#while this sounds mostly negative

[vamptoll]

Finished Fitzpatrick's "The Call-out". Trans girls in NYC have drama- thoughts below

I liked it alright (I finished it!) though a lot of it struck me as very myopic. The "White trans girl in NYC" experience very much becomes all of transness, in a way that doesn't totally feel intentional. I'm a white trans girl in Philly and it still feels off to me.

And of course that ties into the major problem of the primary trans girl of color, who's portrayed (imo) as the most moral of the group, which makes her incredibly boring in an ensemble piece. But basically every conversation in the book is between one person clearly in the wrong and someone else who's clearly in the right but being led astray by the other.

This lack of ambiguity in most every conversation means every character feels shallow, which really hurts in a narrative about characters who do shitty things to each other despite caring about "The community". While I like its brevity, too often I wish these characters had a bit more breathing room.

This in some ways is the opposite of the NYC problem- if I wasn't familiar with trans community dynamics I might be ambiguous on, say, the group staging a public call-out beyond the wishes of the victim, or on the cis girl twisting the arm of her partner to go off E for a baby the trans girl doesn't want. But I am familiar, so I know those people suck! Some more depth to their motivations might make me invested in them, instead of screaming for their conversation partner to go running the other way.

The verse gimmick i found a little twee at first, but grew on me (I have been called twee before, it's a fault). When it works, it's very effective and flows beautifully, but other times I felt like I was reading a stilted line. I know the book is based off a specific model of poetry, but, well, I don't much like rules and prefer a more free-flowing structure.

[telesodalite]

This is a bit random, but I've been thinking about Misfire a lot lately, and it struck me, that with his adhd, the whole implied/hc'd substance use is only sometimes considered as a form of self-medicating? And, idk, I find the concept interesting.

Like, yeah sure, within the canon implications it's just stereotypical stuff, so it can be interpreted as wholly recreational, and whatever one might call accidentally catching a high from blood you've taken from a corpse.

But like, his adhd is emphasized as an important aspect of his character, so surely it's impacted his millions of years worth of life with its symptoms? Both good and bad?

The Decepticons in idw1 are weird, in many ways lol, but in the sense that they're the faction defined by their oddballs and rejects. They're the unwanted, the belittled, the different, the oppressed, the strange, the mad. But at the same time, any deviance from their impossible and ever-changing standards is punishable and looked down upon.

It's a classic, almost frustratingly stereotypical case of a system built against oppression becoming the oppressors. But that's not the point here.

The point is that they opened their arms and offered the idea of freedom to those who felt different from the pre-war standards, who felt belittled by it, or betrayed by it, and promptly went and turned around on these people to make them feel belittled and betrayed and made different from their own new standards.

Abuse, in many forms, runs rampant within Decepticon ranks. From the very top, to the very bottom. Any deviation or perceived weakness is an open invitation for such actions. Throw in the DJD, and there's no escape from it. No way to get out, only fit in and keep your head low, or become the very thing you originally wanted to fight against and be free from.

Substance abuse is mentioned in canon enough to assume that certain amounts of it were almost expected across both Decepticon and Autobot ranks and contingents. But considering the condition of Decepticon standards and communities, it can be assumed to be a bit more rampant in their case.

So, Misfire. We don't have much context for his background and what all he's seen and done.

It's implied he did some spywork, or at least made some cross faction connections during the war with Brainstorm, which might've been a big enough deal that it caught the attention of Skids, because he's aware of Misfire of all people, knows he changed his name right at the end of the war, and considers Misfire somewhat as a nemesis, which, might I remind thee that Skids was part of a secret special operations unit, a secret special operations unit under fucking Prowl!? So uh, possible big interesting stuff that never got explained there.

(The possible spy bit keeps me up at night I swear to god, bcs wtf were all those tiny implications supposed to mean?!? I need to know all the details of that possible spy drama so bad, omg)

Then, we know he "accidentally" killed "a dozen" other cons towards the end of the war, and that he was going to be jailed for it.

So Misfire's life obviously went down the drain before the murdering a dozen fellow soldiers bit, but considering every awful and challenging factor of being a sub-par soldier in the Decepticon army/air force, what kept him from doing something like that earlier on?

More important, what got someone like him through the war? What kept him going? What kept him alive? Well uh... the same thing that kept a lot of Decepticons going I guess. Substance abuse.

Ok so where does the self-medication angle of this whole thing come in Teles?? My answer to that would be, uh, inherently ig.

Because think about it, you're just some kinda weird guy, caught in the middle of one long ass war. You're never good enough, can't achieve the one thing you've been gunning(lol) for, and are just sorta flying by the seat of your metaphorical pants through life. You're a solider, and a victim of systematic abuse because of that, and at some point, you're possibly a perpetrator of that abuse*. On top of all that, you've also got raging adhd during all this stress and trauma, and man, quieting those racing thoughts and numbing that constant buzzing itch in your body probably feels really good when you're escaping your extremely stressful situation for just a bit.

It feels better to be more detached, to be "calmer", less caught up in a hundred thoughts at once, more focused, more in control. Eventually this becomes the subconscious focus of his using to ease the stress. It "fixes" something. Makes things "right". So casual escapist substance use tumbles into substance abuse and addiction.

How this factors into his post-war life, idk, you decide ig.

I figure the scavs being broke and cut-off from others could play a part in Misfire having to wean himself off of whatever substances were most common among his ranks, but he's also probably creative enough to make stuff from whatever they pick up. Anything considered to be "hard stuff" would likely be frowned upon or policed by Krok tho, because of the whole traumatic experience with Roadbuster and his extreme brutality due to perceived Syk abuse.

But then again, the scavs are all still very much cons with vices, and 100% constant sobriety is apprently a challenge or punishment for cons and bots alike post war.

-

*(Expanding on that bit via another ramble I had lying around that i thought i'd include)

When considering Misfire's adhd, most things emphasize the hyperactivity and impulsiveness in general without also emphasizing the negative sides.

That moment where he almost punches Grimlock comes to mind a lot.

It could be viewed as just a side-effect of perpetuated Decepticon abuse, a knee-jerk reaction that may have been turned on him during the war for his mistakes, that he in turn expresses towards others "mistakes".

Something to also consider here though, is how the impulsivity of adhd can make violent reactions worse, anger and/or frustration harder to control, and harder to hold back from expressing outwardly or physically, especially if left unchecked or untreated for a long time.

But Misfire stops and takes a second to collect himself before becoming somber as he considers Grimlock's perspective.

This instinctually violent reaction is not something he wants, or likes, and judging by how much time has passed by that point in the comic, this has been something he's been working on and is still working on.

But what about while he was still an active solider? When holding back was seen as a weak or foolish response? How did the impulsivity play into it? After being treated like that himself, struck or beaten for mistakes, at what point did it snap and he found himself standing over another solider as they stared up at him with that same fear and shock and hurt he had felt. How did that affect him to know he was capable of doing that without thought?

Because, ya know, he's done bad things too...

[autisticlee]

sometimes I really cant stand boomers and can't wait for their inevitable demise. i'm tired of hearing disgruntled old bigots who barely have any time left run their mouths, spread hatred, and blame us for the shit they caused for us to clean up. just go away. this world doesn't belong to you anymore.

[jaewritesfic]

Melon!AU Part 3

The creature's surprise surprises everyone else.

“It understands English?” Dick asks with a thoughtful tone lacing his voice.

“Or recognizes the motion of the wave as something benign,” Damian proposes, tense as a live wire as he keeps eagle eyes on Cass below.

Cass raises her hands, and though she does so slowly no amount of surprise keeps the creature from restarting that odd, piercing warning sound.

“Don't be afraid,” she says slowly and clearly, her hands moving to sign the words as she speaks. “I'm a friend.”

Despite there being no iris or pupil to be found in those glowing eyes, the way they dart back and forth between her hands and her mask is clear to see.

It doesn't stop growling, but it does shift uneasily. 

Cass's hands move to sign without speaking.

Do you understand me?

Nothing, save for the flicking of bottomless eyes.

“Do you understand me?”

The creature twitches, like being asked such a thing is a surprise. It takes a long moment - as if the question must be some kind of trap - before its head jerks in a jittery, hesitant nod.

More than one person's breath catches audibly over comms.

The set of Cass's shoulders softens in a way that telegraphs a smile, one that can't be seen past her mask.

“Nice to meet you,” she says with her voice.

Knows English but not sign, she says with her hands.

Smart girl. With that knowledge she can sign to the Bats without the creature realizing her hands are saying anything different than her mouth.

As soon as nice to meet you spills into the open air, the creature stops growling. For something with such an inhuman, blank face it telegraphs shock and confusion loudly.

Actually, it…it's almost like Bruce can feel those things himself, like something brushing against the base of his brain. It's disturbing and fascinating all at once.

Perhaps the feelings of dread and disturbance being near it causes is more than just fear of the unknown.

If it can project its own feelings, can it also sense theirs? Bruce isn't sure how he feels about that idea.

“Are you hurt?”

Definitely guarding chest. Bleeding.

“Bleeding?” Tim asks. 

“Chest hurts?”

Bleeding green.

“It's bleeding the Lazarus water?” Tim hisses. 

“I'm sorry,” Jason's voice cuts in on comms. “Your creature is bleeding what now?”

“Unconfirmed, but the color is similar,” Bruce says.

Jason is on standby, gracious enough to be patrolling a little further than his usual to cover the gaps while they deal with whatever this is.

Gracious is actually a stretch considering the choice words he'd had about the request when asked. Still, the protests had been more routine than truly venomous.

Bruce suspects he's mostly displeased with not being on site if his siblings need him in the face of a total unknown.

“Do you need help?” Cass's voice rings out softly again.

Doesn't want to admit injury.

“A doctor?”

There are flinches all around as that finally gathers a marked reaction, and a negative one. The sound is like nails on a chalkboard, like a million light bulb filaments breaking and fizzling out. The cadence is odd, almost like the creature is trying to speak.

“No doctor! Okay, no doctor. It's okay.”

Afraid. Terrified.

The sound stutters out again, that odd feeling against the base of Bruce's skull and the wide eyes of the creature projecting confusion and disbelief over the easy acquiescence. 

This is not an entity that expects to have its desires or fears cared about. Bruce has a bad feeling it's an expectation borne from experience.

Once again, he thinks with a sick feeling about the fact that he hadn't stopped to consider the creature might be reasoned with until Cass stepped in.

“Can I come closer?”

The creature whines as if it's a frightened stray, not a shadowy nightmare. Its claws click against the pavement in a manner that feels distinctly nervous. 

“Please? I won't hurt you.”

Tired. Can't go for much longer and knows it.

They all watch closely as the creature's eyes flicker up and towards the line of police cruisers and officers at the very end of the alley, then back to Cass.

Its claws keep clicking. 

The pool of green below it might be bigger, or it might just be the new knowledge that the substance is like blood messing with Bruce's nerves.

“I'm coming over. Slow. I won't hurt you.”

Weighing their options. Either me or cops. Knows that too.

True to her word, Cass moves slowly.

The creature's tail lashes and it grumbles its unrest, but it doesn't snarl like before and it doesn't lash out even when she's certainly close enough for those long spindly arms to reach.

Cass sinks to her knees just feet from it, posture intentionally open. Carefully, she offers another wave and a pleased, “Hello. See? All okay.”

Bruce's heart seizes. For just a moment, the wide glowing eyes angled to look up at Cass read as painfully young. Like a frightened child.

“You need help,” Cass almost whispers, hands laying on her thighs in plain sight. “No doctors, I know. But maybe a safe place? Come with me?”

Surely the comms have never been so silent as they are while Cass turns her hands over and extends them, like she's inviting the creature to place its own in her palms.

“Keep you safe. I promise.”

For a long few moments, the creature is so silent and still it may well have frozen in time.

Then there's a mourning keen that nearly buckles Bruce at the knees and the creature is moving. 

Instead of taking her hands, it drags itself forward and grabs at her to a chorus of panicked shouts on the comms. So quickly nobody has time to react, it's dragged itself up to cling to her shoulders and bury its face in her neck.

The shadowy frame trembles when she holds it in return.

Masterpost

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝕭REAKING HEARTS ᝰ! S.L.

˚⟡˖ ࣪౨ৎ summary: girlfriend material sophia strikes again, and this time round, she has no intention of keeping how much she cares about you a secret. best be known you don't mess with sophia laforteza when it came to you... she'll be breaking a lot more than hearts thats for sure

disclaimers: obvious!sophia, mostly fluff, protective!sophia, younger member!reader, everybody simping for ya’ll

pt. 1 (so many of yall are threatening to kill my family if i don’t do more sophia content so here she is 🫶)

Y/N AND SOPHIA PROVING L/NFIZ DEFINITELY DOES (NOT) EXIST PART. 2

17.2k likes | 330k views | 18th Dec, 24

*Loud technical difficulty transition* [ WEVERSE LIVE ] join a y/nfiz hangout <3 You and Sophia started a live while waiting for the girls to come home from a schedule

You sat beside the Filipina leader, your collared shirt unbuttoned and creased, your hair a slight mess and your day-old make up still on your face. The fans loved the domestic look you always seemed to serve when you were at home, and it was safe to say they noticed Sophia was too.

Whilst she ranted on about some silly story you had already heard her tell a million times, you checked yourself out in the camera, the crease in your white shirt collar gave you an itch you desperately needed scratched.

Your hands came up to pop open the collar to your shirt more, revealing your bare chest down the low V cut of the button-up. The fans had begun tuning Sophia’s story out too, because gradually, the chat flooded with comments on your peculiar choice in styling, which caught the attention of the rambling woman. She glanced between you and the comments on the screen, her hand instinctively shooting up to grab your shirt.

user01 raw. next question.

user02 Omg she’s actually tryna kill us w the fit

user03 don’t be shy pop it open a little more ^^

user04 y/n baby save it for the bedroom

“Yo, watch it,” Sophia warned, adjusting your collar so you would be covered up to the base of your neck.

Your hands grab hers gently as you chuckled at the tense expression on her face. “Fia, calm down, I’m like twenty-one, I can wear an open-collared shirt if I want to.” You nodded towards the thirsty comments, smirking. “Besides, it sounds more like the fans want me to.”

Sophia grimaced, her face twisting into something negative before adjusting her sitting position so she was in front of you. She was in an oversized hoodie, so it shielded your body from the camera perfectly.

“Absolutely not if I have something to say about it,” she shook her head, moving her body so she would be shielding you away from the camera. “What’re you all looking at, hm?”

user05 dang baby ain’t nobody tryna snatch her😭

user06 It’s okay cuz if y/n was mine I would gatekeep too

user07 ntm on my girl sophia yall know damn well you’d do the same thing if y/n was your girlfriend

user08 SOPHIA SHARING IS CARING

You sighed, lips quirked at the older woman’s antics. “Can I talk to my people, Laforteza? Or are you gonna hold my shirt like this for the rest of the live?”

“Are you gonna button this all the way up?”

Your eyes widened, “All the way up? What am I, somebody’s Christian mom? Absolutely not!”

“Then yes, the rest of the live.”

user09 sophia confirmed brat tamer

user10 This is too much for my brain man

user11 Idk what’s crazier y/n’s fit or Sophia going all overprotective girlfriend

Eventually, Sophia would shed the hoodie she was wearing and drape it over you, despite your apparent protesting. The friends made note of the way she still seemed adamant on keeping you in the background as your hands peeked through the long sleeves of her oversized sweatshirt.

[ are they looking for a third to their marriage? ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* KATSEYE MANA Dance Practice; Sophia’s behind the scenes interview

All the members were asked to send you a message. You were out sick and couldn’t make it the day they filmed the dance practice (you did eat so hard at MAMA don’t worry), and as the girls were asked about their feelings, their experiences working towards an award show like MAMA and what they took from this opportunity. Sophia, as the leader, her interview was put last, and she got asked the most hard-hitting questions.

She knew you were getting some backlash from being sick that PR day, it made things much more exaggerated, as if you weren’t present for a lot of things.

[ y/n defender till i die. if i see one comment calling her lazy or untalented, i WILL be reporting you ]

The question: “How have you managed to keep yourself motivated and help support the girls through this journey towards achieving such a milestone?” Immediately, Sophia being Sophia begun ranting on about how every member did their jobs amazingly, how she could not be prouder, how she could not imagine herself fulfilling her dream with such a beautiful group of passionate artists. She then spun her rant away from Manon being a pillar behind the scenes to you, whom your manager had asked her to give a message to.

“It’s actually been really disheartening,” she sighed, her wide smile faltering just the slightest. It was obvious, the way you could see genuine emotion seep through the cracks of her pr training. “y/n’s been sick for about a week, she can barely get out of bed and she just—She’s been working especially hard for this, because this has always been a dream of hers. Most days, we have one of our phones on facetime with her at home. You can actually see her following along next to her bed, and she gets teased so hard for it.”

[ my poor baby, i’m glad she put health first ]

Sophia chuckled softly, “That girl—that girl is so stubborn. I’ve told her so many times to just stay in bed and get better soon so she can actually practice with us here, but I never win that argument.” The camera angle switches to a closer look at Sophia’s expression. Her eyes pan from her hands back up to main camera off screen, glossy and brushed with a tinge of melancholy. “It breaks my heart to see her cry. She loves doing what we do, and not being able to do it makes her feel like she’s disappointing everybody. And the girls do a really good job of making sure those thoughts eventually leave, but she’s just so hard on herself. That is… definitely part of what makes her such an amazing performer, but it’s also what we, as a group, as a family—as Katseye, stand for.”

She pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath. The words, “The members messages to their missing friend:” appear.

“y/n, if you’re watching at home, I love you. The dance room’s not the same without you here, we all miss you, and we really cannot hope any harder for you to feel better soon.” She blew the camera a kiss, “I’ll see you at home. Love you.”

[ she said i love you twice… SHE SAID IT TWICE ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* Katseye Christmas Video; a segment of the video had the members paired off and decorating their ugly sweaters, naturally, to atone to popular demand, you and Sophia were coupled up

“Yours is not looking good right now,” you teased, snorting at the third glop of hot glue yanking the little fibres off the sweater. You, yourself, didn’t have the most impressive artistic ability, but you enjoyed watching the older pout and grow fussy whenever you would make a comment about her struggling to bring her vision to life. “What is that supposed to be, Rudolph’s distant cousin Rude elf?”

Sophia rolled her eyes, letting out a whiney grumble. “It’s not even that bad, it has a good personality. Stop judging it!”

[ y/nfiz fans getting fed everyone say THANK YOU HYBE ]

You rummaged through the box of decorations you were provided, feeling your attention momentarily divert from the heat exhuming from the show lights. You pulled out a couple streamers, Christmas balls before you found a particular piece of decor that caught your eye.

Apart from the sweaters, you had to make a hat, and you knew everybody was in competition for the most ridiculous design. Inspiration struck, and you had the best idea.

When the sweaters were done, you slipped it on. Yours was a pastel shade of red, with the words “Wish list: Eyekons” spelt out with stickers. You looped the streams along the sleeves, taking the balls all over the sweater. As you stood in front of the slow-mo camera for your glam shot, you could see Sophia smiling at you in your peripheral. You smiled into the camera, blowing them a kiss with a cheeky wink.

[ she’s so fine i need her i need her i need- *gunshots* ]

Back at your table, you added the last touch of glitter before fully giving the camera another close look at your creation. You turned to the Filipina, who adjusted her on.

“Wait, Fia, you gotta look at this.”

She glanced at the camera, a nervous grimace sprawled across her face as you bent behind the table to pick up your hat. “You and creative genius do not mix, like I have a seriously bad feeling about this—!”

You set the hat on your head, a fedora you wrapped in Justin Bieber Christmas wrapping paper. Around the base tied a long rope of frills, strung at the very front a tiny, dangling piece of mistletoe flailing just inches away from your eyes. You beamed, proud of the hat. You eyed the cameras, before puckering your lips in an exaggerated manner. Your hands clasped together, eyes closed. “I’m waiting.”

[ #thisisthemostiveeverrelatedtoanidol ]

Sophia slapped a hand over her forehead, scoffing. “You’ve got to be kidding me, there’s no way you did that.”

“You gotta respect the tradition, Laforteza, come on!” you ushered, leaning in closer as you pouted. “I want my kiss.”

[ sophia’s stronger than me i would’ve folded right there ]

Sophia eyed something off camera, getting a sleek look of approval from your manager.

“Fine, come here.” She sighed, an amused smile on her lips. She cradled your face carefully, tilting her own head before pressing a gentle kiss onto your cheek. When she pulled back, the camera zoomed in on the lipstick stain nearly touching the corner of your mouth. “Merry Christmas, l/n.”

You shot the camera the widest smile, “I must’ve been a good girl this year, cuz my Christmas wish just came true.”

[ no cuz the editors knew what they were doing keeping this bit in for the starving y/nfiz truthers ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* [ KATSEYE VLOG ] Here are four separate occasions from the same video where Sophia just can’t keep her hands off you

Clip one: You stood up from your seat, second from the left and right in between Sophia and Daniela. You threw pumpkin guts at Lara, who wouldn’t stop making fun of the way you couldn’t balance on your heels earlier when you were filming winx club tiktok’s. Sophia’s hand cupped the back of your skirt, her own pumpkin long forgotten. She pressed the piece of clothing against your thighs, making sure you wouldn’t flash the entire world as you focused on dousing the Indian singer in your pumpkin’s insides.

Clip two: As the six of you waited for Megan to finish up in hair and makeup, Sophia’s arm wrapped around your neck. You, Yoonchae and Manon were deep in conversation about the last time the group was altogether for a schedule, with Sophia mindlessly watching you talk. Fans pointed out her apparent gaze switching back and forth from your eyes to your lips, a small smile perched on her own lips as she watched you joke around with your bandmates.

Clip three: The two of you were pulled aside, tasked to organize the girls into groups to set up a quick little jumpscare for Megan as a surprise to celebrate her official return to Katseye activities since her back injury. Though the video showed a wide are of the studio where you two stood, Sophia seemed adamant on staying just inches away from you, her attention solely fixed on the way your eyebrows furrowed at the ipad they had handed you. Fans noted this as one of the more subtle but iconic l/nfiz moments.

Clip four: As Daniela thanked the fans for tuning in to watch the special Halloween edition of Katseye vlogs, Sophia could be seen grabbing at your hip. Given, her other arm was around Yoonchae, but her hand merely dangled off her shoulder, unlike the sure grip you could see she had on your waist.

[ let’s play fanservice or just gay for the 193837th time ]

*Loud technical difficulty transiition* [ WEVERSE LIVE ] Manon and Daniela being big mouths ;)

“I’m pregnant with talent… I’m pregnant with star quality,” Manon announced confidently, earning a judgemental look from her roommate beside her.

“That’s one way to put it, that’s for sure.” Daniela mocked.

“Where are the others—Okay, hold up, I got this. Let me cook!” Manon set her brush down, raising a finger, the other hand pointing at that finger. “Lara’s out with her sister, Yoonchae’s sleeping next door right now, and… Megan’s still at home seeing her family.” Daniela hummed, “Yeah, her flight’s tomorrow.” Manon nodded, “Yeah, so Megan’s not back yet. And Laffy and n/n are out on their little date right now.”

Daniela squealed, slapped her in the arm, “Stop! People are gonna take that outta context!”

Manon faked a scared gasp, going back to fixing her hair. “Hybe, if you’re watching, I didn’t say that.”

user01 l/nfiz on a date… i can die happy now

user02 MANZ JUST CONFIRMED L/NFIZ LESGO

user03 never EVER pr train this woman

“Yeah, wait, I think Sophia posted it.” Daniela pulled up a Weverse post Sophia had put up not long ago of her in a movie theatre in front of a movie poster. “y/n’s been meaning to watch the movie for her favourite actress and Sophia, of course, agreed to go with her. They’re getting us dinner on the way home, so I’m praying y/n does the shopping. Sophia always tries to trick us into eating healthy.”

“Yeah, she thinks she’s slick too,” Manon snorted, “Let’s be so for real though, y/n opens her mouth and I ain’t ever heard Sophia respond with ‘no’, that’s all I’m saying.”

user04 Manon is so messy I love her

user05 so she’s a down bad girlfriend huh…

user06 manon is a mindset i want to embody

“Yeah, y/n just exists and Sophia’s smitten. Bro, last time they went out for a ‘quick grocery run’, they came back with bags on bags of shopping. I know this little gold digger did not pay with her own money,” Daniela chirped, “I was in the living room when Sophia’s dad called to ask why her card was maxed out.”

Manon sighed, “Chat, let me tell you, Sophia spoils y/n rotten. And I mean, rotten. This woman don’t need no sugar daddy, she done made a sugar momma outta Laffy.”

“Sophia plays favourites. I don’t appreciate it.” Daniela joked.

[ so basically sophia’s THAT type gf, ok, ok… taking notes for science rn ]

[ddlydevotion]

Dating Luigi Mangione ࣪ ۪ ֢ 🦢‌ࣳ ! !

currently listening to: salvatore by lana del rey

a/n: I’ve been seeing many fics of Luigi where people portray him as rude/aggressive so I wanted to try something a lil different.

His facial expressions are always on point in every video we’ve seen of him, so I have a feeling he’d be a very active listener. You could be in the middle of telling him how your day went and a small smile would spread across his lips at the sound of your melodic voice. His eyebrows twitching with concern once you start to mention anything negative occurring. this is basically his face when he’s listening to you:

He would most definitely be the type to make playlists in your name while he’s thinking of you. He’s so in love with you to the point where he can no longer listen to his favorite music without thinking of you and the beautiful moments the two of you have shared. He also has a habit of sending you songs that he thinks you’ll like/remind him of you.

He loves being able to live life to the fullest and loves doing it with you even more. He takes photos of the two of you wandering around whatever city you’ve traveled to with a little $30 digi cam. He has a Polaroid of the two of you placed in his wallet.

Luigi doesn’t need a gift to be expensive in order to fully cherish it. You could give him a handwritten letter and he’d protect it with his life because you gave it to him. He can’t afford to lose any evidence of the love the two of you share for one another. He loves gifting you items that reminded him of you, things you mentioned enjoying, surprising you to go do something you’ve mentioned wanting to participate in. You don’t even have to mention any of these things more than once because he’ll remember.

His back pain can get incredibly severe and there comes days where he can’t seem to focus on even the most simplest of things. Having you there while he attends physical therapy, participates in yoga/gets helpful treatments somehow makes the pain a bit more manageable. Knowing that he can go to you when he needs something is enough to ease his anxieties in situations regarding his chronic pain.

As I’ve mentioned before, Luigi loves trying new things and exposing himself to unfamiliar cultures/locations. This fact goes hand in hand with his openness to trying new food with you. Oh, he’s never tried ____ before? Well, might as well try it now with you!

You make his travels so much more lively and notable.

Three words: skin to skin.

The loving warmth of your welcoming hands and fingers tracing shapes onto his muscular back makes him feel as if he’s on cloud nine. He loves being able to wake up to the sun peeking through the blinds and feeling your bare skin embracing him.

He has a HUGE family and mostly all of them have heard the lovely stories he has stored up about you. During the first Christmas you ever spent with his family, they made sure they had your favorite foods out on display. How did they know they were your favorites? Well, you have your boyfriend and his ramblings to thank for that. Despite not having spent much time with you, his family still found the time to provide you with your very own gifts. You’ve felt nothing but welcomed by their presence as they treated you like an old friend upon your first meeting.

You don’t really have to want for anything when you’re with Lu. You mention wanting to go see that movie that just came out? He already has a tab open on his phone to purchase tickets. He sees you eyeing something at the store but hesitate buying because ‘it’s too much’ ? Well, he’s putting it in the cart anyway.

Definitely calls you cute little variations of your name. His favorite terms of endearment to use for you are probably: baby, cutie, babe, princess, etc. was gonna put sweetheart but I’m not too sure

[vilnmelling]

NPMD Digital Ticket details!

Since not every can/can afford to/wants to buy the Digital Ticket for Nerdy Prudes Must Die (and the bonus material that comes with the purchase), for your inclusion purposes, here's a list of fun background details, funny moments and comments made in the track commentary, for you to use however you like!

Ruth doesn't actually need to wear her headgear anymore, but she wears it anyway because it makes her feel safe.

Jeff pitched a Nightmare Time episode about the problematic puppy from Steph's verse of High School Is Killing Me, meaning there is a story there.

In the line, "I learned that at the anti bullying assembly last month, fucknugget!" there's a long pause before "Fucknugget!" which really makes it sound like Max forgot to insult Richie and just threw the word out.

All of the little noises Ruth makes, she makes because she has more she wants to say, but she can't say them (presumably due to anxiety).

In the proshot, you can't see fully how low Richie goes while he and Ruth sneak up on Peter, but Jon is fully crouched down. He then uses Pete's pockets and elbows to climb up like he's climbing a mountain (he mimes using a pick or axe to get good hold).

While Steph is talking, Ruth and Richie try their best to hear through the phone by getting as close as they can to it.

The reason Max and Jason were in the Pasqualli's parking lot is that they were practicing their skateboarding. They do that at Pasqualli's instead of at school/at a skatepark because they don't want the smoke club and skater kids to make them look like noobs. (This was a cut bit from the Pasqualli's scene).

The line, "Some big... dumb... sexy... football star" is expanded. In the Digital Ticket, Grace says, "Some big... dumb... sexy... sweaty... hot... well-spoken... beautifully tall football star."

When they're in the boys bathroom, Steph jumps to see over the stalls.

Richie Naruto runs when they're going to Waylon Hall. Pete slaps his hands down, but after they pause to look at the house, Richie looks over his shoulders at Pete a couple of times before darting away from him, once again Naruto running.

Richie stops in the door at the Waylon Place, so Pete pushes him inside.

Ruth and Richie speak at the same time when they say, "I'm allergic to deodorant" and "I have overactive sweat glands."

Ruth goes straight to Richie to complain after the "pus in my pits" exchange with Steph.

When Steph suggests saying there's a party at the Waylon Place, Pete, Ruth and Richie all react negatively (mostly nervously groaning).

While Grace sings the "He's just a nerd in disguise!" line, Richie can be seen practicing the first move of the Bully the Bully dance.

After Ruth says, "We're gonna cut off his nips!" you can see Steph look confused and ask, "What?"

While Pete and Richie talk in the Waylon Place ("Am I reading as ghost or Lin Manuel Miranda" & "She came all the way out here just for you."), Ruth and Steph discuss and practice Ruth's skeleton moves.

Richie gets stuck in the dangling parts of Pete's costume when he says, "You could just hit it and quit it, bro!" He then aggressively detangles himself.

The line "He's just really fucking brave!" comes from Richie being jealous that he's not that brave.

Richie hypes Ruth up a bit after Max says her skeleton bit was really special.

Grace hides behind Ruth while Max is dying.

Richie rolls his eyes when Grace says "It was an act of god!" (Similarly, Shapiro sighs and looks away in disbelief when Grace later says "It was god's plan!")

Pete gags when Grace says "Hack all his limbs off." Richie can also be seen gagging and holding his stomach several times.

Ruth hands Max's nipples over to Grace after cutting them off.

Jeff Blim is the principal of Hatchetfield High. Not a character of Jeff's, just Jeff himself.

Brenda still seems quite judgmental after the two weeks have passed. She makes a lot of not-quite-friendly faces when the football team's talking about Richie smelling bad.

When Richie struggles to remove the Zeke the Fightin' Nighthawk costume, he accidentally removes his jacket as well, leading to Jon having to put it back on (which he also struggles with) (and which creates a funny situation, since Richie was supposed to go shower).

Richie seems to have hurt his leg by the second fall in Nerdy Prudes Must Die (the song).

After Steph tells Grace to "Leave Ruth alone!" in the principal's office, Ruth tries to grab Steph's hand.

The wig Joey wears when he plays Dan Reynolds isn't Dan's real hair. Dan Reynolds wears a toupée.

Trevor and Angela's drama student encourage each other after they finish rehearsing.

Additional line when Grace is lying to Shapiro: "Suddenly, I remembered a crucial detail that made everything make sense. A picture came flashing into my mind, like I was Enola Holmes!"

"My dad sells women shoe! Shoes!"

Angela misses the chair at Beanie's and falls on her ass, leading to her, Joey and Mariah (mostly Mariah) breaking character.

During The Summoning, Tinky focuses ONLY on Pete. The entire time, he looks like he's restricting himself from lunging out and attacking him. At one point, he points at the Bastard's Box while staring at Pete.

90% of the time during The Summoning, Pokey's staring at his own mask.

Steph facepalms after Max says "That's nasty! ... I like it!"

[permanentlyfemale]

⚠️ Feminization, Misgendering, Forced detrans kink ahead! ⚠️

Today is a scary day for you. As a trans man, finding the right therapist is far more difficult than it is for most people, especially as you weren’t looking for just a new therapist today. You also need someone to write you a top surgery letter. Although you’ve only been on T for 2 months, barely enough to notice anything besides an increased libido and clit growth, your breasts are by far your biggest source of dysphoria. You often wear two binders when you’re going anywhere, and even then, a sizable bump is visible on your chest. You’re hoping they may become easier to bind with hormones, but you already know that you’ll need surgery regardless.

“Milo Brown?” A masculine voice calls your name from across the room. Glancing up, you see a very attractive man, much taller than you, looking to be in good shape under his professional attire, but not overly muscular. His dark shoulder-length wavy hair and stubble complement his gentle, masculine face and warm brown eyes.

Surprised by the man’s beauty, you stumble on your words as you rise from your seat. “I- uh- I’m here.”

“Great! Let’s get back to my office.” He smiles warmly and gestures for you to follow him out of the waiting room and down a hallway, passing mostly empty offices on the way. This doesn’t seem too odd, as there was construction on the lower floor. Maybe some patients didn’t like the noise and cancelled? Or maybe you’re trying to distract yourself from thinking of the exceedingly attractive man that may soon be your therapist. You’ve considered yourself gay since coming out, but starting hormones has certainly made that attraction all the more apparent.

As he opens his office door, you’re surprised by how casual it is. There’s a long couch next to an armchair, with a clipboard set neatly on top. His desk is to the side, seemingly ignored while clients were present in favor of a more personal layout. Thinking of something to say as you sat on the couch, you spit out “I like your office.”

“Thank you Milo, I spent a lot of time thinking of the anatomy of the room and how to make my clients most at ease. I find this works best.” He smiles at you, his eyes gentle and enticing. “I’m Dr. Sterling, I specialize in support for LGBT and FTM clients. Nice to meet you! Tell me a but about yourself and what brings you here.”

“My name is Milo Brown, I’m 19 years old, and I just started testosterone. I’ve been out as trans for a while but finally got access to hormones and I’m hoping to get top surgery as well, but I need a letter for it. I also just need support with my dysphoria and depression.” You cross your arms over your large chest self-consciously.

“Well, that’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Can you tell me more about your dysphoria regarding your chest?”

Shifting uncomfortably in your chair, you hesitantly proceed. “Every day is awful! They’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and I go to sleep trying not to feel or think about them. They’re so big and heavy that I feel them whenever I move and it makes me so dysphoric. It’s also impossible to make myself flat, so I never pass. As a gay man, it’s so hard to find a man who would want a guy with a body like mine!”

“Oh, Milo, I think that’s very negative thinking. Plenty of men would find you attractive! I thought you were quite beautiful when I saw you myself.”

You’re surprised by his words! That sounded very flirtatious, but maybe he was just trying to boost your ego. Either way, it made the empty space between your legs tingle when he said it. You also didn’t know he was queer, but it definitely makes you more comfortable with him. “Well… that does make me feel better. I still don’t feel comfortable with my chest though.”

“Why don’t we try something? This is an exercise I’ve done with plenty of my transmasuline patients before, and it has always improved their lives and helped with dysphoria. While we do it, I can assess you for top surgery as well! How does that sound?” He smiled at you expectingly.

“Uhhh… yeah, that sounds good. What are we doing?”

“I’m just going to have you answer some questions about your body and dysphoria. This may get uncomfortable, but it’s all part of this process. I’m sure you can trust me, right?”

“Of course!” You answer instinctively.

“Right. First, I want you to take off your shirt and binder.” He instructs casually.

“What!? I thought we were just answering questions. Is that necessary?” You’re again surprised, he wasn’t a surgeon and you had never shown anyone your chest before. You didn’t want to look at it yourself, much less this beautiful man you’re expecting to see regularly!

“I understand this is surprising and uncomfortable, but I want to understand your perspective on your body, as well as assess the size and density for surgery. I need to know this for the letter, and I understand this is very important to you. I’m sorry for the discomfort, Milo.” He looked at you apologetically, his brown eyes sparkling, staring in to your soul and shooting down between your legs.

“I… okay.” What he was saying did make sense, and you would do most anything for this surgery. Resolving to just get this over with, you take off your oversized hoodie and throw it on the couch next to you. Grabbing both binders at once, you exert a herculean force squeezing yourself out, panting as your huge breasts fly out. You blush with embarrassment as a loud clap can be heard from them swinging together.

Dr. Sterling calmly walks closer to you. “Do you know your cup size?”

“Uh… no, sorry.”

“That’s alright, we can measure now.” He smiles warmly and pulls out some measuring tape. Without hesitation, he walks up to you and wraps it around your chest! He first measures your underbust before moving to measure your bust. His hands rest on your breasts as he does so. “Alright… looks like you have J cups.” His hand brushes your nipple as he backs away.

“Mmph!” Involuntarily, you let out a short, feminine moan. Both the dysphoria of knowing your overwhelming cup size and your accidental vocalization leave you embarrassed and blushing harder than ever.

“It doesn’t seem like you’ve experienced any vocal changes from testosterone.” He observes.

“Umm… not yet, no.”

“It also seems like you have quite sensitive nipples?”

“I guess…”

“Well, have you ever considered embracing your breasts?”

“Huh?” You were confused. They made you sad and dysphoric, how could you ever embrace them? He did say whatever he was doing worked for all of his other transmasc patients, but this seemed absurd.

“Your breast are way too big to bind properly. I’ve seen you wearing two binders in here, and that is not healthy. As your therapist, I can’t encourage you to damage your body in such a way, and especially without two binders, you wouldn’t be able to hide them at all anyways. And why go through the trouble of binding if everyone can tell? It might do you some good to just accept your body as it is. It’s not like whether you bind now will affect surgery.”

Unfortunately, everything he was saying made perfect sense. Even when binding, it was very obvious you had breasts. Why go through all the trouble, especially if it was hurting your body? You were dysphoric either way, might as well be more comfortable physically. “I guess… I guess you’re right.”

“Yes… unfortunately it’s also not very possible hormones could reduce them to a bindable size either.”

This devastated you. Even later on testosterone, you would have obvious breasts? How could you expect anyone to take you seriously as a man? You had hoped to begin passing in public soon, and finally begin living comfortably, but you weren’t so sure now. Would it even be safe to live as a non-passing trans man? Why were you going through so much for hormones if there was no hope of passing before surgery anyways? Maybe you should just wait until then for hormones- no one will gender you right as you are now. “Maybe… maybe I should pause testosterone until surgery then.”

“Yes, I can see why. That might be the safest option for you.” He nodded solemnly. “We can practice some exercises to reduce dysphoria until then, if you’d like.” His frown shifted in to a comforting smile.

Still upset, you nodded.

He moved closer and, before you could react, placed one hand on each perky, round breast, grabbing you by the boobs.

Surprised, you squeaked.

“This is just to get you used to your breasts. It often helps most when someone else does it, so you’re more comfortable with other people seeing them.” He gently squeezed and pulled, running his fingers along your supple breasts, warm palms pressing your hard nipples.

“Mmmmmm-! Oooh!” You let out a series of feminine wails as the doctor palms at your breasts. They were so sensitive and they felt so heavy- so wrong on your body- and yet they sent waves of pleasure throughout your curvy figure.

“Are you still going to go by Milo? I mean, you’re stopping T until surgery because you won’t be able to pass. It would be weird to only keep the name and pronouns, especially for strangers.” His hands shifted to thumb at your nipples.

Your thoughts were flooded with waves of pleasure shooting from your tits. The importance of this decision didn’t fully register, but what he was saying made sense to you. “You’re right.”

“Good girl.”

“Huhh…”

“People are going to refer to you by what you look like. You know you don’t pass. This is just exposure training, okay?”

“Okay…” You mindlessly agree as he moves his head close to your breast.

“See? You are a good girl.” He starts to suck on your nipple, causing you to throw your head back and wail in pleasure. You don’t know when his own clothes came off, but he’s getting on top of you and pulling your pants off, leaving you in just your boxers with his much larger biologically male body pinning you down, suddenly kissing your lips.

“What… what are you doing now, d-doctor…” he cuts you off as you pant your words out.

“The easiest way to adapt to and accept being seen as a woman is to have sex with a straight man, one who can use you as only male can use female. You need this, Amelia. It’s okay.”

Hearing your deadname makes you cringe with dysphoria. You’ve always felt an aversion towards it, despising the femininity it signaled. You struggle to reconcile your attraction to the doctor and trust in his methods to your current panic. This all felt good and sounded logical but it’s happening too fast to react, and these are all such big decisions, and suddenly he’s pulling your boxers off.

“Your pussy is so perfect. You make such a sexy woman.” He rubs the length of his cock along your clit and hole. The distinction between your pathetic nub and his masculine length is obvious. He gropes your massive jiggling breasts, squeezing them together and lowering his head to kiss and suck your nipples as his dick prods your entrance.

“Doctor Sterling…” You moan his name as his assault on your tits grows heavier. He sloppily makes out with your huge boobs, enjoying every second he can get drowning in your massive breasts.

He momentarily pulls his mouth from your tits. “Yes… fuck, Amelia!” He rams his hard cock all the way inside you, hitting your cervix as he moans your deadname, resuming his assault on your massive wobbling boobs all the while.

You scream and wail, unsure if it’s in pleasure or some mix of dysphoria and grief for your lost ambitions. Whatever male identity you insisted on was currently obstructed by your massive tits and the straight man enjoying them as he pounded in to your soft, tight vagina. Anyone who saw you two would know immediately that this was heterosexual sex- they would never stop to consider you could be anything but a curvy woman being held down and fucked by a handsome man. Suddenly, the doctor’s thrusts sped up. You forgot condoms, and you’re barely on T!

Right as you open your mouth, he interrupts. “I’m gonna cum, Amelia! I’m cumming inside you!” He holds himself against your cervix, comforting you as you begin to scream. “Shhh, good girl, it’s okay.”

You feel his hot cum flood in to your unprotected pussy, tears falling from your eyes. Feeling the sticky cum start to leak out, you manage to speak. “Do… do you have a towel?”

“Uhhh… here!” He grabs your binders and rips them both, turning them in to makeshift towels as he pulls out, along with a flood of cum.

You know you said you wouldn’t bind anymore, but having the option taken away made everything all the more real. You know it was for the best tho. He specializes in helping trans men, and he said this always works. You just have to trust him! As time runs out, you don’t even realize you forgot to finish your top surgery letter.

Still… you couldn’t wait to book your next session.

[itsastrobixch]

Astrology notes

- gemini / mercury / uranus / aqua change their identity a lot online. They place a lot of importance on their online identity and as they change so does their online personas.

- Mercury dominance if well placed Learnt to talk very early and saturn mercury aspects learnt to speak a bit late or may speak with a bit of hesitation.

- chiron in 1st have deep rooted identity issues and may also not be able to relax in photos and stuff. Some may even go to the extent of not wanting to take pictures at all.

- count yourself lucky if : air signs ask for your advice.. They don't ask option from everyone. Similarly if fire signs seek you out or show you their defeated side and depressed side. They Always want people to seem them as optimistic fiery and determined but like evryone they too go through down times but they tend to bounce back faster than others.

- Mercury saturn or Mercury rx may have great conversations with themselves in their heads but when it comes out it night miss the mark or.. Like not sound as good as it did in their brains.

- all mercury /gemini dominants open 3 to 5 tabs at the same time. And don't finish a single one completely. Change my mind.

- moon pluto tumultuous emotions. Whiplash. One extrene or the other. Mood changes just with a single event. The whole room can feel the shift as well. Moon and Pluto both give out unstable, watery and intense emotions. It can be difficult if negatively aspected. Even if positively aspected it can lead to the feeling overwhelming emotions.

- People with pluto in 1st, their emotions are hidden. No one knows how they feel. Mostly i see geminis get all the credit for their glib tongues. But have you ever seen a Pluto person toy with people when they know they truth ? They'll lie so effortlessly that even the people who know the truth will start to believe the lie is the truth. Their words and their facial expressions while lying is so controlled and natural it's scary.

- Asteroid Cerea shows is how we nurture. Aries ceres is the defender of the group and people who tend to protect people who are defenseless esp animals. Taurus is the comforter. And so on. But aspects and the house in which Ceres is in also plays a major role.

- Uranus / gemini in 3rd house have lots of ideas at the same time but many are unfocused and evrything is gone in a fleet. They may have a brilliant idea but Lose it in the next second. It'll be better if they scribble down their thoughts anywhere somewhere so they'll have a basic idea of what they thought.

- I fucking admire Aries women, esp as a Libra, like how tf..? i used to have a friend, she used to do some pretty controversial shit in high school but like never once let anything get iin her way and is now a part time business woman...like come on...how are you so headstrong ? And somehow things also tend to workout for them

- every mutable person has a box full of drafts all half done and of various types but all undone. Its a mess of ideas and posts half written and lost interest and motivation along the way...but I'll save it for another day when I will want to finish it up.

- If an air sign texts you daily, they like you. Especially instant replies . 🌝

- scorpio, and Venus Pluto aspects also tend to fall for someone who is out of their grasp. they like to torture themselves like that 😂 or they'll think that they don't deserve the person they're in love with. Its Always one or the other with them.

- venus neptune contacts produce the devoted worshipper type lovers. They will worship the ground their love walks on and will turn a blind eye to their faults. This is most definitely not a healthy patter of behaviour. Please don't indulge in this.

- mercury dominants can't fucking shut their brain off. they have a lot of nervous energy. And will Always be actively thinking about atleast two things at once.

- actually now that i think about it, my bffs in high are an Aries sun, me a sag rising and my frnd a leo sun. and i still wonder why the girls didn't like us 😂🌝 if fire signs get together whether they stir up drama or not, it'll either find them or people will hold them responsible for it even if they aren't.

- gemini and Mercury dominants can imitate very well especially the accents. Their adpative ability is out of charts and a bit creepy tbh. how they change acc to people, how they acclimatise to their surroundings ax cultures, they have this ability which allows to be another person if they like.

- mars - pluto negative aspects may have r*pe dreams often even if they haven't had any such encounters.

- pluto in 1st are ironically afraid of death and illness more so than the usual person.

- 11th house sign may show how we behave online.

-geminins have this weird ability to take and soak up information from all over the place and somehow put it together perfectly . they learn stuff from disorderly messes but they seem to understand it with clarity.

[shares-a-vest]

Wayne shuffles to the door, desperate to answer the incessant knocking that sounds like whoever is on the other side is going to beat the exterior fly screen straight off its hinges. He is greeted by Claudia Henderson, clutching her handbag strap tight across her chest and looking very serious.

Although it might just be his sleep-deprived inability to gauge the emotions of chipper 9-to-5 receptionists who wear cosy sweaters. He checks his watch. He’s only been asleep for about an hour after getting home from night shift - what with waiting for Hurricane Eddie to finally head off for the garage.

“Hello, Wayne,” Claudia nods and purses her lips.

He scrubs a hand over his face but steps back nonetheless to let her in. Claudia is one step in the doorway anyhow.

“Coffee,” he not-so-much asks as he moves to the kitchen.

“No, thank you,” Claudia says politely, “I usually wait for my morning tea break.”

He looks over to find her pulling out his assigned chair at the breakfast table. She looks nervous, if a little pissed off as she gathers her handbag up on her lap. He blinks harshly and pinches his nose enough to press his forefinger and thumb into the inner corners of his eyes. He really needs to wake the hell up a little more, it appears.

“What did Eddie do?” he sighs, looking over the drying rack on the sink for one of the mugs he has in his rotation at the present time.

“Oh, Eddie hasn’t done a thing!” she insists, a smile evident in her voice, “I’m here about Steve.”

Cubs mug it is then...

He frowns again and turns back to Claudia, confused. And the woman looks like she was expecting such a reaction because she huffs and straightens up, looking like she is readying herself to give a sermon on the kid.

“I need you to help me convince that boy to move in with Dustin and me,” she explains, promptly holding up a defensive hand, “Now, I know he stays here, mostly This isn’t about anything to do with you… Or Eddie…”

She tacks that last mention of his nephew on with a tone and a knowing look.

Wayne clears his throat. It’s certainly far too early in the morning for the ins and outs of that conversation. He flicks the kettle on to drown out the awkward silence between them.

“Have you uh...” he hums and scratches the back of his neck as he searches for words, “Have you talked with him about this, at all?”

Claudia squeaks out a noise he assumes is a negative as he quickly spoons coffee into his mug. He’ll settle for black coffee for now - he really cannot be assed to stand up for much longer, even if he did have the sense to quickly step into his comfy slippers when Claudia came a-pounding on the door.

“And you want my help specifically?” he says, raising his voice above the steaming kettle that is whistling away in boiling readiness.

“Yes!”

He waves a hand in the air, “Well, what about Robin?”

“Oh, gosh, no! I can’t talk to that girl,” he barks a laugh that makes Claudia startle in her seat, forcing her to clarify, “I mean she is a steel trap about that boy!”

Wayne smirks and nods as he heads for the table with his piping hot - and hopefully, heavily caffeinated - beverage, “He’s not the biggest talker when it comes to himself.”

“I’m not one to speak ill of other mothers,” Claudia says in a hushed tone, “God knows, I am not perfect. But where are his parents?”

She rocks a little with each word like she has needed to ask that question for a good long while. Of course, Wayne thinks about Steve’s parents. A lot. Because the boy almost never mentions them.

He shrugs, “He says they stayed away on business.”

“After everything that has happened in this town?” she argues, voice growing shrill with worry, “Did he tell you what actually happened with the mall fire? It was more of that other dimension nonsense!”

He almost chokes on his coffee. He knows a little - there was no way around it with Eddie in the hospital surrounded by all those secret nurses and doctors. But he didn’t know Claudia Henderson knew about some of it too. Still, he decides to remain cautious and gestures for her to continue.

“And he’s been concussed more times than he can remember!”

She slumps back in her seat with a look of such horror, Wayne thinks the sweet woman sitting opposite him considers it her closing argument.

Wayne taps on the rim of his coffee cup. They would have to tread carefully, not ambush the kid.

“He does get a lot of migraines - ” is all he can think to say.

“ - And he has dizzy spells,” Claudia cuts in, leaning forward. He can see tears starting to well up, “I just want him to be looked after. I know he’s a young man with his own life and everything, but he still needs a parent to care for him, to support him.”

“Yeah,” Wayne nods firmly, “Yes, he does.”

[sparrowlucero]

i enjoy ur bird abode thoughts! I was a genuine enjoyer of the show when it was airing, I’m no die hard fan though and love to see ppls personal takes on the overall story/plot. Im curious if you also would agree or have any thoughts on the impacts The Mouse’s cancellation had on the shows ability to be more than it was? srry im not super eloquent with my words, but basically ur response to that ask got me wondering if part of the reason the show like genuinely wasnt all that ground breaking or unique in the end plot wise (other than the villain faces consequences in the end ig) as far as YA/Teen animation goes, was because of The Mouse’s inability to let the writers flesh out the show before gutting it? i have a negative bias toward The Mouse franchise and obviously dont know anything about how writing a show under the eyes of a franchise that big would work, its just smth that rattles around in my head and wanna know what u think!

Well to an extent, but I think it's much more the effect the studio had on how the owl house started out as rather than it not getting a full season at the end - It didn't escape my noticed that the show was initially announced as being a "horror comedy" when it doesn't really seem like either, especially by the second season, and yeah, the original pitch bible is obviously aiming for that much more than the show proper is as it goes along (and is honestly seems quite a bit more funny, weird, and dark, with an overarching plotline about a giant bug being used to religiously suppress people, eda able to cure her curse by killing luz, and one of the major characters being a teen boy awoken from a sleeping curse who ends up being a weird little bigot because he's from the 13th century, among other things)

(side note, i just noticed they actually specifically describe the thing i assumed the show was gonna be about here. huh.) but ultimately the bulk of the show that was actually made seems very influenced by a writing team that was genuinely interested in making a tropey YA fantasy story rather than just being mandated to. I mean even in what aired you can see the show sort of settle in ways that feel less like studio interference and more like, you know, art students creating their ideal fantasy show, like how King is clearly Eda's roommate who's funny because he looks like and sounds like a little dog despite being an adult man at the beginning but by the end they've made him her adopted sad backstory son who's explicitly a child. While I think a third season would have made the show as it existed better, because they clearly didn't get to finish the plot they wanted to (frankly to the point where some major aspects of the show are a bit confusing, I'm still not sure what a grimwalker is), I don't really fault the show for that but also don't think that hypothetical season (which pretty clearly would have been mostly about the magic school teens going to normal school) would suddenly flip around into something that I personally found interesting and subversive. Nor should it, really; again, it being Queernorm Harry Potter thing is clearly the intended appeal of the show, it's not really a flaw but just not a genre I'm personally interested in when compared to what I initially expected the show to be.

HOWEVER I will say they robbed little weird girls of their representation and that can't be forgiven

[wordsarelife]

"why are you always flirting in near death situations?" With Mattheo and bestie reader or girlfriend reader please. I love your imagined so much and this is my first time requesting 🥺

—willow

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: mattheo has a brilliant idea for a date.. not

warnings: mentions of sex, a bit suggestive but no actual smut

notes: this was so fun to write anon, thank you!! please send more of these asks in the future! at the moment i mostly enjoy writing for mattheo or theo (or theo and belle -> from my fic call it what you want)

"this was the stupidest idea ever" you mumbled walking next to mattheo "you really outdid yourself this time"

"isn't it romantic?" he gestured in the air around you

you looked around confused "horrifying is more the word i would use"

"don't be so negative all the time" mattheo outstretched his arm and intertwined your fingers "this is the perfect spot for a quickie" he smirked

"you disgust me" you rolled your eyes, while still watching around you uncertain. mattheo had dragged you outside for a walk. in the forbidden forest. at night. "you really are pushing your luck"

"ahh" mattheo almost made a noise that sounded like a giggle "you wouldn't leave me"

"go on with that behaviour and you'll find out" you smiled sarcastically. mattheo relaxed when you squeezed his hand "can we please go back now?" you muttered

"are you scared?" mattheo laughed

"of course not" you shook your head "i just don't want to explain why my boyfriend disappeared"

"are you planning to murder me?"

"no body, no crime" you shrugged

"yeah.." mattheo trailed off and you grew suspicious

"matty?" you asked

"huh?"

"you do know where we are... right?"

"pfff" mattheo looked behind you "of course" he raised his arm to point in a general direction "there's that thing back there"

"you have no idea" you sighed, more to yourself than to him

"i was busy looking at you"

"don't do this right now" you breathed "this is just great" you turned around, trying to find a hint of the way that would lead you back to the castle "did you never read hansel and gretel?"

"what?" he asked flabbergasted

"the muggle tale about the siblings getting lost in the forest, who find their way back using bread crumbs" you got a bit heated and started speaking louder

"no?" mattheo replied offended "why would i?"

"because we are in the exact same position as they were, aren't we? where are our bread crumbs?"

"i'm not sure what you mean, the kitchen has been closed for hours" he said confused

"i'm not talking about actual bread crumbs" you replied frustrated while messaging the space between your eyebrows.

"ooh, yeah.. i understand what you mean" matty nodded and for a short second you had the hope that he put a bit of planning into this idiotic idea "whatever the equivalent of bread crumbs is.. i did not bring it" mattheo admitted and shrank under your gaze

"did you bring anything? a map at least?"

"ehh.. no"

"what was your plan exactly, matty?" you crossed your arms

"well" mattheo said, scratching his neck "my plan was to come here and have sex behind a tree. yeah.. that was it"

"do you ever think with your head?"

"not about you, no"

"okay" you tried to calm yourself down "i'm gonna get us out of here"

"i'm so proud to have such a brilliant girlfriend"

"flattering won't get you anywhere tonight, baby" even though his strategy didn't work, mattheo was glad that you didn't seem as angry as before

"sure" he nodded "what are we gonna do"

"first we're--" you paused, suddenly noticing something that send a shiver down your spine

"baby?" mattheo asked, confused why you had suddenly stopped talking "is everything alright?"

"no" you shook your head, before you grabbed his arms, gently turning him around so he could see what you did

"shit" mattheo said as he noticed the webs and the signs, that had warnings of spiders plastered all over them

"this is my worst nightmare" you panicked. there was nothing, really nothing in the world you were more scared of than spiders. mattheo knew that. his eyes softened as he noticed you shaking and grabbing at his hand.

"don't worry" mattheo whispered to calm you down, suddenly remembering something very important "i did bring a map" he took out a parchment and held it in your direction. theo had been as impressed as you by mattheo's stupid idea, so he had drawn a map, just to make sure you both would survive the night. "theo coulnd't talk me out of it, but he gave me this"

"i need to tell theo that i love him" you said relieved. theo's handwriting was neat, so you had no problem to read what he had drawn.

"this kinda turns me off, baby"

you send mattheo a look. "you better be kidding. why are you even turned on in the first place?"

"you look so hot in that dress" mattheo smiled "my pretty lady" he kissed you on the neck longingly

"why are you always flirting in near death situations?" you asked, impressed how he was still able to concentrate on sex while you were literally surrounded by possible danger

"we're not dying, are we?"

"i suppose?"

"i will never not get turned on by you as long as i can breath"

"matty" you giggled as he sucked on your sweet spot "i'm not gonna have sex with you right now and definitely not here"

"too bad" mattheo acted disappointed "how about my room? i'll get rid of theo"

"don't you think he already did enough for us tonight?" you asked, raising theo's map "we can go to my room" you sighed "but get us out of here first"

"yes ma'am"

[luveline]

idk if you would write for this I checked your guidelines and wasn’t sure but I would LOVE a pregnancy scare with Aaron (May be reader is younger than him?)! And she’s just panicked bc he’s older and already has a kid and etc and the test can be pos or neg totally up to you!

thank you for requesting! 1.3k, fem (possibly) pregnant!reader

cw reader's and hotch's attitude towards pregnancy is mostly positive

Your period is twelve days late. 

That is not a small amount of time. 

You don't notice it at first, and when you do you figure it's a few extra days without an irksome pain, a balm to soothe the ache of your absent boyfriend and a hard job, but when Aaron comes home from a case and you still haven't started your period, the panic begins to set in. 

You have a hard time keeping things from him for obvious reasons. His being a human lie detector felt fascinating when you first met, but now it's making things worse. You would've liked some time to yourself for denial, only he can always tell when something is wrong, though it's clear to you he's not sure exactly what it is. He'll realise eventually, you know. 

"Let's go to the store," he suggests, his hand flirting with the back of your neck. "You always feel better after a sweet treat." 

You've been to the store today, unbeknownst to him, for some emotional support chocolates and a small box you'd rather not think about. You'd hoped that he might get called away to give you time to open it, but without him you're not sure you have the strength. 

You hadn't expected to feel this way. You want desperately to tell him, but you're just so, so scared. 

"I don't feel like going anywhere." 

He hums as his hand moves to your shoulder, squeezing a loving path down to your hand. Jack bangs a toy down in his bedroom across the way, and the washing machine spinning from the utility closet sounds louder than it ever has before, like a rocket about to erupt. You don't know what it is that gets you, but suddenly you're overwhelmed, a confession stuck in the back of your throat as Aaron meets your panicked gaze. 

"What's wrong?" he asks. "Here, honey, sit down." 

He guides you to a kitchen chair. 

"What's wrong?" he asks again, bending at the waist. 

Your head rushes with white noise for a second. You wet your chapped lips with the tip of your tongue; you've missed your period, but it isn't that alone that scares you. Perhaps in an instance of a psychosomatic symptom, you feel weird, other. Something has changed. And you're starting to feel sick. 

"Aaron, I don't know what to do," you say. 

His eyes widen with an expression you don't often see. "Has something happened?" 

It's so, so hard to say. "I think I've messed up." 

"Not in any way I can't fix." 

"Maybe I have," you say miserably, panic hot behind your eyes. 

He shakes his head. "You haven't. I swear you haven't. Please, tell me what's wrong before I have a heart attack." 

You can't say it while he's looking at you, and when you do it's hardly audible. "I think I'm pregnant," you breathe. 

Aaron pauses. You can't even raise your head, anxiety its own heartbeat and nausea rising fast. You let out a gasp you'd held in and try to calm down, even while every little part of you worries about what he's going to say. 

You don't know if you want to be pregnant, or have a baby, but you know it would probably break your heart just a touch if Aaron didn't want to have one with you. You're not sure why. And Jack is a beautiful kid but he's growing up. Aaron isn't young. 

"How sure are you?" he asks, tone completely measured. 

"I… I feel it," you say. "I know that's stupid… 'N my period is really late, nearly two weeks now." 

"You feel it?" 

"I feel sick." Your elbows on your thighs and the backs of your hands pressed to your eyes, you curl in on yourself. "I'm so scared." 

"You're scared?" Hands on your forearms. Aaron gets down on his knees in front of your chair and rubs fondness into your skin, his voice a soothing, familiar comfort as he says, "Sweetheart, you have nothing to be scared of. Don't be scared. I'm right here." 

Tears like a shock, relief and horror mixed into one. "I'm so stupid, I haven't even taken the test yet, I don't know why I'm acting this way." 

"We all react differently to foreign situations than how we might imagine. What's important now is that you take a breath, because otherwise you'll panic." 

While you're afraid of what he's thinking, you trust him implicitly. "Okay." 

"Okay," he says, pulling your hands away from your face. "Just breathe, honey." 

He's more patient than you knew another person could be. He wipes your straggling tears with his hand without a word, his breath coming in even inhales and exhales for you to follow. The small spike of panic swiftly melds to plain old tears. You're embarrassed. You're unhappy. You and Aaron certainly weren't trying for this occasion. 

"What are you scared of?" he asks eventually. 

"Of you. Of what you're thinking, and– and what if I– I mean, what if I'm pregnant?" you ask, as though pregnant is a new word. When you said it at first, you'd meant, what if we end up having a baby together? But now you're more inclined to think about the process itself. What if you're physically pregnant? 

"Well, you have absolutely no reason to be scared of me. I love you." Aaron puts his hand just under your ear, his thumb to your cheek. "Whatever happens. Nothing else matters to me besides you." 

"Because you want a baby," you say unhappily. 

"Who says I don't?" He smiles at you softly. "I think we should've had this conversation a long time ago, but the long and short of it is that I love you. I love you and I'll do what you need me to." 

"I figured you'd be done having babies," you say, still hesitant. 

"Evidently not." He laughs, and you laugh back and he acts like you've hung the moon. "If you're scared of being pregnant, maybe you should take the test before you wind yourself up, hm?" 

"I guess I'm acting pretty silly, huh?" you ask, sniffling and wiping your eyes, the two of you caught in breathy laughter again. 

"Hormonal, maybe," he says. "Don't be scared. I don't want you to be scared." 

"What do you want?" you ask. 

"I just want you to stop crying. It's not right…" He strokes your damp cheek. "If I'm honest? If you take that test, and you aren't pregnant, or if you don't want to have a baby," —his face is calm, a small smile playing on his lips— "then I don't want you to, either." 

"But if I am?" you ask. 

"Then I will be so, so happy, because it's you." 

A missed period isn't necessarily indicative of pregnancy, and you could be freshly pregnant or four whole weeks and the test could still come out negative. Maybe your weird feeling is indigestion. Whatever happens, you really believe that the man in front of you is here for whatever answer you find. 

"I love you."

"I love you, too," he says, bone deep sincerity turned to something lighter, fondly teasing as he lifts himself up and hugs you close. "You know that." 

You let him hold you for a little while, calming down, looking at the positives and all your options. "You think Jack would be happy?" 

"He'd love a brother or sister… eventually." 

You wipe your tears and runny nose in his shirt and he does you the generosity of pretending not to notice. If you are going to have anyone's baby, you'd want it to be his. 

[sailorvenusxoxo]

Half-Celebration

Fandom: Rivals

Pairing: Tony Baddingham x Reader

Summary: You just upped the ratings, and you feel absolutely amazing about it, in a high of power and confidence. And while you celebrate with Tony, a slight dominant streak comes to your mind. OS

Warnings: Smut, fem!reader (but no she/her pronouns), cunnilingus, semi-public sex, grinding, making out.

Word count: 2.2k

a/n: hey everyone! I hope you enjoy it! If you have any requests, I'm willing to try, and obviously, any constructive criticism is welcomed! <3 Also, I apologise in advance, English is NOT my first language. It's an os, but if you want a second part, tell me! Lots of love 🫶🏻

Tony allows himself to let out a slight grunt of victory, at the latest report of ratings.

Fucking hell, the ratings are high.

He lights himself a cigar, taking a long, and according to him well-deserved, drag. The lord smirks to himself, thinking of the person behind those sudden surge of success.

His brand new producer. His new jewel, basically. Discovered in another country, and now working for him in Corinium… She was being sensational. Full of ideas, spectacular, brand new, thrilling.

And god, did he enjoy watching her make phone calls, walk around his company, like she owned the bloody place. She knew her worth. She knew she was essential, and became an element that Tony couldn’t just get rid off.

In multiple ways than one….

—

Up in your office, there you were, focused on the new report that just got sent in to everyone. You looked at the numbers, quickly analysing the ratings, and calculating the percentages you, once again, added.

You smirked to yourself. You did a fucking amazing job.

You couldn’t care less about the negative criticisms. Those who looked down on you for your important position, or the ones that accused you of getting that leather chair, only by “giving one to the boss”.

Sure, you had indeed given Tony multiples. But was it the only reason why you were in that fancy leather chair? Hell no.

You were smart, capable, organised, and you knew your worth. All that you did for this company, the hard work, the over time, the multiple risks… It was finally paying off.

And you couldn’t be prouder. You knew you were in for a special celebration tonight, up in your place, but you could not wait. A part of you wanted, even craved, to see that smug smirk of his, with the proud glint in his eyes. Of course, while he’d be “proud of you”, you knew he was mostly congratulating himself for hiring you.

But did you care? Not really, not when his inflated ego, stroked in the right way, would make your eyes roll, and your legs shake.

So, you continued your journey to his office, avoiding the other coworkers, focusing on the door of his office, the sound of your bright red kitten heels resonating on the wooden floor.

Without knocking, you enter his office, a little smirk on your lips. You usually knocked, he enjoyed respect, but you were both in a nice enough mood to get over this.

Tony looked at you, standing at the door frame, smoking his cigar, a celebratory one, perhaps. You step inside his office, closing the door and shutting the blinds, as he smirks at you.

“You’re getting the fuck of a lifetime, tonight, you know that?”

He declared cockily, a hint of excitement in his low voice.

You smirk back at him, tilting your head, feigning contempt.

“...I figured. With ratings this high, I might as well get that new watch I desperately wanted.”

You propose, lips pursed.

He snickered, shaking his head, putting his cigar back in the ashtray. He gestures to you with his finger to come closer to him, and feeling playful, you oblige.

“We’ll see about that, starlet. For now…How about a little celebration here, hmm?”

He asks you, his eyebrow raised. You purse your lips. The door was closed and locked, the blinds were shut… This was a special day, why not try out something risky?

Being risky had always gotten you places, anyway.

You bite your lower lip, getting closer to his slumped shape, on his huge leather seat. In a breath, you walk closer again, your knee grazing his, slightly spreading his thighs, cladded by his fancy Armani suit.

“...A celebration?”

You murmur, your eyes clouding with want and desire. He smirks, nodding, his large hand grabbing the back of your thigh, right under your left cheek, pulling you closer to him.

For once in your dynamic, you looked down to him. And you smirked. God… even if it was only literally, and never in actual power dynamics, did it feel good to look at him from above. It felt… exhilarating.

“You look good under me.”

You murmur, in an attempt to shift things up.

His smirk doesn’t leave his lips, and his brown eyes glint in amusement.

Cute.

Was clearly the word going through his mind at your attempt. Will he ever take you seriously? You doubted so. Would you still keep on pushing him, and pushing him, until you reached that stage, where he could only look at you in awe, other than when you rode him?

Definitely so.

You promised yourself so. That one day, this bastard that you found, to your utter dismay, way too attractive, would look at you with the same reluctant respect, almost fear, as he did with Rupert Campbell-Black.

Finally, you snap, and climb on his lap, your knees resting on the leather, on either side of his hips, as you captured his lips with yours.

He eagerly grabbed you, his hands going to your hair, gripping on them, as his chapped and thin lips harshly responded, moving against yours, little grunts escaping his mouth.

“Hmm… Eager much?”

He grunted, his hands sliding down your back, to go and and cup your arse firmly, as you held back a gasp, at the firm touch.

Eager? Of course you were bloody eager… not like he couldn’t tell. Yet, you were power-hungry, with those new ratings. Fuck, you were the it thing, lately!

You grabbed his tie, pulling him closer, as your mouth moved more fervently against his.

He let out another groan, as his hands pulled up your skirt, exposing your backside to the air of his office, his calloused hands going to cup your flesh, patting the skin.

Your hips jerked involuntarily at the little pat, and you scoffed again.

He pulled away, smirking at you. He knew how to win you over, he knew what to do to dominate you.

Yet, you persisted.

Not today.

Unbuttoning his shirt, and loosening his tie, you attacked his neck, going against a rule of his.

He didn’t want any hickeys, he couldn’t have it noticed by his wife.

And as his nails dug into the flesh of your arse, as a warning, you looked up to him, almost in a glare.

“...Shut the fuck up. It’s my celebration. I’ll do what I want. If you have a problem, go see the makeup artist.”

You snapped, before attacking his neck again.

Tony grunted, his head thrown back, as his other hand gripped your hair tighter.

“You little-”

He started, but you interrupted him by grinding your hips against his, making him stop his sentence, a moan taking over. Strangely enough, grinding was a guilty pleasure of his.

After a bit of snogging, looking like two hormonal young adults, you pulled away, sitting on his desk, legs spread apart, like a feast for him to devour.

And he seemed to share that thought, due to the look on his face.

But as he approached his goal, his face eager, ready to devour you and reduce you to a whining mess, you stopped him.

Your red heel, on his forehead.

He froze slightly against it, not expecting it. But you spoke up.

“Let’s make this clear. You’re about to eat me out, yes. Perhaps as a way to make me submit again, and to have me on my knees in about two minutes, since you're always so sloppy with this.”

You start, as he was still frozen against your heel.

“But…Today, I’ve upped our ratings, since last month, by fifty five percent. In one month. Ever had that? Don’t think so. So right now, right here, I’ll be getting a proper head. And you better pour your heart into it, or else I’ll find another mouth to get it.”

You finish, looking at him, an eyebrow raised, putting in all the confidence you have of.

He looks at you, stunned. Tony is ready to retort. Ready to say he could kick you out your condo, if you saw another man. That you’d just take what he’d give you.

But as he looked up at you, his boner grew again. God… Did you look… fierce. Powerful. Like a fucking goddess.

He had made it. Turned you into that, in his opinion at least. While to you… He just happened to guide you slightly, during your breakthrough.

But in response to your sudden dominant streak, he smirked. For once… he’d indulge.

He gripped your thighs tighter, bringing your hips and pelvis closer to his face, before playfully retorting:

“...At your service, Ma’am.”

Your eyes slightly widen, at him finally letting out some control, but as he puts his mouth on you, you realise it's just another one of his twisted plans again. To see if you could handle it. The power, the attitude.

But today was different. You had your proof, that you were a fucking phenomenon.

So, gripping on his desk, you spread your legs wider, letting him feast on you, as you bucked your hips against his face.

You wouldn't hide your pleasure, pretend he did not have any effect on you. Because that wasn’t displaying power.

Displaying power, was owning up to this building pleasure, this sensation in your stomach, and yet… still indulge in it, and let yourself get submerged by all of what you allowed him to do to you.

Not what he could do to you. But what you allowed him to.

At first, he licked a teasing stripe,making you shiver. The tip of his tongue barely grazed your clitoris, before he looked up at you, his eyes shining in mischief and amusement.

He suckled slightly on one of your inner labia, then the other, tasting the natural juice that was slowly oozing out, and making a more primal side of him come out.

But as you heard his grunts, the dominant streak in you got control again, and you put your red heel on his back again, reminding him of his place.

He looked up at you, slightly grunting again, visibly a bit displeased at you still maintaining this attitude.

Eager to see you crumble and give up, his tongue traced a circle around your clit, hoping to see you get impatient and begging.

But you simply gripped his hair, pushing his hair further between your thighs.

Suddenly pleasured by this new sensation of being… dominated? Tony slightly let loose and decided to full on suckle on your clit, his tongue lapping at your taste, his teeth messily grazing your core, but not enough to be uncomfortable.

You let out a gasp of pleasure, before moaning, as he grunted against you, his nose nestled in your bush.

He gripped your thighs harder, suckling harder, his tongue alternating between licking, and teasing your entrance, by tipping the tongue inside.

You felt it, that knot in your stomach, that pressure building up, that arch in your back, pressing for more, urging him, almost ordering him.

He could suffocate between your thighs, and you wouldn’t care. The high was too thrilling.

You pinched your own nipple, desperate for another stimulation, as your throat let out a guttural sound.

Your thighs closed around his face, bringing him deeper, as, also as enthralled as you were, Tony groaned against your core, eagerly pleasing you. You came against his face, your juice staining his nose, mouth, and chin, as your voice almost broke, to the intensity of the orgasm.

Granted, he hadn’t eaten you out very long. But yet… it was different.

It was almost…reverent.

As you pulled away from him, you snickered, seeing his messed up face, and ruffled face.

You looked at the clock, and feigned a gasp.

“Fuck, I forgot… I have a meeting with Declan in two minutes.”

False. But you were going to go see Declan, and make up a new idea for his show, just for pretend.

Tony looked up at you, frowning, confused.

“...Excuse me?”

You smirk, tilting your head.

“Aw, come on. Don’t give me that face. We’ll celebrate tonight, in the intimacy of my flat. For now… I'm busy. Where do you think these ratings come from, hmm?”

You snicker, getting off his desk, fixing your outfit.

Gosh… were you really doing this? Making Tony eat you out, then ditching him, giving him blue balls until tonight?

You looked at your flushed, but glowing self, in the reflection of his window, before realising that… yes.

Yes, you totally were.

Tony scoffed.

“You’re just going to-?”

You interrupted him, raising a hand to his face.

“I’m busy. We’ll have tonight. Don't be such a child, just be patient… don't you have some… class?”

You snickered, shaking your head.

Slightly stunned, Tony frowned slightly, shaking his head, before scoffing again, his cheeks slightly tinted with a blush.

“What do you think I am, an animal? That only sex's on my mind? I have a job too, starlet. Get to work, we’ll finish this tonight.”

He grumbled, visibly trying to regain some composure, despite the obvious bulge in his pants that he was slightly palming.

You smirk, and threw a discreet wink at him, before murmuring.

“If I were you, I'd wipe my mouth. Shouldn’t talk with a mouth full.”

Triumphant, you left his office, leaving him with his frustration and slight awe, eager to discover what more powers you could obtain tonight.

[avatar-anna]

When You Fall In Love...

so i've been reading icebreaker and it's been putting me in the hockeyrry mood

part one, part two, bonus, bonus

Harry watched from the empty stands as Y/n ran through her routine for the fifth time. Her teammates had gone home, her coach asked Harry if he would lock up on the way out, and now it was just the two of them in the empty rink. There wasn't even any music playing anymore, Y/n was just skating and performing her tricks as if there was.

Every time she did it, it was flawless. Her routine was fast and intense and incredibly difficult, but Y/n performed with ease every time. She landed her tricks like they were nothing, tricks which Harry now knew the names of and could tell the difference between a lutz and an axel. She was incredible, and he was in awe of her every single time.

But even in her perfection, Y/n had yet to smile once.

Harry decided she'd had enough after she finished her fifth run-through, quickly jogging down to the edge of the rink before she could skate out to the middle again. He leaned over the barricade and kissed the top of her head. This close to her, he could see her rosy cheeks and heaving chest, a sign that her routine did wear her out, despite making it look so effortless.

"You were phenomenal as usual, baby," Harry said while he gathered her things.

"I bobbled a landing and my timing was off for a whole four counts," was her reply.

Harry frowned, not pleased by her recent negativity. Any athlete could be critical of their ability, but Y/n seemed uncharacteristically hard on herself lately, and he had no idea why. "Everything okay?" He asked, shouldering her duffle bag as they walked away from the rink.

"I'm fine."

She certainly didn't sound fine, but Harry decided not to push. Not now, anyway. Changing the subject, he said, "I got an email from the recruiter. I should be receiving my contract soon."

Excitement didn't even begin to cover how Harry had been feeling lately. Last week, he'd met with an agent of a minor league hockey team, one that was a feeder to an NHL team. He expressed their interest in Harry moving to the east coast after graduation and join them for spring training. And after giving it some thought, Harry accepted.

He was over the moon, thrilled that years of hard work was finally paying off. He'd made his passion into a career, and had the potential to really make a name for himself. Life couldn't have been better.

But where Harry seemed to be flying high, Y/n seemed stuck. She was happy for him when he told her the news, had gone out to celebrate with him that night. But something felt off between them. Harry couldn't put a name to it, but he just knew.

"That's great," Y/n said with no amount of enthusiasm in her voice. Harry tried not to take it to heart, she was clearly in a mood from her practice. She was under a lot of pressure too, he reminded himself, and sometimes had a knack for not knowing how to express herself with words.

"Is there something on your mind? You've been quiet recently," he said, hoping he wasn't overstepping her delicate boundary.

Y/n shook her head as she approached her car, sliding into the driver's seat without a word. Harry couldn't help but feel more and more like there was something on her mind, but he let it go again.

Before pulling the car out of the parking lot, Y/n rested her hand over his and leaned in to kiss him. "I'm sorry. I've just got a lot on my mind."

"It's okay. As long as you know you can talk to me about it."

Her throat bobbed, but she nodded, then turned her focus toward the road. Harry filled the silence with rambling. He talked mostly about the NHL, about his contract and where he wanted to live and how everything was happening so fast.

So caught up in trying to break the tension, he didn't notice Y/n's white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel.

*.*

"Styles! What the hell are you doing? Focus up! Let's go!"

Harry rested his hands on his knees, breathing heavily during the brief pause in the game. His eyes flicked up to the stands, searching the crowd for a familiar face, but he didn't see the one he needed the most.

Despite being recruited by a minor league hockey team, Harry was probably having the worst game of his life.

Not one pass connected, he was letting second-rate players get by him, and he'd spent more time in the penalty box than in the actual game. Nothing about this was right, and still all he could do was look for Y/n.

She wasn't there, and even though things had been weird between them recently, he was still surprised. When she wasn't at a competition of her own, Y/n came to every one of Harry's games. It had started out as Harry wanting to impress her, maybe show off a little, and then as time went on and they grew closer and their relationship became more than two people having sex in secret, he wanted her to be there just because it felt good knowing she was watching him play. All his nerves floated away when Y/n was sat in the stands, sometimes in his jersey, cheering him on.

And of course there were times when she couldn't come, but this wasn't one of those times. Y/n had purposely not shown up. He knew they'd fought before the game, but he didn't think she would abandon him just to be petty. They were past that now.

His sole focus should've been on the game he was playing, but instead his mind kept drifting to the fight.

Harry could feel Y/n pulling away from him. He finally felt like he was getting everything he wanted—a spot on a minor league hockey team on the east coast that would eventually lead him to the NHL, graduating with semi-decent grades thanks to Y/n, and of course being with his dream girl. At first, she'd seen him as some douchey athlete that was only good for one thing. He remembered seeing her for the first time their freshman year, performing tricks on the ice that he'd only ever seen on TV, and when he whistled and clapped loudly—perhaps a little obnoxiously—after she'd finished, she'd rolled her eyes at him and told him to fuck off.

It was love at first sight.

Harry had been so careful around Y/n. He played by her rules and followed her lead, trying not to let the comments about them not dating get to him too much. He liked their initial dynamic, finding it funny when he got under her skin because she made it so easy. It became a kind of game, this push and pull that was fun and exciting and eventually led to their arrangement.

He knew that she cared about him on some level, he just needed to bide his time and show her he wasn't who she thought he was. Not entirely, anyway. And when she finally did, and they became more than just people who screwed around, everything was perfect.

They'd been through so much together. Y/n pushed Harry to be better, and he worked with her to master new tricks and nail her routine. There wasn't anyone else who understood his level of commitment to hockey, but she did, and that just made him love her more.

So when he got the call offering him a spot on the minor league team, Y/n was the first person Harry told. She'd been happy for him, and he was over the moon, his mind already making a million plans—where they'd live, her coming to his games, him helping her find a new rink to train at. It felt like the doors to a new and exciting world had opened for them, but she then she started pulling back, and Harry practically watched as that door slammed shut.

Harry pushed himself to focus back on the game, on the hockey stick in his hand and the ice beneath his skates. He felt like it took more effort than it should've to get his head back in the game, but his team managed to pull out a win, and he managed not to get benched before it happened. That didn't stop his coach from ripping him a new one in the locker room, but Harry sat there and took it, shaking his head and promising his piss poor performance would never happen again.

Exhausted both physically and mentally, he trudged out of the locker room and toward the parking lot, debating whether to take the bus home or call an Uber. Even in his senior year, he still didn't have a car, but Y/n was usually there to give him a ride home. To their home. Moving in together for their last year of school seemed like a no-brainer, and it had been amazing so far, though the last week had been kind of a disaster. Harry could feel the tension between them growing, but every time he asked Y/n about it, she'd say she was fine even though they both knew everything was not fine, and the cycle continued. He wanted to be excited, he wanted to celebrate the success he'd managed to create for himself, but he felt rather deflated instead.

To Harry's surprise, Y/n was waiting for him in the parking lot. He didn't hesitate putting his gear in the trunk and coming around to sit in the passenger seat. Y/n leaned in to kiss him immediately holding onto the sides of his face fervently.

"I'm sorry," she breathed. "I'm sorry for not being here tonight and I'm sorry for acting strange, and I'm sorry for—"

"Y/n, what's going on with you?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

"Can we wait until we get home to talk?" She asked. I want to be able to talk to you properly, and I can't if I'm driving.

When Harry nodded, Y/n must've deemed it enough. She peeled away from the rink, silent tension filling the air between once again. It had been following them around all week.

That ended tonight, though. He didn't care how much Y/n hated confrontation or hard conversations. They couldn't move forward if they didn't move past this roadblock first. Harry loved Y/n more than he ever thought possible, and stubborn as she was, he knew she loved him just as much. He would get to the bottom of this, no matter how hard she tried to fight him on the way down.

*.*

"Y/n, you know I would be ecstatic if you'd told me you qualified for the Olympics. This is a huge step in my career! Why can't you be happy for me?"

"I am! God, Harry, I am."

"Then why are you pulling away from me? I feel like I can't be excited about this around you when you're the one person who should understand how this feels."

"I can't do this. I can't have this argument with you," you said, trying to step away from him.

Harry was quick to grab your hands in his, keeping you from walking away. "What aren't you telling me? Do you want to break up?"

"No!

"Do you not love me anymore? What? What is it, Y/n?"

"God, I didn't—I didn't ask for this," you cried, feeling like a damn had burst inside you. It was out now, and now you had to see it through to the end. "I didn't plan on falling in love with you. I wasn't prepared to love you this much. You're the one who wanted to take things further, and now you're—"

You're leaving me, you couldn't bring yourself to say. You really were happy for him. All of his dreams were coming true, and he had an ambition that matched yours, which made you love him more. And now that ambition was taking him far away from you, and you weren't handling it as well as you thought you would.

"Y/n—"

"I'm happy for you, H, I'm so happy for you that I could burst. And maybe even a little jealous," you joked, though there was some truth to what you said. "But I guess I just...I guess I didn't expect to love you this much. And I don't—I don't know what to do because you're going soon and I'm..."

You had no clue, and that alone was terrifying.

At the start of all this, you never imagined falling in love with Harry. He drove you absolutely insane, and despite your physical attraction to him, you kept your distance. But he kept doing these things that made you like him, and eventually care about him, and finally made you fall in love with him. It just wasn't something you saw coming. Love was definitely not on the brain when you met Harry.

Because you knew this moment was inevitable. The moment when one of you would be given an opportunity you couldn't refuse and would pull you away from each other. Once upon a time, you thought you would be given your dream job of a lifetime—competitive skating and hopefully the Olympics—but somewhere down the line, skating stopped bringing you joy, only pressure and anxiety. And now Harry had his dream job on the other side of the country, and you were left to flounder and wonder how you would survive waking up without him next to you.

"You're making it seem like it's a bad thing that you're in love with me," Harry said quietly, but the low tone of his voice didn't hide anything. You knew he was getting upset. After all the avoidance the last week—on your part—yours and his emotions were coming to a head.

"It's not! It's just that you're leaving!" you said, resisting the urge to run a frustrated hand through your hair. "And all week you've talked about how excited to get out of here and leave this all behind and start a new chapter in your life. I mean, would it kill you to act like you're a little torn up about leaving?"

It was so selfish, and you knew it was. It was why you'd been avoiding Harry, this conversation. Harry had every right to be proud and ecstatic for leaving to play in the professional league. He worked so hard, pushed himself farther than anyone you'd ever met, except for maybe you. Your pain was clouding your good sense, and now you'd shown just how horrible you could really be.

You couldn't look him in the eye after saying what you did. Even if it was how you felt, you still felt ashamed for raining on Harry's parade. "Y/n—" he tried to say when you hastily wiped a tear from your eye.

"I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry," you said, getting up from the couch and scurrying off to your bedroom.

Flopping on the bed, you pulled the covers over you, trying to hide from everything happening around you. It was too much. Your senior year was supposed to be fun and full of unforgettable memories, not arguments and heartache.

You weren't sure how much time had passed before the door opened and Harry slipped inside. He slid into bed next to you, and you didn't fight it when he rested his face in the crook of your neck. Because despite everything you were feeling, this was all you really needed.

"I'm not leaving you behind," he murmured gently. "You mean too much to me."

You sniffled, and Harry pulled you closer to his chest. "You're going to be thousands of miles away."

"Says who?" he said, kissing your cheek. "Who says you aren't coming with me?"

"And do what?" you huffed, even though the thought slightly lifted your spirits. "Be one of your...puck whatevers and follow you around like a puppy? I need a life of my own too."

You were being stubborn and argumentative and you both knew it. There was some relief in knowing Harry wanted you with him, but you also didn't want to just move because Harry was. You needed purpose, you needed to feel like your life had some sort of direction in it. But it was unfair to put all of that on Harry, and you didn't know how to express how you felt without sounding insane, so instead you said nothing, and that obviously went over brilliantly.

Harry chuckled. "See, because you just said how in love you are with me, I can tell that you're frosty attitude is just an act. Now turn over and look at me."

You reluctantly turned over, brow furrowed exaggeratedly because you couldn't cross your arms over your chest. It used to infuriate you how easily Harry could get under your skin because he knew you so well, that he knew just what to do or say to pull you out of a bad mood. In this moment, you were thankful. He could see past all the harsh words and see to the root of the problem. You'd said some things that were perhaps out of order, but Harry understood. Despite everything, he understood.

"You've worked just as hard as me, Y/n. I want to be there for you the way you've been for me. You can achieve your goals too."

"I just...I don't know if I want to achieve them anymore," you said quietly.

It was the first time you'd said it out loud. Since you'd learned to skate, there had only been one goal: the Olympics. Getting there wasn't just a matter of training, it was about devoting your life to your craft, it was barely having a life outside of training and competitions and giving all your time to winning. And after spending nearly your entire life doing it, you felt yourself slowly burning out. You'd go through your routines flawlessly, but your heart wasn't in it. All you could think about was the future—the next competition, the next training session, the next qualifier. It took seeing Harry so happy about being drafted to the minor leagues to realize the fire had gone out in you. Thinking of Olympic qualifiers and training and affording coaches and costumes and picking the right music only filled you with dread when you should've felt joy.

"Oh."

"But I don't know who I am if I don't have skating."

"You don't have to compete to skate, you know," Harry said. He rested his hand against your cheek, rubbing his thumb along your temple lightly. "You can c—"

"Oh God, don't say coach," you groaned. "It's perfect. You'll be a hockey superstar and I'll be the washed-up figure skater who couldn't handle the pressure of being an athlete and wound up coaching instead."

"I know you're being like this because you're scared, and that's okay," he said. "But I'll help you find a new dream, Y/n. I promise."

You had to blink away tears because your heart couldn't take how much he cared about you. "Even when I've been a complete bitch?"

"You haven't been. I'm sorry if you felt like I was leaving you behind. I guess in my mind we would always be together, no matter where we ended up."

"God I hate how much I love you sometimes," you grumbled while flinging yourself on top of Harry and holding him tight. "It's too much, you're too much, and I can't stand it—"

"There's a compliment in there somewhere, right?" Harry asked, but you could hear the grin in his voice.

Sitting up, you perched yourself on him, your legs straddling his waist. Dipping down, you made sure your noses were brushing, but you didn't close the distance. Not yet. Your heart was racing simply because Harry had been so kind to you, because he knew you so well and said exactly what you needed to hear. It felt ridiculous to know that there was a time when he pissed you off so much you saw red, that his teasing remarks and cocky grin grated on your nerves. Now you didn't want to imagine a life without him.

"I'm sorry for saying all of those things," you murmured. "I really am proud of you. No one deserves this more than you do."

Harry's hand reached up and threaded through your hair, his fingers gentle as they passed over your scalp. "I know you are. And I mean it, Y/n. I'll help you. I know you love to skate, we just have to find a way to channel that into something else. If not coaching, maybe performing?"

"What? Like Disney on Ice?" you asked skeptically, your nose wrinkling at the thought.

Harry shrugged as his hand dipped beneath your shirt to stroke your back. "You'd be a cute princess."

"With my luck, they'd make me a tree."

"Then you'd be the cutest tree there ever was."

Shaking your head, you nudged your nose against his again. "Can we hit pause on talking about the future? I just want to be with you here. Right now."

"Course," Harry said, one corner of his mouth turning up into a crooked grin. "And then maybe we can circle back to you being my puck whatever."

"Shut up."

"Make me!"

And that was something you knew how to do better than your skating routine.

[back2bluesidex]

The Undisclosed Reason: Murder - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Contract Husband!Yoongi X Contract Wife!Reader 

Theme: soft yandere, mystery, smut, morally grey characters

Word Count: 1.5k+

Summary: Min Yoongi is mysterious, beautiful and scary. Min Yoongi is also the primary suspect of instigating his ex-wife's suicide.

Warnings: SMUT!! explicit sex, sex on a kitchen counter, yoongi is chilling in here, mentions of suicide, death, murder.

First installment of One Last Contract

Inspired from kdrama The Trunk.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)

Taglist requests are open

Next installment: Curiosity Killed: None Yet

“The undisclosed reason…” His voice echoes in the mostly empty dining place, “you know what it is, don’t you?” from the way his voice sounds so distant, you know he is facing away from you. 

Your hand momentarily stops wiping the dishes. Your mind tricks you into thinking that he is testing you. 

He is testing if you are afraid of him or not. 

He is testing if you will break under his pressure or not. 

And you won’t. 

You’d only be afraid of dying if you were living. Death doesn’t scare you anymore, not when you are a walking shell of a human who has long accepted her demise. 

“I do.” you reply briefly, resuming your task at hand. 

And then you let your mind divert, let it go wherever it wants, let it land wherever it sees fit. 

“Why did you say yes then? To this marriage?” suddenly his voice is close. When you look up you see him standing at the other side of the kitchen counter. 

His eyes pierce through yours. For the first time in a week of knowing him, you see life in those eyes. You see fire. 

“The money is good. And saying no to a project reflects negatively on performance review.” You keep your focus on wiping the dishes. 

Min Yoongi stands there, staring at you as if you are an alien that has suddenly teleported to his house. 

If he expects you to shrink under his scrutinizing gaze then he is wrong. You are not that fragile. 

“Also… I am not scared to die.” you add, as quietly as possible. For a moment you wonder if he has caught you spilling those words or not. 

Maybe he has not. 

But then you hear him chuckling. 

A low, rumbly sound that resembles tiny pebbles rolling down a rocky path. 

When you look up again, his eyes lock with yours for a second time - you know he hasn’t looked away for a moment even. 

“Then what are you scared of?” Yoongi takes a dangerous step towards you, his voice dips down an octave lower. 

“Nothing.” you reply as confident as ever. 

Yoongi takes another step and crosses the thin kitchen counter to stand right before you, towering you with his figure. His body casts a shadow on yours - you are in the dark now. 

“Not even what I might do to you?” He raises his hand. With his index finger, he traces the contour of your face. “What if I do something bad? Dirty? Something worse than killing you?” 

As soon as his finger comes in contact with your skin - you feel tingles all over your body. 

It’s been years - years - since you felt something akin to this. 

Your last husband was asexual. The one before him was gay. The one before that had an affair with someone of his mother’s age. And the previous two were terminally ill. 

Min Yoongi is your first totally normal project. You wondered what had made the man cave in - to seek the assistance of a contract marriage while he could have anyone in this world within a snap of his fingers. That was until you came to know the secret. 

Min Yoongi was investigated for his ex-wife’s death. Although that was a suicide, she wrote his name in the note. 

But now as he stands before you, under the extremely dim light of the kitchen, you are not sure - of what, you don’t know. 

Anyone in the world would find him scary, especially with that scar running down on his face. But to you he looks beautiful - especially with that scar running down on his face. All of sudden, your heart is overwhelmed with an urge of tracing his scar and wishing for it to tell tales - what happened, how it happened. 

“Do you want to do something bad, dirty to me?” you find yourself challenging him. 

His lips stretch in a smile, “does your company allow that? To have sex with the contract spouses?”  

“If both parties want, then yes.” you inhale a sharp breath. The proximity, his scent, his droopy eyes, slightly parted mouth and that long dark hair cascading to his neck make you feel dizzy. 

“Do you want it?” he asks, pushing himself closer to your body. 

“As long as you use protection, yes.” Even before you could finish your sentence properly, Yoongi winds a hand around your waist and pulls you towards him. 

Your body presses together. Electricity runs around like a pair of close-knit open circuits. 

“If you regret your decision later, it’s not my fault.” he breathes down on your mouth before closing the remaining gap. 

His mouth molds on yours as you kiss him back instantly.

Again, years - it has been years - since you have shared a kiss. 

His big hands trace the path of your lower back, down the valley of your arse. Planting his palms there, he gives you a squeeze. 

Arousal gushes out of your cunt. 

The kiss is bruising. It translates how hungry both of you have been for any kind of physical action. 

Yoongi backs you on the counter, nibbling down on your lower lip and breaking the kiss while pulling the muscle of your lip with his teeth. 

He wastes no time in attaching his mouth to the angle of your jaw, leaving marks all over the column of your throat and then on your collar bones. 

His hands now travel underneath your sweater, Touching the expanse of your skin that is hidden from his eyes. When his hands reach the underside of your bra, he detaches his face from your throat and looks at you intently. 

You know he is asking for permission, which you didn’t expect from someone who was booked for instigating his ex-wife’s death. 

You nod. 

Yoongi takes his time in pulling your sweater up from your body and discarding it somewhere around the vast dining place. He, then, stares at you, with hooded eyes full of last. 

Your arousal dampens your underwear. Fuck. you absolutely didn’t expect this. 

Reaching out for your bra, you unclasp it and let it pool down on your shoulders. 

Yoongi stares at you. He doesn’t move just yet. You follow his eyes as those lower from your face to your exposed chest. 

And then he moves. Grabbing you harshly by your waist he hikes you up and sits you down on the kitchen counter. 

The cold steel top sends shivers through every corner of your body. Your already erected nipples, stands for attention even more. 

Yoongi wraps his lips on one of your nipples in a long, languid suck. You can’t help but moan. 

His one hand holds you tightly by your waist and another rolls your unoccupied nipple between his thumb and index finger. 

A gush of pleasure flows out of your core. 

Your fingers find their way in his dark locks. You take time to enjoy raking your fingers through his silky-smooth strands. 

He sinks his teeth on your nipple, making you curse out loud. Your toes curl. 

Leaving your tit alone, Yoongi dives inside your sweat pants, right through your underwear and touches your slick cunt. 

His index finger runs along your slit at first and then his thumb joins to stretch out your fold and enter your hole. 

“So wet already, huh? Seems like your previous husbands were no good.” Yoongi comments in a fleeting way. 

You can’t object. He is right. 

He enters two fingers in you without any warning. The stretch burns at first but as he scissors his fingers slowly, you find your eyes rolling backwards. 

Yoongi’s bulge presses down on your stomach and you decide you want him. You want him now. 

“Fuck me. Fuck me already.” you murmur in his hair. 

You can feel him smirking against the skin of your throat. 

“As my wife says.” he detaches his body from yours. You stare at him as he stips off of his clothing. 

Once he is out of his underwear, his dick springs up and slams against his belly. He rolls down the condom that was hiding somewhere in his pockets - you wonder if he planned his earlier. 

You get even wetter. 

Within a second he is back at where he was. He takes off your remaining clothing in a haste and lines his cock to your entrance. 

Giving you a quick stare, he enters in you, smooth and swift. 

Your breath hitches. 

Five years. After five whole years you are being pleasured. 

He goes slow at first, gives you time to adjust and then picks up his pace. 

Min Yoongi, your contract husband fucks you in his kitchen. Fucks you so good that you can’t remember what brings you here - with him, under him. 

Fucks you at an inhuman pace. 

When you cum on his cock, he grunts loudly and that’s one of the most attractive sounds you have ever heard. 

He moans again when he cums inside the condom. 

As you both try to catch your breath, he looks at you with a smirk playing on his lips. 

“And what if I kill you now?” he asks, voice hoarse with all the moans and groans. 

“Will you?” 

“Maybe.” 

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