#it's in my brain and idk how to get it out
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⋆˚࿔ make you feel 𝜗𝜚˚⋆
𝜗𝜚 bsfbro!rafe x virgin!reader
𝜗𝜚 you have filthy thoughts about your best friends brotherX what happens when you can’t help yourself one night and get caught?
𝜗𝜚 18+ MDNI! unprotected piv sex, virgin!reader, virginity loss, blood mentioned, possessive!rafe, praise, dirty talk, daddy kink, hint at female masturbation
𝜗𝜚 idk how i feel about this one but i finished it and might as well share it, if there are any grammar errors or anything else i’m sorry i tried my best didn’t exactly edit🫣😂
sarah was your best friend ever since you could remember. moving away a couple years ago was probably one of the worst things that could have happened but the two of you promised to always see each other no matter what, every summer, so here you were staying with the cameron’s for the next few months. the cameron’s always welcomed you with open arms. the only one who seemed to have a problem was sarah’s older brother, rafe fucking cameron.
rafe cameron made your high school years a living hell. he scared off any boy who even thought about you in any way which is why you were still a virgin still, even at the age of twenty three, you were never able to get a boyfriend. you blew it off as rafe doing what your brother cade would have done if he were still around. rafe and cade were best friends but cade left a few years ago for college, a few states away. little did you know, it had nothing to do with cade and all to do with rafe and his bottled up feelings he never got over.
although rafe had always been beyond infuriating you couldn’t deny he was very nice on the eyes. he was one of the best looking guys on this island. this time around, you couldn’t stop thinking about him and it just kept getting worse and worse the more rafe came into contact with you.
you couldn’t help yourself as thoughts of rafe began to cloud your mind with all the ways you would want him to take you and have his way with you. your hands were down your sleep shorts before you could stop yourself. you’ve done this countless times before but never with filthy thoughts of rafe.
you were already wet when you start circling your clit, a low moan escaping your lips. you were lost in the moment when all of a sudden the door slowly creaks open and you quickly slip your hand out of your shorts trying to wipe any evidence off of your hands. you look towards the door surprised to see your best friends brother.
“rafe!? what the hell?”
“whoa y/n relax! stop looking so guilty. you fucking hiding some guy in here or somethin’?” he laughs but suddenly looks concerned as if you did have a man hiding somewhere in this room.
“no, i don’t know what you’re talking about rafe. of course not. get out.”
“what were you doing then y/n? hmmm?” rafe gets closer to the bed and sniffs the air making you nervous just watching him. you start to wonder how the hell he would know what you were up to just by smelling the air, it wasn’t possible.
“nothing, and it’d be none of your business if i was seeing anyone anyways.”
rafe grabs your wrist and brings your hand to his nose and inhales. a smirk forms on his face. “tsk tsk, naughty girl. nothing, huh?” he chuckles and shakes his head.
“what are you doing?! rafe what the fuck who does that?!” you whisper yell as you yank your hand away from him. “go back to your room, what are you even doing coming in here without knocking? sarah could have seen you or wheezie!”
“if you needed help going to sleep you could have just told me princess.” his hand grazes your cheek and you immediately blush, all megative thoughts out the window. rafe crawls on top of you making you lose all brain function. he slides his hands down the covers and toys with the bottom of your shorts. the tension in the air thick as it could ever be.
“r-rafe…fuck it, oh my god. touch me.” you beg, so desperate for his touch and more. it takes rafe no time pulling your shorts and panties down your legs and throws them on the floor. he makes his way down, giving a light tap to your legs.
“spread those legs, let me see.” rafe demands and you obey, spreading your legs putting your pussy on display. “fuuuuck y/n, this pussy is perfect, so fucking pretty and made for me.” rafe groans.
the dirty words coming from rafe’s mouth make your pussy throb with need. you knew you might regret it later but you didn’t care because in this moment you knew you were about to lose your virginity to rafe cameron.
“fuck me rafe, fuck me please? please i want you.” you spread your legs even more inviting rafe to have his way with you.
“you have no idea what this means y/n. once i fuck you, you’re mine. you understand?” he says with a stern voice. his breath hot in your ear. you nod. rafe pulls off his shirt in one swift move then starts to unbuckle to his belt and slides it off.
“words baby.”
“i understand rafe. i just…i need you, so horny i need to cum right now.” you whimper. rafe slides down to the foot of the bed and gets up. he pulls you down with him, turning you around so that you are bent over, chest on the bed and feet on the ground. he wraps his belt around your wrist tying your hands together behind your back.
“you gonna be a good girl for daddy? i’ll make your first time worth it princess don’t you worry. you might cry but i’ll lick your tears away for you.” rafe pulls his pants and boxers off, his hard cock springing out and leaking precum onto the ground. you try to look behind you seeing his hard length throbbing with the need to release. you were completely in shock at his size but also intrigued.
“yes daddy, m’going to be your good girl, and only yours.” you moan. rafe bends down a little to line up his cock to your pussy and rubs his tip up and down your soaking wet slit and eases his way in carefully. “ooooh f-fuuuuuck! ahhhh rafe! oh my god.” you cry out, his big cock slowly stretching you out causing you pain at first then pleasure.
“that’s my girl. you’re doing so well f’me my pretty girl. fuck this pussy feels s’good, squeezing my cock so fucking tight.” rafe grunts as he starts to pick up his pace. he grabs your waist and rams in and out of your cunt.
“ahh! shiiiit, feels s’good daddy, you’re going to make me cum, just like that! please, harder!” you scream. rafe shoves your face into the bed with one hand and slaps your ass with the other. his thrusts start to get fast and sloppy.
“you gonna cum with me princess? m’not going to last any longer, your pussy is too fucking tight, going to blow my load inside of you.” rafe’s low groans fill the room along with your muffled screams. just as rafe could feel his balls start to tighten he lifts your head from the bed and pulls it back at a weird angle so you were looking into his eyes.
“m’gonna cum rafe, i can’t hold it anymore, i’m cumming!” you scream.
“i’m right there with your princess! oh shit, fuck i’m fucking cumming god damn!” rafe grunts and pushes you into the bed as he falls onto you as his cock pulses, shooting rope after rope of cum deep inside your pussy and filling you up to the brim. he slowly pulls out and the mix of blood, your juices and his cum make a mess on the floor. you lift your head and he swiftly unties your wrists.
“wow that was…um, well..just how i imagined it would be with you, rafe cameron.” you chuckle and rafe has a cocky smirk on his face.
“yeah? well, don’t forget what i said earlier baby, you’re mine now and this was just the beginning.” rafe reminds you.
he grabs a towel from the bathroom and cleans you then himself up before cleaning the evidence on the floor. after everything gets cleaned up rafe puts his clothes back on then watches as you dress.
“i’d be yours anyday. who would have thought?” you murmur and yawn starting to feel the exhaustion set in.
“you were always going to be mine y/n. you just didn’t know it, but i did. i always knew.” rafe steps towards you and grips you by the chin, lifting your head up so you were staring into his eyes. he leans down and kisses you. you slightly pull back.
“good night rafe.” then you kiss him back and walk towards the door about to open it for him figuring he would want to head back to his own room.
“whoa. hold it. i’m not going anywhere princess, i’m staying right here with you now lets get into bed.” he grabs your hand and walks you back to your bed.
tagging a few moots: @cameronsprincess @rafesthroatbaby @rafesheaven @cameronwillow
#rafe cameron#bsfbro!rafe#bestfriendsbro!rafe#virgin!reader#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe x y/n#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron concept#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe outer banks#rafe smut#rafe fic#rafe x reader smut#sparkle divider cred: adornedwithlight#mdni diver cred: anitalenia
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Hi! Just curious. What exactly is that you didn't like about Viktor's arc? I've seen a few people saying the same thing and idk if I'm missing something or I'm just too over the moon about him that my brain has gone smooth haha.
oh no oh no i'm probably going to write like a whole dissertation about this I am so sorry I'm literally cracking my knuckles I have so many thoughts and not all of them I'll even get to articulate here.
Saying this upfront: you aren't smooth-brained for disagreeing with me or liking it. I want to say that outright as I'm a very opinionated person and I am going to state my very strong opinions very plainly.
That being said : I genuinely feel like season 2 needed like... character writing 101 for a lot of these characters, especially the two characters whose names start with a 'V'. I'm so serious if one of my students brought in a story like this, I would (gently) take it apart.
If you don't want to read the whole thing I'm about to unleash, the crux of it is this for me:
Throughout the course of the season, it's very hard to discern how many of Viktor's decisions are his own. He lacks the baseline autonomy that's necessary for satisfying development. The magic of the hexcore becomes a shiny distraction that makes meaningful development impossible. Additionally, season 2 forgets so many of the themes and threads they explored with Viktor in season one explicitly in terms of class and his position on war and weapons manufacturing.
And, like almost everything in season 2, these issues are compounded because his story is done at a pace that's completely lightning-fast and prioritizes the wrong things.
Here's my thesis:
How Does a Man Like Viktor Become the Machine Herald? Arcane's Answer: Magic orb or vague sadness or something idk.
Harry Lloyd said in a season 1 commentary somewhere that one of the main appeals for Viktor is knowing who he is in the game and wondering how you take a man like him, who is so kind and has people's best interests at heart, and see him slowly become the machine herald.
I agree 100% that this is part of the story's appeal for players. And it would be a delight and surprise for non-players.
We... get that very juicy premise ripped from us. We don't see him making decisions grounded in the character they set up in season 1 at all, really. And its very unsatisfying seeing him be rendered a mere victim of circumstance with vague attachments to his past self.
This is not necessarily a complaint about arcane herald vs machine herald (I did not play league and am not attached to the lore) but a complaint that a lot of what happens with Viktor in season 2 seems very unattached to his psychology.
Christian Linke himself said (and I forget where, so I am sorry if I'm paraphrasing terribly) that part of the question he wanted the audience to ask with Viktor is how much of this is really him? Bluntly. That is incredibly silly. It's such an important question that it makes all other interesting questions one might have about him really hard to parse.
That's not compelling. That's a mistake. That's not rooted in character anymore but a vague magical orb.
Here are some questions that would have been more interesting for us to ask, Christian.
How does his desire to tamper out human emotion prompt him to do the unspeakable? What leads him there?
How far is he willing to go to take away human pain and suffering?
Is his version of pacifism really, in actuality, a form of violence?
Will his connection with others be enough to bring him back to his humanity? (this is a question we were not prompted to ask, and if we were, it would have made the final scene (which I love regardless) a lot more satisfying.
What is the root of his hunger for power? How much of his quest is a hunger for power and control over others (rooted in a fractured and tragic sense of self)? and how much is it rooted in his desire to help? Where is that line?
Any of these questions or any other questions we could enjoy exploring with Viktor become tampered with and weakened by the fact that a vague magical entity is controlling him in a vague and unrelatable way.
In short, 'How much of Viktor is still Viktor?' is a far less interesting question than. 'how is Viktor going to act, change, and learn? ' We are forced to ask the first at the cost of the second. He clearly is not fully himself this season.
The Dropping of Themes and Traits
Season 1's exploration of Viktor was multi-layered and fascinating. I feel like we got to see the establishment of a kind-hearted, sometimes awkward yet quite funny, passionate scientist.
I don't feel we see much of any of this in season 2. The stupid fucking orb overrides a lot of the traits we've come to know and love. This would have been cool if done with an ounce of care, understanding, or autonomy.
In season 1, we see Viktor in a position of powerlessness over and over. We see Viktor ignored and looked down upon by those in power both for his disability and, crucially, for his status as a Zaunite.
We're introduced to him as someone who is desperate to prove himself and carve a place for himself. He knows he's brilliant. And he knows he can help people with that big brain of his. That's all he wants. And he wants to make his mark (something I theorize is rooted in his loneliness as well as his ambition)
(Side note: I find a lot of the debate on whether or not Viktor is insecure a little silly because you can be both confident and insecure. He's incredibly secure in his abilities as a scientist, but I fully do believe he places all his worth on his work because he's not as confident in other places - represented visually by him trying to point out his boat when Sky is looking at him in the flashback. A 'don't look at me look at what I've made' type thing.)
Anyways. Viktor is willing to risk his position as an assistant and, honestly, his position at the academy and in Piltover as a whole to help Jayce. This is not just because he's 'lol so chaotic' or whatever. This is actually quite calculated. He knows he will get nowhere in Piltovian society without bending rules, because Piltover was not built for people like him.
"Do you think it was my life's ambition to be an assistant?"
But even in taking that huge step for himself, his new role is complicated.
We see him sit through meetings where his people are talked about like burdens. We see his closest (and honestly only) ally and partner speak over him in meetings and overrule his desires and wants when it comes to the future of hextech in massive ways. We see Jayce call all Zaunites 'dangerous' (I love jayce... don't shoot me please. But we do often forget that this does canonically happen and what makes Jayce so incredible is that he grows from this point)
The moment on the bridge directly causes him not to tell Jayce about what he's doing to himself. Jayce apologizing right after doesn't matter so much as it reinforces one of Viktor's fears: he is alone.
We see his illness, !!!!caused by Piltover's oppression!!!!, take over. We see him and Jayce grow apart. We see the way his loneliness impacts his desperation and the way his desperation impacts his loneliness and we see the way he's so damn afraid and just wants to live. We see how much he wants to help people, and how even though he's tried so hard he never got to achieve that because the limits of this society just don't allow for it.
Season 1 Act one is Viktor taking action for himself. season 1 Acts 2 and 3 are a brutal reminder that no matter how hard he works. No matter how hard he claws. He will always be who he is. And that makes him Powerless in this society. I honestly find it a really compelling storyline in terms of the 'bootstrap theory' and debunking that - but a different topic for a different time!
At the end of the season, he's able to gain a huge amount of power - speaking at the council about freeing his city - through Jayce's platforming and allyship. But at the end of the day it doesn't matter, because what the council is doing is too little too late - people in Zaun are too tired and too hurt - and he gets caught in the crossfire.
Despite all this, Season 2 does not engage with Viktor's being a Zaunite outside of the fact that he returns to Zaun first. But the themes explored related to class and power are gone - as they are with everyone else really.
It makes sense to me that one of the first things Viktor would do when granted a new body and new power would be to go and try to help people in Zaun, but the ambiguous mechanisms of the magic inside him, the immediate divorce with Jayce, and the bizarre way he goes about it don't make this land.
And even the return is rendered sort of meaningless. Where is the personal connection to this place? Why are we given no details related to his past here? Why doesn't he return to somewhere more personal for him?
He speaks in this cold, unaffected monotone. This healing ability seems to be the 'recursive impulse' - so him finally getting to help people just like he wanted feels rooted so much in the arcane influence it becomes murky and strange.
This is more nitpicky, and I'd be okay with it being ignored in the right context - but another aspect of his character that gets dropped is his work as a scientist. His desire to help people not through magic, but through invention. This would have been fascinating. (They try to keep this alive through vague allusions to 'look at what I've created' blah blah but again, so much of it is all ORB)
What inventions would a fully autonomous Viktor who decided to leave Jayce and return to Zaun of his own fruition create? Would they toe the line between inventions of progress and inventions of destruction?
Guess we'll never know!
Speaking of weapons. Let's talk about weapons. Let's talk about Viktor's vehement opposition to weapons not being explored within the context of his relationship with Jayce or outside of the rule that there are none allowed in the commune - which becomes quite meaningless when he agrees to work with Ambessa. Yes - he saw those blueprints on the table. But that's all we get.
Also, the fact that Jayce just unquestionably builds hextech weapons in the finale, and they're used as a good thing and a way to fight off Noxus, makes me want to claw my own hair out. Like - my themes ! Not my precious themes !
Let's also talk about him working with Ambessa. There's no build-up to that decision, not near enough character work to make that believable and considering the way the plot is written elsewhere, I fully believe this is a huge part of the problem of the writer's room dropping the issue of class. The idea that Viktor, the character that they set up, would ever willingly work with Ambessa is laughable. There are so many other ways he could have gotten to the hexcore in his fully evolved form, easily bested Jayce, and evolved. And they did absolutely nothing in the writing of season 2 to make that an interesting or satisfying choice.
An arc is only an arc if there is substance between point a and b. There's no substance here. There's vague orb. There are little glimpses of the pain he's in because of his separation from Jayce. Teeny tiny allusions to him trying to shut down his emotions. That's simply not enough.
You cannot bring a character who values choice and autonomy, whose been made to feel so powerless and is empathetic, to "choice is meaningless" without a deep study of his psychology and pain. Viktor taking away the autonomy of others, inhabiting their bodies. Being super chill with it. Okay. Coo.
Where does his desire for evolution even come from? For real? Because they seem to mistake Viktor's ambition with his desire for perfection, which is something that was never really... brought up? It could be believable that he felt this way. But where were the signs of this? Not just in season 1 but in season 2. He always wanted to help, not make humanity perfect. Because this is grounded in so little emotional logic I assume we're supposed to be satisfied with the idea that magic orb + machine herald form = ??? this ??? like ??? why???
If he wants to create a world where nobody can feel pain or complex emotions of any sort anymore, which is not psychologically where he was at the end of season 1 at all despite all he went through, you have to give us an event (ideally multiple) in season 2 that could break his mind this badly. Jayce killing him could have been this, but it happened so fast and was executed so impersonally that it doesn't work. He doesn't really acknowledge it happened the next time they see each other. Which... would probably be important to do... again emotional logic where?
His entire speech about humanity at the end of episode 6 feels like it's trying to be a catalyst. But it also feels... incredibly generic and impersonal. It felt written to play over a flashy montage of all the other characters fighting. Not for Viktor. If this was Viktor's moment where he finally snaps, we should probably focus on Viktor. And, of course, it doesn't help that he has this odd monotone this whole time, as if he's not fully in control of himself (this is not a rip on Harry Lloyd at all. He did what he was told and did it very, very well.)
Because remember. They wanted us to ask this. They wanted us to ask how much of this was orb. I think because they knew on some level they could not create a compelling enough story to get viktor where they wanted him to be for some reason without orb. That none of this would make sense without the vague spice of the arcane. And guess what it still doesn't.
Becuase people will not relate to a vague arcane influence. Connect to it. We would want to see what actually in his life made him become this. What in his psychology outside of magic orb made him do this? They provide vague tastes of this in the same way La Croix flavors its drinks.
Brought Back Wrong Can Work: Here's Why This One Didn't
I also really hate the trope of killing off characters only to bring them back. And back again. And... again. Because guess what. It takes one of the core elements of the human experience - death- and cheapens it. This for sure happens with Viktor the second time he dies.
But what i do like about bringing someone back from the dead is when you consider how doing so can bring someone back wrong. Or changed.
But because the orb is so impersonal. So bland. Such a vague sinister force that has very little to do with character, it doesn't... work. It doesn't hit. Viktor doesn't really grapple with being brought back from the dead against his will in a meaningful way.
Timing
You can see concepts of a plan, if you will, within this story. I can see how Viktor would naturally go to the undercity after waking up changed with new healing powers. But it happens way to fast. So bizarrely. I can see how he would build a society like this (of course, the power of that is dulled because orb and by the fact that we don't see it happen). I can see how the pain of being rejected and left behind by the only person who made him feel like he wasn't alone (Jayce) could have lead to a category 5 'make me evil' sort of meltdown.
Becoming the Herald, asking Singed to begin the transformation, is the only true time in this show in act 2 (before his final moments) where it feels like he's making a choice for himself. But again, we get so little time with him. To see his emotions. To elegantly point from that moment with Jayce to Viktor's need to transform and in doing so rid himself of emotion (something that they did not expand on enough ) Like oh my god, how much more satisfying would it have been to see Viktor torn apart by his own emotions - in his own viktor way - and to have singed offer him a way out of his pain - and then have viktor take it. There are certain things that should be obvious.
But It's both the timing of and the structure of the story - how quickly we cut between plotlines - that makes this really hard to follow. That makes moments that could be something feel rushed and sloppy.
Let's Talk about Sky
Viktor's guilt over sky was absolutely reasonable to explore, but it was not.... all that haunted him. To make Sky the sole guide/companion to him in the astral/arcane headspace I found to be a bizarre and honestly kind of offensive choice.
Amanda overton said she was used as a "Jayce substitute" essentially. And... why? Literally why. Why would you write a character whose sole deal is having an unrequited crush on a man only to bring her back to be 'the embodiment of his guilt and loneliness' as well as a 'substitute' - it feels... icky to me? Just in a writing women and especially women of color point of view? And it didn't feel true to Viktor's character either.
I think if we actually got to know sky better in season 1, this would have worked because it would have been obvious how different she was, how she was a product of his mind or the hexcore or whatever (the lore being vague here doesn't help...)
Plot Twist because I keep hating on Orb: They Could Have Made The Orb Really Cool
Here's the thing. Magic influence on its own can be used to write extremely compelling plots. Walk with me.
Imagine Viktor wakes up. Immediately knows something's wrong with him. That something inside him is toying with him. Making him see things (visions of not only sky, but maybe his parents, Jayce, Heimer). He wakes up earlier in act 1. Despite his anger, he stays with jayce in order to better understand himself and his powers. All the while, he is haunted by whispers and visions of the hexcore. What if it whispers to him of his own insecurities and failures?
What if Things with Jayce are tense. Jayce has to admit to making weapons again, in an argument leading to more haunting visions from the hexcore offering him an out: emotional numbness. You would never have to feel again Viktor. If you let me in fully, you would never have to be alone again. You'd be more powerful, Viktor.
Imagine Viktor is there during that attack ambessa orchestrated. That he has the horror of witnessing Jayce wield his hammer in a genuine attempt to defend himself and the people he loves. He sees first hand how hextech is being used for destruction in a way that horrifies him.
Imagine him being accused of being a part of it because he's a Zaunite - humiliated in some way. Publicly. Imagine the emotional trauma of this resulting in a falling out so devastating he embraces his visions of the hexcore - gives into the numbness. And only then leaves. With the hexcore... he feels better than he has in years. He hopes he can give the gift of this to others. Now he is under orb influence, but now the way he's gotten there is more satisfying to me at least.
Now imagine him fighting the orb influence in key moments. Imagine the color in his eyes coming back. Imagine Viktor's relationship with the arcane being more of a dance than a vague entanglement. Imagine its influence haunting him in the same way Jinx's visions haunt her. Imagine it being personal rooted in his character.
Old Man Viktor
Listen. I am the old man Viktor connoisseur. I love him. I love the idea of him. I wrote a whole fic about him, during which I had to spend a lot of time with the story. It's sort of... very much impossible to make much sense of?
I'm not mad at the fact that it's an obvious retcon. Honestly, because I think from a storytelling perspective, it worked a lot better than most of the decisions they made this season.
But I'm not a fan of (shocking) how little time we spend with him. How little chance we get to understand his motivatons. And also. What the fuck he said to Jayce to make Jayce's first line of action killing him? In my fic, I made it that Jayce needed to shoot Viktor to get the hexcore out, so he could communicate to viktor without influence. But that felt like heavy lifting I shouldn't necessarily have to do for something so important. It also doesn't feel like a compelling or satisfying question to make your audience have to wrestle with.
The Final Scene
Want to say upfront I am not one of the people who did not like Jayce's speech.
I was quite moved by it. And aside from the perhaps out of place mention of the illness brought on by Piltover which I can understand the criticism for, I felt it was beautiful. (I am disabled btw)
That being said. I think i'd be a sobbing mess on the floor if the themes Jayce is presenting in his speech were more present throughout season 2. Because we really don't see this enough - the desire for perfection.
I'm also not one of those people who thinks Viktor's insecurities weren't present in season 1. To me, they were and were obvious, but not enough in his motivations and actions in season 2 to make Jayce's speech land like it could.
I really loved Jayce's arc in season 2. Him immediately embracing Viktor after he woke from the goo was surprising but felt right. But I wish they had more genuine conflict rooted in their conflict in season 1 that would allow their final moment to land even harder.
I really liked the final scene, and it made me an emotional mess. But weirdly, I'd almost like it as a short film removed from the context of the season two, which says just how little Viktor's arc this season contributed to the moment.
Final Thoughts
I'm so sorry I went so in-depth. I just love him as a character and feel he was very much not done justice.
We can attribute some of this to the lack of time. But when you know you have a lack of time, you need to write with that in mind instead of trying to do it all. And ultimately, I found a lot of scenes this season a waste of precious time. They had so many characters alone contemplating something intangible or alone and trapped for episodes. They didn't plan this with the care and precision needed to pull it off.
I also want to note that I know I say here a lot that there's a lot they needed to make "more obvious". This is not because I'm stupid. But when you're a writer, you need to know what to highlight and what you can leave vague so you leave your audience exploring the right nuances and asking the satisfying questions.
Anyways umm. The end. Holy shit, I'm so sorry I wrote so much.
#i literally typed this in a caffine induced frenzy#oh my god its so long kldfjashdlkfjsd#im sure there are things i missed or did not explain well#ask bee#how many times can i hate on orb#SDKLFJD#its not even an orb#i know this#if someone reads this whole thing they deserve a cookie or something#see this is why tumblr might be a problem for me actually#no character limit DKJFHSDLKF#if you keep reading this could very much be like a do you like the color of the sky situation#where you have to just keep scrolling and scrolling#god i need work to start back up again KLDFJSHDFLK#side note one of my twitter moots got a strawpage anon that was like#you hate his arc you must hate viktor#which is so funny because#i literally love him so much#that's why i hate his arc KLDFJHSD#one thing i do like about viktors storyline and i still dont think it fully works#is how many of his principles he clung to even under magical influence#at least at the start#bee talks arcane
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There will be no soft epilogue,
Post-prison (traumatised) Spencer Reid x afab!BAU reader
More angst than smut (i hurt myself in the process, we all suffer), but there’s still copious amounts of both. Explorations of Spencer’s trauma & his anger in relation. Autistic Spencer is a given, even if it’s not touched upon explicitly (its indisputably canon to me).
Warnings: heavy sub spencer (confirmed me classic), corruption kink (idk how i managed to sneak that one in here), possessive undertones (eg, mentions of owning), praise kink, choking, Spencer is so in love it might actually be fatal, lots (lots) of begging, Reader is mean but low-key submissive to him in an emotional sense. They’re both damaged, but its okay, bcos they’ve romanticised it.
w.c: 4.9k
a/n: sorry, my hiatus went on for longer than i initially expected. i was just burnt out and evil. there wasn’t supposed to be smut in this, but i’m clearly the biggest whore around.
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Spencer used to think he knew everything. That there wasn’t a piece of information too obscure, too intricate that his brain, his renowned, academically awarded, brain couldn’t comprehend. Maybe he was naive, or maybe, maybe there was less fault in his logic, and more fault in his decisions. Decisions that tarnished his youth, that slowly tore away at him, year by year, until there was nothing left of him to be remembered by.
Everything hurts tonight. And sure, he’s angry again, angry at himself, at what he experienced, the weight of the job that stifled the soft parts of him, and the weight of who he is now. He can’t look in the mirror anymore, stare back at the waning reflection, the reflection that is supposed to be him. But it’s not. God, it’s not.
He wants to be whole again, untainted, free from resent, the BAU’s fresh meat. Wide-eyed and credulous, trusting himself to always be clean. He wants to go back to the time when his life orbited around chess, halloween, that late hour of night when he could bury himself in academia. When everything felt untouchable and timeless.
Your concern is justifiable. The BAU’s concern is justifiable. And yet, it’s not enough, a string of ‘im here for you’ texts aren’t going to ease the weight of his trauma, nor will any form of pity.
When you show up at his apartment, it’s late. 3AM. There’s no legitimate excuse for your impromptu reason, no vindicable reason that could explain why you’re here. It’s sick to say you ‘had a feeling’, to reduce this to gut instincts, maybe you can get away with that on the field, but not here.
He gave you a key last year. It’s so morbid, to think back. To not look forward. When the door clicks open, there’s misplaced relief; at least he wasn’t cruel enough to change the locks. Even though he is admittedly cruel enough to refuse your calls.
“It’s me,” you say, deftly avoiding a stack of books. “Not an intruder. Well, technically, in a court of law, I could probably be tried as one.” you huff out a sigh, “But that’s unnecessary information. Hopefully.”
Spencer’s head has been pounding for hours, or maybe days, its hard to distinguish the weeks lately. Time is a construct that he can no longer keep accurate track of.
“An intruder wouldn’t announce themselves,” he retorts. Sat on the floor, with his back pressed against the couch, he feels heavy. Sinking. Like there is a part of him that is tethered to the ground, tugging and tugging him lower with every breath.
You remove your jacket, brown leather, scuffed with age and use, draping it over his couch.
He doesn’t look at you, nor the mess that has fermented his apartment. Files and novels and the collection of magazines (monthly subscriptions to Space News, Smithsonian, Science I am) are scattered everywhere, piled in mounds.
“I’m assuming you came to check up on me?” he continues, dropping his face to his knees. “You could’ve saved yourself the drive.”
“Fuck,” you mutter, stumbling into some books, and only because he would once keel over and die at their current mistreatment, you take additional care to place them on a… moderately uncluttered surface. “I’m hiring you a cleaner for christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to me,” he mumbles, raising his head to watch you now — tracking your movements carefully, observing the way you interact with his possessions. Your presence reminds him of before, late nights and movie marathons. His exasperation when you’d ask ‘Why are they fighting? It’s been 10 minutes…’ in relation to Star Wars. It was so domestic, warm. Something real he could keep.
Back when you’d stumble into his apartment at any time of night, and he’d take your abrupt appearance with a grain of salt. When you would waste hours speaking over the TV, providing lazy commentary, profiling characters and his ceaseless string of facts.
He wants to go back to those nights, take me back, he begs. Because he’s still not sure how to exist alongside you anymore.
“Good luck finding a cleaner who will step foot in here.” he continues.
You move to sit down beside him. One knee pulled to your chest, the other outstretched, just narrowly avoiding a chair that has taken a substantial fall.
You laugh. It feels empty. “I’d probably have to threaten them.“
“Threatening minimum wage workers? You’re a good addition to the FBI.”
“Shut up.” you retort, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling. Everything is heavy tonight. It’s so late that the tangible feels intangible, shadows obscuring the area, diminishing the dim-light that filters through the window.
When you look at him again, he feels like breaking.
Because of course, of course, he’s hyper-aware of your stare. Has been since the moment you walked into his apartment. He’s not oblivious to your observation, scrutinisation, the way you look at him like he might break under your gaze. Or maybe he’s broken already, and you’re just here to mourn over the pieces of everything he once was.
He stares too; following the sharp outline of your profile, the way the shadows play over your features.
He thinks you still look terrifying.
Maybe that’s the worst part. He always loved you. It’s not like it was an immediate reckoning. Something blunt and fast, serrated like the shiv that penetrated his leg in prison. It was slow-burning, born from years of close contact.
It didn’t just transpire one day. You had to work for it, and he had to work harder to deny it.
There’s another attempt at conversation, on your part, and then silence, on his part. It’s stifling, uncharacteristic— no, not uncharacteristic. This is an element to you now. Awkward, strained pauses. Nothing to fill the space, nothing to ease the prevalent emptiness that centres around your dynamic.
It hurts. you’ll both take the pain. Bare it the way you were taught to.
“I came here for me,” your voice interrupts that uneasy silence, “I’m not trying to stage a bullshit intervention, or… or spend the next few hours following you around like a shadow, just in case you do something self-destructive.” You shift, turning your body to face him now. “This is for me. Okay?”
“For you?” He repeats, and the words sound bitter, cynical, tired. No fight left. “How selfish of me to think you were here for my benefit.”
It’s not like you can survive by being soft-hearted. Not in the BAU. You watched aspects of him die, or at least suffocate, year after year, case after case, when the weight of the job caught up to the fragility of his boyish demeanour. He used to sit, cross-legged on tables, rambling to you about books, constellations, the fact that the milky way will inevitably collide with the andromeda galaxy.
Now, he sits on the floor and hurts you.
“I’m always here for your benefit. It’s pretty pathetic. I can only call, or text, so many times before I get the silent message to just fuck off.”
Spencer doesn’t think he’ll be content until he digs his nails into everything he once loved, claw at the mess until it destroys. Destroys, the way he was destroyed. But he can’t find anger when it comes to you.
Parts of him, the old him, will always haunt, he supposes.
“I don’t think you’ve ever received the message to.. ‘fuck off’. Not from me. Just… maybe i’m not the person you knew before.” he looks down at his calloused hands. He hates meeting your gaze. Hates being the cause of your hurt. He feels like heavy baggage. “I— just, maybe, this version isn’t compatible with you anymore.”
I don’t want you to see me like this, he thinks.
“How can you say that?” you scoff. “How can you say that when you haven’t even tried?” The idea that the him now is so disparate to the him before?
Bull-shit.
“Okay Spencer,” you stand up, retrieving your jacket. “Why don’t you pick up the phone and actually, maybe, I don’t know? Call me? When you think we might be ‘compatible’ again? Because it seems like you’re too busy in your own self-deprecating mind-fuck to realise the person I loved is still there. That i’m still here. Even now.”
It hurts when you talk like that. Sharp, assertive, logical. And then he remembers that’s your profession, your job. Because you’re trained to be this way. Trained to break down and analyse, to pick apart the intricacies of the human mind.
He wishes he could be who you want him to be.
He wishes he could go back.
“So you don’t love me anymore?” he asks, standing up to watch you leave. He’s looking at you with these god-awful doe-eyes, like he might crumble under your response.
You could deal with the sharp-cutting words, the ugly parts he’s unsheathed in the aftermath of prison, if there was any indication he still cared. You were built to withstand affliction, it’s written into the BAU’s job description. But this? This feels like retribution.
He’s standing there, so close, so close that you could reach out and touch. Feel warm skin beneath your palms. Bridge the gap, extend an olive branch.
But there’s fear in being rejected. Because if he turns away, recoils from the contact, everything remaining will fall apart.
So, you lean against the closed door. You’re not sure why you came here now, it’s clear you miss something that you can never have back. “It’s hard to love someone who doesn’t even want me around.”
You say it, and he thinks maybe he hates you. He hates how well you can read him, how easily you can say exactly what he needs, when he isn’t ready to hear it.
But he’s just…. so angry, indignant about the hurt he experienced, the pain that was inflicted on him. He was soft and no one protected him, no one tried to preserve that virtue, to take measures, any form of initiative, to prevent him from growing thorns.
He’s dedicated his purpose to helping others. Sacrificing time he’ll never gain back. Putting his own life on hold. And yet, no one could do the same for him.
Instead they, you, the BAU, everyone inbetween, look at him like he’s a martyr. Just another failed creation. Something to sit in the ‘almosts,’ wasted potential, failed hope. He’s never understood Elle more than he does now.
He doesn’t know how to be. “You never loved me the way I love you.”
Faithful to a fault, his devotion has always been an open wound. Something messy and desperate, begging please, please notice me.
“You were always there,” he continues, “you were always present. You cared, you were empathetic, you checked in. But you never loved me the way i love you.”
He can’t hate someone for not loving him back. Sometimes, he wishes it was morally acceptable. To imagine your face as he pulls the trigger, to think of you during target practice. He’s wasted so many years, wishing you saw him as something more than a friend.
Oh, and you’ve been such a good friend. That’s what makes it sick. His best friend, the type that belongs fictionalised, too idealistic for real life. He finally had something good, and he tainted it with his own greedy heart.
You don’t understand. Until you do.
Sometimes its sick to think about him, Spencer Reid. The prodigy who inadvertently stumbled into the grasps of the BAU. Who immolated himself again and again for the ‘greater good’, for the sake of strangers, victims, people he’ll never know.
You watched self-sacrifice become self-annihilation.
Now, you watch the aftermath of it stand before you. “Who says I didn’t? Who says I don’t?” you respond exasperatedly; he’s always been so obstinate, so set in the notion that he will never obtain, keep anything good. The deprivation is sabotaging, lethal.
And how dare you? How dare you say this to him now? How dare you present a slither, just a minuscule indication that years of aching want might’ve been required. A year ago, he would’ve bled himself dry for this confession. Now, he can only mourn for his younger self. The one that didn’t realise he’d get a chance at everything. Because you, for better sake of the word, are everything.
He’s tired. He’s been tired since he was fifteen, no, younger… since he was ten, when he came to the bleak realisation that his whole life would be dedicated to academics, the pursuit of intellectual prowess. He was never a person to people. He was a brain, a textbook, a source of information. Some sort of tool to be wielded until use was no longer required.
And sure, all of it was fine, he could take take take it all, when he was younger. When he was naive, believing that he would only be valuable for his brain, that he could never have more, so he’d have to settle on scraps.
“Don’t— Don’t lie to me. Don’t spare my feelings, just.. because i’m like this. I can take care of myself.”
He wants you to be honest. He wants you to be blunt and harsh and cruel. He can take the hit, the rejection, if it’s the truth. He doesn’t want you to placate him. To make him feel better, to build more lies in order to soften the burn. He can take it. Just like he’s taken everything else over the years.
“No.” you respond.
“No?” he repeats, letting out a sharp breath. “No. Right— because that makes sense.”
“Spencer.” he looks drained when his features soften. “Shut the fuck up and come here.”
He complies, it’s actually embarrassing, obscene, downright pitying, how fast he complies. Just like he did, years prior. When your arms snake around his waist, when you’re touching him after months of abstinence, he melts.
Im sorry, Im sorry, he keeps repeating. Voice muffled, face buried deep into the crook of your neck. He’s not sure why he’s apologising. Maybe for the lack of communication, for being so distant, or maybe it’s just because he’s such a heavy weight to bare, and you’re still here. Still holding him up, taking the strain, pushing through the truculence. He just wants you to love him still.
Your hand cards through dishevelled hair, curls messy and unkept. “Stop apologising. I hate fighting with you.”
“You’ll stay right?” he asks when you draw back. He’s cupping your face now, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. It’s inherently desperate, the way he looks at you. Creased features, parted lips. “Just, like… forever?”
You want to laugh, “No big deal, huh?”
“Just a small insignificant question, really.” there’s a smile. Something contained, forced, an attempt at finding humour in the bleak.
“Okay.”
“Okay? That’s—“ he stutters, “That’s all you have to say? I ask you to stay forever, and you just say yes.”
“Does that come as a surprise?”
“Yes.”
When you kiss him, there’s ache. Because he’s so weak for you, ruined in every sense. It’s always been this way, ever since he met you. There can be no one else, when you’re around. There can be no one else, point blank period. Moving on has never been an option when you still breathe. His palm cups your jaw, tilting your lips to meet him again, and he wants.
There was always a principle. A set law to never show his want. But he does now.
The kiss deepens, you’ve both grown callouses from the job. He wonders how rough you might be, underneath the pretence of apathy. Stumbling together, his hand grips the back of your head as he tries to swallow your mouth. To find the root of himself, everything that has kept him alive. You, you have kept him alive.
“Don’t go.” he begs. He’s not afraid to plead for it. He’ll reduce himself to humiliation, if it’ll reward him another hour. “Please— please just stay.”
“I already said I would,” you tug him closer, closer in a way that has him sighing.
Later, when you’re guiding him to bed, he lets you undress him, because he doesn’t want to see the bruises. He doesn’t want to see the evidence of what he endured, the lasting remnants.
Instead, he watches you.
Your hands. Your face. The slope of your nose, the way your eyes glance at his body. He tries not to think about what you must see.
He focuses on how your fingertips feel tracing his hips, instead. Focuses on your words, “Do you really think I’d still be here if I didn’t love you? If I wasn’t in love with you…”
This is the confession he’s waited lifetimes for. Excuse his skepticism. “I don’t know. Maybe you just have a saviour complex.”
His body is marred. Mauve bruises lining tired skin. The colour darkens around the hollow bone of his hip. You’ve both endured injuries before, taken the worst of the job. He drags his fingers over your chest, lingering around section 8 of your upper anatomy, a green area to the traditional silhouette target. A few inches below, the bullet you took last year would’ve been fatal.
Spencer was the one to find you. In an abandoned warehouse, applying pressure to the wound. Ripped sleeves, cloth stained crimson, attempting to stem the blood flow.
You can still remember his panicked comments now. The way he checked for a collapsed lung, monitoring each breath, stammering on about tension pneumothorax and probabilities of life. Everything was based on chance, if the bullet avoided major organs. If the bullet curved strategic anatomical structures.
There’s something intimate to the knowledge, the romanticised ideal that you’ve seen the worst of each other.
“You love me,” he repeats, like he needs time to accept that it’s never been one sided. “Well, I love you more, so I win.”
When you kiss his brow, whisper that he’s an idiot, he exhales, pushing into the warmth. His hands are shaky, fumbling as they work to repay the favour, extracting clothes from your frame.
You watch as he drops to his knees, staring up at you with something akin to worship. He knows he will pay for this later. He pays for it all. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, “Are you aware of how long i’ve waited for this?”
He unhooks your panties, coaxes your body to the edge of the bed. Legs draped over his shoulders, his breath is warm, slow, measured contact as he drags his swollen lips along your skin. A trail of kisses, travelling from hipbone to inner thigh.
“You’re the only thing I’ve thought about since I joined the BAU,” he sounds so pained. Like there’s anguish to his undying commitment. “Do you know how impressive that is? Your whole existence has the capacity to just… derail me.”
“Spencer,”
“Yeah,” he sighs, eyes falling shut, “Keep saying my name..”
There’s a litter of fading marks engrained into you now, from his mouth. When he reaches your clit, it takes all of his strained control to not lie you flat against the bed and bury his face.
Instead, there’s measured halos, he flattens his tongue, catching sensitive nerves with wet pressure, your hips push forward, breathless noises stifled by the bite to your bottom lip.
“Feels s’good,” you slur when his movements pick up, praise falling easy from your mouth. “You’re so good.”
He whimpers once, and then once more when your hand finds his head, sinking into tousled auburn hair. When your fingers reach the root and tug him closer until all he can breathe is you.
It’s a directing force, one that abolishes all thoughts beyond you.
He’s not sure he’ll ever recover from this. Because he can’t love easy. He’ll probably spend the next decade reciting each detail of this moment to himself.
You’re splayed out across dishevelled linen, bedding that holds traces of him. Cedar-wood, coffee, that soft press of freshly washed cotton. You pull harder, a litany of moans spilling from parted lips. A mess of sounds and stimulation, he pauses to drag his tongue across the length of your stained inner thigh before pliantly returning to your clit.
“Spence— fuck, just like that..” your back arches off the mattress, hips canting, bucking forward into his mouth to deepen the friction. It’s hedonistic, greedy, the way you push for more, even when he’s demeaned to his knees, giving you everything.
He groans when you take his middle and ring finger. When he can feel tight heat wrapped around his digits. Anatomy has always been his favourite subject, he’s mastered the art of locating erogenous zones. His fingers curve, and you respond irrationally.
Your thighs are gripping his head now, ensuring he remains locked, and Spencer’s not sure suffocation has ever sounded so good. Because his scalp aches from your sharp hands, and you’re pulling hard enough to warrant tears. He whines, in response, stuttering out fractured oh’s with every lap of his tongue.
“Gonna…” you warn, and he pushes your hips down into the mattress and fucks you through the orgasm. The pulse of your clit, drawn into his mouth, and the clench of muscle around his fingers as you burn with pleasure. Synapses in overdrive, stars staining beneath your closed eyes.
In the aftermath, he takes his time to clean up his own mess. To catch his breath, to not to think about his own arousal. How untouched he is, after all this time.
Climbing the length of your body, he presses kisses to your torso, over every part of you that he hasn’t grazed before.
He stops his ascent at the base of your neck, a soft kiss between your breasts and another on each of your nipples.
“I think I win,” he mutters. “Again.”
Simple words. He’s masochistic, desperate to be put back in his place. You’ve never had an issue with that.
You laugh, albeit breathlessly. “Cute that you assume I would ever let you win.”
He moans, fracturing in two, as your hand drags down his skin. He feels like he’s been hard for centuries. Never finding release. His body doesn’t obey, if it’s not you. When your thumb rolls over his tip, collecting pre-cum, he keens. Lying face to face, his forehead presses to your own, meeting your stare with this helpless, flushed look of need.
He’s too touch-starved to be embarrassed. “Please,”
“Shh,” you muffle his begs, smearing his bottom lip with his own pre-cum before pushing the digit into his mouth. “I don’t think you want to win.” he won’t protest truth, “I think you’re trying to bait me into proving you wrong.” the way he squirms, whimpers, breathless to the pleasure. “Such a whore…”
He can’t find fault in that. “Only for you,” he mutters, “Exclusively for you.”
He pushes forward, catching your lips with his own. It’s a messy kiss. Something that resembles younger him. It’s not like he’s garnered excessive experience since then. Sex, bodies, contact has never been his field of expertise.
It doesn’t help that he’s wasted half of his life aching for you.
“Prove me wrong,” he mutters against your mouth, “All the time. Every single day.”
The way your hand wraps around his cock, the long strokes that graze a need he’s never quite reached himself,.. it’s all torturous. There’s nothing soft in his response, because he bucks forward, into the warmth of your hold, whining like he belongs in porn.
“No, no.. please..” he pleads when you draw back. Though any further protests, soft breathless attempts at coercion, are cut short when you straddle his waist. Legs draped, guiding his tip between folds to graze your clit.
Being corrupted, taken, isn’t something he felt he would experience at his age. But, here he is… 
“Slow,” you command, taking him by the inch. It’s a gradual descend, stretching to accommodate his length.
By the time he’s bottomed out, he looks gone. Mouth half-parted, hollow-lidded eyes, debauched expression as he struggles to breathe. “Slow,” he repeats, as if that word has any good over him now. Everything is static beyond his hips, pushing forward to meet the drag of your own.
He feels raw, uncut, exposed in new ways. Ways that only you can coax out of him.
“You feel… so good,” he mutters, breathless, between a jumble of oh oh oh’s. You rock against him, carving pleasure, and it’s so unfair. Because he’s not supposed to be ruined already.
He can only handle the sight of you, draped over him for so long; his hands snake around your waist, using the hold to drag you both up. Leant against the bed frame. A momentary lapse in movement. “Hi.” he says, coy. “Hi, you’re so beautiful..” his lips meet your neck.
There are parts of you that he believed he would never uncover.
You scoff, “You’re going soft on me here.”
“Are you sure? Because from where i’m sat, I’d beg to differ—“ his words are destroyed by the force of your movements.
He feels warm, in ways that are so intrinsic that the feeling could border on religious. Your hips sink against his, and the contact is enough to drive him mad. His hands are tangled in hair, guiding you closer, kissing you again, and again until you’re just breathing into each others mouth.
“I’m always soft for you,” he promises between ragged breaths. When you’re close, he still feels he retains a fracture of what he once was.
“Good,” you grab a fistful of hair, watch as he breaks.
“Oh,” he moans, ripping into his own lip. “Oh— please..” To have you on his lap, wrapped around him, gasping into his collar. Your body is the culmination of every fantasy — the clandestine ones he was content to keep buried indefinitely.
You watch as he cups your face, as he forces your eyes to meet his in the diluted light. ‘Please,’ he says, shameless to the words, meeting your stare head-on. ‘Please please please.’
He begs, straight to your face. “Just have me. I want it so bad…”
He feels possessed. Leashed, built for you alone.
“Yeah? Do you want me to own you?” your words are a dragged whisper against his ear, he thinks he might come from just this. “To know that you’re mine alone?”
“Mhm—“ he breathes out, “Yes, fuck— please.”
You wrap your hand around his neck, pressing your thumb to his throat. He wears your grip like a necklace. “Just like that, huh?” his hips twitch, pushing up to bury his cock deeper into you.
You hold. For a few moments, watching as he struggles against the restriction to his airflow. He’s flushed, whining out “Just like that…” when you release.
“Take it, Spencer.” you retort, watching as he groans, head spilling back against the wall, severing the eye contact. “If you’re going to be good for me, take it.”
“Trying— ‘m trying,” he sobs. The words are fragmented, they get caught in a knot of moans and half-whimpers.
His hands, his deft, long fingers, tremble as they drag across your ribs, as they palm your breasts before hooking around your waist to deepen each push of movement.
There’s a reminder, burning through the back of his mind. Because touch has always entailed pain. Bruises, scarring, a reminder that some people are inherently violent, and no matter how soft you are, you can be ripped apart…
He’s not sure if he’s the victim or the antagoniser. He thinks maybe both.
…but when your fingers lace with his own, he loses himself.
His head falls to your shoulder. “Please, im trying..” to take it, to accept the pleasure, to acknowledge that you’re permanent. Something irreversible, a black hole he’ll bet his life on.
“I know, I know. So good, Spence. Just like that.”
He’s never needed praise more than he does now.
“There we go.., i’ve got you.”
“I’m yours,” he sobs, “You know i’m yours. Only ever been yours.”
When he comes, it’s messy. Ruptured whimpers and the arch of his back; he’s faintly aware of you clenching around him, reaching your own orgasm, but everything feels, and it’s so much. A tangle of stimuli that his tired body has grown used to begging for. He spills deep inside of you, marking himself in crevices.
“Why did we waste so much time?” he asks after. When you’re both flushed, lying naked against his mattress. “You could’ve had me when I was better. You could’ve had that version of—“
“Spencer,” you cut off. “I don’t care. There isn’t ‘versions of you,’ that’s dumb.” he wants to laugh at your bluntness. “There’s just.. you. You before prison. And you after. They’re both the same, you haven’t lost yourself. You’re just… stronger now.”
“I don’t want to be stronger.” he says, leaning forward to kiss you. “Teach me how to be weak again.”
You don’t tell him there’s no going back. That he’ll never retain the innocence of what once was. Instead, you just sigh, hand curved around his jaw as you reciprocate the contact. “Okay.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah,” you respond, “I promise.”
#criminal minds#spencer reid smut#sub spencer reid#spencer reid x you#spencer reid#spencer reid angst#post prison reid#he makes me SAD#(and horny)
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2024 fandom review!
thank u for the tag @willesredlights sorry it took me literally ages to get to it
lets pretend we're not almost two weeks into the new year ok? and what a year it has been. holy shit.
~ Fics written ~
I'll be honest I did go a little batshit crazy this past year. 314k words across 19 published works, plus god knows how much more unpublished on tumblr. listen, I was deep in the ??? phase of my master's (still am, lets be honest) and desperately looking for a new creative outlet. I've always been a writer, always loved dreaming up stories, but I have never quite connected to a universe as much as I have to this one. I resonate with so many of the characters, and i just feel like there is so much room to play and explore. i will continue to add in old people OCs to my fics wherever and whenever i get the chance.
First fic: for the tree's sake (M, 48k) aka tree boys inspired by the trip that eventually led to my discover of young royals in late '23, and my darling baby. yes, that airplane ride that seems weird and random is based on truth!
Fav fic: just if for a minute (T, 53k) aka fake married idiots i greatly enjoyed making Wille suffer for just under 53k. that confrontation scene took days off my life and yet i am so proud of how it turned out.
Honorary mention to Growing towards the light, which was a dream to work on and create with my dear sweet friend Lia. there is one braincell between the two of us and it's full of nature facts and dick jokes. and beautiful stories about getting lost in the wilderness and finding yourself along the way. and tent-dick jokes.
Last fic: Wille på Hyllan (T, 13k) aka christmas shenanigans! another collab with my dearest friends which was hilarious to write and so silly and imo an example of one of the greatest perks of being in a fandom: meeting some of the most incredible people ever. also, dick-lights and dick-tomtar and dick-cookies. what more could you want?
~ Fics Read ~
if i tried to go through my history and tell you how many fics i read this year i would never make this post. i'd be here counting and trying to copy links forever. i read hundreds of fics. i enjoyed all of them, thoroughly. i got a lot better at leaving comments (sometimes). i was consistently and repeatedly blown away by the genius brains we have in this little Swedish corner of the internet.
if you are a writer i love you and i give u a kiss on the forehead.
also: i recently made a lil rec list here.
~ Other Stuff? ~
i had two big, busy months this year. three? : May, Wille's month & July, Simon's month i cannot believe i wrote 62 stories in 62 different universes (give or take a few). that's kind of stupid! but oh my god it was so fun!! some of my favs: -> Food, where Wille and Simon meet and embark on a mistakenly booked couples food tour in Barcelona -> Fashion/Style, aka the Met Gala AU aka the thing that turned into something so much bigger than i could have ever imagined. literally i thought people were gonna hate it. so, thank u for not hating it. and for letting it become 15k+ of pwp. -> Secret, friends to lovers RAHHHHHH -> Home (Improvement), aka grumpy home renovator Simon idk i just feel like this should become a full-blown fic one day
and oh boy who can forget about Kinktober from wax kinks in 17th century Italy to desperate love confession in the middle of wildfires to... whatever that was in the confessional (idk, that's between them and God).
2024...
I did some painting: x x I wrote some real weird lil ficlets: x x and I met dozens of incredible people. thank u for liking my stupid rambling posts from 3am and my silly little ficlets and for reading my stories and telling me about your stories and saving me from the Frankfurt airport and yelling with me about stuff thats definitely not in the Bible and sharing your time and space and art and care.
@bigalockwood @hergrandplan @gulliblelemon @saynomorefic @pagegirlintraining @skibasyndrome @sobadbad @impossibleknots @piebingo @theaviatorthatcouldnotfly @misfithive @sillylittleflower @zee-has-commitment-issues @purplehoodiesandclementines @justfriendsbestthings
giving u a big hug. and! this is by no means an exhaustive list. if ur reading this we are bffs. send me a message ok? ok. y'all keep me sane and happy and i am so grateful for you! live love wilmon
#i hate vulnerability but i had to tell yall how much u mean to me#and wow what a year it has been#all laid out like this its crazy#300k+ and no plans on stoppin 😎#you can pry my laptop from my cold dead hands#yr fandom review#jay reflects???#nosy hours
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{ All For Us } Part IV Part I - Part II - Part III
This chapter is shorter than the others, i’m sorry, but I really wanted to focus on reader and Thanos feelings, relations, sensations and writhe a beautiful Smut, not just straight up porn.
It gonna my first F U L L Smut in English, so i’m really sorry for 100% bilingual person who gonna read this, but iI swear I did my best. I red a lot of smut before or have dark romance Book at home, so Im not new to this i’m just new to writhe it 😂
If you are not comfortable With Smut, You can Skip the entire Chapter cause it will mostly be it. Sorry not sorry
I hope you will Enjoy it cause not gonna Lie, even if I L O V E smut, I always feel weird to writhe ones.
TW : Smut - P in V - Bitting - Praise kink - Cunni - Thanos behing fucking hot and adorable. Idk for real. it's a fucking smut, figure it out
TagList : @private-vampire @rafesbunniebby @ultracoolnobody @chxrrybomb22
You stayed silent at his question, squeezing tighter your arms as your eyes looked away from his insistent look. You didn’t want to talk about any of this, not here, not now. You wasn’t ready. You weren't ready to talk about your fear, your anxiety, your stress, not ready to talk about the baby and every feeling you have. You weren't ready to face reality.
You could feel your eyes getting wet, your vision blurring as your body started to shake. Your mouth opened up, you tried to answer, but nothing came out.
You could hear Thanos get closer to you by the sound of the wet floor under your feets. The more step he made to you, the more your heart raced in your chest.
«-I’m sorry.»
That’s all you managed to say. Your voice was a shaking mess. Anxiety started to rush more and more through your veins, insanely going to your brain and making it more fuzzy. You didn’t know why you were sorry. That’s not the thing you wanted to say, but you feared Thanos' anger and you didn’t want to make him mad.
His silence stressed you more and His step got closer to you.
«-I didn’t know what to do, I never planned any of this. It just happened and I couldn’t just get rid of the kid. What happened is not his fault. I- »
You were cut By Thanos Lips on yours as his large hands cupped your face. You were caught by surprise by this attention, but it made you feel your stress vanish as soon as you felt him. His lips, his touch, his warmth, all of this made you feel safe.
Thanos kiss was passionate, eager for you. You don’t remember the last time he kissed you like this. You were still mad about him for what he'd done to you, but right now you couldn’t care less. You needed him probably as much as he Needed you.
Your arms slid around his neck, you fingers lost themself in his purple hair as you answered to his kiss with the same passion, you had missed this feeling that only he can make you feel.
Your lips spread a little bit to let your boyfriend’s tongue pass between them to come meet up with his twin. Your tongues started to dance a beautiful tango of passion.
Thano’s hands, who were now on your Hips, pressed you more against the cold wall behind you, making you moan through the kiss under the icy effect.
You didn’t realize how much you needed to breathe until Thanos pulled away from your lips, leaving you with flushed cheeks, swollen Lips and a strong need between your legs.
«-Fuck.. »
He whipped out some saliva on his lips, looking at you with the same desir in his eyes as you have for him.
«-Did I already told You how beautiful you are when you look like this. »
You looked away, embarrassed and covered your body with your arms. You completely forgot for a moment that you were Naked. Thanos rooming over your body and stops at your small belly before gently putting his hand on it, making you shiver.
«-I should have been there when you got the news. »
He take a little break before his eyes going back to you as his hand on your belly came to take your chin, forcing you to look at him.
«-I know I fucked up, but I want to be there for you and for our baby. »
‘’ Our ‘’ Baby. It was the word who made you flinch. Your weakness all exposed you couldn’t hold your tears anymore and just hugged him. Your face in his chest you start to cry like you never did before. All those feelings could finally break free ; Sadness, fear, happiness. It was a messy mix of everything. Thanos hugged you back and placed his hand on your head.
«-I love You Y/N I always did, even If I never told you. High or Not, you always were on my mind since the day we met. You are the drug I can’t quit.-Fuck You Su-Bong, you should have told me that before…»
You still cried in his arms as he gently caressed your hair.
«-I know. I’m sorry. I’ill Understand if you want me to fuck off and leave You alone, but please don’t push me away from this kid. He’s not even born yet but I already feel like I could kill for that Child...»
You sniff and look up at your Boyfriend who smiled at you.
«-You’re not mad about that ?-About what ? You being pregnant ? How could I ? This is the living proof that I marked You inside and out, He answered with a Smirk.»
You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling as a little amusing ‘’ gross ‘’ came out of your mouth.
Thanos gets on his knee in front of you and gently kiss and talk to your little bump. It was adorable, but also pretty hot.
Your arousal from the kiss was still there, you squeezed your tights to try to calm down, but the image of his lips and tongue between your legs was too hot to be ignored. Your breath started to be a little bit heavier as you put your shaking hand in Thanos' hair.
«-Su-Bong, can You… »
Thanos looked up at you and smiled when he noticed your state.
«-Princess want to be taken care of, hm ? »
His deep voice, his pet name for you, it turned you on more as you nodded at his question.
It didn’t take that long for him to start his magic, first with his fingers, sliding them between your already dripping folds. You spread your legs a little to let him have some space, but he wanted to have the perfect view. Gripping your Tight, he put it on his shoulder, making you blush.
«-I like to see How wet I can make you »
His fingers slide easily in you, making you gasp. He moved it in and out at a slow pace before his lips came to meet your Clit, sucking it at first before his tongue started to work around.
Eyes closed you pull on his hair under the sensation of his hot mouth around your sensitive part. It felt more sensitive than it was before, making you moan his name again and again. You had to put your other hand on your mouth to shut you up. Grinting, Thanos stop his work on your clit and bites the skin of your tight, making you scream.
«-Remove that hand or I will bite Harder.-But, the guards will hear everything..»
He bites you again, sucking on your skin as his fingers continue to move in and out. He curled them a little bit when he felt he hitted the good spot. When his teeths let go of your skin, it hurt and you noticed the bruise Thanos had let you. He kisses the painful part before looking at you again.
«-Your hand, Beautiful, he said as a warning.»
You slowly removed your hand which covered your mouth, making him smile.
«-That’s my good girl. »
Oh gods, you like it so much when he gives you that kind of pet name, when he praises you and he could tell by how hard your inside squeezed his fingers.
Removing it from inside of you, Thanos gets up and starts to Undress under your hungry eyes. You have seen him more than once but you still feel amazed by how hot he looks. Once he’s naked, he grips your ass and pulls you from the ground and you wrap your hands around his hips as he easily inserts himself in you.
You felt your inside stretch out and that was simply divine. You took him like you were made for him. As he feel you clench around him, Thanos let a hungry grunt escape his lips. His forehead placed on your shoulder, he try to focus to not just destroy you.
«-Please… Su-bong, don’t hold back.»
His hands on your ass grip you harder as he pressed your back against the wall before starting to move. The feeling of each other was insanely amazing. Behind moans, growls, slurpy kiss and love bite all over each other’s body, you was both somewhere else where only you two belong, feeling like your soul could escape your body, making only one. Behind pleasure, you felt safe, you felt loved, it was all you needed.
«-I love you »
You managed to moan to thano’s ear as you grip his shoulder a little bite more. You could feel your orgasm coming quickly.
«-I love you too princess, so fucking much.»
He kissed you again as you came undone around him. Moaning trought the kiss. You became more sensitive and since Thanos didn’t stop moving, trusting faster and harder inside you, You came another time and it Didn’t took long to your partner to do the same.
You both were breathless, every muscles of your bodies was tired and so do you. You needed sleep and your eyes started to close as you rest your forehead on thanos shoulder.
«-Don’t fall asleep Now, we need to wash ourself before.-Yeah… you’re right.»
Thanos pulled out of you and put you back on your feets. Your legs was shaky, you needed your boyfriend’s help to stand.
As your partner opened the water, he helped you wash yourself, making you blush.
«-I can do it myself, you know… -You seem tired. Let me help you for this time.»
He gently kiss you and continue his task as you let him do it, but only for this time.
#thanos#thanos x reader#x reader#thanos squid game#squid game thanos#smut#choi su bong#thanos smut#pregnant#pregnant reader#thanos x pregnant reader#fanfiction#p in v sex
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#unfortunately all of that was tossed out in favor of a 'actually templars are oppressed too guys :(' plot in DAI so :/ <<< i hate this so much cause actually it could had been done well but its like. well who is oppressing the templars?? uhm?? who is making them take lyrium and teaching mage's babies to be templars since they are children? and everyone is like "hahah idk but we need to restore the chantry's power"
LITERALLY!!! You are so so correct!
I would not have minded (and actually would have enjoyed!) focusing on the plight of templars as well if a.) They didn't try to paint mages as being equally as bad in the process and b.) They did exactly what you said and tied it all back to the people up top who are responsible for many of the worst atrocities plaguing Thedas: The Chantry.
Unfortunately that remains one of my least favorite plot points in all of dragon age because of the complete 180 they did between 2 and Inquisition. This is not a "both sides" issue between the templars and the mages. Sure, one group is being kept controlled rationed drug addiction and brain washing since childhood (terrible!) but the other is literally being forcefully ripped from their parents and forced into a prison tower where they are constantly abused in every manner, made tranquil, have no privacy or free will, and can be completely eradicated at the whims of the Chantry. These are not at all the same.
PLUS They act like this is a Kirkwall specific issue. It's not! I've seen the Harrowing, I've seen the dungeons of Kinloch Hold, I've seen how willing they were to lock all the mages in with demons to save themselves, I've heard Anders talk about being locked in solitary confinement (which in our real world is considered a method of torture) and woken up by being beaten in the head, I've hears him say how mages would jump to their deaths to escape the tower. I've also seen the templars giddily hunt him (and break orders to do so) like he's an animal.
Do not send me back to Ferelden and try to pull this "actually the rebel mages that look suspiciously like Anders are bad and dangerous but the poor little templars :("
And don't even get me started on how the tranquil and their plight are relegated to like 2 conversations and not treated as much a big deal.
But yeah, we should build up this chantry organization regardless of race or whether or not you're a mage (and can I just say making you a noble mage who had a cushy time in the circle is bullshit? Lol).
Okay, sorry for going off but you're so correct and I have so many feelings about this topic asfjsdk
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Ok, now I can't stop thinking about this, damnit.
Now look, idk if in the comics is said how Dick figured Jason was red hood (not that I know)
But, like, I have this scenario in my mind I CAN'T STOP;
See, Jason notices his helmet is starting to crack but he pays no mind because, surely the cracks are superficial, right? WRONG. One night while he's fighting Nightwing he punches right were the cracks are and BUM, his stupid helmet breaks. Dick is too stunned to speak, and Jason? Of course he fucking leaves the scene. But of course Dick follow him.
I can imagine Dick chasing Jason until he finally catches him, pinning him down and he's like;
"Jason, it's really you, isn't it?" And Jason is like; GET OFF ME!
But Dick hugs him and even tho Jason is trying to push him away Dick just clings to him and keeps whispering things like: oh my god, you're alive, you're alive.
Jason tries to ignore the way he's running his hand through his hair, or the way he's holding him so tightly but gently, as if he were precious or something.
He manages to break free and runs away. Dick follows him, again, and this time, Jason doesn't stop or tries to loose him.
I can picture Dick pestering Jason, like I at first thought, but I have THIS ONE SCENE;
------
"...I can't believe you're alive," Dick said, his voice almost dreamy as he sighed. He said it everytime there was silence between them—which honestly, was way too often.
Jason buries his face in the palms of his hands, letting out a sigh as he tries not to snap. He had already snapped at him, and all he got in response was that annoying smile of his.
"Yeah. I know. You've been saying that ever since you found out." If he wasn't wearing his helmet, he would be pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Yeah, can‘t get over it," Dick said, shamelessly. Just to get on his baby’s nerves a bit more.
He went to stand beside him, looking at the table with the different maps, names and photographs. "What ya’ doing?"
He knew perfectly well what Jason was doing, probably scheming some 'evil plan', but his brain just couldn't stop finding excuses to start a conversation.
Jason buries his face in his hands further. Really, how did things end up this way?
That day he had seen his helmet had some cracks but he thought they were nothing, he thought they were superficial. Then Dick hits just where the cracks are and it breaks.
And then he's sobbing in his shoulder and he's trying to get away. And now he has this pest.
"Why ya wanna know?" he asked, his voice tired. "What, ya gonna go tell the old man? Trying to get some useful information to tell him?" Jason was convinced he was there to spy on him, or maybe this was the old man's —Batman's— strategy to ruin all his plans.
"Nope, I just wanna talk," Dick said, his tone gentle. He raised one hand, reaching over to him, but not touching him in case he got irritated —even though he really wanted to. Instead of placing it on Jason's shoulder, he rested his hand on the chair.
"And no, not going to tell him anything," he added, watching him. "Just making conversation, trying to catch up with my Little Wing’s life".
Jason just sighs again, tired of everything, tired of this annoying dickhead that won't stop pestering him.
He takes his helmet off, and he can feel Dick's eyes on him all the way. He knows he's staring, and he knows the bastard is too shameless to even try to hide it.
He didn't even noticed when he got closer, or when he reached out to cup his cheek, to trace the scars in his face. Either way, Jason didn't move away. Maybe a part of him accepted the fact that he needed a gentle touch, as little as it was.
"... I'm so proud of you, Little Wing," Dick suddenly said. Jason couldn't understand; he had killed, he was a criminal, how could he say that so...so genuinely?
He scoffed.
"... You'll betray me," Jason mumbled, looking away, "everyone does."
Who he thought was his biological mother, Bruce, Talia...and eventually, Dick would, too.
"I would never do that, Little Wing. Never." Dick swore.
-----
BUT THEN, THEN, THEN JASON ATTACKS TIM, AND HE'S ABOUT TO SHOOT, AND DICK IS THERE, AND DICK ONLY HAS A GUN AT HAND, AND HE MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN TIM AND JASON, AND HE CAN'T THINK AND HE SHOOTS JASON.
HE'S HORRIFIED, SHOCKED, BUT JASON, HE HAS THIS LOOK THAT IS LIKE; oh...You actually betrayed me.
AND THEN, THEN HE'S SENT TO ARKHAM ASYLUM, AND DICK VISITS AND HE'S LIKE: I'M SO SORRY LITTLE WING, I'M SO SORRY.
BUT JASON DOESN'T SPEAK, HE DOESN'T EVEN LOOK AT HIM IN THE EYES BECAUSE, BECAUSE HE'S SO DAMN HURT, BECAUSE HE MADE HIM BELIEVE HE WOULDN'T BETRAY HIM AND THEN BETRAYED HIM LIKE EVERYONE.
ANd I don't like the canon that Talia abused Jason, I don't consider it canon, BUT I'LL TAKE IT HERE BECAUSE I WANT MORE REASONS FOR JASON RO BE SO DISTRUSTFUL.
AND THEN, THEN JASON ESCAPES ARKHAM BUT HE DOESN'T GO BACK TO BEING RED HOOD.
No one knows where he is now.
I SUCK AT WRITING, I KNOW, BUT, BUT, IF SOMEONE KNOWS HOW TO WRITE AND LIKES THE IDEA, YOU CAN TAKE IT, TAKE IT AND DO SOMETHING FABULOUS WITH IT 😭😭😭😭😭
Had this idea, idk if someone else thought about it. Nightwing finds out who Red Hood is, but instead of going against him, clings to him with dear life because, that's his baby right there!?!?!? The baby he thought he lost!?!?!?
And Jason is not having it. He'll be trying to scheme something and Dick will be like; Jason, bedtime!
He's convinced Dick is damn crazy because, HELLO I JUST KILLED A MAN?
And dick is like: haha. Oh, you little rascal. Don't do it again, alright, you little troublemaker?
Jason surrenders. He prefers to go to Arkham asylum, rather than having to tolerate one single second with Dick clinging to him.
Yeah, I know it's not very canon, but when I thought about it it made me laugh.
#batman jason todd#jason todd#red hood#nightwing#dick grayson#dc#dc comics#fanfic ideas#dc fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#batfam#the batfamily
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the word is “but” GO
gel my darling dearest anything for youuuuuuu 😘 what a challenge. truly. idk how you thought i might have some of that in my wips lmaoo.
okay so this is a wip with wayyy too many tags, we got urban fantasy, university au, sapphic payneland, the list goes on. also niko's here! niko's having a not-so-fun time but at least she gets to see a lot of pretty girls <3
At the next door over, on your left, Niko didn’t even need to worry about knocking at an empty room. She could hear the rock music – with the occasional trumpet – even from here, as well as the pretty but untrained voice yelling out every second lyric. Niko knocked politely, before realizing the sound would be inaudible under all the music. She knocked again, a little less politely, and after a stressful second, the music shut off and the door swung open. It was both better and worse than with Edith. Better, because this girl was just as tall and pretty, but in a way less intimidating way. Worse, because as soon as Niko saw her, something deep in her brain commanded, Freeze.
#dbda#wip guessing game#dead boy detectives#niko sasaki#tltl fic#dead girl detectives#sapphic payneland#payneland
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College Life
Kelvin Harrison Jr. x reader (Pt.1)
A/N: Yet another series for ya girl! Idk how many parts this gonna be, tho.
Warnings: none... Yet.
(Pt.2 here)
--------------------------------------------
Being a “jock” in high school translates to being a “frat boy” in college. That title was something Kelvin desperately wanted to escape. Sometimes he regrets playing sports, but it was one way to get outta his hometown and make something of himself. He has the brains, too, though. He graduated at the top of his class and had an array of universities to choose from. He ended up picking the HBCU the love of his life decided to go to.
Okay, the love of his life is a bit of a stretch since the two of you barely spoke in high school, but he knew you existed and always loved you, even if you didn’t know it yet.
He ended up confessing to you the night after graduation. That summer was perfect.
Kelvin always tells you that you mean the world to him. He was ready to start a new life at university with you, until move-in day, he saw all his boys from high school and the pressure got to him.
You two held hands, walking up to the dorm building you would be staying in. He promised he would help you move in since your parents couldn’t make it.
“Ayo is that Kelvin?! Mr. Star player himself!”
Kelvin froze. He didn’t know Jharrel picked this place too. Something in him clicked and he dropped the suitcase handle and your hand.
He turned around to where the greeting came from, “Yo! Already know it’s me!”
He walked over to him and they did a (in your opinion, ridiculous) handshake, “You didn’t tell me you got in here Rel.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not like you were taking calls all summer. Busy man, very hard to get ahold of.”
He glanced back at you, still standing a few feet away from him, waiting, “You know, was working to save up some cash. Can’t come here and be broke right?”
“Fasho,” Jharrel glanced at the name of the building, “You do know this is the girl's dorms right? Don’t tell me my boy got himself some pussy lined up before the semester even started?”
Kelvin rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled, “Um yeah, something like that. you know how I do.”
This is what had you confused, it’s not like they were having this conversation privately or quietly so you heard it all. Got himself some pussy lined up? Why hasn’t he introduced you?
You decided you weren’t going to sweat it. You weren’t his official girlfriend anyway. Y’all hadn’t talked about that and you guess it was never gonna happen either. You got the suitcase that Kelvin had so eloquently dropped and walked into the building, you’ll move yourself in.
Before Jharrel could get another word in, a girl walking by caught his eye, “Aye, ima catch you later Kelv.” He dapped Kelvin up then walked away.
Kelvin let out a breath and turned around, thinking you’d still be there. Surprise, surprise… you weren’t. He pulled out his phone and walked into the building, calling you, needing to know what your room number is.
You didn’t wanna answer but, you needed help moving the dresser. How could he just agree with Jharrel like that?
“Hey, where are you? I’m getting on the elevator now, what’s your room number?”
You told him the room number and hung up quickly. He didn’t think anything of it.
When he walked into your room, you were sitting on the bed, obviously upset, but of course he didn’t pick that up.
He shut the door, “Why’d you leave from down there?”
“Are you really asking me that question?”
He walked further into the room, “Yeah, I am. Cause I wanna know.”
You sighed, “I know we aren’t together, but did you really have to hide the fact that you were helping me move in? Is it that bad that we’re seen together?”
This whole situation had you shook, you didn’t think he was one of those guys.
Kelvin instantly felt bad, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disregard your presence. But, I have a reputation to uphold and you know that.”
“A reputation? Kelvin this isn’t fucking high school anymore. You don’t have to keep that silly shit up anymore. You’re the one who told me you picked this school to start a new life.”
He sat next to you on the bed, “I picked this school to do that and be with you. I like you.”
“You like me but you wanna keep me in the dark?”
“Keep you in the dark?” now he was a little confused, “I just didn’t bring you up. It’s not like we’re together.”
Oh… he went there. Of course, he would because it’s true.
Nodding your head, “You are so fucking right. We aren’t together, but it would be so wonderful of you to not act like I’m invisible.”
He was confused even more. Nobody was acting like you were invisible, but it was no use in arguing with you.
“Look, I’m sorry. I never should’ve done that. If I had brought you into the conversation, then he would’ve blown everything outta proportion. The semester hasn’t started and I wanna be chill right now.”
This wasn’t gonna end well, but you wanted this to work, so, “Fine. Chill. I can be chill.”
He kisses your cheek, “So, what you need help with?”
And just like that he’s forgiven.
--------------------------------
Taglist: @itsbackwoodsbby @femdisa @luvrsluxe @ayeeeitsmiracle @sharmelasworld @papithetia @mzv11
#becauseimswagman1#x black reader#kelvin harrison jr.#kelvin harrison jr x black!reader#kelvin harrison jr x reader
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summary: caleb is good at making you feel at home.
authors note: can't believe i'm posting a caleb work here on this account before a sylus one LOL, anyways i'll treat our dragon fine later, now this colonel has been eating my brain the past two days and i need to get this out. this is pretty lame honestly, just trying to figure out what caleb i want to write among ALL of the ideas his one minute trailer gave me geez. i hope you like his soft side here because i plan to write a more obsessive caleb next time hehe. (GUYS I CAN'T FIND THE AUTHOR OF THIS BEAUTIFUL DRAWING I FOUND ON PINTEREST HELP).
warnings: soft!caleb lol he is just our boynextdoor here • idk where this would fit in the og story so just enjoy the reading and pretend it makes sense pls • sfw content
word count: 0.6k
the neon glow of skyhaven's artificial skyline reflected off the polished surfaces of the floating colony, bathing everything in shades of blue and violet. caleb leaned casually against his fighter jet, the sharp angles of the aircraft framing his silhouette. his black jacket, emblazoned with the deepspace aviation administration emblem, caught the faint light, making him seem larger than life.
“thought you’d chicken out,” caleb said, his voice laced with mock disappointment as you approached. “figured you’d be too scared to race the great colonel caleb.”
“scared? of you?” you shot back, folding your arms. “last i checked, you scraped the hull of your jet in the last drill. hardly inspiring confidence, colonel.”
he chuckled, the sound low and warm, and pushed off the jet with an easy grace. “ouch. remind me to never let you near the observation deck again. you’ve got a real knack for holding grudges, don’t you?”
your banter was familiar, a shield against the weight of the world outside skyhaven. but tonight, there was a strange tension in the air, unspoken yet undeniable.
caleb stepped closer, his usual teasing smirk softening into something more genuine. “you know,” he began, his tone quieter now, “all jokes aside, it’s good to see you up here. the city looks... different from above. easier to pretend it’s not falling apart for a while.”
you glanced past him, your gaze settling on the twinkling lights of linkon city far below. “it’s not falling apart,” you said firmly. “not while we’re still here to fight for it.”
“always the optimist,” caleb murmured, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “you make it sound so easy.”
“it’s not. but what’s the alternative?”
silence stretched between you two, broken only by the hum of distant machinery. caleb looked at you, his purple eyes searching yours for something unspoken. when he spoke again, his voice was softer, rawer.
“do you ever wonder what it would’ve been like if we hadn’t lived through the chronorift?” he asked. “if we’d just... had normal lives? no wanderers, no aether cores, no missions?”
you blinked, caught off guard by the vulnerability in his words. caleb rarely let his guard down, always the jokester, always the soldier.
“sometimes,” you admitted. “but then i remember how much we’ve done—how much we’ve survived. i wouldn’t trade that. not if it means losing you.”
his gaze sharpened, and for a moment, caleb seemed to forget the world around them. he took a step closer, the space between you shrinking.
“Y/N,” he said, your name heavy with meaning. “you know i’d do anything to keep you safe, right? even if it means...” he trailed off, looking away, his jaw tightening.
“even if it means what?” you pressed gently.
he exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair. “even if it means putting the whole world in danger. you’re the one thing I can’t lose.”
for once, you didn’t have a comeback. instead, you reached out, your fingers brushing his. “you won’t lose me, caleb. not as long as you don’t give up on yourself.”
the tension between you softened, replaced by something warmer, quieter. caleb’s smirk returned, though it was tinged with something deeper this time.
“guess i’ll have to stick around then,” he said, his voice lighter now. “wouldn’t want to miss out on you finally admitting i’m the better pilot.”
you rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “keep dreaming, colonel.”
and as the two stood there, beneath the artificial stars of skyhaven, it felt, for a moment, like the weight of their world was a little easier to bear.
author's note: look how sweet we can be, see? anyways next time i'll be writing about how he fucks probably, xx. send me a request • my masterpost
#love and deepspace#lads#l&ds#lads caleb#lads zayne#lnds caleb#love and deepspace caleb#caleb fluff#cale#caleb x mc#caleb widogast#caleb lnds#caleb love and deepspace#caleb x you#caleb x reader#caleb
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Update (more like me rambling than an actual update, tbh)
Hope y'all are doing alright! I saw my inbox filled with asks and kind words (y'all are the best, as always), and I'll start answering everything once I wrap up Chap 2, Part 2. I want to focus fully on writing so I can get you the whole chapter before March at least, haha.
I'm gonna start correcting what I've written so far to avoid ending up with 100k words to fix all at once. We're about 50% through Chap 2, Part 2 (38k words, but it'll probably hit 40k with corrections). There are branches that have messed with my brain because I wanted to include scenes for each RO, but I don't regret it. I love games with lots of replayability (is that how we say it?), so I want mine to offer that too.
Chap 2, Part 2 will have a ton of branches for each RO, plus the option if you're not pursuing anyone, so it might take a while to get that full chapter out. I honestly don't know how other authors keep track of so many branches! I've always respected them as a reader/player, but being the one writing makes me wanna hand my future kids over to those incredible authors…
On top of that, I'm dealing with another issue. I've been writing so much that I think I'm slowly slipping into that "They gaze at her and say," "They take the paper and it falls" vibe (is that even a thing? Idk). You know, the kind of writing with no real description. I find myself double-checking everything to make sure the descriptions are 'good,' and I think I'll just play some IFs when I got time, to help me regain my groove without turning phrases all weird (I hate reading books, that's why I'm gonna play IFs). This is making me slow down a bit.
I've been pushing myself to write at least 4-5k words each day for the past 3 (4?) months, and I think I shouldn’t have done that. I'm putting pressure on myself without even realizing it. It's only when I end up with 'only' 3k words that I start feeling upset and push through to hit minimum 4k. I'm feeling good for now and don't mind writing that much, but I really don't want to wake up one day and boom—burnout. A Ko-fi member and some folks in my inbox have kindly reminded me to take breaks and take my time, so I think I'll slow down a bit. Like, maybe aim for 3k words?
I've been writing for years, (started on Wattpad in French, and yeah, it was… something) so no worries about the game going on hiatus or anything. I love writing, especially interactive stuff—so basically IFs, haha. Just wanted to keep you in the loop!
Anyway, this ended up way longer than I intended. Stay safe, don't forget to eat your greens, stay hydrated, and all that! <3
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Dad's not home | Modern!Eddie Munson x AFAB!Reader x Stepdad!Jim Hopper
Summary: You've been dating Eddie for months now and he's grown very fond of someone from your own family... Luckily, they both share the same love for you 🩷
Cw: 18+, Stepcest, pansexual!Eddie, slut!Eddie, stepdad!Hopper, talk of beefy Hopper, lots of dirty talk, cheating, threesome, anal sex, unprotected p in v, 2 guys 1 girl, masturbation (male receiving), excessive cumming Eddie, nipple play, little angst with happy ending, plot twist
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You loved Eddie very much, so so much you let him do anything he wanted, you never ever questioned him or even felt jealous of him, he was the perfect boyfriend and you were the perfect partner for him
So due to this unbreakable trust you had on him, you never expected what was going to come...
You were home alone at the cabin you lived in with your stepdad, your mother had passed a few years ago and having nowhere else to live, you decided to stay with him, being the chief of police and a genuinely nice man you trusted him and he made great company and food
But one thing he didn't like were visits, he knew Eddie, having arrested him multiple times for speeding or drug dealing, he didn't expect you to date him and he didn't like him at his house one bit, so you had to be sort of sneaky when you wanted him to come over either to hang out or fuck your brains out
So here you were in bed, texting your boyfriend to invite him over, feeling particularly needy of his dick
Hey babe
My step dad's not home ;)
I know
That threw you off guard, what does he mean he knows?
Wdym you know??
He realized his mistake, quickly texting back an answer
I mean, idk it's a tuesday at night, he's probably working right?
"Hmmm, that was weird, but okay" oh poor naive you, believing his reply you texted again
Yeah you're right
Wanna come over? ;)
"Shit" Said Eddie thinking of an excuse you would believe, but, you would believe anything he told you anyway
Sorry babe can't do, I'm helping Wayne fix his truck
"Damnit" you said to yourself when you read his text, he was once again busy to not come over
K, love u
Love u too
"Good boy, and she doesn't even suspect a thing huh? Such a shame she trusts you so much, won't ever see it coming" Hopper's voice spoke into Eddie's ear
Truth was, Eddie did know where your step dad was, because he was currently at a motel with him, getting his ass pounded by the older man
"Shit, please just stop talking and fuck me"
"Bratty tonight are we? I'll fuck the attitude out of you" Said the older man grabbing onto Eddie's waist and starting to really ram into him, making the younger one gasp and moan as his eyes rolled back, phone discarded somewhere on the creaking bed
Oh poor naive you...
Next time something weird happened was when you and Eddie were at his place watching a movie, said movie was not of your interest as you were jerking off your boyfriend under the blanket you had on your laps, suddenly you felt him twitch and he groaned particularly loud, you looked at the screen and a beefy dad bod man was on the screen, you could see his body jiggle as he walked and he looked damp with water or sweat, you failed to notice how Eddie bit his lip and came all over your hand unexpectedly
"What? So soon Ed's?"
"Shit s-sorry, I just-" he scrambled over his words "I just, have been really needy for you babe" he lied to your face so easily now, reality was that he was reminded of those nights he got fucked by your step dad when he saw that man who had a similar body complex as his forbidden lover "Sorry babe, lemme make it up to you, m'kay?"
You couldn't say no to that...
But the last straw was when he kept on denying you again, and again, and again, always coming up with lame excuses you were starting to get tired of
"I have a very important deal to get to"
"Sorry babe, I don't feel so good tonight"
"Babe, my van has a flat tire"
"Sorry babe, I have explosive diarrhea"
"I AM DONE WITH THIS BULLSHIT!" You had enough of this game, so you set out on a plan to finally know what Eddie was up to instead of being with you
You started following him, his van was driving outside of town and into a secluded area, that's when you saw the sign of a motel down the road, your stomach sank when you realized where this was going
You parked far away from his van and saw him get out, look around and then stand outside it, smoking a cigarette as he seemed to be waiting for someone, maybe the girl he was cheating on you with
Another car was pulling in, and you swear you got whiplash, it was your step dad's police car pulling in, he parked next to Eddie's van and got off, rounding the vehicle to come over to your boyfriend and they started making out furiously, you felt like you could pass out from the betrayal, your boyfriend and your step dad?! Really?! You knew Eddie sometimes would ogle men like when Steve was wearing those tiny basketball shorts one day but to fuck your step dad?! This is a whole new level of low
You watched them go into a room so you decided to strike then, quickly jogging to the door and knocking on it
Inside the two men separated from their kiss and eyed the door, not expecting anyone to knock or even know who they were to begin with...
Hopper reluctantly got up to open the door and was met with a very you standing there, in pure reflex he closed the door cutting you off when you opened your mouth to yell at him
"Who is it?" Eddie asked sitting up on the bed
"Uhm... You might wanna cover your ears"
He opened the door again and you started yelling your heart out
"HOW DARE YOU?! HOW FUCKING DARE YOU FUCK MY BOYFRIEND?! HE'S MINE!!"
"Y/n?!" Eddie said as he heard you, you stormed into the room pushing Hopper away and coming to yank Eddie's hair "Not the hair! Not the hair!"
"YOU'RE A FUCKING WHORE MUNSON!"
"I'm sorry baby, I'm sorry" you had begun to strangle him with his own hair, wrapping it around his throat and he kept on smacking your arms to release him
"Okay that's enough baby" Hopper said grabbing you away from Eddie who grabbed his throat in pain "We're not the only ones wrong here"
"She was strangling me" Eddie said out of air
"NO LEMME GO! I'M GONNA KILL HIM!" You trashed around in Hopper's arms but he just chuckled
"Okay settle down, you're not a saint yourself baby"
"What? What do you mean?" Eddie asked from the floor
"I mean that, Y/n has been a bad girl for her daddy, right baby?"
That's when it clicked for Eddie, and he smiled triumphantly
"Aha! You're a whore also! You've been fucking Hopper too!" He said pointing at you
"Yeah and he was supposed to be only mine!"
"Well, I guess he likes guys too, right daddy?" Eddie said talking to Hopper, to which he chuckled again
"Okay okay, there's enough for the two of you, we can share if you want to?"
So that's how you ended up sandwiched between both men, back facing Hopper and he grinded against your ass while he made you and Eddie make out, hands roaming each other's bodies, you felt yourself being lifted and you knew it was your step dad making space for him to fuck you in the ass, having better access to your tits Eddie wasted no time in latching onto one and nursing on it while also looking to enter your pussy
"Fuck daddy, fuck me please"
"Already on it princess" Hopper said as he je started to fuck your ass, while Eddie followed behind on fucking your pussy, wrapping your legs around Eddie's waist as you were being held by Hopper
"Fuck, I'm so close, gonna cum, fuck gonna cum!" You moaned as both men kissed your shoulders, neck, back and chest and then each other over your frame
"Cum baby, lemme feel it" Eddie said ramming into your pussy as Hopper kept on destroying your ass
With one loud shriek you came all over Eddie as he pumped his cum into you, what you loved of him was how much he came all the time, he would literally bulge your stomach from how much he came inside you, meanwhile Hopper emptied out in your ass
"Your turn Eddie boy"
"Yessir"
Now on your back with your legs wide open, Eddie on all four's eating you out while Hopper fucked him from behind, it was beautiful sight to see, how good Eddie took Hopper's 9 incher in his ass and how it brushed against his prostate every time he moved, and how his tongue was fucking your pussy along with Hopper's rythm was all too much and too good all over
"Fuck, fuck!" Eddie moaned into your pussy as he neared his peak, cock twitching as he prepared to cum again
"Cum Eddie, cum all over yourself Ed's, such a good boy" you praised him as his eyes rolled back and he came all over the bed, he thrusted two fingers in you as he sucked hard on your clit to make you cum too, your eyes rolled back as you reached your orgasm along with Hopper who was cumming in Eddie's ass
"Fuck... This was so good" Hopper said out of breath pulled out of your boyfriend's ass
"Too good..." You said as Eddie fell on you and you kissed his head "I'm sorry for cheating on you first"
"It's okay, at least we cheated with the same hot guy" Eddie yelped when he received a slap on the ass from Hopper
"Behave you two, or I'll punish you both"
You looked at Eddie and smiled at each other, wanting to tease Hopper some more
Guess it didn't end that bad after all...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tagging my friendo @ali-r3n for supporting this nasty idea 💜
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson/reader#eddie x you#boyfriend eddie munson#eddie munson x chubby reader#eddie munson x plus size reader#eddie smut#jim hopper x you#jim hopper x reader#chief jim hopper#jim hopper#jim hopper smut#step dad jim hopper
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thought to write cute post, turned out to be manifesto of Love to fat geek guys. another post of my "wait a minute, it's not weird to love fat people and be loud and proud about it, we just live in fucked up world where if you say you love fat people you are considered strange, and that's *exactly* why i will not shut up about it now" posts series
intimacy topics are involved
my "omg that's HOT 😍😍😍 guy other here.. top tier boyfriend material" type is very fat gamers (esp if they are good at some game, like, good at fightings or soulslikes, knowing all these complex mechanics and combinations etc) with special interest (esp building constructions: ships, lego) in glasses and beard (last two is optional bonus points). and i don't understand why it's not popular opinion. i mean i know why [capitalism + fatphobia] but i am shocked people still buying it
like. soft. its just literally nice and absolute heaven feeling to touch and hug and kiss fat boyfriend. they know interesting things and can tell interesting stories about it. if they make something - painting warhammer sculpts, lego, ships - they are artists, love it, very hot. whatever other special interest - hot brains, extra hot. glasses, beard - fucking beautiful
and its "not hot" by "society" "norms" cause... well, cause companies tell us. they are out of new ideas of what to sell and now they sell hate. and companies tell us that Hot Boyfriend Material (c) (trademark) (ai drawn) is..
fit rich guy.
like. em. what the hell people find hot about that.
don't get me wrong - *all* people are beautifull, no questions to muscular guys. but like. in social norm its like there is nothing more in that "hot guy norm" defined by society [capitalistic companies] *other* than "be rich and fit"
what to talk about with them? like, ok, you can go to whatever place on earth with him. but what to do with him there
intim? well, noone will be able to argue with me about that sx without fat person involved is better. it's literally feels more nice
i mean... idk, am i being autistic about it but?? its literally more nice *texture* feeling to touch fat. its soft. everyone like everything soft - plushies, pillows, matrasses, but then bodys its oh oh, no soft. okay, can get that everyone has their own thing and it can be nicer to touch muscles for someone, but, touching fat in intime and sexy ways considered as *something gross*. wtf? how can it be gross??? and its coexist with other "rule" - "oh fatty guys are nice to hug. as friends. haha they cute and funny :3". in which moment your nice to hug fat friend becomes ow ew gross to touch someone's boyfriend?
so yeah, people are caging themself out of absolute Eyphoria feeling of Love to people cause.. capitalists sold them idea about Love is smth cringe ew and not cool. selfhate 24/7 running in gym and eating water is eee cool, epic. god, it's so sad.
heaven is on earth and its to have soft boyfriend
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Ok first of all, I'm sorry for planting it in your head 😅
To me, his PV and the ending scenes are kinda giving me bad vibes. He looks like he has a lot of baggage he's carrying around and everything around him seems like he's just A Guy™️ and he's hanging out with Vein and Lu Xiao, and that alone is reason for me to believe that he will be thrown under the bus somewhere along the lines by someone. Not even necessarily Vein, but we know that lx is the master manipulator and we're told not to trust him.
I also don't think that all 3 of these new characters will make it to the end of this arc. We know lx will survive and with Vein being the one killing cxs in the future, he also will make it. Xf? Eh. Press x to doubt.
That cooperation line. I said right when i heard it the first time, i hope that he'll say it to lg or cxs, after them helping him doing something heinous (unknowingly in cxs case, knowingly? In the case of the popular theory of lg originally being one of the house), but with xf's pv coming out and veifei poisoning my brain... yeah well.
So. About your post.
In Greek mythology, the story goes that a nymph named Clytie was in love with Apollo, the God of Sun. In the beginning, he loved her too, but then his head was turned toward another nymph. In a fit of jealous rage, Clytie told the other nymphs’ father, who then buried his daughter alive as punishment. Apollo was so angry that he then turned Clytie into a sunflower. But, as her love for him was so strong, she watched him move across the sky every day, just how sunflowers follow the sun. (src)
Vein is like you said Apollo and xf is Clytie.
Someone turned Vein's head. And Xia Fei with his temper did something that resulted in that someone's death.
Xf may or may not be responsible for the dorm fire.
We don't know yet who was involved there. Who died. We do know though that Cheng Weimin was somehow involved. Cwm who may or may not have (had) powers involving seeing the future? Or a son who is able to change time. Or a wife who according to cxs also had powers.
Turning head doesn't necessarily mean that he fell in love with someone else, but maybe he gave a bit too much of his attention away to someone else?
And we don't know what Vein's ability is, we don't know what's his deal in all of this, why he's so keen on killing (?) Cxs.
(Killing or kidnapping? Read a nice analysis the other day of how in their fight in ep 1 he tried to separate the two of them, didn't shoot once at cxs, and seemed genuinely frustrated when they locked themselves in the dark room. Maybe because he knew cxs would be dead by the time he managed to break down that door? And in Yingdu we've already seen 1 attempt of getting him in a car with lx and Vein, and now that very obviously orchestrated rescue mission... hmm)
Then we have next episode's title. "And then there were none", a rhyme from a song that starts with 10 people who all die one by one, which is also the title for an Agatha Christie book where
- people get lured to an island under a pretence (like say... finding out something about your parents?)
- these people then get killed for causing the death of someone
Idk sounds familiar? And with the emphasis on the fire and the code talking about "there's only one survivor", idk, i feel like this will be relevant 🤔
So... uh. Excuse my rambling, i just got up and I'm still a bit tired lol.
What I'm saying is. We don't know what Vein's deal is. We don't know why he keeps Xia Fei (a seemingly normal guy) around and while I would love it to be genuine affection, I just don't clock Vein like that, idk.
What do you mean Xia Fei is full of death flags? His character flower is a sunflower!
Though not native to China, the sunflower is increasingly popular and carries symbolic meanings in Chinese culture. It signifies vitality, loyalty, and warm-heartedness. The sunflower's ability to turn towards the sun conveys admiration, respect, and a yearning for knowledge. (src)
Seems pretty positive. It also tells a lot about what Xia Fei thinks about Vein.
But wait, what’s this...
In Greek mythology, the story goes that a nymph named Clytie was in love with Apollo, the God of Sun. In the beginning, he loved her too, but then his head was turned toward another nymph. In a fit of jealous rage, Clytie told the other nymphs’ father, who then buried his daughter alive as punishment. Apollo was so angry that he then turned Clytie into a sunflower. But, as her love for him was so strong, she watched him move across the sky every day, just how sunflowers follow the sun. (src)
okay, it got a little dangerous… But! this still aligns with my yandere!XF headcanon. And aside from Vein being obviously Apollo, I can’t map the other characters to anyone else in the linkclick cast, so I think we’re safe—
Within Chinese culture, the sunflower has come to represent good luck, and receiving one as a gift or simply walking by one is seen as an auspicious sign. The yellow color is thought to denote intelligence as well as a vital spirit. In ancient China, royalty would eat the sunflower as a way to gain immortality, and it has continued to be associated with long life and prosperity. Most of China considers it a symbol of happiness as well. (src)
Vein.
Don’t. Think. About. It.
DON’T FUCKING THINK ABOUT IT, VEIN!
I WILL BE IN YOUR WALLS, VEIN!!!
#link click#link click spoilers#idk I'm rambling at this point#i don't think xf will make it out alive#and I really want it to be extra gay and dramatic#if i have to lose him then make it worth it
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Something about Nancy another thing about Jonathan and a third thing about choices that I can't fully articulate without the haters sabotaging me
#it's in my brain and idk how to get it out#but its tied in with choosing each other#but also giving each other the out#like Nancy doesnt HAVE to cut her hand Jonathan doesn't HAVE to expose the lab but they both CHOOSE to do it#there's no hesitation no doubts#and like even in s4 we see them intertwined in that way#like Jonathan CHOOSES to leave the relative safety of his house to go to Hawkins BECAUSE OF HER#and nancy CHOOSES to go back and kill Vecna BECAUSE it's connected to Lenora#like do you get it#because i can barely talk about it#bc there's also a 4th thing about how i. s1 the conformity of Hawkins wanted to pigeon holes them into roles#but by linking together they chose not to conform#i just.#thoughts you know#jonathan byers#jancy#nancy wheeler
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ok someone please correct me if i'm wrong but am i weird for thinking those 'audiobooks don't count as reading' posts are ableist as fuck????
#ramble#my first thought was like: how is this even a debate what about blind people. not every book comes in braille but MOST have an audiobook#or dyslexic people#you still enjoyed the book!! you still absorbed it!!! you got EXACTLY the same thing as people who read the words!!!#how does it not count????#i guess you miss out on the 'learning new vocab' you get through seeing the words but also#i don't really do audiobooks but i do a lot of podcasts esp fiction podcasts#and i have ABSOLUTELY picked up new stuff from there that helps with my writing#someone please explain how this is even an argument of COURSE it counts????#idk in my opinion finishing a book means 'i put the words in my brain and i thought about them and i enjoyed a story'#not 'i held a stack of paper in my hands for a bit'#i'm v lucky that i do have time to sit and read. and whenever i commute anywhere it's public transport so i CAN bring a book with me#but if i didn't have the free time or had to drive for hours everywhere i would be STOKED to still get to enjoy books#it's been REALLY bothering me lmao idk why i feel so strongly#for some reason it's giving the same energy as like. being told you can't take a comic or manga from the library bc it's not a 'real' book#of course it's a real book it's a story somebody wrote down#i can see this spiralling into 'if you have a kindle you aren't reading'. you have to sniff the paper. feel the papercuts
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