#This isn't even half of what I could talk about jesus christ

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Valentine's Day...Gifts They Give You?? I Think. IDK.

HAH SCHOOL CAN KICK MY BUTT BUT BY GOD AND THE DEVIL WILL I SHARE A LITTLE BIT OF LOVE!! (I'm suffering Jesus fucking CHRIST this course is gonna eat my fried up brain for breakfast lunch and dinner) This is done assuming they're pining for Yuu, save for Ortho he's Idia's little wingman. GN reader as always bbssssssssss if anything seems canon divergent, check out my HCs lmao

Heartslaybul Ace: He thought about making it super romantic, like he spent the week leading up to Valentine's day brainstorming ideas on napkins and doodling on scrap paper, trying to come up with a way to ask to hang out that would make it feel different than normal, but not so obvious that he...you know, likes you. He ends up showing up at Ramshackle before class with a box of chocolates he bought the day before and a bit of a blushing mess. "I just got these because who knows how much Sam will have by the end of today, you owe me half, ok?"

Deuce: He absolutely called his mom to ask for some advice, and asked his dorm mom (Trey), to proofread the hand written note he had meticulously written and supervise while he tries to make a heartshaped quiche. Why quiche? Well he knows you guys have...Memories about eggs, and he remembers it fondly, and he knows that quiche freezes well, so if he makes a big batch, you can eat what you want and have a readily available breakfast to just pop back in the oven whenever you want it - hopefully you'll remember him each time you do, and you'll ask for more when you finish it! He ends up at Ramshackle a little disheveled and out of breath, trying to make the quiche early enough in the day that he could make it there before breakfast so maybe you could share a meal before class. "It's still warm??" "Yeah, I ran here as fast as I could once it was cool enough to handle." "You didn't have to..." "I wanted to! You're more than worth the effort it took to be here on time." Trey: Mans has a major advantage in that he is great in the kitchen, but he can't just make your favourite dessert. He can do that any day. No, for weeks ahead of time, he plans, makes, tests, and revises a new recipe, something that is unique and meant to be for you. It's more effort than he normally puts into his work, but it's so worth it when he shows up at Ramshackle in the evening to deliver his gift and a small note, though he gets shy. He leaves it on the front door step, knocks once, and moves to hide by the side of the house, relying on Grim's nose to bring you to the door if you didn't hear him knock. Seeing the way your face go from confusion to joy and excitement as you read the note is worth every moment he spent crouching. He knows tomorrow you'll want to talk to him in person, but for now, that's more than enough for him.

Cater: Consumerism Capital lmao. He has a really sweet, genuine gift to give to you, but the time he's spent with his sisters makes him second guess whether or not something is "good enough". So, yes, he will have spent 72 hours painting a fucking masterpiece on a phone case for you, or a pair of shoes you said you wanted, or a skateboard so you guys can skateboard together, or something you mentioned you wanted offhandedly months ago, but he's not sure if it's enough, so to "make up" for his "shitty handmade gift", he buys a shit ton of Valentine's day merchandise! He shows up with the giant teddy bear, the bouquet of flowers, the chocolates, the sappy movies, a trending perfume and some sort of specialty drink he picked up at a cafe. Depending on your reaction to all that stuff, he might actually give you the gift he worked on, otherwise you'll see it by accident or something and he gets embarrassed and a little flustered because What If You Don't Like It, Isn't Everything Else Better Than That Thing I Worked On Specifically For You. Treat him gently please. That's a personal request slkdjfhlskdjf

Riddle: He's new to this. So of course he researched long and hard on how to best express his interest in you without trying to push anything on you. Cater tried to show him cute stuff on social media, but it all seemed so scripted, disingenuous, or so over the top he couldn't see himself doing it that way. Or on the other end - they were couples, well into their relationships and living together- that wasn't where he was with you, at least....not yet. He ends up watching, reading and listening to tutorials on how to put together the perfect bouquet - his beloved rose garden would have more than an aesthetic use now, and with a little magic, a beautiful gradient came easily to the bunch of roses he arranged beautifully. Before you, this holiday just seemed ridiculous. Maybe it still was, but he would indulge if it meant it brought a smile to your face.

Savannaclaw

Jack: He can't be direct for the life of him, not in terms like this. The night before Valentine's day, he's still stumped on what to do for you that won't be...inherently romantic and obvious, but show that he cares about you!! His eyes end up settling on his little cactus and he ends up finally getting an idea. Somehow after class, but before you got home, he managed to gift you your own tiny cactus. He left it sitting in a box, a small knitted coaster of sorts sitting underneath the flower pot - he put it in the box just so that the yarn wouldn't snag on the uneven wood outside of Ramshackle- and a tiny cowboy hat sitting on top of your cactus. It had been from one of his little siblings dolls that ended up in his bag from the last time he'd gone home, but either they didn't even notice it was gone, or he could get them a replacement later.

Ruggie: "Do you have plans for Valentine's day?" "Yep. Wait for it to be over." He doesn't really care for Valentine's day, but the sale that starts on the 15th? Goddamn, yeah, he's gonna capitalize on that....and he might even like you enough to share a little bit of it...maybe while watching a movie....and snuggling up under the same blanket at Ramshackle...that he may or may not have snagged from Leona's pile of Really Nice blankets....all it takes is for you to say you want some chocolate or treats too.

Leona: He really doesn't care for Valentine's day and all the shit that comes with it, but his sister in law asked him to at least try to make the best of the day. Initially, he was going to...at least try to contest it, but ultimately decided there was a simple way to do it. He ends up firing you a quick text to meet him in the greenhouse. While the way he pulls you into his little nest for napping is rather unceremonious, once you've settled he tucks a pink camellia behind your ear before abruptly telling you he's going to sleep and you're welcome to join him or you can get out of there if you want. He hopes, that just maybe, you'll be able to identify the flower he gave you and find out what it means.

Octavinelle

Floyd: Azul is making him work overtime for Valentine's day, he doesn't get up early enough to do anything Before classes, and by the end of his shift he's EXHAUSTED and MAD. He likely has the wherewithall to bring you a serving from the special menu in a takeout container before flopping down on the couch next to you, then onto you, just looking for a little bit of physical affection. The next day he does feel a little bad for not making you feel as special as he could have, so he'll wake you up with breakfast in bed. Jade: Again, he's been working overtime but he was more ready for Valentine's day than Floyd. While he can't take you anywhere on the day of, he has an easy hike and picnic planned for the weekend if you'll join him. Despite being in the wild outdoors, he's determined to make you a dish that would be worthy of serving at the lounge. He will not handle being asked to stay home very well, but ultimately will if you want that more....but it's going to be in your backyard.

Azul: He had so much on his plate leading up to Valentine's day with marketing, organizing shifts and maximizing profit. But, some of that profit was already planned to be set aside specifically for you. It was about time that you got a bit of a leg up, right? I mean working for Crowley can only pay so much, and he's the head of the dorm that represents generosity anyways. So on the day after Valentine's day, he shows up in the evening with a laptop, and envelope with cash, and a grin, ready to show you the wonders of ✨investing✨. He may have forgotten you still...want to go home. He'll backtrack a bit and offer to help you find contractors that will renovate a part of Ramshackle for you.

Scarabia

Jamil: He didn't even bother trying to plan something for himself with you. How could he? It was a holiday, as ridiculous as it was, it meant that Kalim would inevitably want to celebrate it on the dorm level, and Jamil, of course, would have to plan and organize and arrange everything in order to make it work out. However, that didn't mean he wouldn't make sure to invite you. It didn't mean that he wouldn't make the time to ensure your favourite dish was served. Or that your favourite song would come on during the dance party portion of the celebration. Or that he wouldn't check on you just as, if not more frequently than he did on Kalim to make sure you're enjoying yourself. And if you're not, if it's all too much, he accounted for that already and will show you where you can stay until you feel okay again. Of course, if you show up an hour or two early and demand (you can't ask, he'll say no) to be given a task to lighten his burden, he might just admire you a little bit more (even if he still says no).

Kalim: Valentine's Day means partayyyyy time!! There's gonna be food, and dancing, and games, and lots of people, and live music because he, Cater, and Lilia are gonna perform, won't you come see him?? He needs you there so he can perform the best he ever has!! Come on Yuu, please??? They did actually practice, because they had to change a few lyrics so that it could be a better cover for Valentine's day and he was thinking of you when they modified it, so can you pleeeeeeeease come?

Pomefiore

Epel: He isn't sure whether he wants to continue a tradition he had from home or not, where he would show up at school with handmade lollipops and give them out to people....but his class at primary school was soooo much smaller, it wouldn't make sense to do it here for everyone. Not to mention, he usually had his grandma help him make them, he's never done it on his own. He likely does it for all the first years in his little friend group because he doesn't want to be obvious to anyone person that maybe...he likes them a little more...however your lollipop is the only one that seems to have no imperfections. Funny how that worked out.

Rook: Screw your alarm clock, he knows when you wake up anyways and will be outside your window, serenading you until you wake up. Even if you end up rolling out of bed lookin like a sewer rat and peaking out the window, once he knows you're awake he'll start reading poetry to you. He kinda just lingers until you're done getting ready enough to come great him outside, where he gives you a single rose and a few sheets of paper that he's written his poems about you on. He'll kiss the back of your hand and offer to escort you to class. ** I just want to say, for as much as I gripe about Rook in other posts, I genuinely believe that if he knew or found out you had no Valentine, no plans, and nobody treated you, he would, by the end of the day, at least have left a rose and handwritten note on in front of your door apologizing for not having asked to be your Valentine earlier and going through and complimenting you, though the note is completely anonymous. Rook is a bleeding heart (hehe Snow White ref) and regardless of his feelings for you/your feelings for him, he wants to make sure Valentine's day is positive for you.

Vil: Ugh, Valentine's day. It's a tacky, meaningless holiday that corporations push for the sake of profit. He agrees to model stuff still, sure, he has to in order to try and keep up with Neige, but he hates it. He gets his nails done so that they are jet black. Part of him wants to go goth for the day, but really that would be an overreaction to something so minor. He rejects any Valentine's day gifts, and likely won't want to do anything special, so if anything, you get to see a slightly out of character Vil as he either facetimes you to make sure you've been drinking water today and rant about the industry and how it's ruined Valentine's day, or. You send him a really cheesy gif wishing him a happy Valentines day and he very reluctantly replies, but tells you to never do that again (and it segues into Above).

Ignihyde

Idia (+ wingman/little shit Ortho): Ortho didn't really intend to snoop, but his big brother just left his phone out in the open...well he threw it onto his bed and mumbled something about being a loser. According to Ortho's analysis of Idia's phone, he hadn't been on a mobile game, so what got him so worked up? He sifted through until he found the culprit- the draft of a really sweet...and yeah, kinda cringey message he had written out addressed to the prefect of Ramshackle. Eugh he didn't need to read that...but...but Yuu should. He sends the message for Idia right before his brother comes back into the room, mumbling about how he needs to delete something. His eyes go wide as saucers as he sees not only has the message been sent, but the prefect has read it and is replying in that very moment. Idia reprimands Ortho immediately, but gently until the Prefects response comes through and Ortho confirms the tone is positive. Diasomnia lord help me it's one in the morning

Sebek: Wasn't going to do anything until Lilia mentioned...."exaggerated"...just how important Valentine's Day can be to humans. His decision to try and come up with a last minute gift only amplifies if he sees someone else give Yuu a gift, and ultimately decides with a certain degree of defeat just to buy something from Sam's shop. He decides something practical is best, but gets a little distracted around the candles. Surely in Ramshackle you would appreciate something small, aromatic and it even offers a small bit of heat! He decides to go through with it, but it's only noon, surely he can customize it a bit more before the end of the day. Lilia ends up walking into Sebek's room at around 10:30, only to see him struggling to stay awake as he wipes off paint from the lid. Based on the discarded tissues around, he hasn't been satisfied with any customizations he's tried to make. Lilia gently encourages him just to write a quick note, and he'll deliver it to the prefects doorstep for him so he can get to sleep. Sebek insists it's not perfect, but is forced to accept defeat as Lilia ushers him to bed, reassuring him that the prefect will still appreciate it.

Silver: He knows that he struggles to stay awake, so he starts on his project long before Valentine's day so that he can work on it whenever he has the wherewithall to do so. Come Valentine's day, he has the gift with him during class, and ends up sitting outside of Ramshackle, passed out next to the door waiting for you to show up so he can hand you his gift, which turns out to be a dagger. No, he didn't make it, but he wanted to research the best option for someone of your size and stature, the quality, where to purchase it reliably, to make a small write up on how to care for it properly, what it can and should be used for, and activities it's not suggested to use it for, but you technically "can". It also gives him an excuse to come see you more often to teach you how to use it- often teaching someone is a great way to learn and will add another layer to his training. Lilia: He's been around for so many Valentine's Days, he probably knew the fucking saint it was named after. That being said, he loves to make the most of life, and that doesn't stop here! Get ready for a home cooked meal, you don't have to worry about dinner tonight sweetheart, Lilia's got it covered. Or he'll pay for take out. Or both, to make up for the mess in your kitchen.

Malleus: He's been aware of the holiday for years, but has never really had a reason to celebrate it. But now there's someone who isn't scared of him. Someone who, perhaps if he asked, you would allow him to spend time with you. He ends up daydreaming about the activities the two of you could do together, from making gargoyles to learning to make ice cream together, he ends up spending the entire day like that. Though he's a bit frustrated at his loss of time, he writes out a heartfelt letter to invite you to join him in those activities at a later date. He'll either wait for you outside, or if its too late in the night, simply slide the letter under your door.

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

I was gonna do Che'nya and Neige and even Rollo but its. its way too late, I'm hungry and I have a STATS class tomorrow RIP me.

#v talks #twst #twisted wonderland #twst hcs #twst headcanons #twst scenarios #valentines day #happy valentine's day #twst x reader #twst x yuu #twst heartslaybul #twst savanaclaw #twst octavinelle #twst scarabia #twst pomefiore #twst ignihyde #twst diasomnia #twst fluff #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines

[madeforstarker]

[ tags: secret relationship, half of end game never happened, repost from old account ]

Peter sat stiffly beside Mr. Stark as he started the engine of his car, he's driving Peter back to his apartment in Brooklyn, a three hour drive at three in the fucking morning. Peter hates it. He hates that they had to hide whatever they had. Whatever sinful, whatever deep, whatever profound thing that they had.

"What's on your mind, kiddo?" Mr. Stark asks softly, affectionately. Peter doesn't argue with the kid or the kiddo that always seemed to be a habit for Mr. Stark to adress him when the older man felt like it.

"I just hate this." Peter whisper softly.

Mr. Stark's eyes doesn't leave the road. Three hours, Upstate New York to Brooklyn. Peter could book an Uber, but Mr. Stark always drives him back, it was an extension, an excuse to have more time spent together.

"This drive? or... me?" He hears the older man ask.

"Never of you." Peter answers, without second thought. like a knee-jerk reaction whenever Mr. Stark voices out his insecurities.

"What is it that you hate then?" The older man asks, his fists tight against the luxurious wheel of the equally luxurious but low-key car. A car no one knew Tony Stark had.

"Of this," Peter gestures the whole car, "Of us being a secret, of us hiding, of you losing sleep just so you can drive me back to my apartment, of me not being able to talk about you to my friends, how amazing you are, how great you are, how much I love-" Peter stops, his voice was shaky, on the verge of crying.

"Pete, baby, I love you," Mr. Stark starts, he takes the next exit, a longer route back to Brooklyn, "But we can't right now. Not right now, baby. Not when the divorce is still on the process. The press, baby, the press will eat you up, they'll drown you with lies, they'll make you into someone you are not."

"But, I am the reason. What they'll say? It'll all be probably right. I did get in between you and Ms. Potts-"

"No, you did not." Mr. Stark snaps, "Peter, you never came in between me and Pepper. We had this coming. And you know that we didn't marry for love. Even the engagement was a back up plan. The fucking wedding was an implusive anguish-ridden move because I thought I lost you. But right now, Pete, this is going to look so wrong to the outside eye."

"Then maybe I don't want to be right. I just want you, Mr. Stark. Sir, I just-" Peter sobs, as he clenches his fist against his eyes, he couldn't stop the tears that fell from his eyes, he hated this, he hated being so needy, he hated that he felt scared that Mr. Stark might change his mind and stop the divorce and-

"Hey, hey, baby, talk to me, come on, what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" The older man asks worriedly, he pulls over by the curb, parking the car, as he slaps his seatbelt off, turning his body towards Peter.

"What-, What if you get tired of me? What- fuck, What if you change your mind and stop the motion for divorce? O-or, what if you find someone else better than me? What if he or she changes your mind and then you'll have the divorce but not for me? Wha-"

"Let me stop you right there, Peter." Mr. Stark says gently, he slides his seat back, and pats his lap, inviting him to crawl over to him, which Peter does in an instant. He slaps his seatbelt off and scramble to sit on Mr. Stark's thighs.

"Isn't it obvious that you're meant for me and I'm meant for you? Every piece of you fits me perfectly, Every second, I wish I was with you instead, Every thought, it's you. Jesus Christ, it's always been you, Peter. It's wrong, I know, but God help me, you're the one I want to be with until the end. No one will ever come close to you. Nothing will ever come close to what I feel for you." Mr. Stark whispers as he holds Peter in his arms, carding his thick fingers through his soft curls.

Peter buries his nose on the soft expanse of the older man's neck, bathing his nose with the scent of home, his love, his Mr. Stark.

"One day, Pete, I'll hold your hand on the streets, I'll dance with you at every gala, I'll have you on my arm as my date to every party, I'll shout out my love for you from every roof top in New York. But for now, we have to wait, baby. I don't want you to be painted in a bad light, you deserve better. You deserve only the best. You're the only good thing that had ever happened in my endearingly bad life, I will not let other people ruin it. I love you, baby. And that will never change." The older man says with such a gentle tone, soft and filled with emotions. Peter doesn't argue anymore.

"I love you too, sir. More than you'll ever know." Peter whispers back as he presses a kiss on the older man's stubbled jaw.

Mr. Stark doesn't let Peter leave his lap, the car starts and it's on auto-drive, Peter falls asleep in Mr. Stark's arms. Sated and happy.

#starker #tnpt #made: prompts! #made: writes!

[toomuchracket]

sneaking out (matty x reader smut)

day 15 of promptober, and part 2 of this blurb i really liked! this isn't actually part of any of my established universes (shocking, i know), and it's the first time i've ever written any sort of sub/switchy matty, but fear not - the toomuchracket staples of him being simpy as fuck and some secret pining are present! basically, you haven't seen your old fwb in a minute, and neither of you can resist leaving the main event for a chance to reconnect... it's filthy, hope you enjoy <3

"matty, babe, do you actually know where you're going?"

"haven't a fucking clue, sweetheart," comes matty's cheerful reply, as he tugs you through the doorway out of the main exhibition. with a look to the right then the left to make sure you're both alone, your back is suddenly pressed against the cold wall, matty's hands are at the back of your head, and his lips are on yours.

fuck. you've missed this. you tell matty as much - gasping for air between words, clinging to his shoulders just to keep yourself tethered to reality - and he smiles and says he has, too. it's an odd association, but his eyes remind you of melting chocolate when he says it. warm. comforting. inviting. sweet.

you don't tell him that, though, because he'd (rightfully) rip the piss out of you. instead, you make a little kissy face, and preen internally at the speed and enthusiasm with which matty kisses you again. his hands flatten, gliding over the expanse of your velvet-covered back and down the contours of your hips, before suddenly gripping your bum. the motion shocks a moan from your lips, and matty smiles against them as he uses his grip on you to push the fronts of your bodies together.

he's hard. 

your ego skyrockets so quickly it threatens to break the sound barrier. four years apart, and you can still make matty healy pop a boner after only three kisses? incredible. you feel yourself smiling - no, smirking - into his lips, hand trailing down his suited body to scope out your handiwork.

matty groans as you touch him, pulling away from your lips to talk. he grins cutely, at total odds with the kneading routine his hands are doing on your arse. "i really wasn't kidding when i said i'd missed you."

you open your mouth, and the name escapes it before you even have time to think about what it might mean. "good boy."

"oh, fuck," matty whines, burying his head in the crook of your neck. he presses little kisses to the skin there and across your exposed collarbone, savouring the trace of your (familiar) perfume under his lips. despite the fact you're flush against him, his hips seem to grind of their own accord against yours; anytime there's a hint of friction, matty's breath shakes.

in short, you've fucked him up. big-time. and isn't that just delicious?

"mmm, baby," you moan, half from how hot his reaction is and half from how good his kisses - now trailing towards the plunging neckline of your dress - feel. with just enough pressure that he groans against you again, your nails rake up matty's back and entangle themselves in his curls. when you tug on them, he bites down on the exposed side of your tit with a whine; he soothes you with his tongue, while you soothe him with soft circles on his scalp. "have you missed being a good boy for me?"

matty nods against you, but it's not enough. you pull him back up by the hair to look at you, and jesus fucking christ, what a sight he is to behold. his lips and cheeks are both bright red, his jaw is dropped and quivering slightly, and the beautiful chocolate warmth of his eyes is almost invisible, so dilated with lust for you are his pupils.

he looks fucked, and you've barely touched him.

the mere sight of him is enough to get you (more) wet. you could give up now, pull him into another room with something you can bend over, let him flip up your dress and ease the presumably agonising pressure in his trousers. it would be good for both of you, great, even, you know that firsthand. 

but you're having too much fun taunting him to give up now, so you keep one hand in his hair, and ghost the nails of the other one down matty's face to hold his jaw. "need you to use your words for me, gorgeous."

matty nods vigorously. "missed it so much, missed you so much. haven't been good for anyone else."

"only me?"

"only you."

and you believe him. it took a while - almost two years, out of the four you were… whatever you were - for you to get through to matty that it feels good to relinquish control sometimes, so you're not totally surprised he hasn't done it with anyone else. a weird cocktail of emotions washes over you: pride, and satisfaction, yeah, with a hint of affection, and then a bitter melancholic aftertaste. he was never yours, in the traditional exclusive sense, but at least you have that tiny little bit of ownership and power and claim over him.

no. you can't let feelings get in the way of this arrangement.

not again.

you force out a smile, which does actually become genuine when you consider the way matty's looking at you. he's doe-eyed, desperate… and it's all for you. that makes you happy.

and you want to make him happy, too. but first, you want to kiss him again, so you do. he returns it with aplomb, cradling the back of your spinning head and moaning into your mouth. 

matty whines when you break the kiss, but he shuts up the noises of complaint when you start to unbutton his shirt, crouching and kissing down his chest as you go. "sweetheart, what are you doing?"

you look up at him, all blinking eyes and curls falling over his face. fuck, he really is beautiful, especially like this. "rewarding my good boy," you say, as innocently as you can muster, while you pull your dress up over your knees and settle onto them on the marble floor. "if he wants me to, that is."

"he does," comes the groaning reply from above you.

"good. missed having you in my mouth, sweet boy," you smile as you unbutton matty's trousers. pulling them and his boxers down just enough to free his mouth-wateringly hard cock, you lick over his hip tattoo with a flat tongue to tease him, before working your hand over where he needs you most. the noise he makes is heavenly. "i'd brace yourself on the wall, if i was you, baby."

matty's no sooner done as you advise before you're dragging your tongue up the underside of him and sucking his tip into your mouth. "shit!" he hisses, turning to use his own arm to muzzle himself. 

the motion reminds you that you're still in public, and a rush of heat hits your core alongside the realisation hitting your brain. huh. that's new. although, you think, maybe the public aspect is less sexy just because you might get caught, and more so because you might get caught specifically with matty. for a brief moment, someone else might know he's at least somewhat yours.

that's a can of worms to be opened another time, though. and if you do get caught… you at least want it to be good. so, you take a deep breath and then more of matty into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as much as possible as you suck him off. he whines your name into his arm as you do, and it takes everything in you not to slide the hand not wrapped around the base of his cock into your underwear and get yourself off too. this is about him, right now. you'll have your fun later. you know it. you know matty.

besides, his knees are jerking so much that they might give in at any second, so you wrap your free arm around one to keep matty steady. he whispers a thank you in between his breathy moans, and you look up at him and wink in response; he giggles, pretty face cracking into a beautiful, albeit exhausted smile, and you can't help but giggle back around his cock. the vibration seems to rocket right through his body and leaves it as a choked moan, which only eggs you on further - with a final squeeze of his base, you wrap your other arm around his other leg, and use the leverage to slowly take even more of him into your mouth and throat.

the effect it has on matty is visceral. you can't look up to see his face, but if you had, you would've watched his jaw drop a full beat before the throaty groan left it. on some sort of base instinct, his hands fly to your head; as soon as his fingertips brush your hair, though, matty jerks them back with a series of whimpers. "m'sorry, i didn't mean it, i won't do it again, i'll be good."

you didn't even have to remind him of the rules. bless him. you reach up to grab matty's hand, rubbing what you think are comforting circles into the skin as you continue to suck him off; you want to calm him down before you take him out of your mouth.

still, though, he panics slightly as you slide off his cock with a pop, frantically murmuring hushed apologies. shushing him softly, you jerk him off slowly as you talk. "shhhh, baby, it's alright. you were such a good boy for me. really."

"but i-"

"you touching me isn't the reason i've stopped, baby," you coo, kissing the hand you're still holding. "well, it kinda is, but i'm not doing it for punishment - i'm asking if you want to take over."

matty blinks a few times. "really?"

"mhmm," you nuzzle your head into his thigh cutely (you hope, anyway). "you've been good for me, and now i want to be good for you."

"you've already been good, though. you literally sucked my dick in the corridor outside a classy event."

you sigh, frustrated. "don't make me ask you, matty."

he smirks. fuck, you almost forgot how quickly he could switch. he's almost as good at it as you are. "well, a good girl would ask…"

"alright," you sit back on your heels, quickly pressing a kiss to the head of his cock before letting go of it completely and resting your hands in your lap. "will you please pin me to the wall like you promised earlier, and fuck my throat until you cum?"

matty closes his eyes and inhales deeply; on his exhale, he slides his fingers into your hair and tilts your head up so you can look at him. "whatever my good girl wants, she'll get."

fuck.

"thank you, baby," you tilt your head further to kiss the palm of his hand, and he smiles. "can i do something really quickly before we begin?"

matty nods, then gasps as you slide the straps of your dress down your arms, the fabric folding down over your chest and exposing your tits. you giggle. "i figured things might get messy. don't want my beautiful dress getting ruined."

"it is a beautiful dress. beautiful dress for a beautiful girl," matty smiles, hand tenderly cradling your jaw. his eyes light up the way they do when he gets an idea, and he quickly shimmies his suit jacket off and folds it, placing it behind your head to cushion it slightly against the wall. "and we have to protect that beautiful head of yours, don't we? s'my favourite, after all."

"my actual head, or the head i'm about to give you?"

matty smiles sweetly. "both."

you don't think he's being totally sincere, but whatever. you can at least pretend. so you smile just as sweetly back. "thank you. can i make you feel good, now?"

"of course, sweetheart. i don't think i'll last long, considering how well you already sucked my dick, but tap my thigh three times if it's too much, yeah?"

"yeah."

"good girl," matty crouches, kissing you so quickly you barely have time to react - before you know it, he's back up, cock in hand. "open your mouth for me, angel. and don't forget to breathe."

the pet name is so incongruous with what you're doing that you almost laugh, but you don't. instead, you oblige, dropping your jaw and sticking your tongue out. your eyes flick up to matty's in invitation, and neither of you break eye contact as he holds your head steady and slowly slides back into your mouth. you moan in tandem as he does, your eyes fluttering shut in composure to try and stop yourself gagging at the feeling of him curving down your throat.

matty stops when your nose meets his lower stomach, holding you there for a few seconds to let you get used to the feeling of him so deep inside you again. your breath is shaky through your nose, and he strokes your hair softly as he speaks. "doing so fucking well for me, sweetheart, you feel fucking perfect. you doing ok, my lovely girl? want me to keep going?"

it's a challenge, but you manage to mouth a "please" around him. drool falls from your lips as you do, hitting your tits and pooling on them. matty breathes out a "fuck, i'm definitely not going to last long" and slides back almost fully out of your mouth, before repeating the process slightly faster - he's not far off orgasm, you can tell, but he still manages to croak out a "this alright?" and a "good girl, perfect girl" when you hum an affirmative to the former.

god, it's so fucking messy - you're glad you pulled your dress down, because the velvet would've been ruined by the mixture of drool and tears dripping down your face. you fucking love it, though, making matty feel good like this. judging by the way his legs begin to shake, and the way he mutters garbled praises and moans of your name and good girls every time his cock meets your throat, he loves it too.

that, and the way he whines to tell you he's on the precipice of pleasure. "m'gonna fucking cum, sweetheart, m'so fucking close. fuck, you're so good, missed you, missed you taking my dick like this. fucking ruined everyone else for me, fucking dreamt about you every fucking night. shit, angel, m'there. gonna take all my cum, swallow it like a good girl, my good girl."

despite your continuous breathing, your head spins as matty talks. fuck. you need him to cum, need him to coat your throat right now.

with a near-painful hollowing of your cheeks and a final moan around his dick ("yours"), he does, crying out your name far too loudly given the clandestine circumstances you're in. you dig your nails into the back of matty's thighs as he falls into ecstasy, keeping him in your mouth until you're sure he's stopped cumming; once he has, you slowly slide him out of your mouth, careful not to let any of his release leave with him. 

before he can even ask, you open your mouth to let him see it all gathered on your tongue, before closing your mouth and swallowing the salty liquid with a satisfied hum. just to emphasise how good a girl you are, you lick your lips to make sure you get every last drop of him, smacking them together. "missed how nice you taste."

"are you trying to kill me, woman?" matty drags his hands down his face, before taking hold of yours and ushering you to stand - a welcome move, given how long you've been on your knees. as you wrap your arms around his neck, he cups your jaw and kisses you, almost chastely, in stark contrast to the things you both just did. "thank you, sweetheart. i'm sorry i got you so messy, although i think you still look beautiful. you're welcome to clean up at mine, if you like."

you peck his lips. "i would like that, yes. but only if you help me - there's a bit of a mess between my legs that i could use a hand in sorting out."

"mmm, gladly," matty hums, kissing down your neck and between your tits. he looks up at you with a smirk. "wanna see if i can still remember how to make you soak my fingers."

you roll your eyes, even though you feel another gush in your underwear at his words and the way he's taking one of your tits in his mouth. "oh please, you've never met an instrument you couldn't play perfectly with those hands."

you regret the words as soon as you say them. shit. yeah, sure, the whole point of friends with benefits is to treat the other person like some sort of object, but you're not meant to liken yourself to one.

those fucking feelings of yours ruining everything, as usual.

matty detaches his lips from you, straightening up to look you in the eye and bringing the top of your dress up with him. he holds your face tenderly again, pressing his forehead against yours. "you're far more than that to me, sweetheart, you always were," he says softly, and you can't ignore the earnestness in his tone. he tugs you into a warm hug, and brings his lips to your ear. "but i must admit - you make the most beautiful sounds i've ever heard."

you smile over his shoulder, pulling back to look at him and catch his lips in another kiss. there's something different about this one; it's still as passionate as ever, but there's an underlying… softness. "take me home," you murmur against his lips. "please, baby."

another kiss. "whatever my girl wants."

#mads muses #mads does writing #promptober75 #matty healy smut #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

[wannab-urs]

Congrats on 1.5k! So deserved!! 🖤

To celebrate, I'd love a drabble. Any Pedro boy will do!

Keep rocking & being awesome, gorgeous! 🖤😘

Thank you so so so much <3 I hope you like this ahhhh

Save a Horse... Or Whatever

Pairing: Jack "Agent Whiskey" Daniels x Reader

Summary: Whiskey got hurt on a mission and he comes into your lab to get patched up.

Warnings: Jack Daniels being allowed to speak, medical shit that is completely bullshitted, one mention of blood, some talk of like digging around in a wound, etc, Whiskey calls you Soda pop and Sugar. Technically you're Agent Soda. Brief descriptions of oral m!receiving. No use of y/n, reader isn't gendered (I don't think?) WC: 900

A/N: I kind of think I'll turn this into a full one shot at some point? This is unbeta'd sorry!

Jack Daniels Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

You really did not expect to end up with Agent Whiskey’s cock in your mouth today. Maybe you’d thought about it before, maybe hoped the opportunity would present itself at some point, but certainly not today. 

–-

He left your field office this morning for what was supposed to be a simple mission. Go in, shoot the fuckers, take the briefcase, call in the clean up crew. Simple, easy, something he’d done a hundred times. But somehow it got fucked up six ways from Sunday and he ended up limping his sorry ass into your lab, carrying the brief case but also dragging his left leg. 

“Howdy, Soda Pop. Reckon you could fix up my leg?” He flashes you his trademark sideways smile and a wink, before his face crumples and his legs nearly give out from under him. 

“Fuck, Whiskey! What in the hell happened to you?” You run over to help him, grabbing his thick arm and heaving him onto your examination table. 

“Let’s just say I did not receive a Kentucky welcome.” 

“Clearly. Can you take your jeans off, or am I gonna have to cut you out?” Whiskey smirks at you again and you brace yourself for whatever is about to come out of his mouth. 

“Well now, Soda Pop, thought you’d at least take me out to dinner before you tried to get in my pants. Think I can manage to get naked for ya though, sugar.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Whiskey you’re literally bleeding out,” you chastise him as he pulls off his belt. He winces as he shucks his blood stained jeans down his thighs, panting a little with the effort.

You try desperately not to show how much it turns you on. The guy you’ve harbored a bit of a crush on for years stripping down right in front of you… Who could blame you, honestly?

“Fuck! Soda, I’m too weak to whip a gnat. You’re gonna have to pull ‘em the rest of the way.” He collapses back on the table, jeans sitting not even half way down his thighs. 

You huff an annoyed breath and roll your eyes. “Shoulda just let me cut them off, idiot.” You pull off his ridiculous designer cowboy boots and yank his jeans the rest of the way down. You head over to your storage cabinet and grab some alcohol wipes, a pair of forceps, and a Beta Gel shot. 

Stepping between his parted legs, you clean his wound with the wipes as carefully as you can. His breath hitches in what you assume is pain and he digs his nails into his palms. “Alright, Whiskey, I gotta dig the bullet fragments out now. I can give you a pain shot, but your leg will be numb for the rest of the day. Up to you.” 

He props himself up on his elbows and waggles his eyebrows at you. “Don’t need a shot, sugar. I can handle it.” 

You raise a very skeptical eyebrow, but grab the forceps anyway. As you start the process of removing metal fragments from his leg, Whiskey sucks in a breath and his head falls back between his shoulder blades. You initially think it’s from pain. “Sure you can handle it, cowboy?” 

“Oh yeah, baby doll. I can handle it.” You eye him suspiciously, before trailing your eyes back down to where you’re working on his leg. Something catches your attention though. 

“Jack Daniels,” you say sternly. “Are you fucking getting off on this?” His cock is half hard in his boxer briefs. 

“And what if I was? Pretty girl, fixin’ me up, touchin’ me all over…” He trails off. 

“That why you became an Agent, Whiskey? You got a pain kink?” You resume pulling the pieces of the bullet out of his leg, nearly done now anyway. 

“Just ignore it, sugar. It’ll go away,” his voice is raspy, rough as if he’d been yelling and so low you feel it in your gut. You pull the last bit of the bullet out, grab the beta gel shot, and stab it into his thigh. 

His cock jumps in his underwear and he falls flat back on the table, letting out a slight whimper. 

“And what if I don’t want it to go away, Whiskey?” You don’t move from between his thighs. In fact, you step in closer, trail your hands up the outsides of his thighs and press your thumbs in. 

His head perks up at that and he meets your eyes, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “Well then, Soda pop… How’d you like to ride home on a real cowboy?” 

“That’s a terrible line, Whiskey. I really hope you don’t use that often.” 

“Only once or twice, sugar.” You roll your eyes, but hook your fingers into the waistband of his briefs anyway. You pull them down and his cock springs out, hitting his belly with a thwack. “Jesus, Jack, how do you walk around with that thing?” 

“Bowlegged,” he deadpans. You snort a laugh and take him in your hand, wrapping your fingers around his obscene girth. You dip your head and lick a stripe up the underside of his cock before wrapping your lips around the tip and sliding down as far as you can in one smooth motion. 

–-

And that is how you ended up with Whiskey’s cock in your mouth today.  Next time you’re aiming to end up in his bed. 

#gins1500sleepover #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels fics #Jack Daniels fanfiction #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Agent Whiskey #Agent Whiskey fics #Agent Whiskey fanfiction #Agent Whiskey x reader #Agent Whiskey x you #Kingsman #Kingsman: The Golden Circle #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[cowgurrrl]

Kiwi

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: as I was writing this, I proclaimed in the most southern accent, “now we’re cookin’ with peanut oil!” so do that with that

Summary: Joel goes home for a month. You stay in California to work. What could possibly go wrong? [3.8k]

Warnings: HEAVILY implied casting couch culture, brief allusion to creepy Hollywood producers, yearning, I can’t think of anything else!!

Boarding my flight now.

Thanks for letting me know?

Well, I texted my mama to let her know, and she told me to text "that girlfriend of mine."

Doesn't sound like she's a huge fan.

She'll live.

You like the message and go to put your phone away when it buzzes again.

Is it weird that I kinda miss talking to you?

You smile and ignore your name being called over the intercom for another beat.

There are a lot of weird things about you, Joel Miller, but that one feels the most normal.

Text me when you land in Austin. Tell your mom I said hi.

You tuck your phone away, fighting the stupid smile on your face, and look up to see a pissed-off PA walking towards you. You apologize and half jog to the sound stage where Ryan is waiting. 

"The perfect punctual queen is late for once? Is the world going to shit?" He asks, and you slap his arm.

"People are allowed to be late."

"Does your lateness have anything to do with your boy toy?"

"Are you ever gonna call him by his name?" You ask. He senses that you're stalling his question and take a deep breath. "Joel is flying home to Texas today to visit family and get some work done. He'll be gone for a month."

"Oh, how will you ever survive?" He pouts, and you give him a look. The director calling for places stops you from responding, but you threaten him with the promise of picking up the conversation later. 

You don't ever get to tell him off for suggesting that you can't live without Joel being in the same state because of how late shooting goes. It might've been exhaustion, but you swore that you saw the sun starting to rise over the horizon by the time you finally got to leave. You knocked out a good chunk of the scenes you were still working on, which is great news, but you were mentally and physically drained. You slept most of the next day and missed Joel's messages from one whole time zone away. 

Landed.

Jesus Christ, I forgot how hot it is here.

My mama told me to ask you if you go to church since she doesn't believe me.

Attached: Two photos

You laugh as you sleepily scroll through his texts when you wake up mid-afternoon, feeling a little bit better from your long night. One of the pictures he sent is of him sitting in the cab of an old truck with the caption, "This was my first car. I can't convince my dad to sell the damn thing." The second is a blurry photo of a blue-looking weed on the side of the road surrounded by what looks like thousands of other blue weeds. "Turns out the state flower will literally grow anywhere besides in a pot in my house."

A) I'm glad you made it in safely. B) Isn't Texas the armpit of the South? C) I don't go to church, and I never have, but please feel free to lie to her. D) I can imagine a young, emo Joel Miller driving it now.

He reads your messages almost as soon as they deliver, and your screen lights up with his initials as he calls you. You yawn as you pick up and hear chatter in the background of wherever he is.

"First of all," he starts in a determined tone. "Texas ain't the armpit of the South. That's South Carolina." He says. He hasn't even been in Texas for forty-eight hours, and his accent is already thick again.

"My mistake," you laugh. "Did you have another point, or was that it?"

"Second of all, why d'you sound so tired?"

"Obviously, I was out partying with strange men all night."

"Really?" He asks, and you scoff.

"No, Joel. Filming went really late yesterday. I don't think I got home until six this morning."

"Sounds intense." 

"Not as intense as being interrogated by your mother," you say, and he hums. You hear someone laughing in the background and relish in the joy that you're not there to witness. He doesn't say anything for a minute, and you wonder if the line dropped, but when you pull the phone away from your face, you see the call is still active. "You really miss me so much that you called me just to sit on the line?"

"Maybe I did." He says. You take a deep breath and glance at the clock on your bedside table. He's two hours ahead. The sun must be setting by now, casting gorgeous rays onto his skin and making his eyes look amber. You wonder what Texas air does to Joel's soul. Maybe it soothes him like only an old baby blanket can. Maybe it makes him jumpy, like he's waiting for a clap of thunder that never comes. Maybe it makes him wonder why he left in the first place. You wish you could be there to read his expression and try to decipher what he's thinking. Someone calls Joel's name in the background, and you hear him shuffle with the phone, probably covering the microphone with his hand because the voices become muffled. When the phone comes back to his ear, he takes a deep breath, and you do the same. "I gotta go. Can I call you tomorrow?" He asks. 

"I'm counting on it, Miller." You say, and he laughs before mumbling a good night and hanging up the phone. 

After that, it becomes a habit for Joel to call you every day from Texas. He'll tell you different stories about his parents, how Austin has changed since he left, and update you on how the newest album is coming. He listens to you rant about work, how tired you are, and how frustrated you always get toward the end of a project. Sometimes the conversations last ten minutes, and sometimes they last hours. One night, you fell asleep on the phone with him because he was trying to get your opinion on a new song, but you had spent the day filming the scene of your character giving birth, which was tiring in its own right. He doesn't chide you for it. He just sends you a goodnight text and promises to call you the following night.

You hate to admit it, but production speeds up with Joel out of town. You end up wrapping your scenes a week early while Ryan still has another couple of days of filming his scenes. You'll probably get called back in for reshoots in a few months, but you feel really good about the work you put out there, and you finally get the chance to rest before Melanie sends you more scripts to read over. You send Joel a photo of your open laptop and a glass of wine next to it as the California sun sets over your balcony. 

Wrap parties are looking different as I get older.

Don't worry. I'm sure you'll still be a drunk, no matter how old.

Asshole.

Lashing out is the first sign of a bigger problem. I think I should call Melanie.

You laugh and search for the middle finger emoji when he sends you another text.

Paul got me on the list for some charity event this Saturday. Want to come with me? He said it'd probably be better to get some more dates in sooner rather than later.

The reminder that this is all fake shifts your entire mood. Of course, it's always lingering in your mind, but the texting didn't feel fake. The late-night calls didn't feel fake. He didn't feel fake. In fact, this is the first time you feel like you have a sliver of an idea as to who Joel Miller actually is when he isn't selling out world tours and recording platinum albums. It's stupid for you to feel this way. You have no reason to. No right. You take a deep breath and type out a message.

Sure.

On Friday, you drive to the airport to pick Joel up, creating an over-the-top scene of you running and jumping into his arms. His hat falls off his head and onto the ground as he catches you and kisses you sweetly. When he sets you back on the ground, he doesn't let you go right away. He lingers in your arms, and even though your feelings are still hurt and you're still trying to remind yourself that this is all fake, you let him. He smells like a detergent you don't recognize, but underneath that, you catch a whiff of the cologne he always wears. You rub his back as you hold him in the middle of the airport. 

"'S really good to see your face," he says into your neck, and you nod. 

"You too."

As you drive him home, he brings you up to speed on how the album is coming along and how different Texas was when he was there. You tell him about the last few days on set and an upcoming press junket in New York City. He lights up when you tell him the dates as you maneuver through LA traffic.

"I'm scheduled to go to New York to work with my sound mixer that same time. He's got his own studio out there now and knows more about it than I do," he says. "Maybe we can fly together? Make it look like a couple's trip?"

"Sure," you say. He furrows his eyebrows at your lack of excitement, and you scramble for something else to talk about. "How are your parents?" You ask. The rest of the ride to his house goes off without a hitch, and he kisses you again as he gets out of the car, both of you highly aware of the car full of paparazzi that's been tailing you since you left the airport. He promises to pick you up at five the following night, and you just nod. When you get home, you walk calmly into your house, lock the door, and scream.

Joel's hand is in yours as you wait for your turn to walk the carpet. You're not sure why there's a red carpet at a charity event, but you're not about to throw a fit about it. Joel is wearing a sleek black suit, and you're matching with a long black dress. It's a low-cut backless dress, and a sparkly necklace your stylist picked out rests against your sternum. Joel taps your hand, and you look at him.

"You okay?" He asks. He looks worried as he steps between you and the wall of photographers waiting for you to stand and pose perfectly for their photos. "You've been quiet the past few days."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired. I think I'm still recovering from that last week of filming." 

"Are you sure you're not gettin' sick?" He asks, raising his other hand to your cheeks like he's checking your temperature. You smile half-heartedly and swat his hand away.

"I'm sure," you say. He tries to say more, but someone with a clipboard gets your attention and asks if you're ready. You nod and step onto the carpet, holding Joel's hand. The press erupts into a cloud of noise, startling you and making Joel laugh. You slap his chest and plaster on your rehearsed smile. You do your best to look where all the photographers are yelling at you to look and try different poses so they can get what they need. Everyone has to make a living, you suppose. You just wish their salary wasn't at the expense of your privacy. 

You get halfway down the carpet, taking pictures as a couple and some solo shots, before one of the photographers yells a new command. "Can we get a kiss?" He shouts. You pretend not to hear him and show off how the dress dips down your back, hugging you in all the right places. Still, the photographer is demanding a kiss, and now others have joined in too. It feels very "dance, monkey, dance," but you do your best to grit your teeth and smile. You catch Joel staring at you when you turn. It could be the flashing bulbs of cameras or how he's looking at you, but his eyes are sparkling, and the creases in the corners make you melt just a little. 

You hold out your hand for him to join you, which he happily obliges, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close enough for him to kiss your temple. "You alright?" He asks against your skin as you rest a hand on his chest and look up at him. You nod and glance between his eyes and his lips. The chorus of people practically begging for a picture of you two kissing is growing, and you raise your eyebrows at him. 

"You gonna keep them waiting, or are you gonna kiss me?" You ask, the playful lilt reserved for him returning to your voice. He gives you a look and smirks before leaning down a pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Everyone ooh's and aw's at you two, but you only care about how fast his heartbeat is against your palm. You want to blame it on the anxiety of walking the carpet and having people scream at you to do whatever they want. No, you have to blame it on that. There's no other option.

When you finally get inside, Joel gets you a glass of wine and a mixed drink for himself. The event is sweet and goes by quickly as you listen to people talk about something they're so passionate about. You decide to donate some money under an anonymous name once you are all excused to the reception, where there's food, more alcohol, and dancing. Joel leaves your side to catch up with some musician buddies, kissing your cheek before disappearing into the crowd. 

You nurse your wine as people you've never met start conversations with you. They're all polite and ask about your newest project, how LA's been treating you, and what's up next for you. You can't reveal much due to the NDA you signed at the beginning of shooting, but you tell them how excited you are for them to be able to see it and admit you've got some auditions lined up in the coming weeks. You've probably given the same answers to a handful of different people when you realize you're out of wine and Joel is still missing. You scan the room for him, but you can't find him. That's fine, you think. It's not like he's obligated to stick to my side at all times. He can have his own life.

You sigh as you belly up to the bar and order another glass of wine. You almost make it a double when someone taps your arm, making you turn. "I don't mean to interrupt, but you look exquisite tonight. I just thought you should know," ultra-famous producer Richard Pike tells you. You blink at him, your brain struggling to catch up with the fact that one of the men who's made the most award-winning films in the past twenty years just noticed you. "I know everyone has probably told you that tonight, but-"

"Oh, no. Thank you. I'm sorry. I was just a little starstruck right then," you apologize before holding your hand out to introduce yourself. He takes your hand and kisses the top of it. It's very dramatic, but this is Hollywood we're talking about. Your glass of wine arrives, and he pays the bartender before you can even reach for your purse. 

"Women as gorgeous as you should never have to pay for a drink. Ever." He says, and you laugh.

"I mean, I won't argue with you on that," you say, taking your glass in your hand to clink it against his glass of scotch. "Thank you, Mr. Pike."

"Please, call me Richard," he insists. "You just finished another movie, didn't you? You're a very busy girl."

"Yes, sir. I'm already looking for new projects to audition for." 

"Oh, I remember when I had actors audition. See, that was before I started writing roles for specific actors. Some people call that crude or playing favorites, but it hasn't failed me yet." 

"No, sir, it hasn't."

"So formal! Yes, sir! No, sir! Are you like this with everyone?" He asks as he takes a big swig of his drink.

"Just people who can cast me," you say. You're partially joking, but it's enough for him. He laughs, and his hand lands perfectly on your exposed back as he cackles loudly. You force yourself to laugh along with him and suddenly get that sinking feeling in your chest. Everybody seems to strategically look away from you two at the bar, and you want to be anywhere but here. 

"You know, I've seen a few of your movies," he says, getting close to your face like he's telling you a secret. "I think you've got a lot of potential. With just a little coaching and one great role," his hand dips lower down your back, and you freeze. Ice water runs through your veins, and everything is screaming at you to run away, but your heels stay planted against the expensive hardwood. "We'll make an Oscar winner of you yet."

"Excuse me," a familiar drawl says behind you. You both turn and make eye contact with Joel. "May I steal my girlfriend for a dance? I promised her one on the way over." He asks, but he's already wrapping an arm around your waist, ready to pull you away. The hand on your back disappears and claps Joel on the shoulder.

"Of course! You take good care of this one!"

"Yes, sir," Joel says as he pulls you to the dance floor. Your heart is still beating in your throat, and you feel like you could cry, but Joel's looking at you with such kindness. You find safety in him as you wrap your arms around his neck and slowly sway with him, the soft material of his dress shirt calming you down. He waits until Pike is out of earshot to lean down to talk in your ear. "Now, I know you don't need me savin' you like that. Are you sure you're okay?" 

"He's one of the biggest producers in Hollywood. He could tank my career in a single email. You want to be the one to yell at him?" You ask. "If I said or did something, he would've doubled down, but he respects you more. He backed off because, in his mind, I belong to you."

"How do you know?"

"I've dealt with people like him before. They're all the same old men who think they can offer you a legacy on a silver platter if you fuck them. I've gotten enough advice from other actors to know how to handle them. Let them get touchy but find an out before it can go too far. Stroke their egos so they feel good about themselves. Basically, do whatever to keep you and your career safe."

"I thought stuff like that didn't happen anymore."

"You and everyone else in the world. Things don't just magically change because one guy goes to jail." You sigh. 

"I'm sorry," he says, and you shake your head. 

"It's fine."

"No, it's not. You shouldn't have to deal with that."

"It was one of the first things people told me when I started. They said it was something I might just have to… endure but that the weight would get easier to carry. One actress even told me that it was the price we have to pay because everyone wants to be us," you chuckle. He doesn't interrupt you; he just stares at you with apologetic eyes like he would take this burden from you if he could. You almost believe him. "I don't think that's true. I think most people would hand this lifestyle in the second it got too real."

"What would you do if you weren't an actor?" He asks, and you shrug.

"I always thought about being a teacher. Sure, the pay is shit, and the work is thankless, but kids are our future, you know? There's something really special about shaping young minds."

"Sounds nice."

"What about you? What would you do if you weren't doing this?"

"Probably something with my hands. I worked as a mechanic for a while, and I really liked that. I liked how it was a big puzzle that needed to get sorted out and fixed up."

"Why'd you stop?" You ask. 

"I needed to grow up. My dad owned a contracting company, so I worked with him until I saved up enough to record my first album. And that was that."

"It's crazy how we fought so hard to get to where we are, and now that we're here, it's..." You trail off, trying to figure out what you want to say.

"Terrifying?" He suggests, and you nod. "Yeah, I'm terrified every second of every day."

"You don't act like it." 

"I don't act like a lot of things that I should," he says. He stares at you so intently that the rest of the world fades away. You don't hear the song die down or the applause erupt around you as the band takes a bow. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest. You know how crazed it is. He wets his lips before stepping back and trailing his eyes down your dress and back up to your face like he's taking you in for the first time. "You really do look beautiful tonight." You swallow around the lump in your throat and smooth your hands down your dress, suddenly self-conscious. 

"Thank you." You mumble. 

Pictures of you two kissing on the carpet and dancing inside are circulating online before you even leave the event. You wake up to a huge batch of texts— one from your mom, two from Joel, six from Ryan, and one from Melanie about your trip to New York that you barely read. You would've stayed in bed wallowing in your own bad luck if there wasn't a sharp knock on your door. You groan the whole way down the stairs like it will help you greet whoever has decided to show up at your house at eight in the morning, but nobody's there when you open the door. 

Instead, a bouquet of flowers in a lovely vase sits on your mat with a note sticking out. You glance down your street and barely catch a delivery truck turning down the block. You carefully take the flowers into your kitchen before plucking the note between the petals. 

Pretty flowers for a pretty girl - JM 

(PS bought these of my own volition)

"Goddammit," you mutter under your breath as you think about his lips on yours, his soft shirt, and his stupid fucking, "I don't act like a lot of things I should."

#one for the money two for the show #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller au #tlou au #the last of us au #rockstar!joel miller #rockstar!au #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #I promise Sarah and Ellie are going to make an appearance soon 🫶

[if-you-feel-lonely]

hi!! i was wondering if you could write hcs about wilbur soot falling in love with and eventually dating a shy baker girl? like, she's super sweet and shy and isn't super loud or outgoing and she just kinda likes to do her own thing and bake sweets?

aaaaaaaaa this took me ages to get to but hey, better late than never!

I did assume this was cc!wilbur since you didn't specify, so I went with this. do correct me if I'm wrong, though! I love this prompt, so I'll happily redo it :>

Wilbur Soot falling in love with the sweet baker girl!

Oh my god when he saw you

He physically went 😳

It starts with him coming in every day

He literally has no reason to come in as often as he does, he doesn't have a sense of taste

It's not the pastries he comes for, though

It's the baker behind the counter that's even more sweet than her treats

Sooner or later, the daily visits turn into flirting

Well, him dancing on the line between flirting and joking whilst you listen and laugh

And later on, it blossoms into friendship. Well, what friendship you can see for seeing each other for maybe half an hour every day.

In a burst of confidence, you finally managed to respond to his hopeless flirting

"Do you have an extra heart? Because someone just stole mine." "Heart transplants? Already? At least take me to dinner first." "Happily. How does dinner at my flat sound? Maybe half six tonight?" "Sounds like a plan." "Great. Pick you up here?" "Sounds good!"

You know that clip from the "Wrong Number" comedy skip where the comedian suddenly sighs and says, "OH MY GOD THAT WORKED."?

That.

Both of you.

He seriously didn't expect you to respond like that. Not that he's complaining, though!

That evening, you go to his flat

Upon seeing his guitar, you start asking various questions about if he plays and what songs he plays - that sort of thing

Something between the two of you starts to click, and you both notice

Without realising, you start going on more and more dates

It starts off as once a month, then maybe every two weeks, then every wednesday evening, and then lunch at yours every friday afternoon

It's not something that you really discuss, it just happens

The fact that he has a girlfriend only really sinks in when he's discussing relationships with Tommy on stream

"Wilbur, how many dates have you been on recently? Are you getting many women?"

"Actually, I've been on quite few, recently."

"Getting all them hoes, eh?"

"Jesus Christ, don't say that to anyone, please. It's been with the same person; we've been going out for a while now."

He never goes any further than that, though

Chat knows he has a girlfriend, but they don't know much more than that

He wants you to have privacy, and broadcasting you across the internet is not the way to go about that

He might talk about your dates or the things you do together, but other than that, he tries to avoid talking about you while streaming

ON A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT NOTE-

He's very shocked to discover that you're genuinely just that nice

He always assumed it was one of those things where you act differently around strangers, but when you warm up to them, that changes

But no

You're just an absolute sweetheart!

Occasionally you might have days where, after a long day of work, you don't want to go out

On those days, you sit in either of your beds, and just exist with each other

Maybe you read or watch a film or something like that

all in all, 10/10 relationship

would recommend

#dsmp #mcyt #dream smp #wilbur soot #dsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #wilbur soot x reader #cc!wilbur soot x reader #cc!wilbur soot #dsmp x you #mcyt x you #dream smp x you #dsmp x y/n #mcyt x y/n #dream smp x y/n #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x y/n #cc!wilbur soot x you #cc!wilbur soot x y/n #lonely asks #lonely writes

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

While sucking off in the office is top tier - might I suggest sucking off in the batmobile?

"Batman."

"Mrs. Wayne," Bruce said, untying the ropes you could have untied yourself. "We've really got to stop meeting this way."

When you smile a little, staggering against him- making it look good for the GCPD officers that had come to collect your 'kidnappers', Bruce sweeps you easily up off your feet.

Tomorrow, he knew the entire GCPD would be abuzz- wondering if Batman was fucking Bruce Wayne's wife. Not that he cared, not really. You made a good damsel in distress when the occasion called for it and he was looking forward to an enthusiastic thanks before he escorted you personally to your party.

"Bruce has been talking about hiring me a bodyguard," you sigh, "But it'd be such a hassle."

"Well," Batman said gruffly, "I wish he'd get on with it. It's getting out of hand."

Your laugh, a silvery socialite laugh sets the officers at ease and Bruce listens with half an ear as you assure them that you're fine and that no, you don't need a police escort. Batman will deliver you.

Batman carried you to the waiting batmobile and deposited you carefully into the passenger seat, thankful that you were wearing a dress and not a pants suit.

"We really do have to stop meeting like this," you tease, as you buckled in obediently.

"But if we keep sneaking off in the house-"

"We're married," you point out.

"Isn't this more fun?" he said, grinning as he tore out of the warehouse, desperate to find somewhere quiet where he could ravish you properly. It had been almost a week since he'd been able to get you alone and he much preferred fucking you senseless to sparring. And when you giggled, stroking the inside of his thigh, it made him ache.

What he didn't expect, as he slowed down in the traffic on the bridge was for you to unfasten your seatbelt and lean down. "What are you-" and then his cock sprung free and you licked up the underside of the shaft he bit back a moan, "Oh. Oh fuck." he inhaled sharply and reached up to shut off incoming comms, double checking to make sure he was muted, and one hand found the back of your head; petting your hair with a trembling hand.

"So fucking bad," he growled. "Jesus fucking christ, Y/N."

And when you doubled down, taking him in your mouth, all he could do was pray he made it to the old safe house before he came down your throat. As nice as that would be, he'd much rather spend the evening with your panties in his pocket and his come running down your thigh while you played the bored society wife for him.

#Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne x reader #batmom!reader #ask answered #minors dni

[fullofgutsndopamine]

I wanna Heal (I wanna grow)

or: the au where hasan works at an animal shelter to feel human. he has a reputation

the barking made you wince at first.

it came from all around you, couldn't pin point exactly which dog was angry at you-but holy fuck was a dog mad at you-and you could feel yourself slowing becoming overwhelmed

this was suppose to be a volunteer job, a way to get out of the house (and hopefully maybe even make friends) and as you stand in the middle of a crowded room of dog cages, all of them all but throwing their bodies against the wire you think maybe you fucked up.

You're playing with the seam of your shirt (bright red with volunteer very aggressively written across the back, any hopes of blending in gone) contemplating a way out without anyone seeing you when you hear the door slam shut.

"Alright, Alright." The voice booms, "Chill out. It's the same everyday-"

He'd sound irritated if it wasn't for the hint of a laugh at the end of his sentence, how you can hear a smile that pull at the corner of his lips without seeing him.

He turns a corner and-there you are.

oops.

"Jesus fucking-"

He jumps. High. His hand on his chest, trying to catch his breathe.

"Jesus fucking christ, dude-"

"I'm sorry." You immediately wince,

"Sorry i-"

"Fuckin' Alex." He huffs, and you know he's talking about the boss, the one who let you on- "Never fuckin' worries me about new people. Listen-"

There's a gentle pull to your shirt sleeve as your pulled into a corner where it's slightly quieter-

"Look," He licks his lips, the smirk stays on, "You stay outta my way, I'll stay out of yours, right? We-"

"What happened to: nice to meet you? or even a fucking name-"

This isn't like you to speak up to someone like this but when someone comes in all but demanding you stay out of their way when you don't even fucking know them-

And he looks so fucking dumb-his shirt is pulled up, revealing a small bit of his belly and he wears loose basketball shorts, his hair is curly and pushed back with a headband and his fucking glasses are crooked on his nose, has to use his thumb to push them up as he talks to you-

He pauses long enough for pink to creep onto your face but the stare down continues until he rolls his eyes: "Hasan.

Look, you stay on the left side, I'll take care of the right side, got it?"

"Hasan," You mull it over, "I'm-"

"Great," He shakes his head, "Right side, got it?"

And he disappears into the main room again.

It drags until lunch and you think of every dramatic way to quit until finally a semi friendly face from the front desk announces it's lunch, pulls you outside to a half broken picnic table and pushes a prepared sandwich towards you.

Immediately, even though they're all but a stranger, your spilling your frustrations out to her.

"That's just Hasan," Sandra will roll her eyes as she unwraps her sandwich, "He's rough around the edges. Or-"

She stops to take a bite of sandwich with a roll of her eyes, leaving you in suspense-

"Or at least he wants you to think he is."

She huffs out a laugh, "He's a total fucking softie."

"Yeah?" You don't believe it, "He seems like a dick to me. Told me to stay out of his way-"

She takes a sip from a now warm juice box, crushes it in her hand, "He's all bark and no bite. You've met Tuna, right?'

Tuna was the small pitbull that was housed in the quiet corner of the room-you've walked by and she's shown very little interest, still seems skittish at best around people-

"Yeah," You say gently, "I guess? But-"

"When he first came in," Sandra's voice borders on a whisper as she talks even though it's just the two of you outside-

"Tuna was terrified, right? Like-spent most of the days in the corner shaking, wouldn't eat, right? So like, Hasan waited until he got off his shift and sat in the fuckin' cage with Tuna and ate his own meal-"

She throws her arms up in the air, exhausted, ""To show him it's not scary there' is what he said! Hasan is the least terrifying dude we work with. Plus-He cried watching 101 Dalmatians on Employee appreciation night but i'm not allowed to talk about that."

Her smirk says this is an on going fight with the two of them.

"He hasn't been like that to me."

your voice borders on pathetic and some of the hard Sandra has peels away: "He'll warm up, i promise. give him some time.

Here, i packed too much-"

and she slides a small baggie of goldfish towards you.

You promised your mom you'd give it one more time.

When you walk in, Hasan is already in there, rope dog leashes tied around his shoulder that claps by his hip-he's filling up water bowls, desperately palming a dogs head to get them to stay in the cage it isn't until he looks up and sees you that something dangerously close to a smile works on his lips.

"I see you stayed."

"I don't scare that easily."

that's a lie but it sounds good, makes it sound like you didn't almost have a mental breakdown and by the way his lips pull up slowly, like he's fighting it, into a smile you can see he's enjoying it too.

his voice is low, almost hard to hear over the barking: "Good," he nods once,

"Good. Leashes on the wall."

and he turns back before he can see the smile on your face (and before you can see the smile on his)

#caroline writes #hasan #hasan piker #hasan piker fanfic #hasan piker fic #hasan piker ff #hasan piker imagine #hasan piker x y/n #hasan piker x you #hasan piker fanfiction #hasan piker x reader #hasanabi x reader #hasanabi x y/n #hasanabi #hasanabi x you

[separatist-apologist]

rank acotar characters by how long you could stand to be in a car with them? important factor: they decide what music is playing

Ranking ACOTAR characters based on an 8 hour roadtrip where they control the aux. Don't forget that I alone have the only right opinions in the fandom and therefore will be taking 0 feedback.

17. Beron- AM talk radio the WHOLE way with the most HEINOUS opinions a person can have. Loudly agrees and at times is arguing back with the guest through the speakers. Is he aware they can't HEAR HIM?

16. Amren- Doesn't like music. No road games, please.

15. Jurian- Dad rock. There is only so much Every Rose Has It's Thorns we can hear before its time to drive this car off a bridge. Pour exactly NO sugar on me, I am afraid of ants.

14. Gwyn- I'm SORRY, but she's giving very strong show tunes vibes. Spends the whole time singing, and yeah her voice. is beautiful but this is not American's Got Talent. This road trip is about classic jams, not showing off.

13. Nesta- Gruesome murder podcasts. Listens without flinching as the night grows darker. Thinks we should turn down that dark road as a short cut. Why is she cutting cheese with a hunting knife?

12. Tamlin- Country music, but it's like, pop-country and not country with feeling or country for murdering men. Barefoot blue jean night? Sir we're in New Jersey.

11. Eris Vanserra- Listens to The History Of Rome podcast the whole way. Jesus Christ man can we choose another point in history? NO. We will hear of these ancient battle tactics and we will be grateful. Only upside is Mike Duncan is a great story teller. Definitely asks for a sexual favor half way through, like I'm not DRIVING HELLO SIR?

10. Azriel- 2004 best of emo jams. Its a playlist he made himself, with all the classics. Become increasingly concerned when MCR's Helena comes on and he turns it up to belt with clear, obvious feeling. You okay, bro? Want to pull over for a taquito?

9. Vassa- Whatever is on the radio, like this isn't cornfield country. There is NOTHING but the sound of me mooing at the window ("cow") or the static as she flips station to station. Occasionally finds the most banger radio station filled with songs you forgot about, only for it to vanish right at the climax of a song you're both belting. Still, the spontaneity is fun

8. Rhys- NPR podcast. God it's informative and yeah it's interesting and the conversation it opens up keeps you both busy for hours so it's hard to completely complain. Spends a lot of time staring at his phone and fact-checking guests

7. Tarquin- Apple Music? I mean...I GUESS. He did his best, but his best is questionable. It's his own playlists and his taste in music if fun, if not eclectic. No one vibe- and he brought snacks.

6. Mor- Nothing but gossip. How does she know so much? Terrified to tell her about personal life, but have to admit hearing what disasters everyone else is really fills the time.

5. Emerie- PREPARED. Downloaded a mix of playlists AND podcasts, rotates them when the mood starts to flag. Never lets her finger off the phone, but also does not take requests, so stop asking. You get what you get.

4. Elain- It's pure pop and nothing else. Bouncy and upbeat, she came to have a good time with nothing in between. Outdoes Tarquin in snacks, and has a list of road games ready to go for when everyone is burned out with music.

3. Lucien- A playlist for every mood. Oh it's raining? It's sunny? Everyone is hungover and needs quiet? He's got you covered. The vibe never drags and is always appropriate, reading the room before you even know the tone has shifted.

2. Cassian- King of the excursion. Roadside America memorized, Cassian knows where every biggest wind chime, ball of yarn, and rocking chair is located. Somehow manages to keep everyone mostly on time. Stops for snacks instead of bringing his own because everyone knows the best food is at a rural gas station. Ranking jerky flavors for fun, and in between, keeps it easy with a steady jam of road trip faves.

1. Feyre Archeron- High Lady of the Road Trip herself. Turn off that podcast, turn up the music. Feet on the dash, gossip ready to GO. Can tell a story for HOURS, knows all the deets on everyone's messy lives. Planned ahead and found a hotel with a pool AND a bar. Playlist absolute perfection, based on the friends in the car.

#acotar rankings #remember if you disagree its you who is wrong and not me #my opinion is immaculate #AND objective

[genericpuff]

oof.

ECCE sucked ass and I could go on and on about it but instead have this pic of my setup which was the one thing that I'm pretty dang proud of.

also literally everyone who recognized my LO art either read LO and hated it or didn't read LO but heard the horror stories

so if you're either of these people I talked to this past weekend, welcome to my shitposting blog where I talk way too much about a webtoon with way too much fame, buckle up (￣y▽,￣)╭

also yeah i'm not doing ECCE again jesus christ it was bad, like i've only done two conventions as an artist alley vendor so far and even i know this isn't how conventions are supposed to go

i made $55 over two days which isn't even half of what i spent for the table, and not a single print sold, just my $3-$5 omori stickers and a few zines that people generously tipped for

not me being a salty spitoon or anything, i'm not mad at the fact that people didn't buy my stuff, i'm mad that the organization of this event was so subpar it wasn't until halfway through it that i realized the red flags were on the wall because they had done ZERO marketing for the artist alley and the convention itself had nothing going on but a few panels

and two of the panels were literally the same thing, one was "how to be a comic artist" and the other was "how to be an indie comic artist" like i'm sorry whAT those are the saME-

sigh I'm so mad that my Rekindled update got pushed off for this. ECCE is absolutely on my "don't bother" shitlist now, esp considering other artists who've done it before have attested to the fact that this was par for the course. Absolutely not worth it, not even for someone like me living on the bottom wrung of the webcomic industry LMAO I feel so bad for all the other artists I saw sitting around with nothing to do two days in a row, it's 10x more exhausting to sit around with nothing to do and it really showed by the end of the weekend because every artist who I checked up on said they just wanted to go home, for all the reasons you shouldn't be hearing at a comic convention.

I've got Art on the Bridge tomorrow. I'm suddenly way more optimistic that this one will go well despite it not being my usual kind of scene at all.

Genuinely so sorry to you all there wasn't a Rekindled episode tonight. The expo wasn't worth it.

#to anyone who's new here #this isn't even me going on and on about it #this is just a fraction of my power #my posts get LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG- #self post #ranting on main #ECCE #east coast comic expo #lore rekindled #lore rekindled comic #genericpuff #generic puff

[toomuchracket]

so I was at tube with this my guy friend and it was full so we were standing and chatting and else and then he just pulled me close to him bc there was this dude wanting to pass behind me and it was so hot (even tho it was no like sexual lol) and for me this is totally a thing that d word matty would do and girly would be just like dying (just like me)

the pre-dating days when you're waiting for the tube home together from dh hq!! you're all animated talking about some new tv show you're watching, trying not to blush at the way matty's looking at you so intently and with such care, when a group of teenage boys come barrelling past you trying to get to the other end of the platform. matty instinctively puts his hand on your lower back and pulls you into him so they don't trample you like fucking mufasa and mutters "dickheads" under his breath; meanwhile, you've been shocked into silence by how good his hand feels on your back and how nice his aftershave smells and how close to him you are and jesus christ it's winter but you're boiling wow it really is hot in here isn't it? and matty turns back to you and looks at you expectantly for you to finish talking, then his eyes go wide as he realises what he's done - he's like "sorry, darling! i just acted on instinct to get you out of the way of those twats", and he lets go of you (which makes you sad) BUT doesn't move any further away (which makes you so happy). you're like "no, it's alright, it was nice" and smile, then you realise that could be misconstrued as you meaning him holding you like that was nice (although actually you did mean that) so you say "the making sure i didn't get stampeded, that is. thank you, lovely". he blushes and mutters something about "just wanna keep you safe" before you both get on the tube, and you spend the journey chatting less than usual but smiling shyly at each other - it's definitely a different vibe since matty pulled you into him, but by no means a bad one. in fact, you're brave enough to kiss matty on the cheek and thank him again, in addition to your usual friendly half-hug, and you wink at him through the window of the tube as you head towards the station exit; he smiles cheekily and waves as you do, and as soon as the tube starts moving you best bet he's getting the airpods out and cueing sixpence none the richer and having his little cinematic romcom crushing hopelessly moment. adorable i fear <3

#mads answers asks #matty asks #fluff asks #d word matty

[metalheadcowboy]

i want to hear about trans eddie. please. my crops are dying.

You're about to start something you'll NEVER hear the end of, anon, an un-closable can of worms 😭😭

I think that Eddie is a very forwards person, so he always told his parents about his issues with his gender. And even if he didn't understand what it meant at the time they did, and it scared them shitless, so they always brushed it to the side, or changed the subject, or told him to keep that kind of stuff to himself. And he did for a while, obeyed and kept quiet about his struggles for the most part.

But then puberty came along and everything kind of just snowballed downwards. Eddie and his parents got into more and more fights, whether it be his mother condemning him about not wanting to wear his cousins hand-me-down dresses and skirts or his father giving him a lecture about how he needs to be more "lady-like" and "proper" things weren't great.

And even though things were bad, they were under control, until... the incident. It was a week after Eddie's 13th birthday when he thought it would be a wonderful 'fuck you' to his parents if he buzzed his head, if the shaved his gorgeous curly brown hair his mother loved so much to the root. He thought that would really show them, show them that this wasn't some phase, that this was real, that this was going to happen whether they liked it or not so they better accept it. Well, to nobody's surprise, they don't accept it.

Mrs. Munson swears she nearly faints when she walks in on Eddie with a half shaved head, and the proudest look on his face. It isn't long before his dad joins and practically drags him out of the bathroom by the hair he has left on his head. He could hear his mother crying, no, sobbing, but couldn't bring himself to care because this is what they deserved, what he deserved after all these years of pretending to be somebody he's not.

Mr. Munson wastes no time calling Eddie's uncle and telling him that his "daughter" needs some time away from home to "sort things out", shortly before telling Eddie to pack what he needs to stay at his uncle's for a few days. Eddie was dreading it to say the least, he always hated visiting his uncle, hated the way his trailer, hated the way he smelled like cigarette smoke and cheap cologne, but he was going to be damned if he let his dad see that he wasn't too happy about the arrangements.

When they got to his uncle's trailer it was nothing short of terrifying. The place was surrounded by woods on either side, lit by nothing but a few street lamps. The play set they had looked like it hadn't been used in years, and it was silent, too silent. Eddie just clung onto his bag and looked out the window until they came up on the one that was his uncles, the man himself awaiting their arrival, sitting on the front porch, if you could even call it that, taking a long drag of his cigarette before letting his attention drag over to their car.

Eddie's dad barely said a word, just enough to do the trade off and that was that, they were driving off with the promise of picking him up when he'd learned his lesson for what'd he'd done and that was that.

To say things were awkward between Eddie and his Uncle Wayne would be an understatement. They never really saw each other, except for around Christmas and a rare Thanksgiving, so they had no idea how to act around each other. Eddie let himself be guided to the bathroom with a huffed out "Jesus Christ" from his uncle looking at the damage to have the remaining hair buzzed away. As Eddie watched it fall away he didn't know whether to be relieved or ashamed. in a way it felt like a weight being lifted off his shoulders as he looked at his head, running his fingers over the short, soft hair, but with the relief came a sickening guilt, one that nearly made him sick to his stomach.

They didn't talk about it that night, Wayne let Eddie crash on the couch, practically able to feel the exhaustion radiating off of his body. They didn't talk about it the next day, though either, or the next, or the next, it was a week before they talked about it, the night of the talent show performance with his band Corroded Coffin. He and his uncle are int he car together on the way hime from Benny's Burgers, Eddie half disappointed his parents didn't show up even though deep down he knew they wouldn't.

"So, what is... this?" His uncle asks, much to Eddie's confusion.

"What is what?" he counters, giving the straw of his paper cup a break from being abused by his teeth.

"What are you, kid?" And the words hit like a brick, make him feel dizzy and halfway nauseous. They end up having to pull over, Wayne patting Eddie's back a few times while he retched, finally releasing his burger and fries onto the side of the road after a few heaves.

It's quiet again after that, the topic fresh on Eddie's mind the whole way home and even once they'd arrived. They'd moved on since then, making small talk while they watched whatever sitcom was on TV just to make fun of it.

But just as Wayne was about to head to bed, leaving Eddie to his wonderful pull out couch, the boy spoke up, "i don't know," he admitted, staring out the window, unable to face his uncle.

"What's that?" Wayne turned back around from where he was heading towards his bedroom.

Eddie sighed, reaching up to scratch his jaw, suddenly itchy with anxiety, "It's just... I don't really know what I am," he explained the best he could, "I don't know how to explain it because you probably wouldn't get it, shit, I don't get it." That was one of the perks of living with his uncle Wayne, he didn't have to worry about watching his mouth.

"All I know is I'm not what they want me to be, I'm not who they need me to be," he sniffled, oversized sweatshirt sleeve, reaching up to wipe away snot, " And maybe I'm not being fair, but I just can't do it anymore, I can't live their lie to please them." at this point hot tears were streaming down his face, and his nose was so stuffed he could barely breath.

He hadn't even realized his uncle was hugging him until the first soft choked hiccup wracked his body, causing him to jolt. Eddie let it all out now, everything he'd been holding in for years, into his uncle's shoulder. And he swore it was hours before he finally calmed down, even if it was only about fifteen minutes.

And it might not have been much, but the weak smile his uncle Wayne gave him was enough to make him feel okay, that everything would work out somewhat fine for him.

(Spoiler Alert his parents never come back to get him and it doesn't matter because Eddie gets to live a more supportive and happy live with his uncle :) )

#Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #Trans Eddie Munson #very overviewy if you want anything more specific I'd be more than happy to provide!!

[thegeminisage]

it's STAR TREK UPDATE TIME. last night we watched voy's "faces" and ds9's "explorers."

faces (voy):

i feel like this one had the bones and potential to be good if 1. it had been set a couple of seasons from now 2. if they weren't so fucking RACIST. unfortunately.

so, in the tos episode "the enemy within" kirk is split into "good" and "evil" selves, though they realize by the end of the episode it's not so cut and dry - his evil half is responsible for his drive to action, his will to fight, and his "good" half is cowardly and soft and incapable of decision-making without it. this was a good and complex take on good vs evil which they promptly ruined with everything they did to poor janice rand

the problem with this episode is that they are tying b'elanna's "evil" traits to her klingon half and her "good" traits to her human half. this in itself is racist but they STILL might have managed to say something meaningful if they were using it as a way for b'elanna to tackle internalized racism - like, if she realizes her klingon half isn't the evil she thought it was. and i think they THOUGHT they did that (though if we're being honest "i'll be fighting with her the rest of my life" does not suggest that sort of resolution, only a grim resignation that she can't live without her klingon half even though she'd like to, and it's an open ending but also a bad one), but there are some problems with this

firstly that we haven't had a HINT from b'elanna that she struggled with this issue before now. like i absolutely believe she would, sure. in fiction, especially star trek, characters from two species or cultures struggle a lot with where they fit and who/what they really are, because that was spock's struggle in tos, and tos laid the blueprint for everything that comes after it. b'elanna wasn't the first or second and probably won't be the last. and it can be a compelling narrative! but where the hell is this coming from? i think she has only mentioned her backstory like twice and it was VERY light stuff

secondly, why why WHY do they keep putting the klingons in brownface...i can almost understand if you're trying to make them more orange the way you would make an orion character green, but they are literally not doing that. the woman who plays b'elanna is already NOT WHITE. you don't need to do that!!! is it my imagination or did they pale up her makeup for her human half...man come on

also like lmao having her human half cower in fear when guys with guns show up while her klingon half snarls and breaks her own chains. and her human half gets shielded by men and protected but her klingon half gets sexually harassed while strapped to a table and starts talking about how klingon women have hjigh libidos. because cowardice vs courage and fighting ability vs thinking ability are very much traits imprinted into dna. so is how you get protected or harassed. that's definitely how dna works. i know this is scifi but jesus christ

also, of ALL the fucking people to have to rely on in this sitch. WHY TOM PARIS. firstly, i can't believe they get together later. secondly, he fucking BLEW IT when she was opening up to him and he was like talking about haircuts and going yay you got what you wanted :) hooray :) could you have said ANYTHING more dumb. no. i also got the feeling he preferred her human half because she was vulnerable and needed protecting. gross.

anyway, it COULD have been something, but it wasn't. so

that said, the one right this episode had is when they took that guy away and the vidiian came back WEARING HIS DFACE. that was so completely and totally horrific i almost screamed out loud. the vidiians have the potential to be fantastic villains, i think...they just need a good episode

explorers (ds9):

this one was so cute. like, pure filler, but absolutely adorable. i lvoe when sisko gets to do stuff

his beard!! tbh, i really don't like his later seasons look of the beard but no hair, but the beard WITH the hair looks great. i'm sad he probably won't keep it like this for long

i love how in the 2300s a dad can just build a whole spaceship in his metaphorical garage. i think it was a little questionable to put his KID on something like that but i respect and support all of sisko's decisions because i love him.

the ship was so cool actually! like, completely implausible, but it looked like one of those treasure planet numbers. i have to wonder if it inspired treasure planet at all...

jake's little subplot about maybe going away to college...he got so big so FAST. i loved his joke about maybe joining the maqui not only because he genuinely got sisko (you could SEE him trying to frantically pull the right answer out of his dad skills toolbox) but also because for a second he almost got me. really good and funny. i love how much jake and sisko laugh together. and how much they worry about each other!! jake is so generous trying to set his pops up. not all children are so cool with that.

i was really shocked at the end they got fireworks for making their destination. i was FULLY expecting dukat to be like you arent allowed to be here :) and threaten to shoot them down. but he was like (to sisko who he's gay for) hiiii bestie hi do you want some space fireworks for your kid and sisko was like yes :) and they just did space fireworks. sure. most benevolent cardassian action ever after garak giving julian those chocolates last ep

julian meeting this fake patient at the beginning of the episode was really funny. his GO AWAY in the padd. jadzia doing...whatever that was. she develops a personality sometimes, for some episodes, and then it goes away again. it's not always the same personality but i did like this one. it was very funny.

i think quark and morn BOTH lost the bet since the doctor lady walked by julian without looking at him, by the way. i also love that the depth of julian's neurosis is that he has to go get drunk on real alcohol about this response despite the fact that they have NEVER EVEN MET EACH OTHER. like i spent this whole episode getting this lady confused with the ex he had the foot fetish for but THEY LITERALLY NEVER MET

drunk julian and obrien. ive never been happier. they were two drinks away from fucking right on that couch and obrien was right to switch them to synthale. it would have been funny but i DONT want him to cheat on keiko.

and then after all that he gets laid twice in one episode. good for him <3

TONIGHT: voy's "jetrel" and ds9's "family business." more ferengi stuff already :( give me a break i miss when i liked quark

#personal #star trek blogging #voy lb #ds9 lb

[a-method-in-it]

Girl what the hell is that last post you just reblogged.

(((They))) leave out or what.

Have you considered that you just did not pay that much attention during history class, because I learned about many of these things.

Jesus Christ half of that Tweet chain is just antisemtic conspiracy theories with 'zionists' instead of jews, as if that's not something the alt-right has started doing years ago.

Calling jewish people 'white' as if that's what the perception was at the time or makes any sense considering Jewishness is an ethnicity.

Fucking hell. You seemed like a reasonable person for a long time yk. But a claim that the goddamn Holocaust wasn't explicity and overwhelmingly targeting Jews with most others as afterthoughts is insane and history denying.

Literal textbook antisemitism.

Hi --- From the sound of this ask, you're someone who follows me, and as such I wish you hadn't sent this on anon so that I could reply privately, but here goes.

I assume you are talking about this post? That's the closest thing that I can find in my reblogs to what you're describing, though a lot of what you say about it here isn't actually true.

The post does not call Jewish people white --- it says that the way the Holocaust is presented in mainstream education seems designed to portray Jews as perfect white victims who didn't even fight back, which is obviously not true. (The fact that it's not true, including the white part, is what the Twitter user is pointing out.)

It also never claims that the Holocaust was not overwhelmingly targeting Jews, and I honestly don't know where you got that.

Also, I can't speak to where you went to school, but as a middle class white American, I actually was not taught anything in school about the Herero and Nama genocide, the presence of armed Jewish resistance to the Nazis, the fact that Hitler was inspired by the Armenian genocide, and certainly not that he was inspired by the genocide of indigenous peoples in the United States. (I did in high school learn that the Red Army liberated the camps and that people other than Jews were targeted as well, including Romani and disabled people; I have, however, had friends who were surprised to learn this as adults.)

You seem to think this post was criticizing the way that Jewish people talk about the Holocaust, but unless you think that Jewish people are in charge of all education policy (which would be a weird thing to think?) I don't see how you're getting that at all. The post specifies it's about Holocaust education, which I read as the things people are taught in school.

For what it's worth, I have found that Jewish sources of information about the Holocaust are actually less likely to fall into these traps than mainstream American ones, just speaking from my own experience.

I will say I'm not thrilled with the way the Twitter user makes the leap to saying that this type of education is deliberately meant to further zionism. I think that's a stretch. I reblogged it anyway because I thought it was overall making good points. I might wind up deleting it; I certainly take it seriously when something reads to Jewish people as engaging in anti-Semitic tropes, and if you have more to say about why you think this does that, I truly am happy to listen. I don't really see it that way, but as a goy, I often miss things.

But yeah. I feel like this would have been a better convo to have non-publicly, and I wish you hadn't chosen to go the anonymous route. I don't know what to make of statements like "You seemed like a reasonable person for a long time yk." coming from an anonymous ask. Are we mutuals? Have we interacted? Or are you basing this assessment purely on my online presence? Are you treating me like some quasi-public figure because I *checks notes* have a pseudonymous account on the internet's least popular social media site or have I offended someone I know and have some online relationship with?

If you want to send a chat or an ask I can answer privately, I'm happy to keep talking, but if you send another anonymous message, I will not be replying.

[incarnateirony]

Of course you can have other hobbies, but I think it's very telling that you are all cricket noise about TW the very moment the show is cancelled, which actually proves you have been wrong all along

OH LOOK, I'll answer you. You, nonnie, are the million dollar winner of being THEE MOST EXAMPLE DUMBASS, without actually having to post pages of you whining.

No, your bad faith ignorance won't stop our HBO max exclusive placement. The only thing that could is Amazon bidding in the 5m/ep area. Enjoy rotting on a budget cut CW show for 13 more episodes, the end. Get used to it. Nobody has to spar with your fake noise. Stop playing with your invisible friends, stop trying to fill your social gaps with tumblr anons, and go fucking get a hobby you lifeless weirdo.

I've been NOT POSTING about this shit for MONTHS, stop doing so much cocaine, you're the ones bugging me since January, and since March when I TOLD YOU I HAD TO STOP POSTING FOR NDA REASONS, YOU BUFFOON. Half of fucking Atlanta WB is monitoring my blog for compliance you useless piece of shit. Me or my friends' livelihoods by the literal dozens are not as important as fighting about literally irrelevant garbage made up by morons like you that will be embarrassed soon anyway.

THEE MOST DUMBASS here is such a gold star piece of self absorbed ignorant hallucinating heavy drug dealing reality-distorting short-term-gain-sighted moron example that it gets pinned. Fuck off, you losers, nobody real in this has time for your noise. That's why the CW started tweeting about noise, when I told you to knock off the noise, holy shit. Get a clue. I tweeted the joke for a solid month nonstop before getting bored because you're too dense to even compute how you're being laughed at, jesus christ. If you wanna be embarrassed in retrograde, check the timing and content of my posts through March. There you go. Wow, yeah, don't you look like a hilarious pants shitting fool.

The reality here is the CW (or, specifically, TW, Berlanti Properties Currently Airing On) has been subtweeting yall since MARCH when I told you in MARCH to stop bothering me, and TWO MONTHS LATER, you still HAVEN'T, because you seem to be suffering some psychotic condition that has detached your scope of reality for a digital fakespace, and after TWO MONTHS of me telling you all to fuck off and that you're beneath me, you're going "HAHA!!! SUDDENLY, NOW!!!!" no man. It's just that it isn't worth talking about if you have two braincells to rub together, it has to get cancelled on CW for pickup elsewhere you floating fat turds.

Just because you wanna fight about it doesn't mean it's not real. It just means you're dumb as a brick, and we're done wasting time on ignorant asshats. We got what we wanted. It's over. You lost. Go home. There's nothing for me to fight anymore. You don't keep fighting when you win, that's what pressed asshats like you do trying to squeeze out anything that feels like a win for a breath of a second. My energy is best invested elsewhere.

Nobody cares that a hoard of single digit IQ harpies feels accomplished for a whole few weeks just to look like assclowns again, in this timeless fibonacci toilet bowl of made up horse shit called SPN fandom.

You need to catch a clue at my flatass lack of a need to prove shit to you, and the collective patterns of my blog the last six months and the context and meaning of those, and WHY I literally. do not care. what you believe. It is your own self importance and/or internal issues realizing the truth and wanting to convince yourself otherwise that convinces you anyone that knows HAS to tell you what's going on, or beat it into the dirt for bad faith actors like you when the truth is gonna come around shortly anyway. HBO just isn't announcing most of their orders until the strike has some potential visible ending, but we're fine. Sorry to disappoint you.

You absolute assclowns didn't even notice Max hasn't announced their series yet before you gloated, did you? Their round of that was in February, you scrub, we're next wave, probably post- or late-strike. it's not rocket science you insufferable, lonely, diseased cunts.

Yeah, it SHOULD be telling that I stopped arguing with you knuckleheads, after 6 years of combat. If I was ashamed of anything I'd delete my blog or some shit, rather than sitting here waiting for the boomerang to knock your ass over while rolling dice with gay lizards. Figure it out shithead, your game is over, I'm playing a new one, because I won the last, what's not fucking clicking?

The point was never winning YOU over beyond the public opinion needed at certain business pressure points, and that's 2 years past, you can't stop it. I literally don't need any of you. Those that are interested in me as a person can stay around. It was about winning the show, about winning representation, about platform winning. We won guys. cope. I won, I moved on, why is this so fucking complicated for you to accept? Have you never lost at something before? I'm happy to be your first teaching experience.

[weebsinstash]

Oh my god so I tried True Luna again and, I'm just gonna summarize the few chapters I've picked up

>quick recap: Protag Emma has been bullied for years by Sienna the best friend of her brother Andrew, who literally raised her after their parents died, and Alpha Logan. They never believe Emma and basically just tell her that she's jealous Sienna spends time with them. Sienna slowly escalates in aggression over time, and is literally in Emma's house insulting her daily but switching to "loving big sister" in front of Logan and Andrew. After turning 18, Emma is rejected by her mate, Logan, because he deems her too weak, too young, and not emotionally strong enough to be his mate and does not even give her a chance. Her brother even agrees. She literally overhears them talking about how she is not strong enough, when the truth is she's actually been training in combat in secret for years.l with one of the only people truly on her side, Jacob. Sienna even breaks her rib and eventually has her kidnapped and tells the lie that, Sienna will tell Logan and Andrew that Emma attacked her and ran away to be a rogue. Emma is being horrifically beaten and tortured and poisoned while Sienna goes to tell them, and they believe 100% never even doubting that Emma attacked her and plan to punish her. I dropped the story just as she was being rescued and came back bc I got another ad for it and dexises I wanted to see Emma responding to them after being rescues

So recap over, here's just, the bullshit:

>while Emma is getting medical treatment the story keeps cracking jokes about how, oh mates are so possessive of being touched by other males, even with doctors, but it's not fucking funny. Emma is literally needing medical treatment and Logan is growling because oh no men are touching her to. Hook her up to IVs and give her syringes of medicine.... At some point she needs a blood transfusion from Andrew, HER BIOLOGICAL SIBLING, and later on Logan is like "ugh I don't like that she smells like him 😤" like bro she isn't going to fuck her own brother what in the actual hell is wrong with you? This isn't attractive it is actually CREEPY

>speaking of creepy, despite Andrew being her family and blood and the man whonraised Emma, the doc is like, "hey we think there's a possibility Emma could have been raped, can we do a pelvic test and stuff, LOGAN? We need YOUR permission since you're her mate" HE REJECTED HER. Like I understand where they are coming from but, to me, this is the man who caused this entire scenario giving doctors the permission to, just, ugh. Touch her without even asking her, and the test is negative and uh, I bet they won't even tell her they took the test at all

-when she finally wakes up she thinks she is literally dead and in heaven because that is literally the only scenario she can imagine Logan and Andrew coming to save her and she even tells them that. Jesus Christ they hurt her trust so bad

-she has to literallt argue with then so she can have some time alone just to think because Logan for some reason says he accepts her as his mate and Luna and she says she wants time aline to rest and have peace and. Ugh. Later on she's in pain, from the torture she never would have gotten if they had just RESPECTED HER, and she wants to see Andrew, and she thinks "oh, maybe Logan can come too, when he touched me it made my pain go away, maybe I can ask him to hold me"

>SHE IMMEDIATELY follows this up with "oh no but I dared to ask him for some personal space! How awful how dreadful how terrible! I am just so UNGRATEFUL for asking one of the men who made this all happen and gave me trauma to give me some personal space while I'm half dead. I'll just ENDURE THE PAIN SINCE I DESERVE IT"

Now. The reason why this bothers me. Is because, Emma's reaction is kinda normal, she has a lot of trauma and feels silenced and unheard and isolated, but, as a reader, I can TELL Logan and Andrew are not going to face any sort of retribution for this. "Oh their real punishment all along was seeing Emma so hurt because of them" no I actually want them half dead if you want me to be perfectly honest. They face, no real consequences besides hurt feelings and now there are narrative plot points basically forcing Emma and Logan together? Oh we have to cuddle so your wounds heal even if you don't really want to touch me? I'll be blunt and say that's a really uh, rape fic-y concept. It's not even, like, enjoyable because Logan doesn't deserve her at all.

Like, you know what they decide to do? They choose to horrifically torture Sienna for what happened. They're literally going to barely keep her alive and toeture her over and over before they'll eventually kill her. And I found myself literally standing here wishing that Sienna would tell them to their faces "you hurt her so bad she immediately believed you would abadon her" but no, this is treated as Andrew and Logan "winning" and they literally leave rhe torture room "drenched in Sienna's fresh blood". To me, this serves no actual purpose to assuage their own personal guilt and deflect responsibility. Like I am literally sitting here thinking "if I was Emma I would legitimately want Sienna to be let go, not to help Sienna, but to punish Logan and Andrew with the guilt that they caused this"

It's just so unsatisfying to see people be blatantly shitty to someone they are supposed to love, like be literal actual soulmates with, and are still rewarded with that person and for all of this to be presented as like, romance goals. Am I supposed to be like, swept off my feet that Logan is suddenly so dedicated and wonderful where, whenever it shows his POV, he's literally violently jealous and wanting to hurt the ONE person who has truly been on Emma's side, Jacob. Like Logan even immediately accuses Jacob of the one who leaked that Emma is a white wolf just. Because? Like awww, is the little pup jealous he's a piece of shit and that Emma has actually been getting true love and support from other people? Awww, poor you, YOU'RE the real victim here. God it is legitimately so hard for me to find one of these stories where the protagonist actually has any choice or agency. I've been meaning to make a post about the stories I DO recommend though so, maybe soon. I just, know we all like to be angry at fuck ass whack ass men sometimes and just wanted to ramble a lil haha

#weebwolves