

“That feels good, you know,” Buck whispers. 

Eddie pauses the motions for a second, like he hadn’t even realized he was doing it until Buck pointed it out. Then, tentatively, it starts up again.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” Buck replies. “It… You… I mean you always feel… Uh, good.” 

Eddie inhales sharply. Buck wonders if he’s said too much.

“I do?” 

“Eddie,” Buck whispers, a slight complaint in his tone. “You know.” 

Eddie nods a little. “Yeah. I think I do.”

Buck holds his breath. He won’t be the one to do this. He needs to wait for Eddie. To be sure. Though, he thinks it is a sure thing. 

He doesn’t need to wait long. 

Eddie drops Buck’s wrist and raises his hand to cup Buck’s jaw, and suddenly they’re kissing. Kissing. It’s warm and soft and perfect. And honestly, if Buck could have guessed what kissing Eddie would be like, it would be this. Like sinking into a warm bath after a cold day. Like the sun beaming through the window and landing perfect on your cheeks. Like a breath of crisp fresh air. 

It’s everything. 

It’s so good, in fact, that Buck has to pull away from it, terrified. 

“Wait,” he begs. 

Eddie freezes. His eyes dart back and forth between Buck’s eyes and mouth, like he’s torn between the polite thing and his impulses. God, that’s hot. Buck just wants to let him do whatever he wants. 

“This isn’t because I mowed your lawn, right?” Buck asks.

Eddie’s jaw drops. “What?”

Yeah, okay. That sounded ridiculous. 

“Like, you’re not kissing me right now because I’m letting you stay in my bed and I mowed your lawn and you feel like you have to kiss me?”

Buck really hopes not. Because that might genuinely break his heart. 

“What?” Eddie asks again. “Buck? Seriously?”

“I-I don’t know!” Buck stammers. “You’ve never… So I just want to make sure that I didn’t accidentally pressure you or something.”

Eddie shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

He leans forward and kisses Buck again. 

“I’m kissing you,” Eddie says, between a series of small, quick kisses. “Because I really, really want to.”

Oh. Oh, well that’s the best case scenario, then. Buck turns off his brain. He kisses Eddie back with enough passion and fervor to make up for six years of not kissing him. 

After that, kissing becomes a thing they do, too. 

vi.

It’s early August when Buck makes the suggestion. 

He doesn’t predict that this will lead to any sort of negative response. Hell, it seems innocent enough. Here they are, nearly two months into Eddie being here, with no sign of leaving. Kissing has escalated into other things. Buck thinks, maybe it would be nice to have multiple pieces of furniture that can support both of them, for when movie nights are really just movie nights. So he asks.

“Do you want to help me find a couch on our next four-off?” 

But instead of an easy-natured reply like Buck is expecting, Eddie’s face sort of freezes. He is not happy with this question. Buck just doesn’t understand why. 

“Eddie?” He asks, frowning. 

Eddie swallows. “Uh… I don’t know.”

“O-Okay,” Buck replies. “It’s fine. I can do it by myself.”

“No,” Eddie blurts. “No.”

“No, you’re coming or no, I shouldn’t do it by myself?” Buck asks. He really doesn’t get what the issue is, here.

“No, I don’t think you should get a couch,” Eddie says. 

Buck blinks. “Since when? You’re, like, the first person to make fun of me not having one.”

“That was Chris,” Eddie mumbles.

Buck’s chest hurts a little. 

“Why don’t we bring my couch here?” Eddie asks. “It’d fit.”

Buck’s head cocks to the side a bit like a confused puppy.

“Uh, Eddie… Why would we do that? Your house needs a couch.”

“Does it?” Eddie asks, nervous edge in his voice. “No one lives there right now.”

“Right, but then when Chris comes home, we’ll have to move the couch back, and the problem remains. I still need a couch.”

Eddie looks at the ground. 

“Eddie?” Buck presses. “Come on, what’s going on?”

Eddie takes a shaky breath and looks back up at him. “What if he doesn’t come home?”

Oh. 

Fuck. 

Buck can see how he got here from a couch, but it’s still some seriously anxious pathways of logic. Buck doesn’t need to buy a new couch, because Chris isn’t coming home, so they can move Eddie’s here, and Eddie will stay forever. Because he can’t go home if his son isn’t there. Jesus. 

Buck grabs his hand. “Of course he’s coming home, Eddie. That’s… That’s not a concern. He’s coming home.”

“You don’t know that,” Eddie argues. “He’s barely talking to me. And when he does… He doesn’t want to come home.”

“I do know it,” Buck shakes his head. He squeezes Eddie’s hand tighter. “Chris is coming home, okay? I know you don’t trust yourself fully right now, so trust me.” 

Eddie’s eyes glaze over with tears. “I want to. I do.”

Buck hugs him, squeezing him. “I’ll believe it for both of us. And then get the honor of saying I told you so.” 

“You do not get to tease me when-”

“Ah, you said when! Not if!” Buck exclaims triumphantly. 

Eddie groans, defeated, but then sinks deeper into Buck’s arms. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles. 

Buck kisses the top of Eddie’s head. 

“Always,” he replies. “But I still need a couch, Eddie. When was the last time we comfortably played video games?”

Eddie sighs. “I don’t want you to get a couch that isn’t mine.”

It feels like a sort of confession. And maybe it’s entirely ridiculous, but Buck wants to give him exactly what he wants. 

Buck squeezes him again. 

“Well, okay then.”

vi.

A few days later, they’re moving Eddie’s couch into the loft. 

Buck tries not to complain about the tight squeeze and awkward journey into the elevator and up to his floor. He supposes other couches might be just as difficult. And, without the added bonus of already knowing it’s the perfect couch. So he deals with the ridiculousness of moving a couch into the loft which he knows will return home before too long. Regardless of what Eddie believes. 

They’ve had a good talk about things. Which is something they actually hadn’t done before. They just sort of kept slowly inching forward, not addressing much of anything with words or formal understandings. But the way things are going, that wasn’t quite sustainable. They needed to lay it all out in the open. And when they did, this is what they found. 

They are both pretty entirely and devotedly in love with each other. With or without shared bed arrangements. No matter what.  Eddie is still figuring himself out. A lot of himself. Not just the parts that are new in terms of their relationship.

[fairykitten]

Hey I'm loving this blog at the moment, it's do comforting. Would you be okay If I requested a fanfic? Caregiver billie eilish x little reader. Little reader has been really stuggling with big emotions not reallt knowing how ro express them. We have a tantrum over something really little and Billie calms us down by giving reader cuddles.

Thank you ❤️

Hi Anon, I’m so sorry it took so long to get this out. I’ve been having some writers block (by some I mean a lot) but here it is I hope you like it. The ending is a little rushed.

Big Feelings

Cg Billie Eilish x Little Reader

Warnings: Angst, bottle feeding, tantrums, crying, I think that’s it

A/N: This took way too long to write but it’s definitely not my best

🛑 Completely SFW please do not sexualise this. I do not sexualise age regression 🛑

*Not proof read*

Grumpy wasn’t even a big enough word to describe it. You were extremely unhappy. You hadn’t been a very good girl lately for your Mama. You were sass mouthing her a lot. It was your fifth time in timeout this week and it was only Tuesday. It wasn’t that you were trying to be bad, you were actually a good girl and always did what mama told you. You didn’t know why you were acting up but you wanted to stop.

After your timeout was over mama came over to get you.

“Ok baby doll look at me come here” she said, her tone softer than it was when she put you in timeout. Billie pulled you into her lap and looked at your frown.

“Hey no frowning. You know why you were put here you were very rude to mama earlier.”

When she said that you looked down at your lap, fiddling sheepishly with your fingers. You wanted to be good, you really did but something was stopping you. You nodded and hugged Billie.

~Later-~

“Hey sweetheart I’m gonna make a start on lunch what would you like?”

You think for a second before answering “baba.”

“You can have a baba at nap time baby. You need real food first.”

That was not what you wanted to hear. You threw your crayons down on the table.

Billie watched as you started to tear up and scream. After watching you for a bit she came over and pulled you into her lap. Usually she would let you cry it out, you had your moments. But this one seemed different. 

She held your face in her hands. “Hey hey hey, what’s got my little girl so worked up?” She tried to ask but got no response. You just gripped her shirt and cried.

“Ok ok shhhh. It’s ok princess” she kissed you gently and rocked you until your cries subsided to hiccups and sniffles.

You looked up at her with glassy eyes and a red nose. “Mama” you whispered as you gripped her tighter.

“What’s got you so upset? You haven’t been yourself lately.” Billie asked again.

You just shrugged and hid your face in her neck.

“I think someone’s dealing with some big emotions. Is that right?”

You nodded and slipped further into Billie’s arms hiding away from the world. She picked you up and swayed with you gently patting your bum.

“Sweetheart, you should’ve told mama. I would’ve tried to help you” she soothed

“M sawi mama. Didn’t know how tell you.”

She held you tightly and walked to the kitchen with you secure on her hip. As you dug your face further into her neck you heard the microwave open and the buttons beeping. When you looked up, you saw Billie was warming a bottle for you. 

“You’re only getting this because you’re upset and clearly need a nap. You’re having food when you wake up” she said.

You laid your head back down on her and she took that as an unspoken agreement. Billie pulled the bottle out of the microwave and tested it on her wrist to make sure it wasn’t too hot and then she brought you into her room to lay down

Once you were in her room she laid you down in the bed and changed you into pyjamas before laying down herself and pulling you on top of her. You both moved around until you were situated with your body lying across Billie and your head in the crook of her arm.

Billie put the bottle to your lips and you took it. You gently closed your eyes. The room was silent. The only sounds came from your nose as you tried to breathe around all the leftover snot from your tantrum earlier and the small sounds coming from the bottle as you eagerly drank your milk.

Billie softly hummed as she fed you eventually falling asleep as well.

[ruewrote]

𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑚𝑦 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒.

PAIRING: jj maybank x fem!reader WARNINGS: no comfort, unrequited love, no use of y/n GENRE: ANGST SONG INSPIRATION: bored by billie eilish WORD COUNT: 568

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you and jj sat on the beach, the sound of waves crashing gently in the background. the atmosphere was relaxed, but tension simmered just beneath the surface.

you had been friends for years, but lately, something had shifted. every laugh felt a little more meaningful, every glance lingered a moment too long. you couldn’t shake the feeling that you wanted more.

“hey, jay?” you started, your heart pounding as he turned to you, curiosity in his eyes.

“can i ask you something?”

“sure, what’s up?” he replied, a playful smile on his face.

you took a deep breath, gathering your courage. “i’ve been thinking a lot about us…and, well, i really like you. like, a lot.”

his expression faltered for a moment, and you could see the gears turning in his head. “come on. we’re best friends. you know that.”

“i know, but i can’t help how i feel,” you insisted, your voice firm but gentle. “it’s not just a phase or a crush. it’s real.”

jj rubbed the back of his neck, looking away as if he was searching for the right words. “but… what if it doesn’t work out? what if it ruins everything between us?”

you felt your heart sink. “jj, it doesn’t have to ruin anything. i just wanted to be honest with you.”

he shook his head, a frustrated laugh escaping his lips. “you’re talking about feelings like they’re so simple! you know how things are around here. i can’t just—”

“can’t what? acknowledge that we have something special?” you interrupted, unable to hide the hurt in your voice. “i thought you felt the same way.”

jj met your gaze, his expression conflicted. “i do, but it’s complicated. we’re…we’re a mess as it is. i don’t want to screw this up.”

“you said it, it’s already a mess,” you argued, feeling the heat of frustration rising. “but we can figure it out together. isn’t that what we do?”

he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “i just can’t wrap my head around it. i don’t want to lose you, and…i’m scared.”

“you won’t lose me. but if we don’t try, we might lose something even better.”

jj looked down, his shoulders slumping. “i can’t deal with the risk right now. i’m sorry.”

you took a step back, feeling a mix of disappointment and heartbreak. “so what? you want to pretend that this doesn’t exist? pretend i didn’t just tell you how i feel?”

“don’t say it like that!” he snapped, frustration creeping into his voice. “i just…i’m not good at this stuff, okay?”

taking a deep breath, trying to process his words. “maybe you need more time,” you say quietly, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. “but i can’t just sit here waiting for you to figure it out.”

jj’s expression softened, but you could see the conflict growing within him. “i want to, y/n. you have to believe that.”

“i wish i could,” you replied, your voice trembling. “but right now, it feels like you’re pushing me away. and i can’t do this if you’re not all in.”

you wouldn’t let this define you, but you couldn’t deny how much it stung. the connection you shared was real or at least you thought it was, but if he wasn’t ready to embrace it,

maybe it was time to think about starting to let go.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

© ruewrote 2024.

[starryhyuck]

gentle touch. (m) — PATREON EXCLUSIVE

pairing: camboy!yuta x afab!pornstar!reader

words: 3.1k+

summary: you need someone to give you an orgasm. anyone will do, even a random camboy.

genre: smut

warnings: reader is a big name pornstar, yuta is a solo camboy, fingering, nipple play, squirting, anal play, creampie

this fic is exclusive to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here! below is a tumblr preview

“S-Star?”

Your head snaps up at the sound of the name since you usually hear it falling as a moan from a stranger’s mouth. A man stands above you, jaw dropped open at the sight of you.

You’ve been through this before, so you flash a rehearsed smile at him.

“I’m sorry, I’m meeting someone for lunch. Would you like a quick photo-“

“I-I’m the camboy,” he interrupts you, blinking warily. “Were you the one I’ve been speaking with online?”

“Oh,” you say shyly. “Yes, that would be me. It’s nice to meet you, um-“

“Yuta,” he finishes. You gesture to the seat across from you in this private coffee shop and he stumbles to take it. He grins nervously. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say your stage name out loud like that. I was just shocked, that’s all. I mean, you’re one of the biggest pornstars in the industry.”

You laugh. You hope he’s not planning on making fun of you now that he knows this is clearly below your pay grade. You decide to be frank with him since the cat’s out of the bag.

“Well, if I’m being honest, I’ve been having a lot of trouble with my work lately. I’m stuck in a rut in terms of my orgasms, and I haven’t properly been satisfied by someone else’s touch in months. It’s why I responded to your ad. I’m hoping you can shake me out of this dry spell.”

He mulls over your words, seemingly pulling himself out of the starstruck expression he had on moments earlier. He studies you carefully before humming softly.

“I’d be happy to help you. I can’t say I’m all that confident in getting the Star to fall apart in my bed, but I’m very willing to try.”

You giggle. “I appreciate that. So tell me about being a camboy, how is it different? I’m really not familiar with that scene.”

He shrugs mindlessly. “For starters, we don’t require any of that fancy equipment they use on sets. Just a phone camera operates completely fine. And I think most of the couple videos I’ve seen draw down to the intimacy of it — if you don’t mind me saying, I believe that’s what you’ve been missing from your career. You don’t feel anything towards the people you’re fucking. You show up, the director tells you what to do, then you go home.”

You frown. “And being a camboy is the opposite of that?”

“You could say that. The audience who watch amateur couple videos don’t want to hear fake moans and perfect lighting. They want to see a real couple fucking like animals because they have a true carnal desire for the other. I don’t want anything to be a lie in my video. If something’s not working for you, I want you to tell me.”

You raise an eyebrow. Judging by the stern look on Yuta’s face, you gather that he’s deadly serious about this. You’ve never had a co-star be so concerned about your pleasure. The contract they receive doesn’t have an underlying clause that states you need to feel good in order for them to get paid, so it normally isn’t their first priority. As long as the camera gets a good cum shot and a smile on your face, everything else is golden.

“I can do that. So should we head back to your place?”

“Y-You want to film it tonight?”

“It’s been months, Yuta. I can’t wait any longer or I’ll explode.”

want to read the rest? access the $5 tier on my patreon here!

[gurugirl]

Hi, idk really why I want to ask you this but sometimes I just feel so insecure about the fact I’m still a virgin at 23. I haven’t even kissed someone. I’ve always been so insecure about my looks that I’ve never wanted to get intimate with someone, and i know I’m not ugly but I just feel like now the fact I have never had anything makes me feel repulsive. I’ve been on dates but I’ve just never felt that interested in them? I like my alone time too and I feel like I can’t be bothered trying to force a relationship when I want to work on myself. I’m going travelling in 6 months for a year and I doubt I’ll meet someone when I’m travelling so I’ll be 25 almost when I come back and still a virgin. Is that bad? I know I should take things at my pace but I just feel like there must be something wrong with me if I don’t really want to with anyone I’ve met who’s been into me? What should I do?

I got wordy here so a read more was necessary ↓

Hi hon. I say this anytime someone asks me about having not met some milestone yet - but you still being a virgin at 23 really doesn't define you at all and it's not weird. I bet I could post a poll right now and ask who's still a virgin past the age of 23 and you'd see a lot more virgins than not. In fact, I just had a recent anon who is also 23 and a virgin (pretty sure I posted this ask yesterday - check the #ask tag on my blog if you'd like) so you're not alone. Not even close.

Milestones, especially something like when you should lose your virginity, should all be done away with. There's no timeline for something like that. And I'm sure you've heard it before but you definitely want to enjoy your first time having sex and do it with someone you trust and not force yourself to get it over with. While I think virginity is mostly just a social construct, it can be a big deal to us as individuals.

You aren't repulsive, there's nothing wrong with you, and you get to decide when and with whom you do have sex with. No one but you. I actually think you sound like you have a good head on your shoulders. You've gone on dates and have made the mature decision that you weren't that into the people you dated, you know you're someone who enjoys your alone time (me too hon), you already know better than to force a relationship (some people don't get this concept bc they're scared to be alone and by the time they realize what they've done it's too late), and you're about to go on a year-long travel which is huge and there would be so many people your age terrified to travel for a year. You're brave, adventurous, and smart.

I think you're way more amazing than you realize, just from this ask I can pick up how mature and emotionally intelligent you are. Don't compromise. You're doing absolutely amazing. And also don't discount yourself that you're not going to perhaps meet someone on your travels. Who knows what will happen? Maybe you'll still be a virgin after the year is up - but that's perfectly okay too. Be open to what could happen and keep doing what you're doing.

Also, it's going to benefit you to not talk badly about yourself. Start telling yourself how impressive and how unique you are. Do away with saying such negative things. Seriously. No more of that that! You're going to be just fine. Remember that you're still young, you're smart, and you're about to do something that most people in this world cannot say they've ever done, nor would they be brave enough to (enjoy wherever your travels take you!).

xoxo

[fakeoutbf]

five stages of grief but it’s five stages of social anxiety

[goldensunset]

surprise art attack!!! here’s @deityofhearts ‘s cashmere, everyone’s favorite whimsical tiefling

[lesbiansanemi]

Was doing so good holding it together today but now that I’m laying down and trying to sleep I’m tearing up and I can feel that I’m about to burst into tears any second now

[floral-hex]

ayyyyyyy I set up an appointment for medication this Friday (telemedicine but whatever) and I get to see my former therapist again later this month. I’m kind of excited. More than kind of. Little sad, but I’m lonely and want to talk to someone. He’s a real cool dude. I’m a little worried to trauma dump the last 6 months on him, but whatever, it beats sitting there for an hour feeling like I’m wasting his time and struggling to think of things to say. dang dang dang, I’m excited.

[oysters-aint-for-me]

i feel like my mental/behavioral health has gotten to the point where i don’t just need therapy, i need treatment. ykwim