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blakeswritingimagines · 3 days ago

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Drama Queen

Summary: You learn the hard way of your boyfriend's darker side.

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: Mean! Logan and Sweet Fem! reader, Dark Yandere! Logan, Name-calling, No protection, Begging, Roughness, Degradation, Slight crying, Slight finger sucking towards the end, Talk of more rounds, Talk of being fucked dumb.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the X-men character/s nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Logan was never a man to be messed with, especially when it came to his loved ones. He was fiercely protective of the people he cared about, and even more so when it came to his romantic relationships. At first, he was charming and loving, but behind that façade he held onto a dark obsession, one that drove him to extreme lengths to keep you close to him. He grew intensely possessive, watching your every move and checking in on you constantly. He was always the one in control, always needing to know where you were and what you were doing.

You unaware of the extent of his obsession and possessiveness. He was always watching you, no matter where you went. He would follow you to work, your favorite spots in town, and even into your own home. He would hack into your electronics, track your phone, and secretly record your every move. He knew your schedule better than you did, and would always be there, lurking in the shadows, waiting to swoop in and assert his presence. He would use his knowledge of your life to manipulate you and make you feel dependent on him. In your innocent and naive worldview, you were unaware of the extent of Logan's obsession and possessiveness. You just thought he was a bit overprotective, always checking in on you and wanting to know where you are. You figured he was just being an attentive boyfriend who was worried for your safety. As your relationship with Logan progressed on, his possessiveness and jealousy grew deeper. He couldn't tolerate any other man even glancing in your direction. One day, a male friend of yours approached you, and Wolverine immediately saw red. He angrily confronted you, demanding to know who this man was and why he was talking to you. You tried to explain that he was just a friend, but Logan refused to believe it.

As you stood there, trying to reason with him, Logan was seething with anger, the veins in his temples pulsing. "Who was that man?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Why was he talking to you?" You felt a pang of fear, unused to seeing him this way. "He's just a friend, Logan," you explained, your voice shaking slightly. "We've known each other for years." Wolverine's eyes narrowed, his gaze intense as he studied your face, searching for any sign of deception. The air around him crackled with tension, his body coiled like a spring ready to snap. "A friend," he repeated, the word dripping with skepticism. "One who looks at you like…that." He gestured vaguely towards the memory of your interaction, his jaw clenched. "I don't like it. I don't trust him. And I sure as hell don't want to see you talking to anyone else like that either." His tone was commanding, leaving no room for argument. "From now on, if you're going to talk to men, they'd better be me." You bristled at his possessive tone, feeling a flicker of anger. "Logan, I'm free to talk to whoever I want," you shot back, your voice firmer now. "You don't own me." Logan's grip on your chin tightened, his fingers digging into your skin. "I don't own you? Then why are you still here with me?" he demanded, his voice low and menacing. "If you're so desperate for freedom, then leave. Walk out that door and never look back." His other hand came up to wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard body. "But if you stay," he continued, his breath hot against your ear, "you'll submit to me completely. Body, mind, and soul. Because that's what I crave from you. Total surrender." He nipped at your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine. "So what's it going to be? Freedom or me?" His words were a challenge, a test of your resolve. Your heart thumped in your chest, a mix of anger and arousal swirling within you. You knew you should stand your ground, but the heat of his body pressed against you was hard to resist, and the fierce possessiveness in his voice tugged at something primal within you. "You're impossible," you ground out, trying to sound defiant, but your body betrayed you, pressing against his. He smirked, knowing he'd gotten to you, and his grip on your chin and waist tightened further. A triumphant smile spread across Wolverine's face as he sensed your resistance crumbling.

"Impossible, huh?" he chuckled, the deep rumble vibrating through you. "I prefer to think of myself as irresistible." His hands roamed your curves, exploring every inch of you with possessive hunger. "You can deny it all you want, but your body knows the truth. It craves my touch, yearns for my dominance." He captured your mouth in a searing kiss, claiming you thoroughly as his tongue battled with yours for supremacy. When he finally broke away, you were left panting and dazed, your senses reeling from the intensity of the encounter. "Were you born to submit to me?" he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. "Is it in your very nature to be owned, to be mine and mine alone?" Your mind was a whirl of confusion and desire, your body responding to his touch in spite of your resistance. You couldn't deny the truth in his words, how your body seemed to ache for him, how your pulse quickened whenever he touched you. But the idea of submitting to him completely, of being owned by him, was both terrifying and appealing. "I… I…" you stuttered, unable to form a coherent thought as he continued to caress you with possessive hands and lips. Every touch seemed to stoke the flames of your desire, making it harder and harder to remember why you were supposed to resist. "No?" Logan's eyes gleamed with victory as he watched you struggle with your desires, your resolve weakening under his relentless onslaught. "No?" he echoed, his voice laced with amusement and anticipation. "Then prove it, bitch. Show me you can resist me." With a sudden movement, he released you, stepping back to create distance between your bodies. His arms crossed over his chest, a challenging glint in his eye. "Go ahead, walk away. Leave me and never look back. If you truly want freedom, then take it." The offer hung in the air, a gauntlet thrown down. But even as he spoke the words, Wolverine's gaze remained fixed on you, tracking every subtle shift in your posture, every fleeting emotion that crossed your face. He knew you wouldn't leave, not when your body was screaming for his touch, begging to be claimed once more.

You stood there, stunned by his sudden absence, your body immediately aching for the feel of him against you. The heat that had pooled in your core was still there, begging to be satisfied. You knew what he was doing, testing you, trying to get you to give in to your desires. But as much as you wanted to give in, to let yourself surrender to him completely, you refused to buckle under his challenge. "You're an ass," you muttered, your voice filled with annoyance and desire. Logan's smirk returned, wider and more arrogant than before. "An ass, huh?" he drawled, uncrossing his arms to stalk towards you once more. "Maybe I am. Maybe that's exactly what you need, someone to put you in your place and remind you who's really in control here." He grasped your wrists, pinning them above your head roughly as he leaned in close, his breath fanning over your face. "Because right now, baby, you're nothing but a needy little slut, craving my cock like a drug. And I'm more than happy to give it to you, to fill you up until you can't think straight anymore." His hips pressed against yours, the bulge of his erection evident even through their clothes. "So… beg for it." Your breath hitched at his words, the dirty talk making your mind fuzzy and your body overheat. His hands on your wrists, the press of his body against yours, all of it sent a heady mix of desire and submission coursing through you. Despite your best efforts to keep a straight face, your voice quivered slightly as you spoke. "Get real," you repeated, your voice a weak attempt at conviction. A small hitch in your breath betrayed your growing desperation, and you could feel yourself starting to crumble under his intense gaze.

Logan's grin widened, his eyes burning with triumph as he sensed your faltering resolve. "Oh, I'm very real, sweetheart," he purred, his grip on your wrists tightening ever so slightly. "And so are your needs. You want to be dominated, used, fucked senseless by me. Admit it." He rocked his hips against yours, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins. "Begging is such a pretty sound coming from your lips. I bet you'd look even prettier on your knees, choking on my cock while you plead for more." His free hand slid down to cup your sex through your clothing, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "Come on, baby. Let's hear those sweet, submissive moans. Beg me to fuck you like the desperate little whore you are." You bit your lip, trying to hold back the whimper building in your throat, but it escaped anyway, a needy little mewl that sounded far too much like submission. Your knees nearly buckled at his words, the crude imagery painting vivid pictures in your mind. You could almost taste the saltiness of his skin, feel the thick girth of his cock stretching your throat as you pleaded for more. His hand on your sex sent jolts of electricity through your body, making your clit throb with need. "Please," you whispered, the word barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "Just… please." Your face flushed with shame and arousal, you met his gaze, your eyes pleading for the release only he could provide. "Fuck me," you begged, the words tumbling out in a rush.

A wicked grin spread across Logan's face as he heard your desperate plea, his eyes darkening with lust and satisfaction. "That's it, baby. That's what I wanted to hear," he growled, his voice rough with desire. Without warning, he spun you around and bent you over the nearby table, sweeping its contents onto the floor with a crash. "Such a good little slut, begging for my cock like it's the only thing that matters." He yanked his shirt off over his head, revealing his chiseled torso and the impressive bulge straining against his jeans. "Time to give you what you need, baby." The cool wood pressed against your heated skin as he yanked your pants down, exposing your dripping sex to the open air. "Fuck, you're soaked already," he groaned, running a finger teasingly along your slit. "Such a needy little cunt, so ready for my cock." He freed himself from his jeans, the thick head of his dick nudging insistently at your entrance. "Brace yourself, sweetheart. I'm gonna ruin this tight pussy," he promised darkly. Your breath caught in your throat, the anticipation and excitement coursing through you. His hands on your body, the rough way he manhandled you, it all sent a thrill through you. As he positioned himself behind you, you gripped the table, bracing yourself for the inevitable. "Logan…" you gasped, your voice filled with a mix of fear and desire. "Please, be gentle." Logan chuckled darkly, amused by your plea for gentleness. "Gentle? Oh baby, where's the fun in that?" he teased, rubbing the tip of his cock teasingly along your slick folds. "Besides, we both know you don't really want gentle. What you want is to be fucked hard and deep, to feel every thick inch of me splitting you open." Without further warning, he grabbed your hips and thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight heat. "Unnngh fuck!" he grunted, savoring the exquisite feeling of your walls clenching around him. "So goddamn tight. This pussy was made for my cock." He set a brutal pace, slamming into you with powerful strokes that shook the table beneath you. "Take it, you filthy slut."

Even as the words left your lips, you knew it was a hopeless plea. Logan was not a gentle and caring man, especially not when it involved you like this and what he wanted from you. He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. A sharp cry tore from your throat as he entered you, the sudden fullness overwhelming your senses. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the intensity, but your body quickly adjusted, welcoming the intrusion. Each harsh thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, your inner walls fluttering and gripping him tightly. "Ah!" you moaned shamelessly, pushing your hips back to meet his brutal pace. The obscene slap of skin on skin filled the room, mixing with your wanton cries. Logan groaned in approval as he felt you start to move with him, meeting each punishing thrust with equal fervor. "That's it, baby. Fucking take it," he snarled, one hand tangling in your hair and yanking your head back as he continued to pound into you. "This is what you were made for, to be my personal fuck toy." His other hand reached around to rub tight circles on your clit, the added stimulation making your walls clamp down on him like a vice. "Gonna fill this greedy cunt with my cum, mark you as mine inside and out." He could feel his orgasm approaching, his balls drawing up tight as he chased his release. "Come on, slut. Cum on my cock like the desperate whore you are. Scream my name for everyone to hear who you belong to!"

Your back arched sharply as he pulled your hair, the slight pain only heightening your pleasure. His fingers on your clit sent jolts of electricity through you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "Logan! Oh fuck," you cried out, no longer caring about keeping quiet. The depraved words falling from his lips, claiming you as his property, only fueled the fire raging inside you. Your body tensed, every muscle drawn taut as your climax approached. With a final, particularly deep thrust and a pinch to your clit, you came undone. "Logan!" you screamed, your vision whiting out as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed over you. Your pussy spasmed wildly around his cock, milking him for all he was worth as you rode out your high. Logan let out a guttural roar as your walls clamped down on him like a silken fist, your orgasm triggering his own explosive release. "Fuck! Take it all, you filthy slut!" he bellowed, slamming into you one last time before hilting himself fully inside you. Thick ropes of hot cum painted your insides as he emptied himself, marking you as his territory. His hips jerked erratically, riding out the waves of his intense climax. After long moments, he collapsed against your back, both of you panting heavily as you came down from your highs. "Goddamn, baby. That was incredible," he murmured, nipping at your ear. "You took my cock so well, like you were born for it." You whimpered softly as you felt his hot seed filling you up, marking you from the inside. Your legs trembled with the effort of holding yourself up, your whole body feeling like jelly in the aftermath of your intense orgasm. As he slumped against you, you couldn't help but lean back into his solid warmth, despite the degrading things he had said and done. There was something oddly comforting about being wrapped up in his strong arms, even if it was purely physical. "Mmmm," you hummed, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck. "Wow." Your voice was hoarse from screaming, a physical reminder of how thoroughly he had claimed you.

Logan smirked against your neck, feeling smug and satisfied. He loved seeing you like this - wrecked, marked, and utterly spent from his thorough claiming of your body. "What's the matter, baby? Cat got your tongue?" he teased, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "Or maybe it's just because I fucked you so hard and stupid, you can't even string two words together." He slowly pulled out of you, both of you groaning at the sensation. A trickle of his cum dribbled out of your used hole, and he swiped it up with his fingers, bringing them to your lips. "Clean up the mess you made, slut. Taste how good we are together." His eyes gleamed with wicked intent, already thinking about all the other ways he could use and debase you before the night was through. Your tongue darted out instinctively to lick his fingers clean, tasting the combined essence of you together. The flavor was musky and slightly bitter, but not unpleasant. It served as a tangible reminder of your submission to him, of how thoroughly he had claimed you. "Mmmm, delicious," you purred, your voice still husky from your earlier cries. Slowly, you pushed yourself upright, turning in his arms to face him. Your eyes met his, hazy with post-coital bliss and a hint of mischief. "You always know just how to satisfy me, Logan," you murmured, trailing a finger down his chest. "But I hope you're not done with me yet. Because I have a few ideas of my own on how to make this night even more… memorable."

Logan's eyebrows shot up in surprise and intrigue at your bold statement, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Oh? Is that so?" he drawled, his hands coming to rest on your hips possessively. "Well, color me curious, baby. What kind of naughty ideas do you have rattling around in that pretty little head of yours?" He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Because you should know by now that I'm always up for a challenge. Especially when it comes to pushing your limits and making you scream my name." His hands slid around to grab your ass, squeezing the firm globes roughly. "Why don't you tell me what you have in mind, sweetheart? And I mean everything. Don't leave out a single dirty detail."

#logan howlett #logan wolverine #logan x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut

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biowaredisasterbisexual · 2 days ago

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I’m sorry. I can’t. I try not to get involved in fandom foolishness too much. But egad, the vile treatment of Neve because she romances Lucanis if (AND ONLY IF) Rook romances neither of them is…horrific.

How, BisexualDisaster, you may ask?

1) A lot of critiquing that Neve is uncaring, unempathic, not supportive.

2) At least one claim (getting a lot of agreements in the notes) that Lucanis only gets together with Neve because it’s “easy.” She doesn’t “fix” him so he can just go on being I guess broken somehow?

3) A lot of references to her being too sexual.

4) Insinuations that she’s the type of woman you hook up with, but not the type you marry.

5) Insistence that because she is cynical, she isn’t overtly emotive in the way they would expect, she is unfeeling.

I just…..it’s awful. Why is it so awful? Well, let’s break that down point by point.

1) This is completely contradicted by canon. She goes out of her way for just about every companion to help them, even ones she isn’t super close to. She provides a sounding board and emotional support for Taash and Bellara explicitly in their quest lines. People are disregarding everything she actually says and does in the game to cast her in a role that seems entirely based on sexist and racist stereotypes.

2) There’s no basis for this either. Moreover, this is a truly troubling way to view mental health and healing. Lucanis is not a broken toy or a fixer-upper home. He doesn’t need someone to “fix” him. Nor is he too traumatized to make his own romantic choices. This argument infantilizes him, diminishes his own agency in his healing, and is sexist to boot. It’s ableist, misogynistic, and shitty.

3) This is such a common racist belief about WOC that I hardly know where to start. We are all hypersexual, and if we aren’t we are frigid and prudish and angry. I can’t even. What’s wrong with you all?

4) I’m inclined to agree that Neve isn’t a homemaker, but good grief, how tradwife can you get? I’M not a homemaker. My husband did the bulk of domestic labor in our relationship before he became disabled. Not every relationship needs to look like Leave It To Beaver, and insisting it does is wildly sexist. Oh, and this is also relying on the stereotypes of WOC all being sex-seeking ladies about town to boot.

5) This harkens to two stereotypes. The first is sexist: that women are expected to be outwardly emotive and fawning. That’s neither accurate nor fair. The second is racist: this is a subtle version of the Angry Black Woman stereotype. That WOC aren’t sweet and nurturing and only demonstrate Negative emotions.

This is ridiculous. It’s awful. It’s racist, sexist, and ableist all at once. In an effort to, what, make it so that if you don’t romance Lucanis with your Rook he can’t be with anyone else? It’s not a competition between Rook and Neve or Lucanis if your Rook is romancing them, because your LI CHOOSES ROOK. No one is stealing anyone from your Rook. It’s only if you romance neither that they get together, and the weird possessive idea that if you don’t have Lucanis no one should is deeply troubling.

Is your favorite movie Swimfan? Is it because it made you feel seen?

JFC.

Get it together, people.

Sincerely,

A WOC married to a sweet white man who knows how to cook

#neve gallus #datv #dragon age veilguard #fandom critical #lucanis dellamorte #sometimes I rant even though I try not to #da fandom critical

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jensthwa · 17 hours ago

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a very show & tell christmas (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

It's been a few months since you and Mingi got together. It's your first Christmas as a couple but not your first one together. As he watches you re-organize the tree in his living room, he can't help but reminisce on the key moments that made him realize you're his person.

PAIRING: mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: stablished relationship, holidays special!

WORD COUNT: 7k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI), mingi's pov, a loooot of fluff and love talk, pet names (love, my love, babe), mistletoe kisses, heart felt gifts, messy kisses, mingi and reader briefly discuss something that i've come to learn is called sweater fetish but i don't know if the scene counts as that but just letting you know, oral sex (f receiving), reader asks mingi to 'use' her, hard but romantic sex, unprotected sex (booo, wrap it up please), marriage discussion at the end omg?

NOTES: happy holidays everyone! I've been wanting to write mingi's perspective of everything that went down in s&t for a while so I took the chance to write it for the holidays because what better time to reminisce about everything you've ever lived than december am I right? [nervous chuckle]. I hope you're having a wonderful month and i hope next year treats you even better! THIS IS PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH SERIES BUT CAN BE READ AS A STAND ALONE. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: december 25th 2024.

Mingi remembers the first time he saw you like it was yesterday. It's an image so vivid, so impactful in his life that there's no way he could ever, ever forget.

He was playing soccer on the street, with two friends who moved away that same year and he doesn't really remember them all that well now. He kicked the ball so hard it landed in your yard as you were doing something else. Playing with dirt? He doesn't really remember, you might've been but it didn't matter because it was also the first time he realized he could fall in love.

Granted, he didn't fall in love immediately. He was, after all, just a fourteen year old boy and he didn't understand those feelings just yet. It was that transitional period of a kid’s life where the desire to connect with someone else was strong but definitely not a priority.

Besides, he didn't realize, until many years had gone by, that the first time that he saw you and he felt time stop, he also saw a life with you: the five seconds it took for the ball to roll over to your feet after almost punching you in the face and he sort of assumed you were going to be in his life forever.

And you are going to be in his life forever. In one way or another, but he promised you that forever a while ago, in his head, in his dreams and in the way he cares about you, for you. In the way his heart hurts when you're not around, when you two fight. In the way his heart sings when he kisses you, the way it dances and beats against his chest when you smile at him, because of him, around him.

And when he hears you laugh? Pfft. He melts at the sound.

He's melting even now, after being officially together a little over a year, as you laugh with your mom and his mom while decorating the Christmas tree at his house.

Well, not decorating it exactly. You three went shopping earlier today and somehow your mom convinced his mom that the old ornaments did not go with the living room aesthetic anymore and she bought new ones for them.

The only ones that are old now, that the redecorating party is finishing with the tree, are the ones you and him have shared over the years.

The one you got at fifteen, that resembles a snow globe with two snowmans inside of it, holding hands and with your names engraved in wood underneath it. The one he got at seventeen that's a little simpler but you say it's your favorite: two gingerbread cookies holding a heart sign with your initials in it, one of the cookies kissing the other’s cheek.

You two have been alternating years of getting each other ornaments and deciding which house they're staying at. This year, however, you went for a different approach to the tradition. Each of you painted an ornament, a traditional one, with something festive that alludes to one another.

He, seeing that you've been talking snoopy for half a year, tried his best to paint the character on top of his dog house, decorated by Christmas lights and with a red ribbon to tie it to the tree that illuminates your living room up the street.

Now, he watches carefully as you hang near the other ornaments, the one you hand painted to look like a chicken. Initially, you tried to convince him it was a penguin but it can't possibly be. It's more yellow than black or white and even if you tried to tell him it's a specific type of penguin you saw in happy feet there's nothing that indicates that it's not a chicken.

“Oh, well, it fits him.” His mother says at your explanation, hugging your mother tightly as she fondly watches you hang the ornament up. You turn around when you finish, tongue out at him childishly.

He pretends to be annoyed, rolling his eyes and getting up to playfully tug at the tongue you're sticking out to him still “Mom, you're supposed to be on my side.”

“I am!” She defends herself, smiling like she's totally not on his side. “It does look a little bit like you, dear. Even your little mole here.”

You take the opportunity to press on your tippy toes and kiss the mole his mom is pointing out, only to get more aws from them.

“I win.” You whisper to him, proud of yourself and he can't help but smile at you as you pull away.

Mingi remembers the first time he realized he was in love with you. It was the first time he called you by his favorite endearment: love.

He remembers the ice cream shop you both were at, he remembers the conversation being more of a confession that you had a crush on a friend of his, he remembers the guy serving the ice cream complaining about the fridge hardly working and he remembers the blush on your cheeks as you admitted to want to be called love because…

“That's what good boyfriend's do,” you said, ice cream on your fingers that you quickly wipe away with an already sticky napkin, “So we're going to get together and I'm going to be called love from that moment on.”

He knew you were talking about his friend but his heart skipped a beat anyway. He had to focus on what you were telling him, not on the pretty smile you gave him or the relief he felt when he realized the one thing that would lead you straight (or not so straight) to disappointment.

His friend was a very proud but not that out gay man.

But Mingi decided to not mess with it, he always let you fight your battles alone if those battles ended up with you learning a lesson and without a scratch, anyway.

“Good luck with that, love.”

“Ugh, no, you don't get to call me that!”

The nickname stuck either way. Even if, at the time, he pushed those feelings down deep inside of him.

Because you were his love, but you were also his best friend ever and he was just a dude. A boy, even.

He didn't know better and so, eventually, you got a boyfriend. Great dude, worshipped you like you deserved and all.

Mingi remembers the way he felt when you told him you loved Han. He hated the guy, hated the way he made you smile, hated the fact that he trusted him of all people because, well, there was and there will never be someone who loves you more than Mingi.

Han thought he was the one, you didn't. But even after breaking up with Han, Mingi stood still. He understood his feelings, his protectiveness over you, as something platonic. But he didn't really have time to think about it with your head on his chest, on his bed, over the sheets and with the door wide open because it was a school night after all.

School night meant no sleepovers, but his mom didn't ask you to leave when she saw you with tears in your eyes at their front door. Mingi didn't ask you to leave as you soaked his sweatshirt with said tears, either.

“I don't know why I did it, Mingi. I don't… He did nothing wrong.”

“You said you felt he was not the one.”

Your regretful eyes looked up at him “But what if he was?”

“He's not,” he whispered back to you and, at the time, he didn't know why. He had no reason to tell you Han wasn't the one for you, but his subconscious knew things he didn't accept back then. “You wouldn't be doubting it at all if he was, love.”

You ended up sleeping over that night, door wide open still, your mom texting him when she couldn't reach you on the phone.

He helped you through that breakup, just like you helped him with his first breakup as well.

He helped you mend your own wounds, he saw you grow stronger after the pain went away, he felt proud of you when you started showing up to your first uni parties without him having to convince you to go.

Mingi remembers the first time he realized he wanted to kiss you. You two were laying under the stars, a little hazy and on a rooftop you definitely shouldn't be up in.

That probably wasn't the actual first time he wanted to kiss you, just the first time he admitted it to himself. Your friends were on the rooftop as well, dancing around, yelling, being silly, just as drunk as you two were or worse but, for a moment, it was quiet. Now that he thinks back to it, he probably imagined it.

The noise quieting down, that is.

Mingi remembers that he had turned to you to ask what you thought was going on but your eyes were closed. He remembers the breath he took in as he traced the side of your face with his eyes, carefully, like the staring alone would get you out of whatever peace you were enjoying at the moment.

Have your lips always been so perfect and inviting? He answered himself immediately: Yes, of course they are perfect, she's perfect.

He doesn't really know how he didn't realize it right then and there. When his heart soared at the thought of it, of disturbing your peace only to kiss you.

And then the noise came back, laughing and screeching and something alarming came out of Jongho’s mouth.

“Shit, shit. Security!”

You opened our eyes and found him already staring at you. He should've felt embarrassed to be caught, but you smiled at him before rushing to your feet, offering your hand and shaking it for him to take it.

“Can you get up or should I stay and be escorted out with you?”

No one got caught that night except, maybe, his heart.

Because he realized he loved you around a week after that, as he saw you do the most mundane task ever: washing your teeth in front of your bathroom sink, still trying to rant about something that pissed you off in one of your classes. He remembers pressing his shoulder against the doorframe and looking at your and your frown through the mirror. He also remembers the frantic beat of his heart as he realized he wanted to do just this with you every day of his life.

Going to bed together, waking up next to you and listening to you rant about things you're going to forget the next day. He never wanted that with anyone else, only you.

You, you, you. He got so lovesick the next year after that he tried desperately to cover it up. With different activities, with people kissing his neck at parties after dancing for a while, with anything and everything that could distract him from the fact that he was utterly and irrevocably in love with you.

Not because he didn't want to explore but because every single time he tried to say something, the words would die down under the weight of years of friendship and loyal companionship.

He couldn't lose you, he didn't even know how to make sure you liked him back!

And so the yearning got unbearable enough for everyone in your friend group to notice it, except for, well, you.

“At some point you have to tell her about it, right?”

No one in the group presses on things. Woo and Gyuri (Woo’s ex girlfriend who, somehow, is still his friend and everyone's friend as well) maybe, but when it comes to matters of the heart, they let everyone be. So it surprised him when Seonghwa, of all people, spoke on it.

“You can't keep looking at her like that from a distance and waiting for it to pass, Mingi. It's not going to pass.”

He remembers sighing and then giving you one more glance before turning to his friend.

“She probably doesn't feel the same.”

“Who cares? You're never going to find out keeping it to yourself.” Seonghwa gave him a tiny smile before bumping his shoulder against his, both teasingly and reassuring. “Besides, she loves you too much to allow some romantic feelings to get in the way. Just… Think about it, yeah? Not forcing you here,” he shrugged, “but we all do, kind of, maybe, want you two to kiss.”

Snorting a laugh, Mingi remembers shaking his head no and then thinking about it for, at least, three months after that before actually making a move.

He remembers feeling humiliated by one of his attempts to put his feelings for you to rest, he remembers confiding in you and your friends, he remembers when you agreed to tell him how to make it right the next time he slept with anyone else. He doesn't really remember asking you to show him.

His mind disconnected after he saw the blush painting your cheeks beautifully, his heart took over him when he kneeled in front of you to kiss you that first time, when he allowed himself to give in and touch you like he had wanted to for so long.

And then the days and the months blended so gracefully after that summer that he doesn't really recall when the weather started getting cold, just that the color of the snow contrasts against your winter coat when you both go outside after having Christmas dinner at his house, with both your parents and his present.

They were friends before, but now? They see each other more than you two.

Well, that's a lie, but almost. And, like all best friends do when spending the holidays together, they get lost in good conversation and company, in a bubble made out of wine and laughter, cozy enough that it allows you and Mingi to slip out of his house hand in hand easily.

You have a little smile as you look around the street like you don't know the houses you pass on the way to yours. He wants to indulge you, but the words slip out his mouth without even thinking about it.

“Am I walking you home because you wanted to change into something more comfortable or because you want to give me an additional Christmas gift, love?”

“Stop ruining it! You know I'm not good at hiding things,” you click your tongue, pretending to be disappointed and kick the snow with your boot when you stop and pull him close, “We haven't got alone time in forever.”

“Two days,” he says with a nod, arms going around you and head going down to kiss your lips tenderly for a quick second, “Three, if we count today.”

You pout “That's like… A lifetime.”

“I know,” he gives in, chuckling against your lips, “I'm going through withdrawal symptoms and all.”

He watches as you close your eyes and lean in. He gets ready for it, inhaling cold air that hits his lungs as a reminder where you two are, what he's allowed to enjoy in public, and closes his eyes as he waits for your kiss that never comes.

Instead, your nose nuzzles his softly, barely nudging the skin and you take a step back, taking his gloved hand and intertwining it with yours “I also may or may not have a gift for you.”

Smiling in victory, Mingi fakes an annoyed gasp “I knew it.”

“Yeah, yeah, you're so smart,” you scoff, rolling your eyes and entering your front yard without letting go of him. “Hurry, I'm freezing!”

“This was your idea, love.” He deadpans but hurries anyways and afterwards, as the warmth of the foyer allows him to shrug off his coat and leave it in its designated spot by the door, he laughs at your clear enthusiasm.

You're already shoeless, coatless, gloveless and scarfless and waiting at the third step of the stairs, impatiently blinking at him as a signal to hurry up, again. And when goes upstairs with you, you make him promise to keep his eyes closed as he walks towards your room.

“You're too tall, I can't cover them with my hands so promise, Song Mingi.”

“My eyes are literally closed!”

He hears a door open. It has that creaking sound the door to your room has and when the smell of your perfume hits him as you press your hands to his chest to stop him, he doesn't have to open his eyes to know where he is. He knows his way around these halls anyway.

You turn him, so that his back is probably facing your room, and then instruct:

“Look up and open your eyes.”

Mistletoe. That's what he sees when he opens his eyes: mistletoe that is badly tape to your door frame, just above him. It makes him smile and then the best friend in him takes over when he looks down at you and your blushed cheeks.

“Love… That's so chees—”

“Just kiss me, you idiot.”

And he does. He lifts you up from the floor and you bury your fingers in his hair before securing your legs around his waist and he walks the room he knows like the back of his hand until he reaches the bed. He doesn't sit down or puts you down yet, lazily opening your mouth with his tongue when you sigh against him.

“Wait— Mm,” you speak against his mouth, words silenced by his eager tongue a second later. He has to physically throw his head back to stop himself from kissing you further, but when his eyes return to his face, his will almost falters. “That was not the gift.”

“Okay.” He breathes out, smiling.

“Sit on the floor.”

He does and the carpet is soft under his fidgeting hands as he watches you move around the room. You go into your closet (literally, you disappear behind the closed doors) and when you come back with a large box he blinks a few times in astonishment.

Huge box, really. It almost doesn't fit the space between you when you sit down in front of him and glance at him excitedly, a shy color to your voice when you speak again “Open it!”

There's no way he can help the smile that curves his lips when he opens the box and finds an assortment of handmade things. Yes, the ornament that you made may have looked like something else entirely, but he starts to believe you made it on purpose when he pulls out the first gift: a bouquet made out of candy, his favorite sweets.

“This is beautiful, love…”

He lets out a chuckle when you steal one immediately and he promises to dig into it once he goes through all the gifts.

There's a box with a card underneath that he goes to pick up but you stop him with a trembling hand “Save that one for last.” And he notices you're a little bit nervous, so he does, his own heart skipping at what might've inside the box, a similar yet smaller one weighing on the pocket of the coat he left downstairs.

The other things left on the box are a few bills in the shape of hearts and a wooden sphere that he finds out, seconds later, it's a picture museum.

“I couldn't fit every important picture we took together in a regular shaped box so I had to get this one.” You explain as he looks at the inside of the sphere. It looks like a miniature museum and Mingi feels like crying a little, so he takes your hand in his and gives it a kiss to ground himself “They're in chronological order, too, I had to consult the ancient texts to get them all right!”

He laughs, confused “The ancient texts?”

“Yes, my Instagram story archive.” You return, nodding and he gives your hand another kiss before letting it go to set down the museum next to the bills and the bouquet.

You let out a shaky breath when he returns his attention to the box and picks it up. You pick up the card.

“Before you open it, let me read this to you.”

“Of course,” he returns softly and takes the trembling hand you're extending in his direction.

“First of all, look at how cute this is,” you turn the card and inside of it, it's decorated with kisses. Your kisses. Mingi would recognize them anywhere and he tries to take the card from you but you bat his hand away with it. “Later, let me read this to you. Um…

“Dear Mingi,” he giggles at the formality of your tone and then forces himself to stop at the look you give him. “Dear Mingi,” you start again, “I don't have a way with words and I've re-written this letter a thousand times but I think I have come to terms with the fact that there are no words invented, no language discovered, that can accurately immortalize my feelings for you. The love I hold for you transcends everything and everyone, every concept ever created and every new idea future generations come up with. And, as I try to come up with a joke that can give this overdone confession any lightness, I have also come to terms with the fact that you're it for me. I already knew this, of course,” you laugh and he has to laugh a little, heartbeat on his throat and eyes full of tears and all, “I already knew how much I loved you. Platonically, romantically, it all has just blended into one because it doesn't really matter how I loved you, it just matters that I have the opportunity to do so, my love. I love you.”

When your eyes catch his, the tears are already wetting his cheeks.

“And now what didn't fit in the letter, because I chose this tiny ass card,” you laugh again, eyes already wet even though he can see you're telling yourself not to cry. “Our first Christmas together was the time I realized I wanted you in my life forever. It just felt right, like we belonged somehow and we do, Mingi. So I— Open the box.” You quickly say and when he does, the whole thing falls apart.

Kind of.

When he pulls the rope tied in a bow at the top and the sides fall he makes a noise of surprise that makes you laugh.

The sides have more pictures of you two and in the middle of the box there's another tiny box that he opens to find a necklace.

With a ring that could fit him as its charm and a silver chain that's not too delicate but not too rough, just like the one he uses on a daily basis.

The ring has your initials engraved on the inside and his initials engraved on the outside. He lets out a sob that prompts your tears to flow freely down your face and he catches you wiping them.

“I didn't want to give you this with the rest of your gifts this morning because, well, I'm shy and—”

“You are not shy.” He speaks over you, wiping his tears.

“And I didn't want our parents to scream marriage at us. I don't want to scream marriage at you either, my love,” you say before he gets any ideas. And it did cross his mind a second ago, but he's far from terrified of it. “But I wanted you to have something to remember me by, with our initials in it, as a token of how much I love you, Mingi.”

He doesn't even know what to say.

“A lot. I love you a lot, if you couldn't tell.” You add and he laughs and manages to scoot around the box of gifts to wrap his arms around your frame. You laugh into the skin of his neck, hugging him back.

“I love you too,” he whispers, his lips close to your ear and his heart beating fast still. When he pulls back, you try to give him a kiss and he stops you, which prompts a confused look on your side. “You know that they say that overtime couples start to think alike?”

“Look alike,” you correct with a tilt of your head and he gives you a look, so you backtrack, smiling. “No, yeah, couples start to think alike.” You nod and then let out a noise in protest of him getting up.

He points his finger at you “Wait here.”

And then he bolts downstairs, to his coat.

It really does say something about you two, about the way your minds sync up at most needed time. Because as he enters your room, box in hand and knees hitting the carpet in front of you, he can tell you got his point immediately.

“I'm not screaming marriage at you yet, love and I also didn't get you a letter or a chain to go with it, but—” He hands you the box and lets you open it, head immediately trying to paint into his memory the way you gasp at the ring, the way you take it delicately into your hands and examine it with care. “But I bought this months ago, in that antique shop you like so much because it reminded me of you and how could it not? Do you see how beautiful it is?”

It sparkles under your bedroom light, but he can see it from a distance: all the delicate details that make it look like there's two hands holding the pearl in the middle. In a way, it looks like two hands holding a heart.

Just like you hold his heart.

“As a token of your much I love you, Y/N.”

You pout as he takes the ring and puts it on your finger.

“You can't just steal my speech, Song Min—”

He kisses you again. He can't not kiss you, he can't help but get you into your arms and thank you for choosing the ground to present your gift because he's anything but careful as he stands up, drags you with him, and sits on the bed with you on top of him.

“Shit, hold on—”

“Hm?” There's concern in the way your eyebrows crease and Mingi gets briefly distracted by how kissed out and breathless you look for a second before reaching for the floor.

“My necklace,” he explains, reaching for the box and successfully getting it in his hand without having to take you off his lap. “Put it on for me, love?”

“So you liked it?” You ask nonchalantly as you take the necklace, legs opening a bit more so that you're sitting further into his lap.

“You literally made me cry, Y/N. Tears,” he says, making a face that you catch before closing the clasp behind his neck.

“Of joy?” You return in a whisper, eyes so sweet and smile so shy it makes him want to cry all over again.

“I love you.” He says instead of answering the question, lips touching yours again, softly, wanting, forgetting you don't have a lot of time before your parents wonder where you went.

There's no way careful thoughts can get through the fog your sighs against him create, in the way your teeth sink into the plush of his bottom lip and pull until he's moaning, the sting of pain passing by as your tongue caresses his.

You've been getting a little bold lately, the nature of your encounters is always passionate but, somewhat, normal. Mingi loves every second you decide to give yourself to him but he also fucking loves when you do shit you like.

Like taking control of the kiss, pulling his hair so his head can fall back and you can slowly make it messier, sloppier, even after the sweet moment you two just shared.

Hands start to roam freely and, by the time you pull on his hair to detach your mouth from his fully, he's already breathless and hard against the fabric of his pants, mouth wet with shared spit.

He's sure his pupils are blown, he's sure he's red on the face and fucked out already. He knows his expression mirrors yours as you take him, and the necklace, in, eyes scanning his frame before you roll your hips against him.

He moans pathetically.

You smile at the sound.

“Like anything you see?” He tries to tease you to no avail.

“You look so hot like this…” The hand tangled in his hair moves and he closes his eyes to welcome the feeling of your nails softly digging into his skin as they make their way into his neck, over the necklace and the ring resting against his collarbone.

“With the necklace on?”

“And the sweater.”

He glances at his beige sweater with an arched brown and then he looks at your sweater, a warmer tone of beige than his, the neck a little high but not high enough to be considered a turtle neck, with the same expression.

He puts the pieces together and then scoffs out an impressed laugh.

“Where did you learn this kink, love?”

“It's not a kink,” you defend yourself immediately, laughing when he looks at you like he doesn't believe it and then he leans in again, peppering your jaw with slow, open mouth kisses, “I just saw a video the other day and…”

“And?” He encourages you with a shift of his hips of his own, gaining a curse that slips past your lips.

“And then I saw you today in this.” The palm of your hand slips from his neck and into the fabric of the sweater, thumb passing over his nipple with purpose. He hisses in response. “So… We could leave it on, hm? What do you think?”

He raises an eyebrow, trying to bite his smile back “What did they do in the video, love?”

“Oh,” you giggle into his shoulder as he kisses every inch of skin available to him, “it was a homemade video. I don’t watch anything super produced, you know that. They, uhm… Fuck, babe,” he licks his way up the side of your neck, successfully making you melt against him. “She was looking at her phone and he was eating her out,” you manage to get out. “And then she got on her stomach, legs straight a-and closed while he fucked her. Used her, kinda.” He pulls back at that, both intrigued and wanting to see if that’s what you actually want.

“Used her to get off?”

You nod and he leans in, nose brushing yours.

“Is that what you want me to do with you?”

“After you get me off,” you whisper back, smiling without any shame at your request “yeah.”

Mingi takes his time to think about it. On purpose, letting the tension linger as he presses both palms against the mattress, leaning back just enough so you can catch him checking you out unapologetically. Truth being told, his dick is twitching in his pants at the thought of helping you explore. This has always been your dynamic in bed: exploring, searching, discovering new things that make you wet, researching new ways of making you come and there’s nothing that gets him off more than the idea of you getting away with what you want.

Even if that means sweating the fabric of this expensive sweater through. It’s okay, he has a washing machine. The way you wait for an answer, with eyes so bright and expectant, makes him bite his lip in return.

Yeah, there’s nothing he enjoys more than pleasing you.

He also knows you enjoy this.

The anticipation. The teasing, the way his hand returns to your legs and slides the material of the sweater up slightly, only to neglect the idea a second after and, instead, turning his hand and letting his knuckles brush against the fabric of it deliberately, with laced intention into the touch even though his expression remains pensive at the proposal.

A proposal he accepted, like, the second after you said it outloud.

“Do you know how much I love your tits, love?”

You let out a sigh as your answer and one look at you is enough to encourage him to keep going. Knuckles brushing upwards, he catches your firm nipple through the fabric. It's a little hard to do; considering you're probably wearing two layers underneath to shield you from the December cold; but he manages and you let out a needy whine.

“Do you know how much I love you if I’m going to fuck you without taking one look at them?”

Damn. He doesn’t really mean for his voice to sound so raspy but it does and the way your lips curve in mischief let’s him know that you catch it for what it really means: He’s so lost in it, in the sensual bickering, that he can’t help but show how affected he is, one way or another.

And then there’s the urgency of getting on with it because you don’t know how much time you get alone, until someone calls your phone and asks for you or until your parents get tired of the wine and come back home.

So it really does happen in a flash when you grab the collar of his sweater and smash his lips against yours with need, with a newfound spark that excites him. He practically rushes to take your bottoms off, to slide down until they pool at his ankles, to turn on the bed until you’re laying on your back and his mouth is marking your inner thighs, adding new color to the bruises already lingering there.

You’re twitching under his touch and he has to press your hips down to keep you still when he takes your panties off and dives into your folds. Usually, he would be prepping you to make a mess. You teached him how to make you squirt months ago, the day before you officially got together and he has had the pleasure of making you see stars since then.

Today, there’s not enough time.

So he wastes no time in devouring you like he knows you like it. Your leg thrown over his shoulder, the sweater and the shirt underneath rising just enough for him to thrust his hips against the bed at the image of your skin.

You try to keep it down, he sees you trying to contain yourself and under any other circumstances, he would scold you for depriving him of the sounds you make. But this time around, the view edges him. He wonders briefly what other scenarios he can propose to have you gulping down your moans, to make you gasp for air after pressing the palm of your own hand over your mouth so no more whines slip out of your lips.

He doubles his efforts, just to see you trying to contain yourself and failing to do so, again. It makes you double your efforts as well, probably just to spite him as you thrust your hips and chase your high, but it doesn't bother him.

If anything, it makes him harder than ever. The way you ride his face, the tongue that flattens out and then curves around your clit and your conviction falters, hips falling still at the way he sucks into your sensitive nub. Your hand in his hair pulls a little and the sting of pain almost makes him come untouched.

Chuckling into your heat, Mingi catches the exact moment your eyes roll to the back of your head. He feels your limbs locking, he tastes your release when your orgasm hits you, he helps you ride out the sensation while pleased moans fill the room.

And, usually, he would kiss his way up to your lips. He could right now too, over the sweater, the idea of the fuzzy material mixing with your orgasm it's tempting but he remembers you have to see people after this as well.

He remembers he doesn't have much time.

And your words are ringing on the back of his head when his mouth latches onto yours again, when you moan after tasting yourself on his tongue.

He pulls away to silently ask the question: Do you want to keep going?

You nod, nose nuzzling his briefly before he turns you around. Harshly, like he knows you like it. He sees you grasp the comforter and a pillow between your fingers when he sinks himself into your wet heat, he hears the muffled cry when he adjusts a little and when you close your legs to lie flatly on the bed and in-between his, he all but sees stars at the feeling.

You're not tight. That's good, that's a sign that you're comfortable with him, trusting of him, a sign that you want you. This position makes it a snug fit, though, and when you purposefully squeeze around him he presses on his hands on your lower back with a groan.

“S-stop stalling, baby, we're running out of ti— Fuck, Mingi!”

Pulling out and then slamming his hips back down with measured force, he marvels in the feeling of you genuinely squeezing around him, out of pleasure and not to tease him.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asks, forehead connecting with the soft material of the sweater when he leans over you, on your shoulder and smiles when you moan at the way he picks up the pace.

“Yes, yes, yes, f-fuck,” you mumble in response, head turning and breath fawning on his cheek that you attempt to kiss a second later, so he complies and turns his head to kiss you sweetly, a complete contrast of the way he's thrusting into you.

He falters when he notices just how hard he is going but your hand shoots back, attempts to grab his hip and your head shakes in disapproval.

“Don't stop,” you ask, breathless, eyes scanning his face to see if he's not into this but he assumes you don't find that because he is into it, “use me, my love. That's what I want.”

You don’t have to repeat yourself. He leans back up, hands finding a secure spot on your hips and uses you like you asked. He’s hardly the one to seek his own relief so soon. He likes to take his time with you, even when you don’t have much, and that means making you come undone at least twice before he even allows his dick to be touched, but now?

With how turned on he is? With how full of love he is for you?

He remembers the time, the years he didn’t allow himself to see you in nothing but platonic light. He remembers the feeling of your lips on his for the first time, he remembers the love you professed to him today and the way you make him feel so wanted, so adored, so—

“Oh— fuck.”

His pace falters, his orgasm so close he’s unable to keep chasing for it with the same measured force he was using before.

“Yes, Mingi,” you encourage, somehow managing to move your body upwards, meeting his own, “don’t stop, baby, please, I want to feel you inside of me.”

He vaguely registers himself moaning, babbling nonsense as his movements pick back up. He hears your voice distantly, like he’s underwater, like the way you tell him to come inside of him and that you love him it’s what’s pulling him back up.

And when he releases inside of you, his ears ring slightly and his forehead meets your back, eyes closed and chest heaving. He feels his heartbeat on his throat, he feels your heartbeat on your back and its rhythm matches his beautifully.

No one says anything for a few minutes where you both try and recover from the intensity of what you just did. Something new, something that leaves you both exhausted and he can see it on your sleepy and content smile when he pulls out and you turn around, not giving a fuck that you’re bedding is probably going to get sticky with his cum.

He throws himself besides you and your nose touches his cheek immediately.

“That was…”

“So good,” you say and he hugs you close, breath still ragged, “and we should definitely look into sweater fetish or whatever it’s called. I think you enjoyed it more than me.”

He gasps in feign offense.

“Stop projecting, love.”

“Am not—”

“Yes, you are,” he sing-songs back and you weakly hit his arm with your fist. You don’t say anything afterwards and Mingi stops staring at the stars in your ceiling to look at you.

You’re staring at your ring. He smiles, all the emotions that your words brought to him coming right back.

“I want to marry you, Y/N.”

He says it without really thinking it through. He doesn’t regret it even when you look up at him with a little panic behind your eyes.

“Now?”

He laughs “Someday,” shrugging, his lips connect with your hairline and you sigh, snuggling up to him a bit more “There’s going to be two more rings that I’m going to give to you and only you.”

“Good thing you got my ring size right.”

Your joke makes him laugh and you lean up against his chest a bit to look at him.

“I’m going to say yes, Mingi,” you whisper and he melts against the pillow, his hand on your cheek a second later. He sees your eyes go down to the ring on his necklace and the smile that brings to your lips makes his heart pick up again. “And then I’m going to show off my ring to everyone and I’m going to be insufferable as a wife. I hope you’re ready.”

You fall back down on his chest, cheek just above the beating of his heart and eyes closed. The smile lingers on your lips and, as he brushes your hair back with his hand and smooths his hand under your sweater, he can’t help but smile back.

“I don’t want it any other way, love.”

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH and happy holidays! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

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idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 19 hours ago

Text

Milk Aisle - Lando Norris

Lando resented you. He absolutely hated your guts. You had completely ruined him. He was miserable, wholly miserable. He spent the coming days sulking in bed, even skipping school on the Friday by telling his mum that he was sick.

Despite never really enjoying school, Lando wasn't one to ask to have a day off randomly. So, she let him, just this once. She knew it was something to do with you, but Lando never specified. A small part of him didn't want his mum or family disliking you, but he couldn't fathom why.

Maybe it was because he still longed for you with every fibre of his being, but that was just a hunch.

He didn't bother doing any of the catch-up work that he had missed, it didn't feel worth it to him. His mum had to talk him into going into school on Monday after a weekend of moping and sitting with his mind that was shrouded with the fog of his hatred for you.

His mum drove him to school, and he went to stand by the lockers until the bell had gone for first lesson. His friends had texted to ask why he hadn't turned up to the track on Saturday, or to the park for football on Sunday, but he had left them all on read.

It was weird to see them concerned for him, since they were so prone to taking the piss out of him. He appreciated it, but he didn't want to talk. Meanwhile, you had also spent your weekend in a stupor of sadness.

You definitely regretted it in some capacity, but you were glad not to hear a word from anyone when you walked into school on Monday morning. You were still avoiding Lilly like the plague she was, but no one made any move to piss you off.

Later in the day, you took yourself over to DT, where you knew Lando would be. You hadn't seen him all day, and you weren't sure if you wanted to or not. The guilt would eat you alive if you saw him. Well, if he was sad.

For all you knew, he could have been going about his day acting as if everything was fine and he wasn't so hurt by the way that things had ended between you. But then you caught yourself as your inner monologue ran rampant.

Things had ended? That made it sound like you were in caring, loving relationship. Your friendship was very caring, since the both of you were very considerate of how the other felt. Loving? That was a whole other matter to consider.

Neither of you knew what love in a romantic capacity meant, but whatever you felt for Lando was the closest thing you had ever had to it. He wasn't there when you walked in, which was slightly relieving.

You sat at your bench, opening the cupboard underneath the desk to see everyone's work who sat at that desk throughout the week. And there was the piece that Lando had made as part of the bet that had started all of this.

He still owed you a week of woodwork, and you still owed him a few maths homeworks, but you had given up on it, just like you had given up on Lando. The bell went that signalled that everyone should be in lesson, and Lando still wasn't there.

Your teacher took the register, but just as he reached Lando's name, the door swung open as he skulked into the room. He didn't look at you, or anyone else for that matter as he took his seat at his bench.

"You're late, Lando," your teacher said, and Lando just sat there and looked at him. "Why?" he asked, and Lando's eyes darted around the room for a second, as if coming up with a reason why he was late.

"I was with Miss Kennedy," he said, and everyone knew it was a lie. Miss Kennedy was your maths teacher, and you knew he wasn't with her because you had seen her go into the maths room and Lando sure as hell hadn't gone in too.

It seemed your DT teacher also knew that it was bullshit, but he decided not to press the matter any further. Once the register was done, he explain what you'd be doing today. You hoped you'd be doing 3D modelling on the computers or 3D printing - or at least something that didn't require too much technicality.

But no, it was your absolute favourite thing to be doing. Woodwork. You had to stifle an audible groan while he went through what you'd be doing. The task itself was relatively simple, but that didn't mean you wanted to do it.

Your assignment for the next two lessons was simple: you had to make a storage box. A simple box with some sort of opening and slots for any types of items that you wanted in it. You didn't have long to design it, you just had to come up with some measurements, grab the supplies from the store cupboard once it was authorised and go for it.

In the end, you quickly made a rough sketch of your flashcard holder. It was something you'd actually use, and you would actually try since it would be going on your desk and you'd have to look at it every day.

You planned out 11 compartments, one for each of your subjects and went to the storage cupboard to get your supplies. For this lesson, you had your sheets of wood and the hinges in case you actually got onto finishing the lid of the box.

Despite your hatred of the subject, you had to admit that you were quite good at it. It was probably the perfectionist in you, wanting to make everything exactly to size and make your stuff look professional, even if you had never made anything quite as perfect as what Lando and his dad had made you.

Lando just sat at his bench, unmoving. While everyone else had pretty much finished sketching and had gathered supplies, he hadn't even put pencil to paper. Your teacher knew something was up. Lando and your DT teacher were like you and your maths teacher - as close as it was appropriate for a teacher and student to be.

Lando was the best at DT, so he liked him. So, to see him not even bothering to try made him worry. He wasn't going to push Lando, but he also didn't want anyone else to see him just sitting around and think they could also slack off or that he was playing clear favourites.

"Lando can you please at least sketch something? And then we can make it another day," he gently encouraged, and Lando didn't want to take his bad mood out on his teacher, it wasn't his fault. It was yours.

Lando mindlessly sketched shapes on his paper before deciding on what he wanted to do. Out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but spot you putting your hair up and pulling your apron on over your head.

Goddamnit, why did you have to be so captivating to him? He was supposed to hate you for what you did, but why couldn't he? His eyes were superglued to you as you moved, marking out the measurements on your bits of wood.

Trying to focus on the paper in front of him, Lando was finding it harder and harder to keep himself away from you. Plus, the way you were cutting your wood was far from safe. Your fingers were way too close to the saw blade, and he wasn't liking the way you were doing it.

You were quick with the chopping so that you could make the cut as clean as possible, and you had neglected to notice the placement of your fingers. Every back and forth motion seemed to bring your fingers a centimetre closer to the blade, and he was internally cringing.

He might not have liked you, but he couldn't watch you hurt yourself and just stand by and do nothing. Getting up from his seat, he approached your bench. "Hey, Y/N, don't chop it like that, you'll hurt yourself-" he started, but he was a few seconds too late.

The hand that was sawing got caught, the teeth snagging in the wood. This caused your hand to slip, tilting the blade while still sawing. "Ow, fuck!" you yelped, dropping the saw with a clatter and clutching onto your fingers while droplets of crimson dripped down the side of your hand.

Lando dragged you over to the sink in the corner of the room, turning on the tap and sticking your hand under the running water. "Stay there," he told you, darting to the other side of the room to get the first aid kit off of your teacher's desk.

By the time he had gotten back, your teacher was inspecting your hand as red continued to gush out and you cried out in pain. It wasn't even that it hurt that much since the adrenaline was running, it was more the sight of the amount of blood.

Everyone was looking at you, some people shielding their eyes from the sight of the blood trickling down onto the floor. Your teacher had his hands clamped over the injured fingers, hoping the pressure would stop the bleeding.

"Lando, can you get the cotton wool out of the kit please?" he asked, and Lando was quick to pop it open and rummage through all of the different items. He found the big pack of cotton wool, pulling some out and passing it to your teacher.

He held it over the wounds across your digits, still trying to stop the bleeding. Lando felt like a bit of an idiot, just standing there and watching as more and more tears trickled down your face as the pain appeared to set in.

He had seen you crying more than he had seen you smiling as of recent, and it broke him. He couldn't even put a hand on your back to soothe you, or hold your other hand in support. All he could do was watch.

He didn't want to risk you pushing him away, not again. Lando at least let himself pull out a tissue from the first aid box and offered it to you. You took it with a small smile and a whispered thank you, the feeling of your fingers brushing together sending jolts of electricity through both of you.

Dabbing at the tears on your cheeks, your teacher asked Lando for the alcohol wipes from the box. "This is probably going to hurt, but I need you to just bear through the pain, OK?" your teacher said, and you held your breath in anticipation.

Pressing the wipe to your sliced fingers, the pointed sting instantly seeped into the wound. You let out a sharp hiss of pain, your face scrunching up in agony. Without thinking, you grabbed Lando's hand and squeezed it for dear life, just to take your mind off the soreness.

There was no way in hell that he was pulling his hand away from you, instead he was glad that he could offer some semblance of support for you when you needed him. He could see that your hand was shaking as your teacher wiped the red off of your fingers, droplets still sliding down your hand.

"Y/N, I think you need to go to the nurses office, OK? I'm going to have Lando take you," he told you, and you nodded. "Hold this on your fingers," he told you, pressing more cotton wool over the open wounds.

Swapping to hold your hand with his free hand, Lando placed his other hand on your elbow in case he needed to quickly grab onto you. If you were going to pass out, you probably would have by now, but he didn't want to take that chance.

No words were exchanged as you walked down the corridors, and you were focused on ignoring the pain and keeping the cotton wool clamped down on your fingers. Lando wanted to talk to you, to tell you that you were going to be okay, but he didn't want to overstep his bounds.

And he was repeatedly reminding himself that he is supposed to hate you, not want to make you feel better. He was meant to enjoy your pain for some sadistic reason, but he felt that the mental justification of that didn't really align with any form of moral values.

Eventually, the two of you arrived at the nurse's office, and Lando took his hand away from your elbow to knock on the door. You heard a muffled 'Come in!' from the other side of the heavy wooden door, and Lando opened it to usher you inside.

He stepped in behind you, taking a firm grasp of your hand again. The nurse looked between the two of you, her eyes landing on the hand that you were covering with the cotton wool as she looked at the redness still partially dribbling from it.

She was waiting for your explanation, but when you didn't offer one, Lando piped up. "She sliced her fingers on one of the tenon saws in the workshop, we haven't seen how deep they are but there's a lot of blood. She's still got all of her fingers, we don't need any sewing back on," he said, his attempt at making a joke falling flat.

"OK, sit down, dear," the older lady told you, patting the bed in the corner of the room. Lando led you over, helping you shuffle on without the aid of your own hands. "You can go back to class now, love. Thank you for bringing her," she said to Lando as he kept hold of your hand for a few more moment.

After offering you a final squeeze of reassurance, Lando released his grip and took a step back. Just as he reached the door, he heard your voice. "Lando?" you said, his name sounding heavenly coming from you. Your voice was rough from crying, and something about it worked for him. "Thank you," you said.

"No problem," he nodded, taking himself out of the room and slowly walking back to the workshop. Once he got back, your teacher went up to him.

"Is she OK?" he asked, and Lando just shrugged.

"I don't know, the nurse sent me away before she looked at her hand," he explained.

"Did you see what happened?"

"She was sawing through one of the pieces of wood for her container and her fingers were way too close to the blade. Her hand slipped and the blade caught her fingers," he told him, your teacher sighing.

"OK, thanks Lando," he said, walking off to observe the other students in the class. Glancing over at your desk, Lando saw the nearly chopped pieces of wood that you were doing, and something in him was compelling him to go over and finish it for you.

He didn't want to, since he didn't want to be doing you anymore favours. But he also couldn't just leave it sat there, barely started. With a huff and hurling internal insults about himself for being weak, he took himself over to your desk.

Your saw blade had blood on it, and he sure as hell wasn't using that. Your teacher spotted it and took it away for sanitation, leaving Lando to get another one from the tool cupboard. The bit of wood that you had been cutting was completely wrong after your hand slipped, a full slice through the surface.

He looked at your sketches and redrew out the dimensions on a different piece of wood, before taking it over to the bandsaw to cut it quicker. He didn't know why you didn't opt for that instead of the hand held method, but he was glad you hadn't. You definitely wouldn't have had fingers if you had slipped with that machine.

Lando was quick with cutting the pieces up, getting ready to sand the edges and glue them together. He also saw the small tin of white paint on the desk, now seeing the full picture of your final creation.

From a distance, your teacher saw Lando redoing your project for you and smiled to himself. He knew that Lando had made your previous work that you had turned in, it was obvious. There was no one with the precision or meticulousness like Lando, and it was clear who had done the work.

He found it admirable that the young man had put so much time and effort into the things for you, so much so that he couldn't even be mad. He watched as Lando picked up your pencil and made some amendments to the designs, as well as adding in some extra stuff that he knew would make it even better.

In the meantime, you were still sat in the stuffy nurses office. The bleeding had slowed down, and the cuts on your fingers were deep, but not so bad. They may leave faint scars, though. "Is that young man your boyfriend?" she asked, and you knew she was just looking for something cool to tell the other teachers in the staff room later.

"No, no. We're... friends." you said, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. It was all your doing, and maybe if you hadn't pushed him away, you could have been saying that he was your boyfriend.

"Ah, 'friends'," she teased as she cleaned up the dried blood from around the wounds. You didn't respond, you just let her wrap each finger in some soft bandages. "Keep these on for a couple weeks, if they come off you can come back and I'll refresh them, OK?"

"OK, thank you," you nodded, taking yourself back to class with only a few minutes left of the lesson. As you walked in, you saw Lando at your bench, painting the pieces that he had recut for you.

"I was... erm... sir did this... I was just painting them..." he stuttered, and your teacher smirked from behind him.

"No, no I didn't. Lando did the whole thing," he chuckled, watching as his face turned red.

"Thanks Lando," you smiled, admiring what he was doing. Every piece looked like absolute perfection, and he was even taking such precise care in the brush strokes he was using for it.

"Anytime," he mumbled, putting the wet pieces on the window sill and going over to his own desk again. He didn't think you'd come back from the nurse's office before the end of the lesson, so to see you walk in before was nothing short of embarrassing.

He didn't want you to think that everything was fine, and he was still pining after you. He didn't want you to know how much he still wanted you, and how much he always would. Yet here he was, doing your work for you when you had hurt yourself. Helping you when you had hurt yourself.

Lando felt like an idiot. A big, lovesick idiot who didn't know what else to do but chase after the one girl he had ever had feelings for. He was desperate for the the bell to go so that he could leave, so that he could get away from you.

It had dawned on him that he'd have to see you in maths, but he would be taking himself off to his reinstated desk in the back of the class, not the front row slot that he had once been so happy about having.

Miss Kennedy had noticed his move, but she didn't say anything. She had noticed that the quality of his homework had slipped, and the next test that you had wasn't boding well. Whenever she walked around class when you were all working, she noticed that he barely got past the first few questions.

She was hoping that his sudden brilliance wasn't just a short term thing, but she couldn't be too sure. Lando knew that you'd be there first, so he took it upon himself to be late yet again. He went to sit on the back row, not even paying attention to the new stuff you were being taught.

Once you had been set off doing more practice questions, Miss Kennedy made her way to the back of the class. "Lando, can I have a really quick word with you after class?" she asked, and it wasn't like Lando could exactly say no.

He thought he was going to get told off for the sudden deterioration in the quality of his work, but he wasn't in the head space to care. "Yeah," he nodded, going back to pretending to do the questions that were on the whiteboard.

Everytime he looked up, he saw you firing through the maths as you always did. He didn't like seeing your bandaged hand, knowing that he could have stopped it if he had been quicker with telling you.

Deep down, he knew it wasn't his fault, but he still didn't like knowing that he could have prevented it if he wasn't so caught up in his own head. You were just resting it on the table, since it was painful to do anything else with it at this moment in time.

You were just working through the maths to try and take your mind off of your hand and Lando. It hurt, that was a given, but seeing Lando so miserable hurt a hell of a lot more. In many ways, you wished that he was just going about his day like normal, just so that you could confirm the theory that he never really cared.

Yet, seeing him so miserable almost proved the opposite. He had to have cared to some degree, and it made you hate yourself even more for what you had done. He had even been doing your DT for you, again. He had made them perfect for you like ha always did.

Although it felt cruel to go to him and say that you wanted to forget what you had said to him and just go back to being his friend again. It felt a little too far gone for that, and it was your fault. Completely your fault.

Miss Kennedy went through the answers to the questions, before telling you all to make sure that you revised for your test. She let you go on the bell, but you took extra time to pack up since you pretty much only had one hand.

It was a struggle, and Lando wanted so desperately to go over to you and help, but he stood his ground and waited at the back of the class. The tension in the air was thick, and it felt like the walls were closing in on you as you felt Lando's eyes on you from the back of class.

Miss Kennedy was also watching, and you kept dropping things in your rush to leave the stuffy room. Slinging your backpack over your shoulder, you bolted out of the room and into the flurry of students in the corridor.

As you left, Miss Kennedy closed the door behind her, closing herself and Lando off from the rest of the school. "What's going on with you, Lando?" she softly asked, leaning against the door.

"Nothing." he curtly answered, itching to leave the room so that she wouldn't ask more questions.

"Your work in class is slipping, your homework is going downhill, and I can nearly guarantee that you're not going to smash tomorrow's test like you have been doing recently. What's gone on?" she pressed, and Lando was trying to come up with a lie on the spot.

"Just stuff at home..." he mumbled, suddenly panicking that they may call his parents to ask what was happening and that it was effecting their son. Miss Kennedy stayed quiet, as if still pushing him to say something.

"It's just stuff with Y/N, nothing major." he said, leaving his confession there.

"Trouble in paradise?"

"If that's what you want to call it," he scoffed, knowing that things between the two of you were never paradise. You were always nearly there. You teetered on the precipice of happily ever after and a sick sense of doomsday. Yet, doomsday had gone from being close at hand to his every day state of mind.

"She's good for you, Lando. You do miles better when she's sat with you, and she actually talks to the people around her when you're there." Miss Kennedy told him, and it was hardly like he didn't know it already.

But, hearing it from someone else and out loud instead of in his own head, it somehow hurt more. It was like he was being forced to accept that you were better together than you were apart, and it was like tearing open the already shakily sewn together wound.

"Yeah well, apparently I'm not good for her," he sighed, keeping his head down and walking out of the door. There was no use in Miss Kennedy stopping him, since she knew that was the best she was going to pull from him.

If Lando didn't want help, then he wouldn't let himself be helped. It was as simple as that.

But, as he walked to his lockers with his eyes focused on his feet, he heard voices. He felt a strange sense of deja vu creeping up on him. He knew Lilly was there, and he wasn't putting any money on who she was talking to.

"See? The second you gave him even a shred of hassle, he was out of there. Do I get an apology now?" she said, and he could see the sneer on her face in his mind.

"No, Lilly. You get no apology. You don't deserve an apology. You don't deserve anything." you said, your voice giving nothing away. If Lando wasn't so annoyed at you, he would have found your stubbornness impressive.

"But I was right, wasn't I? You're left being all by yourself, and now the smartest girl has been labelled at the dumbest for ever thinking she had a shot with Lando Norris." she continued to tease, and Lando couldn't tell if you were on the verge of tears or slapping her.

He had said the exact same thing to you, but it sounded so much worse when she said it. He didn't mean it, not anymore. He may have in the moment, but he didn't believe it for a second now. And he knew Lilly did.

"Lilly, what has to happen for you to realise that you're going to walk out of these doors and be nothing. Everyone will remember you as the bitch who had nothing better to do than put other down because she wanted to make herself feel better." you started, and Lilly's eyes flashed with something unrecognisable. Hurt? No.

"Oh please, I'm the-"

"No, I'm not done. When it comes to our highschool reunion, one day in the future, you're going to be nothing. Maisie might be doing music, since I'm sure you're awfully jealous of the fact that her talent is beyond anything you could ever have. I'll have gotten the best damned grades I can get and I'll be working some badass job just like I'm meant to."

"And guess what, you're not going to like this one. Lando will be with someone who isn't you. Because he doesn't like you. He'll never like you. No one will ever like you. No one here does, and no one will if you keep on destroying other people just to make you loathe yourself a little less." you finished, closing your locker and walking away from her.

For once, you had rendered Lilly completely speechless. Lando stood still out of sight in the silence, unable to ignore the slight sense of pride that he was feeling for you. He walked past her to his own locker, and he was waiting for her to say something.

"Erm... Lando?" she started, and he had never seen her so timid. This felt like the most genuine version of Lilly that he had ever seen, but he wasn't going to trust it. "Would you... maybe want to grab a coffee with me or something on the weekend?" she asked, and he had to use a lot of willpower to not just laugh in her face.

"Take the hint and fuck off, Lilly." he said, retrieving everything out of his locker and walking away. He had rejected girls before, and he had always felt bad about it. This time, he felt nothing but some weird sense of joy.

He liked being the one in control of situations with Lilly, because it gave her a taste of her own medicine. But he'd rather have you back. As much as he hated to admit it, he'd rather have you back. The satisfaction of going that to Lilly was incomparable to the joy he got when he was with you.

All he could hope was that she was now going to just leave him alone so that he could carry on with his life. Without Lilly, without you, just how it was those few fateful weeks ago.

It was weird how everything had gone down over the past few weeks. He had gone from not talking to you ever, to talking to you all the time, to not, to being back at it, then practically strangers.

Two people whose paths crossed momentarily that were now leading away from each other again. He couldn't quite tell whether he preferred his life before or after, the more he thought about it.

He had been happy before, without a care in the world. He was floating off the ground as he let the breeze of his youth carry him through life. Yet, with you, he was flying . He was soaring in the clear blue skies without a cloud in sight. But now, it seemed like there was a permanent blanket of clouds hiding away the sun.

----

The following Saturday, your mum had dragged you out of the house to go on the weekly shop with her. You hadn't been shopping with her since you were at least ten, but she wasn't taking no for an answer today.

All you had to do was watch as she checked her shopping list and navigated the aisles to find what she needed for this week. It was one of the most dull things you had done in a long time, and you would've done anything to be at home. Or anywhere else.

You were snapped out of your daydreaming about more exciting activities when you heard your mum scoff to herself. You watched as her eyebrows knitted in slight frustration. "Love?" she asked, looking over at you.

"Yeah?"

"Could you run to the bread aisle? I've accidentally picked up brioche rolls." she asked, and you just took the rolls out of the trolley and tried to find your way back to the bread aisle. You look at the signs over your head, eventually finding it, of course, at the very end of the supermarket.

Putting the rolls back on the shelf and looking for the ones you normally got, you could've sworn you saw a familiar flash out of the corner of your eye. Curly brown locks- no, no it can't have been. Lando's family were millionaires, they shopped at Waitrose. Not Tesco.

Anyway, shoving that thought to the back of your mind, you collected the right bread rolls and went to track down your mum, wherever she was. You heard her talking to someone as you approached the dairy section, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes. You were going to be stuck here for a long time.

But, when you turned the corner, you nearly froze. Lando's mum. Your mum. Lando. All three of them were stood there, in conversation. Well, Lando wasn't talking, but your mothers sure as hell were.

Dropping the rolls into the trolley, Lando avoided your gaze. You hoped you wouldn't have to chip into the discussion, but your mum soon ruined those hopes. "Y/N, you didn't tell me you knew Lando," she chirped, and you saw the glint in both Lando's and his mum's eyes.

You all knew what was going on, but you had to play along with the charade anyway. "You didn't tell me you knew Lando," you countered, sending daggers towards your mum.

"We met at parents evening, I just never knew the two of you knew each other," she responded, and you wanted the floor to swallow you up. Before you got another word in, your mum piped up again. "Why don't you two go and get yourselves a table in the cafe and a hot chocolate or something?" she suggested, and none of you could come up with a reason as to why it wouldn't be a good idea.

You just sighed and started making your way over to the in-store cafe. You didn't check to see if Lando was following, since you had to come up with something to talk to him about. Or you could just sit there in silence until your mums finished shopping.

Spotting a table in the corner, you sat down and Lando sat opposite you. You couldn't think of anything to say, something to strike up a conversation with. Lando felt the same, except for his feelings were a bit more obvious to him.

He was annoyed, to say the least. Fate had brought you together, yet again - even when it knew that you kept on throwing your endless vaults of spanners into the works to break it all down again and again and again.

As you fidgeted with your hands on the slightly sticky wooden table, Lando noticed the fresh looking bandages around the fingers that you had nearly sliced off. "So... how are your fingers?" he asked, and you tried to maintain eye contact as best you could and failed miserably.

"Oh, they're doing OK. I had to go to the doctors to get them glued so that they could heal better, but they'll be OK. Scarred, but OK." you explained, and Lando felt a pang of something in his chest. You were perfect, far too perfect, and now you were going to be scarred because he wasn't quick enough to help you.

But there it was again, that self blaming for something that truly wasn't his fault. He couldn't help be concerned, even if he kept telling himself over and over again that he hated you. He hated you for what you did to him, how his brain reacted to you.

He hated the butterflies that fluttered to life in his stomach every time he saw you. He hated the electricity that sparked through his veins whenever the two of you made physical contact. He hated the way your smile would light up his world like the sun.

Most of all, he hated the way he still wanted you. If you were willing to push it all aside and even just be his friend again, he'd take it. It was better than nothing. Having you as a friend was a hell of a lot better than not having you at all.

"Well that's good," he nodded, desperate to bring up if you could be friends again. He would be your friend in secret if that's what it took. He could still drive you home, spend time with you on the weekends instead of in school.

"I'm getting a drink, you want one?" he asked, standing up from his seat and trying to read the menu from the distance you were at. He knew his mum would scold him if neither of you had a drink, or if he hadn't at least offered to get you one.

"Could I have a hot chocolate, please?" you requested, and Lando headed off to the counter to order two hot chocolates. In an alternate universe, this was a date and he'd get to ask you to be his girlfriend after your little, impromptu hot chocolate.

Shortly after, Lando returned with the two steaming mugs of hot chocolate and placed yours in front of you. "Thank you," you smiled, and he could've sworn he felt his heart stop. That smile. That pretty goddamn smile. The smile he was meant to loathe but could never heartily do so.

"How much do I owe you?" you asked, rifling around in your bag for your purse.

"Hey, no, we don't do that." he said, as if there was such thing as a 'we' in this situation. He saw the slight blush that coated your cheeks, and he couldn't help but revel in it. He just wanted to spoil you rotten and love you.

Sitting down, he was suddenly absolutely itching to just tell you everything. How much he was willing to do to get you back. "Look, I really-" he started, before he was interrupted by your mums getting back with their trolleys of shopping.

He was going to tell you how much he missed you and how much he wanted to be your friend again, but of course your mothers just had to return at the exact wrong time. Or maybe the right time so that he didn't have to make a complete fool of himself.

Your mum went to get coffees for the two of them, and Lando's mum was quick to strike up conversation. "Y/N, Lando told me about your hand. Really nasty accident, huh?"

"It was, yeah. If Lando hadn't helped, I probably would've panicked and passed out," you chuckled, seeing the small flicker of shock on Lando's face. He was just doing what he thought anyone would do in that situation, and he hadn't realised how much you had appreciated his presence.

"He just told me he got the first aid kit," she said, now guessing that Lando hadn't told her the whole story. He had gotten the part right about your sawing method to be flawed at best, and that he had given your teacher cotton wool, but the rest was missed out.

"Oh no, he took me right to the sink, held my fingers under the water, held my hand, took me to the nurses office. He even carried on my project for me." you told her, and the pride she felt for her son was unmistakable.

She knew he was smitten for you already, but it was nice to hear that he was still completely head over heels, even if you two weren't on the best terms right now. She was glad that she had raised him to be so thoughtful in such a situation.

"Well, I'm glad he acted fast," she smiled as your mum returned with the coffees for the both of them. They got lost in conversation, leaving the two of you to just sit there and listen to them gossip for a while.

"C'mon, we're going for a walk," he said, slipping off of his chair and waiting for you by the table to join him. Neither of your mums paid much notice to your departure, so the both of you just started wandering around the supermarket.

Once you were out of earshot of your parents, Lando spoke. "Look, I really miss you, OK? I keep telling myself that I should just forget about you and move on, I can't. You were one of my closest friends and I can't keep going on pretending like we never were close." he blurted out, and you just looked at him.

You couldn't decide if you were happy with what he was saying, or upset. You were happy because it just meant he felt the same way that you did, that he missed you like you missed him.

On the other hand, you felt so guilty. So guilty for throwing what you had away for the sake of bullies. But in the moment, that felt like the best course of action for your mental health and your sanity.

"Please, just... be my friend again? We don't even have to talk in school, just out of school. Just so that I can still at least talk to you." he said, his eyes pleading with you to just cave and let him back into your life. "I miss you..." he repeated, and you could tell that there was more to it than what he was saying.

You knew that there was not a single teenage boy on planet earth that would be this desperate to get a girl who was just a friend back, but you couldn't say you were complaining. "Lando..." you whispered.

Just hearing his name on your lips was enough to send him into meltdown. Yet, he couldn't tell by your tone whether the next thing you were going to say was good or bad. "I'm sorry." you said, and he was still confused.

Were you apologising because of what you did, or because you couldn't take him back as your friend?

"I really want to be your friend again," you confessed, and he was waiting for the 'but' to come after your sentence, but he was left waiting for it. You saw a smile slowly spread across his lips, his eyes lighting up.

"Really?" he asked, ready for you to finish off with something about how much of a bad idea all of this was.

"I miss you too. A lot." you told him, and he could practically hear his heart singing in glee.

"Can I hug you?" he asked all too quickly. You nodded, and before you could get any words in, he wrapped his arms around you. It was so nice to have you back in his embrace, and you weren't even crying this time.

He could've cried of joy, but he thought that that was a bit too far. He may have been a very considerate teenage boy, but he was still a teenage boy nonetheless. "So are we friends all the time or just out of school?" he said, not showing any signs of letting go of you.

"Just out of school for now, I don't know if I can handle much more of the crap we get put through," you told him, and he was slightly disappointed. Not disappointed enough to say something and put everything in jeopardy, but disappointed enough to pull back and give you a small pout.

"Don't give me that face," you playfully scolded, trying to shuffle out of his arms.

"What face? I don't know what you're talking about," he feigned innocence, tightening his grip around you so that you couldn't run away from him.

"Don't play dumb with me, Norris. You know what face," you pressed, and it just made his pout more prominent.

"Nope, no idea," he laughed, tugging you back close to him. Resting his head on the top of yours, he basked in the feeling of your heart against his, being able to have you right where he wanted you. The setting of the milk aisle wasn't the most glamorous or romantic, but he didn't care. As long as he was with you.

A/N - Merry Christmas again! Another one for you, part 5 of this series that I didn't think would do as well as it has, but hey. I am not complaining. Love y'all 💖

tag list: @dying-inside-but-its-classy @formula1mount @sltwins @mariedeyes223 @sarah-thatstings-ann @solo2leo @arian-directioner @wisestarfishbouquet @qweerasdfg-blog

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113 notes · View notes

rockybloo · 3 days ago

Note

Is Nana legitimately uncomfortable with the idea of being a mom or is she just flustered by the idea of it?

Both.

I'll start this long response off by saying that Jack and Nana DO have kids IN AN AU! They have six of them in an AU I refer to as the "Parent AU" where I can toy with the concept and dynamic of the two having offspring.

BUT in the canon of Beanstalked, and basically all the other AUs featuring the two that aren't the Parent AU, Nana doesn't want kids.

The thought results in very mixed feelings for her, with discomfort outweighing her comfort. She loves Jack and if the situation ever occurred where she was pregnant, she'd feel better knowing its his kid because he's a trustworthy and protective fella who'd never let anything happen to her. And the thought of carrying his children does make her flustered and gives her butterflies sometimes...

But she'd very much love to avoid ever having to deal with being knocked up in the first place. The idea of being pregnant, dealing with all the issues that come with pregnancy like the mood swings, cravings, weird body stuff, fluctuating energy, and the ordeal of childbirth itself is just too much for her.

Add in the fact having kids is a never ending responsibility and stressor, especially with the world she and Jack live in where literally ANYTHING can happen, and you got Nana's typically tough and stoic exterior crumble and she becomes more skittish and avoidant of the topic.

Jack doesn't really have kids on the mind either. I say "doesn't really" because he is honestly leaving the idea to Nana to decide. It's her body and her decision ultimately. After all these years, dude is still ecstatic that she decided to date him at all. So having kids isn't an end goal for him, he just wants a happy life with his future wife.

I decided that Jack and Nana don't have kids in their canon timeline because it's a rarity to see a male and female in a romantic relationship that don't want or have children. And I grew up constantly having couples in animate movies and series I watch have kids since it was basically the default. Even if they didn't have kids in the first movie, you could bet your ass that the sequel either had the couple from the first dealing with children or they toss in a last minute twist where the girl reveals she's pregnant.

And around the time I was plotting out the ending of Beanstalked, a lot of the shounen I was into or knew about, were ending with couples having babies (typically as a set up to a spin off focusing on a next gen situation).

As someone who doesn't want kids at all, I think it's important to have a couple who also make it apparent they don't want kids. It's a POV that, AGAIN, isn't that frequent of an occurrence in media featuring a m/f relationship. And Red Beans is a deeply personal OC ship for me, which is why they are like...the only ship out of the main three that don't have kids in their canon. Pluto and Nova craft Comet, and Sweetheart and Bitterbat wind up giving birth to 13 whole little monsters.

Jack and Nana don't have an kids in their canon future because I want their love for each other to be enough for them to be happy together.

#ask #ask: beanstalked #ask: red beans #ask: nana #ask: jack

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maplesamurai · 13 hours ago

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He actually had one in the Beast Wars Metals manga, playing on his reinterpretation in the Japanese dub as a samurai.

Also, fun fact: as an extension of said reinterpretation, Airazor was made male in the dub and her romantic relationship with Tigatron was reworked into that of a samurai's young ward, up until the scene of the two holding hands before their "deaths" in season 2, where the localization team realized they couldn't rewrite it to have non-romantic connotations and just decided the two were a couple now. As the writing staff themselves answered in a Japanese fan club magazine for the show:

Question: "If Tigatron and Airazor are both boys, how come they were flirting when the Aliens abducted them?"

Answer: "Even among humans there are boys who both love (like) each other. In the case of Tigatron and Airazor, they had been fighting together for a long time and as their emotions increased, their friendship turned to feelings of love. 'Transform', indeed!"

So because of this decsion to gender swap Airazor, we got the first instance of a gay relationship in this franchise by complete accident.

Oh, and in case you were wondering about how Airazor's gender swap factored into the manga in question, it didn't. Because Airazor's Transmetal toy was designed from the beginning to be female rather than initially being an androgynous looking figure that the writers decided to make female for the cartoon...

...the manga didn't carry over Airazor's gender swap from the dub, making her female as well, and ditching both her confident original cartoon personality and the dubbed "samurai's ward" characterization in favour of making her a more stereotypically girly, devoted lover for Tigatron.

And if you're wondering, "huh, that's a disappointing take on one of the only few female characters in the show," don't worry, it gets worse! Because in the Transformers Legends manga, which reinterprets the Beast Wars cast as office workers, "jokes" about Airazor's gender difference across the Pacific by depicting "her" as a cute, feminine presenting person who catches the attraction of male characters until "she" is revealed as a cross-dressing man.

Yeah, up until Lost Light, a lot of the transgender rep in this franchise was not great...

...Sorry about the infodump here, your redesign is still really good.

Tigatron is next!

Yeah, he didn’t have a sword, but it fits him, doesn’t it?

#transformers #tigatron #beast wars #fan redesign #airazor #japanese beast wars #maccadam #transphobia mention

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obsidian-pages777 · 11 hours ago

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Asteroid Sappho, Asteroid Freia in your Astrology Chart

Introduction

Check your Astrology Chart and see where the Asteroid Freia and Asteroid Sappho fall in. The Below are the meanings of each of them.

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Freia (or Freyja)

Asteroid #76 Freia, reflects themes of love, beauty, sensuality, fertility, magic, and independence in an astrology chart. Her placement by house can illuminate where and how these energies play out in a person’s life.

1st House (Self, Appearance, Identity)

Freia in the 1st house makes you radiate charm, beauty, and magnetism. You naturally embody Freia’s themes, projecting confidence, sensuality, and a connection to the mystical. Your presence captivates others, and your independence is a key aspect of your identity.

2nd House (Values, Money, Possessions)

With Freia in the 2nd house, you find joy in material beauty and comfort. You may attract financial abundance through creativity, charm, or mystical pursuits. Your values are likely tied to sensual experiences and aesthetic harmony.

3rd House (Communication, Learning, Siblings)

Freia in the 3rd house brings an enchanting way of speaking and expressing yourself. You might write poetically, speak persuasively, or share mystical and artistic ideas. Relationships with siblings or neighbors may involve nurturing and deep emotional bonds.

4th House (Home, Family, Foundations)

In the 4th house, Freia signifies a nurturing and loving home environment. You may have a deep connection to your roots, creating a sanctuary that is both beautiful and emotionally fulfilling. Family relationships are likely central to your sense of well-being.

5th House (Creativity, Pleasure, Romance)

Freia thrives in the 5th house, amplifying your creative talents and love for life’s pleasures. Romance and art play significant roles in your life, and you may have a strong attraction to passionate and transformative relationships.

6th House (Health, Work, Daily Routine)

Freia in the 6th house brings grace and creativity to your daily routines and work life. You might pursue careers in healing, art, or fields that combine beauty and practicality. A focus on self-care and holistic well-being is key.

7th House (Partnerships, Marriage)

Freia in the 7th house highlights deep and loving relationships. You are drawn to partners who reflect your love of beauty, independence, and emotional depth. Partnerships may be both romantic and mystical, inspiring growth and creativity.

8th House (Transformation, Death, Shared Resources)

Freia in the 8th house signifies intense emotional and transformative experiences in love and intimacy. You may have a fascination with the mystical, exploring themes of rebirth, shared resources, and the depths of human connection.

9th House (Philosophy, Travel, Higher Education)

Freia in the 9th house inspires a love of exploring beauty and spirituality across cultures and philosophies. Travel, education, and philosophical pursuits may involve a search for deeper meaning in love, life, and mystical practices.

10th House (Career, Reputation, Public Life)

Freia in the 10th house suggests a public role involving beauty, love, or mysticism. You may be recognized for your artistic or healing talents, and your career could center on inspiring others through creativity and emotional connection.

11th House (Friends, Community, Aspirations)

Freia in the 11th house indicates a magnetic presence in social groups and communities. You might be a unifying force, bringing people together for shared goals rooted in beauty, love, and mutual support.

12th House (Subconscious, Spirituality, Secrets)

Freia in the 12th house signifies a deep, mystical connection to the unseen and spiritual realms. Your creativity and love may flourish in solitude or through hidden, transformative experiences. This placement suggests a link to spiritual practices or esoteric wisdom.

================================================================================================

Sappho

Sappho is associated with the asteroid #80 Sappho, represents themes of love, poetry, artistic expression, and emotional connection. In a natal chart, Sappho’s placement by house can illuminate how one experiences and expresses love, creativity, intimacy, and the arts.

1st House (Self, Appearance, Identity)

Sappho in the 1st house suggests a personality deeply attuned to love, beauty, and creative self-expression. There’s likely a poetic or romantic aura, and you may inspire others through your grace, charm, or artistic presence.

2nd House (Values, Money, Possessions)

With Sappho in the 2nd house, love and creativity might intertwine with your sense of self-worth and values. You may have an artistic approach to earning money or find emotional fulfillment through material beauty and aesthetic harmony.

3rd House (Communication, Learning, Siblings)

Sappho here highlights a talent for communication, particularly in poetic or artistic forms. You may express love and emotion through writing, speaking, or teaching, and there’s likely a gift for eloquence and connection with others.

4th House (Home, Family, Foundations)

Sappho in the 4th house suggests a deep emotional connection to family and home. This placement may indicate a love for creating a harmonious and nurturing domestic space or exploring themes of ancestry and heritage through art and expression.

5th House (Creativity, Pleasure, Romance)

This is a natural placement for Sappho, emphasizing romance, creativity, and artistic talents. Love is likely to be a source of inspiration, and you may shine in activities involving the arts, hobbies, or passionate pursuits.

6th House (Health, Work, Daily Routine)

In the 6th house, Sappho’s influence brings creativity and love into your daily life and work. You may find joy in beautifying routines or pursue a profession involving art, healing, or emotional support.

7th House (Partnerships, Marriage)

Sappho in the 7th house highlights a strong need for emotional and creative connection in relationships. Partnerships are likely to be deeply fulfilling, and you may be drawn to individuals who inspire love, poetry, or artistic collaboration.

8th House (Transformation, Death, Shared Resources)

In the 8th house, Sappho brings intensity and depth to love and creativity. Emotional and artistic experiences may be transformative, and there could be a fascination with exploring the deeper, often hidden, aspects of human connection.

9th House (Philosophy, Travel, Higher Education)

Sappho in the 9th house suggests a love for exploring beauty, art, and connection on a broader scale. You might be drawn to foreign cultures, philosophies, or spiritual teachings that inspire creativity and poetic expression.

10th House (Career, Reputation, Public Life)

Sappho here emphasizes a public role involving love, art, or emotional expression. You may gain recognition for your creative talents or for inspiring others through your vision of beauty and emotional connection.

11th House (Friends, Community, Aspirations)

With Sappho in the 11th house, friendships and community are sources of inspiration. You may find your artistic or emotional fulfillment through collaboration with groups or pursuing shared ideals of love and creativity.

12th House (Subconscious, Spirituality, Secrets)

Sappho in the 12th house suggests a deep, mystical connection to love and art. Your creativity and emotional experiences may thrive in solitude or through spiritual practices, and there may be a tendency to explore hidden or transcendent aspects of human connection.

#asteroid astrology #astrology #sappho #freya goddess #asteroid notes #astrology notes #astrology observations #astro observations

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torchwood-99 · 3 days ago

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Eowyn and Romance

Something I truly appreciate about Eowyn is that she, from the start, a romantic being, and (although not explicitly so) a sexual one, as in she obviously feels both romantic and sexual desires.

Often the rebellious female lead will chafe at the prospect of marriage, only to change her mind when the "right man" comes along. I tire of this narrative, not because I begrudge female characters who dislike the idea of romance and marriage and sees hem as the antithesis to freedom, but because I loathe the narrative of them "learning a lesson" and "mending their ways".

Marriage and romance, when both are unwanted, are a denial of freedom and autonomy, and in patriarchal societies where wife is subservient to husband, particularly so.

Eowyn however associates romantic love and marriage not to a lack of freedom, but an escape to it. And this makes sense when we consider the cage that Eowyn is kept in.

Eowyn already takes on the "domestic" burden of the wife, running her uncle's household and acting as his nurse. As his niece, his adopted daughter and his subject, Eowyn is in a position of utter subservience to him. Yet as his nurse, he is dependant upon her.

This does not balance out their relationship and result in some sort of equality, it means that Eowyn has to endure all the submission of being a dependant, without the relief from obligations or duties, and all the labours and responsibilities of being a provider, without any of the authority or power.

Although Eowyn is mistress of the hall, she is not mistress of her own hall. She is not a queen, and if Theodred, later Eomer, were to wed, her rank as leading lady would be supplanted.

As Theoden's nurse, she is also carrying the burden of being the family caretaker in the family, tending to Theoden's needs, and also stifling her own unhappiness before her family in order to fulfil her duty. Emotionally she is trapped, stuck by tending to the feelings of others, as much as she is physically.

All of this has resulted in Meduseld becoming a cage for Eowyn.

To be married would be to take her away from Meduseld. To be married would be to lift her from an estate she finds demeaning. To be married would be to be mistress of her own home.

And when we look at the men she is attracted to, and the qualities that attract her, we see how different the sort of love and relationship she hopes to have are to the one she has with Theoden.

Aragorn and Faramir are strong, and powerful in a way that Theoden has not been. Eowyn's sense of identity has been tied up in Theoden, so Theoden's infirmity and, by her understanding, his "shame" has become her own, helped along by Grima's manipulation. On a more practical level, Theoden's dependency on her is extremely limiting to her own freedom and opportunities.

Eowyn is immediately attracted to Aragorn because of his power, and Faramir's strength of a warrior is one of the first things she notices about him. To be joined in a union with them would be to be associated with their power. To be married to them would be to have a function and existence beyond that off dry nurse.

While Aragorn and Faramir are noted to be fierce warriors, they're gentle too, Faramir in particular is defined more by gentleness than he is warrior prowess. He is a warrior by necessity, a nurturer by nature. As the assigned caretaker of her family, to be married to someone who would take equal (if not outright greater) responsibility for both of their physical and emotional welfare is pivotal for Eowyn to gain her freedom.

Whereas marriage is often seen as the alternative to ambition, romance an alternative to fighting, when Eowyn offers her love to Aragorn, acceptance would not have taken the form of marriage, but of joining him on his ride to the Paths of the Dead. For Eowyn, to be a warrior is to be free, and her vision of life with Aragorn is that of two warriors, side by side. That is how she envisions marriage.

Although post war Eowyn turns towards healing as opposed to slaying, Faramir acknowledges Eowyn as a warrior, and celebrates her for her deeds and her valour. And while Eowyn no longer wishes to be a shieldmaiden, taking joy "only" in the songs of slaying (that "only" suggesting that she will still take joy in them, and will maintain a part of her shieldmaiden identity), the desire to heal, to grow things, is a wish shared with Faramir, and when they embark on that journey, it's one they do as equals.

Eowyn has been pigeonholed into the role of family caretaker, and her family sees her entirely through that lens. As a result, they not only fail to see her true desires and ambitions, they not only fail to acknowledge her as a warrior, but they also fail to fully appreciate that she needs care, emotional care, in turn.

It is Eowyn's duty to give care, not receive it. It is Eowyn's duty to facilitate their deeds, not achieve her own. It is Eowyn's duty to celebrate their feats, not be celebrated in turn.

And Eowyn performs this role, she allows them to maintain this view of herself by internalising her unhappiness, her frustration and despair, because she sees it as a her duty to do so.

She finally drops the performance in front of Aragorn, and reveals to him just how as despairing she is. Aragorn does not fail to see beyond Eowyn's mask, and in his speech in the Houses of Healing shows he acknowledges both her suffering and her courage, but he does not free her.

He instructs her to resume the performance, and to try to content herself with one more doing all the labours that no one remembers, the valour that goes without renown.

Faramir meets Eowyn, and he sees she is wounded, she is sorrowful, he sees she is proud, he sees she is beautiful, he sees she is a maiden, "young and sad".

When Faramir is falling in love with Eowyn, he notices she looks "queenly", suitable for one whose deeds have put her, in Aragorn's words, on an even standing with the queens of old.

When Faramir asks Eowyn to marry him, he tells her he does not pity her, because she is a "lady high and valiant" and has performed deeds that will not be forgotten.

When Eowyn says she wishes to become a healer, and love all things that grow, Faramir eagerly agrees, and says, if she wills it, they will go to Ithilien and grow a garden there, and all things will grow with joy in Eowyn's presence.

Faramir sees all aspects of Eowyn. Eowyn the sorrowful. Eowyn the beautiful. Eowyn the queen. Eowyn the valiant. Eowyn the legend. Eowyn the healer. Eowyn the gardener.

Faramir sees all these parts of Eowyn, and one is not diminished by the other. Her valour isn't compromised by her vulnerability. Her need for care isn't compromised by her ability to lead.

This is reciprocated on Eowyn's part. Beregond bemoans that people fail to appreciate Faramir's capabilities as a warrior, because he is b nature more of a scholar and a nurturer. Eowyn immediately notices Faramir's strength and his gentleness, she is able to see the multitudes in him that she wishes to have seen in her.

It is notable she meets Faramir at a time when both of them are injured. Faramir is in a place of vulnerability as Theoden was, but Faramir is under the care of the healers. Eowyn's company helps to heal him, he wishes her to walk with him because he thinks it will be a comfort to be with her, but the bulk of his care is shared out by trained healers, for whom treating the sick is a profession, a calling perhaps, but not a familial duty that defines every facet of their existence.

Eowyn does not choose to be with Faramir in the place of choosing freedom. She chooses Faramir because the love he offers, the understanding he offers, the capabilities he possesses, will free her, in a way that Eowyn has been desiring and longing for.

#LOTR #Lord of the Rings #Eowyn #Theoden #Aragorn #Faramir #Farawyn #meta

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spop-romanticizes-abuse · 3 days ago

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i just came by this post and i had to address it.

wow. that is a controversial take. and an objectively incorrect one.

i'll just preface this by saying that i'm not satisfied with arcane's finale either. i think it completely went against its own message in the end, and a lot of the arcs were resolved poorly.

but this take is still wild. let me break it down one by one:

there's nothing wrong with the "power of love/friendship" trope. the only problem is that

1. spop entirely focuses on romantic relationships. fuck familial relationships, fuck platonic relationships, the only thing that matters is romance.

2. most of the ships are either forced with no prior buildup or straight-up toxic.

horde prime as a whole was a poorly written villain who was only introduced because catra and hordak were "redeemed". that alone makes the entire finale weak, because horde prime is not as much of a threat as catra was. he's just a placeholder.

i'm convinced that the only reason they introduced the failsafe and the heart of etheria was because horde prime wasn't intimidating enough to keep the audience captivated.

mara convincing adora to stay alive would have been a touching scene if the message wasn't that adora should date her abusive sister.

i'm sorry, did we watch the same show? because how the fuck can you say that catra is no longer abusive after her redemption after watching all of this???

oh yeah, catra pushing adora to the ground and guilt tripping her for trying to save the world wasn't abusive at all. catra constantly screaming at adora for the smallest reasons isn't abusive, that's just catra's little quirk! /s

you would have to be blind to watch all of these instances of catra continuing to abuse adora, and still think that she has changed.

caitlyn hit vi with her rifle, yes, and I'm not going to defend that at all. i agree that it was completely unwarranted, regardless of her reasons. but caitlyn's actions are nothing compared to catra's.

you can love or hate caitvi, i literally don't care. but you can't hate caitvi for being "toxic" while acting like c//a is a healthy ship.

“catra ceased all intentions of being enemies with adora & glimmer and learned to love & fight for etheria”

oh yeah, that's why she kept taking jabs at the princesses and bragging about how many times she has defeated them. that's why she never apologized to glimmer for killing her mother, or to mermista for colonizing her kingdom. oh wait, mermista was very conveniently chipped so that poor catra wouldn't have to deal with all that, right?

let's be real, the only reason catra sided with adora was because she literally had no other choice. she was backed into a corner. she wanted to work for horde prime but since he was willing to throw her out, and the original horde was in shambles, catra's only choice was to join the rebellion. she does not care for the princesses or for etheria.

“catradora never had a power imbalance and fought pretty equally”

this just made me laugh. did this person even watch the show? catra had power over adora 90% of the time.

there were very few instances where adora had power over catra and usually in those instances, catra would attack adora in some way to bring her beneath her.

again, i have my complaints with caitvi. i don't think it's a perfect ship and i'm not going to defend the shitty parts of it. but catra has literally used every single type of abuse on adora - physical violence, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, guilt tripping, kidnapping, attempted murder, victim blaming - and y'all still think that caitvi is worse? be fucking for real.

five seasons isn't enough screentime to wrap up arcs in a satisfactory manner? come on. spop had plenty of time, the writers just didn't plan everything out. they absolutely did not make the most of what they had to work with.

they had 5 whole seasons and still decided to shove catra's redemption arc into the final one, completely rushing it and for what? so that adora had someone to smooch?

the conflict between glimmer and adora could also have been handled better. it was a complex situation, especially considering how catra and shadow weaver was the ones driving them apart. it shouldn't have been solved with a simple “i'm sorry, everything was my fault” and “lol it's okay we good now” like???

again, i'm dissatisfied with arcane's ending. i think a lot of the character arcs were sabotaged and there was too much going on in general.

but i don't think anything can compare to the character assassination in s5 of spop. everyone magically forgot about catra's crimes and forgave her; capable characters were suddenly incompetent and foolish so that catra could shine; and adora, who had completely moved on from catra, was now once again catra's doormat.

you can criticize arcane if you want but this post was just stupid. spop's final season was just as bad, if not worse than arcane. at least arcane managed to write a believable redemption arc for jinx within those 9 episodes - something spop couldn't do with five whole seasons.

#spop critical #spop salt #spop #spop discourse #spop criticism #she ra #anti spop #anti catradora #anti c//a #anti catra #arcane #arcane spoilers #arcane season 2 #arcane s2 #anti stans

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aspoonofsugar · 15 hours ago

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Merry Sinsmas!

It's Christmas, so here come some quick and unorganized thoughts on the Helluva Boss season 2's finale :''') (yes, I am late to this)

First of all, I loved the episode and I thought it worked very well as the season's finale!

MY FAVORITE CALLBACKS

The episode is full of callbacks, which show how much the characters have grown. Everybody already listed them, so here are some of my favorites:

The Circus: The beginning and the end of the episode mirror The Circus, with Stolas waking up surrounded by plushies and Stolas being on a balcony looking up at the sky. This is perfect considering this was mostly Stolas's season. It starts with him in a gilded cage:

Prince, all alone Upon your throne Your power is so frail You raise your voice You have no choice Inside your gilded jail

It ends with him dealing with the responsibility of choosing freely:

Stolas: You don't need to feel any guilt for my situation, it was my choice. It was all my choice. I caused all of this.

Murder Family: I.M.P.'s mission mirrors their first mission ever, as they are asked once again to kill a cheater, even if it destroys a family. The difference is that this time the group and Blitz especially does not follow through. This is clever because 1) It ties into the Christmas spirit :P (one good deed for Christmas LOL) 2) It shows Blitz's growth. He has grown enough that he can now imagine a new family for himself and Stolas in the future. Something he could have never done in episode 1, where his business and colleagues were the only family he could conceive. Blitz has now matured enough he is more in tune with his deepest wishes and can slowly start working towards them. It showcases how an important part of the story (half of it really) is over and how next season is gonna change the game and introduce new objectives and struggles.

Spring Broken: The fight against Andrealphus's dragon parallels the fight against the sea monster in Spring Broken. Both times an imp saves their romantic partner from being eaten by a monster, slays said monster from the inside and there is a "high five" played for laughs. In Spring Broken, the couple in focus is Moxxie and Millie, whereas in Sinsmas it's Blitz and Stolas. This is lovely, as it shows Stolitz have the potential to share a full fledged romantic relationship, just like M&M. Considering Blitz sees Moxxie and Millie's bond as perfect to the point he has tried to live it by proxy, this is a pretty important implication. It shows how much Blitz is now open to a true love story with Stolas.

This is a nice moment for Moxxie, as well. In Spring Broken he was drunk and was useless during the fight, leaving it all to Millie. This time he supports Blitz and gains a high five and some appreciation from his Boss (which he deeply craves). Him and Loona's team-up is pretty awesome too <3. Finally, it is interesting that during the fight Moxxie and Millie exchange roles. Moxxie tries the melee, by using a sword, whereas Millie tries the firepower. This is a direct inversion of how they are fighting in their skirmish at the beginning of the episode, where Millie uses a sword and Moxxie a giant gun:

I wonder if it foreshadows a deeper integration Moxxie and Millie will have to undergo next season, especially because the pregnancy plotline will definately arise some conflict.

Queen Bee: Loona gets some nice moments, which show how much more open she is with others compared to the previous season. She now refers to Blitz as dad more often and she is even eager to have him spend time with her friends. Speaking of whom, I love we are seeing more Hellounds. It is so great Loona has managed to build some positive bonds from the Queen Bee's episode and she is now better integrated with the people of Gluttony, her birth sin :''') I guess next season these bonds are gonna have some focus, especially considering Loona keeps mentioning Vicky, a hellhound she hates. I wonder if it's her:

On another note, I LOVE that the Hellounds are all dressed as foods to celebrate gluttony, that is so creative!

Ice cream and Hamburger

Pop corn

Their costumes are also all yellow (or different shades of yellow), aka Bee's color! Loona's outfit even loosely resembles Bee's. I am curious if Loona and Bee's foiling will come up again tbh.

Loo Loo Land and Seeing Stars: Obviously Sinmas heavily references the two other Octavia-centered episodes. This storyline would probably need a meta all for itself, but here are some thoughts. Octavia's "I Will Be Okay" parallels "You Will Be Okay". There Stolas tells Octavia he will always be in her heart, even when he can't be physically there. He also assures Octavia she will be okay even if the universe gets destroyed (because Stolas himself will make sure of it). Here, Octavia sings that even if Stolas left her, she will be okay, but she is cutting ties with her dad. She also sings so as her world (her family) is symbolically falling apart. The space symbolism is interesting because it ties with Seeing Stars, as there is a meteor shower exploding like a giant firework, just like the ones Stolas and Octavia watched together.

In general, Octavia says she is never forgiving her dad and that Stolas will only know her by her name, but she does so by:

Playing a guitar Stolas gave her

Singing a reprise of Stolas's song

Singing a song with a lot of references to space and stars

Well, let's just say Octavia will never be a stranger to Stolas because Stolas is too deeply intertwined with who Octavia is already <3<3<3

This is made clear in the climax of the episode, where Octavia goes to look for her dad because she is worried about his mental health without the Happy Pills and saves him from Andrealphus. This is once again a reference to Seeing Stars. There Octavia is shown to still be inexperienced with her powers and Stolas tells her he has yet to teach her powerful spells. Here Octavia gets a hold of her powers on her own and uses them to defeat her uncle. So, Octavia might learn to fend for herself more, but she is never truly hating her dad, no matter how angry she is.

I also like that the previous two episodes dedicated to Octavia make clear her outburst is not coming out of nowhere. Stolas has been failing her a lot since the beginning of his affair with Blitz:

In Loo Loo Land he still treats Via as the child she isn't anymore and fails to address the issue that is truly and clearly bothering Via until she forces him to. And even there, although he reassures her, Stolas fails to address the matter effectively. (Not that it is simple).

In Seeing Stars he is so caught up in his divorce, he fails to listen to Via and forgets their past promise. The fact it is Loona to find Via and not Stolas himself really ties into this. It is not that Stolas isn't trying, but at the end of the day he spends the majority of the episode with Blitz, laughing at his jokes and getting horny for him. Sure, Blitz was forced into the sit-com, but Stolas could have left Blitz and kept looking for Via. This shows how much Stolas was already struggling between his love for Via and his desire to build a romantic relationship with Blitz.

In short, Via calling Stolas out on prioritizing his relationships with Blitz over their father-daughter one is correct:

Stella: Sorry, sweetie. No talking to that deadbeat. Andrealphus, look who's finally calling! Andrealphus: Oooh! Took him this long? That's hilarious.

Stella and Andrealphus aren't exactly wrong here either. Stolas waited a lot to call Via. That is because he was shocked and needed a long sleep, but Via can't know it. From her point of view her dad took responsibility for a crime in order to save Blitz, was banished and then ghosted her for a whole night/day.

At the same time, it is obvious Via is gonna to slowly discover more and more about her dad and his pain. Finding the Happy Pills was just a first step into a process of maturation, which will lead her to become an adult. Still Stolas's daughter, but not Stolas's helpless little girl anymore.

As two sides note:

I like that season 1 ends with Loona and Blitz's bond in focus, whereas season 2 ends with Stolas and Via's. It is obvious their two girls are key for Blitz and Stolas.

I like how Stolas's home is now completely frozen. It is a great metaphor for the kind of cold and abusive environment Via is now in. It is kind of telling the only parts of the house, which are not frozen are Via's room (filled with her and Stolas's shared interests) and the closet with Stolas's stuff.

STOLITZ I loved the Stolitz's development this episode! It was the perfect wrap up of their relationship this season. It is especially interesting how their dynamic is now inverted compared to the beginning. Right now the one more openly affective and open to an official love story is Blitz. Stolas is instead too heartbroken and jaded to fully jump into it, despite how much he clearly loves Blitz. Also, as other people noticed:

Stolas: Go enjoy your Sinsmas, Blitzo. I'm fine. You don't have to stay here with me.

This is a call back to Full Moon, as Blitz is now choosing to stay by Stolas's side.

Stolas becoming Blitz's secretary is instead another callback to The Circus:

Blitzo: Yeah! A big office! Circus business with clowns and horses! and the horses will all have good names like Stapler and Biscuit Queen. Stolas: I'm sure you will. That sounds like a good business. Blitzo: Yeah! And, if you want to apply, I'll hire you. Maybe. Stolas: You'll hire me? Blitzo: Yeah, if I feel like it. Stolas: Well, I hope I qualify! You'd be a good boss.

In general, it is gonna be interesting to see Stolas struggle with his newfound situation and self-reflect on his previous privilege.

However, the part I loved the most about Stolitz is the fight against Andrealphus:

First of all, I loved the princess and knight's symbolism because it is so extra and it fits them so well! It is also Stolas's dream come true:

Stolas: You wanna know what I want? I want to know what it's like, to not be alone. I want to be someone's someone. I want to feel wanted. But like, in a romantic way, like I'm standing out in the rain at a train station and someone is shouting: “Harriet! Don't get on that train, it's going to London and I cannot be without you!”

Secondly, I loved all the Disney references:

Blitzo: Hey Elsa! Get your icy hands off my bottom, bitch!

Frozen

Sleeping Beauty

Hercules

They are truly hellbent on turning Stolas into a Disney Princess!

OTHER THINGS I LIKED

Via vs Andre

I loved Via easily defeating Andrealphus. First of all, she is awesome and I adored her star-themed powers! Secondly, it ties very well with the classism commentary of the series.

Andrealphus is a Marquis, while Stolas is a Prince. Via is Stolas's heir, which means she is more powerful than Andrealphus, even if her powers are still raw. The short fight makes the difference clear as day.

Why is this important?

Thematically, it makes Andrealphus an interesting foil to Stolas. As a matter of fact he is clearly meant to be seen as Stolas's negative parallel. Both are homosexual nobles forced to repress their sexuality to fit the role they were given by society. However, they clearly both resent said role.

Stolas tries to evade it by starting an affair with Blitx, the first thing that truly makes him happy in years. He acts outside what is expected from Goetias, ignores protocols and eventually helps I.M.P. at a great personal cost. He is slowly going to face and unlearn his unconscious classism in the next season, as he works with Blitz and the others.

Andre tries to climb the hierarchy because he thinks that if he were more powerful and richer he will be happier. Hence he makes use of Hell's rules to dethrone Stolas and steal his assets. However, no matter how much he tries.

First of all, Hell's hierarchy isn't as easily destroyed, especially if you play by its rules:

Satan: STOLAS! I hereby strip you of your status, your power, and your title; Andrealphus: Yeees! Yeeesss! YEEESSSS!! Satan: For the next hundred years. Andrealphus: Oh motherfuck! Seriously?!

Secondly, no matter how much Andrealphus tries, there will always be someone higher than him. Stolas is gone, but Via is already able to kick his ass. He will always be a Marquis and never a Prince.

Thirdly, Andrealphus associates value to social status, but his short fight against I.M.P. makes very clear there is more than powers to a person's abilities. He is immensely more powerful than imps and hellhounds, but he sucks at fighting and it shows. Blitz and the others are able to hold their own easily.

Last, but not least there is no amount of social status that can buy true happiness. Andre being linked to Elsa is funny, but it is also meaningful when we remember Elsa is a lonely girl, who represses her emotions to fit into a system. Well, Andre does the same. He probably represses who he is (his sexuality) and is left cold and unhappy.

In short, just like Striker, Andre too is probably deep down unhappy with the current state of society. However, our protagonists' dark foils try to change their state by hurting others and crushing them under their feet. The protagonists instead more genuinely oppose the system by trying to help others.

Plot-wise, this might lead to some interesting developments.

First of all, this might tie into the Stella-centered episode. It is probable she was forced to marry Stolas, so that her family could social climb. This might explain why she was so angry about Stolas's divorce and why it was so important for her and Andre to get some retribution from Stolas. Their family is on a lower level than Stolas's one.

Secondly, Andre might at one point decide to kill Via, so that he can keep Stolas's assets for himself. This might become true especially if Via keeps rebelling against him. In this case, I have a pretty good idea of who Andre is gonna call:

Striker: Well, this has been fun, but every good thing has to come to an end. Shame you won't see your kid, again. Stolas: Don't you dare breathe a word about my daughter. Striker: Oh. Finally hit a nerve, huh? Stolas: I swear, if you go near her, I will destroy you.

Striker threatened Octavia in Western Energy, so this checkov gun might fire. If so, it will be a chance for Stolas to help Via, for Blitz to face his dark foil once again and for Via to discover the truth about her father's attempted murder.

The pregnancy plotline

This season we have a little conflict between Moxxie and Millie in Happy Campers and I was wondering if they were gonna have a bigger one later on. Well, it seems they will because the pregnancy plotline is going to bring some drama in the relationship.

As for now, to me it seems Millie is not convinced about the pregnancy and might contemplate an abortion:

Millie: What? Didn't he cheat or s-s-something? Come on, this is fun! We've done this kind of t-t-thing before. Blitzo: Just… not this one, Mils. Not today. Millie: I can do this one, I can do this! Blitzo: Millie! Moxxie: We'll do it next time! It's just not worth it. Millie: Don't start, Moxxie! Just because you aren't demon enough to do this job, doesn't mean…

Her being the most insensitive while watching the happy human family seems as foreshadowing that Millie doesn't really want kids. At least not now. This might change of course and I might be wrong. Still, the fact she hasn't told Moxxie about it yet is pretty indicative of how confused she is at the moment.

In general, to me it seems Moxxie and Millie are partly subverting feminine and masculine tropes, as Moxxie is more feminine (musicals) and Millie is more masculine (fighting). At the same time, I think they are also meant to deconstruct these ideas.

Moxxie exhibits some traits of toxic masculinity that clearly come from his father. For example, in Happy Campers he is obsessed by the fact he and not Millie must complete the mission, because he must prove himself to the boss. Or in The Harvest Moon Festival he tries to show he is as strong as Striker, even if his talents lie elsewhere.

Millie might soon reveal she herself might feel pressured to conform to some traditional feminine roles. For example, she might fear that becoming a mother might mean she has to give up her career. Or she is scared of how others (like her family and husband) will see her if she gives up the baby. All in all, she comes from a rather traditional environment and I am curious to see if this inspiration will be used to explore her pregnancy.

SINSMAS

I LOVED the idea of Sinsmas for several reasons.

Thematically, Sinsmas is really about self-expression:

Blitzo: Uh, it's Sinsmas! You know, the day every Hellborn celebrates and acts on their birth sin? Or any sin, whichever ones they want, honestly!

It is about giving in to your vices for one whole day (it is really similar to Carnival), so that you can indulge in what makes you happy, even if it is considered strange or wrong.

This is very important for the theme of classism:

Stolas: I cannot say I'm familiar with this holiday. Blitzo: Really? Wow, rich people don't have any fun, do they? Stolas: No, fun is free, but we can afford nice things.

Stolas is a noble and nobles do not celebrate Sinsmas. That is because the Goetias can never truly express themselves:

Stolas: Yaaaay! Birthday, birthday! WOOHOO! Birthday tiiiiime! Mister Butler: Calm yourself, young prince. You know excitement is unbecoming of a Goetia.

They have to repress repress repress.

So, it is telling Stolas slowly embraces the spirit of wrath throughout the episode.

He starts by trashing Blitz's office (luckily it is insured :P):

Stolas: Augh! Come on, you suck! You fucking suck! You fucking piece of shit, move you fucking face, you goddamn sucking motherfucker— GAH! WHAT A FUCKING IDIOT I AM! THIS WAS SO STUPID! I CANNOT BELIEVE I COULD BE! THIS FUCKING STUPID! I RUINED EVERYTHING! MOVE!!! YOU SHITTY DESK!!!

And he ends by trashing Andrealphus:

He has left the Goetia for one month in universe and he is already fitting in :''')

World-building wise, Sinsmas is very interesting because it is mostly celebrated by Hellborn Demons. Karen, who is a Sinner knows nothing of it and is uninterested in it. For her it's just Christmas.

As a result, I wonder if Pride as a sin is less celebrated than others during this Holiday. We see decorations for Greed, Wrath and Gluttony mostly. But I am sure people from Lust, Envy, Sloth will mostly celebrate these sins. However, the Demons typical of Pride are Sinners or Goetias, both of which do not celebrate.

So, I am wondering:

Do some Sinners who have been in Hell for a while celebrate Sinsmas? Do they stick to Christmas? Do they fuse the two holidays?

Was Pride more celebrated as a Sin before Lucifer decided not to get involved in Hell's affairs anymore?

Do the people of Pride have some specific festivities? Or to better say, do different Rings have different festivities?

I love holidays in different cultures and I would honestly just love a series dedicated to the different holidays in the Hellaverse :''')

MY FAVORITE EPISODES OF THE SEASONS

So, since this was the season's finale, I think I can now say which episodes were my favorite this time around! It is difficult because I thought this season was pretty strong overall, but if I must choose:

Ooops!

Mammon's Magnificent Musical

Ghostfuckers

Mastermind

Sinsmas

These are my favorites! In particular, Mammon's Magnificent Musical and Mastermind are my two pick choice, in no order.

This is all! Merry Christmas to who celebrates and Happy Holiday to everybody!

#helluva boss #helluva boss meta #sinsmas #stolas #octavia helluva #octavia goetia #stolas goetia #blitzø #helluva loona #moxxie #helluva millie #helluva andrealphus #my meta

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