#sorry to disappoint though :( can’t control how my brain works

[lynnbutlertron]

I'm assuming you're no longer into pizza tower?

I dunno?

It’s not like I’m not into it anymore, I still love seeing art of them and will talk about it all the time with my boyfriend hehe, but it just hasn’t been on the forefront of my mind recently!!

If i’m being honest I’ve had a lot of stuff on my plate right now- i’ve been hanging out with my friends and enjoying my summer, getting into volunteering, and I have a temp job starting next week! I haven’t really had a huge fixation in a while….

But!! They’re still in the back of my mind as always!!

[lvis44]

Sweet Escape Pt. 6 // LH 44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, 18+ (mentions of sexual activities), Anxiety, Jealousy, Angst, Mentions of Alcohol, Regret, Emotional Turmoil, Not Edited

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: Paradise is supposed to be fun and relaxing... a Sweet Escape, but when unspoken feelings and jealousy rise to the surface, everything can be turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

Note: I felt bad leaving you all in pain, not that this will be much better but hey, we're getting there! This part is a tad shorter but I felt that this whole thing should be stand alone. The next part will be the final part of the story, but don't worry there will be an epilogue. I'm glad you have all been enjoying so far and I greatly appreciate everyone's support!

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

Previous Sections: Prologue - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five

It was nearing three in the morning when you heard your door open. The second you had arrived home you had grabbed your stuff out of Charlotte's room and moved back into your old one. You weren’t particularly in the mood to face anyone. You had spent the last few hours quietly sobbing into your knees, balled up on the bed like a child. You had seemingly run out of tears but the sorrow didn’t change. You hadn’t even heard everyone come home, somehow beating them even on foot, you assumed it was because they had to go find everyone else.

“What?” You snapped at whomever had entered your room, not even looking toward the door.

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” You heard Miles’ voice from the doorway, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do I seem fucking okay?” You snapped again, your filter long gone.

He let out a sigh, closing the door behind him softly as he dared to make his way over to your bed, sitting down beside you gently.

“I’m sorry Y/N, it wasn’t fair to you to cause a scene like that.” He says softly, glancing over at you to see you staring into space, your attention fixated on the blank wall to the side of the room.

You scoff, not trying to be rude but unable to control anything that comes out of you, “Well at least one of you knows how to fucking apologize. I’m still mad at you though.”

You hear him sigh again, moving closer to you so he can place a hand on your back, rubbing softly. You don’t even have the energy to flinch away from him, just letting him rest his hand there and enjoying the slightest bit of comfort.

“I know you’re pissed at Lewis, you have every right to be. Don’t kill her but Charlotte kind of filled me in when we got home. He massively fucked up.” His hand continues it’s light circling pattern, “And truth be told so did I. I don’t know why but I constantly feel like I need to protect you and hearing that asshole call you anything other than perfect made me want to kill him, he’s honestly lucky Lewis had half a brain to pull me away from him. I know you can take care of yourself but I’m always gonna look out for you, no matter what. Hence the reason I tried to deck my best friend earlier tonight.”

“I’m sorry, you what?” You whip your head towards him, that last bit of information really catching your interest.

“Yeah, when Charlotte filled me in I was still livid with the whole situation from the bar and finding out what sparked it really pissed me off. It only felt right he get at least a swift kick to the groin. Not to disappoint you but Char stopped me. I’m shocked you didn’t hear us.” He almost sounds like he wants to laugh as he tells you, like he can’t believe the whole situation himself.

“He needs a kick to the groin, taking that thing out of commission for a little while might do everyone some good.” You joke dryly, making Miles laugh next to you.

“If you need me to do it, I’m more than willing.” He offers, only kind of a joke, you feel like if you genuinely asked him to do it, he would, given the circumstances.

“I hate that I can hate him and love him all at the same time. I don’t want to lose him, but this can’t carry on this way.” You confess to Miles.

“I know Charlotte already said this to the both of you, but you guys really need to fucking talk.” He tells you seriously, before adding, “And sober.”

“I know, I know.” You groan, “I’m sorry we’ve managed to fuck up so much of vacation.”

“It’s been much more him than you sweetheart, he brought every ounce of drama himself. I could tell something was up with you over the last few days but I couldn’t really figure out what. I’m sorry it’s him.” Miles brings you in for a side hug, his arm wrapping protectively around you.

“I’m just so fucking sick of it all. I’m so tired.” You tell him, leaning against his shoulder.

“I know, understandably so.” Miles lets out a sigh, holding you in silence for a few moments. “You get some sleep and I’ll check on you in the morning, okay?” He says as he presses a kiss to your temple.

All you do is nod, knowing he’s right.

“I know you’re not all good or anything, but I’m glad you're still here. I was worried you were gonna be at the airport by the time we got home, we freaked for a second when we saw your stuff wasn’t in Charlottes anymore.” He tells you quietly, still not having let you go.

“I just didn’t want to have to face anyone, figured moving back to my old room would be the easiest way.” You just about whisper, feeling your exhaustion catch up to you.

“Well, I’m sorry to have intruded, but I needed to check on you,” Miles says, kissing your forehead one more time before easing you back toward your pillows, “get some sleep hun.”

. . .

You had no idea what time it was when you finally woke up and you have no idea how long you’ve been laying in your bed staring at the ceiling. It has to have been a good hour at this point. You can hear people moving around somewhere in the house, the last thing you want to do is go and interact. You were embarrassed, angry, hurt, and so much more you couldn’t even wrap your head around. You’ve had enough. As you’ve been laying there, more than once you’ve contemplated if you could manage to pack your stuff and sneak out of the house, fly back home without another word. You knew you couldn't and more than likely someone would come track you down the second they knew you were gone, well normally they would. You don’t know what your friends know of the situation. How much did everyone else see, how much had they been told? You knew you should get up and eat something but you had no appetite, anxiety and dread having taken over your body. You lay there going through your thoughts for more than an hour. You want to sit down and talk with Lewis, you need to, but the anxiety of the possible outcome is paralyzing you. What if he confirms your fears, admits that all he’s ever been trying to do is get it your pants? What if now that you’ve shut him down he doesn’t see a reason to keep you around anymore? The rational part of your brain knows that you're overthinking, that your friendship with Lewis still stands on semi solid ground. Maybe there will be some change to how he is around you or how often he’s with you but at the base of it all your still close friends. Lewis knows things about you that your own family doesn’t, he’s been able to read you better than you can read yourself on more than a few occasions, all of that can’t go up in smoke this quickly. Can it?

There’s a soft knock on your door, making you groan. You don’t respond hoping they’ll go away. They don’t, only knocking again and gently pushing the door open. You roll your head to the side, seeing Miles peeking his head into your room, a comforting smile on his face. True to his word, here he was to check on you.

“Good morning,” He says softly, making his way into your room once he sees you’re awake, “I brought you something to eat, you need to get something in you.”

You give him a small smile as he places a tray of fruit and a large glass of ice water on the table next to your bed.

“Thanks.” You croak out, your voice hoarse from crying all night.

“Everybodies in their rooms for the most part if you need to venture out of hiding at any point.” He tells you, knowing you’ve been avoiding everyone, but one person in particular.

You just nod, taking a small sip of the cold water. It feels amazing on your burning throat, as if it’s your first drink of water after a month in the desert.

“What time is it?” You ask, trying to get some bearing on where you are in your life, even if it's just the time of day.

He glances down at the watch on his wrist, “Just before noon.”

It’s still earlier than you thought it was at this point and it fills you with a small sense of dread, there’s so much more of the day to go about trying to avoid everyone.

“You know no ones mad at you, right?” Miles makes sure you know that there’s no hostility facing you in the house.

You just shrug, unsure of how true that actually is and also not quite wanting to admit that it’s more so that you’re embarrassed to even see your friends. There’s another soft knock on the door and you're praying it’s Charlotte, the only other person you could bare being around right now. Much to your dismay, a very tired looking Lewis pokes his head around the door that Miles had left ajar. Your breath hitches, anxiety filling your body.

“Oh, shit, sorry, I’ll um-” Lewis stutters, not wanting to interrupt your chat with Miles.

“All good man, I was just gonna head out anyway.” Miles says, standing from where he had sat on your bed.

You know Miles can sense your anxiety but he gives you a look that says “just get it over with” and heads towards the door. Before he exits he turns back toward you and says “Holler for me if you need anything, alright?”

He whispers something to Lewis as he walks out and you can see a pained expression on Lewis’ face at whatever he said. Once he’s gone, Lewis stands awkwardly in the doorway, not quite being able to look at you as he plays with his hands down in front of him.

“You can come in.” You squeak, not actually fully wanting to say it but knowing it needs to be done. 

He finally looks at you, putting his hand on the door as if to close it but you can see the question in his eyes. You nod, not wanting your whole conversation to be heard by everyone in the house. He very gently pushes the door closed, making his way further into your room. He looks around, evidently unsure of what to do with himself. He opts for perching on the edge of your dresser just across from where you sit on the bed, you’re facing each other and you can feel your stomach filling with butterflies, but not the good kind you usually get when you’re around him.

“I owe you an apology, well, multiple apologies.” He finally says, looking down at the ground, ashamed. His voice is hoarse as if he’s just woken up.

You don’t say anything, unsure of what you would even say.

“I’m sorry for the way that I’ve treated you. I’m sorry for not talking to you sooner. I’m sorry that my company embarrassed you in front of everyone. I’m sorry for my behavior last night, all of it. I’ve treated you in a way that if anyone else did the same to you, I would hate them.” He finally apologizes for the last few days, finally looking at you as he does so.

He looks exhausted, much older than usual with bags under his eyes and more scruff than you're used to him allowing.

“Thank you,” you whisper, “and I’m sorry I avoided talking to you too.”

He shakes his head, “It shouldn’t have been on you to fix, I’m the one that fucked up.”

You offer a small smile in his direction. All is not immediately forgiven and this conversation needs to continue, but hearing him acknowledge the reasons he needed to apologize in the first place does your heart some good at the very least.

“Why did you do it?” You ask quietly, your voice timid, not sure you truly want the answer.

He looks surprised by the question, also not quite sure how to respond. He lets out a sigh as he collects his thoughts.

“I know it doesn’t make it right,” He starts, pausing for a moment to make sure his words come across as clearly as possible, “but, it’s been on my mind for a long time. I’m well aware that I went about it all wrong, especially last night, I was incredibly out of line last night, but I’ve thought about it alot.” He cringes at his admission.

You furrow your brow, worried this is going exactly the direction you feared, hoping he will continue.

“I don’t mean for that to sound creepy, but I’ve been really attracted to you for quite a while. I should have made that clear in a much different way. I never want you to feel like I’m trying to take advantage of you in any way, it makes me sick to think that I have ever made you feel like that.” He says, a look of regret on his tired face.

“What I said last night was harsh, my drunk brain just felt like it was the best way to get my point across.” You admit to him.

“But it wasn’t really that harsh, despite it not being intentional, it’s kind of true. What I said on the other hand, that was harsh, I never should have called you a tease or said you indulged in it, it wasn’t fair.” His words are firm, for the first time he’s holding steady eye contact with you, demanding your attention so you feel the remorse in his words.

“I need to be honest, it really hurts that you’re able to treat me like all the other girls you fuck around with, I thought I was more important to you than them.” You quietly admit to him.

“Fuck, you are. So much more important to me.” He says, finally moving from where he’s been leaning on your dresser and cautiously making his way toward where you sit on your bed. He carefully sits next to you, leaving a good distance but making sure he’s near you.

“Then how can you be so okay with chatting up the bar tender, grinding on some random woman, and then still come over and try to fuck me, yet again. All because your ego couldn’t handle me dancing with someone else, when you were doing exactly the same.” You push, needing him to truly understand just how shitty his actions made you feel.

“You’re right, I was jealous. In my ideal world you would have been dancing with me all night, but I knew you wouldn’t have allowed that where we were in our relationship. And then you found that prick and the way you were with him, it just set something off in me. I wasn’t thinking. I know that sounds like a horrible excuse but there was part of me that was hoping I could make you just as jealous as I was, not that you would be when you’ve made it clear you’re not interested, and I should have respected that. Between the alcohol and my ego, I let myself treat you like shit and there’s no excuse for that, I would take it back in a heartbeat if I could.” His face is sincere, you can tell just how much he regrets last night but it doesn’t automatically let him off the hook. He continues “And as for the bartender, I wasn’t chatting her up, she’s an old friend. I’ve never slept with her and never will, she’s like family. I got distracted talking with her and by the time I found you again you had that Jason dude on your hip.”

You want to laugh, not only at him forgetting Jadens name, but also at him saying you’re not interested. He has every right to assume you’re not, you’ve done nothing but turn him down. You almost want to tell him just how wrong he is, how the only reason you said no is because you don’t want to lose him, but right now is not the time for that, you don’t want to open any windows and derail the conversation that so far is going shockingly well, even if it hurts.

“Is she the woman you went to after your fight with Talia?” You push him slightly, hoping to get more out of him while he’s being so honest with you.

His face screws up for a second, confused how you would know that. You see the questioning look on his face and rush to clarify, to confess.

“I know you lied to me that night, or at least I kind of hope you did. I overheard you and Charlotte talking the next morning, something about a woman named Marina.” You explain.

He lets out a deep sigh, “Yeah, I’m sorry I lied to you. I wasn’t particularly in the mood to explain the whole situation. But to answer your question, yes, that is the woman that I went and saw.” He doesn’t offer any further explanation, you want to push him but you allow him to leave it at that, at least for now.

You both sit in silence for a moment, trying to figure out where to go from here.

“Lewis,” You say quietly, getting his attention, “I don’t want to lose you.”

His face morphs into absolute sorrow and pain, for a moment you worry that he’s mourning your friendship, not knowing how to break the news to you.

“Y/N, you’ll never lose me. I would go crazy without you.” His voice is soft but sincere as he carefully scoots closer to you on the bed, testing the waters slightly. You let him get close enough that your knees are touching, his hand coming to rest over yours, squeezing tightly.

“How do you think I could ever let you go?” He asks with a deep frown.

“Because you seemed to be okay with ruining our friendship just to get me in your bed.” You accuse him, your voice wavering.

“Sweetheart, I was never trying to ruin our friendship, I-” He takes a long pause, gathering himself with a deep breath, “I don’t know how to explain it exactly, but truth be told, me trying to get you into bed was never just me trying to sleep with you. It’s been a long time since I felt for someone how I feel for you and I’m not good at making that clear. I don’t even truly understand everything that I feel for you but, I know it’s a whole lot more and a whole lot different than how I feel about all of my other friends. I guess somewhere in my head I felt like I could get that across physically, that maybe it would make everything make sense once I had you. I know it sounds ridiculous but I don’t know how to do this.”

His confession both shocks and confuses you, your mind flitting back to the night he disappeared after his fight with Talia. That night he had told you that he had feelings for her, now he was trying to convince you of his feelings for you.

“What about Talia?” You ask, voice still unsure.

“What about Talia?” He throws back at you, confused as to why she matters right now.

“The night that we talked, after your fight, you told me you were worried that you had messed everything up with someone that you cared about or liked a lot, I don’t remember exactly what you said but…” You trail off, a slow moment of realization coming over you.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he looks down at the ground before returning his eyes to yours, “Y/N, I was talking about you. In no universe was I ever even considering Talia.” His words confirm what you’ve just realized and you want to slap yourself, you feel like an idiot.

“I- oh my god.” You breathe out, shutting your eyes. His eye contact suddenly feeling like too much.

You stand from the bed, disconnecting your hand from his. He stays seated, looking up at you as you begin to pace, letting you process what he’s said.

“How long?” You ask suddenly, stopping and looking at him.

“In all honesty, I don’t really know. I only really realized it sometime last year. I was thinking it would go away, that it was just some silly crush, but it just kept getting worse.” He explains, shrugging his shoulders as if it’s totally normal.

“So all the time that you were sleeping with all these other women and still flirting with me was, what?” You feel yourself getting agitated, not quite sure how to feel about his actions.

“I kind of figured that if I kept sleeping around that I would be satisfied and I wouldn’t feel the same way, but I couldn't help but keep flirting with you, it’s just naturally how I am with you, it feels right.” Once again he shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

“Do you not want to feel this way about me?” You ask quietly, a slight sting of rejection settling over you.

“No, no, that’s not it at all.” He rushes out, standing to approach you, carefully he puts his hands on your arms, making you look at him, “It’s not at all that I don’t want to feel this way about you, I’m glad I do to be completely honest. It’s just that I’ve been single for a very long time and I truly do not want to fuck this up, I’m scared that I’m going to and I’m going to lose you. It felt like everything would be so much easier if I could just keep being your friend and keep you in my life. But that didn’t happen, I still managed to fuck it up.”

You can feel tears forming in your eyes, he notices them too, a look of regret on his face.

“So what do you want?” You ask him, needing more clarity.

“All in all, I want you, I want to do this with you and god I want to not fuck it up. I want you to be mine, all mine, all in.” He says confidently, much more sure of himself than you feel.

You stare at him as the tears start to roll down your cheeks, your emotions are at an all time high. Part of you is filled with pure ecstasy, the man that you have crushed on for years is standing here in front of you confessing his feelings, asking you to be his. The other part of you is filled with absolute fear, the thought of trying and failing with him, losing one of the most amazing men you have ever met, your best friend. You know that a life with Lewis could either end in the most beautiful love you have ever experienced or the worst, most gut wrenching heartache known to man.

“Can I hug you? You look like you could use it.” His voice is soft, his heart aching as he watches you cry.

All you can do is nod as you let yourself fall into his hard chest. He holds you against him tightly, rubbing soft circles on your back as he once again lets you cry into his chest. You’ve done this too many times in the last twenty four hours. He stays silent, just letting you work through your emotions. When you finally calm down you pull your head from his chest but he keeps you tight against him, one of his hands coming up to wipe some remaining tears from your cheek. You revel in the feeling of his touch, how comforting a simple action can be. As you stare into his eyes you can see how much emotion and affection is hidden behind them. A soft, sad smile across his lips.

“What’s going through that beautiful mind?” He asks, his voice just above a whisper.

“I don’t know.” You tell him honestly.

He just nods, understanding how overwhelmed you must be.

“I need time, I need to think.” You say, averting your eyes from his, knowing you’ll say yes if you look into them for a moment too long.

“Take all the time you need, I’ll always be right here if you decide you’ll have me.” He says softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he gives you another proper hug.

He finally steps away from you, leaving you feeling displaced in your own room, before he turns to leave he grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly, “And Y/N, no matter what you decide, you will never lose me. I will always be right here.” With that he leaves the room, leaving you behind with a whirlwind of thoughts.

As much as every part of you wants to believe him in saying he’ll never leave you, you can’t help but wonder if it’s fully true. If you try this and all of it comes crashing down, you can’t imagine being able to be around him.

Is the possibility of loving and being loved by the most incredible human being worth the possibility of losing him entirely? 

[hell-drabbles]

Leviathan and Ra-on 1

Summary: You’ve tasked yourself with teaching Ra-on how to do the type of play Leviathan likes, since that devil’s teaching methods are horrendous. That and Ra-on was clearly interested in it.

(This is probably not canon but eh, I don't really know. Had this scene in my mind and I figured this would be fun. Lot of things happened back to back on my end. Things are… eh, they’re not getting worse so there’s that. Anyways, enjoy.)

“Alright, so in general choking practice, you actually don’t want to constrict the windpipe,” one of your knees was digging into the shoulder of a bound and gagged Leviathan, pinning him flat on his back on the ground, “typically, you just wrap your hands around them neck, but you press against the arteries and put very light pressure with your palm around the trachea.”

You shoved your hand around his neck and press him further into the pillow you placed. Leviathan’s bit further into his gag, his face slowly turning red, but had just enough breathe to growl at you. Clearly you are not the one he wanted to touch him, and yet he still didn’t press the clicker you gave him. His hands are free. There’s nothing stopping him from signaling he wanted this to stop.

Perhaps it’s his pride talking, but negotiations have been made. You cannot be faulted for whatever limits you push if he doesn’t signal that you’re at that point.

“Here, take a closer look,” you waved Ra-on closer, pointing to your hand.

At the start of all this, Ra-on had shoved himself to the nearest wall, trying to disappear into it like he was afraid he’ll irritate you, or he was intruding on something private. Though, that did the opposite because you’re only doing this to teach Ra-on something things you’ve learned over the years.

He’s closer now, but in that wavering sort of way like he was ready to dash out of this room as soon as something changed in your mood.

You sighed. “Ra-on, get over here. You need to see the way I position my hand.”

“O-oh!” Ra-on tugged at his shirt, trying to pull it over his crotch, “Right! Sorry!”

He awkwardly knelt right next to you and you made sure to push all irritation as far down as you could. You can’t fault him for popping a boner in a situation like this. After all, you’re pretty sure Leviathan is also in the same state, and you’d be pretty biased to be angry at Ra-on and not at Leviathan.

Just ignore it and continue teaching… and also take enjoyment in the fact you can reduce Leviathan like this. He looks extremely irritated to be under you and you can’t help but find this entertaining, especially when you found out a while back that he was trying to mold Ra-on into his preferred partner.

This arrogant, emotionally constipated piece of shit really thinks that the best way to teach BDSM is by making Ra-on angry and waiting for the results, by goading him and taking in all the rage that he releases. And he has the gall to be disappointed when Ra-on doesn’t somehow read his mind and do the things he wants.

Idiot. Waste of space. Does being praised as beautiful really rot the brain to this state? To make one think he’s entitled to changing every aspect of a person to fit his needs and assume that’s what his partner wants most? That he knows what’s best?

None of these devils know how humans work.

“You don’t have to do this–” Ra-on noticed the stormy look on your face.

He’s right, you don’t have to do this. You can just let go and guide Ra-on’s hand while you stay away. But, you know Ra-on, and he’s not a hands-on learner. And in this situation, where Leviathan’s was bare to the world save for the ropes and gag, covered in sweat and clearly wanting more, you knew Ra-on would be unable to hear you.

All the devils here seek to entice and pull Ra-on into their world. And, one day, you fear he’ll be out of your reach if you let them take advantage of his poor self-control.

“You think I trust the devils to teach you safe sex?” They’re all dumb as shit and too indulgent in their own desires. They’re not teachers, and they’re certainly not interested in learning the limits of human beings, because Ra-on is the descendant of Solomon, so clearly he’ll like what that old ancestor liked. If his body reacts, then surely it must mean he likes it!

You heard an irritated huff and you wished Ra-on kept that to himself. You accidentally tightened your grip.

“They’re not that bad–”

There was a broken, choked out moan. The body under your knee began to thrash and jut, Leviathan’s face turning to hide into his shoulder as tears marred his face, teeth nearly ripping through the gag.

And, because you were dressed lightly, you felt your whole calf become soaked.

…you let go as soon as he was done, when your mind caught up with the sight.

Ra-on, right next to you, had his hand over his mouth, eyes racking over your leg as his own breath shivered out of him.

Leviathan breathed heavily, unable to look at anyone. He simply stared at the wall.

“…sorry.” You got up and off him.

Right, right, you forgot that these devils have a very high libido, and this Leviathan, out of his disappointment that Ra-on “kept holding back,” refused to sleep with him for… a good three weeks. Of course he’d be half a hair away from his release.

Though, you have to admit, it's kind of impressive that tying him up and choking him was enough to get his rocks off. Huh.

…alright, let's see.

You collected yourself with a nice, deep breath. Again, this is a natural reaction. You were expecting this, just not this soon.

“You both good to continue or…?”

Ra-on was snapped out of his trance with two little clicks. Leviathan was back to glaring at you, but there was a glimmer of determination in them.

Ra-on looked in your direction but didn’t quite meet your eyes. Your soaked leg had all his attention.

You snapped your fingers, “Ra-on, can you get me the towel over there?”

“Huh?” Only then did he finally meet your gaze, “Oh, right!”

“Alright, next up on the agenda is… pain play, right?”

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

OMG YOU FOUND HIM IN THE VIDEO?!?

I was afraid they didn’t put him in at all! :O

I guess it makes sense though? He’s not part of this event, but he’s still a prominent character in the game, so I was a bit disappointed that he wasn’t chilling with anyone. :/

BUT THEN I REMEMBERED (no offense, Childe my love) he literally doesn’t have any friends 😭 Like all the harbingers lowkey hate him and he lowkey hates them back. He’s only really interacted with Yoimiya, Xinyan, and Zhongli?

Like Yoimiya and Xinyan definitely aren’t that close to him. They kinda just hung around him because he was in an event with them? Then he’s only friends with Zhongli, but it doesn’t make sense for them to hang out because Zhongli was hanging with the other archons.

But then I tried thinking about who he COULDVE hung out with and???

It’s not like with Albedo and Tighnari, they were clearly hanging out because they’re both intelligent and we’re probably talking. Or like with Itto and Cyno, they both share the common interest of playing Genius Invokation TCG.

Like no one who was there would really wanna talk to him? 😭 Even though he seems so easygoing, he has NO friends :(

Sorry, Childe brain rot. I love this funky ginger man. I’m sad that he has no friends 😭 He needs a hug and maybe a kiss… AND MAYBE A PARTNER WHO WANTS TO CUDDLE HIS FLUFFY LEGACY

Okay sorry again, brainrot over XD

okay place your bets everyone, which Pyro lady will Childe befriend next? my bet's on Yanfei because she's cool

oh oh oh but this is making me remember a brainrot i had a couple days ago- reuniting with Childe during Lantern Rite

hear me out, you're from Liyue and met him when he was stationed to do Harbinger duties, and you ended up spending a lot of time together, eventually falling in love. Childe adores you so much and wants to spend the rest of his life with you, but after the Liyue incident and Osial getting summoned he’s shipped off to Inazuma so he doesn’t cause more unrest- the other Harbingers don’t particularly like him, except maybe Pulcinella, and you can’t exactly go with him since the Harbor is your home

so tearfully you say goodbye to Childe and Foul Legacy, because you love them both and they love you, too

Childe sends you letters as often as he can, but it’s difficult since he’s trying to keep you a secret- people knowing you’re the Eleventh Harbinger’s lover could very well put you in danger. it hurts missing him this much, your heart breaking into pieces whenever you’re alone, but you have to stay strong because you know he’ll return eventually, when work permits him to

he promised to return by Lantern Rite. he promised

Childe’s gaze trails across the Harbor, seemingly admiring the lights and ribbons that decorate every door, but in truth he’s only looking for one person- you. it’s been so long since he’s seen you in person- Archons, how long has it been, exactly? too long, and both he and Foul Legacy know that. his heart thumps erratically in his chest, strangely nervous- would you be angry with him? worried about his time oversees? he couldn’t deny that he didn’t love when you fussed over him, but your fretting and fear broke his heart

or perhaps you’ve just forgotten him by this point- he wouldn’t blame you for it

“Childe!”

and there you are, standing a few feet away and staring in awe, like you didn’t truly expect him to show up. the Harbinger simply smiles, a soft, gentle smile reserved only for you, and opens his arms. in a few moments you’ve dashed over into his embrace, squeezing him tightly and fighting back joyful tears as he chuckles, hand already petting your hair

he’s back- he’s back and he’s with you, and you’re reunited

you drag him away somewhere quieter, out of the crowd in case anyone recognizes him but also because Foul Legacy is chirping insistently in the back of his head, wanting nothing more than to take control and wrap his claws around you for the first time in months- the Abyssal monster is even clingier than Childe, and the moment you’re alone there’s a burst of Electro, Foul Legacy towering over you

to anyone else it’d be terrifying, but you simply beam and press your cheek into his gentle palm, reveling in the happy croons and purrs that slip from his mouth. with a quick sweep Foul Legacy holds you in his arms, head pressed against his chest so you can still admire the fireworks. your hands wind into his lilac fluff, idly petting and combing it with your fingers as you stare up at the sky, happy and content

and Childe and Foul Legacy are finally home

[howaboutcastiel-personal]

I’ve only been home since Wednesday and now I remember why I’m so fucking miserable at my parents house. Nothing that I do will ever be good enough for them and I’ll never be able to do more as long as they’re making me feel this way. All I want to do is sleep. All the time. I could sleep for 16 or 17 hours a day and be content, not that I would feel well rested.

Mom is getting worse. She’s not eating and she’s spacing out all the time and she’s sleeping all the time. Yet somehow she still has no sympathy for me. I had been feeling sorry for her but now I don’t really feel that anymore. She won’t go to the doctor. I know that she has a lot on her plate with my dad being the useless sack of shit that he is and my grandparents needing care and being ungrateful for the care. She still doesn’t need to take that out on me though.

On the other hand I feel like I’m useless just as much as they think that I am. This always fucking happens. When I’m at school I have a purpose and a schedule and a job and I’m good at taking care of myself. I can’t do any of that at home. I can’t eat right or sleep right and I can’t seem to get anything done. I’m too tired and I’m paralyzed by stress and dread and fear of failure. The things that I’m proud of myself for accomplishing are just things I’m expected to do. Dishes, laundry, cooking dinner. Those are basic things. Doing them means nothing, not doing them means resentment. Even driving. Fuck. I even gave my dad the fucking driving plan that Dr. Randall made for me but fucking useless it’s useless and every time I think about getting in a car I just want to blow my fucking brains out.

I just feel like I’m never going to get better. It really seems like there’s no progress to be made. I can’t do it here. All I’m doing is wasting away here. I don’t want to fucking be here.

I can’t even control what I eat. I feel guilty asking for groceries. I can’t ask for dinner to be things that I like because the men are little bitch babies that only eat deep fried shit and god forbid I just want to eat something healthy or something that doesn’t make my chronic illness that much fucking worse.

I want to fuckinf waste away or die or whatever and I don’t want to go on the Wellbutrin but I have to or else I’ll just be even more of a disappointment.

And I have to just be okay with everything. I have to relearn how to make the sexism and racism and homophobia and transphobia and fatphobia and ableism and everything just roll off of me. All of them think that I’m too fat, the ones that know think that I’m too gay. They think I’m not ladylike enough and I’m too opinionated and a stupid fucking liberal and I have to mask and they still think I’m pathetic and fucking stupid and sensitive. I will never be enough I swear to god and there’s no way my clean streak is lasting the break. I don’t think it’s going to last a week unless the fucking Wellbutrin works miracles but if my mom is any indicator it will just turn me into a fucking psychopath or make me so anxious that I pull my hair out.

How the fuck am I supposed to do this how do other people do this what is the point of doing all this. I don’t have any friends here I don’t have any close friends anywhere and all I want to do is curl into a ball and bury myself somewhere dark and quiet where no one will ever touch me or talk to me or see me again and I don’t want to exist anymore. And I can’t do my hobbies. I can’t read or write or watch TV or do puzzles and I can’t play music because my parents are fucking hoarders. I can’t do anything and I just want someone who doesn’t fuckinf hate me and who isn’t a horrible person and that is apparently way too much to ask for

[bonfireheart]

title: Not Enough Time, Too Many People

blurb: the one in which Scarlett doesn’t mean to ignore you, but all you want is your mother. (Teen!Fem!Reader)

warnings: swearing, yelling, fighting, sexism, high school violence/bullying

“Rose! Get off!”

I struggled against my little sister as she wrestled herself on top me, hitting me across my face and chest in the process.

“Play with me!”

Her voice wavered, sadness intwined into her tone as she stared at me with the best puppy dog eyes she could muster in attempt to convince me to indulge in her game.

“No Rose, I’ve got work to do. Go play alone in your room!”

We tussled some more before I accidentally shoved her a little too hard and she fell to the floor with a large thud. And as quickly as she had been to run into my room and start bugging me, the waterworks turned on, filling not just my room, but the whole house. Her wails were loud and deafening.

I looked up to see my mother running into the room, with Colin in tow, concern written over their faces as they made their way towards the source of the noise.

“Oh my munchkin, what’s happened here? Shh it’s okay.” She spoke as she bundled Rose into her arms, and sat herself on my carpet at the child’s level.

With a shaky finger and jutted lip, I was pointed at like a deer caught in headlights. The two adults stared at me with disappointment etched on their aura and face.

“Wait hold on! I know how this looks but really-“

“Don’t. You should know better, Y/N. She’s just a kid.”

‘I’m a kid too…’ filled my brain but that might cause more harm than good if I say it out loud. I just awkwardly huffed and mumbled a “sorry” under my breath, watching as the three of them walked back out of the room. I heard faintly some promises of “Cuddles”, “Sisters a meanie” and “Ice Cream”.

Should I have pushed my sister that hard? No. But it’s not like I meant to. It feels like the worlds been piling on top of me lately, school, assignments, the family name and trying to start my professional career in soccer. I used to have it so under control, but now it seems like everyone wants everything from me and I’ve not got time to even remember myself. I feel useless because I can’t do what’s asked of me, mom manages to keep up, so why can’t I? Rose coming in here and messing around with my work, and hitting herself against me threw me over the edge. It’s been a long time coming, my stress was just waiting for someone to tip the ship.

Normally, I’d go to my mom for when I needed a break from life, or advice but it seems that every time I try she’s just too busy, tired or annoyed. Furthermore, it’s not like I want her to worry about me. She’s got enough to deal with. Alas, I’ve tried, and will continue to try. I just don’t know what it will take for her to finally remember I’m her child and not a colleague or friend.

•/\•

“Hey mama, can you just look at this tactic I’ve been working on real quick? I could use another opinion on it.”

“Oh uh, I’m sorry, I’ve got to run over to Chris’ house, he needs help with a script. Definitely show it to me later though!”

Front door slammed shut.

“Don’t bother…” I spoke out to the now empty house.

•/\•

“Mom, do you think we could watch a movie together? We haven’t spent time together in ages.”

“Y/N my love, I’d really love to, but mom is really tired right now and I’m in desperate need of sleep. Do you think you could help Rose with her homework? Thanks.”

“…no proble-“

Her bedroom door shuts in my face.

•/\•

“Ma, could you drop me at my friends house? I’ve got a project I need to work on for school.”

“For heavens sake Y/N, can you not see I’m absolutely swimming in work right now? I’ve been in and out calls all day and you think I’ve got all the time in the world? Go bother Colin, or better yet, walk.”

I ended up catching the bus that day, which was met by its own swarm of problems. And by problems, I mean paparazzi absolutely surrounding the bus at each stop, waving cameras into the windows, desperately searching to get pictures of me.

•/\•

“Johansson! You’re late. Five laps!”

“Yes coach! Sorry coach!”

I internally cursed myself as I began to pace around the field. Why can’t I just do anything right recently? Everything just isn’t going my way at all, and I don’t know what I did in my past life to deserve what has happened to me over the past few weeks.

By the time I had hit my fourth lap, I cringed as I saw the boys’ team slowly making their way to practice. This never ended well, ever. I saw them snickering as they watched me run.

“Hey Y/N, coach got you running because you’re so useless at soccer?”, “How’s the whole famous mom thing working out for you now?”, “God you are shit at soccer, but look at those tits bounce!”.

“Shut the fuck up Theo!” I slammed to a stop.

“Yeah, no.”

“Well, ‘those tits’ are not attracted to you, or your tiny dick. Or tiny brain, for that matter.”

“Fucking bitch! Think you’re so tough? I’ll fucking show you tough.”

I readied myself as he came charging toward me, knocking me to the ground. We fought on the floor for a bit, he threw punches at me, I threw some at him. The pair of us rolled around for what felt like forever before both our coaches had untangled us from each other.

“The principals office, now! I’ve had it up to here with you two constantly!”

•/\•

“A fight, seriously Y/N? I did not raise you to be violent.”

I side glanced my mom from my highly uncomfortable place in the passenger seat.

“I had to leave the office to come get you. I was in a meeting about new products and was interrupted by a phone call from your damn school. Do you know how embarrassing it was to try and keep a straight face in front of my own staff?”

I slightly shuffled nearer the door, and laid my head back against the cool, black leather.

“You know, a sorry wouldn’t be out of order right now!”

I watched as her grip on the steering wheel got tighter.

“Aren’t you going to ask me?”

“What would I possibly ask you right now?”

“Why I fought him…”

I grumbled lowly and I’m more surprised she wasn’t getting more annoyed at my attitude. This is the first time in ages we’ve actually had a proper conversation, granted it seems pretty one sided right now, but still. The car pulled into the houses driveway, her eyes bore into the side of my head. I refused to look at her. I knew if I did, I would just start crying.

“You are a Johansson. I know you didn’t ask to be born one, but it’s too late for that. You have a name to keep, and you are damn lucky for it too.”

I scoffed and turned my head even further away from her. Of course that was her go to, ‘you have a famous name, so don’t jeopardise my job’. I bit my lip and roughly shoved my seatbelt off of me. My bag was already sat on my lap, and so I hastily got out of the car and paced towards the front door.

I could quickly feel her coming from behind me, but I didn’t bother to hold the door open for her, instead letting it slam shut just before she had reached it. I marched into the kitchen where Colin and Rose were situated, him making lunch whilst Rose sat and watched.

“How dare you! You do not walk away from me young lady, especially not in this situation. And go to your room! I’ll talk to you when you decide to act like your age.”

Groaning, I shoved my way past her, brushing against her shoulder lightly.

“I hate your job, I hate myself and I hate being a fucking Johansson!”

I saw as her face registered what I said, and it dropped significantly. I was too emotional to care, and instead stomped my way upstairs to my room, banging the door shut and throwing headphones on, blasting music to take my mind off of life.

•/\•

Three hours had passed, I was kicking a football against the wall, watching it bounce back to me and then kicking it again.

I’d turned off my music a while ago, hearing a completely silent house, and thus I’d presumed the three of them had gone out without me. Suits me.

Creak.

My bedroom door opened softly and slowly, I watched as my mom slowly emerged from behind it. Her tearful face alarmed me, and made me feel even more guilty and deflated than before. She had a tray with two cups of steaming liquid and a bowl of cut up fruits with two forks.

“No balls in the house in the house, you remember what happened last time sunshine.”

And though I was anxious at her being here and possibly annoyed, I couldn’t help but let a small smile fall onto my features. It’s like my heart was completely betraying my brain. I don’t know if it was the memory of me accidentally putting a ball-shaped dent in the kitchen wall, or the fact that she used a nickname I once knew all too well that I haven’t heard in ages. It’s been months since she’s mentioned it, but it still falls so naturally from her lips. It brings me comfort, a feeling a warmth that nobody else could ever give me.

I let the ball come to a stop as she pushed her way further into the room, placing the tray down on my side table and sitting cross legged on my bed. She stared at where I was stood, a glint in her eyes showcasing her silent plea for me to come sit down in front of her.

I accepted the invitation and took place in front of her, letting my legs hang loosely over the side of the mattress. A silence lulled over like a wave in the sea once again, and I could tell she was struggling to get words out, perhaps not even knowing how or where to start.

“You know I am so proud of you, right?”

Good choice. My heart welled at her praise, it’s the only thing I ever want. The whole world could hate me, but as long as mom is on my side, I could take on everything. A sheet of tears blurred over my eyes instantly, and I inhaled a sharp breath. I didn’t think I would break this easily, but here we are, the first sentence of this conversation and I’m already about to cry.

“We are going to talk after, but first you are just going to listen to me and what I have to say.”

I nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“I’m so proud of you, ok? My Angel, you were my gift from the heavens above. I don’t say it a lot, and I’m sorry. I started acting when I was very young, my world turned upside down and nothing felt right anymore. Until I had you. It felt like my heart was whole for the first time in years. I know I haven’t been showing that to you lately, and that’s my fault. I haven’t given you the attention you deserve recently, and I wish I had a reason good enough to explain why. But I don’t, nothing will ever justify my actions. You are my child, and you always will be, not matter how old you get. Sometimes I get worried that as you get older, you won’t want to be around me as much anymore, and I guess my way of dealing with that was just helping speed up the process. I want you to know that I will never make you feel this way again. You are so beautiful and talented, and anyone who makes you feel otherwise is blind. I love you more than life itself, sunshine.”

A stray tear fell down her cheek, clearly demeaning her attempts of keeping her emotions at bay, and she learnt forward to carefully pull me into her arms. I hadn’t even tried to stop myself from crying, all the emotions of the past few weeks was coming to head, and I manoeuvred myself right up against her. I don’t care how old I am now, I forgot how nice it was to just sit in her arms. They are the most comforting blanket ever made. Even though I’ve grown, I’m taller than my mom now and I’ve built myself up playing sport, I knew I looked so feeble cuddling into her. This is all I’ve been craving for.

We simply sat like that for a while. The only noise were the occasional sniffles from either of us, just desperately holding on to each other as if one was going to leave.

“You wanna tell me how you ended up in a fight?”

“…”

“Ok, I don’t want to ruin this moment, but I will go back to strict mom if you don’t.”

I grumbles under my breath as the image of Theo filled my mind, taking me back to the past events of today.

“Just Theo…”

I laughed as I saw the look of distaste appear on mom’s face at the mention of his name. She knew everything about him. If she could pick me up from practice, or if she’d managed to sneak away from work to watch one of my games, she’d always take me out for a milkshake and fries. It was our thing. I’d sit and tell her about my day which would inevitably involve the teenage douchebag.

“I know you tell me to just ignore him but I just couldn’t this time. He was saying stuff about you and then about my body…I had to retaliate.”

She didn’t say anything at first, instead she just studied my face. I shot her a confused look and she reached forward to cup my chin in her hand, pushing it upwards and to the side.

“You’ve got bruises forming on your nose and eye…”

“If you think I look bad, you should of seen him.”

Mom struggled to hide her smile at me, as she jokingly slapped my arm. Without another word, she pulled my face back into her and she cradled my head whilst stroking my hair.

“If you ever feel like you are starting to not like yourself, I want you to come to me, ok? Straight away, without fail. I promise I’ll listen from here on out.”

I nodded into her from where I was situated. Her floral scent filled my nose and it just felt like home.

[wannabevampire]

Druig gets off on power/dominance/innocence play… he loves how his girl gets all shy and embarrassed and hides her face in the crook of his neck when he fingers her, so overwhelmed by the build up of her orgasm, whimpering that it’s just so much and she can’t take it but he pins her down and makes her watch as he draws yet another orgasm out of her

˚✧₊⁎🩰♡🕊˚✧₊⁎

this is def in my top 5 fave tropes, i love it so much!! (smut behind under the line!) {nsfw~minors DNI}

The thought of being super embarrassed and shy around him when you first meet, because you’re just so intimidated and attracted to him. And even though they two of you have gotten super close, you’re shy demeanor and innocence still remains.

Him making you ride him, secretly hoping knowing you won’t be able to take it without his help. But he just loves how adorable you look trying to take his cock. You’re trying your absolute hardest to do it all on you’re on own. Tears threatening to spill over-

But you’re determined to make it work. Refusing to to give up. But you’re starting to feel exhausted and it’s getting harder and harder to keep trying to fit it in. You start to whisper out more apologies in between your sobs before he stops you.

So finally you look up at him through your glossy eyes, your lip quivering. and say:

“I’m sorry I tried I promise, but I can’t do it. I need you.”

And as soon as the words leave your mouth you start crying and hide your face in the crook of his neck. Whimpering into his now tear stained shirt. You’re fuzzy headspace making everything heightened as you started to spiral into a flurry of self doubt. Scared that he’s gonna be disappointed in you.

He sensed this and gently tiled you head up, keeping a finger under you chin so you had no choice but to look him in the eye. He watched in awe as you nuzzled your head into his hand, taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking on it. Searching for any type of comfort he’d give you.

He pouted mockingly, tilting his head to the side and said:

“ s’ okay darling. You tried your best I’m so proud of you. It was mean of me to make you try, I know you’re brain is just too stupid and little for you to do this stuff on your own. ‘m sorry love let me take care of you, you’ve earned it. ”

Before fully seething himself inside you, immediately beginning to fuck you hard. Causing you to dissolve into a puddle of moans. Thanking him over and over and over again while crying, your face reclaiming it’s spot in the crook of his neck. All while he whispered the most wonderful mixture of praise and degradation.

It was…

~almost~ humiliating how much you loved it. ~almost~ humiliating how easy it was for him to make your brain go dumb. ~almost~ humiliating how much you wanted him to absolutely ruin every bit of your remaining innocence ~almost~ humiliating how you’d do absolutely anything for him, no mind control needed. You would follow that man to the moon and back if he asked you to.

Druig was absolutely mesmerized by everything about you. Especially when you looked like this.

Your eyes twinkling in contrast with the light hitting your tears. The way you could never close your mouth when he was fucking you this good. The feeling of you clinging onto him for dear life. The way you whimpered and squirmed as he overstimulated you, and the confused look on your face as you tried to decide if it was too much or not enough. He was obsessed with making you feel good. And he’d do that for as long as you’d let him. :}

˚✧₊⁎🩰♡🕊˚✧₊⁎

sorry i went a lil off topic 🤧

such a cute scenario i can’t!!!!!

xoxo allie <3🎧🧁☁️🪐

[kawasiki-jo]

Still Here

Hey guys sorry for the wait, but I'm finding it a lil hard to post for the rant in between writing the full fic, my actual job and creating fanart. So every post will be delayed until I can fully render the fanart. Hope you understand and still continue to read and support the rant ✨

This week's fanart brought to you by the bad boy phase Barcode is going through with Ta 💚

That world tour got me testing dangerous waters✨

Without any more stalling*

link to the full rant: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40049919/chapters/100299408

Macau stills. Goes rigid in fact, as he looks at his father.

Gun raises an eyebrow in question to Macau's lack of action, but Macau can't bring himself to move.

The situation must be worse than he thought, because his father has never- never- asked him to leave before. His voice trembles at the back of his throat, he wants to ask. Wants to demand that his father tells him what is happening. Wants his father to tell him it's not what he thinks it is.

But no words make it out, neither from him nor his father. The bodyguards leave the room with the box and the silence suffocates Macau. He braces himself, gathers his voice.

"Why do I need to leave, Phâaw?"

I won't go until someone tells me what the fuck is going on, the silent proclamation is heard in his tone and his father takes a couple of strides, until he is a few feet away from him.

Macau expects a slap, but his anticipation fails him. He's surprised because he knows his father understood his tone and that it was a direct act of disobedience. He can't be too sure though, because his father's temper was unpredictable. Especially now that he knows the situation is a word away from threatening both Vegas and his life. He's cautious. Readying himself for any surprise lashes.

He'll take it. Just like Vegas has taught him. It was time he started paying for his own actions for once. He deserves to be beaten for what he's done. What he's done to Porchay. It's the least of an atonement he could afford.

His father just looks down at him, eyes cold and untelling.

"I made a mistake in keeping you two."

Disappointment. Shame. Resignation.

The one sentence that leaves his father's mouth was meant to hurt, but Macau knows he's long past hurting. Long past crying over things he couldn't control. His father has never been kind with either his words or actions. Sure, when their mother had left them his father had allowed them to live, and yes there were times in the past when Macau had cursed out the woman for damning them to this fate, but Macau understands. He knows why his mother did it. She had to save herself, even if it meant surrendering her children, who wouldn't when they were forced to face a monster like his father?

He used to have a hard time dealing with the abandonment, from his mother, his father, his friends, sometimes even Vegas, now even Porchay. But he's made peace with it, lives in the silence of his abandonment. It's all back to how it used to be.

His father lights a cigar and finally informs him about the climate between the main family and them. Macau's brain waits for any news, anything his father is willing to tell him about Porchay Or even Porsche. He'll take whatever.

Then it finally comes, 

“-Vegas had had the brother kidnapped to threaten Porsche-”

His father says with a snort, mocking Vegas' efforts to break down the bodyguard. But Macau's ears tune the rest out.

Vegas had had Porchay kidnapped.

His eyes water but he holds his tears, he wants to blink or look away but knows it'll be worse. He has no right to feel betrayed, no right to feel hurt by his brother’s actions. Vegas did what he always does. Everything to make sure his goal is achieved. 

Vegas had asked him, he should have said something. Should have at least hinted. Vegas would have listened. Vegas always listened when he knew it was important to Macau.

"- but Vegas failed."

and Macau’s attention is back on his father. Vegas failed.

Vegas failed.

Macau’s eyes go wide. What does his father mean? Vegas never fails. it’s impossible, how could he possibly fail? His head is about to explode with how much he’s thinking, every possible scenario, every possible outcome. Vegas couldn’t possibly be dead, his father wouldn’t be here if he was. so failure had to mean something else. Before he can ask though there is a knock on the door. 

He holds his tongue as it coats in anxiety while his father permits the person behind the door to enter. It’s a bodyguard with news that they have found Vegas. The east-end warehouse, it’s announced.

Gun nods and orders the guard to ready the car. He’s about to leave when Macau reaches for him and asks begs to be taken along. He’s rejected immediately, his father tugging his arm away from Macau’s grasp. But Macau begs, hand going for his father again. 

The slap comes then. 

It’s hard and backhanded. Macau staggers back, unprepared. He had let his guard down.

“When did I teach you to beg like a bitch? You sound just like your mother.” 

Macau has to blink to process what his father just said. He’s filled with instant rage. What's wrong with begging to see if your family is alive, to see if they've survived?

It's the first time he's letting what his father said get to him on such a level. He's never been cut so deep. His mother? His mother who had begged his father to spare her life? His mother who had begged to be killed just so she could be free from the shackles that weighed her limp?

He yells, words falling out of his mouth like an unleashed curse. He's so caught in his delivery that he doesn't notice the shock on his father's face turn to anger. It's only when he's gasping for air that he realises that his father has a crushing grip on his throat. He's squeezing with intent and Macau is gulping at the lack of oxygen.

He's done it now. He's finally let it out. He's cursed out his father for everything he's seen, everything he's done. He's not satisfied, has more to say and it allows him to fight for a few more minutes.

His father is hauling words back at him. Telling him he's worth nothing to him and that he should only be grateful that Vegas has taken everything for him up until now.

Macau fights back, spewing in between holding on for his life that he's glad he's worth nothing to his father, glad he doesn't live up to the horror that his father is, glad that he's nothing like him.

He doesn't know how or where he's got the courage, the audacity, but he's not going to let it slide this time.

He's breaking his silence, if he dies here it'll be after he's rid himself of everything he's kept bottled up. He will go with an empty conscious.

He's starting to see white spots, the lack of oxygen finally getting to his brain. It's clouding his vision so he shuts his eyes.

The tears flow down his cheeks onto his father's grueling hand. He cries for Vegas, for Porchay. For himself.

Finally, it all goes black.

.

.

.

He's alive. He's breathing.

He doesn't expect it. But he opens his eyes. There's natural light reflecting off the white, it hurts his eyes, stings a little. He stares up at the ceiling as his tears start to overflow. He doesn't want to take his eyes away from the white paint, knows everything becomes real after that.

He can't believe he's still alive. Can't believe he's still here. Still here. He full-on sobs. Sobs for his life. Sobs for what has happened.

He hadn't even gotten the chance to see Vegas. To make sure he was alive, alright, safe and breathing.

He hates his father for letting him live.

There's a knock on the door and he startles. He remains quiet, tears unstoppable. He refuses to take his eyes off the ceiling. He knows it's probably a bodyguard.

There was the sound of the door opening and footsteps. They've come to bring him his meal, he supposes.

The bed dips and his body goes alert instinctually. He finally looks, and it's Vegas.

It's Vegas.

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

Boop-ti-do.

[wanderinginksplot]

Clone Trooper Rambles

Clone troopers as imaginary friends: part... too many to count.

Warnings: mentions of medical situations, particularly preparations for surgery, descriptions of anaesthesia.

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Surgery

“Are you excited for the surgery?” Lia asked.

“Not really,” I said with a shrug. 

“Are you nervous?” she pressed.

“Not really,” I repeated, smiling helplessly. 

She threw me a look I can only describe as ‘unimpressed’. “That’s boring.”

My mom made an outraged noise, but I just shrugged. “Sorry to disappoint you, Lia. I don’t really have to do much other than show up and get knocked out. The rest is out of my control.”

“I was hoping to at least see some nerves.” My sister shook her head. “I came all the way out here to support you. I can’t do that if you don’t need any support. Wasted trip.”

I laughed even as Mom started chiding Lia. I was close enough to mutter, “I didn’t ask you to come here.”

“Nah, you need me,” Lia said confidently. “Calm down, Mom, she knows I was kidding.”

“If she’s not nervous now, you’re going to make her nervous!” Mom lectured. 

I doubted it, but I let Mom keep lecturing Lia as I made faces at her from across the room. It was almost nice, a little throwback to our shared childhood - though I had usually been the one getting lectured back then. 

“Are you nervous?” Kix asked when things had quieted down a little bit.

“No,” I answered again. “Well, not about the surgery itself.”

Rex frowned. “What does that mean? What are you nervous about, then?”

“Well, anaesthesia can do weird things sometimes,” I explained. “What if I… Ugh, this is so stupid.”

“Is it as stupid as the time you thought you lost your car keys?” Hardcase asked. I shot him a dark look and he started laughing. “How long did you look for them?” 

“Shut up, Hardcase,” I scowled. 

He pressed, “Maybe half an hour? I think it was longer than that. An hour...”

“Stop roasting me, I’m having surgery,” I whined. Hardcase stopped short, his mouth falling open as Kix and Rex glared at him. “I’m just kidding. But I’m worried that something will happen and I won’t be able to see you guys after I wake up.”

“That’s not how anaesthesia works,” Kix told me. “It just stops higher brain function for a while. It interrupts the signals from your body to your brain. There shouldn’t be any long-term side effects, especially in terms of brain function. Unless something goes horribly wrong, and then you’re more likely to die outright than-”

Rex made a disapproving sound and Kix cut himself off while Hardcase took the opportunity to tsk at him.

“Yeah?” I pressed. “Tell me again: which part of the brain is it that lets me see and hear people who aren’t really there? There’s no way to judge how well I’ll recover from the anaesthesia since there’s no scientific basis for any of this.”

“Unless we consider the possibility of a brain tumor,” Kix muttered.

Rex glowered. “Not funny.”

“Not wrong, either,” I tossed out. “But if I’m just ignoring larger symptoms, at least they’re pleasant ones. I guess we’ll just have to see what happens when I wake up after everything.”

My unconcerned attitude didn’t end up lasting that long. I almost made it, but the morning of the surgery found me in a 'room' made up of curtains hanging from tracks in the ceiling. I was sitting on the hospital bed because I was told I had to - mostly to keep from jarring the I.V. that had been placed in the back of my hand. I smelled like unfamiliar antibiotic soap and was dressed only in a hospital gown and the ugliest socks I had ever seen. My family wasn’t allowed in and I was waiting for the anaesthesiologist to come back. At that point, my courage finally ran out and I teared up. 

Fortunately, no one was there to see it but Rex. 

“Are you okay?”

I wiped my eyes, trying to camouflage the motion like I was adjusting my glasses. “By definition? No, hence the surgery. In general? No. I’m freaking out a little bit. Why did I volunteer for this?”

“Your body was trying to kill you,” Rex replied, the attempt to inject humor into his tone falling flat.

I nodded. “Yeah. ‘Volunteer’ probably isn’t the right word, but I… I could have put this off a little longer. I’m going to be different when I wake up.”

“Yes, you will be,” Rex agreed. I huffed out a surprised breath and flopped back against the thin pillow. Gingerly, Rex sat on the side of the bed opposite the I.V. and pretended to straighten the perfectly straight sheet. “But that doesn’t mean it’ll be bad. It’ll take a bit more planning to make sure you take your medication and you’ll have to adjust how you do some things - especially at first - but none of that is a dealbreaker. You needed this surgery. Taking care of it now is smart. Putting it off until later was an option, but who can say what may have happened before you got it? This is a good thing.”

“I hope so,” I whispered. “Thanks, Rex.”

He sent me a warm smile, but the curtain ‘wall’ was whisked aside before he could offer any other answer. The nurse came in, followed by the anaesthesiologist and my dad. “Ready to take a little trip down to the operating room?”

“As I’ll ever be!” I told her, giving the most dazzling smile I could muster. Acting had never been my best thing, but compartmentalizing was a particular gift of mine. 

“Okay, great!” she replied, beaming back at me. ��The doc is gonna have you sign the last of the forms while I get you ready to roll. And I even brought your dad to see you before you go!”

After I finished signing the forms the anaesthesiologist passed to me, I smiled at my dad. He smiled weakly back. “How are you doing?” 

“A little nervous, but not bad,” I told him, trying to bunch the sheets up around my I.V.-bearing hand. Needles weren’t his favorite, despite his tattoos. “But I’ve signed the forms and peed in a cup, so I’ve pretty much done my part.”

The nurse murmured a warning before she gathered my hair into a surgical cap. It felt like a shower cap in a particularly ugly shade of blue and I grimaced, extremely glad there were no mirrors or cameras in the immediate area. 

“Exactly,” the doctor chimed in. “The rest is my job, and it looks like it’ll be an easy day. You’re young and in great health. Nothing to worry about, Dad.”

My dad nodded as the anaesthesiologist clapped him on the shoulder. “Just… take care of her, okay?”

“Absolutely,” the doctor agreed. He glanced over my head and nodded, presumably at some signal from the nurse. “Looks like we’re good to go! Let’s do this!”

“Love you, Dad,” I said as my bed was wheeled out through the curtain door. 

“Love you, too,” he said instantly. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

And we were gone before I could say anything back. 

At first, Rex tried to keep up with the bed, but as we continued down tightly twisting hallways with almost no clearance on either side of us, he ended up perching uncomfortably on the end of the bed. 

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” I told him silently. “You can go wait with everyone. I think there are a few troopers who planned to stick around.”

The face Rex made was so dry that I almost laughed. “I’ll be right here until you fall asleep and right here when you wake up.”

I nodded, but I’m sure we were both thinking the same thing: it would all depend on whether I could see him when I woke up. I was glad to have him there, though. The nurse insisted on me lying completely flat while they transferred me from the bed to the operating room table and I was left staring up at a circle of unfamiliar and blurry faces, my glasses left behind with my dad. Rex took a post to my right, his short blond hair distinctive even without the full power of sight.

“I honestly didn’t think I would be awake this far into the process,” I noted.

A ripple of laughter went through the medical staff as several of them gave the anaesthesiologist pointed looks. I smiled, feeling a little more at-ease. It was nice to see workplace friendships, especially in a hospital setting. 

The doctor gave a put-upon sigh. “This place. Nothing but work, work, work. Even the patients are telling me to get moving.”

“Sounds like a good hint, then,” my nurse told him, winking at me.

The anaesthesiologist put a mask over my mouth and nose. “No hard feelings. I even put the best stuff in here. Should smell a little like strawberries. You like those, right?”

I nodded. We had shared a lengthy conversation about breakfast foods - a bit of torture, actually, since I hadn’t been allowed to eat that morning. I frowned, telling him in my muffled voice, “I don’t smell anything.”

“Weird,” he said. “Take a deeper breath.”

By then, I had figured out the game and was chuckling as the world went black.

When I woke up in the recovery room, I didn’t stay awake for very long. I was slipping in and out of sleep, though I didn’t remember having any dreams. It was like a light switch - off and on, off and on. 

Through all of it, there were two constants: twinges of discomfort in the area that had been operated on and the feeling of an incorporeal hand in mine.

---

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Author's Note - Like I've said before, these are mostly written in order, but aren't posted with any kind of regularity. My surgery was quite a while ago and recovery has gone smoothly! In an effort to keep my personal life private, I would rather not disclose the surgery in question, but I can share that it was minor. I'm just dramatic.

Taglist: @rexs-wife @sugarpuffsstuff @just-some-girl-92 @kimageddon @ladysongmaster @carodealmeida @nomercyforthewarrior @bitchylittleredhead @lackofhonor @buddee @salaminus @hikime @808tsuika @ladykatakuri @shawtyitsyou @bikerlorian @torchbearerkyle @frietiemeloen @justanothersadperson93 @leotatombs @rain-on-kamino @itsagrimm @dancingwiththeplanets @theclonesdeservebetter @murder-of-crows-1 @rosmariner @staycalmandhugaclone @marennial @eyecandyeoz @fordo-kixed-rex @lucyysthings @quietplaceinthestars @dinsverdika

[edie-baby]

Can we please have a smut with Lando where he’s never been that dominant before and decides to try it one evening

whiskey soaked cherries | lando norris smut

summary: Lando Norris decides one day that he'd like to try dominating his partner, and well, he's actually pretty good at it.

word count: 4541

warnings: swearing, smut; face sitting, choking, bound wrists, daddy + sir kink, hint of a breeding kink, aftercare

notes: i'm sorry this took so long, i kind of got carried away

There were always a few indicators when Lando Norris was thinking. It was a common occurrence, the man was an over-thinker till the end, yet it meant he never did anything without being sure. There were levels to his thinking moods however, and they usually gave away the true depth of his immersion in his brain.

Level one: glazed eyes, and slow reaction times. Often when you spoke to him during this time, it would take multiple seconds for him to even acknowledge that you had said something, the journey from his head to in front of you could take a while, but he was usually pretty easy to distract.

Level two: sitting completely still and not blinking. The first few times you saw him lost in thought like this, you were unnerved. He could stare at a spot on the floor for five minutes, unblinking, the only indicator of life being the steady rise and fall of his chest, the rhythmic breaths falling from his lips were reassuring in this state. You had noticed once that he was so lost in thought he didn’t breathe for multiple moments. Your head was against his chest, the subtle movements you had felt for many hours before that ceased, and after a few too many seconds, he gulped down a gasping breath. This level was usually reserved for racing thoughts, strategies and tracks all consuming within his chaotic brain.

Level three: mindlessly walking, parted lips, slow, laboured breaths. You had seen Lando like this only once, walking around his house for nearly an hour, never reacting to your voice, never stopping for longer than it took for him to pivot and turn back around at a dead-end hallway. The day after you saw him like this, he had asked you to move in with him.

Level four: laid still on the floor, arms folded across his chest, eyes closed, lights on. You had only heard of this Thinking Lando, Jon and Charlotte having caught him laid in offices or empty rooms on the floor, looking like a perfectly posed corpse. You questioned him about it, and he had never had a true answer for you, something about the rigidity of the floor was grounding whilst his closed eyes let him wander as far as he wished.

But level five, you weren’t entirely sure existed. So, when you arrived home after work one day to a completely dark house, curtains and blinds drawn with every source of light turned off or obscured, you were rightfully shit scared.

“Lando? Honey, I’m home!” You called, your voice wavering slightly as it bounced off the walls of the entryway, travelling through the house in eerie echoes.

“In the living room.” Lando replied, his voice oddly composed, and you began traversing though the house, avoiding walls and furniture from memory. You were tempted to use the flashlight on your phone to get an idea of what was going on, but figured you trusted your boyfriend enough.

“Hey baby, what’s with the lights?” Your voice was laced with confusion, eyes trying to find the silhouette of the man speaking from somewhere within the room, but you were completely lost.

“I’ve been thinking.” He simply replied, goosebumps erupting on your skin as his hot breath fanned on the back of your neck. You thought his voice had travelled from the other side of the living room, but there was right behind you. You tried leaning back, desperate for some contact in the makeshift sensory deprivation room you had found yourself in, but he was gone. You jumped when you felt his hand brush against your calf, his other hand tracing up the outside of your leg to your thigh. You sighed in relief, the barest of touches from him always made you feel alight with pleasure.

“You don’t usually think like this. What’s on your mind?” You asked, voice breathy as you felt the constantly moving palms on your legs, the skirt you had worn that day a barrier between where you really wanted him, and the rough calloused hands that left goosebumps in their wake. He didn’t dare move the hem of your skirt, choosing to roam over it with lazy strokes.

“I want to try something with you. But, I need your full consent, and we need ground rules.” Lando replied, the languid strokes turning to loving touches, the brief brush of his fingertips against a scar on your knee, the same fingers caressing a path down your calf to remove your shoes.

“You know I’d trust you to do anything. Anything you want to do, I consent to 100%.” Your voice was sure, strong and assured. You felt Lando’s fingers still for a bare moment, a long intake of air telling you Lando was revelling in the romantics of your words. He often did that when you spoke about your admiration for him, honey-sweet words warming his heart like nothing else.

“No, I need you to listen to this. I want your explicit consent.” Lando continued, his words firmer, causing anxiety to swirl in your stomach for a brief moment before you realised exactly who he was. It was Lando, your chaotic boyfriend who screamed instead of laughing. A man you had been hopelessly in love with for nearly three years, who treated you like a goddess, who worshipped you for your flaws as much as your perfections.

“Okay. So tell me.” You stated. There was no question, no anxiety, no confusion in your words. Because you knew this man like the back of your hand, and you knew he knew you just as well, if not better. His fingers, which had still been brushing against your skin like a whisper suddenly gripped into the skin of your thighs, a comforting presence as he prepared to let the words tumble from his lips.

“I want to be in charge. I want to have complete control over you. For you to submit to me. Be one hundred percent mine to do whatever I want to do. I want to tie you up, have you completely at my mercy. I want to pull orgasm after orgasm from you until you’re begging me to stop, that you can’t take it anymore. And then I’m going to give you one more, because I can, and because I get to decide what happens to you. I want to drive my cock into your pussy until tears of pleasure stain those gorgeous cheeks of yours. I want to spank you until you can no longer sit down. I want to wrap my hand around that little throat of yours until you see the stars I see in your eyes every day. I want to cover your body in marks, fingerprints, hickeys, bites, whatever I can to make sure everyone knows who the fuck you belong to. And after all that, I want to cum inside this pussy, because it’s mine and no one else’s.” Lando growled, his grip on your thighs wavering as he detailed his fantasy, one that you were all too happy to bring to life.

“Yes. I consent. To all of it. I’m yours Lando, and I trust you with every fibre of my being.” You spoke clearly, wanting him to hear just how willing you were to help him fulfill the dreams he had obviously been thinking of all day.

At your reassuring words, Lando surged forward, his eyes obviously more adjusted to the dark room than yours as he found your lips with ease, finally indulging you in your own desires of finally having his lips against yours after a day spent apart. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, an involuntary gasp leaving your mouth and allowing Lando’s tongue to move slowly against yours. His hands, still with a grip on your thighs, slid them apart, which allowed him to shuffle further forward on his knees.

His lips travelled to your neck, nipping, licking and sucking on the flesh that he knew would make you whimper. Your hands, previously resting on his muscled forearms, reached for the lamp next to you, your eyes desperate to see the hungry look you knew was plastered on his face. The warm light flickered on, bathing his tanned skin in rays of honey-gold that only served to make him look more like a God among men than he already seemed to you.

“Get up. Go to the bedroom. When I get there, I want you naked and spread on the bed for me. You’re at my mercy tonight, darling, so you best not disobey or there’ll be hell to pay.” Lando growled, the intrusion of the light having snapped the remaining thread that held the usually sweet, albeit passionate and hungry, man that you had been sleeping with for so long.

Your breath caught in your throat, the dominance Lando was showing shot heat and pleasure to your core in a way you had never experienced. You stood quickly, beginning a fast walk toward your shared bedroom. Charged nerves surged through your body when you heard Lando’s steps trailing behind you, your hands moving in a frenzy to rid the clothes covering the body Lando was about to devour. When you finally got into your room, you only had a black lace thong remaining, so you threw it across the room and dove onto the bed just in time for the shirtless Brit to appear in the doorway with an impressed look on his features.

“I’m surprised, and almost disappointed. I was sure I’d get to punish you tonight, but I guess I’ll have to leave that for another day. Look at you though, all laid out and ready for me like the needy little whore you are. I bet you can’t fucking wait to be wrapped around my cock, to be filled up with my cum and feel it drip down your thighs.” Lando’s words had you keening, your body almost curling in on itself as he spoke all the words, pressed all the buttons that you didn’t know you had. You already felt like you were dripping onto the sheets beneath your body, and from the way Lando’s eyes were transfixed on your pussy, you were sure he could confirm your hypothesis.

He started towards you, kicking himself off the door frame with a smirk that would make you jump his bones at any given moment. His gaze was predatory, planning all the different ways he could tear you apart and put you back together before you would be sobbing with pleasure, overstimulated to the point of pleasing pain. Lando stopped as his shins met the side of the bed, staring down at you like prey. You whimpered, this new dominant side of your boyfriend was ruining you, and you wished for it to never end.

“Please, Lando, touch me.” You whimpered, skin alight with anticipation and wanton lust, your hairs standing on end, waiting for the prickling feeling to dissipate with the touch of his skin against yours.

“Please Daddy. And I’ll decide when you get touched.” Lando growled, the title more of a command than a suggestion, and that alone had your body curling.

“I’m sorry Daddy.” The name tasted like whiskey soaked cherries on your tongue; all sweet and spicy, innocent and sensual, an invitation and an offering. A spark behind Lando’s eyes let you know exactly how much he liked the keening way you spoke, and in barely a moment, his body was covering yours.

Your legs already opened wide for him, allowing his hips to slot in right between your thighs, your wet core lining up with his denim covered cock, already straining against the material purely from words spoken and the way the light from the lamp in the corner made your pussy glisten with its juices. His hands beside your head caged you in, holding the weight of his torso and unbridled dominance from crushing you.

Your breath came out shaky, bottom lip quivering in anticipation of feeling his lips on yours, every muscle in your body working to keep you from launching upwards and taking exactly what you wanted. Lando granted those wishes, diving down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, the frustration he usually held back while fucking you finally manifesting itself as hot, fiery passion. He needed this release, and you were the perfect vessel to release into. Every nip of his teeth, stroke of his tongue and bare touch of his fingers against your naked skin, it was too much and not enough.

“I need you to tell me if you need me to stop, we need a safeword. Use it if I go too far, or if I hurt you, or if you just need a second. Because I don’t want to lose myself in you and not realise I’m doing something wrong.” Lando spoke, breathless from the head spinning kiss, and you almost cooed, there was really nothing Lando could do to you that would hurt you, and it was sweet that he still didn’t understand that fact, but you followed along for his peace of mind.

“Orange.” You replied, almost instantly. The colour was so deeply ingrained in your relationship that you felt it both fitting and comforting, and Lando agreed as he nodded along, repeating the word in his mind and tying alarm bells and stop signs to it.

“Good. Now sit on my face.”

“I’m sorry what?” You squeaked, the request having given you whiplash, and as you stared into Lando’s eyes, no hin of remorse or asking, you realised the man was dead fucking serious.

“Did I stutter?” Lando asked again, his eyes glaring at your face as you continued to try and process the last seventeen seconds, but when your body was flipped from lying comfortably against your mattress to straddling a muscled chest, you realised you’d have to be a lot quicker to keep up with Lando tonight.

“If I have to ask you one more time, you won’t like what happens.” Lando growled, the deep tones of his domineering voice filling the room and hanging heavily in the air. You looked down to his face, his chin barely five centimetres from your pussy, and decided it was now or fucking never. So you shuffled awkwardly up the bed, apparently too slow for Lando, because he hooked his arms around your thighs and dragged your body to exactly where he wanted it. Your dripping core suspended above him, his nose brushing your clit each time your thighs spasmed in your pleasure.

“Is this okay Daddy?” You whispered, your hands gripping the headboard in front of you like a lifeline. Lando’s entire body spasmed, his arms tensing around your thighs and pulling your wet cunt to his face just as a guttural moan tore from the depths of his chest, his arms shaking with the force of containing whatever beast had just been awoken inside of him.

Lando ate you out with a ferocity you had never expected a man to possess, his tongue lapped, tasted, prodded and fucked through your folds like a man starved. His nose brushed your clit every so often, jolting your hips and causing you to ride his face until a swift slap warmed your ass cheeks.

“Sorry Daddy.” You mumbled, embarrassment warming your cheeks as the pleasure built up much faster and harder than ever before. Lando slid one of his calloused digits into your cunt, his mouth moving to focus on your clit, sucking and licking at the bundle of nerves while you clenched around his fingers with a passion.

“You better not cum until I say you can.” Lando’s voice was muffled, but you understood exactly what he meant. Your whimper that followed made Lando chuckle, and you moaned as the vibrations and exhaled breath hit your core and made your entire body convulse, the pleasure was blinding, but your brain was fixated on not cumming until Lando allowed you to.

Your body was so hot with pleasure, your vision coated white to the point you didn’t know if your eyes were open or closed, and your perception of time had vanished long ago. Lando could have been eating you out for five minutes or five hours, you had no clue anymore, all you knew was that it felt so good, and it was Lando making you feel this way.

“You’re doing so good baby, fuck. If you keep making those sounds I might cum before you even touch me.” Lando’s voice brought you back to reality, as you had been so lost you didn’t realise you had been moaning, the sounds of pleasure verging on screams as you passed ‘about to cum’ and entered ‘about to pass out’.

“You make me feel so good Daddy. So fucking good, shit.” Your reply was garbled, moans and whimpers cutting off words. Lando hummed, his lips latching onto your clit and sucking exceptionally hard as his fingers curled just the right way, and you knew you were a goner.

“Cum now baby girl.” Lando mumbled, syllables lost to the flesh of your pussy, but you got the message. The relief that coated your body was like cold water on a hot summer day, drenching your screaming senses in a blanket of calm, your vision returning in flashes of colour, your ears ringing with high pitched screams, ones which you realised after a moment were your own sounds of pleasure. Lando continued his ministrations as you came down, prolonging your pleasure while you regained consciousness and became fully aware of what was happening around you.

Lando stopped, his eyes opening to see you already staring down at him in awe, and he helped you move from your position over his head to laying beside him on the bed, your skin already shining with a thin coat of sweat.

You looked over at your boyfriend, disbelief in your eyes as you stared at the wetness covering the bottom half of his face, and some of his neck. He looked smug as ever, a sliver of your young boyfriend shining through the dominant facade he had on tonight, but as soon as you started picking out the familiar pieces, his eyes turned cold again, the smirk being replaced with a tensed jaw. Your heart stopped for a moment, the one-eighty made your pussy flutter around nothing, and suddenly you were painfully aware of just how empty you felt.

“Can I touch you?” You asked, eyes wide and innocent, your bottom lip pouting as you looked up at Lando, hoping to run your hands across his chest, feeling the muscles ripple beneath the taut skin, to drag your nails across his thighs, dig your fingers into his skin as he fucks you.

“Do you want to try asking that again?” Lando replied, his tone almost patronising as he looked at you, practically vibrating with desperation to touch him. It filled him with unbelievable pride, to have you so wanting just to feel him, it stroked his ego more than winning any Grand Prix ever could.

“I’m sorry sir. Can I please touch you? I want to make you feel good too.” You whimpered, the new title falling from your lips naturally, and though he hadn’t answered you, or granted you permission to touch him, he pounced.

His lips collided with yours, sharing the taste of you in the kiss and you moaned at the sensation, your nails reaching up to claw at Lando’s back. His hands where everywhere, grabbing your tits with rough hands, flicking your nipples with calloused skin, gripping your hips with intent to bruise, desperate to leave the evidence of his claim on you. His lips traced the familiar path to your jaw, up to your ear where he sunk his teeth into the lobe, letting his lips brush the shell of your ear as he whispered sweet nothings to you.

Except the sweet nothings tonight were anything but.

“Can’t wait to fill you up with my cum. Watch it drip out of you and then fuck it back into you with my fingers. Gonna make you a mummy, huh? Have you walking around the paddock with my baby in you. That way everyone knows you’re mine and that I was the one that fucked you so good.” The filthy words being fed right into your ear, along with the strong grip on your hips and the rolling of Lando’s hips pressing his bulge into your core was going to make you go feral.

“Fuck me, sir. Put your baby in me please. Wanna be a mummy for you.” You purred, the words rolling off your tongue in waves that sent shivers down Lando’s spine. He leant back, sat back on his haunches as he took in the sight of your body, still trembling slightly from the powerful orgasm. He slowly undid his belt, your eyes trained on the movements his hands made, biting your lip as you got one step closer to seeing his cock, a sight you could and would never tire of. With his belt gripped tightly in his hands, Lando made a decision he would never regret.

He scooped your hands up in one of his, the other holding the belt, and positioned your hands above your head, fingers brushing against the headboard. He looped the belt through the wrought iron, fastening the leather around your hands tight enough to keep them there, but not tight enough to do any damage to you. You tugged on the restraints lightly, pouting when you found there wasn’t enough give to touch Lando while he fucked you into the mattress.

Lando gave the restraints a few investigative tugs, and when there was little movement and he was satisfied with the results, he leaned back, staring down at you yet again. You were starting to think he was getting more enjoyment out of just staring at you than anything else.

With heavy breathing and the occasional squeak of the headboard as you attempted to break free of the belt holding your wrists hostage, Lando finally began removing his sinfully tight black jeans. He pushed them down his legs with a carefree attitude, as though he had all the time in the world, whilst you were squirming around on the bed, desperate to get a look at, a hold of, a taste of what was hidden now by the thin black cotton that stretched over his painfully hard cock.

“If you keep squirming like that, I’ll tie your ankles next to your wrists and fuck you like that. Is that what you want?” Lando growled, pausing in his tantalising show of getting undressed to glare at you. You halted almost immediately, the image of Lando plowing into you while your wrists and ankles were bound together. You gulped, the vision was certainly tempting, however your pussy wouldn’t be able to take such a beating.

“No sir. I’m sorry sir.” You whimpered back, your words sent shocks of electricity through Lando’s body, and having abandoned his teasing display, he tore his underwear off and climbed onto your bed in a hurry.

He wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping a few times and letting out a shuddering sigh. His eyes cut to yours, a blazing fury warming them from the usual cool blue green to a warm green that made your pussy flutter. He slid the tip of his cock through your wet folds, biting his lower lip to contain the moans that were ready to fall past his lips. Your fists clenched around the belt, desperate for something to hold onto.

Lando thrust his hips into yours, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. You both moaned, the sweet relief of finally wrapping your velvety walls around his cock was overwhelming. Quite quickly, Lando set a punishing pace, his hips rolling out of you before snapping back to meet yours, his pubic bone putting delectable pressure on your clit, forcing moans out of your lips at an alarming rate.

His hands held a death grip on your hips, keeping your squirming body in its place while he used your body for his own pleasure. Your moans became louder, his hips forcing his cock deeper into your cunt, but Lando didn’t like that.

“You shut the fuck up and take my cock like a good little slut, yeah?” He spoke, his right hand reaching up to wrap around your throat, his fingers squeezing around the sides. The pressure only added to your mounting pleasure, Lando squeezing intermittently when you let out a particularly loud moan, reducing you to a pile of whimpers and pleas.

His hips began stuttering, the pleasure he was feeling overwhelming the perfect pace he had set. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him further into your hungry cunt, clenching around him like you were trying to pull his entire being into you. And maybe you were, if he kept this up, you were never going to let him out of you again.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” He whimpered, the first show of your usual Lando shining through, his hips moving with a renewed vigor. You couldn’t form words, his cock brushing against your g-spot with each thrust, forcing your body higher up the bed, your arms still bound above your head. The hand around your throat squeezed harder, and for a moment all you saw were stars, the pleasure of your second orgasm ripping through your body like a tidal wave. Each atom in your body was torn apart and stitched back together with the threads of Lando’s hot seed and rough hands.

Lando pulled out of you, watching his cum drip down your thighs for a moment before he jumped from the bed, hurrying into the ensuite as quickly as he could on shaky legs. You could hear the tap running, and after a few moments, he returned with a wet rag and your favourite lotion, leaving the bottle on the side table while he cleaned the mess between your thighs, becoming entranced with the sight for another moment before he finished up, tossing the dirty cloth into the ensuite. Lando crawled up the bed to you, undoing the belt that had begun to rub your wrists raw, and with your finally free hands, you cupped your boyfriend’s cheeks, pulling him into a sweet kiss to stop the steam train of thoughts inevitably running through his head.

With soft hands and caring eyes, Lando began rubbing the lotion onto your red wrists, kissing the skin briefly, then leaving another sweet kiss on your lips.

“Was that okay?” He whispered, insecurity rearing its head yet again, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the nervous look he was giving you.

“More than okay, baby. That was amazing. 10/10 would try again.” You giggled, caressing his shoulders with slow hands, grateful to finally be feeling his skin again.

“Well, I wouldn’t be mad at that. I have some ideas.” Lando replied, a cheeky lilt to his voice as he laid down beside you, pulling the covers up to cover you both.

“Oh, do you now? I’m all ears.”

[xiaq]

Hi, I have a question re:sex and Christianity. Small background: I still go to church, and I still live with my parents even though I'm not much younger than you, because housing is very very expensive where I live (pretty common here, I would say about 2/3 of my friends live with their parents and we are decently privileged kids)

Anyway. How does one get over purity culture? To be clear, I've never been told in church not to have sex, I've never gotten the gendered lessons that you got. But I am terrified of having sex. My first real, multi-year relationship just ended and while there was hand stuff etc, there was never any p in v sex (lol I feel 12). But I still had insane anxiety about being pregnant despite being on bc. And I think its because I know my parents would be so disappointed if I had sex. And if I was pregnant I could imagine all the gossip. And honestly I think im from a pretty open church, b/c one of our previous ministers kids recently got married at 8 months pregnant and lots of church people were at the wedding and supportive and her parents were there and everything.

I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???

(Asking because it seems like you've been pretty open about purity culture/removing yourself from it)

CW for sex talk (again)

How does one get over purity culture?

Oh man. That really is the million-dollar question, huh? Obviously, I can only answer re my personal experiences, and this is something you should talk to a therapist about, but I can tell you how I’ve tackled it with my therapist at least.

Purity culture is, at its core, an ideology that is perpetuated by shame. If you’re indoctrinated into purity culture when you’re a kid, the concepts become baked into the way you construct your identity, your perception of self, and your perception of your sexuality. It’s practically intrinsic, by the time you’re an adult, to feel shame any time you’re reminded you have a body, much less a sexuality.

According to the chapels I sat through every week as a kid, a girl's body could be 3 things: an intentional stumbling block for men, an accidental stumbling block for men, or unnoticeable. Women were to strive for the third option so as to keep their (and their male friends/authority figures) purity intact. After all, if a boy, or even your male teacher, had impure thoughts about you, it was your fault for tempting them (which, holy shit. I still can’t believe that was a thing I bought into for so long. If my 45 yr old grown-ass teacher had impure thoughts because he could see my 12 yr old collarbone, that sure as hell wasn’t my fault. But I digress.) The Only time a woman’s body can be something else, is when she gives it to her husband, at which point she must suddenly flip the switch in her brain that she is now allowed to be a Sexual Being and she must perform Sexual Duties despite living in outright fear of her own body and sexuality for years (decades?) up until this point. Jesus take the wheel.

Purity culture isn’t a thing you can just decide to walk away from if you’ve grown up in it. Because its ideology is insidious and internalized. So first you need to submit to the fact that you’re going to be fucked up about sex. It sounds like you’re there. Second, you need to interrogate what you believe. If you’re leaving religion behind entirely, you’ll approach removing yourself from purity culture differently than if you still identify as a Christian. It sounds like you might be the latter, which meant, for me, separating what’s actually biblical and what’s shitty, contrived, doctrine that I was told is biblical but is actually more political than spiritual. This helps you address the shame issue.

You need to throw away I Kissed Dating Goodbye and Lady in Waiting and all those ridiculous books you read and reread in the hopes of somehow obtaining impossible marriage perfection and look into actual scripture interpreted within its historical context. I could write a book on this, but the TL;DR is that the text of the Bible was written, translated, curated, and changed multiple times over thousands of years by human beings with human biases and, often, personal and/or political agendas. It contradicts itself! Reading it as it is—a flawed historical document—rather than some sort of God-breathed perfect document—is incredibly freeing. When you do, you’ll probably realize that purity culture is bullshit on a spiritual level. Which is a good start, if that matters to you. Because any time you start to feel shame or guilt you can ask yourself: does God actually care if I wear a bikini or touch a dick I’m not married to? Probably not. Wear the bikini. Touch the dick.

The most important therapy session for me was when my therapist asked what I would do if I got to heaven and God was actually the God I’d been raised to fear. What would I do if he condemned me for being bisexual and having premarital sex and becoming educated, for arguing with men, and failing to isolate while menstruating, and wearing mixed fabrics? If Montero had come out at the point, I probably would have said I’d pole dance down to hell. Instead, I said I would spit on heaven’s gates. If a god that cruel and that pointlessly demeaning really exists—a god who would create in me condemned desire—I won't worship him. The good news is, I’m 99% sure he doesn’t exist. At the very least, he isn’t supported by scripture.

Okay. The final thing you need to do is figure out what you actually want, sexually speaking. This bit is probably the hardest. I’m still in the early stages of this myself. You say: “I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???” Bro, I wish I had an easy answer for you. For me, whenever I’m feeling anxious about Sex Things, I tell myself: 1. My God does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 2. My partner does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 3. I do not equate my worth to my sexual habits. It seems silly, but reminding myself of those three things is massively helpful. If, after I’ve sorted through those, I’m still anxious or uncomfortable, I stop doing the thing. I evaluate. Am I overwhelmed and I need to try again some other time? Do I just not like the thing? Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Sometimes you change your mind. Sometimes you just don’t know. That’s why having a partner who you trust and who’s willing to patiently explore your interests (and respect your disinterests) is so important. Half the battle, for me, was having a partner who told me they’d be ok with no sex at all. Because that took the pressure off me. If the bare minimum they need is nothing, then anything more than that is a bonus! Hooray! This is maybe TMI, but let me tell you. I thought I was asexual* right up until I was able to have moderately non-anxious sex. Never in my life did I think I would initiate a sexual situation but… I do now. It’s a fun thing to do with a person I love and, holy shit. I am furious that I nearly missed out on it.

Finally, re birth control: I don’t know how you can approach that fear in a way that works for you. If you don’t want to ever have penetrative sex, that’s fine! If that’s a point of anxiety you can’t get rid of, then don't push yourself to do it. If you find out you like other sex things, do the other sex things! If you don't like doing any sex things, don't do any sex things! Also, have you considered sleeping with people who can’t get you pregnant? Always an option if it’s an option you want to consider. ;)

Okay. I hope this was even a little bit helpful. Sorry if it’s a little convoluted, I typed it up in bursts during my work breaks.

*This is not at all to say that asexuality can be “fixed." Rather, it’s to say that things like purity culture can drastically confuse your sexuality in general. If you’re asexual, then this process is still important to discover what you like/dislike. Then you can be explicit about those necesities and find a partner who’s a good fit (if you want a partner at all, that is).

[touyasdoll]

Early Established Relationship Shouta & Reader, but they haven’t talked about having kids yet and Reader just found out she’s pregnant. She’s worked herself up in anxiety over how Shouta will take it. This is not helped by him coming home from teaching, having had a hellish day and grumbling about “problem children” and thankful that he only has to deal with kids for a few hours.

Hearing that, Reader just… hides everything. There’s ice in her chest as she tidies up the bathroom, takes out the trash, washes up to start on dinner just. Mind blank, but her usual smile on her face (well honed practice from years of mistreatment due to having an ‘unacceptable’ quirk) as she tells him to go clean up. She’ll make a fast dinner so he can sleep and then wake him later for patrol. He’s too tired to notice anything off, thanks her with a loving smile, the soft ones only she gets, as he goes and showers, changes for a meal and a nap with his favourite girl.

And that’s how it goes. Day in, day out, feeling sick is just a bug, just extreme reaction to allergies, just bad food, etc. She kind of disassociates a lot, mind unable to process as somewhere in there she’s coming up with a plan. Obviously he won’t want to be with her, right? She should cherish these days before she starts to show. So she does.

For about two days, no matter what he says about kids he’s run into or his class — though a small voice tries to remind her that Shouta is excellent with kids, even the ones that act out and he doesn’t hate them no matter what he acts like, she knows this, but it’s drowned out by the words she’s heard him say while tired and grumpy — she cherishes the fuck out of spending more time with him. A little needy, maybe a lot, but she loves him with everything she has to give. Everything but what she keeps held back for their her child.

And then one morning Reader wakes up, showers and notices a slight bump that she knows won’t be going down. There’s ice in her chest again, but she can’t have the same reaction as last time. It won’t be good for the baby, especially if she disassociates. So she plans out her week carefully; makes a grocery list so she can make all of his favourites, makes a list of what she needs to stock up on for herself, what she can pack quickly and sensibly, looks up apartment listings so Shouta won’t feel caged or that he has to leave because it’s his apartment after all, budgets her upcoming checks and what she has in her accounts.

But she gets careless, tires out far too early, doesn’t even make it to lunch, and leaves an apartment listing ad and pregnancy clinic check-up assessment on the table as she unintentionally drifts off on the couch. (Her iron levels are a little on the low side.) On the school’s half-day, where Shouta only needed to go in for meetings and would be back by lunch. Her stealthy as fuck boyfriend, who she never hears come in, but certainly sees her wearing one of his shirts and having fallen asleep in the middle of…..something. It doesn’t look like one of the analysis notebooks she uses for her freelance job as an analyst. Huh.

He’s curious, nosy maybe, but that’s a hero trait. You would’ve made good hero, if everyone hadn’t made it nigh impossible for you before you broke away from your past and headfirst into analysis. You aren’t bitter, but he can be so enough for both of you. You deserve the best, in his eyes, but he’s selfish so he’s going to keep you for himself. Now if he just steps closer to get a look at what’s on the table…..

  

  

Hey so I made myself go full on fucking ugly crying and decided to share for anyone’s thoughts or added writing contributions. :D

All I can think of to add is that:

Shouta is not letting Reader get away from him, from this misunderstanding no matter how he has to do it. (He’ll probably start by shredding that apartment add with his bare hands, though.)

Shouta feels like the biggest fucking idiot for missing all the signs and not taking better care of you like you deserved, kid or no kid behind it all. (TBH you’ve been carrying their family — not that either of you have said it but that’s what you have — since you moved in. If it was left up to him the entire building would’ve somehow collapsed.)

He’s gonna add some more bitterness to the “my girlfriend could’ve been a heroine but people are assholes” fund because she managed to hide a whole ass pregnancy from him completely for who knows how long while other Pros can’t even hide their favourite colours. (Most can’t even hide their lack of genuine civilian safety oriented tactical knowledge, which is just sad, in his opinion. Then again, he is very judgmental of other heroes abilities.)

He may or may not quickly realize why Reader hid the news. And may or may not feel even worse. Because having a kid with you? That’s a dream he didn’t want to let himself have, not yet. Not until after he proposed and settled into his teaching job more, at least. (Better find a ring soon. Even if it’s a Studio Ghibli’s Catbus themed one — it’ll do.)

💜

Oh God. Oh God, wait. Option 2 though, right? My brain wants more angst, go figure.

Ahahah this gets a little sad, sorry. But my contribution is under the cut ❤️‍🩹

Warnings: panic attack, mental breakdown, pregnancy, medical

What if his initial reaction is to be angry? Like he’s reading it just as you’re waking up and you gasp, trying to explain, but he’s already raising his voice, demanding to know how you could have kept something like this from him for so long?

He’s not even upset with you. He’s really just upset that he didn’t even notice. Like you said, he feels like a fucking idiot. He wanted to be there for you through all of this. He wanted all the cute cheesy pregnancy bliss that other couple go through. The first appointment. First sonogram. Telling your friends and family together.

And you’re looking for another apartment? For all of you? No, the place is already plenty big enough. Were you going to leave? He’s beating himself bloody inside, cursing himself for not being more attentive to you. You could have slipped right through his fingers. You and that little miracle inside of you that he already feels so attached to.

And he’s just so disappointed with himself that he misplaces those intense emotions and lashes out at you. He’s never once raised his voice to you, but he can’t control himself in his state and he does. He starts barking about why you never told him, demanding to know why you didn’t come to him, pressing you about how long and why and where you were going to go and he just gets so worked up that he doesn’t even know what he’s saying, he’s just screaming and there’s hot tears and he can’t breathe anymore. He’s having a panic attack for the first time in who knows how many years and he just keeps kicking himself, because now after all that, you’re looking at him with concern and tending to his needs once again, instead of him having the strength to be there for you in what is obviously your time of need. He feels selfish and stupid and starts wondering if maybe why you didn’t say anything is because you were really going to leave, because you know that he can’t even properly take care of you, let alone a child.

[thankyouforbeingsowrong]

Hello! I loved your Here to Love You fic!! :D And I'm here to indulge you in procastinating by sending in a prompt 😉

What about "I told you so" for Robbie/James? 😊 (Or for Laura saying that to them 😜😂)

Thank you so much <3 This excellent prompt plus one of your comments wormed its way into my brain, and I couldn't not write this little coda to Here to Love You.

This is to make up for the fact that despite all the implications of their scheming, I didn't include any actual James and Laura interactions in the fic itself, despite how much I love them. I am atoning for my crimes XD

I hope you like it <333

____

Laura glances up from the clipboard she’s writing on as James enters her office, gracing him with a surprised smile. It sends a twinge of guilt through him for some of the more resentful thoughts he had been entertaining about her meddling over the last few weeks. Especially because he can reluctantly admit to himself now that the meddling worked out pretty well for him in the end. Better than he ever would have hoped if he's completely honest.

She’s standing behind her desk, watching him patiently. Kindly. The guilt washes over him again.

When he doesn’t speak she glances back down at her notes. “I don’t have a body for you, so I assume this is a social call—” She frowns slightly and flicks her gaze to the computer monitor before scribbling something down on the paper.

James clasps his hands behind his back to resist the impulse to bite his thumbnail, and makes a small noise of affirmation.

"So?” Laura holds her pen poised over the paper and looks up again, mischief in her eyes.

James doesn’t answer and she rolls her eyes. “How did it go? I am going to need more than a one line text after all that James."

“Good.”

Laura gives him a deeply unimpressed look. He wants to laugh at how oddly comforting it is.

He tries again. "Better than expected."

She narrows her eyes and lets out a satisfied hum, like the cat who got the cream. “I suspected as much."

James furrows his brow and tilts his head in question.

"You have a little—" Laura taps the end of her pen to her neck and raises her eyebrows. James' hand flies to his neck in a panic. He runs his finger anxiously over the skin just above the collar of his shirt.

Laura leans over her desk, narrowing her eyes to take a closer look.

"Oh no, my mistake. Must have been a shadow." She smiles at his scowl. "Shall I tell Robbie well done for keeping it below the collar?"

"Please don't," James says through his relieved sigh. "I had come to say thank you for your help, but I'm reconsidering now."

"Sorry, I'll behave.” She bites her lip. “I’m just happy for you. But really, how did it go? I’ll graciously let you spare me the gory details until we've been through a few bottles of wine."

"It would have to be quite a few."

Laura snorts lightly and hums in agreement.

James sighs and shifts his weight slightly from one leg to the other. “It definitely didn’t go as planned, though your ideas were very helpful. That restaurant you suggested was lovely." He sighs. "The wine especially went over a little too well.”

James remembers holding Robbie steady with an arm over his shoulder on the walk to the car, disappointed in himself for losing his nerve, and letting him drink so much.

“Oh dear. Have to pour him into bed, did you?”

“Not quite.” He gives up the pretence of calm self-control, this is Laura after all he reminds himself, and nibbles gingerly at his thumbnail. “But Sunday night I got locked out of my room and he invited me to his. We talked.”

“In bed?” The wicked glint has returned to her eyes, along with a cheeky smile.

“No comment.” James can’t suppress a minute twitch of his lips and Laura is quick to pounce.

"Is it tacky to say I told you so?" she says, putting down her clipboard and rounding the desk to stand in front of him, eyes still dancing.

"Yes."

Laura lets out a laugh, and pulls him into a half hug, getting up on her toes when he bends down, and planting a kiss on his cheek. "I told you so."

She holds his arms as she pulls back, and looks up at him with a soft, earnest expression.

"I'm so proud of you. Both of you."

James can feel his cheeks heating and quells the urge to back out of the room in a panic.

“Thank you.” He’s sure his voice sounds too rough, but she doesn’t call him out on it. And he means it. Without her kind pestering he probably wouldn’t have mustered up the nerve to see his plans through, and spent a sad, lonely weekend at the seaside by himself instead.

His heart pounds as he recalls the drive home with Robbie the night before, bickering over music and seeing how much they could tease each other without causing an accident. Falling into bed together at Robbie’s flat, exhausted and too wrapped up in each other to mind the late hour.

James clears his throat, Laura can probably see the flush in his face, but she lets him go with nothing but a knowing grin and leans to pick her diary up off the desk behind her.

"Will the two of you come round for dinner Friday night so I can embarrass you properly?"

James sighs in resignation. "If we must. Pending any murders, of course." That I might commit, he mentally adds.

Laura gives him a knowing look "Don't think you can kill someone just to get out of it. I'm very good at my job."

That surprises a genuine smile out of him. "The best. Can we bring anything?”

“A bottle or two?” She winks. “Oh, something for dessert? But don’t let Robbie make it.”

“As if he’d volunteer.”

James' mobile rings and Laura peeks as he pulls it out of his pocket, Robbie's name flashing up on the screen.

"Speaking of— duty calls," He says, thumbing over the screen to answer.

"You already have the sweetest nicknames for each other." Laura throws over her shoulder as she heads back around the desk to pick up her paperwork again, gleefully watching James’ baffled expression as he lifts the phone to his ear.

He can hear the sound of Robbie booting up his computer in the background.

“Aren’t you in yet? You left an hour before me this morning, how long does it take you to get dressed for work?”

“I don’t know, you can time me if you’re curious.”

Laura chokes out a delighted laugh and James pinches the bridge of his nose. He wonders if he’s forever doomed to embarrass himself in front of her.

He sighs and clears his throat. “I had to make an extra stop on my way, I won’t be long. Laura says hi by the way. She’s kindly offered to cook us dinner on Friday in exchange for salacious details about our sex life.”

He hears a smothered cough down the line. “Tell her to mind her own bloody business.”

“Is that a no to dinner, then?” James says to Robbie, as he raises an eyebrow at Laura.

“I’ll see you both at 7.30!” Laura says, loudly enough for Robbie to hear as she shoos James out of her office.

“I’ll do a crumble.” James mouths as he backs out of the doorway, with a little wave.

He continues the call on his way out to the car, making a concerted effort to shift back into work mode, but finding it difficult to suppress this giddy, unfamiliar cheeriness.

“Do you think it’ll be suspicious if I show up with a smile on my face this morning?”

Robbie snorts. “Innocent might order a psych eval.”

The thought does nothing to dampen his mood. “Want me to pick up coffee on my way?”

“Could you throw in some breakfast as well? All I had in this morning was cereal and no milk.”

“I suppose I can manage that, if you’re lucky.”

“I feel pretty lucky.”

The softness of his tone makes James’ breath catch. “Me too.” He takes a breath as he gets into the car. “I’m just setting off, see you soon.”

“See you soon.” Robbie echoes with a smile in his voice.

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Unlucky in Love

masterlist

Gif credit to @ogledalo-moje-duse​

Summary: Spencer is unlucky in love - until he isn’t.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, some suggestive content

Word Count: 3.4k

           Spencer Reid is, by most people’s definition, unlucky in love.

           It wasn’t for lack of trying. In his early twenties, Spencer often caught himself fantasizing about being on the receiving end of some great storybook romance straight out of one of the classic novels on his bookshelf. On the rare occurrence where his mind was able to slow down long enough, Spencer would daydream about what his future partner would be like. Would they share his fondness for the written word, or his penchant for foreign cinema? Would they find his tendency to go off on tangents endearing and his less than fashionable style of dress charming? Spencer liked to think so, but the likelihood of finding someone who could accept him despite all of his quirks seemed low.

           But still he hoped, even though he knew hope was a dangerous thing. Hope gave life to the possibility of disappointment – and if there was one thing Spencer did not need more of, it was that.

           Spencer Reid was in love with the idea of love – obsessed with the idea of his soul intertwining with someone else’s. But with his thirtieth birthday quickly approaching and absolutely no prospective love interests in sight, Spencer was feeling more than a little disheartened. It certainly didn’t help that everywhere he turned, love was running rampant. Hotch had Beth, Penelope had Kevin, Jennifer had Will, and Morgan had… any number of possible partners. Emily and Rossi were both unattached, but happily so in a way that Spencer just couldn’t quite manage.

           It wasn’t that he didn’t like seeing the people around him happy – it was just that he couldn’t help but wonder when he’d finally get his chance at love.

           A month before Spencer’s thirtieth birthday, everything changes.

           When a member of Garcia’s victims’ support group goes missing, it’s all hands on deck at the BAU. It’s not that they’d give any less than one hundred percent on any other given day, but as with any case that hits close to home, everyone on the team is in a frenzy trying to put the pieces together. The thing that makes this case different is the fact that people from other departments are quick to lend a hand. It comes as no surprise to Spencer – Penelope is a social butterfly by nature. She made it her business to know and befriend everyone in the building. Her sunny disposition is hard not to love, and her current distress had garnered the support of more than a few non-team members.

           By the time the case wraps up, the bullpen is much busier and, much to Spencer’s chagrin, much louder than usual. The steady influx of people has Spencer’s head spinning and he can’t seem to focus on the papers sitting in front of him. What should take him thirty seconds to read has almost taken twenty minutes, and at this point the words on the paper are all running together. Spencer knows that it doesn’t help that he’s running on less than three hours of sleep, as evidenced by the frequency of his yawns. Worse even is the fact that his coffee cup is empty and no, he thinks, that simply will not do. With a sigh Spencer pushes away from his desk, bones creaking as he stands.

           With his coffee cup in hand, Spencer shuffles to the breakroom. He goes through the motions of preparing his drink, lazily stirring in the mountain of sugar before turning to leave.

           Spencer supposes that if it weren’t for the fact that he was horribly sleep deprived, he would’ve seen you walking down the hallway. But alas, Spencer’s alertness had been compromised by poor sleeping habits, and he isn’t aware of your presence until his body is colliding with yours and his hot coffee is dripping down the front of your blouse.

           “Ouch,” you whimper, and Spencer is immediately overwhelmed with guilt.

           “O-Oh my God, I am so sorry,” he splutters. Without waiting for a response, Spencer’s rushing into the break room and procuring a thick stack of napkins. The part of his brain that controls logical thinking is apparently overrun by the onset of his mortification, and in an act of absolutely panic, he begins to dab at the stains with one of the napkins.

           “I-I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m so so sorry,” Spencer stutters out, frantically attempting to blot the stain. “I’ll give you money for a new shirt. A-Actually, you should probably take this one off.  The best way to treat scalds is to immediately get the person away from the heat source. You should also run some cold water over it.”

           In his hurry to rectify his mistake, Spencer hadn’t managed to take a good look at you. When his eyes leave the stain in favor of looking at your face, he prepares himself to see anger there. What he doesn’t expect is for your face to be just as flushed as his, with eye brows raised in shock.

          Spencer also doesn’t expect this to be the moment he’s been waiting on his entire life, but one look into your eyes tells him this is it - this is your person.

           Stunned into a stupor, Spencer stills, eyes boring into your own. You’re even more beautiful than he’d dared to let himself imagine, but in all honesty that didn’t matter much. What matters is the fact that there’s a faint hint of smile lines etched into your skin, and your eyes are so inherently kind that Spencer has no doubt that you’re as gentle as you are alluring. Your benevolence is also evidenced by the fact that you hadn’t immediately begun to yell at him, and for that he is thankful.

           Spencer’s revelation renders him unable to form any semblance of thought, and before he knows it almost a solid minute of him gaping at you passes. You begin to squirm uncomfortably under his gaze.

           “I, uh, appreciate the help, and you seem like a nice enough guy, but your hand is on my boob and I kind of make it a point to not let strangers touch the goods. So, if you don’t mind,” you stammer, looking pointedly at his hand that is still pressing a napkin to your chest. Spencer recoils as if he’s the one that’s been scalded.

           “I-I didn’t mean to, um, t-touch your -,” Spencer gulps, “- chest. I swear I was just trying to get the stain out. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he chokes out. Spencer had imagined the moment he’d come face to face with his person a million times, and none of his daydreams had accounted for the possibility of him giving her second degree burns and inadvertently copping a feel. His emotions fell somewhere between mortification and elation.

           “Mm likely story,” you murmur, lips upturning into a smile that has Spencer feeling weak in the knees. Spencer practically swoons. “Do you make it a habit to ask strangers to take their tops off, or am I just special?”

           Oh God, had I really suggested that? Spencer cringes and wonders what good an IQ as high as his was when it seemed to fail him at times like these. Speaking to women had never been a specialty of his, despite Derek’s coaching, and Spencer was floundering to come up with an acceptable response.

           You are the most special woman in the world, probably. Nope – too creepy, and Spencer definitely doesn’t want to scare you off. Not when he’s been waiting the better part of thirty years to meet you.

           I didn’t mean to insinuate that you should take off your shirt, but I also wouldn’t particularly mind if you did. Even worse – that would certainly earn him a stern talking to from HR.

           Spencer decides to go for the honest approach.

           “I-I’m not sure how to answer that.”

           His honesty draws a laugh from you, and Spencer loves the sound so much that he decides then that he’ll never tell a lie again. You shake your head at him and reach for the napkins that he still has clutched in his hands.

           “What’s your name?” you ask him as you continue his earlier efforts to sop up the coffee.

           It’s probably the easiest question he’s ever been asked. That doesn’t stop him from making a fool out of himself, though.

           “I’m Doctor Spencer R-Reid. Uh, I’m Spencer. Y-You don’t have to call me Doctor.”

           Someone please put me out of my misery.

           Your eyes meet his again and he can tell that you’re holding back a laugh.

           “Okay, then, Spencer,” you say as you discard the napkins in a nearby trash bin. “I’m Y/N.” You punctuate your words with an outstretched hand, and before Spencer can think better of it, the usual spiel come tumbling out of his mouth.

           “The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss.”

           Your lower your hand and cock your head to the side.

           “Are you always this forward, Doctor Reid?” you tease him, eyes flashing amusedly.

           “I-I didn’t mean that we should kiss,” Spencer interjects, cringing at the way his voice has suddenly raised in pitch. “N-Not that I wouldn’t kiss you! I-I’m sure that kissing you would be really n-nice. I just meant that… you know. Germs.”

           Are you there, God? It’s me, Spencer. A hole opening up in the ground and swallowing me up would be great.

           To Spencer’s delight, you don’t seem offended in the slightest.

           “I cannot believe that they’ve been hiding you up here, Spencer Reid. I should’ve come to visit Penny years ago.”

           Wait – what?

           “You work here?”

           You nod.

           “I work on the floor below this one – sex crimes,” you explain.

           “For how long?”

           “Coming up on three years now.”

           Three years. You’d been right under Spencer’s nose for three years and he hadn’t the slightest clue. You’d parked your car in the same parking garage and taken the same elevator as he! How many times had your paths nearly crossed in the last three years? If he’d been just a little bit earlier or a little bit later getting into work, might the two of you met earlier? The possibility of it was maddening.

           “Oh, wow. I-I’ve never seen you,” Spencer mutters lamely. But miraculously, you don’t think he’s lame, if your response is any indication.

           “Nor I you, Doc. It’s a shame, too. You’re a funny guy.”

           Spencer Reid has been called a lot of things in his lifetime – funny was never one of them.

           “Y-Yeah. I’m a real riot at parties,” he deadpans.            “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” you hum, and Spencer really hopes that you mean it. “Would you mind escorting me to Penelope’s office?”

           Spencer nods, and the two of you fall in step together. Spencer’s wracking his brain again for something – anything- he could say to fill the silence. Thankfully, you don’t seem quite as inept at conversing as he, and you beat him to it.

           “You look a little young yourself, Spencer. How long have you worked here?”

           “Uh, I’ve actually worked here for almost eight years. I started when I was twenty-two.”

           Your eyebrows raise in shock.

           “Twenty-two, huh? That makes you – what? Thirty now? I wouldn’t put you a day past twenty-five,” you muse, and Spencer isn’t quite sure what to make of that. You must pick up on the conflicted look on his face, because you clarify. “That’s a good thing, Doc. I hope I look as good as you do when I’m thirty.”

           Spencer has to remind himself how to breathe.

           “I’m not thirty yet. Technically I have twenty-three more days. I could have a rapid decline in attractiveness by then.”

           Spencer’s not usually one to try to be funny, but she seems to have a good sense of humor and he wants to impress you in any way he can.

           “I guess I’ll have to swing back by in twenty-three days and find out.”

           The two of you come to a stop in front of Penelope’s office and Spencer tries not to look as disappointed as he feels. He doesn’t want your meeting to come to an end – not when there’s so much about you that he wants to know. He wants to ask about your opinion on books and obscure foreign films and most importantly, Spencer wants to know what you think about him. Did meeting him affect you in the same way it did him? Did you secretly wish to make this moment last, too?

           Spencer wants to say so much, but he can’t. He’s too awkward and too scared and too nervous to find the right words. So instead, he gives you a tight-lipped smile.

           “I’m sorry about your blouse. Can I please give you the money to buy a new one? I feel like it’s the least I can do.”

           “Absolutely not. It’s really not that big of a deal. Didn’t even really care for the shirt, if I’m being honest. Red really isn’t my color.”

           Spencer wants to tell you how wrong you are – that he’s infinitely certain that you’d look irresistible in any color – but he doesn’t.

           You reach for the door knob, and Spencer’s shoulders slump.

           “It was nice meeting you, Spencer.”

           And then you’re gone, and Spencer can’t help but think that he royally fucked up the most important introduction of his entire life.

--

           When Spencer envisioned how his life would look at age thirty, he’d imagined it being a lot different than it is now. He’d hoped to use his intelligence for something great – finding a way to cure Alzheimer’s had been his main aspiration. Yet, here he was, thirty years old with nothing more than three PhDs to his name. He’d accomplished nothing of great significance, and the idea of having wasted his intelligence was eating away at him.

           In short, Spencer Reid was in a bit of a funk.

           It didn’t help that he hadn’t seen you since that fateful day in the bullpen. Spencer had contemplated paying you a visit, but the lingering embarrassment over his actions kept him from reaching out. He didn’t think he could handle how badly a rejection from you would hurt, so instead he sulked around the office and wallowed in his own self-deprecation.

           Spencer’s birthday wasn’t something he tended to advertise. From a young age, he’d chosen to observe it silently. Usually, his mother would forget, and he never really had any friends to celebrate with, so the day was always rather unimportant to him. Perhaps he would order takeout and gorge himself on greasy food while he sat alone in his apartment. It had been good enough for him last year, and he supposed it would have to suffice this year as well.

           He made it a point not to mention it to his coworkers, and the day passed by just as any other day. By the time five o clock rolled around, Spencer was waving a goodbye to his coworkers and heading out the door. As he waits for the elevator, he debates on whether to order Thai food or pizza for dinner.

           Just as he settles on Thai, the elevator doors open.

           “Oh, thank God, I was worried that you had left already!”

           Before Spencer can get over the initial shock of seeing you, you’re stepping out of the elevator and into his space, an excited smile on your lips. And then you’re holding out your hand, and Spencer’s almost moved to tears when he sees you wielding a single chocolate cupcake.

           “I wasn’t sure if you’d like chocolate or vanilla better, so I went with my gut. I get the feeling you’re a chocolate kind of guy,” you say, eyes shining as you look up at him. “So, was I right?”

           “You brought this for me?” Spencer asks, voice barely above a whisper. He can’t fathom it – that you had spared him any thought past your initial meeting. Spencer had surely expected you to forget about him entirely. Either that, or you’d written him off as someone to be avoided.

           You nod.

           “Of course, I did. It’s your birthday. Everyone deserves something sweet on their birthday.” You pause, the smile dropping from your face. “It is your birthday, right? I didn’t miss it, did I?”

           Spencer is slow to shake his head.

           “N-No, you didn’t miss it. I’m just surprised you remembered.”

           You chuckled softly.

           “You’re very unforgettable, Doctor Reid,” you say, and Spencer’s heart flutters in his chest. “And you didn’t answer my question.” You gesture to the cupcake expectantly.

           “Chocolate is my favorite,” Spencer breathes out, raising a shaky hand and taking it from her. “I… Thank you. You didn’t have to do this. It’s not that big of a deal.”

           “Are you kidding me? You’re turning thirty. That’s a very big deal, Doc.,” you argue, and Spencer gives you a tentative smile.

           “If you say so.”

           “I do,” you smirk, before hitting the button to open the elevator doors. “So, do you have any big plans to celebrate?”

           The doors open and you and Spencer file into the elevator together– an event three years in the making.

           “Not really. I was just going to order some food and stay in,” Spencer says before taking a bite of the cupcake. It tastes wonderful – better than a store-bought cupcake could ever be. This cupcake was undoubtably made from scratch, and the thought of you taking the time out of your day to bake something for him makes him feel weak at the knees. Pair that with the way you’re looking up at him and Spencer worries he might collapse.

           “What kind of food?”

           “Thai,” Spencer says around the mouthful of cake.

           “Mm,” you hum. “You know – I happen to love Thai food. And I also happen to not have any plans for the evening.”

           Even Spencer, who struggles to decipher the simplest of social cues, can deduce that you are insinuating that you want to spend the evening with him. He’s thankful, then, that he had already swallowed the bite of cupcake, because there’s no doubt in his mind that he’d have choked on it. Spencer gapes at you, but your gaze is unwavering and your body language gives no indication that you were joking.

           “D-Do… Do you want to, uh, come over?” Spencer trips over his words more times than any grown man should, but in his defense, he isn’t exactly well versed in matters like this.

           “Do you want me to come over?”

           “Yes.” Spencer answers so quickly that it should be embarrassing, but it’s hard to feel anything but happy when you’re looking at him like that.

           “Then in that case, I thought you’d never ask,” you sigh dramatically, and then the door opens up and you link your arm with his. “You know, I was beginning to think I’d never see you again. I’ve been driving Penelope crazy asking about you, Doc.”

           “You’ve been asking about me?” Spencer asks, incredulous.

           “Absolutely. It’s not every day that you meet a guy who has the audacity to feel you up and ask you to undress within the first five minutes. I just had to know more,” you tease, and Spencer can’t help but laugh. Despite the cold air of the parking garage, Spencer feels warm – warmer than he’s ever felt and he knows that it has everything to do with the way you’ve pressed yourself against his side.

           “In that case, I’m very glad I spilled my coffee on you,” Spencer says and you let out a snort.

           “Yeah, I could’ve done without that part. And the part where you called me germy.”

           “I did not mean it like that,” Spencer insists. You hum and detach yourself from him, and Spencer instantly misses the contact.

           “Because it’s your birthday, I’ll let you off the hook,” you announce, making your way to the other side of his car, all while never taking your eyes off him. “And if you’re lucky, birthday boy, I might just be willing to test that theory of yours.”

           Spencer cocks his head to the side.

           “Theory?”

           You nod, and the smile that creeps across your face is the best birthday present he’s ever gotten.

           “You said you thought kissing me would be nice. I think we should find out.”

           Spencer Reid is, by most people’s definition, unlucky in love. But as he steals glances at you on the way to his apartment, his chest swells with a hope that maybe – just maybe – his luck is about to change.

[weirdmageddon]

five years too late let’s analyze this. the commentary has gotten me back into gravity falls reigniting thoughts and insights i came to years ago

i love everything about this commentary in general it hits the points of humor, genuine analysis of the characters, but most of all im so glad hirsch addressed that the droid not detecting any fear from dipper here doesnt make any scientific sense because that was a massive CinemaSins moment for me

IDK the fact that dipper can fucking stand after an airship crash because theres a bigger threat at hand is literally one of the defining capabilities owed to adrenaline lol...... IM SORRY im a biopsychology student if i dont point that out iwill seethe and die because that was just . its a grudge ive held for a long time about this episode but didnt rant about because it was something so minor and i’m sure nobody would care.

i was 13 when this episode came out and i’m almost 19 now, i had a special interest in biology and i still do but now i’m actually having college classes in biopsychology so i can give my arguments more oomph now. and i have to say, now that i know more about the brain and autonomic nervous system the more this scene bugs me, if that was even possible. and it says a lot of dipper and ford’s relationship.

if dipper clearly wasnt calm before, why would he be now just because he’s put up an outwardly confident facade? before he was in the flight but now hes in the fight. my boy just rode on top of a spaceship by nothing but a magnet gun that could detach at any time if it failed and then the ship crashed, he sustained injuries, is in emotional turmoil because he thinks his uncle is Fucking Dead and the threat of a security droid that detects adrenaline is on his tail and produces a Big Fucking Gun in response to dipper saying “i hAvE a MaGNeT gUn” and hes screaming and has his teeth clenched but sure there’s no adrenaline coursing through his body in that moment i can totally believe that

when dipper asks what happened, ford says “the orb didn’t detect any chemical signs of fear, it assumed the threat was neutralized and self-disassembled” but i don’t think measuring someone’s heartbeat alone is particularly relevant in detecting ... chemical signs of fear?? they dont really tell you this shit but noradrenaline (and maybe adrenaline too if the acetylcholine from sympathetic outflow always activates the adrenal medulla??, theres two pathways) is always active in small quantities to make sure your parasympathetic nervous system doesnt slow your heart to dangerous levels on its own, regardless of your emotions. it’s just a homeostatic mechanism. your sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems are CONSTANTLY modulating control of your organs on a see-saw, literally with every breath you take. simply standing upright causes specialized mechanoreceptor neurons in blood vessels to signal your brain to project signals to release catecholamines via the sympathetic nervous system to constrict your blood vessels so that blood is able to reach your brain and not pool in your legs. i have a deficiency in my body’s ability to adapt to this which is why i know so much about it. if i stand up my heart races to compensate. i’m not feeling fear, my body is just adjusting—albeit grossly and incompetently lol.

but what im saying here is that the security system is flawed. it’s a cool idea to have security droids detect fear, but in practice by detecting adrenaline, and not even directly by detecting the molecule itself—it’s done in a roundabout way by reading the heartbeat, could be a recipe for false alarms. like what if someone’s on beta-blockers. that’s not really an adequate way to measure “fear”; there’s so many variables that could interfere with the measurement the farther you abstract from what you’re really trying to detect. and besides, adrenaline is NOT just a sign of fear, it’s just for preparing the body for action. i know the sympathetic nervous system and adrenaline is constantly linked with the “fight-or-flight” reaponse to a stressor, but 99.9% of the time the sympathetic nervous system is used in your life is to balance out your parasympathetic nervous system to maintain homeostatic equilibrium for mundane things.

i think detecting amygdalar activation would be more efficient in detecting fear. the amygdala sends projections to the hypothalamus which then in turn modulates the autonomic nervous systems. but the amygdala is intensely activated specifically in response to a fear-inducing stimulus (it does activate in response to other emotions but they’re mostly negative and is most activated by startle and fear), and wouldnt be highly activated by many other confounding variables like measurement of the heartbeat could be. the amygala is one of the first stops directly from external stimuli.

to show you how integrated the amygdala is as the first step in registering fear after receiving input from sensory stimuli let’s look at the auditory-amygdala connection for example

see how the auditory thalamus projects to the primary auditory cortex and auditory association cortex? the cortex is where conscious awareness of what the stimuli is comes from. this is the “high road”. it goes sensing -> perception -> emotional response. but sometimes you can be startled without even processing what it is you’re sensing, like the startle response of an alarm or a phone ringing in a quiet house before you even register what it is. this goes sensing -> emotional response, without perception happening until after you’ve already felt the startle. that’s when it takes the “low road”. here’s a simplified version:

even if that were the case with these droids though it’s obvious dipper is still fearful on some level here. his body language, voice, expressions all give it away. for the amygdala, aggression isnt too off from fear so it would be detected equally.

the reason this is so important is because ford uses this as evidence for why dipper is special, “i did it?” “you did it. this is what i was talking about, how many 12 year olds do you think are capable of doing what you’ve just done?”

but like....did he really? i’m not saying this to shoot dipper down or make him out to be more of a wuss, he was incredibly strong-willed here and i dont want to take that away from him because it WAS growth on his part. but the underlying psychophysiological reactions of aggression and fear shouldn’t be that different and this was a total asspull. maybe the droid was so old that it fucked up. maybe dipper being covered in grime and dirt made it harder for the droid to measure the correct heart rate through photoplethysmography (im assuming since they use a camera and are non-contact).

and in all honesty everything i just said brings into question the interpersonal healthiness of ford’s judgements, what he thinks, his expectations, and how he communicates that. in this video alex already talks about how ford is projecting onto dipper. and i think ford may be projecting his expectations for himself onto people who are not him, and the fact that it’s on dipper here makes it far more unfortunate. you realize how much this boy idolizes ford, right? how much impressions matter? dipper even tells himself before he leaves in this same episode, “all right dipper, this is your first big mission with great uncle ford. don’t mess this up.”

even though it’s unstated, the implicit message dipper is perceiving from ford based on their dynamic is: “do you have what it takes for me to be proud of you?” and to accomplish this he must be like ford, even though he’s clearly not and he knows this. he says “i don’t think have what it takes. i was tricked by bill, i was wrong about stan’s portal, heck, i can’t even operate this magnet gun right.” then, by simple chance without even knowing what he did, he activates the magnet gun and pulls out the adhesive, which immediately takes the focus away from what dipper was telling ford about his feelings of inadequacy to ford saying, “yes! dipper, you found the adhesive!”

these thoughts of dipper’s hang in the air without resolve or comment from ford. we don’t know what ford would have said. but it then becomes painfully self-evident in the scene immediately after when the droids emerge and ford tells dipper, “they’re security droids and they detect adrenaline. you simply have to not feel any fear and they won’t see you”, to which dipper replies with an exasperated (and rightful) “WHAT?”

dipper goes in a panic trying to indirectly tell his uncle that this isn’t something he can do. and he is completely right and valid to be freaked out by that full stop. that IS crazy. you can’t control your fear. you can control how you interpret that fear in your higher brain regions but the physiological changes will stick around for longer than it takes to cognitively calm down. it’s easy for me to detach from my emotions to analyze them, but being able to do this does not come naturally for everyone. even i have an irrational fear of wasps and i can’t control it by detaching myself, my body is just automatically primed to get the fuck out of there. i know it’s stupid and i know it’s irrational and isn’t helpful to get myself worked up but i literally can’t stop how my body reacts no matter how i cognitively think about it. expecting composure from dipper in a situation like this when he’s being made to consciously be aware of his anxiety is absolutely fucking insane. look what you did, placing these cruel expectations on him, now he’s afraid of being afraid! this isn’t a case where two wrongs cancel out, they just stack on top of each other.

there’s a good reason these scenes were put side by side but it seems up until now it had remained unanalyzed.

what dipper fears from ford is disappointment. not living up to his uncle’s (quite frankly badly placed) expectations for a twelve year old with anxiety. not once did ford say or subliminally communicate “i don’t expect you to be able to do what i can since you are not as experienced as i am and that’s perfectly okay, no judgements”. you don’t put a child on bike before training wheels. you don’t throw a kid into a swimming pool without giving them swimming lessons. the way ford is doing it, there’s no room for trial and error or mistakes that are an opportunity to grow and learn; instead, it’s life or death. he only seems to pride dipper on what he can do while ignoring the underlying struggles that plague him and never making it known it’s okay for dipper to fail in front of his hero and that he won’t think anything less of him for it.

and that’s why i found the ending scene for dipper and ford’s adventure in this episode to feel so.. wrong. on a scientific and social level. because by the sound of it ford focused more on what dipper had done to dismantle the droid (the droid not detecting any fear) instead of how dipper displayed love and protection for him even if he was truly afraid. what if the science was accurate and the droid detected adrenaline while dipper was confidently standing up for his uncle. would ford still be proud of him regardless?

[wlw-peachylsbn]

the only heaven i'll be sent to (is when I'm alone with you) (bellatrix lestrange x reader)

A/N: Okie dokie, girls and gays! So! This is going to be a sub!Bella fic. Now I know what you all might be thinking, Bella is a dom, but you know what? It's not my fault my brain is so big and sexy, and I'm on a whole new galaxy. Thanks to @bellatrixscurls for inspiring me!!!

We have some praise and degradation, a bit of a choking kink, pet play, a big ass Mommy kink, and like. A shoe kink?

Your quill jumps from one line to the next, not stopping even when your love walks into the room. You're only half done with this essay, and you still need to finish one more after this. Thanks to Bellatrix's interference, you slacked off during the weekend, preferring to share her bed and lounge about. Though, who could blame you?

So deep in thought, you don’t notice Bellatrix as she moves closer to you, heaving a deep sigh.

"Did you need something, Bella?" You tap your quill, still thinking about the right way to form this one sentence.

"Yes, I actually did.” She shrugs, taking a step closer so there's only a sliver of space between you. It's an odd position, really, and you have to crane your head back to gaze at her.

"Yes?" You reach up to tangle your feelings in her curls. When you tug lightly, a shiver runs through her body.

Oh. You pause, looking Bellatrix over shrewdly. Your weekend wasn't just relaxing; you also discovered some wonderful, nasty details about your lover. Specifically, some certain kinks she had.

“Oh, did you want Mommy, sweetheart?” you coo, tugging on her curls again.

Another shiver runs through Bellatrix’s body as she kneels before you, eyes big and soft. You can already tell that she's slipping into her subspace, an experience you both have discussed thoroughly. You haven't acted on it quite yet though, but today might be the perfect time to rectify that.

“That’s right, go get on your knees, darling.” Your hand comes reassuringly down on Bellatrix’s shoulder, pressing her to kneel completely.

God. Bellatrix is absolutely beautiful like this, with her hair wild and a curl in her face, her eyes wide with starry-eyed longing, like she thinks you hold her world up. Of course, you would be lying if you said it didn't arouse you to see Bellatrix on her knees for you, only for you. She's such a dominant, tough personality, which leads people to assume she would be in charge in the bedroom. Sometimes she is, but she also confessed that playing with submission would be incredibly arousing for her. You're the only one she trusts with her secrets, which infuses the scene with more tenderness than you expect.

“Am I doing okay, Mommy?” A whisper, light as air, settles in between the two of you.

You know how deeply Bellatrix needs reassurance. Mainly praise. She didn’t say such a thing in as many words, but you know her. A kind word or a light touch makes her clingy, but praise, full, unrestrained, lengthy praise will make her … well. You don’t know yet, but you can’t wait to find out soon.

“You’re doing amazing, sweetheart, being such a good girl. Just sit there for Mommy, alright? I want you to relax a bit.”

“But, Mommy, I feel fine, I don’t want to—”

“Quiet. Now. Do not question me.” Steel enters your tone just as quickly as Bellatrix whines. She sticks out her bottom lip, scowling in a rather cute manner, you admit. But you wipe away any trace of amusement from your face. “If you act like a brat, you can go back to your room and pout there instead.”

Another scowl, this one deeper, crosses her face, but she grudgingly nods and lowers her eyes. You resume looking at your paper, pretending to work, but your mind races, returning to your little brat at your feet. Should you keep her in suspense for a while longer? Or really draw it out until she pleads?

“Mommy?”

Well, that didn’t take too long at all.

“Yes?” You keep your tone purposefully neutral.

“Are you mad?”

“No, just disappointed.”

Bellatrix pouts. Again. “I hate when you say that.”

“I know, darling, but if you were good, I wouldn’t have to say it so much.”

“ ‘m sorry.”

“What was that?” You raise your eyebrow, not ready to drop the matter yet.

“I’m sorry, Mommy. I just …” Bellatrix has never been one to conceal her feelings. You can see the hesitance warring with want, clear as day, as she ducks her head, avoiding your searching gaze. “I …”

“What is it, honey? You know you can tell me anything.” You lightly grab her chin with your hand, tugging until she’s facing you. “You know I would never judge you.”

“Can you be really Mommy? And make me feel like your little girl again?” Heat blooms in her pale cheeks, and when she hides her face again, you let her. “I just wanna … be good for you. Please?”

The tenderness from earlier returns, and you coo, “Oh, I see now. You want me to tell you what to do? Do you crave my firm hand? My harsh touch? Come now, good girls use their words.”

“I want you to be nice, Mommy. To make me feel really good. But I want you to be mean, too.” To anyone else, Bellatrix’s words would sound like a convoluted mess. And they are, to some extent. But you can always soothe her mind and untangle her web of feelings.

“I see now, darling. Of course, I’ll do that. You just be my good girl and let me take care of everything, alright?”

“Yes, please, thank you, Mommy.” She looks up finally, and you can see the self-awareness leaving her body. There’s no more shame, just that adoring look you aim to see. It’s just you and her. Mommy and baby girl.

“That’s right. You just want to be my perfect little slut, don’t you?”

You watch carefully as Bellatrix gasps, eyes slipping shut as she leans forward. “Yes, Mommy, thank you, Mommy.”

“That’s right, you just sit still and be a good little toy for me.” You hum almost absent-mindedly, reaching to grasp her chin again, turning it this way and that. You appraise her, eyes lingering on her pale throat. Even her neck is beautiful, all exposed skin and deep hollows. “Would you like a collar, darling?” You slowly move your hand as you talk, effectively choking her, though you don’t apply much pressure.

“Oh, Merlin, please, Mommy? Yes, yes,” Bellatrix says, eyes pleading. “I’ll be good.”

“Would you? You want to be my little pet so badly, hmm? I think I’ll arrange for a nice thick collar, a pretty one, too. A dark red, since I know you love that colour so much. What do you think, pet?”

Bellatrix downright whines. She scoots as close as she can, practically sitting on top of your feet. “Please, I want to be your pet, and I want your collar too!”

“Yes, a collar sounds very nice,” you muse. Then you tighten your grip around Bellatrix’s throat a moment later. Her eyes slip shut, her hands reaching to steady herself on your leg. “You’re always my pretty whore that I can use, yes?”

“Always, but can you please touch me now, Mommy? I need you.” She tries a pout again, and although you want to kiss it anyway, you don’t budge.

“I thought you were my toy, though? I don’t recall you having the control here. So be a good little girl and be quiet.”

“But I’m so wet for you, Mommy. I can’t wait any longer.”

You sigh and click your tongue. “Don’t test me again. You’re my pet, remember?”

“Always.”

“But since you want to come so bad …” You cock your head to the side, a smirk forming on your lips.

“Yes, Mommy? I’ll do whatever you say.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.” Her dark eyes are lightened with trust. Complete, absolute trust as she waits patiently for your orders. You could make her do anything, you know that. But you only have one thing in mind.

You extend your shoe, laying it flat on the floor. The confusion that sparks in her eyes is downright adorable. Bellatrix cocks her head to the side, looking very much like a confused pet. “Needy little girls like you don’t deserve my fingers or mouth. If you want to come so bad, you can use my shoe and prove yourself.”

“Mommy?”

In a flash, you lean down, pressing your forehead to hers. Bellatrix’s hands come up around your shoulders, balling your shirt in her fists. She falls silent, taking a moment to breathe as you ask, “Baby? Is everything alright? If you want this to end, you know your safeword.”

“I’m okay, thank you, Mommy. Can we continue, please?”

“Of course, sweet girl.” You press a quick kiss to her forehead before pulling back, falling easily into your role again. “Or should I say, you little brat? I see you, trying to distract me.”

“I didn’t mean to, Mommy. How can I make it up to you?” Bellatrix peers up at you through her eyebrows innocently.

You say nothing, choosing to hold your shoe out again. For the second time today, Bellatrix blushes, a pink hue rising in her cheeks and chest. However, she doesn’t hesitate any longer and straddles your shoe.

It’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. Honestly. She hitches her skirt up, tossing it behind her with a flick of her wrist, never losing her flair for the dramatics. Her hands caress your thighs, slowly coming down to grip the back of your legs. And finally, she lowers herself onto your shoe, an obscene moan escaping her mouth.

“How does it feel, Bella?”

“Fuck. So good. So good, Mommy,” Bellatrix rasps, head tilting towards the ceiling in blissed-out pleasure.

“Watch your mouth, pet.” You slap her cheek lightly, which draws another choked moan from Bellatrix.

“Sorry, Mommy.” Even as she apologies, her hips rock back and forth.

“Yeah? What are you apologizing for?” You make sure to keep your tone casual and airy, though you can’t help but start to tease her. You flex your shoe upward—but only but an inch or two. The cool material presses against her most sensitive area, drawing another whispered swear.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, Mommy, I’m sorry, please, please—”

“Aww, is my baby too flustered to talk? Be a good girl and tell me what you need.”

“Mommy, please, I can’t, I need you so bad—” Bellatrix shifts again, and when she meets your gaze, you see tears brimming in her eyes.

You frown, wiping a stray one away. While you hate to see her cry under any circumstances, there’s a small sadistic part of you that roars with heat, wanting to see how long she can withstand your (pleasurable) torture. You stay quiet, thinking about the best move before you say, “Oh, darling. You need to cum that badly? Well, alright, honey. You can have a reward.”

“A reward?”

With great debilitation, you raise your shoe all the way, so it’s firmly pressed against her. You don’t hold back. She moans, her hips rocking even more. “Here’s your reward, baby. But I’m not going to do all the work. If you’re not crying and screaming like a little whore for me, then I won’t fuck you again for a while. So you better thank me, pretty girl, and get to work.”

“Oh, Merlin, thank you, thank you so much.”

“I prefer Mommy, baby, but you’re welcome either way.”

You watch with a smug smile as Bellatrix rubs herself all over your shoe. She moves slowly at first but moves quicker and quicker. Little pants and hitched breaths fill the room.

As she keeps chasing her high, you play with one of her curls, twisting it around your finger. “Soon, I’ll find a perfect collar for you, so everyone knows you belong to me. Then I’ll put a tail in your ass, too, baby girl, and have you kneel for me like a good kitten.”

“Oh, Mommy, yes, I’ll be your good kitten. Merlin, please, fuck me, fill me up.” By this point, Bellatrix is fully in her subspace, all tears and whiny begging that make you want to fuck her harder or wrap her up in your arms. But you go with the former and lean forward, your breath brushing her half-lidded eyelids.

“Hold on tight, sweetheart.”

You start moving your shoe again, flexing it, and dragging it back and forth. This time, you don’t give up on the pressure, instead aiming directly for her most sensitive spots. Your shoe grinds against her clit, causing her to moan.

“Look at you, my pretty darling. Making such a mess, rutting all over my shoe like a bitch in heat.”

“Fuck, Mommy, I’m going to come, please?”

“Go ahead, baby.”

Not a second later, she says, “Thank you, Mommy, coming for you, Mommy—”

Bellatrix’s orgasm is a wonder to witness, and you can only stare, like a galaxy is exploding in front of your very eyes. It comes as a trickle at first, minuscule shudders that shake her once, twice. But as she’s urged on by your whispered praises and hands tugging at her hair, her pleasure turns into a river carrying her away—until her orgasm crashes against her again and again, like a tidal wave threatening to drown her, promising to carry her out to sea forever, to never let her come back to shore.

“Mommy, Mommy!” Tears start to spill down her cheeks, but there’s no sadistic jolt this time. That side of you quietly leaves, replaced with the urge to care and protect.

“I know, baby girl, that’s it, you’re alright.” You keep a firm grasp on her shoulders as she shudders the last of her orgasm on her shoe, then tug her up. She crawls into your lap, tucking her head into the crook of your neck, sniffing. “Shh, darling, you did so well. You were so good, my perfect, good girl. I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“Was I really good?” Timid eyes peek at you from between strands of hair.

You smile, reaching to brush a curl away so you can better see her. “You were perfect.”

“Thank you, Mommy. I really liked everything we did.” Bellatrix sniffs again, pressing closer to you.

You chuckle. “I could tell, baby.” You run your hands up and down her spine, feeling the heat radiating off her. All the while, you keep cooing the sweetest praises and words of devotion into her ear.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, pretty girl?”

“Do you think we can try fisting next weekend?”

A true, genuine laugh escapes you. Oh, Bellatrix has the most unique, one-track mind. “Why don’t you rest up for a bit first, okay? We can talk about it later. Just relax now.”

“M’kay, Mommy, I will.”

Tomorrow, next weekend, the future all stretches before you, eager to be shaped by your hand. Anything you might want to do—and the ideas bloom in your mind—you can. But right now, you’re focused on the lovely, needy, flawed soul in your embrace. It’s you and her against the world.

You start to hum and resume rubbing Bellatrix’s back, allowing her to snuggle closer. Her eyes, though sleepily locked onto you, slowly flutter close. You smile indulgently, whispering, “Mommy’s right here, darling. Shh, go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”