#it felt very pragmatic

[figula]

btw now that im eating more again - i think my hair is growing again! thinking about how i lost 80lbs in a year through brute-force starvation bc teh alternative - thinking i looked fat in photos - was worse than that. a very evil and horrific thing. i did myself a huge physical disservice and put myself under huge strain in many different ways. but also like can i say i regret it? no... can i say it did actually ruin my hair + potentially my hip? yes... am i still somehow glad? yes. genuinely horrific brain rot. how can i be appalled at what happened from an arms-length observer's viewpoint, but completely unemotional about it from inside my own head. idk but it feels like it's over for now and maybe remission is enough for what i think MAY always be with me in some way or another

[spock-adoodledoo]

i think one of the things i'll always appreciate abt maomao is that even though she's the protag, it's not really that the world revolves around her or that things always happen to her, it's more that she gets involved in things (usually at the request of other ppl but whatever) that usually don't affect her immediately. idk but it's nice that she's kind of our dispassionate window into palace life instead of the person everything happens to

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Spoke to someone I don’t know over the phone, 11 dead, 32 injured

[sanctifiedtongues]

nine is such a magical doctor to me bc i absolutely cannot ruin his image with fanfiction due to there being a dearth of Migratory White Man Slash about him online it's just me and him and deep desires untold knocking around in my noggin. in my opinion they're better like that, with the lid put on them so they can't escape, like a pressure cooker. i like it, it's very organic, feels like i'm a housewife covertly obsessed with the man on the telly. the more vague and unsettling the fantasy, the better.

[tourmelion]

:)

Did you ever draw martins superhero(?) origin story? I'd love to see that c:

[image ID: a digital comic featuring Martin Blackwood and Peter Lukas from the Magnus archives. Comic depicts martin entering a room with a coffee in his hand, calling out "mr.lukas?". He peeks his head around the door and says "Mr. Lukas?" Again. He begins saying "I have your coffee-" but trails off as he turns to see peter. He's overlooking a control panel and a large device that looks like a lighthouse with a ring in the centre. Inside the ring, a person is screaming and dissolving into fog until they disappear. Peter turns around and says "Ah! Martin". Martin yells at him "what the hell did I just watch?! I know this place is shady but-but you just killed a man! He's dead!". Peter says "look martin, I don't expect you to understand our work here, you're only an intern after all, but-". Martin cuts him off "BUT WHAT, PETER?!"

martin pauses, looks at the coffee in his hand and goes "actually what if I just-" before pouring it over the control panel as peter yells "NO!". The ring on the device begins to break apart with white lightning coming from it as peter yells "martin you bleeding idiot!". Martin says "uhh...peter, what did I do?". We then see the two men dissolving into fog as they're hit with a white beam. There's text in between them that reads: "Martin blackwood never considered himself a significant man. A lowly intern for peter Lukas at the Lukas co. Lab who had lied on his CV to get there, martin knew what it was like to be treated with indignity. And so, when he saw the Lukas family conducting their immoral experiments to harness the power of a pocket dimension they called "Forsaken", he used that spark of spite and his long neglected desire for justice, and made one small act of rebellion, sabotaging the Lukas' experiments- but at the cost of him becoming...the Forsaken man! With his powers of telepathy, invisibility, and using the Forsaken to travel, he defends the world from those who wish fear upon it!". End ID]

Sorry this is a bit late, but this ask finally motivated me to outline Martin's origin clearly so I wanted to do the best I could with it! I straight up forgot to draw a panel here but you can still follow along lmao. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

[capricornlevi]

exhausted and battle-worn levi who has made something of a habit of crawling into your bed after missions.

it's a habit that formed first out of necessity; you'd both been tasked with bringing the cadets on a snowstorm training exercise but had to bail out halfway up the mountain due to an avalanche. you'd sent the cadets back down with hange and moblit while offering to stay put with most of the equipment, figuring the gear too valuable to risk the chance of it being picked through by thieves by the time you were able to return. levi offered to stay with you, an offer you were sure he'd regret. you weren't close -- not enemies, but your relationship was built on begrudging respect and prolonged silence. not exactly the makings of an easy time spent alone together.

as the night turned inky black and blisteringly cold, you soon realised that you underestimated how cutting the wind would be. the base was insulated as best as the survey corps could afford -- which is to say, very poorly.

out of desperation, you'd made an unspoken pact to share a bed that night.

it wasn't romantic, let alone sexual, a pragmatic measure designed to keep your fingers and toes intact, but you were surprised to find him still there in the morning when the wind had died down. he wasn't curled up against you and his face betrayed no signs of any emotion, but he was still there. you were the first to slip out from under the covers.

the next time was after a particularly late night spent strategising (on levi's end) and drinking (on yours). you'd grown somewhat closer since that night spent up the mountain, with him trusting your opinion over most other officers. at the end-of-year celebration, a rowdy event with all military branches forced to attend, he had chosen to sit next to you, a decision that caused something of a stir amongst the cadets. you both chose to disregard the gossip, though even you couldn't ignore the way his eyes followed your every movement that evening.

when the coast was clear you retired to your chambers with him trailing after you, eager to escape a night spent putting up with the drunken debauchery of the military police. again, the night was tame, with you exchanging various plans and theories back and forth until you both fell asleep, clothed, on top of your mattress.

you had felt the temptation to kiss him but didn't, figuring it was just the wine talking.

that kiss happened three missions later, with levi so relieved to find you alive he had taken your face in his blood-stained hands and pressed his lips to yours. it was more desperate than heated, a surge of emotion that even he couldn't control.

he showed up at your door that night and took his place next to you in your bed, and a habit was born.

things move slowly with you both, and you're okay with that. everything else about your lives moves at breakneck speed, too fast to process, and so you're content with the little victories.

like levi resting a hand across your waist as you sleep, keeping it there until it's time to get dressed for morning roll call.

like levi going from a silent goodbye to a spoken goodbye to a kiss before he steps away, ready to face back out into the world.

now, you wake to feel levi's chin resting against your shoulder, his head resting in the groove of your neck, it's another victory, and you'll take it happily.

[my-castles-crumbling]

ideal - November 17 - jegulus - @stag-microfic - word count: 577

"Well...it's not ideal," Sirius said, pinching his lips together and staring at the small hotel room.

Regulus let out a snort.

'Not ideal' was an understatement. The room had two queen-sized beds, one bathroom, and zero sense of privacy. This was what he got for letting Sirius book the room.

James, however, seemed to be in good spirits. "It's just for one night," he said bracingly, smiling at all of them. "We'll continue on in the morning, no harm done!"

"Right," Remus nodded, though he looked far less optimistic. "So...how will we do this?"

"I'm with Moony," Sirius said immediately, frowning at the suggestion that anything else would ever happen.

But that meant that Regulus and James...Regulus refused to make eye contact with anyone.

"Is...everyone okay with that?" Remus asked, always the pragmatic one.

"Sure!" James chirped.

Regulus only grunted.

He was the last in the bathroom, and he spent the entire time trying to give himself a pep talk. It was one night. He could keep himself together for one night. He'd been doing fine not giving his feelings away for the entire road trip thus far, it didn't matter that they would be sharing a bed. He would be fine. He could do this.

So he put on his pajamas and went back into the room, finding everyone already in bed and the lights off. Slipping under the covers, he sighed with relief to see that James's back was turned, and be busied himself with scrolling through his phone, trying to calm his racing thoughts. It worked decently well.

Until James rolled over, his hand accidentally coming into contact with the single sliver of bare skin at Regulus's waist. Completely unprepared for the contact, he let out a whimper of surprise.

He felt James freeze. Heard his breath pick up behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut in mortification and begged himself to calm the fuck down and regulate his own damn breathing because how embarrassing could he be?

Until James murmured, "Reg?" And a hand purposely skated over his hip, causing goosebumps to burst over his flesh.

"Fuck," he whispered, biting over his lip to keep from groaning loudly. "James." And he new he sounded wrecked, he knew there was no way he could pretend he wasn't affected by the hand on his hip and the body behind him exuding heat, but he hoped James would just leave it.

Until an arm moved to completely curl around his waist, James's perfect chest pressing forward into his back as he felt himself pulled backward into the heat of his embrace.

"Please tell me you're as glad this happened as I am," James whispered into his ear, his breath hot and his hand tracing lines over Regulus's bare stomach.

He couldn't resist. Turning around in the arms he'd been imagining around him for years, he gazed into hazel eyes and murmured, "It depends. Do you...want it to happen again?" His heart felt like it would burst from his chest as he asked, the anxiety making him almost lightheaded. They couldn't go back from this, he realized.

But James only smiled. "I want this to happen every night, Reg."

Their first kiss was sweet. The chaste pressing of lips together before they pulled apart, grinning happily. It was all that could happen, given the circumstances. But they fell asleep in each other's arms, knowing more would happen very soon. They had all the time in the world.

[cedarmoonzz]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request a small continuing to your Ford fic? I really enjoyed it and tugged my heart strings. I love you work so much and if your able to do that without any issue, I'd love that!😭💜

yes! i love that six fingered cartoon dilf with every fiber of my being!

once more to see you •｡ꪆৎ ˚

continuation of: between the bars followed by: slow like honey

fandom: gravity falls

ship: ford x reader

content: angst, stanford's poor attempt at comfort lol

summary: when your fiancé’s episodes of paranoia spiral out of control, you come to a difficult realization.

You’ve always seen yourself as someone grounded in logic. Pragmatic to the bone, you’ve relied on reason and science to navigate life, finding comfort in facts and the concrete reality they bring. But lately, that sense of security has started to unravel. 

The cabin was frigid, its icy air wrapping around you like a shroud, seeping into your very bones despite your efforts to ward off the chill. The socks you wore—a secret purchase made without Stanford’s knowledge—offered little warmth, though they  greatly softened the sound of your steps as you quietly drifted from the bedroom to the kitchen, then to the closet, nursing your third cup of coffee that night. Each breath you took was quick, shallow, as if the cold air was stealing it away. As you finally settled at the desolate kitchen table, a wry thought flickered in your mind: could the layers of plywood and fiberglass beneath you truly muffle the frantic beating of your heart, hiding it from your fiancé’s ever-watchful ear? In your own, the rhythm pounded, echoing like a circle of drums, impossibly loud in the oppressive stillness of the cabin.

Stanford’s paranoia didn’t burst into your lives all at once; it crept in quietly, almost imperceptibly, like a shadow growing longer at dusk. It all began when he developed a peculiar fascination with triangles—a simple, geometric shape that, in his hands, took on a life of its own. He transformed the cabin, once a place of warmth and refuge, into a gallery of trigonometric stained glass, each piece more elaborate, more intricate than the last. At first, you found it endearing, even charming, and you laughed it off as just another of his harmless quirks. You told yourself it was just Stanford being Stanford, his brilliant mind forever chasing new ideas.

But as the days turned into weeks, the triangles began to multiply. Their sharp, precise edges cast strange, fragmented light across your home, turning familiar spaces into something alien, almost unrecognizable. You began to notice how the once-welcoming cabin now felt distorted, its atmosphere thick with an unspoken tension. And yet, you didn’t see it for what it was—not at first. You didn’t want to see it. You told yourself it was just the glass, just the way the light hit it, just the way Stanford was channeling his creativity. You ignored the way your stomach twisted with unease, dismissed the creeping dread that settled in your bones.

You shook your head, trying to banish the haunting thoughts that swirled in your mind. There was no time to dwell on what had already happened; what mattered now was moving forward. Rising from your seat, you made your way to the bedroom you and Ford once shared, a space now overshadowed by his office chair, which had become his sanctuary. You reached into the closet, your fingers brushing against the familiar fabric of your thick army jacket. The worn texture offered a rare comfort, a tangible reminder of a time before everything had shifted. As you fumbled through the pockets, your hand closed around a pack of cigarettes—an old habit you had left behind during your second year of graduate school. A fleeting wave of nostalgia washed over you, mingled with regret for the time lost. You slipped the pack back into your pocket and donned the jacket, its sturdy fabric promising some semblance of protection against the biting night winds and the snow that still whirled outside the closed window.

Your gaze then fell upon your boots, left carelessly on the closet floor, caked in mud from past forest excursions with Stanford. You reached down, lifting them with a mixture of sentiment and practicality. With the boots in hand, you carefully descended the stairs, each step deliberate to avoid the creaking floorboards. At the kitchen door, you set the boots down and slipped them on, their familiar weight grounding you in the present. Quietly, you opened the door, the chill of the night air meeting you as you stepped into the darkness, ready to face whatever lay beyond.

You stood on the porch of your home, clad in baggy sweatpants, an oversized coat, and your old brown army boots. The cold night air wrapped around you, but the weight of the familiar clothing offered a small measure of comfort. You instinctively reached into your pocket, a gesture that felt oddly nostalgic, like reconnecting with a part of yourself that had been missing. Pulling out a cigarette, you brought it to your lips, and then you fumbled into your other pocket, searching for a long-abandoned lighter. Your fingers brushed against the cold metal as you hoped to find one still with fluid.

After a moment of fishing, you finally found it. With a deep breath, you shut your eyes, the cigarette resting between your fingers as you brought the lighter to your face. The small flame flickered to life, illuminating your face in the darkness as you lit your former vice. You’d given up smoking years ago, recognizing it as a bad coping mechanism, though it had always managed to calm your nerves better than any of the so-called remedies Stanford had suggested—yoga, green tea, or otherwise. Stanford had never missed an opportunity to chide you about it, yet in moments like these, when the world felt overwhelming and uncertain, the familiar warmth of the smoke provided a fleeting solace, a small rebellion against the chaos of your thoughts.

You couldn’t shake the image of your fiancé from your mind. The one person you had always relied on as your rock, your steadfast partner in all things logical and real, now seemed a stranger. He had become obsessed, shining a flashlight into your eyes, searching for something hidden in the depths of your pupils. Each time that harsh beam flickers across your eyes, it chips away at your sense of reality, leaving you to wonder if his strange behavior is a sign of something far darker lurking beneath the surface. The familiar comfort of the cigarette seemed almost to mock the confusion and dread that now defined your days, as if trying to find stability in a world that had become increasingly alien.

“[Y/n].” Ford’s voice sliced through your reverie, its suddenness filling you with an indescribable anxiety. The feeling was sharp and unsettling, a gnawing presence that you couldn't quite classify as rational or otherwise. It wrapped around you like a cold fog, clouding your thoughts and intensifying the sense of disorientation that had already taken root.

He stood behind you in the doorway, the light from behind casting a soft, almost ethereal glow around him. From this angle, you might have thought he looked perfect, a vision of calm and composure that seemed untouched by the chaos of your shared reality. The gentle halo of light made him appear almost otherworldly, a serene figure caught in a moment of stillness.

Yet, his appearance betrayed a different story. His hair was frantic and messy, a wild tangle of curls that seemed to reflect his inner turmoil. The bags under his eyes had deepened, etched by sleepless nights and relentless stress. Despite the disarray, there was a softness in his gaze, a look of tenderness you had missed with all your heart. It was a fleeting reminder of the warmth and affection that once defined your relationship, now overshadowed by the encroaching distance and disquiet that had come to dominate your lives.

You had tried so damn hard to stay quiet, to remain out of his way. You'd let him overwork himself to the bone if that’s what he wanted, even though it felt like a slow erosion of everything you once knew. You’d had the argument too many times to care by now, the words always seeming to fall on deaf ears. All you wanted was to avoid the inevitable confrontation, to give him space, even as his obsessive behavior grew ever more unsettling. 

"Stanford," was all you said in response, your voice barely more than a whisper. You lifted the cigarette from your lips, the smoke pooling around you like a hazy veil. As you exhaled, you cast a glance up the staircase, the familiar sight offering no answers, only a silent reminder of the space between you both.

“You’ve started smoking again,” he observed, his tone carrying a note of quiet surprise. The statement lingered in the air, the drifting smoke accentuating the distance between you. It was as if the sight of the cigarette in your hand was a reflection of the changes he could no longer ignore.

“Didn’t think you’d notice.”

The cigarette met your lips once more. You took a long drag, the smoke filling your lungs as your eyes remained locked with his. In that moment, it felt as if time itself had frozen, leaving you both suspended in the delicate space between old familiarity and the evolving distance that now defined your relationship.

“Of course I would,” he said, his voice carrying a soft tinge of regret.

You dropped the cigarette into the snow, watching as it hissed and sizzled against the cold ground. With a decisive step, you crushed it underfoot, pressing it into the snow for good measure. The smoldering embers were quickly extinguished, leaving only a faint trace of smoke lingering in the frosty air.

“Sorry,” was all you could manage to utter, the word feeling woefully inadequate in the weight of the moment. It hung between you, a simple apology for the complexities that neither of you could fully address.

“It’s cold. You’ll catch your death out here,” he muttered, his voice laced with a blend of concern and weariness. He stepped aside from the doorway, making way for you with a gentle gesture. The warmth from inside seemed to beckon, a stark contrast to the frigid night air.

You looked into his eyes, and he stared back, the moment stretching between you as if everything else had come to a halt. The world outside faded into a blur as snapshots of your relationship flickered through your mind—moments of laughter, shared dreams, and fleeting happiness. With each memory, you found yourself questioning what had gone wrong, what could have been different, and what measures you might have taken to alter the course of events.

In the midst of that frozen silence, a question slipped from your lips before you could even stop yourself: “Ford, are you still in love with me?” The words hung in the air, unexpected and raw, their weight adding a new layer of complexity to the already tense moment.

His head snapped towards you, eyes widening with a shock that seemed to crystallize in the cold night air. His gaze pierced into yours with a fierce intensity, as if your question had struck a chord deep within him. His eyebrows knit together in a furrow of confusion and apprehension, while his mouth tightened into a thin, resolute line. The change in his demeanor was palpable; his posture straightened as though he were bracing himself for a storm.

With a determined stride, he marched to stand beside you in the snow, the door to the house slamming shut behind him with a resonant thud that echoed through the night. The two of you stood together, the moonlight casting a ghostly glow upon the snow, which reflected a bluish light that danced across the scene. The snow-covered ground sparkled faintly, but the surrounding darkness clung to you both like a shroud.

He stared down at you as you stared at your feet, standing only an arm's length away, the proximity intimate and charged. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The only sound was the soft shushing of dormant branches swaying in the wind, their gentle rustling mingling with the quiet stillness of the night. The cold air wrapped around you both, creating a palpable silence that stretched between you, broken only by the occasional whisper of the wind through the snow-laden trees.

His hand reached out, fingers closing gently around your chin. With a deliberate motion, he angled your gaze upward, drawing your eyes away from the snowy expanse at your feet and into his. The touch was firm yet tender, guiding your focus to the depth of his own eyes. It was just like he used to do moments before he pressed his lips against yours.

Your eyes met his, and in that brief, suspended moment, you saw the glistening, unshed tears pooling in his gaze. They shimmered in pale light of the moon, their potential to fall betraying the fragile veneer of his composure. The raw, unguarded emotion in his eyes was a stark contrast to his usual facade, revealing a depth of sorrow and vulnerability that seemed to unravel the very essence of his being.

“Don’t you ever ask that again,” his voice cracked, the words trembling as they escaped his lips. He leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against yours, the closeness both intimate and overwhelming. In that tender contact, you felt a deep ache, missing his touch more than you had admitted to yourself. The warmth of his skin against yours, the vulnerability that he seldom showed, was a poignant reminder of what you had longed for but also feared.

Your breath caught in your throat, the tightness nearly choking you as emotions surged within, rendering you on the brink of tears. Frustration twisted inside you, mingling with a deep-seated ache as you grappled with having surrendered so effortlessly to the solace of his presence. The warmth of Ford’s touch, so familiar and comforting, had shattered your defenses with an almost unbearable intimacy.

In that raw, exposed moment, you recognized a profound truth: you loved Ford with a depth that went beyond reason. You understood him completely, and you would remain steadfast by his side. Even if it meant losing yourself in the process, he would always draw you in. It was a certainty you could not escape.

[bellysoupset]

Sorry for calling

I feel like this needs some more fallout and caretaking tbh

Summary: Matthew calls Isaiah when he gets sick at school shortly after the infection fiasco. Warning for emeto, mentions of scat.

"I'm sorry," Matthew said as he climbed into the car, struggling to close the door behind him.

Isaiah reached over him to pull it shut. "It's no trouble."

Matthew pouted at him, hands hugging his middle.

Isaiah sighed. After the infected wound, they have all been antsy and worried about Matthew's recovery. Matthew insisted on returning back to his classes as fast as possible though, arguing that wolves recovered faster and that the wound was healed anyway.

Isaiah suspected the wound and the infection might have healed, but Matthew's immune system got a hit, which was not something a shadow could repair. Shadows were great with immediate injuries - anything more long-term or slower acting, and they failed.

So when Matthew called him around lunch if Isaiah could pick him up, he jumped into action on high alert, figuring Matthew was struggling with his second day back at uni.

"I'm very very glad you called me," Isaiah added for good measure. Positive reinforcement, right?

"It's just a stomach ache," Matthew grumbled, giving him a sideway look. "But I figured you would be freaked out if I didn't."

That was fair. Isaiah and Seline were both over-worried since the infection, pestering Matthew with questions about his well-being, insisting he tell them every single thing. Maybe he overdid it, running Matthew out of the apartment before he was ready.

They drove a bit in silence, Isaiah taking measured turns. The road wasn't too crowded in the middle of the day, so it should be smooth sailing.

Matthew burped loudly, hand shooting to his mouth. "'scuse me."

"Did you eat something off? Or is it a bug? Do you have a fever? Tell me if-"

"Yeah, no," Matthew said. "Stop with the hundred questions. I just need to lie down."

"We'll be home in ten," Isaiah promised, gripping the wheel tighter.

He kept himself quiet after that, allowing himself occassional glances at Matthew, who resolutely scowled at the window, not meeting his gaze. His hands were still wrapped around his stomach though and he was sheet white, which Isaiah took as an answer enough.

The car stopped at the designated parking spot for their building. It was always a fight for every meter of space in Vienna, so their own parking spot was a luxury, even without the garage.

Isaiah thought he was watchful enough, but he was still surprised when Matthew opened the door, twisted to the side, leaning forward and loudly vomited right from the car.

"Oh man," Isaiah said with a grimace, reaching over to rub his back. Matthew's spine arched under his touch as he heaved, more yellow-coloured puke hitting the pavement.

Matthew burped loudly, shaking his head as if he could get the illness out of his ears, then pitched forward, catching himself barely on the car's door.

"Think you are done? Can you make it inside?" Isaiah asked, taking the car keys out and going around the car.

Matthew spat onto the ground, moaning a little. Isaiah carefully avoided the pool of sick, clasping his shoulder. He cupped the side of his neck. "Yep, feverish alright."

"Shut up," Matthew groaned, then threw his arm around Isaiah's neck for support, letting the dark-haired man to pull him out of the car. The sick wolf was swaying on his feet, hanging on to Isaiah for support. "I wanna lie down."

"Almost there," Isaiah said, readjusting his grip and throwing the car shut.

The building was mercifully empty, so they didn't have to wait very long for the elevator. Matthew had his eyes shut, weight more and more on Isaiah with each step, completely reliant on him. Isaiah didn't know if to be worried or flattered he was trusted so much. Or maybe Matthew was just fighting the nausea, cause he gagged right before the door.

"Just a second," Isaiah said, fumbling with the keys with only one hand available, before dragging Matthew inside to the bathroom on the ground floor.

Matthew was heaving before his knees hit the tiles, a string of sick landing beside the toilet before he managed to orient himself. Isaiah crouched next to him so he wouldn't sway to the side as he heaved up more chunky yellowish-brown lunch.

"Maybe you should have eaten something easier on the stomach," Isaiah mused, his grip tightening as Matthew buried his head in the bowl, back contracting with each heave. He really looked like he was going to choke on the sheer amount.

The other thing was the heat though, radiating off the red-haired man in waves. There was no preventing that with bland foods.

"Owww," Matthew whined, lifting himself up a bit. Another belch sneaked its way out, but it seemed there was finally a pause. "That hurt."

"Bet it did," Isaiah agreed. "Come on, you are going to bed."

"Still feel-urrrp- sick."

"Yeah, well, your fever is off the roof and this is not helping. I will get you a bucket, come on."

Shuffling out of the bathroom was slow and clumsy, with Matthew swaying dizzily and hanging onto Isaiah.

Situating Matthew in bed was an ordeal. Matthew was hugging the bucket like a lifeline, drooling and spitting over it. Isaiah had to fight him out of his sweaty clothes, changing them into pajamas and then collected everything from the kitchen he found helpful. A water bottle, a cup, a damp towel, paracetamol for the fever...

Matthew vomited the pills right after swallowing them, though, so there was no help the fever. He was miserable, curling up under the blankets around his stomach.

Isaiah had it not in his heart to leave him like that, changing his own bottom up and pants into sweat pants and a loose shirt he wouldn't mind getting ruined.

"Matt? Bud, would you like a hot water bottle? Or a sip of water?"

Matthew shook his head, burying his face into the mattress, curling up even more. His hands were digging into his stomach like he wanted to rip his insides open.

Isaiah felt utterly helpless. It wasn't fair he got sick right after going through days of fever and fighting off the infection. He hated it came so close after each other - that it probably caused this in the first place. No getting away from that stupid mistake.

Isaiah circled around the bed worryingly. He didn't want to force his presence just cause he was worried, and he wasn't about to leave but anywhere in the room seemed too far away...

Matthew opened one eye at him, brows knitted together in irritation or pain, Isaiah wasn't so sure. "What are you dancing there for? Hop in."

Isaiah suppressed a smile, sliding into the bed beside him.

Isaiah wasn't sure what was and wasn't allowed, but Matthew quickly solved the issue as he turned from the edge of the bed to press his forehead against Isaiah's tigh.

"How are you doing down there?" Isaiah leaned against the wall sitting upright, hand hovering over the overheated face.

"Ugh. Cramping like a bitch."

"Wanna try some water?"

"Bleh. You want to finish me off?"

Isaiah shook his head in exasperation, grabbing the discarded wet towel and planting it back over Matthew's face.

The redhead grumbled, swiping at his hand half-heartedly. "Ow. That's cold."

The next hour crawled slowly forward. Matthew would sometimes reach for the bucket, mustering enough energy to heave over it emptily, only to slump right back down against Isaiah, curling around his stomach and moaning pitifully.

Isaiah sometimes dared to put a hand on his back or check his forehead for fever, but he wasn't sure what else to do. Whatever Marthew was doing couldn't count as sleep, as he turned and tossed around, throwing his blankets off only to shiver from the cold a few minutes later.

Isaiah was at his wit's end as Matthew dry heaved over the bucket for another 10 minutes painfully. He was also afraid to move from his spot, anxiety pinning him to place beside the ailing man.

"Come on, bud, just a sip of water. You will be dehydrated like this."

"Few hours won't matter," he grumbled, face twisting.

"Please."

Matthew groaned, somehow still managing to make that sound angrily and hoisted himself up on shaky hands.

Isaiah brought the bottle to his face, helping to steady it as Matthew took a few tentative sips, before chugging down a long sip.

"Hey, easy there." Isaiah gently pulled the bottle away.

Matthew scowled at him. "At least it won't burn so much coming up."

Isaiah sighed, both of the settling back into their positions. Keeping tabs on the time, he was about to call it a success, when Matthew didn't throw up in almost 40 minutes.

The silence was interrupted by sudden gurgling from Matthew's stomach.

Matthew moaned, pulled his legs up. "You are fucking kidding me."

"Matt?"

Matthew grumbled under his breath, uncurling with obvious effort and sitting up clumsily.

"What are you doing? Stay still-"

"Help me up, damn it," Matthew bossed, swaying as he threw his legs over the edge of the bed and almost face planting onto the ground.

Isaiah got up in an instant, hurrying to his side.

Matthew reached his hands towards him, two red splotches on his cheeks shining on his pale face. "I need the blasted bathroom. Stop asking."

Isaiah obediently kept silent, though Matthew's stomach decidedly did not. As the walked, Isaiah's arm around Matthew's waist, it gurgled loudly, making Matthew cringe in response.

When they reached the bathroom, Matthew untangled himself, shooing him away. "Don't you dare come in. I'm tolerating you enough."

Isaiah almost chuckled at the response, staying by the door. So the water wasn't staying down either way. Glorious.

He waited until Matthew appeared in the door, shaky and ashen and reaching for him without meeting his eyes. But he ended up curled against his leg again when they reached the bed.

After another hour of restless turning and sweating with no end in sight, he ended up messaging Seline.

When are you coming home?

It's Tuesday. Long day, remember? I got classes till 9 pm.

Isaiah groaned quietly. It was only half four. Matthew is sick. I don't know what to do, nothing is helping. Do you have anything in the kitchen I could give him?

No answer came for about two minutes, before his phone beeped again. I'll be there in half an hour.

He felt guilty immediately. No, it's fine. Just tell me what to do. He can't hold down anything.

See you soon, she wrote, adding a heart emoji.

***

Things were still a bit weird between her and Matthew. Especially since the infection.

She felt incredibly guilty he didn't tell them. That she made him feel like he couldn't tell them.

He was stupid for it, sure, but how could he doubt she would drop everything and help him, if he was in trouble? No matter what tension or argument or unresolved issues were between them? Wasn't that obvious?

The answer was simple. The same way she could believe he would hurt her.

Was it truly so he would? Since the conversation with Hector, it kept nagging at her. "It doesn't react to what I do, but to what you feel."

That's what he said. And maybe the problem was truly her and not Matthew. If she had trusted him, she wouldn't have been afraid no matter what expression he made or what his shadow did.

Seline was still thinking that over as she stepped into the apartment. The shoes were all over the hall again. She rolled her eyes, tucking away hers, Matthew's and Isaiah's, then hanging both of their hastily discarded coats.

She tiptoed closer to the room. The door was slightly open. The nervousness was making her stomach tight. It was stupid. Matthew was sick, Isaiah was certainly freaking out about it and she had some idea what to do.

But what if Matthew didn't want her there?

That made crossing the threshold of the door downright impossible. Her hands were freezing - she felt frozen to the spot.

She wasn't that good of a caretaker anyway. She would like to be, but when it came to someone being sick, she was more of the "fetch this" or "write an email" or "give cheerful advice" kind of person. The girlish noises and the comforting words of sympathy or whatever it was didn't come naturally to her - more like they felt pathetic and out of place and with no guarantee they were helping.

If you wanted a pragmatic solution, she was down for it. Emotional comfort during physical distress? Not so much. How many times did she not know how to comfort her mother during one of her chronic migraines, simply sitting beside her? How many times did she just sit by her brother as he cried, not knowing what to say or what to do with her hands or where to look?

Seline could take the discomfort and the gross details, find a good ointment, suggest the right herbs, make the right tea. But holding someone's hand was not there. Maybe there was something wrong with her. Maybe she just rationalized the abilities out of herself.

Taking a deep breath, she stuck her head into the room.

Matthew was curled up on his side, blankets twisted around his legs in a mess. Isaiah was sitting upright next to him, hand on his shoulder as if he was trying to share some of his health with him through contact alone. Isaiah's hair stuck out in weird directions and he looked just as pale as Matthew. Add the fact he was out of his suit, which as alarming enough. Seline didn't think she ever saw him in sweat pants and an informal loose shirt before.

There it went again. Isaiah, she could read. She even dared to touch him or offer comfort or do whatever she felt like, because she felt first with him, and second-guessed herself later. Usually, after he had already responded - favorably till now - saving her from the panic she was out of place.

Isaiah looked up at her, their eyes locking. She gave him a hesitant smile. He looked back at Matthew and then to her, look pleading and hopeless.

Well, at least that was easy to solve. She went to the kitchen, gathering her idea and then returned quietly as possible, to Matthew's bedside table.

"I got these anti-emetic pills. If they work, we can get him some fever meds too and then he could just sleep it off. These things don't have a long duration anyway," she whispered.

Matthew groaned and turned to look at her, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "He is right here, you know."

She winced, then held out the package of pills to him.

They looked at each other in awkward silence, Matthew's gaze tired and confused, Seline's shy and wavering.

Isaiah was obviously too impatient for it, cause he reached over Matthew to grab the pills, grabbing a glass of water with the other hand. Before she could move, he was already offering them while Matthew lifted himself on one elbow.

There. Role done. What else was she supposed to do? The sensation of pins and needles run through her, like everytime when a room became stifling and unwelcoming, when she knew she wasn't supposed to be there anymore.

She had already left a note for her professor she wasn't coming though. Not like she could turn around and leave.

Matthew fell down back on the bed. Isaiah skillfully removed the glass out of the way so it wasn't knocked over.

Seline crossed her legs at the ankles, hugging herself close. She should change out of her outside clothes.

Isaiah raised an eyebrow at her and then started to untangle himself from the bed.

"Alright. I'll go make some tea. Peppermint is good for the stomach right?"

"I can mak-" she interrupted.

"Nope, I will. Need to stand a bit, my back hurts. Would you mind staying with him, please?"

He wasn't exactly giving her a choice with how he hurried. She snatched at his sleeve as he walked beside her.

Isaiah stopped for a second, hand over her elbow, squeezing briefly.

She frowned at him.

He smiled and walked out.

Great. Just great.

Seline sat down tentatively on the edge of the bed.

"Not gonna say hi?" Matthew grumbled.

She jumped at his raspy voice.

The redhead was on his side again, curled up around his stomach, hand tenderly laid over it. But positioned towards her now. His dark brown eyes were glassy with fever.

"Hi," she squicked.

Matthew glowered at her.

"How- ehm, how are you doing?"

"Staying down for now. Stomach cramping like hell, though."

"Ah, right...uhm, I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for? Not your fault."

She nodded. Not this time, it wasn't. "Can I get you anything?"

"Nah," he sighed, then a quiet burp escaped past his lips. He turned on his back, irritated. "I got one over-motivated nursemaid right over there. He is asking if he can bring me something every two damn minutes."

Seline chuckled at that. "Sounds like him."

"Seriously. We are so filling his need to take care of someone, it's ridiculous."

There was another long pause.

"Did...did you take your temperature?" she asked, looking for something to do.

"Yeah. A little elevated." He gave her a side-look, head turned towards his pillow. "You don't have to stay here if you don't want to. I'm no fun right now."

She bit her lip, smoothing her wavy hair and sliding to her feet, heart hammering. "If you don't want me here, I understand..."

"Huh?" His head jerked up to her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's fine, it's fine, I'm sorry,..."

"Stop with the sorrys- now where do you think you are going?" He lifted himself up, hand towards her, before he swayed and flopped back into the bed with a whine.

"What are you doing, you moron, stay put-" she knelt on the bed next to him anxiously as he rubbed at his eyes again.

"I'm okay. Jst got a'lttle dizzy." Matthew's eyes were shut together and he was grimacing, sweat perling on his forehead and upper lip.

"Little elevated, huh?" she said skeptically, planting a hand to his forehead on impulse. "You are on fire!"

"Ow! Your hand is freaking cold!"

She drew her hand away immediately as if burned, but he caught it on the way, pulling it against his chest.

"You told me to leave," she protested, tugging at her hand helplessly.

"That's just a pharse. I wanted to be polite. You are supposed to say it's no trouble and insist on staying, dummy."

"Since when do you try to be polite?"

"Since you act so jumpy about everything I do!"

"I'm not jumpy, I just don't know what to say. You gotta be angry with me-"

"For what?" He blinked at her in genuine irritated confusion, his eyes somehow bigger and rounder than usual with the fever and redness to his cheeks.

Seline was so shocked at his incomprehension she forgot what she meant to say.

Matthew coughed, leaning his head back, as all the energy from the little spurt flowed out of him. "Now my head hurts too."

"You are probably dehydrated," she said absently, wiggling her fingers.

He opened his hand slightly, releasing her from his hold, squeezing his eyes shut again.

Seline skidded down from the bed, circling around to look through Isaiah's collected supplies. She found a discarded wet towel and poured some water over it from the giant bottle - why was there a bottle and not some kind of basin? - and swiped it over Matthew's forehead. "Just breathe. Relax. It will go away soon. We can try water in a few minutes. I got a real good rehydration solution for you. You will get better quickly."

"Hmmm," Matthew's furrowed brows smoothed over at the feel of the towel. He turned towards her, head tracking her movements. His right hand opened and closed, though he didn't say anything else.

The invitation couldn't have been clearer.

Seline slid her hand inside of his, squeezing his wrist, a warm fluttery feeling washing over her.

***

They ended up all in the bed with Matthew in the middle. Isaiah from one side, upright as always. Seline from the left, legs folded underneath her.

Matthew seemed to be content, stuffed between them like that. He almost didn't toss as he napped.

Sometimes, he landed with his head pressed against Isaiah's leg, sometimes in her lap.

Isaiah gave her an amused smile from time to time, settled at last.

She wasn't sure if she did everything right. But it seemed to be enough for the moment.

@bellysoupset

[tackykachowch]

Silco was set up to be Fishbones from the start

Disclaimer: I won't take season 2 into account At All, because it can't work with setups and payoffs even if its life depends on it.

Alrighty. As we've seen Season 1 paid a lot of attention to set up canon things from LoL into the show as naturally and logically as possible, and at least from my point of view, it handled the job with flying colors. Jayce's hammer, Vi's gauntlets, Vander/Warwick etc, nothing felt out of place. But how does Silco fit into this at all? Let's get down to business to defeat the huns

First of all, what even is Fishbones? In the canon of LoL, it's one of if not the most iconic weapon Jinx has. And it is not only a weapon to her, but a loyal and "beloved" companion, as it's described in one of her skins. She constantly talks to it, and in contrast to her chaotic and impulsive nature, Fishbones is very pragmatic and calm. Sounds like a certain someone, doesn't it? But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

But how does Silco go from being Jinx's father to one of her weapons? There are a lot of points that support that actually, I was surprised myself ngl.

- Silco is the only character in the entire series who is directly and tightly connected to water and underwater creatures. Silco was "reborn" in the water when Vander tried to kill him, the first office he had was placed under the water, with a huge observational window. Silco is also fond of underwater creatures, and while other people call and see them as monsters, Silco pays no attention to it, as he thinks that there's "a monster inside all of us". And here's Fishbones, who is designed after a shark, arguably the most famous "underwater monster". But what is more interesting is that it debuted is the finale of season 1, which is titled "The monster you created". Quite a throughline there.

- Silco was the reason behind Fishbones' creation in the first place. While it does seem that it all started with Jinx, who stole the hex gemstone on the Progress Day, we also need to remember WHY she did it. She did it to impress Silco specifically, to make him to be proud of her. This want was triggered by her screwing up the smuggling mission earlier that day, and while Silco didn't scold her for it much and only advised her to rest for a bit, she saw this as him thinking that she's weak. So, after all of this Silco asks Jinx to make a weapon with the use of gemstone. Not necessarily to use it against Piltover, but to have it as a wild card if his plans go wrong. Jinx agrees and attempts to reverse engineer it, but it triggers her memories when she killed Mylo and Claggor with her bomb, so she tells Silco that she can't do it. He then goes to the river he was nearly killed in with her, and "baptises" her to help her let go of her fear of pain. This seemed to have worked, at least for a little while, because she managed to finish the weapon. So, in conclusion: Fishbones' creation was triggered by Jinx's want to impress Silco, and he helped her with its creation on every step of the way.

- this point is somewhat meta, but I'll use it anyway. In previously mentioned episode 9 Silco tells Jinx that everybody around them betrays them, and they have only each other to love and lean on. He says, quote: "Everyone betrays us, Jinx. Vander, her. It's only us". At the same time, in LoL Jinx says this line to Fishbones: "It's just you and me, Fishbones!". Well.....it's certainly a callback if I've seen one. Like- it's not even funny. They couldn't have written this line on accident.

- now onto the most interesting part for me personally. We all now that there are no accidents in animation, like. At all. Even if there are this is extremely rare, as every frame is created intentionally. Now, we do now that there are quite. A few discrepancies between writers and animators of arcane, but I don't think this applies in this particular case. Now onto the actual point. So, in the finale of season 1 Jinx kills Silco, and it's shown to us like this.

He's turned with right side ("human") of his face to the camera, while the left side ("monster") side is hidden.

As Jinx fires Fishbones at the council

It's positioned with its right side to the camera, which alignes with Silco's "monster eye". Also, Fishbone's eye has a black scar pattern around its eye, which again, resembles Silco's damadged eye. That could mean that Silco is once again "reborn", and now continues to live on in the monster Jinx created.

And here comes the most awesome part in all of this. When Silco adopts Powder, he hugs her and tells her

Do you see how the frame is positioned? Exactly. It is exactly the same framing scene with Jinx and Fishbones has. And, most importantly, when Jinx pulls the trigger, we hear the exactly same line on the background: "We will show them all". It simultaneously shows: that Jinx's attack on the council is her way of dealing with grief of killing Silco; her way of honoring Silco's fight against Piltover; and a direct transition of Silco into Fishbones. Although he's dead in body, but Jinx's memories of him and his voice now continue to live in Fishbones, her new eternal companion.

I am at awe with the fundamental work that's been done with this setup, and although s2 never followed up on this, I still can get enjoyment from the clear intent creators put here originally.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Big Hands (Spencer Reid x Fem!PlusSize!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!PlusSize!Reader

Summary: You and your boyfriend, Spencer, are getting ready for a night out, when your insecurities start to get the best of you.

Word Count: 1531 -- it's just a lil guy

Warnings: Body insecurities, maybe a little bit of a big-girl-soapbox

A/N: I definitely wrote this very quickly this afternoon because I literally just felt like it. This is just a short lil one for the big gals who just want someone to notice them.

Anyway hope you enjoy! Thank you all who have commented/reblogged/liked my last fic!!

-

Your jeans hugged your curvy hips as you tugged them up to your belly button, covering the bottom, larger part of your stomach. You were tall, for a woman, but not taller than Spencer. He was, what, 6’1”? You stood around 5’9”, so he still towered over you, still had to look down at you when he spoke, still had to crane his neck to whisper in your ear. 

You were wearing a flowy, sage green blouse. Why were clothes so hard to find for a larger girl? It was all cold-shoulders and obnoxious patterns. You just wanted something that flattered your body type and made you feel sexy. Apparently that was just a ridiculous request. This blouse was cute, but modest, with a ruched, fluted bunching of the fabric in the middle. The collar was low-cut to accent your breasts, but the sleeves were long, which was annoying. You were going dancing tonight with your boyfriend and his coworkers. You didn’t want to show off all of your body, by any means, but you wanted to look hot. Who could blame you? And it was also going to get hot, temperature-wise. Long sleeves just didn’t feel like the most pragmatic choice. 

Sometimes you just gave up and went with the best option. And this blouse, that made you feel like you were going to a casual church event, not to a bar, was, unfortunately, the best option. 

You inhaled sharply and shrugged your shoulders as you looked in the full-length mirror hooked on the back of the closet door. Your hair looked really cute - the two biggest pieces on either side in the front were braided and dangled in front of you, effectively bringing your hair out of your eyes but also provided something to give your hair a little pizzazz. Your makeup looked great - a simple, subtle smokey eye and glossy lips. Your black boots looked good, peeking out from your wide-legged jeans, which hugged your hips and, honestly, made your butt look really good. 

It was just this stupid shirt. And maybe you were getting too much in your head about it. But you were transfixed on it, hating the way the sleeves bunched up a little, how the bottom half flowed beneath the ruched fabric, effectively covering your stomach, meeting your jeans and the top of your thighs. The color was too muted for a going-out top - you wished you could wear something more exciting. 

You sometimes wished you looked like Emily or JJ, or had the self-confidence to rock loud looks like Penelope did. But then you remembered that you were who you were for a reason. You looked like you simply because that was what you looked like. And there was no point in wishing you looked like someone else. 

Plus, Spencer was really into your body. He was nearly always staring at your breasts when you were in private, sometimes to the point where you had to snap your fingers in front of his eyes to garner his attention. 

It was flattering. You didn’t mind it if your boyfriend objectified you a little bit. He was respectful about it. 

“Y/N, are you about ready?” Spencer walked into your bedroom as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes met Spencer’s and you saw his neutral expression turn into a full-fledged grin, biting his tongue and all. “You look really nice,” he said, and you shook your head. 

“I look like a chaperone at a middle school dance,” you frowned, tugging at the fabric of your blouse in some illogical attempt to make it look different. 

“What?” Spencer stood behind you in the mirror. His chin basically met the top of your head, like too puzzle pieces. One hand rested on your hip, while the other slowly brushed your hair to one side so he could press a kiss to your neck. “I think you look great,” he added. 

You immediately felt tingly and your knees wobbled at the action. “But I’m not dressing for you,” you said, your voice instinctively dropping as Spencer’s lips trailed down your neck. You were having trouble concentrating on what you were trying to say. “I’m dressing for me, and I want to look cute. I can’t believe you’re even going tonight. You don’t dance, Spencer,” you pointed out, your self-control somehow beating out your desire for Spencer in the moment. You broke away from him and turned around to face him. 

“You do look cute, Y/N. I don’t understand what the issue is?” Spencer’s head cocked to the side as he looked down at you. “Also, I’m going out tonight because you want to. And I’m trying to keep an open mind. I might enjoy it.” 

You were proud of him. When you started dating about six months ago, he would have simply politely declined an invitation to a night out. And while you didn’t love going out every night, or even every weekend, for that matter, you did enjoy a night out occasionally. 

Regardless, he still didn’t quite understand what you were feeling about that damn shirt. “The issue,” you began, heaving a sigh, “is that I’m insecure about my body. Like any woman. You don’t get it, because you’re a man, and you literally have nothing to be insecure about.”

You knew the words were incorrect the moment you said them, but something kept you from backpedaling. You watched as Spencer shook his head, letting a small laugh escape him. “You could not be further from the truth,” Spencer pointed out, and you knew he was right. Men had plenty to be insecure about, and it was, in some ways, even more difficult for men to express those feelings. 

“Well, I think you’re perfect,” You let a small, playful smile creep onto your face, and Spencer rolled his eyes as you used his own tactic from earlier. He stepped towards you and his hands found your waist, contouring to match your curves. He knew them so well now, he could probably draw a map of your body with his eyes closed. 

“I appreciate that,” Spencer said, his voice a little softer as your eyes met his. His head dipped down, and you thought, certainly, that he was going to kiss you, but instead, his lips stopped just barely by your ears. You could feel his breath on your neck, and a shiver ran down your spine as he spoke. “You might be insecure, Y/N, but I am, too. You’re just human.” 

“What are you insecure about?” You found yourself asking, pulling your head back to look at him properly. Now you were curious. 

“My hands, mostly,” Spencer removed his hands from your waist, holding them palm-up, as if to present them to you for the first time. 

“What’s wrong with your hands?” You asked, placing your palms atop his. 

“They’re really big,” Spencer said timidly, and, admittedly, they were. But just by comparison. Your hands fit into his with plenty of extra space. You used your index fingers to trace his palms. 

“They’re not too big,” you told him, and Spencer just smiled down at you, shaking his head, like he was just humoring you. “I love your hands,” you continued. “I love that you can put your palm over an entire half of my face,” you said, guiding his palm to your cheek and grinning when his skin touched yours. Spencer’s thumb brushed your cheekbone. 

“And I love your body,” Spencer replied, and you just pursed your lips and shook your head. “No, Y/N, listen to me.” 

You let out a frustrated little exhale through your nose and let him continue. 

“I love the way you look. But I wouldn’t care if you were any bigger or any smaller. Because I love you. I’m attracted to you, to your mind, to your sense of compassion, and to your body. I love the way your hips fill out your jeans, how your stomach looks in your yoga pants,” he said. “I love the way you wiggle your toes when we’re watching something funny on TV, how you do a little shimmy in your seat when you’re eating something you really enjoy,” he explained, mimicking the movement. You looped your arms around his neck. “But mostly, I’m in love with your personality. How you challenge me, how you seem to bring out the best version of myself.”

You let out a wistful sigh. If this were a Jane Austen novel, you would have swooned. But instead, you used your grip around his neck to bring his face down to yours and kiss him. It was slow at first, then a little more intense, and when you finally pulled away, your forehead rested against his. 

“You ready to go now?” Spencer asked, and when your eyes opened, you saw that he was smiling down at you. 

You shook your head, a mischievous smile spreading across your face. “Not yet,” you said, your hands sliding down his arms until your palms met his. You tugged him in the direction of your bed. “I want to show you how much I love these big hands.” 

[msbigredmachine]

The Boy Next Door: Chapter Four

MASTERLIST ✨ harmshake's masterlist ✨ msbigredmachine's masterlist

Word Count: 8.1k

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, language, angst, violence, smut

Poster made by me. Credit to the owners of the other pics and gifs.

The first thing Ivy felt as she stirred awake was a dull, satisfying ache between her thighs. Next was the naked, muscular body enveloping her from behind, full lips brushing her shoulder. Twisting her head, she found his handsome face peering down at her, his crinkled eyes soft and his voice softer against her skin. 

"Morning, baby girl," Roman murmured, muscular arms tightening around her, “How ya feeling? You sleep good?”

Gingerly, she shifted around to face him, noting how he instinctively moved his body closer to hers, her loins clenching at the feel of his flaccid yet impressive length pressed against her stomach. “I did…after you let me,” she replied, relieved to find that the feeling in her legs had returned and her voice was still intact. “Don’t tell me you’ve been watching me sleep,” she giggled.

“I plead the fifth. You’re too beautiful not to watch, sweetheart,” he chuckled, sliding his hand down her bare back to grip her ass as his face nuzzled the crook of her neck. His touch sparked memories of their wild night; the havoc his hands and mouth and his stunning weapon of a dick wrecked on her body, his voice deep and rough and authoritative as it coaxed her through literal waves of unforgettable pleasure that had him changing his Egyptian cotton bedding afterwards:

“Your pussy feels so good wrapped around my dick…ffuuck, Ivy…”

“I love the way you moan for me, baby girl, you sound so fuckin’ sexy…”

“Haha, look at you shakin’ and leakin’, fucking up my sheets…It feels good when I'm deep like this, right, baby?”

“Relax your throat so you can take more of my dick…yeah, just like that, mmm…”

“C'mon sweetheart, let Daddy make you come on this dick one more time…”

Her eyes fluttered shut, a content sigh leaving her as Roman gently kissed her lips and rubbed his hand up and down her back. “I wanna make you breakfast…whenever we get up, of course,” he said, looking down tenderly at her features. She looked so gorgeous in his arms, her hair tousled from sex and sleep, her body soft and warm. She belonged right here with him and if he had his way, she’d never leave his bed.

As much as she longed to spend her day like this, one glance at the clock on the wall advised otherwise. "Sadly, I gotta go. Zaia and Duchess will be home soon.” Also, she would very much rather not have Gemini find her here and start another lecture like she was her damn mother.

“You can shower here to save time, get cleaned up…We did…a lot, last night,” Roman grinned, mischief dancing in his warm brown eyes.

Blushing, Ivy rubbed her nose on his chest, breathing in his scent, “We did, and my body is feeling all of it right now.”

His brows furrowed with concern. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“Not at all. And either way, I wanted it.” Easing herself upright, she glanced around the room, getting a good look at her surroundings for the first time considering how…occupied they were all night. “My dress is laying somewhere and I know the zipper’s busted, no thanks to a certain someone.”

“My bad. I’ll buy you a new one. I got a spare dress shirt you can wear,” Roman offered, letting her wiggle out of his arms and the cocoon of his bed to head to his bathroom, his gaze fixated on her naked glory all the way.

His shower was spacious, the water was warm and his sandalwood body wash was gentle on her deep brown skin. Yet it still couldn’t compare to the heat that filled her body thinking about their antics last night. The line had finally been crossed. Weeks of sexual tension had given way to giving in to her sexy-as-fuck next door neighbor. Cliché in the best and worst way. The pragmatic side of her was keen to overanalyze her actions, to pass it off as scratching an itch and be done with it to be never revisited again. The other part of her, the grieving, lonely young woman, had never felt this good, never felt as wanted and desired as Roman made her feel, and she wanted more. Needed more. For her pleasure. For her wellbeing. She would deal with the emotions when she was ready to cross that bridge. If ever.

Lost in her thoughts, she did not pick up on Roman joining her in the shower until his arms circled her waist. His long hair tickled her skin as he suckled the base of her neck, his mouth widening over the sensitive spot he'd become acquainted with, big hands roaming her body with purpose. As he turned her around, her eyes naturally fell to the shaft dangling menacingly between his tree trunk-like thighs. Even semi-erect, he was intimidating as hell. But even more intimidating was the predatory look in his eyes as he invaded her space with his big strong body, the swish of his tongue making her pussy quiver as she was reminded of how he’d worked it on her and in her until she saw stars…

The memory made her knees weak, and they just about gave way entirely when he smashed his lips to hers. His chest mashed against her hardened nipples, his fingertips grazing one before curling around her throat, soft groans exhaled in unison as the now familiar heat sizzled between them. They delved into each other’s mouths, lapping and sucking sloppily, heads twisting from side to side as he kicked her feet wider apart and grinded his erection against her mound, sending a fresh flood of wetness that had nothing to do with the running water.

“I’m gonna be late,” Ivy breathed out, an absurd statement considering that her home was literally across the street. Roman thought so too, easily dismissing her half-hearted protest with a laugh as he lifted her up against the marble wall.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he groaned, silencing her with another heated kiss, keeping her trapped between the solid wall and his equally solid muscles. Her shaky moans were his oxygen as he grasped his dick and pushed it inside her, letting out one of his own as her slick heat welcomed him. He reveled in the stunned look on her face, her jaw dropping as her pussy stretched open for him, compelling him to drive into her with hard yet measured thrusts of his hips. His haughty smirk was wide as she shuddered from pleasure, her nails scraping his broad shoulders, her thighs tightening around his waist pulling him deeper into her.

“Ssshiiit, Roman…”

“That’s right, baby, call out my name while I pound this sweet pussy…”

His arm latched protectively around her waist as he walked her to his front door. As they approached the foyer, Ivy looked up at him, her heart thudding from his smoldering gaze that always seemed to reach the depths of her soul. 

“Thank you for last night…for dinner, for the dick…It was amazing,” she whispered, pushing a stray lock of his hair back into his neat ponytail. 

As her hand dropped to his chest, Roman realized he couldn't let her leave without one more kiss. Caressing her chin between his long fingers, he molded his lips to hers, savoring the taste of her, ensuring to slip her some tongue before pulling back.

“Baby, you don’t ever have to thank me. I got you. If you or Zaia need anything, let me know. If you need to talk…or fuck…” he added slyly, Ivy gasping into his chest as he squeezed her ass, “Or both…just ask. I don’t care what time it is. Call me and I’ll be there,” he promised.

One of the perks of mutual attraction was the insane chemistry between the two parties. Having lacked this for years had almost made Ivy forget how good it felt to want and be wanted. How it felt for just one look to make her heart pound and set her body on fire. For her senses to be awakened with one touch. The butterflies, the schoolgirl-like giddiness…Roman reignited all of that in her in just a matter of weeks.

Having her all to himself seemed to unleash something in him too. Unearthed a sexual spontaneity and adventure that Ivy hadn’t experienced since her college days. Nowhere was too risky and no position was off limits; Perched on the sink in the tiny restroom of a diner, her moans hushed and his thrusts deep. On a deck chair by his pool, her legs on his shoulders, leaving her a sopping, sobbing mess. On all fours in the backseat of his Range Rover in the hospital’s parking garage, the fear of getting caught evaporating with each luscious plunging stroke inside her. Her pussy was his for the taking. Sex with him was so intense and breathtaking that she couldn’t help but wonder where he’d been her whole life.

“So are y’all dating now?”

Startled, Ivy glanced up from her phone so fast, whiplash was in her near future. She cast a nervous glance around the spa's relaxation lounge. It was empty and quiet save for the serene background music and the soothing trickle of a water fountain nearby. But for all Ivy cared, Gemini had uttered the question with a megaphone. "Do you have to be so loud?" she yell-whispered, quickly putting her phone away.

Picking up her complimentary glass of champagne, Gemini shrugged nonchalantly. "What? I'm just asking a question. You’re going on dates. You’re fucking, and the dick is obviously top tier cuz look how big your smile is from just texting him. And the feeling’s mutual, cuz your pussy got that man paying for your hair, your nails and this spa session.”

“Oh my god,” Ivy groaned, the clay mask on her face preventing her from burying her head in her fluffy white bathrobe from sheer embarrassment.

Ignoring her reaction, Gemini leaned back in her lounge chair to observe her best friend. “Look, Ivy. I’m glad you’re getting your back broke the way you deserve, girl. I really am. But I still can’t help but think you’re moving really fast with Roman.” 

On closer introspection, Ivy would agree. From the outside looking in, she was letting another man slot into the vacancy Angelo had opened up with his passing. But no one knew her life, especially not his mother Gloria, who still had nothing nice to say about her or Roman since confronting them at her son’s funeral. If only Ivy gave a shit. The woman turned a blind eye to everything her son put her through, thus, her opinions didn’t matter. No one was going to dictate how she grieved or moved on or how to raise her daughter and that was that.

And it wasn’t like she was moving on with Roman. She just felt so…connected to him. Long before they became two bereaved souls that lost their life partners in tragic circumstances. Plus, it wasn’t even all about the sex. He tapped into her desire for comfort and companionship that had eluded her since her relationship with Angelo collapsed. And unlike her ex, Roman appreciated her, and it was evident in the way he treated her. Making her laugh when she was having a tough day. Checking in on her regularly. Talking with her for hours and listening to her. She liked listening to him too; the stories he shared about growing up in Pensacola, Florida, the way his eyes lit up discussing his family with so much love and adoration. And then there were his other little thoughtful gestures; the care packages with soothing teas, bath salts, scented soaps and candles. The playlist of songs that “remind me of you” as he had named it on Spotify. Bouquets of flowers delivered to her workplace that had her fellow nurses ooh-ing and ahh-ing, not excluding her boss, Lilian. 

“Whoever this man is, do not let him go,” the Head Nurse had advised as she admired the soft pink roses perched on Ivy's desk. 

She didn’t plan to. Not when he was hitting every sweet spot she owned, literally and figuratively. Maybe Gemini was right. Maybe she was dickmatized. But she couldn’t really be blamed, could she? Roman was a smart, sexy man with a soft side and a protective nature that she found extremely appealing and was drawn to. 

“You’ve zoned out on me again.” Gemini’s voice cut into her thoughts. “You are dickmatized, girl. The sex is that fire, huh?”

Yes! Ivy thought, a small smile on her face as she tried to articulate her feelings. “It’s not just that. He’s been…really good to me, Gem,” she confessed, sipping pensively on her mimosa. “I feel like grief has kinda brought us together in a good way. Like it was meant to happen like this. Yeah, he’s…passionate. And I know you’re worried about his temper. But he’s been so gentle with me. He’s attentive. Affectionate. He…cares. And it feels good. Really good,” she went on, her eyes fixed imploringly on her best friend as though trying to plead her case. 

Gemini was silent as she took in Ivy’s assessment, the skepticism on her pretty features slowly melting into sympathy. “Well, in your defense, you do look…happy,” she admitted, “Happier than I’ve ever seen you with Angelo or anyone else. But I won’t stop begging you to keep your eyes open, babe. It won’t speak well of me as your friend if I don’t.” She was yet to find anything on Roman other than the fact that he had no social media presence of any kind. Odd as that was, it wasn’t a crime. Gemini truly wanted to believe she was overreacting about him, but her gut pushed her to keep looking just to make sure, for Ivy’s sake at least. And she would. Ivy didn’t need to know. If there was indeed nothing, she would let it go and forget all about it. “Angelo just passed. Your emotions are elevated. It’s okay to take things slow and not rebound so quick.”

Ivy pleaded the fifth on that. He was a welcome distraction from losing Angelo. A reprieve from her other reality of coming home and finding traces of her child’s father around the house. He never got round to taking all of his belongings with him when she kicked him out for good, which meant she was still kicking up the occasional item of his here and there that brought fresh waves of sadness each time. 

But no one was taking his death harder than Zaia, who had essentially abandoned her bedroom for her mother’s. More heartbreakingly, she was crying in her sleep almost every night, calling out for her daddy. Ivy was worried and planned to book an appointment with her pediatrician, Dr. Zayn. 

Again, Roman came to her rescue, arranging movie nights with her daughter, the two of them cuddling up on her couch and bonding over buttered popcorn and Disney’s iconic characters. As Halloween approached, Roman joined them in decorating not just her yard but his own as well, creating a festive atmosphere that brought joy to their little community. He even took them on an outing to Dave & Buster's, where his playful and attentive interaction with Zaia stood out. It was quite heartwarming how hands-on he was with her little girl; he would make a great father someday.

Ivy knew he was only trying to help; in no way did she expect him to replace Angelo because he never could. No one could. That was Zaia’s daddy, no matter what. And though Ivy acknowledged that she may like Roman a little more than the boundaries of mere physical attraction permitted, she knew better than to let those feelings cloud her judgment when it came to her baby. Angelo would always be a part of her life. She hadn't completely shoved him all the way to the back of her mind, but at least he no longer dominated her every thought. It was getting better, and better was better than worse.

An attendant entered the ladies’ space and set a tray of assorted fruits on their table. Gemini snatched up a strawberry and dropped it into her drink. "Anyway, you're gonna be at my party, right?" she asked, “What are you wearing?”

Gemini’s annual Halloween party was a highlight of the social calendar year, and it made Ivy cringe to know she’d forgotten about it. “Fuck. I’ve been so busy with work and everything else that I haven’t thought about it. I only got Zaia sorted out for her trick-or-treat party. I’ll find something for myself this week.”

“Good. Can’t wait to see what you do this year. Your Storm cosplay last year was fire.” A long, tense beat crawled by before Gemini cleared her throat, her next words tentative and begrudging. “You can bring Loverboy along, if you want,” she grumbled.

Smiling, Ivy raised her champagne flute to her lips. “I’m sure he’d like that. I want you to get along with him. No more tiptoeing around another man in my life.” Sitting upright, she moved in for the kill. “And what about the man in yours anyway, huh? Officer Hayes, hmm? If you don’t focus on that fine ass man and leave me alone…”

Eyes wide, Gemini avoided her friend's teasing gaze. “Ion know whatchu talkin’ about.”

“Sure you don’t,” Ivy smirked.

Nobody threw a party quite like Gemini Beaufort. Her Halloween bashes were the stuff of legend, with an over-the-top grandeur that seemed to escalate with each passing year. By the time October’s final night arrived, the anticipation was palpable. Securing an invitation to her party was almost as difficult as getting into an elite club. Hosted in the grand, sweeping mansion that had been in her family for decades, attending a Beaufort party was a badge of honor in this town, an unspoken acknowledgment that you were now part of Hartford’s elite.

Hand in hand, Roman and Ivy climbed the winding stone steps. The dark silhouette of the house framed the towering trees draped in cobwebs. Skeletons hung from the eaves, their bony hands outstretched in eerie welcome, while carved, glowing pumpkins lined the path like sentinels guarding the front door. Fog rolled across the ground, and a ghostly figure swayed in the breeze, making the mansion feel like something out of a haunted tale.

As they neared the entrance, Ivy noticed Roman fidgeting with his costume. He was dressed as Aquaman, the golden, two-piece spandex clinging to his chiseled body like a second skin, his trident gleaming in his hand. But despite the impressive Jason Momoa-esque look, Roman seemed uncomfortable, adjusting the tight fabric around his torso. “You good, babe?” she questioned.

“I don’t know, Ivy,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “This thing is skintight. I feel…exposed. Like it’s showing everything.”

His nerves were a sharp contrast from Ivy’s, looking effortlessly stunning in her Clovers cheerleader uniform from Bring It On, the iconic green, yellow and gold ensemble accentuating her curves. She smiled softly at him, her eyes warming. “Well, it’s showing all the right things,” she joked, biting her lip when he frowned. “Relax. You look great. Like you just stepped off a movie set,” she reassured him.

Roman exhaled sharply, his gaze shifting toward the house where the party raged on inside. “It ain’t the outfit,” he admitted. “It’s more of the people, I think. I’m not…great with crowds.”

Ivy’s smile grew, her heart softening at his vulnerability. She had seen this side of him before—strong but uncertain. Needing assurance. “Remember how you stood by me at Angelo’s funeral? You defended me in a room full of strangers,” she reminded him. “Well, I’m gonna do the same for you tonight.” She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “You look sexy as hell, babe. You’ll be fine, because we’re in this together. And if all else fails, we’ll just drink the night away.”

At that, Roman’s posture relaxed, the tension eased. He smiled at her, his expression grateful. “You right. Thanks, baby.” He paused, the gratitude in his eyes shifting to something else as he looked her over. “You look beautiful, by the way. Really beautiful,” he drawled, licking his lips. “You sure we can’t go back home and have a party of our own?”

“Down, boy,” Ivy giggled, swatting his creeping hand away as she glanced toward the door. The brass knocker had been replaced with a creepy, oversized spider, its legs curled around the handle. With a deep breath, she stepped forward and grabbed it to knock.

The door swung open, the soft creak of the hinges drowned out by the thumping bass of music from inside. A wide smile lit up Gemini’s face as her eyes fell on Ivy, her jaw dropping as she took in her outfit.

“Ivy! Girl, you look incredible!” Gemini’s voice rang out with warmth, her own costume, a curvaceous Lola Bunny from Space Jam, hugging her voluptuous shape enticingly. The white crop top, matching shorts, and knee-high socks paired with her signature bunny ears made her look every bit like the cartoon character. “I’m so glad you made it!” She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Ivy in a tight hug, the scent of lavender and cinnamon swirling between them.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Ivy grinned. “You woulda beat my ass anyway if I did.”

Gemini stepped back, eyes flicking over Ivy’s shoulder, her smile faltering at the towering figure behind her, his sharp features and easy smile that seemed just a little too practiced. He was dressed as Aquaman—predictable. Her eyes lowered to his hand on the small of Ivy’s back, possessiveness radiating from the man that the attorney was yet to warm up to. But she was quick to recover, plastering on a welcoming smile.

“Hi, Roman,” she said coolly, stepping aside to let them in. 

“Hey, Gemini,” he replied smoothly, his voice cheery as he looked around. “Thanks for inviting me. You have a lovely home.”

“Thanks,” Gemini answered. “I’m glad you both could come. It’s gonna be a fun night.”

The entire space of the mansion’s grand foyer had been transformed, an intricate web of cobwebs draping the walls, bats dangling from the ceiling, and pumpkins carved with jagged smiles glowing from every corner. The scent of mulled cider and spiced pumpkin filled the air, the low hum of conversation and laughter drifting in from the next room. Before they parted ways, Gemini’s eyes met Ivy’s again with that disapproving look that Ivy was starting to tire of. In turn, her eyes narrowed, a subtle, silent warning. Roman, however, seemed oblivious to the tension, scanning the room with that same cautious gaze. Watching them slip further into the crowd, Gemini’s eyes lingered on the big man and suppressed a sigh, deciding to focus on the party. Tonight wasn’t about him. It was about having fun, celebrating with the people she cared about, and being a good host. 

The vibrant energy soon took over, the lights, the laughter, and the familiar hum of a good time. Ivy showed Roman around, introducing him to other neighbors and a few other friends of hers, including local cops Officer Gable and Officer Hayes, the latter looking spectacular in his Killmonger armor. Dinner was a vibrant mix of the ordinary and the macabre. Alongside the classic chicken, beef, and vegetarian dishes, the buffet featured quirky options like graveyard chocolate pudding cups, bloody finger hot dogs and cheesy pizza skulls. The bar added a playful twist, serving drinks in boozy blood bags and Jell-O shot syringes, alongside cocktails inspired by iconic horror villains like Freddy Krueger, Michael Myers and Chucky.

At the table, conversation flowed freely, punctuated by the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. Ivy sat sandwiched between Roman and Raquel, a paralegal at Gemini’s law firm.  The hostess herself claimed the head seat, with Officer Hayes right next to her. Ivy noticed how Carmelo had stuck close to Gemini all evening. It wasn’t subtle, and Ivy was certain they were sleeping together. They were undeniably cute, even if Gemini would never admit it. Ivy smirked to herself, already planning how she’d tease her friend about it later.

She turned her attention to Roman, checking on him. He’d been quiet, not saying much, listening to other people’s chatter as he picked at his food. “How’s your food? Good?” she asked, eyeing up his half-eaten plate of shrimp fried rice and garlic butter salmon.

Roman nodded, leaning close to her, “It is. But I’d rather be eating something else cuz it looks so fucking good.”

Before she could ask him to clarify, he snuck his hand under the table to rest it on her leg, moving it along her inner thigh.

"Roman!" Ivy hissed, shocked at his boldness. Surely he wasn't going to try to do what she thought he wanted to do in the presence of all these people, dimmed lighting or not. Her eyes widened as Roman tugged her panties to the side, teasing her folds with his fingers, gathering the growing wetness.

At that exact moment, Raquel decided to steer the conversation to them, leaning forward on the dining table with a sly grin. “So, Nurse Jones, we see you’ve been scooped up by the handsome new neighbor over here,” she teased, her voice brimming with curiosity. “Tell us all about it. How did this beautiful union happen?”

Ivy opened her mouth to answer, but any attempt at forming a coherent thought was derailed by two thick, long fingers suddenly plunging into her, sending shockwaves all over her body. Grabbing his wrist under the table, she struggled to keep a straight face, a sharp contrast from Roman as he stepped in smoothly. “It’s pretty straightforward, really. I came over to hers, asked to borrow some sugar, and she gave me a cookie recipe along with it. The rest, as they say, is history,” he announced, his voice warm and effortlessly charming.

The table erupted into a mix of laughter and ‘aww’s. Ivy’s flushed features were for a far less innocent reason than his sweet comment as she shot Roman another warning look. He merely raised an eyebrow as if daring her to lose her composure, his signature smirk firmly in place as his fingers pumped inside her, making her squirm in her seat as she fought to suppress her moans.

A clueless Raquel nearly spilled her wine as she clutched her stomach. “A cookie recipe! Classic! That’s so cute,” she exclaimed.

Carmelo chimed in next, his tone gentle but curious. “And Zaia? Has she taken to you?” His eyes flicked to Ivy, aware that her little girl had been the center of her world since day one.

Roman’s countenance shifted then, the playful air giving way to something softer, more sincere. “Zaia is the sweetest little girl,” he said, his voice unwavering. “She’s so smart, and she has her mama’s kind heart. I’m blessed to get to know her. Ivy’s an amazing mother. It’s been a tough year for me, and I’m so glad I’ve met them, and all of you as well. I can tell that this town will be good for me.”

The warmth emanating from him seemed genuine, and even Carmelo appeared won over. There were murmurs of approval around the table, heads nodding in silent agreement.

But not everyone was convinced. Gemini sat quietly, her glass of wine untouched, her sharp eyes flickering between Roman and Ivy. Unlike the others, she wasn’t laughing or nodding. Her arms were crossed loosely over her chest, her face a careful mask that betrayed nothing except a slight tension in her jaw.

As Roman continued to field questions and charm the room, she remained silent. Her piercing eyes took in every word, every gesture, every touch. Something about him just did not sit right with her. His words felt just a little too smooth, too charming, his timing just a little too perfect.

The others were too busy to notice Gemini’s quiet skepticism, but Ivy could feel it, even if she wasn’t looking her way. She could only imagine her indignation if she knew that Roman was currently fingering her under the table. She forced a smile as Raquel launched into another question, fighting the urge to scream as her orgasm loomed. But right as she made it to the brink of euphoria, Roman stopped, pulling his fingers out of her.

“We’ll finish this later,” he growled, kissing her cheek and patting her thigh, refocusing on his food like nothing happened.

Infuriating.

Intoxicating.

After dinner, the guests gathered in the cozy, candlelit den. The fire crackled warmly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows over the room. Lounging on plush armchairs and sprawling rugs, the drinks continued to flow and loosen people up more and more. Someone had started a risqué game of “Truth or Dare,” but Roman seemed uninterested in the group activity, his attention wholly fixed on Ivy.

Her seat was his lap, her laughter chiming through the room as someone recounted a particularly embarrassing dare. Roman’s arm remained draped possessively around her waist, his fingers idly tracing circles on her hip. His gaze, though lighthearted, was sharp and territorial, shooting silent warnings at anyone who dared look at Ivy for more than a fleeting moment. Most irritating of them all was Damian, a mutual friend of Gemini and Ivy’s whom Roman noticed had been eyeing her up all evening, seated next to them in a gaudy vampire rockstar getup as he made conversation with her. Then for some reason, he dared to address Roman himself, nodding in his direction. “Hey, great costume, man,” he complimented.

Plastering a plastic smile on his face, Roman leaned forwards, his tone deceptively casual as he responded loud enough for the entire room to hear, “Thanks man. Ya know, I almost didn’t bother with a costume this year. I considered dressing up as a homicidal maniac.” He paused, letting the room go still for a moment before adding with an airy laugh, “Ya know, cuz they look like anybody?”

The room’s energy froze for a beat, the humor landing awkwardly. A few people exchanged uneasy glances. Damian looked flabbergasted.

Roman clapped his hands together, his grin widening as if to erase the tension. “Come onnnn, relax, people! Lighten up! Anyway, I think I nailed the Aquaman look, right?”

Laughter rippled through the room, hesitant at first, but it grew louder when Roman flashed his megawatt smile and raised his drink. The moment passed, but Gemini wasn’t laughing. From her seat on Carmelo’s lap, she studied Roman with narrowed eyes, her suspicions too great to hold in any longer.

A little while later, as guests migrated to refill their glasses and raid the buffet table for more snacks, Gemini saw her chance. She waited until Roman wandered into the kitchen alone and followed him from a distance.

“Roman,” she said, her voice sharp and deliberate.

He turned, his smile immediate but calculated. “Gemini! What’s up? Great party-”

“What kinda creepy ass comment was that, huh? Homicidal maniac? Really? After everything that’s been going on in this town? Could you show your ass anymore out there?” she accused.

“I was just trying to be funny. Sure, it didn’t hit at first but I think I recovered. If my joke was perceived as offensive then I-”

“Cut the shit,” Gemini snapped, stepping closer. Her voice was low but firm, her eyes boring into his. “I’m a goddamn attorney, Roman. Your passive-aggressive bullshit don’t work on me. I see through it, and I see right through you. You’re not who you pretend you are. I can feel it. You’ve got Ivy and everybody else fooled, but I’m not buying it.”

Roman’s smile didn’t waver, but it shifted into something colder, crueler. He leaned casually against the counter, swirling the drink in his hand. “Ivy is a grown woman, Gem,” he said, his tone almost too calm. “A mother, with her own family. Something you don’t have, and with that attitude, you probably never will.”

Gemini’s composure faltered, just for a second, at the scathing jab. Roman caught the slip-up like a cat catching a canary, and his smile widened, his voice softening mockingly. “I’m sure Ivy can make her own decisions without her lawyer friend hovering around.” He took a step closer, his voice dropping. “I’ve tolerated your hostility long enough. But let me give you some friendly advice, sweetheart. You don’t wanna get on my bad side, ever. I promise you that.”

Before Gemini could retort, the sound of approaching footsteps made them both pause. Ivy appeared in the doorway, her brows furrowed in confusion as she took in the tense scene.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, her gaze darting between the two of them.

Gemini straightened, her tone as lighthearted as possible. “Just having a chat with your boyfriend.”

Roman immediately softened, his expression shifting into one of wounded innocence. “I think I’ve upset her somehow,” he said, his voice laced with regret. “I’m not sure what I did but whatever it is, I’m sorry, Gemini. That wasn’t my intention at all.”

Stunned by his complete 180, Gemini opened her mouth to respond, but Ivy got there first. “Gemini, can I talk to you for a second?” she spoke, more a demand than a request.

Roman stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll leave you two to it,” he said smoothly, pressing a light kiss to Ivy’s cheek before slipping away.

As soon as he was gone, Ivy turned on Gemini, her eyes blazing. “What the fuck is your problem?!”

“My problem?” Gemini shot back. “I’m trying to protect you, Ivy! I don’t trust him, and you shouldn’t either!”

Ivy’s shoulders sagged slightly, exhaustion and grief creeping into her demeanor. “I don’t need this from you right now, Gem. I’m barely holding it together after Angelo, and Roman…Roman’s been there for me in a way no one else has.”

“Exactly!” Gemini said, her tone urgent. “Don’t you think it’s a little too convenient? He shows up out of nowhere, swoops in while you’re at your most vulnerable, and suddenly he’s everywhere in your life? Doesn’t that raise any red flags for you?”

Ivy’s jaw tightened. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m not Angelo. I’m not a case you need to solve, Gemini. I’m a grown ass woman and I can decide who I want in my life. Roman’s good to me and Zaia. That’s all that matters.”

Gemini stared at her, her frustration mounting. “You’re not seeing the whole picture, Ivy! Please, just—”

“Enough!” Ivy snapped, stamping her foot angrily. “You’re always looking for problems where there aren’t any! Roman’s done nothing but protect me and be there for me! Just cuz you don’t trust anyone doesn’t mean I'm the same!” She trailed off. Reeled her temper back in. Ignoring the hurt in her best friend's eyes, she addressed her with a clipped and cold tone. “I’m only gonna say this one time. Stop trying to interfere in my life. If you don’t, I might have to reevaluate our friendship.”

Gemini’s eyes widened. “And what does that mean?”

“Figure it out. You’re the one who knows everything,” Ivy bit back, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Over a nigga you just met?” Gemini shook her head in disbelief. “Wow, Ivy. Wow.”

Ivy stood her ground. “I said what I said. All I know is I can’t go on like this. This constant back and forth with you. I’ve made up my mind about Roman and clearly, so have you.” She shrugged. “The only difference is I don't care what you think anymore.”

Gemini swallowed the lump in her throat as Ivy turned and walked away, leaving her alone in the kitchen. She exhaled shakily, gripping the edge of the counter. Roman’s words kept echoing in her mind, chilling and deliberate. 

You don’t wanna get on my bad side, ever.

Gemini wasn’t scared of his threats. But she was more certain than ever: Roman was hiding something. And she wasn’t going to stop until she found out what it was.

Ivy stormed out of the kitchen, her sneakers pounding against the hardwood floor. She pushed her emotions down, forcing herself to breathe evenly, to shake off the lingering sting of her gut-wrenching argument with Gemini. The music from the den grew louder as she approached, but it all felt like static compared to the turmoil in her chest.

Roman spotted her immediately. He was lounging against the wall near the fireplace, sipping from a glass of bourbon, his Aquaman costume catching the firelight. His sharp eyes tracked her as she neared him, his expression shifting into one of concern.

“Hey,” he said softly, setting his drink down. He reached for her hand, pulling her close. “You okay? What happened back there?”

Ivy avoided his questioning stare, her expression tight. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just…I want to leave.”

Roman frowned, tilting his head. “Leave? Why?”

“Because,” she said, her voice faltering, “I’m not in the mood anymore. Gemini…She thinks she knows everything! She’s just trying to protect me, but I can’t deal with it right now. I don’t want to ruin your night, Roman.”

“Ruin my night?” Roman chuckled, the sound low and warm. He cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “Baby girl, don’t let her ruin your night. This is meant to be fun. You deserve a break…you’ve been through so much.”

“I know, but—”

“No buts,” he interrupted, firmly but kindly. “Stay. Forget about her. I’ll handle her if she steps out of line again, okay?”

Ivy hesitated, her eyes searching his face. Something about the way he looked at her—the unshakable confidence, the way he made her feel grounded—settled the tension in her chest. She nodded slowly. “Fine. Get me a drink. A strong one.”

Roman’s lips curled into a pleased smile. “Comin’ right up,” he said, kissing her softly before heading off to do as she asked.

Deeper into the night, the party reached a fever pitch. The music thumped louder, a sultry beat that made the air feel electric. Ivy, emboldened by her third cocktail, shepherded Roman to a corner, away from the makeshift dance floor in the center of the room. Backing up on him, her movements were fluid and teasing, her body swaying to the rhythm of Chris Brown and Davido’s “Sensational”. Her head tilted back, her laughter loud and uninhibited, her eyes locked seductively on Roman’s. He gripped her hips, pulling her flush against his crotch, biting his lip as she bent at the waist to grind on him, her ass gyrating obscenely against the thick bulge of his erection. A low groan slipped from her lips when he yanked her back upright, brushing her hair out of the way to nuzzle her neck, his mouth hot and greedy on her heated skin.

The other guests watched, some whispering to each other, some pretending not to notice. Ivy was putting on a show and she knew it. Her grief, her frustration, her lingering anger with Gemini—all of it melted away as she lost herself in the music and Roman’s presence. Turning around, she wound her arms around his neck and captured his mouth with hers, absorbing the alcohol lacing his tongue. His hands traveled underneath her little skirt, grabbing and squeezing her ass cheek in large handfuls, his body rocking with hers in time with the music. 

Roman leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “You’re full of surprises tonight, sweetheart,” he murmured, his tone heavy with amusement—and something darker.

Eyeing him through her long lashes, her hand trailed down his chest, her touch deliberate as she stroked his visible hard-on through the stretched fabric of his costume, loving the feel of him throbbing in her hand. 

“I need you. Need your dick inside me,” she whispered to him, lust simmering in her brown eyes.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Roman cupped the nape of her neck, his lips brushing her ear. “Where’s Gemini’s bedroom?” 

Ivy froze for a half-second, caught off guard by his question. She pulled back slightly to look at him, a curious smirk tugging at her lips. “Why?”

His grin was devilish, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Where better to fuck you than right under her nose? Let her hear just how much you need me.”

Ivy’s heart raced, a mix of exhilaration and nervousness and alcohol twisting in her stomach. She glanced around the room, the other guests oblivious to their conversation, and then back at Roman. He was watching her expectedly, intently, his darkened eyes filled with a dangerous kind of charm.

“You nasty motherfucker,” she slurred, her full lips curved into a wicked, excited grin.

Roman leaned in, crushing his mouth to hers, his kiss laced with carnal, tantalizing promise. “Only for you, baby girl.”

Without further hesitation, she grabbed his hand and dragged him off the dance floor. As they disappeared from view, the music continued to pulse, the party continuing without them.

They stumbled up the staircase, Roman watching her ass sway from side to side as she moved. He made an impatient sound and swiftly scooped her into his arms, carrying her the rest of the way up. Giggling drunkenly, Ivy tucked her face in the thick column of his neck, licking that one protruding vein that made her crazy for him. “You smell so good, handsome,” she purred, latching her mouth to his throat with an almost vampiric hunger, her clit pulsing in anticipation for the naughtiness about to transpire.

“Which door?” asked Roman.

“Last one on the right,” she murmured, wiggling out of his grasp and mildly surprised to find the door open as she turned the knob and dragged him inside. Roman looked around with a raised eyebrow at the spacious master bedroom, sleek and organized and fitting for an uppity bitch like Gemini. His gaze cut back to the sexy little MILF before him, her dark eyes glazed and stormy, her ample chest heaving in shallow breaths. He eagerly closed the gap between them, his hands finding her hips and yanking her to his chest. Cupping his bearded face, Ivy pulled him in, her mouth meeting his with heated eagerness. Roman maneuvered them to the bed and shoved her onto it face-first, his eyes blazing as he ogled her exposed derrière.

“So fucking sexy. The things I wanna do to you in this little ass skirt,” he murmured, his hands all over her ass, smacking the plump cheeks. “Come here, baby, let Daddy give you what you need.”

In what felt like record time, she was on her hands and knees on Gemini’s king bed, her back arched, panties tugged to the side, deep, powerful backshots making her scream Roman’s name into the comforter lest all the guests downstairs would find out exactly they were up to in here.

“You feel that dick, baby girl? You like that?” asked Roman. His body weight damn near had her face disappearing into the bed. Flat on her chest, ass in the air, barely able to keep her eyes open as he dug her out from behind, forcing his dick deeper into her with tantalizing rolls and snaps of his hips. 

“Shit…I feel it, oh fuck!” Ivy cried, wanton, breathy pants punched out of her by his dizzying length and girth tunneling in and out of her, nudging against her g-spot, right where she wanted it. Fuck, he was so deep!

He liked that she couldn’t seem to control her noises because she was taking him so fucking well, his pelvis smacking loudly and lewdly against her ass, a mesmerizing sight. He grabbed the soft flesh, using his strong grip to rock her back and forth on his dick, making her meet his deep thrusts. Her pussy was so wet that it lathered the entirety of his cock, dripping down her inner thighs and onto the sheets. “Mm-hmm, make a mess on my big dick, baby. Getting fucked on your bestie’s bed like a nasty slut…You love this shit, don’t you,” he taunted her, wrapping his fist around her pigtails and using them as a steer, controlling her. 

“Yes, I love it…unnh, fuck my pussy, baby, don’t stop!” She was definitely under a liquor spell that had her talking and acting reckless tonight. This was one of the few reasons she didn’t drink much. No way in her sober mind would she have agreed to desecrate her best friend’s bedroom like this.

But right now she didn’t want to think about Gemini or anything else except the feel of this hot, big man and his even bigger dick all up in her guts like it was now.

Sitting up straighter, Roman pulled out and flipped her roughly onto her back. Climbing into the bed, he yanked her closer to him and hoisted her shaky legs up on his shoulders. Ivy tried not to scream at the maddening, deliberately slow wind of his hips as he forged his way back inside her. 

"Awww, right there," she whimpered, head thrown back, her mouth falling open in ecstasy, "Oh my god, your dick feels so good..."

Roman grunted, weaving his hands inside her top to massage her breasts. “Been wantin’ to fuck you all damn night.” He groaned as her walls clung to his dick, squeezing every inch as he maintained his pace, keeping up his relentless strokes inside her pussy. So wet, so warm and tight, a wonderful sensation. “Shit, this pussy too good. You’ve put a spell on me, baby girl. I can’t stop thinkin’ about you, day and night.” He bent down to lash his tongue inside her mouth, his eyes filled with a fire that matched the burning in hers. 

“You belong to me,” he growled in a dark and possessive whisper, his fingers shifting downward to play with her pussy. “You’re mine. Your pussy is mine. Forever. You understand me?” 

“Yes, baby,” Ivy moaned back to him, delirious, her body on fire, the flames fueled by his other hand gripping her throat, applying a little pressure as the bed shook and rattled under the strain of their coupling. Above her, Roman’s eyebrows knitted, his hold on her tightening as for a brief moment, his vision blurred, distorted, and suddenly, it was Gemini lying beneath him instead, her eyes wide and bulging with sheer terror, the light in them slowly fading away as he choked the life out of her.

The image, so vivid and palpable, made him fuck Ivy harder. Squeeze her neck tighter.

She was a moaning, mewling, soaked mess underneath him, her essence smeared all over both their lower regions. Overwhelmed by the thrill, the pleasure, the power of his deadly thrusts absolutely ruining her sweet spot. This was exactly how he wanted her, powerless and compliant to his will, and there was nothing she could do about it, nor did she want to. She looked into his eyes, watching his gorgeous face twist in an erotic mix of concentration and pleasure. Her nails dug into his broad back, keeping him close. Body to body, skin on skin. So good; he felt so good on her, in her, and she was on the verge of explosion.

“I’m gonna come,” she whined, her breaths joining his in bursting expulsions of air as he pounded her into Gemini’s mattress. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head as she came apart, her body convulsing from the orgasm to end all orgasms, robbing her of all her senses. She was all nerves and sensation as Roman continued pumping into her at blistering speed, gasping and growling against her sweat-slick skin. 

“Let me come in you,” he beseeched her with a sloppy, tongue-laden kiss, groaning at the feel of her rubbing the firm flesh of his backside, amplifying the already intense sensations coursing through his massive frame. 

"Come in me, Roman. I want all your cum," she encouraged, her fingers tangling in his long locks to anchor him to her, inhaling his sweat-slick, sweet scent. A feeling like this could never be replicated—this animalistic passion, this wild and primal need for each other. Every touch, every stroke was magic, a fountain of bliss and ecstasy that Ivy was drunk off of and she would be for the foreseeable future.

A jumble of expletives along with Ivy’s name tumbled from Roman’s lips as he came hard, his hips jerking, releasing all he had inside her. He remained on top of her when his orgasm ebbed away, shifting so that her legs slid from his shoulders and settled around his waist. He kissed her softly and relished in her satisfied sighs and the sensual brushes of their lips together. Sitting back on his heels, he studied her with a wipe of his brow, biting his bottom lip cheekily before they both burst into soft laughter as the gravity of their misdeeds sank in.

“Let’s take this party home, beautiful,” he breathed, slapping her backside lightly before helping her out of the bed. “Best believe I ain’t done with your fine ass.”

Thank goodness that Zaia was having a sleepover. “Sounds good to me, babe,” Ivy concurred as they adjusted each other's clothes before sneaking out of the room, not bothering to straighten the rumpled sheets and pillows scattered on the bed.

Thanks for reading! Your replies and reblogs are so much appreciated! Also keep your Asks coming, we're loving all the theories!

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[petr1kov]

i swear most berserk fans are the dumbest motherfuckers alive in general but especially so when it comes to analyzing griffith's character and motivations. everything that happened in the eclipse is usually just tied into a neat uncomplicated bow of 'griffith always was a sociopath with no feelings and everyone in the band of the hawk were always seen as disposable tools to him', which is such a poor reading of literally everything that happened prior to it that it drives me insane.

the eclipse is meant to be a huge sacrifice. it is a grotesque and violent ritual that has griffith completely shedding his humanity and becoming something monstrous by cutting ties with everything and everyone that made him feel human in the worst possible way. what would be the point of it if griffith was already a fully-fledged monster from the beginning? why did griffith even need to experience visions to be convinced if he was always ready to sell his comrades for a corn chip?

even the scene where he explicitly states that 'only [guts] made me forget about my dream' often gets misconstrued as being just another expression of his narcissist ego, with claims that griffith became inconsolable and reckless after guts left him only because he got mad that lost control of his 'tool', since he felt like he needed him to achieve what he wanted. obviously, griffith's egotistical nature is central to his character and plays a part in this as well, but it's still very clear that it's not just resentment that motivates him in the aftermath of guts leaving. as he stated, guts made him forget what he wanted to achieve at all, HIS DREAM, for a while - and when he thinks of that, he remembers the good times they shared, not the bad. he simply couldn't envision a future that didn't include guts, after a point in his life, and that feeling had nothing to do with any pragmatic assessment of the pros and cons of having a powerful fighter like him on his side, and he knew that. it was the depth of his attachment to guts that terrified him.

i feel that people tend to dance around the issue of griffith's emotions in general because they feel that acknowledging that he felt anything other than possessive entitlement to the members of his crew (or even just to guts) is almost the same as excusing his actions, but it's the opposite for me. believing that griffith was simply born incapable of feeling love and affection for anyone is as good as believing that he essentially had no true free will in the events that led to the eclipse; if they were all interchangeable pawns on his hand, how would he ever hesitate to sacrifice them when the time came? how could a sacrifice like this even hold any meaning, really? believing that is fully conceding that he was always destined to become femto no matter what, which runs counter to the theme of free will in the face of causality that drives the series. where is the tragedy in that? where is the betrayal? it hurts because it could, should have been different, and griffith made a terrible choice - but only because he had a choice to make in the first place.

[deezee112]

The child Doll

Chapter 2

Yandere!Twisted Wonderland x GN!Reader

A/N : I got inspired by @kansetsu001 on Twitter while I was reading the pictures he used to draw. I got this idea. But this is just something I thought of for fun. I hope you like my little idea.

Warning : This story contains themes of psychological tension , unease , an unsettling relationship dynamic between a protagonist and a mysterious humanoid object , y/n is a hot-tempered and tall person.

English is not my first language.

you sighed, pinching the bridge of you nose as the clock ticked past 6:00 PM. The office, dimly lit and mostly deserted, hummed faintly with the sound of ancient computers and the distant clicking of a few remaining coworkers' keyboards. You leaned back in you chair, you frown deepening.

Four years working under Dire Crowley had conditioned you to expect little in the way of fairness and less in the way of sanity. He was a man who thrived on chaos, throwing his subordinates into bizarre, ill-defined projects while swooping in at the last minute to claim the credit—or shift the blame.

" Y/N, can you come to my office? " his voice crackled over the intercom, interrupting you train of thought.

you rolled you eyes, muttering, "What now?" before dragging youself to you feet. you tall, imposing figure and perpetually frowning face had earned you a reputation as someone you didn’t mess with. Yet, despite you intimidating demeanor, you prided herself on efficiency and pragmatism—qualities Crowley never seemed to value.

The walk to his office felt unnecessarily long. you wasn’t in the mood for whatever nonsense he’d concocted this time, but you curiosity was piqued when you noticed the odd stillness in the air. Normally, Crowley’s office was a hub of noise—papers rustling, phones ringing, his voice booming with unwarranted confidence. Today, it was eerily quiet.

Pushing open the door, you found Crowley seated at his desk, a smug smile plastered across his face. Beside him stood a large, ornate box.

“ Ah, Y/N! My most reliable employee! ” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

You raised an eyebrow. “ What’s this about? ”

Crowley gestured theatrically toward the box. “ I have a very special task for you. One that requires someone of your… unique disposition. ”

You crossed her arms. “ Get to the point, Crowley. ”

His smile widened as he lifted the lid of the box, revealing what appeared to be a doll. But it wasn’t like any doll you had ever seen. It was life-sized, with eerily realistic features—soft skin, glassy eyes that seemed to follow you every movement, and hair that looked and felt disturbingly real.

“ What the hell is that? ” you asked, you with suspicion.

“ This, my dear Y/N, is a revolutionary creation! A child doll unlike any other. It’s capable of eating, sleeping, and reacting just like a real human child. And you, lucky you, have been chosen to take care of it! ”

You stared at him, incredulous. “ You’ve got to be kidding me. ”

“ I assure you, this is no joke. It’s an important project! Top secret! And who better to handle it than my most dedicated employee? ”

“ Dedicated or expendable? ” you shot back.

Crowley chuckled nervously. “ Oh, don’t be so dramatic. This is a marvelous opportunity! Think of it as…..fostering innovation! ”

You narrowed her eyes at him. “ What’s the catch? ”

“ No catch! Well, apart from the fact that you’ll need to keep this little one with you at all times. It’s crucial for the experiment, you see. ”

You pinched the bridge of you nose again, you patience wearing thin. “ Let me get this straight. You want me to take care of this creepy, overly realistic doll— ”

“ child doll ” he corrected.

“ Whatever. You want me to play house with this thing, and you think that’s a normal, reasonable request? ”

Crowley waved dismissively. “ Oh, Y/N, don’t be so cold-hearted. Think of it as a new challenge! You’re always saying you want to expand your skill set. ”

“ I’ve never said that ” you deadpanned.

But Crowley wasn’t listening. He was already bustling around, preparing to hand over the doll. “ Now, its name is—well, it doesn’t have one yet! You can name it whatever you like. It’s designed to adapt to its caretaker’s habits and preferences. Isn’t that fascinating? ”

You stared at the doll. Its eyes seemed to glimmer with an unsettling awareness. you didn’t trust it or Crowley but you knew arguing was pointless. He’d either guilt you into accepting or find a way to dump the task on you regardless.

“ And if I refuse? ” you asked, crossing arms.

Crowley’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. “ Oh, Y/N you wouldn’t leave poor little me in a bind, would you? This is a once-in-a-lifetime project! Think of the company’s reputation! and Think of your reputation! ”

You sighed heavily. “ Fine. I’ll do it. But only because I don’t want to hear you whining about it later. ”

“ Splendid! ” Crowley beamed, practically shoving the doll into you arms. “ Now, take good care of it. I’ll check in periodically to see how things are going. ”

You scowled but didn’t bother arguing further. You glanced down at the doll cradled awkwardly in you arms. It was heavier than you expected, and its skin felt disturbingly warm to the touch.

“ This is going to be a nightmare ” you muttered under you breath as you left Crowley’s office.

Back at your apartment, you set the doll down on you couch, glaring at it as if it were responsible for your predicament. You barely had time to process the absurdity of you new task before you phone buzzed with a message from Crowley.

Don’t forget! It needs to be fed, bathed, and put to bed on a strict schedule. Oh, and don’t let anyone else see it! Confidentiality is key!

You're groaned, tossing you phone onto the coffee table. “ Great. Just what I needed parenting advice from a man who can’t even manage an office. ”

The doll sat eerily still, its glassy eyes fixed on you. Despite you frustration, You couldn’t shake the feeling that it was watching you.

Shaking you head, you grabbed a blanket and threw it over the doll. “ Out of sight, out of mind. ”

But as the night wore on, you found youself glancing at the covered figure more often than you cared to admit. Something about it unnerved you, though you couldn’t quite put you finger on why. ( She's just a little tsundere🥺 )

When you finally crawled into bed, exhaustion tugging at you, you muttered to youself, “ It’s just a doll. No big deal. Tomorrow, I’ll figure out how to deal with this mess. ”

But deep down, you knew this wasn’t going to be as simple as Crowley had made it sound.

You woke to the faint sound of something rustling in the living room. You froze, Had you left a window open? Was it a burglar?

You Grabbing a heavy book from you nightstand, you crept toward the noise, you heart pounding.

When you entered the living room, you stopped dead in you tracks. The blanket Your thrown over the doll was on the floor, and the doll itself was sitting upright, its head tilted slightly as if observing You.

You grip tightened on the book. “ Okay, that’s creepy. Did Crowley install some kind of remote control in you? ”

The doll didn’t respond, of course, but its lifelike appearance made you unease grow.

You approached cautiously, picking up the blanket and draping it over the doll again. “ You stay put. I don’t have time for your nonsense. ”

As you turned to make coffee, you phone buzzed again. Another message from Crowley.

Don’t forget to check its morning routine! It’s designed to respond to kindness and care.

You scoffed, pouring youself a mug of coffee. “ Kindness and care, my ass. He just wants me to babysit his creepy science experiment. ”

But as the minutes passed, you couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that you should at least check on the doll. Begrudgingly, you set your mug down and returned to the living room.

“ All right, let’s get this over with. ”

You lifted the blanket again, half expecting the doll to have moved. To you relief and mild disappointment it was exactly where you left it.

Still, as you looked into its unnervingly realistic eyes, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something far stranger than Your signed up for.

[cutehoons02]

♡ would enhypen call you as your bf or as you would call it♡

*synopsis: (reaction) what the enhypen members call you or what you call them to make fun of them

༄07T༄

© cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2024.

(English is not my native language)

—REBLOG if you enjoyed

Jay (Amore mio)

Jay loved everything about the world of Italy, from fashion, good food, delicious vastness of fine wines that could be discovered and tasted in the wonderful Italian regions, to historical and artistic beauties that could be found in northern Italy, the center and south, and the merry approach that the fans had. After being in Italy for almost a week he had come across a couple at dawn in a delicious cafe and heard his beloved husband calling his beloved wife "Amore mio", he had written it on his phone and after the 11 hours of the plane ride he had it in his mind and how it sounded with his Korean and American accent, but to him, it sounded divinely and sweetly, he was looking forward to going home, to see you and say those words whispered in your ear because Jay was the representation of the prince charming who wrote himself countless gnomes to give you but "Amore mio" had become his nickname for him because you were seriously his love from the first day he saw you. After taking a shower to chase away the fatigue of those 11 hours of plane was super exciting to tell you that words, you were preparing pasta with sauce and you were turned to taste the delicious sauce that you had prepared for your boyfriend, you allowed him to approach slowly and felt your arms wrap around your back and then the waist and a light kiss at the top of your lobe in your ear. "You’re so beautiful, amore mio" when you heard those words a slight redness crept into your cheeks and your sunflower to find yourself a Jay with the hair slightly glued to the forehead for the heat of the shower and with the reddened cheeks that looked at you with eyes of true lover.

Jake (Teddy bear)

The sunset was now leaving light shades of pink and orange in the sky above Jeju beach, you were embraced by Jake’s strong arms and his chest, the wind was beginning to rise and a light breezy breeze cradled your two bodies sitting in a sheet to admire the sun that was setting and the boats that were returning to the port. You looked at your boy and marveled by the light reflection that he was coming between his face and with one hand you took a tuft of it from his forehead, he was always wonderful but you loved spending days like these where he seemed to be a guy with his joys and worries for his future; You felt his warm hand go under your sweatshirt and form light circles behind your back and you cuddled even more to him. " You know i love you Y/n" You watched with a laugh Jake "I love you too, teddy bear" You saw him look up and say, "Oh my god how many times i told you not to call me teddy bear, you want by chance the war y/n!" Jake pushed you slightly into the towel and some hands went to make you suntan between your hips " Jake we all know that you are a cuckold teddy with all". You raised your arms slightly and took his face with your little hands and began to kiss him first the forehead, the cheeks and then your lips slightly cracked were put in his in a light kiss, you felt his hands no longer make you sunny but they put on your jacket to support and looked at you laughing "Maybe you’re right i love being your favorite cuddly puppy!"

Sunghoon (Angel)

Sunghoon did not believe much in fate, he was a very pragmatic person and if something had to happen it should be him who made it happen, not someone on whom people wanted to meet or create situations. Sunghoon was a cold person at first impact with people, had to study them and every conversation he had at the beginning with someone he did not know had been carefully He did not want to be cynical or difficult with people but also not too friendly because it was not in his nature. A day break from the hectic world of Kpop events had taken place at night in his now former favorite place when he was little but which he had begun to hate during his teenage years, the ice rink in Seoul had always been the same as before but when he went there to train it was him that people looked at and admired but now things were reversed, you his angel down to earth that for 6 months now had carob with your elegance but also with your sarcastic ways of teasing him that you were better than him skating. He knew of your existence from high school when he first saw you at the age of 14 but had never had the rush to talk to you only to admire you from afar. When he left the world of skating for K-pop he did not expect you to recognize him because you were the ice star already a teenager and now you were in the prime of your career as a skater. Hoon slipped into the ice careful not to be heard by you that you had headphones in your ears to memorize the steps and he girded your hips and made you spin in front of him, you had half-waved hair in your tail and cheeks reddened from the cold but for him you were perfect at that moment, "Hello Angel, look who came to see you at almost midnight" looked at Hoon with a twinkle in his eyes and opened his jacket to rest your head in his chest and slightly warm up from his body. " You could have told me that you would come to see me so i would have prepared myself slightly and thought that i had some curfew to respect" A slight redness crept into the cheeks of Hoon and squeezed you harder "Angel you’re always beautiful to me and maybe i snuck out of my dorm room to corrupt Niki!" You lifted your head from his chest and looked at him "Oh my god i’m creating a little bad boy if your fans found out what they would think of the most vampire-human i’ve ever met in my life!" Hoon took your hand and you started skating slowly attached to give you warmth "Well it would be worth it because i would spend hours watching Angel in secret at any time of day or night".

Sunoo (Baby)

Sunoo was everything to you, your boyfriend, your lifeline, your best friend, and your favorite listener. You were lying in your comfortable bed with painful cramps in the belly because of the cycle and at the same time you were bored because there was nothing that took your curiosity on Netflix, you had written to Sunoo half an hour ago if he wanted to come and visit you just to spend an hour together to cuddle you and eat some snacks but he hadn’t answered yet and maybe he was training or recording something even though he was a boring Sunday afternoon and out even if it was only 16 he was already doing oxen. You heard your friends with whom you shared the apartment laugh and after a few seconds, you felt the door of your room open with her blonde hair your boyfriend entered cold from the harsh temperatures of Seoul, and in his hand had a glass of hot chocolate, snacks, and a small heated panty holder to make you put it where you were most uncomfortable and to relieve even that little menstrual pain. " Hi baby, i’m sorry if i didn’t answer you but when you told me if we could meet because you were bored and because you were sick i had the perfect excuse to get out of that chaos of the dorm with which i share with those human monsters!" a light laugh came out of your lips and opened your arms and you clung to him as koala to the lower part of his life "I missed you so much, I don't know if it is the hormones ball but i seriously need cuddles especially if they are yours Sunoo" a slight blush invaded the cheeks of Sunoo, you were quite introverted with everyone but when you were with Sunoo you became a different person and was proud to have only him this power. "Come here baby, i missed you too and in this week of hard work, i rarely had a moment to relax" Sunoo lay down in your bed and you cuddler to his chest and smelled his favorite sweet scent of Lush, "I’m so lucky to have you by my side Sunoo", "Woo but where does all this little sweetness come from? the cycle i know cannot last you a few days longer because you are so sweet to me only in your red days!"

Heeseung (Rameonlover)

One thing you loved about Heeseung was the more introverted and nerdy part he had with you in your relationship, you loved to see him turn into a hot guy when he was on stage, while dancing while singing, While he was flirting with the fans but then with you he was super sweet but sexy at the same time. You watched him use his big hands in the joystick of the play and while he grumbled if he could not defeat some monster, “do you want a picture of me Y/n? You’re losing the drool right here from your beautiful little mouth" You slapped him gently on the arm while he gently touched the bottom of your lip "Stop rameonlover know that I find you extremely attractive while playing at play" You saw him stretch and lift his eyes, you knew he had it in for you because your eyes were immediately set where you could see his perfect muscles "Do you find me attractive only while i play or even when i prepare the ramen, while Ii kiss your neck with my hair unkempt, while you come to spy on me while i dance with the muscles of my arms in plain sight or while i’m standing over you?" You hated him with all your heart because from the first day I saw him Hee made you taste those famous butterflies in your stomach and when he was in your range you always watched him, "Rameonlover lowers your ego a little bit because these things can be done by all the guys in this world and who knows maybe some are more attractive than you!"; Hee when I felt this phrase took you for life and with a little scream from your part put you in his legs and looked at you with his famous pout "Don’t try to make me jealous because you’re my y/n" felt his meaty lips give you small kisses on the neck and pulled his hair "Rameonlover please" Heeseung pinched your side and look at you with questioning "Stop bending me down Rameonlover even in these moments, i’m Heeseung or Hee to you, not that stupid nickname that he gave me Jake!”

Niki (Mochi)

Being the girlfriend of the youngest member of the group was fun because each member teased Niki but at the same time all members controlled you and this made her happy but when they became too protective or insistent in knowing what you were doing or with Who you saw outside of them was not good enough for you. You were sitting in the studio of Hybe watching your boyfriend Niki try to record new music, I saw it from the big mirror that hoped for the studio and you were really happy with all the success that was receiving. You felt the door open and a guy you had never seen sat next to you, sure was another idol but honestly you did not follow other idols or groups beyond Enhypen. "Are you a friend of Niki’s or his sister? Yes, he has two sisters but you don’t look very alike" look a little uncomfortable the boy because you are slightly shy with strangers especially with males "Uh no I’m Niki’s girlfriend" the guy in front of you looked at you with a look of surprise "are you kidding right? Niki never told us that he had a girlfriend, sure of wanting to be with the smallest of the group I think you deserve better" looked badly the guy in front of you "honestly who do you think you are to tell me something like this? I love my boyfriend and I sure don’t need anyone else" your shyness faded when you heard this phrase and Niki, Jungwon, and Hee heard you across the room and Niki felt a sense of admiration towards you and love for defending your relationship. She left the room and stood by your side "I never saw you so angry with a boy, what happened to the shy girl I know!" You felt your cheeks turn slightly red both for the initial embarrassment and also for the nickname he used, he only used it when you were alone to make fun instead of two other companions having heard it. “Did you hear what he called it? Mochi, oh my god we just lost it for this girl" Jungwon laughed and Hee hugged you both "Well I think we don’t have to worry about Y/ n anymore, she can do it herself even with the boys, that idol ran away when she saw you angry."

Jungwon (Kitten)

Loved walking near the Han River in Seoul especially at night while seeing all the lights of the city lit up and the various bridges that splashed water and made colorful water games. Near the river, there were a lot of parks and each park had small shelters for animals, especially for cats, you were a team dog but since you were with Jungwon, you were pretty indecisive about the question "Do you prefer dogs or cats?". You had your hand in Jungwon’s pocket as you passed by the river bank until you heard a slight meow coming from the pig and looked at Jungwon, "Kittie you’ve always been a dog lover don’t tell me I’m making you change your mind with my cat look!" Jungwon was beautiful but one thing you loved most about him was his big, long expressive eyes and he looked like a cat. "You’re not the stupid one who made me passionate about cats but you know I’ve always been a cat lover" Jungwon pulled you across the street and you reached the little house that was in the middle of the park with cats inside all wrapped up to get warm. "Kitten you know we can’t take home more, we already have two, the world won’t go on only with cats or animals you have to make children!" Pushed slightly Jungwon and corsí across the park "I’m sure not going to have children with someone who calls me Kitten or with an obsession for strawberries and chocolate" Jungwon ran to you and took you lightly in his arms "Y/n would be good with our beautiful genes, they would come out with beautiful cat eyes and the beautiful character of my beautiful Kitten!"

[arguablysomaya]

Nightwing's weird fem-coding

! LONG POST !

Finally got around to jotting down my thoughts on the weird way that Dick Grayson (Nightwing) often occupies female-coded roles without being a particularly feminine guy. This is entirely due to me procrastinating on my finals. Okay!

Dick has often been cited as the hero who plays into the "female gaze", and he takes up some key roles that are typically reserved for women characters.

A large portion of Dick's fem-coding is contingent on his being with his family, and when he's not with them, this fem-coding kinda drops away, such as when he's with his various teams or acting solo.

His most prominent (and imo, complex) femme-coded role is:

-> Eldest Daughter + Widow

Eldest daughter syndrome means " frequently feeling like you’re not doing enough, like you’re struggling to maintain a veneer of control, like the entire household relies on your diligence." It's born out of the unique way that first-born girls are expected to take on adult roles around the household before they've had an opportunity to fully experience childhood (an opportunity their younger siblings will have, in part due to this sacrifice). It creates a strong sense of independence and a desire to be a good role model, but also leads to undue pressure and perfectionism.

Dick acts as a central emotional pillar for those in his family. To the point that when he fakes his death, it breaks something fundamental in the family dynamic:

Not only is it repeatedly made clear that Bruce depends on Dick to act as a lifeline for his own mental struggles, but moreover, his siblings do as well. In a very literal sense, the maintenance of the batfamily rests on Dick's shoulders. Bruce is so rarely available for emotional support that these children turn to the next best thing, which, to be fair, is better than what Dick had growing up. He has to clean up so many breakdowns, it's honestly pretty staggering.

As the OG sidekick, Dick receives quite a bit of hero worship, particularly from younger heroes/sidekicks, who look toward him for guidance. As a naturally upbeat and welcoming person, Dick ends up in the position of bringing light to everyone, not just Bruce. For example, here's Cassandra:

This balancing effect is unique to Dick's skill set. However, this can (and does) backfire very easily. The same pragmatism Bruce engages in hurts extra bad when coming from Dick: like when Dick had to take Robin away from Tim. Not to mention just how intimidating Dick's legacy is, which can create resentment when his successors aren't able to play this role so easily. For example, Jason both before and after his death expressed insecurity that he felt he was constantly being compared to Dick, and falling short.

As the original character that people think of when they think "sidekick", DG Robin (and his successors) had the advantage of not losing prominence even as his contemporaries (Kid Flash, Aqualad, Wonder Girl, etc.) were de-prioritized in favor of independent teenaged heroes (like Cyborg, Beast Boy, Raven, and Starfire). But that means Robin as a concept now has to deal with questions that weren't so prominent in the earlier decades, such as: "How do we justify a grown-ass man using a child (and in fact, children) as emotional crutches?"

It's icky to think about, but there's no denying that early Batman and Robin got side eyes for homosexual subtext. I mean, they literally call each other "partners". So while that "subtext" was, and remains, just audience speculation, given Dick is literally Bruce's adopted son, there is room, I believe, to call into question how healthy it is for Bruce's oldest kid to be taking on a nearly-parental role and be a core pillar of Bruce's emotional regulation.

Hot take here, but I think Dick's relationship with Bruce was/has been pretty emotionally incestuous for a long time.

-> Emotional incest

"Emotional incest[...] is a type of emotional abuse performed by a parent. In cases of emotional incest, parents rely on their children for significant emotional support, which is a reversal of roles. Emotional incest is more than just relying on your kids on occasion—rather, it is an extreme dependence on them." (There's a pretty good argument to be made that Bruce has been emotionally incestuous with all his Robins, especially Dick and DEFINITELY Tim, but y'know. Small steps.)

Emotional incest is a semi-common consequence of eldest daughter syndrome; the natural conclusion of deputizing a child to manage the other children combining with an inability to see the child as a child, still in need of emotional guidance, but more like an adult capable of shouldering the burdens of grown-ups dumping their traumas on them.

To be clear here, while emotional incest may not be incest in the most traditional, taboo sense, it is still abuse. It's putting a burden on a child they shouldn't have to carry, even for children that aren't dealing with such extreme burdens as "grown-ass man running around in a fursuit needs me to keep him from getting himself killed". It's a perversion of a healthy parent-child relationship, where the child is treated more like a partner than a child. In Dick's case, it further exacerbates the parentification he already experiences. This is made more explicit when Bruce "dies" and Dick is cast into a sort of "Widow" role.

Dick reluctantly dons the cowl in an attempt to bring order to his family members. He's also left to parent Damian, alone. He has to make the decision to take Robin from Tim, and try to deal with the fallout from that decision. He has to put a stop to Jason's fratricidal rampage. He's made into the de-facto head of the family.

And the thing about this is: Dick's not even bad at it. In comparison to Bruce's litany of disasters-in-parenting, Dick does a pretty bang-up job of managing his siblings, heading the Justice League, and being Batman. But the crucial point is that he does this at the expense of his own mental health, which is the crux of eldest daughter syndrome. There's no denying that at the time, Dick was most certainly the best choice for New Father Figure, but it was a choice he was pushed into, and a sacrifice he had to make. When this sense of responsibility to the point of self-sacrifice is pushed to its logical conclusion, it has the effect of making Dick a Martyr-type figure.

-> Protector/Mama Bear/Avenger

Dick has shown repeatedly that his hot button is his family. From Tony Zucco to allowing Blockbuster to be killed after the villain targeted Haley's Circus, going after Nightwing's family is a pretty good way to earn yourself an asskicking. Probably the most infamous example of this is when Dick thought the Joker had killed Tim, beating the clown to death to avenge both Tim and Jason.

And while this role isn't particularly feminine, I do think it's interesting that Dick protects his family members from each other with almost the same frequency that he protects them from outside threats. He's pretty notorious for wrangling Damian and Tim, foiling Jason's murder plans, and most importantly, beating the shit out of Bruce whenever he crosses a line, such as when Bruce asks Dick to conceal being alive from their family to join Spyral or when Bruce wanted to abandon the Bruce Wayne persona after the murder of Vesper Fairchild. Or of course, more recently after Bruce's latest MK-ULTRA shenanigans.

This basically puts Dick in the position of being the glue that holds the family together, at basically all times, but especially in times of conflict. This also means he's put in the dangerous position of bodily defending his younger siblings from Bruce's wrath or irresponsibility, a position made even more awkward given the whole emotional incest thing.

That's not to say that Dick's relationship with his family is 100% unhealthy. Dick and his family members (including Bruce!) feel legitimate affection and care for each other. There are times when the dynamics here are indeed healthy. And like most people with eldest daughter syndrome, the unhealthy nature of this dynamic is usually understated. Oldest sibling syndrome is often just an unavoidable consequence of how parenting works. So while I am of the opinion that this dynamic is often unhealthy, hot take: I'm fine with that.

Now, though I've just listed some tropes that he only falls into around family, Dick also falls into some fem-coding all the time, regardless of who he's with, and these have to do mostly with his sexuality.

-> Sexual Assault & Harassment

Yeah, so nobody is surprised that this is a factor. Look up any list of the top ten hottest/sexiest/most attractive male superheroes, I guarantee 9/10 times Nightwing is number 1. However, unlike his father, whose attractiveness is usually played as a part of the male wish-fulfillment fantasy, something people aspire to be, Dick's attractiveness more often makes him an object of desire- very similar to how most attractive female characters are perceived.

And as an object of desire, Dick Grayson is constantly having to deal with being objectified.

Now, Dick Grayson being an attractive character is not the problem. Dick Grayson being sexually assaulted isn't even the problem. the problem is that he keeps being harassed, assaulted, and raped in ways that are flagrantly nonconsensual, and yet it's not treated with the seriousness it deserves. In fact, it took a full decade for Devin Grayson to retract her previous statement and admit that yes, the rooftop scene with Catalina Flores was in fact rape, and it's never been acknowledged in-universe (though, comics have always been atrocious at calling out sexual abuse of all kinds, let alone that which targets men).

Hell, even when he in-universe calls it out, he's dismissed immediately and the story continues like nothing happened.

Like???

Dick's adult sexcapades (which were consensual and enthusiastic) have long contrasted with the numerous times he's been harassed; times in which he comes across as bored, exasperated, and even frustrated with his own attractiveness and the vulnerable position it often leaves him in.

This puts him in the rare (in comics) position of being a male character who consistently and near-exclusively has his sexual agency and boundaries violated by women - a position that authors uniformly refuse to examine despite writing him into it all the fucking time.

Other characters around him frequently make comments passing off this harassment and assault as a natural consequence of Dick's own attractiveness, making "jokes" that essentially amount to "I understand why someone would want to assault him". Which- UH?

There is also, of course, the unavoidable reality that as an acrobat and an aerialist, he receives a very specific type of sexual harassment

the nature of nightwing's fight style necessitates a type of tight-fitting suit that male heroes typically don't go for: an extremely slick suit with bare-minimum armour that again, makes him vulnerable in a way most male heroes aren't, but a style female heroes wear all the time, whether it makes sense for them or not. This of course then allows artists to draw attention to this fact by posing Nightwing in poses usually reserved for femme fatales:

And unlike the Hawkeye Initiative, these poses are (largely) unironic, and not played for jokes. Dick isn't arching his back or looking over his shoulder to poke fun at how female heroes are treated; he does so because the artist (clearly correctly) sincerely believed these poses would play into the unironic gaze of the audience, and also probably thought it was hot. It's the same line of thought artists use when posing femme fatales.

He's even been known to use his sexuality as a bargaining chip, much like more traditional Femme Fatales. In Batman and Harley Quinn (2017), he refers to sleeping with Harley Quinn after being kidnapped by her as one of "the things I do for Gotham", to which she responds "I'm taking that as a 'yes'." And that's uh- not how consent works.

And this particularly sucks because- HELLO? The opportunity to explore the very real and tragically underacknowledged phenomenon of sexual violence against men is literally invaluable, especially with such a prominent character. It's one thing to ignore that men face sexual violence, it's another, entirely more unforgivable thing to continuously and explicitly depict such scenarios and play them off as jokes or not as serious as they clearly are. But what did I expect from an industry that has never had a good track record on sexual violence anyway.

-> Queercoding?

There's also of course the fact that DC has been, as of late, dropping hints that Dick might be bisexual.

That on it's own doesn't mean anything, but when paired with the fact that DC has been angling toward giving Dick a similar playboy persona that Bruce has, just with men included, it's just very interesting.

(BTW: The likelihood DC actually commits to making Dick bi is, uh, not a lot, but if they're gonna stick with this weird closet stuff for a while, let's hope they do so in a way that doesn't make him sound like a cross between Donald Trump and Harry Styles next time? Please?)

Anyway, all of this is basically to say I am forever fascinated by the gender dynamics of Dick Grayson, likely due to the fact that I'm projecting all my eldest daughter traumas onto him, and that someone who's background is in Gender Studies needs to get on this shit if they haven't already. I just love this character sm.