#don't even get me started on everything else

[transmutationisms]

I love your takes, but I feel super, super lost with what you were trying to say about the natalism one. I feel like you're saying that there is no contradiction on wanting more babies, a higher population number and punishing mothers, but can you elaborate on that a bit more, because it does seems contradictory. I'm not disagreeing with you, I just want to understand it better.

alright there's a perennial debate (on here but also in a wider cultural sense) that goes on where people start noticing that some of the ways in which we socially and economically de/value children, parenthood, and specifically motherhood are internally contradictory. how can it be that there is immense social and economic pressure to heterosexually partner and reproduce, and yet most public and social infrastructure is also profoundly hostile to children and their guardians? why is it that this person couldn't find a doctor to perform a voluntary hysterectomy because their bodily preferences were subordinated to the medical valorisation of their fertility, and yet this other person was forcibly sterilised or coerced into using contraception because the prospect of them reproducing is framed as socially destabilising and degenerative? how are 'family values' touted by politicians who openly and explicitly also hate real existing families? do they want people to have more children or fewer? is it more counterculture and rebellious to have children or to not have children? to have sex or to not have sex? to partner off? to be polyam or monogamous?

the answer broadly speaking is that the oppositions people see here are only surface-level. the bourgeois state's interest is in biopower, and this produces competing demands: for some people to partner off and reproduce, and for others to be exterminated. the valorisation of the white middle-class nuclear family is the same as the devalorisation of its negations: racialised people, disabled people, family arrangements other than nuclear and heterosexual, etc. you can't understand the demand that people reproduce if you don't understand it is necessarily also accompanied by the demand that other people don't. these aren't actually contradictory once you understand that what the bourgeois state wants has nothing to do with your individual behaviours and everything to do with how many 'desirable' bodies it has at its disposal. that economic consideration is what creates both the natalist policy meant to encourage [some people's] reproduction, and the exterminatory policy meant to suppress and eradicate [other people's] reproduction.

usually this kind of conversation very quickly devolves into a privilege framework argument, where people are trying to find some kind of social hierarchy that is hegemonically applied top-down and that rewards, universally, certain behaviour choices over others. again, the "people who marry and reproduce are privileged and socially rewarded over me #childfree" versus "actually some people still have to fight tooth and nail to even get medical support / approval to have children, let alone actually get access to the kind of economic and social support necessary to raise them" debate. it's smoke and mirrors because there is no universal privileging of the choice to have children or not have children. what there is, is a privileging of certain people on the basis of the economic assessment of them as biological assets, and the inverse (and mutually constitutive) devaluations of everyone else. really over-discussed examples here but to give them anyway: this is why, for example, french natalist policy and the USA's constant efforts to strip back welfare-net policies in order to harm (primarily) black families are both arising from the same basic impulses of two imperialist nation-states. obviously there are different histories and contextual factors that have resulted in france and the US trying to skin the same cat in different ways. but what they share is an underlying interest in trying to shore up their population in both size and 'fitness', understood here in its full racialised and eugenic meaning.

[lavenderprose]

Imagine you're Johanna Hezenkoss and your one goal in life is to Be Right All The Time and you've got this sidekick named Emmrich. He can do the whole corpse whispering thing and he's an objectively pretty skilled necromancer but, of course, YOU are Johanna Hezenkoss. And you decide that you like Emmrich enough to drag him along with you to glory. So you spend a few decades doing that. Only Emmrich is six and a half feet of saccharine poetry and fanatical devotion to the core tenants of the Mourn Watch and YOU, Johanna Hezenkoss, are just counting the moments until you can go Beast Mode in this bitch and show everyone what TRUE NECROMANTIC POWER means. So Emmrich weighs you down a bit but you're a little obsessed with him only because he's like. Real? That's a real dude? Saying that shit? Wild. Totally insane. He's like an annoying chattering dog who keeps all your secrets and makes the biggest saddest eyes at you when you say stuff like, "The world could be exactly what we want it to be. Aren't you MAD. Aren't you ANGRY at what they've taken from you. Don't you want to MAKE THEM SUFFER LIKE YOU'VE SUFFERED--"

Yeah. Whatever.

And then Emmrich betrays you because you're scaring him. SCARING him? After everything you've done for him? You were going to reinvent the world--you were going to put him at the top of it all so NOBODY could step on either of you ever again and now he's all, Oh Johanna, you're scaring me, this isn't what we believe in, you're letting your fear control you, blah blah BLAH he never shuts UP

Fear? FEAR, Volkarin? How fucking rich.

Then some stuff happens. Half lich 125 foot skeleton someone named Elgar'nan, maybe a God, who cares. You get so close--SO CLOSE--and then fucking Emmrich rolls in and this time he takes it ALL. Your power and your mortal life and your last remaining shreds of fucking credibility in this fucking world. And then he doesn't even have the basic fucking decency to say I Told You So. He keeps you on his desk like a tchochke and listens to you scream and spit and even THEN he doesn't do anything.

All the while he has his own sidekick now. Some vapid little thing always batting their eyelashes and paying Volkarin the kind of lip service that always distracted him, made his eyes go soft and his chin quiver. He's still such a weak man. You tell him so. You tell him and tell him and tell him until--

The sidekick disappears. Emmrich's eyes go empty and haunted in a way that makes you wonder what he's done to himself in his heartache and grief.

"Whoever did this to you," you tell him on the worst day, "You can make them pay. You're powerful enough. You defeated me." You being, of course, Johanna Balls of Steel fucking Hezenkoss.

"I just want them back," Emmrich admits. Because he's weak WEAK he's a weak man mewling pitifully in a dark room for his piece of ass while the moon rises red in the fucking sky and a God walks the earth.

"You have the power," you tell him. "When the world takes from you, you take those things back. This is what I've been telling you all these years, Volkarin. For once in your miserable life, LISTEN TO ME."

Finally, finally, Emmrich reacts. He screams. He throws a few books. He kicks his desk. Punches something, probably, because his knuckles start bleeding at some point. You watch it all with barely-contained glee. Anger, yes, fucking finally. You've been waiting your whole goddamn life for this man to realize how fucking ANGRY he is.

"How do I break into the fucking Fade?" He screams. He's not even looking at you. His hair is seven different kinds of fucked. His shirt is unbuttoned to the navel, and he's missing a boot.

"You could start by asking someone who's done it," you say. Emmrich turns, startled for some reason to hear you. Again you say, "Listen to me."

"Oh, Johanna," he sighs. "I've rarely done anything else."

It's not the words 'Thank you' or 'You're right'. It's certainly not lichdom or godhood or a 125 foot tall skeleton. But it's one point for Johanna Hezenkoss.

You'll make up the deficit eventually. Volkarin has a kid, after all.

[itsnesss]

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii :D

I'm sorry if this request is super long and detailed, but I was wondering if you could write a story with (hear me out) Thanos notices reader he thinks she's cute like a rabbit but reader is in a relationship with player 333 she enters the squid games trying to help out her bf but finds out he also joined and that he used to go out with player 222 and that 222 is pregnant with his baby. She feels hurt and asks him to justify himself he tells her he will, but "now is not the time" and he keeps trying to get closer with his ex she feels hurt but tries to be cool abt it. And that's when Thanos tries getting closer to her he convinces her to join his group and 333 is annoyed at her asking to justify her actions and that's when Thanos tells him to "f off" and he gets annoyed at him.

So Thanos to piss him off even more he kisses the reader in front of 33 and starts getting a little handsy with her then tells him to excuse him and his new gf and then boom NSFW with reader asking Thanos to tell her he loves her or what he likes abt her (just reader trying to know if she's rlly loved or not)

It's okay if you don't want to!!! Also, thank u if you read this!!! ＼(^^)／

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 | thanos (player 230) × fem!reader

summary | the request. betrayed by myung-gi, you find unexpected comfort and passion with thanos

warnings | implicit and psychological violence, mention of survival, infidelity and betrayal, emotional tension, smut, explicit content, oral sex (fem!receives), p in v, semi-public

word count | 2.0 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The smell of blood and fear permeated the air of the shared dormitory as the players tried to sleep amidst watchful vigilance and distrust. You sat against the wall, watching as Myung-gi, your boyfriend, argued with a nearby group about strategies. Your relationship with him had been a beacon during your financial struggles, a reason to keep going when everything seemed to fall apart. Yet, something about his behavior lately had changed.

You didn’t realize someone else had been watching you from across the room. Thanos, the chaotic rapper with a silver tongue, kept his eyes fixed on you, his thoughts flowing as quickly as his improvised rhymes.

"She’s cute," he murmured to himself, running a hand through his messy hair. There was something about the way you bit your lower lip while deep in thought that made him pause. Something different. Something real.

That night, after the next game was announced, you tried to approach Myung-gi. You had entered the game for him, to save him from his mistakes and arrogance. But when you found him, he was whispering something to Player 222, a young woman with a round face and tired eyes. You stopped as you caught a fragment of their conversation.

"Why didn’t you tell me before?" Myung-gi asked in a low voice.

"Do you think it was easy for me?" she replied, visibly emotional, her hand stroking her belly.

A chill ran down your spine as you understood what that meant. The confrontation was inevitable.

"What’s going on here, Myung-gi," you asked, trying to stay calm as your eyes darted between him and Player 222.

He sighed, visibly uncomfortable.

"She and I… we had something before this. It’s not what you think."

"It’s not what I think? What’s that supposed to mean? Why didn’t you tell me she’s pregnant?" Your voice rose, but you tried to avoid drawing the other players’ attention.

"I’ll explain everything, but now’s not the time."

"You always say that. What am I supposed to do while you…?" You trailed off, unable to continue as you saw his attention shift back to 222. He was worried about her, not you.

The pain in your chest was unbearable, but you decided not to show it. You walked away, finding a corner where you could breathe.

That’s where Thanos found you. He sat down next to you with the confidence of someone who had always relied on fast-talking to survive.

"That guy’s an idiot," he said softly, almost a whisper, but filled with conviction.

"Stay out of it, Thanos," you tried to sound firm, but he just laughed.

"Come on, girl. I’m good at reading people, and he’s not worth it. Join my group. I promise I won’t betray you like he did."

His words, as ridiculous as they seemed, carried weight. There was something refreshing about his unfiltered honesty, something that made you consider his proposal. When you nodded slowly, he grinned widely, as if he had won the most important game.

Later, when Myung-gi saw you with Thanos, his face darkened. He approached quickly, crossing the room with long, aggressive strides.

"What are you doing with this clown?" he snapped at you, glaring at Thanos with disdain.

Thanos stood up, positioning himself between you and Myung-gi.

"Clown, huh? At least I don’t have secret babies running around."

"Shut up!" Myung-gi shouted, stepping forward, but Thanos didn’t back down.

"Why don’t you go to hell instead?" Thanos shot back with an insolent grin. Before Myung-gi could respond, Thanos turned to you and, without warning, kissed you.

The kiss was brief but intense, a declaration as brazen as he was. Myung-gi stood frozen, his fists trembling with rage.

"Forgive us," Thanos said, wiping his mouth with his thumb as he looked back at him, "me and my new girlfriend."

The air in the room grew tense, the other players watching in silent interest. You were speechless, caught between Myung-gi’s humiliation and Thanos’s defiant attitude. Although you hated to admit it, a small part of you felt vindicated.

When Myung-gi walked away, muttering something you couldn’t hear, Thanos shrugged and glanced at you sideways.

"See? Problem solved."

"You’re an idiot," you said, but you couldn’t help a faint smile.

Thanos noticed the curve of your lips and, as if he had received the green light, leaned in toward you again. This time the kiss was longer, deeper, more intentional. You felt his hand gently glide across your cheek, and despite the chaos surrounding you, the world stood still for a moment.

When his lips parted from yours, he looked at you with that spark of amusement and audacity that never seemed to fade.

"Want to get out of here?" he whispered.

You nodded without much thought. Something in the intensity of his eyes made you forget everything else.

The two of you walked toward the bathrooms, ignoring the curious gazes of the other players. As soon as you crossed the door and he closed it behind you, he gently pinned you against the wall. His lips found yours again, and this time there was nothing to hold back the electricity between you.

"You know you drive me crazy, right?" he murmured against your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Thanos... this is insane," you said, but your hands were already gripping his shirt.

"My whole life has been insane. You’re the only thing that makes sense now."

Your breath quickened when his hand slid over your chest. The fear and adrenaline of the game mixed with the heat spreading through your body. You wanted him to take you to the limit, you wanted him to make you forget everything that had happened.

"Talk to me," you pleaded, arching your back as his fingers found your nipples.

"I want to see you," he whispered, caressing your skin through your clothes.

You nodded with a moan when he moved aside to take off your blouse and bra. His gaze fixed on your breasts, his breathing visibly quickening.

"So beautiful..." he murmured, biting his lips. His fingers caressed your nipples again, this time without the barrier of clothing, and the pleasure made you moan.

"Go on" you pleaded.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me, do you?" he said, removing your pants and panties in one swift motion.

Before you could respond, he knelt in front of you and kissed your sex. Your body shuddered in surprise, but the surprise was quickly replaced by desire. His lips and tongue traced circles over your clitoris, sending waves of heat through your body.

"That's how I like it" he gasped, raising his eyes to meet yours. The intensity of his gaze made you feel as if your entire body was on fire.

"Say it again," you pleaded in a whisper.

"Like this. Me. Like." he repeated softly, each word accompanied by a kiss on your sex.

You felt on the edge, about to burst. Your breathing was shallow, but his fingers wouldn't let you stop. They caressed you firmly, quickly, until you could no longer bear it. Your body tensed, the muscles tightening in waves that coursed through your entire body. The orgasm was so intense that it enveloped your entire body from head to toe.

He stood up while you were still swaying in his arms, watching you with a satisfied smile.

"Do you like it this way?" he asked in a soft, almost inaudible voice.

"Yes" you answered without thinking. "Yes, yes..."

"Yes?" repeated Thanos, caressing your thighs with his fingers. His hands moved slowly, but his gaze was burning and dark.

"Yes, Thanos" you moaned, going to kiss his lips fiercely.

He responded with equal passion, kissing you breathless. His fingers caressed your thighs, moving up towards the sex that was still trembling with pleasure.

"Do you have any idea how much I desire you?" he whispered, kissing your breasts with an intensity that made you gasp.

You nodded, wanting more from him. Thanos responded by quickly removing his clothes, showing you his erection. You felt wet at the sight of him, wanting to feel him inside you.

"I want to feel you," you pleaded in a low voice.

Thanos nodded, positioning himself between your thighs. Your sex tensed in anticipation of the contact. He kissed you with a hoarse whisper as he penetrated you. The pain of the first contact mixed with pleasure as he began to move inside you.

"I love how you feel," he gasped, caressing your thighs as he penetrated you.

The sight of his face flushed with pleasure was the last straw. You couldn't take it anymore, and a second orgasm enveloped you. Your sex closed around him, enveloping him in waves of pleasure. Thanos shouted your name as he came inside you, his body trembling against yours.

The room seemed to spin around you as your breathing normalized. Thanos held you firmly against his body, kissing your forehead with a satisfied whisper.

"It was incredible," he said. You make me feel alive, like I've never felt before.

You nodded silently, feeling the warmth of his embrace against your skin.

"I'm going to get you out of here," he promised, his eyes shining with a conviction that surprised you. I swear.

[leesleelee]

Undercover Connection.

Billy hargrove x mechanic! male reader.

You, a senior in highschool works at Hawkins local mechanic shop, where Billy brings his Camaro for repair after a particularly reckless night. But your calm demeanor intrigues him.

CW: strong language, mild violence, implied abuse, smoking, emotional vulnerability, tense situations, minor injury(s), soft romance.

word count: 3,163

Sometimes the people you meet are a blessing or a lesson learned.

You were quiet but you were also skilled. This is how you got a part-time job at the Hawkins mechanic. Being reliable and skillful was rare, like a blessing.

People knew you were reliable with cars, and also keeping things to yourself. Preferring the quiet hum of engines over the noise of high school drama.

Your quiet demeanor is nothing compared to Billy Hargrove. He was hot-headed. Unbearable. Reckless. You two were complete opposites.

It was a Friday after school, the sun was hotter than usual. It felt unbearable, every sweat that went down your face felt like a bullet. Your face read nothing, like it always was.

But your brain was a jumple of thoughts clashing into each other.

You were working on an old pick up truck. You were too busy on tightening the bolt on the old pick up truck.

As you were too focused on working on the truck, the bell above the garage door jingles sharply, cutting through the rhythmtic hum of tools and clanking metal.

You notice Billy Hargrove stride in. But your attention was focused on working on the truck. Why should you give all of your attention on some dick head at school? Yes, Billy Hargrove was very pretty. His plump lips wrapped around his cigarette made you question things.

But that doesn't make up the fact he's a reckless selfish dick.

Billy's usual cocky smirk was plastered all over his face. Even though there was a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. His Camaro sat just outside, steam rising faintly from the hood, a testament from his reckless driving.

Behind the counter, you barely glanced up, you were busy with the truck. The sound of heavy boots approaching didn't faze you.

"If you're here for a quick fix, you're out of luck. I'm the only one working today, and I've got three cars ahead of yours."

This catches Billy's attention, making the curly head pause by the indifferent tone. Most people in Hawkins either flinch or try to hard to please him, but you? You don't even seem to care.

"Yeah well, my car's not exactly running right now, so you'll have to make time. Can't have Hawkins' bad boy walking everywhere, can we?" Billy sharply said as he leaned against the counter, smirking.

This makes you finally look up, raising a eyebrow as he takes in the sight of Billy. The infamous mullet that is a dirty blonde color, leather jacket, fluffy curls, pretty blue eyes, and a perpetual smirk. Everything about him just screams trouble.

You can tell he is obviously impatient.

You spoke up dryly, "Bad boy or not, your Camaro is not special. You're getting in line like everyone else." You said as you rolled your eyes in annoyance. He was starting to get on your nerves.

"What, you don't think my 'baby deserves VIP treatment?" Billy responsed to you, in a mocking tone.

You shrugged and turned back to the truck, "Your 'baby' looks like it got into a fight with a tree." You mocked at Billy back.

"Be glad I'm not telling you to scrap it." Billy just rolled his eyes at your mocking. He let out a sharp laugh, more genuine than he expected. He steps closer, peering over your shoulder as you worked.

"What's your deal, huh? You always this charming, or just saving it for me?"

"Just for you. Now either tell me what's wrong with your Camaro or find another shop." You said as you were still focused.

Billy felt his eyes narrow in response, but he doesn't argue. He's not used to being brushed off like this, and he isn't sure if this annoys him or intrigues him.

Billy started to grumble. "Engines overheating. Won't stay running for more than five minutes."

As Billy said this, you finally set down your wrench, wiping your hands on a rag in a fast motion. You step out behind the counter, motioning for Billy to follow him to the car.

"Pop the hood. Let's see if I can save this piece of junk."

Billy watches you approach the Camaro with ease that rivals his own confidence. For the first time in a while, Billy feels like he's not the one in control, and he's not sure if he minds it.

The Camaro’s hood is popped, and the garage is filled with the faint smell of oil and overheated metal. You leaned over the engine, flashlight in hand, while Billy stands off to the side, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the scene in front of him.

“When’s the last time you checked the coolant?” You said as you were focused on the engine.

Billly shrugged again in response, “What, you think I keep track of that stuff?”

You smirked faintly. “Yeah, I can tell. This thing’s running on fumes and bad decisions.” You responded, amused.

Billy raises an eyebrow, leaning casually against the workbench, Billy grinned.

“You’re real mouthy for a mechanic.”

You shot Billy a glance

“You’re real cocky for someone who can’t keep his car running.”

Billy lets out a short laugh at you, surprised by the quick comeback. He picks up a wrench from the workbench, spinning it in his hand absentmindedly.

“You always this pleasant, or is it just my lucky day?”

“Depends. You always this much of a pain?” You added as you returned to the engine, not missing a beat

Billy chuckles, the sound low and genuine, and for a moment, there’s an unspoken truce in the air. He watches as you methodically works on his car, the faint glow of the flashlight catching on the streaks of grease smudged across their cheek.

Your hair sat perfectly on you as you worked effortlessly on his car. How could someone look great while having such a, dirty job?

Billy paused for a while, “You’re good at this.”

You glanced up at him, startled by the unexpected compliment. But then you shrugged.

“Had to be. This town doesn’t exactly offer much else.”

Billy shifts, his cocky demeanor fading slightly.

“Tell me about it.” Billy added as he leaned against his car.

The garage falls into a quiet rhythm the hum of tools, the faint tapping of raindrops starting to hit the roof, and the occasional creak of the workbench as Billy leans against it.

After a while, Billy breaks the silence.

“You ever think about leaving? Like, just packing up and getting the hell out of here?”

You started to pause, glancing at Billy.

“Sure. All the time. But it’s not that simple, is it?” You said as you looked straight at him.

Billy meets your gaze, something vulnerable flickering in your eyes.

“No. It’s not.” Billy responded softly.

There’s a weight to his words, a quiet desperation that you recognize but doesn’t push. Instead, they offer a small, knowing smile and return to the task at hand.

“Well, if you ever figure out a way, let me know. I could use a ride out of here too.” You added as you chuckled.

Billy doesn’t respond right away, but the corner of his mouth twitches upward.

“Yeah. Maybe.” Billy said as he quieted down.

The moment lingers, and for the first time, Billy feels like someone understands what he’s been carrying.

—-

Over the past few days, Billy returns to the shop under the pretense of checking his car, though it's pretty clear he just wants an excuse to talk to you.

You're guys' conversations start out casual but then gradually start to turn more personal. And you start to notice that Billy begins to let his guard down. Which surprises' you.

The big bad boy starting to be vulnerable to you? And you guys aren't even friends..

The rain has grown heavier, pounding against the roof of the garage in a steady rhythm. You start wiping grease from your hands with a rag while Billy sits on the workbench, idly spinning a screwdriver in his fingers. The Camaro is still half-repaired, but the tools have been set aside for the night.

It is a Tuesday after school, and a storm started not too long ago.

“Guess you’re stuck here for a bit. That storm’s not letting up anytime soon.” You broke the ice as you glanced at the rain.

Billy leans back and faintly smirks. “What, you offering to babysit me now?”

You shrug, leaning against the counter “Just saying. Unless you wanna swim home, you might as well get comfortable.”

Billy chuckles softly, but it doesn’t carry the usual bite. For a moment, he just watches the rain, his expression uncharacteristically thoughtful.

“Y’know… sometimes I think about driving until I run out of gas. Just… keep going until I’m somewhere else.” Billy said quietly.

You start to study him, sensing the weight behind the words.

“What’s stopping you?”

Billy’s jaw tightens, and he looks away, gripping the edge of the bench.

“Neil.” Billy pauses, then adds bitterly, “And all the other crap tying me to this place.”

You decide not to push, recognizing the name as Billy’s stepfather. Instead, you let the silence stretch, giving Billy space to continue if he wants.

Billy broke the long pause

“It’s like… no matter how hard I try to get ahead, he’s always there to remind me I’m nothing.”

You cross the room and lean against the bench beside him, your shoulder just brushing Billy’s.

“You’re not nothing. He just wants you to believe that so you don’t fight back.” You said softly.

Billy looks at you sharply, his defenses rising instinctively, but you don't flinch. Your calm, steady gaze unnerves him in a way he doesn’t understand.

Billy scoffs.“What do you know about it?”

“More than you think.” You responded as you shrugged.

Billy opens his mouth to retort but stops himself. There’s something in your tone an unspoken understanding that keeps him from snapping back. Instead, he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Why are you even talking to me? Most people either hate me or keep their distance.”

You started to grin.“Maybe I’m not most people.”

Billy huffs a laugh, shaking his head, but the tension in his shoulders eases slightly.

“You’re weird.” Billy said muttering.

You started to smirk.

“Takes one to know one.”

The rain continues to fall, and for a moment, the only sound is the rhythmic drumming on the roof. You lean your head back against the wall, glancing sideways at Billy.

“You’re allowed to let your guard down, y’know. At least for a little while.” You spoke up gently.

Billy meets your gaze, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes. He wants to argue, to brush off the comment, but instead, he just nods slightly.

Billy decided to speak up, barely above a whisper. “Maybe.”

The moment hangs in the air, charged but quiet. Billy’s usual bravado is gone, replaced by something raw and real.

"Here." You said as took out something out of your jeans pockets. It was a pack of cigarettes. This catches Billy's attention as you also pull out a lighter.

As Billy watches you light the cigarette, he also watches as you press the cigarette to your lips. Making Billy feel something weird inside of him. It felt like his body was on fire. A fire that he could not put out.

His gaze starts to linger on you. There was a fleeting moment of unspoken attraction.

As the silence continues, Billy stares into your eyes as you stare into his pretty blue ones. You looked at Billy fondly as you puffed smoke out of your lips.

Billy then snatched the cigarette out of your hands, looking at your beautiful (color) eyes as he took a drag. This sudden movement catches you off guard, but in a good way. It felt like he set something off in you.

Your left hand goes and twirls in Billy's dirty blonde curls. Watching him take more drags on your cigarette, making you grin for a second.

The silence was loud, but it felt amazing.

--

The rain has slowed to a steady drizzle, but neither of them has made a move to leave the garage. Billy sits on the edge of the workbench, fiddling with a lighter he pulled from his jacket pocket. You lean against the counter across from him, arms crossed as you watch Billy with quiet curiosity.

You decide to break the silence. “So, what’s your plan? Gonna sit there all night, or are you actually gonna say what’s on your mind?”

Billy glances up sharply, the lighter snapping shut in his hand.

“Who says anything’s on my mind?”

“Your whole vibe, Hargrove. You’re like a radio stuck on static.” You said smirking faintly.

Billy huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

“You’re real funny, y’know that?”

You shrug “I try.”

There’s a beat of silence before Billy speaks again, his voice softer this time.

“It’s just… different, alright? Most people look at me and either hate my guts or try to get something out of me. But you? You don’t even flinch. Why?” Billy said as he looked at you, confused.

You start to tilt your head, studying him for a moment.

“Because I don’t think the guy you show everyone else is the real you. You’re just good at pretending.” You responded calmly.

Billy freezes, the lighter in his hand forgotten. He looks away, his jaw tightening.

Billy spoke up defensely. “You don’t know me.”

“No. But I want to.”

Billy’s head snaps back toward you, his eyes searching your face for any sign of mockery. But all he finds is quiet sincerity, and it throws him off balance.

Billy gruffed, “You’re crazy, you know that?”

This just made you grin in response.

“Probably.”

The tension between you too is palpable now, the air thick with unspoken words. Billy fidgets with the lighter again, his usual cocky demeanor slipping further away.

Billy started to hesitate.

“I don’t… I don’t know how to do this. The whole… opening up thing.”

You step closer, closing the space between the two of you. You lean against the workbench beside Billy, their shoulder brushing his.

“You don’t have to figure it out all at once. Just… start with what you’re feeling right now.” You added, gently.

Billy’s gaze drops to the floor, his fingers tightening around the lighter.

Billy responded quietly, “I feel like I’m falling apart. Like I’m trying so damn hard to hold everything together, but it’s never enough.”

You didn't say anything right away, letting Billy’s words hang in the air. Instead, you reach out and place a hand on his, stopping the nervous movement of the lighter.

“You’re stronger than you think, Billy. You just don’t have to do it alone anymore.” You said with a firm tone.

Billy’s breath catches, his usual mask cracking wide open. He turns to face you fully, his blue eyes flickering with a mix of uncertainty and something deeper.

Billy, almost whispered, “Why do you care?”

“Because I see you. The real you."

Billy saw you smile faintly.

The words hang between you two for a moment before Billy leans in, hesitating just inches away from you.

“Tell me to stop.” Billy said softly.

You met his gaze. “I’m not gonna.”

That’s all the permission Billy needs. He closes the gap, his lips crashing against you in a kiss that’s both desperate and tender. For a moment, the world outside the garage—the rain, the town, everything—fades away.

When you two pull back, Billy’s breathing is unsteady, his forehead resting against your own.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” Billy said quietly.

You just grinned at this.

“Takes one to know one.”

Billy laughs softly, his hand still lingering on theirs. For the first time in what feels like forever, he feels grounded.

---

Days have past and the rain has stopped, and the first hints of dawn are peeking over the horizon. The garage is quiet except for the occasional clink of tools as you finish tightening the last bolt on Billy’s Camaro. Billy leans against the car, watching them with an expression that’s unusually soft.

You, wiping your hands on a rag speaks up,

“Alright, she’s good to go. Don’t push her too hard, though. She’s not as indestructible as you think.”

“You talking about the car or me?”. Billy responded to you as he smirked.

You grinned.

“Both.”

Billy laughs, a sound that feels lighter than usual, and you can’t help but smile back. For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the silence comfortable.

“You didn’t have to do all this, y’know.” Billy said quietly as this catches you off guard but you shrug.

“Yeah, well, maybe I wanted to.”

Billy steps closer, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.

“Why?” Billy said softly.

You paused for a moment, meeting his gaze.

“Because I think there’s more to you than what everyone sees. And because… I care about you, even if you think you don’t deserve it.”

Billy’s expression falters, vulnerability flickering across his face.

“You don’t know how much I needed to hear that.” Billy added as he almost whispered.

You reach out, brushing your fingers against his.

“Well, you’re gonna hear it again. And again. As many times as it takes.”

Billy exhales sharply, almost like a laugh, and squeezes their hand.

“You’re too good for me, you know that?” Billy said as he looked into your eyes, smiling. A genuine smile.

You grinned at this.

“You’re probably right. But I’m not going anywhere, so you’re stuck with me.”

Billy shakes his head, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

“Guess I’ll have to make it worth your while, then.”

The Camaro gleams under the faint light of the garage as Billy pulls the keys from his pocket and tosses them in the air.

“C’mon. Get in.” Billy said smiling

You raised an eyebrow “What?”

“You said you wanted out of this town, right? Let’s go. Just for a drive.” Billy said as he stared right into your pretty eyes.

You start to hesitate for a moment, surprised by the offer, but then you smile and grab your jacket.

“Alright, but if your car breaks down again, you’re the one fixing it this time.”

Billy grinned. “Deal.”

You climb into the Camaro, the engine roaring to life as Billy revs it. You glance over at him, the streetlights reflecting in his eyes, and for the first time, Billy looks free.

As they pull out of the garage and onto the open road, the town fades into the background. The sky is painted with streaks of orange and pink, and the cool morning air rushes in through the windows.

You smiled, “Where are we going?”

Billy glanced over at you. “Anywhere but here.”

You lean back in the seat, the weight of the night lifting as they drive toward an uncertain future together.

---

Credits: my Billy border is made by me but the rose border is made by kodaswrld!! Go and support them🩷

[diorcities]

heaven

── you don't need to imagine. you know it's true. they say all good boys go to heaven but bad boys bring heaven to you. haechan x afab!reader genre smut, tooth-rotting fluff mature content smut ver of this, domestic love, oral sex, riding, multiple orgasm, overstim, clit stimulation, nipple/cum play, unprotected sex, creampie, small convo during sex, love making, slight rough sex, petname (darling, baby), switch!hyuck, sweet aftercare wc 3k

author's suggestion for next reading: stargazing.

that was the night that it all began.

he crosses his arms as he leans against the wall, chatting with some guy just as handsome as him. dancing his eyebrows and looking so effortlessly alluring. he catches your eye. “who's he?”

“haechan.” among the bodies, he embodies sunlight. colored lights cascade down his face when he holds your gaze. you find out breathless.

“funny...” you hear yourself say.

haechan. you heard it before, in a dream.

the rise and fall of his chest under your cheek accompanied by the gentle beating of his heart made the same sedative effect of melatonin; hushed breathing and feather-light touches at midnight.

you could watch him sleep for eternity.

battling the sleep that closes your eyes and numbs your muscles —your fingers, drawing lines that connect his moles.

his lips in a pout are slowly kissed. imprinting the love and fond you feel, too heavy to carry on your own. his full cheeks. his jaw. the visible extension of his neck. everything is touched by you. only you. like cardinal points that you know by heart, by inertia.

“can't sleep?” his voice sounds distorted by sleep.

you hum in denial. “no.” you can't. not when you're full of love.

his lips display a soft and tired smile, “what were you doing?”

“nothing. were you dreaming?”

he opens one eye, curling his plump lips, “dreaming?” he mocks.

“you said my name.”

he smiles mischievously. “maybe i was, then. i was dreaming of you.”

you let the warmth envelop your body; you're made of liquid tenderness and longing. melted in the tangle of emotions that are still felt around, in the messy sheets, in the ghost of a body imprinted on the mattress, in the still disoriented parts of your mind. in your head, lost in outer space.

you feel your cheeks burning before he leans closer to kiss you. love-filled kisses each deeper and burdened. “keep doing it.”

“what thing?” you whisper quietly.

you feel his fingers stroking your hair, “nothing.” and an hourglass later. “i'm all yours.”

oh.

despite the space between your bodies. despite still feeling his lips in areas where only he has reached. to hear his favorite songs, to be able to recite them from memory now. staying up until the wee hours; you've never felt this close to someone.

haechan is bad. you say to yourself. your friends know it. your parents don't like him... but, but you know him. you know him thoroughly. deeply. and when the two of you are like this, so close, he looks just as an angel even though he's far from good.

you've always known the good guys go to heaven, but the bad boys bring heaven to you.

“what do you want?” he usually asks, with one of those sharp and alluring smiles; the charm of any gemini boy.

and the answer always remains the same. “your heart.”

and now your whole body is burning from the eternal craving.

“go ahead,” he whispers against your lips, “make me proud.”

you caress his stomach, and the breath he was holding up until that moment doesn't go unnoticed. he's so much of an expert. from the way he knows how to touch you, and how to make you see starts.

you want to be so tender. softer. you don't want to be like the other girls. you want him to remember you when he's with someone else. when he gets bored of your prudishness as everyone expects him to. if he does, you want him to imagine you when someone else touches him.

that's the promise you make to him. the curse you put on him.

you know where all his moles are, and when your mouth rests on one that you're sure he doesn't remember is there, a deep sound vibrates in his stomach and one of his hands brush the side of your face with affection. your cheeks light up from his sudden gesture, and coaxs you to repeat it, lower this time.

haechan swallows hard. face burning and tickling. opening his mouth when he feels you and everything explodes, and he can't control his face contracting into a eased grimace or his pulse pounding behind his ears when your wet mouth closes and takes him in it; he feels all the thick blood flowing down, and a hoarse, strangled groan reaches your ears.

it's soft. thick. you want to be sweet. his circumference doesn't stop you from treating it gently as it's so delicate; your mouth water at the feeling of tasting him. he's so sensitive even after you've done it a couple times before. you suck on his limb member, bobbing your head up and down, feeling the silky skin of his tip on your pouting lips. feeling it grow in your hand, where your palm stimulates his length while you lick the sensitive area of his cock.

he hiss affected by that, and moans loudly.

his cock is fully erect. bigger and pinker. with a coarse vein running the length of his penis, firm and heavy. your mouth starts salivating, you feel a hole open up in your belly before you take him again. the pit grows wider when it almost doesn't go into your mouth like before; it feels full. and you feel it pulse. your lips close around the base where haechan bristles. “just like that,” he coaxes, “that's my girl.”

your hand stays at the base as you turn the motion of your head against his cock. tongue stimulating his girth, passing it up and down, making circles on his hard length. breathing becoming deeper, his voice raspier. the sounds that fog up your ears exquisitely more audible. the way your mouth sits around him makes his thoughts become an incoherent jumble, where he can't talk you through properly anymore, “a-ah, darling. fuck—” incoherent sounds and elongated vocals that you steal every time you apply pressure where he likes. your pretty mouth on his cock, your cheeks puffing up every time you suck him, your lips on the tip of his penis when you pull him out and start stimulating him with your hands after leaving him glistening and sensitive.

you bite your lip as you see his slit fill with creamy liquid. you feel your body burn and your gaze become heavy as you stare at the clear fluid that comes out of it. mouth watering before you lean again and have a taste. “f-uck,” he breathes as he crumples the sheets into fists, buckling his hips into your mouth. his dick shoves all the way to the back of your throat and he whimpers breathlessly, “... baby.” suddenly with urgency. mouth half open while breathing sharply, he strokes your hair with care, and you pay back by exerting force against his length with your tongue.

“o-oh god—” his whole body shudders beneath you, “fuck, yn!” he jerks, his muscles tensing tightly before he explodes in your mouth. warm, thick cum pours out of his cock in pronounced pulsations. your mouth softens around him and receives his seed as your hand massages the soft skin of his shaft. tongue softly milking his tip until the last drop.

his cock falls heavy and languid on his stomach, gleamy and coated in saliva and cum. your mouth feels full of him, drooling from the corners of your mouth while you try not to spill anything, savoring it before haechan sees you slide it thickly down your throat. you see him catch his lower lip between his teeth, rosy cheeks leaving his beauty marks to stand out on his bewildered face.

his wild eyes see you waiting, the heavy air left by your forced breathing, sharpening as he sits up in bed and his fingers grab your waist. “good job, baby,” he congratulates you before his mouth attacks yours in a warm, debauchery kiss. both humming when his tongue steal the taste of his remains in yours, “my good girl, i'm so proud of you, baby. you want your reward?”

you find yourself being dragged into his lap as you feel enraptured by the friction that is generated when you sit on top of him. there's nothing in between when you sit on him and you can feel with every fiber his figure beneath you. legs positioning on each side of his body, a tremor whips over you as his fingers playfully brush against your thighs. all the build up of the night heating you up with barely nothing. “needy, baby?” he whispers, digits going dangerously to your core, “want me to take care of you?” your breath freezes when you feel him inserting his index fingers into you, a vast pit erupting inside you.

haechan twirls his digit before adding a second one.

your head starts spinning as you feel him sit them comfortably against your sensitive walls. “all wet and ready for me?” he coos, “by sucking me off?” his thumb taps gently your swollen clit and sends shivers down your stomach. something slips down before a throb assaults his fingers wrapped around you. “you make me hard again,” he breathes, rubbing your folds in circles while he rocks his fingers, delighted by your features contracting with each stroke. his free arm drags you closer, and you almost cry when his mouth takes one of your breasts and sucks your erect nipple. fingers removed from you so he can guide his tip to your needy entrance.

walls contracting when he slides with ease his dick so you could enhance the feeling of him burying in you. both breathing out at the overwhelming sensation, a moan escaping your lips by the way he fits inside, arms wrapping him as you take him all. your hips buckle forward to feel him in every nerve ending inside, mouth parting open when he uses his tongue around your aureole, flicking your tits.

haechan rubs your stomach, easing the tangling feeling that releases waves of pleasure through your bloodstream. “let's see how long it takes you to cum if i do this,” he says, using both hands to start rocking your hips back and forth, and while doing this, he kisses you softly. his mouth doesn't leave your lips as you immerse yourself in a desire so raw and intense that your body becomes liquid and your mind clouds over. your body is filled with a soft and fuzzy feeling, and you find yourself wishing you had something to soothe your soul.

“i love you, darling.” something like that.

your chest tightens and presses against the furious flutter that cuts off your airflow and suddenly you find yourself gasping as haechan rocks you on his growing erection and you feel stingers poking at your legs wildly, numbing the muscles around your femininity. “does it feels good?” he asks gently and you're too carried away of the pain that forms on your belly to answer immediately. your mouth only opens to let out a strangled whine. “o-oh, yes—” hands squeezing his flexed forearms, moving you in and out of his length.

haechan grows inside you and a spasm pulls your head back. his dick squeezes against your walls and fills you with exhilarating pleasure. he keeps moving your hips as you find yourself mesmerized by the way he buries himself in you. bigger. thicker. harder. haechan won't leave your waist while he tortures you grinding you against him with a steady touch, and suddenly it's too much; his kisses are too much, the way he grasps you, the way he whispers praises, the way his eyes don't leave your features, exploding until you feel light and numb, feeling your pussy burn when you start to pulse, stroking his cock rhythmically.

“done so quick, doll?” he asks mockingly, rubbing your thighs. a cocky grin blooms on his lips and you hit him lightly.

your hips inadvertently wiggle from side to side on his cock, a smile comes to your lips at the tingling followed by a jerking, awakening your senses. “...d'you feel the same way i feel this?” you wonder between gasps.

he's enraptured in the sensations that overwhelm him, “i do... you're doing so nice, hmm...” haechan lies back on the bed and pulls you with him, you find yourself straddling him, legs spread on each side of his hips, as you comfortably accommodate in the best position so his cock presses deliciously against your swollen, needy spot before you start rocking your hips picking up the pace. wet and lascivious sounds coming out of the motion of his cock sliding in and out of you, covered in your silky lubrication. pleased by the dainty moans that start to fill the room at the beat of your pounding. at the beat of your heartbeats.

you're already on the verge for nothing. carried away by the sensation of his thickness only. the way he stretches you out sends a pleasing feeling on your nerves and you accentuate your thrusts sharply and fast. haechan's hands shoot up and grip your waist, and the simple gesture sends the purest pleasure shooting through your system, blurring your vision, and filling your mind with dense, white noise. lewd sounds rhythmically synching with your hoarse moans, hands landing on his stomach for more balance as his head lolls back and his jaw clenches for the new angle.

you are completely possessed by the sweetness that spreads through your body. for the sedative sensation that fills your mind and blurs your gaze. “feels so good—” you breathe riding him with eagerness, with his cock wreaking havoc on you, making you unbridled like a madwoman and uncovering primal desire. your hands grip him when a sharp twinge shakes you and pleasure spills into your belly.

your lips squeeze together as the crushing orgasm leaves you gasping for air and agitated, shaking your body in waves of pleasant content as haechan holds you on top of him, taking every twitch of your pussy around his cock. his girth drives you to the brim as you ride your orgasm.

haechan opens his eyes in awe when you soon resume the motion on him. your body has become a bundle of spasms and tremors, unable to give you a break from the big pit in your stomach that threatens to shatter you. uncontrollable moans come from his lips in utter desperation, using his strength to mark the rhythm of your pelvis moving over him, cock lubricated by your arousal causing squelching sounds that join his whines. narrowed eyes in an anguished grimace that fades with one last thrust before a spasm assails him and he begins to slow down, moves becoming sloppier as he reach his high.

your body rises on his stomach, feeling his soft cock slide out of you, the sensation of something coming down before his belly is covered in tiny beads of cum. your sensitive walls are still widened by his girth, you feel your body tremble at not having him inside you.

haechan blinks slowly, trying to shake the lethargy out of his body. his hands gently caress your sides as he moves slightly beneath you in an involuntary stimulus. his tired eyes watch you staring at him intensely.

“more?” he wonders, chuckling, lolling his head back onto the pillow. one of his hands leaves your waist to take his cock and guide it towards your entrance. “are you sure?” you tap him gently in his stomach, feeling him stuff you again. your arousal slipping out of you, soaking your thighs and the extension of his crotch and stomach makes it easy for him to slide in. “mhm... just be gentle,” he whispers, before closing his eyes at the sensitiveness.

it takes you a while to get moving again. feeling haechan back inside of you. a comfortable sensation glides down his length, fills your swollen walls with warmth. stretching over his cozy body as you feel your muscles relax and tingle when you feel him hit that sweet spot inside. a sound comes from his lips and your legs tremble. it feels so good. “you feel amazing,” he coos, “so good, and perfectly tight.”

you begin to rock your hips back and forth. your body feels light as you move over hin, letting out breathy sounds of how good it feels. fire spreading down your legs as you perceive the sweet burning in your intimate area. feeling his fingers burn as he massages the swollen, tender lump on your clit, releasing waves of pleasure that shake your body and delight haechan's eyes. totally possessed by the sharp pain that plagues you, moving so painfully slowly over him, inducing the purest desire. “f-uck” you whine, fingers poking at your sensitive nipples sending electricity down your belly. your pussy pulse sharply.

haechan twitches under you, and the movement causes it to bury his dick deeper.

you hear him hissing, “shit,” he whispers with labored breathing before you can feel the bulge inside you grow and become stiffer. your breath gets stuck in your throat at all the sensations that come your way. his hands now control your waist and you let him change the speed of the thrusts. all your senses squeal and become cluttered by the sensation that begins to grow in your lower belly.

haechan growls and his eyes darken, filling your body, seeing you on top of him, possessed by the way he's fucking you. his cock starts tickling when your stomach contracts, your body goes numb and feels heavier and heavier. a hole opens in the mouth of your belly, and you feel it painfully descend to your intimate area until it explodes and leaves you shattered.

your body is strongly moved by him when he shifts you under him. hands grabbed by the wrists above your head feeling him bury every inch of his cock inside you, before he starts thrusting you with quick and merciless movements. your legs stretch and spill out on the bed as your mind shuts down from the devastating sensations that take over you. “hae... ngn.” you can't stop whining as your whole insides collapse and suffer an unbearable feeling that haechan provoked by his thrusts. raw emotions that explode when his lips adjust to yours and he kisses you, feeling your whole body burn and buzz before a white noise takes possession of your senses.

an awl freezes you before letting you writhe on his cock erratically, feeling the tremors take your breath away as you feel him jerks, covering himself in spasms that fill your abused cunt with his hot seed, as he whines loudly. eyes closed tightly at the white noise that fills his mind, as the scorching orgasm leaves you moaning with joy. a stroke of bliss embalms you and you find yourself smiling at the crushing pleasure that comes in waves as you sense his cum sliding down your clenching walls.

haechan lets out one last guttural sound before going still as his cock pulsates less and less along your cunt. his fingers massage your clit some more until the pleasure completely undoes you and you become a hissing mess.

you feel his kisses on the crown of your head as your heart begins to beat slower, beating along with his. so out of breath, and tired. his body is loaded with sleep and love, and when you look at him with your little eyes shining, he can't help but smile. your lips affectionately touch his before you pull away to clean your mess, but halfway through he stops you to come back to him and kiss him deeper, “let me have a taste” he says. eyes gleaming “i bet you taste as sweet as you look.”

[earthykinous]

Heck yeah! I gotta make some asshole menaces to spice things up! None of my ocs are saints tho, I'll take the chance to ramble about their flaws.

Token the Golett

He is a good guy most of time, he has a strong sense of justice and I wouldn't be surprised if he gets loved, I mean, I love him, he is my son, my baby. BUT he has a problem, he is way too emotional! He is prone to get so angry to the point to get physical, leading him to pick fights when it's not necessary, in that aspect he is not that different from the next character I'll talk about.

Saribi the Monferno

From the start she is a problematic individual, her flaws aren't hard to list, going from a bad sport to aggressive, you wouldn't be wrong in assuming that she has some inferiority complex and her way to make herself feel strong and better is messing and intimidating those she considers weak and inferior, a cowardly thing to do, also, she tends to take everything personal, that leading her to aggressive responses, if she is not picking fights she is sitting somewhere being a grumpy ass.

Tobo the Impidimp

Another problematic individual, not for aggressive behavior but his shenanigans, it is always nice to have someone to light up the mood but Tobo can go from being a comedic relief to be an absolute jerk, his jokes can go from lighthearted to rude and mean, and he doesn't care, as long as it's fun to him, he doesn't mind to mess with anyone for his own amusement, one moment he can be on your side, the next he'll make sure to cause you a headache. What's wrong with this guy?

Blueskee the Swablu

Just like Saribi, her flaws are easy to spot, she is the pompous and condescending with a superiority complex type, she has a tendency to look down at everyone, and it doesn't help at all that she is actually pretty capable and smart. She is also a hypocrite to a fault, believe me, you don't want her as a friend, unless you go with the "I can fix her" mindset, objectively she is a reliable companion in adventures and she has her moments, but better not to get too involved.

Zia the Blitzle

She can be described as the cheerful type, always laughing and getting amusement with simple things, she would make a nice companion, her problem is that she talks way too much and she hardly listens, also she is too much of an airhead to take things seriously, she is always getting distracted and in consecuence distracting everyone else, her lack of seriousness is a thing that annoys the more responsible folks, she is a good individual to hang out, but she is not the most appropiate to work with or to ask for advices, she just won't listen and downplay stuff.

Kosei the Murkrow

Objectively he is one of the least problematic, he is a reliable folk and makes a good friend, his problem is that he gets too bossy when he senses that someone is not taking the matter seriously as it should be, it would be good if it wasn't that he takes EVERYTHING as a serious matter, he usually maintains his patience but sometimes he can lose it and scold his companions when he is not necessarily in a position to do so, generally a good companion but a bit annoying.

Hanzō the Honedge

He is a tab bit meanier than Kosei, Kosei is all about honestity, but Hanzō is just outright blunt and rude, he doesn't care if whatever he says can be perceived as hurtful, generally he is not the most aproachable type, he has the "the ends justify the means" mindset, althought he is willing to play according to the rules, if he is allowed to sacrifice a fellow he will do it with no hesitation, he has the brains but lacks of a heart.

Geryu the Tirtouga

He and Palith are the very least problematic, but even he has some darkness in him, well, he compared to everyone else may appear harmeless, his flaw is not about being mean or aggressive or apathetic, he can't keep secrets, a total gossip if you will, sooner or later he'll slip it out, anytime, mostly in the worst moments, from little and silly secrets to very personal and dark ones, he can't help himself, as much as he seems to be a clueless and silly guy, his tiny brain can pack up some serious secrets, that's it, until his little brain has no more room and has to take it out.

Palith the Lileep

You may be thinking "But she didn't do anything wrong!", she is the least character you would expect to do something mean, but just like Geryu, she has a flaw, she is very secretive, not out of malice, she never has bad intentions but she is very reluctant to speak her mind or share things even when she has to, she is also very dependent, sometimes leading her to be a liability.

I love making a problematic oc and then people get mad because they're problematic. Buddy someone's gotta make the problems for the story to happen, might as well make the Problem Maker interesting.

[rafeysdeer]

imperfect for you (aka insecure reader x comforting rafe)

kook!reader x rafe cameron

prompt: a party that was supposed to be relaxing and to clear the head goes terribly wrong, leaving a very anxious and insecure reader, good thing she has her very caring boyfriend who knows exactly how to take care of her.

a/n: okay, that's the first time i write for rafe, i really like obx and rafe, so i tried my best in here, but i didn't really like it, i think it's bcs it's my first time writing about him. english is not my first language, i hope you guys like it 💗

You weren't exactly excited about going to this party, but you knew your boyfriend was, and you didn't want to be a party pooper, and at least you'd be with him, nothing bad would happen if you gave up and went to a party, right?

Well, you were wrong, terribly wrong, even though you were a kook, you never exactly fit in, you never got the right friends, and even though you were pretty, guys just didn't seem to be interested in you.

That was until, Rafe Cameron laid eyes on you, in your little sundress, having a drink at the club, just looking for some peace, you looked almost ethereal in his eyes, and he just knew you were meant to be together, it took a while to convince you of that. You spent most of the talk thinking it was some bad joke, because there was no way, Rafe Cameron, the king of kooks, was there, talking to you, interested in you and not on your hot friend, or literally anyone else.

You two get along almost instantly, his charm had you wrapped around his finger, and you loved it.

It had been months since you two started dating, but you still didn't feel like you fit into his social circle. So when, the first moment he separated from you at the party, a girl purposely bumped into you, spilling her drink on your short dress and whispering 'Whore' in your ear, you were sure.

Rafe didn't get it why you suddenly looked so upset, but he wanted everything, but to see his girl upset, so when he suggested for you, that you two go home, you happily headed towards the truck.

"Sweetheart, you need to talk to me. What the hell happened that you suddenly look like a kicked puppy?" and it only took his playful words for you to burst into tears in the passenger seat, it wasn't just the girl or the stained dress, everything looked too much, and you looked so small, a girl being an bitch was all you needed to lose it.

Rafe immediately looked at you with his blue eyes filled with concern. "Hey, love, I was just kidding, you don't look like a kicked puppy, I swear." he says trying to understand what happened to make you break down.

You looked up at him, your pretty eyes shining with tears. "I just-, I don't feel like I fit in, Rafey, like i fit right in with you, but i'm just unwanted by everyone else," she says, her voice cracking with tears. "I tried to fit in, but I've been around these people my whole life, and they've never liked me, and now I feel like I'm holding you back, or making them look down at you"

Now, he looks like a kicked puppy as he looks at you with a worried expression. "Honey, you don't have to fit in, those people at the party, they don't like me either, they look at me like shit too and that's not your fault, not at all, you don't need to fit in with them because you think you have to because of me, the only person I need by my side, is you."

She blinks her bright eyes at him, as if the words had run away from her mind. The car stops in front of the house, and he gets out, opening the door for her, greeting her with a kiss before the words even come back to her. "I love you, no matter what any of those assholes think, because you're the one who's here for me, not them."

She looks at him, looking almost wonderstruck, a smile breaking across her face, wrapping her arms around his neck. "The only person I need is you, Rafe," she says, knowing that the feeling was mutual. "What do you say we go inside, put you in some comfy clothes, and watch Sex and the City?" She laughs at how well he knows her as they walk into the house, his hand around her waist.

"Sounds perfect."

[starlighttsv]

Lego sets - Paige’s daughter

💌 Syn: paige buys lilah some gifts as a reward for getting good grades

»»— warnings: las!paige - i wrote this way before the draft lottery and was to lazy to change the team and teammates

»»— notes: finally finished bringing stuff over from wattpad!! now i just have to bring stuff from here over to wattpad 😔

»»— word count: 1.6k

»»— pair: paige x daughter!oc || lilah bueckers

Paige, Cameron, Rickea, and Rae all went to target today to get some necessities but Paige was also getting a few things for her daughter, as she had done really good on her spelling test and math test so P wanted to give Lilah a little reward. Paige and Lilah always have mama-daughter dates, and most of those date nights are exactly like this: eating take out or cooking together, baking some type of dessert (mostly already made cookie dough) and building legos while watching some game show on Netflix. It's both of their favorite things to do and they always cherish those nights as they don't get to do it a lot during the wnba season and Paige knew Lilahs gonna grow out of it eventually.

"What about Star Wars?" Rae asks holding up the gaint Darth Vader Lego set "we already did it a month ago" P says not even looking at her, focusing on the Lego boxes in front of her "okayyy what about the Eiffel Tower?" "Did it like 3 three weeks ago" "Stitch?" "A few years ago. Did it my fifth year of college." "Flowers" "have done multiple different ones" "alright we give up" Rickea says as she got tired of them all listing things off, just to immediately be shut down by Paige

Paige ignores them as they keep complaining about anything and everything, just looking at the legos trying to find some good ones, that P knows Lilah will love. That's when she sees a Moana set and a Disney Castle set, which is perfect for Lilah. Paige grabs those and put them in the cart that her and Rae are sharing, Cameron and Rickea sharing another cart.

"Finally! Can we go now?" Rae exclaims "No. I need to get a few more things. You guys can go to the front if you want, I'll meet you when I'm done." Paige says trying to make them not be annoyed anymore, as they all have been at the store for almost two hours, getting stuff they all needed or wanted in their houses. All of their feet's are starting to hurt and not mention they all have been stopped by fans like every 5 minutes.

"No, we're not gonna leave you alone when we've been stopped like 100 times already by fans. What else do you need to get? And why was it so important you get legos today?"Cameron cuts in before any of the other girls could "I need to get some cookie dough, tru fru, milk, chicken tenders, mac and cheese, carrots, mixed fruit, and a stuffed animal. And to answer your second question, Lilah got a B+ on her spelling test and a C+ on her math test, so we're gonna have a mama-daughter date night. The legos, Tru fru, and Stuffed animal are her reward and the food is her favorite meal, and we always bake something on m&d nights." Paige tells them "wait she passed? Those were the ones she was struggling with right?" Rickea asked "yeah, I was helping her study words in the locker room." Cameron cuts in before Paige can say anything "yeah she was struggling with those subjects a lot, so that's why I'm giving her a reward. She doesn't know that I know yet, as her teacher told me so it's gonna be a surprise."

"Alright so let's split up, me and cam will go get the cookie dough, milk, tru fru, and chicken tenders. You and Rae go get the stuffed animal, carrots, Mac and cheese, and mixed fruit. We can meet up at the self checkout. What kind of cookie dough and tru fru?" Rickea adds

"Chocolate chip cookie dough and for tru fru, bananas and strawberries." Paige answers making Rickea nod, and start turning around making Paige and Rae start doing the same, heading to where the stuffed animals are. "Hey Paige, wait" Rickea stops and turns around making P and Rae also do that "when you’re getting the stuffed animal, get some mini brands and lol dolls. I know Lil likes that stuff, My treat." Rickea continues "alright. Are you sure?" P asks "yep, I'm positive." Rickea says making Paige nod "ok, Thank you." Paige replies making Rickea nod and turn back around,- both groups going in different directions to get the rest of the stuff.

They all met up like planned and payed for their own stuff, Paige dropped them off at Cameron's apartment as they’re all getting ready together to go to a bar, and Paige took all her store bags home and set up what could be set up, before leaving to go pick lilah up from school. On the drive back to their home P told lilah that there was a surprise waiting for her making her get excited and start asking and guessing what it was. Obviously Paige wouldn't tell her.

When they got home Lilah was rushing Paige to unbuckle her and get her out of the car, at least Lilah still followed those rules when P knew she really wanted to just run to the house. Paige lifted her out of the car and set her on the ground "don't run yet, I need to get a few things from the car alright?" Paige asks her making Lilah immediately pout, Paige has learned to just ignored that though.

P made her way to the trunk and got her bag and lilahs school bag and then shut the trunk, lilah was still bouncing on the heels of her feet "cmon mama, I wanna see the surprise"

"Alright Alright, come here" Paige says chuckling slightly. P picks lilah up and put her on her hip and locks the car with her keys, then started making her way to the elevator to take the two of them to their apartment

Lilah is still trying to guess what it is and has listed the surprise about 4 times but P lied each time and said she was wrong. They make it to their apartment and Paige set Lilah down in front of the door, grabbed the keys out of her pocket - unlocking and opening the door for Lilah, which she immediately runs through.

She looks in the kitchen first and doesn't see anything as P put all the food away when she dropped the bags off, then she goes into the living room. Bingo!

She sees the legos, stuffed animal, lol dolls, and mini brands set up on the table, she sees the blankets and pillows that Paige brought out and put on the couch, and she sees their favorite game show "the circle" loaded up on the tv

"MAMA AND DAUGHTER DAY?!" She yells mispronouncing daughter "yep! You did so good on your math and spelling test, I figured you deserved a reward. Rickea bought you the lol dolls and mini brands though so you’ll need to thank her next time you see her. "

"I will! Thank you mama!" "Your welcome princess! But there is more, for dinner we are gonna have chicken tenders, mac and cheese, mixed fruit, and carrots. For dessert I got chocolate chip cookie dough, and another part of your reward is tru fru." She just squealed and ran up hugging Paige’s legs, P bent down a little and put one of her hands on Lilahs head and the other on her back, trying her best to hug Lilah back with the gaint height difference

"Alright babe, why don't you go get changed into your pjs and we will start dinner once you come back?" "Okay!" Lilah says and then runs off to her room

Paige goes to the kitchen and gets the chicken and mac and cheese out, filling a pot with water and turning the stove on. Once that's done P goes to her room and changes into her green plaid pj pants and a UConn zip up jacket. Walking back into the kitchen Paige sees Lilah wearing her Olaf onesie Azzi bought her so they could match, standing on her foot stool, leaning on the kitchen counter watching the water

"You ready to make dinner?" Paige asks her while walking closer and looking into the pot of water, seeing that it is boiling "yeah!" Paige opens the box of Kraft Mac and cheese and hand it to her  "dump that in the water"

After they made dinner and ate it, they put the leftovers away and got comfortable in the living room, setting blankets and pillows on the floor and making a giant bed/ pillow type thing in front of the living room table

Lilah decided she wanted to open the lol dolls and mini brands now, so while she was doing that Paige opened the Disney castle Legos and started reading the instructions

"Mama look" Lilah said excitedly making Paige look over at her and see her holding a few small food items from the mini brands "wow baby, you’re gonna have your very own pantry soon" that made Lilah giggle a little bit. Once she saw what P was doing Lilah put the other stuff away and pointed to the tv "circle?" Paige asked even though she knew what Lilah wanted, already grabbing the remote and turning on Netflix while she was nodding.

Once the shows turned on they both start working together (pretty much just Paige, while Lilah plays with the legos) to build the Disney castle. Eventually it was built and they cleaned up their mess, laying down on the couch and Lilah laying on Paige’s chest. Paige turned on a Disney movie for Lilah but she fell asleep holding onto Paige’s jacket not even 15 minutes in.

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @authentic-girl03

[johns-prince]

1967 is decidedly peak year for Lennon-McCartney as John and Paul were reportedly and observably the closest they ever been. Coming and going together, John always hanging around Paul's house, practically inseparable.

Then somewhere from the end of 1967 to the beginning of 1968, India happens, and just all of a sudden these two are having a falling out? For no real reason? Go on, you can't believe that.

1967, we know John and Paul started taking LSD together. While they were close before, tripping out like this gave them access to getting much closer to each other than before. We know the experience of dissolving into each other through that eye contact thing was described by Paul as both disturbing, but good, and other subsequent trips with John as fantastic because of this new access to each other in ways they hadn't realized was probably possible.

There really isn't much of John talking about these specific trips with Paul, but considering how insistent he had been to take LSD with Paul, and the fact they continued to take it together to the point even Jane was jealous of John getting to experience that with Paul—he was probably over the moon about it. Finally, he gets to experience this much much deeper connection with Paul, melds them into one, their thoughts and feelings becoming singular.

Aside from how much closer John and Paul had gotten, it seems the Beatles at a whole were as close as ever. You have their trip to Greece in the same year, and how there were talks about them buying an island and living on it together.

1967 was really the year for the Beatles, for John and Paul especially.

Still, there's reservations. Paul mentions how you can't come back from the kind of experience he shared with John. You could say that he meant between all them, but that's only because Paul has a habit of including the other two whenever he's uncomfortable with the strong use of “I, me, myself,” in conjugation with John in certain contexts. We were jealous, we loved him, we felt like he was leaving us. Paul only briefly mentions George and Ringo, like a second thought, when describing his first LSD trip with John.

But it was just Paul and John, and I'm sure there were many other subsequent trips that involved solely them.

So they can't go back. Their relationship has changed in a fundamental way that both excites and pleases and disturbs Paul. We can only presume John wasn't as disturbed by it as he was pleased by getting to have this closeness with Paul that no one else would be able to share in. It was all their own.

Paul loved the Lennon-McCartney relationship for everything that it was, but he probably didn't want it to swallow up his whole self/identity (which is normal) Additionally, while I believe Paul is actually pretty straight heterosexual male, I do believe he had this special exception for John—and how can you reconcile that? I don't think Paul had the emotional and mental capacity to quite start to confront the fact there was some romantic/sexual tension between him and John that couldn't just be explained away.

For comparison, Yoko was willing to let her whole identity be swallowed up in the JohnandYoko partnership and relationship that we know today. Because it was technically giving John everything he needed from a partner that would keep him satiated or delusional enough for her to keep him and his connections and finances under her thumb. Even when it inevitably frustrated her that she felt living and thriving off of John's coattails, she made the choice to forgo her individualism and identity for what being with someone like John could give her. There would be no Yoko Ono in the papers and in any relevance without John Lennon.

It was kind of a perfect storm because Yoko and John were both very insecure people, fearful of failure and being a failure and being left behind, whether that be by others or the world.

In another essay I would point out that Yoko got with John because she needed him, needed him to help her complete herself, to transform her into a cultural and artistic icon. I'm not sure she always necessarily wanted him by choice as she needed him as means to an end.

Paul didn't exactly need to be with John as much as he wanted to be John, he wanted to be by John, next to, creating, collaborating, existing with. That's why in a way it was kind of silly for John to fear Paul going off on a solo career after writing yesterday. If Paul wanted to leave John and the others he could've, but he didn't. He wanted to be a Beatle, he wanted to be John's partner, to continue making music together until they were old men. Paul chose to be with John because he wanted to be. Simple as.

Anyway, Paul might have his own complexes and issues but Paul wasn't dealing with the black hole in his chest like John was. He had his insecurities, but Paul never needed to meld his entirety with another to try and make himself complete. Paul was much more secure in himself than John, even if he had to fake it at times, Paul always seemed to know himself better. Paul didn't carry around a self-hatred and lack of self worth like John did.

From an outsiders perspective, I can't fault Paul for not either wanting to be John's everything and anything, and not being able to be that infinite everything and anything for John—because of the time, the place, the sex, all the psychosexual bullshit in between, and because in the end it probably would've devoured them.

I doubt John knew how to deal with it either. John was always prone to extremes, one or the other, you love me fully unconditionally or you don't. What made the whole affair unfair was that he had the hardest time believing anyone could love him fully unconditionally. And Paul did (he still does!) but there's only so much a normal human being with flaws and hangups of his own can take.

By 1968 it seemed like John was hardly in a great state—increasingly abusing substances, feeling completely trapped by his first marriage (no fault of Cynthia, she tried so hard to make it work and make him happy), smothered by expectations, Brian's death (he's cursed y'know, everyone who's ever loved him dies on him), and probably some kind of mental illness brought on by it all—John wouldn't have been in a very stable mindset to really consider or even care too much about any repercussions about leaving his first wife and child to then go gallivanting as a free man, with his best male friend, collaborator, and partner.

But Paul, steadfast, moderate and conservative, not yet completely in the mental anguish shitter like John is, would be conscious enough of these consequences, what it could mean for the band, for them. These things mattered. And maybe John's a special case but Paul's not gay so how could it work to begin with? If he can't make any justifications for it or excuses (maybe if I had been a girl I could have...) then it just can't be done.

Yeah we love each other yeah we want to be in each others pockets till the day we croak, we feel like we NEED each other like air in lungs (yeah we might've fucked) but there's nothing to do about it so we just need to go on like usual and keep it at that.

Because it worked fine before, the way we were dealing with it. Why try to fix something that isn't broken?

But it was broken.

John wanted more but Paul couldn't give it to him. Paul has a right to how he feels, we can never say exactly what, and he wasn't in any wrong in denying or rejecting John if that's what happened.

But, I've always believed too that Paul always had an unrealistic expectation of his own relationship with John.

Because it's just not fair to expect John to keep on going on like everything is normal and his relationship with Paul and all the feelings and wants that entails are normal.

Not holding similar feelings for a friend is just as valid as holding deeper feelings for a friend and finding you can't stay friends due to not being able to go back on these feelings.

But why couldn't Paul have John, and Linda, and a big family, and John. Why can't he have his cake and eat it to. Why couldn't John have his relationship with Yoko and still have his partnership with Paul.

Because they aren't normal best friends that's why. Their partnership wasn't normal. Even Paul admits to it. Paul had to “make way” for Yoko because in a sense he was John's first girlfriend. Of course Yoko couldn't be secure in her marriage with John if Paul was still in the picture. Even if Paul doesn't understand the depth of meaning behind this because he's preposterous doesn't make it any less obvious. And don't think for a second John would've made it any easier for Linda, and like hell Linda would've put up with it.

So, John was “if we can't be lovers we can never be friends,” and Paul was, “I'll have my cake and I'll eat it to.”

I'm not trying to paint anyone as a villain in this. Both sides are understandable, both sides don't actually want to lose the other, both sides love each other, they just have different perspectives and feelings on the matter.

It's whether these differences can be reconciled and reasonable compromises can be made.

But we're talking about John and Paul and as we know, these differences were not reconciled and they were not reasonable men to be making reasonable compromises. Also they were two men.

John wanted all or nothing. Paul couldn't give all, because it's unrealistic and because Paul probably already thought he was giving John as much of him as he could reasonably give. But it wasn't enough.

If they could have kept each other and their relationship as it was despite getting married, I do believe Paul would have had no problem keeping Linda and his kids in one box, and his special little relationship with John in another box. They were able to do it before with John's marriage to Cynthia, why couldn't the same apply?

We know why. Cynthia was never a real, genuine threat to Paul and the Beatles (but mainly Paul) in the end, John always chose to go off the other boys, to go stay nights over at Paul's home instead of staying home with his wife and kid. She simply didn't interfere.

The many girls Paul screwed around with, while certainly put John on edge, and he hardly liked or got along with any, weren't anything too serious and at that time John was willing to put up with it or he hadn't the capacity to really evaluate his life as it was and his relationship and feelings towards Paul.

But Linda was a genuine threat. She wasn't going away. Paul loved her, she could give him everything. And what could that mean for John, especially if he had been making his feelings known, he was pushing for something deeper, definitive, with Paul? How could John stand a chance.

Yoko was nothing like Cynthia. How John treated her and their relationship was nothing like his last marriage. Paul was no longer the sun in John's universe, it was Yoko, and for once Paul was actually put on edge, similar to that of Stu, if not worse. She was his wife, his partner, a woman, a girl. Since Paul wasn't a girl then what chance did he have to put a stop to it, what right did he have to say anything?

John starting it by bringing Yoko into their sessions as if to make a point. Maybe Paul got the point of he didn't not entirely but maybe he was tired and can't Paul McCartney get a little tired of these games when he's hopped skipped jumped and crawled to try and prove to John each time that yes I love, yes I won't leave you willingly, yes I'll put up with you because I love you and you love me right? We're in this together for the long haul.

Can't go back to compartmentalizing relationships outside of Lennon-McCartney, and it seemed their relationship couldn't remain as it were with wives and children between them. Things were different now, they were different. John and Paul had grown, and while their past comments about sticking together as partners even after the Beatles go bust, even in their old age, is cutesy and sweet and coming from young boys who really didn't know any better but knew they loved each other and loved creating together—what's to become of them now that Pandora's box had been opened.

It's all led up to the point when things begin to breakdown, the band starts to pull apart, relations splinter, and John starts bringing up divorce, divorce from the Beatles, divorce from Paul.

The details we won't be privy to, we can only speculate and theorize and piece the puzzle pieces. But it's such a short time frame for such a massive change from John and Paul's relationship in 1967—almost always found together, John at Paul's home, John and Paul arriving together to the studio, taking walks, dissolving into each other—to how they treated and behaved toward each other in 1968, especially after India.

Without proper communication, without making the effort to confront the reality of what they were to each other and what that might mean, plus the drugs and the alcohol, I'm not surprised these unexplained feelings between them began festering.

I've lost the plot somewhere halfway in the post. But something happened.

The final straw was probably in India. But before India, the tension must have been building, like the calm before a storm. Taking LSD together changed the way they saw their relationship, or maybe simply gave them a more honest approach to it, a much less inhibited understanding of what they meant to each other. It scared Paul, or worried him, but he still liked it, which might've been just as worrisome. John was probably thrilled about it, loved experiencing it with Paul, and it might have enlightened him further on what he actually wants. Though drugs should never be trusted. Then Brian died. The Beatles were shattered with grief. John was beginning to spiral. And then it was 1968, and in February the boys went to India. Everything changed significantly there. John and Paul spent a lot of time alone in one room. They were seen together a lot. John often gazing. Something happened. Something happened and we don't know what but it did. Sex? Maybe, maybe not. A confession? Maybe, maybe not. They come back, worse than for better. John works tirelessly to break Paul's heart and drive him to some sort of reaction. To fight, to stay. Love me love me. Paul couldn't or wouldn't because "if I had been a girl then maybe I could have..." but he wasn't so he they had to make way for Yoko. Paul loves Linda, John loves Yoko. They get married a week apart. John and Paul divorce the Beatles breakup. John really didn't actually ever love Paul and they didn't grow up in the same bed or write eyeball-to-eyeball and hey did you know he loved Yoko because she reminds him of a bloke in drag? She's me in drag. John actually manages to instill some of that insecurity and fear in Paul—about his talent, about who he is on his own, whether or not John ever loved actually him. They fight nasty like bitter exes. Paul is the first to lay down the arms with Dear Friend. John responds with Jealous Guy. They're on and off. Paul continues to try to make the effort to connect with John again, despite John and despite Yoko. The lost weekend happens, a total mystery in itself. Calls are missed and time still passes. John comes to the inevitable conclusion that he still loves Paul no matter how hard he tries to not love him, that he can't escape. John backtracks a lot. They start talking again. They occasionally see each other. They rent a studio to use after the new year in 1981. John is suddenly killed in December of 1980. Paul keeps John's name and legacy alive for years and years and years. Paul reminisces about their shared past like a widower. Their relationship will be compared to a marriage, a love affair like that of Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn, and even soulmates. They are only ever known as brothers, collaborators, and friends.

The greatest songwriting duo that ever was. The lovers that never were.

[aperrywilliams]

Satellite Call. Part I: What You Kept Hiden from Me (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

------------------ 

Author Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Words count for this part: 3.2k

Series summary: Your world crushes when Spencer is arrested. Between finding a way to get him out and keeping you afloat, there is something else you need to focus on, too. And even when you thought things couldn’t go worse, a tragedy makes you question if you can make it through.

Part I summary: One of Spencer's trips to Mexico ends badly, and you don't know how to react and what to do.

Series warnings: ANGST (with CAPS). 18+ (MDNI). Some heavy topics will be discussed and shown here. Prison arc, but mostly from Reader's perspective and Emily’s. More detailed under the cut.

Spencer lies to his wife. Drug consumption (against their will). Pregnancy symptoms. Spencer is in jail for more than three months. Hospital visits, doctor’s info dumping (not accurate). Alcohol consumption. Arguing. Strong language. A lot of crying. Emotional breakdowns. A car crash happens (as in the CM storyline). Character dies. More hospital things. Miscarriage. More angst. Depressing symptoms. Mourning. Self-doubt. Suicidal ideation, and almost consummated. Emily is everyone’s emotional support.

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

Spencer thought you would be outside the correctional, just as Penelope is now, waiting for him. But you are not. He either didn't ask JJ why you weren't with her picking him up from inside in the first place. Spencer just assumed you didn't want to be in there, and he understood your reasons. You stopped visiting him because it was hard to see him locked up like that and not do anything about it. Or at least it was what you said to him in a letter Emily handed him during a visit time when you didn't show up. It was a month ago.

After a tight hug with Penelope, Spencer couldn't help but ask.

"Where is she?"

JJ, Luke, and Garcia exchange a troubled look, something Spencer sure does notice. When he sees Garcia's glassy eyes, his gaze settles on JJ and Luke for answers.

"Spence, she—" JJ doesn't know how to express a fact she knows will break her friend.

"Man, she - we should go to the hospital right now." Luke chooses to point out what to do instead of why.

"What?! Why? What happened?!" A frantic Spencer starts to question. What the hell had happened to you? Why are you in a hospital? There are too many questions in his brain right now.

With a hand on his shoulder, Luke gently propels him to start walking to the car.

"We are going to tell you everything, I swear. But let's go to the car, okay?" This time, it's JJ's turn to speak, trying to make Spencer move.

Spencer hasn't felt so confused and afraid even in the four months of being locked up in jail.

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

Five months ago

Exhausted. It's the definition of how you feel after the draining case you just ended in Tampa. The jet is quiet enough to assume everyone is sleeping. But although the evident tiredness consumes your body and brain, you can't bring yourself to sleep. Instead, you look at your front, where your husband is reading a book. His eyes look heavy, but you know he can't sleep either, not before decompressing first. And for that, a good book tends to work most of the time.

It's amazing how you can love someone so much. After two years of marriage and a couple of years as coworkers and friends before that, it isn't easy to think of Spencer as anything less than your soulmate and the love of your life.

You are lost in your thoughts, and you don't notice Spencer's eyes on you, a lazy smile on his face.

"Where did that pretty little head go?"

You don't know if the blush on your cheeks is from being caught or from Spencer's loving tone. Maybe both.

"Nowhere in particular. Just wondering."

"Yeah?"

"Mm-mm."

"Care to share?" Spencer asks with curious eyes.

"Well," you start, smiling at him. "Since you brought it up and knowing we have two days off, what about a getaway out of the city, huh?"

It's not a sudden idea. You and Spencer have been thinking about doing something like that for a few weeks. After a chaotic couple of months at the BAU, you both need time for yourself.

Spencer's eyes softened—a little pout on his lips.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry, but I promised my mom's doctor I would be in Houston tomorrow."

You don't remember Spencer telling you that. Could it be that you had forgotten?

"Oh. I didn't know. Something happened to Diana?"

Spencer shakes his head.

"No. Just the usual. The doctors are adjusting the treatment, and we're doing a follow-up, that's all."

Another source of stress for Spencer in the past months has been Diana's health. After an important decline, he got her mom into an experimental treatment in Houston. Spencer fought hard to get her admitted, and even if you weren't sure about it, you supported him in everything related to it. That's why you won't even protest losing another chance to spend time together.

"I'm sorry," Spencer apologizes when he sees you haven't said anything. Reaching for your hand, you hold it and squeeze it reassuringly.

"It's okay, Spence. You must be there. And maybe it's a good chance for me to have a long beauty sleep," you shrug. In all honesty, your body has been yelling for uninterrupted sleeping hours in the past weeks.

"I promise we'll make up for the lost time when I come back, okay?" Spencer offers, kissing your hand. You nod and give him a soothing smile.

Some weeks later, the loud ringing of your phone wakes you from your sleep. Not fully conscious of your surroundings, you pat to the right side of the bed, expecting to feel Spencer next to you, but it's empty. Then you remember you are alone because Spencer had to go to Houston again this week.

"Hello?"

"Did I wake you up?" A confused Emily asks at the other end of the call. You check your bedside clock, and it reads 11 AM. You have been sleeping for twelve hours now.

"Yeah," you rub your tired eyes. I think I caught something. My stomach feels funny, and I was so exhausted last night. What is it? Do we have a case?"

"No, but- Have you heard from Spencer?" Emily asks cautiously.

"He called last night and told me he would come back today." There is a tense silence between you both. "Emily, what's wrong?" you ask.

"You should come to the BAU." It's all she says, and you know something bad happened.

Everything has been a blur since Emily's call and your arrival at the BAU.

As you bolt into your boss's office, you see her, David, and Penelope there, a troubled expression on their faces.

Emily is who delivers the news. Spencer has been arrested in Mexico after a car chase and caught with drugs in the trunk.

It's like she is telling you a movie plot. There is no chance she is talking about Spencer, your husband. No, it can't be. Your husband left two days ago for Houston to check on his mom, as he has been doing in the past month.

But as much as you want to deny what you are hearing, Spencer's mugshot, appearing on Garcia's screen, is screaming the truth.

You think you might throw up. And you do. Quickly excusing yourself, you run to the nearest bathroom to empty your stomach.

It's the same Emily Prentiss who enters the bathroom after you and holds your hair as you keep kneeling before the toilet.

"We are going to bring him back. I swear. Everything is going to be okay," Emily assures you, rubbing your back.

You want to believe her, but not knowing why this is happening makes it hard to think clearly.

You insist on going to Matamoros with Luke and Rossi, and no one dares to protest. You're visibly upset and confused, but staying in Quantico is not an option.

On the plane, Emily sits in front of you. You know why.

"I swear I didn't know anything, Em. I'm as confused as everyone," you confess. "And it's killing me. I know Spencer never would do what they say he did, but either I can explain why he was there."

"I know, but you must have caught something. Has Spencer seemed nervous or extremely quiet lately? Maybe a phone call or something that made him change his mood."

You think for a moment. Spencer has indeed been more pensive in recent weeks, particularly since Diana joined the new treatment. It's also true he's told you less and less about how things are going with her. But you assume it's because he's been worried about everything going well and not because something bad was happening.

A memory suddenly appears in your mind. One night after arriving from the BAU, you were making something to eat, and Spencer left his phone on the counter while he took a shower. You looked at the device, thinking it might be from work, but the name 'Dr. Medina' appeared on the screen. You didn't recognize the name because, according to what Spencer had told you, her mom's new doctor was Dr. Hammond.

"After he checked his phone, he quickly called back, but he went to the bedroom to make the call. I didn't pay enough attention. I should have done—" You trail off, and Emily rubs your arm to comfort you.

"Hey, don't. We don't know if that has to do with what's going on, so let's not get ahead of ourselves."

It's easy to say but almost impossible to achieve, especially when, upon arriving at the Matamoros police station, in one of the cells, you see your husband lying on a bench with his eyes lost in the ceiling.

"Spencer?" you mumble, but loud enough to catch Spencer's attention. He sits and looks at you with eyebrows furrowed as if trying to remember who you are. Some feet behind you, Emily, Luke, and Rossi stand, witnessing your interaction.

Without saying anything, Spencer gets up and walks over to where you are, only separated by his cell bars. With that closeness, you can see the several cuts all over your husband's face; his clothes are torn. But what shocks you are Spencer's red and lost eyes. He is visibly high.

"Do you know who I am?" you ask almost in a whisper, scared of his answer. Spencer nods slowly, his eyes shifting from lost to sad. He recognizes you.

"I'm sorry." It's not much, but you can't hold it against him right now, not when answers are required in the first place.

"Baby, it's okay. We're going to get you out of here, okay? But you need to talk to us. Can you do that?"

It's not until a couple of hours later Spencer fully returns to himself, the effects of the drugs leaving his body.

For the sake of the case, you stay out of it while Spencer tells the team what happened. You don’t want Spencer to feel uncomfortable admitting he has lied to you for weeks.

After Emily conducts a cognitive interview to get details that could help, Spencer returns to his cell. When Emily, Luke, and Rossi leave the police station to search for evidence, only you are left there with him.

Spencer looks embarrassed, and you can feel the gears in his head turning as he tries to find a way to talk to you. When he comes empty of words, he addresses you instead.

"Can you please say something?" His voice is tentative and pained.

"I don't know what you want me to say," you reply honestly.

Spencer sighs deeply. "Tell me whatever you're thinking now. Yell at me, tell me I'm a fucking liar, that I dragged you into this mess, tell me I'm a terrible husband."

You consider his words for a moment. Is it true everything Spencer says is what you're thinking? It probably is, but you don't feel like you have the energy to bring it out the way he wants. However, there is one underlying question that has been on your mind since all this started.

"Why? Why you kept it from me? You don't trust me enough to tell me those things?"

"No, don't say that. I do trust you," Spencer rushes to say, but he knows it's a weak defense considering the circumstances.

"Then I don't get it. Why, Spencer?" Your tone isn't accusatory but sad. You could have helped him if you had known. But he, for some reason, decided against it.

"I was trying to protect you," he says and shakes his head. "I know it sounds stupid now we are here, but it's true. I didn't want you to worry about my mom's situation. I'm so sorry."

Spencer is probably telling the truth, but it doesn't make you feel better. Not seeing him behind bars like this.

The helplessness of not having anticipated this situation and now being unable to do anything to solve it eats you up inside. Despite that, you know Spencer is having it worse. So you, as his partner and who loves him the way you never loved anyone, decide to put your feelings aside to be his support at this difficult moment.

"It's okay," you assure him, placing your hands between the bars to hold his. Spencer is quick to respond and grabs onto your hands as if you were a lifeline to him. "We'll figure it out."

Spencer's eyes fill with tears as he repeatedly murmurs, 'Thank you' and 'I love you.'

You have always considered yourself a strong and tenacious woman. Since you were a kid, you have been independent and able to overcome everything that came your way. But adult life has continued to test you, and this has been no exception. When you find out Nadie Ramos has been murdered and all the evidence points to Spencer, you're about to break down. Still, you can't because if you do, who's going to support your husband? You have to be strong. Some reprieve emerges when you learn Ramos is an American citizen and Spencer can be prosecuted on American soil.

Baby steps.

The jet is mostly silent, save for Emily's occasional page-turning or Luke's typing on his phone. Rossi seems to be sleeping. You and Spencer are in one of the back seats. Spencer's head is in your lap while you absentmindedly play with his hair, looking at the night sky out the window.

"You think Scratch is behind this?" Spencer asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. You consider your answer for a couple of seconds.

"I do. I mean, it's such a damn elaborate plan. I can't think of anyone but Scratch."

Spencer assumes a sitting position and examines your face. He knows you are upset. Cupping your cheeks, he looks directly at your eyes.

"I have no words to say how sorry I am. And I promise to make it up to you for the rest of my life when this is over."

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. When you open them again, you are met with Spencer's expecting gaze.

"I know you will." And you really think that. "I love you, Spencer. I'm sure we are going to get through this." Your voice trembles with emotion, but your words seal a promise you mean to keep.

"And I love you. So so much. God, I'm so lucky to have you." Spencer's arms envelope you in a tight embrace. You melt into him, breathing his scent. It's the way you usually use to ground yourself. It's hard right now because, once the jet lands in Virginia, Spencer will get snatched from you, for God knows how much time it will take.

When the BAU elevator doors open, you find JJ, Penelope, and Tara waiting for you all. Spencer has his cuffed hands covered with your FBI jacket so as not to attract too much attention. Garcia is the first to rush forward and hug him.

You only have fifteen minutes. Then, the police officers will take him to the station to book him and leave him in a cell.

JJ and Tara hug him, too. You assume they are giving him reassuring words, something you know he needs right now. From your peripheral, you see Emily exchange glances with Stephen and retreating to Emily's office. You can't say what's going on, but curiosity gets the best of you, and you follow them. You know Tara, Penelope, and JJ will keep Spencer occupied for a couple more minutes.

"What? Is the bureau abandoning him?" You hear Emily ask, visibly upset.

"They said Reid traveled with his personal passport and didn't inform the office. That's enough for them to step aside," Stephen explains.

"So we don't have legal support," Emily confirms, and Stephen nods.

You can't help but interrupt the conversation.

"What? Spencer will not have a defense?" Both Emily and Stephen startle and turn to see you. While Stephen gives you an apologetic look, Emily is quick to speak.

"Not provided by the FBI, but it doesn't mean Spencer will be alone in this. We'll find a lawyer for him."

"They do want to bury this, don't they? It's bad publicity, and Spencer will fall for it," you start to complain, your breathing picking up speed.

"Hey! We won't let that happen, do you hear me?" your boss steadies you and makes you look at her with both hands on your shoulders. "But for now, Spencer can't know. Not until we get this figured out."

As in cue, you look through Emily's window and see Spencer still chatting with JJ and Penelope.

"This is a nightmare," you mumble. Emily squeezes your shoulder.

"We're going to solve it, I promise."

You see Spencer looking around with a frown. Penelope and JJ are still talking to him, but Spencer seems to be looking for something, better said, someone: you. Cautiously, you descend the stairs to join him. You know you don’t have much time, and you know you can’t tell him about the lack of a lawyer.

“Hey,” Spencer calls when he finally sees you.

“Sorry, I went to talk to Emily about something real quick while giving you time with the team.” You don’t want to delve into specifics and hope Spencer doesn't ask about it.

“Thank you. Can we talk more privately?”

“Sure.” You both move to a corner with fewer people around. Spencer’s eyes trail every part of your face as he wants to engrave you in his memory. At the lack of words, you frown. “Spencer?”

“I know this isn’t going to be easy. I’m terrified, and not just for me. I’m scared about how this will affect you and us. I just want to say that I love you with all my heart, but I will understand if this becomes too much. You don't owe me anything. Don’t feel obligated-”

“Stop! Stop right there. Don’t even try to finish that sentence,” you rush to cut him off.

“But-”

“No. You are my husband. You are the love of my life. You are the person I chose to share my life with. In thick and thin, remember?” You cup his face so he can look directly at your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. Physically, we’ll be apart, but I won’t rest until I get you out, and we'll be together again, okay?”

Spencer’s eyes fill with tears, and so do yours. He leans down to catch your lips with his. He can’t hold you - he’s cuffed - but for now, you can do that work. Lacing your arms around his neck, you deepen the kiss, and you can feel your tears mixing.

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise,” Spencer mumbles on your lips.

“I know you will,” you mumble back before kissing him again.

Emily clearing her throat takes you both out of your bubble.

“I’m sorry, guys, but it’s time. Police are here,” she apologetically announces. You look at Spencer, and he nods. It's time. With a last lingering kiss and an ‘I love you,’ he turns and follows Emily down the hall. Spencer doesn't turn around because he knows if he does and looks at you, he won’t be able to leave you there.

You watch him walk away and wonder if this nightmare will end soon. You don't know if you'll have the strength to hold on to him and yourself and if the love you share will be enough to keep the hope of a better tomorrow alive.

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

Next part

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

[dorabellingham]

Play fair

warning: a little more sexual than normal

characters: jude x reader

summary: when you are far from each other and he decides to make a surprise, but things end up going another way

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was dawn when you woke up from a confused dream and, when you opened your eyes, you found only silence. The bed seemed bigger, more empty, and you felt the cold air in the space that was usually filled by Jude's heat. He was away, travelling with the team, and his absence made each night seem longer.

You tried to turn around and sleep again, but it was impossible. The longing corroded, and the sheets had the smell of him, which only made everything worse. Every memory emerged strongly: his touch on your skin, the hoarse timbre of his voice whispering things that only you could hear, and the way he always pulled her close before going to sleep.

You sighed deeply, feeling your heart tighten. You ran your fingers through the empty pillow next to you, closing your eyes for a few seconds. There are only two days left, you remembered, trying to find consolation, but in fact, two days seemed like an eternity.

Unable to relax, you got up and walked around the house. The lights were off, and everything seemed too calm. You decided to get a glass of water in the kitchen, but even while drinking, the silence still screamed. You went back to bed, but sleep just didn't come.

It was almost three in the morning when you heard the sound of the key turning at the door. You froze, your heart beating fast. It was impossible for it to be him, but at the same time, who else would have the key?

You got up slowly, his bare feet against the cold floor, and went to the corridor. When the door finally opened, you saw the tall and familiar figure entering. Judae

-Jude?

Your voice came out weaker than you expected, full of disbelief.

He put the suitcase on the floor and opened a tired but satisfied smile.

-Surprise, babe!

He said, his eyes shining when he saw you standing there, with his T-shirt covering your body.

Before you could answer, he was already crossing the space between you, pulling her into a tight hug. His smell, the heat, the presence... everything was real again, and you felt your eyes fill with tears.

-What are you doing here? Shouldn't you come back in just two days?

You asked, the voice muffled against his chest.

-I knew you missed me, and so did I. -He replied, holding your face with his big hands and looking directly into your eyes. -I needed to get back to you.

You couldn't answer, because before he could think of anything, Jude tilted his head and kissed you with intensity. It was as if he was waiting for it all the time, as if every second away from you had been unbearable.

You responded to the kiss with the same urgency, holding his shirt and pulling him closer. His hands slid down your waist, squeezing as if he wanted to memorise each curve, while he felt the heat rise through his body.

-You're crazy, Bellingham.

You murmured against his lips, panting.

-Crazy about you.

He replied, with that corner smile that made you lose control.

He took you on his lap with ease, as if you didn't weigh anything, and began to walk towards the room.

-Darling....

You started protesting, but he interrupted you.

-Shh. You have no idea how I waited for that.

He said, his voice hoarse and low, sending chills all over your spine.

When you arrived in the room, he gently put you on the bed, but there was nothing soft in the look he threw at you. It was intense, loaded with desire, and you felt your cheeks getting hot.

He took off his shirt with a quick movement, revealing the muscular body you knew so well, and you bit your lower lip, trying not to show how much you were being affected.

-You don't play fair, Jude.

You said, the voice is low and almost trembling.

-I never promised I would play, sweetie.

He replied, leaning over you while his smile increased.

His hands found the bar of your shirt - or rather, his shirt - and slowly slid it up, revealing more of your skin. You didn't try to stop him, you just closed your eyes and let him drive.

The kisses began on the neck, slowly descending as his hands explored every centimetre they had missed. You held the sheets tightly, trying to contain the small sounds that tried to escape from your lips, but Jude seemed to know exactly how to provoke you.

-I missed it so much, Y/n.

He murmured against you skin, his voice deep and hoarse.

You couldn't answer; all you could do was pull him closer, as if you needed him to breathe.

The room was filled with low sighs and moans, each more desperate than the other. There was nothing soft or delicate that night; it was pure accumulated desire, longing overflowing with every touch and movement.

When you finally walked away, both were panting, your bodies hot and intertwined. Jude looked at you with a satisfied smile, and you rolled your eyes, although you couldn't contain your own smile.

-Did you miss me for that?

You provoked.

-And was it enough, babe?

He replied, with that presumptuous tone that you hated to love.

You shook your head, laughing low, and snuggled up to his chest.

-Next time, try not to keep me waiting so long.

He wrapped you in his arms, kissing the top of your head.

-I promise. Next time, I won't be able to stay even half of this time away from you.

And that night, for the first time in days, you finally slept peacefully.

[domiiomii]

It is interesting to me how we don't actually see much of Viktor's life in Zaun besides his interaction with Singed but it is clearly something he carries deeply with him. One could think maybe Viktor hated Zaun, he seemed to isolate from other kids, or think he felt resentment that because of his birthplace he became ill, however none of that seems to be true because from the start he was always pushing to make the hextech available to the people of the undercity and when he gets his own power his first instinct is exactly that, to go back home and help those who have been ignored, who need it the most, who are just like him.

Perhaps it is not so much about growing up in Zaun but rather that Piltover made sure that he knew he didn't belong there. He knows he is an outsider, in every way, he says it when he meets Jayce and describes himself as a "A poor cripple from the undercity", which is very peculiar because we don't see anybody else in the series, despite the multiple characters from Zaun who are disabled, speak like that or seem to have those thoughts because disability is such a commonality there.

Viktor's "insecurities" if you want to call them that don't come out of thin air but out of the way he was clearly treated in piltover, him not wanting to speak publicly during Progress Day is sad sure, but it is not just because he saw his existence as "less than", but because he clearly was reminded of it constantly. It is not that he lacked the confidence, he clearly believes in himself, he knows his abilities, but he also KNOWS he won't be taken seriously, either because he is from the undercity or because he is disabled.

This very point is made clear through the scene with Mel when she argues for making hextech weapons, it is such a harsh reality check of Viktor's place in piltover. Viktor's voice doesn't matter at all to those in power, no matter how brilliant he is, no matter how much he has changed their lives. Mel doesn't even look at Viktor, she doesn't talk to him directly, Viktor is talked over by Mel and Jayce who are again literally standing over him while he sits down, the whole scene has the two of them having a conversation with Viktor in the room but ignoring him. Mel doesn't even try to argue her point with Viktor because to her Viktor's thoughts and opinions don't matter at all. In the end she tells Jayce and Jayce only "The decision is yours".

Another particular point is how she tells Jayce only "The peace is already broken Jayce, I'm only asking you to prepare to defend your people." YOUR PEOPLE meaning piltover and again all this being said right in front of Viktor an outsider, a man from the undercity, discussing how they will use the technology he helped developed against HIS OWN PEOPLE, people just like him. Very important detail here is that right after this interaction Viktor goes to the undercity and asks Singed for help after he realizes piltover will never help him, he goes back for help the only place he can get it because despite how much Piltover has benefited from Viktor's mind, he is never welcomed and his thoughts on what his work should be used for are not heard at all, everything of value is taken from him then he is left to die.

It is very funny how Piltover is regarded as this "beacon of progress" when you see how they treat their own population of the undercity where they don't even see them as equal citizens. This very point reflects in how Jayce is able to climb the social ladder while Viktor is always relegated and eventually even his name is scrapped from the technology he helped develop, he is a stranger in his own "city".

Talking about Jayce is also worth mentioning that, aside from Sky (also from the undercity), Jayce is the only person in piltover we see who cares about Viktor and the point is not lost on me that he comes from a lower much smaller house (not that his relationship with Jayce is perfect don't get me started on the "You were never broken Viktor" thing, that is a post of it's own). The relation of Viktor to the other elites of piltover we see is just bleak, Mel as established completely disregards him and even when he is at death's door I don't think she cared about him, she cared that Jayce cared about Viktor.

And then the worst of all, Heimerdinger who by all means should have been Vitkor's first ally as his professor is actually so quick to dispose of him and without a second thought and tell Viktor to destroy the technology that could very well be the only possibility to save him. The difference in how Himmerdinger acts with Ekko and Viktor is night and day, he denies Viktor any help to figure out how to save him while he "sacrifices" himself for Ekko's time machine. Now, how is a time machine not as dangerous as magic? I don't understand but this makes sense in the context that Viktor's life as a disabled person from the undercity seems to be established to be of less value.

For better or for worse piltover made sure that Viktor never forgot where he came from so him returning and helping the people who would never get help otherwise, people just like him, was the only path he could really follow.

On a personal note I find it so sad that the very clear class divide line in the plot was flatten in favor of “This is not about ideologies or territory, this is about saving humanity” when the very reason Viktor even became what he became and took the choices he did to what he thought was the best to save as many of the people like him as possible IS because of that class divide and it is because of the way piltover treated the undercity because of the pollution that made him sick and because of the the way piltover ignored the situation of the people they harmed.

[sunsetsover]

looking back at kantbison's relationship and specifically kant's relationship with submission throughout the show after episode 8 has really put a lot of things into perspective for me.

bc like. it's complicated. i'm not gonna pretend that it's not. there's too much there in kant's character to ever really be able to isolate one thing he says or does before like. episode 6 or so. and be able to say 'this was exactly what he meant, this was his sole feeling and/or his sole motivation here' bc everything's far too intertwined to ever pick apart properly.

that said though. i always felt there was a sense of reluctance in kant when it came to giving bison power over him and specifically the bdsm thing. and i could never quite figure out bc i didn't particularly get the impression that he disliked it either but there was just something that was off about it that i could never quite put my finger on, but i think i've finally figured it out. and it's really not that surprising, bc as this show's gone on it's become increasingly clear that with kant all roads lead to the same place, and that's the issue of choice - or lack of choice, in kant's case.

submission was never really the issue i don't think. kant knows how to submit, is good at submitting - at the end of the day, isn't that what he does with christ? submit to his will, follow his orders? isn't he collared and chained to him? isn't he such a well behaved dog for him? kant knows very well how to submit. but the thing is is that it's not a willing act of submission where christ is concerned. kant submits because, like with pretty much every other facet of his life, he has no other choice. he behaves because he has to.

and then the next thing kant knows there's bison, outright telling him that he'd like him to submit. to let bison take charge and have kant bend to his will, to follow his every whim. and bison wasn't pushy about it - if anything it was the opposite. he was reluctant, assuring kant that it was fine, that he didn't have to, that actually maybe it was better that they didn't. he gives kant the choice. but it's not a real choice. kant's answer is already laid out for him.

and i think that's where the dissonance entered. you see hints of annoyance and frustration before then, but the much more subtle 'off' feeling that i felt started around then. and i think it's bc for all intents and purposes kant was already completely submitting to bison's will. he was already going along w whatever bison wanted bc he had to, bc he needed bison to trust him, bc saying no to anything thrown his way wasn't (and had never been) an option.

but ofc bison didn't know that. he just wanted to dom his boy. but i think he could also feel the reluctance and the confusion around it all. bc despite what he said and did to reassure bison that he was into it and wanted it too, kant was always subconsciously resisting. and as i said i think there's a lot in that too, it's not simply one thing - bison is a murderer at the end of the day, and dom/sub dynamics are supposed to be built primarily on trust, and kant didn't trust bison not to hurt him too much or go too far. it was also clearly a new thing to him considering he didn't even know what a safeword was. and it was maybe even some weird sense of loyalty to christ. you know what they say: you can't serve two masters. and kant already had one. he was already collared and chained, already submitting. and kant's current master had an awful lot of power over him. he knew what kind of punishment awaited him if he disobeyed.

but above all else kant knew he couldn't really say no. and he hated that.

and so we're back to choice again. the one thing kant has never had. here he is getting forced into submission again - not by bison, but by circumstance. and so no matter what he says or does or how into it he really does seem, there's always this subtle reluctance that rolls off of him. there's always just something off about it all. (which, thinking about, may have been one of the reasons why so many people were turned off by kantbison, bc there was just something not quite right in the vibes, but i digress)

but obviously things change. kant accidentally falls in love with bison, despite his best intentions. and, maybe even more importantly, bison falls in love with kant. and that love changes bison - bison, who needed power so desperately when they first met that he turned nearly every interaction they had into a game of tug of war. bison who, despite not necessarily needing kant's submission, would also never ever give in to kant's will, not even a little. but that same bison falls for kant, and he begins to yield. starts to let himself just be, and by extension let kant just be too. bison begins to settle, become a little docile. he lays on kant's chest and kisses his feet. he rolls onto his back and lets kant loom big and dominating over him, despite how desperate he once was for power. and kant is clever, he knows that's what bison wanted. that's why he gave into him all the time. but by letting kant maintain some of the power in their relationship without a fight, he's basically telling kant i would like you to submit to me, but i don't need it. i just want you. and kant hears that. and that changes things. because without knowing it or even really meaning to, he's given kant a choice.

and we all know what kant chooses.

and to be clear, for the most part i think this is all happening on a subconscious level without either really realising it or thinking about what's happening. but the choice is conscious. it's his. and kant chooses the master that gives him the option to choose. that choice changes everything for kant. everything. it recalibrates his whole world view, his whole life. and the minute he chooses (chooses!) bison, he submits himself to him wholeheartedly. he puts the collar on himself.

but we don't get the reality of what that means until ep 8 bc of yknow. all the stabbing and kidnapping and manipulation and retraumatisation and scheming such. but then we do see it. and we see just how deep it goes for kant, that ease of submission, and his desire for it. how he doesn't run despite having many, many opportunities to do so. how he doesn't eat even when bison's nowhere to be found and he has freshly cooked food in his hands bc bison hasn't said he can. how he doesn't untie himself despite being able to bc bison tied him up for a reason. and sure, all of that is love too, and it's also playing nice bc he desperately wants bison's forgiveness. but this is all also an active form of submission, the same way a dog submits to their owner when they say sit, down, stay, wait. a good dog doesn't eat until it's given permission. and ultimately doesn't the fact that kant safewords tell us exactly what kind of state of mind he's in? what he thinks about their situation and their relationship? (and i won't go over it bc i've already talked about in length here but the act of safewording truly said so, so much)

and yknow, thinking about it really it shouldn't even be surprising bc we were literally shown who kant was back when they first met. and what did he do? went when bison said to go, came when bison said to come back. bison said you're not doing this alone and kant sat still and let bison ride him to his heart's content. it was very subtle, but he really was submitting to bison in little ways all the way back then! the signs were there!

and the beautiful thing about it to me is that in episode 8 there is not a single moment of dissonance between kant and bison. there's no more weird vibes. there's just kant and the first choice he's ever got to make. kant and his chosen master. kant and the hand at the end of his leash. kant and bison.

[deeplyshalllow]

I’m sorry but this is bullshit.

Let’s break this down

On Fiyero being Captain of the Guard

He is a double agent. He does not believe what he stands for and is using his position to do what he can to find and help Elphaba. I don’t know what to say to you if you missed the obvious statements about this in Thank Goodness, because I have always thought they were so obvious they really should be rewritten because I don’t know how he wasn’t found out and arrested when he said all that.

Morrible: Now you've been at the forefront of the hunt for the Wicked Witch, haven't you? Fiyero: I don't like to think of her as a Wicked Witch.

Glinda: Fiyero, I miss her too, but we can't just stop living. No one has searched harder for her than you.

I guess he doesn’t literally say “shhh I’m secretly using my position to undermine the regime” but I think the writers thought people watching the show had some basic media literacy.

Does this mean he didn’t commit atrocities? No probably not. But bear in mind if he hadn’t been doing it, someone else would have. Fiyero knows this, by placing himself here he is in the best position both to protect Elphaba but also protect the Animals in the regime. I know we don’t see him helping the Animals, but nor do we really see Elphaba doing so? Given he used the first opportunity, when they wouldn’t get in trouble, to help the Lion Cub it seems a pretty good inference that he was trying to send out warnings to Animals when he could (especially now the movieverse has made him the only character aside from Elphaba who is friends with an Animal – he probably even has a network he can tap into!).

“Searching for Elphaba did not somehow compel him to go and volunteer to follow (or to give!) orders in the name of the dictator who was trying to have her assassinated the entire time.”

IDK about you, but I think if I were to search for someone wanted and was given the opportunity to both have the best resources and information to find her and hamper people who might find her and hurt her, I would totally do it this way too.

“He didn't accomplish anything from it either, by the way”

Um, yes he did? He literally succeeded in the exact goal he was planning by joining the Gale Force: to protect Elphaba. If he hadn’t been Captain of the Guard in the throne room when the Wizard called his guards she would have been captured and killed, instead she escaped which eventually allowed the Wizard to be overthrown and Elphaba’s values to be acted on in the form of Glinda ruling.

Her position in the Wizard's regime was foisted upon her. There are things we can discuss, but I find that many folks need reminding that Glinda would undoubtedly have been disposed of (or worse) if she failed to make herself useful.

There is a difference between keeping quiet, not protesting a regime and actively endorsing it. Glinda was doing the latter and she was not forced into that. (She also was not helping undermine it the same way Fiyero was).

Fiyero: I can't just stand here grinning pretending to go along with all of this! Glinda: Do you think I like to hear them say those awful things about her? I hate it! Fiyero: Then what are we doing here? Let's go, let's get out of here! Glinda: We can't leave now, not when people are looking to us to raise their spirits. Fiyero: You can't leave, because you can't resist this. And that is the truth. Glinda: Maybe I can't. Is that so wrong? Who could?

Elphaba: No, of course you never! You're too busy telling everyone how wonderful everything is! Glinda: I'm a public figure, now. People expect me to... Elphaba: Lie? Glinda: Be encouraging!

I promise I do not hate Glinda, I find her character fascinating, and she is starting to make up for the awful stuff she does in act two by the end of the musical. But do not pretend for one moment that she is not actively complicit in this regime, with no real desire to stop it until it starts actively hurting her.

“He always WANTED to be self-absorbed and shallow, and all his actions are consistent with that. Elphaba saw depth and discontentment in him, yes: but (and I cannot stress this enough) when given the chance, he channeled that in the wrong direction. He didn't confront that and become a better person.”

He gave up his wealth, privilege and safety to ensure Elphaba escaped from the throne room and continued her cause (this isn’t about running away with Elphaba btw, he lost everything from the moment he pointed the gun at the Wizard). He was ready to die for her in the Corn Field scene. I don’t know what more you want him to do to prove that he was not shallow and he wouldn’t die for his cause in the exact same way Elphaba was prepared to?

“He doesn't think through the wider repercussions of anything he does — thoughtlessness is just one of his core character traits.”

I don’t think there’s anything to say here except you are just actively wrong.

Fiyero is the only character of the trio to put thoughts into his actions. He is the only one who doesn’t immediately act on his impulses.

Elphaba reacts immediately to what she thinks is right without thinking of the consequences to herself or, frankly, if it will even work. This is shown metaphorically in her outbursts of magic in early act 1 but also more literally in Defying Gravity, confronting the Wizard after Wonderful and, even in some twisted sense, in capturing Dorothy.

Glinda reacts immediately to her first instinct of what she wants and feels emotionally and regrets later (often when it’s too late to backtrack) – the hat, telling Morrible and the Wizard how to capture Elphaba, even saying she’ll join Elphaba in Defying Gravity can be seen as examples of this.

Fiyero, however, (ironically) is the only one of the group who thinks. In throne room he goes in, plays the part of a loyal guard until he’s got rid of the witnesses and neutralised the threat of the Wizard, in the Cornfield scene he realises that the only way he can get Elphaba away safely is by threatening Glinda, at the end of the show he is the one who plays along as a scarecrow for days while coming up with the plan for Elphaba to escape (and make no mistake, this is Fiyero’s plan, he’s the one who knows the water melting rumour, he’s the one who knows the secret passages in Kiamo Ko).

“But let me be frank: that is literally all he ever accomplishes in the show. He gives her dick one time, and one of his castles, and that's it. That's the culmination of his years trying to find her”

He saves her life three times in act two. What the fuck are you talking about?

Glinda who is ultimately vindicated, and has — for all her faults — made the necessary choices to fulfill Elphaba's wishes,

I will give you that. But it’s not by any foreplaning. Glinda does become a good person, but it takes the whole musical and some very horrible consequences for her actions, ones that she quite rightly will forever regret and have to spend her whole life making up for.

And none of this would have been possible without Fiyero anyway, if it had not been for him Elphaba would have been captured, executed and Glinda would have never had the courage – or possibly even the motivation to fight back.

[Wicked Act II spoilers]

[edited for tone and clarity of purpose, apologies for initial crudeness and frustration]

Okay, obviously I'm biased, but I'm gonna need the Fiyeraba shippers to please set a lot of your people straight about some things. I've seen way too many people trying to say that Glinda is just a selfish bimbo and that Fiyero is a virtuous and selfless figure more worthy of Elphaba's love. I'll set aside for now the idea of "worthiness" in this context. But let's start off with Fiyero joining the Wizard. Hoo boy...

Yes, he was initially somewhat less tolerant of the propaganda against Elphaba than Glinda was; yes, he was secretly trying to find her so he could run away with her or whatever. But honey: those facts DO NOT fully absolve his actions as the Wizard's top officer, or selfish recklessness throughout Act II. I see so many popular threads and posts romanticizing and whitewashing with "oh but he didn't REALLY join the Wizard, he just pretended so he could try to get to Elphie! It's all for love, and he sacrificed everything for her!" As if the literal captain of the literally fascist forces responsible for the oppression of Animals wasn't equally responsible for said oppression?? Hello? Fiyero really didn't think of seeking out Elphaba in ANY other way that DIDN'T involve becoming *checks notes*... the trusted leader of the troops committing all the abuses she's fighting against in the first place???? Like it's cool and all that he helped with Brrr, and it's all well and good that he planned on betraying the Wizard as soon as he found Elphaba (which took literal years, so I guess we're left to assume he was prepared to just keep doing fascism indefinitely if she didn't show up????), but uh... it's kind of concerning to how eager some of you are to make excuses for this dude volunteering as the head of the Ozian Gestapo??? smdh

He didn't accomplish anything from it either, by the way — like yeah, we get it, he did everything he did whilst silently fantasizing about running away with the Witch he was being paid to hunt. Fine. But I can't be the only one who doesn't buy that as an actual excuse???? Like, guys: nobody forced him to join the fascist army — even with crazy ulterior motives. He wasn't coerced into it; it wasn't his only choice or anything. Searching for Elphaba did not somehow compel him to go and volunteer to follow (or to give!) orders in the name of the dictator who was trying to have her assassinated the entire time. He could have just not done all that. (Genuinely so curious how the second film plans on covering that material tbh)

Glinda made several questionable decisions that can be (and have been) debated, but she is still very unambiguously a victim. Her position in the Wizard's regime was foisted upon her. There are things we can discuss, but I find that many folks need reminding that Glinda would undoubtedly have been disposed of (or worse) if she failed to make herself useful. I mean hell: she wasn't even supposed to meet the Wizard in the first place — she was only there because of Elphie. If she'd tried to resist, it would have immediately gotten her labeled the Witch's accomplice. As soon as she'd chosen not to get on the broom, her fate was out of her hands, and all available options were varying degrees of horrible.

That's not the case with Fiyero. He went to the Wizard all on his own; no one ever cornered or forced him into it. Thinking Animals are people, and having a crush on Elphaba, simply did not stop him from carrying out the regime's orders — for years. It's not clear exactly how long he's been captain at the start of Act II, but the clear implication is that he's been a soldier for most of the time skip. I've seen Fiyeraba accounts with headcanons about him acting as a double agent, secretly doing stuff to help Animals — and that's a great idea, it would indeed serve to make a lot of his actions way more palatable — but until we actually get to SEE some of that (maybe they'll add it for the movie version of Act II; we'll have to see), there is nothing in the story to suggest that. He certainly didn't do a damn thing for all those Animals who were enslaved and caged in the Wizard's palace — and we don't see a single other Animal outside of there in Act II, so as far as we know Fiyero has participated over those years in the near-total removal of Animals from Ozian society. In the name of "finding Elphaba". Not fighting for her cause. Just finding HER. For HIMSELF.

It's fine to have a ship you like, obviously — and there is genuinely a lot to like about Fiyeraba, I don't dislike the idea of them as a couple or as friends — but come on guys: please stop those out there idealizing Fiyero as somehow a clear "morally-superior" alternative to Glinda, lol. The dude had power, access, and opportunities, for years, that he could have wielded in any number of really selfless, revolutionary ways. He didn't. And I propose (apparently controversially): he simply didn't want to. And that — at the end of the day — is (much as some would like to deny it) true to his character. He always WANTED to be self-absorbed and shallow, and all his actions are consistent with that. Elphaba saw depth and discontentment in him, yes: but (and I cannot stress this enough) when given the chance, he channeled that in the wrong direction. He didn't confront that and become a better person — for the most part he just displaced and projected it onto Elphaba as an object of obsession, and put on an even thicker pretense than before.

All his actions — regardless of the complexity he has deep down — are those of a man who never gives one fuck about anything or anyone, except (kinda sorta) Elphaba. But even then: at no time does the care he has for her seem to extend to caring about any of her wants or needs outside of sexual validation from him, or how she might feel about his actions, or indeed the impacts of those actions upon her, her cause, or anyone or anything else. I don't think it should be all that controversial to say: he doesn't think through the wider repercussions of anything he does — thoughtlessness is just one of his core character traits. He doesn't think ahead or see meaning in anything outside of what can temporarily excite him, in the moment. I think people place a little too much weight on Elphaba clocking him with regard to his internal pain, and seem to expect (understandably of course) that she is not only right, but moreover that he will grow from that in a positive direction, based on her influence.

But he doesn't. If anything, we get a surprising inverse: he pretty much proves her wrong. Not to say he didn't have hidden depth and all that, like she said: but his hypothetical heart of gold proves not to really amount to much in practice. He doesn't grow out of his shallowness and his self-centeredness: he grows into it in a way that he hadn't quite yet in school. Where once he was only masking an internal listlessness, after he's been cracked open by Elphaba he decides to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow, not just coasting by. He performs in new ways — as a soldier, eventually as a "fiancé", etc. — but by Act II we meet a Fiyero who has staked the last remaining shred of humanity in him on the vain pursuit of the only object of his desire that has ever been unavailable to him, and firmly chosen to say to hell with everyone and everything else.

When put to the test, Fiyero sacrifices Glinda, the Animals, and all else that Elphaba actually cared about, to pursue his own unresolved crush from college. Mostly to get in her pants, really — as harsh as I'm sure that sounds. But let me be frank: that is literally all he ever accomplishes in the show. He gives her dick one time, and one of his castles, and that's it. That's the culmination of his years trying to find her — years in which he actively worked as one of the stormtroopers (or even the one commanding them) committing untold crimes against Animalkind (who, again, it seems have been all but erased from Oz by Act II): y'know, the very crimes Elphaba sacrificed her life to try and stop????? He spent the most important time of his life — of his own free will — being a fascist soldier, but he "did it for her" somehow, so according to some, it's perfectly fine. Heroic, even. Yikes??

But let's make something very clear (since my original version of this post caught a lot of flak, including slurs and other rudeness):

I like Fiyero. I find his role extremely interesting (I could do a whole dissertation on him, but I'm especially a fan of the way his proving Elphaba's assessment of him wrong presents a fascinating parallel and contrast with Glinda, which I think is lost on a lot of people). But PLEASE stop with all the misguided Glinda slander and idealization of Fiyero. By all means, thirst! But don't give me all this bullshit about him deserving Elphaba more, or being super deep, or being really principled or noble or whatever else. He does have layers, and quite intriguing ones, but his insides are straw — he isn't meant to have some deep, overwrought emotional core or motivations; he has passions that he acts upon when given the chance. That's it. And that's fine. Actually kind of refreshing in a story rooted in simple children's fantasy but rife with intensely complicated personalities. Fiyero makes it his mission to represent denial of depth and embrace of raw, spontaneous desire — and I for one love that, and wish others appreciated it.

And in all seriousness, shipping wars aside: by the end of the story, it's Glinda who is ultimately vindicated, and has — for all her faults — made the necessary choices to fulfill Elphaba's wishes, bring down the regime, etc. And all that despite herself. She's miserable: not just because of the mistakes she made, but because of her correct moves as well. Fiyero is simply not — and could never be — that person. And that's okay! Like I said: I am not anti-Fiyero. Fiyero's willingness to throw it all away for the sake of sheer, overriding passion is a huge part of what people like about him, of course — and it's an obvious factor in the attraction between him and Elphaba, because she has her own flavor of that impulse as well — but I'd actually argue that it's not romantic, it's his fatal flaw. And thematically that's fantastic! But I just don't believe that it somehow means he "deserves Elphaba more" because he "gave up his life for her" or whatever. In part because NOBODY truly "deserves" Elphie tbh, not 100% (and I question anybody who claims otherwise), but ultimately because I don't accept the idea that his fleeting acts of passion make up for all the shit leading up to them (or even proceeding after them tbh). At least Glinda managed to do what Elphaba always wanted in the end — but I would die on this hill even if Gelphie didn't exist.

You don't have to agree with my analysis of Fiyero and his choices, relationships, etc. — that's fine. What isn't fine is trying to portray Glinda as some kind of spineless traitor whore for the Wizard and Fiyero as a conscientious hero who earned Elphie through self-sacrifice. That's just not the story that was written. It's WAY messier and more interesting than that.

[viagracex]

pls could you do one where r doesn’t drink- maybe because of childhood or something else, and is worried what the boys (like the Arthurs, Chris, batch) will think, but George just supports and loves her? comfort and fluff omg 💔

Beyond the Bottle

george clarkey x reader

summary: At game night, your choice not to drink sparks supportive gestures and honest conversations

warnings: brief mentions of childhood trauma, alcoholism, and abuse

note: this one was a bit harder to write for me for personal reason. so i kept everything on a lighter note. sorry if it isn't exactly what you wanted.

2.1k words

Masterlist

₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊

You fidgeted nervously with the hem of your sweater as you stood in George's kitchen, watching him grab drinks for the rest of the boys. The sound of laughter and chatter drifted in from the living room where Arthur, Chris, and the others were hanging out. Your stomach twisted with anxiety.

George turned to you with a gentle smile, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners. "You alright, love?" he asked softly.

You nodded, trying to force a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

George set down the bottles he was holding and stepped closer, gently taking your hands in his. "Hey, what's really going on? You can tell me anything, you know that."

George waited patiently, giving your hands a reassuring squeeze. Taking a deep breath, you finally met his eyes.

"I don't drink," you confessed in a rush. "And I'm worried what the boys will think. I don't want to be a buzzkill or make things awkward."

Understanding dawned on George's face. He pulled you into a tender embrace, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"Oh, love," George murmured softly, his breath warm against your ear. "You don't have to drink if you don't want to. The lads won't care one bit, I promise."

You pulled back slightly, searching his eyes. "Are you sure? I don't want to be the odd one out."

George cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing your cheek. "You could never be the odd one out. Not to me, not to them. We love you just as you are. They're good guys, yeah? They'll understand."

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, easing some of the tension from your shoulders. You leaned into his touch, drawing strength from his unwavering support.

"It's just..." you started, your voice barely above a whisper. "After what happened with my dad, I can't... I can't be around alcohol without feeling sick."

George's eyes softened with understanding and a fierce protectiveness. He knew about your childhood, about the nights spent hiding from your father's drunken rages. The scars it had left, invisible but deep.

As if on cue, Arthur's booming laugh echoed from the living room, followed by Chris's playful jab "Oi, Clarkey! Where's those drinks, mate? We're dying of thirst out here!"

You tensed, but George just chuckled and called back, "Keep your pants on, lads! Be there in a moment!"

Turning back to you, he said softly, "Listen, you don't owe anyone an explanation, alright? But if you want to tell them, I'll be right there with you. And if you'd rather not, that's fine too. I'll just grab you a fizzy drink or whatever.

Your eyes welled up with a mixture of relief and gratitude, your voice thick with emotion as you responded. "Thank you, George. Really, it means so much to me, you always know how to make things easier."

"I've got you," he said, his voice full of quiet conviction. "And I've got an idea."

George turned to the fridge, rummaging around for a moment before emerging with a bright smile. In his hands were two cans of sparkling water, festively decorated with fruity designs.

"How about we make our own special mocktails?" he suggested, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "We can get all fancy with it - add some fresh fruit, maybe even those little umbrellas I've got stashed away somewhere."

You couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. This was the George you had fallen for - the one who could light up a room with his infectious energy, who always found a way to make you feel special and included.

"That sounds perfect," you said, feeling a wave of relief wash over you.

George set about gathering ingredients - fresh strawberries, lime wedges, and orange juice. As he worked, he regaled you with stories from his latest YouTube video shoot, his animated gestures sending drops of juice flying as he squeezed the limes.

"And then," he said, barely containing his giggles, "Arthur decided it would be a brilliant idea to try and backflip off the sofa. Ended up with his legs over his head, stuck between the cushions!"

With practiced ease, he mixed them together in a tall glass, adding a splash of grenadine syrup for color. He garnished it with a slice of orange and a cherry, presenting it to you with a flourish.

"Your very own mocktail, love," George said with a wink. "It'll look just like what the lads are drinking, but it's all safe for you."

Your heart swelled with affection for this wonderful man who always seemed to know exactly what you needed. You took a sip, the sweet and tangy flavors dancing on your tongue.

"It's perfect," you said, smiling genuinely for the first time that evening.

George beamed, clearly pleased. He gathered up the other drinks and gestured towards the living room. "Ready to join the others?"

You nodded, feeling a surge of courage. With George by your side, you could face anything.

As you entered the living room, the boys greeted you warmly. Arthur's face lit up when he saw you, his grin wide and welcoming. "There you are! We were starting to think George had kidnapped you for himself."

Chris chimed in, raising his beer bottle in a mock toast. "Cheers, love! What's your poison tonight?"

You felt a flicker of anxiety, but George's steady presence beside you gave you strength. "Actually," you started, your voice stronger than you expected, "I've got a special mocktail tonight. George made it for me."

The room fell silent for a moment, and you felt your heart skip a beat. Then, to your relief, Chris’s face broke into a wide grin.

"Well, well, well," he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "A mocktail, eh? God, did he knock you up or something?”

Your face flushed crimson, and you stammered, unable to form words. George quickly stepped in, his arm protectively wrapping around your waist.

"Oi, chill out, mate," he said, his tone light but with a hint of warning. "It's not like that."

You took a deep breath, drawing strength from George's steady presence. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for your response. The soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light over the gathered friends, their faces a mix of curiosity and concern.

"I... I don't drink," you explained, your voice barely above a whisper. "Because of some things that happened when I was a kid. It's just... it's not for me."

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you braced yourself for their reaction. But to your surprise, Arthur was the first to react. His face softened, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"Hey, no worries at all," he said, his voice gentle. "We're just glad you're here with us."

Chris nodded emphatically, looking a bit sheepish. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that comment. Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

The tension in the room dissipated like morning mist, replaced by a warm, accepting atmosphere. You felt George's arm tighten around you, and when you glanced up at him, his eyes were shining with pride and love.

"See?" he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "Told you they'd understand."

As the evening progressed, you found yourself relaxing more and more. The boys didn't treat you any differently, including you in their jokes and conversations as if nothing had changed. They even started asking about your mocktail, genuinely curious about the recipe.

At one point, Arthur disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a tray of glasses filled with colorful, non-alcoholic concoctions. "Thought we'd all give it a go”

As Arthur set down the tray of mocktails, the living room erupted in a chorus of excited chatter. Chris reached for a vibrant blue drink, garnished with a pineapple wedge and a tiny paper umbrella. He took a tentative sip, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"This is actually quite good!" he mentioned, taking another hearty gulp.

The others followed suit, each selecting a colorful concoction. The room filled with the sweet, fruity aroma of tropical punch and freshly squeezed citrus. You couldn't help but smile as you watched your friends enthusiastically compare flavors and debate which mocktail reigned supreme.

As the night wore on, the atmosphere grew increasingly jovial. Bach suggested a game of charades, and soon the living room was filled with raucous laughter as everyone took turns acting out increasingly ridiculous scenarios. You found yourself doubling over with giggles as Isaac's attempted to mime "The Lion King" while balanced precariously on the arm of the sofa, his arms outstretched in a comical imitation of Simba being presented to the animal kingdom.

The warm glow of the lamps cast dancing shadows on the walls as the night deepened. The air was thick with laughter and the sweet scent of fruit from the mocktails. You found yourself swept up in the joy of the moment, your earlier anxieties melting away like ice in the summer sun.

As the charades game wound down, Chris suggested a round of board games. Soon, the coffee table was covered in a colorful array of game boxes, their contents spilling out in a cheerful mess. Monopoly money fluttered to the floor as Arthur dramatically declared bankruptcy, while Bach meticulously arranged his Scrabble tiles, a look of intense concentration on his face.

The room was alive with friendly banter and playful accusations of cheating. You couldn't help but marvel at how seamlessly you had been integrated into this tight-knit group of friends. Their acceptance warmed you from the inside out, like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter's night.

You found yourself nestled comfortably on the plush sofa, your legs tucked underneath you. George sat beside you, his arm draped casually over your shoulders, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. The warmth of his touch and the genuine camaraderie surrounding you melted away the last of your earlier anxiety.

George glanced over at you, his eyes soft and full of love. "Did you have a good time tonight?" he whispered, his voice just loud enough for only you to hear over the gentle murmur of conversations tapering off around you.

You nodded, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the room's laughter-filled atmosphere. "I really did, thanks to you," you replied, your voice tinged with heartfelt gratitude.

George's smile widened, and he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Anything for you," he murmured. As the others began to gather their things and say their goodbyes, George turned to face you more fully. "You know, I'm really proud of you tonight. You opened up, and that's not always easy. But you did it, and see? They all love you just as much as I do."

The room had mostly emptied, leaving just the two of you in the cozy aftermath of a night well spent. The gentle clink of dishes being gathered and the soft closing of doors punctuated the quiet.

"Thank you for being so supportive," you said, your voice soft but steady. "It means the world to me, knowing I can be myself around you and your friends."

George's hand caressed your cheek, his touch tender. "Always," he promised. "You never have to be anyone but yourself around me. That's the person I fell in love with."

The two of you sat there for a moment, wrapped up in each other's presence, the comforting silence enveloping you like a blanket. Outside, the night grew deeper, the moon casting a silvery glow through the windows, bathing the room in a soft, peaceful light.

Finally, George stood, offering you his hand with a charming grin. "Let's call it a night, yeah? I think we could both use some sleep after all this excitement."

You took his hand, squeezing it gently, and let him pull you to your feet. As you headed toward the bedroom, your heart felt light and your spirits lifted. The evening had started with anxiety, but it ended with laughter, acceptance, and the unshakeable support of the man you loved. Tonight wasn't just another social gathering; it was a reaffirmation of everything wonderful in your life.

In the quiet of the bedroom, with only the soft rustle of sheets and the distant hush of the city at night, George pulled you into his arms, holding you close. His heartbeat, steady and reassuring against your ear, was a reminder of the constant strength and comfort he provided.

"Goodnight, love," he whispered, his breath warm against your hair.

"Goodnight, babe," you replied, your voice a contented sigh. As you drifted off to sleep, wrapped up in the love and warmth of the man beside you, you knew that no matter what the future held, with George, you would always have a place to belong.

[wowzees]

no matter what

lando norris x reader

y/n is not used!

a/n: this is a short story from uni- i have to make a collection of them

the one i posted earlier was also one, but these have not recived feedback from my professer or have been majorly edited. enjoy!

High school felt like the longest four years of my life. Days blurred into each other, routines became a way of life, and I thought I had everything figured out. I was one of those kids who had his group of friends, the sport he played, and the classes he took, all laid out in a neat, predictable order. Nothing ever really changed.

And then, there was her.

She’d been there from the start. The girl who wasn’t just a friend,she was something more, though I never said it out loud. We’d grown up together, laughed at the same inside jokes, gotten in trouble for the same stupid things. She knew me better than anyone else, maybe even better than I knew myself. She was the one I could count on for anything. She was the one who could make me laugh on days when nothing felt right. When life got heavy, when there was uncertainty about my future, she was the one I turned to. And I thought that would never change. Or maybe I didn’t think about it at all. Why would I need to? She was always there, like a constant in my life, something I could rely on. But looking back, I see the warning signs. Small things that I chose not to notice. 

At first, it was little things— how she stopped coming to my house after school everyday. How she stopped calling me for big milestones. It’s easy to ignore changes like that. Until they hit you all at once. And then, it was too late.

Without her presence, I started hanging out with the kids from my soccer team more, and more. I told them about all my problems with her. Their solution? They wanted me to prank her. I wanted to fit in. So, I agreed.

Maybe I was too busy with soccer, or maybe I just took her for granted. But somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing her the way I always had. I saw how my actions hurt her. But, somewhere along the way i stopped seeing that. I stopped seeing how my actions hurt her.

But I didn’t think much about it at the time. After all, things had always worked themselves out between us, right? I guess I never thought I’d lose her, guess I thought that she’d always be there.

How wrong I was.

And seeing her now after graduation, getting ready to go to college and saying goodbye to friends for one last time, I can't help but remember a time when things were so much simpler.

Age, 7. Grade, 2

“Lan, wait up” she yelled, peddling her feet. I slowed my bike down and turned to face her. 

“Hurry up! You're being slow.” she peddled faster. Too fast. I watched in slow motion as she rides over a rock, flies through the air as if it’s molasses, then falls in what seems the same way a feather falls through the air. Then promptly crashes into a trashcan, scattering trash all around and on top of her. 

I quickly stopped my bike and ran to her. She was sitting there, covered in trash from the trash can, pouting. As I stood over her, and saw her covered in trash, I almost laughed. “Stop! It’s really not funny” she sniffled, though she now seemed a little happier. 

“I've bin waiting for this to happen” I joke, hoping to make her laugh.

“It's really not that funny” she snorts while giggling.

 “Yeah, well you’re still laughing” I argue. As she struggles to her feet, I realize I should probably help her. As I move to put her arm around my shoulder, she shoves me off. 

“I don't need your help, butthead” she says, crossing her arms and stares at me with her lips pursed. 

“Sorry, man, chill.” I say, not really understanding why she didn't want help. 

“I got worse when I first started playing volleyball, it's just a little scrape on my knee. It’ll heal” 

"Ok "I mumbled, feeling a little stupid.

As we walked home, we talked about silly things, like how funny she looked covered in trash, or about the people we didn't like at school. Before we parted ways, she threw her arms around me and pressed a quick, fleeting kiss that was gone as soon as it started to my cheek. “Bye Lando! I'll see you tomorrow at school!” she said over her shoulder as she ran home.

“Bye” I yell, after she had already disappeared into the house, my cheeks still red.

She had always been brave in her own way. Whether it was running into a trash can then getting back up with a skinned knee and no tears, or hiding her fears behind that stubborn smile of hers, she never changed. She was always the same, brave girl I had known since I was a kid. I wish I had known then how much that bravery would change the course of our friendship.

Age, 12  Grade 7.

The ferris wheel creaked more and more the higher up it went, carrying us higher, and higher into the night sky. Below we could see the rest of the fair, all the people enjoying themselves just like we are.

Her posture was slumped, and she was practically shaking on the little metal bench that lines the side of the carriage.

“Are you scared?” I ask. This wasn't a very normal occurrence, and I was honestly a little surprised. 

“What? Me? No! Of course not. I don't get scared” she responded, her voice shaky, and honestly not very convincing. 

“Hey, it's okay if you are scared. We all have things we are scared of; it doesn't make you weak.” I say in a soft tone, understanding when to tease and when to be comforting. 

“I'm not scared.”

“Yeah? Good, me neither. Honestly, it's really nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yeah. It’s really nice being up here.”

“I guess it is pretty nice.”

“It's really pretty,” I say with a sigh.

“It is,” she responds with an airy voice.

Little did I know that while I was staring at the sky, she was looking at me.

Ever since that night on the ferris wheel, I had developed a liking for stars. She learned more about stars for me, though I didn't know that then. I thought it was just a coincidence, not something carefully planned. Ever since then, we would spend nights under the stars together, gazing upwards.

Age, 15. Grade 9.

“And that one’s named Altair” she said, pointing up at the brightest star in the sky.

“How do you know this?” I ask while chuckling.

“I learned it when I was in 8th grade for my science fair project. I won.”

“I know, you’ve only told me like a million times.”

“I have not!”

“Uh, yes you have.”

“Excuse yo- wow, it's like, really cold.”

“Here,” I say, shrugging my sweatshirt off. “Take it.”

“No, it's fine really. I don't need it, I’m fine.”

“If you don't take it, I’m actually gonna go insane!”

“Fine” she huffed, sticking her tongue out at me. “Thank you.” she mumbled.

“You're welcome.”

“Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“We'll always be best friends, right?”

“Of course we will. No matter what.”

“No matter what.”

Back then, No matter what seemed like an easy promise to keep. Before our future became closer and closer, before I found out she would be going to Yale. No matter what seemed like an easy promise to keep under the soft lighting of the stars, but under the fluorescent lights in the highschool hallways, and the pressure from the guys, the promise broke apart. 

“Hey Lan!” she exclaims, coming up to me “Hey,” I respond. “Where are your glasses?” I ask. She has always loved her glasses. She always said it gave her more personality, though I disagree. She has plenty of personality already. 

“Oh, I just switched to contacts for volleyball! It's too impractical to have to play without being able to see, ya know? Do you like them?” I actually think that she looks stunning with or without glasses, but since my friends from the soccer team are with me, I just say 

“ I dunno man, it kinda makes your eyes look too close together.” I feel absolutely terrible as I practically see her deflate. Her normally radiant smile disappears, her shoulders begin to tremble, and her eyes go glassy. At first, she didn't say anything. I could practically see her brain thinking of ways to respond. She was trying to act relaxed about it, but I knew her well. She doesn't do relaxed about these types of things.

 I hear the boys snickering from behind me, making stupid comments about how “he is so right” and “how can she not see that herself?” and “why does she talk so much?”. I'm actually about to turn around and tell them to shut up, and that I am the only one allowed to tease her like that, but before I can, she says something.

“Oh. Well, uh, I should be going to class. I'll see you later, Lando,” she mumbles. Her normally confident posture seemed impossibly timid and shy. Her posture didn't say ‘see you later’.  It said ‘leave me alone’.

While she walked down the hallway, the only thing I could focus on was the fact that she didn't call me Lan .

The next few days, I tried finding her, though she kept on avoiding me. Finally, I found her sitting outside at the tables, eating her lunch alone.

“Hey” I greet softly, sitting down at the table outside. 

“What do you want?” she responded, her tone sharp. She was wearing her glasses again.

“I wanted to apologize for what I said on Tuesday.” I say, barely audible.

“If you're going to say something, say it louder.”

“I wanted to apologize for what I said.” 

“Do you? Do you really? Or is this just another sick prank you and your friends are playing on me, huh? I stood there and took it in tenth grade, when you made fun of my brother, who, by the way looks up to you, in the cafeteria. I stood there and took it in eleventh grade when you texted everyone from my phone things that I would never, ever say about someone and especially TO someone, posted things on instagram that I would NEVER post, and then humiliated me by making me think that you were seriously hurt, then jump up and say “it's a prank” after i started crying? I even stood there and took it when you told me that my eyes were too close together! The one thing you know I'm insecure about, and you make fun of it? You’ve changed Lando! You and your stupid friends have made high school horrible for me! And even though you've been rude, and you've been mean, and you've in general been a nightmare to be around, I'm still in love with you, and I have been for the last 10 years! And I'm done with this! I will not, will not sit here and let you bully me because I’m your ‘best friend’! I stayed your friend because I thought you would notice me! I thought you would realize, but you didn't! And I’m done waiting, okay? I’m done. Bye, Lando.”

By now, she was crying. Before I could respond to her and apologize, I hear laughing and jeering coming from behind me. I turn around and march over to where the boys are standing. They chuckle upon seeing me, and I absolutely lose it.

“Are you guys actually stupid? You made me lose the most important thing in my life, because you ‘thought it would be funny’? She is worth more than you guys will ever be. She was a better friend, a better athlete, but most importantly, a better person than you guys! I’m done with y’all.” 

I turn back to where she was standing, but she's not there anymore.

The next few days, I look for her. I see her a couple of times, but she always manages to avoid me. 

One night, as I’m packing for college, I hear someone knocking on the front door.

I run down the stairs, thinking it’s the pizza I ordered for me and my sister, but it’s not. It’s her.

“Uhm, I just wanted to return this.” she says, handing me my sweatshirt that i gave to her 3 years ago. “I just thought I should return it before I leave for Yale.”

“When do you leave?” I ask, fearing the answer.

“Tomorrow.” 

The second I hear that word, my world stops. I hazily thank her for bringing the sweatshirt back, then slam the door. I vaguely remember stumbling up the stairs, and sitting down on my bed, my mind running a thousand miles a minute.

 I’m going to have to live without the person who was there for me at every problem, at every bad game, at every milestone in my life, and I lost her because of my own mistakes. I lost her because I let those stupid kids influence my decisions. I lost her because I didn't know how to communicate my feelings. And now, I’ll never get her back.

I was right. I never got her back. And deep down inside, I knew I was never going to get her back. I knew this when I met Emma. I knew this when I proposed to Emma. I knew this when I invited her to our wedding. But that truly, did not prepare me for when I saw her.

“And do you, Lando Norris, take Emma Sand to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish till death do you part? ” asked the priest, his voice echoing through the church that held all of our friends and loved ones. 

“ I do.” 

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I see her, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. After years of knowing her,  I could almost hear her thinking ‘that should have been me.’

And I feel horrible and disgusting and gross thinking this on my wedding day, but I'm inclined to agree. It should have been her. And it would have been, if not for my own stupidity.

And seeing her, brought me right back to all those years ago. And made me wonder; what happened to ‘no matter what.’