#yes i understand these are two different categories

[jennas-cemetery]

Get into binge rewatching all of boku no hero academia or binge rewatch the entire Saw series, tough decisions my friends. Very tough decisions.

[katrafiy]

I think about this image a lot. This is an image from the Aurat March (Women's March) in Karachi, Pakistan, on International Women's Day 2018. The women in the picture are Pakistani trans women, aka khwaja siras or hijras; one is a friend of a close friend of mine.

In the eyes of the Pakistani government and anthropologists, they're a "third gender." They're denied access to many resources that are available to cis women. Trans women in Pakistan didn't decide to be third-gendered; cis people force it on them whether they like it or not.

Western anthropologists are keen on seeing non-Western trans women as culturally constructed third genders, "neither male nor female," and often contrast them (a "legitimate" third gender accepted in its culture) with Western trans women (horrific parodies of female stereotypes).

There's a lot of smoke and mirrors and jargon used to obscure the fact that while each culture's trans women are treated as a single culturally constructed identity separate from all other trans women, cis women are treated as a universal category that can just be called "women."

Even though Pakistani aurat and German Frauen and Guatemalan mujer will generally lead extraordinarily different lives due to the differences in culture, they are universally recognized as women.

The transmisogynist will say, "Yes, but we can't ignore the way gender is culturally constructed, and hijras aren't trans women, they're a third gender. Now let's worry less about trans people and more about the rights of women in Burkina Faso."

In other words, to the transmisogynist, all cis women are women, and all trans women are something else.

"But Kat, you're not Indian or Pakistani. You're not a hijra or khwaja sira, why is this so important to you?"

Have you ever heard of the Neapolitan third gender "femminiello"? It's the term my moniker "The Femme in Yellow" is derived from, and yes, I'm Neapolitan. Shut up.

I'm going to tell you a little bit about the femminielli, and I want you to see if any of this sounds familiar. Femminielli are a third gender in Neapolitan culture of people assigned male at birth who have a feminine gender expression.

They are lauded and respected in the local culture, considered to be good omens and bringers of good luck. At festivals you'd bring a femminiello with you to go gambling, and often they would be brought in to give blessings to newborns. Noticing anything familiar yet?

Oh and also they were largely relegated to begging and sex work and were not allowed to be educated and many were homeless and lived in the back alleys of Naples, but you know we don't really like to mention that part because it sounds a lot less romantic and mystical.

And if you're sitting there, asking yourself why a an accurate description of femminiello sounds almost note for note like the same way hijras get described and talked about, then you can start to understand why that picture at the start of this post has so much meaning for me.

And you can also start to understand why I get so frustrated when I see other queer people buy into this fool notion that for some reason the transes from different cultures must never mix.

That friend I mentioned earlier is a white American trans woman. She spent years living in India, and as I recal the story the family she was staying with saw her as a white, foreign hijra and she was asked to use her magic hijra powers to bless the house she was staying in.

So when it comes to various cultural trans identities there are two ways we can look at this. We can look at things from a standpoint of expressed identity, in which case we have to preferentially choose to translate one word for the local word, or to leave it untranslated.

If we translate it, people will say we're artificially imposing an outside category (so long as it's not cis people, that's fine). If we don't, what we're implying, is that this concept doesn't exist in the target language, which suggests that it's fundamentally a different thing

A concrete example is that Serena Nanda in her 1990 and 2000 books, bent over backwards to say that Hijras are categorically NOT trans women. Lots of them are!

And Don Kulick bent over backwards in his 1998 book to say that travesti are categorically NOT trans women, even though some of the ones he cited were then and are now trans women.

The other option, is to look at practice, and talk about a community of practice of people who are AMAB, who wear women's clothing, take women's names, fulfill women's social roles, use women's language and mannerisms, etc WITHIN THEIR OWN CULTURAL CONTEXT.

This community of practice, whatever we want to call it - trans woman, hijra, transfeminine, femminiello, fairy, queen, to name just a few - can then be seen to CLEARLY be trans-national and trans-cultural in a way that is not clearly evident in the other way of looking at things.

And this is important, in my mind, because it is this axis of similarity that is serving as the basis for a growing transnational transgender rights movement, particularly in South Asia. It's why you see pictures like this one taken at the 2018 Aurat March in Karachi, Pakistan.

And it also groups rather than splits, pointing out not only points of continuity in the practices of western trans women and fa'afafines, but also between trans women in South Asia outside the hijra community, and members of the hijra community both trans women and not.

To be blunt, I'm not all that interested in the word trans woman, or the word hijra. I'm not interested in the word femminiello or the word fa'afafine.

I'm interested in the fact that when I visit India, and I meet hijras (or trans women, self-expressed) and I say I'm a trans woman, we suddenly sit together, talk about life, they ask to see American hormones and compare them to Indian hormones.

There is a shared community of practice that creates a bond between us that cis people don't have. That's not to say that we all have the exact same internal sense of self, but for the most part, we belong to the same community of practice based on life histories and behavior.

I think that's something cis people have absolutely missed - largely in an effort to artificially isolate trans women. This practice of arguing about whether a particular "third gender" label = trans women or not, also tends to artificially homogenize trans women as a group.

You see this in Kulick and Nanda, where if you read them, you could be forgiven for thinking all American trans women are white, middle class, middle-aged, and college-educated, who all follow rigid codes of behavior and surgical schedules prescribed by male physicians.

There are trans women who think of themselves as separate from cis women, as literally another kind of thing, there are trans women who think of themselves as coterminous with cis women, there are trans women who think of themselves as anything under the sun you want to imagine.

The problem is that historically, cis people have gone to tremendous lengths to destroy points of continuity in the transgender community (see everything I've cited and more), and particularly this has been an exercise in transmisogyny of grotesque levels.

The question is do you want to talk about culturally different ways of being trans, or do you want to try to create as many neatly-boxed third genders as you can to prop up transphobic theoretical frameworks? To date, people have done the latter. I'm interested in the former.

I guess what I'm really trying to say with all of this is that we're all family y'all.

[swordsandflowercrowns]

I was explaining this to a friend recently and I think it's an important distinction to make: not all queerplatonic relationships look the same.

A good way I've found to illustrate what exactly a qpr is, is to say "a qpr is to relationships what nonbinary is to gender". While both of these traditionally function on a binary (male/female, platonic/romantic), by defining our personal outlooks and experiences of the concepts of gender and relationships with new terms, we challenge the boundaries that society has put in place.

And yes, whilst redefining what actually constitutes romantic or platonic relationships, or male and female identities, and what makes them different (and acknowledging where they overlap, or where they can expand past what we traditionally expect) is important to increasing our understanding, so is providing options entirely outside of those two boxes.

And that's what it is - options. It's very easy to trivialise the concept of nonbinary and simply make gender into a trinary, rather than a binary. Male/female/nonbinary, which goes against the very purpose of the nonbinary label. This further erases the spectrum of gender. It's the same with relationships - by giving a strict set of instructions on how a qpr must look and act, you are simply creating a trinary. The point of the concept of qprs is to acknowledge that there are relationships between people that may overlap platonic and romantic, or fall partially within one and partially outside, or ones that are entirely separate from either category.

There are an infinite amount of ways a relationship can manifest, and if the people in the relationship feel that queerplatonic best describes their partnership without romance, or their affection without commitment, or their feelings towards each other that aren't quite what romantic or platonic is to them, or any other reason that rebels against amatonormativity, then they can choose to use that term. Queerplatonic covers the widest range of relationships that come in all shapes and sizes.

I think it's so important when discussing topics like relationships and gender to consciously make the effort to keep queering our ideas of the concepts - to remember that a spectrum is a spectrum. Labels can be useful for finding community, identifying your experiences and validating your struggles, but as soon as you try to start hyper-defining them, you lose the radical nature of queering our understanding of ourselves and our relationships. We name these concepts in order to give a voice to our subversion of society's arbitrary rules and expectations, not to police each other into conforming to a particular understanding of how a person (with a certain label) "should" act or be.

[happy74827]

hiii love your writing! recently obsessed w harvey specter fics! would you do a really sweet soft side harvey one? or maybe harvey gets jealous and they fight but it ends fluffy?

Valentine

[Harvey Specter x GN!Reader]

Synopsis: With Harvey by your side, even with all his quirks, you can’t help but love him.

WC: 765

Category: Mega Fluff

Since I already wrote an argument type of fic, I decided on making it just pure fluff and admiration. Did Laufey and my friend help me with inspiration? Yes, yes they did. Also, happy *extremely late* Valentine’s Day!

『••✎••』

He likes Jazz, but not the kind that everyone knows. He likes the soft stuff, the smooth stuff, the kind that slips into your brain and massages your neurons and makes you think about life. The soothing melodies and the sweet crooning of old-school vocalists are like a drug to him, something that he can't ever really get enough of. The music is so powerful to him that it's even been known to lull him to sleep a time or two.

It’s things like this, the little things you’ve learned over the years about Harvey, like his love for pot roast and how he only watches the Knicks when they’re guaranteed a win. He absolutely hates being handed things, always takes his steak medium rare, and has a special love for black licorice, which you will never understand. It all helps give him his personality his quirks, and you love him for all of them, even if you don't agree with all of his food choices.

Harvey isn’t vocal about his feelings, but that’s not a problem because you know him well enough to tell just how he feels. You know the difference between the smile that is just a smile and the one that reaches his eyes. You know the way that his face goes slack, and his gaze softens when he looks at you. When he’s chewing on a pen, a grin spreading slowly across his face, you know it's because of something you've said or done, and you can't help the swell of pride that accompanies it.

You also know when something is bothering him. There are little clues, but if you catch him rubbing his forehead, it means he's frustrated or stressed, and you can't help but be concerned for his health. When his brows are furrowed, a telltale sign of deep thought, you can't help but worry. It doesn't help that he has the tendency to internalize his worries, never wanting to burden others with his problems, a habit you're trying to get him out of.

The way his fingers dance over his desk, twirling the pen he's holding, means that he's nervous, and you can't help the urge to pull his hands into yours, hold them still, and tell him that everything will be alright.

There are certain things about Harvey that you will never understand, like why he prefers to stay late and work through the night than to go home early or why he insists on getting his suits tailored even though they look amazing on him straight off the rack. But what you do understand is him, the person.

It took time, and it was hard, but you managed to peel back the layers of Harvey Specter, one by one until you had him figured out. There's not a day that goes by that you're not grateful for the fact that you get to spend the rest of your life with him, and the feeling only grows with every day that passes.

You can't imagine spending the rest of your life with anyone else. Waking up in that sleepy daze to see his face next to yours and falling asleep at night wrapped in his arms is the most comfortable and the safest that you've ever felt. Every morning that you open your eyes and see him there, you can't help the smile that stretches your lips and the warmth that fills your chest. You can't help but feel blessed.

It's hard sometimes. You won't lie. There are days when you feel like you're fighting an uphill battle, but in the end, it's all worth it.

You can tell by the look in his eyes when you're lying next to him on the couch that he thinks you're worth the world, and his lips on yours make it feel like the fight is easier than it is.

He doesn’t say it much, but you know. You can feel it in the way he holds you, see it in the way he looks at you, hear it in his voice when he says your name, and you can even smell it on his skin when you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.

It's there, in his touch, and that's more than enough for you. Suddenly, you understand what the old jazz greats meant when they sang about love because as long as Harvey is with you, the two of you can weather any storm.

He was your forever valentine, and as long as you're together, you can face the future without fear, and that's all the music you'll ever need.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Hi could u write max x sunshine desi reader where she is his teammate and everyone (all drivers and team principles)adores her and she is known for wearing saris to events and award ceremonies and max and her having a grumpy x sunshine trope

Also like pr games for insta or smthing where he pronounce hindi words or muhavare and its cutee and fans love them!!!!!

I loved superstitions!!!!

Swear Words ✧˚ · .

Summary: Based on the anon's request!

⟿ mv x desi!reader ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

⟿ fluff ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

max was not grumpy. he was fun, and he was slightly unhinged, but he was not grumpy. though, in comparison to his teammate, y/n, everyone else seemed grumpy. she was quiet literally sunshine embodiment.

the two had been teammates for two seasons now, and everyone loved her. as they should. secretly, max also loved her. he would never say it out loud, though.

his favourite thing about her was the way she dressed up for any and all non-race event. she was always in a kurta or a sari. max had not known what her attire was called till he heard her talking about it once to charles' girlfriend. he could have done the sensible thing and just asked her himself, but finding out the way that he had done was easier.

max and y/n's relationship had really changed from teammates to more after max had attempted to anonymously gift her a sari for an event. y/n had looked radiant, max was speechless, and the rest was history for them.

it was during one of the PR events where max had gotten unhinged again and cursed a few times. the managers were furious, but she could tell that he didn't really give a fuck. to save him from future scoldings, y/n had come up with a plan that she really thought could save him.

"max," she called out.

"yes, my love,"

"i'm going to save you from future pr nightmares," she said confidently.

max laughed, "right, okay. how are you going to do that?"

"you're always getting in trouble for saying swear words on live tv. what if you say them in a language people don't understand?" there was a glint in her eyes that told max that she was going to be trouble. but, he loved her for it.

"how are we going to do that?"

"baby, i come from a country where we have a wide range of swear words. we've got different categories too."

max laughed. he did that more around her. he would never let anyone from the outside world see or know that.

"i'm serious! we've got swear words for moms, sisters, animals, body organs, animal body organs. you name it, and we probably have it!" y/n insisted.

"okay, okay, i believe you. teach me some of the words, and i'll see if it works for me,"

y/n clapped her hands in excitement, and began going through her list, explaining their meaning.

max had never been more in love.

a few months later, when the desi f1 fans caught what was happening, they made a compilation video. it consisted of every hindi swear word that max had said in interviews and such, with y/n laughing in the corner, and the interviewer being absolutely clueless on what was being said. the video had compiled all of those moments with the least to worst swear words, purposely not adding the meanings to keep the rest of the world confused.

it was a long time before anyone else, especially the red bull pr managers caught on, and only then did y/n get yelled at for the first time by them.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

this is the first max verstappen imagine I've written! idk if this is what you wanted, anon, but honestly, I couldn't see max saying muhavre and stuff, but I could see him saying a lot of curse words in hindi, so I went with that! also, I love the fact that when I went on Pinterest to look for pictures of max, almost every picture was of him smiling or laughing. i've also got a link for my taglist and requests that you can find here!

[herstoryheaven]

Descendants Harry Hook x Reader: Hooked On Pan

Request: Hear me out... Harry Hook with the daughter of Peter Pan and Wendy Darling? Maybe she's helping out with everything in the third movie and they meet there. He finds out who her parents are and enemies to lovers shenanigans ensue. Also reader is an absolute menace to society because there's no way she got raised by Peter Pan and isn't.

Reader: Female

Word count: 3349

Average reading time: 12 min 10 sec

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: None

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Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

Ben and Mal had both agreed to bring more kids from the Isle of the Lost to Auradon, hoping to bridge the gap between the two worlds. They believed that by giving more kids from the Isle a chance to experience the opportunities in Auradon, they could create understanding and unity. Y/n Pan, always up for an adventure, was right in the middle of it. Her role was simple, distracting Uma’s crew or more specifically Harry Hook.

Y/n found Harry by the docks, where the salty sea breeze rustled through the sails of Uma’s ship. Harry was leaning against a post, his hook glinting in the light as he lazily flipped it between his fingers. His ocean blue eyes were distant, lost in thoughts that were quickly interrupted by Y/n's arrival.

"Hey there, Hook." she called out, her voice laced with playful mischief. She sauntered towards him, each step measured, as if she were a cat stalking its prey.

Harry's eyes narrowed as she approached, his guard instantly up. "What do ye want, lass?" he asked, his tone playful but laced with suspicion.

Y/n grinned, her eyes sparkling with a mix of challenge and amusement. "Just thought I'd see what the infamous Harry Hook was up to. You know, keep you company," she said, her voice dripping with flirtation.

Harry's suspicion deepened, his grip tightening around the handle of his hook. "Company, huh? More like a distraction," he shot back, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a low, seductive whisper, Holding his hook to her chin. "What is Mal up to now?"

Y/n shrugged nonchalantly, her posture relaxed despite the tension radiating from Harry. She tilted her head, her expression one of feigned innocence. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she teased, a sly smile playing on her lips.

Harry's jaw clenched, and he took a step closer to her, his eyes boring into hers. "Aye, I would," he said, his voice a dangerous growl. "And ye'd best start talking, or else—"

"Or else what?" Y/n interrupted, her tone light and mocking. "You'll wave that hook of yours around? Come on, Harry, you're not scaring anyone."

Harry's eyes flashed with anger, but he took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. He knew better than to let someone provoke him. "You think you're clever, don't you?" he muttered.

Y/n laughed, a musical sound that seemed to echo around the docks. "I know I am." she replied confidently, her eyes locking onto his. "But seriously, Harry, why the hostility? Can't a girl just want to chat without underlying motives?"

"Not when that girl is from Auradon and her friends are here too." Harry retorted, his curiosity piqued despite himself.

Y/n sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically. "You really are paranoid, aren't you? Maybe I just wanted to see if the stories about you were true."

Harry raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "And what stories might those be?" he asked, leaning in closer, his eyes never leaving hers.

Y/n leaned in closer, her lips almost brushing his ear as she whispered, "That you're the most dangerous pirate on the Isle." her eyes danced with mischief. She pulled back slightly, letting her gaze travel slowly over him before meeting his eyes again. "But all I see is a boy who's all bark and no bite."

Harry's eyes flared with anger, but before he could respond, a commotion from further up the Isle caught his attention. He glanced over Y/n's shoulder, his expression darkening. Y/n took the opportunity to slip out of his grasp and follow his gaze, seeing Mal, Evie, Jay, and Carlos helping four new Isle kids into the limousine.

"Looks like your distraction worked," Harry muttered, his voice laced with frustration.

Y/n turned back to him, her smile playful and triumphant. "Looks like it did," she grinned, her eyes sparkling with teasing challenge. "Better luck next time, Hook." She threw him a wink before sauntering away, leaving him staring after her. As she rejoined the others, she couldn't help but feel a thrill of victory. The mission was a success, and they had managed to bring more kids from the Isle to Auradon.

-----

Over the next few days as Y/n sneaked often on the Isle, their encounters became more frequent. It seemed like every time Harry turned around, Y/n was there, always with a witty remark ready and a mischievous glint in her eyes. Harry found himself increasingly intrigued by Y/n. She was different from anyone he had ever met, fearless, spirited, and maddeningly hard to pin down. He would catch glimpses of her around the Isle, always just out of reach, slipping away before he could get too close.

One afternoon, Harry was on the docks again, lost in thought, when he heard the now familiar sound of Y/n’s laughter. He turned to see her balancing on the edge of a barrel, arms outstretched, grinning as if she didn’t have a care in the world. He couldn’t help but be drawn to her carelessness and the effortless way she seemed to navigate the chaotic world of the Isle.

Their eyes met, and she hopped down, walking over with that same teasing smile. "Missed me, Hook?" she asked, her tone light and flirtatious.

"Not in the slightest," he retorted, though the smirk on his face betrayed his words.

"Sure," she said with a wink, then jumped away before he could reply.

Each encounter left Harry more captivated, his curiosity about her growing. She was a mystery he wanted to solve, a challenge he was determined to meet. But everything changed when he discovered her true identity.

It happened one evening when he overheard a conversation between Y/n and a few little kids from the Isle. Harry was lurking in the shadows, trying to get a sense of what Mal and her friends might be planning next. He froze when he heard Y/n mention her father.

"My father always told me—"

"Wait," one of the kids interrupted. "Your father is Peter Pan?"

Harry's blood ran cold. Peter Pan. The name that haunted his nightmares, the source of his family's suffering. He stepped out of the shadows, his face contorted with rage. "You!" he spat, eyes blazing with anger. "You're Pan's brat!"

Y/n turned to face him, crossing her arms, unfazed by his outburst. "That's right, Hook. Got a problem with that?"

He sneered, the name 'Pan' dripping with venom. "Of course I do. Your father is the reason my family suffered."

Y/n's playful demeanor faltered for a moment, her eyes softening. "I'm not my father, Harry." she said quietly, a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

Harry took a step closer, his anger warring with the confusing feelings he had developed over the past few days. "Doesn't matter." he growled. "You're still a Pan."

Y/n held his gaze, her expression resolute. "And you're still a Hook. But that doesn’t mean we have to be enemies."

Harry's sneer faded slightly as he considered her words. There was something about the way she looked at him, something that made him want to believe her. But the wounds of the past were deep, and the name 'Pan' was a constant reminder of everything he had lost.

"Why should I trust you?" he asked, his voice a mix of anger and uncertainty.

"Because I'm not here to hurt you, Harry. I'm here to make things better." Y/n said, stepping closer, her eyes searching his. "I want to help bridge the gap between our worlds. But I can't do it alone."

Harry hesitated, his heart and mind at war. He had spent so long hating everything connected to Peter Pan, but Y/n was different. She was offering him a chance to move past the hatred, to find a new path.

"Maybe," he said finally, his voice softer, almost hesitant. "Maybe we can try."

Y/n smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made Harry's heart skip a beat. "That's all I'm asking for, Harry. A chance."

But as she walked away, the words "Peter Pan" echoed in Harry's mind, reigniting the anger and bitterness he had held onto for so long. He watched her go, the conflict within him far from over. Trusting a Pan, even one as intriguing as Y/n, was no small feat for Harry Hook.

Harry clenched his fist around his hook, his eyes narrowing. "All Pans are the same." he muttered under his breath. No matter how charming or different Y/n seemed, she was still a Pan, and Harry knew better than to trust anyone with that name. His mind was made up, he would never let go of his hatred, and he would never trust Y/n Pan.

-----

Despite their initial dislike, Y/n and Harry were forced to work together when Audrey took Maleficent's wand, and chaos threatened to engulf Auradon. Mal had been spelled by Audrey, and they needed all hands on deck to help her and get Hades ember back on the isle.

The air was thick with tension as Y/n and Harry found themselves side by side in the bridge of the Isle to Auradon, their previous friction simmering just beneath the surface. Uma stood confidently, her gaze flickering between the two unlikely allies and Mal, who was pleading for the ember that could save Auradon.

"Well, and who is this?" Uma said with a mocking smile, her gaze landing on Harry and Y/n. "Seems like you’re in quite a tight spot."

"Cut the games, Uma," Mal snapped. "We need that ember to break a spell Audrey cast. People’s lives are at stake."

Uma’s eyes gleamed with mischief as she held up the ember, her grip protective. "And why should I just hand it over? What’s in it for me?"

Mal’s frustration was palpable. "We can negotiate, but not right now. The urgency of the situation—"

Uma interrupted with a smirk. "Oh, I’m sure it’s very urgent. But I need a guarantee. Every single villain kid who wants out gets a chance to leave the Isle."

"I can’t promise that," Mal said, shaking her head.

Uma’s face hardened, her eyes narrowing. "Then we’ve got a problem. How about a deal? If you can assure me of that, I’ll consider returning the ember."

Mal’s shoulders sagged in resignation. "Deal," she agreed through gritted teeth.

Uma’s grin widened. "Good but don’t think I’m going to just hand this over easily. If you think I’m going to trust you to fix everything on your own, think again. This is a job for pirates!"

Harry’s eyes were fixed on Uma with immense respect. He glanced at Y/n, a scowl still present on his face. "Looks like we’re working together." he muttered, his tone heavy with irritation.

Y/n shot him a sharp look, her patience wearing thin. "Let’s just get this done. We don’t have time for your grudges."

Harry snorted, not bothering to mask his contempt. "Yeah, sure. Just remember, this doesn’t mean I’m suddenly going to like you. I’m only here to follow my captain."

"Fine by me," Y/n retorted, her voice cold. "Just stay out of my way."

-----

As they arrived at the castle and night deepened, the castle’s hallways seemed to press in on them, their shadows flickering like restless spirits. Harry and Y/n, though still struggling with their complex feelings, moved together with a newfound sense of cooperation. Their earlier tension had softened, if only slightly, as they navigated the castle hallways in search of Ben.

The silence between them was accentuated by the occasional murmur from Uma and Mal, who were engaged in their own banter. Uma’s taunt broke the quiet. “I bet you lost some sleep thinking about me on the loose, huh?”

Mal raised an eyebrow, her response dripping with disinterest. “No. Dragons don’t really lose sleep. I was more curious about what fried octopus tastes like.”

Evie, ever the mediator, interjected with a hopeful tone. “Okay, why do we always have to focus on the negatives? Why not appreciate the adventure we’re on?”

Mal and Uma shared a look that seemed to say they’d heard this speech before. “We’re celebrating our differences,” Uma quipped, her smirk widening.

Harry, who had been lost in thought, suddenly became more alert as the doors closed behind them. “I believe we’re being challenged.”

Before anyone could question him, the echo of clanking metal interrupted their conversation. The sound grew louder, more insistent, until enchanted armor guards emerged from the shadows, their eyes glowing with dark magic. The armor moved with a jerky, unnatural precision, and the creak of metal against metal filled the air.

“Girls! We have a situation here!” Harry’s voice cut through the chaos.

Without hesitation, the group sprang into action. Y/n, ever light footed, darted towards one of the armored guards, her sword clashing against the enchanted steel. Harry, though visibly annoyed, couldn’t help but notice Y/n’s grace and determination. He found himself instinctively moving to her side, fending off a guard that had swung its sword towards her.

“Watch your back!” Harry shouted, his voice tinged with frustration, though beneath the irritation, there was an unmistakable edge of concern. “Do you ever stop getting into trouble?”

Y/n shot him a quick, appreciative glance, her movements fluid as she took down another guard. “Got it, Harry. I’ll try not to make you worry too much,” she said with a playful smirk, the gratitude in her eyes softening the edges of her teasing tone.

Despite his best efforts to remain distant, Harry’s protective instincts were clear. He parried blows with precision, making sure Y/n had a clear path to strike. The two fought side by side, their coordination improving with each passing second. Harry’s earlier reluctance was replaced with a focused intensity, his actions betraying his true feelings.

In the midst of the battle, Y/n turned to Harry with a teasing grin. “So, Harry, I’ve been meaning to ask, do you always scowl like that, or is it just when you’re around me?”

Harry’s stern demeanor faltered momentarily as he deflected a guard’s attack. A rare, genuine chuckle escaped him. “I suppose you bring out the best in me.”

Y/n’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to be anything less than your charming self.”

Harry’s smirk was short lived, quickly replaced by his familiar scowl. “Don’t get used to it. I’m still not going to be nice to you.”

Y/n’s grin widened as she ducked under a swinging sword, her playful energy undiminished. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With the enchanted guards finally defeated, the room fell into a brief, uneasy silence. The group came together, catching their breath and assessing the situation.

“Let’s move,” Mal said, her voice firm and urgent. “We still have to find Audrey and end this.”

-----

As the final battle raged outside Auradon prep, the chaos intensified with every passing moment. Mal and Audrey's confrontation crackled with magic, while Uma helped to turn the tide in their favor. Amidst the commotion, Harry and Y/n found themselves close together, their earlier hostility replaced with an unexpected closeness.

During the battle, an explosive burst of energy from Audrey’s attack sent shockwaves through the ground. Harry’s protective instincts kicked in, and he abruptly pulled Y/n behind him, shielding her from any possible danger.

“Stay behind me!” Harry said, his voice filled with authority and urgency as he faced where Mal and Audrey were still in a heated battle. His usual scowl was replaced with a fierce determination to keep Y/n safe.

Y/n, caught off guard, blinked up at him in surprise. “Harry, what—”

Before she could finish her question, Harry's hand tightened around hers, his grip firm and reassuring. “Just stay close, alright?” His tone was less harsh and more protective, revealing an underlying care he hadn’t shown before.

Y/n’s confusion turned into a playful smirk as she tilted her head. “You know, I thought you hated me. Now you’re acting like my personal bodyguard?”

Harry’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, the intensity of the battle seemed to fade. “I might have had my issues with you,” he admitted, his voice softer, “but I’ve got to admit, I’m not letting you get hurt.”

Y/n’s playful expression softened into one of genuine warmth. “I never knew you cared, Hook,” she teased lightly, her heart fluttering at his unexpected protectiveness.

Harry’s face twitched with a hesitant smile. “Don’t get used to it,” he said, though his eyes betrayed his true feelings. “But for now, just stay behind me.”

As the last echoes of battle faded and the castle grounds began to calm, Harry and Y/n stood close, their earlier friction now replaced with an undeniable connection. The night sky above them sparkled with stars, casting a calming glow over the school grounds.

Harry, with his usual confidence restored, looked at Y/n with a playful yet intense gaze. “You know, Pan, I’ve had quite a few realizations tonight,” he said, his voice smooth and flirtatious.

Y/n, her heart fluttering at his tone, tilted her head with a teasing smile. “Oh really? And what exactly did you realize?”

Harry stepped closer, his gaze locked on hers. “I realized that despite your troublemaker ways and that pesky Pan name, there’s something about you that’s irresistible. And I’m not one to back down from what I want.”

Y/n’s smile widened, her eyes twinkling with both affection and challenge. “Is that so?”

Harry’s smirk grew. “Absolutely. Though, if it really bothers me, I could always change that name of yours to Hook instead of Pan. Seems fitting, don’t you think?”

Without missing a beat, Harry closed the distance between them, his confidence radiating. He cupped her face gently with one hand, his thumb brushing her cheek. “But for now, let’s focus on what really matters.”

Before Y/n could respond, Harry pulled her into a deep, passionate kiss. The world around them seemed to blur as his lips moved against hers with a fervor that spoke of all the feelings he’d kept hidden. The kiss was filled with intensity and emotion, leaving no room for doubt about his feelings.

When they finally pulled apart, their breaths mingling in the cool night air, Harry’s eyes were filled with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness. Y/n’s cheeks were flushed, and her smile was both shy and radiant.

As Y/n whispered, “I promise I’ll try to be less of a troublemaker.” Harry leaned in, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke in a low, teasing whisper.

“I don’t think so, darling. That’s exactly what I like about you.” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. “You’re never boring, and that makes you even more irresistible.”

Y/n’s laughter was soft and delighted, her hand still clasped in his. “I guess I’ll have to keep you on your toes then.”

Harry’s grin widened, his eyes dancing with mischief and affection. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Just as they were lost in their moment, Uma’s voice cut through the night air, filled with annoyance. “Seriously, you two? Major battle just finished and you’re over here making out? Can we have one minute without you two being all lovey-dovey?”

Harry and Y/n broke apart, their faces flushed with a mix of embarrassment and amusement. Harry chuckled, giving Y/n a playful wink before turning to Uma. “Well, Uma, can’t blame us for wanting to celebrate, can you?”

Uma rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide a small, amused smile. “Whatever. It’s great that you two don’t hate each other anymore, but we’ve got a lot to sort out. So let’s keep the PDA to a minimum, okay?”

Y/n laughed, her hand still in Harry’s as they joined the others. “Don’t worry, Uma. We’ll keep our celebration within reason.”

As they rejoined their friends, the air around them was filled with a sense of newfound joy and promise. The battles of the day were behind them, and the future ahead seemed full of potential, excitement, and undeniable chemistry. Harry and Y/n, now more connected than ever, faced the world with a renewed sense of purpose and affection.

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Copyright: All stories contained herein are the intellectual property of the author. Unauthorized copying, reproduction, or distribution of these stories, in whole or in part, without explicit written permission from the author, is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action. Respect the creator's rights and creativity. For permissions or inquiries, please contact: herstoryheaven@gmail.com.

Request Guidelines: When submitting a request, please ensure that your request does not contain any explicit sexual content or graphic depictions, and avoid any form of extreme violence or graphic descriptions of violent acts. I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in maintaining a respectful and inclusive environment for all readers. If you're unsure about your request or want to request about someone I haven't written about yet, feel free to ask me anytime.

Requested by: Anonymous

[whereforarthur]

A Night In

Request: I'm literally begging you for some George smut?? Like something dom and hot but still kinda cute and fluffy? He'd defo talk you through everything and give aftercare

Pairing: George Clarke x Reader

Category: Smut and Fluff

Word Count: 4.5k

*****

“You don't love someone because they're perfect, you love them in spite of the fact that they're not.” ― Jodi Picoult

George Clarke was a man of meticulous habits. Every morning, without fail, he'd rise with the sun, the faint light from the gap in the curtains tracing a path across his face. He'd blink the sleep away, his eyes focusing on the digital clock's unforgiving display, and then he'd slide out of bed, his bare feet making almost no sound on the cool hardwood floor. His apartment, nestled in the bustling heart of London, was a sanctuary of order and quietude. The only sounds that typically pierced the early morning silence were the distant rumble of a garbage truck or the occasional shout from a street cleaner.

But this morning was different. The air was charged with an electric anticipation that even George couldn't ignore. He'd felt it brewing for days, a tension that coiled tighter with each shared glance, each brush of skin against skin. He knew what he wanted, and he knew she felt it too. The question was, would she say yes? He padded into the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air, and poured two cups, his hand shaking slightly as he added sugar and milk to hers. He hoped she'd appreciate the gesture, the sweetness to start their day off right.

When Y/N emerged from the bedroom, her hair a wild halo around her flushed face, she looked at him with those big, doe-like eyes that never failed to make his heart stutter. He held out the cup, his voice a low rumble. "Can we stay home tonight so I can fuck your brains out?" The words were blunt, but the tender way he said them took the edge off, leaving only raw, unfiltered desire.

Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink as she took the cup, the warmth of the liquid seeping into her palms. She studied him over the rim, her thoughts swirling behind her eyes like a storm about to break. "What makes you think I'd say no?" she replied, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. It was the answer he'd been hoping for, and his grin grew in response.

They spent the day in a delicious dance of anticipation, their every interaction a silent promise of what was to come. Every brush of their hands was a spark, every shared laugh a secret shared only between them. The city outside their windows was a blur of life and color, but all George could see was the siren call of their shared solitude, the unspoken understanding that tonight would be theirs.

When evening finally fell, they settled into their usual routine, the tension thick enough to slice with a knife. He talked her through dinner, his voice a gentle command that sent shivers down her spine. He was always like this, attentive and considerate, but tonight there was an edge to his care that made her pulse race. The way he'd look at her, his eyes dark with want, was almost too much to bear.

After the dishes were done and the apartment was once again bathed in the soft glow of lamplight, George turned to her, his expression serious. "Are you ready?" he asked, his voice a low purr that sent a thrill through her body. She nodded, her heart hammering in her chest. He took her hand, leading her to the bedroom, and she knew that tonight would be nothing short of explosive.

*****

Once the door was closed, the air grew heavy with desire. He stepped closer, his breath hot against her neck as he whispered dark promises into her ear, each word a caress that made her knees weak. "I'm going to peel every layer of you away," he murmured, his hands skimming over her body, tracing the curves of her hips and the line of her spine. "I want to see every inch of you, feel every tremble, taste every gasp." His words were a symphony of filth and love, a heady combination that made her melt into him.

As his hands roamed, she felt the heat of his touch like a brand, searing through the fabric of her clothes. His fingertips grazed her collarbone, her breasts, and she arched into his touch, desperate for more. He chuckled, the sound a dark, delicious rumble in her ear. "Patience, love," he said, his teeth grazing her lobe. "We've got all night."

His whispered words painted a picture of debauchery, a night of unbridled passion that she knew she'd never forget. Each syllable was a caress, a promise of the pleasure to come. He knew exactly what she liked, exactly how to make her tremble, and he used that knowledge with the precision of a master artist. "You're going to scream my name," he murmured, his hand sliding down to cup her through her jeans. "You're going to beg for me to never stop."

Her breath hitched as his thumb found her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. She could feel herself getting wet, her body betraying her excitement even as she tried to maintain some semblance of control. But control was a fleeting thing with George, and she knew it. He'd take it from her, piece by piece, until she was nothing but a puddle of want at his feet. And she'd love every second of it.

Her hands found their way to his hair, desperately clutching at the strands as he kissed her. It was messy and hungry, their teeth clacking together in their haste. He tasted like mint and something darker, something that made her want to devour him whole. She felt his cock pressing against her, hard and insistent, and she could feel herself getting wetter, her body eager to take him in.

George's hands were everywhere, unbuttoning her shirt with shaking fingers, pushing it off her shoulders to expose her lacy bra. He growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through her chest as he took in the sight of her. His eyes were hooded, his pupils blown wide with desire. He traced the outline of her breasts with his fingertips before deftly unhooking her bra, letting it fall to the floor. Her nipples pebbled under his gaze, aching for his touch.

"My little slut," he murmured, his voice a warm caress as he bent his head to capture one of her nipples in his mouth. He sucked hard, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core. His tongue flicked and teased, the wet heat of his mouth making her squirm. She gasped, her nails digging into his scalp as he worked her other nipple with his thumb. "You're mine to ruin," he continued, his words a dark promise that sent a shiver down her spine. "Mine to use and claim."

He pushed her back onto the bed, the mattress giving way with a soft sigh. His body hovered over hers, his muscles taut with restrained power. She could feel the weight of his gaze as he took in the sight of her, spread out before him like a feast. He took his time, savoring every inch of her, his eyes lingering on the juncture of her thighs. "You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with need. "And you're all mine."

Her eyes searched his, finding the truth in his words. "I'm yours," she breathed, the confession slipping from her lips like a sacred vow. "Only yours." She watched as his pupils dilated, the blue of his eyes darkening with desire. It was a heady feeling, knowing she had that much power over him, that she could make him crave her so desperately.

He kissed her again, his hands moving to the button of her jeans. He tugged them down, his palms skimming her skin as he revealed the matching lacy underwear beneath. His eyes raked over her, a silent declaration of his appreciation. "So beautiful," he murmured, his voice a soft caress.

He slid her panties aside, exposing her to his gaze. He took a moment to just look at her, to drink in the sight of her. Then, with a wicked grin, he dipped his head and kissed her there, his tongue delving into her folds, tasting her sweetness. She bucked against him, her hips rising to meet his mouth. He licked and sucked, exploring every inch of her, teasing her clit until she was begging for more.

"I want to taste you so badly," he murmured against her, his voice muffled by her flesh. His words were a declaration of war, a promise of pleasure that had her body tightening with anticipation. His tongue swirled around her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, and she could feel herself getting closer, the tension coiling tighter and tighter.

Her hands tangled in his hair, urging him on as he devoured her. The sensation was exquisite, a symphony of pleasure that had her body thrumming with need. She was close, so close, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she shattered. "Oh, George," she whimpered, her voice high and desperate.

He looked up at her, his eyes dark with lust, and she could see the smug satisfaction in his gaze. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, and he loved it. "You want it, don't you?" he murmured, his breath hot against her wet flesh. "You want me to fuck you so badly you can't think straight."

"Yes," she moaned, the word a desperate plea that seemed to echo around the room. "Please, George. I need you."

He chuckled against her, the vibration sending a fresh wave of sensation through her. He kissed his way back up her body, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. "Good girl," he whispered, his teeth grazing her skin. "But first, I want to watch you come for me."

With a final, lingering lick, he pulled away and stood, shedding his own clothes with a speed that belied his earlier patience. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, and she licked her lips, eager to taste him. But he had other plans. He grabbed a condom from the bedside drawer and rolled it on, his eyes never leaving hers. Then he climbed back onto the bed, positioning himself between her legs.

"Do whatever you want with me," she whispered, her eyes glazed with need. "I'm yours."

The words were barely out of her mouth before George took action, claiming her with a ferocity that made her toes curl. He slid into her with a groan, filling her completely, stretching her until she thought she'd break. But she didn't. Instead, she welcomed him, her body opening up to him like a flower to the sun. He began to move, his hips a steady, relentless rhythm that had her arching off the bed, her nails digging into his back.

He leaned down, capturing her mouth with his, his tongue mimicking the thrust of his cock. She moaned into the kiss, her hips rising to meet his, the friction delicious and intense. He felt so good, so right, and she never wanted it to end. His hands roamed her body, touching and teasing, bringing her closer and closer to the edge.

"Your body was made for mine," he murmured against her lips, his words a declaration that seemed to resonate in every cell of her being. She nodded, her breath coming in gasps as he found her G-spot, his strokes long and deep. She felt herself tightening around him, the pressure building until she couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm going to come," she panted, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to hold on to the last shreds of her sanity. "Oh, fuck, George, I'm so close."

"Good," he growled, his hips pumping into her with a force that was almost brutal. "Come for me, baby. Show me how good I make you feel."

His words were a catalyst, sending her hurtling over the edge. Her body convulsed around him, her orgasm a white-hot burst of pleasure that stole her breath. She screamed his name, the sound echoing through the room as she clung to him, her nails digging into his back. He didn't stop, though, didn't even slow, his movements only becoming more intense as he drove her through wave after wave of pleasure.

"You're so good for me," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as he watched her come apart. "So fucking good around me." His words were a gentle command, a declaration of his ownership, and she reveled in it. She felt like she was made for this, made for him, and the thought sent another ripple of pleasure through her.

Her body was still trembling when he pulled out, his cock slick with her arousal. He rolled her over, pressing her face down into the pillows, his hand coming down to rest on the small of her back. "Mine," he said, the word a dark promise that had her pussy clenching with need. She knew what was coming, knew she'd never be the same after tonight.

He positioned himself behind her, his cock nudging at her entrance. "Are you ready for me to claim you?" he asked, his voice a seductive purr that sent a shiver down her spine. She nodded, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "Say it," he demanded, his hand sliding down to squeeze her ass.

"I'm ready," she whimpered, the words barely audible over the pounding of her heart. "Claim me, George. Make me yours."

He didn't need any more encouragement. With a growl of pure lust, he slammed into her, filling her completely. She gasped, the sound muffled by the pillow, as he began to move, his hands gripping her hips tightly. He didn't hold back, his strokes deep and powerful, each one driving her closer to the edge again.

"You look better with my hands around your neck," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. He reached up, his fingers wrapping gently around her throat. The sensation was surprising, a mix of fear and excitement that sent her arousal skyrocketing. He didn't squeeze, just applied enough pressure to make her aware of his control, his dominance.

"And your mouth around my cock," he added, his voice a dark, seductive whisper that made her shiver. She felt him pull out, the emptiness a stark contrast to the fullness she'd grown accustomed to. "On your knees," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. She complied, her legs trembling with the effort to support herself as she felt him line up behind her.

With a firm grip on her hair, George guided her face down to his cock, still glistening with her juices. She took him in eagerly, her mouth stretching around his girth, the musky scent of their combined arousal filling her nostrils. He groaned, his hips bucking slightly as she swirled her tongue around the tip. She took him deeper, her throat relaxing to accommodate him, and she could feel his restraint slipping.

"Ah, fuck," he breathed, his voice strained. His hand tightened on her neck, not enough to hurt, but enough to make her aware of his need. "Don't close your eyes, baby. Look at me." She obeyed, her gaze locking onto his, and the intensity in his eyes was almost too much to handle. The way he watched her, like she was the only thing that mattered in the world, made her feel powerful and vulnerable all at once.

He began to thrust into her mouth, his movements growing more demanding with each passing second. "That's it," he praised, his voice a low growl. "Take it all." And she did, eager to please him, eager to feel him lose control. She could feel the head of his cock hitting the back of her throat, and she gagged slightly, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she took him deeper, her tongue working him with a fervor that matched his own.

"You're so good at this," he murmured, his grip on her hair tightening. "So fucking good." He picked up the pace, his hips snapping against her face, and she could feel the beginnings of his climax building. Her eyes watered, her throat ached, but she didn't care. All she cared about was making him feel good, making him come apart the way he made her feel.

Her hands gripped the bed, her knuckles white with the effort to stay still as he fucked her mouth. She could feel his thighs tremble against her cheeks, the muscles in his stomach tightening as he approached his peak. "Don't be gentle with me," she whispered, the words barely audible around his cock. "I like it when you're rough."

It was all the encouragement he needed. His grip on her hair tightened, his hips moving faster, more forcefully. She could feel his cock thicken, the veins pulsing beneath her tongue. He was close, so close, and she reveled in the power she had over him. He groaned, his body tensing, and then he was coming, his warmth filling her mouth as he held her in place, his eyes never leaving hers.

The command was simple but loaded with meaning. "Swallow it," he said, his voice hoarse with passion. "All of it." It was a declaration of his ownership, a demand for her submission, and she complied without hesitation. She swallowed, her eyes never leaving his, the salty taste of him coating her tongue. He watched her, his gaze intense, as she took every drop, savoring the evidence of his pleasure.

*****

"I didn't hurt you too much, did I?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. His hand, still wrapped around her neck, gently massaged the skin there, his thumb brushing over the pulse point. She could feel the throb of his heart against her back, the steady beat a reminder of the connection they shared.

"No," she assured him, her voice a little raspy from his use. "I liked it." She felt his body relax, his grip on her loosening slightly. "Relax," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "Let me take care of you."

George pulled her back onto the bed, rolling her onto her back and settling between her legs. His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of discomfort or distress. Finding none, he leaned down and kissed her softly, tasting himself on her lips. He was gentle now, his earlier ferocity replaced by a tenderness that made her heart ache.

He slid back inside her, his movements slow and deliberate. This time, there was no urgency, no need to claim or conquer. It was just them, lost in the intimacy of their shared passion. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, his teeth nipping at her sensitive skin as he moved. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his back as she met his every thrust.

Their breaths mingled, the sound of their bodies coming together the only noise in the quiet apartment. The world outside had ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the feel of him inside her, the warmth of his embrace, the sound of his voice as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. "You're mine," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "And I'm yours."

His words were a gentle caress, a reminder of their connection, and she felt herself opening up to him even more. He was right there with her, their hearts beating in sync, their bodies moving together as if they'd been doing this dance for a lifetime. She felt cherished, worshipped, and it was a feeling she never wanted to lose.

As he moved inside her, she could feel her orgasm building again, a slow crescendo that started in her toes and worked its way up. It was a different kind of pleasure, one that washed over her in waves, gentle and all-consuming. "I've never heard such a truly beautiful sound," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the storm of sensations. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with wonder, and he leaned down to kiss her, his tongue delving into her mouth with the same slow, sweet strokes that his cock was making inside her.

He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, his breath a warm caress that sent shivers down her spine. "You're so perfect," he said, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate deep within her. "So perfect for me." His words were a drug, a heady cocktail of praise and possession that had her clinging to him even tighter.

Her body responded to his gentle touch, her hips rising to meet his, her legs wrapping around his waist. She felt herself getting closer, the pressure building, the tension coiling in her belly like a tightly wound spring. "I'm going to come," she whispered, the words a breathless confession that seemed to hang in the air.

George's eyes lit up, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Come for me, baby," he urged, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine. "Let me feel you come around me." He kissed her again, his tongue mimicking the movement of his cock. She could feel herself tightening around him, her body straining for release.

And then it hit her, the orgasm rolling over her like a tidal wave. She screamed, her nails digging into his back, her body arching off the bed. He followed her over, his own climax crashing into her like a meteor, the force of it making her see stars. They came together, their bodies shuddering with the intensity of their shared pleasure. It was a moment of pure connection, a moment where nothing else mattered except the feel of him inside her, their hearts beating as one.

Their breaths mingled, ragged and desperate, as they rode out the aftershocks of their shared climax. His cock pulsed inside her, the sensation making her shiver. "You're mine," he murmured again, his voice a gentle reminder of the power he held over her. "And I'm yours."

He didn't pull out, instead choosing to stay buried deep within her, his body a warm, heavy weight that she never wanted to escape. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs still wrapped around his waist, holding him close as if she could keep him there forever. "Always," she whispered, her voice a soft promise that seemed to echo through the quiet room.

George kissed her forehead, his movements gentle and soothing. He pulled out slowly, the feeling of emptiness making her whimper. He rolled onto his side, bringing her with him so that she was nestled against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath he took.

"You're mine," he murmured again, his voice a gentle reminder of the possessive need that had driven him all night. She nodded, her eyes drifting shut as she felt the warmth of his embrace envelop her. His hand trailed down her back, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin that had her melting into him even more.

*****

"Bloody hell, George, that was..." Y/n's voice trailed off, the final word stuck in her throat as she stared at the ceiling, her chest heaving.

George, grinning from ear to ear, leaned over and kissed her forehead. "I'm guessing you enjoyed it?"

Her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, but she couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. "Well, it wasn't exactly your typical Tuesday night."

They lay there for a moment, basking in the afterglow, the room still and quiet. The only sound was the faint ticking of the clock on the bedside table. Y/n's hand reached out and found George's, their fingers interlocking in a silent promise of comfort and care.

George pulled the duvet up to cover their naked forms, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand. "You okay?" he asked, his voice a low murmur in the quiet room.

"Mmhmm," she hummed, her eyes fluttering closed. "Just a bit... tender."

He chuckled softly, the warmth of his breath fanning her cheek. "I'll be more gentle next time," he promised, planting another kiss on her forehead.

With a sigh, Y/n turned to face him, her eyes searching his. "Thank you," she whispered.

He brushed a strand of hair out of her face, his eyes filled with concern. "For what?"

"For always looking after me, even when things get... intense."

He nodded, understanding in his gaze. "It's what we do, isn't it?"

They lay there for a while longer, their bodies entwined, until the room grew cold and the early morning light began to creep in through the curtains. Y/n shivered and George tightened his hold, sharing his warmth.

"Would you like some tea?" he offered, his voice still a gentle rumble.

"That would be lovely," she murmured, her eyes still closed.

With a soft squeeze of her hand, George slipped out of bed, his footsteps padding quietly across the floorboards as he disappeared into the kitchen. The faint sound of the kettle being filled and turned on echoed through the flat.

Y/n took a deep breath, letting the scent of him linger on her skin. She could feel the tenderness between her legs, a reminder of their passionate night. As she waited for him to return, she couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over her. Despite the occasional roughness, their relationship had always been one of care and consideration.

When George came back with two steaming mugs, she sat up and took one from him, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic. The scent of Earl Grey wafted up, soothing and familiar. They sat in companionable silence, sipping their tea and watching the shadows on the wall dance as the sun rose over London.

The moment was peaceful, a stark contrast to the passionate tumult of just an hour ago. Yet, in its own way, it was just as intimate. It was the quiet aftercare that followed the storm, the gentle touches and soft words that stitched their hearts back together, ready to face whatever the day had in store.

And as the night stretched out before them, she knew that she'd never want to leave this moment, never want to break the spell that held them in its thrall. Because in George's arms, she'd found a home, a place where she could be both the soft, vulnerable creature she truly was, and the fiery siren he brought out in her. It was a balance she never knew she needed, but now that she had it, she couldn't imagine life without it.

The city outside their window was a distant memory, the only world that mattered was the one they'd created in this room, in this bed. And as she closed her eyes, letting sleep claim her, she knew that she'd wake up to the same sweet, gentle care that had become their signature. This was their little slice of heaven, and she had no intention of ever letting go.

*****

@gvf23

@xxkatxgracexx

[foxy-eva]

Debut

Summary: It's Spencer's first time going down on a woman. He’s a quick learner.

Request: Spencer’s first time going down on a lady, maybe she talks him through how to do it (originally requested to @imagining-in-the-margins) 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) inexperienced Spencer, oral (fem receiving), fingering, coming untouched (Spencer)

Word count: 900

Masterlist

From the very first time you got to be alone with Spencer, he made it obvious how good he was at compensating for his lack of experience with his infinite eagerness. It was a perfect mix of his insatiable intellectual curiosity and his ambition to please you that left you gasping for air each night you spent together. 

Tonight wasn’t any different. Spencer had almost ripped your clothes off before you even made it to his bedside. The hunger in his eyes was unlike anything you had ever seen before. His lips were almost burning when they touched yours, he was kissing you like a man starved. 

Once the two of you lay down on his bed, he began trailing kisses down your neck and over your chest. He lingered for a few moments to caress your breasts before his lips moved over your stomach, nipping on soft skin, spurred on by the sighs falling from your lips. 

You already had a hunch where he was headed when he descended further down your body. He confirmed your suspicion when he looked up to find your eyes, almost sounding desperate when he whined, “Can I taste you?” 

“Eager boy,” you snickered. “You have never done that before, have you?”

He shook his head and begged you, “Please?” 

His eyes were filled with wonder when you opened your legs to grant him access. It wasn’t the first time he saw you like this but he made it obvious that it was impossible to get used to the glory your body had to offer. Just like every time he had seen you completely bare before, he mumbled, “You’re so beautiful.” 

“I’m all yours,” you encouraged him to bring to action what you both longed for. 

Spencer began trailing kissing along your inner thigh, slowly getting closer to where you were aching for his touch. Just before his lips reached your center, he hesitated. 

You didn’t let him voice any insecurities as you purred, “Just keep kissing me.” 

And so he did. His lips moved along the seam of your core before ghosting over your folds. 

Almost like an order, you whispered, “Taste me.”

Without wasting any more time his tongue began gliding through your heat to collect your arousal. He seemed to be mesmerized by your heady scent, moaning against you as he kept moving his tongue along you. When he heard your moans falling from your lips, he couldn’t help but begin to rock his hips against the mattress. 

You noticed his enthusiasm and snickered, “My sweet boy, you’re really enjoying this, huh?”

“Yes,” he mumbled against your skin. “You taste so good.” 

“Keep going,” you purred. “Focus on–”

You were interrupted by a moan escaping your throat as Spencer began focussing his attention on your bundle of nerves. Those sounds seemed to spur him further on, wrapping his arms around your thighs to keep you in place while his tongue moved over your little bud. 

When his eagerness almost got too much for you, you whined, “Be gentle. Slow and steady.” 

Spencer was a quick learner, immediately adjusting his movements until he found exactly what you liked. 

“So good,” you praised him. “Just like that.”

Spencer got lost in the pleasure just like you did, involuntarily grinding his hardness against the mattress to find some much needed friction. Your ambrosial taste clouded his mind, unable to focus on anything else but your delicate folds against his tongue. 

You danced along the edge of euphoria, still in need of more to finally find relief. 

"Use your hand," you sighed and hoped he'd understand. 

It took Spencer a moment to realize what you needed. Once his brain caught up with your words, he let his hand wander from your thigh to your center. He leaned back for a moment to find your face while he traced your tender skin with his fingertips. 

When he let two of his fingers glide into you, you threw your head back into the pillows and closed your eyes. Your hand reached out for Spencer's hair, grabbing it to bring his mouth back to where it belonged. He whimpered when you tugged on his hair, obviously enjoying your harshness. 

With his tongue against your most sensitive spot and his fingers moving inside you, he brought you closer to your breaking point. His moans against your heat added vibrations that made you feel light-headed. Just when you began pulsing around his fingers, Spencer found relief as well, blemishing his underwear as he fell apart. 

After you came down from your high, Spencer sat up between your legs with glowing cheeks and his mouth agape. You opened your eyes and arms at the same time, inviting him into your embrace. He accepted the offer.

Once you noticed the mess he had made inside his underwear, Spencer wanted to apologize but you reassured him instead, "I love to know how much you enjoy bringing me pleasure."

With a smirk spread over your face, you pushed his body until he lay on his back. As you began kissing down his neck, you whispered against his skin, "Now it's my turn."

If you enjoyed reading this story you should check out the other blurbs in my Blurb Collection!

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[theminecraftbee]

so a thing this fandom does that remains FASCINATING to me, as a function of the fact a lot of this fandom is people's first fandom or only current fandom, is just... assume a lot of things it does is a scourge that this fandom has invented or doesn't exist outside of it? or like, is uniquely bad here? and i won't deny that sometimes mcyt fandom is a bit more intense by virtue of numbers, but like...

duo names: confusing fandom-injokes to describe duos and groups tend to be an anime fandom thing specifically for many historical reasons, but they're not uncommon. hey quick--if you haven't been in KHR fandom, can you guess what 1827 is? no? i'll give you a hint: that's actually a ship name. or, ygo fans, tell me the difference between puppyshipping, prideshipping, violetshipping, and rivalshipping. my hint is that they're all kaiba ships and two of them are actually the same ship. good luck!

reducing characters to a specific trait: have you read fic in another fandom before? i would recommend you go do so and come back to me. my example here is "sasuke likes tomatoes", for the record.

common au fanon that's confusing to outsiders: my deep cut here is "when i got into certain tv fandoms i was baffled by the existence of sentinel/guide fics", which is a slightly older tv fandom thing so many of you probably don't know what i'm on about. but trust me: in certain fandoms it's ubiquitous and unless you've watched a completely different tv show you're gonna have to entirely pick it up from reading fic. oh hey, hybrid aus and watcher!grian, nice to see your relative here,

fanon being treated as canon: did you know there's this whole bnha character, naomasa, who is treated as canonically having a lie detector quirk? did you know that, best i can tell, that's not in canon anywhere, it just got echoed through fanon enough that everyone treated it as canon? 'fanon trait becomes so ubiquitous everyone assumes it has to be there' is not a new thing. also, batfamily fans, i have been lead to understand the tim and coffee thing is also this.

characters being treated badly to make a different dynamic look better: the fact we have the term 'character bashing' tells you all you need to know, here. if anything my one complaint on this front isn't even that it's happening--it's that i wish bashing and/or "not [character] friendly" was tagged a little more frequently, haha.

characters being reduced to their family dynamics: tale as old as time. "even the family dynamic thing" yes even that. just because this fandom tended to be particularly ship-adverse in the past didn't mean it didn't do basically the same behaviors as any fandom with shipping did with those dynamics, just gen. and other gen fandoms also do that. yes, down to the "and shipping reduces them to a ship, unlike my gen dynamic, which is very in-character; why can't people just be friends?" thing. some of you have to have been marvel fans right.

characters being reduced to their ships: some of you have to have been marvel fans right.

The Discourse: yeah this is an "actively running show" fandom thing, but also a hiatus fandom thing. ask a homestuck about vriskourse sometime. as much as i hate to say it, it probably made doomsday discourse look cute.

and those are just like... some things i've seen people complain about on my dash recently. idk it just hit me there are probably fans in mcyt fandoms who are assuming that some things (like hybrid aus or duo names) are the kind of things that only happen here, so i thought i'd offer some examples of other places they happen! i also have even more examples if you'd like.

to be clear: this isn't shaming anyone for complaining about any of these things. lord knows i go complain to my friends about it all the time, just the other day i was complaining in the category of 'they keep bashing my guy'. it's more of just... a gentle reminder that maybe we're big, maybe we're loud, maybe we have problems... but these problems aren't always unique.

so uh. we're all suffering together i guess...?

[artist-issues]

Tell me every reason you enjoy Zootopia enough to give it all the rewatches you do.

Every? Oh boy.

Good Story

Perfect Characters

Visual Appeal

Earnestness

Let me break it down.

1. Good Story

Zootopia’s main point is: “Try to make the world a better place by realizing we’re fundamentally the same.”

That’s a really good main point.

It has the benefit of being true. Right now our culture is super into “self-identification,” and this crazy contrast between, “I want to be able to identify as something special” and “Now that I know what categories I fit in, I can choose who’s ‘one of us’ and who’s ’not one of us.’” Okay well that sounds pretty and I’m sure it fulfills some emotional need at some point, but it’s actually super divisive, and self-serving, and it’s the seeds for all prejudices. Including racism.

Do we have differences in origins and experiences? Yes. Of course. Do we also have some fundamental things in common? Yes. Of course. Which truth are you going to give the highest priority to? If it’s “no, I’m a prey animal, I know exactly where I belong, that’s who I am, that’s how I dress, that’s my compass for how I interact with others” then you’re getting all your security from your “sense of self,” and being able to understand what that is…which is just a fancy way of saying “I’m all about me. My own perspective informs everything I do.”

Anyway. Zootopia’s message was super true.

And the coolest thing about it is that if only Judy were in the wrong, and the other half of the dynamic duo, Nick, was this open-minded, un-prejudiced guy…and she just hurts him and has to apologize…the movie’s message wouldn’t be as well-communicated.

They have their prejudices and their hurt-from-being-prejudiced-against in common!

They’re the same…because they’ve both felt what it’s like to be treated like they’re not “the same.”

Nick isn’t the only character being mistreated and written off because of his species. The whole first half of the movie is about Judy being mistreated and written off. They think she can’t be a cop because she’s little and cute and a prey-animal. They think Nick can’t be trustworthy because he’s sneaky and small and a predator.

So literally…if Judy represented one race, and Nick represented a completely different race…the movie would be saying that both those races are discriminated against. They even have discrimination in common. AND, if Nick represented men who people make assumptions about because he’s a man, and Judy represented women who people make assumptions about because she’s a woman—the movie would be saying that both those genders are falsely judged.

I mean. Wow. Right now, your movie is either pro-woman or pro-man. Right now, your movie is either BLM or white-supremacy. Everybody’s lining up on one side of the line or the other. Zootopia says, “it doesn’t matter what character you’re looking at, from the elephant that can’t remember anything to the two main characters—every single one of them has fundamental things in common, and one of those things is that they all live like they’re in their own special category. When actually, they’re all fundamentally the same.”

I don’t want to keep beating the dead horse. But I have a post somewhere that lists every background character and points out that each animal is the exact opposite of what you would assume they are based on their animal-stereotype. The otters are never shown being playful or snuggly, only traumatized and ferocious. The cheetah is fat and slow, not quick or even quick on the uptake. Etc.

Even if you look outside of characters—look at the sets. Look at the environments. The whole city is designed “for animals, by animals.” But it’s in neat little segments. The animals organize themselves by habitat. Of course, in one sense that’s practical—the polar bears can’t live in Sahara Square, etc. but the point is, by making Judy and Nick, the main characters, small animals, in a city where everything is built to accommodate by species—UGH this is so good—they have to figure out how to problem-solve in situations that weren’t made to accommodate them.

Little Rodentia? Judy has to avoid stepping on all the mice or knocking over their buildings. Parking tickets? She has to figure out how to jump to reach bigger animals’ windshields—or she inconveniences smaller animals because the tickets are all printed at the exact same size. Stuck in a cell? The guards didn’t think about the fact that small animals can fit down the pipes made to accommodate big animals.

Zootopia is a city advertised to be where all the animals can come together. But the way they do that is by trying to accommodate every species’ preferences. So then actually while they try to come together, everything from their cars to their districts remind them of their differences. The whole idea is that they prioritize the wrong truths. Yeah, mice can’t drive giraffe cars—but they still have “driving” in common. See?

And oh my word. Initially it was supposed to be a spy story. But they changed it to a buddy cop story. Why? Well because justice doesn’t discriminate. Or at least, it’s not supposed to. So then there’s another lens to look at the story’s main theme through.

It’s just that every layer, every perspective you look at the movie from, is just hammering that truth into you: “Try to make the world a better place by realizing we’re fundamentally the same.”

2. Perfect Characters

Every character is so well-thought-through in this movie, even the side characters. You get the feeling you could watch a whole movie based on the side characters, because that’s the amount of love and nuance built into them.

Look at the main ones, though. Bellwhether is supposed to be soft and a follower. She’s a sheep. Instead, she’s hard and bitter—and she’s a leader. A villainous leader, but a leader, nonetheless. Even as she tries to keep animals divided based on fear of their stereotypes, she’s not fitting her own stereotype. Her voice actress has this strained, half-hoarse, but sweet voice. Like you can tell that this character has spent a lot of time under pressure and trying to manage appearances. Appearing like she’s fine, and she can handle it—until you realize that the appearance she’s really managing is “the cultural fear-based identify of the city.” They dress her in plaid and flowers and she’s a farm animal, because that’s the kind of character Judy would be most likely to trust. But she still has green eyes, and jagged teeth, so that when she does start making evil expressions there are some caricature-pieces in there that come out and accentuate that.

Nick Wilde—everybody’s favorite—is supposed to be sly and smooth and shifty. And he is. He’s a fox. But he’s also brave, helpful, and trustworthy. The first time you see him is when he’s dodging out of the way of a bigger animal ignoring him and about to run him over. Well, that’s important.

Because Judy knows what it’s like to have to get out of the way of larger animals, because they overlook her.

So right off the bat, this character she has to get along with and work with, this character who furthers her development and nails the main point, is introduced in a way that has something in common with her. But he’s also introduced in a way that gives her an opportunity to focus on a different truth—that he is different from her. Because the sheep is yelling that he’s a “fox.” Right away, we’re back to species-as-identification.

And that’s what the movie does, all the way through. It presents new animal characters, and with those new animals characters, more than one thing is true at a time. And Judy has to try to focus on which truth is more important. “Try to make the world a better place by realizing we’re all the same.” Yes, Nick is a criminal. But Nick is also brave, helpful, and eventually, becomes trustworthy.

Judy, too. Judy is an incredibly well-done character. Because she believes, in her head, that anyone can be anything—which is not what the movie ends on. In fact, she goes from saying, “anyone can be anything,” to saying, “we all have limitations.” It’s not true that a fox can be an elephant. But it is true that a fox can be trustworthy. Figure out what’s true, and try to make decisions for the better, based on that.

I could talk about character design and acting. Ginnifer Goodwin gives just the right amount of smugness and self-confidence to Judy without making her unlikeable—you don’t realize she’s smug and her self-confidence is misplaced until she does, when she fails to make the world a better place for Nick.

Judy wears tight, actionable, well-fitting uniforms for the whole movie. In her civilian clothes when she comes to Zootopia, she’s wearing athletic t-shirts and shorts. Ready for action, that’s Judy, even in her civvies. Meanwhile, Nick? Nick wears loose-fitting clothes. Loud, patterned clothes that don’t match. Like he didn’t even what, ladies and gentlemen? Like he didn’t even TRY. “Try to make the world a better place…”

Because when you meet Nick Wilde, he’s long since given up on trying, in life. So his character design reflects that. He rarely even stands up straight, or opens his eyes all the way—his default is drooping. And guess what?

When Judy “gives up?” Quits her job? Goes back home? Stops trying? Her civvies aren’t ready-for-action, trying clothes. They’re loose flannels. And her “ears are droopy.”

SERIOUSLY, you can find things like this in every corner of the movie. For every character. Not one character is a throwaway, not in voice acting, not in design, not in animation, and not in narrative.

3. Visual Appeal

Which leads me into this point—no other animated anthropomorphic animal movie is as visually appealing as Zootopia.

What Zootopia does is it matches the best of the best anthropomorphic animal designs from past Disney movies:

And they marry it with this incredible intentionality with modern CGI.

Did you know Disney invents its own software for things like fur textures?

The sheep’s wool, the velvet pig skin, the fox fur, the bunny fluff—it’s all completely different textures. There’s no one “fur” covering all the hairy mammals.

Nick isn’t just orange. He’s orange with deep red and dark tufts. Judy has black tips to her ears, too—which helps the two of them look like, in some sense, they belong “together” in every shot.

It’s so important to the movie that the animals feel like animals that they worked this hard to do this. And then that extends to the textures of the snow, the ice, the sand, the wet leaves, the grass, the fire.

Every character moves like their animal, and like themselves. Nick and Gideon are both foxes, but they don’t move similarly at all. Gideon is aggressive and glowering and physical. Nick, again, is slouchy, leans on everything, completely non-confrontational.

Other anthropomorphic animal movies like Sing or Puss in Boots—they’re not doing both as well. Zootopia is appealing, without sacrificing realism completely, and without cutting character acting.

The lighting. Nope. This post is too long, I can’t talk any more.

4. Earnestness

There is no disingenuous moment in this movie.

The animators are never lazy. They always go for the challenge. They don’t cut corners. Have you ever seen “Over the Hedge?” I like Over the Hedge. But I watched it recently and it’s crazy how many shots are strategically placed so that the animators don’t have to solve a certain effects problem.

For example, when RJ sprays Hammy with cool whip to make it look like he has rabies? He doesn’t. You never see the cool whip leave the can. It just cuts away, then cuts back when RJ is pulling the can away from his face. The shots are also cut so that you never have to see gas actually come out of Stella—and you never see Vern’s full body as he gets back into his shell, just the upper part of the shell as he wiggles it around, going through the motions of putting it back on.

That’s because that stuff would be painstaking to animate. Any time one character has to interact with props or substances (especially liquids) that are not part of their model, it’s harder on the animator.

Zootopia? We’re getting full-on views of characters getting wet, fur and all, characters touching various objects and elements, foam coming out of the mouth, new clothes, new set pieces, multiple models, huge crowd shots of different animals in different outfits, all with their own movement patterns and acting.

And all that hard work and effort, aimed so totally at the main theme of the movie? Making sure it looks as good as it can? Not just that, but the way it’s written, the acting, is so genuine. They don’t hold anything back. They don’t shy away from real emotion.

Judy Hopps’ apology scene is brutal. She’s crying, having a hard time finishing a sentence, her voice is all tight. It’s not pretty, it’s not romantic, it’s like…ugly crying. And her character is wrong in a super embarrassing way. They're not afraid to go there. The writers, the actors, the animators—they’re not afraid of being too vulnerable with these character flaws.

So many movies, especially kids’ movies today—they just pull up and shy away from being real through their characters. They think a quick sad facial expression will get the point across. And it does. The audience gets that the character feels sad about whatever the circumstance of the scene is. But not as powerfully. Because you didn’t put as much work and heart into it.

Zootopia is all heart, from work ethic to vulnerability to the filmmakers enjoying what they’re doing, enough to make it as good as it can possibly be. I can’t explain it better, other than to say, you feel like they would’ve been happy making this movie much much longer than it was. You feel like they’re cramming every bit of joy and passsion into every little joke, every side character, every hair on a CGI bear.

There you go. Long post, you did ask for it

[tremendouscreationperson]

Logan x Reader pt.10

Omg Im so sorry I'm not consistent with posting, it's my nans 70th so I am off this week so I should be able to be a bit better

Also my bestie's bestie and her wife got tickets to the eras tour without me and are going today so I needed Logan to comfort me - hence the posting 🤣🤣🤣

There be hysterectomy talk in this one

<<Part 9 Part 11>> Masterlist

Logan seemed to have fucked most of the anger out of his system. Not all. He was still frosty but he now spoke with you, entertained your small talk. 

“You hungry?” He asked, various fast food joints passing you by. 

“Yeah.” The nurses had given you food but after certain activities you weren't going to pass anything greasy up.

“What’d’ya want?” 

“Literally anything.” You scanned the street and pointed to the McDonalds. “That'll do.” Can't go wrong with a Maccas. 

“What you thinking?” 

“I dunno, do they still do the big n’ tasty?” 

“No.” He pulled into the car park. “You want to go in and look at the menu?”

You did but time was of the essence. “As long as we're quick.” 

“We can be quick.”  He hummed, reversing into a space.

You both hopped out of the jeep and entered the building. It was fairly dull in here. Wasn't McDonald's colourful? Full of children's characters and clowns? It was grey and brown and sleek and boring. 

Logan walked past you and tapped on a screen. It displayed all the different menu categories. 

“McDonalds has screens now?” You laughed in disbelief. You tapped the ‘whats new’ option. Everything had gotten bigger. There were larger nugget meals and burgers and wraps. 

Garlic cheese dippers, selects and all sorts of tasty goodness. 

You chose yourself a triple cheeseburger meal and some nuggets on the side. He picked a chicken box, a Big Mac meal and an array of sides. 

“You sure that's all you can eat?” You joked. 

“Fast metabolism.” 

“Are we going to be able to fit this all in the car?” 

“Yeah.” He pulled out his card. 

“Oh wait!” You quickly pressed the back button and ordered a strawberry milkshake. “A peace offering.” 

Logan's brows pulled an inch but he didn't comment. Laura was yet to have a milkshake, diabolical behaviour on your part. 

Your order number was 66. There were a lot of numbers before you so you perched on the back of an unoccupied booth.

Logan stood straight next to you, as though he was standing guard. So you decided to take advantage of that. Of him watching out for you. Your mind wandering to your ‘new’ body. You could heal. That was crazy. You still didn't understand the science behind that. The TVA had painlessly taken blood, spit and plasma samples. They had checked you for any diseases the Void could offer but the illuminati didn't. How did they have your materials to meld with the regenerative ones? Maybe they didn't. Surely they wouldn't just experiment with you though. Hopefully you weren't a guinea pig. 

“How fast you reckon it's gonna be?” You questioned looking at your wrists. 

“I dunno, twenty minutes max?” Logan turned from the screen to look at you. 

“No.” You giggled. “Healing.”

“Oh.” His eyes flickered to where you had exposed your wrist. “I wouldn't know.” 

You thrust it towards him. “Will you do the honours?” 

“Are you being fucking serious?” He stepped back. “After everything I've said you think I'd just cut you?” 

Okay okay, that was maybe a poor move on your part. “I guess?”

He rolled his eyes. “Ain't happening.” 

You grumbled but formed a field, manipulating it into a thin disc, making sure one edge was paper thin. Even a paper cut could show you.

The slice you had planned didn't work so you had to try again and yes! Well, maybe don't be too happy.. what would Dave say?! 

The cut was teeny. It was about ten centimetres but the little dot of blood told you it wasnt superficial. There was at least an element of actual harm. 

“I hate you.” Logan folded his arms. 

“No you don't, just watch.” 

The cut did nothing.

The two of you just staring, transfixed, at your wrist. 

“Maybe it has to be deepe-ahhh.” 

You could feel a warmth, it was hot. Red hot. And your skin was stretching. You could feel it tying itself together. None of this was really visible but the line did close. You had imagined healing wouldn't hurt... Yet here you were. 

You smirked up smugly. “It works!” 

He huffed but you could see how happy he was. His eyes were lit and his lips had tugged upwards. 

“Brilliant, eh?” 

“It's pretty good.” He kissed your crown. 

~~

You couldn't wait for the lift. Too excited. But taking the stairs wasn't an option so you did in fact wait for the lift. 

Gosh it took fucking forever.

Logan hadn't let you out of his sight, barely leaving to collect the food bags. He was really fucking happy. 

You were going to be safer than ever. 

All he could imagine as you lay in the hospital bed was “what ifs”. He knew it was entirely possible that he could hurt you. He knew he had nightmares and had had to buy a new mattress before due to them. He knew his claws came out when you fucked so what was to stop them when he was scared?

He hated the ideas so he projected them onto the one that had hurt you. 

Laura.

Laura was him. 

He'd never deny that. 

She was a younger version of him. 

She was the one that hurt you and I'm a way that spared Logan. 

She was to blame. 

“Laura!” You called as soon as the elevator doors opened. “Baby?” Jogging towards her door. 

You then halted. 

“What-ho-how do I approach this?” 

Logan didn't know. If he hurt you he'd be fucking distraught. He would kill himself a few times just to feel nothing, to stop the guilt. “Just be yourself?” 

You let out a whine but carried on and knocked at the door. It was open. The pressure of your knock opened the door. 

“Laura?” Your voice was unsure but you pushed the door the rest of the way and entered the dark home. 

The curtains were drawn and the lights were all off making it almost impossible to see her slip through the bedroom door, looking worse for wear, and stick to the corner. 

She was still wearing the clothes she had worn that night. Blood covering her hands and splattered across the mateiral. Her hair was unwashed, her eyes hollow, she hugged herself as she watched you move into the room. 

“Baby.” You raised the cup. “I finally got you that milkshake. It's strawberry. I think chocolate can sometimes be a bit meh so strawberry is the next best.” Why were you rambling?

Laura's eyes flicked to the cup and then to your ever present shadow: Logan. 

“I'm gonna… put it on the table?” You placed the cup in-between the two of you. “It's nice." 

She didn't make any movements.

Let's just cut to the chase then. “Laura, I'm fine.” You gestured to yourself. “In fact Tony Stark was able to alter my genes. I heal like you and Logan.” 

Her brow twitched. 

“Look.” You repeated the field and sliced across your arm. Laura's eyes widened and she gasped at the blood. Ah fuck. Maybe you shouldn't have. “Laura, just watch. It takes a second then it w-orks.” 

She watched your skin sew itself back together and her eyes watered. 

“Baby,” You weren't going to stand there and let her cry. “I'm coming over.”

She didn't back up, letting you stride to her. You immediately pulled her into a bone crushing hug, and she sobbed into your shoulder. 

“I'm fine and I don't blame you.” You repeated over and over again. “I love you.” She clutched onto your back, her body shaking with sorrow. “I don't blame you. You're my baby and I love you.” 

Logan took a step forward causing her to tense. 

“Lo stay back on this one.” You shushed into her ear, threading fingers through her hair. “It's okay Laura, he's not going to do anything.” 

It took a while but she did ease back into the embrace, her tears slowly creasing. 

Laura stepped back, looking at you with fat wet eyes. She gave you the tiniest nod and stepped around you to pick up the milkshake. 

She handed it to you and you took a drink. “I'd never poison you, love.” 

Laura seemed satisfied that you didn't die so took a drink herself. 

You could see the thoughts zooming through her mind. It was cold. Thick. Tasted unlike anything she'd had before. But she liked it. 

Laura drank silently from the straw and gave you the smallest hint of a smile when she released it. 

“I knew you'd like it baby.” You grinned down at her. “Right, we have to get you cleaned up.” 

~~ 

You'd run the bath for her and insist she hop in. Laura removed the crusty clothes and did follow your instructions. Neither of you cared that she was naked. You were past that. 

“Is it warm enough?” 

She nodded. You'd all become accustomed to cool water due to the Void so we're careful when running baths or turning the shower on. If it was too hot it felt suffocating. 

You dunked her sponge into the soapy water and plucked her hands in yours to clean them. The movements were methodical. You cleaned her wrist, then her palms then her knuckles and lastly her nails. She's ripped off the false ones, leaving her natural nails on show. 

When the water was a burgundy colour you let it out and refilled the tub. Laura sat and watched. “We're going to do your hair now. Tilt your head back.” 

You flicked the tap to connect it to the shower head and turned it on. The water splurged out and you hummed softly to undercut the noise. Laura let you rinse her hair. There were bits of dry blood and a leaf? in it. El had said she had run away. Good on them for finding her and bringing her back. Good on El for replacing the mattress and bedding. You'd have to thank them. You loved them so dearly for looking after her. 

Laura's eyes were tired by the time you'd finished. She stood and you wrapped a towel around her shoulders. 

She sat on the lip of the bath so you could towel dry her hair with a smaller towel and comb it. 

“Someone looks sleepy.” You kissed her nose. “C’mon, let's go to bed.”

She took a shaky breath and frantically shook her head. 

“It's okay.” You shushed her. “I'll take you to bed but I won't get in.” 

It broke your heart to see her allow that. You wanted nothing more than to tuck her under your chin and sleep soundly with your bubba. 

Laura pulled on a night shirt and eased into the bed whilst you quickly ran the spray over the tub, erasing any signs of blood. 

You found her in the bed waiting and sat next to her. Your hand smoothed her hair and you found yourself humming a long forgotten tune. It took seconds for her to sleep. 

~~

Logan was on you in an instant - the second - you walked through the door. He squeezed you tightly. 

“I'm okay.” You reassured him. “She's just-it's weird seeing her like that. She's normally so strong.” 

The two of you parted and you let him kiss your forehead. “You're a good mom.” 

You chuckled. “It's not easy.” 

“No.” His head shook. “But you are.”

You don't know why but the determination in his eyes made yours water. You sniffed and looked away. “She likes milkshakes.” 

“Of course she does.” He shrugged. “I do.”  You rolled your eyes at his reply but before you could argue he spoke again. “I'm sorry. I've been a dickhead.” 

“I can get why.” You placed a hand on his sideburn. “I do. But she's just a kid.” 

He nodded and kissed your palm. “You have no idea what would've happened if I lost you again.” 

You did know. He would've gone fucking feral. He would've killed Laura, then the others would've gotten involved and they would've fought and killed and not cared for the consequences. “You didn't lose me.” 

He smiled and bent his neck to kiss you. You met him halfway on your tiptoes, replicating the same amount of need. 

You both knew you were fucked. The world was fucked. Both were damaged goods. The chances of finding each other was next to none yet here you were. Kissing in your shared apartment. 

“I love you.” You whispered into the kiss, Logan used that to his advantage and delved his tongue into your mouth. You hummed letting your own dance with his. 

His hands cradled your face and spine. His palm was so big against your cheek, it made you feel safe. At home. He would protect you. 

You had to break the kiss to breathe, panting against his ear as he kissed his way to your nape. He loved your nape and you loved the way he nipped and sucked it, it was him claiming you. Him owning you. And when he bit down on your neck all your feminism flew out of the window. You would do anything for this man.

The hand on your cheek had travelled down to your chest, cupping a breast and giving it a delicate squeeze. You were still wearing that Deadpool set, with no actual cup, so when his thumb grazed over your nipple you felt everything. 

Logan wasn't one for slow. You knew that to be true because of the way he fucked you previously. But here he was taking his time. Savouring each hitch and groan that tumbled from your lips. 

You were actually being a bit useless here, letting him kiss and fondle you without doing the same. Quick to remedy that your hands found their way to his belt, fingers grazing the skin under his vest, and you tugged him that bit closer.  

Logan crowded you now. He was all you could see, hear, taste, smell and touch. He was all you needed. 

“Logan.” You breathed onto his lips, kissing him again. His lips were smooth, a nice juxtaposition to his gruff hair. Oh, but you loved the scratch. He was so manly. So hairy. He was everything rolled into one. 

You sensually licked his lips as your fingers unhooked his belt. 

Logan's half lidded eyes watched you as you pushed your tongue further out, keeping eye contact as you bent to make your mark on his neck. 

He groaned as you sucked, tongue swirling across the marred flesh. It then made its own way to his chest, kissing and sucking where the vest would allow. 

You gave him one look and he immediately removed the fabric. “Good boy.” You whispered against his pecs. Kissing them and letting your teeth catch certain areas. 

Logan watched with a baited breath and you slowly sunk to your knees. The unbuckled belt sitting at his hips as you unpopped the button, pulling the zipper all the way down. 

He let out a shudder when you nuzzled your nose against the visible boxers. Tugging the jeans down so you could kiss him through the fabric. You'd never get over how big he was. 

He was long and thick and if you thought his dick looked comically large in your hand you knew it would be difficult to swallow down. 

Still though, you teased him through the fabric. Kissing his head and sucking the wet patch. It was gloriously salty. 

“Y/N.” He muttered his hand making a home in your hair. 

You looked up at him as you pulled him from the boxers. His mouth was permanently set in a small ‘o’ but it widened when you licked a stripe from shaft to tip. 

You loved this. This fearsome warrior. This feral beast. The reason to genetically alter you, to ensure he was happy. Was putty in your hands. He would do anything for you. 

Maybe it was fucked up at at this precise moment you understood his plight. Why he was so angry. Why he had taken it out on Laura. She was technically to blame - never in your eyes though - and you got why he snapped. 

You sucked the head again before delving deeper. Yeah, you were right, it was far too big but you had hands for a reason. 

Pumping with your mouth and hand you make sure to be delicate. For some reason you wanted this to be soft. You wanted to treat him. Your Logan hadn't minded a bit of teeth but you tried your hardest to keep them away. 

He was trying to suppress his moans, trying to keep cool but he was dying. You were perfect. 

How were you this perfect? 

How did you know what he needed? 

Every fucking day! 

It was like you were a mind reader. 

Maybe you were. 

Maybe they'd altered you that way as well. 

Logan's hips urged to jut forward but he didn't want to ruin this. This was something he hadn't really experienced. This was sweet. This was soft. 

He was quick to fuck but no this wasn't that. You were being too nice for this to be called ‘fucking’. He hates to say it because you were literally just sucking his dick but this was definitely on the “making love” spectrum. 

“You're perfect.” He groaned out. “I fucking love you.” 

You hummed in response and he had to quickly pulled himself out. He could've spilt right there and then.

“Bed.” He ordered. “Now.” 

He wasn't going to cum in your mouth, no, he was going to fill you up. He was going to fuck you so full of his cum. He wanted you dripping.

You frowned cutely, your lips swollen and pouting was fucking amazing. Your cheeks were hot and your eyes were glassy so as he lifted you - pulling you closer - he got to see you. To really see how messy you were. Hair out of place and a line of drool on your chin. Fuck.

He wanted you.

He was going to lock you in the room.

You were his.

No one else's.

“I'm going to fuck you full of my seed.” His lips spoke against yours, not kissing you just touching you. “I'm going to fill you up.” He'd never felt like this before. “Breed you.” 

You shuddered and smiled but then your brows pinched. 

“Logan,” You pulled back to look him in the eye. “I- I don't have a womb.” 

The man stopped in his tracks. “What?” 

You chuckled. “Why else do you think we've been fucking the way we have with no consequences?” 

He made a noise. It made sense. He hadn't smelt the change in your cycle like he had the girls. “Yeah, I guess.” 

“I didn't realise you didn't know.” You looked guilty. “I'm sorry.” 

“No.” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Don't be sorry.” 

You groaned non sensually. “Have I just killed the mood?” 

“No.” He shook his head and kissed your nose. You knew he was lying. 

“Logan. Don't shut me out, be honest.” 

“I'm just surprised.” He was truthful. “My Y/N had hers.”  

You bit your lip. “If I tell you what happened the mood will definitely be killed.”

He was curious. “C’mon.” He tucked himself back into his boxers and pulled his jeans back up before leading you to the sofa. You sat down, tucking your legs under your chin. He was sitting facing you, giving you his full attention. 

How do you say this in a way that won't set him off? Couldn't you go back to sucking his dick? That was so nice. You sighed. “The scar on my back...”

He lent forward, elbows on his knees. “I'm going to get angry again aren't I?” 

“Stryker had this man in his possession. He could make you see whatever he wanted you to see. Logan didn't know it was me.” 

//

It was confusing to wake up in the infirmary. Jean and Beast looking down at you. 

“Y/N.” Jean breathed in a sigh of relief. “I was worried.”

“You always fix me up.” You joked, feeling very sore. Your back and stomach were aching. It felt alien to be in this much discomfort. 

“We had to perform a procedure on you.” Beast clasped one of your hands. “It's very serious. You will be fine but we had to make a decision.” 

“Okay?” You were even more confused, trying to sit yourself up a little. The pain in your stomach didn't allow for that so you flopped back down.

“You were pierced by Logan and flung across the facility. When you landed you hit your front. A piece of piping damaged your womb and we were unable to save the organ.” 

As Hank spoke you got flashes of the scene. You didn't recall a pipe but you remembered the agony, calling for an evac. Begging for Logan's help. 

“To save my womb..?” You slowly understood. “So I've had a hysterectomy?” 

Jean tried to sooth you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “It is a small price to pay, we could've tried to save it and risked infection, risked your health.” 

“I'm not upset.” You told her matter of factly. “I'm just trying to figure out what happened.” You weren't upset. It wasn't a thing you'd thought of at this age. You weren't really the mothering type. Yeah, you looked after the students but that role was more ‘wine aunt'. You weren't fit to be a mother. Logan would be a good dad though. Oh, you'd have to tell him. 

What would he say? 

He'd naturally be upset he hurt you but would he forgive himself just to dislike being with you? What if you being unable to give him children was an issue? 

~~ 

You'd been transferred to your room. It was lovely and cosy. Blankets everywhere, pillows strewn and the wooden accents of Xavier's mansion felt more like home than being with your mother. 

You wondered how she was. What would she say about you being barren?

Sitting and sulking was how you spent your days. Food was brought to you - as you couldn't really move - by different members of your family. Scott brought flowers, Ororo made you a gorgeous curry, Jubilee gifted you a teddy. 

Each member of the team was welcome but you were waiting for him. 

They'd all told you he was taking it hard, drinking more, fighting more, caring less and less about his safety. He felt like shit but you didn't blame him. 

You felt guilty for not realising sooner it wasn't Logan. Your fields could stop his claws, they had in training. The two of you were paired up a lot to show the newbies how to fight. You worked well together and it was only a matter of time and rolling about on the floor before he asked you out. 

You decided at the end of the first week that if he wanted kids you wouldn't make him stay. You couldn't. You'd push him away, if needs be. 

It was day twelve when he knocked at the door. You could move, had showered - careful with your stitches - and dressed yourself for the first time. 

“Y/N.” He spoke by the door. 

You looked up from the Hobbit, smiling wide. “Logan, hi.” 

“I'm so so sorry.” He eased his way in, looking uncomfortable in your room in a way he had never previously. 

“Logan, it wasn't you, love.” You closed the book, placing it on your nightstand. “It could've been anyone.” 

“But I hurt you.” 

“I'm okay.” Wasn't exactly the best argument but it was true.

He shuffled over to your bed and sat delicately at your side, his feet still touching the floor. “I couldn't face you. Couldn't see you bruised because of me.” 

The bruising had gone down. You were looking normal again. “Again, babe, I don't blame you.” 

“You should.” His eyes left yours and he looked at the floor. 

The need to comfort him was so strong but you held back. Remembering yourself. You couldn't get too lost. Not when you were lacking. “Do you want kids?” 

The questions surprised both of you. You didn't mean for it to tumble out of your mouth but it had and now it was sitting heavily amongst you. 

Logan looked back at you perplexed. His eyebrows met but he stared into your eyes, considering your question.

He'd almost killed you. He could've killed you. His hands harmed you and you were asking if he wanted kids. Yo- he loved you so much. He should stay away. You'd get hurt again he knew you would. 

But he loved you. Whenever he imagined a future - and that wasn't often - he saw you with him. And now he saw a little girl and boy. The boy looked like him and the girl looked like you but they acted like the other parent. He could see a soft mummy's boy being coddled far too much and a cute feral girl who was ready to take on the world. He could picture them. 

Picture you full with your child. His child. You were glowing. 

“I think we'd be great parents.” He hadn't realised his eyes were watering, quickly swatting the tears away. He'd almost destroyed that future, the one you were offering him. 

You bit your lip and nodded silently. “I think we should break up.” 

~~

Four months later he burst into your bedroom seething. 

“Are you fucking serious?!” He yelled. 

You jumped, snapping the Lord of the Rings shut. “Logan?”

He had left when you broke up with him. Becoming a renegade, a fighter, a mercenary. Whatever it took to forget you. 

It wasn't until Storm needed assistance - fighting off the brotherhood by the cul-de-sac Logan was passing through - when she told him. 

“You ended it because you can't have kids?!” His hands were on his hips and he was pacing back and forth. “I thought I…” He sighed shakily. “I thought I fucked up. I thought the idea of me wanting children with you after almost fucking killing you was terrifying.” 

“Lo, I can't have children.” You explain. “I will die and you will live and that's it. If you find someone that can give you kids then you won't be as lonely. You could have a family.”

He stopped pacing and stared at you. “That’s the most stupid argument I've ever fucking heard.” 

It was but it was all you had.

“I know but I didn't want you to feel trapped.” You sat up and he suppressed a gasp because you were wearing one of his shirts. After all this time you still wore his clothes, it did something to him. Inside his chest ached. “Down the line when you wanted a child and I couldn't give you one… I didn't want you to resent me.” 

“I would never.” He vowed. “I have spent these past months trying to forget that I fucking love you. I could never resent you.” 

Tears oozed from your eyes and you wiped them away. “I'm sorry.” 

He didn't want to break this easily. Didn't want to give in but you were crying. His girl was crying. Logan scooped you up in a hug and kissed your forehead. “Don't ever lie to me again. I don't care what it's about. We'll handle it together.” 

You nodded. “Okay. I promise.” 

\\

Logan sat back, resting his spine against the sofa. "It's okay." He decided. "We already have Laura, we don't need any more."

You smiled. "So you forgive her?"

"'course I do." He heaved a sigh. "Just gotta actually apologise to her."

"I love you." You leant over and kissed his brow. "You look so sexy when you're grovelling."

He rolled his eyes and playfully shoved you off.

Part 11

@littlecrowtime @geeksareunique @lovelyvaderx @br3nt-12 @st1nkabutt @maximumchilddreamland @catiwinky @twinkywink @ravenmedows @electricreader @racetrackheart @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @bisasterbisexual @tzurue @narniansmagic @seamlessepiphany @4ria790 @caramelatae @mei-simp @slightlymediocree

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

The Drafts

Summary: Spencer confronts Reader about a breakup text he found in her Notes app

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Angst, Comfort?

Content warnings: Manipulation, lying, yelling, anger, ambiguous ending

Word count: 1.5k

You check yourself out in the bathroom mirror. It’s date night, and it’s been long overdue since Spencer’s been called away to four states in the past two weeks. Despite the stress that already comes with that (and the current state of your relationship), the dress he got you makes up for it, and helps you think about how lucky you are in more ways than one. It fits you just right without trapping you in the fabric. Even the fluorescent lights in his bathroom can’t make you look bad. “Spencer!” You call out, zhuzhing your hair again before leaving. No response, but you flick the switch off before saying, “I’m ready whenever you are!”

Still nothing. Not surprising. It’s rare when Spencer isn’t lost in his own mind. You’ve learned not to ask every time this happens because it often leads to theoretical explanations that go over your head within seconds. On rare occasions, he’s discovered a plot hole in one of the older Dr. Who episodes (which also go over your head).

This is a different time though. Because when you turn the corner to the bedroom, Spencer isn't hunched over his desk or scribbling incoherence on his whiteboard (yes, he has a whiteboard in his bedroom and has refused to move it for reasons unexplained). Instead, he’s pacing the small area between the wall and the foot of his bed. He’s hunched over the phone. Your phone.

You try to bite back the instant frustration as his bare feet smack the floor. “Spencer,” you monitor your tone. “Are you ready?”

“You’re breaking up with me?” That is all he asks when he finally stops to look up at you. He’s not exactly emotional, but he’s definitely holding back.

Red hotly spreads across your cheeks. “What?”

He points and his eyebrows rise like he’s found evidence at a crime scene. “Flushed face.”

“Spencer, we’ve talked about —”

“Likely a sign of embarrassment from being exposed.” He turns the phone screen to face you; paragraphs of text and broken sentences from previous editing attempts. Arguably, not your finest work.

Your mouth is agape, and it is hard to fight the instinct to close it upon suspicion of further guilt. You bet he’ll assume surprise. “I thought we talked about you not looking through my phone.”

“Because you didn’t want me to see this?” He gestures back at it as if it’s not obvious. Sadness is already breaking some barriers, starting with his voice, but he’s trying to maintain a smug demeanor. Even in potential agony, Spencer can still get a high from being right.

You grunted. It was involuntary but honest. It came out of your throat like steam, as the anger in your core is already overflowing into the rest of your body. It bursts again when you snatch the phone out of his hands. He doesn’t flinch, damn him. You scroll up and down on the app incoherently, reminding yourself of the words he’s read and memorized. You think of how they’ll haunt you, how he’ll haunt you with them. “I can’t believe you went through my phone again.”

“I can’t believe you’re not even trying to fix this," he says. “I-I understand that things aren’t the most ideal right now, but we could’ve made time to talk about it.”

“What? Like not going through my phone? Look at how that worked out.”

“I know you’ve been acting differently. No kisses goodbye every day, spacing out at dinners with my coworkers, and a slew of other things.”

“Oh, are they written down on yours? I'd love to read them.”

Spencer shakes his head, letting his eidetic memory speak for itself there. “I’m a profiler, Y/N. And I can’t deny facts.”

The grunt before was delicate compared to the noise you make now. What the noise was is unknown, but terrifying. It wipes Spencer's smirk clean off. “Yes! You’re a profiler! I’m reminded of that every single goddamn day because every move I make near you is analyzed under a microscope!” You resist throwing your phone on the bed; partly out of fear of where it will bounce to, and partly Spencer snatching it up again. Instead, you tap the screen, exiting the Notes app and navigating to your texts. You press the latest contact, Garcia. Then you stay there, knowing Spencer will see the screen brightness show slightly on your face. “You didn’t read my texts, did you?”

Spencer doesn’t say anything. Your eyes dart towards him, and you can tell he wonders what cruel piece of evidence he missed.

“Yeah. Cause if you did, you would’ve known I was writing a breakup text for someone else. But you didn’t. So once again, you’ve snooped and gone out of your way to hurt your own feelings for no reason.”

The look on Spencer’s face. No matter how angry you get, how wrong he is, the sullen puppy dog look this man can pull off with his eyes alone is a weapon. It always makes him look pitiful.

And it makes lying to him even more painful.

“Spencer.” You say with a sigh.

“Who’s it for?”

You throw your head back. “Why is that your business?”

Spencer’s interrogation tactics often get in the way of the fact that he’s not facing a criminal, but his girlfriend. His girlfriend whose privacy he violated with no warrant presented to you. But when Spencer is on a case, he fails to differentiate between the two. You’ve practically heard him making mental notes when your behavior is even slightly off. Even when they have nothing to do with him. But he’s always quick to assume they are as he’s either leaving for work or being called away before discussions can occur. Spencer is a profiler, yes, but all profilers can let their emotions get the better of them.

You show Spencer your wrists. Gold bracelets clang together instead of silver cuffs. “What’s the goal here, Dr. Reid?”

He paces the floor again, briefly, before settling on the bed corner. He’s still looking at the floor, thinking, but you can tell his thought process has slowed down thanks to your (alleged) evidence. "Something must be wrong." He whispers. It’s pathetic. “You used to tell me everything.”

“And you used to not look through my things.” You’d hate to admit that you’re shaking too, but not from sadness. You stay standing, and put your phone on the dresser next to you. Face down. You cross your arms. “Things can change. Actions have consequences.”

He exhales briefly through his nose. He looks up, his eyes already shifting to a pinkish hue. “So it’s your turn to lecture me because —”

“Because my boyfriend is profiling off the clock again? Yes. Because he’s interrogating me and questioning my intentions when he’s supposed to be getting ready for date night? A date night he insisted upon because he’s been working overtime and profiling on a jet for the entire month? Yes.”

The anger. The intensity of it all pierced your blood long before. It coiled around your vocal cords while making your point. You had plenty more to say. A slideshow would’ve been worthy of listing Spencer’s actions over the last three months alone. Except the strain is hard, and clearing your throat doesn’t help. So you stand there, looking down at the miserable man you loved once. You pretend the silence is intentional, you let it speak for itself. 

And by some miracle (or perhaps the predicted luck of your dress), it worked. After wiping the budding tears from his eyes, Spencer studies you from curled hair to strappy heels. You know a stray movement will ignite a thousand rebuttals. You preferred dinner, so you maintain your statue-like stillness by raising only your eyebrows.

Spencer swallows. “I’m sorry.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I should’ve…” He nods while clamping his lips closed. “Yeah, I should have talked to you first. I’m so sorry.”

You exhale. It could be the relief of moving again. Or the fact that you can’t help but comfort the sad man who is still technically your boyfriend. You take his hand and pull him off the bed and allow him to rest his head on your shoulder while holding your waist. His palms are flat on your back as his chest heaves and caves. Your arms are around his neck, and you comfort him with soft hushes. Meanwhile, adrenaline depletion is already beckoning your eyes to close. But you stare at the wall.

You’re so tired. You’ve been tired. Decaying is perhaps the best word for all of this. Nevertheless, you hold Spencer tightly to let him know you’re there. It's all the strength you have. The strength to end things though is of a different caliber than you thought you could fathom. You can collect enough to rip off the world's most difficult bandaid, eventually. But Spencer Reid with a theoretical broken heart is already painful enough to witness. He needs you right now. And right now, you'll be there for him.

Thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins and her discord for helping me with fleshing out this story 🩵

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - People of Earth we have VERSE rep in 2 Thai BLs! Amazeballs!

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

March 2024 Wk 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Deep Night (Thurs iQiyi) ep 2 of 8 (10?) - Everyone seems to be a bit of a player and I’m not mad about it. It’s nice to see high-grade flirting, and I really love how very gay the leads feel. Not BL gay. Actual gay. We shall see how it goes, I suspect we are in "messy gay" territory in which case, I predict utter carnage and that this show will drop ranks precipitously for me. But right now? Of all the Thai BLs airing, I'm enjoying this the most. How bizarre. 

I like the side couple (thrupple?) too, despite the prat fall kiss and possible cheating. They very pretty:

To Be Continued (Thai C3 Thailand grey) ep 4 of 8 - oh dear NO honeychild, face masks are gross tasting!

Rule no 966 of the BL world. He’s never asleep. 

Argh Achi wants Ji so bad. Nice mutual kiss tho, despite Ji's baggage. I guess Ji knew what would happen if Achi stayed? But why is he so scared? Just deeply closeted? The backstory is very high school achy and I feel like it explained Achi but not Ji. And the crying in the movie was lovely, so we totally understand Achi's but Ji is just messed up and confused? I admit to being a bit confused too. Why is Ji the one so angry?

On a totally different aside, I really like how the set dressing is done in Ji’s apartment. It looks lived in and not staged. Super rare in Thai BL. I'm reminded of Ai & Pond's dorm room in Love By Chance, which actually looked like a real college dorm.

City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) ep 7 of 12 - Why is it always the pulps that actually trot out the best communication, conversation, consent, and healthy relationships? Yes I'm still wincing over the truly bad acting but I’m enjoying their good relationship. The sex scene was sweet and tender, although the likelihood of rose petals getting stuck places wigs me out. (Flower petals + lube = terrible combination. Just FYI.)

ALL PRAISE VERSE REP! And a bottom who owns it! Yay! 

1000 Years Old ep 5 of 12 - How ridiculously colorful and flirty they all are. There is nothing at all vampire about this show. I’m a bit bored by the restaurant plot but I'm tuning in for the bonkers approach to goth. How dare they be so cheerful with my precious emo youth, but also, how very Thai pulp of them.  

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Unknown (Taiwan Tues Youku YouTube) ep 4 of 11 - oh it’s SO GOOD. Reading the yaoi and crying. COME ON TAIWAN HAVE MERCY. The red wrapping of the hands (red thread, yes yes we get it). The boy who doesn’t want to box for so many reasons. Not the least of which is how unpleasant it is to spar with a lover. 

This is easily the best BL currently airing and it is going to hurt us. But I don't care. I love it.

AntiReset (Taiwan Fri Viki/Gaga) eps 8 of 10 - This show is dangerously cute and I’m scared for everyone involved, including me.

Love is Better the Second Time Around AKA Koi wo Suru nara Nidome ga Joto (Japan Gaga) ep 2 of 6 - Poor baby thrown in all willynilly amongst a pack of queeny bitchy gay intellectuals. I'd be lost too. It's the worse kind of fight, one you have to philosophize your way out of.

Although I Love You and You AKA Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 10fin - They are extremely adorable and it was a very good ending - mature, adult, and bittersweet. I liked it a lot. But I didn’t love it the way I wanted to.

The promise of this show, younger cook courts older divorced office worker, should have been my catnip. I mean if someone pitched this to me in an elevator I would have downloaded it by the second storey. Unfortunately, it did not exactly fulfill that promise, not in the way I'd hoped. Did I still enjoy the ride, yes, but I feel just a little let down. 8/10 

My Strawberry Film (Japan Thurs Gaga) eps 5 of 8 - Honestly now I’m just shipping the two girls getting together. Frankly, I really don't like this show, and normally I'd DNF but there's only a few eps left and nothing else is airing rn.

It's done, ready to binge, maybe I'll finally get to it this weekend

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps

The Servant and the Young Master (Vietnam YouTube)

Began Beginning (Myanmar YouTube) - A Burmese BL? @heretherebedork vouched for it, so I will watch eventually.

It's airing but...

Time the series (Tue Gaga/YT) 10 eps - it's finished now, I dropped it at ep 4. Should I bother?

Close Friend Season 3: Soju Bomb! (Thai ViuTV grey) 10 eps - I'm exhausted by this franchise and the variety pack style of BL. If there is a particularly good couple (or installment) I might watch it, but I'm letting others decide for me.

A Secretly Love (Thai WeTV grey) 10 eps - I watched the first ep but grey is too much work for this inferior of a show. I may pick up and binge if it gets distribution but for now, it gets a DNF from me. KimCop might have held this crap together but Kim without Cop? No thank you.

Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school, not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing for some reason.

Gossip

The choreo controversy - Deep Night vs OnlyOneOf. Look, like a musical rift, or a styling photoshoot, there are no new ideas in choreo, I feel like Madonna did this pose too, a long time ago. Certainly someone in the 80s. Or whatever. Anygay, it's an ironic thing to see a Thai BL being called out by a gay-branded Kpop group when both are exploiting eroticized homosexuality for commercial profit... just saying. (HOW DID WE GET HERE?) Not to mention that BOTH are ALSO exploiting the kink community. We live in interesting times, BLabies. In the end, it's a good publicity stunt all round. And I think Nine knows exactly what he's doing (and why he is doing it). Finally: Drama drama drama around coreo? That is V gay boys. Fun fun fun, carry on everyone.

Strike a pose.

You're being recorded for posterity.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Starting

3/21 Two Worlds (Thai IQIYI) 10 eps - One of those "he's dead Jim so time travel" thingames staring MaxNat. I'm over this concept but Asia flipping loves it and I do enjoy MaxNat. Phupha (Gun) and Khram (Nat) love each other but Phupha is murdered. Then Khram is pulled to a parallel world where, 12 years ago, Khram and Tai (Max) were in love. However, Khram was killed by Tai’s dad. Now Tai finds alter-Khram apparently alive. But then there is ALSO an alter-Phupha to deal with. (Phupha is played by Gun Thanawat who was Khom, the repressed butler bodyguard from Unforgotten Night. We like this, we scared of the love triangle aspect.)

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Forgive me a moment of industry noodling?

Have ya noticed that it's slender pickings right now but it shouldn't be? This is not the mid summer slump nor end of year lull. We should be getting some heavy hitters on first quarter release. (Side eyes GMMTV. Perhaps those painful Japanese acquisitions were a bigger issue than any of us realized?)

Anygay, IMHO, Thailand's BL bubble has popped and sponsor money is drying up. This is my shocked face:

Look, the 2021-2023 level of release and growth (exponential) was never gonna be sustainable, so I'm not surprised. I suspect that in 2024 Thailand will actually produce fewer BLs than 2023 (73, 64 in 2022, and 40 in 2021).

I know I'm sticking my neck out predicting any film industry but... I have seen this kinda thing before and it just *feels* like shrinkage. Thai BL's load has been shot, my peeps. (Not to be crass or anything.)

Oh, don't worry you pretty head about it, it's not going away, just getting less prolific.

Don't we all in our old age?

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

My favorite trope, sniff him!

Queen. (both Deep Night)

King. (City of Stars)

Verse rep verse rep verse rep!!! Can you see me doing a little dance this side of the screen?

(Last weeks summation)

Streaming services are listed by how I'm (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are too much work.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy.

[hongcherry]

rating svt from husband, boyfriend, bestie material

pairing/genres: svt x reader (gn); fluff

warnings: lots of nana tour (NT) and in the soop (ITS) references, as well as others but wanted to give specific warnings for those two shows bc spoilers

author's note: for 🍉 anon. THIS WAS TOUGH LMAO. I’d also like to say this is kinda biased!!! I tried to be objective despite having strong feelings toward certain members 🥲 But just a general disclaimer: I do not know them personally, so I'm going off of what they've shown to the public. I know there will be people who disagree because we all have different ideas/preferences in a partner/best friend. So, please, keep that in mind! Each member can mean something different depending on the person 💞

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

Husband Material

1. Mingyu — This man can cook, clean, is intelligent, handsome, funny, etc etc etc~. I believe he’s also one of the first members to comfort others. And his sister has mentioned she wants a partner like Mingyu. Enough said lol.

2. Seungcheol — He’s caring, loyal, reliable, and dependable (cough that one jeongcheol clip cough). He’s not afraid to stand up for those he cares about (i.e., members > company). He’ll be the protector type (wbk). I sense the relationship would feel stable and secure.

3. Joshua — This man has always screamed husband material. He truly IS a gentleman. He has a good balance of playfulness and seriousness, which would make the relationship fun. He’s also very caring (flashback to ITS with Seungkwan (even NT as well)) and has a great heart.

4. Chan — In his Weverse interview, he mentioned how he wants to be there for his members no matter what. He’s also very passionate about his craft, and I think that attribute would cross into his love life. And did you see the video of him with that carat and holding their purse while they got in the car?!?!

5. Minghao — I’m reminded of that video of him saying he’s always dreamed of getting married and having kids (ironically saw this again on my tl recently). And watching NT, it’s so easy to imagine him with his family in an artsy town. Also, he’d be loyal (I recall all the anti-delulu fancalls and lives LOL; this doesn't necessarily show loyalty but yk... it can *wink wonk*) and caring (as seen with Vernon).

Boyfriend Material

6. Seokmin — He’s so precious and sweet. Definitely someone you would want to take home to your family. He’s so full of love and happiness. I think he’ll care for his partner a lot and shower them with love. The relationship with him would be so wholesome.

7. Wonwoo — Have you seen the way he treats Chan?! Imagine him with his partner *sobs* I get the sense (one of) his love language(s) is acts of service, so he’d treat his partner sweetly and tenderly. He’ll be a soft and supportive lover.

8. Jun — I recall how he made breakfast for SVT during predebut because he couldn’t speak Korean well at the time but wanted to do something nice/show his love for his members. I also saw a recent video of him making sure one of the members didn’t fall when they stumbled. So, I think he’d be very attentive to his partner’s needs. Also, imagine bf!Jun cooking you hot pot. Yes, please.

9. Jeonghan — I think he teeters on the boyfriend and bestie line (his face also gives off fwb vibes lmao), but since Jeonghan is one of my biases, he gets put in this category (semi-sorry). This man said, “You’re supposed to wait endlessly for people you like” in NT. He has said he wants to be an island to people in ITS. He’s also supportive of others as we’ve seen when he co-parents with Cheol lol. I think he wouldn’t be afraid to do something for his partner if they needed him to as well (i.e., that live when Seungkwan wanted to sing but it was late, so Jeonghan said he’ll ask for others to understand. It may have been a joke, but it was still kind to say).

Bestie Material

10. Soonyoung — He’s the person I would swap with Jeonghan since he also is on the borderline. He’s very energetic with people he’s comfortable with so his friends get to see that side a lot. He’s also cuddly as we’ve seen in several clips of him snuggling his members lol. I get the “you’re so comfortable around each other it’s almost like you’re dating” vibes LOL.

11. Seungkwan — He’d be so fun to be around. A lot of fun memories will be created with him. He’s the life of the party, and I just imagine him popping around here and there at an event lol (I think I’m overprojecting slightly, but he would still be well-known to others!). I think Seungkwan just needs/likes to be around people regardless of whether they’re a partner or a friend.

12. Vernon — He feels like a free spirit. I believe he’s mentioned before that he’s more of a personality person, so he’s not focused on looks in his partner. He’s very chill and already is confident in his own skin. I get the sense he’s content being alone (or w a friend) but also having a partner if the right one comes around.

13. Jihoon — It’s not impossible to have a relationship when he’s busy, but it def would be harder to balance. Even though he’s quiet, he cares. This is evident in the songs he’s made for certain members. I think he wouldn’t mind a partner, but they’d need to be understanding of his lifestyle (and accept he’s not big on showing affection directly). I think his partner would be someone who is similar to him but also would be able to introduce him to things he doesn’t do (like go outside lol. I say this bc he was loving the NT experience).

divider credit

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[losyash]

SHIMON ARC: Hibari to Tsuna

Recently I've been liveblogging my Shimon arc reread to my friends.

On chapter 323 one of them said they always wondered if the headband being there meant something. And yes, curtains might be blue because it's a nice color. But no. No, curtains being blue is incredibly goddamn important.

HEAR ME OUT

First, to recap what is happening: Shimon arc, pre Adelheid vs Hibari battle they briefly argue about Tsuna and Enma and decide on their pride and the rules of the battle: to seize each other's handband. Adelheid creates an ice prison that is impossible to penetrate from outside and 500 ice clones to fight Hibari. He fights them all, tells Adelheid she is wrong about Enma and small animals (which i will talk about later) and uses minirolls to crush the ice fort from the inside. After this he gets her handband, they talk about Tsuna again and Hibari drops his "it is because of the sky the cloud can float freely" thing.

Before I delve into it, however, I feel like I should take a quick dive in Tsuna-Hibari relationship from Hibari's perspective.

To put it simply, at first Hibari does not give a single fuck about Tsuna personally. Even after this glorious scene happens

All Hibari thinks about that day is that he wants to meet Reborn again. During the course of Daily life arc however Hibari messes with him plenty. Ny the time 43rd chapter (sakura viewing) rolls around, Hibari's opinion on Tsuna is summarized by this:

And this is actually the key. Hibari does not understand Tsuna. To him Tsuna is some weird ass alien creature who does not fit his rigid worldview. At first Hibari tries to make him make sense again by asserting himself over Tsuna and putting him back to the role of herbivore which he does follow every time except when he doesn't?? For some reason?????

Kokuyo arc is the arc that changed the manga tone in general but it's also the arc that changed Hibari himself. He is brutally shown that he as he is does not have the power to do whatever he wants. Something has to change. And Hibari seeks that change in Tsuna, who somehow managed to defeat Mukuro when Hibari himself failed.

chapter 123, cloud battle aftermath

He stops trying to still Tsuna. Instead he wants now to understand what the fuck is up about him and what can he do. The answer is Tsuna can burn a man alive in a fit of rage btw.

BUT THE THING IS. THE THING IS EVENTUALLY HE DOES UNDERSTAND TSUNA. AND THIS LEADS US TO TAKE A LIL BREAK FOR THE PRIDE TALK

Now, the obvious thing: headband symbolizes Hibari's pride.

Here is what he says, when first asked about it:

But also Hibari vs Adelheid battle is the one that finally clears up what the hell does "pride" mean.

The thing is. What Hibari is saying (and what he tried to make Tsuna understand, because the whole battle here his two goals are to win (duh) and to help Tsuna find his conviction again) is that the actual meaning of "What is your pride?" is "What makes you yourself?". You, as a person, should be proud of who you are. And he tells Tsuna, that it is whatever he cannot give up, whatever makes the very core of Tsuna's self is what he should fight for (And then Tsuna tells Enma "You are my pride" which is very juicy but deserves its own post).

Okay, now with this out of the way, let's get to the next thing:

Hibari vs Adelheid (but not the violent edition)

Hibari and Adelheid are not only fighting, they are also talking to each other. And by talking I mean arguing. About Tsuna and Enma and little animals.

Here is important thing to note first: asking around some people who know some people who know japanese gave me information that actually "small animal" is. Not different from herbivore at all. They are apparently used intechangingly based on how much space speechbubble has.

This does affect things: when it is usually thought that Tsuna in Hibari's eyes carves a new category for himself, not worth calling by name nor insulting nickname, nor he can be classified as a simple herbivore, he is just his own thing. Instead it seems like Tsuna changed Hibari's opinion on entire population of herbivores-small animals. (and if those people just got me confused ill die of shame (;-;)b)

ANYWAY, THEIR DEBATE

yes i had to put it all here. it's good. read it.

Do you see it guys? Do you see how far he came from daily life? He now really does understand Tsuna. He cracked the code. And he does now acknowledge that yeah Tsuna (and by extention other ppl like him. Like Enma) has his own way to live life and it does work for him. Tsuna is not weak. Being a herbivore does not automatically mean being weak.

Another interesting thing here is this:

"Why is a man like you with the likes of Sawada Tsunayoshi?"

"I'm not with him"

And I think it's important to remember here that Adelheid does see Tsuna=Vongola boss thing. To Tsuna it's Him and His Friends against Enma and His Friends. To her? It's Vongola vs Shimon

And when she talks to Hibari about Tsuna, she is saying "Why are you with Sawada Tsunayoshi?" but what she means is "Why are you with Vongola?" and this difference does impact Hibari's answer. Case in point:

I DON'T LIKE THE WAY YOU SAID THAT... WELL... TRUE ENOUGH.

BUT WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO BE CLOUD GUARDIAN OF THE VONGOLA'S SKY? ACCORDING TO WIKI, THIS:

A drifting Cloud, whom cannot be bound. Protecting the famiglia from an independent standpoint.

AND SO

I am sorry, I am very normal about this, promise.

And so Hibari basically admits that he will not be bound to Tsuna, but he will be around, involving himself when he feels like it. They're friends your honor.

BUT THERE IS MORE.

The attribute of the cloud flames is propagation. Why is it relevant?

this is the hype up text at the end of chapter 322.

and this is the last page of chapter 323.

Remember i briefly mentioned Hibari stagnating in daily life arc and realizing that there must be something more during Kokuyo arc? He found it. Tsuna is the one who gave him this opportunity. Just being around Tsuna allowed Hibari to grow. To propaga- Okay, that does sound silly. But I think the point still stands. Tsuna gave Hibari space to grow, and frankly, Hibari is grateful for that.

now we are entering the deranged territory

Hibari watched Tsuna grow all during the course of the manga and at some point Tsuna DID outgrow him. Not psychologically, but powerwise? Def. And Hibari cannot be not aware of that.

You might ask, how is he okay with that, but the thing is, Hibari is actually very chill with not being the strongest person in the room. What he actually needs is people to respect him and his authority as Disciplinary Committee chairman and Namimori protector. Reborn respects it and is stronger than him. Does Hibari want to fight him? Yes. But he is not actually going out of his way to attack him.

Tsuna has a great deal of respect for Hibari, and in turn Hibari does not feel the same hostility to him he does towards Mukuro despite Tsuna being totally able to win against him in a fight. Once again, rip Byakuran.

BUT. HIBARI IS NOT GOING TO STOP GROWING ANYMORE. HE LEARNED HIS LESSON, HE IS NOW ENDLESSLY EVOLVING OR SOME SHIT.

AND

WHAT I AM SAYING IS

HE IS NOT ONLY NOT GOING TO STOP HELPING TSUNA TO BE BETTER BUT HE ALSO IS GOING TO USE TSUNA AS BENCHMARK

NOT AS SOMEONE TO BE LIKE. BUT SOMEONE TO BE BETTER THAN

THE PRIDE AS SYMBOL OF SELF AND AND THE BAND AS SYMBOL OF PRIDE

AND DISCIPLINE BEING THE KEY TO BETTERMENT OF SELF

HE DECLARES TSUNA BOTH HIS FRIEND AND HIS RIVAL THATS WHAT THE BLUE CURTAINS MEAN I REST MY CASE

[saintsenara]

ik the draw of snoldemort is that it's as delicious and healthy as fibreglass-riddled cotton candy but have you ever considered them being happy?

yes, all the fucking time.

i am genuinely of the opinion that snape and voldemort are each other's most plausible romantic pairing, and while i sustain that opinion mostly thought the power of being delusional, i do think there's a legitimate grain of potential for snapemort to actually be strangely wholesome.

and so, since this is not the first request I've had for such a thing...

...here comes the snapemort manifesto.

i am also of the opinion that the series presents an extremely narrow and unhealthy definition of love - love as suffering and sacrifice and secrecy - which voldemort can't allow himself to experience because his life has unsurprisingly made him unwilling to suffer or sacrifice and which snape forces himself to experience to the clear detriment of his physical and mental health.

but love is also - fundamentally - about comfort and pleasure and not being bored in someone's company.

the canonical voldemort clearly actually likes snape. he also clearly enjoys spending a substantial amount of time alone with him - especially in deathly hallows: voldemort teaches snape how to fly unaided [the only death eater he seems to do this for], which is canon proof they were going on lots of romantic midnight swoopings; snape is obviously voldemort's source for the information that tonks and lupin have recently married, which means they're gossiping over glasses of wine just as much as they're planning to take over the ministry of magic; voldemort visits snape at hogwarts while he's headmaster, and while that's to steal the elder wand, he does say that he'll join snape once his grave-robbing is done...

the two are clearly intellectually compatible - not simply in terms of level of intelligence but in how that intelligence manifests itself. snape has a very voldemort-ish view of magic as something whose boundaries can constantly be pushed and whose authorities must constantly be challenged - that magic is really about power [and those too weak to seek it] - and it's clear in canon that dumbledore's unease about allowing him near the defence against the dark arts job prior to half-blood prince [when snape agreeing to kill him - and revealing how his love-as-suffering for lily drives him - finally convinces him that snape has rejected the dark side entirely] is because he fears snape's way of understanding magic, since it reminds him of voldemort [and - in reminding him of voldemort - reminds him of grindelwald].

but snape and voldemort's intellectual compatibility has something underpinning it which goes beyond how they understand magic and its purpose in the world. they think the way they do about magic because of the similarities in their life experience.

as harry walks to the forest, he sets himself, snape, and voldemort up as a trio - the "abandoned boys", whose lives have all been shaped, to varying extents, by dumbledore. but, while harry and voldemort are each other's narrative mirror - due both to the overtly mystical pseudo-fraternal [or, if you're so inclined, soulmate] connection which voldemort establishes between them by making harry a horcrux, and to their shared experience of orphanhood - harry actually has much less in common with either half of snapemort than they have in common with each other.

for example, while they're all half-bloods, harry's pureblood parent is his father - which gives him a wizarding name, and the social cachet this brings in a world which is so obsessed with blood, family, and male lineage. snape and voldemort have muggle fathers and muggle names, and this gives them a radically different social standing - even if they are, ostensibly, within the same blood-category - to harry.

similarly, while lily is muggleborn, she is still a witch, attends hogwarts, is known and liked within wizarding society, and - like many muggleborns seem to - separates herself entirely from the world of her birth in young adulthood to live in a way indistinguishable from someone born and raised in a magical family.

tom riddle sr. and tobias snape are actual muggles - which means they exist in a world completely divided [and with that division scrupulously maintained by the ministry] from the magical one. while snape is brought up by his birth family and voldemort isn't, their lives are still dictated by their fathers' experiences of, fear of, and disconnection from magic - and this shapes their lives very differently even than harry's experiences with the dursleys.

harry also heavily resembles his pureblood father, which provides similar social cachet. one device which canon uses a lot is the idea that every member of a pureblood nuclear family unit looks alike - narcissa malfoy is blonde and pale, while her sisters are dark-haired, so that she is immediately identifiable as lucius malfoy's wife and draco malfoy's mother; molly weasley is red-haired and freckly, even though these are weasley, rather than prewett, traits, for the same reason.

in having harry look so much like james - while its primary intention in doing this was clearly to help obscure lily's role in the series' central mystery for as long as possible - the text allows him to smooth his path through the wizarding world because he looks like a pureblood, like someone who is understood to belong in the society through which he moves.

voldemort, in contrast, looks exactly like his muggle father. which parent snape resembles is more ambiguous - in deathly hallows, harry says that snape "greatly resembled" his mother, but both order of the phoenix and half-blood prince suggest this isn't the case, and the person he resembles is his father. this makes more sense, since snape resembling tobias means that he - like voldemort - lacks the visual connection to the wizarding world which would - like a pureblood surname - ease his way of belonging within it.

snape and voldemort are also from the same working-class background and have the same experience of childhood poverty. harry - no matter the financial aspect of the dursleys' neglect of him - is still middle-class in the muggle world by virtue of being raised in a place like little whinging by people like vernon and petunia.

and - crucially - harry's financial circumstances and class-status change utterly when he enters the wizarding world. he ascends to being upper-middle-class; he has the resources to buy everything needed for school new - meaning there's no visual distinction between him and his wealthy peers caused by him having, as voldemort does, secondhand possessions; he is able to treat these possessions casually; and he never, ever worries about being able to afford them [when his nimbus is smashed by the whomping willow, he's upset because he liked the broom so much and because he's embarrassed by the circumstances in which it was damaged, he doesn't worry one bit about not being able to afford a new one - he also considers buying himself a firebolt and, of all the things the one sirius buys means to him, it never seems to seriously cross his mind that it's a stupendously expensive thing for a teenager to own].

harry's class ascendance once he enters the wizarding world also gives him access to the ways of connection and network-forming which dictate how magical society runs. while much of this is voldemort's fault - since it's bound up in the fact that harry is a celebrity - it's also evident that this isn't entirely the case. slughorn's attitude towards harry is influenced just as much by his fondness for lily - and the clear reading of canon is that, if harry was the average hogwarts student and james and lily were still alive, harry would be "collected" for the slug club in the way that cormac mclaggen or regulus black are: people that slughorn wants to keep around in case they offer him something, not people he wants to keep around so that he can manipulate and control them.

voldemort and snape, in contrast, exist outside the social networks which govern wizarding society by virtue of their birth [hence why voldemort sets up a parallel social order - with him at the top - among his followers].

voldemort plays the game the way he's expected to while at school - sucking up to slughorn; leaning in to being, as he puts it, "poor but brilliant" - and then rejects a lifetime of being dependent on slughorn's patronage [he could be minister for magic, but only "if you keep sending me pineapple"!] for the only job he can get on his own merits.

snape rejects the idea of playing the game while at school - the teen snape we meet in order of the phoenix is conspicuous in his difference, not only in appearance but in behaviour, from his peers, and the marauders' bullying of him is motivated just as much by his existence outside wizarding social norms as it is by james' sexual jealousy of his friendship with lily and his own deliberate provocation of james and sirius.

and he also rejects the social convention the series values [by which i mean, the series thinks the class system is good as long as the good guys are the ones insisting on maintaining it] in young adulthood. i bang on about this a lot, but it's clear in canon that the reason snape becomes a death eater - and also the reason why he thinks the death eaters will help lily, even though this initially appears to be nonsensical - is because voldemort offers him a chance to transcend the limitations placed upon him in a world with such a restrictive class system. voldemort is the only person who offers him the things he desires - power, respect, recognition - in a context in which his background is [seemingly] irrelevant.

there's an element of snape seeing what he wants to see here, of course. he's clearly voldemort's exception in terms of social class [just as bellatrix is his exception in terms of gender], and this is a grooming technique on voldemort's part which sets snape apart from the other death eaters and makes him more dependent on maintaining voldemort's favour than men like lucius malfoy or rodolphus and rabastan lestrange, who are inherent insiders to the elite male social circle from which the majority of the dark lord's minions are drawn.

but there is also an element of recognition in voldemort choosing snape which has a heavy blast of affection - platonic or otherwise - behind it.

one of the things which dumbledore gets wrong about voldemort throughout the six books in which he appears is that he believes that voldemort is secretive to the point of repression about his origins, childhood, and life experiences. instead, the canonical voldemort is a certified yapper - he needs virtually no prompting, as a child with dumbledore, a teen with harry, or an adult with harry, to start talking about his life in a way which gives quite a lot about himself away. the proto-death eaters we meet in half-blood prince know all about the teen voldemort's search for his lineage. barty crouch jr. knows his birth name. lucius malfoy is completely unbothered to hear harry state that he's a half-blood.

and this shouldn't surprise us - what orphan wouldn't be on a desperate quest to be perceived, to be understood?

snape is clearly voldemort's favourite because he's someone the dark lord implicitly understands - a clever, awkward, lonely boy searching for respect and power which the stagnant wizarding world refuses to give him. it stands to reason, then, that snape is also voldemort's favourite because the dark lord thinks that snape can understand him.

and, in a situation where he's actually given a chance to offer voldemort this understanding, snape therefore has the power to give the dark lord the thing he's been searching for his entire life - someone who knows who he really is behind the elaborate mask of unassailable majesty and loves him anyway.

none of this has to change the future - voldemort can still be a terrorist who kills his wife guy's only childhood friend, the snapemort will slap nonetheless.

but it still can.