#he's a plastic surgery gone wrong

[littlegoldfinchh]

A-fucking-greed! If the dread wolf doesn't look like he is likely to be stuffed in a locker, what the fuck is the point even? 🤷

Exactly!! Like. The new solas looks like he was made in the sims 4 character creator. He looks like he has a podcast where he talks about philosophy and the Grind.

He looked like a loser in inquisition but in a charming way, like yes he was ugly but he had that frail nerdish charm. He just looks like an asshole now.

[harmonyrae]

Itty Bitty Titty Love

Synopsis: You’ve always been insecure of your chest size. Even an ass man appreciates nice tits… What if you’re no longer attractive to them when they see you for the first time? The boys are VERY eager to put your worries to rest.

AN: As a member of the itty bitty titty committee myself and realizing I can embrace my free will as an author, I wrote this for my itty bitty girlies. Also, it’s just hot imaging the boys thumbing nipples like thumbsticks on a gamepad. Cover picture is Queen Zendaya btw :)

Content Warnings: Zayne, Xavier, Rafayel, Sylus all basically try to suck your soul out through your tits, a shit ton of nipple play, they do be worshiping ya body, angst, body insecurities, medical references, mentions of plastic surgery, alcohol, explicit language, 18+ MDNI Word Count: 9.1k

“Your fingernails are going to fall off if you keep biting them like that.”

Zayne’s voice snapped you back to the present. He hadn’t even looked up from the folder in his hand. You drop your hand from your mouth and stuff both hands into the front pocket of your hoodie. You continue picking at your nails now that Zayne can’t scrutinize your bad habit.

“Stop picking at your nails.”

How does he always know? You remove them from your pocket and fold your hands in your lap. You squeeze your hands as tightly as you can to distract yourself. Zayne has been your doctor for some time, check-ups were not new, but your relationship is. You had officially become Zayne’s girlfriend a few weeks ago and while things were going well, you had both decided to take things slow when it came to anything physical. Making out and sleeping in the same bed while holding onto each other was as far as you’d gone.

“Go ahead and change into a gown, please.”

Your breath caught in your throat, a subtle gasp echoing in through the small office. You straighten up and clear your throat trying to cover up your embarrassment. Zayne looks up at you before placing the folder on his desk. He walks over and places his hands on either side of your thighs on the examination table. His thumbs lightly stroking your thighs to stop your jittery legs from shaking. 

“My love, you’ve been anxious all morning. What’s wrong?”

Your heart melts at his nickname for you, he’s always telling you how much he adores you. And he can always tell when you’re upset. He doesn’t back down until you talk to him and he can help you work through the problem. 

“It’s just… I didn’t think we would have to do a full exam. Usually you just listen to my heart and do a quick EKG.”

“Yes, but the last echocardiogram and MRI was a year ago. We need to check for any changes.”

A year ago, Zayne had been at a conference and you had done those exams with another doctor. You remember feeling awkward then, exposed and uncomfortable. But your heart condition had to be monitored thoroughly or you’d be let go from the Association so you dealt with it. But now, with Zayne back you were feeling a wave of anxiety that was… different. 

“Do I have to put on the gown?” 

Zayne cocked his head, scanning your face in an attempt to understand your worries.

“If your bra has any wiring it will disrupt the tests and damage the machine. It is also optimal for the electrocardiogram so we can place more electrodes and get a clearer reading. And the gel we use for the echocardiogram would ruin the fabric.”

He explained everything so effortlessly. Even if you had worn a wireless bra, which of course you didn’t because you needed all the help you could get, you would still have to remove it for the other tests. You felt your heart pound and your stomach drop as you thought about Zayne seeing you topless. And it wasn’t the “excited and sexy” kind of nervousness. 

You are not well-endowed, you just aren’t. You know there is nothing wrong with it, but when it comes to intimacy you always wonder if you’re too small and he won’t be satisfied. And with how Zayne always ends up kissing your collarbone and any sliver of exposed skin on your chest during your make out sessions, you were more anxious than you’ve ever been.

“Oh… okay.” Your voice barely above a whisper. 

Zayne tilts your chin up to look at him. His thumb traces your jaw.

“I promise to stay professional, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

You shake your head, the last thing you want him to think is you think he’d be unprofessional. 

“No, no… I’ll change, just… can I.. uhm…” 

Zayne catches on and straightens, slowly turning towards the door. 

“I’ll be back in 5 minutes, okay?”

You nod and watch him leave. You try to take a deep breath and your chest shakes. You finally stand and pull your hoodie over your head, folding it neatly before setting it on the chair next to the exam table. You turn to face the small mirror hung behind the door and reach behind to unclasp your bra. You tug the straps down and lift the padded cups away. As you fold your bra into as tiny a ball as possible, you stare at your bare chest. It’s not that your breasts were ugly, in fact, they were quite perky. Your rosy pink nipples hardening against the cool office air were… pretty? But no matter how many compliments you gave yourself, you still felt too small.

You sling the medical gown over your shoulders and tie the strings at the waist. After tucking your folded bra inside your hoodie, you sit back down on the exam table and wait for Zayne.

The door finally cracks open and you hear him call from outside the door.

“May I come in?”

You huff out a laugh and wrap your arms around yourself. 

“Yea, I’m ready.”

He enters with a small cart covered in a variety of machines. You recognize most of them. The wand of an ultrasound, the electrodes connected to wires neatly stacked by the monitor that would show the results. Zayne locks the wheels of the cart beside the table and motions for you to lie back. You hesitate and shift backwards slowly, finally settling back against the padded table, your hands still clenched around your waist. 

Zayne places a hand over yours and leans over to look down at you.

“It’ll be over before you know it, we’re not doing anything new.”

You give him a weak smile and watch him walk over to the small sink to wash his hands and put on gloves. He returns to your side and starts to undo the strings of the gown, your hands still somewhat in the way. As anxious as you are, you also notice how wet you’ve become. The thought of Zayne’s hands on your bare skin makes you clit throb. 

Just as he begins to pull the gown open you hear a muffled sob, you don’t even realize the sound came from your own mouth. Zayne immediately stops and moves to hover over your face, his gloved hands stroking your cheeks and wiping away tears - that you didn’t realize had started to fall. 

“This isn’t about the tests, is it? Please tell me what’s wrong. Please…”

His voice is gentle and you pinch your eyes closed, guilt washing over you. You should have talked to him about your insecurities sooner. You’re crying in his exam room, wasting his time with your emotions when he could be treating other patients. He takes hold of your hand and squeezes it gently. 

“For the moment, I’m not your doctor, I’m just Zayne. Tell me what’s going on, my love.”

You cover your face with your hand and take a deep breath knowing you have to get the words out quickly or you’ll crumble.

“I’ve always been self-conscious about my chest size. I barely have breasts and wear push up bras with padding to look normal but really I barely fill out an A cup. I know you like to kiss my chest and I feel like you’re going to be disappointed and I know this is a doctor's appointment and you’ll be professional but this is the first time you’re seeing my chest and I am embarrassed…” 

Your final words are a tad muffled as you struggle to get them out. You keep your eyes covered with your hand and let out a shaky breath. After a minute, Zayne pries your hand away and you open your eyes to look up at him. A gentle smile tugs at his lips and he holds onto both of your hands. He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I do love to kiss your chest. And I can’t wait to savor every inch of your skin. Your breasts are perfect because they’re a part of you.”

More tears stream down your face and your heart hammers inside your chest. You are undeniably wet and aching to be touched, but your first time with Zayne would not be in his exam room. Even if it does give you major Grey’s Anatomy vibes and there are plenty of scenes you’d love to recreate - Zayne the Derek to your Meredith. 

“Let me see you darling, please.”

His whisper sends chills down your spine and you move your hands way letting him open the gown. He settles his hands on your waist right below your ribcage. You keep your eyes locked on his face, your chest heaves and you feel your nipples tighten. Zayne drops his eyes and lets out a soft breathy moan. His eyes snap back to yours.

“Will you allow me to be ‘just Zayne’ for another moment?”

You nod slowly, your face and chest feeling hot under his gaze. You watch as he lowers his head and places a kiss to your collarbone. Your weeping cunt is pulsating with anticipation. His lips lower and he kisses the center of your chest between your breasts. You feel his hot breath fan across your chest making your shoulders tremble. His hand splays across your stomach, you realize he removed his gloves, his skin caressing yours leaves you gasping. 

Then you feel his wet lips capture your nipple and you groan, louder than you intended. You clasp your hand over your mouth, but Zayne doesn’t stop. His tongue flicks over your sensitive peak and you arch your back, pressing yourself closer to him. His hand glides from your stomach to your other breast, his thumb pressing onto your neglected nipple. He rolls his thumb in a circular motion, sending your nerves into a frenzy. 

He switches sides and sucks your nipple into his mouth. His hand switches as well, his nimble fingers rolling your swollen nipple between them. You feel the cold metal on the clasp of his badge brush against your skin bringing goosebumps to the surface in an instant.

“Zayne… mhm god…”

He moans against you and the vibrations against your chest make your head spin. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug. He kneads your breast, letting his hand press and rub.

“If you don’t - ahh - stop, I’m gonna… fuck Zayne…”

He finally releases your nipple with a wet pop. He lifts his head to meet your eyes and looks at you over his smudged glasses. His face flushed, a drop of sweat rolling down his temple.  

“Your breasts are beautiful and I can’t wait…”

He places a kiss on each of your nipples while rubbing his hands down your waist. You shiver and lean your head back on the table.

“...to continue this at home. But for now, I think you should get dressed and speak to reception about rescheduling this appointment.”

You lift your head quickly and stare at him with wide eyes.

“Wait… why?”

He rises and closes your gown. He offers his hand and you take it, helping you sit up.

“Because I don’t think I’ll get an accurate reading after… my examination.”

You giggle and lift your hands to his face, pulling him closer to you. He leans in and kisses you without hesitation. You’ll never forget this moment. Zayne desired your body as it was, itty bitty titties included.

You knew a second bowl of hot pot was a bad idea, but it was so delicious and the weather was so cold you didn’t care. You cuddle up next to Xavier as you tip the bowl back, slurping down the warm broth. Xavier chuckles as he lifts a napkin to your chin, catching a droplet before it stained your sweater. 

“Thanks.”

Your mouth is full of noodles and meat as you speak, only making Xavier laugh harder. He sets down his third bowl and wraps an arm around you. A gust of cold air whips your hair across your face. Xavier quickly tucks the strand behind your ear. Your cheeks, flushed from the cold wind and hot soup, now burn hotter under his gaze.

“Thank you for coming to find me tonight.”

You lean your head onto his shoulder. You feel him let out a deep breath. When Jenna told you he had gone missing after his meeting with her, you immediately started looking for him. You knew he was getting close to catching a write up, but didn’t expect it to happen so soon. When you found him in your favorite spot, your heart broke.

The place where Xavier asked you to officially be his girlfriend a little over two weeks ago. An old bench on top of a hill that overlooked the entirety of Linkon - or almost all of it. The city lights glow and the stars shimmer against the dark indigo sky. During the spring the hill is covered in flowers, the grass a vibrant green in the summer months, in autumn crisp colorful leaves and when winter comes children love to use the steep slope to sled. You’d watched a whole year pass on this bench, talking with Xavier about anything and everything. And when he finally asked you to be his, you didn’t hesitate, pulling him into a kiss you’ve craved since you met him.

But tonight, you sat with him until the moon had fully risen. He told you about the meeting with Jenna. She had written him up for being reckless on his last mission. He had used himself as bait for the Wanderer and gotten himself badly injured. She had given him countless warnings, but finally had to put something in writing. You held his hand as he sat in silence.

“I know she had to, I’m not upset.”

You nodded, but you knew he was frustrated and embarrassed. He had once led a whole crew, held a position of authority, and been the one to hand out punishments. And now, he was receiving them. You knew he could have been promoted multiple times, but he always turned it down. He enjoyed the daily grind of fighting Wanderers. And he loved being your partner. 

Eventually, you heard his stomach growl. You dragged him down the hill to your bike and went to your favorite hot pot restaurant. It was just before closing so the owner offered to serve you as long as you sat outside so they could start cleaning the sitting area. And even though it was cold, you both agreed quickly, your hunger winning out over your comfort. Now you were sitting back, cuddled up next to Xavier with a full belly and wanted nothing more than to curl up with him on the couch for the rest of the night.

The drive home was slow, the road to your apartment complex was getting work done so you had to wait an extra 20 minutes waiting for a path to clear. Xavier had rested his head against your back, his hands wrapped around your waist. During the wait, he had shifted his hands to your hips. When he started rubbing circles into your lower back with his thumbs, you felt your heart skip. He shifted his hands under your sweater to touch your skin, continuing his massage. When he started to move his hands around to your stomach you stiffened. 

“I’m sorry…”

His voice was soft, barely audible through his helmet. You shook your head.

“No no, just unexpected is all.” He resumed rubbing his fingers along your skin, leaving goosebumps behind. 

By the time you had parked at your apartment, his hands had trailed down to your waistband caressing your stomach and dipping down to rub your inner thighs. You parked your bike and leaned back against him, letting out a sigh that fogged up your visor. You heard him chuckle behind you.

“Do you want to come up to my place?”

His voice had an edge to it, something dark and dangerously sexy. You nodded and you both dismounted and removed your helmets before heading into the building. While you were excited, you also felt a twinge of anxiety. Would this just be your usual make-out or did he want something more? And if he wanted something more… would he be disappointed in your body?

You’ve toyed around with the idea of a breast enhancement for years. You were barely 18 when you asked your grandma about it. She had shut down the idea immediately, telling you to wait until you were 25 and reconsider. You just felt so disproportionate, opting to wear baggy clothes. While you enjoyed being comfortable, you always felt like you were hiding.

Now, Xavier was holding your waist closely while the elevator made its slow ascent to his floor. You leaned back against him, his hands trailing lower, pulling your hips back against his groin. You grinded against him instinctively, your mind going blank as you felt his erection press against your ass. He groaned softly in your ear and kissed your neck.

The elevator door opened and Xavier raced forward, pulling you along by your wrist. You giggle as you stumble forward following him to his apartment door. He presses his thumb down and swings the door open dragging you inside. 

Once you were inside, his hands went to work removing your layers. Your thick winter coat falling to the floor behind you, your scarf, your gloves. You tug at his hoodie, watching him pull it over his head to reveal his firm torso, his abs tensing as his breathing becomes more labored. He kept kissing your lips, your neck, your hands - any skin he could reach. 

You collapse onto the couch with him, he crawls over you, settling between your thighs. His hands knead the flesh of your hips, your pants slipping down slightly to grant him more access to your bare skin. His hands start to move upwards towards the hem of your sweater and just as he slips beneath the thick fabric you gasp into his mouth. Your hand flying down from where you had been gripping his shoulder to stop him.

He jumps at your sudden movement, his hand frozen in place. He looks at you, his eyes hazy with lust. 

“I’m sorry, I thought… we’ll stop?”

His voice was gentle, but you could tell he was barely holding back… his kisses had been so intense. You stare at him with wide eyes, your fingers digging into his neck. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. 

He takes hold of your chin, sitting up on his knee. His gaze sends a burst of heat straight to your core. You wanted him so damn badly, but your stomach kept doing backflips. You were so uncertain how he would react to your body, would he act like he loved it but secretly be disappointed?

“Are you okay? Did I go too far?”

The concern in his voice makes you nearly choke on a sob. You shake your head furiously.

“No, not at all! I… uhm…”

“What is it, baby?”

You often rely on sarcasm and brush off delicate topics because you’d rather crawl in a hole than feel weak. So you take a deep breath and brace yourself.

“I just feel like I should warn you, I’m part of a committee.”

Xavier stares at you, his brows furrow. He leans over, resting his side against the back of the couch. He keeps one hand on your thigh, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

“The itty bitty titty committee. I have no tits basically and I think you’ll be disappointed, but I’m going to get a boob job in a few years once I’ve saved up enough so maybe –”

Before you can continue, Xavier clasps a hand over your mouth. He leans in close, his knee pressing against your core making you shiver. 

“I can promise you, I won’t be disappointed.”

You give him a look, a “sure, okay” look. He scoffs and proceeds to lift the hem of your sweater slowly. He presses his mouth to your ear, giving your earlobe a nibble.

“I think I should take a look. Decide for myself, yea?”

He lifts his hand from your mouth and looks at you, he waits for you to give him the go ahead. With a subtle nod, he lifts you up, his hands diving under the back of your sweater. He swiftly unhooks your bra and pulls it out from under your sweater, tossing it onto his coffee table. He lets you fall back down onto the couch before he lifts the front of your sweater and sticks his head underneath. 

“Xavier!”

You gasp and barely have time to register what’s happening when you feel it, his tongue pressed flat against your nipple. Your hips buck and you grind against the growing bulge in his pants. He groans as he sucks your nipple into his mouth. He sucks and licks and rolls his tongue over the sensitive peak. His other hand reaches under to pinch your other nipple. 

You’re not sure why you expected him to be gentle. It felt like he was trying to suck your soul out of your breast and when he grazed his teeth against the tender flesh you nearly screamed. He nibbled and damn near made out with your breast. Without warning he switched sides, giving your other nipple the same treatment. 

“Oh oh oh ooohhh fuck…”

You were rolling your hips against him while arching your back trying to trap his mouth against your chest. He started squeezing your breasts, making your nipples strain and tighten even more. He opened his mouth even wider and licked your breast up and down, changing sides over and over and over. Your head was pressed so far into the cushion your neck was starting to ache. 

“Xav pleasepleaseplease oh god uh fuck ahh…”

He finally pulled his head out from under your sweater. He wasted no time lifting your sweater right off of your body, rolling it up and tucking it under your hips. He starts to unbutton your pants, but slows to lean forward and capture your nipple again with his mouth.

“Xavier god ahh..”

He mumbles against your breast, letting his lips drag across each peak as he switches sides as he speaks, never leaving your chest alone for a moment.

“Do you want more, baby girl?”

You tug at his hair forcing him to look up at you, his face flushed and sweat coating his chest.

“God yes… please Xav, please…”

He grins as he leans down and places gentle kisses to the center of your chest. He continues to work your pants off of you.

“Your tits are delicious honey, don’t you dare change a thing.”

You close your eyes and hold on for dear life as Xavier takes you for the first time. Your tiny titties were nothing to be ashamed of, in fact, he loved them. Now what to do with all that money you saved up for that surgery?

“If you don’t get your cute ass down here I’ll have to restart the movie and I’m already wet!”

Rafayel’s voice rings through the house. His tone was serious, but playful as ever. You knew he would restart the movie without complaints, he was just impatient. You stare at yourself in the mirror, pushing your breasts together, trying to retie your bikini top to make them appear larger, but nothing is working. 

You sigh and grab hold of the sink. You take a deep breath trying to calm your nerves. When Rafayel suggested a movie night you were all for it. He had painted a portrait of a famous director's dog so he sent Rafayel a copy of his upcoming film. Getting a sneak peak at what is sure to be this fall’s most popular movie was enticing. But then Rafayel suggested making it a movie night by the pool. He had an outdoor screen and the old fashioned lights strung above the infinity pool would surely make the night magical. But as soon as he suggested it, your heart sank. He was so excited, so you didn’t refuse, but all day you’d been tense thinking about what you’d wear.

Your bright blue bikini was your favorite, simple but comfortable. The triangle top on most girls would probably not cover much, but for you it was relatively modest. Usually, you didn’t care what people thought. If you went to the beach, you wore your bikini and had a great time, end of story. But when it came to Rafayel, you suddenly felt… exposed and… lacking. 

When Rafayel asked you to be his girlfriend you didn’t even let him finish the question before jumping into his arms screaming yes. You had actually knocked him over, both of you falling into the fountain outside the aquarium. You spent 5 minutes laughing and just sat there. He held onto you, like he was afraid you’d drift away the moment you stood up. 

It hadn’t even been a week and the amount of times you had almost thrown caution to the wind and dropped to your knees just to get a taste… Yeah, this is concerning. And you can tell Rafayel is feeling the same way, the way he holds onto you and kisses your neck. He wants to leave his mark and make sure everyone can see it. The various hickeys on your neck and shoulders were more than enough to send a clear message to your coworkers and friends.

You both had been dancing around the conversation of being intimate. You wanted it to be natural, but you also felt so self-conscious you weren’t sure you’d ever be ready. Maybe you can just tell him you love doggy and he won’t have to see your chest? But every time you tried to turn around in bed he would hold you tighter, wanting to face you and feel your cheek against his chest. 

You grabbed one of Rafayel’s t-shirts out of his dresser and tugged it on. You knotted the excess fabric at the hip, but kept the chest loose. You swept your hair into a messy bun on the top of your head and jogged down the stairs and towards the backyard. 

You could hear the ocean from his yard, the constant crashing of the waves against the shore had become your favorite sound - besides Rafayel’s singing. You could hear him humming to himself while he prepared mixed drinks at the bar next to the pool. His swim trunks were fitted, showing off his adorable ass and leaving nothing to the imagination. You could feel your core start to pulse. 

You cross your arms over your chest and approach the bar, silently slipping onto one of the bar stools. You clear your throat dramatically.

“Bartender! I’d like to order please!”

Rafayel jumped and clicked his tongue as he turned around.

“That’s not funny! I could have dropped a glass.”

His pout made your smile hurt your cheeks. He strolled over and placed a hurricane glass in front of you. The glass is lightly frosted from the blended drink. Bright blue slushy at the bottom with a yellow layer on top, a slice of pineapple on the rim next to a straw. 

“A Rafayel special. I just had leftover stuff from the party last weekend, so this is… uhh… unique. It’s basically a Blue Hawaiian on the bottom with a Pina Colada on top. All made with Rum, so we are not mixing liquors. Learned the hard way about that one…” 

You lean forward and take a sip, the sweet and sour combo makes your lips pucker and eyes squeeze shut. When you open your eyes, you see Rafayel staring at you, waiting for a verdict.

“It’s sour, I like it! What will you call it?”

He tilts his head, lifting his hand to his chin. You let your eyes drift while he is distracted, his broad shoulders tapering down to a tight waist. His abs defined and glistening with water, you guess he had already jumped in, maybe to test the temperature? You sigh and when you return your eyes to his face, you see he is looking at you with a smug grin.

“You’re staring, cutie.”

You scoff and take another sip of your drink, the sour aftertaste hits you like a brick. You shake your head and hop off the bar stool, taking your drink with you as you walk around the edge of the pool. You hear Rafayel following you. 

“So you have the movie ready?”

Rafayel hums and plants his hands on your hips. You lean back against him and breathe in his sweet scent, he always smelled like the ocean in the best way. It made your head spin. You feel him take your drink from your hand and set it on a nearby table. You close your eyes and sway with him. Unfortunately, you picked the wrong moment to trust him. He wrapped an arm around your waist and lunged into the pool dragging you with him. 

He’s lucky the water is warm or you’d have slapped him silly. You wiggle against his grasp, the water dragging you down. But just as quickly as you sank to the bottom, you are being pulled to the surface. You slap Rafayel’s arm as you surface, spinning around to splash him.

“Rafayel! You little shit!”

Rafayel laughs and splashes water back at you. He finally grabs your waist and pulls you back to him, his lips finding yours in an instant. You taste Rum on his lips, he always did prefer to drink it straight, only opting to drink “pretty drinks” when he was with you. The spicy undertones linger as he dips his tongue into your mouth. You moan as his tongue tangles with yours. He sucks your tongue into his mouth as his hands reach down to position your thighs around his waist. 

You’re nearly delirious when you finally pull back, his mouth moving to your neck while you catch your breath. 

“Did you even put the movie in? Or are you - fuck… are you —”

He cuts you off by kissing you once more. He pulls back just enough to mumble against your mouth.

“We can watch the movie, if you want. Or we can… make one ourselves?”

You let out a loud moan as he bites your lower lip. His hands move to palm your ass before tucking his fingers under your shirt, pulling up slowly. You pull back, tearing your mouth away, and reach for his hands. His eyes are full of surprise which slowly morphs into fear.

“What happened? What did I do?”

You shake your head, holding his face in your hands. 

“Nothing, you didn’t do anything, I’m sorry.”

You remove your legs from around his waist and he reluctantly lets go of your hips. You swim to the edge and hoist yourself up to sit with your legs in the water. You immediately tug on your shirt so it won’t cling to your body. Rafayel swims over and stands up, the water only to his stomach, he crosses his arms and rests his forearms on your knees. 

“What’s up cutie? What happened there?”

You try to laugh it off and pinch his cheek playfully.

“I told you, it’s nothing. I just… I was surprised, that’s all.”

His nose scrunches up and he tilts his head.

“It’s a surprise I want my hands all over you? We’ve been like this all week, what changed tonight? Something definitely changed.”

He’s right. All week if you weren’t kissing him, you were hugging him, if you weren’t hugging him you were holding his hand, if you weren’t holding his hand you were touching him in some way. And he was doing the exact same to you. The only difference was how exposed you were, how little clothing you had on. You were afraid, afraid he wouldn’t be as attracted to you once he saw how small your breasts were. Although you believe he is an ass man, his hands always found a way to hold onto you there, you still felt inadequate. 

He tapped your forehead and you looked up, blinking at him slowly.

“You’re thinking about it, but not saying it. Out with it, beautiful.”

He leans on your legs, his face inches from your own. He has the faintest hint of a pout and you hate how easily you fold for that little lip. Your fiddle with your fingers, uncertain what to do with your hands. Finally you sigh and meet his eye.

“I don’t have much going on… with my chest. It’s like I never went through puberty or something cause I just… I don’t have… I don’t want you to be disappointed.” 

You feel your cheeks burn and you lift your hands to cover your face. When you feel the pressure of Rafayel’s arms on your legs disappear your stomach drops. Then you feel his hands around your wrists, slowly pulling your hands away. You keep your eyes cast downwards and shift uncomfortably on the tile beneath you. 

“Cutie?”

His gentle voice warms you from the inside out and you look up at him. His beautiful smile is contagious and you feel the corners of your mouth tip upwards. You huff out a laugh, trying to calm your racing heart. 

“I have never, can never, will never be disappointed in you. Your body makes me…”

He pauses, his hands sliding up your thighs. You instinctively spread your legs for him to slide his waist between them. 

“It makes me… fuck… I feel like I’m on fire. I just want to hold you and touch you…”

His hands continue up your thighs to your hips, his fingers gently lifting the hem of his shirt away from you. He caresses the skin of your stomach, and you’re thankful you're already wet from the pool because your cunt is practically weeping for him.

“Take this off, I want to see you.”

You hesitate for a moment, but finally lift your hands to undo the knot at your waist. You tug at the shirt and pull it over your head, the fabric heavy with water. You drop the shirt to the ground, and round your shoulders, you don’t even realize you’re pushing your breasts together in an attempt to plump them up. When Rafayel grabs your shoulders you practically yelp and look up at him, confused. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t push them together.”

You close your eyes and roll your shoulders back, relaxing them and force yourself to stay still. 

“That’s my job.”

His voice was deeper, a rasp to it that caught you by surprise, just like his hands which cupped your breasts and squeezed them. You lurch forward and gasp. You’re uncertain if you are surprised or angry, but as he begins to flex his hand pushing his palms harder against your nipples you can’t remember. 

“Raf…”

He drops his hands and leans in, kissing your neck. 

“May I?” 

His hands travel up your back and he fiddles with the strings of your top. Your chest rises and falls faster as his eyes stay locked on yours. You nod and lift your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. You can feel him untie your top, both at your back and behind your neck. Your body is pressed against his, his hand snakes up your stomach to grab a hold of the fabric and rip it away from your body. The feeling of your tense nipples pressed against his bare chest sends another shockwave through your body. 

He shifts his mouth, kissing your jaw, your neck, your shoulders - his hot mouth leaving a trail of saliva behind as he tastes every inch of your skin. One of his hands lifts and squeezes your breast, lifting it to his mouth. His teeth roll your nipple between them, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make you press your hips forward suddenly. With your core pressed against his stomach, he holds you up with a hand to your back, his other hand squeezes and tugs at your breasts lining it up perfectly with his mouth. 

You arch your back, your hands rake through his hair and down the back of his neck. He moans as your nails start to dig in. He bites down a little harder and you cry out.

“Fuck fuck ahh fuck Rafayel I… please…”

As he repositions and shifts to massage your neglected breast, he whispers against your skin.

“Fuck… you’re so sensitive. How does this feel?”

He flicks his tongue over your nipple over and over and over and you whimper as your eyes roll back. You’ve never realized how sensitive your nipples were. How just the slightest touch was sending you into a frenzy. Maybe it’s because you were so worried about your size that you just never let anyone touch you this way. But right now, you were convinced he could make you come without even touching your pussy. 

“Please don’t stop, fuuuuck, do that faster…”

He closes his mouth around you and sucks, his tongue never stopping. He no longer needed to hold your breast to his mouth as you were arching into him. He dropped his hand to your core, putting pressure on your clit through your bikini bottoms. You rolled your hips and spread your legs wider, desperate for him to do more. But instead of doing more, he pulled back, releasing your breast and putting less pressure on your throbbing clit. You whimper again, dropping your head to look at him. His smile was wider than ever.

“You are… so goddamn beautiful. Your moans nearly made me lose my mind…”

You feel your cheeks warm. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck, letting your fingernails lightly scratch his skin. He shivers and tucks his hands under your ass, lifting you and pulling you into the pool with him. He lowers himself into the water with you, your legs wrapped around him once more. His arms holding you flush against him. 

“Your body is my sanctuary, never forget that, okay?”

You nod, resting your forehead against his. He didn’t see your body in parts, he saw it as a whole and he was obsessed with every single inch. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in you. And he did, until you were sure you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Why oh why did you agree to go with Sylus to this gala? You already stuck out like a sore thumb in his world, but this? This is torture. 

Sylus made light conversation with the seamstress as she took his measurements for a new custom suit. You couldn’t help but notice how she touched him, her hand lingering longer than it needed to. When she took his waist measurement he made a joke and she put a hand on his fucking chest. You had bit your lip so hard you could taste blood. And now she was leaning close to him asking irrelevant questions when she should have scurried back to her desk. The gala was in two days and she was standing there talking about wine? You shift uncomfortably on the plush sofa. You just wanted to go home.

The seamstress eyed you for a moment, her eyes trailing down your body. That look, you were becoming quite used to it. Being the woman on Sylus’s arm brought you a lot of unwanted attention and judgment. 

You straightened your leather jacket, checking the zippers to make sure they were fastened properly. It was unbearably hot in the boutique, but you didn’t want to take off your jacket. Sylus had surprised you after you got off work, picking you up for dinner and, apparently, shopping for the gala. If you had known, you would have worn your good bra and a shirt that highlighted your waist and distracted from your smaller than average chest.

You’d learned all the tricks of the trade by now. Spending money on a good push-up bra was better than stuffing a mediocre one and risking tissues falling out. You only ever cared when it came to dating, at work you wore a basic sports bra or bralette. Wanderers don’t care that you have tiny titties, they just have to die. 

Before Sylus had started getting serious about his intentions with you, you didn’t care how you looked for him either. But after a few months of joining him as “security” for his deals or him tagging along on a mission, you had fallen so hard for him it was damn near painful. You still remember the day, about 3 weeks ago, when you finally asked him to date officially. You kept waiting for him to ask you, but eventually you got impatient and asked him. His smile was radiant that day and honestly every day since. 

You had agreed to take things slow and try to figure out a plan for your relationship first before getting physical.. His position and your job made things… complicated. But you couldn’t deny the fact you found it pretty hot that you were hiding it. You were enjoying the time you had with him, where no one from your world was judging him. Sadly, you couldn’t escape everyone in his world judging you.

“Sweetie? Did you hear me?”

Sylus’s voice breaks through the white noise in your head and you blink at him. He chuckles and sits down next to you. He leans back and wraps his arm around your shoulder. 

“I said now it’s your turn.”

You tense, your eyes snapping to the seamstress. She looked at you expectantly, her hand on her hip and her lips set in a crooked smirk. You couldn’t help but let your eyes fall down her body. Her voluptuous hips and, god, she had a nice rack. She had that hourglass figure that you’d only ever dreamed of. You could see it now, she wraps the measuring tape around your chest and chuckles under her breath. She’d probably mutter something like “Is that all there is?” and you’d want to crawl in a hole.

“Oh, I don’t need to, I have something.”

Sylus raises a brow in surprise. He sits up and leans closer to you, resting his arm on his knees. You cross your arms over your chest and smile innocently. 

“This is a black tie event, kitten. Is it a floor length gown?”

You bite your lip. You definitely did not have a floor length gown. When would you ever need a floor length gown? Well right now, that’s when. You feel your cheeks warm as you glance between Sylus and the seamstress. 

“I’ll circle back in a few minutes and see if she’s ready then.”

That voice is so sickeningly sweet, too sweet, she’s laying it on thick. All “I’m happy to help” and “let me know what you need” and all that bullshit. You cringe and watch her leave. 

“If you don’t want your measurements taken, then you can just try on some dresses.”

You turn to face him and fight to keep your emotions hidden. You did not want to try on anything here. They’d have nothing for you and it would be too expensive.

“We really don’t have to do this, I can make what I have work. Don’t worry. How about we head back to the base? I bet Luke and Kieran are still trying to figure out that puzzle box we got them.”

Sylus leans in further, his nose brushing yours. He takes your chin in his hand.

“I can always tell when you’re lying, sweetie. Care to try that again?”

You scoff and try to pull your face out of his grasp, but he holds firm. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You feign ignorance once again and Sylus chuckles. It’s a deep chuckle, laced with something almost sinister. While you were trying to figure out what he's thinking he grabs onto your waist and lifts you, dragging you over to straddle his lap. You squeal and try to push back to stand up, but Sylus’s grip is too strong.

“Sylus! This isn’t appropriate!” 

Sylus pulls you forward. Your hands press against his chest as you fall onto him. He nuzzles his face into your neck, placing soft kisses behind your ear. You stop resisting for a moment and close your eyes, enjoying the affection. But when you open your eyes, you spot the busty seamstress glaring at you. Green really isn’t her color.

“Sylus, stop, this isn’t –”

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

He runs his hands over your thighs and you hold your breath. When he squeezes your ass your composure crumbles. You slap his chest and push back, you’re sure your face is on fire with how it’s burning. 

“Little miss perfect body is staring and I just want to go home, okay? Just let me go!”

Sylus leans back to look you in the eye. He scans your face, trying to figure out where this outburst came from. 

“Little miss perfect body?” He repeats your words slowly. 

Your temper was reaching a boiling point. You were overheated in your jacket, the seamstress was staring daggers at you, Sylus’s hands on your body was making your head swim and you wanted nothing more than for him to touch you and hold you. You were overwhelmed and were seconds away from running out of the boutique without Sylus.

“Round ass, perfect tits, tiny waist. Can fit into any dress she wants and fill it out perfectly?”

Sylus stares at you with wide eyes. His mouth hangs open, but he says nothing.

“You know, the kind of woman people expect to be hanging off your arm? Not someone like me who can never find a dress that fits both my hips and chest because I was blessed with thick thighs but tiny tits and I can afford alterations for every dress I buy, so I just don’t bother.”

You couldn’t stop your rant. You tried to keep your voice steady and avoid yelling, but your heart was pounding and you felt that familiar sting in the back of your throat. You’d rather die than cry in the middle of a high end boutique.

“I don’t have anything to wear to the damn gala and I don’t want that bitchy seamstress to take my measurements and mock my fucking chest size. I want to leave, please Sylus.”

Sylus doesn’t hesitate to lift you off of his lap, helping you stand up. You straighten your jacket and grab your bag off the floor. You rush to the door and fling it open. Sylus thanks the seamstress and follows you out. You reach his bike and get in the driver seat. Sylus doesn’t say a thing and just hands you the keys once you finish securing your helmet. He climbs on the back and wraps his arms around you as you take off. 

You’re sure you broke several laws trying to get to the Onychinus base, but you didn’t care. You wanted to crawl into your bed and cry. As soon as you parked Sylus’s bike and yanked off your helmet, you stalked into the mansion heading straight for your room. But before you could turn to walk down the hallway leading to your room, you felt your feet lift off the ground. You were tossed over Sylus’s shoulder, his arm holding your legs.

“Sylus! Put me down! Now!”

Sylus remained silent as he carried you through the mansion, he went straight for his room and you felt your stomach twist. You pounded on his back and kept shouting for him to put you down. Which he didn’t do until you were in his room with the door closed. You stumble as you regain your balance. He holds your shoulders as he looks down at you. 

“You’re not leaving until you talk to me.”

You cross your arms and you know you’re pouting, but you just don’t care. He leans down to be at eye-level with you. 

“Sweetie, please. Do you really feel this way about your body?”

Tears well up and you can’t blink them away fast enough, they spill over and roll down your cheeks. You bite your lip and stare at your feet. Sylus moves his hands from your shoulders to your face, his palms warming your cheeks, his thumbs wiping away your tears. 

“My chest is too small, my hips are too big, I don’t fit… I don’t fit in here… with you. Everyone at these galas or auctions are stunning and their bodies are so gorgeous, I don’t –”

He cuts you off, his voice has a sharp edge.

“If you think I look at any other woman… Why would I trade a diamond for a lump of coal?”

You stare at him, eyes wide, your mind reeling. Sylus trails his hands down your neck, to your shoulders before settling on your waist.

“Your body is the only thing I truly crave in this world. More than money or gems. Every moment I am with you is pure bliss. You are my world and you are not going to speak about your body like this. Not anymore.”

You gasp and take a deep breath, your bottom lip still quivering. Sylus reaches for the zippers of your jacket and you tense.

“Let me prove to you that your body deserves to be worshiped.”

You feel a heat course through your veins. 

“Okay.”

He unzips your jacket and circles behind you to tug at the sleeves. He tosses your jacket on the couch and proceeds to lift your tank top. You stand before him in one of your tried and true bralettes, nothing fancy and definitely not supportive, but the lace feels nice. His fingers trace over the delicate pattern sending shivers down your spine. He tucks his fingers under the hem and you raise your arms for him to remove it.

When you’re finally standing in front of him, your chest bare, he takes your hand and pulls you over to the bed. He sits on the edge and holds you in front of him. He places his hands over your ribcage, his thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. You rest your hands on his forearms, taking a deep breath. 

“Close your eyes.”

You stare at him and open your mouth to argue, but he gives you a warning look. You close your eyes and try to relax your body, but not knowing what he is going to do is making you more anxious and tense. Your forehead starts to hurt from pinching your brows together and you start to wonder if you should have taken some pain relief before starting this… whatever this is… but then Sylus’s mouth presses against your skin. You gasp and grip his arms tighter. He places gentle kisses to the center of your chest, inching closer to your nipples with each kiss. He kisses around your nipple, his nose rubbing against the sensitive flesh making your knees buckle. He leans back and you open your eyes and look down at him, his smile is breathtaking. 

“Turn around.”

You obey instantly, turning around and letting him guide you to sit on his lap. He holds onto your waist as he shifts backwards onto the bed. He settles you between his legs and you lean back against his chest. He places kisses to your neck, sucking and nibbling along the way. His hands rubbing your stomach before he lifts them to fully cup your breasts. 

“Lean your head back and keep your eyes closed for me, angel.”

You do as you’re told, the feeling of his palms pressing against your nipples sending jolts of electricity straight to your clit. You rest your head against him and take slow and steady breaths. His hands shift and you’re about to whine, but then you feel his fingertips press against your nipples. You gasp and push your chest out, his fingers start to move more rapidly, massaging your nipples faster and faster. Rolling the tight buds in circles and occasionally flicking them with his fingernail. You arch your back and moan.

“Ahh… Sy fuck –”

He changes his pace, on one side he pinches and twists while the other he continues to massage and roll and flick. He dips his head down to place kisses to your neck. He switches back and forth over and over, his kisses getting messier as you wiggle against him in ecstasy. He finally sinks his teeth into the side of your neck, the combination of pleasure and pain pushes you over an edge. You reach your hands back and grab onto the back of Sylus’s neck. You can’t catch your breath, his fingers moving at a relentless pace making your nipples tender and swollen. 

“Sylus - ngh - so sensitive ahh…”

He stops suddenly and you sigh, but then he lifts you and stands. He sits you down on the bed and crawls on top of you, you inch backwards on the bed until he grabs your hips to stop you. He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth and you grunt, the bud already overworked. You fist his sweater and tug, you feel the vibration of his laugh against your skin. He releases you for a moment to remove it, his bare chest rests on your stomach. His mouth continues to suck and lick at your nipples, the skin surrounding them and all along the space between. You glance down for just a moment to see your chest littered with marks. You roll your hips and Sylus groans. He hauls himself up and settles his elbows beside your head, his bare chest colliding with yours. 

“You deserve to be worshiped, ravaged, feasted upon…”

He captures your lips with his and kisses you hard, his tongue slipping through your lips in an instant. His warmth seeps through you. You feel like you’re wrapped in a safety blanket. 

“I am more than happy to remind you of that every day, until the end of time if I have to.”

You let out a strangled gasp, a tear slipping down your cheek. He kisses the tear away and presses more gentle kisses all over your face. You know you’ll still have days where you feel self-conscious, but you believe Sylus. He won’t let you forget how precious and desirable you are to him. And you can’t wait to watch him prove it every day, until the end of time.

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22 @letharue @silverbrain @m00nchildwrites @plsdonttakemyname

[le-chevalier-au-lion]

alright. my post eye surgery migraines aren't letting me work and i've been staring dubiously at this with zero energy to edit but. enjoy teen parent marc au

Uccio paused mid thumbing the page, frowned slightly. “Uh,” he said, in this very particular tone that told Valentino that he should ask.

He pretended, still, to be flipping through the channels. It was all nonsense, Japanese TV anchors—same plastic presentation no matter the language—going through he assumed were celebrity fuck ups. Slow afternoon slog for housewives losing their minds and MotoGP riders with shitty internal clocks.

“Hm?”

“Márquez is having a kid, apparently,” Uccio let out this disbelieving little laugh. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Valentino’s head snapped to the side—a little too quickly. Then he remembered himself and kissed his teeth, made a displeased noise. “Which one of them is Márquez again?”

He knew, and Uccio knew that he knew. “Vale.”

“It’s not an uncommon name, lots of Spanish people around.” Valentino waved a hand around, caught the tail end of Uccio’s eye roll.

“Nineteen years old. Idolizes the ground you walk on. Leading Moto2. Honda’s crash prone star in the making.” That last bit sounded remarkably bitter.

Perhaps more than Marc Márquez deserved, considering that Valentino doubted that he and Uccio had interacted for anything longer than ciao, good afternoon. It was alright. A whole three quarters of Uccio’s days were spent sniffing out threats, and Valentino didn’t doubt that there was one coming right along.

He flopped on the bed, belly up, staring into the non-descript gray ceiling of this non-descript hotel room. Nineteen years old.

Valentino hummed, three mugs of coffee sloshing in his stomach like a champagne buzz gone wrong. He’d tried Vietnamese this time, which people said was good, and come out with an ulcerous feeling from too many cups. It’d been damn fine coffee.

“Ah, that’s just crap. Piss reporting.”

Uccio huffed, tossed the magazine on the bed right by his feet.

It was in Catalan. Uccio liked reading what the enemy press said about Valentino. If they were starting to like his competition more than they liked raving about him.

Valentino blinked, owlish, against the flood of similar but not enough. Trying to sound out the words which were close enough to Spanish to be close enough to Italian. Embarassado!, Espanyol, jove, secret, escàndol, in no particular order. The words didn’t matter.

Italian was more important, as a rule to him, but the locals hadn’t gotten a picture of a clearly jittery Marc Márquez and this girl that Valentino might’ve seen around during a race or might’ve not.

The girl seemed wan, waddling towards what he assumed was a hospital with her heavy belly. Her hair looked greasy, unwashed, or it could’ve been the glossiness of the page, but her light eyes were decidedly sunken on a gaunt face. Valentino wasn’t sure he’d ever recognize her in a crowd.

Márquez had this solemn expression on. The flintiness on his newly acquired signs of adulthood—the sharp jaw, the strong eyebrows—only made the rest of his baby face sharper by contrast.

They were keeping to themselves. No castle of cards play at a happy couple.

“My condolences,” Valentino said to no one in particular. His mouth tasted sour when he dredged up his unkindest grin.

Uccio threw him an unimpressed glare. The corners of his own lips were twitching up, though, which he tried to mask by taking a sip of his Ramune before wrinkling his nose. Valentino, who’d been taking Uccio for Japan since he debuted on the 125cc, sounded out too sweet a heartbeat before he huffed:

“Too sweet.” With pointedly raised eyebrows, he added, “It could’ve been planned, you don’t know.”

Valentino tapped against the funeral faces printed out, the stark, grim line of the girl’s hunched shoulders. “Eh, if you say so.”

“He drags his dad and his little brother everywhere. Could be one of those family guys who wanted a kid young like Stoner.”

Valentino pulled at his cuticles. Casey had had the good sense—at nineteen—to not get his teenage wife pregnant, and she had been a wife, ring and church and all. He doubted Márquez could hide both a marriage and a baby with reporters hounding their latest prodigy like they liked to do.

And he lived in a small town. Someone’d have sold a wedding to the press by now.

“Yeah,” he laughed, “and see where that took Casey dearest. Twenty-fucking-seven and ready to retire.”

Uccio snorted, even more poisonously than Valentino himself had sounded, and retrieved his magazine. His eyes went tight and bunched at the corners. Valentino prepared a remark about reading glasses before realizing how much he was setting himself up and clicked his mouth shut, pulling at the loose skin around his nails until they bled.

The ceiling spun above him as he rolled on the bed, the faint droning of a dolled up TV anchor going over pictures of ghostly pale stars that seemed alien to him. Nineteen years old, he kept thinking. It was younger than Stefania—incomprehensibly irresponsible Stefania.

“Besides,” Valentino said, “it’s not like most people really want a kid.”

Valentino was tucked between the Honda Gresini and his own hospitality, prodding a cigarette filter with his tongue. He’d been looking down at himself, at the comforting stretch of Yamaha blue that his leathers had finally transformed into, taking it in before stripping out for two hours of data crunching, when he heard it.

Babies crying had this specific pitch, he’d read it once, maybe, to make sure that everyone around them panicked a bit and took care of them. Survival tactics.

“Please, Laia, please.” Si us plau, each syllable in it beseeching.

So Valentino heard them before he ducked his head out and saw them—Marc Márquez in his non-descript black and white testing livery and the howling, pink bundle in his arms.

Marc caught him looking. Flashed a smile that seemed to be kept in place by nails. Valentino dropped the cigarette and extinguished it under his boot, mostly on an instinct.

“Hi,” he said, stiff, fidgeting on the balls of his feet in the strip of asphalt behind the garages.

The little thing’s head was supported right, tucked against his chest, the way Stefania had taught him to comfort Luca and the way he’d tried to teach Graziano to do to Clara. It just seemed broadly unhappy and sort of tiny, from what Valentino could tell.

“Tough crowd, I take it?” Valentino made himself smile, tipped his head to the flushed red child, fists balled, mouth contorted.

In a split second, Marc’s arms tightened around it. “The paddock is just loud.”

Were Valentino less deliberate himself, he might’ve missed it, the sudden, coiled tension in Marc’s shoulders, how his smile had dimmed. He didn’t look—for just this split second—like the kid who admired him blindly. “I get it, I get it. Very hard to nap, very boring company. And ah, I wouldn't care about testing either?”

Marc relaxed a fraction, laughed a braying, nervous laugh.

Under Valentino’s gaze, he put one of his large, tar-rough fingers against the little thing’s cheek. Valentino had never seen a scene more ridiculous, but it took it in its mouth and suckled, letting out reedy, miserable whimpers until it quieted.

Maybe babies could smell out fear, he thought.

[lets-try-some-writing]

It's so tragic how, in your Twins AU, Optimus had to do the Cybertronian version of plastic surgery to look more like his brother. He could have gone through his primely transformation and said he, as Optronix, got a new frame because of the Matrix. Instead, he went all out and changed his body. I can only imagine what the Decepticons will think when they see Optimus again and notice his different yet familiar frame. Megatron might think he's having work done to "wear the face of his brother" instead of work being undone so Optimus can be himself again.

More for the Twin Au? Aight. Parts One and Two here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Wearing Optronix's face was not easy at first. It ached. It burned. Insults and slurs, hatred and constant attacks... if not for the Matrix, Optimus would have given up long ago and let someone kill him. But he had his duty, and he would have to be cut down before he let himself fall away from his purpose.

He allowed Optronix to become as cruel as he did. He failed to stop his twin when the war grew worse. This was merely a natural consequence. The constant ache of his spark from the lack of its other half was ignorable. The never ending discomfort with his frame was negligible when he was busy planning or engaging in battle. And as centuries passed, he honestly noticed less and less. Optronix's frame grew to be his own. The bulky and boxy build became second nature to him, his spindly frame from the archives all but forgotten. The eternally in place battle mask was something he grew to cherish as it allowed him to hide his expressions when the pain in his spark grew too great. The heavy set blaster he carried, as his brother was known to do prior to his death, became a memorial of sorts.

He was Optronix, a corrupt mech who changed upon becoming Prime. Every single cycle he repeated his mantra.

"I am Optronix turned Optimus Prime. I am the leader of the Autobots. I was once a tyrant, but no longer."

Every time he saw himself in the mirror, repeating again and again... it grew easier to believe the lie. He stopped missing things from his time as Orion, at least dulling the ache. He missed the archives, but that void he filled with reading reports. He lamented the loss of his mentor, but that too he supplemented through teaching Ultra Magnus throughout the war. It only really hurt when Ratchet and Jazz fought him, but even that was easy enough to work around if he reminded himself of what he was.

He was Optronix. He was once wicked. And this was his penance.

Then, of course, the truth had to come out swinging. One wrong poisoning attempt and suddenly his reality was broken. He'd been poisoned countless times. It shouldn't have been as dangerous as it was with his immunity. But Ratchet on synthetic energon was nothing to scoff at, and simple fuel line drainage wasn't enough. They had to remove his mask to have him purge whatever was in his tanks as well. And that was when it all fell apart.

The team had their reactions. Optimus tried his best to be neutral throughout the whole process, letting them figure themselves out and acting accordingly. He continued his mantra, having had it long since become second nature. But one thing led to another, and Ratchet, ever Orion Pax's most loyal friend, was determined to bring back the mech he thought lost.

"We are giving you a reformat." Ratchet's servos were firmly planted on his hips, his expression dead serious. Optimus could only find it in himself to frown.

"We do not have the resources for such an endeavor. It would be a foolish waste of material." A hint of bitterness entered his tone, training to mirror his brother returning with a vengeance in the form of backhanded commentary. This was who he was now. There was no Orion Pax. Nothing to reformat back into.

"Sure, we don't have enough for a complete frame overhaul, but we can fix some things. Your face, your optics, maybe even your shoulders." Ratchet scanned Optimus's frame, his optics running with calculation. Optimus shied away from it instinctually, prior experience warning him against giving too much room for a potential attack.

"Ratchet... I'm not him anymore. I know I said I was Orion Pax, and I'm sure somewhere deep in my spark, he yet lingers. But that is not me. Not anymore." Ratchet, unlike how Optimus's anxious predictions portrayed him in dreams, did not scoff or come off as cruel. His expression softened as he came closer, reaching out to cup Optimus's face, the one thing he'd left unchanged as he gave the rest of his frame up reformatting to match his brother. The doctor's digits brushed over pristine faceplates, not a scar to be seen below the optics. It was... comforting.

"I believe my friend is still in here. And if I have to drag him out again, then so be it." In an act of intimacy Optimus had not had with anyone other than Bumblebee since he was but a mere archivist, Ratchet brought their helm crests together. The touch was simple, but the way their fields mingled and melded was divine, a cube of energon to a starving mech in Optimus's mind.

He couldn't fight back if Ratchet was this gentle with him. How could he?

"Let me do this for you." Those gentle words were all it took for Optimus to cautiously agree. And from that moment onward, Ratchet took his duty to spark.

"Mask off, Orion." Constant but gentle reminders rang out through the base frequently. Ratchet made it a point to use his old name, constantly urging him to grow comfortable showing his face again. Optimus scared himself more than a few times when he passed a mirror and saw himself.

He politely ignored the pitying looks he earned from the team after such reactions.

"Hold still. You don't need to be wearing this slag all the time now, so it needs to come out." Having tweezers in his optics wasn't all that fun either. But again, Ratchet was devoted. And to be fair to him, the moment the thick optical glass was removed, Optimus found he could actually see things he'd long since become used to having to squint at to view. The optics of an archivist were meant for data collection and analysis. Having them back was overwhelming at times.

He spent three whole earth days standing around simply watching things, learning to recycle his optics for optimal data collection. One night he spent up on the roof, admiring the stars for the first time since his arrival on Earth. As much as his instincts screamed at him to put the glass back in place, he found himself content to leave his optics alone.

They were familiar. He hadn't realized how much he missed them.

"You welded your data ports closed?" Ratchet gawked at him and the welds along Optimus's sides. He nodded without any additional reactions. It was yet another augmentation.

"I had to play the part not just in appearance and presentation, but also in functionality." Arcee winced as she saw the damage. Bumblebee looked concerned. Bulkhead, Primus bless him, seemed a bit sick to his tanks as he looked at the welds. It wasn't as if they weren't cleanly done, but every mech knew that there were certain components to various castes that made them unique, and often tended to be sensitive. Having those parts removed or damaged was abhorrent to them.

It was to Optimus once, many long vorns ago.

"We're fixing this. There is no way you haven't been going through mood swings without access to your datacables." Well, Optimus couldn't exactly deny that. Sometimes it felt like he was about to die if he didn't hook up to the console. During such moments, he tended to lean on the Matrix.

Ratchet, not having gotten any sort of retort, promptly got to work. Optimus marveled at the feeling the moment he found himself able to reconnect to his cables. They were difficult to manage after so long with them locked away, but just having them free was a relief he did not know he needed as sorely as he did.

"Not much I can do about your frame shaping considering our circumstances. But these, we can get rid of." Ratchet looked Optimus up and down as he hooked up to the console, restoring his long dormant archival subsystems through dutiful training through monitoring human websites. He hardly noticed Ratchet at all until the doctor took one of his servos and promptly began delicately removing the armored plating he had welded onto each individual digit.

The whole affair did not hurt. But when Ratchet was done, Optimus looked at his servos and saw... himself.

He saw Orion in the long and slender digits meant for swift typing, not battle or the handling of a sword. He saw Orion in the gentle tap of his digits as he typed again with them for the first time in eons. He saw Orion in the speed in which they moved, graceful in a way he had not been since he slaughtered his brother before their slumbering god.

Perhaps there was some Orion Pax left in him after all.

"OPTRONIX!" Megatron's shriek of outrage rang out across the battlefield as Optimus strode forward, hesitating only a moment as the warlord's sheer wrath. He was seething, his armor flared and his field a wild whip of anger and grief all wrapped into one burning wave. His blaster blazed with energy begging to be unleashed, his denta clenched so hard Optimus could almost hear them grinding from a distance.

"You dare wear his face! You dare take pieces of his frame as your own! Is this another way to torment me, you pit spawned heathen!?" Every word stung on a spark deep level. Optimus had long since learned to look past whatever Megatron said on the battlefield. it had been easy with his mantra because Orion was hidden. Orion was not the one being insulted or hurt.

But now? It was different.

"I will tear you limb from limb and rip that face right off your frame to lay my brother to rest! Do you hear me!?"

He heard.

He heard every single word.

And Primus, did it hurt.

[13uswntimagines]

Luh Ooo (Baby!r x Kellex)

Request:  First time baby!r says I love you. Basically r is nonverbal and like 3, and preath or Kellex tell her they love her, and it’s the first time r speaks, she says it back

Alex and Kelley considered themselves incredibly lucky every time they saw your smiling face. Every time they saw your lips tilt into a grin, or heard a giggle slip past your lips, they counted their lucky stars that they got to whiteness it. 

Their teammates liked to tease them that they were a bit over the top when it came to you, but everyone understood why. Everyone agreed that they would probably be the same way if they had been through what you and your moms had been through. 

Alex’s pregnancy with you had been suspiciously easy. 

Her and Kelley had both been prepared for the worst after both of their sister’s horror stories about morning sickness and pregnancy cravings that had their husbands running out in the middle of the night. But Alex hadn’t experienced them herself. 

The morning sickness had been minimal. It hadn’t lasted at all past the first trimester and hadn’t ruined any of her favorite foods, so she considered it a win. Then the few times she did have midnight cravings, they hadn’t been for food-related items, and Kelley had definitely enjoyed waking up for it (the pregnancy sexcapades were absolutely worth the sleep deprivation). 

In hindsight, the 9 months of smooth sailing should have tipped them off that something was going to go wrong, but they had been too wrapped up in the excitement of welcoming you into the world to prepare themselves for the other shoe to drop. 

It made it so much worse when it finally did. 

Kelley would never forget the moment the nurses laid your little form on Alex’s chest. She would never forget how you blinked up at the both of them and for a second, everything felt right in the world. 

For a split second, your tiny eyes met hers and she felt her heart grow to accommodate the overwhelming love coursing through her. 

And then…

Their world tilted on its head.

Your eyelids fluttered rapidly, and the whole right side of your face drooped, before either of them knew what was happening the nurses had grabbed you and whisked you away, talking very fast. 

Kelley had made a move to follow them, to chase after you and figure out what was going on, but before she could the doctor was back, using big words and describing tests and procedures that he thought were necessary. 

The only thing she really picked up on was the word stroke and MRI, and then he was gone again, taking the happiness in the room with him. 

Alex pulled her into the bed with her, and both of them held each other as they both fell apart. 

Arteriovenous Malformation

A word Kelley and Alex hadn’t understood when the doctor returned hours later. 

A word that they googled and re-googled, hoping it would change what it meant. 

A word that would haunt them for the rest of their lives. 

The doctor said they were lucky because it was near the surface on the left side of your brain. They were lucky because they could operate and remove the tangle of blood vessels that had caused a clot. 

They were lucky because it had been caught early before it could cause too much damage. 

They didn’t feel lucky. 

Not until they were staring at your tiny form through a little plastic incubator box, a large bandage under the yellow knit cap on your head. Not until they could very carefully run their fingers over your puffy cheeks, or have let your little hand latch onto theirs. 

The surgery had saved your life, but it had also damaged the part of your brain involved in speech production. 

They wouldn’t learn until later how it would affect your development, and they would thank whatever higher power that existed that the only thing that had been impacted was your ability to create words. They thanked the universe that you were such a happy kid despite that. 

You loved running around with your many soccer aunts, kicking balls and clapping for your mamas. Just because you couldn’t talk didn’t mean that you couldn’t communicate. 

It wasn’t traditional but sign language and the little noises you could make never failed to show the people around you what you wanted. 

And while they thanked their lucky stars(and the universe) for the progress that you had made, they both still longed to hear three little words leave your lips. 

So yes, the team understood why they were so overprotective and doting. The team understood why they spent so much time working on the assignments your speech therapist gave them, and why they took every opportunity to try and get you to vocalize. 

It was why the team tried to help them as much as they could. 

*****

You smiled widely as Kelley very gently kicked a ball toward where you were on the sidelines, pushing off of the little blanket you were sitting on next to Bailey (your trusted babysitter). 

You clumsily stopped the ball with your feet, steadying yourself with a hand on Bailey’s shoulder and pointing to your Mommy.

You often spent your time on the sidelines, watching your mama’s practice with rapt attention, chasing after stray balls for your aunts and clapping excitedly when anyone ran past you. You knew you weren’t supposed to go onto the field until practice was over, and that any balls that came to you before it had to be returned to a coach. 

Kelley’s lips tilted into an indulgent smile and she nodded in encouragement. “Practice is over kiddo, send it back and we can play for a little while,” 

Your eyes lit up in excitement, and you didn’t hesitate to kick the ball back toward her. 

It rolled towards Kelley and she easily caught it, for a 4-year-old, you had very good aim, and tapped it gently back to you. 

You stumbled as you stuck your foot out to stop it, taking an extra second to regain your balance. 

“Great job!” Kelley cheered, clapping. 

Stopping the ball was something the team had been working on with you (your motor coordination, something Alex and Kelley were more focused on), and you were very slowly getting better at both. 

Lindsey joined in, appearing behind Kelley’s shoulder and gesturing to her foot. 

Your head tilted to the side and she gestured to her foot again, wiggling it to Kelley’s left. 

“Come on kiddo,” Kelley said, and all of your attention returned to her. 

You nodded, and hit the ball as hard as you could, toward Lindsey’s outstretched foot. 

Kelley kicked out trying to stop it, but Lindsey was faster, collecting the ball and turning to send it toward Emily with a laugh. 

“You little monster,” Kelley huffed indignantly, earning a delighted giggle from you and chuckles from the team fondly watching the interaction. “You’re supposed to be on my team,” 

You shrugged, pointing to your foot so Emily would pass it to you. 

She did, kicking the ball gently (dangerously close to Kelley) and your mommy “missed” her chance to intercept it, so you could catch it instead. 

The team clapped when you did, again taking a second to catch your footing before pausing with your foot on top of the ball as Kelley took up a defensive position in front of you. 

Your eyes immediately fell to her feet. 

You knocked the ball right and then left before sending it through her legs, copying your Mama’s famous move, brushing past Kelley as you raced after the ball. 

Several hands extended in case you tripped, even as the team fell into formation behind you. 

“I’m gonna get you,” Kelley called as you passed, collecting the ball with your little feet and charging towards the net. 

You squealed as Kelley chased after you, doing your best to keep the ball on track as you got closer to midfield. 

“Y/n,” Mal called, joining your run, and gesturing towards the wide open space in front of her as Kelley easily gained on you. 

You clumsily passed the ball sideways, just as you heard your mommy’s footsteps behind you. 

“Come on, it can’t be 6 vs. 1,” She groaned, sprinting towards Mal instead. 

“It’s only 5 and a half versus one,” Emily shrugged, taking up your other side as Mal crossed the ball towards Lindsey. “And Mini Morgan is too cute to play against,” 

Kelley threw her head back, arching her run to try and get to Lindsey, but it was already too late. Lindsey pushed the ball, sending it in front of Emily so it landed right in your path. 

You wobbled as you collected it, slowing down as you nearly tumbled over the ball. 

It gave Kelley the perfect opportunity to gain on you. 

“Y/n pass it to your Mama,” Lindsey directed, pointing towards Alex making a run to the box as Kelley got closer. 

You hadn’t realized your mama was playing too. 

She smiled widely, gesturing towards the giant space in front of her, and you slowed your run just enough to kick the ball mid-stride into Alex’s path. 

It went slightly off-target, but Alex had no trouble collecting it and sending it into the back of the net. 

“Goalllll,” Lindsey, Emily, and Mal cheered as Kelley finally caught up to you, scooping you up and gently tossing you in the air. 

“You’re a little gremlin,” She said, ticking you relentlessly even as she tossed you up and down. 

You giggled loudly, reaching for Alex as soon as she was close enough. 

Kelley passed you to her with little hesitation, and you patted Alex’s cheek. She was always the calmer of the two women, dancing you around but not nearly as much as Kelley did. 

You signed goal several times with your little hands and animatedly rehashed the entire play for them as though they hadn’t been watching it. 

They both shared a look and smiled gently at you. 

“I love you,” Alex said, leaning in and placing a kiss on your cheek after you finished, your aunts circling up around you. 

“Luh ooo,” You repeated, tapping her cheek again. 

The team froze.

Yes, they had heard you giggle, and cry and make noises, but nothing had ever come close to sounding like a real word. 

“Wait,” Kelley said, stepping closer to you, her hand landing on your back and rubbing circles. “Y/n say love you?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Luh ooo,” 

“Oh my god,” Alex breathed out and Kelley sniffled next to you, trying to hide her tears.

“We love you too baby,” Kelley said, through trembling lips, kissing the side of your head. 

“Luh ooo,”  You repeated for a third time, frowning because both of your mommies looked sad, leaning up and placing a kiss on Alex’s nose just like she did any time you looked sad. 

“We love you more than anything,” Alex added, doing her best to hold the tears at bay. 

She had never been more happy to hear 3 little words in her entire life. 

It was everything Kelley and Alex had ever wanted. 

“And we love you too, short stack,” Emily said, throwing an arm over Kelley’s shoulder and using her other to tickle your tummy, interrupting the tender moment. 

You squealed with delight and wiggled widely in Alex’s arm, signaling that you would very much like to be put down, so you could run around with your aunts again. 

Alex squeezed you tightly for another long second before she let you down, kissing your forehead one more time before you ran off. 

“She said I love you,” Kelley sniffled, tucking her nose against Alex’s neck once she was upright, both women staring at you. 

“I know,” Alex said tearfully. 

The doctors always said it was a matter of time. Now, they could finally believe them. 

[ssaalexblake]

I wish fandom asked Why more often. Like, sure, to take one example in sunrise on the reaping; Collins could have used a different original character in the story rather than having Effie there. Apparently there could be No actual reason for having Effie there that helps the story.

So, instead of just stomping our feet Immediately and not thinking about it, why don't we ask why Collins chose to include Effie instead.

I mean, I'm not Collins and these are just some things I got from it, but I think Effie's presence tells us a few things. I mean, for starters you have a person who is falling for a different part of the capitol propaganda than most of the other capitolites we see up close. Effie's not out there thinking that these kids are animals, she thinks they're people and is visibly moved and shaking in the launch room as she sees Haymitch off (and presumable already saw Wyatt, Maysilee and Lou Lou off). Effie is an example of somebody who has fallen for the treaty of treason as absolute, not the dehumanisation of the districts. It's important to note that there's not just One type of propaganda the people are being fed.

She also demonstrates their society's obsession with looks, and this works in part Because we know her when she's older. Effie of the trilogy is caked in makeup and in wigs all the time. The implication is that Effie who is at most, what? 25 here, realistically, is already Late in the game of plastic surgery to 'fix' everything wrong with her (because she's apparently old and ugly at that grand old age... ugh) despite her being afraid to do so and not wanting to go near needles because of it! Which tells us something about the Effie of the future. She genuinely feels social pressure to do something she's afraid of because of low self esteem over her body, which is why she presents as she does in the trilogy. This series isn't Only critiquing things like implicit submission, Collins also takes shots at things like beauty standards and bodily autonomy (and their lack of it). Sure, there's no evidence that Effie was literally forced to have work done, but there is that victors are. Effie now chooses to hide herself under more make up, wigs, and presumably surgery (or at least botox or something like that) because she has to. The capitol isn't into non conformists, lets be real.

(and, honestly, I think that part is really important. I've seen 22 year old girls get paid promos in instagram for damn Botox. 22!! the only botox you need at 22 is for medical reasons, not to remove non existent wrinkles)

How come Haymitch knows Katniss' parents? Well, that's because Katniss says that district 12's population is only about 8000 people, and i cannot emphasis that this is TINY, and while 24 years have gone by at the 74th games, it's unlikely the number has changed that much. This is a small town, every kid of reaping age at the very least knows Of each other (even Katniss could list off past tributes and their families, and Katniss almost tried not to know things about other people. This was a sign) but kids of the same age in that district Do know each other. We already knew that Haymitch was roughly the same age as Katniss' mother from lore drops in CF (Maysilee being Asterid's friend makes them around the same age, Maysilee being Haymitch's district partner, it's never mentioned that Katniss' parents were different ages). It would have made No sense and gone against established canon for these kids to not know each other.

So, why are mags and wiress here? They're showing the importance of mentors imo. It may even be a bit of a nod to how Bad Haymitch was at mentoring when he was so broken down in thg,all the little things that Mags and Wiress do to just treat the tributes like people deserving of respect Haymitch notably does not do, showing how broken down he is by 74. Their presence also highlights how damn important it was to the tributes to have support staff who were genuinely trying to help them.

It's also probably a hint to how genuinely screwed twelve was regularly in these games. If it's not enough that your odds of being reaped soar Shockingly higher in such a small district in contrast to others, that they assign mentors from other districts makes it even worse for the ones who do get reaped. Twelve was just Lucky in this quell that they were assigned mentors that genuinely helped them and didn't just not bother to to aid their own district's kids.

And could you really blame those mentors, either? They want the kids they travelled on the trains with and saw reaped to live. They want their district to get parcel gifts that year to ease the burden on families. Are mentors who aid other districts looked down upon for 'helping the enemy' back home? Is it another scheme to set the districts into conflict with each other instead of the capitol?

Their presence also tells us things about the universe just by comparing them from point A to B. Having people assume that the games had a severe effect on Wiress' mental state for years, and then to say that No, she actually kind of owned the capitol with that one. What really happened is that she was tortured for her part in rebel actions.

And okay, i'm not saying these reasons have to be good enough for people to like the inclusions, but people could at least be bothered to think about it and actually try and work out why she did these things. Because it's all just shades of not liking something so finding a ~moral~ reason why it's bad otherwise. You don't like it, so obviously the only reason Collins did this was because she's a greedy old crone!

In the end, I think she could probably have achieved some of the same points without these inclusions, but i think it would have made the book clunkier by adding even more new people from the long list of them we already had to remember to the list, and i'm not sure she could have given some of it the depth it has with how she did actually do it.

[sehodreams]

Plus size idol has a bad attitude and a chip on her shoulder because she made it in an industry where the odds are against her. She’s the kind of idol who proudly thinks “I got on this stage because of talent, not because of daddy’s money (Anton), plastic surgery (Wonbin), or steroids (Sungchan)”

Dark please.

Hi, sorry for taking so long, I had to change my phone that suddenly DIED and then I wrote one but didn't like it, I hope this one is a bit better, I struggled a bit with my words idk why, but I hope you like it!

BITCH

TW and tags: foursome, dark!idol!Anton, dark!idol!Sungchan and dark!idol!Wonbin x idol!plus size!reader, a bit of cum eating, cum play, no p in v, oral sex (f and m receiving), noncon, a touch of choking (like always), munch!Anton, god Idk what else please if you don't like dark content don't read.

WC: 4.9k sorry again

They didn't know how to describe their relationship with you, you were just... Such a bitch.

They tried to be on your good side, knowing how much influence you had on the industry.

You were an excellent artist, a good writer and singer, even a good actor, but God, they hated you so much.

They didn't believe the others when they told them to be careful with you, how could you ever do something wrong to them? You had those cute cheeks and that sweet smile on cameras, you treated your staff good and even directors loved you, so punctual and organized, always doing your best.

But with them, you would critic every little mistake they did.

First you had to share a waiting room out of the blue, theirs had a problem with the plugs and they needed to get their hair done, so they went to yours. You smiled when their manager talked to you, "oh don't worry, it's always a pleasure for me to be helpful!" Their manager got charmed by you instantly, thanking you many times before they could go in.

It was a chaotic day, having to get ready even faster than normal, everyone walking around and moving things, when suddenly they heard a crash.

Everyone looked at it, Wonbin had pushed a flower pot by accident and it got all your fan letters wet. You looked at it surprised, not knowing what to say, and Wonbin's ears got red instantly, embarrassed to the core. He bowed many times, apologizing, and you stopped him with your hand. "Accidents happen" you smiled.

All of them got up their seats and apologized at the same time. Their manager ran to ask for a hairdryer to one stylist that had gone out.

When you and the boys were alone, in silence, you spoke again. "Fucking rookies" you spat. All of them looked at you surprised by your tone. Your whole face had changed, your sweet camera smile nowhere to be found.

"We're really sorry" Shotaro, as the eldest, apologized again.

"Shut up, I don't want to heard any of you anymore, I'm tired of all your obnoxious voices" you were sitting in front of them. All of them standing with their heads down. "Do you think I'm a joke? Why did you think you could all run around as if it was your playground?"

They could feel the heat coming out of you, your voice making them feel small, tiny, as if they were nothing.

Their manager came back and started to dry the letters, you smiled and told him to not mind, they were just paper, they'd get dry on their own. "She's such a good person" the manager said later, hopeful eyes filled with emotion, touched by your kindness. They didn't dare to say what happened, just nodding.

Their second meeting was even worse. Anton's father was in the same show with you and they saw you on TV talking with him. "Please take care of him when you see him" he smiled, the exact same eyes that their maknae had. You replied immediately "oh please don't worry, I've met him already, he's such a sweet and respectful boy, I can see how much effort you've put into making him a great person" it had to be an accident what happened last time, you talked so good about one of their members on tv, caring and soft words were the only things that came out of you, maybe it was just a bad day, they thought.

When they met you in another program they knocked your door, everyone with their best smiles and a bouquet to apologize for what happened last time. One member of your staff opened the door, they could see you inside wearing a pretty pink gown, getting your hair done to the presentation in a couple of hours.

You lifted your eyes from your phone and looked to them. "Can you leave us alone a second?" You asked your staff, all of them left, leaving you alone. Maybe you would apologize to them too, right? "What did I tell you last time? I can see you're all stupid enough to come and bother me again" your glossy lips said smoothly, as if you were singing. They couldn't help but look at you, pink robe showing your legs, your hair up, neck naked, and your honey lips moving, spitting harsh words like a praise. "I guess you have no idea how to respect your seniors, you're lucky I'm a good one, but don't ever come here unannounced again, and this is my last warning, the next time I'll fucking kill you"

They left the flowers and went back to their room. No one said anything, but they all thought the same thing, "bitch".

When the show finished and they were leaving they saw some cleaning ladies pushing trash carts, their flowers showing on top of one, over a bunch of plastic bottles and makeup wipes.

At least they agreed on one thing, to never bother you again. However, what they didn't expect was the collaboration the company arranged with a couple of singers, you being one of them.

You'd be on one of their tracks that you'd write and produce.

Anton, Sungchan and Wonbin were the choosen ones, the others exhaled, feeling grateful to not being paired with you, and feeling sorry for the boys that would work with you.

They talked a lot about it, how would they behave in front of you, not talking unless they were asked to, not contradicting you and not even maintaining eye contact with you for too long, anything to work in peace and finish the job as fast as possible.

They couldn't deny how good of an artist you were, all your songs hits and your fandom making noise every time you arrived to shows.

It was unusual for a girl like you to be an idol, a big girl, your face was quite slim, but your thick legs and full chest always caught attention. Still, you were loved by many and they respected that.

And they liked it too.

"Hi boys, is such a pleasure to work with you, I hope we get a hit!" You laughed and raised your hand, cheering for them. Their manager smiled, wiped for you, while they smiled shyly, afraid of shifting the energy in the room if they weren't careful.

You all went to the recording room, alone there, you sat on the only chair, claiming your position, and they had to sit on the little couch behind you. You showed them your notes and told them your ideas for the song, a love song like usual. They nodded and agreed to everything you said.

If you said the sky was green and the grass blue, they would go along with you.

"I thought you were stupid only in front of me, but it seems you're like that all the time" you said after half an hour being together. They couldn't nod this time. "You're so useless, I don't know why would they make me work with you, some fucking rookies" you walked to grab your bag and pulled a box of cigarettes, everyone focus on your figure walking, appreciating your bubbly ass that showed through your yoga leggings and oversized t-shirt that tried to covered it but rolled over it. Then, when they saw you put the cigarette between your lips and search for a lighter, they looked at each other. It was prohibited to smoke there, but how could they defy you? "I'm sick of everyone disrespecting me, I got here after so much, you have no idea what I've been through to get here" you laughed sourly, "well, of course you don't know about it, I got here because of talent, not because of daddy’s money, plastic surgery, or steroids" the room started to get hot, their faces couldn't hide the irritation anymore, they perfectly knew who were you referring with your words but preferred to stay silent, biting their own tongue "and yet I feel like they continue laughing at me, making me their favorite joke" you slowly exhaled the smoke, not directing your eyes to them, as if you were talking to yourself.

They were exhausted, exhausted of you insulting them, critiquing them for everything, and doing their best to not snap.

"You really have no shame" Wonbin broke the silence after a long minute. "Talking like that, acting like big shit, and I guess that's why everybody laughs at you, trying to act big when you're just a fat bitch" he stood up and walked to you, the other two looked at him alarmed, shocked by the outburst. You, sitting, crossed your legs and exhaled a long line of smoke, maintaining eye contact with the talking boy, with a blank expression.

He smirked, seeing you sitting down there you were only a common girl, without no one on your side, and he felt like he could do anything to you. You felt that, you saw it on his face, you could recognize that expression anywhere, conceited, power hungry, resented. Then, he suddenly felt his hand burning, quickly moving it away. The other two jumped and walked to him, checking the mark your cigarette had left on his pale hand.

"What is wrong with you?!" Anton asked, shocked with your impulse. "You hurt him!"

Sungchan grabbed a cold water bottle from the mini fridge and pressed it against the burn spot. When he moved it away Wonbin checked his hand better, there was a small red spot getting darker because of the ash. He inspected it for a long time, too astonished, then after not much thinking he walked to the door and pressed the secure. The other two followed him with their eyes, holding their breath, waiting for what was gonna happen next.

You didn't waver, set on not appearing weak in front of those three rookies.

"I think you forgot something" he talked, hand on the door handle "You, at the end of the day, are just one girl, and we'll always be stronger than you" he turned his face to you, ears red again, but not from embarrassment this time, from rage.

You, in that exact moment, knew you'd get hurt too.

You gave him a sided smile, "do whatever you want, I'll fucking end your careers after I get out of here"

You saw the younger one put himself between Wonbin and you, as a wall, protecting you. "Hyung, let's talk about this, don't do anything careless" he tried to stop him, the other gave you a glance and then moved his attention to the taller one. "We can get on serious problems"

"We're already on serious problems, it doesn't matter what we do now, she's gonna talk around, we can say goodbye to any deal now" Sungchan, who remained on one side, finally talked.

"You too? What the hell are you thinking?" Anton didn't know what to do, he was displeased too, but going so far hadn't crossed his mind.

"I think this bitch needs a lesson, if we don't give it to her now, she's gonna continue acting like this with others" he grabbed Anton's shoulders and made him turn to you, you were still on your place, frowning, not having were to go, expecting the younger one to help you escape, but when Wonbin whispered to his ear, you knew it was over "look at her, she's not regretful at all, and if we don't do it now, someone else is gonna do it later"

Anton agreed with that, someone was gonna teach you a lesson at some point, and it better be them, right?

When Anton's eyes wandered around your body, hips and thighs bigger on that chair, chest so full it was slightly spilling over your bra, he decided this was a job they had to do.

The job he wanted to do.

Sungchan saw the conviction on Anton's eyes, and when his lips slightly parted, the two older boys smiled. "You can have the first taste" Wonbin pushed him closer to you.

A chill ran down your legs, "move, now" you stood up and ordered the younger one. The three of them were in front of you, all of them taller, you had to lift your head to look at them in the eyes, you had never felt so small in your life. When they saw you there, cornered, eyes up and hands shaking, with the same fucking bossy expression, as if you had any power there, they snickered.

Wonbin nodded to Sungchan, who instantly understood what the other wanted. The two of them caught your arms and made you sit on your chair again. Anton was in front of you, still doubting, not knowing what to do.

"Stop right now! Let me go!" You demanded and squirmed, trying to get yourself free.

"Don't move so much, it's gonna happen you want it or not, no one is gonna help you, there are no cameras here to not leak content, and the whole room is soundproof" you felt yourself get weaker with Wonbin's words, your lips started to quiver and your eyes tried to soften the youngest so he could help you. You looked at him with your most helpless eyes, pleading for help. He sighed, and you saw his face change, desire starting to show on it.

"Come on, you need to pacify her now, if you don't she'll be all feisty later" Sungchan laughed. Wonbin knew he'd need a little help, so he lifted your t-shirt and pulled down your bra, your full tits bounced with the rough movement and the maknae's eyes couldn't leave you, tongue wetting his lips. You were about to scream when Wonbin made you bite your shirt to maintain it up, and then he covered your mouth so you wouldn't spit it. Sungchan decided to move to the back of the chair, grabbing both your arms with one hand.

Your full chest was there, in front of their eyes. Your tits were perfect for all of them, so big and full, your nipples were bigger than what they had ever seen, but they still liked them, all round and calling for them to get a taste.

Sadly, the two older ones needed the youngest to be on board, so he'd have the privilege of the first taste.

Anton kneeled in front of you, his big hands went first to your waist, to see how much he could hold, and then they started to roam up, holding the weight of your tits with his hands before he gave you a look. You didn't move, your eyes were getting a bit wet, but you tried to keep an stoic aspect, strong as always. He didn't waste any more time and gave them a good lick, moaning to himself. They felt so good on his tongue his eyebrows frown. They were soft, easy to handle, and he had to enjoy it as much as he could.

He kept licking them, his tongue playing with one of your nipples while one of his hands molded the other, pinching your little bud every now and then. He played with both of them like that for a good time, making you feel more and more wet with time, you still felt bad, kind of sick of the way he seemed to enjoy it so much, making eye contact until you couldn't and decided to lift your gaze.

Big error, you saw the expression on the visual boy, smiling, proud of his member working you so well, and felt worse.

You shook your head and tried to kick him to get away, but the young boy was so strong he pushed his weight into your thighs so you didn't interrupt his activity.

"Come on, do something else, we don't have all day" Sungchan talked behind you. Anton found the strength he needed to pull apart from your tits and touched your thighs, watching you with a drunk expression. Your nipples were hard, glistening with his saliva, begging to receive more attention, but he couldn't monopolize you.

"Pull down her pants" Anton, after Wonbin ordered him, started to pull down your pants and your panties, slowly, trying to see as much of you as he could to remember it later. Your soft and thick thighs showed a couple of marks because of their size, but he followed the way they pushed against the velvet seat and thought how good they would feel around his face.

And your pussy, god, so plump and wet, he made you open your legs, lifting one over the chair arm, and saw your sweet pussy shine, like honey pouring down, he thought, wanting to taste you.

"Can I..." Anton mumbled.

"Do it" Wonbin encouraged him. Anton didn't need more, he opened your lips with his fingers and saw how precious you looked down there, then he pressed his flat tongue onto your clit, eyes closed and almost rolling of how good you tasted.

He slurped, the wet sounds echoing in the room made everything more dirty and the two other boys felt their tips tingle, dying for their turn.

"Shit, she's dripping" Sungchan said, the sound of your pussy was so dirty his head started to get numb, and when you let your head fell because of the stimulation, looking up and catching each others eyes, he couldn't resist it and with his free hand squeezed your tit. He wanted to kiss you, push his tongue into your mouth, but you were still biting your shirt. You squirmed, overstimulated with his little touches over your sensitive nipples and the other boy eating the life out of you.

"Are you gonna be a good girl now?" Wonbin asked on your side, you moved your eyes to him and nodded, not being able to talk because of the shirt he made you bit. "Good" he let your mouth free and stripped your t-shirt off.

You felt the cold air touch your naked body and slightly shivered.

You screamed, a clear and loud "Fuck you". Wonbin slapped you, shaking your whole body. You stayed there, mute, feeling your cheek sting, and decided to just stay silent from that moment on. You couldn't afford to get hurt, you had job to do later, and tomorrow, and the next day. The boy slurping your juices hadn't even noticed the other hurt you, too concentrated on his dessert.

"Can I kiss her now?" Sungchan asked, polite and eager, after seeing you cry in silence, but calm. Wonbin nodded and Sungchan grabbed your chin to make your head fall again and kiss you, softly at first, then deeper. Your tongue felt like velvet against his, soft and wet, smooth, like the seat you were dripping on. He couldn't contain himself anymore, he stopped kissing you and pulled down his zipper and his underwear, just enough for his dick to bounce in front of your face, moving his hand up and down his member. Your lipgloss was smudged around your mouth and you looked up to him with dull eyes, death, and distracted with the boy between your legs, trying to contain the sounds that wanted to escape, you couldn't let them know how much stimulated you were.

You were so close, your hole started to beg for something to fill it, but of course you'd never say it. You're eyes were unfocused and, after a couple of minutes containing them, pretty moans started to leave your lips. "Wait, wait, please" you begged, with your singing voice, it sounded like an echo, music to their ears.

You didn't want to cum, you couldn't get more humiliated, not more.

"Move" Wonbin pushed Anton's head away of you. You sighed, glad the boy helped you resist. You were wrong, he pushed Anton to occupy that spot, eating you even harder, with his thumb poking your entrance.

"That's not fair, I wanted her to cum on my mouth" Anton protested and tried to push the older boy "I deserve her orgasm"

"Shut up, you were about to cum faster than her" Sungchan laughed, still jerking off in front of your face. The image of your dumb face and open lips making those sounds was enough to drive him crazy.

"Hyung please let me, I'll let you put your dick first, I swear" Anton pleaded. Wonbin didn't want to, but he had a soft spot for the youngest, so he moved away and let him finish you. Your hands were free now, hanging yourself on your seat, trying to calm yourself, but when the boy pushed his face onto your entrance you had to grab something else, so you grabbed his hair, hard, wanting to hurt him as much as they hurt you.

It had the opposite effect. Your pussy dripping, with your hands pulling his hair, made him insane. He rubbed his dick against your free leg, and when your hands painfully pulled his hair with force and your pussy spammed around Wonbin's fingers, he came. While he was cumming he didn't stop slurping, drinking your orgasm like a thirsty man.

Sungchan moved his dick to your lips, touching it with the tip. You were still drunk on the feeling, trying to recollect yourself, when Sungchan decided it was a good idea to cum on your face. His cum fell onto your lips, and he moved it around your mouth, smearing it over the rest of your lipgloss.

"You have two options, what do you want to do, do you want me to fuck your pussy or to fuck your mouth?" Wonbin said putting his hand around your neck, making you look at him in the eyes. Sungchan had decided to sit on the couch to recover, and Anton on the floor, next to you and caressing your thigh, also trying to catch his breath, but focusing more in his fingers drawing on your skin.

You didn't want to choose, the cum on your mouth tasted like shit and your legs hurt, you only wanted it to end and go home, but you could see in the eyes of the boys that they wanted a lot more of you.

Tears started to flow out of your eyes, one by one, falling down your eyes, which made Wonbin smile more, giving you a peck on the lips Sungchan had dirtied with his orgasm.

"I want to go, please, I'm tired" you cried. Anton's hand got tighter on your leg and Wonbin's hand too, around your throat. You wanted to cough, not being able to breath.

"She's been good, I think she deserves a kiss and to go home" Anton said with a sweet tone, low.

"Well, I think she deserves one more orgasm" Sungchan smiled at you, proud of his work.

"You both say that because you got to cum, but what about me?" Wonbin was defensive, his hand kept squeezen your throat and your eyes burned.

"Then you can use her mouth, but not her hole, if one fuckes her, everyone fucks her, deal?" Sungchan said with authority. Wonbin scoffed at the sudden lider.

"You've heard him, you have no option now" Wonbin was quickly to pull down his underwear, the time was running out and they had an schedule after their session with you. What would happen next? They didn't care. They knew, when they saw the fear in your eyes, that you'd never talk about this. Three rookies fucking you? Who would believe you? Were you trying to brag around that you fucked those gorgeous men?

His grip around your neck got loose. You coughed and he let you catch your breath. He knew you'd need that air when he was fucking your mouth, because he was going to fuck it properly, like a bitch like you deserved.

He made you kneel in front of him, grabbing your arm and pushing you to the floor. It hurt your knees, you made a painful noise and Anton side-eyed him, not liking how he treated you. "Don't do that again, those are not the kind of marks we should leave on her" Anton, on your side, held your hair with care and moved it out of your face so you could be more comfortable.

"Why do you care so much how we treat her?" Sungchan bluffed.

"She's mine too, and I like to take care of my things" he cleaned your tears with his thumbs, caressing your chin and giving you a look full of love. He smiled at you, not showing his teeth, but sweet enough to make you warm.

And you hated that.

"Anton-ah, help me, please" you sobbed. He nodded.

"Of course honey, one more orgasm, right?" He answered, making you cry harder.

"Now say ahh" Wonbin grabbed your hair and made you sit back in your knees. You had to hold yourself with one hand behind you, your tummy and thick thighs completely showing. You were almost completely naked, only your usual expensive jewelry on your neck and wrist.

Those golden jewels look so good on you, all naked and glowing. Your face was sweaty and had cum around your mouth, filthy, contrasting with your gold necklace with a little heart around your throat.

Wonbin licked his lips and pushed the tip of his cock in front of you. You had no option than to leave a little kiss on it, closing your eyes to not look at him.

He had a pretty cock, pink with a red tip, as if even it was angry and trying to break you. You licked it as much as you could, covering the left part of it with your pretty hand with the bracelet tingling.

Anton held your hair to help you, and when he moved his eyes down your chest to your thighs he couldn't help but pay attention to your pretty tummy, a little pouch over your chubby and pretty pussy. His free hand started to touch your clit, gently at first, but then, second by second, he started to want more, and at some point, when Wonbin pushed your mouth over his whole dick, tired of your lame work, he pushed two fingers inside you, distracting you. "You're doing such a good job" he praised you.

Sungchan got enough, he situated behind you again, pushing his cock to your lower back and kissing your cheek and pinching both nipples between his fingers. "Cum one more time, just one more" he begged.

It was too much, you wanted to cream but your mouth was busy with Wonbin's cock. Your eyes cried and cried, and muffled sounds stayed on your mouth.

After minutes that seemed to never end, when Wonbin was about to cum, he pushed your head out of his cock, jerking in front of you. You couldn't think, shaking with Anton's fingers inside you and the tension forming in your stomach.

"Stop!" You tried to remove his fingers out of you, feeling something close. A strong orgasm, the strongest you've ever had on your life.

Sungchan, still rubbing his dick with your back, left your tits alone and grabbed your waist, making you fuck yourself against Anton's fingers.

You yelled after a minute, coming hard as never. A liquid poured over Anton's hand and leaked to the floor wood, making a little pod. At the same time Sungchan came over your back, and Wonbin over your beautiful chest, with white drops falling all around, one drop over your heart necklace.

You shook and fell onto Sungchan's arms. He held you, giving you a soft kiss on your temple. "Good girl" he appreciated.

You closed your eyes, about to pass out, trying to breath normally again, but opened them again after you felt a sting on your chest, almost near your collarbone, hissing of pain. "This is a gift, so you never forget what happens if you don't behave" Wonbin kissed your cheek. He had burned you with a different cigarette, one he had just smoked.

Anton pushed his hand away. "I told you to not hurt her" he was mad with Wonbin's action, hugging your side and giving you a kiss on your other cheek to comfort you.

You cried and hugged the youngest, big and warm, comforting you like a little girl.

Anton and Sungchan helped you to get dressed. Your thighs were a mess and they were looking for something to help you get clean when they heard knocking over the door.

The three of them looked at each other alarmed, it was impossible to hide you or the mess they had done.

Wonbin decided to give face and make the people on the other side of the door leave. He opened it, trusting the other two to cover you.

Eunseok was there, looking a bit tired. "We have to go, manager says that..." He looked inside the room. It was impossible to not understand what happened, the smell of sex and orgasms was too strong, and the boys were glowing, clearly satisfied.

You stood up and ran to the door, not leaving time enough for the bigger boys to hide you. "Get me out of here, now!" You demanded. You weren't wearing pants and he could see how fucked you were, hair dirty and smelly, face smeared of gloss and what he recognized as semen.

"What the- what have you done?!" He was terrified, holding your hands inside his. You threw yourself into his arms, shaking, "Really guys? Without me?"

All the boys in the room smiled with the cry that came out of you.

Such a bitch, they thought.

[exeggcute]

well it's been almost six months which I think is long enough to break my posting embargo, so, uh: guess what! I got liposuction lol. specifically hip/thigh lipo to quell some pretty wicked dysphoria that stemmed from having such a feminine silhouette… and I have to say I'm really, really pleased with the results.

tbh my initial plan was to keep things under wraps for good which is why I haven't said anything about it yet (and even as I'm typing this up I keep debating whether to post it or trash it)—partly because I was/am worried people might Act Weird about it and partly because I get a little embarrassed talking about bodygendershit in general. but here we are. one reason I do feel compelled to finally share, other than being super happy about how everything went, is that I haven't encountered a lot of discussions about body sculpting as a possible avenue of gender-affirming care (although, to be fair, maybe I just haven't been looking in the right places) and I figured at least one person out there would be interested to learn about what I did and where I've ended up so far.

anyway. pics/details under the cut—nothing even remotely risqué (or yucky), I just know that body image stuff is fraught + not everyone is eager to hear surgery talk.

to be precise: I got tumescent liposuction of the inner and outer thigh, plus this ultrasound thing to help the skin shrink. a different surgeon who I consulted (but ultimately did not go with for a number of reasons) said that even if I got the results I wanted from lipo, which he claimed was unlikely, the affected skin would look loose/baggy/weird forever... and that surgeon was wrong on both counts lol. my elasticity was great bitch!!!!

they didn't take out that much fat overall, only eight pounds or so, but it's way more about the Where than the How Much. my actual surgeon (who kicks ass btw) said lipo isn't that great for weight loss per se, and what it's really good for is sculpting targeted areas—so basically exactly what I did. six months post-op I actually weigh about the same as what I did pre-op, but the distribution has held steady; more weight goes to my stomach now and less, proportionally, goes to my hips since there are fewer fat cells in that area now. so my silhouette retains its new shape!

the overall change is admittedly on the subtle side, since I'm pretty short and have wide hip bones (and you can't change your literal skeleton) but it's still gone a looooooong way. the main thing I requested from my surgeon was "I want to fit in men's pants" and boy did he deliver.

also a good place to note that if you're in the las vegas area looking for a plastic and/or cosmetic surgeon—this guy is board-certified in both btw—then I absolutely have the guy for you. feel free to DM me for details. lipo is clearly his specialty (and it shows!) but he also does a lot of breast revisions/mastopexy (i.e., fixing implants that other surgeons did a bad job putting in), regular implants, and face work (particularly facial feminization surgery). one thing that sold me on this guy was an enthusiastic yelp review from a local stripper who said he hid the incisions for her breast lift in her armpits so none of her clients would notice that she'd had work done... a true master of his craft

okay you've scrolled enough so I'll give you what you're here for lol. I don't have many pre-op pics because I was obviously unhappy with how I looked and was not taking full-body selfies on a regular basis, but here's a few I took ~2 weeks beforehand:

these super thin men's joggers were my go-to dysphoria pants, to the point where I bought five pairs in different colors, but now they're so baggy on me that they have the opposite effect and make it look like I have wider hips than I do. so I retired them from my wardrobe...

...except not immediately because I had to wear compression garments 24/7 for the first three months post-op and these joggers were just loose enough to comfortably wear a medical girdle underneath them at all times, 110° degree temperatures be damned. (not that I was going out much for the first month since I was soooooooooooo fucking bruised and sore lol.) here's a few post-op pics in the same style pants:

(first pic is less than 24 hours post-op, about to go to my follow-up appointment, looking greasy as fuck because I wasn't allowed to shower yet; second pic two days post-op and also post-shower, thankfully; third pic is about a month post-op.)

so, like, CLEAR improvement already. I will not be posting pictures of my black-and-blue-and-swollen-all-over legs but considering how puffy I was from getting internally pummeled with a cannula it's wild that I still saw improvement literally as soon as I came home.

recovery was obviously not a blast in the moment but I got off easy, all things considered. I was supposed to get drains put in and was Not looking forward to that at all lol. the first thing I asked when I woke up after surgery was "how many drains?" because they weren't sure if I'd end up needing two or four, but it turned out the answer was zero. no drains!!!

I did have to lie with my feet elevated for the first two weeks straight, and had major bruising that receded over the first month (you could barely see my regular skin underneath all the mottled spots), but little to no nerve pain, no weird complications, and I was more or less back to normal after six weeks. also noelle took very very good care of me and was brave about injecting me with blood thinners so I wouldn't get clots and die :)

when I went into it I was fully expecting to get huge vertical scars up and down the sides of my legs (and had made peace with it!) but instead I wound up with four tiny incisions like this, each less than two inches long:

what's totally crazy is that the scars are basically Gone now. like even when I'm trying to find them I struggle to locate the ones in the front. I joked to noelle that if someone did an autopsy on me they might not figure out that I'd had cosmetic surgery, especially since the skin on my thighs is back to its normal color and texture. (in this scenario I like to imagine that it's dana scully giving me the autopsy and I'm in an x-files plot where instead of regular lipo I got alien lipo and mulder figures it out purely by accident.)

with lipo it can take up to a year to see the full results but I already feel so much fucking better in my body that seeing old pre-op pics throws me for a loop. and I can absolutely wear men's pants now—pants for short and stocky men, to be fair, but actual regular men's pants and not exclusively Pants For Men With Huge Butts And Legs. which is the only style I could even hope to fit in before. and even then it was a stretch.

big pic dump of shitty mirror selfies taken over the last few months:

:)

(also I really debated sharing this one but I already included it in the yelp review I left my surgeon so fuck it: here's a tasteful before-and-after in my undies where you can see my bare legs for easier comparison. left pic is one week pre-op, right pic is about five months post-op. including it as a link instead of embedding it in the post in case your boss happens to be reading over your shoulder at this very moment. also this is the one and only time you will ever see me stripped down on tumblr dot com so don't get used to it lol.)

[all-pacas]

do you have any taub headcanons? i love that weirdo and i can never find any good posts about him besides yours

i don't, which i won't let stop me! here's some taub headcanons i'm making up on the spot:

He likes to sing, and he's not half bad at it. Kind of a showtunes guy. Sings in the shower, or while puttering around the house.

He's a big putterer. The type who likes to do dishes or fold laundry just because the repetitive nature lets him space out and think. He'd probably like gardening if he'd ever tried it. Despite this, he's not a particularly tidy person, or even all that organized.

He did always want kids. It wasn't like a driving thing, he did believe he was fine not having them when Rachel said she didn't, he probably could have lived his whole life not having kids and been fine. But he really loves fatherhood, even if it happened in the messiest way possible.

Although Taub was driven out of his practice, he didn't have to go into a Fellowship, let alone one for a fake field like diagnostics. But it sounded fun. And that actually matters to him. He can't do a job he doesn't care about, he'd rather take a shitty paying job for House than be bored as a GP or something.

After the series, he goes back to plastic surgery, but keeps in contact with Chase partially just to fish for consults. Like come on buddy. Don't you want to tag Taub in sometimes. Wouldn't it be fun. Come on. Come onnnnnn

Taub liked Kutner a lot, but they never really transitioned into out of work friends; they'd grab lunch sometimes but Taub never had Kutner over for dinner, for example. Which absolutely destroyed him after Kutner was gone.

So he made more of an effort with the others going forward. Like Chase thought Taub was being condescending when he invited Chase over for Thanksgiving Post Divorce, but no, Taub meant it, he actually does try to be a proactive friend. He's low key about it. Foreman was easy (Taub isn't at all threatened by or intimidated by his ego). He keeps in touch with 13 in a vague way after she moves on to Greece (he goes to her eventual wedding). He even still sends Christmas and birthday cards to Masters. (She got confused the first time, because isn't he Jewish? So now he sends her Christmas and Hannukah cards.)

Taub is not at all a practicing jew but his judaism is super important to him and he does lowkey want his daughters to go to Hebrew School. Just for cultural reasons. That said, he's probably the type to put up a Christmas tree because it's easier. I'm putting a lot of my dad into him with this one. Taub has dad vibes.

He loves a good argument. In quieter moments, he and House actually probably have a lot of fun going way into the weeds on highly specific philosophical or theological arguments.

He is a fiend for gossip, and tells all of it to his wife. Even after the divorce.

He and Wilson tried to be friends and it didn't quite work. Not because they dislike one another; they have a healthy appreciation for one another. It was just one of those things. They never quite clicked. They look at one another's philandering and self depreciation and inner insanity and go "what a loser." They're just alike enough in the wrong ways that they have nothing to talk about.

Lowkey, he probably had a bit of a thing for Cuddy.

[salt22228]

Isle of Joy: A Daredevil: Born Again Story

Chapter 1: Straight to Hell

Dex’s head was swimming. The waves of fluorescent light and dull color schemes of paintings meant to be pleasant on the eyes almost disoriented him as much as the several medications pumping through his veins. The only good they did, aside from the dissociative episodes, was soothe the pain in his back. It never truly did get better. After the surgery, he had been antsy to get up and move again. They warned him about this- something about too much physical activity causing the metal to leach into his muscular tissue. Maybe he should have listened to the guy. But then again, he was the one who gave him a poisoned spine. So maybe he deserved that scalpel to the iris after all. Looking at the clock, Dex squinted to make out the time.

Almost 1400. That means it’s time for their “educational betterment.’ Really, it was a way to get the patients to go sit next to a stack of books that remained closed as they all waited to receive their next dose of whatever-the-fuck the quack gave them. This place reminded Dex of his past. His desperate attempts at a consistent schedule. His conversations with Dr. Mercer. At least once a day he ran through all the different alleyways of conversation training from his time at the suicide prevention hotline. Some days it helped. Other days he thought it was a bunch of bullshit. Most days, he just thought about how much he missed Julie. She would always lead him toward the right thing to do. She never betrayed him or abandoned him. All she did was be associated with the wrong guy. Dex resisted his urge to slam his head into the table, long enough for the ideation to fade away.

Minutes counted down. Dex’s orderly mind waited, waited, waited- ready for the minute to turn over, and for the doctors to rush in, and do what they do. Sometimes they didn’t come in on the exact minute, and that would upset him greatly. What kind of place are they running here, that they don’t have their timesheets down? If they can’t do their jobs precisely, than how was he supposed to ever believe that they could help him in any substantial way?

The wave of anger accompanying that thought washed away with the push and pull of the waves of his delirious mind, and it was gone quicker than it came.

Almost 1400 , he thought to himself once more.

“Poindexter!” The boom of the voice boomed from across the room and made him wince in pain. Whatever he was taking was still making him sensitive to noise. He looked over to the guard that called him. “You have a visitor. Follow me into the ward C waiting room, please.” A visitor? That couldn’t bode well. Not many people had come to visit him since his trial had ended. A few people he knew from the FBI came for clarity. Some victims of his actions for justice. None of these were particularly pleasant conversations, but Dex felt nothing more than an urge for them to end whenever they started. A stark knot started to twist in his chest.

But it’s almost 1400!

“Now, please, Agent Poindexter.” The guard called him by his former title with the FBI. Most did. His trial was legendary, and they made sure to associate him heavily with the government facility he was representing when he went on his massacres.

“...Okay.”

Dex was sitting at the visitors table, staring down at the plastic before him. It was a few minutes past 1400 now, and he still hadn’t received his next dose of medication. The frustration at breaking his routine was now underlined by something— an awareness, peeking out from behind the mental fog. Why was he so antsy to be locking up his own awareness like this?

Because I haven’t felt them in ages.

Everything started coming back to dex. In dilapidated chunks and distorted images, but with a higher mental clarity than most things had while he had been here for the past couple months. Most importantly, the swarm.

Whenever Dex would feel sufficiently stressed, there was this feeling. An itching. Insectoid legs all pitter-pattering on the inside of his skin, beating their wings, as if they were trying to set themselves free. They’ve been there ever since Dex was a child. The swarm helped keep him focused during… excursions, with the FBI. He was the highest ranked tactical officer in his precinct, and in his state. During test scenarios, he would always manage to hit every single target needed without getting hit himself. Earlier in development, he asked Dr. Mercer about the swarm. How it felt like when his coach wouldn’t let him pitch, it caused a cascade of wings and spines to burst out of his ribcage and into his skull, and wouldn’t stop reverberating until he had thrown the ball in his hand. They never came to a conclusion about them, but it made things difficult. When they would come around, he could miss out on conversations, worry his friends, and disassociate entirely. But that wasn’t nearly as bad as when he would come to. The swarm isn’t like Dex. It isn’t focused, nor precise. It lashes out. And when the victims of the families came in swathes, Dex became numb to the feeling of not knowing any of the names of the fallen.

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.” The words completely froze Dex’s blood. He dared not look up from his sight of the table, god forbid the woman sitting across him were the one who’s voice it matched to. She sat for a moment, hoping for an acknowledgement of some kind. When there was none, she sighed and leaned backward slightly, into a more professional pose.

“The whole FBI corruption scandal,Agent Nadeem, all that,” she continued, “It’s why my husband was acquitted.” The name Nadeem was significant enough for the swarm to take interest. Dex felt small claws press deeper into the back of his eyes. It stressed him so much to even think about Ray- he didn’t know how to process it. It hurt to think of him as a friend, and it hurt even more to think of him as an enemy. It hurt to think of him at all. He needed his meds.

“It’s only fair it should benefit you too.” Vanessa finished, sliding a piece of paper directly into Dex’s field of vision. After scanning it momentarily, he was able to make out certain words. The important ones, at least.

“Release on appeal.” Dex stated. He already knew what was coming. A name came to his mind, and it made him start to hyperventilate just to think of it. He forces the venomous word out of his mouth. The faster it’s out of his system, the quicker the flies start calming down. “Fisk. He knows about this?”

“I haven’t seen my husband in a while.” Vanessa responds wistfully. Dex lets out a breath of relief. He would rather sit here, bound and drugged, for the rest of his life, then ever chance the idea of going back under Fisk’s thumb. No matter how much he missed it.

He was just using you. He never cared about you. Remember that.

“I had you released because I need a favor.” Vanessa said, plainly. Dex knew what this meant. It was the only thing anyone ever wanted from him.

Not everyone. Julie never wanted this. The thought brought the smallest modicum of comfort as he spat out the question that was never a question to begin with.

“You want me to…” He pauses. The medication was starting to haze his vision again. “to kill someone.” he finishes, disgusted by the taste the word leaves in his mouth. It’s not like Dex was above it. He was down with the rest of the gutter rats that lived in Hell’s Kitchen. But the idea of doing it for a Fisk? Again? It truly made his skin crawl. But if it offered him his freedom… What choice did he really have?

“A thief, named Benjamin Cafaro,” Vanessa paused. “And his lawyer, Foggy Nelson.” Dex didn’t recognize the first name, but the second one rang a bell. It came up a few times in the surveillance of Karen Page, back when she was his target. He wasn’t sure if they had met. He probably wouldn’t remember his face after this, either. It made things easier, in a way.

“I remember him.” Dex mused. “Escape the past, do we?”

“The case he’s involved with would shine unwanted light on some of my business practices.” She said, staring Dex down. “It has to be soon. In the next few days.” The P.A. system rang out as Dex continued to stare at the table, still refusing to acknowledge her with his eyes. She sighed. “Benjamin, I’m offering you a chance to get your mind back. Your self. This is no way to live.”

The assistant finally made his way over to Dex, with three small cups holding all of the daily medications he was assigned. Dex was more than grateful for this distraction. He could fade back into the cloudy nothingness, and the swarm and the fisks would all fade into the background. But before his body could properly react to reach out to them, Vanessa covers the cups and drags them across the table, out of his reach. He let out a sigh of frustration.

“You are the very best at this sort of thing. Your self.. This is no way to live.” Vanessa said sympathetically. “That’s why I came. Your history with my husband isn’t part of this.”

Dex forces all of his willpower to fight against his nerves to look at Vanessa for the first time.

“He’s always part of this.”

She sighs. The shadow of her husband once more complicates things.

“It’s a simple offer. Trust me.” Vanessa says, looking Dex up and down. Dex looks down again at the paper in front of him. What else does he have left?

What choice do I really have?

Pen hits paper. A choice has been made.

“You’re free.” Vanessa proclaimed.

But he had never felt more imprisoned.

[bellysoupset]

i’m genuinely super curious why you decided to change jon’s specialty! maybe i’m wrong or just like made this up in my head or smthn but i thought his dad’s specialty is plastic surgery and he had a whole crisis over being in love with cardio and feeling guilty abt not doing what he thought would make his dad happy?

Hi anon! No, you're not wrong!

Also, @writing-whump asked the same thing.

To recapitulate, though, the fic you're thinking of if this one, where Jonah has a breakdown over the fear of not getting into his residency. You're right, Jasper Banks, Jon's dad, is a plastic surgeon as well, specialized in cosmetic surgery for celebrities. However, in the fic Jonah is worried about not getting in, it's not about cardiology specifically. He's saying his father would be angry if his son wasn't top of his class and first to get into his residence of choice, and that Jonah normally wouldn't care about Jasper's opinions, but he thinks himself a better person and a better doctor than his dad and would be very upset if his results didn't show that.

Firstly, I think while Jonah has a point, on being a better person overall than his father — he's incredibly caring and would never neglect a child, let alone his own child, something that Jasper did — Jon is also mistaken about Jasper's possible reaction.

I'm a firm believer on people's ability to change and grow, so we'll see in future fics that Jasper, much like Jackie, does want to rekindle his relationship with his son and wouldn't have been angry, like Jonah assumed.

Anyway, I'm going on a tangent, I switched Jonah's specialty because I realized that he doesn't work well under insane amounts of pressure. He's not the go-to doctor at a crisis and if he had gone down to cardio, that would be 70% of his workload. Instead, I decided he'd go for non-cosmetic plastic surgery, because like he says, he's very caring, but also he is VERY detail oriented. And because I do think Jonah would want to "prove his father wrong", by basically picking the same specialty but doing what he thinks is a good deed, because you bet he looks down on Jasper's work of modifying celebrities and pushing beauty standards. Jonah's is also very very detail oriented, a perfectionist and overachiever, but who'd thrive with scheduled surgeries way more than emergencies ones.

[callmissrogers]

That's My Girl | Part 1

Summary: A mission goes horribly horribly wrong, and Y/n knows it's her fault. Captain Rogers wants to be there for her, but she won't allow him to. But the team believes that there's more to this than simple hostage casualties. What is Hydra hiding?

Warnings: Angst, death, grief, and a wee bit of fluff stuck in there somewhere.

Word count: 3,527

(Only proofread once, so apologies for any mistakes)

Part 2

Y/n sat, face in her hands, leaning against her door.

It was all her fault.

They died because of her.

She had blood on her hands.

Try as she might to send her thoughts elsewhere, they still roamed back to what had happened the night before.

The street lights went out in an electrical burst, one by one.

Y/n looked around anxiously. The house had gone dark too. "we didn't have Intel on charge weapons." She barked over the comms. "Dang Hydra cockroaches!" Tony yelled. "They're trying to block our locators. I have a feeling that these are part of what the Shield x Hydra agents stole from headquarters." He finished. They could feel him pacing and moving his arms about wildly, as he always did.

"Well, let's recalculate. Charges or no, the doctor and his family still need our help." Natasha interjected.

They had come here after getting Intel on the kidnapping of a Doctor Cedric Bon. He had been a leader in black market plastic surgeries. Only his work had little to do with face lifts and tummy tucks, and so much more to do with attempts to actually turn the clock back on a person's age. Before, he had only managed to turn out some really messed up and damaged people, who could never undo what had been done to them. But a lot of chatter recently indicated that he had finally managed something akin to Steve's serum. But for youth instead of strength. 

Right after that, he and his wife vanished. One of Natasha's sources told them that Hydra had gotten them. They could only imagine what they wanted them for.

"OK. So, not being able to tell where everyone is presents a problem." Sam said worriedly. Now they'd be going in blind. They were going to relay on some of Stark's technology to help them locate where they were being held and go from there.

"It's a problem, but we'll find a solution. Sam you keep cover from the skies. Tony, you're in charge of entry points and keeping anyone else from coming in.  Buck, Nat, and I will handle whoever is waiting for us on the inside. Y/n, you gotta get'em out of there, ok?" Steve said, taking on the tone of voice he always had when he was in what they called Cap mood.

Y/n knew why he had asked her to handle that aspect. Her ability was mental and emotional manipulation. She could make someone believe a lie, calm down, get angry, or think whatever she wanted them to think. Not huge things, but simple things like "I should trust her" or "I should give her this key card." These thoughts and feelings never lasted and were always followed by a headache that resembled a hangover.

Even tho she could fight, frightfully skilled in martial arts, Steve must have figured her skill would be useful in helping the hostages relax as she moved them out of there. How wrong he was. . .

But martial arts also came in handy if one wanted to move about unseen, which y/n did.

It didn't take her as long as she thought it would to find them. They didn't have them in a cell, basement, or anything like that. They were locked in a bedroom on the second floor. It had two twin beds and a bathroom. For a hostage situation, this was pretty comfortable. Y/n put this off to the fact that Hydra thought they lulled them into a false sense of security so the doctor would do what they wanted.

That was her first mistake.

"I found them," She tried to say over the comms, but all she got was static. Only then did it occur to that she hadn't heard anyone say anything since they entered the house. They were probably jamming the comms.

She felt for her backup earpiece for such situations. It wasn't there. Why wasn't it there? *because you forgot to replace it after you last used it. the one time you hadn't used your checklist as you suited up. Steve would surely give you an earful. This was why that man loved checklists.*

She decides to press on anyway

Second mistake.

"Who are you?" The Doctor asked, his accent thick. "Just think of me as your rescue, Doctor Bon, Mrs Bon. I'm y/n, I'm a member of the Avengers and I need you to come with me. Now."

"Those men told us that they were part of shield reborn." Mrs Bon said doubtfully. "Shield reborn? There's no such thing."Well, then if you say we can't trust them, how do we know we can trust you?" Mrs Bon asked doubtfully.

Y/n turned and looked at her, her eyes changing from her usual green to a bright violet and then back again. Mrs Bon blinked a few times and then said, "we should trust her." "What did you do?" Doctor demanded. "Later, Doctor. She'll be fine, tho. You'll all be fine if you follow me." She said firmly.

She had stupidly been confident that she could do it all without any backup or any knowledge of what was happening down below.

"Do you know of a back way out?" She asked. "Um. Yes. They took me on a tour just today." The Doctor said nervously. "Why? Actually, no time. Just tell me where to go, but I lead." She said, exiting the room.

The Doctor told her how to find the servants' stairs, which were hidden behind a rather large painting.

She tried her comms again but nothing.

The stairs seemed to curve on forever until they opened up to a large kitchen. It was empty aside from men laying about with knives sticking out of their chests. 

Upon a quick scan of the room, y/n was sure it was safe for them to go.

After a quick dash to the backdoor, she pulled it open, stepping out into the night with them following close behind her. The yard was empty, dark, and soundless. It was now or never.

"Time to go!" She ordered, yanking them along with her as best she could. They would make it. They could duck into the woods. The others would clean up and find them later.

Mission accomplished.

Third and final mistake.

They were nearly there, just about to cross from the manicured lawn into the unkempt woods. But the moment the Bons attempted to cross, they jolted uncontrollably, and then they fell down, dead. . .

Y/n's eyes widened, dropping down, she frantically tried to give them cpr. First one and then the other. Tears stinging her eyes. "Come on!" She screamed. Hands trembling, she felt their necks. They were gone.

Hydra had implanted them so that if they tried to escape, they'd die. But why?

She just besides them until the others found them.

Nobody said anything on the ride home.

5 am.

The moment the jet landed, y/n jumped up, running out before anyone could stop her.

She went to her room slamming and locking the door behind her. Sliding down against it, she gave into the sobs.

Present moment.

Y/n had been sitting in the place since the night before. She didn't care that her legs had long since fallen asleep, that her back ached, her head pounded from crying. A heavy and sour feeling had settled in the pit of her stomach.

"Miss y/n," FRIDAY said, "Go away."Mr Stark says that there is to be a team meeting in five minutes."

She would be sick.

She knew she had no choice but to go to the meeting. It was mandatory for the official mission file before they filled out their own paperwork. It was a manner of protection for themselves as well as a record.

But that also meant that she'd have to go out there and explain to everyone just how she had failed, how she got them killed.

It was all her fault. All her bloody stupid fault.

"Miss y/n," FRIDAY said as a means to hurry her along.

"Fine." Y/n spat, pushing herself off the floor.

Get it over with.

The walk to the meeting room never felt so long as it had just now. Seeing everyone there, waiting for her to join them, made her blood run cold.

But, she was a part of this team. She had to be held accountable just like they did.

Steve was standing at the head of the table. Scrolling through a tablet that was projected onto the larger screen behind him. He glanced at her when she sat down, a mix of emotion on his face.

"OK. Well, you all know the drill by now. We need everyone's account of what happened last night." He said, sounding almost regretful that he had to ask.

One by one, they went around the table, each describing their movement in the mission. "I stayed on guard duty. No one came in or went out until y/n came out with the hostages. Then I flew to help, when I heard screaming and found that they were, in fact, deceased -" Tony said in a monotone voice. "I stayed on yours and Becky's six. We took out about 80-90 guards and agents before we made it outside and found out what had happened to the Bons." Nat said, choosing not to use the word decased, dead, or anything else remotely related to it. She was friends with y/n she knew how something like this would be to eat you alive from the inside out.

Then, the room grew quiet. Y/n knew it was her turn. They were nice enough not to all stare at her expectantly, but she still felt them pressuring her to tell them what went wrong, what she had done wrong.

She'd probably be put on leave for her stupid recklessness.

Her mouth was dry, heart pounding, and she finally looked up. Eyes meeting Steve's. He, unlike the rest, had been staring. His brows now knit together like they always were when he was thinking. She braced her hands on the table and slowly pulled herself up.

"Last night I was reckless. I forgot my other comm, so when they jammed, I couldn't get in contact with anyone. I didn't pay attention to any of the signs that told me it was too easy. I led them outside, and then they died right in front of me because I didn't even think to check for a chip!" She said, her voice increasing as she went along. "It was all my bloody fault. You can put that in the report, and I'll fill out my paperwork later." She spat and then stormed out of the room.

"Oh, she's not in a good place." Sam commented, sounding concerned. "She can't blame herself for the psychopathic nature of monsters," Bucky said, sighing. "There's no way she would have known about those chips. None of us would." He continued.

"What I want to know is why they were willing to kill them. Those chips have a kill switch. Somebody pressed a button to do it. Why didn't they want them alive?" Stark questioned. "There's something that's more important to keep hidden than having them alive." Steve commented almost absently, his thoughts distracted by something or someone rather. "They took them for a purpose, so they must already have all the schematics on the serum he created." Natasha added.

"He was a fast talker to give them everything in 24 hours. This isn't something you find in a textbook, " Bruce said.

"I want more information on where they were holding them and the agents we found there. Nat, can you head that up?" Steve asked before excusing himself without waiting for her reply.

"FRIDAY, Y/n's whereabouts?" He said once he got in the elevator. "In the kitchen, sir."

Y/n was pouring herself into a cup of coffee. She didn't drink alcohol because well she couldn't. Something about alcohol potentially making your heart stop makes one think twice about it.  So she would overload herself with caffeine instead.

She had just picked it up, allowing the mug to warm her hands. Suddenly getting the feeling that she wasn't alone in the room.  The last thing she needed was a speech about how it wasn't her fault and that the team was behind her all the way. Because she knew at least the first part of that was a big fat lie.

Finally, the person standing behind her cleared their throat. Steve. Of course. It had to be him.

Slowly, she made herself turn around, but she wouldn't look at him.

"What do you want?" She asked, forcing her voice into a monotone, hoping that he would get the hint and leave her be.

She knew what he wanted. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to reassure her that this didn't change anything.

He stared at her a moment before answering, "y/n, would you look at me, please?" He asked, his voice gentil, nothing at all like his Captain America voice.

She just shook her head, eyes locked on her coffee.

He took a few steps towards her.

"Y/n . . . I know you think that -" "That what? That this all my fault? Check. That you're all disappointed in me? Check. That I'm the reason that the mission failed and two people are died? Check and check. We've established how I feel now." She snapped angrily.

Steve's expression shifted from one of pure concern to slight hurt. Not that she could see that, still refusing to meet his gaze. But he wouldn't allow himself to get offended. He did know how this felt and knew that she didn't mean it.

Carefully, he took a few steps forward and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Feeling her instantly tense up. "You can yell, cry, get angry. . . Just don't go inward on me." She said nothing, biting her lower lip, looking away, determined to push away what he was offering now. He sighed, not out of frustration with her but worry, "Shortcake, please say something." Shortcake, the nickname he had given her after they first met at that WW2 convention.

"Steve. Just stop being a hero for one second and leave me alone!" She yelled, slamming her coffee down on the counter, making it spill, and storming from the room. "Y/n!" He called.. He wanted to go after her but he respected her wishes and left her alone.

Once she had made it back to the safety of her own room, y/n collapsed on her bed, allowing herself to break down again.

Why had she done that? She knew that he genuinely just wanted to comfort her. But what did she do? Screamed in his face. Right.

She didn't move a muscle and eventually slipped off to sleep. A sleep that made her relieve the day the man she had just yelled at became a part of her life.

It was a cool day in May, y/n was walking around the WW2 convention. Her grandfather, grandmother, great uncles, and great aunts had all served. She grew up on the old stories, the old records, the old newspaper clippings, and books. Her parents had brought her to this convention every year since she could walk, and now that they were gone, she came alone. This time period was a part of who she was. So dressed in period appropriate dress reminiscent of Andrew Sisters' famous uniform, she took in all the sights.

Finally, stopping by a tent set up to be an old fashioned drugstore, complete with ice cream, sodas, lemonade, and sandwiches.

"I'll take a lemonade," She said with a smile. Noticing the man leaning against the other end of the counter.  She knew who he was, of course she did, just as she was very aware of who he worked for. Technically she was a colleague of sorts.

He quickly noticed her staring. But instead of looking bothered, he smiled. Slowly, he inched his way closer until he was standing next to her. "Which Andrew sister, are you?" He asked with a grin, making y/n blush. "Well. . Not technically supposed to be any of them. I just like the style. It has a bit more class than modern-day dress blues." "You served?" "Airforce. That is until..."Shield picked you up?" "How did you know?" "I might or might not have seen your file." "Sneaky." "I like to think I'm observant." y/n couldn't help but smile. They weren't lying when they said Steve Roger's was quite the charmer. Finishing off her lemonade, y/n turned to pay for it only for Steve to hold out a five dollar bill to the shop owner. "I - why did you do that?" She asked, baffled. "Because I'm a boy from Brooklyn in the 40s, and we don't let ladies pay for themselves." "Oh. I see." Steve couldn't help it. He was very intrigued and spoke before he could talk himself out of it. "Are you going to the show later?" He asked, referring to the bands and performers who would be performing 40s music that evening.

"I was planning on it." "Uh," He cleared his throat. "Would you like to watch it together." "Mr Roger's are you trying to ask me out?" He nodded, "Yes. Yes, I am." his cheeks tinged with pink. "Well, in that case, yes." He looked at his watch, "We still have about an hour before it starts..." "That we do. . ." She said, almost having pity on the poor man. Here he was, Captain America, and he was actually nervous. "Would you like to walk around with me?" She asked, deciding to make things easier for him. "Sure." He said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. They walked around the field, sharing stories and just getting to know each other. The more they talked, the more Roger's lossened up. The hour flew by before they knew it, so they made their way over to the field. Most of the chairs were already taken by the early birds, so they stood further back. Y/n being only 5 feet tall, struggled to see over the crowd that had also found their way back there. Steve tapped her on the shoulder, "May I?" He asked, gesturing to a stand behind them. She nodded, and he gently picked her up and placed up on it, pulling himself up next to her. They could easily view the show from here. "Thank you for that," she said with a smile. "No problem. You can't help being a shortcake." He grinned. And the nickname just stuck from that point on.

Just a mere three weeks after that, y/n was asked to join the Avengers.

Y/n shot up in bed, room dark, glancing at the clock beside her bed. 3 am. Her heart was pounding, eyes puffy from crying. Her room felt suffocating and oppressive now. "I can't be here." She whispered aloud to herself.  Quickly changing her clothes, she made a beeline for the gym, determined to clear her head.

Steve, whose room was on the same floor, heard a door opening and shutting and then the ding of the elevator.

Sitting up, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He had a feeling as to who might be up and about at this late hour. There were only four of them on this floor and none of them were nightowls. So he knew exactly who it was.

Down in the gym, y/n was in the midst of the wing chun arena. Dodging, then getting in a few hits before leaping to avoid being struck in the legs. Steve walked in and just stood there for a moment, watching her. She was ripping them apart. Tho Steve was sure Stark wouldn't hold it against her.

With a scream, she kicked another apart and kept going. Steve was beginning to worry she'd soon take herself apart too. So, with another sign, he walked towards the arena. Leaping over the wall, making his way around the carnage toward the center where she was, just three more dummies to go.

Stopping just behind her, he said

"Y/n... that's enough. " She ignored him and kicked the top off of the dummies. "Y/n." He said a tad firmer, only to be ignored again.

He cared about her too much to allow her to completely self-destruct in front of him. So he grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to turn around. Hands still on her shoulders, he looked down at her, hoping that she could see just how worried he was about her. How much he cared for her.

"That's enough." He tucked hair behind her ear.

"Do you hear me? None of this was your fault. I promise you that we will figure out who did this. We'll find out why. But Shortcake, it's not on you." He said hurriedly, his voice cracking as he pulled her into a crushing hug.

Part 2

[egghead1337]

Y'all I have a theory after watching rhrn and the more I think about it the more its piecing itself together. This idea has been simmering in my head and I want to share it. I could be completely wrong and sound silly so don't come for me. I'm going off of source material and canon lore only (chapters, stage shows, etc.) Also for anyone who hasn't watched the ghovie and doesn't want spoilers.

‼️SPOILER WARNING‼️

‼️‼️👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻‼️‼️

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.

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Terzo and Copia could be twins. The movie hinted that Copias twin might be the next papa, while evidence of Terzo being alive/ressurected have been hinted. Some things make sense but other things don't. Idk its just a theory.

Somehow in someway, Terzo was snuck into the ministry and put into Nihils life as his son by Imperator. Now with how ghosts lore contradicts itself and doesn't make sense sometimes, I'm assuming that maybe this doesn't need to make much sense that Terzo and Copia are twins.

Sister Imperator ran away after finding out Nihil cheated on her, thus secretly having Terzo and Copia. So maybe she left Terzo on the doorsteps of the ministry and kept Copia? Or maybe she saw Nihil in Terzo as they got older and rejected him. Maybe she told Nihil about Terzo, sending him to the ministry to be raised as his child but kept Copia a secret.

Although they look different from eachother, they had similar features and facial structures even before Copias plastic surgery. I believe they could be fraternal(dizygotic) twins. Which by that, they were made from two seperate genes from both Nihil and Imperator. Copia ended up looking more like Imperator and Terzo looked like Nihil. Terzo also could've gotten plastic surgery as well, but we don't know that for sure since it wasn't depicted in the chapters.

When it comes to actual evidence from the chapters, I believe Sister felt guilty for not letting Copia know who his father was. She felt like she stripped her son from what he really was made to do. She had obviously returned to the ministry maybe with a young Cardi, putting him through the reigns until he reached cardinalship. Then seeing his potential she pushed her other son out of the spotlight, girlbossing Copia into it instead. She also had a more "emotional connection" with Copia as she raised him, making sure he got a chance to prove his worthiness of being Papa. I believe she didn't care for Terzo as much because he wasn't in her life as much as Copia.

I know in one of the chapters she said to Nihil that he was a little younger. however I believe she was just slowly introducing Copia as Nihils son making him seem more marketable to Nihil. Also completely dodging that he and Terzo are brothers. Maybe she hid that fact until way later into Copias career.

Now I believe Sister may not have killed Terzo completely or maybe casted him to eternal sleep. This explains the foot twitch in the chapter, the claw marks in the glass of his coffin, and the hints in the Escape the Ministry game. His official obituary in the game showed that he was killed by stranglers, but no autopsy was done on the body. I believe sister pulled strings to make sure her other son was safe from being cut open and disected, saving his life. And maybe the syringe we saw Terzo getting stuck with was filled with a potion that made him seem dead. He would stay safe in his coffin until they needed him, a backup if Copia failed. Thats why the other papas were depicted as completely deceased while Terzo wasn't.

Now with Imperator gone, and Copia the head of the church, who better to fill his shoes? The only papa to win a grammy, experience of being a performer, and her other son. The only papa to have his retirement forced upon and papacy literally ripped away from him. Sister feels like she owes Terzo something, maybe another chance as she took it so hastly from him.

Now we see in the end of the movie the shadow of the 'new guy' is already in papa regalia, so it had to be someone very looked upon. Copia had to wait and work for his title as he wasn't seen fit. Although the secret twin would be related to the Emeritus bloodline, it would be best to assume the twin wouldn't have the knowledge or skills needed to be papa. So with that, I believe Terzo could be Copias twin.

If a digital copy of the movie comes out before the next papa is announced, I would want to watch it again and form a better consensus on the idea. However only time will tell.

I'm sorry if this was choppy or incoherent but I keep editing this and I'll never post it if I just don't 💀

[tpher]

stop making me care about topher (respectfully)

my immediate thought was to annoyingly wax poetic abt topher to make it worse so i WILL

topher is 16 by the time hes in the show and the td timeline is all fucky wucky so lets say hes been a fan since the start so hes liked total drama for around 3 years. 3 years? not a lot of time but to a TEEN??? that is SO incredibly long. ESPECIALLY if ur autistic/have a hyperfixation like topher did. so total drama, chris in particular, was his LIFE

it is especially very.. unintentionally meta that so late in the show and in one of the most hated seasons you have this character who competes on the show with the intent of trying to make it better. he still loves it (or at the very least chris) but thinks it wasnt as good as it once was (again. chris). and again as a teen w a hyperfixation it hurts to see something u like go to shit. and in tophers case, its what awakened his dream to become a host someday. so what better way than to "fix" the show you loved by taking over, right? topher certainly has the drive and the motivation to try and make his dreams a reality, even if he does waste time and get distracted a bunch.

so imagine after years and years, you finally meet your idol. youre just so excited and wanna let him know just how much of a fan you are to get on his good side in general, but also as a networking opportunity. youve always wanted to be a host, so now youre not only meeting a host but THE host. so you try to talk but he doesnt really care. and youre just complimenting him and its bugging him. and giving him constructive criticism is also not allowed. and you flat out ask if you could just.. explain a challenge to the others at least once and he gets.. mad at you?

what are you doing wrong? nothing, of course. its just him who doesnt get it. its just him who doesnt appreciate all the years YOUVE put into him. he doesnt understand all the time and effort youve put into being camera-ready and taking meticulous care of your hair and skin; including being in posing classes since age 11 and having a suspiciously intricate knowledge on plastic surgery. most people your age barely even know what theyre going to college for, youve got your whole life figured out compared to them

youve waited long enough, you have the looks and the skills, and if he wont give you what you deserve, then its time to take matters into your own hands

so you grow bitter and impatient (and frown wrinkles, oh no!). youve resulted to stealing this mans phone to contact the network yourself.

and then imagine when you finally put in the effort. and you think your dreams are coming true and it was just your idol-- your FORMER idol-- pulling a prank on you. on international television. for millions of people including potential employers to see. which also cost your team the challenge and got you eliminated in such a humiliating way.

everything you had ever worked for is gone in an instant. and its all thanks to who was once your hero. the one who gave your life a clear trajectory

the last we see of topher, he is unable to form coherent sentences and twitching. we genuinely have no idea how hes doing right now

but i hope hes okay

[1eoness]

Could you make a Dom!Leon x trans ftm reader NSFW fic with some fluff thrown into there?

୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ author rambling; HI i am eating pineapple rn and i never forgot this request. just to clarify and for some context, i dont have experience of writing !reader anything out of sub afab so im sorry if this is super inaccurate or inapplicable or unsatisfying and im open to criticism on this :( :) idk im so sorry aghdfhdsfhdj i really need to work on this. oh and i read some ftm smut for this so ty to those writers :> pls criticize anything off (with reason ofc). [btw i feel like this is super bad im sorry im not feeling creative rn i have writers block :((( ]

anyway 'DOM!LEON KENNEDY X TRANS FTM READER NSFW WITH SOME FLUFF THROWN IN THERE' COMING UP. i'm sorry this took so long for such short content too :(

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

cw: fluffy dom!leon kennedy, trans ftm!reader (w/ bottom surgery) [i can always redo this if you don't like me mentioning top/bottom surgery]. praise, oral (reader receiving)

synopsis : re4r leon and he loves u and ur worried little face and he's gonna kiss it better (and fuck it better, maybe).

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

leon loves you. he knows you're constantly worried over him being troubled over his trauma but he wants you to know, between every crevice of his clouded thoughts, that he loves you and it's the surest thing he knows. it's hard to admit but even when he loses himself, it will always, and forever be clear to him that you have his heart and there's a reason why.

you were about to get under the covers to go to sleep (after a day that felt longer than it should be.). though, you lowered your headphones to the lower end of the volume once you saw leon through the bedroom doorway.

"baby, i wanna tell you something." leon said, his quiet and soft voice only going a decibel higher as he crawls to you on your bed. he hated seeing you about to sleep with such a worried look on your handsome face.

you thought he didn't notice? even if you're his neutral-faced boy, he knows when the air around you feels more somber than usual. "do you ever feel.."

"like a plastic bag?" you quipped quickly. (i'm sorry if you don't get it)

"no, damn it." leon's mutter-reply followed with a quiet chuckle that you echoed. he likes that about you, your incessant annoying humor (but you'll never beat him in that). he sighs, and tries again. "you know, like... you're kind of.. stressed over someone else's troubles?"

to be honest, he doesn't really know how to go about it. he doesn't want you to think you're burdening him—though, you could never ever make him feel like that. leon nears you, hovering above you and adoring your face wherever his mind runs. for some reason, before you guys go to sleep he just does this. he also likes talking to you before you both go to sleep ♡.

you hum, just a little bit sleepy. "what do you meann?" you ask quaintly, and leon's heart melts at the tone of your slightly languid voice. you sounded so cute. a rather random yet soft laugh escapes before he dips down to give you a small kiss on your cheek.

"...y/n, i'll just be straight—i don't want you going to bed looking so.. upset." leon mutters softly, rubbing over the skin of your cheekbone with his thumb. maybe he shouldn't have gone into detail how heavy his mission felt. because when he was done talking, you gave him some short comfort and impulsively stood up and said that you needed to wash the dishes (and the dishwasher was literally running when you said that).

at first he thought he did something wrong and upset you, and the guilt immediately seeped in. naturally, he didn't want it to go undiscussed, that would murder him! so he went to find you ASAP. but when he went to check on you in that dim kitchen, he saw you with your back turned and trying to silence your tears. apparently, you felt so bad for him it was enough to hurt you, too. you were just too sweet—leon also felt bad. he gave you some space for a bit, though he's sorry because he really wants to be there for you and he can't afford to leave you by yourself sometimes :(

you looked a little to the side from his forward words. you didn't really know what to say in response, you were just.. tired, and also worried. leon understands this, picking up on it and showing it by giving you a reassuring, subtle smile. he wants to see you smiling, too, and he knows just how to do it. it's his favorite thing about his little boy ♡.

"..come, baby." he coos quietly as he began to take a hold on either sides of your face, knowing you don't need discussion right now. maybe loving is enough. and loving you is a way of reassuring himself, you just need to accept that :( so you be good for him and let him give you the praise you deserve (and so much more).

he kisses you on the forehead first. he loves cradling your handsome little face, placing safe pecks all over it. especially on that spot a little adjacent from under your eyes. leon hums when his lips reach your jaw, peppering it with innocent love. but will it really only go that far? "because you're the most perfect boy ever." he reasons hushedly, his left hand holding the side of your neck and caressing it gently.

oh, it's going to be one of those nights where he kisses you all over and doesn't leave you alone.. but you know better than to complain.

"y're so clingy..." you decided to joke, though you both knew you loved it. while you giggled at his antics, you can feel him smiling into the skin of your neck. he's so ready to spoil you rotten.. and you had no idea:( ♡

he moves his broad hands under your shirt, handling your being with tutelage. the fuss of the sheets make hush noise as he moves downwards, worshipping your body along the way by placing kisses over your clothed stomach. "...so?" he laughs softly against the skin of your lower inner thigh, the fluttery feeling of his lips planting a kiss on it making you shudder. he sees you, and how you turn so bashful all of a sudden.

"..tickles?" leon mumbles amusedly.

"yeah-" you mutter in response before he abruptly did it again on your stomach this time, which made you giggle. you were just too precious to him!

he holds your thighs in his hands for a minute, resting his head against your left thigh. you see the muscles on his arm flex subtly while he does so, your stomach tumbling at witnessing his strength at such a mild moment. for a minute he just gazes at you fondly, a hinting coyness hiding beneath his expression.

you were making it so tough for him. he just wants to kiss you all over . hell, he might even want to merge corporealities with you.

he doesn't speak, his eyes trailing down to your pelvic area while unnoticeably smirking to himself. you were so cute to him, so what else can he do but lift your thighs over his broad shoulders?

but he looks up at you, immediately. his fingertips are teasing at the hem of your bottom clothing, insinuating what he wants to do for you as he lightly taps at your skin. "baby, may i?" he asks with a sudden comforting tone. he'll never make you do something you don't wanna do. but like said, if you accepted, there's no promise that he's going soft on you.. but that's because he just wants you to be all nice and happy! a very innocent motive ♡

"mhm.." you hummed lowly, willingly giving him your greenlight. and has leon said he loves you?

"thank you, love.." he mutters shortly in reply before pulling your pajama bottoms just a little down. down enough for him to free your pretty shaft. he sees you blushing, covering the bottom half of your face with your sleepy hands.

and this man.. was so hard to predict!

the soft hunk of a man wants to wrap his right arm around your abdomen, pull your hips up to his face. "leon!-" you gasp abruptly with that same low voice.

"shhh, baby." leon mumbled while his left hand snaked around to cage your right thigh firmly to his shoulder. his knees dip on the comforters, pulling his boy's lower body up like he was challenged to lift a feather.

you quickly brought your hands up to take your headphones off, but leon suddenly spoke when you pried the muffs off your ears.

"keep them on." he cuts your actions off. the subtle demand of his tone says you're going to keep them on. he, somehow, reaches to turn the volume up on your headphones. you were puzzled, not knowing what he was aiming to do with such-

"a-aah!-" you yelped in utter surprise. a dribble of spit threads from his pretty lips and down onto your length..

he's hunched over as he takes your tip, then more in his mouth. he glances at your dumbfounded eyes, and you swear you could see him smirking to himself. but before you could think further, he was suddenly suckling onto your cock so firmly you started to squirm.

but that's why leon's holding you so tightly, so you can take it the way he needs you to~

you felt restricted. leon wants to steal your senses, inject pleasure in your veins like he were trying to fucking save you. he's beginning to get so hard that it makes him whine against your shaft, and he's so hard that you're making it difficult for him to think rationally.

"l-leonn! slow down!~" you cried without sense, which only urged his fingers pressing into your skin as he held you in place. he takes an inch further, his mouth working eagerly, making sure you can understand his carnal urge of making you cum with his mouth. "uh-uhh!-.... nghhh-hh..."

"mhmm..mmmm..." he hummed roughly, following with a soft growl as he slurped you up stupid. you kept moving. why were you moving so much? you were so sleepy just a minute ago.. oh, well; leon thinks. but is this man really oblivious to the fact that he can make you feel so, so good?

of course he wasn't. your erotic whines got louder and louder by the minute as your headphones disabled you from being conscious of your tone at all. your voice fell muffled upon your ears but leon was devouring it, using your moans and sobs as a motive to eat you up until you're heart-eyed. you couldn't even make sense of the music anymore as leon's mouth clouded your empty mind.

i'm gonna drown you in pleasure, baby.. leon thinks to himself while he's busy adoring you and the way your cock twitches onto his tongue :(

you were flailing slightly while leon went down on you, seeing you and your eyes struggling to keep open. he trails his left hand up and down your thigh, the sensation feeling a little ticklish. your chest rose and fell warmly, trying to reach out to stop him with a weak hand but he wouldn't let you and he feels (mildly) sorry. but it doesn't make him halt— he looks at you with sweet eyes that say 'please cum for me~'

you whined weakly at this, voice going raspy as you full on started to cry. you felt so vulnerable and so good at the same time and you trusted leon so much. you could feel it, could feel him about to siphon your orgasm out of you. just the way he wanted it..

the faucet began to spill and you were crying, the tears trickling down your cheeks messily and around your headphones, too. leon looked at you with mostly with affection, but also with a bit of sympathy. you must've had such a hard time, huh? he's so happy he can make you feel better..

"u-uhh, f-fuck, leon!! n-nno- nggh..a-ahh!-" you didn't even know what you were blabbering or retorting for anymore, but your hips twitched in his grip as you began to tremble within the fuzzy feeling of your orgasm. you were being such a pretty boy for him like this, all sensitive and crying after one minor blowjob. how were you going to handle the rest of the night like this?

it was hard to ignore his boner at this point. "mm..mhh, fuck- such a good boy f'me, huh?" he groans while he sucks on you at a slower pace, trying not to overwhelm you too hard (but still overwhelming you :( he's sorry, he swears.). "god, you're so cute.. but you have him so horny and frustrated now, what did you just do to this boy? he isn't frustrated at you.. but..

he isn't letting go of your thighs any time soon.

[ambiguouspuzuma]

Crooked

They identified the body by her dental records. Her bag was full of them.

"Well, she was definitely some kind of dentist." Detective Sidwell dropped the copies back to the desk. "That should make the identification easier."

"Dr Jane Doe." Sidwell's colleague, Detective Lita, was inspecting the other crime scene photographs. The gory ones. "With a nice big cavity, it seems - carved right in the middle of her chest. She bled out all over the place, although she'd probably say that's because she didn't floss."

"What are we thinking for our suspects?" Sidwell asked, ignoring the jokes. One of them had to stay professional, to focus on the job at hand - and somehow that burden always seemed to fall to him. "A colleague? Patient?"

"No, it looks pretty frenzied to me."

"I'm serious."

Lita took a moment to think it through. "I don't see it, to be honest. I know people hate going to the dentist, but not to the point of murder. In fact, I'll bet you it's nothing to do with her job at all. Dentists can get stabbed for the same reasons as anybody else, right? A fight over her love-life, a mugging gone wrong, heading down the wrong alley at the wrong time, that sort of thing."

"I'll take that action," Sidwell said, holding her to the bet. Professionalism had its merits, but the job could get pretty bleak if they didn't find their own ways to keep things light. "What's your wager? Buy me a coffee?"

"Sure, you can pick me up a latté from the new place downtown." Lita smiled her crooked smile, her teeth stained brown from coffees past. No sugar, though. I wouldn't want to be disrespectful."

With his compensation agreed, Sidwell knuckled down to work on the case. He knew he'd need to do the lion's share of the investigation, as he always did, and the bets were a way of getting something out of it. Or motivating Lita to put a shift in, when it looked like things weren't going her way. She wasn't often too focused on following up leads, but could roll her sleeves up when a bet was in the balance.

Theirs was an unusual partnership, and certainly not an equal one. Lita's lack of professionalism extended far beyond the jokes, and Sidwell often felt that she was less of a help than a liability. He was left to follow up forensics requests she'd forgotten to send, rewrite notes which she'd misplaced on the landfill site that she called a desk, and generally carry her through the working day.

She sometimes apologised, or thanked him with a drink, but showed no sign of trying to be better. Even on this case, charged with catching a murderer, she seemed disinterested in the details. A savaged corpse was enough motivation for Sidwell to chase down every suspect, and he wondered what exactly it would take to capture Lita's attention in the same way. If even this case failed to move her, he didn't understand why she'd wanted to become a cop in the first place.

"Tell me again," Lita asked. "You think she was some sort of orthodontist?"

"A rogue one, according to these reports. She messed up people's teeth intentionally, just so they wouldn't match their dental records. That's why she had so many in her bag. It looks like some local crime ring hired her to sort out their goons, so that they'd never be identified if they were killed."

It had been a tough one for Sidwell to get his head around - it felt like getting laser eye surgery to make yourself more short-sighted, or asking a plastic surgeon to add more wrinkles to your forehead, but it did seem to make sense from the perspective of a killer. If teeth could be reshaped at will, anybody on the system could be fitted with a brand new set, removing any prospect of a match. It was certainly easier than having to dissolve them.

He hadn't realised how often the police relied upon dental records to identify bodies - especially those who'd been disposed of carefully, with the rest of the face disfigured and hands removed - or quite how malleable those patterns were. It was like if there was a whole industry for designer fingerprints or DNA, shaping perfect whorls and helixes, and the state still treated them like unique identifiers. How many past matches had they missed because of Jane Doe's meddling? Even she could be on their database somewhere, hidden behind an unrecognisable overbite.

"A heterodontist, if you will." Lita brought him back to the present.

"No."

"I didn't realise the mob had a dental plan. So what are we thinking? One of the grunts saw their disappearance coming, and swung by to give her a stainless steel filling?"

"This feels like a professional hit. Maybe the higher-ups, if she knew too much. But either way, this isn't just a random attack, right? She's not been murdered for something unrelated to all those murders she helped to cover up. You have to concede that would be too big of a coincidence."

"Yeah, yeah, I know what you're saying," she conceded, hands up in mock surrender. "I'll buy you your drink. Where do you want to go?"

Even then she dragged her feet. Lita made him wait outside whilst she went back to get her jacket, then spilt his coffee at the first attempt and had to go back to the counter to replace it. Sidwell might think her a sore loser, if she wasn't like this about literally everything. Even when he finally had the cup in his hand, he suspected that she'd somehow got his order wrong.

"What's in this drink?" He recoiled at the first sip, but went back for a second. It wasn't unpleasant, exactly - just unexpected. Notes of almond, and something he couldn't quite place. "You just asked for normal milk, right?"

She shook her head. "I added a couple of shots. You deserve a little treat."

"That's not going to be good for my teeth."

"I'm sure our victim will forgive you." Lita grinned, as if to prove his point. "You're the one who was right about her, so you're allowed a little indulgence."

Sidwell tried to be polite, to set an example to her as much as anything. No wonder she'd been at the counter for longer than usual. The coffee wasn't awful, if he ignored the other flavours. Was this what she went for every day? He wondered if the sugar was to blame for her performance, which alternated from erratic to lethargic, like a hyper child who crashed in the afternoons.

Lita watched him drink in silence for a while, then seemed to find the courage for a question.

"Do you think that I'm incompetent?"

Sidwell weighed it up - probably for a second too long. So this was why she'd wanted them to grab a drink together, one way or another. She needed to talk about her career, away from the precinct. "I wouldn't use that word."

"So what word would you use?" she pressed. "Competent?"

"Well... okay, maybe not. Sorry."

Lita nodded. "No, that's good to hear. It'll work on the next guy."

"Huh? Are you transferring from the squad?" Sidwell tried to feign dismay, but knew that she'd always been the better liar. "Is this goodbye?"

"Sure," she said. "Call it a leaving drinks."

"You don't want something?" He gestured with his cup before another deep sip. "Gods, this is potent stuff."

"Only the best for my old partner." She sat back, watching him with something almost like nostalgia in her eyes. "A way of apologising, I suppose. How many of our cases have I delayed, or outright obstructed?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say obstructed," Sidwell told her, trying to find something nice to say. The truth was that she'd often been as much a hindrance as a help, and he'd be glad to get a better partner in her place. "That suggests that you were doing it on purpose. You were just... there's a lot to learn. I'm sure that you've always tried your best."

"That's right," Lita said, although she didn't seem too worried about it. "And if criminals profited from my mistakes, even the failed prosecutions, that's just because I was learning the ropes."

"Yes, I'm sure it's something like that." It didn't sound great when she said it. They were supposed to be detectives. Not for the first time, Sidwell wondered how she'd earnt such a sacred responsibility, or why she'd even wanted it. "But that's why you have a partner. To support you."

"Like you've almost solved this dentist case, all on your own."

"Almost, yeah."

"And you're sure it was a professional hit, from the group she did the work for? There's nothing I say that can persuade you otherwise?"

"I'm sorry, but no," Sidwell said. "You can check out the other angles if you like, and I'd never dissuade you from doing so, but I'm pretty convinced by my current leads. Why, do you know anything you haven't shared?"

"Of course not," Lita said, lying through her crooked teeth. Had he ever noticed quite how bad they were? "You've won me over. That's why we're here, right? I'm sure your theory is correct, and you'll get their names in due course. You just enjoy the rest of your drink to celebrate. Like I said, you deserve it - every last sip."