#every reading post I make is an act of vanity on my part

[wutheringmights]

2024 Reading Wrap

Another year, another reading wrap-up. This was not a great year for me. I read way less than I wanted. While I managed to hit 21 books overall, they were shorter and easier reads by large. 

They also weren’t that good. Almost half of the books I read this year were either disappointing or outright bad. Granted, the worst books I read were on purpose. But many of the books I wanted to be good just weren’t. I soured on a lot of books the further I got from completing them, while there are a select few that have gotten better with time. Nonetheless, I am leaving 2024 with a general feeling of meh. 

I really want 2025 to be a good reading year. My goal is to read about 10 classic novels (though I’m going to be a little flexible about what I’m going to classify as a “classic”). I’m also in a book club now, so hopefully that will help filter out the slop. However, I won’t be entirely slop-free. I have another Fourth Wing sequel to read in a few weeks, plus three new Alex Aster productions to look forward to. As long as the things I read outside of those are good, I should be okay.

Anyway, onto the ranking!

Like last year, I’m going to group completed series together. If I didn’t read all of the books in a series, they’ll have their own spot on the list. Why? My brain just works that way. Deal with it. 

18. Heirs of the Founders: Henry Clay, John Calhoun and Daniel Webster, the Second Generation of American Giants by H.W. Brands

It’s genuinely shocking how blatantly biased this book is-- and not even to any of the men in the title! Brands has such an unflinching adoration for Andrew Jackson that I am skeptical of any of the other more “objective” narratives this book tries to push. Genuinely, the worst book I read this year, and that’s saying something.  

17. Nightbane (Lighlark Saga #2) by Alex Aster

Is this the worst Lightlark book? No, but it's also the most boring. A prime example of the sophomore slump, if the freshman year was also allowed to stink. Apparently, if it comes down to it, I will favor bad books that are at least entertaining in its badness over one that is more plainly trying. Aster really didn’t have to drag Cato, A Tragedy into this, though. 

16. Iron Flame (The Empyrean Series #2) by Rebecca Yarros

Another victim of the sophomore slump. I almost dislike this more than Nightbane because it doesn’t even try to hide how meandering it is. This book was so boring, my rental from the library ran out before I could finish it, and I had to check it out a second time. But it is an overall more competent product. I just need this narrative to stop painting Dain, a perfectly reasonable person, out to be the Worst Guy Ever. 

15. Skyshade (Lightlark Saga #3) by Alex Aster

In pottery, there’s this wedge tool you use on the wheel to smooth out the walls of your piece. One hand holds the wedge up to the clay while the other goes inside your piece and presses the wall into it. You use it to straighten lines to give a more professional finish. You might have seen it in a TikTok or something. 

Anyway, that’s what this book did to my brain. It was funny as fuck though, so props! 

14. Fourth Wing (The Empyrean Series #1) by Rebecca Yarros

Say what you want, but it is far more competent than the rest of the slop parade we’ve had so far. Did I like this? No. But that moment when I was on a plane and realizing that this entire book was just a reflection of American military intervention overseas? Transcendent. I felt like I was high. I could have killed god.

13. The Library at Mount Char by Scott Hawkins

The more time passes, the more I realize that I do not really like this book. I called it a Neil Gaiman derivative when I first read it, and I still think that holds true now: the plot summary executes more of the premise of the plot more than the actual plot itself. For a “weird” book, it was pretty mid. 

12. Captive Prince (Captive Prince Series #1) by C.S. Pacat

The more time passes, the more I sweeten on this one. My unironic, favorite reading moment of the year was reaching that one line in the novel that perfectly explained why Laurent was the way he was-- the perfect set-up and execution, subtly and perfectly executed. A masterclass of restraint. Unfortunately, Pacat shot herself in the foot with nearly every other decision the book required. I would give this series another chance if my library had the next two books available. 

11. Gideon the Ninth (The Locked Tomb #1) by Tamsyn Muir 

This was the most disappointing read of the year for me. It really stung. For a book that I love the ideas behind, none of the execution worked for me. The humor, the pacing, the plot: they all came together to form a story that just felt at odds with itself. Sadly, it just paled in the shadow of years-long hype. 

10. Juniper & Thorn by Ava Reid

I still think three-quarters of this book was poorly paced and a slog to get through. But the last fourth where all the pieces came together were a wonderful exploration of monstrosity and trauma. Ultimately, I think Reid should have written a short story. 

9. Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner 

Zauner’s ideal audience is someone who has never experienced the specific grief of losing a your mom, who you had a rough-ish relationship with, very suddenly and brutally to cancer while you are still an impressionable young adult with no direction in life. Unfortunately, I am not that ideal audience. 

8. The Song of the Lioness Quartet by Tamora Pierce

I reread this series because I needed it to fix me. And you know what? It did. It fixed me. 

Also-- George Cooper if you are real, I am free Thursday night. 

7. The Epic of Gilgamesh  by Anonymous (Translated by Benjamin R. Foster)

I know a lot of people live and die by the tragedy of Gilgamesh and Enkidu. Unfortunately, I just found the whole thing funny. Every now and then, I remember that time Gilgamesh played stick and ball while riding on the back of fatherless men and ended up having to venture into hell because they tossed the ball there by accident, and I lose it all over again. Foster’s footnotes and curated study guides were very helpful, though!

6. Doppelganger: A Trip into the Mirror World by Naomi Klein

Some chapters were more effective than others, and your mileage with Klein’s framing devices may vary. If you are already adequately well-informed and generally agree with Klein’s politics, you won’t get much out of this one. However, I think everyone should read her chapters on the convergence of the far right and wellness culture. 

5. Autobiography of Red: A Novel in Verse by Anne Carson

Almost a full year later, and I still don’t think I have a good grasp on what Carson is doing here. But the parts I did understand were incredible, and I have really enjoyed mulling over Caron’s prose. If I could, I would take a class on this novel. 

4. Normal People by Sally Rooney 

It got the job done 👍

3. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte 

I just recently watched the 1939 adaptation with Laurence Olivier, and it imbued me with a newfound appreciation for the way Bronte portrays Cathy and Heathcliff-- their love for each other and their unpleasant personalities. I also appreciate the biting social commentary that featured heavily in the second part. But as much as I love so many of the little moments in this book (the famous “whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same” barely scratches the surface of the novel’s iconic lines), I can’t decide if I like this book more than I respect it (or any classic, really). 

2. The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes by Suzanne Collins

Shortly after finishing this book, I got it into my head that it may be towards the middle of my end of the year list-- it’s the best installment of The Hunger Games universe, but it’s not perfect. But this was not a good reading year, and this book turned into a bastion of quality writing in my mind. I love the main character and his perspective, and as the year went on, I kept going back to think longer on what Collins had to say about power and privilege. 

1. The Iliad by Homer (Translated by Emily Wilson)

All year, I really wanted to read something that made me feel the same level of satisfaction that Dumas’s The Count of Monte Cristo gave me last year. This came the closest. Wilson’s translation is as impeccable as ever, and her introduction is still brimming with fascinating historical and cultural details. By the time Hector dueled Achilles, I was on the edge of my seat. It’s a fantastic read, and one I will surely return to again someday. 

[jacaerysw1fe]

wrong : ̗̀➛ Cooper Adams (trap) 🎀

synopsis: cooper is trapped backstage trying to find an exit without having to go through the police questioning. he is trapped, until he finds you. the perfect solution to his problem.

AN: this is my first ever post, and my first ever fanfic, so PLEASE be nice to me lol. I’m not a very good writer but i needed to put out a fic for cooper since there is literally only one other one!!! guys pls start writing for this hot man! okay thank you for reading goodbye!!🖤

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Cooper didn’t know what to do for the first time, he was truly trapped.

the security was checking at every exit even backstage. there was no good way for him to leave undetected from the fbi.

that was until he spotted her. lady ravens sister and assistant manager walking down the hall.

perfect.

“hey you’re lady ravens manager correct?” he asked trying to seem a little concerned

“oh yeah that’s me, can i help you with something? Hi riley, looked like u had fun up on stage” you winked at riley.

“i did i had lots of fun!”

“im glad to hear it! so what was it you needed…?” dragging out the last bit of your sentence to get his name.

“cooper, i just uh wanted to speak to you for a second. privately… please” he said in a low tone looking straight and deep into your eyes.

you assumed he wanted to speak to you about his daughters cancer so you quickly agreed “oh yes of course follow me to this room” you say as you walk quickly to a room down the hall.

once he follows behind u just a foot behind you he closes the door behind him. he glances around the room to look for any exits and sees none. great. it’s just a dressing room.

you lean against the vanity in the room patiently waiting for what he had to say tapping ur nails against the wood. he made you nervous for what ever reason. he had a dark aura surrounding him. cooper was a good looking man in his 40s, tall, dark haired and eyed. while you were about a foot and a few inches shorter than he was, you were only freshly 20 years old. you felt small compared to the man in-front of you.

“i need something from you.”

the eerie silence of the room making his words sound even more dark , than they had sounded coming out of his lips

you swallowed, throat bobbing, spit thick in your throat and mouth. “and what could that be?”

he stepped closer , foot after another, suddenly he was just a hairs length away from you. hands on either side of the vanity. his breath fanning slightly on the lower part of ur face. his dark brown eyes looking closely into yours.

Cooper looked closely at your face. your eyes still had a few specks of innocence, your youthful face that had a blush growing on it. oh how doe eyed you looked, looking up at him. He saw how your breathing starting picking up unconsciously. he was affecting you and he knew it.

he moved even closer to you, his thigh spreading your legs apart just enough to perfectly fit his leg. getting close to your ear he whispers “i need you to get me out of this place, and you know why and who i am so do not act stupid. no police. nobody. i know you are one of the only people they won’t check on the way out. get me out and no one will get hurt.” his hands slowly coming up to your hips as he slowly lifts you onto the vanity.

you let out a small gasp as he lifts you without any effort. he starts to move your hips in a perfect pattern against his thigh. your cunt rubbing just perfectly through your thin shorts onto his leg causing friction. you let out small whimpers at the feeling.

“that’s it good girl” he growls out.

you whimpered at that, burying your flushed face into the crook of his neck. inhaling his cologne. moaning quietly at what your body was feeling. suddenly he stops.

he gripped your hair and pulled your head out of his neck moving your face up close to his. both your lips parted and quick breathing becoming one. and then you surged forward crashing your lips onto his. the tall man groaned into the kiss gripping the inside of your thighs spreading them even farther to fit his own body between them. he could feel the heat coming from your clothed cunt. you were aroused and he knew it.

was this fucked up? yes. did you care? absolutely the fuck not. you needed him and bad. you hands wandered down to the waistband of his jeans. tugging at them.

cooper was so hard and he needed to get into your warmth as fast as he could. so he listened to your silent pleas and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants letting them fall down pulling his boxers down with them.

when you looked down you saw his length and knew it would hurt. but pleasure comes with pain and you knew you could take it so you quickly pulled down your shorts along with your panties.

he got even closer to you staring deep into your eyes as he let his fingers wander to your pussy. his fingers feeling the hot wetness of it dripping down his fingers. he lifted them up as he stared at you and put them in his mouth. moaning at the flavor of you.

you whined chest moving up and down at a rapid pace. with a broken raspy voice. you said “please…i need you”

“is that right my precious girl?” the smirk and arrogance in his voice was loud and clear.

you quickly nod ur head tears forming at the corners of your eyes. you needed him inside of you right now if not u might just die.

finally letting himself go he pushed himself into you. not letting you adjust to the feeling or pain he starting moving at a hard and fast pace. hips snapping up to yours.

you moaned loudly at the feeling of his dick perfectly filling you. eyes rolling into the back of your head. god he felt so good.

quickly gripping your throat so no sound could come out of you. the last thing he needed was for someone to walk in and see him sliding in and out of the assistant manager.

“so so tight baby” he groaned into your hair. taking in the sent of your shiny hair. taking in the sent of you.

tears starting coming out of your eyes at just the feeling of pleasure he was giving you.

you were about to come undone and he knew it too. he felt your cunt gripping his dick even tighter and deeper.

“i’ll let you cum if you help me get out of here sweet girl.” he moved his hand off your throat and placed his hand against your warm cheek. continuing to pound into you. the lewd sounds of his dick slamming into your wet pussy. euphoric.

you look into his eyes and quickly nod. “yes, yes, god yes!” you moan out to him.

“that’s a good girl” he leans down and kisses you deeply, tongue sliding into your mouth, teeth clashing together from the shared passion of you both.

at his words you felt the knot in your stomach coming undone. you were so done for.

“ i- i’m coming” you whimper out to him pussy trying to milk him dry.

“i know that’s it, let go, all for me” and that’s all you needed. you let yourself go. moaning out, chest arched into his.

when you came he let himself come undone, quickly pulling out and letting himself come on your thigh.

both of your breaths heavy and the air around you warm.

he let himself recover for just a second before he pulled his clothes back on. he reached behind you and grabbed a few tissues and wiped up your thigh and your pussy that was dripping your own pleasure.

he helped you get dressed before pressing a kiss to your lips.

“thank you sweetheart”

“of course” your breathed out still in a haze from your orgasm.

you walked out of the room him following behind you as lady raven was just speaking to riley.

you quickly smile at the both of them and then get down to riley’s level. “so riley how would you feel riding in the limo with me and lady raven?”

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I HOPE U ENJOYED!! LEMME KNOW IF I SHOULD CONTINUE WRITING FOR HIM!! PLS COMMENT AND EVERYTHING🖤🖤🖤

[starillusion13]

Hi! are u still accepting requests?

i love your badboy wooyoung fic <3, by any chance could you write a Mingi x reader? where they're both dance teachers at summer camp and every one teases them but kinda enemies to lovers thats the main idea, you can add anything u want <3, but i i'm tired of the shy innocent reader i want tension >:(

I’m in love…

Pairing: dance teacher! Mingi x dance teacher! reader (ft. Heesung my love)

Genre: Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, summer camp au

W.C: 4.8k

Warnings: nothing major, just a story of two person oblivion to each other’s feelings and falling in love after a dance.

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

Note: Thanks for reading and reblogging. I appreciate all of your reviews and feel free to text me if you want. Spread love to others, not hate. ngl but my next fic in queue was again angst but I am posting this on @mymoodwriting her suggestion and as I love my bestie too much so I have posted this first.

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“Cheers for the winning team ‘Blockbusters’!”

The winner team cheered with the trophy in their leader’s hand and their dance teacher smiling widely with the students surrounding you in a cheering circle. All filling you with thankful and funny words making your smile wider. Afterall, the win they got was only because of you. You were the one who worked hard for the ideas and choreographies to be on the point so that your students could win the competition and then there was the result of the first week dance competition of your team being the winner.

Your youngest student hugged your side and some awed at you as if you were his older sister. You patted his head and urged everyone else to have their snacks provided at the counter as they already were so tired and hungry. The youngest one ran fast with his friend and you laughed looking at them all cheering and joking in their way towards the food counter.

The leader had already handed you the trophy and you stared at it in your hold. Their every achievement always felt like your own and it really feels good every time. Your dream to become a dance trainer at a big training company was slowly being achieved step by step. Small steps from these summer camps to state challenges and then country recognition and then one day, you will be a part of the dance trainer crew of your dream company.

You smiled to yourself and shook your head to dismiss the thoughts. Placing the trophy on the table as you turned around, only to come face to face with the man with folded hands above his buff chest, sleeves of white shirt folded till elbow and a denim bottom and striking the appearance with a black sunglass.

Always extra…but always perfect.

“Aren’t you too happy just for a win in a summer camp competition?” he asked you and walked towards you.

You glanced towards the cafeteria and smiled, “of course, every small thing matters to me. It’s not like if I want to do something big, it can possibly be achieved out of nowhere.”

He scoffed, “it was just a little competition. You haven’t won the state or country ones. Just among the few schools who gathered in this camp.”

“if it’s really nothing then why are you so pissed, Mingi. Work harder. Maybe next time, you gotta smiling in my position.” You smirked in the end.

He swiftly moved the sunglass from the eyes to place it on the head, revealing his droopy eyes and his intimidating aura shining under the fading sunlight. However, he pisses you off every time but still he is always the most handsome dance teacher among the five schools. No wait, Heesung is there too but that one is a one bid flirty player and you can’t act like Ms. Sana who would give a blind eye to his flirty talks and still appreciating his visual and dance moves. Mingi and Heesung’s group always comes the finale ones to compete against each other but this time, your group beat the second group and was the one to compete with Mingi’s.

“Don’t be proud so much. I will surely win next time.” he stated and inserted his thumbs inside the jean’s pockets on both the side. His every moment was being getting noticed by you.

“Let’s see.” You winked at him before turning back to pick up the water bottle. Before you could even get a slight tip of it, someone took the bottle and held it up. You rolled your eyes before going for another but he did the same thing again. You glared and turned to your side.

“What’s your problem?” you exhaled and licked your lips.

“what’s with that attitude, y/n? You know I’m already a part of training agency so as well as Heesung so don’t even think yourself greater than either of us.” His droopy eyes piercing down on you.

You crossed your hands above your chest and huffed in annoyance. You looked over in a distant place, keeping your gaze away from him. He was almost towering over you. You could feel his perfume directly and he was close enough than other times. But to your oblivion, his gaze was fixed on you, eyes scanning every little texture of your face. The tiny details of your make-up less features. Sweats lining your face and he felt an urge to wipe them off. He placed one bottle on the table to his side and offered the other one to you.

“drink it. You’re sweating and maybe thirsty.” He said in a monotonous way.

You squinted your eyes to judge his intention to which he just rolled his eyes, “are you somehow being a kind one, now? It’s very unusual of you.”

“Look y/n. don’t always get on my nerves. I was offering you this because you look like you can fall unconscious of exhaustion anytime. I don’t want to carry this weak body to the infirmary.” He almost rapped the words.

A frown appeared on your face, “weak? Me? Excuse me! but don’t think of me like Sana. I’m not that porcelain doll to break with a little push.” You snatched the bottle from his grip.

“then are you a dancing doll, y/n?” he laughed and smirked.

You hissed, “Mingi…”

“At this point, I must believe you both just find a reason to argue so that you can meet with each other. I am not surprised that I could find you guys here when everyone else is inside the main building.” Heesung’s voice coming from the way leading from the ground for physical activities. He was having a cheerful and flirty glint in his eyes.

He popped a chips inside his mouth and offered you one. You raised your hand to take it but the piece got taken away by Mingi and Heesung laughed loudly. You forcedly opened the sealed cap of the bottle and glared at both of them before gulping down the bottle, almost choking on it. The grip on the bottle was too tight, the victim of your anger.

“look, tell your friend Mingi not to piss me off everytime he sees me alone anywhere.” you said and started collecting your belongings from the table.

“my friend? Aren’t both of you friend as well?” Heesung asked and chuckled.

“Never!” “What?”

“oh Geez! Calm down. Don’t shout like teenagers. You both really hate each other. Anyways, y/n congratulations for the win. The dance moves and the centre choice were really nice. Your brain is sexy.”

Mingi scoffed and giving him a side eye, you replied to Heesung with a smile, “Thank you so much, Heesung. I’m glad you pointed out the main changes this year unlike someone who couldn’t even utter a simple congratulations to someone. Always a competitive one.”

“come on, Mingi. Kiss her and tell her that you really did love her dance moves. “

“yeah! It will be so nice to see a new couple in this camp.” Sana’s soft and cheerful voice neared you all. You looked over to her direction. She was already staring at Heesung who was glancing in her way. She pout and you shook your head in disbelief.

Them. not only them but other teachers present in the camp, even some older students urge you both every day to get together because according to them,

‘the people who fight on silly things are the real couples.’

How you despise this thought!

you grabbed your things and left the scenario with their eyes following your way. Heesung and Sana laughed but Mingi’s expression was serious, watching your figure intently getting away from the spot. He stepped forward when the other one stopped him and asked him to go with him towards the ground. He glanced towards your way but nodded to him and walked away.

He might be the one pissed you today but generally that was not his intention.

.

.

.

Usually, the camps last for eight weeks for your school and same goes for the other schools present there as well but this time, it would be more than just eight weeks and you had to meet him more than usual. You groaned at the thought before plopping on the bed. The dance competition held was in the first week of the camp and there would be many other activities and competitions everyday and even if there’s respective teachers but you can’t just be free from any schedules as you need to be the assistant in some activities.

Every year after you joined this school, you always looked forward to this summer camps because in your childhood, you loved spending your days in summer camp and after joining this school as dance teacher, you got the chance to relive your childhood days again.

But the second year, you came across this particular person while you were cheering for few students who were competing with each other in a particular water activity. Someone stood beside you and boring hole onto your side, you previously brushed off the weird feeling but then when you looked at the person, you caught him staring at you. You furrowed your eyebrows and scanned his face because you never saw him earlier during any other activities and there was no new school or maybe you had forgot the person. Afterall, you were new and still learning many things. You licked your lips and tugged your hairs behind your ear, before sending him a small smile.

“Are you new here?” his voice was heavy and his look was so intimidating that you felt so small in front of him but you stood strong on your spot.

You nodded and replied, “yeah…I joined last year. And you?” you raised your hand for a shake but well he just stared at it. You waited for few seconds but when he didn’t raise his hand, you curled your fingers and retreated your hand by your side, suppressing your annoyance in the fist.

“are you the new dance teacher?” he asked again.

“yes. And you are?” you asked in an unsure tone, didn’t actually feel like he would reply you but surprisingly he did.

“I am the dance teacher from St. Joseph’s ‘Sparkling’ Team. Myself, Mingi.”

Oh great. So this man is a dance teacher like you. Well, his physique and appearance really did give off an idol image and you wont be surprise if he is secretly an idol or a trainee.

 You nodded, “y/n, from St. Mary’s ‘Blockbuster’ Team.”

And that’s it. There was an awkward silence between you both followed by the cheers of the students who were splashing water in the enjoyment of their win.

You smiled towards them and clapped your hands, similarly Mingi smiled a bit too but he was staring at you.

.

.

.

The first meeting was usually a friendly one, maybe a not-so-friendly one but you were pretty much sure that the following events occurred after the meet was not in your checklist.

With passing of days, you noticed him more. He was a secretive person and even though he wanted something or wanted to express something, he would rather stay neutral in his expression but will encourage his students with warm and comforting words. Of course, him being the teacher of the opponent team sparked a curiosity inside you to know him better. Oh girl! How wrong you were that it was only you! But something similar thoughts came across his mind as well. Oblivion to each other, both of you started to get to know each other.

Starting from asking your colleagues or the close ones in the camps about each other then staring too long than usual and getting caught by each other. Bumping into each other and him blaming you for crossing his path. Well, it was all pretty much okay until you started noticing him around you more. And, people be enjoying such dramas a lot. They even started teasing you that both of you were attracted to each other but oblivion to your feelings.

“what are you doing here?” he asked you and with the tip of his boot, he played with a stone.

“I didn’t know you don’t have eyes to see. Maybe, you don’t have a brain to understand it.” You stifled your laugh and turned around with the mat in your hand.

He picked up the stone and threw in your direction. It hit your calve but it was too small to actually hit you painfully, but when you turned around to glare at him, irritated with his obvious daily mischievous acts, you found him smirking at you.

“I have my eyes on useful things not on these useless stuffs.”

“and, that is?” you raised a brow.

“why will I answer your questions, dancing doll?”

Dancing doll. Gosh, you hate this name the most. Yeah, your friends and colleagues sometimes love to call each other with few nicknames but his nickname, oh wait no no that’s not a nickname. He was literally mocking at you.

“I will turn you into a doll if you don’t stop calling me that name.” you glared and bumped his side before leaving him there.

He smiled to your act and whispered, “my eyes are always on you, doll.”

Whenever you both got to hear those teasing, your first move was to glare at him only to get a bored look from him. But are you really angry or just pretending to be?

Your pretending is not accurate then.

Same thing repeated in every summer. At this point, you were sure to throw him into water if next time, he irritates you again. You previously thought that meeting him was only limited to summer camps. But never expected out of nowhere, he will be in a common friend’s group. Yunho and Wooyoung both were your friends from the dance training club and when Mingi got to know that you are friends with his childhood friends, oh he got a damn excuse to meet you every weekend whenever you all made plans.

You were being caught staring at him a lot. Yunho even once tried to convince you to date his best friend because you were the right one for him and you threatened him that if he ever tried to convince you again then you will beat his ass. Or your usual sentence.

“Yunho, if you are so worried then bestfriends should help each other. Go and marry him.”

But actually deep down, you were freaking out with the thought of you and him together. You were sure on one thing that you did have a crush on him. Maybe not a huge one but almost like that. What about him though?

Oh about him? he might can kidnap you any day to keep you for himself. The way he glares at Heesung whenever he tries to flirt with you or tease you with sweet talks. The intrusive thoughts coming to his minds are dangerous but what can he even do? You are never his. But soon he will make it possible, not maybe apply those thoughts but to make you his.

.

.

.

Next dance competition was in the end of the month and you had already taught them some of it but still some more practices were needed. Meanwhile, the students had some other stuffs to keep them engaged as well, like water activities, group projects, social activities and so on. Your love for water activities led you to have some fun with them as well. You were enjoying with the students in the pool activities when someone splashed into the water. You shielded your eyes with one hand and watched the person. And it reminded you of the first day, you met him.

“wow! The dive was so cool.” A student beside you cheered.

When the person raised his head from the water surface and pushed back his wet hairs. Oh you were losing yourself with the view. His white shirt with top three buttons undone and the water making it teasingly see through and sticking to his tanned skin with the broad chest view. The whistle sound made every student to run out of water and the sudden push made you slip your leg and there was nothing to hold to make you still but to your relief, you didn’t fall. A strong hand around your waist, pulling your side to his front.

“are you okay?”

You nodded and tried to push him away but he pulled you closer with your back pressed to the marble edges of the pool with him too close to your front.

“why are you running away?” he asked you slowly and brushed your hairs out of your face. His every touch hitching your breath and you caught his wrist when it stopped on your cheek.

“why are you doing this?” you asked him in return,

He chuckled, “doing what? Tell me you are not liking this.”

“and if I tell you no, then will your ego be hurt?” you raised a brow.

He smirked, “my ego won’t be hurt because no is not coming out of your pretty lips. It’s either stupid things or fake threats.”

“I swear, Mingi.”

He laughed at your response. But your moment soon got interrupted by Heesung.

“look, I should feel jealous of you to get her like this but as I’m already being aware of your relationship so I will let you have your fun but atleast come out of the water and go to your room. Children might see these unholy things.”

Mingi helped you out of the water and laughed. Why is he suddenly laughing? There was nothing to laugh about his speech.

“look, Heesung. Stop day dreaming about your online stories every time. There is no relationship between us.” You said and glared at them. Heesung snickered and suddenly got a call, before walking away he winked at you. You raised a fist towards him and he shook his head before turning back.

“go and get changed.” You turned your face when you felt his voice too close. He was close, towering over you with his big frame, shielding you from the direct sunlight. You stepped backward and he placed his palm on your lower back and pulled you. You could almost hear your heartbeat in your ears and before you could react to it, his cold lips touched your warm forehead. His slow breaths sent a chill shiver from top of your head to your toe, curling them tightly. His lips murmured to your skin, “I don’t want the dancing doll to fall sick.”

 He quickly stepped back and walked away to the ground, leaving you standing there too stunned to even move. You hugged yourself with your towel and went towards your room.

WHY DID HE KISS YOU?

It was already late for your arrival because you were practicing the steps to students on repeat and soon, you all were sitting around the fireplace. That was a free time for everyone and each one was having fun with some jokes or showing off their individual talents. You were so indulged in your thoughts about the afternoon kiss that you didn’t notice someone sat beside you and staring at your side.

He pinched your cheek and pulled you out of your thoughts. Rubbing the stinging area, you looked at him with a frown, “what?”

“Let’s dance.”

“are you serious right now?”

“more than you.”

You chuckled and shook your head, “why? Do you want to show others that even if your team lost last week but you are still the best dancer?”

“maybe something else.”

He replied you too fast and your heart beat increasing with each of his words. The more you were staring at him, the more intense the effect of the kiss was tingling on your forehead. His eyes were hiding a desire, a passion behind those dark orbs, his hooded eyes curtaining away the feelings for you just for a while. Heesung’s voice broke your eye contact with him. Mingi was craving to see your shining eyes looking back at him. He was feeling loved just by your eyes on him.

You swear you would make Heesung mute one day.

“Well Attention everyone. Why don’t we have something interesting?”

Everyone cheered to his announcement. You rolled your eyes already knowing some stupid words coming out of his mouth.

That man be really playing the cupid everytime.

“Let’s welcome our two best dancers Miss Y/N and Dancing king Mingi. Cheers everyone.” He clapped his hand and welcomed you both to the middle. You parted your lips to protest only to see an extended hand in front of you, your eyes followed the hand to his face.

“Mingi…”

“Come on, dancing doll.”

You hesitatingly grabbed his hand and stood up and went to the centre. You were never shy in public but today somehow every stare was making you anxious. Your grip tightened in his hold and his thumb caressed over your palm.

“let’s begin…”

Inception started playing and he was standing to your side but he was facing back to the crowd and you in front. He placed one hand above your chest, hovering over the collar bones and slowly whispered with the song, “I’m in love….” His eyes were on you.

Your wide eyes stared back at him in shock but still managed to change your position to the next step. Now you both were in exact opposite posture. You mouthed the lyrics, “I’m in love…” and looked towards him. He smiled in return. He quickly sat on one of his on the ground and you sat on the raised knee for mimicking the exact steps from the choreography. You swiftly moved to the side and he raised his hand in air and stood up and bringing it back to brush the fingers against his jaw and your breath hitched with the next step. As soon as you both faced each other, his fingers softly leaving feather touches on your cheek before retreating away.

The dance continued with you both doing the exact dance moves from the choreography but in each chorus, you were sure you lip synced the line, ‘I’m in love…’ but he lightly sang the part, ‘I’m gonna chase you..’

In the end when you both ended the dance with staring at each other. Everybody cheered for the strong and clean dance moves. Every one was sure that day that you both are the dancing king and queen of the camp.

But you both were sure with your feelings.

That you both were in love.

.

.

.

“wait, I need to talk to you.” Mingi grabbed your wrist and you were surprised with his sudden move. After the duet dance last week, you ignored him as much as you could but being in the same building it was not much possible and also, when a cupid is roaming around you.

“What?” you glanced at your watch. It was already past ten o’clock and you were heading towards your room.

A group of three teachers laughing and heading towards your direction made him quickly pull you towards the corner and pushed himself along with you inside the room. He signalled you to keep quiet and as soon as the group passed by the door. He sighed in relief.

“was that pull really necessary?”

“No. but to get away from their eyes was.”

“where are we? Whose room is this?” you looked around and was panicking how you entered a stranger’s room until he walked towards the edge of the bed and sat down.

“this is my room. Welcome to my room, dancing doll.”

“Can you please stop calling me that?”

“Maybe…yes…no. Never.”

You folded your hands in front and glared at him, “and can I know why are we here?”

He didn’t reply but ducked his head down and fiddling with his fingers. You waited for him to say something but nothing. He was acting as if you were not even standing just in front of him.

“If you don’t have anything to say, then I’m leaving.” You said and turned back. But his next words made you halted in your steps.

“I’m in love…with you, y/n.”

Did he just confess? You didn’t turn around because even if you wanted to give some savage reply to him, you felt yourself on the verge of lose of words. Nothing came across your mind to reject his confession. Your mind didn’t even think twice to realise if he was joking or teasing you or testing your reaction to it. You gulped and clenched your sweaty palm.

It was because you were in love with him too.

Someone engulfed you in a back hug and you leaned to the touch. You held his hand in front and closed your eyes. You didn’t know how to react, what to say, what to believe and what to feel. But somewhere you felt happy. Happy because the person you love has confessed his love for you.

He inhaled the scent of your shampoo and whispered into your hair, “please say something. Please talk to me, y/n.”

“what do you want to hear?” you said in a low and slow voice.

“anything. Whatever you want to say but please don’t be silent. I want to hear you.”

You gripped his wrist tighter, “Mingi…”

“hmmm” he closed his eyes, his nose intoxicated with your scent and natural smell and your presence in his hold making his heart beat faster than usual and lips murmuring something into your hairs which you couldn’t even decipher.

“I love you, Mingi.”

The words he wanted to listen and he got to listen. He swiftly turned you around and smiled down at you. You never saw him smiling genuinely at you. Well, maybe he smiled like this before but you didn’t notice before. You didn’t think of it like this, the way you were getting lost into the smile.

“Do you really love me?”

You whispered, “more than you can even think of.”

“I love you, Y/n. you cant even imagine how badly I want to have this moment with you. I didn’t even realise this until the dance that day that I was madly in love with you for last two years. It was all about my love for you.”

He kissed your eyes, your nose, your cheeks, your forehead and stared at your lips. You nodded but still he hesitated. You placed your hands around his neck and pulled him into the most awaited kiss, raising yourself on your toe to match his level. The kiss of initiating a bond, the blooming of a young love. The lips danced with the swift rhythm matching with each other, the way your body moved accordingly and blending with each other’s move to the song. There was a passionate love in the kiss, like the way you both had passion for dance.

Slowly retreating from the kiss, your heels touched the ground. He again softly pecked on your lips, surprising you. He was drunk with your kiss. You smiled at him, he cupped your cheeks in his warm hands, your fingers wrapped around his wrist.

“Mingi…I didn’t realise my love before that dance as well. Maybe the dance and the song has awakened the feelings inside us.”

“we both have a passion for dance and dance only made us realise our inner thoughts. You don’t know but I am so happy right now that I finally get to call you mine.”

“who said you can call me yours?”

“I said and that’s final. also y/n…congratulations.”

“ for what?” you asked in surprise.

“for the win. It was your first step to join your dream company and I promise you, I will make it happen for you.”

“We will make it happen. Together.” You smiled and he nodded and bend down to peck you again.

You slowly removed his hand from your cheeks and took out your phone to click open your playlist.

“what are you doing?”

You didn’t reply and played a song ‘white love’.

The room filled with the intro of the song and swinging your hands, you knelt down in front of him, “will you have a dance with me, my dancing king?”

“of course, my dancing doll.”

“you were supposed to say queen not that stupid doll.”you whined.

“well you are a doll. My dancing doll.” He grabbed your waist and you both laughed with your bodies swaying with the flow of the music.

Afterall it was both of your dream, every day and every night to be in love with each other.

[Thanks for loving the Wooyoung fic...I hope you liked this one.]

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @nvdhrzn [open!]

[she-karev]

Pregnancy (One Shot Request, Andrew DeLuca x Alex Karev’s Sister Imagine)

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: One of Two

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Ship: Andrew DeLuca x Amber Karev (Alex Karev’s Sister)

AN: Hey guys I see you liked my last post and I got a one-shot request to do another time skip for Amber and DeLuca. I hope you guys like it and I’m up for one shot requests if you have any. I'll try to post part two by Wednesday.

Summary: Amber gets bored during maternity leave and texts Andrew who comes over.

Words: 1741

October 20, 2022

I sit crisscross on the king bed making a lazy raspberry sound as I flip through the pages of Watchmen. Graphic novels aren’t what I usually read but I got desperate after finishing the whole shelf of books in the study. I’ve read everything from classics like Jane Eyre to new releases like Iron Widow. After that I asked Levi for a recommendation, and he immediately dropped off this huge comic book. The art is good, the storyline is surprisingly relevant to society’s political landscape and the characters are interesting. But it has barely kept me from chronic boredom that comes from maternity leave or as I like to call it, maternity prison.

My little sidekick is in her eighth month of gestation and it’s pretty evident to anyone with eyes given how I look like Pluto. If Pluto had boobs and was wearing her husband’s Harvard shirt with gray sweatpants. After the New Year I told Andrew that I was ready for us to start trying to have a baby. The pandemic was over, I was caught up in my residency thanks to Webber and Andrew was finally back in the O.R. as a general surgery attending. The timing couldn’t be better and around March we found out we were pregnant and then a few months later we found out we were having a girl. There was a bump when the residency program shut down for a bit but it restarted with a new batch of interns and me being promoted to Chief Resident.

Unfortunately, that joy was short lived, I had to go on maternity leave about a few weeks later when the exhaustion kicked in at 35 weeks and I’ve been glued to the bed ever since. And to make matters worse Levi was assigned temporary Chief Resident so that was another cloud looming over my head. The only thing that keeps me somewhat sane in this bed is my husband and baby daddy coming home and detailing every step of his surgeries so I don’t become dumb. Which is why I sent an impulsive text that I’m sure will make Andrew angry at me.

I hear running out in the hall and the door bursts open revealing Andrew in his navy scrubs and blue fleece telling me he came straight here the second he got my text. He looks around worried until he finds me criss cross in the middle of the bed looking healthy as a clam despite my text saying 911. I grin at him trying to look innocent so he doesn’t get too mad at me for worrying him because I was bored and needed contact with the outside world.

“Hi honey.” I greet him normally and he looks at me in shock before confusion sets in his face and I explain, “I might have possibly fibbed in my text don’t be mad.”

“You-” Andrew groans frustrated before laying it out, “You texted me 911.”

“I know.” I take a sip of my water bottle as Andrew walks to the edge of the bed staring down at me clearly peeved.

“I came straight here from work because my very pregnant wife texted me 911 and I was afraid she was in labor or bleeding out. But instead, I find her in bed chilling and acting like she didn’t almost give me a heart attack!” I wince at the exclamation, “God Amber what is wrong that you have to scare me like that?”

“I can’t be held accountable.” Andrew scoffs at my excuse and I continue, “I can’t be held accountable for my misguided actions because your baby and me have gone insane from bed rest and boredom. Will it make you feel better if I said sorry for almost scaring you to death?”

Andrew’s face softens slightly, “Well I think the knots in your hair are punishment enough so yes.”

I look in the vanity mirror to my left and see that my normally composed blonde hair is all over the place due to laying on my pillow for 10 hours. I look back and see my husband grinning amused already past his anger and I frown at that, “Yeah that’s right laugh at your pregnant wife who has permanent bed head let’s see how that ends for you.”

I stand on my knees and crawl over to the edge to face Andrew who chuckles while I pout, “Okay in all seriousness is there a logical reason why you texted me 911 when there is nothing emergent?”

“I’m bored out of my freaking mind.” I explain bordering on yelling while Andrew is looking at me affectionately with his bright green eyes, “I’ve been at home for five weeks, five weeks, do you have any idea what that is like?!”

“I have a feeling your gonna tell me.” Andrew puts his hands on my hips to keep me steady.

I hold up Watchmen to prove my point of how bored I am, “I’ve read all the books in our shelves I always say I’m gonna finish, I tried watching Netflix but you know it just makes me miss human contact more and to top it off while I’m shackled to this bed like that lady in Gerald’s Game my husband is at work saving lives and actually making a difference because unlike me he doesn’t have a big bowling ball under his shirt. And I think the baby is bored too and she sent that text because she’s hungry for more of your surgery stories and a reminder that there’s a world outside this bed. She’s very stubborn about what she wants.”

“She takes after her mother.” Andrew quips in amused and I narrow my eyes at him causing him to chuckle, “Look I know it’s hard being cooped up in here but you heard what the OB said bedrest is important and you were reaching your limit. I had to practically carry you out of the hospital when I found you passed out after your 18 hour shift in the pit.” I groan at that memory because it’s when I admitted I was exhausted and ordered to go on leave until after the baby was born, “You were doing the work of eight people it’s not good for your stamina and it would’ve affected the baby too.”

“You don’t know that.” He raises an eyebrow at me and I continue, “I’m like an M1-A1, it’s a tank and it can survive anything and get the job done.” I look down at my huge belly pouting at my changing body, “I mean I’m already as big as a tank right now and my bikini days are getting narrower by the minute.”

“I never really liked bikini’s anyway.” He’s trying to console me again which he always does when I complain about how big I’m getting, “You look way better in that sweater than some tacky string.”

“Stop being nice, you know my hormones make me unpredictable.” I remind him again, “The nicer you are the more it makes me want to choke hold you.”

“In that case you look like a bloated whale.” Andrew jokes and it doesn’t amuse me at all, “Better?”

“Not in the least.” I sigh and wrap my arms around the back of Andrew’s neck and say sweetly, “Just stay here and tell me stories about life on the outside.” I run my fingers through his wavy hair to add effect but it doesn’t work. He looks enticed but he’s gotten stronger against my seductions over the years.

“I can’t, I have a surgery this afternoon.” He steps back to my disappointment, “Plus I gotta help Marsh with the skills lab for the interns while Hunt is in the ER. And as much as I want to, I can’t stay here because your bored or Grey will reprimand me. Find something to do while I’m working so the time will pass by and you won’t be so bored.”

Suddenly a light bulb goes off in my head on how I can keep myself busy, “Your right.”

He exhales in relief and turns to leave, “Thank god I’ll see you tonight, I love you.”

“Oh no I’m coming with you; you’re taking me to work.” I get off the bed, go to our closet and put a black coat over my clothes and slip into my black crocs. I can see Andrew turning to face me again with an annoyed look.

“That is not happening babe.” He tells me bluntly but I don’t listen as I grab my purse, “Okay you and the baby need to listen to me. I am not taking you two to a hospital with the germs and blood and diseases it’s not happening I’m putting my foot down.”

I widen my eyes at that and he emphasizes by crossing his arms against his chest, “I’m just gonna watch from the gallery and catch up with my friends and see if Schmitt is still alive. It’s not like I’m getting a scalpel come on man.”

Andrew stands his ground, “Nope still not happening, if you want new books order on Amazon and get express, I don’t care about the price as long as it keeps you in bed and following doctor’s orders.”

“I’m a doctor, you’re a doctor, our siblings are doctors and all of our friends are doctors. I’m pretty sure we both know what’s safe and not safe for me and the baby too.” I remind him, “A hospital is the best place for me to kill time because if I go into labor, I just have to walk five steps to a bed in OB. Please take me with you, think of it like take your daughter to work day.”

He looks at my belly and back up at me, “I think we’re a little early for that.”

“Take me with you.” I sternly command.

“No.” Andrew says with finality causing me to narrow my eyes at him as he keeps a composed face. I mimic his stance crossing my arms across my chest and glaring at him to assert dominance. Even in my condition I stand as his equal and he knows it, he knows I won’t go down without a fight so he has to do the same. We stand there silently for a few moments, me in my pajamas and him in his scrubs, waiting for one of us to budge.

Next Part Here

[eclaire-went-bam]

one thing that i've found interesting about narc abuse truthers, is that they very often claim a narcissist won't ever have the capability or self-awareness to search within themselves and understand something's wrong, because they're so full of themselves or they don't want to do the work

while simultaneously demonising the disorder and making it even harder for people to be comfortable with that sort of introspection?

i think in general, our society is really weird about vanity and confidence. you must be confident and have some ego, but if you give yourself too much a pat on the back, even if you're not being toxic about it, it's seen as strange, almost. maybe too much. especially if you don't frame it in some humble way, like "i think i did this well" or "i tried to look good"

most characters portrayed as disagreeable in media have some sort of ego and aren't humble about it, a lot of protagonists are either humble about it or have lower ego, or use it in charismatic quips.

so when someone hears "narcissistic" in "narcissistic personality disorder," there's automatically that "oh, the vanity" type of disgust— even without hearing about "narc abuse" and the like

that being said, who would want to be associated with that on it's own? that pool shrinks even more when most sites online have a very ableist general opinion on npd, or have multitudes of posts about "narc abuse"

if someone turned around and called a self-proclaimed empath a narcissist, would they like it? no? if someone turned around and called your average joe who isn't chronically online a narcissist, would they like it? no? what makes you think someone with undiagnosed npd would like it, especially when that actively makes them look like a worse person?

maybe if you changed the way you spoke about npd and stopped clogging google with narc abuse falsing, more people with npd would be less averse to looking into the possibility they may have it

even in their own ableist worldview, they are part of the problem they're talking about

oh also generally speaking i do think it should be normalised for egotypicals to not need to be modest about something they're super proud of. i feel like that's a good first step that'll just help everybody anyways.

cut for my personal experience. not that i feel uncomfortable sharing it, i don't, i just feel like i've already said what i wanted to say. some people may find this relatable though idk

npd was really difficult for me to consider because of this. i'd done so many hours of research and even then it took me a long time to be able to say this, not to mention even talking about it openly. although i was exposed to pro "scary" mental health conditions stuff before the ableist stuff online (by some miracle), i still did see the ableist stuff. although i knew it was all wrong, i couldn't help but shake the unconscious conclusion that "if i'm not this, then i'm better." i knew what others thought of npd, so my imaginary way of getting on people's good sides was to simply not have it. thats how i'd gain the admiration of others, even if realistically they'd never know this

even after i came to the conclusion "oh jeez i probably have this" — after multiple years of it impeding every aspect of my life in both positive and horribly negative ways — i couldn't bare the thought that i'd be marked until the day i die. i'll have this, until my brain becomes food for the earth. i have this bug, that no matter what, i can't scrape away. and what made it worse (better?), is that the bug was simultaneously saying "oh hell yeah now i'm more interesting and cooler than anyone else in this room !!"

i'm going to be a bad person forever, when i wanted to be admired by everyone. it doesn't matter what sort of way i act, because this is in my closet, i'm just a bad person (Rhetorical)

and now that i have accepted i might have this, i can't even get help for it after reading all the horror stories !!! so like...what now ? what do the narc abuse truthers reasonably expect me to do .

[maxverstappensflatbrim]

Show Me Yours | Matty Healy

I've been writing this for the past couple of months not knowing if I was gonna post it anywhere, but last week I decided that I will. Here's a little snippet of the first chapter

(also the first whole act is a little face paced with time skips to get to the good parts)

“Shitty? It’s many… questionable things, but it’s not… that shitty.”

She laughs a little and looks away, “What about the album?”

She sighs slowly, “Healy-”

“We’re gonna get one, we are, I can feel it, one more gig, that guy, said he could get us signed up with a label if we record some EP’s.”

“I’m not in the band, that’s your guys’ things.”

“You’re a part of the band, Tommie.”

“No, I’m not. I just sit in on your practices with you.”

“Okay,” He nods, “Answer me this,” She hums, “Do you help us by playing guitar?”

“Well, sometimes.”

“Yes or no questions.”

“Yes.”

He nods, “Do you come to every gig with us?- When you’re here?”

“Yes.”

“Every practice?”

“Yes.”

“Did you let me steal some of your work for our songs?”

“Yes- what?”

He chuckles as she turns to look at him quickly, “What songs? What work?”

“My new songs,” He says leaning away from her hand that reaches out to hit him, “And your poetry.”

“You read my notebook?”

He catches her hand this time when she tries to hit him again, “It was open.”

“Open?”

“On the kitchen table, I just glanced… for a single second.”

“I hate you so much.”

She pushes him down, using his head to stand and starts walking away, he scrambles to his feet following after her, “It’s really good, and I only borrowed one line.”

“Which one?”

“Not telling.”

She rolls her eyes, walking on and he has to jog to keep up with her long strides despite having a good few inches on her.

“Vogue.”

“What?”

“Vanity Fair.”

Then it dawned on her, “That was my best line, Healy!”

He giggles and runs off but she chases after him, shouting down the street, “I’m still not joining your shitty band.”

He rolls his eyes, grabbing her arm to drag her towards the old shop in town, “Where are we going?”

“Shops, to cheer you up.”

“Ooh,” She rubs her hands together with a grin, “You gonna be my sugar daddy now, Healy?”

He swings an arm around her shoulder, smiling down at her, “Of course, sugar baby, what do you want, a ferrari?”

“More of a red bull girl. There’s just something about Sebastian Vettel in that race suit.” She makes a noise close to a moan and watches the redness spread up his cheeks.

“Well, I can’t get you a Vettel, but I can get you something very close.”

He moves the hand hanging loosely over her shoulder to push her glasses up her face and then cup over her eyes and a smile spreads across her face as she blindly walks along the path in front of them. “Jenson?”

“Nope.”

He stops them, turning her with his hands still covering her eyes. He drops his hand and she looks up, raising a brow.

“Mr Bolas.”

“Even better.”

They head into the old charity shop, glancing around the new boxes, Bolas looks up from his desk, peering over the top of his reading glasses.

“New box out the back, Healy.”

“Thanks, Mr Bolas.”

First two chapters will be out on May 12th -Mac

[qnewsau]

Courtney Act was AFL heartthrob Bailey Smith for Halloween

New Post has been published on https://qnews.com.au/courtney-act-was-afl-heartthrob-bailey-smith-for-halloween/

Courtney Act was AFL heartthrob Bailey Smith for Halloween

For Halloween, Courtney Act went out dressed as the “only AFL player gay men know” – Geelong heartthrob Bailey Smith.

The Aussie drag superstar is back in her hometown of Brisbane to celebrate the city’s LGBTQIA+ arts and culture Melt Festival, on now.

In new Instagram posts this morning, Courtney swapped the frock for the footy as she transformed into Bailey and the resemblance is hilariously uncanny.

“Can’t kick a goal, but I can serve a look,” Courtney wrote.

“Career pivot alert! No, not to AFL—I’m a drag king now and I’m bringing Bailey Smith realness!”

  View this post on Instagram

  A post shared by Courtney Act (@courtneyact)

The 23-year-old AFL heartthrob recently moved clubs to the Geelong Cats, if that means anything to you.

As Courtney Act explained, “If you’re not familiar with @bazlenka – you’re welcome.

“He’s every gay man’s favourite AFL player (he’s also the only AFL player gay men know).”

In a separate Instagram video, set to her own song Heteroflexible, Courtney flips her blonde mullet and adjusts her bulge.

  View this post on Instagram

  A post shared by Courtney Act (@courtneyact)

Courtney to lead Brisbane’s inaugural River Pride Parade

On Friday, Courtney Act climbed to the top of Story Bridge for a nude photoshoot to celebrate the Melt festival.

Melt Festival is the citywide celebration of LGBTQIA+ artists and allies. The 2024 festival runs for three weeks from October 23 to November 10 with a huge program.

Courtney Act is ambassador for the festival and will lead Melt’s inaugural River Pride Parade, along the Brisbane River, next month.

Behind her will be a flotilla of vessels celebrating queer pride as they make their way from William Jolly Bridge to the Brisbane Powerhouse.

The Parade, on Saturday, November 9, will be one of the last events as part of Melt.

“It’s so glorious to be the ambassador of the Melt Festival in my hometown of Brisbane,” Courtney Act said on Friday.

“Who would have thunk when I was knee-high to a grasshopper growing up in the northern suburbs that one day I would get to come back and be a part of an amazing global arts festival, and a queer one at that?

“I mean, growing up as a young person in Brisbane, I didn’t really see anything queer… It’s so amazing to have a festival like Melt.”

Read more:

‘I was off the Christmas card list’: Courtney Act on RuPaul

Courtney Act tells origin story of her and Vanity’s wig empire

Courtney Act reunited with Adore Delano and Bianca Del Rio

5500 people bared all for artist Spencer Tunick on Brisbane’s Story Bridge

For the latest LGBTIQA+ Sister Girl and Brother Boy news, entertainment, community stories in Australia, visit qnews.com.au. Check out our latest magazines or find us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube.

[maeve01]

Hello there tumblr, it's Tarah!

I will be sharing a glimpse of my life here.

I was born on one of the beautiful islands in the pacific, to two people who couldn't really agree on anything, but they somehow manage to have three kids together, so I guess they agreed on one thing. My first memory of my parents were them fighting, and it went on for two decades. My father was often drunk and when he's at home they would just argue. Sometimes their fights would even go physical. My mother, on the other hand, was a religious woman. She went to church every Sunday, and she would bring us, her three children with her as well. My father did not really approve of my mother's devotion to the church she was a part of. He regarded these religious people as hypocrites, which is one of the things we agree on now. My parents were literal opposites, to make the long story short, and without going into too much detail, my parents eventually separated. Thank God for that. Inevitably, however, their failed marriage would have a major impact on their children, especially on our mental well being. Of course, long before their separation, they tried to make it work. I'm sure it was hard for them, but much harder and heart breaking for us - their kids. We tried to cope in any way we could and to each their own.

Anyhow, despite my parent's relationship dynamic circling around toxicity, vanity, deception, and manipulation, I went on with my life as a child. And as a child, your life is much brighter and colorful in spite of all of the drama going around in the background.

My life as a kid revolved around home, school and church. Every Sunday I would attend Sunday school, which was my favorite part, because I get to listen to many stories and get to do other creative activities. In church I was a part of the children's choir, so every after practice on Saturdays we would go to the beach and play skippers and swim. On school days, I'm mostly bored and can't wait to go outside and play again. Yes, playing is the only priority of a child, or maybe that was just me. And at home, well, everyone has to walk on eggshells and not make a sound, because if you do, you would awaken the beast, who happens to be the man of the house.

Moving on to my teenage years, this is where it all went gloomy and bluey. Well, it was a long time coming anyways, so don't act surprised.

I got diagnosed with Major Depression when I was fifteen, going sixteen. I'm not sure if I want to share the details yet, but if you think that was the worst part, well, hold on to thy mother's teats, because it's about to get even worse with what I'm about to say. For a little while I thought my depression was gone, but it only went for a vacation it seems, because it came back three years later as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Yep, you read that right. You'd think it was only with veterans from war who're at risk, well news flash, it ain't exclusive on them. But hey, it was just like a warzone at home, so you could say I'm a veteran too.

This all happened when I was just entering college two years ago, and all of a sudden I was not feeling well again. And this time it was more vicious. With my depression it was like, everything that I love was burning around me, whereas with my PTSD, it was just like that, everything that I loved burning around me, only this time, I was burning down with them.

Now don't you worry about me, I do keep in touch with my psychiatrist and psychologist. I'll be fine.

That's all for today,

Thank You for reading!

[demonbanisher]

So I’m gonna do a scary thing and share a poem I wrote that I just read at a show tonight. I’ve had some internal struggles with my place in fandom over the past while, which flairs up when JKR decides to be awful again. As a result, I sometimes feel guilty for existing in this spaces especially as a trans person who is new to their identity and figuring shit out. So I wrote a poem about it and I thought I would share it here in case anyone is feeling the same way. A huge shoutout to @fuckboyregulus for being willing to read it over for me before my show. Definitely gave me that last boost of confidence I needed. TW for JKR and mentions of her TERFness So without further ado, here she is...

A Lesson in Trans-figuration

I see another post that says if you still read, support, or are involved in anything Harry Potter related you’re a transphobe

And I feel that knife twist inside the parts of me that are still learning their name

My transness is still being born, is still an ugly duckling finding its way into a swan

My grip on my identity, on my place in this community is slippery enough and with those words… I fall

Now, when I say I never liked these books to begin with it sounds like a lie

Like I’m trying to justify causing harm to those I hold dear

But it shouldn’t matter, but it does matter, but I’m trying to make it not matter because my Hogwarts was never these 4100 pages

I found my Hogwarts in tumblr posts where Harry goes to therapy and George can’t look at himself in the mirror, and Remus’s scars aren’t just from lycanthropy

I found my Hogwarts in fanart of Sirius Black with top surgery scars that made me yearn for something I didn’t have a name for yet

I found my Hogwarts in the act of creation and Joanne is the boggart in the fucking closet

Is the only witch we need to burn

Joanne has forgotten that magic is the art of possibility

That fantasy is a world of discovery

Is construction

Is deconstruction

Is ripping the world apart and building it anew

Joanne calls women magic, but only the ones who were born with vaginas

Joanne turns magic into a cage and its iron burns my fae fingers

So sit your ass down and shut the fuck up and let me give you a lesson in trans-figuration

In the morning I wake up, breath my gender into my lungs

The dresser, the wardrobe, the vanity, the mirror are all part of this operation of invention

In allowing me to explore a rainbow-coloured spectrum of possibility

The way that I feel when I put my binder on is magic

Every time someone remembers to actually switch up my pronouns is magic

That I have the power to turn my body into the one I want it to be is magic

Icing the genderqueer flag onto the pride cookies we’re making is magic

My friend’s voice cracking for the first time on testosterone is magic

Gender envy sparking through my veins like a drug is magic

The feeling of chipped black nail polish on my fingernails is magic

The way I feel when he says I’ll love you no matter what gender you are is magic

Neopronouns are magic

Having queer friends is magic

And this world that you’ve created isn’t yours anymore it’s mine

My Hogwarts doesn’t have gender divided dorms

My Hogwarts knows where you belong before you do

My Hogwarts is getting magical HRT and learning body glamours to help with dysphoria

My Hogwarts is not witches and wizards but wixen

My Hogwarts is a letter arriving with the name your parents refuse to say

My Hogwarts is choosing who you want to be the way the wand chooses the wizard

My Hogwarts is looking into the mirror of Erised and finally having a name for the thing you feel inside, is whispering to yourself “it isn’t all in my head” as you see the true you reflected back for the first time

When I say trans is beautiful what I mean is have you ever held the grape before tasting the wine?

Have you ever held the baby calf before drinking of her milk?

Have you ever caressed the blank paper before it held a story?

As a child, did you ever sit in front of the oven just to watch the bread rise?

Or taste the sap when it dripped fresh from the tree, sour and tart?

Do you know the beauty in creation?

The magic act of turning a bouquet of flowers into a dove?

I am a writer, not just of stories, but of the truth of my own body

This world already struggles to find room for me in its pages

If I’m going to create a world, I’m going to create one with enough empty spaces for my gender to run free

And Joanne, it wasn’t your one size fits all world that I fell in love with

It was the possibility of what that world could be

My Hogwarts is a community of fanfiction writers and artists who are building a new castle that everyone calls home

Is the knowledge that splinters under my skin means that I’m doing something right

That I’m getting there

That one day I will get there

And it won’t be because of you, it will all be because of me

“Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all those who live without love.”

I do pity you Joanne

I pity the feeling of an imagination with limitations

I pity you for all the amazing, wonderful, magical trans people you will never deserve to meet

I pity you for creating something that could have been so beautiful only to make it mean

I’m not going to call you she-who-must-not-be named anymore

Cause the whole world should know who you are Joanne

They should know the person you’ve chosen to become

In my Hogwarts I choose to conjure up possibility until I feel recognition in my bones

I refuse to become the villain your Hogwarts tried to make of me

You’re a worse villain than any one I write could ever be

[visionofhope04]

Hii I was lowkey wondering if you would do something maybe like a one shot of neglected where reader is older (18-20) and dipped out of the house and became a singer and one of her songs basically exposed them for how they treated reader and in like an interview she full on tells them how she doesn’t even talk to them and like only Jason

This is literally perfect. I love this idea! I was planning on making a singer batsis reader anyway so here you go! I'll be making this part 4 of the series instead of a one shot. There’s a bit of angst. Btw, thanks so much for your support everyone! I'm glad you enjoy this series! Feel free to request anything you'd like besides smut as well!

This is the longest thing I have ever written so there will be a part 5. I planned on this being the last part but it's just so much. It’s not proofread and neither are all of the other parts because I post at 1 am most of the time lol. Hope you like it!

f/n = friend name

Y/G/N = your group name

N/S = news station

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (Current) Part 5

---

You were sick of it. Sick of how even after confronting them about how you felt and almost dying because of it, they still neglected you. You couldn't wait to move out at the age of 18, even if it proved to be a struggle. You had taken mini jobs since you turned 15 and saved up since then. You just couldn't see them anymore as it would remind you of how they treated you that day at that hospital. None of them apologized either. They just pretended it never happened and continued to ignore you. The media had a field day with speculation of what had happened but eventually stopped because Bruce had claimed it was “just a bad case of the flu” which they believed.

Jason was always the only one that would talk to you. He was the only one that actually cared enough to make sure you were taking proper care of yourself and that you wouldn't have a repeat of what happened. He took you places, spent time with you and gave you advice. You even had a tradition where you'd always meet up at the manor's library every week at the same time that same day every week and just have a mini book club together. He always made time for you and never bailed on you.

So on your 18th birthday, he helped you move out. You managed to rent a small apartment in Star City with the money you had saved up. It wasn’t that close to the manor which was a good thing. The neighborhood wasn’t good but it wasn’t as bad as Gotham’s neighborhoods so you would be fine. You could handle yourself with your assassin training if needed. You also managed to get hired at a cafe which was about a five minutes walking distance from your apartment.

It had taken a while but eventually, you had packed all of your belongings into color coded containers and moved them into Jason’s car with his help. You didn’t say goodbye to anyone as you had no friends to say bye to and you knew that your so called “family” couldn’t care less about what you did with your life. ‘This is it, hopefully the last time I’ll ever be near this place.’ You thought. You didn’t plan on stepping foot in Gotham ever again after you left. It would bring back too many memories you prefer to keep buried away deep inside your mind.

The car ride to Star City was entertaining. You and Jason conversed the whole time, telling jokes and listening to his funny tales with the radio playing softly in the background. Eventually, a song you both loved came on and you both started yell-singing along to the lyrics. You wished those moments could be permanent. You were both so carefree and nothing else mattered besides having fun and enjoying yourselves.

You now stood in the doorway of your new apartment, admiring your new home. Jason and yourself had just finished unpacking all of your belongings. You really liked how it looked and thought you both did an amazing job at designing the place perfectly according to your style. Jason, unfortunately, had to leave in order to avoid raising suspicions. Once you both said your byes, he left you to your apartment.

Jason drove back home in silence. He hated to admit it but he would miss you dearly. You were always there for him and helped him with anything. You tried your best to always comfort him and make him feel better on his darkest days and it would always work. Somehow you seemed to always have the right words to say or knew exactly what to do to help him. Out of everyone he was closest to you. He assumed it was because he could relate to you the most. More so how you felt. He’d felt like the black sheep of the family before you came, and he was. When you came, you took that role from him. It pained him to see how much their insults would affect you, even if you were good at hiding it. He could just tell.

Jason made it back to the manor after a while and went straight to the library. He didn't want to deal with the others. After the whole hospital situation, he'd never really bother interacting with them. He hated how they treated you as if you didn’t exist and hated how much pain they had caused you and that they didn’t even care. He guessed that they'd probably be doing something for Damian's birthday and forgot that you were his twin. They probably couldn’t even remember that Damian had a twin.

He made it to the library and pulled out one of his favorite books. He’d read it so many times you’d often joke that he could probably recite the whole book by heart at this point. Sitting down in a chair, he started to read. However, he couldn’t bring himself to stop thinking about what it would’ve been like if they treated you how they did Damian. The both of you were Bruce’s real children. You both even looked like clones of him! At first, Jason thought you would’ve been the favorite twin due to your personality. Even though you were twins, your personalities were polar opposites. You even refused to kill! You were trained by the League so why didn’t you kill as Damian did?

Jason knew you would benefit them greatly if you joined. You had self control, didn’t kill, could act perfectly, lie perfectly, do well under pressure, and not to mention your skills. Being raised by the League may have been torture, but you managed to gain incredible skills out of it. You could take on at least ten guys who doubled you in size and beat them within five minutes. You even bested Damian in spars and he was supposedly dubbed the “better twin” by Talia, so why hadn’t they let you join their nightly crusades like they had let Damian when the both of you first arrived?

Damian passed by your room but noticed something was off. He decided to take a look. He twisted the doorknob and pushed. The room which was once occupied by you now looked extremely plain and bare, stripped of all of its accessories. The only things left were the bed itself, multiple dressers, and a vanity. It looked as if it had been vacant the whole time. It might as well have been. Damian couldn’t really remember what it had looked like since he’s never paid much mind to it but he could tell there was a drastic difference. He knew that you disliked just leaving your room plain unlike himself and wanted at least something to make it look less boring.

He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Had you finally been kicked out by Bruce? Did you get shipped off to a boarding school like he had been suggesting to your father for years? He decided to go ask. He exited the room and closed the door behind him, taking off for Bruce’s office. Walking down the hall, he suddenly remembered that he had seen you leave with Jason. This meant that you were not at a boarding school like he had originally thought. But then why was your room vacant?

Instead of going to see Bruce, he decided to go see Jason and bring up the matter with him instead. He changed directions and headed to the library where he knew he’d find Jason. It was no secret that Jason was a book worm so Damian had a fifty percent chance of finding him there.

He entered the library and was immediately greeted with the sight of Jason sitting comfortably on a chair, legs crossed with a book opened in his hands. Jason didn’t bother to look up from his book as he spoke.

“What do you want Demon Spawn?”

“I’ve come to obtain the whereabouts of my sister.”

“You mean my sister?”

“She’s not your sister!” Damian exclaimed.

“Well I act more like a brother than you do.”

“Where is Y/N? Her whole room is bare.”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Just tell me, you imbecile!” Damian said, growing increasingly frustrated by Jason’s blunt answers.

“She’s not here.”

“Then where is she?”

“Not here.”

“Just tell me already Todd, I have no time for your foolish games!”

“She moved out.” Jason said, giving in.

“What?! Where.” Damian demanded.

“Why would I tell you?”

“Because I demand to know!”

“Okay and?”

“Tell me!”

“No.”

“Why not!”

“Because you don’t even care.”

“And you do?”

“Yes, I actually do Damian! I’m there for her when she needs me the most. I’m there for her while she’s watching you live the perfect life that she’s just a background character in! While you and the others ignore that she even exists! I’m there for her when she breaks down and has panic attacks! And what were you all doing to try and help her? Nothing! Absolutely nothing!” Jason snapped.

“Y/N’s fine, I know my twin!” Damian screamed.

“Do you even know what her favorite color is?” Jason questioned in a harsh tone.

“...” Was Damian’s reply.

“Exactly! You don’t! You and the others have never cared about her, so why all of a sudden do you care now? You don’t know anything about her so don’t act like you do!” Jason then stood up and walked out of the room in a fit of rage.

Damian stood there, shocked. Had Jason just refused to answer his question? He was about to follow him but decided against it. Why was Damian going to chase Jason down just for her? She was just an annoyance, a mistake, imperfect. He had been wanting to get rid of her for so long, so why doesn’t he feel relieved? Why does he feel guilty? He decided to stop dwelling on it and get on with life. He figured it would happen eventually if it hadn’t happened then.

---

It had been a year since that day. The day you left your old life behind and started a new life, a better one. One where you weren’t constantly ignored. One where you actually had more than one person care about you. Instead of seeing yourself as a failure and disappointment, you now saw yourself as an amazing person (which you always were). You had been going to a community college in Star City. You made many friends there and started up a music career with three of them.

Their names were f/n, f/n and f/n. You all started off by taking random gigs anywhere you could. You performed covers of songs and would receive standing ovations all the time. Seeing as your group was well liked, you decided to write and produce your own songs. At the age of 19, Y/G/N released their first album. It went viral within a day and everyone was talking about it. After a week, several articles were posted, praising your work. News Stations talked about all the records Y/G/N managed to break. People started to stream it like crazy, and you couldn’t be happier with all the positive feedback you were receiving.

You had been a Wayne once, meaning you had experience in dealing with the media. Since you had already been used to it, you knew you’d all eventually be invited to interviews. So, when you had received an email stating how N/S wanted a one on one interview with you, you weren’t sure how to feel. You weren’t looking forward to interviews with your whole group, let alone one where you would be alone. You knew how unfiltered interviewers could be and didn’t feel comfortable with it.

However, you decided it would be best to go. So here you were, sitting in front of the interviewer in an uncomfortable chair preparing for the interview to start. You had somehow managed to keep a smile plastered on your face the entire time while you were a nervous wreck on the inside. You hoped none of the questions would be sexist as they usually were towards women. However, you had no more time to think about that. You heard clicking, signaling that you were about to go live. Once you heard the last click, you knew you were live and the interview had begun.

“Hello everyone, welcome back to N/S. My name is Jerald Tangleberry and I’m here today with songwriter, singer, and celebrity, Y/N Wayne! How are you?”

You waved to the camera and then answered, “Hello everyone! I’m doing good, how about you?”

“I’m doing great, thanks for asking! So by now I’d assume everyone knows that you’ve released an album with your group. How does it feel to gain more fame?”

“It doesn’t feel any different. Fame wasn’t our goal when we released the album. It was to express ourselves.”

“Mhm, well Ms. Wayne, what inspired you to write songs?”

“Well we know people may be in a tough spot in their life right now and want them to know they aren’t alone.”

“That’s so true. Some fans have been speculating that every member has three songs that specifically relate to them since there are twelve songs in total and three of the songs have the same group member as the introduction part of the song. Is this true?”

“Yes, it is true.”

“So all three of your songs relate to family issues of some sort. Is that hinting that you have family issues?”

“Yes, actually. My family isn’t the best. They ignored me all the time, even when they weren't busy. The only person who didn’t was Jason.”

“You’re saying it in the past tense.”

“I moved out about a year ago. When I was around 14, I suffered from anorexia. My family would always ignore me since they were either busy doing work or hanging out with each other. The only family member that acknowledged me was Jason. I assumed it was because there was something wrong with me. I started to hate myself so much to the point of starvation. One day, I passed out right before a gala and my oldest brother Dick found me passed out on the floor. They took me to the hospital and when I woke up, Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian started fussing about how I’d ruin their image if the media knew what actually happened. They started to yell at me and told me how I was a useless burden. I started to have a panic attack so I kicked them out. Jason stayed behind with me and comforted me. Ever since then I made a planed to save enough money so I could move out when I turned 18, which I did.”

“Oh, wow. So Jason was the only one who interacted with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Looks like the Wayne family isn’t as perfect as they seem.”

“No family is actually perfect.”

“Did your family try contacting you at all after they found out about Y/G/N?”

“Not yet. They’re probably too busy or don’t care.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright, I got over it. What’s the next question.”

“Oh-” He cleared his throat and continued the interview. (So basically I don’t wanna bore you all lol)

---

Jason had woken up late into the afternoon that day. Patrol that morning had exhausted him. There was a huge breakout at Arkham they had assisted with. They successfully locked up every escapee, so today, Jason just wanted to relax until it would be time for patrol again. Even though he was exhausted, he knew he couldn’t take a break. The others wouldn’t and it would be unfair to them if he did.

He headed over to his couch with his phone and a bowl of popcorn in hand, ready to watch random movies the entirety of the day. He set down his phone on the coffee tables and grabbed the TV remote. When he turned on the TV, he almost dropped the popcorn and remote. You were sitting on a chair, giving an award winning smile while you politely answered the man’s questions. He was baffled. He didn’t know why you were being interviewed, let alone on TV at all! You made it clear you didn’t want to have any relations with your family any longer and you couldn’t stand publicity, so what were you doing?

He placed the bowl down and snatched his phone off the table. Unlocking his phone, he quickly dialed your phone number. However, he realized that the interview was live and that he would be interrupting it if he called you then. Deciding to wait, he placed his phone back down, picked up the bowl, and then got comfortable.

---

Tag list: @fake-id-69 @pepelachanel @loxbbg @what-0-life @yoongi-holland @omnivorousfangirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @sexysamsungl @iceddonuts @buginetye @portrait-ninja @azazel-nyx @alculai

[honeyhan-123]

The Monster In Plain Sight

Summary: Steve’s been slowly biding his time, playing the role of the perfect Captain America, but now he’s sick of playing and he’s going to take what he wants. 

Warnings: Non-con, Dark! Steve, Steve is a serial rapist, somnophilia, forced exhibitionism, breeding kink, use of the word Daddy. If any of these makes you uncomfortable please do not read. 

Word Count: 2.1k

AN: Ooop, I can’t believe I’m actually posting for the first time in nearly three months. Please be gentle <3

Also I would like to thank everyone on the dark group chat for encouraging me to keep on going with this idea. It didn’t quite turn out as dark as I thought it would but you guys gave me the incentive to keep on going so thank you <3

My Masterlist

He was hard. Achingly hard. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt like this, this desperate for release but he knew he had to take his time. He had to relish in every single second he could get. He doubted he would get another chance and so he had to make this one count. 

The sleeping pills he had slipped into your wine at dinner were obviously working as you barely twitched as he slid your bedroom door open. It had almost been too easy to get his way. All he had to do was move in next door and play his usual role. No one would ever suspect The Captain America of the sinful acts that he was about to do, that he had done numerous times. 

But even as he watched you sleep, he knew something about this time was different. He wasn’t quite sure what it was. Maybe it was because unlike his usual victims he had actually made contact with you. He had never been so bold before. Usually there was always a camera lens separating him from his victims. But not this time. Not with you. 

He slithered over to the vanity opposite your bed, setting up his tripod with hasty fingers. He double checked the view point, making sure that the entire bed was in frame. He knew he wouldn’t forget a moment of what was about to happen but still, he wanted the momentos. The physical reminders. He pulled the sheets back from your unconscious body and relished in the way your nipples hardened at once as they met the cool night air. 

It was only at times like this when he could stop acting. When he could truly be himself. For these brief hours he could be who he was, not who the world thought him to be. 

He slid one hand up underneath the silk nighty you wore and cupped your tit as his other hand dipped into his already open pants. It was a relief to feel the cool breeze on his hot pulsating length and even better when he grabbed one of your hands and wrapped your fingers around it. Slowly he moved your hand up and down, a low groan tumbling from his lips. Your dainty fingers felt amazing wrapped around him, far better than his own, but he longed for more. 

With a final tweak of your nipples, he let his hand slide town along your stomach and towards the lace that covered your mound. He cupped it through the scanty material, pushing the fabric into your lips as he felt you up. He couldn’t wait to be inside you, to have you wrapped around him like a vice. 

Getting you out of the nighty without jostling your body too much was a little difficult. Perhaps he should have cut it open, that would have fitted better with his plan should you awake. Ridding you of your panties was far easier and the sight that met him was beautiful. 

Sure he had camped out on your fire escape multiple times, watching as you dressed or prepared for a shower. But even then you had always been quick to recover yourself, as if you knew he was outside, watching with a hand wrapped around himself. Now however, he had you exactly as he wanted and he could take as long as he needed. 

Whipping out his phone, he made sure to capture all your best angles. He wanted your body to be immortalised forever so desperately that he even risked turning the flash on. He didn’t want to miss a single curve. When he felt as though he had enough pictures to last a lifetime, he moved onto stage two and trailed a hand up your calf. 

He kept his touch light for the most part until he reached in between your thighs. Steve couldn’t help the guttural sound that came out of his mouth as he parted your thighs, showing off the wetness that drenched your pussy lips. He had barely touched you and yet you were practically soaking the sheets. You must need it bad and who was he to refuse a woman in need? 

He wondered briefly what was going through your mind as he played with your slick. Were you dreaming of him? Of him doing these things to you? Of him making your body feel this way? 

He sure hoped so. 

He wanted you to know it was him. That he had crept in here after dark and filmed himself while he took you however he saw fit.

Deep down he knew he could never allow that to happen. That you could never know. It would be a PR nightmare and his days of taking whatever he wanted would be over. The only reconciliation in his mind was that if everything went according to plan, maybe this wouldn’t have to be a one off like all the others. Maybe he would purposely wake you up? He could make it seem like whoever had done those depraved things to your body had got away and it would only be natural that you would seek comfort with him, your supposed hero.

A melodic whimper filled his ears as he swirled a finger around your bundle of nerves, pulling him back into the moment. Even unconscious you were so reactive. So desperate. His nimble fingers faced no resistance as he pushed inside, swirling them along your inner walls. 

Steve doubted that you needed any more work up before he satisfied himself. You were just that needy. So without a moment's hesitation, he pulled his fingers from you and licked them clean. 

You tasted so sweet, just like he knew you would. A part of him wanted to bury his face between your thighs and stay like that forever but the aching in his cock reminded him of why he was really here. He needed to fuck. 

It had been far too long since his last time, a month, maybe more. He had spent so much time following your every step that he hadn’t gotten the chance to find anyone to satiate his needs. Plus, the last time he had it had been a little disappointing if he was being honest with himself. He had cummed, multiple times but instead of the usual calmness and serenity that filled him after a session, he just felt hollow and empty. 

He had known it was because she wasn’t you. Her pleas for him to stop were wrong, far too shrill for your sweet voice. He ached to hear you plead with him to stop, to hear to cry out for help. His gut twisted in the best way just imagining it but he would have to content himself with just your body tonight. 

He crawled onto the bed, spreading your thighs with his hips as he lined himself up at your entrance. He paused, just briefly to look over at the camera, giving his future self a devious smirk before casting his eyes back to your face. He didn’t want to miss any of your body’s reactions to him. 

He felt like he was coming home as he slid inside, forcing his entire length into your tight channel. Your warm velvet walls gripping him like a vice. It was nice. So nice that he just wanted to stay here, his cock buried deep inside of you for all of time. 

‘Fuck baby, you’re griping me so tight.’ He couldn’t help the words as they fell from his lips and he hoped that you would register them, at least subconsciously.  

Without any more hesitation he pulled back out, leaving just the tip before slamming all the way back home. Perhaps he wasn’t being as careful as he should have due to the circumstances but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He just wanted to mark you as his and if you felt him in the morning, even better. 

His pace was punishing as he thrusted his hips wildly, his hands groping both your tits. He toyed with the pert buds as your walls fluttered around him, a soft and delicate moan falling from your lips. The sound made him grateful he had invested in the extra strength microphone for the camera. He didn’t want to miss a thing. 

‘You’re just so desperate aren’t you baby? You just need it so bad. Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna give it to you, just how you want it.’ He pushed your legs up, over his shoulders as he pushed even deeper inside of you. He could see the faint bulge of himself inside of you with every thrust and he imagined it going straight into your womb. The idea of his seed taking root inside of you did things to Steve that he had never known possible and suddenly he wanted it. He wanted it all.

He had always made sure to pull out because any child would be able to be traced back to him but the idea of you, round and full with his child… It was too good a vision to pass up. 

His cock throbbed in need. The need to feel your velvety walls squeeze him, the need to fill you to the brim. His hand dropped down to where your bodies were connected, finding your little bud with ease. He swirled his finger in your slick and relished in the corresponding moan that came out of your lips. 

‘C’mon baby, I know you wanna cum for me. I know you wanna be a good girl for me.’ His voice was throaty as he whispered into your ear, his ministrations on your clit never ceasing. He felt the familiar squeeze of velvety walls and he knew you were close. 

‘That’s it baby, be a good girl for Daddy. Cum for me baby. Cum on Daddy’s big thick cock.’ He knew his words had taken affect as almost immediately he felt the pulsating of your walls, gripping him tight as you came. The sound of your pleasure was almost drowned out by his own low groan. ‘Fuck baby, milking me so tight. Fuck, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum inside you, gonna fill you with my seed. You want that don’t you? You need it.’

Steve could barely control himself as he felt his balls pull up, his seed spilling inside of you in hot spurts. He allowed your legs to fall down his shoulders as he collapsed on top of you, trying to catch his breath. 

‘Fuck baby, that was so good, so fucking good.’ His words were slurred, his heart still racing inside his chest. He felt the familiar pull in his gut as he started to harden again and he was about to start taking you again when he heard a soft mumble get caught in your throat.

He froze, still completely encased in you, unsure of what to do. If you opened your eyes you would know immediately what had happened and he probably wouldn’t get a second chance without resorting to drastic measures. 

A moment passed, and then two and your eyes still remained firmly shut and Steve let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps he shouldn’t go for round two right now. There was always tomorrow night, and the next night and the next. He could hold back for now. 

Slowly he pulled his aching cock from you, watching in awe as a little of his cum seeped from your swollen lips. He gently scooped it up before pushing his fingers back inside. He didn’t want a drop to go to waste. 

He pulled the camera off the tripod and carried back to the bed, giving your body a loving once over with the lens before putting himself back into frame as he knelt by your head. ‘Y/N L/N, twenty-first of September. Rating, ten out of ten. I will be coming back for seconds.’ With one last pan down your body, focussing on your cum soaked lips, he started getting redressed. He hated to leave you, but he knew he must. You couldn’t know that it was him doing these sinful acts with you, not if he wanted more. 

He grabbed the notebook on your bedside table and turning to a new page he began to write with his non-dominant hand. 

Thank you so much for last night baby. I can’t wait to see you again.

He placed the note on your pillow and pushed his lips against yours, sweeping his tongue around your entire mouth and drinking in your taste. It was with extreme regret that he left, but he knew he would be seeing you in a couple of hours. He would make sure he was the first person to see you in the morning. He would hold you in his arms and comfort you as you asked him for help, and he would give it to you. 

And so much more. 

+

Tags will be added in a reblog

Part Two

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Thanks for reading <3

[that-one-weeb-but-starwars]

A ball| Tup

Note: they did not need to make him that Pretty

Warnings: no not really, just Tup and Y/n fallin in love and steamy scene at the very end but kinda not really, also this is really long

Reader: female

Part 1 | 2 (in the works)

"Checkmate," Satine spoke.

"Damn it..." Y/n muttered, hand on her chin as Satine had one yet again another game.

Satine smiled at her, as Y/n tried reading the board seeing how it had exactly happened.

"Duchess, excuse me." A guard interrupted their leisurely game outside in the guards of the castle.

"It's no problem, what seems to be the problem?" Satine questioned.

"The preparations for the ball are underway, the royal seamstress says your outfits are done and asks if you both can approve of them."

"Yes of course," Satine spoke, two more guards walking up with boxes.

"Oh. no, I'm quite okay," Y/n responded, resetting the black and clear glass pieces.

"Y/n, you are turning 19, my dear, you'll need to look presentable," Satine spoke.

"Dutchess I believe I look presentable, I'm quite comfortable like this as well," Y/n told.

"I know my sweet child, you've always been comfortable with the bare minimum, but please, let me spoil you for one day," Satine responded.

Y/n was quiet as she set the final piece down, "very well..."

Satine smiled as she stood up to look inside the box and approve the dress, Y/n sat in thought, Satine wasn't her mother, no they looked drastically different after all, Y/n had been left in a bush in the palace gardens, Satine finding the child alone and in silence, busying herself with one of the flowers. Satine had gladly kept the child inside the palace walls until a parent came along, but no one ever came and Satine was suddenly a mother.

"Mistress." The guard spoke snapping her out of thought.

"Oh uh, yes." Y/n spoke standing up from her seat, and looking at the creme outfit with barely a glance, "Yes, it's beautiful, tell the Seamstress 100 thanks."

The guard nodded covering the box as they all bowed and left, Satine frowned, "Come walk. Let's talk my daughter."

"General Skywalker, do, do we really have to go as well?" Tup questioned, droids handing them all dark blue suits almost black in color, and matte.

"Yes, Obi-Wan was double security at this event for the Dutchess, and I agree with him," Anakin spoke, "Separatist parties will be there, Duchess Satine has a knack for being able to convince people, and with Padame they're practically an unstoppable team."

"But," Tup spoke, "Sir a, a party?"

"Diplomatic party, you'll be fine Tup."

Anakin then walked away to let his boys get ready and go get himself ready.

"I look good," Fives spoke checking himself out in the mirror.

"It's nice to wear something besides armor." Hardcase commented, "Makes me feel like a civie."

"A civie that just has thousands of replicas." Dogma argued.

"Oh get the stick out your ass," Jesse argued, "We can have fun for the one time in our life on the job,"

"Hey," Kix placed a hand on Tup's shoulder, "You okay?"

"Huh? Yeah," Tup spoke, "Crowds, uh aren't my thing."

"I'll make sure Rex posts you on the patio outside, you won't be around too many people then," Kix told.

"No, It's fine, I'm on the job- I'll, uh...just focus on that," Tup responded.

"Are you sure?"

Tup nodded as Kix returned the nod in understanding, going back to dressing himself, Tup went over to his bunk to dress, he'd admit, even though he was the same as everyone else in that room, he still felt shy, being a bit leaner than the others he started pulling his armor off to dress in the new outfit, simply putting the outfit over his blacks.

"What- No! Hey I want a titty window!" Fives argued.

"No," Echo demand, buttoning up his brother's shirt fixing Fives vest as well.

Tup stayed silent as he buttoned up the shirt, tucking it into the slacks and putting on the matching vest.

"OH Ho HO!" Fives whistled, "Look at Tup!"

"Yeah, thanks," Tup spoke, fixing the collar of his shirt, and pushing up the sleeves.

"Come on! Let your hair down! We're going somewhere fancy!"

"I'm good." Tup spoke

"He's way to excited for this." Dogma protested causing Tup to chuckle.

"You look nice." Tup commented.

"Uh. Yeah I guess." Dogma spoke.

The two had gotten close due to one another due to being not only regular troopers with no rank, but due to there quietness.

"OH HO HO! LOOK WHO JUST CAME IN! GENERAL TANO!"

The boys turned there head whistling playfully.

"Bad bitch is the house."

She wore a pinstrip pant suit, the lines orange on white fabric and a pair of heels. She laughed.

"We're almost there." She spoke, "Skyguy wants us on the transports now."

Tup followed suit of everyone else. Everyone doing as asked, it was odd, seeing everyone dressed up all fancy and nice.

Y/n sighed.

"Look up madame. They'll be plenty fine gentlemen there." A maid tried to pursuade, "or a woman if you'd prefer."

"Yes. I know." Y/n responded mindlessly, nose stuck in the book about game tactics, her goal to be her mother, "mhm. I've never tried that before."

The maid sighed finishing y/n's hair in the crowned braid.

"Look look beautiful."

"Mhm."

The maid frowned, and there was a knock on the door. It opened as Satine came in, the maid bowing and leaving quickly.

"You're nose still stuck in a book. You remind me much of Obi-wan."

"Is the party over yet?" Y/n questioned flipping the page.

"It hasnt even began my dear." Satine spoke, expecting a comment back Y/n kept silent sitting infront of her simple vanity it black in color and matched the bench she sat on.

Satine walked over, taking the open spot next to Y/n.

"What is wrong me dear?" Satine inquired, "You don't avidly read strategic books unless something is wrong."

Y/n sighed, marking the book with a string and setting it down.

"I. I just don't wish to go." Y/n responded.

"It is much bigger than that isn't it?" Satine refered, catching Y/n in her lie.

"I." Y/n sighed, "I am nervous."

"For what my darling?"

"People." Y/n responded, "I. This. People...it's...I dont have the skills."

"Well of course you do,"

"I've never been out the palace walls, I've never fallen in love, I've never been taken advantage of- I just- Don't know anything about people," y/n defended "I've never even seen another sential species besides the holograms and images in my books that use words. I know every launage out there but have never met there people- I-"

"Calm down, take a deep breathe." Satine soothed, "everything will be fine. I will be at your side. The whole time, and you know me. Don't you?"

Y/n nodded as Satine smiled, "You're turning 19 my dear, becoming a young woman. You can do this, and I will guide you through whatever you ask."

Y/n only nodded once more, "now. Lets put our. Pain killing heels on and make haste shall we? Guest are arriving and I'd like to introduce you to your very first group of friends, but first."

Y/n watched as Satine pulled out a box, "I had something much. Much more elaborate my birthday, but you I know. Like to keep things as simple as possible."

Y/n took the small box in hand. Opening the golden box there was a small golden crown, it reminded her of a laurel wreath, yet without as many leaves, a few littered around the gold band with a stone that was ment to set on her forehead.

"For you're love of nature a green stone." Satine spoke.

"Its beatiful, thank you." Y/n spoke softly pulling it out of its box.

"Allow me." Satine spoke, y/n handing it over and bowing her head, Satine with a smile set the item on her head.

Y/n raised her head back up, "quiet beatiful you have become."

Y/n smiled smallly, "now. Shall we make haste? To make new friends?"

Y/n nodded smally as Satine smiled.

With that they were off, y/n following Satine dressed up nice, and thanked maker for the soleless sandles given to her instead of heels.

Y/n wouldn't lie, when General Kenobi arrived as they walked out onto the royal landing pad she found no interest in him, bowing her head respectfully, she did the same with Anakin. A bit more intrigued with Ashoka, but nothing pictures hadn't depicted. A man stood next to Anakin, who was soon introduced as Captain Rex. Y/n welcomed and thanked him for coming, but besides that, she was silent during the conversation.

"Sir, apologies for interrupting."

"It's fine, Jesse go ahead," Anakin spoke, Y/n watching the man with a large tattoo on his face gave a brief report to his general as the two joined the tight group of talkers.

Y/n was intrigued with the man next to him, hair tied back in a bun as his brother in arms talked. He too seemed the silent type, staying behind Jesse's shoulder rather than next to him, it was a slight difference Y/n realized.

"Lady Y/n, these are two are some of my finest men, Jesse and Tup."

"Lady Y/n" Jesse spoke bowing his head.

"Nice to meet you," Tup spoke nervously, his hand outreached for a handshake, Jesse quickly pulling his brother's hand down who was already a nervous wreck.

"Apologies for my brother! He doesn't know how to act!" Jesse scolded elbowing Tup slightly who was already shaming himself mentally and Y/n could sense it, but Jesse was already dragging him away with an insane amount of apologies as he left. 

Y/n watched as they got far enough away to where Jesse had started to drag Tup by the collar of his shirt.

"Lively bunch aren't they?" Satine questioned Y/n who nodded.

"My apologies Duchess, Lady Y/n. The 501st is not very big on tradition, and neither is there general."  Obi-Wan scolded as Anakin shrugged.

"It's okay." Y/n finally spoke up, causing heads to turn, "I, um, apologizes. Duchess if I may."

"Yes, you can go ahead," Satine spoke worried for the girl as she rushed off quickly. 

"Will she be okay?" Ashoka questioned.

"She has no social skills, and on top that, no friends her age," Satine spoke solemnly, "I wish to help her but she's a closed book." 

"Have I got the perfect trooper for her to make friends with," Anakin responded

"You're not sending Fives or Hardcase over to her, if anyone to watch her it'll be Cody, at least he can stay on task," Obi-wan argued.

"I think me and my master have the same idea," Ashoka smirked.

"I- I'm sorry general- Me?" Tup questioned.

"Yes I need a clone with Lady Y/n at all times, and since she seems to like you after a slip up that could have cost us a whole war," Anakin spoke, "You're watching her,"

"General! I. I can't watch her! I. I. I. I have patrol!" Tup tried to argue.

"Kix is on patrol now, she's supposedly back in her room," Anakin spoke.

"Her- what!?" Tup argued.

"one of the guards will escort you thanks again."

"Wait! General!" Tup argued but he was walking away and waving to Tup happily. 

"Are you the clone trooper known as Tup?" A guard asked walking up to him.

"yes, but wait a minute!-"

"This way." 

Tup had no option but to follow a guard at his back and his front as they escorted him to the room. Anxiety racked his body, his hands clammy and squeezing each other as he gulped, the guards stopping and knocking.

"Mistress your escort is here."

"Oh, yes," Y/n spoke quietly, "He may come in alone."

The guards posted outside her room as Tup pushed one of the doors opened, he walked in silently and closed the door behind him carefully.

Looking straight on the large french doors were opened to a patio. Walking towards the open doors he found Y/n sitting on the floor a stack of books beside her with a chessboard by her side, her knees raised to her chest as her dress was laid out around her.

"I'm uh, your guard for the dance," Tup spoke, his thumb pressing into his palm.

"You can go back, I'm not going," Y/n told him, her mouth and jaw covered by her arms propped on her knees.

"oh, uh..." Tup spoke, not knowing what to do.

Y/n looked beside her, "You can sit, maybe you'll get in less trouble that way?"

He nodded in agreement, taking a seat on one side of the chess board. They sat in silence against the wall. Tup looking down at the pieces of the board set up on their respective sides, his clammy hands couldn't help but move a piece. Y/n looked overhearing the crystal click on the board. Looking down she picked up a piece and moved it, Tup moving his next piece without a word. Y/n looked down at the board, her legs falling from her chest and onto the ground flat as she looked over in thought. Picking up her next piece she took his pawn, setting it down on the side.  As they played they could hear the talk of guests starting to come to the palace. Due to where Y/n's room was it wasn't much to hear, just the occasional burst of loud laughter. 

"Ah yes! Yes!" One laughed spoke loudly, "I love the stars!"

Y/n suddenly came with an outburst the came with the man's hearty laugh, "I have loved the stars to foundly-"

"-to be fearful of the night." Tup finished moving his next piece.

Y/n's moved her gaze up softly then chuckled, "Mythology lover?"

"When I have the time, I mostly learn through tell and hear," Tup responded watching Y/n capture another piece.

It was silent again as Tup captured yet another piece, his eyes drifting over to her stack of books. Eyes glancing over the titles.

"H.P Lovecraft?" Tup questioned Y/n nodding.

"I find his stories interesting, I enjoy the horror genere as a whole." Y/n smiled moving her next peice, "do you like horror?"

Tup nodded, "I do occasionally, again hear and tell mostly."

Y/n nodded, "come with me."

Y/n stood up, walking into her room, Tup watching her.

"Come on." Y/n gestured holding out a hand for him.

He took it gently and was pulled up from his spot on the floor. Y/n led him by the hand into her room and towards a wall pushing on a certain spot a small door opened. Y/n leaned down walking through the door as Tup followed, Y/n closed the door behind them.

"Woah."

Y/n smiled, "the palace library."

"I am the only one who's ever in here." Y/n contuined.

The two walked side by side, out from the side of the room and into the center of the room. Tup turned around to speak, but he watched her pass a dusty window, the sun set passing in through cobwebs and dusty, shining on her think crown, her dress flowly and made up of multiple thin layers of fabric.

He gulped as she turned her head, stopping in her spot.

"What's wrong?"

"I," he started but stopped for a momment, "My name, its. It's Tup. I don't know if you-"

"Remember you?" Y/n questioned, "I do."

She walked up to him a hand extended, "Y/n."

He smiled as they shook hands.

"Tup." He introduced himself once again as they chuckled lightly.

They pulled away, Y/n's hands clasped infront of her.

"Well Tup its very nice to meet you again."

"Its nice to meet you too Lady Y/n."

"Lady Y/n!"

She took a quick step back from her closeness with Tup, clearing her throat.

"Oh thank maker..." the gaurd spoke under his breathe, "the duchess wishes for you to greet your guest."

Y/n nodded softly, "Well. Let's go?"

Tup nodded, the two leaving side by side in silence. They two making there way down to the main set of doors which led to the throne room.

"Lady Y/n." Obi-wan spoke, "The Duchess ask I escort you in while introduced."

"Oh." Y/n spoke looking at Tup he gave her an akwards thumb up, she chuckled and smiled at him with a nod.

Y/n smiled Obi wan extending an arm, Y/n linking arms with the Jedi General. The doors opened as they walked forward.

"Introducing Lady Y/n! Daughter of Dutchess Satine! Next in line for the throne!"

Y/n and Obi-wan walked forward people clearing a straight shot to her mother. Her and Obi-wan walked forward, feeling the stares on her she kept silent. It soon because uncomfortable, feeling the gaze more than just simple admiration or awe. She tensed as they walked making her to the steps to Satines throne. She pulled away from Obi-wan, bowing her head to her mother as she walked up, a smaller throne simplistic like how Y/n liked it and took a simple seat, she watched Tup sneak into the room carefully standing next to a man who had a medical band on his arm with his suit, before everyone started to fill the room again.

Satine stood up, she was making a speech Y/n zoned out, it was a greeting, thanking everyone personally for coming to celebrate Y/n's transition into womenhood.

"That's why I am glad to speak, Y/n's hand is extended for potential marraige candidates!"

Y/n sat up shocked, and Satine thanked everyone once again and took a seat. Everyone going back to chatting.

"Excuse me!? Marraige?" Y/n argued.

"It is a formality you do not have to marry anyone."

"Im not taking anyone into consideration," Y/n defended, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat.

"Lady Y/n-"

"No." Y/n spoke, she was beyond annoyed.

"Thank you for your time..." he spoke bowing his head and walking away heart broken.

Y/n rejected any man that came up to try and give there hand to her.

Tup watched from afar, Kix and Dogma by his side. Men contuined to go up to her and as more and more did she seemed more and more irratated. He quickly walked away from his brothers would watched him out of confusion.

Watching him walk up to the thrown he started walking up the steps.

"Y/n," Tup spoke, holding a hand out for her, "I'd like to spend time with you, perhaps a dance?"

"Hey! Buddy wait in line!" A man argued but Y/n looked at Tup thanks in her eyes.

The lighting on him seemed perfect, he back lit perfectly, his eyes holding a smile along with his lips. Y/n grabbed his hand lightly as Tup helped her up, the two walking down the stairs hand in hand.

"Thank you." Y/n spoke they now in the crowd of people.

"Seems you needed it," Tup answered as Y/n chuckled.

"To the libary?"

"Actually," Tup spoke quietly, "I'd...like to have a dance with you."

Y/n flushed, "t-that sounds good. Yeah."

It was almost on cue did everyone backed up circling people who wanted to dance, Y/n and Tup in the center of it.

"Um. Tup." Y/n spoke.

"Hm?"

"Do you know how to dance?"

"Oh. Uh." Tup spoke, "no actually, do. Do you?"

Y/n shook her head no. The two laughing together as the music started.

"Suppose we should act like we're doing and maybe we'll fall in?" Y/n laughed.

Tup smiled in return, "I suppose."

The music started as they watched other, a simple waltz. Y/n and Tup luckily able to copy others, hands which once were placed in hand on on him, soon became more intimate, fingers intertwining. Tup's hand moving from her hip to the small of her back, she leaning into his touch just a bit more.

"Not bad." Y/n spoke softly, "we're doing decent."

Tup chuckled softly in return, "I suppose us clones learn quick."

"Clone?" Y/n questioned, "you're a clone?"

Tup looked at her confused, "You. You don't know that?" He questioned confused.

"I." Y/n spoke, "I don't mean to sound, uh, Rude."

Tup frowned, maybe she was an avid clone hater?

"I um. Havent payed much attention, to your face, my apologies." Y/n spoke, a flush coming to her cheeks.

"Am I offensive?" Tup questioned.

"No. No. Not at all." Y/n spoke, "On the contrary actually. I. Find you most appealing, your. Voice and presence is quiet soothing. You're a good man."

It was Tup's turn to flush, spinning her around softly as everyone else did. Her dress picking up just the slightest at the ends. Pulling her back into his grasp, it was sudden for both of them, there chest pressed up against one another, faces close, Tup's hand now across the small of her back grabbing her other hip as he lowered her into a dip, Y/n's arm around his neck as he did.

The claps of everyone was muffled in there ears.

Tup's nose brushing against hers as he tilted his head softly, Y/n stopping him with a hand on hie jaw , and she was raised up again in a flash.

"I. Im sorry" Tup apologized, everyone still clapping as Y/n bowed to him red faced.

"I...must go." Y/n spoke quickly rushing away and into the crowd.

"Wait!" Tup called rushing after her, she rushing out the throne room.

"My lady-"

"Im quiet fine a game of tag is all." Y/n defended rushing off, the urge of wanting Tup so bad fueling her feet as she ran from him.

Tup rushed looking both ways, "Which way did she go?"

"Left sir-"

Tup rushed after her, his shoes clicking against the marble floors of the palace as he ran. Seeing her take a turn up ahead he called her name once more, following her quick steps, she rushed into her ungaurded room and closing the door behind her.

Making it to the doors he panted for a moment, soon calming his breath he knocked on the door.

"Please! Y/n I did not mean to upset you!" He begged, "I. I should have asked asked you! I should have never just jumped into it!"

Y/n quiet as she leaned against the door, her body pressed up against it to keep it closed, he seemed genuinely angered with himself, and worried for her.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Tup spoke softly, "I...just..."

Y/n stayed silent listening.

"I. Seen you for the first time walking up with my brother to report to General Skywalker..." he informed, "I had no idea someone could look so beautiful until I seen you, then. Well then we started that chess game."

Y/n's cheeks grew red as she listened, her heart starting to drop its quickly put up walls.

"You just spoke and It was beautiful. I. I'm not good with words either. I." He sighed, "I didn't realize someone like me could have so much in common with you... half the time my brothers don't like any same things as me. And we're all copies of each other."

The knot in her stomach grew as she gulped, "I. Tup. Its not that I'm mad at you."

Tup was surprised to hear an answer, "I. I think you're quiet beatiful, I. I just...I've never..."

"Y/n you do not need to explain yourself to me." Tup told her.

"Just. Let me finish." Y/n spoke calmly, "I've, well. Tup. I. I. I've never kissed anyone."

Y/n stopped waiting for a laugh, or even a 'yeah right', but she got a sincere chuckle trying to break the ice, "neither have I."

It was a surpise to Tup when the door opened softly, Y/n's flushed face being seen due to the light of the hall.

"Are you okay?" Tup questioned Y/n nodding her gaze to the floor.

"We're you being..serious?" Y/n questioned softly.

Tup nodded, growing nervous himself.

"Would you..umm. like too?" Y/n questioned, "kiss me?"

"I..um." tup spoke his face full red, "yes.."

Y/n opened up the door a bit more so he could come in, taking the hint he walked in the room dark. His eyes not having to adjust as the French doors which were uncovered let in moonlight.

Y/n closed the door quietly, locking it behind her so they'd be uninterrupted. He turned his head watching her walk towards him.

Oh maker.

They stood infront of each other nervously, refusing to make eye contact. Y/n with a shaking hand reached out her hand, her fingers dancing along his shoulder as he looked down.

"Tup. I." Y/n spoke, her other arm following her first one on the other side of his head his hands slipping onto her hips.

Nerves in a bundle they tensed in one anothers arms, faces leaning in slowly, noses brushed up against one another. A few of Tup's fingers tapped and tilted her face to the side as he tilted his own face the other way.

"Tup...Im nervous." Y/n whispered against his lips, "what happens if...if i like it too much?"

"I'll do anything you ask me..." he mummbled her hot breathe hitting his lips.

It was silent for another momment, Y/n's eyes slolwy closing as Tup's followed. They leaning in the small space as there lips pressrd against each others. The bundle of nerves melting away and falling into ribbions that slowly started to knot.

The kiss was, cute, nothing more than pressing there lips against one another and then pulled away little space between there lips, a new found hunger filled the both of them, Tup pressing forward in a much more passionate kiss, y/n kissed back, lips dancing against one another. Y/n pushed into Tup. Breathe heavy through the armature kisses. Tup mindlessly picked Y/m up, her legs wrapping around his waist as they contuined to kiss. Walking over to her bed he placed her down carefully, climbing over her body.

Kiss only breaking for air, "Do. Do you want this?" Tup questioned, things had moved awfully fast and turned into a one night stand, love filled relationship neither could explain.

Y/n nodded, "Only from you"

"Are you sure? I don't want you unsatisfied." Tup spoke honestly.

"If its you I'll never be unsatisfied." Y/n told him, the two kissing again, Tup holding his like a peice of glass under him.

"I love you." Tup whispered against her lips.

"I love you too Tup." She spoke back. Tup kissing her once more.

[honeysidesarchived]

WHERE THERE IS NO TEMPTATION, THERE IS NO GLORY.

⊱ a santino d'antonio / oc short-fic

euphemia volpe has never wanted for very much; a safe place to sleep, a soft place to land. to love someone, and be loved back. she has all of those things now, but it's most unfortunate for her that she has fallen in love with a man who will never be satisfied with what he's got.

pt. i: contact is crisis

words: 3.3k

warnings: language, some depictions of a relationship that is not entirely healthy, extensive use of my very basic knowledge of italian (padded with google translate, thank you google!), and an unfortunate amount of endearments and pet names. this does not deviate from john wick chapter 2's canon ending, so please bear in mind this will contain major character death.

rating: m for mature language ??? probably closer to t, but will change later on.

notes: as some of you may know, this has been (unfortunately) sitting on my drive since i first watched john wick chapter two almost a year ago--maybe over a year! i can't remember. all i remember was seeing santino and going "SOMEONE has got to kiss that man". so you know, here i am. this short-fic (only a few, short parts) will take place over the span of the events of john wick chapter 2. yes i built some tiny amount of lore for the camorra. yes i had the opportunity to write a fix-it fic and did not. no i am not taking criticism at this time !

special uber big thank you to my beta and my wifey @starcrier who read this a year ago and when i casually said, "hey, so what if i posted this" told me to do it. also @faithchel, who through the occasional sly prompt slid in from ask games (i see you) has been a true angel while i sort through this, and equally as encouraging!

and of course thank you to you all, who read this. i know this is not the usual content you followed me for but i appreciate you all the same. <3

“I cannot believe that I will marry a man so stupid.”

Euphemia is practically frothing at the mouth, she’s so mad; she storms into the chic New York loft, tossing her purse onto the nearby counter, her heels clipping against the polished floor decisively. It’s late; the silk slip of a dress draped across her body brushes the floor in a sweeping train, and she balances herself on the counter with one hand while she steps out of the stilettos with the assistance of the other.

“Euphie, luce della mia vita,” Santino says, striding in after her and completely at ease. He is, infuriatingly, as he always is; perfectly composed, his dark curls in place and his suit immaculate. Euphemia eyes him through the mirror of her vanity as he sidles up behind her. “We’re not married yet, princesa, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“Luce della mia vita,” Euphemia drawls mockingly. She drips the words in honey on the way out of her mouth, sliding a dainty, glittering bracelet from her wrist and dropping it on the counter. “You sound like a fucking idiot, Santi.”

His gaze darkens, but his voice is still silky when he says, “Watch your tone, cara mia.”

“What for?” Euphemia thinks she wouldn’t be able to watch her tone even if she wanted to; not anymore, not with this hanging over her head. She turns to stare at her fiancé, pressing her index finger to his chest. “You’re going to get killed by Baba Yaga anyway. No point in behaving myself, is there? Idiota.”

“Euphemia.”

“You leave John Wick alone, Santino,” she bites out. “You don’t ask for a thing from him. Of him. About him. I don’t want John Wick near my life.”

Santino grabs her wrist, the hand with the engagement ring sitting on it—snatches it out of the air like a cobra striking, grips it with hands that usually are much kinder.

“Everything that you have now is a gift from me,” he warns her, voice pitched low. “You like your nice engagement ring? Your nice dresses? This nice loft we live in?”

His fingers grip, nearly bruising; these are the only times that he doesn’t handle her with care, that his elegant fingers don’t splay against her skin reverently—when she’s pissed him off.

“I’ve given it all to you, all of these things, this life that you like having and don’t want John Wick near, so I would suggest watching your tone for that.”

There is a brief moment where Euphemia thinks she might finally, right now, resort to the violence of slapping Santino in the face. The threat is not lost on her; it’s Santino’s favorite thing to do when he’s angry. And for her to commit an act of violence against her fiancé would be unthinkable almost every other time, in any other situation. Euphie would not have considered it in the least, but there are times—on occasion—where she thinks for a second that she doesn’t recognize him; that he’s become some amalgam of all of the men who have grabbed her too hard or told her she owes them. Men who have used her meanly.

And Santino has divulged his plan to push John Wick for a favor.

So, yes: she thinks she might, but then her hand is moving of her own volition, sliding the engagement ring off of her finger and stuffing it into his jacket pocket, the more pacifist choice than what her mind is screaming for her to do.

“You have never had nothing, Santi,” she says, biting out the words, “so allow me to enlighten you; I have had nothing before you, and I will be just fine having nothing again.”

His eyes narrow, gemlike slits that sit heavy on her. She yanks her wrist of his grip and says, “And it is a good thing we are not married, si? A divorce would have been so messy.”

“Euphie,” Santino says in a sigh that lacks venom, as though he weren’t just threatening to take everything from her, as though she were the hysterical one, “don’t fuss.”

Don’t fuss, he says, because Santino has only ever had women before that bend themselves over backwards until they break for him; don’t fuss, he says, because he likes and maybe loves her, she thinks, but he doesn’t like or love when she talks back. Santino has always had someone to wait on him, to serve him, and Euphemia has never seen his parents together but she would that his only vision of marriage is that of a subservient, dutiful, loving wife.

“Oh, but my darling,” she coos, very undutiful and decidedly not subservient, “I wouldn’t want you to have to worry about all of the nice things you give me. You can enjoy them all yourself, for the brief time before Baba Yaga kills you for asking him to do a job he does not want to do, when he has announced his retirement.”

It’s a terrible way to feed the monster inside of her. That monster is a pusher, a puller, the kind that picked and chipped away at Santino until he lost that shred of his manicured control and gave her something, anything she could work with. It was impossible to love a man who was so buttoned up there was nowhere for her to put her love.

His expression tightens in the way that she recognizes as his controlled fury; bottling it, merchandising it, saving it for later. Santino is not incapable of killing his sister himself, but for some reason—a reason that Euphemia is sure is only known to him—he won’t. Some stupid shit about blood and family, probably.

“Take the ring back.” Santino’s voice is smooth, belying the danger lurking just beneath. He fishes the engagement ring out of the pocket of his suit jacket, where she’d dropped it, and picks up her hand again; this time, his fingers don’t grip with bruising force, but cradle. Euphemia thinks she might have pushed him, then, right to the line, because his eerie calm is unsettling as his fingers meticulously slide the engagement ring back into place.

He says, “There, you see? This is where your engagement ring belongs and will stay. Here, on your hand. Just like this is where you belong and will stay—here, with me.” His hand comes up to her face; she turns away, and he catches her chin and forces her to look back at him.

“You know I will get you anything you want,” Santino murmurs, “but you have to ask.”

Nicely, is the implied word. A good fiancé, a good wife, wouldn’t storm out of the car after he mentions John Wick in passing, ripping through the loft, calling him names. She knows all of this and she thinks, then maybe I’m not a good anything.

But she can tell when she’s pushed Santino’s buttons just enough—enough to make a point, and not enough to incur his wrath. Not entirely.

“Please, Santi,” she says, her voice still hard but softer than it was before, and already Santi is shaking his head so she plunges on recklessly, “do not cash in John Wick’s debt to you. Ascoltami, I know you—I know you will do something to put yourself and John Wick on opposite sides of the playing field.”

Santino’s gaze is sharp and clear. He drops his hand from her face, shrugging, and says, “So what? I will be playing chess, and John Wick will be playing checkers. You worry too much, Euphie.”

“What you mean to say is that I think before I act.”

He shrugs, and threads his fingers through her hair, reaching up with the other to brush loose strands of it from her eyes. He rumbles pleasantly, “Don’t you trust me?”

Euphemia grits her teeth. Her hands come up to grip his wrists, watching him with a prickle of dread in her chest. “Don’t you trust me, Santi?”

Santi’s gaze darkens. Like that, he drops his hands from her, tucking them into the pockets of his slacks as he turns and wanders further into the bedroom, taking all of his warmth with him and leaving Euphie to marinate in the cold glow of the vanity’s lights.

“You can say no,” she says after him, frustrated. “You don’t have to keep an air of mystery about it.”

“What do I do then, tesora?” Santino demands, turning to look at her from the foot of the bed where stands. “Kill her myself? You know I can’t. You know that you cannot ask me to do that.” A pause, and then, with an added air of entitlement: “And Wick owes me.”

There are complicated feelings wrapped up in the whole of it, she knows; Santino, who wants what his sister was given, but cannot bring himself to end her. Euphemia, who only wants Santino, who doesn’t care if he has a seat at the High Table or if he’s a sister-killer or not, who only wants him to look at her longingly like he did when they first met, just for forever instead of a brief moment in time.

And both of them, intrinsically linked, because Santino isn’t wrong when he says that he’s given her everything she has now and Euphemia isn’t wrong when she says she would be okay with nothing again.

She doesn’t ask it of him; he is right, that she can’t, that she wouldn’t. Gianna has only ever been kind to her, at least face to face, and if Santi’s sister had any reservations about Euphemia, then Euphie would find herself in a completely different situation. Not engaged to the only other heir to the D’Antonio empire, that was for certain.

Instead, then, she says, “I cannot ask you to do it, you’re right. I cannot ask you to do it, and I cannot keep you, and I cannot throw you away, Santino. I was less tired when I had nothing.”

She turns away and walks herself into the bathroom, fingers trembling as she undoes the delicate zipper of the gold dress, letting it pool at the floor in a whisper of fabric. The engagement ring sits heavy on her hand. It’s beautiful—and just what she wants, and also the thing that she fears the most, because she doesn’t know what it means to Santino and only what it means to her.

“Euphie.”

His voice comes from the doorway of the bathroom. She turns on the hot water in the tub, a beautiful porcelain clawfoot that she picked herself. It was one of the first things that Santino gifted to her, the first essence of her in the loft that is now almost entirely half-and-half the two of their tastes.

Euphemia doesn’t say anything, because she doesn’t know what to say, so she ties up her hair and shimmies out of the last of her clothes. She can feel his eyes on her, waiting for her to flower into submission and turn around and beg, oh, please Santino, forgive me, but he should know better because she has never and will never do that for him.

“Cara mia.”

“Do not.” Euphemia’s voice wobbles. She slides into the bathtub before it’s full, the water stinging her skin where it touches. “I can’t stand to hear your voice saying sweet things to me when you are willingly walking yourself into your grave.”

“You are being a little dramatic.” He makes his way over to her, kneeling down beside the porcelain tub, ghosting his fingers over her forehead and then the bridge of her nose, fluttering in a way that treasures her and causes her grief all at once. “Just one job, Euphie. That’s all I’m going to ask of him. And then it’s done, and you won’t have to be worried about the Boogeyman.” The pads of his fingers dip into the hot water and then skim along the slope of her collarbone, raising goosebumps on her skin. “And John Wick, whose lifelong peace you are very concerned about, can go back to his dog and his car.”

Euphemia thinks, it’s never just that, with you, because she knows Santino—she knows he’s hungry, has always been hungry, a boy magicked into a man’s skin all hurt and needing and starved, unable to inhibit himself properly. No self-preservation telling him when to stop, never telling him when enough is enough. Not really.

I see you, though, she thought, her gaze flickering over Santino’s face to trace the handsome lines of his expression. She would have never agreed to marry a man before she saw him without his face off; without knowing the monster underneath.

But while she knows this, and she sees Santino D’Antonio for what he really is, she is an idiot and a fool and loves a man sick with the magic of his own perceived destiny, a destiny he believes he is owed, so she says softly, “Promise me, Santi.”

“On my life,” Santino replies with that boyish charm she knows so well. He speaks as though he is not going to leave her in the morning to visit Baba Yaga, as though she doesn’t fear he won’t ever come back. “Now give me a kiss, princesa.”

“I mean it, Santino—”

“I do, too.” He cocks his head to the side. “I won’t ask twice.”

Euphemia acquiesces; not because she fears what he’ll do if he does feel he has to ask twice—because he does hate that—but because as much as she says she would be happy to have nothing again, she is content to bask in the something that she has now, while she has it.

She kisses the corner of his mouth. He slides his damp fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and says, “Do you love me?”

“Of course.” Her voice feels rough with an emotion she doesn’t want any of. “Of course, Santi, that’s why I—”

“All I need is a yes or no, my little fox, not an essay.”

Her eyes narrow. She turns her face from him; he shifts his position at the end she’s leaned against, dragging his hands along her shoulders to ease the tension in her muscles. Her body reacts instinctively to him. She is a long cry from the girl scamming rich men out of their wallets and time, but there are some things she is still weak to; touch, the acknowledgment that she has a body, that she is real, to be reassured that she is alive.

Santino is so very good at that. He leans over the end of the tub and kisses her cheek, fingers working into the knots of her shoulders.

I am so afraid, she thinks, her eyelashes fluttering shut. I am so afraid that I will never see old age on you.

“Tesora.” His voice is a lull. Pulling her back in, pushing her back under, reminding her that to relinquish herself to someone is a luxury she does not want to go without anymore. To let someone else take control, to not have to worry about making decisions all the time; this is something that she always wants.

“Yes,” Euphie says, “of course I love you, Santi.”

She can feel his smile against her cheek.

“Good girl.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Tell me your favorite words.”

It’s both early and late; the clock’s cool blue numbers are keeping her awake; Santi’s hand slides along the curve of her hip admiringly above the silk of her nightdress, and his nose brushes the bump at the base of her neck. Euphemia shifts. When she does, the edge of her engagement ring catches on the silky pillowcase, but she doesn’t care—it will always do that, because Santi won’t pick another and Euphie won’t ask him to.

Goosebumps prickle along her skin with the air conditioning, cranked as high as she likes, whispers across it when her shoulder slides out from underneath the comforter. She rolls over to look at him. It’s unsurprising that he’s still awake, and he doesn’t look surprised to see she’s awake, either.

“My favorite words?” she prompts. Santino brings his hand to her face, his thumb dragging absently along her lower lip.

“Si,” he replies. “You are always reading. You can speak a few languages. You must have favorite words, no?”

His request does bring a smile to her face, tired as it is. They may have spent the rest of their waking evening wandering around each other like wounded dogs, wary and licking their wounds, but they are here now, together, in their bed.

Euphie says, “It is late, Santi.”

“And I cannot sleep.” He brushes his nose along her jawline. “But perhaps the soothing voice of my one greatest love will lull me.”

She laughs. Her hand finds his, their fingers interlacing, woven together. He pulls back from her and kisses the engagement ring, but he is waiting. He means it.

“Tendresse,” Euphemia says, the word rolling soft out of her mouth from misuse. Santino quirks a brow expectantly and kisses the pulse point of her wrist. “Tenderness.”

He nods sagely. Against the soft skin of the inside of her wrist, he murmurs, “You are a most tender creature, Euphemia D’Antonio.”

Her fingers slide out of his, running along the slope of his cheekbones and then the bridge of his nose. “That is Euphemia Volpe. If you’ll recall, we’re yet to be married.”

Santino leans in, captures her fingertips playfully with his teeth, and then kisses her palm with a warm, rich chuckle that sends pleasant heat spiraling down her spine. “You will never forget that I was fool enough to say that to you, will you?” he asks. “Tell me another.”

His eyes are just as warm as his voice, and twice as earnest. In these moments, Santino is the most charming; boyish and quick-witted, unburdened by the elements of the world, by his own desires. He thinks of nothing except them. Euphemia feels like she’s in her own little world with him, in their bedroom at three in the morning, while the air conditioner whirrs and ticks and he asks her something so unimportant, like what her favorite words are.

And then, Santino leans in and kisses her cheek, the corner of her mouth, and the underside of her jaw to prompt her.

“Amore,” she murmurs, feeling like the breath has been sucked out of her lungs by his longing. His tenderness.

“Oh,” Santino says, against her temple, “I know that one.”

When his stubble tickles her neck, she squirms, shifting away from him so hat she can take a breath; but he chases her, leans in and captures her in his arms so that he can nose the hair by her ear and kiss there.

“Euphie, my gorgeous girl,” he says in the way that wrenches her heart; drenched and drowned in adoration. “Perfetto e tutto mio.”

Santino wraps his arms around her and pulls her to his chest, his fingers tracing constellations on her back where the night dress slips away from her shoulder blades. Sweet Santi, covetous Santi; she is his greatest art piece, his favorite collector’s item, and in these moments she has never felt more treasured. There is something equal parts safe and selfish in wanting someone to treasure you.

“Say it for me, Euphie. You know I love when you do.”

She buries her face into his neck. Her eyes burn. He will go to Baba Yaga tomorrow, and she will have to pretend not to know, or it will wreck her. Euphie considers ways to keep him in bed in the morning; delay him, make him forget about John Wick and this glory that he is chasing forever.

“Sono tuo,” she murmurs. Tears sting at the corners of her eyes If he feels them against his skin, Santino makes no indication than to card his fingers through her hair. “Always, Santi.”

Always, always, always yours.

[notwhatiam]

I had a tiny, but personally significant epiphany today.

I used to wear a full face of makeup. Every day. No matter what I was doing. For no conceivable reason. I would wake up early every morning to do it, and on mornings when I was running late I would just do it quickly and poorly. I hated to go without it-- not so much out of vanity, but out of habit. I could never quite explain it, but leaving the house without makeup just felt fundamentally WRONG somehow. Not because I was worried about being seen as ugly, but because the act of doing it was vitally important to my day. I once had a panic attack on an airplane because I thought I would have to go a day without it. I haven't talked about that phase in years-- I eventually overcame it, and have been kind of embarrassed about it ever since.

And then I read about Harrow and her face paint.

Yes, I know that religion plays into that, which makes it different in a very big way. But the way she regards the act of putting it on; the way she feels uncomfortable and exposed without it and goes out of her way to make sure it's always a part of her daily routine-- it just felt extremely familiar. I read the second book a really long time ago, and yet it still took me until now for it to click:

Oh.

That's neurodivergence.

That is a thing that neurodivergent people do.

I don't do it with makeup anymore, but I still incorporate tons of rituals like that into my daily life. It's something I've only recently begun to notice, and I'm working on developing healthy ways to cope. Seeing those types of behaviors depicted in the media is always kind of heartwarming in a weird way, but it's especially profound to see them reflected in characters that I can relate to, in stories that are diverse and important. So, shoutout to these bizarre books and this wacky-ass fandom for being cool, I guess.

I've never gotten this personal on this website before, and I'll probably regret posting this later, but it's late at night and remorse is reserved for the daytime. I'll just post some especially dank memes later to compensate.

[uomo-accattivante]

Great article about Paul Schrader’s The Card Counter - a poker movie that’s not really a poker movie...

Some filmmakers write a hit movie and spend the ensuing years trying to escape its shadow. Paul Schrader never flinched. Forty-five years after his “Taxi Driver” script put him on the map, the writer-director has developed a body of work loaded with alienated anti-heroes compelled to violent and reckless extremes for the sake of a higher calling.

That includes “The Card Counter,” in which Oscar Isaac plays guilt-stricken Abu Ghraib vet William Tell, a man with a gambling addiction compelled to help the revenge-seeking son (Tye Sheridan) of a former colleague. Taking justice into his own hands, Isaac’s William Tell slithers through the Vegas strip in search of questionable salvation, not unlike a certain Vietnam vet named Travis Bickle did from the driver’s seat. As if to cement the comparisons, “The Card Counter” features Martin Scorsese as an executive producer, marking the first time the two men share a credit since 1999’s “Bringing Out the Dead.”

For Schrader, “Taxi Driver” comparisons are inevitable in all his work. “My tendency is to look for interesting occupational metaphors,” Schrader said in a recent interview. “‘Taxi Driver’ hit the bull’s eye of the zeitgeist and it doesn’t die. There’s no way I could’ve planned for that, but it does inform the stories I tell.”

At 75, Schrader continues to churn out movies much like his compatriot Scorsese, albeit on a much smaller scale. “The Card Counter” is the latest illustration of the secularized Christian dogma percolating through his work. “Our society doesn’t like to take responsibility for anything,” he said. “But I come from a culture where you’re responsible for everything. You come into the world soaked with guilt and you just get guiltier.” In his own prickly fashion, Schrader makes movies steeped in empathy for lost souls in search of redemption despite the daunting odds. “We’re all certainly capable of forgiveness,” he said, and chuckled. “Anyone who says otherwise is wrong.”

The “Taxi Driver” dilemma looms large in nearly all of Schrader’s work, from the dazzling high-stakes activism of “Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters” all the way through Ethan Hawke’s eco-conscious priest in “First Reformed.” While the latter, Oscar-nominated effort brought Schrader new fans, “The Card Counter” is an even more precise distillation of his aesthetic — a moody, philosophical drama about the vanity of the personal crusade.

Schrader, who has labeled his homegrown character studies as “man in the room” dramas, embraces the parallels as usual. “There is this kind of myth that the taxi driver was this friendly, joking kind of guy who was a character actor in movies,” he said. “But the reality is that it’s a very lonely job, and you’re trapped in a box for 60 hours a week.” He saw the same logic with gambling, a wayward profession generally depicted in the movies in the context of escapist romps, rather than the somber rituals that afflict most players. “I thought about the essence of playing cards every day, or sitting in front of a slot machine. It’s kind of zombie-like,” Schrader said. “You see commercials of people in casinos laughing. But it’s a pretty glum place. Today with slots you don’t even have to pull the lever. You just sit there and let the numbers roll.”

The gambling figure led Schrader to the bigger picture of his character’s conundrum. “I was wondering why someone would choose to live in that sort of purgatory,” he said. “He doesn’t want to be alive, but he can’t really be dead, either. What could cause that? It can’t be a simple crime, murder, or a family dispute. It has to be something unforgivable. And that was Abu Ghraib.”

After the fallout of that debacle, William did time in a military prison, and reenters society before the movie begins. That was a world the filmmaker wanted to understand in clearer terms. Though Schrader has received blowback for his controversial Facebook posts in the past, in this case, the platform was an asset: He used it to track down soldiers who had done time in the United States Penitentiary in Leavenworth, the only military prison in the U.S., to better understand the initial claustrophobic world that Tell endures, as well as the conflict between the justice he’s received and what he deserves. “This man has been punished by his government, set free, and paid his due, but he doesn’t feel that,” Schrader said. “What does he do then? How does he fill his time? That’s how it all began.”

Schrader himself toyed with gambling when he lived in Los Angeles early in his career, but soon gave it up. “I very quickly realized I was only interested in gambling if it was really dangerous and I didn’t want to expose myself to that kind of danger,” he said. Years later, though, the experience helped inform his story. “There is this whole fantasy of gambling movies from ‘The Cincinnati Kid’ to ‘California Split,’” Schrader said. “But poker is all about waiting. People will play 10 to 12 hours a day and two to three times a day, a hand will happen where two players both have chips. Now you’ve got a face-off. But that doesn’t happen very often. Most guys who are there are running the numbers, the probability.”

He envisioned “The Card Counter” as a repudiation of the traditional poker movie, which builds to the giddy release of a final tournament. When that moment arrives in the movie, Schrader takes the movie in a bleak, shocking new direction. “It’s not really a poker movie — that’s a red herring,” he said.

William is immersed in his casino journey when he encounters Cirk (Sheridan), the crazy-eyed son of another Abu Ghraib soldier who committed suicide. Cirk blames the soldiers’ former commander (Willem Dafoe), and hopes to loop William into the plan. Instead, the older man decides to take Cirk under his wing to talk him out of the act, which doesn’t prove so easy. In the process, the gambler forms a curious bond with La Linda (Tiffany Haddish), a gambling agent and pimp whose icy, relentless drive to make the most out of the poker circuit brings William some measure of companionship on his wayward journey.

It should come as no surprise that the “Girls Trip” breakout is nearly unrecognizable in the role of the calculated La Linda, which is also a distinctly Schraderish touch: From his work with Richard Pryor in 1978’s “Blue Collar” all the way through Cedric the Entertainer’s supporting turn in “First Reformed,” Schrader has made a habit of seeking out comedic actors willing to play against type. That’s partly opportunistic on his part. “They’re eager to do it because they want to expand their palette, so you can get them for a price,” Schrader said, chuckling again. “That’s necessary, given the kind of films I make.” But that’s not all: “They will always find a way to be interesting, even when they’re not getting a laugh.”

Which is not to say that the process comes easily to them. Haddish recently told the New York Times that Schrader had to coach her out of speaking in a comedic sing-song. The filmmaker put it in blunter terms. “On the first reading of the script we had, frankly, she wasn’t very good,” he said. “I told her to go back and read every single line without emotion. Then I said, ‘You’re not going to do that in front of the camera, but you can’t hit every line either. So let’s pick five or six lines you can hit where you get a smile or reaction.’ Quickly she got that it was a different rhythm.”

As for Isaac, whose disquieting turn suggests a maniac lingering just beneath the surface, Schrader once again turned to metaphor. “I told him to imagine himself on a rocky coast in the ocean,” Schrader said. “Waves are going to come up and get you all day every day. They’re going to try to batter you. Let them. The waves will go away. You’ll still be there. Don’t compete. In the end, the rocks will win. You have to learn to trust that the way these things are put together has more power than the individual movement.”

William’s routine includes an odd ritual in which he covers all the furniture in his various Vegas hotel rooms with white paper. While the motivation is never explained, Schrader said it stemmed from an experience with production designer Ferdinando Scarfiotti on the set of 1982’s “Cat People,” when Schrader realized the man was doing the same thing. “He said, quite simply, ‘I have to live here surrounded by these ugly hotel furnishings,’” Schrader recalled. The concept inspired the new movie’s most compelling visual motif. “Casinos are very ugly places. There are no exceptions,” Schrader said. “Often you aspire to finding pockets of beauty and there weren’t really any here except the only place he could control, which was his hotel rooms, where he could privatize his visions. I came up with this ritual for him to control those visuals.”

At a certain point, Schrader himself couldn’t control the visuals of “The Card Counter” for more prosaic reasons: After an extra tested positive for COVID-19, the production shut down last March, with five days of shooting left, and couldn’t resume until July. Though Schrader initially took to Facebook to fume at his producers, the pause eventually opened up an opportunity to tweak his vision. “I edited the film and put in placeholders for the five or six scenes of consequence that I hadn’t shot,” he said. “I didn’t have a fully finished film but I could screen it for people. Normally you only get that privilege if you have a big-budget film and you’re allowed reshoots.” The early audience included Scorsese, who provided a crucial note. “I asked Marty, ‘What am I missing?’ He said to me that the relationship with Tiffany and Oscar was too thin. So I rewrote those scenes.”

Schrader asked Scorsese to take on the executive producer credit as a favor. “I said, ‘Marty, wouldn’t it be nice to share a card again? I thought it would help sell the film but it would also be a cool thing to do after all these years,’” Schrader said. “Then a couple of weeks later his agent called wanting to work out a deal. What deal? I asked Marty and he said yes. That’s the deal!” Now, the pair are trying to collaborate on a new long-form TV series based on the Bible, though the timing has been delayed by production on Scorsese’s upcoming “Killers of the Flower Moon.”

In the meantime, Schrader has been mulling over the way “Taxi Driver” not only continues to inform his storytelling but the world at large. “Hardly a week goes by that I don’t notice or hear some reference to it,” he said. “But I don’t know how you’d tell such a story today. A number of writers have tried and I don’t think they’ve succeeded because it has to come out of a certain place and time. We have plenty of these incels around, but they’re not as original or revealing as they were 45 years ago when that character came on the scene. I wouldn’t know how to write about it.”

Instead, his next project is a love triangle called “Master Gardener,” which he hopes to shoot in Louisiana before the end of the year. He has several other potential scripts ready to go after that. And while he has expressed trepidation about the future of cinema in the past, he’s not convinced that audiences have given up on it yet. He recalled a conversation he had with Cedric the Entertainer when “First Reformed” made the rounds. “He said off-handedly to me, ‘You know, I didn’t realize there were so many people who liked serious movies,’” Schrader said, and chuckled once more. “Well, yeah, there are.”

“The Card Counter” premieres next week at the Venice Film Festival. Focus Features releases on September 10, 2021.

###

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 34

A/N: Soooo this is the penultimate chapter.  This feels very bittersweet to post because we all know how the series turned out.  Anyway, other stuff happens to, but the series...🥺

August 8th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was thinking about last night.  Again.

And she shouldn’t be.  She was having breakfast with the team for God’s sake.  Everyone was eating pancakes or waffles or avocado toast and she was fantasizing about William fucking her raw from behind and watching him through the mirror.  She could swear she still felt his slick and hard cock inside of her.  She could swear she still felt him pounding her from behind and grabbing on to her mouth to silence her and—

“Aberdeen.”

—her whimpering and trying to be quiet and the same time—

“Aberdeen.”

—and his low, guttural grunts as he fucked her and made her be quiet and—

“Aberdeen!”

She snapped out of it.  She looked to her right to see Jason looking at her like she was crazy.  “Your phone is ringing,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world – because it was.  The thing was blaring out for God knows how long and she was just sitting there.

She grabbed it, not bothering to look at the number, and brought it to her ear.  “Hello?”

“So what did the boys get up to last night?”  Alec Young’s voice asked from the other end.  

That brought her back down to earth.  She got up out of her seat and made her way towards the doorway, where it would be much quieter.  “What did they get up to?” she feigned ignorance.

“You can’t tell me that after a win like that all they did was go to bed,” he said in a tone of voice that made Aberdeen want to punch him through the phone.  She couldn’t believe he was the one responsible for editing her piece, that it was him who was a deciding factor on whether or not she got a job with the magazine.  “Did they sneak girls into the hotel?  Prostitutes?  Did they get one for Matthews for scoring the overtime winner?”

Aberdeen sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.  William Nylander fucked the president’s assistant.  They’ve been carrying on a secret affair for the better part of a year now and nobody has a fucking clue.  They were so desperate for each other that they broke every bubble guideline so he could fuck her raw in her bathroom as she bent over the marble vanity.  How’s that for a scoop?  “With all due respect, Alec…”

“Aberdeen, come on.”

“I’m trying to take the more balanced approach, the more human side, the—”

“There’s gotta be something!”

She sighed again.  She knew he was more or less her editor and all, and her job depended on him, but she was on her last nerve.  “You want something?  Okay, here’s something.  Two days ago Courtney Muzzin and her daughter Luna stood outside of the Royal York Hotel with a giant sign on Bristol board that said ‘We love you, Dada’ and aimed it directly at Jake’s window,” she said, the edge very evident in her voice.  “I can’t lie, Alec.  I can’t just make up stories about drugs and prostitutes and whatever else you think is going on here.  They can fucking sue me.”

“Aberdeen, we need a story.  If you don’t give us the story, you’re not working at Toronto Life.  That’s it,” he said, hanging up.  

Aberdeen felt her chest tighten.  She couldn’t do it.  She couldn’t go back on her morals.  She couldn’t just…betray her friends.  Her family.  Her work family, but her family nonetheless.  She had to stay resolute.  She was going to get this job, and she was going to get it whether Alec approved of her story or not.  She was going to get it whether Alec wanted her there or not.  She was going to get it whether he liked her writing or not.  She was going to prove him wrong.  She was going to do it on her own terms, with her own talent.  She was going to bank on herself.

When she got back to her seat, Jason was still eating his breakfast.  She picked up her fork and ate a piece of watermelon before moving on to her yogurt parfait.  “Who was that?” he asked.

She shook her head slightly, signaling that she didn’t want to talk about it.  But when Jason continued looking at her, she knew he wasn’t going to let it pass.  “The guy that’s responsible for editing that article I’m submitting to Toronto Life,” she said.

“What did he want?” Jason asked.

She sighed.  “He wants a story filled with booze and drugs and women, because he’s convinced so many of you are still like that,” she began.  “He thought we would have ordered a stripper or something for Auston last night for scoring his overtime goal.  He doesn’t think Courtney and Luna Muzzin standing outside with a sign about loving daddy is going to sell magazines.”

Jason nodded his head in understanding.  He’d been around hockey for such a long time – he understood completely where Alec got his mentality from.  “And you refuse to write that.”

“It’s not just that I refuse to write it.  I can’t write it.  None of it would be true.  Imagine me writing about you guys with hookers and blow?  I’d get sued!”

Jason chuckled.  “And he doesn’t get that?  How’s this guy an editor for a prominent city magazine?”

“Beats the shit out of me,” Aberdeen shrugged, fiddling around with her spoon.  “But…that’s my issue.  I’ll figure it out.  I’ll write something that will blow his mind and make him wonder why he ever thought he wanted me to write about hookers and blow in the first place.”

Jason smiled.  “Atta girl.”

Jason continued to eat as Aberdeen continued to fiddle with her spoon.  She looked across the room briefly to see William chowing down on some avocado and a piece of toast.  He was scrolling through his phone and, periodically, would look at something Pierre would show him one-third of space away at the table.  Less than ten hours ago his body was pressed up against hers.  Now they were separated by a sea of tables and hockey players.  

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked Jason suddenly.

“Anything,” he didn’t even look at her when he answered.

She hesitated for a second.  “If…I mean…if things don’t go the way we want them to go tomorrow…” she began.

“You mean if we lose,” he interrupted, finally staring her dead in the eye.  “You can say the words Aberdeen.  It’s okay.”

“If we lose tomorrow…I…what should I do?  Like, how should I act?  What should I say?  I don’t want to make you guys even more upset by saying the wrong thing.”

“I doubt you can make anyone on this team upset—”

“Jason.”

He sighed.  He set down his flatware and brought his hands together.  “I think being there physically is good,” he began.  “Like, just being a presence.  Telling the guys you’re there if they want to talk.  Don’t bring it up unless we do.  Some guys are more open.  Others bottle it inside and never want to talk about it.  You have to figure out who’s who in that sense.”

“I just want to be a good…support.  I don’t want to be that person that seems apathetic because I don’t care about hockey as much as you guys.  I know how important this is for all of you.  I know how hard you guys are working to get it done.  I just want to make sure everybody, like…knows that, you know?”

“They know, Aberdeen,” Jason said confidently.  “And I’m not just saying that.  Trust me.  They know.”

***

“How many words do you have now?” William asked through the FaceTime call.  They were lying in bed together.  Virtually.  As always, he was less than 50 feet away in his own bed.  Aberdeen felt cold without his touch, now that she had felt it in the bubble.  It took every ounce of strength and willpower within her not to sneak into his room and beg him to fuck her again.

“I’m at five thousand right now,” she answered.  “I got a call from Alec today.  He’s such a dick.”

“It sucks that you’ll have to work under him.  I mean, if he’s even your editor at the magazine.  He might work in a different department or whatever.”

Aberdeen shuddered at the thought.  Him becoming her boss would be a nightmare.  Beth Zadakis – who Aberdeen originally met with – would be the much better choice in her eyes.  “Here’s hoping he is in another department,” she bit her lip.  “But enough about me, Willy.  How are you feeling about tomorrow?”

“I don’t know…” he said, giving his own shrug.  “I’m not nervous or anything.  I just…I know what I need to do.  I know what we need to do.  We just gotta do it.”

“D’you remember what I told you before we got in here?  That I’ll love you whatever happens?” she asked.  William nodded his head.  “That still stands.  Whatever happens tomorrow, I love you.”

William nodded his head gingerly.  “If we lose…” he began softly, “it’s gotta be, like, a media blackout for at least a week.  Until they make us do those exit interviews or whatever.”

“Deal,” Aberdeen nodded.

“It’s gonna be bad if we lose, Aberdeen,” he warned her.  “You’ve never experienced it before because you don’t watch or whatever, but they’ll be saying a whole bunch of shit—”

“—I won’t listen to any of it—”

“—No, Aberdeen, listen,” he cautioned, his tone of voice more serious.  “They’ll be saying a whole bunch of shit about me.  I didn’t produce, I didn’t perform, I should get traded, blah blah blah.  Same shit, different day.  I’m always the scapegoat.  I just…I know how emotional you got when you read up on everything near my birthday.  I just don’t want you getting upset.  I’ll never forgive them anyways, like in general, but I’ll really never forgive them if they make you cry again.”

“I won’t, Willy.  I don’t – you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I just want to protect you, minskatt.”

“I know you do,” she smiled softly.  “But none of that matters.  All that matters is that I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

August 9th, 2020

In the end, it wasn’t shitty play.  It wasn’t a patented Leafs Meltdown™.  It wasn’t that they weren’t trying.  It wasn’t even anything bad.

It was just a hot goalie.

That was the most Aberdeen could have asked for, she guessed.  She didn’t really know, because at this point, she was devoid of emotion.  Everything in her was just…empty.  She couldn’t feel a thing.  That was, until, the camera showed a close up of the bench, and she saw Jason hunched over, his head down.  

That was when the tears started.  She couldn’t care less about Kasperi beside him.  It was Jason that she cared about.  Here he was, near the end of his career, signed with his hometown team for league minimum trying to chase his dream of winning a Stanley Cup with the team he grew up watching.  And now, in this wonky season of benched home openers and valued leadership to a stopped and re-started season due to a global pandemic, everything around him came crashing down.  Having to leave his family, his wife, his four daughters, all to chase the dream, all for it to disappear.

“Stop crying,” Brendan said from beside her.  She couldn’t discern his voice.  He wasn’t giving a command.  He wasn’t mad.  He wasn’t angry.  But it was obvious that he wasn’t happy.  He barely blinked as he looked down at the ice, hands shoved in his pockets.

Aberdeen wiped her tears quickly with the back of her hand.  “Sorry,” she said meekly, knowing she was offering absolutely nothing.  

When the buzzer rang and the teams lined up to shake hands, she made her way out of the box, waiting for Brendan and Kyle to follow.  But they didn’t.  She waited and waited and waited but they weren’t coming.  She peeked back into the room and watched as they stood still, looking down at the ice until the last of the team made their way through the tunnel.  Aberdeen realized then that they were staying because the camera was on them.  Of course it was.  The media was going to squeeze every emotion out of the boys until they were shells of themselves.  She bet two of them were being forced into media interviews right now, barely out of their hockey gear.

When they finally made their way down to the locker room, it was eerily quiet.  That’s the first thing Aberdeen noticed – the lack of noise.  It was so different from just two nights ago when they were all screaming and hugging her.  When she walked in behind Brendan and Kyle, and finally saw their faces, she immediately looked for William’s.  He looked so defeated.  So broken.  For a guy who was very apathetic in front of the camera, making it looked like nothing phased him, he was definitely showing his emotion now.  Her breath hitched in her throat as more tears threatened to spill.  After William, she looked for Jason – then she really had to stop the sob.  

She didn’t know if Sheldon had already given his post-game speech.  She was almost sure he did, because Kyle and Brendan took so long, and because she absolutely knew he wouldn’t end the night with what he ended up saying, the only thing she heard him say.  “Pack your bags tonight.  We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

They’d been through a hell of a season.  A wonky start.  A shitty coach.  A coaching change.  A loss to their own Zamboni driver.  A fucking worldwide pandemic.  A bubble.  The media was never on their side.  And—

“Go to the media room, see how the conversations are going,” Brendan said, his voice low.  “Send Morgan and John out as soon as possible, then make sure the media know about their future availability.  We have to speak to the team.”

She furrowed her brows at him.  Why would he banish her from the locker room so he could talk to the team?  “What are you gonna say?”

“What’s it to you?”

He heart froze.  So he was angry.  And he was taking it out on her.  “Fine,” she huffed.  “I thought we were a team, but I guess not.”

***

Nobody ate when they got back to the hotel.  There was no point.  Everybody just disappeared back into their rooms, probably to pack, probably to wallow in their own self-pity for the night until they had to leave tomorrow and face the world, probably to just lie in bed and stare at the ceiling for hours.  Aberdeen knew that’s what she would be doing.

Well, after she got to the bottom of one thing.

“What did Brendan and Kyle say to you guys?” she asked William on the phone.

“I can’t tell you.”

She furrowed her brows – not like he could see her.  “What?  You can’t tell me?”

“I can’t tell you,” he repeated.  “It stays between us.  In the locker room.”

“I…you’re being serious.”

“Of course I am.  It’s…I can’t tell you.”

Aberdeen knew she wasn’t going to get it out of him.  She’d have to give up.  Not that she wanted to.  “Well, I love you.  I’ll always love you,” she said instead, changing the subject.  “I’m sorry things didn’t go the way we all wanted them to.”

“I am too.  This fucking sucks.”

Suddenly, there was a knock at her door.  She rose up immediately from her bed.  “Please tell me that’s not you,” she said.  “We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

“What’s not me?” William asked, confused.

Aberdeen stopped.  She took her phone off her ear.  “Who is it?” she asked out loud.

“It’s me,” she heard Brendan’s voice from the hallway.

She threw her phone dramatically across the room and onto her bed.  She threw it so violently it almost hit the wall.  “Let me get my mask!” she called out, grabbing one from the dresser before hooking it onto her ears.  She took a deep breath before she opened the door.  When she did, Brendan walked straight into her room.  She was shocked.  “You’re coming into my hotel room?”

“Oh fuck it, we’re leaving tomorrow morning,” he mumbled, waving off her concern.  The door shut behind her as she walked into her own room gingerly, watching Brendan pace back and forth.  He stopped when he noticed her.  “I want to apologize for what I said to you today after the game,” he said.  “It was out of line.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“There are just some things that need to be said to the team only Aberdeen.  Meaning the players.  You’re part of the team but it’s—it’s—”

“Don’t worry.  I get it.”

Brendan stopped, taking a deep breath to steady himself.  “For my entire life I’ve wanted this team to be successful.  My entire life.  I was born two years after their last Stanley Cup win.  And growing up, I adored this team.  And when I was a player – it didn’t matter that I was a Red Wing.  I love them, too, but in a different way.  Not the way I love the Toronto Maple Leafs.  And when I was given the opportunity to be the president, I made sure I would never take it for granted.  And I made sure – I made a promise to myself – that I would be the one to see this team to victory.  And every time that we don’t get to that victory, I break that promise,” he said.  Aberdeen understood completely.  “None of…this is about you, of course.  This is about the team.  This is about promises that we make to each other.  Promises that we make to ourselves.  Promises we make to get better, to succeed, to climb that mountain and get to the promised land.  This is about the integrity of our character.  The pride we have in this hockey club, to put on that Maple Leaf every night.”

Aberdeen stayed silent.  Brendan was bearing his soul to her.  Every word he was saying was impassioned and coming directly from his heart.  She didn’t want to speak, because there was nothing she could say.  She watched as he took a few steps forward and put his hands on her shoulders.  “You’re part of this team, Aberdeen.  I think you always will be to these boys.  You were the soul of this team this year.”

She shook her head.  “I don’t believe that.”

“I do,” he said confidently.  “I know so.”

“How do you know?”

“Because their soul is hurt right now, but it hasn’t died,” he said.  “It’s still there.  They still have it in them.  Just like you have it in you.”

***

August 10th, 2020

Aberdeen stood absent-mindedly off to the side, the bus being loaded with the team’s bags.  Some of the boys had already gotten on the bus.  She should have gotten on too, but her feet were planted firmly in place for some reason.  

Fifteen days in the bubble.  And now it was all over.

“Hey Aberdeen?” she heard Auston’s voice from behind her.  She spun around to face him.  “I’m sorry we couldn’t do it for you.  Like, for your story.”

***

Kasha came to pick up Aberdeen.  She brought Minerva in her carrier, who kept meowing at the sight of Aberdeen.  Aberdeen took her out and cuddled her against her chest, giving her tons of kisses.  

She watched Tyson do the same to Ralph, wondering if he’d still be on the team next year.

***

When she and Kasha got back into her apartment, Aberdeen went straight to her bed.  She plopped down dramatically and only moved when she felt Kasha standing in the doorway.  “D’you want to go out?  You finally have some freedom,” Kasha suggested.  “We can go for tacos, for brunch…”

Aberdeen perched herself up on her elbows.  “Do you think I’m the soul of someone?  Or something?”

Kasha looked at her strangely, but answered the question nonetheless.  “I definitely think you have the capacity to be for someone.  You know I believe in the concept of soulmates.  Why do you ask?”

“For who?”

Kasha shrugged, but a small smile appeared on her face.  “For William.”

“Why William?”

“Because from the few times I’ve seen you to interact together – like last year, and then at the Halloween party – he looks at you like you already are his soul.”

***

“You should come over for lunch one of these days,” Jason said to her on the phone.  “Jen would love to have you over.  I’m sure the girls would love to see you too.”

Aberdeen smiled into the phone.  Jason Spezza was deflecting.  This was not part of their original conversation.  “When you’re okay, maybe I will.”

“I’m always okay,” he defended.

“You’re not right now,” she said definitively.  There was no beating around the bush.  “But you will be.  At your own pace.  And when you’re good to go, I’ll come over.  And you better cook and let me and Jen sip margaritas in the backyard.”

Jason laughed his infamous laugh.  “Deal.”

***

August 11th, 2020

“Media blackout?” Aberdeen asked William on the phone.

William nodded his head on the FaceTime call.  “Media blackout.”

“I’ll come over tomorrow when Kasha’s back at the office,” she said.  “We can cuddle.”

“That’s all I want to do right now, to be honest.”

***

August 12th, 2020

With Kasha going into the office, Aberdeen was able to sneak away to William’s.  He let her in easily, without much fanfare, and he enveloped her in a hug and brought her down with him on the couch as they lay their together, every limb wrapped around the other.  Aberdeen was running her fingers through William’s hair soothingly as his head lay on her chest.  Hockey was still on in the background.  Alex was still playing, and William wanted to support him.  Aberdeen already knew he’d be calling his brother after the game.  

“I love you so much,” she whispered out of nowhere.  She just felt the need to say it.

William looked up at her.  “I love you too.”

“That last night at the hotel, Brendan told me I was the soul of the team this year,” she said.  His comments were still on her mind.  “Do you think that’s true?”

William nodded his head.  “I do.  I think you’re my soul, too.”

***

The kisses were slow at first.  Needy.  William needed her.  He needed to be comforted.  His brother wasn’t around to talk to, and it was the middle of the night in Sweden so he couldn’t call his parents, although Aberdeen was sure they would have picked up the phone if they saw it was William calling in the middle of the night.  So until he could speak to his brother and his parents, Aberdeen would be there for him, kissing him as they lay facing each other side-by-side on his couch.  There to console him.  There to comfort him.

They kissed for a long time.  Such a long time.  It told Aberdeen that William needed that intimate physical contact, not just flat-out sex, and that he was savouring his time with her as much as she was with him.  But who was she kidding?  He always did.  He always savoured his time with her.  It didn’t matter where, or when, or how, or how much they’d lied to the people around them to get some alone time.  By the end of it she was sure her lips here swollen and red, and when she opened her eyes to look at his, his were too.  So puffy.  So soft.  In their glory.

She felt his hand dip beneath the hem of her pants and grab the flesh of her ass to squeeze it.  She hooked a leg over his torso and could feel his growing erection graze her thigh.  She shivered at the feeling, digging her nails into his bicep.  

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against her lips.

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry we couldn’t do it for you and your story.  I won’t forgive myself if you don’t get that job,” he revealed.

“Shhhhh…” she cooed, cupping his face and kissing him.  “What did I tell you before we got into the bubble, hmm?  I love you no matter what happens in there.  I love you Willy.  I always have and always will.”

“I love you too, minskatt.  I need you.  Do you need me?”

Aberdeen’s heart fluttered at his question.  She nodded her head automatically and gave him a quick kiss.  “I need you.  I’ll always need you.”

With their pants and underwear pushed down their legs, William slipped himself into her slowly, watching the look on her face change and hearing the long sigh escape her mouth.  This is what he loved most about their physical relationship.  They could do anything and it would feel like the best time every time.  They could have regular sex.  They could explore a new position.  They could have rough, passionate sex like that night in the bubble.  They could have close, intimate sex like right now.  Each time was incredible.  Each time he loved more than the last.

Each time, William realized how much he needed Aberdeen, and how much Aberdeen needed him.  They needed each other.

“You feel so good, Willy,” Aberdeen’s voice brought him back down to earth.  The pure euphoria in her voice was music to his ears.  “I need you, Willy.  I need you.”

He moved his hips to thrust into her, and so did she.  Their bodies moved together as they always did, and the pleasure they experienced together was paramount to absolutely anything and everything.  

After they both came together, William squeezed his arms around Aberdeen and pressed her against his body even closer than they were before.  He nestled his face into the crook of her neck, dragging his lips along her skin until he got to her ear.  “I need you more than anything,” he whispered.  “You’re my entire life.  You’re my entire soul.”

She believed him.

***

August 25th, 2020

Aberdeen was with Camden when the news broke.  She was spending the day at her parent’s house because Camden had admitted he missed her, so Aberdeen decided to spend the day.  They played video games.  They watched Brooklyn 9-9.  They went on a bike ride around the neighbourhood with masks on and stopped at a local shop to grab some smoothies.  It was perfect sibling bonding time while Siena slaved away in their bedroom studying God knows what for God knows which course come September.  

“Did you see the news?!” Camden asked as he emerged from the smoothie shop with both their smoothies.

“See what?” Aberdeen asked, thinking the worst.  

“Kasperi was traded!” he announced as he handed her the mango smoothie she requested.  

“What?!” she shrieked, grabbing her phone out of her back pocket.  She hadn’t looked at it since they went on the bike ride about an hour ago, because she wanted to spend actual quality time with her brother.  Now, she saw that she missed the alert from the Leafs app on her phone, and a slew of texts from Willy.

“Yeah.  He got traded to Pittsburgh—”

kappy just called me he got traded to pittsburgh just got told r u around? can i come see u? ok so ur not at ur place… ur not at Scotiabank r u?

“—for a first-round pick.”

“A first?!” she shrieked again.  She was shocked.  Shocked.  She didn’t know how Kyle was able to finesse a first-round pick for Kasperi fucking Kapanen.  Her mind was in three places at once as she thought about the trade, her brother standing in front of her, and William’s texts.  For all his faults and questionable judgement in girlfriends, Kasperi was one of William’s best friends.  She knew it would hurt William to see him leave.  That’s probably why he was trying to find her.

I’m at my parents hanging with Cam today.  He missed me.

i know

You know?????

“Cam, I think we should head home,” she said, hopping back onto her bike.

Camden’s eyes lit up.  “Why?  Do you think Brendan Shanahan will want to call you?”

He was so cute.  To think she was important enough that Brendan Shanahan would call her about a trade.  She let him think so.  “He might…” she said, opening the Leafs app on her phone.  “Let’s just go.  You lead the way.”

It wasn’t the smartest choice, but as they biked through their neighbourhood back to their house, Aberdeen read the statement on her phone.  PRESS RELEASE -- -- -- The Toronto Maple Leafs announced today that the hockey club has completed a trade with the Pittsburgh Penguins, acquiring the Penguins' first round selection in the 2020 NHL Draft (15th overall), forward Evan Rodrigues, forward Filip Hallander and defenceman David Warsofsky in exchange for forward Kasperi Kapanen, forward Pontus Aberg and defenceman Jesper Lindgren.

So Pontus was leaving too.  Another Swede.  Aberdeen wondered if William had a strong opinion on him leaving as well, but she doubted it.  She thought about what was going through William’s head as she and Cam continued their bike ride home, but as they turned on their street and they got closer to their house, she noticed a car parked on the street.  A very familiar looking car.

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ…” she mumbled to herself.  

“Whose car is that?” Camden asked, speeding up.  “Don’t people know they’re not allowed over houses anymore?!”

Aberdeen mentally prepared herself as she and Camden walked through their front door.  And that’s when Aberdeen saw him: William sitting on her couch with her mom, mask dangling from his wrist as he held a mug of tea.  “There you two are,” her mom smiled.  

“WILLIAM!” Camden screamed as he kicked off his shoes.

“Hey buddy,” William smiled as he watched Camden’s face light up.  He watched as Camden readied himself to run over to him for a hug but then stopped himself.  It made William sad, knowing Camden couldn’t do what he wanted to do.  “How are you?”

“I’m good!  I’m – do I have to get my mask? – are you staying for dinner – are you going back to Sweden? – are you—”

“Whoa whoa whoa, slow down young man,” Orla smiled at her son.  “I don’t think you’ll be needing your mask.  And yes William will be staying for dinner—”

“—YES!—”

“And no, I’m not going back to Sweden.  I don’t want to have to quarantine again.  I’m done with quarantining,” William added.

“Me too!” Camden said, exasperated, as he plopped himself down on the couch next to him, sipping dramatically on his smoothie.  “I haven’t seen anybody besides these guys since March!”

***

Aberdeen was sure William was a near-perfect human being when it came to interacting with Cam.  That afternoon saw them playing street hockey and video games, with Aberdeen even leaving them alone together while she helped her mom make dinner.  When Mirza came home from work and saw William, his face lit up.  Even Siena was happy to see him, despite her stress from studying. 

Maybe this would make it easier for when she had to tell everyone that they were dating…eventually.

William promised to drive Aberdeen home, which meant Orla and Mirza could escape into their room to sleep and not worry.  They gave Cam special permission to stay up well over an hour passed his bed time.  It was only when Aberdeen told Cam that he needed to get ready for bed that she and William had their first moments of alone time the entire day he spent at the house.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t talk about the trade.  I know you’re probably feeling like shit right now seeing your best friends being shipped off.  Are you okay?” she asked as they lay on opposite ends of the couch.  

“Much better now,” he said, his voice soft.  “I love your family.  They make everything better.”

She smiled.  “I think Cam just has so much energy and asks so many questions that it takes your mind off of it,” she giggled slightly.

“That’s part of it, but it’s more than that,” he said.  “It’s your mom’s cooking and your dad’s smile and Siena’s, like, stares.  It’s Cam being so cute.  It’s this house and the vibe, like at Christmas.  It’s everything.”

Aberdeen couldn’t keep the smile off her face.  “For what it’s worth, they love you too.”

“Do you think we’ll have a family like this?”

Aberdeen would have frozen if she was uncomfortable with the line of questioning and what William was insinuating.  But she didn’t, because she wasn’t.  She nodded her head before reaching between their bodies to tickle his fingers with her own in a small, unnoticeable sign of intimacy.  “I do,” she said softly.

“I love you, Aberdeen.”

“I love you too, Willy.”

“Aberdeen?” Cam’s voice suddenly rang out as he walked back into the living room with his pajamas on.

Their hands separated quickly.  “What is it, Cam?” she asked.

“I saw your name all over hockey Twitter.”

Both Aberdeen and William shot up.  “What do you mean?” William asked.

“What the hell are you doing on hockey Twitter, Camden?” Aberdeen asked sternly.  “You’re twelve.”

“Joey at school has an account and he shares it with me!” he said, as if that would make Aberdeen calm.  It just fuelled her anger and made her want to punch a twelve year old boy named Joey.  “It was because Saylor Greene talked about you.  Who’s Saylor Greene?  Does she work with you?” Camden asked.

Aberdeen’s heart fell into the pit of her stomach.  William jolted off the couch and typed something into his phone as he walked outside.  “Give me your phone,” she held her hand out at her brother.

“But Aberdeen—” he watched William leave to go outside.

“I said give me your phone now,” she repeated.  

Camden handed it over.  She began to scroll through the screen to see the tweets he saw, and read what he’d just read.

@leafsbabe34: saylor greene is having a meltdown on her twitter about the leafs. she’s a psycho

@coolcoolcool: good luck to kasperi Kapanen and his psycho girlfriend in pittsburgh.  Pens PR never ever puts up with this type of bullshit so it will be interesting to see what happens to her.  Good riddance.

@amandaaalove44: she brought so much drama to Toronto…bye bye saylor!

Okay…innocent enough.  Aberdeen still didn’t like Camden reading all of this but she didn’t see any mention of her name.  How the hell was she being dragged into this?  She scrolled some more, reading much of the same tweets, and then she saw it.

Aberdeen’s stomach was in knots as she read all the tweets, all the insinuations, and all the outright accusations.  Saylor was naming her without naming her.  Any hardcore fan would probably know who she was talking about.  Hockey twitter would definitely know thanks to the Blueprint birthday video.  She felt sick.  She felt sick as she saw Saylor’s replies to everyone’s tweets, calling them out and being downright rude to people she didn’t even know.  She was sick as she saw fans commenting on the situation and bringing her name up because they knew it was her.  

“Aberdeen?” Camden’s voice was soft, confused, as he watched his sister furrowing her brows at his phone screen.  She looked at him.  “I’m sorry I was on hockey Twitter.”

“You have to promise me to never go on there again,” she said.  “I mean it Cam.”

He nodded his head.  “I was just trying to see what they were saying about William.”

She inhaled.  “Now you really can’t go on there again.  Not until you’re thirty.”

“Sixteen.”

“Deal.  Now come here,” she extended her arms.  

Camden went in for a hug.  “Where’d William go?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said.  “Let me hug you in silence because you’re gonna become a teenager one day and you won’t let me do this anymore.”

Her phone buzzed from beside her.  Brendan’s name flashed atop of a text message.  I’m taking care of it.  And as she continued to hug Cam, she could hear William’s voice vaguely from outside on the deck.  “This is twice now with a girl you’ve dated.  TWICE!!!!!”

***

August 26th, 2020

“How many words do you have left?” William asked as he massaged Aberdeen’s shoulders.

“I’m just editing,” she said, reaching her hand over and placing it on one of his.  “I’ll be done within the hour.  I promise.”

William bent down to give her a quick kiss.  “You got this.”

***

To: Alec Young [young@torontolife.com] Cc: Beth Zadakis [zadakis@torontolife.com] Bcc: From: Aberdeen Bloom [aberdeenbloom@gmail.com] 23:15     08/25/2020

Hello Alec and Beth,

As requested, here is my 10,000-word report on the NHL Bubble experience.  Please note that I have also included photos to accompany the text.  I have received express approval from those in the photos that they can be used for this article.  If you would like me to send proof of permission, please let me know.

I hope you enjoy my work and choose it for publication in Toronto Life.  I understand that the article may, perhaps, be a departure from what was expected.  However, I believe the work speaks for itself.

Best, Aberdeen Bloom

***

August 27th, 2020

“So what happens now?” William asked.

“We wait,” Aberdeen said, her breath shaky.