#ive been sitting on these thoughts for awhile

[kuniicou]

I've seen a couple text posts talking about Danganronpa and their dirty writing of Korekiyo Shinguji. Those people are right, but I don't think the damage is *too* bad and has a pretty easy fix. 

Before I get into specifics, know I'm not talking about the mess that is his trail. I'll bring it up briefly tho. 

Danganronpa has an intriguing way of writing its characters. Each one is written to be the protagonist of their story. As every character has "anime protagonist syndrome", generally they have some type of heavy trauma, but with the exception of Ultra Despair Girls(Warriors of Hope) every character doesn't seem to realize their own struggles. 

With small exceptions like Chihiro's getting stronger arc or Sonia being like "ruling a kingdom is a little stressful" most Dr characters don't realize the harm that's been done to them or are very casual about it. 

With the character not seeing their struggle as trauma or that bad, the narrative treats them in the same way. 

Example: Mondo Owada, in his trial it's revealed he killed his brother. Looking at the situation most fans say he *didn't* kill his brother, but because Mondo's perception is that he did the story follows his narrative. 

Danganronpa does this for every character. 

This approach to writing is really good, but if not done correctly drastically hurts characters. Most Dr characters have unique trauma so it's not as noticeable, ie, Kiyotaka, Hiyoko, Celeste. But the ones with heavy (more realistic/more relatable) trauma shows more, like sexual assault. - to my memory three characters have sexual assault as apart of their backstory, Mikan, Akane, and Korekiyo. 

Mikan has the whole fanservice deal where she needs attention at any cost, but I think she knows what she went through wasn't her fault. To a degree at least(?) - Akane, to my memory, is closer to Korekiyo's case where she doesn't know the abuse she suffered was abuse.(I'll get back to the front tails thing). 

Writing Korekiyo as he doesn't know it was abuse in *any* capacity is fitting for who his abuser is. He's open minded to the fault of his safety and he trusted her so why would they ever hurt him? But because he doesn't think it was abuse, the narrative follows his perception. 

To offset this and any characters that fall into this trap would be to have the protagonist recognize something isn't right. - In Kiyo's FTE he barely talks about his sister(probably to not tip people off to the twist) but to fix his issue Dr would have had to talk about her. They could leave out their relationship dynamic but they could talk about her personality. How controlling she was, how Kiyo would give into any demand because she was sick, how she was older than him, so then Shuichi/Keade could go "His sister seems very controlling but he seems happy with that arrangement." Or "I could never hang out with someone like that, I don't know how he does." 

The protagonist recognizing the behavior as weird is what saved Akane(besides her trauma not being the case) when she was going off about front tails Hajime was put off. Showing that someone sees that something isn't right. .

Okay. It can't be ignored. His trail. - It was dumb. The writers wanted to show off the twist of incestuous siblings but to do that his motivation would have had to be his sister, but wait, why would he suddenly be killing for her now after years of not? I KNOW! He was always a serial killer; he was just waiting for the right moment to strike! - I'm convinced the team couldn't think of a reason to tie her into the narrative so this was the best they could come up with. (Also in their picture together Kiyo needed to look younger than he does in the game. His timeline is one of the most convoluted, I swear.) 

Tldr: Korekiyo just suffers from being too subtle. The writers needed to focus a bit more onto his sister and most issues would have been fixed. Also he's not a serial killer, which makes no sense to his character. 

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Ya boi got a new medicine and a therapist.

[cognito-ergo-hazard]

OP youre extremely right but i am here to derail the post by asking about your russell crowe binge, namely why you think it is that Gamer (2009) is so universally panned despite having a nearly beat-for-beat identical plot to Gladiator (2000) which is widely regarded as a classic

do you think it has more to do with his wife being both a macguffin and a sex worker as opposed to spending the movie in a fridge, or more to do with the fact that the villain is military-industrial mark zuckerberg in a movie that came right on the heels of late-bush emo and before social media was ubiquitous enough for mainstream audiences to fully grasp the dystopic implications of it that the story was ultimately about?

I've been on a bit ob a Russell Crowe movie binge in the past few weeks and since he is almost sixty now, many of the movies I've watched were consequently older movies. and when I watched them, it struck me again, how much hollywood has changed in the last few decades when it comes to depicting men.

take Gladiator for example from the year 2000. Russell Crowe plays basically an action hero in it. he is a big, muscly dude, who is very strong and uses that strength to defeat his enemies. and this is what he looks like:

looks like a strong man, right?

in the same year, Hugh Jackman as Wolverine looked like this in the first X-men movie:

in 2013 the same character played by the same actor looked like this:

it's a bit much, isn't it? I mean, he looks so skinny.

and if we go even further back: look at what the womanizer character Face from the A-team looked like in the 80s show vs the 2010 movie reboot:

maybe the difference isn't that big but it really startled me when I watched that movie for the first time. in my mind there was no reason why Face should be particularly muscular since he is the charming one not the one known for being particularly strong.

if we go even further back, look at the charmin womanizer character Hawkeye in M*A*S*H from the 70's.

I know he's a doctor and there is no reason for him to be ripped but I got the feeling if they did the show now, he would be.

I don't know what my point really is I'm just saying I got a bit nostalgic when watching these men. I cannot be the only one who'd rather see more of this:

than this:

also, as a sidenote: Russell Crowe gained a lot of weight for the nice guys and he is a fucking powerhouse in that film, like, when he punches someone, you really feel it because of the weight that is behind it and the shere mass of his body.

(even if this may look different, he's about to break Ryan Gosling's character's arm. I couldn't find a gif of him punching someone but I swear it looks painfull as hell.)

so, in short: can we get big, heavy action guys back? cause I'm tired of seeing these skinny, despite being muscular dudes who look dehydrated as hell and on steroids.

and can we stop making characters ripped just for the sake of it? cause I'd rather cuddle with a guy looking like Hawkeye than one looking like Face from the new A-team movie.

[starlight-swansong]

just thought about my sweet pup after i cum in him, pulling out to watch him squirm, still with his legs hiked up. all sensitive and whimpering and pleading for me to let him finish while my cum leaks out. i wanna drag my fingers through the folds of his cunt, scooping my spend up into him while i listen to and soak him in.

[tthoughtdaughter]

the girl across the street.

pairing: fem!reader x loser!ellie

summary: you’ve decided to move into a little house on ellie’s street, she sees you and almost dies from your natural beauty. being the big ass nerd she is, she decides to help you but continues to stumble on her words. instead of her helping you guys sit in your backyard for a bit and talk for hours only to find out you’re very similar.

warnings: none just fluff and ellie being a big loser.

a/n: ive been writing part 2 for ‘bad habits’ just wanted to take a break from it and write something i wanted to for awhile :)

it was a beautiful sunny day, perfect for you to move actually. not to hot, not to cold, just right! you called the people and waited for them to come so they could pick up the boxes that were stacked in piles among piles in your parents house.

they came and you helped them with very little strength into the moving truck. (you js picked up the light boxes but the people appreciated it.) they offered a lift there but you politely declined and hopped into your car.

it wasn’t so hot, but you still felt the excessive need to put on the aircon. you turned up the volume as one of your favourite songs had just come on, opening the windows and turning off the aircon (since it would be such a waste).

the whole ride there was a vibe, you felt a little sad when you had to hop out but you were beyond excited to see what your new house awaited for you.

you’ve obviously seen the inside before when you were looking around, but you just adored the street, the house itself — everything about this place was just so welcoming and you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your time here.

you looked around as you hopped out, the moving truck had gotten here before you and they were already effortlessly lifting boxes into your house. you admired the little garden that you could build on out the front of your house. there were flowers everywhere, and it just looked beyond beautiful.

you genuinely couldnt believe you scored such a place. i mean apart from the rent being so expensive, you were still super happy.

you were talking to one of the moving people when you saw a glimpse of a very handsome girl staring at you through your window. jesus, you thought. you zoned out, completely out of it like literally not listening to whatever the guy was rambling on about. you were just staring right back at the mysterious, beautiful girl through her window.

she averted her attention from your lower half to your face and got extremely flustered after realising you were staring right back at her.

‘fuck, she totally saw you looking! stop being a fucking idiot ellie.’ she repeated over and over, turning around, crashing her palm into her forehead and falling backwards onto her bed.

you stifled a giggle and the man thought you were laughing at him. he full on side eyed you.

‘s—sorry! what was it you were saying?’ you smiled politely at him. you were an angel in disguise is what ellie thought. pretty face, hair, clothes, body..

you were the definition of perfect. now you probably thought ellie was a big loser.

you didnt, actually the complete opposite of a loser. you thought she was beautiful, charming even. though you two have never actually held a conversation before, you enjoyed the thought of talking to her.

ellie really really really wanted to invite you over, maybe bring something over to welcome you to the neighbourhood. but she had no idea how to cook properly or even bake, ellie doesnt know how she lives on her own. but it already looked like her next door neighbour, marjorie, was already bringing freshly baked cookies over.

fuck marjorie and her old woman cooking skills, there goes ellies chance. she watched you embrace marjorie with a warm hug, your enchanting smile plastered on your face. she swears if she ever catches marjorie bringing over anything else shes going to fully box her.

‘cant wait til’ that old bat goes into a retirement home.’ ellie spat. its not like marjorie is so innocent either, she constantly tells ellie to dress like a proper woman, whispering to all the other old women on the street about her being a so called ‘dyke’. yeah screw marjorie.

ellie rolled her eyes and fell back onto her bed, only to go into a deep, well-needed slumber.

the next morning, ellie had spent all day making a drawing of you, adding in all of your perfections, thinking whether or not to give it to you. she was in a deep ass ponder when she got a knock on the door.

‘marjorie, i dont have any more sugar!’ she yelled. then she heard your faint giggle. oh fuck.

she rushed up from her seat, completely forgetting to cover the very obvious drawing of you. she twisted the doorknob a couple times with her clammy hands.

‘h—hey! sorry..’ she stuttered. you just flashed her one of your smiles and came in. was she dreaming? why are you in her house? what the actual fuck is going on.

‘i uh, i got your text! you said you made something for me?’ you smiled again, this time it reaching your eyes. ellie looked so confused, like a lost dog.

‘i texted you?’ holy shit, holy shit. ellie was so baked this morning, she didnt actually mean to send that text to you. (please ignore the fact that reader literally didnt give ellie their number ellies just built different.)

her face dropped, all colour draining from it. ‘im so sorry, ‘i—i didint mean to actually send that text.’ she just babbled on and on and on until you glanced at her table.

‘who’re you drawing?’ you pointed at the table and she shuffled over to it. she shook her head and closed the drawing book. im such a mess, she thought.

‘’s no one.. not important.’ she smiled awkwardly. you just giggled, with your fucking cute mouth, she was internally dying, she felt so hot-headed.

‘oh! ellie, youre burning up! your face— its very red.’ you rushed over, concerned, oblivious to the fact that she was blushing over the thought of you.

ellie shook her head and shooed away your hands. she gave you a polite but very awkward, half-smile. ‘’m fine, its fine! i uh— dont wanna waste your time, you best be going.’

you frowned, was it something you did? why was she excusing you out of her house.

on the other hand ellie was stressing. ‘you best be going.’ who the fuck says something like that. she was staring at her feet, then she glanced up at your face and noticed the slight frown.

‘yeah, sorry. cya els!’ els? holy guacamole. she was even more red faced then before if thats even possible, the tips of her ears were quite literally bright red.

‘no-no wait, can you just maybe come by again tomorrow, i havent actually finished what i was making for yo—‘ shes said to much. you just stood there smirking.

‘so you did make something for me?’ she was completely and utterly dumbfounded. mouth agape and just nodding her pretty little head.

‘ill be here at this time tomorrow, dont fail me ellie.’ you grinned, you enjoyed teasing this “stranger”. not to mention she was completely ogling over you when she opened the door to you.

‘y—yeah!’ she swallowed hard. she waved as you left the house and you flashed her one of your stupid smiles with your pearly teeth that she’ll be thinking about for days.

well, ellie was officially fucked.

[lunasfics]

Thunderstorms - Bruce Wayne

Summary: There was a period of silence, your feet making soft splashes in the puddles below you, his steps were silent next to you. Your grip on the cape around you tightened when the loud rumbling on thunder sounded above you, you felt Bruce’s hand over your back, it grounded you.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none

a/n: I'm like. not super happy with how this turned out. but i hope someone likes it. i saw a picture bruce and he looked absolutely scrumptious and I was inspired to write some fluff for him. ALSO SO SORRY FOR THE INACTIVITY IVE BEEN BUSY. and also. writers block is a bitch. so yeah, i am trying to get better with updates though!!

reblogs are appreciated!

You sighed, standing under a ledge just outside your work building, wrapping your arms around yourself to conserve the little warmth you had. The rain pelted down onto the concrete mercilessly, the cold, harsh winds hindering the ledge you were under from really doing much to help. The fresh scent of rain washing away the grime on the concrete filled your nostrils, the cool air nipping at your skin. Of course, Gotham’s usually unbelievably bad weather just had to be at its worst when you get off work, after the building closes, during the one point in time you don’t have a car. Wonderful. 

You weren't sure what you were waiting for honestly, you had considered calling him. But thought better of it. He was busy on patrol, he always was. Besides, it had been about two weeks since you’d seen your boyfriend, and although it did hurt you, you understood. Or you at the very least tried your best to. You’d decided long ago to not lie to yourself, you understood Bruce’s endeavor, but you also understood that you have every right to feel upset over it. To feel hurt. It wasn’t an easy endeavor, you knew that,  you’d only wished he’d reach out and let you in. 

You winced as the loud rumbling of thunder sounded through the sky. You had always hated thunderstorms, the thugs and criminals of Gotham didn’t scare you, Batman didn’t scare you, neither did the vigilantes who worked with him; but thunderstorms just… terrified you. 

As you contemplated your options, you decided you’d just wait it out, you’d much rather sit still in a thunderstorm than have to navigate your way through it. 

You dug your hands into the pockets of your jacket trying to keep warm, as you shuffled back against the wall. Your head shot up at the familiar swoosh sound of someone landing silently not far from you. You turned towards the sound, where you saw Batman looking at you. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, you were surprised, Bruce didn’t usually patrol this area until the later hours of the night. You had learned not long after your relationship started which patrol routes he would usually take, you figured he would be somewhere on the east side of Gotham. 

His lips pressed into a line before he spoke, “You’re afraid of thunderstorms. Your car is getting repaired tonight.” 

You nodded, your eyes never leaving the white lenses of his cowl. 

He cleared his throat before approaching you, removing his cape and draping it over you gently, it was heavy. It smelled like cedar wood and mint, the scent of the body wash you bought for him not long ago, and the faint smell of gunpowder, you lifted it over your head to form a makeshift hood, the thick fabric of the large cape still swallowed you. When you seemed ready he walked alongside you as you made the route towards your apartment. 

He spoke again, his voice quiet, “You could have called me. I would have come sooner.”  

You shook your head, “I thought you were on patrol. I’m surprised you’re here, honestly. It’s been awhile.”

He seemed to tense a bit, only for a split second, but you noticed. You chose not to acknowledge it. 

“Hm.” He gave a nod, as you continued along the sidewalk towards your apartment building, walking in silence. You looked at him on more than one occasion. He seemed to be contemplating what to say before speaking again, “I…I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

He paused for a moment, rather awkwardly, like he really wasn’t sure how to go about what he wanted to say. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was nervous. Leave it to you to make Batman nervous. 

He cleared his throat again, before speaking, “I haven’t been giving you a relationship that you deserve, I’ve been prioritizing this,” he gestured to his suit, “over us. For that I’m sorry.” 

You nodded, indicating you were acknowledging his words. There was a period of silence, your feet making soft splashes in the puddles below you, his steps were silent next to you. Your grip on the cape around you tightened when the loud rumbling on thunder sounded above you, you felt Bruce’s hand over your back, it grounded you. You looked at him, the corners of his mouth tilted downwards in concern. 

You took a moment before responding, “I understand. I know it’s… a lot. Just, maybe a call every few days couldn't hurt? Instead of, you know, disappearing on me.” 

His gaze was still fixed on you as he nodded, clearing his throat, he spoke again, “I should have been doing that to begin with.” 

You nodded, “You should have, but I could’ve done more to reach out. I should’ve established those boundaries.” 

He looked at you, for a moment, the slightest hint of surprise adorned his visible features, “You aren’t in the wrong here.” 

You shrugged, “Maybe not as much as you, but relationships are a two-way street, we both have to try, and I wasn’t doing my part. Not as much as I should have been.” 

He nodded, you noted the way his shoulders relaxed. 

“I would like to mention however, now that these boundaries are set, you can’t pull that on me again. You need to talk to me, Bruce. You can't just disappear on me and expect me to just be okay with it.” 

He nodded again, his eyes not leaving yours, you could feel his stare through the cowl, “I’ll do that, I’ll do better,” he promised. 

You smiled, opening the door to your apartment building, it was late in the evening, no one in the building tended to wander about at this time of night. You looked over at him, tilting your head to invite him into the building, before continuing towards the elevator, pressing the upwards arrow. You turned and he was right next to you. His mouth was pressed into a line, the corner of his lip moving in a way that told you he was in thought. 

The elevator right up to your floor was quiet. There was a comfortable silence between the two of you. That was one thing you’d liked about being with him, you didn’t have to talk constantly to maintain a comfortable space. 

When you reached the door you unlocked it, stepping through and folding the heavy cape in your arms. You turned around and took in the sight of Bruce, right outside your door, there in his bat suit, without a cape he looked kind of…naked. It was kind of funny, if you were being honest. He stood there, awkward in a way that only you could make him, he wasn’t one to fidget, but you could see the way his gloved hand twitched ever so slightly, as if he wanted to.  

Initially, when you first started dating Bruce, you were reluctant, his reputation was known to most in Gotham, and his sincerity, in your eyes, was just a facade. 

So imagine your surprise when you not only agree to a date, but during said date, he takes you to a quiet little cafe, and is oddly… timid? You were undoubtedly perplexed, as gone was his playboy persona; and it drew you to him, his reserved personality captivated you, because you knew it was genuine. That was the day you really met Bruce Wayne. 

You eyed him standing awkwardly at your door, before asking, “Well, would you like to come in?” 

He nodded, clearing his throat before entering your small apartment, shutting your door quietly behind him. 

“You weren’t planning on going back on patrol after this?” 

He shook his head, removing his cowl as he spoke, “It’s a slow night, Gordon can handle it,” he met your eyes, revealing the icy blue color that you love so much, offering you a small grin, “I want to spend time with you.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “What about Alfred?” 

His lip quirked up into a small smile, “He told me I should ‘get over myself and go see you before I lose what is quite possibly the best thing to ever happen to me’, he also said he was getting sick of me locking myself in the cave.” 

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his arms wrap themselves securely around your waist, leaning into the familiar closeness, “Alfred is a smart man.” 

“He is, I suppose even he needs a break sometimes.” 

“I can imagine, I’ll have to write him a thank you card for keeping you in check,” you laughed softly. 

“He’d love that, I'm sure,” he huffed a small laugh. 

You giggled, planting a kiss on the corner of his mouth, pulling away to meet his eyes again, “So you’re staying the night, but take a shower, you smell like sweat.” 

He nodded. He went over to your bedroom, probably to grab some of his spare clothes kept there, when he wasn't so hyper-focused on his mission, he spent a lot of time there in between patrols. It wasn’t long before you heard the water running. You moved from your place in the living room, deciding to change into your sweats. 

You plopped yourself onto your bed, your shut windows thankfully covered the storm that was outside, you buried yourself under the blankets. You flicked on your lamp, encasing the room with a warm glow, pulling out and reading a book you were halfway through, not closing it until you heard the shower turn off, the bathroom door opened not long after. 

You looked over to see Bruce, his hair fell over his forehead in damp clumps, his towel strung over his shoulder over the old band t-shirt he had on, his sweatpants hung loosely on his frame. He set the towel down to dry before climbing into the other side of the bed. 

You shut the book in your hand, setting it aside before opening your arms, allowing him to shuffle himself closer, he leaned over you and shut off the light. You felt his weight on top of you, his arms wrapping around you, his head comfortably on your chest. You ran your fingers through his damp hair, enjoying the quiet moment. 

He lifted his head, his blue eyes meeting yours, “Move into the manor with me.” 

You stopped, “What?” 

He shifted, propping himself on his elbows, “Move in with me.” 

“Are you sure? For someone who has contingencies for his contingencies, you can be incredibly impulsive.” 

He nodded, “I’ve been thinking about it for the past month at least. I already know I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So, move into the manor with me.” 

There was a moment of silence while you processed, though he seemed to interpret your silence as a form of rejection, “Of course, if you don’t feel ready that’s okay, we can take this at your pace, we can always—” 

“Bruce.” 

He stopped, his full attention on you. 

“I would love to move into the manor with you.” 

He smiled, genuine and bright, you felt as if you were looking into the warmth of the sun, the best part— this was the smile he saved only for you. 

[howdaretrashships]

When I was in 4th grade, I was friends with a group of about 3-4 girls. (My best friend, my neighbor, my best friend's neighbor and one other.) One day I come to school and I get the cold shoulder from all of them, they stood around glancing at me and whispering during recess, until finally one of them comes over and asks why I have to be so mean.

I'm like: What? Literally ???

They show me these letters that have been 'mailed' to their houses. (more on that later)

The letters basically said to the effect "How dare you think you're so cool and that you could ever be Real Friends with my best friend. You better disappear, or else." and were signed with my name.

Again I'm: ???

These letters were typed - not handwritten - and 'sent' to my neighbor, my best friend, and my best friend's neighbor. Obviously it made me look like a possessive little bitch, and despite my best friend not believing that I would do such a thing, the other two weren't convinced.

They ignored me the rest of the day, I went home absolutely devastated. My mom believed me though, so a meeting was called for all the girls and their parents.

The school staff obviously didn't have any clues from the typed letters besides it being my name at the end, but the envelope was handwritten. They decided to do a handwriting test to figure out which of the girls it was. Obviously it wasn't my best friend, because she was the target, but they gave the other three of us a sentence - from the letter - to handwrite and compare to the envelope.

Now I will say, before I tell the rest, I had seen the envelope, and knew it wasn't my fucking handwriting.

Anyway. We gave our samples to the staff, and you know what they did? Instead of comparing the handwriting, they compared this one word in the sentence they gave us. Apparently it had been misspelled in the letter, and because I misspelled it when I wrote the sentence, ~obviously the culprit was me~!!

So I was shunned. All my friends lost in one fell swoop

But guess what. A couple days later my best friend's neighbor's dad was on the family computer, and found the saved file of the letter. And guess whose handwriting actually matched the envelope.

SO IT WASN'T ME.

The school did apologize, but it was very half-hearted. And I got my best friend back.

(Also the reason I say the letters were 'mailed' is because they weren't. When the post office processes mail they put a dated ink stamp over the postage stamp. While the envelope had a stamp, it did not have a dated ink stamp. She had made it look like they were mailed by just putting it in their mailboxes. My sister, who worked at the postal sorting plant, noticed that something wasn't right.)

Also, FUCK YOU Corrine!

Everyone give me the most screwed up thing that has ever happened to you in the american public school system

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel 6

Chapter 6: hostile Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: dubious consent, low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader and an allusion to slut shaming. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry, arthur is a bit of a jerk on this chapter but hell make up for it WC: 4175 Hey ! Ive finally finished chapter 6! Its been through quite a bit of editing and ive read the thing to death so i figured id post it. Nothing too bad in this chapter but arthur shows that hes not always so nice and when provoked can say things that are out of pocket lol, more naive fawn response reader, and mentions of alcohol and spousal abuse but none in reference to arthur or reader. Thanks for all of the lovely kudos! enjoyyyy : ) Tags: no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur is sort of delusional omg, reader and arthur get into a little lovers spat, not too serious

You get a glimpse of how jealous Arthur can be.

You come up on the town Arthur was speaking of around 1 o’clock. West Ridge is not much to look at, the basics really. A saloon as always, a stable, a general store, a law man's office. There are lots of comings and goings, mostly out of the hotel in town and the other boarding houses. One main way directs the horses and wagons that stop here. The western side of the town is on a hill, and the other side dips downwards, wooden walkways bridge most things together to keep ladies from getting mud on their beautiful heeled boots and skirts piled high. Most of the working men stomp through the mud, especially the stable boys who smoke cigarettes outside of the large stable which Arthur stops at first. The smell of horseflesh makes your nose scrunch but Arthur has no flinch for that sort of thing.

In the stable, Arthur arranges for a cart to be fitted over Lucky and pays the boarding fee to stable Currant for a few days. He takes you around town as they fulfill his request. He has you by the waist, a big hand is your guide as he passes by the drunken cowboys, the timber mill workers, and some hunters. You've never had a man guide you the way he does, not letting you go for a second. Perhaps because of the delicate nature of your relationship. He fears you should bolt at any time if not fenced in by his arms and hands. You settle nicely in his palm, fitting the shape of his fingers to the dip of your lower back.

Your feet creak over the wooden boards that keep you off the main street. He nods to the propped door of a saloon with plenty of places to sit, some people eat meals and other sad looking men drown their sorrows in whiskey. Arthur stops at the bar, asking for two drinks, something sweet for you and two of the meals they have on the menu. You can count the number of times you’ve eaten at a saloon on one hand. And the times you’ve had a drink at one is certainly a big zero. You stare around, some men play a gambling game with cards and working girls fan themselves, waiting for customers. They don’t bother with Arthur, no doubt with you on his arm. You wait patiently at a table while Arthur retrieves and pays for what he ordered. You watch out of the dusty window at the town and its people.

So much activity makes you realize how sheltered your family was in Long Pine, a densely wooded area, lots of wild game and harsh weather conditions. Hot summers, fertile springs, and the occasional cold snap that had a week of snow falling, nowhere near as heavy as the snow where Arthur lives, nearer to the mountain which dominates the landscape. You rarely had visitors, perhaps a letter from your mother’s distant relative. A man coming to sell furs or animal feed. You had gone to town a few times but rarely to do much, buy some things you couldn’t get from home, couldn’t grow or trade. This is different from the small trading post your father usually went to to sell his wares and buy feed for the chickens. You liked going to town more but your Pa never saw the point. Arthur sets a steaming plate of roast carrots and beef in front of you, interrupting your thoughtful silence. The priciest thing on the menu. Then he has a glass of some sort of lemonade for you and whiskey for his own palate. Your 'homesteader's daughter' manners kick back in. “Thank you, Arthur,” you say over the chatter of people nearby, an appreciative smile pushes at your cheeks. He nods and looks at you, an almost surprised expression passes over his face, a genuine smile he tries to hide. This one isn't so cocky and easy.

“Course,” He responds, slowly but not apprehensively. He never takes his eyes off of you. Even when you look away to look at the piano man, or out of the window at the sunshine. You don't have any comparisons to make besides the relationship between your mother and father, stiff and very respectful. He was just a rigid man with hard set values and your mother was the same. Though you saw glimpses of their closeness, they never stared so intently at one another, enraptured by each other. Your mother was happy to mend torn shirts and your father happy to whittle figurines and polish his varmint rifle. Maybe your grandmother and your very presence stopped them from sharing such intimate moments. Or you haven't seen young love or in the case with you and Arthur, some sick 3 day whirlwind in which he has given you no other choice but to have him as your husband.

As always, he is quick to empty his plate. You are a bit more sluggish. You quite like hearing snippets of other people's conversations, the music. Patience seems to be one of those things about Arthur. He has such a grasp on it, he has no complaints, only watches like a hawk, scratches at his jaw and has his long legs spread open on his chair. Everyone seems to look over at least twice when you start to look at other people. Perhaps they noticed the gleaming pearl handled guns in his holsters or the darkened silhouette of a man sitting with a plain woman wearing pants. You sigh, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. You haven't said anything but Arthur acts as if you've told him exactly what you're thinking. A man looks over at the wrong moment and Arthur has terse and grizzly words for him.

“Hell are you lookin’ at?” The man whips his head away, intimidated by Arthur. He adjusts his hat, looking at you, deciding that whatever needed to be done was done. “Finished?” His voice is softer now and you nod. Briefly, you worried that Arthur might start something but his presence is enough to have people looking away. You both stand and he's right behind you. Crossing the road has you walking into the general store, the store keeper greets you. Arthur’s heavy footsteps cause his friendly smile to droop but he welcomes you both anyway. You smile back, taking a look around. Arthur has his hands on his belt following you around, his spurs click and ring. The store is a humble place that stocks the essentials and some fresh produce. Everyday items line the walls and tin cans gleam in shining labels.

“Let me know if you need any help,” the storekeeper is kind and you nod, it’s only natural for you to be polite in return.

“I will, thank you,” too bad you aren't quite aware of Arthur’s possessiveness.

“If the lady needs help then she’d damn well ask for it,” His tone is dark and a strange upset to the calm exchange. You look at him, not understanding his sudden input. The store keeper sputters, offended but also entirely aware of how capable a man like Arthur looks, how inclined to violence his tone is. “Should learn to mind your own business,” his hands seem to twitch as they grip his belt, just over the rows of bullets. You grab Arthur’s forearm. Sending an apologetic smile to the clerk, you try to rush along. It's obvious that Arthur doesn't play nice with others. He tells you to pick something to eat on the road. That you might not pass any towns on the way. You nod, picking bread rolls and cheese, some fresh fruit and carrots for Lucky. Cans are also hoisted into Arthur’s arms. Strawberries and corned beef. He pays at the register, a cold look on his face. It's incredibly awkward, the air is stale with the residual unpleasantness. You thank the clerk before leaving. Outside, you look at him, a bit appalled. You should know better than to think you can correct him with any efficiency.

“What is the matter with you?”

“Not sure what you're talkin' about,” His hand on your hip is taking you to the stable. But you wrestle from his grip.

“In what world do you live in where you threaten people in passing?”

“Hey, I ain't never claimed to be a nice feller, not even a decent one,” He has that wry smile, his hands return to trying to touch you and when you stiffen and try to wiggle away again, he has a firm hold on you. “Gettin’ flighty with me, sweetheart? My little bird feel like flyin’ away?” He has a sneer on his face, a cruel smile twists his features.

“You’re threatening me now?”

“You know, you ain’t gotta go lookin' for a new man, you got one already,” he’s talking about the store keep. He’s trying to hide it but he’s afraid that you’ll just walk away with the next man. That you’re easy. Tears gather so quickly, spring forth from you. You feel like you’ll be sick. Tongue tied and disgusted with him, with yourself, you turn and walk away. You want to get on Lucky without him and ride home. He makes a frustrated gesture as you try to rush away from him, his arms tense up before he pinches the curve on the bridge of his nose. You can hear the spurs of his boots jingle as you turn away.

“Wait!” When you don’t stop, he’s in close pursuit, hurrying to catch up with you. “I said, wait, girl,” his voice is rough and panicked. He catches you and holds you between two buildings. He sees your tears. “Calm down,” he’s commanding you, making you meet his eyes. He hurriedly walks you down behind the hotel, almost no one meanders back here. You can’t wiggle from his grasp no how, your hands continue to push at his broad chest, his corded shoulders. He looks down at you with ease, trying to pull you close.

“Arthur, stop, let go,” his hand blocks the knee you were about to shove at his crotch in all of your thrashing and panic. His face before wasn't set in such a severe expression, merely worried. But now, you feel the precarity of his mood. The lines around his eyes naturally settle into this narrowed glare, like he's pulled snarls many times before, bared his teeth like a hungry brush hunter, a beast of prey.

“Honey, that’s enough now,” his words are deadly serious, so gruff and low, they slither down your spine. You still but you refuse to look at him.

“I don’t- I can’t do this. I don’t know why I thought-“

“What did I say before all this? I said you wasn't leaving me,” he’s so short sighted, his thumbs attempt to wipe your tears, to hold your face. You frown and look at him.

“Just…” you struggle with your words, troubled by the mess that is this arrangement, this tumultuous peace you try to keep with your mind and your heart. “Arthur, get off of me,” after all he’s done, this is the most emotional you’ve been with him. Even then, there is no real force behind your words. You don’t kick and scratch. All you would do is waste your energy and upset Arthur who has no qualms with holding you down.

“Listen to me,” you have a small act of defiance for him, doing your best to keep the air of disobedience but he’s quick to correct you. His forefinger and thumb grab the fat of your cheeks, guiding you to look at him. He has your back up to the wall, looking down at you; you can feel the press of his belt into you.  “Gonna give you one or two chances to listen before you try my patience too many damn times,” As much as you wish you could turn away from this, you know Arthur would never let you.

“Just say what it is you mean about me, that I-I’d walk away with any man so much as looked at me,” you left some of it unsaid but Arthur knows what you mean, the word that he keeps saying in pseudo reference of you but skirting around directly saying it about you. Your voice is meek, whiny. But you don’t care.

“Can’t say something that ain’t true,”

“What are you so afraid of, then? Is this how you treated that woman?” At the mention of his other girl he winces, like the last thing he wants is to think of her. His eyes pinch shut, his hand is on your hip, as if to comfort himself. He tries to calm down, as he commanded you to do as well. He looks away, adjusting his stance. Stalling before he has to tell you what bothers him so.

“Other nobodies sniffing around my woman don’t exactly put me at ease,”

“He is trying to sell to me, not- do whatever you want with me,” you’re exasperated, unable to see how Arthur could be so threatened by other men when he looks the way he does; over six feet of him and well over two hundred and fifty pounds of musculature and fat keeping him strong looking. You're sure he could lift any man and throw him through a window. No man in his right mind would try and take anything from Arthur after having seen him.

“You don’t know what men are like,” he chuckles but with little humor. Your mind rushes to excuse him; he’s only trying to protect you.

“I know what you’re like,” you murmur, close to him, accepting him as you soften to his advances.

“And what did I do when I saw you smile at me, talking all sweet, your please and thank you’s, hm?” He hums to emphasize his question, bowing to trap you against the wall and tuck his kisses onto your neck. You sigh and grab at the back of his hair, the longer strands are softer than you thought. “Stripped you naked and put you on my bed. You were such a good girl, sweetheart,” his hands grip you tight, up your waist and suggestively skimming over your breasts cupped behind your undergarments, all the way to your neck and jaw.

“Arthur Morgan, you are a jealous man,” you huff up at him. He scoffs and cups your face, gentle over the leather riding gloves he wears.

“Don’t try and find out just how jealous,” he dips down to kiss you, a soft one, like he’s never kissed you before. Everything he hasn’t said to you, you think, he tries to put in this kiss. His whiskers tickle your lips, tilting to touch as much of you as possible. Keeping yourself upright isn't so hard, leaning against the wood of the building. He ignores any discomfort he gets from kissing you like this, but you acquiesce, trying to put yourself on your tiptoes. It's hardly any help. You part and he has one big hand sweeping your hair back.

You follow him back to the stable, most of the things you and he needed from Lucky and Currant’s saddle had been removed, put into the cart behind you where you sit as Arthur’s passenger. He keeps looking at you but saying nothing. He nods at the stable master as he opens the door and lets you both out onto the main road and then onto the road that goes to Long Pine. You sigh, the sun still quite high in the sky. You don’t have a hat, you left your home with a woolen scarf wrapped around your head. Instead, Arthur plops his hat down on your head, far too big for you. You shake your head, letting him have his way.

You think of what should happen when you get there, what your family would say. You can’t stop letting it come back to you, the anxiety of your father seeing you on a wagon with a man who you will say saved your life. It circles around like a scavenging bird to a carcass. But for now you try to distract yourself with the scenery of the ride.

The chill comes back as you have to cross back over to the wintry depths of elevation to make your way back to Long Pine. You missed the brief warmth of dipping into the river valley. Arthur is an expert at steering the cart up some pretty rough trails. He’s slow when he needs to be and lets Lucky move at his own pace sometimes. He seems to be just as anxious, he hasn’t said anything; grips the reins so tight that it squeaks against the leather of his gloves. You rummage through the things in the back and Arthur watches curiously. You pull a cigarette out of the pack that you know he brought. You struggle to light the match you need with your fingers starting to get stiff from the cold but Arthur grabs it and strikes it against the wood of the cart. He waves his fingers and you hand him the cigarette. He has it between his lips when he lights it, waving the match against the frosted air.

“Go get your coat on,” he tosses the match easily, slowing the cart down so you can pull on his ram skin coat and he can put his own coat over his shoulders. “Said you didn’t like the smell of these,”

“My father smokes his pipe all the time. You’ve been antsy since I told you I didn’t like them,” he takes luxurious puffs, relishing in the relaxation they bring him. You usually tell your Pa to go outside but you always end up opening the window and staying in your room.

“Know just what your man needs,” he has that self-satisfied smile, slouching down and holding his cigarette. He has the courtesy to at least blow the smoke away from you. You’re getting much closer to the familiar paths and small trails that lead up to your home but you know you still have quite a few hours to go. He was right, you’d have to stop, daylight would be fading soon. Arthur has mostly driven quietly. Looking at you in his hat and giving you his smug little face. “This horse ain’t so bad,” he says quietly over the crunch of the cart over the dirt and light snow that dusts over the forest and rocks.

“He’s the perfect man,” he huffs.

“How come you don’t already have a wife?” You ask Arthur. He exhales as if you told a half funny joke. You look at him. He’s staring straight ahead, as if minding the empty road.

“Only woman I asked to be with me said no. Or at least her daddy did,”

“I don’t get the privilege of a choice?” He’s quiet for a while.

“I ain’t letting this go sideways, it's okay with me if you don’t get it, if you don’t like it. Guess I never had the proper chance to do right by a woman,”

“You think you’re doing right by me?” He heaves an exasperated sigh. He likes to float nicely with you, living in the moments of time where you aren’t questioning his actions, when he gets to feel as if he hadn’t given you an ultimatum. Marry him and keep the honor your family thinks you have or marry him while your father and mother think you a harlot.

“I am right now, aren’t I? Lettin' you see your folks, go and get what precious little you have to your name?” He gives you a bit of a harsh look. “Could'a chained you to my bed but even I ain’t that sick, could’a really treated you like nothin’ but a whore,” His words stun you into a silent gap. You’re surprised there’s a step more severe than what he’s already committed but it’s true. Arthur comes to a stop and surveys what looks like somewhere to camp for the night while you sit, weighing his words in your mind.

“Did you- did you think about that?”

“If that’s what I wanted then that’s where you’d be,” he says, jumping down and helping you off the cart. You’re reluctant to take his hand but put yourself in his arms anyway as he places you on the ground. “We’re camping here tonight, I’ll get a fire goin’,” you help him unload some of his supplies, a basic canvas tent and bedroll with a blanket. He’s got a bit of firewood lit while he adds some tinder. Arthur is meticulous, every bit an outdoors man. Dutiful and attentive, he’s built a small fire, crouching by the area where he dusted the snow away. You don’t want to sit on the cold ground so you squat as best you can, trying to keep your balance. Now that it isn't so bright, you pass Arthur his hat. You arrange your provisions, making something of a cheese roll and placing the can of beef over by the fire to warm it up a little. You give him his allotted portion and eat quietly with him, the fire quickly burning through its fuel. Arthur had pulled the wagon down to a nice clearing, only some light snow, mostly bare ground. Grass would sprout soon for the spring, bringing all kinds of grazers. The dusk pulls in fast, it’s already completely dark. You listen as Lucky jingles around in his tack, not so used to being tied to a cart. He could survive one night but tomorrow he would be grumpy. You’ll give him some carrots for breakfast to lift his spirits.

“Tell me ‘bout your pa,” he says, a command more than a question. You look up to think.

“Well, he’s a very serious man, hard working, a trapper by trade. He’s… he’s nice, always been sweet on my Ma,” you think of your father sitting by the fire in a rocking chair with your mother, how he always had time to read you a story or bring you something he found out in the wilderness. Many nights you thought he may have been robbed and left for dead or fallen off a mountain but he always came home. Your Ma would be worried sick and livid when he came through the door as if he had come back at a reasonable hour.

“Sounds like a good man,” his gloved hand rubs at his chin, over the light stubble growing there. He tilts his head down so you can only see the deep tone of his hat.

“He’s not so bad, he’ll like you if he thinks you want to take care of me. He’s always wanted me to be a married woman, not some lady of the night or a spinster,” He used to say that he had only wanted a daughter of the “marrying type”. No grifter or prostitute or even a school teacher. You think he wanted the life your mother had for you.

But even married women faced problems. Men taken over by liquor who hit their wives, men who spent every last cent on a bad hand of poker. Men who sold their wives to pay off debt. At least Arthur didn't seem the type. He didn't drink much, didn't hit you even though he could if he had wanted to; unless you considered his spankings which weren't nearly as violent as some men could be. Paltry compared to stories whispered between women in town, at trading posts.

Arthur wasn't like that. He seemed vulnerable but unwillingly so. He had shown you his journal against his better judgment. Let you peer into his thoughts, see his mind on paper. He was embarrassed but sorry that he had snapped at you. Arthur is a man of contradictions; cocky and smug yet self conscious. Hardened yet soft, rough and mean but kind and gentle. He confuses you at every turn, constantly trying to make sense of his actions.

He nods slowly, gazing at the fire and feeding it more things to burn up, trying to keep it alive. You’re sure the fire will die soon. Arthur is serious but not morose. Only thinking much too hard. You dust the crumbs away and help him finish the corned beef. He notices you stifling your yawn.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” he rolls his bedroll out within the confines of the tent.

“Where will you sleep?” Your concern for him seems to make him smile at you as you crawl within his tent.

“Gonna keep watch for a while, I’ll squeeze in there with you soon enough,” you nod and lay down. Perhaps he thinks you’ll run away if he falls asleep. You curl up under Arthur’s coat. It’s warmer than you thought. You fall asleep quickly, feeling safe with Arthur keeping watch at the fire.

i love him !!! no smut this chapter sadly… jealous arthur just messes with my head omggg hes such a weenie. need this man to yell at people for looking at me wrong 😵‍💫 also need him to grab me by the face so i can look him in his eyes… cant wait to write more! Thank you for all of the feedback, im so glad to hear you guys like my characterization of this ooc arthur and all the little situations i put reader and him in!!! im always glad to talk more about this story so drop any thots in the comments :) tysm for reading !!

[lateatnewyork]

Lilies

part I | part II | part III | part IV

Helion x reader, rhysand x sister!reader

Warnings: fluff, making out, honeymoon bliss, suggestive

Summary: In which you and Helion are happy.

a/n most definitely another filler chapter but the one with drama will be out tmrrw and my schools starting in like four days so the drafts will come out slower

Helion was the best mate anyone could ever ask for. He could cook, he understood my emotions, gave me space, could give amazing cuddles and kisses, he was great in bed but most of all he cared.

In a sense no one had ever done before. When I wanted him home, he was home. When I visited him during a meeting he made me sit in his lap and glared at anyone who decided to mention it.

We had been mated for at least 6 months by now. And it was absolute bliss. Every single day he would wake me up with his head between my legs, every single night he would worship me like a queen. His kisses made my knees weak and my head dizzy.

Sighing at the thought of him kissing me, I continue trying my best at a dish that Rhysand used to cook for me as a child.

Just as I’m about ditch the recipe and head to his office, a strong pair of arms wrap around me.

Melting into his touch, I lean back. He kisses my neck and bites at my soft spot making me moan softly.

“Hey baby,” turning around my hands run through his beautiful hair. His lips find mine almost instantly. My back presses against the counter and I arch into his touch. Pulling him closer my fingers stray to the hem of his shirt.

“As much as I would love to continue this, I have to tell you something,” he pulls away. My kind is still reeling from his intense kisses. Nodding, I ask him to keep going.

“The Night Court wants to negotiate some stuff with us,” he told me.

Raising an eyebrow I beckon him to continue. “I want you to come with me, your first appearance outside of Day Court as High Lady, and I know what you’re going to say, that you’re not ready or you’re not sure, but I know that you’re ready, I also know how much you miss your brother and your nephew,”

He was right, I mean when was Helion ever wrong?

“I suppose Nyx should meet his uncle,” I sigh dramatically.

“Can you help me make this dish, Rhysand used to make it for me,” I ask him.

“Rhysand can cook?” he gapes at me in shock. “You can cook too sweetheart,” I lay a soft kiss on his adam’s apple and start gathering the ingredients.

“I know what you’re trying to make, you relax I’ll make it for you,” Helion says pressing kisses against my shoulder.

He’s elbow deep in flour, looking like an absolute vision. His golden eyes glint in the sun, his tan skin more prominent as the sun started setting.

We had decided to get this house because of its position and how the sun was almost always reflecting some room.

In the mornings it was our bedroom, during the day it was the seating area outside and during the evening it always seeped into the kitchen.

Not that I was complaining, it made the Day High Lord in front of me look softer and almost vulnerable.

“You’re staring, my love” Helion chuckles, his voice oozing smugness. “Is it so wrong for a female to enjoy the view her mate is providing?” I question, teasing.

“No I suppose not, you know I have to put this in the oven for awhile and we have some spare time,” he cheekily suggests.

“What shall we do?” I say feigning innocence. He circles around to the side of the counter where I’m sitting and gently holds my chin, “You’re so innocent right now but wait until I have you begging and writhing underneath me,”

I gulp, his words go straight to my core.

“What are you waiting for then?”

a/n AZRIEL U WISH THIS WAS U anyway don’t think they have ovens in acotar and i js watched the pjo finale and the way luke said annabeth broke me but like my husband looked rlly fine.

[ravennaortiz]

Congratulations my dear! I am so proud of you!

May I have a Happy brownie with friends to lovers please?

Hello dear and thank you! A brownie with Happy coming right up!

Happy couldn’t help the little smile that played across his face as he glanced over at you and Ope on his couch. You both were snoring away as the movie played. Apparently all the Christmas decorating you had done of his house had tuckered you out. Snapping a quick photo and taking a little video he turned the movie off. Sitting in the glow of the lights as he considered his next move.

The two of you had been friends for awhile. It wouldn’t be weird if he didn’t wake you and let you sleep over. He didn’t really let people stay but for you he always made an exception. It was something the guys liked to tease him about. He was adamant that you two were just friends, though some days he couldn’t help but let his mind wander the what ifs. He knew his lifestyle was to dangerous though to let you get any closer.

Sighing Happy stood and started cleaning up the Chinese takeout containers and wine glasses. Being careful not to disturb you. Carefully he placed a blanket over you before turning out the lights. Making his way to his bedroom his heart felt heavy. Getting under his covers his mind kept going back to you on the couch. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for you to sleep in his bed…. For your safety of course he thought to himself.

“What’s going on?” you mumbled as you felt yourself get lifted off the couch. “Taking ya to bed” replied Happy as he carried you down the dark hall.

Once Happy had you tucked in, he lay on top of the covers. He felt you shift and your breath on his neck. “Ive always wanted to be a big spoon” you joked as you flung an arm around him and pulled him close.

“Lucky I like you” he grumbled as he turned to face you. Your eyes met and he couldn’t help himself but to plant a kiss on your nose as his hand moved to your hip.

“You should join me under the covers Happy” you murmured as your hand trailed down his chest.

[ya-bug-boy]

Great! hhhhh its been awhile since ive seen more pkmn swsh raihan and piers x reader !

May i request raihan x piers x gn!reader where raihan and piers are like dating but suddenly has feelings for gn!reader and wanted to work things out with them? Like the reader was like their wingman or something in the past and now they just want the reader as their third!

Hopefully this works for you! Take your time! i have like another request but if its okay i’ll get to you once you’re done ! Hopefully it isnt too much pressure! thank you so much!

Raihan x GN Reader x Piers!

Everyone's got that same question to ask you, how did YOU date both Raihan and Piers, two of Galar's regions most sought after influencer boyfriends? Those two were always known as an exclusive set, having not sought after anyone in consecutive years!

Well first off the whole reason why the two idiots even started dating each was directly because of your influence.

Before you were put in the spotlight of dating two of Galar's well known leaders, you basically helped Piers get the courage he needed to confess to Raihan, having been his friend prior to his gym leader career.

Piers would always sigh and lament, forlornly staring out the rainy weather out from his room that he had fallen into a sort of, Beauty and the Beast situation.

Piers had his eye on Raihan for a while since both were picked to be gym leaders at around the same time from a list of candidates. The two were known to be close friends at the time, but after they became gym leaders, both of them had grown distant.

Piers took it as some kind of puppy love crush that he had on Raihan but it's clear that he never really got over it.

So you being the little investigative twerp you are, you decide to befriend Raihan to get to know him as well. Raihan agrees to be your friend cheerfully but you start to note that he asks a lot of questions about Piers.

How is he? Is he doing alright?

You ask Raihan why he cares about Piers though they don't speak anymore and Raihan reveals a secret about the selection process of being gym leaders.

Spikemuth is known to be the least popular city in all of Galar because there's no stadium to dynamax there.

There seems to be something more to this story though. You investigate and question your two friends a bit more about what happened.

On Raihan's side, when they were both selected to be gym leaders, Piers brushed him off and left him without closure.

On Piers' side, he thought Raihan looks down on him/pities him for being Spikemuth's leader after overhearing the other candidates complain about Spikemuth. He never willingly chose to be Spikemuth's leader but once he was selected he had to do something to help the locals, which led to his music career down the line. Due to his position, Piers was misled into thinking that Raihan thinks ugly of him.

You get the two idiots in the same room and just get them to talk.

Their dating starts off slow and steady, it had been a couple of years since they last saw each other outside of work, but they eventually did become an item because of your encouragement.

But eventually, they start asking you to tag along to their dates. You're weirded out by it but they're your friends so why not. You're more than happy to spend time with them, even if it's on their date.

but then they happen more often. The three of you together.

You eat together, you play together, you take care of your Pokemon together, it all starts becoming very domestic.

On an afternoon when you're sitting down, with the two coming to join you, you openly ask, "Hey are we dating," and Raihan immediately goes, "Yes."

You immediately turn your head to look at both of them. "Well it would have been nice if either of you told me!!!!" You start hurling sofa pillows at them. Raihan starts laughing while Piers immediately starts apologizing.

Since you couldn't decide who you should kiss first, they decide for you. Piers on your left, Raihan on your right, kissing your face cheeks at the same time.

[mangosmoothiepussyv3]

ive been sitting on this gif for awhile now bcus i thought it wasnt good enough to post but looking back on it its pretty darn cute?

❣❣❣

wanna tip me? my c*shapp is $horimiyas !! (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

[ploppymeep]

I drew him but it kinda sucks, I will have to practice more at drawing him,

Anyway I just find him interesting and anything you want to say about him I would be happy with, I just want to examine him under a microscope he is that kind of character to me

IJUST. ACTUALLY SCREAMED IRL92):;)&::&$:/:7 YOU DREWW HIM SOOOOO FUCKINGFFFR CUTE i’m gunna cry ohmy goodness

since you drew him in the western au outfit i suppose ill give a little context for that max specifically!! ok so, maxy is (obviously) a trans man in every different au, and in this one he was the only daughter of a wealthy family that owned a large ranch. in the beginning before the horrors [which i’ll get to in a second] he starts kind of like every other max he’s just kind of an annoying spoiled brat who really only cares for himself and is just generally an asshole. the only person he really likes is his personal butler eden [@\tacticalvulva ‘s oc] who he grew up with. their relationship is kind of like, if eden was assigned to do something else for the day like run errand or something and one of the other butlers was supposed to tend to max for the day he’d be like “NO i want EDEN where is HE? hes the only one that knows how to do things RIGHT” cause hes very particular and also a brat [+ the autissmm… his routine]

anyways, because his parents “had no son” they set up max in an arranged marriage with Richard [ @/grfld101 ‘s oc] max was, well, furious when he found out and had a melt down. he thought it was unfair and was mortified by the idea of having to just be someone’s wife for the rest of his life. a big reason why this freaked him out asside from obvious reasons is that max has a very big complex surrounding control, he likes having everything and everyone around him EXACTLY how he likes it and the thought of losing any form of control/ having to sort of have his life dictated by someone else [EX: Parents, a husband] makes him want to die.

anyways fast forward to him actually meeting richard, he fucking HATES this guys guts automatically and is genuinely just incredibly rude towards him/ doesn’t give him the light of day, and will even order eden to do stupid shit like poor a bucket of water on him. anyways this goes on for awhile and one day max and rich are told to go on like a leisurely horse ride together to “get to know your future spouse” or whatever and he is NOT pleased. after maybe 20 minutes of silence he would say something along the lines of this in a very haughty voice,“you know im only out here because my PARENTS forced me to. if it were up to me i wouldn’t even be within one mile of you” really annoying turns up his nose. anyways long story short while they’re out in the woods he accidentally falls off his horse into a river/stream and is like AAAAA so rich goes down to help, and max who is incredibly embarrassed, instinctively shoved richard into the water aswell. this ends up with them like tousling but then they start laughing and just throwing water at eachother and shit. they have a “we have to dry our clothes” moment and so they end up sitting out in the woods for awhile, and after a bit of silence i imagine him being like “yknow ive always been jealous” “jealous?” “of men. you get to do whatever you want go out be free and take charge and i get to be, a wife.” and voz said richard would say something along the lines of, “ I never really saw you as a wife. generally, i mean. Not as wife material, just i don’t see that life for you”

LONG STORY SHORT after that max actually starts to develop feelings for him. rich already had sort of a budding crush on max before that but max entirely disliked rich before this encounter. along the way they DO fall in love and richard, knowing that if they stayed that their parents, (especially richard’s parents) would never allow max to live the life he wants he asks max to elope with him and gifts him his pearl earrings as sort of his own form of engagement. max agrees and both of them are sort of giddy with excitement/ anticipation the night they planned to run, but that was cut short by them being caught. they’re forcibly pulled apart and max watxhes as richard gets his eye slashed, but he’s dragged away before he can see what happens. in his mind they have killed richard. has soon as he can he runs hysterically crying to find eden screaming his name and he BEGS him to help him escape to anywhere that isn’t here. his one chance at genuine happiness and the love of his life lost in the same instant he is more distressed and traumatized than he has ever been in his entire life. eden, who would do anything for him, instantly agrees and gathers all the necessary things to get out of there on horseback as soon as possible.

on the first night they managed to find an in to sleep in Eden vows to never leave max’s side for as long as he lives. they already had a sort of codependent relationship before this but it becomes much more like, extreme(?) after this point. (there’s also the matter of eden’s unrequited love for max but i wont explain all that here…). max for the first few months has sort of extreme mood swings of being catatonic and then hysterically crying the next night until eventually it sort of simmers into his constantly pissed off/ on edge ticking time bomb default current state. at some point not to long into their escape eden ends up having to kill someone for max. and max, who on top of already being kinda fucked in the head now has experienced the huge trauma of the night of the slash+ escape, instead of being distraught at this he just kind of, laughs. it has to do with his weird thing with control/ coping, he sees how kind of easy it is to just, take someone’s life and the rush kind of goes to his head a bit. not saying he becomes kind of a serial killer but i’m saying he becomes kind of a serial killer.

years later he confides in eden that he’s TIRED AND BORED of being a vagabond and he wants to MAKE something of himself. there’s a period of time we haven’t really cooked on here in which he transitions [clothes hairstyle starts going my maximillion] and ends up becoming the evil ass mayor of a town. he gets a sort of high from being in control of the lives of all these little townspeople it’s like a fucked up dollhouse to him

THERES MORE TO IT BUT. IM GUNNA STOP THERE CAUSE THIS ENDED UP WAY LONGER THAN I INTENDED I hope this makes sense i didn’t proofread

also a lot of the things i’ve mentioned here are things i drew and posted with no context so if you wanna go back and look at them with some more context you can now .., yayy

also special bonus information, max’s voice claims are

pre transition/Western au: Blackarachnia beast wars

post transition: kuzco

LOL

[empresskadia]

John-117|Master Chief relationship thoughts

As y'all know, I think about John alot. And since I'm having writing block, here are my John-117 thoughts of the week.

Our Chief is a man of few words, so it's safe to say this man's love language is Acts of Service. He does things for his partner to make them happy or make their life just alittle easier. I've mentioned this before, don't say you're hungry near him because he will bring his partner food, but it's too much, it's two or three Spartan servings. Doesn't matter if you're a Spartan-IV, he knows your meal requirements down to a science and still manages to bring his partner more than they can manage to eat.

It's okay though because between the both of you, the plates get cleaned because John can eat. Sometimes you wonder if he brings so much so he could eat double and hide behind the excuse that you're hungry.

He'll send a Spartan smile to his partner every time he sees them between missions, often times than not, he’s already being sent onto another mission and only have minutes with his partner. It’s the quickest way for him to express that he’s missed them and is glad they’re okay before boarding the next Pelican.

Going further with this thought for an ODST or Spartan-IV S/o, if he sees you on the field or it’s been awhile since he’s seen them, he’ll swipe his fingers across your faceplate. His partner might or might not understand the significance of it but the Spartans-lls that see it understand that you mean dearly to him.

John is not always the most vocal about his emotions, but his partner has learned to understand his silences. You know when he needs space and when he needs comfort, sometimes he will go find his partner and just sit with them.

He is the type of man who cherishes the small moments you have together. Spartans rarely get downtime, and if you’re also an ODST or Spartan, the time off hardly line up. So every moment with his partner is precious to him.

There is a point in the relationship where you’re able to communicate with John by just a single glance or a small touch and visa verse.

Anyways, those are my top thoughts ladies and gents. Share yours if you’d like, I would love to hear ‘em.

[frankingsteinery]

been sitting on this for awhile because its a bit controversial, but its one of the main reasons i was pushed into the frankenstein fandom space so i figured it was high time to talk about it

ive noticed that theres this general opinion, both among scholars and present in more fandom-y spaces, that victor is somehow effeminate for what are ultimately symptoms of disability (fainting spells, being bedridden, hysteria, etc) as if being physically or mentally ill is something that is inherently feminine. i have read articles published by academics that victor’s sickness is proof of his “femininity,” which is why he wants to take on the traditional part of a woman, that is, childbirth (via creature)

even in general, and not on an academic level, it emerges in jokes or memes all over the place — people poking at victor for being weak, or sick, or a gay little UWU bean sub, because aw hes fainting all the time XD and he’s sooo dramatic! as if these things were somehow both his choice, and somehow innately feminine

so, not only is there this weird link people are attempting to draw between disability and femininity, but also queerness (particularly, ive noticed, being a “bottom” or “sub” — but thats a whole separate can of worms) and femininity. as if being either of these things is inherently girly or cutesy and thus worthy of being made fun of

there comes a point (particularly when these interpretations leak into broader understandings of something via pop culture), where, for lack of a better word, it comes off as fetishizing or romanticizing queerness and/or queer relationships

and while this may seem relatively harmless on the surface and comes off as just thoughtless jokes made in bad taste, it IS serious. not just within the context of frankenstein, but the general premise of the severity that even subconscious reinforcement of detrimental and stereotypical ideas should be treated with. its a slippery slope from jokes to notions that affect you and how you see the world

this is obviously part of a broader problem with the way disability, gender, identity and etc is thought about and taught, which results in people harboring all sorts of these types of underlying prejudices. its just that victor happens to be a particularly good example, wherein he is a feminized man that is ascribed as “weak,” and the attribute “weak” is ascribed to someone who has been historically analyzed as both disabled and queer. this has been reinforced for decades, and i feel like this treatment of his character in this way is so blatantly obvious and runs rampant while it goes nearly entirely unchecked — and also in the case of frankenstein discourse, its often a quadruple whammy (ableism, misogyny, transphobia, homophobia)

and the worst part is that it is so often completely unintentional, and the bulk of this sort of content are well-meaning jokes. i genuinely don’t think people do this in bad faith or out of malice, but spreading these concepts even in formats that appear to be harmless (jokes, memes) just contribute to and continue to spread these ideas and stereotypes. its frustrating because its hard to point out and bring attention to without coming off as nitpicky or overly sensitive because this sort of thing is just so SUBTLE, and these beliefs are so gradually learned and then reinforced on a subconscious level

i could go on but for risk of sounding redundant ill digress, however to be clear this is not me saying you cant view victor as transfem, or disabled, or queer (i do!), or to view him as feminine, or etc, but that you should look at the reasons for WHY you think so, and how you or others treat the subject when talking about it.

[bookshelf-dust]

the hurt is good

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 4,252

warnings: swearing, anxiety, loneliness, a smidge of angst, karen wheeler and her goons as well as mentions of the way they treat billy, hurt, comfort

a/n: hi!!! alas, behold!! i’ve been working on this very slowly for like the past week. but i think i’m pretty proud of this part. thanks for sticking around to read each of these and for encouraging me to try something new. i really hope you enjoy this part. love you bunches!! <333

before you read, listen to: angeleyes by ABBA and/or tiny dancer by elton john

————

The bedsheets are cold everywhere that your body isn’t. Each time you that you rub your feet together you feel the chilly fabric and scramble back to the warm spot you’ve created.

You flip onto your side, reaching for the phone on your nightstand. You punch in a number. A number you think you might remember for the rest of your life.

You wipe your cheek as you maneuver to your back, receiver pressed to your ear.

You stare up at the ceiling, feeling the warmth of tears at your hairline from the change in position. You can’t get them to stop.

The phone’s barely rung before he picks up, and you notice that it’s one in the morning.

“Hello?” Billy’s voice sounds like he hasn’t used it in awhile.

“Hey. It’s me,” you say.

“Figured. No other dumbass would call my number at fucking dark-thirty.”

You can’t find it in you to laugh, though you feel in your chest that you would’ve if you weren’t so stuck.

“Were you sleeping?” you ask, though you know he wasn’t. Not with the speed at which he answered the phone.

“No. What’s the matter?” he inquires.

You sniffle, and Billy sits straight up on the other side of the line.

“Y/N?”

You take a shaky breath, steeling yourself.

“I miss you.”

Billy has to take the phone away from his ear for a second. He runs a hand down his face and blinks. Hard.

No one has ever said that to him.

I miss you. I miss you.

Composing himself, he responds. “Oh yeah?”

“Billy.” Your tone is stern, though not quite pleading.

“You wanna know somethin’?”

“Sure.”

“I miss you more,” he tells you.

“Please don’t make this a competition, Hargrove.” Now you speak a touch more pleadingly.

Billy laughs, and it makes you smile.

You wish you could see him. See the way his eyes squint when he chuckles, or the way he tosses his head back and cackles.

“So you just miss me? That’s all?” He changes the subject.

You stop for a second. No. That’s not all.

“Yeah,” you say, though it’s not very convincing—to you or to Billy.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You pause shortly before continuing. “I-I just wanted to hear your voice is all.”

Billy’s grin dissipates. Something’s wrong, and he can feel it. He goes to speak, but you beat him to it, perhaps sensing that he’d dig for more. You hadn’t meant to sound so sad.

“I’m gonna try and get some sleep, okay, Billy? Will you do the same for me, please?”

You ask because he’s told you he doesn’t sleep well a lot of time. And sometimes, when you look at him, you can see it.

The rings under his eyes. The way he holds himself.

Billy hates that you’re not telling him something. Something that’s made you call him in the middle of the night, something that he thinks has made you cry. He thinks that because he’s never heard that particular kind of sniffle before. You sound so tired.

He doesn’t want you to cry or to be upset. Billy Hargrove cares about you more than he’s ever cared about himself. He even finds that he wants to. For you.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try. But only if you promise you’re really going to rest.”

“I promise, Billy,” you say.

“Okay. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Billy.”

When you set the phone down, your tears have stopped, though you remain awake, staring at the wall, your thoughts enveloping you.

You really hadn’t meant for him to catch that you’re upset. You hadn’t even meant to call him. You just needed him a reminder that he was there.

Earlier, you’d been straitening up your room when you found yourself going through old boxes filled with pictures or badges or cards. And you’d found a couple of photographs with you and your old friends. Some with your small group of middle school friends, but also some with Nancy.

Suddenly you’d found yourself very overwhelmed. You felt fear wash over you like when you’re at the beach and you try and jump the waves but miss.

You’d been afraid that Billy might leave you like everyone else.

You don’t want him to leave you. You want him to stay.

————

“You know you can invite Billy over whenever you want, right?”

Your mother sits on the living room floor. She’s decided to alphabetize your VHS tape collection. You have no idea why.

You’re spread out on the couch, watching her. “Is this a trick?”

She turns to face you and smacks a hand to her chest. “What? No!”

The smirk she’s sporting says otherwise, and you give her a look that makes her relent. “I just feel like you’ve been really quiet lately. I can tell you’re anxious. And I see the way Billy helps that.”

She shakes your copy of The Sound of Music for you to see. She knows how you feel about Mr. von Trapp. You grin sweetly.

“And I see the way he looks at you. The way you look at him,” she says.

“Mom.”

“Honeybee, I’m serious,” she tells you, voice soft as ever. “I can tell that you feel safe with him. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

“I know.”

You’re quiet for a minute. You wonder if Billy’s busy today. You would like to see him, though you always want to see him.

“I’m gonna go call him, okay? Maybe he could come over this afternoon and stay for dinner?”

Your mother gives you an enthusiastic thumbs up as you stand, and you watch her eye Gene Kelly for a minute too long before you head for the phone.

————

Billy doesn’t have any plans today, he tells you.

“I was thinking we could hang around for awhile and you could eat with us? My mom said she might even make cookies.”

Billy’s laugh is gravelly and sends a shiver straight down your spine. “Cookies, huh? Yeah, alright.”

“So it’s the cookies that do it for you then?” you ask, feigning offense at his agreeing only after you mentioned treats.

“Should there be something else that sweetens the deal?” He’s teasing you now.

“You tell me.”

“I was thinking maybe this girl I’m talking to would be a good addition.”

“Oh?” You twist the phone cord around your hand.

“Yeah. She’s a real pain in my ass, but I kind of like her, so I keep her around.”

“She sounds nice, I guess.” You’re so glad he can’t see you.

Billy hums. “You guess? I think she’s pretty damn sweet herself. I guess I don’t even really need the cookies. She’s more than enough for me.”

————

Billy opens the car door and grins at the sight of you—especially since you’ve decided to sit in the backseat with him, leaving the passenger seat empty.

Your mother realized that she not only had nothing to cook for dinner, but also no supplies for cookies, so she decided you could just scoop Billy up, take him along to get groceries, and then drag him back home.

Billy couldn’t really believe the gesture. But even if it was odd, this entire premise of being part of someone’s plans or being cared for, he found himself enjoying it.

Your mother turns the radio up a little, allowing a buffer for the both of you to talk to one another, that way she can’t really hear you.

Billy looks you over. He’s still worried about you after that phone call. He notices your knee bouncing and reaches over, slipping his hand over it and tucking his fingers snugly underneath it.

The bouncing ceases. You put your hand on top of his, run your fingers over the lines and creases in his skin, the engravings on his ring.

“Is it the store?” he asks tentatively. He figures going out is what’s got you a little nervous.

You look at him and nod. He lifts his other hand, dragging the pad of his thumb along the slope of your nose, which you wrinkle in response.

He smiles at you. Each and every smile that he gives you feels like it’s special. Feels like it’s meant just for you.

You grab his hand, freeing it from over your knee so that you can hold it properly. When you’re successfully doing so, he gives it a squeeze.

Your mother pulls into the parking lot and you’re looking for spots, not paying attention to Billy.

You feel him raise your clasped hands, and then you feel the warm press of his mouth. You turn to him, though he’s already looking at you. He lets his lips rest against the back of your hand for a second longer, and then he releases you down so he can unbuckle himself.

You’re practically burning on the way into the store, despite the fact that there’s a chilly wind blowing every which way that should be preventing that.

Your mother grabs a cart and then digs around in her bag for the list she made. She rips it in two and gives one half to Billy. “I’m trusting you not to let her sneak unnecessary things into the basket.”

“How do you know I’m not going to do that?” Billy counters, eyes dancing around the little scrap of paper.

“Well it’s fine if you do. I’ll make a little corner for you to keep snacks.”

“Are you kidding me?” you start. Your mother winks at you, and walks off, pushing her cart away with her.

You go the other direction, snatching up a basket. “I can’t believe this,” he hears you mumble.

Billy laughs behind you. “Keep it up, Hargrove. Keep it up.” That only makes him laugh harder, and then he plants his forehead between your shoulder blades, his hands going to your sides.

“You’re just mad she likes me more,” he says into your back before righting himself.

“I’m not even allowed to have a ‘corner of snacks.’ You’re such a dick.”

You move away from him, but not before snatching the list so you can see what you’re supposed to be retrieving.

He takes it right back from you. “I’ll share with you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You grab hold of his bicep and he takes that as having earned your forgiveness, though it’s not for long, because you can’t actively reach for groceries whilst holding onto him.

He opens the fridge door while you grab milk, gets things from the top shelves that you can’t reach, picks out all the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies.

He doesn’t actually end up grabbing anything for himself; he can’t fathom letting your mother spend money on him like that.

You turn a corner, in search of your mom. You’re now holding the basket with both hands because it’s much too heavy, and you’d like empty it out into her cart.

She scoots into the other end of the aisle and you rush to her, relieving yourself of the groceries.

“She wouldn’t let me hold it,” Billy tells your mother.

“I have muscles,” you state, pretending like you’re not slightly out of breath.

You wander down a little ways in search of pretzels. Billy follows you a few seconds later, having paused to ask if your mom needed him to get anything else.

“Billy?” You hear him walk up behind you.

“Y/N?”

“Can you get those for me? The stick ones? Please?” You’re pointing upwards. Normally, you’d scale the shelf, but with him here that seems unnecessary.

“Sure.”

He stretches upwards, his shirt riding up, and you catch a small stretch of his stomach. You wonder what it feels like. Probably softer than his hands.

On the other end of the aisle, your mother looks back and forth between her list and the groceries in her cart, scratching things off as she goes. She’s nearly finished.

There’s a hubbub of voices from behind her, but she chooses to ignore it. It sounds like soccer moms. She’s never been one, and never wanted to be.

“Nicky!” A voice she recognizes snaps her out of her stupor, and she takes a deep breath, preparing herself.

Karen Wheeler. And from the sounds of it, a couple more moms from her group.

Nicky lost all claims to being in said group when you were in middle school. She couldn’t take the obsessive PTA meetings and activities that just made it look like these mothers actually cared about their children, when everyone knew they didn’t.

Nicky pushes her glasses up into her hair, caps her pen, and turns.

“Hi, Karen. Pamela. Tiff.” She makes eye contact with each of them in turn and offers a stiff smile.

“How are you? How’s Y/N?” Karen asks.

“I’m just fine.” Nicky’s head darts towards where you stand with Billy. She smiles at the two of you.

He’s got his fingers hooked in your belt loops, and you’re playing with the cuff of his sleeve, occasionally brushing your thumb against the skin of his wrist. You look happy.

“Y/N is doing just fine, too. Really well in school. I’m very proud of her.”

Nicky turns back to Karen, but her eyes are glued on you. More specifically, on Billy.

“Is that Billy Hargrove?” Karen seems to realize that sounds off, and covers. “His sister, Max, is friends with Mike.”

“Oh, I see,” Nicky says, appraising the looks on her and the other women’s faces. She doesn’t like the way they can’t seem to stop staring at Billy.

They’re looking him up and down, looking at him like he’s an object, like he’s this sex symbol.

Pamela turns to face Nicky. “Is he with her?”

“Would it matter if he was?” Nicky suddenly finds herself very angry and unwilling to put up with these women.

Pamela looks shocked, but it’s Tiff who pipes up. “I just thought that he’d be with someone more…mature. Y/N’s so quiet. So…anxious.”

Nicky tosses her pen in her bag. “What the hell is wrong with you? Billy is eighteen years old, and the three of you are looking at him like he’s good enough to eat. Last time I checked, you all had children the exact same age. If by mature you mean yourself, then shit! If you can’t see what’s wrong with that, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

Billy hears your mom raise her voice and holds onto your waist a little more firmly. You look up when he does.

“What gives you the right to assume you know what kind of relationship he wants to be in?” your mother continues. “He’s a fucking kid, Tiffany, and so is my daughter.”

“She might be quiet but there isn’t a damn thing wrong with that, and neither is there with being anxious. It’s clear to me that the three of you don’t know the first thing about what life is like for teenagers these days, even if you were one once. And I’m sorry that you’re so unhappy in your marriages that you think it’s okay to prey on Billy. Get a fucking divorce.”

Nicky grabs hold of her cart and pushes it towards the both of you, cocking her head to the side in a swift motion that tells you both to follow her.

“You two get everything?” she asks, continually walking.

“Yeah,” you tell her.

“Then let’s get the hell out of here.”

————

You notice, as you’re starting to help your mother make cookies, that Billy keeps pushing his hair out of his face. Having already secured yours away from any possible encounters with ingredients, you decide to help him.

“Come with me,” you say, wiggling your fingers in front of his. He grabs hold and let’s you lead him to your bathroom.

He thinks about the last time he was in here, about you cleaning him up.

You pull the cabinet open and get a scrunchie, stretching it over your fingers to show him. “This okay? I could tell it was buggin’ you.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Billy blushes a little at the idea of you having your hands in his hair, and you pretend not to notice.

You reach up, gathering all of his hair at the base of his neck. It’s softer than you expected, though you can feel the product in it, and the little bit of frizz that’s fought back.

Your nail grazes his neck, just slightly, and it makes him shiver. You tie his hair up into a bun. There are a couple shorter pieces hanging out at the front, and you make him face you so that you can push them behind his ears.

You twist one curl around your finger and then tuck it away. You look into his blue eyes, and he’s staring at you like…no. He couldn’t feel that way, could he?

Though maybe he does. Maybe he’s got the same ache for you that you’ve got for him.

Before he can think too much about it, Billy cups the back of your head and leans in, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you,” he mumbles against your skin, and then he’s giving you another one.

His lips are warm and soft, and you feel the press of them long after he’s pulled back.

You can feel him rubbing his thumb against the back of your head, and you lean into his touch. “You’re welcome.” The smile you give him makes him feel like he might actually die.

When you’re back in the kitchen, your mother has already got a batch in the oven, but she’s set everything else out for the two of you to make one.

“I wanted there to be at least a couple edible ones,” she says.

You turn to Billy. “Are you hearing this? She doubts my skills.”

“I don’t blame her,” he says teasingly, looking at Nicky, who laughs sickly sweet.

“You know what? I’ve had enough of this.” You feign wiping tears from your face and go to stomp away, but Billy just grabs hold of you instead, gently pulling you towards the counter.

“Don’t go, I need you.”

Your mother takes that as her queue to give you two some time.

Nicky knows. She knows that Billy is falling in love with you, if he’s not already there.

She thinks you feel the same, but she also knows you.

————

Billy seems to have made himself quite comfortable where he sits cross legged against your headboard. He’s already eaten his share of cookies, but he’s glad to wait as you finish yours.

You’re sitting at the end of the bed, facing him. When you finish your cookies, you sit up and move towards him, reaching to set your napkin on your side table. When he sees you go to move back, he grabs hold of your hand.

“Sit up here with me.”

You comply, positioning yourself beside him, and when you’re sideways so that you can look at him, he pulls your legs into his lap, resting his hands on your calves.

He’s only quiet for a second before he speaks again. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

“About what?” You adjust the pillow behind your back.

“Y/N. You know what. You don’t just call me at one in the fucking morning, sounding like that, and then expect me to forget about it.”

“You could tell then I guess?”

“That you were crying? Yeah. You think I don’t pay attention to stuff like that?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, avoiding his eyes.

“Well I’ve been worried about you all day, and don’t say I didn’t need to be.”

Billy raises his voice just enough to be serious, though he’s not yelling. You can tell he’s a little frustrated with you though.

“Please talk to me. I opened up to you about my fucking dad, Y/N. You have to let me in.”

Your eyes well up, but you push those feelings down, pulling yourself away from Billy and sitting up on your knees. He looks upset at the loss of you splayed across him.

“I was having a rough night, and I freaked myself out,” you start.

“Billy, you’re the first friend I’ve had in a long time.” He nods, urging you on.

“I found all these old pictures, some with friends from middle school, but some with Nancy too.”

“Wheeler?”

“Wheeler,” you confirm. “When I was middle school, I had a couple of friends, and we would do everything together, you know? We’d plan out our futures, even if it was just talking about high school and dumb shit like that. But I always felt like the odd one out, you know? I was freaked out about high school. They weren’t. I was shy, I was wary. I didn’t want things to change.”

“But they did. And we got to high school, and I lost all of them. They all found their own groups, and I just didn’t. I did find Nancy, though. We were both in the library at the same time, and we just clicked? We got really close and I felt safe with her.”

“We knew everything about each other. I felt like her family was my family, that kind of thing. But then she met Barb, and then Steve,” here your voice breaks, and Billy fucking hates it.

“Nothing bad happened. We just started seeing each other less, and I’d call and she’d be busy. It got one-sided. Billy, it was like she forgot about me.”

He extends his hand, and you take it. Those tears you’d been fighting win, spilling over slowly and then all at once.

“And I’ve had a hard time getting over that, even if I tell my mom that I’m fine. Really, I’m not mad at Nancy. I just feel so…insignificant. It hurts, knowing I’m so easy to forget, Billy. And I saw all those pictures last night, and then I thought of you and I got so scared all of the sudden.”

“It’s like everyone I’ve ever let in has left me behind. And I’m scared you’re going to forget about me too. And I don’t think I’ll recover from that, Billy. Because I need you.”

You stop then, and a sob rips free from your throat, though Billy can tell you didn’t want it to. “I’m sorry.” You try to apologize for your state.

He sits up on his knees too, and pulls you into his arms. You bury your face in his neck and he lets you, because he knows exactly how you feel. He thinks about his mother for a second, but let’s that go.

Billy’s hands move steadily over your back, doing their best to soothe you. He carefully guides your face from his shoulder, ensuring you look at him.

“I’m not going to forget about you, Y/N. I fucking swear. I could never. You are not anywhere near insignificant, and you’re not anywhere damn near easy to forget.”

“I’m so sorry that all of happened to you, and I can’t explain any of it, because everyone’s got their own shit going on. But I can tell you that you didn’t deserve it. And I can tell you that I need you too. You make me want to stay in this shithole. You make me want to be better.”

“Yeah?” Your voice is quiet, and you look so young, so fragile. It’s killing him.

“Yeah.”

The both of you are quiet for awhile, sitting with each other, Billy waiting until your breathing has steadied, until he feels your hiccuping stop.

“Billy, if I ask my mom, and she says it’s okay, will you stay the night?” You grin as you ask.

He laughs at that, and you can feel the vibrations of it where your face is shoved into his chest. He remembers the joke he made about that one of the first times you hung out.

Shit, he thinks. He really needs to tell you.

“Yeah, I will.”

You hop up, rubbing your face dry, and then excitedly make for the door. You hold up your index finger. “I’ll be right back.”

He hears you patter to the living room, the mumbling of your and your mother’s voices.

When you return, you’re giddy.

“My mom said you can stay the night, Billy.”

He laughs so hard that he falls onto his back, the spring in your mattress making him bounce a little. He’s fucking cackling at you, and it only makes you do the same.

————

That night, after Billy has made sure Neil and Susan will be gone awhile, after he’s sat and waited for Hopper to pick up Max and take her back to theirs to be with El, and then packed an overnight bag, he’s back in your room.

In your bed. With you.

“My bed is much warmer with you in it, I must say.”

Billy smiles at you, and even let’s you play with the pendant around his neck. “I’m glad,” he says. “Guess that means I’ll have to spend more time in it then.”

You turn your face into your pillow, and he chuckles.

“Come here, baby. Let me hold you.”

Baby.

You scoot closer to him, and he scoops you up in his arms.

“I’m never going to forget about you.” He says it into your hair, his breath warm on your scalp.

“I believe you.” Billy kisses your forehead again, and you feel safe. He feels like he could be your forever home.

————

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