#and they knew id experience their stories and say ‘fuck i need to protect them from all the sadness’

[ghost-proofbaby]

ghost. i literally just got back from my classes today and hopped on to check my dash and saw the eddie being jealous abt astarion fic and oh my god… when i tell you that might be my favorite thing you’ve ever written. genuinely. it was so soft and sweet and i LITERALLY GIGGLED OUT LOUD WHILE READING IT!!!! i’m going to cherish that so close to my heart im literally obsessed with it

😭😭😭

i literally adore you so much thank you oh my gosh

i just needed it. between that and my wip about eddie reacting to you getting the mind blown achievement…. they just make me giggle. like yup. i’m taking him, shoving him into my modern pocket, and he’s gonna play bg3 with me because i said so <3

(btw eddie talks big game for someone who definitely fell for astarion’s charms his first playthrough. he vowed up and down he’d romance shadowheart or karlach but then- oh shit, oh no, that pretty vampire wants to spend the night with him? he can’t possibly say no. and oh shit oh no, he’s suddenly meeting him in the forest? baby boy definitely had to reevaluate his priorities and save scummed to be back on the shadowheart romance path)

[whitehotharlots]

A movement that cannot be criticized cannot achieve positive goals

The hardest part of talking about malignant trends on the broad left is that, well, you’re not allowed to talk about them. It’s no exaggeration to say that criticism has become fully conflated with violence. If you attempt to engage critically with a left-liberal writer--regardless of how thorough and respectful you may be, and regardless of how powerful, public, or insulated the subject of the criticism--you will be accused of dismissing and erasing the writer, of inciting violence against the writer, and of committing some form of genocide against whichever identity groups the writer belongs to.

Conversely, if you don’t provide specifics, you’ll be accused of making stuff up. The same people who claim it’s an act of aggression to ask for proof when they make claims of victimization turn into immense pedants the moment they encounter a heterodox opinion. 

Unsurprisingly, a discourse milieu in which critical analysis is forbidden is a prime breeding ground for unsustainable (and even horrific) behavioral standards. Never mind improving the world that exists outside their sphere of influence... these people are perpetually on the brink of destroying their allies, their institutions, and themselves.

Today I dug into an especially profane case that highlights both of these points. It’s a matter of public record, so I hopefully won’t get accused of “doxing” anyone for discussing it. It’s also the sort of story where if someone cares about it, they’ll have an opinion of it within a second or two of reading a headline describing what happened. This means it’ll only be of interest to the sort of cranks who read this blog. My goal here isn’t to express outrage or advocate for one side or other--although it is outrageous, and you won’t have to try too hard to see which side I favor. Instead, I’m going to try to move beyond that, to use this instance as a broader cautionary tale in regards to the more horrific tendencies of the identitarian left, and to begin formulating some means of resistance. 

In other words, this might get boring. Even more so than usual. 

The story involves a court case, documented here, in which a young man named Kieran Bhattacharya is suing the University of Virginia Medical School. Mr. Bhattacharya (a white supremacist name if I’ve ever heard one) was subjected to formal censure, repeated psychological evaluations, suspension, and eventual expulsion. This all happened because he raised some concerns after a White Fragility-inspired panel on microaggressions.

This is one of those cases where both sides are going to assume there’s a lot more going on beneath the surface and, like I said, are going to be disinclined toward actually reading the available evidence. Thankfully, the court brief is fairly exhaustive and--importantly--the account provided in the brief has received the approval of both plaintiff and defendant. To stress, everyone involved in this case agrees, legally, that the account provided herein is an accurate picture of what happened. Additionally, we also have audio of the initial microaggression seminar (Mr. Bhattacharya’s comments start at around the 28:30 mark), as well as of the pursuant committee meeting that ended in his expulsion. 

Here is the initial exchange, as documented by the brief:

Bhattacharya: Hello. Thank you for your presentation. I had a few questions just to clarify your definition of microaggressions. Is it a requirement, to be a victim of microaggression, that you are a member of a marginalized group? 

Adams: Very good question. And no. And no— 

Bhattacharya: But in the definition, it just said you have to be a member of a marginalized group—in the definition you just provided in the last slide. So that’s contradictory. 

Adams: What I had there is kind of the generalized definition. In fact, I extend it beyond that. As you see, I extend it to any marginalized group, and sometimes it’s not a marginalized group. There are examples that you would think maybe not fit, such as body size, height, [or] weight. And if that is how you would like to see me expand it, yes, indeed, that’s how I do. 

Bhattacharya: Yeah, follow-up question. Exactly how do you define marginalized and who is a marginalized group? Where does that go? I mean, it seems extremely nonspecific.

 Adams: And—that’s intentional. That’s intentional to make it more nonspecific . . . . 

After the initial exchange, Bhattacharya challenged Adams’s definition of microaggression. He argued against the notion that “the person who is receiving the microaggressions somehow knows the intention of the person who made it,” and he expressed concern that “a microaggression is entirely dependent on how the person who’s receiving it is reacting.” Id. He continued his critique of Adams’s work, saying, “The evidence that you provided—and you said you’ve studied this for years—which is just one anecdotal case—I mean do you have, did you study anything else about microaggressions that you know in the last few years?” Id. After Adams responded to Bhattacharya’s third question, he asked an additional series of questions: “So, again, what is the basis for which you’re going to tell someone that they’ve committed a microaggression? . . . Where are you getting this basis from? How are you studying this, and collecting evidence on this, and making presentations on it?”

You can listen to the audio if you like. There’s nothing there, in my opinion, that is not captured accurately in the written description. Bhattacharya does not yell or raise his voice. He sounds skeptical, but in no way violent or threatening. Nor does Adams, the presenter, signal that she is experiencing anything that approaches fear or trauma. 

Immediately after the event, a professor who helped organize the discussion filed a “Professionalism Concern Card”--a cute academic euphemism for a disciplinary write up--against Bhattacharya, alleging he had displayed a troubling lack of respect for differences (the irony here probably does not need to be explicated).

Soon after that--literally still the same day of the panel--Bhattacharya received an email from faculty asking him to “share his thoughts” so as to help him “understand and be able to cope with unintended consequences of conversations.” The tone of the email is polite and professional, but the text hints toward an attempt at entrapment. You’ll see this a lot in woke spaces--invitations to come to an understanding with one another that are, in actuality, attempts to get a person to say something cancellable.

Bhattacharya took the bait, and, well… 

During Bhattacharya and Peterson’s one-hour meeting, Peterson “barely mentioned” Bhattacharya’s questions and comments at the panel discussion. Dkt. 33 ¶ 73. Instead, Peterson attempted to determine Bhattacharya’s “views on various social and political issues—including sexual assault, affirmative action, and the election of President Trump.” 

At this point, the kid was fucked. He soon after had an uneventful-seeming meeting with a dean. Two weeks after that, a separate panel found him guilty of “patterns of unprofessional behavior and egregious violations of professionalism” and strongly encouraged him to seek psychological counseling. 

Pre-Trump, Bhattacharya still probably would have been fine if he had just kept his head down, gone to a couple therapy sessions, and maybe issued an empty apology. Since 2016, however, the rules have changed. An accusation is now absolute proof of guilt and no amount of ablution can save someone in a vulnerable position. 

Eleven days after receiving the ostensible suggestion that he receive counseling, Bhattacharya was informed that he would not be permitted to return to classes until he had been evaluated. A day after that--before even having the opportunity to seek the mandated counseling--he was given a mere 3 hours notice before having to attend another disciplinary committee meeting. 

This meeting found that Bhattacharya’s continuing behaviors were proof that he posed an imminent danger to the campus community, although the committee did not bother to explain what those behaviors entailed. His behavior was simply noted as “unusual” and this was proof that “Any patient that walked into the room with [Bhattacharya] would be scared.” The following day, Bhattacharya was forcibly removed from campus and told he could not return until he had been screened. He was, subsequently, not allowed to receive sanctioned screening, because of his status of having been removed from campus after being deemed a security risk.

Again, none of what I have described is an exaggeration. None of these details are even being contested. 

Now for my own conjecture: the problem isn’t that anyone genuinely believes Bhattacharya poses a threat to anyone’s safety. The problem is that he attempted to question the ideological firmaments of contemporary anti-racist training. These firmaments are protected with aggressive viciousness precisely because they cannot withstand scrutiny. Had Bhattacharya merely scoffed at them, or even if he had been outright condescending and dismissive, he probably would not have received such a severe punishment. The problem was that he was right, and his accusers knew it.

Understanding speech in the manner prescribed by the peddlers of microaggression theory cannot possibly be codified in a way that won't result in arbitrary punishment. Bhattacharya’s experience demonstrates that with horrific irony. 

The assertion here is that the intention of a speech act should have no bearing on how we adjudicate the morality of that speech act--such a point was made repeatedly in the initial discussion, and stressed once again after Bhattacharya’s concerns have been raised. This standard contradicts how we've processed the morality of speech for centuries, but that's what people are very explicitly demanding.

How is this workable, when literally any statement could, conceivably, be considered offensive by at least one individual? This, I feel, was the point Bhattacharya reaching toward. If you were to say, I dunno, "I love trees" to a group of 1000 people, 999 of them could regard that statement as benign. But what if one person takes offense to it? What if they work in the lumber industry, or they were molested by guy in a Smokey the Bear costume? What if that person then files a report accusing the tree lover of offensive speech? Will the speaker be disciplined? Or will the powers that be take intention and effect into account?

Of course, we're not going to criminalize all speech in this way. Like all extreme and broad-reaching disciplinary standards, this one will only be selectively evoked in order to punish people with heterodox opinions and/or those whose presence threatens the status quo. Someone who says something much more incendiary, like "all men are rapists" or "white people shouldn't get social security" would not receive a reprimand regardless of how much offense their statements caused, because they're saying something that's acceptable in our current milieu. And right now, the least acceptable speech is that which shines a light on the manifest flaws and hypocrisies of corporate anti racism. 

Back to my hypothetical example, if the tree-loving speaker was on good terms with everyone, the complaint would most likely be ignored. But if he had said or done other things that for whatever reason displeased the people in charge, the specious accusation could still ruin him. What's worse, the person who filed the allegation of offense might not have even actually taken offense at the statement--they were just looking for a way to get rid of him.

Bhattacharya was attempting to voice legitimate criticisms about a political movement whose suggestions are functionally unworkable and that, even if it were implemented fully and uncritically, does not contain even a hypothetical explanation in regards to how its goals would result in improved racial equality/equity. Because of that, he was cynically labeled dangerous and expelled from a public university. 

You'd think a group that obsesses over power differentials and their own marginalization would have some grasp of this. Regardless of which side you fall into with this particular culture war, it should fucking terrify you that a movement that’s been tasked with addressing pressing social problems is designed in such a way that any substantial criticism is met with aggressive punishment. 

There’s no way you can win if this is you is how conduct yourself. This is why we’re losing. This is why even if you get all the censorship and deplatforming you can ever dream of, even if every major bank and multinational corporatation professes fealty to your movement, you will still lose. Because there’s no way you can win. 

[i-see-you-now-you-see-me]

Baby don’t stop

(oneshot (part3? :D), can be read separately, but also, if you want, check out the other two parts)

Pairing : Wayv Ten (Nct Ten) x Reader Y/N, (wife)

Word count: 3.2k 

Warnings: proper filth alright, sex, double penetration, oral (f&m receiving), overstimulation, mentions of abuse on another character, creampie, Ten has two dicks, he’s an alien, ok? (stay safe people, use protection!)

Side character: y/n (used small letters when talking about this girl, one of the ten girls, who is now with Hendery-Guanhee)

Thanks to all the people who wanted to see more of Detective Ten, well, here he is, hope you all like it. Thanks.

enjoy reading, under the cut!

*10043567901;1102033149001, Planet DYVLONY*

Out of all the mundane things that occurred everyday, Ten was there. And the days, when he wasn’t, well, you did it by yourself. Dishes. Cleaning the house.  Mopping the floors. Re-arranging the shelves. Sometimes you wanted to creep a bit in Ten’s drawers, but they always had a lock on.

-What’s in them drawers? – you asked one time while having dinner.

-What do you mean? – he responded chewing on his food.

-Those… uhm, in your room, - you said and Ten looked up.

-Have you been naughty?

You giggled. When Ten said this, you knew soon after you would be on his bed, naked.

-Me? – you laughed, - never, Ten, what are you talking about? I was just being curious….

-Aha, - he watched you now, more than usual, his eyes wondered from your face, down to your exposed V line, thanks to the jumper you wore. His eyes were like a mirror of truth though, you could read him so easily. – let’s go to our room and see, shall we?

Ten stood up, walking your direction, just to take the dishes to the sink, and then pulling you up, his hand around your waist, just under your breasts. He leaned in, whispering:

-You know what gets a naughty Y/N? – you couldn’t help but laugh, but when he licked your earlobe, you bit your lip, nodding a “no”, - Y/N get’s a big…

This was interrupted by his phone ringing. He sighed stepping away from you. Checking the caller id, he stepped back.

-I have to take this, - he informed and left. You only nodded.

-How did you get this number? – Ten asked the caller.

-Ha, - on the other side a voice spoke, - I get what I want, now, now, don’t be scared Detective, it’s not you who I am after.

-The hell you are not, Guanhee, - Ten knew who he was talking to straight away. After the outbreak of a politician being killed, Mr. Tieger, who in fact owed money to the “great twins”, Ten looked deeper only to find that one of the human females was now with him and his crazy alter-ego.

-So, you know who I am, - she giggled, - I am impressed, detective, you have done your homework.

-What are you after? – Ten snapped.

-Ah, so impatient, you see, your girl Y/N, is a sweety isn’t she?

-Leave my wife out of this.

-That’s the problem Ten, I cannot, - Guanhee turned around to see y/n (other one of the girls who were on the ship, so…), tied up to the wooden post like always, naked, and pussy on display. – the poor girl tried to help us, but you see, it’s not that simple, so I ended up, fucking her every day, one day me… the other… my brother. But now, I need someone, because… well, none of your business, but I hear you might know the location of Sicheng.

Ten arched a brow.

-Sicheng? – he re-asked, - why do you need him?

Guenhee licked her lips, pushing her glasses up her nose, eyeing y/n body again, she was drooling at the sight of her glistening cunt. Walking over, Guanhee dropped to her knees, y/n was coming awake slowly.

-Yes, Sicheng, well, if you must know, I would need his help for some small job, with a microchip.

-Guanhee, what is on your mind? – Ten asked, - you can’t harm the girl, you need to promise me that.

-Oh, but Ten, I can’t, - with her phone pressed to her ear, she leaned in, licking y/n’s mound, - a simple modification with her chip, so she would be a good girl and behave is all I need.

-Guanhee, no, - Ten warned, - there are other ways, how to do that, I am sure you can talk with y/n, and she will do whatever you tell her to…

Ten was grabbing onto his hair now, he felt the responsibility of all aliens, wherever they might be. Even YangYang didn’t seem like a bad person now, that he heard Guanhee’s story.

-You hear, y/n, - Guanhee spoke to y/n, while tears left her eyes, - Detective Ten here thinks, I should ask you to behave, and you will.

She (y/n) nodded frantically, at this time, she would do anything to be on Guanhee’s good side, after all she’s been through. Ten heard the wet licking sounds in the phone, as bad as it was, it made him lick his own lips, somewhere in his mind, he wanted to tie his wife up as well, and not only that.

-Don’t look for Sicheng, - Ten said, - go old-school, please?

Guanhee sighed, getting up from her position, her two fingers entering her captives’ vagina, moving in and out, to get a better angle, she pressed her palm towards the girl’s clitoris, pressing on her vaginal walls from the inside, the part that made her roll her eyes from the pleasure.

Dropping the phone on the floor, Ten could only hear moans and slapping sounds, before hanging up. He rested his head against the wall. Gunahee was crazy, god knows, what she has done to the girl, and Ten closed his eyes.

Your hand touching his shoulder, startled Ten.

-Sorry, - you said, - didn’t mean to scare you. Everything alright?

Ten nodded a “no”.

-Can I help?

Again, he nodded a “no”.

-Tell me, Ten, I can listen, you know that, right?

He nodded, taking you with him to sit on the sofa.

-Dong Sicheng, - Ten spoke, and you looked at him.

-Sorry, I don’t understand, what’s that?

-He is a CEO of WinWin enterprises, he is the person, who made you microchips to be able to communicate in our language, - you nodded understanding now, - he can, however, change the purpose of the chip inserted in you.

-What do you mean?

-Let’s say, if you, - Ten was thinking what to say, - when we asked him for help, since I have known him for a while, he offered various forms of the chip. One included, giving you robot like performance, you would be alive, but you would not be you. You would be owned and treated as that by your owner, making you do whatever they please.

-Ew, - you nodded, - why did he even suggest that?

Ten bit the inside of his cheek.

-He wanted to have one of you for himself, so he had made a chip, that would make his partner, perfect for himself.

-That’s messed up, - Ten agreed, that’s why, Sicheng didn’t get none of the girls.

-I made sure he would never get close to any of the girls, concealing your identities, giving you away only to the right people, and that’s where I fucked up.

You touched his hands.

-Don’t beat yourself up, Ten, it’s not like you know everyone…

-I know, I know, but still, I could have done things differently…

That night for some reason, he couldn’t fall asleep. His mind was clouded with Guanhee. What if she did find Sicheng? She would turn y/n into a robot of her own liking.

Your hands touched Ten’s stomach, this time you were the big spoon. He turned around to see you, kissing your lips as soon as he turned. Silence was between you, as he caged you in his arms, his lips attending to yours. His tongue entered your mouth, your own tongue finding his, brushing at each other in a slow like motion.

Ten’s hand caressed your waist, to your hip, his fingers brushing at your pajama trousers, until he stopped.

-No panties? – he asked, a rare sight to see, you tended to go to bed “the more layers the better”, so when his grabby hand touched your soft skin of your hips, going inside of your trousers, not finding another clothing barrier, made him bite his lip.

-Just for you, - you whispered.

The room was dark, and the only light illuminating the place was a little purple light coming from the air purifier. You could only feel the intense gaze Ten had on you.

-Let’s get you out of this, - he whispered, giving you a quick peck on your lips, helping you strip from the hoodie that you wore for bed. Accidentally bumping his nose in your forehead, you both “ouched”, until Ten turned to switch on the bed side table lamp. – this won’t do. I need to see you.

You took of your top, letting your breasts fall free.

-Is it me, or are they getting bigger? – Ten asked looking at you (more like eyeing you with thirsty gaze). His lips latched onto your nipple straight away, attending the other with his fingers and then swapping over. Kissing down your stomach, he pulled your trousers down your body, as he moved, worshiping every inch of your skin. Wet kisses left a trail on your legs, insides of your thighs would probably bloom with purple tomorrow, but you didn’t mind. His love and affection were all you cared about at that time.

You kissed his lips again, switching your position, your body hovering his, undressing him now. Wasn’t much to take off anyways, just his trousers and boxers, letting his treasure out of his clothing, licking the head of the first one of his cocks. Ten looked at you with a hungry gaze, moaning a “such a sweet girl for me”, while you sucked him deeper in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, only to try getting him deeper down your throat.

Then you switched his cocks, taking the other one in your mouth, repeating the action, Ten’s abdomen was clenching, he was trying hard not to come like a teenager who experience a blow job for the first time, but your lips made it very hard for him.

He pulled you off him, your lips leaving his cock with a plop. Sitting across his lap, Ten made himself comfortable, his head resting on the pillows.

-Are you going to ride me? – he asked, being cheeky, you nodded, positioning yourself.

Ten licked his lips, giving you a hand, but to his surprise, you reached for his other cock first. Sliding it up your wet pussy lips, you gathered enough nectar for it to be slippery enough, then you closed your eyes, positioning it to your tight ass hole, pushing it in ever so slowly. Your bottom automatically grinded down on him, till his dick was deep enough in your tight hole, and Ten breathed out.

-You are making me crazy, baby, - he moaned, all the times he prepped you with a butt plug were paying of now.

Lifting yourself up, only to get back down, stretching your body to accommodate his length, you set a nice rhythmic movement, leaning in to kiss Ten’s lips. He was patently waiting for what was next. So, when you lifted yourself again, touching his other member, Ten indeed went to help you. His own hands reached for his other counterpart, sliding it between your lower lips, his own precum, providing even more lubrication.

The tip prodded at your entrance, your core clenching again, your hand reached for Ten’s, both of you sliding his cock into you, still, in a position like this, it wasn’t fully in, so you gave yourself a few more seconds to adjust like always. While at it, Ten’s lips drank from yours, his hands squeezing your bottom cheeks, spreading them apart, making you moan, and giving your butt cheeks a small and gentle slap.

Starting to move was a bit difficult, you had never felt so full, and this time it felt right with every fiber of your being, Ten smiled like a kid on the inside, your breasts were bouncing with every movement, and he got up in a seated position to suck on your nipples again.

You were rolling your hips, circling them around slowly, while his dicks slowly moved inside of you. Ten was nipping at your neck now, one of his hands fisting your hair, pulling you closer. Like always, this was not just a trip to pound-land, every inch of your skin now covered in sweat, enjoying the feeling of Ten so close to you.

Changing the tempo, to a bit faster, Ten moved back down, to see you riding him, your eyebrows raised, head thrown a bit back, erect nipples standing proud, as his hands held your hips, pushing deeper with every thrust, his cock brushing against your sensitive walls. Ten used his strength to give you a ride of a lifetime, as you continued bouncing on top of him.

-Are you close, - he moaned, lifting his legs up a bit, so he would reach deeper in your vagina, his cock now repeatedly hitting your cervix.

-Yes, - you moaned out, - oh yes, - holding your hands against Ten’s torso, you kept on circling your lips to slow down your approaching orgasm, until Ten’s fingers found your small bundle of nerves, providing your clitoris with a circular motion from his fingers.

As you came, Ten didn’t let you stop riding him, he continued to fuck you through your orgasm, earning an explicit amount of moans and swear words, pushing you off of him now, Ten pushed you on your stomach, your ass in the air, as he found his way, pushing his cocks back in, the top one sliding through your folds with ease, and the other, with a more forceful thrust down your butt.

He was holding onto you now, you were not able to say anything.

Not only this took you by surprise, but you found yourself drooling onto the pillows, trying to make yourself comfortable. Moans spilled from your lips, as Ten was aiming to reach his own extasy, his hand reached for your clit again, finding it in no time, only to hear you cry out from overstimulation.

-Puh…lease…. – you tried to say, hot tears streamed down your face.

Ten felt your orgasm approaching again, and just when you were about to cum, he pulled out of you, seeing how the liquid from your body squirted out like mad, your legs were shaking, mouth fell open, a strained cry left your lips, and Ten jacked off seeing you like this.

Reaching his peak, he positioned his cock just enough between your abused cunt, to fill it up, while the other dick, sheathed it’s nectar just above your butt hole, dripping down your but crack, and mixing with your own juices.

Ten smirked, satisfied, watching again, how your pussy was soaked with his thick cum, he licked his lips, leaning down. You saw him move vaguely, when you felt it, a shiver going down your spine. His lips once again found your cunt, drinking in all of your mixed juices, making you cry out again. Once he was done, he flipped you over to see your tear- stained face.

-Oh, baby, - he cooed, - was it too much?

You were about to smack him, if you would be able to, another tear left your eyes and Ten kissed it away.

-Let’s get you to shower, hmm? – you only nodded, and Ten picked you up, taking you into the bathroom, sitting you down on the washing machine, - hold on for me a bit, ok?

You nodded again, holding tightly against the machine. Ten ran a warm bath, while you waited, once in the tub, he brought you some juice, giving you it slowly, sip by sip. A warm cloth was soon accompanied with some soap, as he lathered your body with it, his hands wandering a bit more on your breasts and in between your legs, but you were too weak to protest.

Kisses on your lips, shoulders, even your legs, as he nursed you back to normal, small talk, asking you if you were ok, and are you better, left his lips. He washed your hair, massaging your scalp, pouring the water, holding your head in his arms as he washed you.

You finally were ready to open your eyes. You were greeted by Ten’s brown pupils and a soft kiss on your lips.

-Was I too rough? – he asked.

-A little bit, - you said, - but I enjoyed it, very much as you could see…

Ten nodded, getting up. He was still naked, his softened cocks now hanging down, you licked your lips out of habit.

-Not satisfied? – Ten giggled seeing your reaction. You playfully hit his thigh, - can you move your legs a bit?

Ten got into the bath on the opposite side, leaning towards you, he made his way in between your legs. His chest was pressed against your chest now, his lips kissing yours again.

-We can arrange something to quench your thirst, I suppose, - he giggled, your cheeks burned a bit now from his teasing. He sat back on his heels, and you grabbed the wash- cloth to give him a hand.

-My turn now, - you smiled as you touched his body, wiping the sweat from him, you also wiped his mouth and jaw, since it still was smeared with your essence and his, and to your surprise, his body came alive again, - what on …?

Ten laughed at your reaction.

-I am DYVLONY after all, Y/N, I can make love to you all night if you want me to… - he smiled, kissing you again.

- I would probably like that… - you smiled. Minutes later Ten helped you out of the tub, wrapping you both in a towel, he led you back to the room. Letting you sit down, he removed the soiled bed sheets, and changed them for new ones, you watched his naked body move around. – Ten?

-Huh? – he answered.

-How did you get two dicks?

He started laughing.

-Why?

-Just wondering if our baby would … you know…

Ten went to pick you up and place you on the bed, lying you down with him next to you.

-If that’s a boy, - he started, stroking your hair, - I hope he will inherit that, and make a girl very, very happy, - earning a giggle from you, - if we have a girl, I do hope she will be as beautiful as you…

-What a charmer, - you said and kissed Ten again.

-But to answer your question, there is only a couple of DYVLONY who has something similar to me, also, very rare to have both of them so equally big, like mine, so I am one of a kind… and this is the question you wanted to ask me… wahhhh, what do I do now?

His hands tickled your sides, and you let out a laugh, his hand now touching your side and stomach tenderly, he leaned down, to be eye level with your stomach.

-Hey, you, - he spoke, all of the sudden, for some reason, tears threatened to leave your eyes, - I cannot wait to see you, to hold you in our embrace, to teach you and to love you… - he kissed your tummy, - doesn’t matter who you are, we are waiting patiently for you, little one.

Looking up back at you, Ten saw the tears.

-Baby, baby, what’s wrong? – he got back to you, you shook your head.

-Nothing, - you cried softly, - it’s just so sweet, must be the hormones…

-You know what else my hormones want?

You watched in belief, Ten wiggled his eyebrows and got on top of you.

Let’s just say, he didn’t lie about making love to you all night…

[amazingmsme]

For the horror ask thing, 3 and 20!

3. you're planning a horror movie marathon with your friends - which movies are you picking? The original Halloween & Nightmare on Elm Street first of all, those are my top faves. Room 1408, A Quiet Place, The Amityville Horror but the one with Ryan Reynolds, Delirium, Silence of the Lambs, What Lies Beneath, Bad Times at the El Royale, Kiss the Girls & probably a lot more that I can’t think of right now, but horror is like my favorite genre of film & I tend to prefer paranormal & psychological stories as well as more realistic ones like people being kidnapped or escaping a killer. Midsommar & The House that Jack Built are also fantastic films but both get extremely fucked up & graphic so I’d have to check with whoever I’m watching with. The Conjuring movies are all great & id probably have a marathon just for them

20. do you have any personal scary stories? something that happened to you or somebody close to you? I have way too many, you’d think being the only people who ever lived in this house would mean no ghosts, but you’d be wrong. But I’ll give some highlights:

-1 time when I was trying to leave my room as a kid, some orange nail polish shot out directly in front of my face & hit the wall before sliding down to the floor. With how fast it was going it 100% should’ve broke but it kind of stayed there for a second before falling down

-my sister heard & felt someone whisper in her ear that was pressed against her pillow

-I saw a tall man in my closet watching me dance in my room, this was around the time I was in middle school. To this day I’m still paranoid that I’ll see him if I go dance in there

-one time as a kid it was freezing outside but I still wanted to go out & play. My grandma was watching me while my mom took my sister to the doctor & I was playing out of sight from any window. My old dog Gabby was super protective & barked at everything, & out of nowhere this young woman appears, I’d say mid to late teens. For reference I was wearing 2 pairs of pants, a long sleeve shirt, a puffy jacket & a hat & gloves. This girl was wearing short shorts, a spaghetti strap tank top & was barefoot with no visible signs that she was cold. I was just frozen staring at her & she looked at me. I think she might’ve said she liked my dog but I can’t really remember. I looked over at Gabby & back at her & she was gone

-a few years ago when I stepped out of the shower, 3 full fingers were pressed into the steam on the mirror, but what’s really odd is that there was no palm mark. Of course I took a picture

-we have a tiny porcelain doll that’s haunted & I’m positive that’s where the little girl came from. She’s chilled out over the years but it used to be every time you talked about it, something would happen about 30 minutes after. Like our drapes would fly open, the tv would turn on, we heard a ringing that wasn’t our doorbell, weird shit like that. The guys my mom used to baby sit were terrified of her

-when I was like 3 I was staring at the cabinet she’s kept in & my mom asked what I was doing. She said I had this strange determined & stern look on my face & said “she needs to be standing up.” I was never a stubborn kid but I was adamant about it. After that the activity lessened by a lot

-also regarding the doll, my sister took some pictures of her on the first step in our pool for her photography class but no matter what, the teacher couldn’t open the files for the doll pictures. She could get the other ones but her computer would act very weird when she tried to see those specific ones

-everyone in my family has seen the little girl & even 1 of my sister’s friends saw her go to my room. I think only my sister & I have seen the man tho & he usually appears as a dark shadow, tho when he was in my closet I could see more detail like clothes, but his facial features were in shadow

-the girl looks like your basic horror movie child ghost, like I’m not shitting you. She’s got long dark hair & wears a white dress & whenever I see her the dress is usually the first thing I notice

-2 years ago my sister & I were at our house while my parents when you a high school reunion. We were chilling out by the pool when the chair sitting next to me scooted away from the table. I saw it happen & it freaked me out & my sister heard it & we were both scared. Idk why but I always just assumed they’d never go outside & so shit like that

-random objects can go missing & then appear right before your eyes, but not before you turn the house upside down first. I think they enjoy seeing us frustrated & it ticks me off

-we will hear people talking sometimes but you can’t really make out what they’re saying. If it’s more than 1 voice then it’s always a guy & girl’s voices

-I get touched by them the most out of my family & I fucking hate it. Get your fake dead hands OFF my body I do not like you. I’ve been touched in my house & a few times when I was hospitalized, & once this year at a guest house on vacation. The weird thing about the times in the hospital were that they all happened on the left side of my body. Hands down the worst part of it is when I can feel the size of the hands so I know if it’s a child or adult. & for some reason, ghosts like to touch you 1 finger at a time, 0/10 would recommend

-in my dad’s old house he said he could feel someone sitting on his bed with him & could even see the indention. He said he thought it was his Papaw. But when we go there I almost always get an unsettling vibe

-I made sure to save the best for last! This is my worst/scariest experience & I really hope my cousin doesn’t see this because it happened when they were here. But the younger one was in my room already asleep so I was just chilling on my phone in the dark. My phone illuminated the room just enough so I could see a few feet around me & I saw the girl at the foot of my bed. She had on that stupid white dress & her dark hair hung over her shoulders & hid her face. Then she grabbed the footboard & acted like she was about to fucking crawl up so I noped the fuck out & turned off my phone & proceeded to hide under the covers. Then I just… went to sleep? I mean I’ve been used to that shit all my life but I have no idea how I slept after that. I knew that if I got my mom then it would wake up my cousin & she’d know that something weird was up so I just ignored it the best I could. But you bet your ass I told Mom the next day

Like I said, I have a lot of stories & there’s still more I could share, but most stuff is pretty insignificant & I forget what exactly happened, but stuff does happen. Lately I’ve been seeing a lot of shadows & I really hope that there’s nothing in my new apartment. But yeah, sorry this got so long!

[allforhader]

The Unexpected

Bill Hader x (F) Reader

Requested by: Anon

Warnings: Langauge

Bill having three kids already, he should be experienced in those stressful situations where you’re going to have to drop everything when your wife goes into labor. But he also didn’t plan for Y/N to not make it to the hospital when she delivered. LA traffic is a bitch.

——

When Y/N and Bill got married, they didn’t really plan ahead for anything. Bill went back to filming for Barry after their honeymoon and Y/N was a writer for the show so she had to get her job done. The two found few energy filled moments when they had a day off from Barry and when the girls were with Maggie.

The day Y/N found out she was pregnant she didn’t tell Bill right away. She needed to confirm it without relying on store bought tests. And she didn’t know exactly how he’d feel about having another kid. So it wasn’t until she was around three months when she finally wanted to tell Bill.

Y/N wanted to tell him before the work day started but he jumped right into filming and she didn’t know where to find room. Until Sarah Goldberg and D’Arcy Carden gave Y/N the wildest idea of having a surprised script change. The two only knew she was pregnant because Y/N told her mom over the phone as the two over heard.

“Yo! Hader, there’s been a script change” Sarah states handing Bill the new pages as he instantly looks at Y/N confused.

Y/N shrugs for the most part before standing beside Alec to watch the take be done.

“Was this your plan Y/N?” Alec asks her as Y/N rolls her eyes before whispering to him what’s going on. “Well, if he gets a heart attack from excitement. I’ll blame you”

“You’d blame me when I would probably have one if he does” Y/N gave Alec a look before laughing a bit. Alec moved his stuff from Bill’s director’s chair letting her sit. “Not my idea”

“Actors have crazy ideas. I’m not surprised that this came from the two” Alec states before nudging Y/N to look at Bill look at the script after rounding up who he needs.

“How much you want to bet he’s going to scream?”

“You want to make a bet on my husband’s reaction?” Y/N laughs a bit before relaxing. “Let’s not”

“Ok ok”

Bill stares at the two he got not really understanding how the scene they shot before lead to this one. Or where this scene will be but he froze when Sarah grabbed his shirt.

“You have no idea?”

“What?” Not scripted.

“This is going to be life changing! Get excited!” D’Arcy states as Bill stood there even more confused before looking down at the change.

Sarah suddenly took it from him when he was supposed to have it in the first place. Y/N face palms hearing Alec laugh.

“Get excited about what?!” Bill stares at the two as they have each other a look while the other actors for Barry grew confused on what the fuck was going on.

“Can I be first to say congratulations?”

“What”

The ���script change” was really just Sarah and D’Arcy getting up in Bill’s personal space trying to see if he can connect the dots before stating the obvious.

“I did not write this, Im just gonna make that clear” Y/N tells Alec as he knew it was them. No brainer.

“Come on Berkman! How the fuck do you not know?”

“This is really exciting we heard it from your lover”

Bill really is oblivious and kept looking over at Y/N and Alec expecting something. But all he got was a shrug from Alec and a smile with a thumbs up from Y/N. Thanks. Very helpful.

“Can I Uh get the script back”

“Goddamn Berkman!”

“How did you not know she’s pregnant!” Fucking. Finally.

Bill stares at the two confused before being handed back the script and reading the last bit. He froze in place feeling like an idiot for not catching on, even though Sarah and D’Arcy at first weren’t helpful. He immediately looks over to Y/N watching her nod to confirm it as he started getting emotional. Bill handed the script back before quickly heading to Y/N and holding her in his arms crying happily.

“Should we call it a day?” Alec asks knowing for damn sure the two were having their moment. “Alright! We’ll pick up with the actual script tomorrow!” He states letting the two have the rest of the day.

So now Bill knows. It’s a good thing but something he didn’t take into consideration is, this is Y/N’s first and possibly only pregnancy. So even if Bill does know what he’s doing and is willing to take care of a lot of things in preparation. But when Y/N was finishing her second trimester heading into her third, she got extremely anxious over everything and would stay up unexpectedly startling Bill when he’d come home late.

“Shit-“ Bill whisper yells as when he closes the front door around 1 in the morning. Staying at the office to make adjustments to a few scenes, was a mistake.

Bill hangs up his jacket setting his keys down and before he could sneak up to bed. He stops seeing the shine of a screen distract him in the living room.

“Y/N...?” He asks walking around the couch seeing her sitting on the floor with her laptop on the coffee table open to a number of things. “Why are you awake?” He frowns moving himself beside her seeing the scariest shit he’s ever seen looked up about pregnancy. “Okay—Hey?”

“Hm...?” Y/N turns to him looking extremely tired as she was protectively holding her belly. “When did you get home?”

“Not even a minute ago. It’s one in the morning why aren’t you in bed?”

“Well, I was working on...a scene. Then got distracted by a number of things. Also you try growing a human. I can’t get up easily so I stayed here” Y/N sighs watching Bill get up moving the coffee table. He moves in front of her holding his hands out which she took to get help off the floor. “Did you know that 1.61% of births aren’t in a hospital?”

“That’s a very low percentage”

“It equals to 62,228 births, Bill”

“Okay and why are you looking that up?”

“What if I’m part of that one percentage”

“Y/N...I can promise you. When you go into the labor, you’ll make it to the hospital. I doubt you’ll have the baby in the backseat of my car”

“Are you implying that it’s a possibility?”

“Y/N. No”

“Bill it can happen. It probably would knowing my luck”

“What do you mean by that?”

“If you don’t agree with me I’m going to be even more anxious than I was before”

“We’ve gone over this...You get anxious when I do agree with you sometimes” Bill laughs a bit before bringing his wife into his arms. “I highly doubt you’ll have the baby in my car”

“Mmm...better prepare for that possibility Bill” Y/N sighs resting her head against his chest feeling him kiss the top of her head. “The baby is healthy and is on track. But one small thing can fuck everything up”

“Giving birth anywhere other than a hospital won’t fuck up everything. It happens. But still. I promise. It won’t. You’ll have our little one in the comforts of a hospital”

“Just know if fate says otherwise. I’m yelling at you”

“You were going to yell at me regardless baby” Bill smiles resting his chin on top of her head feeling her grip onto his shirt. “It’s going to be okay. Okay?”

“Mhm..”

When the time actually came, Y/N didn’t realize that her water had broke until Bill asked pointed out. Guess she didn’t think about it when it happened. Bill helped her into the backseat thinking she wouldn’t be cramped if she was in the front. He put the hospital bag in the passengers before starting to head to the hospital.

“Bill—“

“Just take deep breaths, we’ll be there soon—shit” Bill frowns seeing the traffic start to become bumper to bumper. “Shit. Fuck. Okay, how close are they?”

“U-Uh. Uhm. Shit—“ Y/N couldn’t really think at this point when she thought the contractions would be more elongated. But they were coming in more expectedly.

This baby isn’t waiting and Bill is trying to find a way out of this traffic and to the nearest hospital.

“I. Fucking—-Told you Bill”

“Y/N—I can’t predict the future!”

“But people—jinx it” Y/N moans in pain unbuckling herself which startled Bill but she knew they weren’t moving any time soon.

As traffic started to lift a bit, just enough for Bill to rely on surface streets. Y/N had already positioned herself comfortably in the backseat trying to “keep it in” until they get to the hospital. It wasn’t until Bill parked in the ER load off that Y/N couldn’t wait. Bill ran inside hurrying over to the nurse’s station.

“I uh. My wife is in the back of my car—She has the baby—“

“Someone get a wheelchair!” One of the nurse called as Bill stopped the nurse.

“She needs more than a wheelchair”

“Sir did your wife get hurt-“

“She had our baby in the backseat” Bill blurts out as the nurse he was talking to went to get an ER doctor for the time being along with a gurney before paging OB.

After two hours of making sure mom and baby were perfectly okay, Bill was let into Y/N’s hospital room finding a very tired wife holding a little bundle of joy wrapped in a blue blanket. The two wanted to be surprised and indeed it was.

“Sorry I killed your all girls streak”

“That’s the first thing you say...?” Bill laughs as the tears of joy started streaming down his cheeks kissing Y/N’s temple before admiring the little boy she’s holding.

“Told you Id be part of the one percent”

“Oh shut up” He smiles kissing his wife lovingly before climbing into the bed beside her.

Y/N instantly handed their little boy to Bill watching him still be shaky when he’s had three before this one. It was honestly and will always be an amazing experience. This one definitely having quite the story to it. Y/N rests her head on his shoulder looking down at their little boy watching him instantly ease into Bill’s arms.

“Wow. A natural” Y/N jokes as she smiles nuzzling close to her husband. “So, the third?”

“William Thomas Hader the third? Wouldn’t that be a mouthful?”

“Bill, really?”

“You know I’m just teasing”

“Mhm”

Bill couldn’t stop smiling at their son as after some time of holding him, Y/N had fallen asleep against him. He loves this, and can’t wait to start this new chapter.

[probably-writing-x]

Behind you.

Guzmán x Reader

Request by anon: Hey! Could you write a guzman x reader where the reader is being stalked by some creepy guy and guzman is their bf and tries to help out? Ty❤️ love all ur fics

Gif is not my own

Requests are closed🤍

Being the daughter of a well-known actress was certainly an experience that had its ups and downs. You were blessed with a life that never managed to be boring, and you could hardly complain about everything you’d been given as a result of your mother’s success. Though, it had its negatives too. You’d mainly been brought up by nannies and staff at the house who’d always been around when your Mum was off filming or doing press. But it worked, you’d made it through school up to your last few years and you were just turning eighteen when it first all started taking a turn. You’d had to retake the school year as things got rapidly complicated towards the end of last year. It didn’t matter. You still had Ander and now Omar at school with you. And Samuel and Rebeca. And, most importantly - your boyfriend Guzmán. Turning eighteen meant one key thing for you - you were an adult now and that meant you’d likely be in the public eye even more than you were originally. Especially with the new news that you were having to retake a school year.

“Guzmán!” You laugh as he races after you into the house.

He’s dripping wet from being in the pool and it splashes onto the tiles beneath him as he chases you with arms reaching out.

“Guzmán stop!” You squeal, unable to hold him off any longer as his arms wrap around you and he pulls you into his damp chest, “I’m not going in the water!”

He clearly has other plans as he carries you through the glass doors again and jumps into the pool with you in his arms this time. You’d been enjoying an afternoon together in the beaming September sun as you’d been sunbathing on the loungers beside the pool and he’d been enjoying the cold of the water much more.

“You’re an asshole,” You splash him with the water, treading on the surface to keep afloat.

“Come on, it’s not that cold once you’re used to it,” He pushes himself through the water so he’s close to you.

“I was quite peacefully enjoying my sunbathing actually, you’re just needy,” You scoff, kicking back so you were floating on the surface like a starfish.

“Is that so?” Guzmán queries, hands reaching out for you again as he starts tickling your sides and under your arms.

“Guzmán!” You half-screech, flailing in the water involuntarily as you jolt away from his touch.

“Who’s been traipsing wet footprints onto my newly cleaned floor?!” It’s Fernando who exclaims the words that make Guzmán stop in his actions instantly.

Fernando had basically brought you up since you were little, he maintained the house and did everything your Mum would normally do if she was around more. He was completely family to you, which made him very protective when Guzmán arrived on the scene.

“Sorry Fernando,” Guzmán admits, swimming over to the edge of the pool as both of you push yourselves out of the water.

Fernando hands over a towel to each of you and picks up your empty jug of water, “You’ll be cleaning it next time.”

“Noted,” Guzmán smiles. Really, Fernando couldn’t not like him. He was here more often than not nowadays and had practically spent every day of summer with you. Despite your differing financial statuses, Guzmán didn’t really care about how much money you or your Mum had. He spoilt you more than you would ever expect from a boyfriend and Fernando knew you needed someone like that by your side as you grew up so separate from normality.

Guzmán dries himself off with the towel and shakes it through his hair to try to lessen the effect of his soaked locks. It’s then that you hear it first. You flinch at the sound of rustling behind you and what distinctly sounded like the shutting of a camera.

“You okay, babe?” Guzmán frowns when he sees the disturbed expression casting over your features.

You keep your eyes trailed on where the source of sound was coming from, “Yeah, sorry, just thought I heard something.”

“Oh, okay,” He shrugs, “I’m going to take a quick shower and get changed. Do you want to order us some dinner?”

“Yeah, I will do,” You try to flick yourself back to reality and get yourself away from the worry you’d created in your own mind.

“Okay,” Guzmán smiles, leaning in to give you a soft kiss before heading inside.

And you’re sure you heard that shutter again.

In fact, you’d been having those moments more and more recently. You’d been receiving texts from anonymous numbers, photos sent to your number of you in places where you’d never expected anyone to be taking photos of you. Some of you walking into school, even one of you leaving Ander and Omar’s place. Plenty of you with Guzman. None of them had ever been in your own home though, luckily this place had security and fences enough that you felt safely blocked off from that sort of thing. Until today.

- - - - - -

“All I’m saying is, there’s no way you’d go back to me after that if I did what Ross did!” Guzmán sighs at the TV as you finish another episode of friends.

He got very passionate about the idea of Rachel deserving better - claiming that, if it was him and you, he wouldn’t feel worthy if he’d done everything that Ross did.

“Right honey?” He glances up from where he lay with his head in your lap.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, you can put the next one on,” You dismiss, eyes constantly glancing back outside every few seconds like you’d catch something you were waiting for.

“What’s distracting you?” He frowns, pushing himself up to sit beside you, “Was it something I said?”

“No, no, I’m fine don’t worry.”

“You know I’m only joking when I talk about me doing what Ross did, Id never actually cheat on you, or make a list or...”

“No, Guzmán, no,” You half laugh, “It’s honestly not you, but you’re such an angel for worrying about that.”

He smiles bashfully as he lays back down in your lap to watch the next episode. You hated the thought of him getting caught up in the publicity of your Mums name, him becoming the high school boyfriend that they’d simply wait for you to split up with. There had already been rumours flying about as soon as people had first seen you together. Headlines that gave people to lowdown on who exactly (Y/n) was dating. He’d never cared enough for it to have any effect. He’d just dismissed it and carried on as though you were living in complete normality.

“Although I would bring all the presents to your office if you got a fancy new job,” He laughs to himself, snuggling into your legs as you run a hand through his growing hair.

You encouraged yourself to completely focus on him instead of getting yourself wrapped up in what could or could not be. Guzmán had a surprisingly good ability to distract you from near enough anything, without trying one bit.

“Right guys, I’m heading up to bed. I’ve made sure all of the doors are locked even though Guzmán checks anyway. And I’ve turned everything off so you can just head to bed whenever you want to,” Fernando explains, “Good night.”

“Night Fernando!” Guzmán calls, not shifting his head away from your legs.

It was true. He had an unmoving habit of checking the doors before you went to bed, knowing he never slept well if he hadn’t at least put his mind at ease. It was one of those quirks you’d always adored.

“Do you want to go up soon?” Guzman asks through a stifled yawn.

“No, that’s alright, a couple more episodes at least.”

It’s not that you weren’t tired. You easily were practically drained. But the thought of going to sleep didn’t seem like anything happening soon. All you could think of was who or what could be lurking to take a photo or catch another story now there were no restrictions.

- - - - - -

It takes an hour of putting off the idea before you finally decide to give in and head up to bed with Guzmán.

“I think I’m more like Chandler,” He says through the toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, “And you’re more like Monica.”

“Are you still talking about friends characters?” You roll your eyes as you take off your robe and pull on his T-shirt from the day instead to sleep in.

“I’m just sayinggggg... we’re nothing like Ross and Rachel,” He shrugs as he finishes brushing his teeth and instead waits for you.

“Okay babe,” You chuckle, walking into the bathroom.

As you do, your phone goes off from the bedroom.

“Can you get that? Its probably just Instagram or something,” You ask him as you wash your face.

“Or your secret boyfriend,” He wiggles his brows as he goes to grab your phone.

It’s like his heart drops at the sight. An anonymous number. And a photo of you from earlier, wearing only your bikini after the two of you had gotten out of the pool.

“(Y/n), what is this?” He speaks slowly like the extra time will give him chance to process it, as he begins to scroll up to see the previous photos you’d been sent by the same number.

You’re speechless as you stand in the doorway and watch it unfold.

“How long has this been going on for?” He asks calmly, “Is this the only number that’s been sending them?”

“Guzmán, I was going to tell you...”

“Okay, so I need you to tell me now - do you know who this is?”

You move over to the bed and sit down beside him, “No.”

“How long have they been sending you these?”

“Maybe a couple of months, since graduation - after I turned eighteen,” You explain, “I promise you I was going to tell you and I-“

“No, no, I understand that,” He puts his hand over yours, “I just need to understand what’s going on because this isn’t okay (Y/n). There are photos of you at school here, photos of us two, photos of you in a fucking bikini in your own garden.”

“I don’t know who it is and I don’t know how to stop it. That’s what I thought I heard earlier,” You explain shakily.

“That’s why you didn’t want to come to bed. You were scared to go to sleep in your own home,” The words hit him with such a realisation that it’s like they’ve sliced straight through his heart.

“Mums always said about me having a bodyguard whenever I go anywhere,” You shake your head.

“But you always wanted to be a normal kid, I know,” Guzmán offers you a small smile, “You’ll be okay, you know? I’m here, and you’ve got Fernando, and we’ll hire somebody who can investigate this and figure out who the fuck thinks it’s acceptable to take photos of my girlfriend like this.”

You let out an involuntary laugh at his sudden outburst of irritation, “Thank you Guzmán.”

“Come on, babe, let’s try to get some sleep and we’ll go through everything in the morning,” He encourages, “Yeah?”

You finish getting ready and join him in the bed where you lay down beside him. He’s staring up at the ceiling and you are too. There’s a silence like you’re waiting for the next time that shutter clicks. A half an hour must pass before he speaks up.

“Can you sleep?” He whispers like there’s anybody else close enough to disturb.

You shift in the bed and prop yourself up against the headboard to sit up, “No.”

He smiles against the dark and sits up to join you as he wraps an arm around you and pulls you to him, “You’ll be okay, we’ll get this sorted. Whatever it takes, okay?”

It was the same thing he’d told you when you’d first warned him of the publicity that followed your life. He’d convinced you that it didn’t matter and he’d explicitly told you that he’d do whatever it took to make things easier for you whenever things got difficult. He’d stuck by it ever since and you trusted him to do the same now.

- - - - - -

When you wake up the next morning, you’re alone in the bed. Guzmán’s left a note on your bedside table - “Morning, you were still snoring in your sleep so hopefully you slept okay ;) x I woke up early so didn’t want to disturb you - don’t worry xx’

You tuck the note into your drawer with all of the other notes he’d given you over the years and walk downstairs to try to find him in the near empty mansion.

It pains you instantly when you see him sat outside. He’s fully dressed, too dressed for the early hour, and he’s sat on one of the loungers and you watch as he runs his hands over his face. It’s like he’s carrying the weight of the world.

You come up behind him and instinctively reach out to rub his shoulders to which he leans into your touch so easily, “Why are you up so early?”

“I got in touch with our old PI from back in the day, I’ve given him any information we have and I’ve given him all of your contact details so he can keep you up to date with anything you find. And I’ve told my Mum that I’ll be staying here for the foreseeable,” Guzmán explains, “I don’t like the thought of anybody like that being near you and until we get to the bottom of it, you and Fernando aren’t getting rid of me.”

You laugh a little and squeeze his shoulders, “I don’t deserve you, Guzmán,”

He turns his head and presses a gentle kiss to your hand, “You should’ve told me sooner, but we’ll do whatever we can to stop this before it gets worse.”

You lean in to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders, “Thank you.”

[sushigirlali]

If You Don't Love Me, Lie To My Face - Part I (Reylo Fanfic)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Epilogue 

Summary: Grifter!Rey helps U.S. Senator Leia Organa's son, Ben Solo, out of a jam when a couple of muggers invade her turf. Afterward, she debates robbing the rich American herself, but can she protect her heart while stealing his?

Pairing: Rey + Ben Solo | Finn + Poe Dameron

Rating: E

Continuity: Modern AU

A/N: For the first time ever, I’ve actually written most of the story before I started posting! I think it will be way less stressful since I don’t have to “keep up” with updates. New chapters will be posted each Friday. Enjoy!

Master list –> AO3 | ff.net | Tumblr

——————

If You Don't Love Me, Lie To My Face - Part I

By: sushigirlali

——————

Kennington, London

——————

There are moments in life that make you question everything that came before. A look from a stranger, an incident at your job, a terrible movie... things Rey Niima was usually able to push past without pause, but tonight, she was finding it extremely difficult to ignore the feeling that her life was about to change forever.

"Hey, give us your wallet!" A pair of brawlers had cornered a man at the mouth of a nearby alley, drawing Rey's attention as soon as she stepped out the back door of her favorite pub, The Black Prince.

"Excuse me?" the would-be victim responded indignantly. His voice was deep with an American lilt, his stature intimidating.

Did these fools really think they could steal from a man like that? But then, not all criminals were as intelligent as her.

"You heard me! I want your wallet!"

Rey hung back from the potentially violent situation unfolding before her, sizing up the assailants. Their outfits were all black, including the ski masks covering their faces, but she couldn't see any identifying marks or gang affiliations. "Must be lone wolves," she thought.

There was something familiar about the tall one doing the talking, but she couldn't place them. It probably didn't matter, though, because the redwood with the nice accent looked like he could take the both of them with one hand tied behind his broad back.

Still, for some reason, she was finding it hard to walk the other way. Definitely not because the man was the most striking person she had ever seen. No, it had to be due to the fact that these bums were causing a ruckus on her turf. At least, that's what she kept telling herself, frozen to the spot as she was.

"Listen, I just got done volunteering at a shelter all day and just want to get home. Please allow me to leave unmolested."

"Volunteering at a shelter?" she muttered under her breath. "Well, fuck. But it's not your business, don't get involved." Rey was turning around to go back inside the pub when the sound of a gun cocking drew her up short.

"Don't make me repeat myself again, pretty boy."

"Whoa, hey, there's no need for that!"

"Then empty your pockets! Now!"

"No," he said crossly. "Put that thing away before somebody gets hurt."

"Dammit," Rey groaned, retrieving the silver baton clipped to her belt. Sometimes, she really hated having a conscience; in her line of work, it was a real liability.

"Hey, get your hands off me!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she growled, resolutely stalking toward the turbulent scene. "Oi! You lot!"

The big guy and his sidekick paused to look in her direction. "What?" the leader said in a surprisingly feminine voice.

"Not a guy," Rey mused. "Based on your absolutely abominable bullying technique, I don't think you're getting that guy's wallet any time this century, so why don't you just leave him alone and move along."

"Excuse me?" the woman said threateningly.

"I'm sorry, did I stutter?"

"You move along, little mouse, this doesn't concern you!" the shorter guy spat.

"You do know who's neighborhood this is, don't you?" Rey said tauntingly.

"Yeah?" the first one said dismissively. "So what."

"So, knock it off! We don't need the fuzz coming down here because some hooligans are roughing up a foreigner."

"Hooligans?! And who the fuck are you?"

"Me?" Rey sneered, flicking the baton out to the side so that it extended into a long poll. "I'm no one."

"Phas," the skinny guy said nervously, obviously recognizing her at last, "we should go."

Rey had never been so proud of her reputation as a grifter who was just as likely to steal an expensive piece of art from the peerage in an elaborate heist as kick a thug's ass in the street.

"But the boss—"

"He'll understand."

"But—"

"Phas!"

"Fine. But don't think this is over!" the woman yelled before running off with her companion.

"Well," the American said slowly, "that was an experience I never wish to repeat again." He smiled at her. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

"You're welcome," Rey replied gruffly, still riding high on adrenaline. "Do you always walk around by yourself at night in a city not your own?"

"Do you always save unsuspecting passersby from thieves?" he retorted.

Her phone went off, but she didn't answer it. Up close, the man was even more attractive than she had initially thought. "Suit looks expensive, too… and is that a Breitling?" Perhaps it was her lucky night after all. "Only if they're handsome," she said smoothly.

"Oh, uh…" he flushed at her compliment.

"Hmm… not the reaction I expected." It was kind of refreshing, though. "Sorry, I—ugh, one sec," she said as her cell went off again. "My brother," she explained, checking the caller ID. "I have to take this or he'll just keep phoning until I pick up."

The man shrugged, "No problem, I'll just wait over here." He stepped up onto the curb and walked a few paces away.

Rey nodded and lifted the phone to her ear. "What?" she said shortly.

"Who's the stiff?" Finn asked without preamble.

"Nobody."

"Right," he huffed. "Are you working him?"

"Undecided, stop pushing."

"Whatever you say, Rey. Just be careful."

"I will. Where are you anyway?" she said, humored by his tough older sibling act.

"Hanging outside the pub, just around the corner. Why? You need me?" Finn teased.

"No, I'll catch you later. Don't wait up." She ended the conversation before he could respond and stuffed the phone into her back pocket. "Sorry about that, uh…?"

"Ben," the stranger supplied, moving closer again. "Ben Solo."

"I'm Rey," she said, holding out a hand.

Ben's lips quirked and he gave her a firm handshake, his huge hand dwarfing hers. Rey felt a shiver run up her spine at the brief contact, but she shook it off.

"So, what's that for?" he indicated the weapon still in her hand. "Joining the circus?"

"No," she grinned, "it's a bo staff. I use it for self defense."

"And the defense of others," he said warmly.

"On occasion." She folded the bo staff back into a baton before reattaching it to her belt.

"Can I get you a drink?" he nodded toward the pub. "To say thank you?"

"I was actually on my way home before I… bumped into you."

"I could… walk you home? If you want." He didn't sound desperate, but it was a near thing.

"I'm not from around here," she said evasively. She couldn't really bring him back to her base of operations, which was only a few blocks down the street, but she didn't want to stop talking to him either. "What a dilemma."

"No? Where are you from then?"

"Nowhere."

"Okay… Well, I promise I'm not a pervert or a serial killer or anything," he said earnestly, "so you can come back to my hotel with me if you want. It's late and I'd hate for anything to happen to you."

She crossed her arms. "Because I'm a woman?"

"Hey, I'm 6'3" and double your weight and I almost got jumped like ten minutes ago," he reminded her. "It can happen to anyone."

"Fair enough," she allowed, lowering her defenses. "Still…"

"I can call my security detail if you want verification that I'm not a psycho," he offered. "I'd just like the opportunity to get to know the woman who saved my hide."

Rey's interest sharpened. "That's sweet, but uh… security detail?"

"Yeah," he said nonchalantly. "My mother is a U.S. Senator. I'm in town on her behalf. She was supposed to come herself, but her re-election campaign is heating up and she couldn't spare the time."

"You disapprove," she said perceptively.

Ben's dark brows shot up. "Yeah, actually. You a mind reader, Rey from nowhere?"

"Something like that," she smirked. "I prefer the term grifter."

"Grifter?" he said curiously. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"Oh, you know," Rey winked for effect, assuming the privileged American was about to run in the opposite direction, "I swindle rich people out of their valuables by preying on their weaknesses. Basically, I'm a professional bad guy."

Ben looked hopelessly confused by her explanation. "But you just helped me."

"Well, sometimes I like to help out the little guy." Rey looked him over. "Little big guys too."

"Like Robin Hood?" he said, disarming her with a crooked smile.

"What? I wouldn't say I'm—I'm a hero or anything," she stuttered.

"Well, you're my hero," he said smoothly, holding out a hand. "That's my driver pulling up over there, in the black Jag. Join me? Please?"

"I… okay," she agreed, placing her hand in his, "but just for a little while." This time, she couldn't ignore the shiver.

——————

Alarm bells should be going off in her head, but Rey felt perfectly comfortable with her new companion. It was odd, considering her trust issues, but Ben didn't seem to be only interested in her looks. And she knew she looked good tonight, her dark leather leggings were basically painted on and her lacy bra was visible through a mostly sheer black tank top. Add on her subtle smoky makeup and half-up hair style that emphasized her cheek bones and...

"Rey?"

She loved the way he said her name, almost like a caress. "Yes?"

"Are you hungry? I haven't had dinner yet."

"Oh, sure," she said, never one to give up a free meal. Though she did kinda wish something else was on the menu… "What is wrong with you? You just met the man! Note to self: masturbate more."

"Chinese okay?"

Her mouth watered. "Perfect."

"What do you like?"

"Besides you?" she said without thinking. "Uh, I mean—anything, really. Noodles, if they have them."

Ben let her comment pass, but he was beaming. "I like noodles too. Maybe some kind of chicken? Orange?"

"Excellent," she seconded.

"You're easy," he said, but then caught himself, looking horrified. "I mean to order food for, not—"

"It's okay," she laughed, patting his thigh. "I know what you meant."

"Sorry, I haven't done this in a long time," he said sheepishly, catching her hand before she could remove it.

"This?"

"Gone on a date."

"Oh." Was this a date? Rey couldn't remember the last time she had been on one. Pretty much anytime she'd been alone with a man not her brother in the past ten years it was because she intended to rob them.

"Not that this has to be a date," he said quickly, releasing her hand. "Sorry, I keep saying stupid things."

Dammit, but he was cute. "You don't have to keep apologizing," she replied lightly. "Let's just have dinner and talk and see where that takes us." Maybe the night would lead to some fun extracurricular activities, maybe not, but at least she'd be able to case his place. Based on what she knew so far, the guy definitely came from old money. "Just keep reminding yourself that he's potentially a mark, not a boyfriend, Rey."

"Sure," he smiled, looking relieved. "Hey, Poe?" he said to the driver. "Can you pick up some food after dropping us at the hotel? We're starving."

——————

Ben fumbled a little opening the door, but quickly recovered and ushered Rey inside with a gallant sweep of his arm. The hotel was nice, but not extravagant, something she found odd for the son of a U.S. Senator. Then again, he had apparently been helping out at a shelter all day, so maybe he really was as down to earth as he seemed.

"The bathroom is through there if you need it," he pointed toward the bedroom.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Okay, I'm just going to grab a quick shower. Poe should be back within the hour, so make yourself at home."

"Can I join you?" she was tempted to say. "Sure, I'll just watch the telly."

Ben nodded and left the room. A few seconds later, Rey heard the water start. Flipping on the TV, she left it on the cartoon channel before having a look around.

There weren't any expensive electronics or pieces of art in plain sight, so Rey could only assume that anything valuable would be in his room. "Oh, well, nothing gained, nothing lost. Better update Finn, though."

Yanking her cell out, Rey sent a quick text to her brother with Ben's name, the hotel's address, and a couple sentences about the modest state of his living room. He answered her almost immediately, sounding concerned.

Finn: Are you sure about this bloke? If you're not there to rob him, I assume that means you're interested in something else?

Rey: Yes? Maybe? I don't know. We just met, but…

Finn: At least text me later, okay? So I don't have to worry

Rey: I will. Love you 3

Finn: Love you too, peanut

Finn: ...check the room safe if you get a chance. Those types of hotels always have them and you never know what might be inside ;)

Rolling her eyes, but knowing he was right, Rey listened for a moment. It sounded like Ben was still in the shower, so she took the opportunity to pop into the bedroom and search his closet. A standard issue hotel safe was at the back, surrounded by some very nice black suits.

It wouldn't have been hard to crack the safe if she had her gear, but her heart wouldn't have been in it even if she did. She didn't want to rob Ben Solo, which was a first. Still, she did appreciate a challenge...

"Did you need something?"

Rey whipped around to see her host in nothing but a low slung white towel. "No, I—uh…"

"Would you like something to change into?" he inquired kindly.

Unable to respond with his magnificent chest and long thighs on display, Rey just shook her head in the negative. His brow creased and she felt like a kid who had been caught snooping for Christmas presents. "Shit, shit, shit, I've totally blown it!" Backtracking to the living room, she wasn't surprised when he followed. "What should I do? Oh, god, I don't want him to think…"

"Rey, what you said earlier… about being a… what did you call it? A grifter? Are you—mmph!" he started, unable to complete his thought as Rey impulsively reached up to kiss him.

But instead of pushing her away and demanding an answer, Ben threaded his fingers through her hair and dragged her closer. Taking his response as permission, Rey wrapped her arms around his waist, gripping his bare back as the kiss went on and on.

Somehow, they ended up next to the couch. Rey pushed Ben into a sitting position and climbed onto his lap, rubbing her clothed core against the tent in his towel. "Rey," he whispered, lips trailing down to her neck, "Rey, I want you."

"Yes," she responded as he reached for her waistband. Coming up on her knees, she growled when he yanked her leggings and underwear down her hips with one forceful tug. Things were getting out of control, going too far too fast, but she didn't care; she wanted him too. "Help me," she demanded, legs trapped by the constricting garments.

"I've got you," he huffed, reaching behind her to unzip her black combat boots and pull her pants the rest of the way off.

Meanwhile, Rey tore her top and bralette over her head before going to work on the towel barely covering his lap. "Wow!" she blew out a breath, zeroing in on his ardent erection when it was uncovered. He was big, maybe bigger than anyone she'd ever been with. Would he fit?

"Fuck," Ben sighed, sitting back to stare at her body, "you're beautiful, Rey."

Feeling weirdly shy about the sincerity in his sinful voice, Rey kissed him again in lieu of a response, reaching between them to spread herself for entry.

"Wait," he said, gasping for air, "what about protection?"

"Implant," she mumbled, rubbing her slit against the tip of his penis. "I'm clean, are you?"

"Yeah, I haven't—oh, god—uh, done it in a while."

"Good." She felt strangely possessive of him, this man she had just met. It pleased her that he didn't sleep around. "Fuck me, then. Raw."

Ben slammed his mouth down on hers again, positioning his dick with one hand and gripping her left buttock with the other. But he didn't ram himself home, instead he teased her hole, sliding only a fraction of the way in before retreating. He did it over and over, mimicking the action with his tongue until she was incoherent with desire, squirming, imploring him to fill her…

And then he was, and she found that he fit very well inside her indeed. His thick cock seemed to be made for her, hitting all the right spots and ones she hadn't even known existed until now. "Ben!" she cried, furiously pumping her hips in time with his thrusts. "This is—you're—"

"I feel it too!" he returned, palming her breast and teasing her erect nipple. "From the first moment I saw you, I—"

She licked his mouth, begging for entrance, not wanting to hear his sweet words even as they made her heart soar. He opened for her, but was obviously frustrated that she had cut off his declaration. Before she knew it, the hand squeezing her ass drew back and lightly smacked against her butt-cheek.

"Oh!" Rey jolted at the slight sting, but it wasn't in pain. On the contrary, she requested, "Again! Ben, do that again, please! I'm—"

Knock, knock.

"Oh, shit, Poe's at the—"

"Don't you fucking dare, Ben Solo," she growled, bouncing up and down on him with renewed vigor. But the driver started knocking harder, likely because of the guttural sounds erupting from Ben's throat. "Come on, man, can't you tell we're busy?!"

"But—shit!" Ben hauled her against him, no longer playing, just looking for relief before his friend broke the door down.

Rey found his soft grunts and swears endearing, so she took pity on him and increased her pace even further. "Come for me, Ben," she instructed, grinding down on him with all her might. "Come now and then we can eat. Or you can eat me, whichever you prefer."

The dirty talk seemed to work, because in the next minute, Ben was biting down on her shoulder, shaking with the force of his orgasm. Not far behind, Rey led his hand to her swollen nub, needing just a hair more stimulation to tip over the edge. Almost instantly, his trembling touch sent her into climax. Still vaguely aware of what's-his-name banging on the hotel room door, she pressed her mouth to Ben's pectoral to muffle her cries and came for what felt like ages…

"That—was—amazing," Ben panted, hugging her so tightly she thought she might pop. "The—best—I've—ever—had!"

"Me—too," she couldn't help but admit.

Loosening his hold, Ben cupped her cheeks and kissed her softly. "Thank you."

"Ah—you're welcome," she said, smiling like an idiot. Before she could lean in again, Poe resumed making his presence known.

"Ben? Are you okay? Answer me! Did that woman kill you? Your mother will be so pissed if you're dead." He hit the door again. "Either answer me in the next ten seconds or I'm going to get security!"

"I'm fine, great, alive, whatever!" Ben called back loudly. "And annoyed," he said to Rey. "Go into the bedroom for a minute while I get rid of him."

"Okay," she agreed, gingerly getting up. They both groaned when he slipped out of her, which Rey found gratifying. "Can I use the shower now?"

"Sure, there are towels under the sink. My sleep shirts are in the top drawer of the dresser," he offered.

"He wants me to spend the night?" she mused, feeling giddy and terrified all at once. "Alright," she said aloud, picking up her clothes and disappearing into the bedroom she'd been casing earlier, "call out if you need backup."

"Will do," he chuckled, "will do."

——————

Ten minutes later, Rey emerged from the bathroom feeling fresh and back in control. Picking a long sleeve shirt out of Ben's dresser at random, she pulled it over her naked body before toweling off her wet hair. The black cotton was as soft as it was big, but Rey didn't mind; it smelled like Ben.

Catching her reflection in the floor length mirror by the closet, she was amused to see that the garment fell to her knees like a sack, giving her already slender body exactly zero shape. "Oh, well, it's not like I plan on wearing it lon—"

A disturbance in the living room suddenly diverted her reverie. Sneaking to the door, she carefully cracked it and peaked out.

"You can't just keep her here!" Poe nearly shouted at Ben.

"Keep your fucking voice down," he snarled back. "You're not my boss or my mother and you can't tell me what to do. I'm a grown ass man!"

"Maybe so, but you're acting like a teenager! You can't just sleep with some chick you picked up off the side of the road when Leia is counting on you to—"

"I told you," Ben said through gritted teeth, "she saved my ass and I wanted to get to know her. I didn't hire her for the fucking night!"

"Could have fooled me," Poe scoffed. "For all you know, she could have been in on the attack and—"

"Get out!" Ben ordered, clearly at his wit's end. "I'll call you when you're needed again, if you are."

"Are you firing me?!"

"Not yet," Ben said grimly, marching to the door and flinging it open. "Just go before I forget that you're my best friend and say something I regret."

"Fine," Poe said, storming out of the apartment. "Let me know when you come to your senses!"

Ben slammed the door shut, then turned around and leaned on it. Scurrying back into the bathroom before he caught her eavesdropping, she started combing her hair, attempting to look natural in case he came in after her. When he didn't, she tried not to feel disappointed.

Leaving her damp hair hanging loose around her shoulders, Rey found him sitting at the dining table in his towel with several brown paper bags in front of him. He looked lost in thought and she hoped he hadn't taken Poe's opinion about her motives to heart. "Wotcher, Ben?" she asked hesitantly.

"Hmm?" he said, looking up at her. "Sorry, I was just...uh…" The arrested look on his face made her toes curl. "Wow, you look amazing."

"This old thing?" she joked, sidling up next to him. "I borrowed it from a mate."

"He has good taste," he said, opening his arms.

"I certainly think so," she said coyly, moving to sit sideways on his lap. Rey curled one arm around his neck and placed the other one on his chest. "Are you still hungry?"

"For food?" he choked, holding her so that she wouldn't slide off.

"Food," she nodded, leaning her forehead against his, "and other things."

One of Ben's large hands inserted itself between her thighs. "These kinds of things?" he murmured. "I think we can—fuck!" he bit his lip as he discovered that she wasn't wearing anything underneath his shirt.

"We can certainly fuck," she teased, "but—oh!" Rey gasped as he stood with her in his strong arms. "Ben? What are you…?"

Before she could get the words out, he'd pushed their dinner out of the way and laid her down on the table. Placing the backs of her knees in the crook of each arm, Ben pulled her forward until her butt was on the edge of the table and her pussy was level with his mouth.

"Having dinner," he said in the most ridiculously sexy tone of voice she'd ever heard, flipping his nightshirt up so that she was bare from the waist down.

"Oh, god!" she whimpered as he lowered his head. "Ben, you don't really have to—ah!" Gripping the back of his head as he started to lick her folds, Rey shuddered every time his long nose bumped against her clit.

"Enjoying yourself?" he said a little arrogantly. "Is this why you came home with me? Cause you wanted me to make you feel good?"

Considering how very well he was treating her, and the uncertainty on his face, she decided to play along. "Yes, Ben, I wanted you the second I saw you!"

He smiled slightly, then resumed tasting her. "So, does that mean you want to come?"

"That would be lovely," she sighed, enjoying the pressure of his wide mouth.

His mouth quirked at that. "Never heard sex described that way before."

"Then you're doing it with the wrong people."

"Oh?" his gaze turned hot. "And how many people have you been doing it with?"

"Not many," she said hurriedly, "and not in a long time."

"Good girl," he said silkily. "So, if I were to put my fingers inside you, would your cunt feel… full?"

"Yes!" she panted, so wet she was dripping onto the table now.

"Let's see then."

Arching her back as he slid two fingers inside her body, Rey realized that she had never really known sexual satisfaction until tonight. She was twenty-five and still basically knew nothing about sex and relationships. "Huh."

Ben stopped moving, lifting his dark head to look at her. "Rey? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," she said dreamily. "I guess I've just never felt this way before."

He held her eyes for an extended moment, amber striking against hazel. "Yeah, me too." And then he was fingering her again, sucking and teasing her slick opening until she was crying out his name in ecstasy.

Afterward, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them. Needless to say, they skipped dinner that night.

——————

Rey grunted as she felt Ben leave the bed the next morning. He had been her heater since the sheets and pillows were strewn about the room. "Come back," she said hoarsely, throat worn from use. "I'm cold."

"Just a moment," he laughed, opening the bedroom door to fetch something from the living room. "Your cell has been going off for an hour straight."

"My cell?" she yawned. Then, "Oh, no." She sat bolt upright. "Wait! Don't—"

"Rey?" Ben called in disbelief. "Who the fuck is Finn?"

——————

A/N: I love Kingsman and always think about Rey being a punk with a heart of gold like Eggsy. I didn't include the spy angle, but I was able to visit The Black Prince, where scenes were filled for the movie, a couple years ago and have fond memories. Anyway, reviews are appreciated! <3 

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E62 (May 14, 2019)

The pre-roll summarizes last week’s episode well:

[id: A picture of a small pink toy house with sides that fold out and an oven that looks like just a great little sticker with a picture of something delicious cooking in the oven. Now I’m hungry. end id]

Fresh off their takeover of the Yee-haw Game Ranch, tonight’s guests are Laura Bailey and Ashley Johnson!

Brian’s camera angle has to be adjusted to accommodate his extra-floofy hair.

Announcements: In place of the Gif of the Week contest, there is now a Cosplay of the Week contest, and there will also be a cosplay gallery! Only individual cosplay photos will be considered for the Cosplay of the Week since there can only be one winner (group photos are fine for the gallery!). More info here. Art and cosplay submission has changed! Instead of e-mailing, you can now SUBMIT by visiting critrole.com/submit. Wyrmwood will be sponsoring both contests going forward.

Episode 62: Domestic Respite

Jester has cast Sending 38 times, making it her second-most-used spell after Cure Wounds.

It’s been roughly 3.5 months since Jester and Nott sent their letter to the Academy. Laura: “Oh no. That’s a long time that things could have happened behind the scenes.”

Dani, speaking for so many: “Ashley, you’re perfect, and I just want you on the show all the time.”

Jester likes having a roommate, and Laura thinks Beau also likes having one. "I think it’s a really nice partnership, that they get along really, really well.”

Yasha getting the balcony room was for a couple reasons: “sleeping under a roof like that is obviously a very new thing for Yasha” and also “from experience, from what she knows up until this point, is that she communes with her god outside”. She thinks he might be an “outside god”, but isn’t sure whether he comes indoors. Now I’m picturing a god with a doggy door.

Ashley was tempted by Caduceus’ space, but she didn’t want to steal his thunder. “I think there will be nights where Yasha will probably go in there to sleep at night.”

Laura: “I can paint you a hammock for the tree!”

Jester genuinely does want to make people happy, but “I think that desire comes from fear, probably, of disappointing people and of them not wanting to be around her. She grew up with expectations on her, and upon herself, maybe, that she put there. She equates that to being loved, and keeping that love.”

Brian asks about Laura’s inspiration for that idea, and Laura talks about how it wound up being a pretty natural evolution of the character once she started embodying her and fleshing her out a little more.

Yasha’s “very much struggling with the love that people give her, and so I think in terms of the house and everything, it’s obviously a weird thing.” Before Jester came in to decorate the room, Yasha wasn’t planning on putting anything in that room; it was going to be a bare-bones living space and nothing more. “It was just another moment of, this is a family, and they all care about each other, and Jester wanting to make Yasha happier, doing something nice, that was a beautiful little moment.” There’s some conflicting feelings. “I don’t know how long she’s going to last in that room.”

Laura points out that everyone in the group shares that feeling of not being deserving of affection. Ashley: “Do we all just feel that, secretly, and then put that in our characters?”

Laura has some ideas about decorating the other rooms that she doesn’t want to bring up in case they come up in-game. The only person she doesn’t have ideas for is Fjord, because he specifically asked her not to. She’s not sure what his deal is with the house. “He’s playing it very close to the chest.”

Blindspot’s been renewed for one more season. Ashley stares directly into the camera: “And then I’m home.”

They make a joke about a spinoff when Ashley’s character inevitably turns out to be the real villain on the show. Brian, staring directly into the camera: “And it shoots in Los Angeles.”

Yasha’s feelings of not being a full member of the M9 and often having to play catch-up (Ashley: “Not the condiment.”) is partially a reflection of Ashley’s feelings, but she thinks it’s something that may change given some time. “Obviously, everybody showing love towards each other is breaking down everybody in a good way.”

Jester originally just wanted to put a peephole in the wall “so she could spy on Fjord”. But then she told him, and things kind of spiraled from there in a way she hadn’t intended. Dani: “None of it was dirty... except for the initial idea.”

Lo, Henry is slain by the pineapple:

[id: Henry having a well-deserved snooze with a thoroughly mangled pineapple dog toy on top of him. end id]

Yasha’s getting more comfortable with sharing her past. “But a lot of that was sort of out of knowing that I have a little bit of a limited time at home. But I think it was at a point where we kind of had to discuss it. There’s still a lot that hasn’t been talked about, so that’s still the surface part of the story. It definitely has gotten to the point with them where she did feel comfortable confessing that with them. ‘Yeah, I’m a coward. Here’s my story.’”

Jester on the unintended information revealed in the letter to Astrid: “The thing is, I’m sure somebody like Astrid could figure it out, but most people know my mom as the Ruby of the Sea. It’s not like, come see Marion Lavorre! That’s not a name that’s out there.” Laura points out that it’s not even common knowledge that the Ruby has a daughter. “But it’s... not good. It can be traced. That was not the wisest decision, but I’m blaming that fully on Nott, because I didn’t know anything about Caleb’s backstory at the time.” All she knew at the time was that he potentially had an old girlfriend named Astrid.

Even the group’s reassurance hasn’t changed Yasha’s opinion that her actions were cowardly. Ashley doesn’t think she’ll ever change that opinion. “I think she realized in that moment how brave she was not. It’s like if you do something shitty in your life, you don’t ever really forget it.” Brian points out that there’s a difference between that and choosing to be defined by your worst moment, which Ashley agrees is closer to where Yasha is right now, and that aspect could change with time. “I think it did mean something that Beau said that [she’s a survivor]”, but there was still that aspect of ‘oh, you’re just saying that’.

On Nott expressing the possibility of leaving the M9 to stay with her family, Jester’s opinion? “Not good. But family’s important, too.” Yasha’s opinion is that, since she’s recovered her family and wants to be with them again, she should take advantage of that opportunity for a second chance. Laura and Ashley both can’t see a way forward right now where Nott doesn’t leave.

Laura: “Jester wouldn’t hold any animosity towards Caleb for the sins of the past. Unless it was something really bad. Like killing his parents or something.” Yasha also wouldn’t be likely to throw stones.

Fan Art of the Week: Jester painting the wildflowers. A long time is spent panning and zooming to hunt down the hidden dick.

Yasha following Fjord was mostly just because he’d been acting strange lately. “I just wanted to find out what he was up to.” Laura: “Sometimes you follow people.” Brian: “That’s how you find out what they’re up to.”

Laura, out of context: “It’s not a glory hole, it’s a peephole!”

Laura: “I feel like Jester’s been very forward with Fjord, and he hasn’t returned any of those flirtations... things that she thinks are flirtations. But there was definitely this friendly banter between them early on, and it drifted away when we were at sea. He hasn’t been talking to anybody about the turmoil he’s been going through or any of that stuff. I’m backing it off on those terms with her. Plus having the realization that all romances are not what you read in the book. She’s coming to these terms of, maybe I don’t understand how it is, and how I feel and how other people feel, I don’t know any of those things.”

Yes, Ashley knows that armor would improve her AC, but wearing armor would seriously limit Yasha’s abilities in battle. Laura: “You need a ring of AC, is what you need. But if we got it, you’d be fucked, because Caleb would just take it and keep it for himself.”

Laura, patting the Caleb plushie gently: “I give Liam a hard time, but honestly I do understand that Caleb’s a glass cannon and he needs the protection. I understand it,” Laura adds, patting the Caleb plushie with significantly greater force.

Yasha’s negative opinions of Xhorhas that she expressed earlier were partly colored by her experiences there, and partly to try to keep herself and the rest of the group away from her past. She also points out that if they encountered her tribe, they’d be within their rights to kill her, and she’d probably accept it.

Ashley’s excited at the prospect of Yasha going home because she’s looking forward to seeing what Matt will have done with the parts of Yasha’s backstory she wrote. Yasha’s opinion is considerably less positive. This is as far north as Yasha’s ever been. “I think she’ll continue to avoid it until they can’t anymore.”

Laura would be a lot more confident in the Gentleman being Jester’s dad if she’d thought to use Disguise Self in front of Marion. Jester, on the other hand, is entirely convinced that he’s her dad. She doesn’t fully think he’s intentionally ignoring her. She has a plan for what to do the next time they meet him.

Yasha’s favorite flower? “There’s still so many flowers that she hasn’t seen.” She may not have a favorite yet; she’s still learning what she likes.

Ashley calls out Brian for mispronouncing Yasha’s wife’s name: it’s definitely spelled and pronounced ‘Zuala’.

In a trust exercise, Ashley whips the Caleb plushie at Brian’s head.

Tune in shortly for the cast of Critical Role joining Joel Hodgson’s MST3K: The Podcomic!

[icosmohunters]

chapter six : rival

chapter six of cosmo hunters!

word count : 4.9k words

synopsis : after having arrived at voyage inc headquarters, hope is having to do a lot of work in order to help the pirates protect their fake identities. whilst this is happening, she’s also preparing herself for the meeting being held, and lest forget her best efforts to avoid someone from her past. but it always comes back to haunt her, she realized.

returning to a place that you previously promised never to return to can be one of the most difficult experiences of one’s life, notably for someone like hope.

voyage had changed the last time she was here. it looked as if a lot of funds had gone into fabricating a new interior design for the place. and they actually made use of the twenty stories that this place had, with each level housing a different department, some of which hope has never even heard of.

now, as much as she preferred to be anywhere, excited dawn proposed the idea of looking around before the meeting. hope was all against it, walking around surely meant that she might run into someone she was purposefully trying to avoid. that person, of course, being hiro.

the meeting room had been moved to the fifth floor, but she didn’t choose to take the elevator anytime soon. dawn was gawking and pointing towards everything and it seemed like a lot of effort was required from quinn to keep the girl from running off.

“ hope, why are you walking so fast? ”.

soon, she felt a comforting hand on her shoulder and recognized it to belong to vivienne. the bounty hunter turned and looked at the blonde girl, before shrugging. “ they say the unhappiest of people walk the fastest ”, hope uttered, looking down at her gloved hands and adjusted the cuffs of her uniform.

“ are you unhappy? ”, vivienne quickly claimed. with a tone of utmost interest or care, hope couldn’t exactly tell the difference.

“ have you met me? ”.

“ yes but, not properly ”, was the answer hope was given, which took her by surprise for a moment. she reeled her head back slightly and blinked, before furrowing her brows. “ this personality you give off, i don’t think that’s really you. ”

hope snapped back, “ it is me. you’d just like it to be someone else. and you know what, you’re not the first to wish that. ”

hope has had her few experiences with people who seem to have something against the way she acts. she’ll admit that her temper is unbearable at times and her need to insult others are more like a reflex action than something intentional. but it was how she grew up to be. there weren’t any parental issues growing up. she lived in a loving family, who cared for her and one she adores to this day.

but perhaps what causes this coldness and hostility towards people is her need for freedom and the hatred towards conforming to a standard that she wasn’t fond of. and besides, being like this made it easy to push people away. particularly people who made her life impossible to live.

she wasn’t planning on making friends with anyone any time soon. she wasn’t planning on letting her outer shells melt. she was perfectly fine living in the igloo that was her ego.

possibly the reason she shut everyone out was that they felt like they could dictate to her, as if she was easily influenced to be a sweet, docile person so people can step on her and humiliate her as they pleased.

and she wasn’t going to let that happen. she’s seen what being stepped on can do to a person and she doesn’t want that for herself. so she would much rather encase herself within the walls of nebula and go about her space adventurer way with no distractions, no dictators disguised as friends or morally good figures.

so hope shrugged vivienne’s hand off her shoulder. “ if you think i’m walking too quickly, might i suggest speeding up ”, she spat and continued to walk. at that moment, she wished that she could find creed or be near someone she recognized, she hated being around strangers, hated it.

to be fair, after having that altercation, she preferred to be away from them. she couldn’t afford to get angry in this space, because there were cameras everywhere. and if she so dared to show any aggression, guards would be approaching asking what the problem was.

so she put as much space between her and the pirates as she could. and whilst she was in the headquarters, she thought she could do something she’s been meaning to do for a while. scattered around, there are these tall, rectangle like structures posed as small billboards but they can also be access panels.

going up to one, hope removed her glove and pressed her aching hands onto the glowing screen and saw the blue fade to lilac in an instant. a small dialing pad emerged and she typed her pin in.

these services allowed workers to check their stats. usually, she could do this on her own ship but she’s been continuously distracted for the last couple of days and was unable to do anything.

once the screen had loaded, hope’s profile came up. her picture was on the left-hand-side and upon pressing a cog icon, a tab emerged containing all of her details. but gazing over her birthdate and her hometown, she sought out her bounty points. and her jaw dropped.

“ suck on that, hiro, you motherfucker. ”

“ who are you talking to, hope? ”.

and then her heart dropped.

the girl spun around and found herself face-to-face with the very boy she had just insulted. the boy she had been trying to avoid, the boy who did nothing but annoy her and get under her skin with almost anything he did or said. she’s never met someone who has quite the effect that hiro has on her.

the last time she saw him was roughly two years ago, and since then, he’d changed, grown taller and dyed his hair blue and his skin appeared clear and his dimples were still as deep as ever. but it wasn’t as if he smiled to show them all that much. the eyebrows he frowns all the time looked rather nice, too, except she noticed a piercing. which was unusual.

she hated to admit it but it seemed like he’d gotten handsome. and she hated to admit it considering she wasn’t one to talk about people’s looks at all.

hiro crossed his dense arms over his chest. he was wearing the voyage uniform, except seemingly avoided the long coat and chose the semi-formal one with the high collar. the pilot uniform. hope couldn’t believe that he had continued flying despite always having complained about it for years.

he most likely did it because she was doing it as well.

“ hiro ”, the bounty hunter began and let her gaze travel from his head to his toes before she met his eyes once more. “ you haven’t changed a bit. the fuck is up with the piercing? ”.

“ it wasn’t my idea ”, he replied quickly, rising the very eyebrow he had the piercing on. it complemented his asshole of a personality and made him look like even more a douche.

hope found it weird that he did something that wasn’t from his own free will, “ i didn’t take you for the type of person to listen to others for ideas. ” hiro scoffed and rolled his eyes. “ who’s was it? it had to be your own, you’re egotistical enough to think it’ll look good. ”

“ it wasn’t my id— ”.

“ it was mine. ”

who?

hope looked behind hiro and spotted the figure the female voice had come from. it was a young woman perhaps around the same age as hope, but she got the impression that she could’ve been older based off of the red lipstick imprinting pretty lips. she also wore the voyage pilot uniform that hugged her form quite well, she had a nice figure, slim and healthy with curly, brown locks running down her back.

hope stared for a moment and blinked when the girl then approached her and stood beside hiro, rather proximate. yet that’s when it fell on hope that perhaps this was the companion that creed had told her about.

the girl seemed to take notice that neither hope nor hiro was going to make an attempt at introductions so she quickly stepped forward with a pretty smile, “ i-i’m hina koyabashi. i’m hiro’s flight companion. you must be hope, right? i’ve heard quite a lot about you! ”.

“ by that, i’m assuming it was bad things. ”

hina laughed fairly airly, “ i-i’ll admit, most of it was complaining. but he does talk about you a lot and mostly about when you were both training at voyage together. is it true that you were roommates? ”.

hope rolled her eyes quickly, but not before chuckling slightly. “ yes, we were. i feel your pain to some degree, having to share a space with an arrogant prick ”, she spoke, glaring daggers at the boy.

hiro glared back, “ as far as i’m aware, you didn’t complain too much that time. now you’ve really developed a pirate’s mouth. bounty hunting’s been messing with your incredible lexicon, hasn’t it, hope? ”.

“ you know what, ishikawa— ”.

“ now, now! ”, hina interrupted and hope was glad for a moment. as a matter of fact, she couldn’t understand how a person like hiro managed to get lucky with a companion who was both pretty and somehow peaceful. hope wondered just how many times this girl has kept hiro from getting into trouble, whether it be from his reckless actions or dirty mouth. “ the meeting’s going to start soon. shouldn’t we start going? ”.

hiro seemed willing, mostly because he knew that if he stayed there any longer, hope would start bad-mouthing him. “ please, i can’t stand the smell of this perfume ”, he said and mimicked a gag and hope really wanted to punch him.

“ it’s dior! ”, she snapped.

“ i figured ”, hiro stated with a sigh and started to follow hina but then paused and turned back to hope. “ by the way, who are those idiots? they’re really loud. ” he pointed his thumb over his shoulder and upon peeking, hope recognized enzo seemingly ranting to vivienne but he was so loud, it was unendurable.

hope sighed, “ they’re people i recruited. ”

“ you recruit people no— ”.

“  —yes, i do. fuck off, hiro. ”

he stuck his tongue out at her and she managed to spot a tongue piercing and watched him walk off. jesus, he’d changed. he most certainly looked good but his personality was just as spoiled, perhaps even more.

for years, hope always thought that hiro had a personal grudge against her for some reason. whether it be that she tended to score a little higher than him on the ranks or maybe because she was often favored by creed whilst he treated the others strictly during their time training.

but even if their years in training were long gone, hiro wasn’t fond of the idea of discussing whatever feelings were between them. it was a huge distaste but she never found the origin of it. and quite frankly, if he didn’t want to talk about it, that was fine by her. but if he was going to be an asshole, she would return the treatment!

“ was that hiro? ”, quinn’s voice came from beside her and hope rose a brow and nodded. enzo really couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself, he always had to share them. was gossiping his only talent or something? “ he looks intimidating. ”

“ he’s a childish prick. doesn’t like being even second place and has a personal grudge against me that i will never understand the reason for ”, hope explained. to quinn, she didn’t mind opening up to. and besides, if they saw hiro around some more, she was going to have to tell him about it in case she starts arguing with the blue-haired boy.

quinn hummed, hands behind his back. he was pretty much the most obedient person in that crew but hope didn’t particularly like how quiet he was. as far as she was aware, this guy couldn’t stand her so she wasn’t going to present a friendly persona if the treatment wasn’t going to be returned. universal kindness her ass!

“ but, uh, we’ll be out of here before i can even think about strangling him to death, as nice as that would be ”, said hope once more and shook her head. moving her gaze towards her wristband, she hummed. “ we should start going. ”

quinn spoke briefly, “ the thing is, enzo opted to step out of this meeting thing. it isn’t really for us and we might hear something we won’t like. s-so vivi is choosing to keep enzo out in case he gets angry and starts breaking things. ”

“ you don’t even know if the meeting is about pirates ”, hope said somewhat skeptically. quinn looked down, not replying to her comment. “ but . . . alright, then. as long as you stick to your identities and stay out of trouble, i don’t see why it’ll be a problem. ”

“ we’ll be by the cafeteria, so . . . good luck with the meeting. ”

watching him leave, hope didn’t start moving until the crew had walked off, dawn even turned and gave hope an excited wave and mouthed good luck. in the corner of hope’s eyes, she saw dom turn his head and then saw the bruise, it was purple.

gulping down the guilt, she turned to the stats still on the screen and then logged out of the system, before rushing to get to the meeting.

the headquarters were a maze to the mind of a person who was confused in so many ways. her mind still lingered on the bruise she’d seen on dom’s cheek and how on earth she was going to handle being in the same room as him knowing she’d brought him an injury like that. sometimes, hope really hates her temper. but a part of her told dom deserved it. another part told her she was a true bitch for doing what she did.

taking an elevator down to the fifth floor, hope’s gaze wandered for a while until the doors slid open. stepping out, she found herself in an almost vacant hallway, finding that instead of seeing that circular opening like on the floor she was just on, the walls were closed and long. she wondered just how long it would take to get to this meeting room.

if she could get there at all. creed hadn’t exactly told her where it was and hope didn’t like accessing the system’s mapping system because it often confused her more. and with the lack of people in the hallway, she found that she was going to have to wander until she finds her location.

however long that might take.

hope couldn’t help but whimper under her breath and rub her eyes, she hated the feeling of cluelessness. it often causes an immense panic, especially as someone who often plans ahead, who has everything under control. why did she not follow hiro and hina when she had the chance or asked creed where the meeting room was?

she truly was an idiot sometimes.

“ are you lost? ”.

what does it look like, hope wanted to snap back but the voice was too docile and formal for her to reply in that way. her eyes traveled to the origin of the said voice and widened upon recognizing this person.

this beautiful person. long, dark hair and kind eyes, high cheekbones and a slim figure hidden under a smart voyage agent jacket. hope couldn’t help but notice the pearl earrings she wore and the prettiest necklace resting against her collarbone.

do not panic, hope, but this might be esme lau. unable to reply for a moment, esme offered her a smile, kind and tender before beckoning her over. “ you’re here for the meeting, aren’t you? ”, her voice was perhaps the smoothest one hope has heard, coated in an indescribable sweetness but authority, hope couldn’t explain it without calling her a disney princess. “ i am as well. we can go together. ”

hope gulped and nodded, before letting her head drop into a mild bow. “ t-thank you, miss ”, she exclaimed. she doesn’t recall the last time she’s gotten so flustered over someone but esme lau was kind of a big deal at voyage inc. she rose her head and proceeded to follow her, esme seemed to be in no rush.

“ you can’t come to these meetings too early ”, the woman spoke, as if reading the bounty hunter’s thoughts. “ usually the ones doing the whole thing, the speakers, they don’t even show up on time. usually, they’re ten minutes late. so you might as well take your time, too. ”

hope bit her lip, “ even if the meeting is important? ”.

“ even if it’s important ”, esme repeated and chuckled, her thin arms hugging her pretty figure. “ but anyways, i don’t recall seeing you around. sure, i don’t come out of the office that often but i haven’t seen you. are you new? ”.

it’s a rare thing for esme lau to take an interest in anyone. it’s rarer to see her out of her work and to see her in public. so hope really didn’t want to mess up her chance in talking to the woman. “ i-i’m, i’m not an official voyage member. i had a mild contract. i’m a bounty hunter, my name’s hope ”, the girl explained.

esme’s brow rose. “ bounty hunter? wow, they really called everyone for the meeting ”, she mumbled but then gave hope a charming smile. “ but that’s a delightful name. it’s good to meet you. thank you for cleaning the galaxy for us. the kids on loose these days are crazy. ”

“ tell me about it. ”

“ pardon? ”.

hope quickly caught herself, “ i was hunting someone down just a couple of days ago. uh, you might have heard of him. crimson. he was responsible for the 3019 m-colony blackouts that killed a couple hundred people. well, he was quite crazy. set up toxic bombs as a trap and i fell right into it. ”

“ oh, you poor girl ”, esme gasped, and hope tried not to scream at the gentle hand against her shoulder. “ i hope you weren’t too badly hurt. but that’s exactly what i mean with the crazy theory. power and adrenaline can really get to your head. ” her concerned expression softened. “ but you’re doing god’s work, getting rid of people like that. sure, through barbaric means but there comes a point where jail isn’t enough. ”

“ y-yes, i agree. ”

esme’s hand fell to her side again and hope couldn’t help but notice a rather pretty ring she wore. it seemed to be emeralds, but they had such a unique cut . . . she loved it, though, it was charming and it suited esme. then again anything suited esme.

their walk to the meeting room wasn’t exactly too long. perhaps two or three minutes later, hope’s gaze fell on a double door. one which esme had to open with a pin of some sort. when the doors slid open, hope gasped.

the meeting room was perhaps the largest one she’d seen yet. it was like a lecture room in the universities back home, but it was circular all the way and the stage remained down at the bottom, in the center of the room. it wasn’t exactly too full but it was enough to make hope’s breath to hitch.

esme took note of that. “ the seats aren’t exactly assigned, so you could sit beside me. unless if you have friends here ”, she offered. hope’s heart ached, she was unbelievably kind. esme’s head tilted curiously, waiting for hope’s response.

brown eyes searching, hope caught sight of hina. it wasn’t that hard to spot such a pretty girl in a crowd of plain-looking individuals, and hiro was beside her. so at least she would be dividing hope from jumping on his throat.

but the thought of sitting alongside a loved public figure and get to experience her work up close, it made her nervous but eager. besides, esme was sweet and wouldn’t annoy her like hiro.

mingling with her, though, would look quite uncanny, especially as hope was nowhere as great as esme lau. “ i-i see my friends over there. but thank you for offering, miss lau ”, hope quickly replied.

esme tutted and elbowed the girl on the arm gently, in a very friendly manner that hope wanted to gush over. “ quit being so formal. just call me esme ”, the woman stated but then beamed and nodded. “ but i suppose i’ll see you around. thank you for the lovely talk and walk, hope. ”

hope found herself watching her walking away. her strut was so graceful and she held her head up so confidently but not enough to make her look snobbish. rather, she looked like the most humble person on the surface of the galaxy.

upon drooling over esme for a little longer, hope then took off to take her seat beside hina. before she could even sit down, hina began with the questions. “ were you just talking to the esme lau? ”, she asked hope, eyes wide enough to pop from her sockets.

“ uhm, i ran into her at the hallway. she was nice ”, hope replied.

hina whined, “ i would sell my kidney to meet esme. she’s so perfect. she’s got an iq of two hundred, imagine that! and she’s pretty and kind as well, it’s almost superficial but i can’t imagine her even being mean. ” the girl rested her hand against her cheek and sighed lovingly whilst looking towards the said woman. “ you think she’s married? ”.

“ if she isn’t, she isn’t going to want a ring from you ”, hiro replied swiftly. hina pouted and leaned back onto her seat. hope then paid her own glance towards esme and found her sitting not too far from them, near to the bottom room and she sat among some important looking people, though she stood out the most, possibly because of her visuals or the fact that she was the most relevant person there.

looking away, hope’s eyes went to the different people sat around them. most wore the voyage uniforms, no matter what brand it was. the majority were chattering among themselves, it was like a school assembly with an exciting buzz in the air.

she couldn’t help but let out a small exhale, it trembled for a moment and she regretted not sticking beside esme. because her soothing nature calmed hope’s nerves even if it was a mere smile she gave the girl. now sat among a sea of people, strangers, her fingers started twitching.

beside her, she heard hiro and hina’s voices but she couldn’t exactly make it out. the cacophony of noise engulfed her for a moment, and it was as if her attention was shifting everywhere, at times at the people, sometimes at the stage or down at her lap.

but it seemed like the sound ceased. at some point, she felt something against her ears and looking it up, hope was startled enough to find hiro’s hands shielding her ears. her eyes widened for a moment and she moved to remove them but he smacked her hand away.

“ what are you doing? ”, she hissed. she noticed he’d moved over and switched places with hina, who was curiously looking over with concern.

hiro glared, “ making sure you don’t faint in the middle of a meeting. you’re gonna have to focus, hope. this is important. ” but he didn’t even remove his hands until hope’s hands stopped trembling and when her heart had stopped racing like she was running a marathon.

he saw her facial features soften and then nodded, slowly removing his hands from her and settling back down onto his seat. hope felt embarrassed to save the least. hiro was one of the few people who knew about her nervous antics in crowds when she wasn’t distracted by something else.

at j-colony, she managed to keep calm because of the music and because she was on a mission. here, she was floating in a sea of voices and they weren’t comfortable to listen to. it was loud and messy and not like her music.

frowning slightly, hope simply crossed her arms and tried to relax. but it didn’t work so easily until hiro moved a bit closer and put something in her hand. she opened her hand and found it to be one of those adorable squishy animal stickers with fat belies that you could press and squish and play with. hiro somehow had the cat with the pinkish ears.

“ why do you have th— ”.

“ don’t ask ”, hiro said over her and then paused before clearing his throat. “ it’s my sister’s. i visited her last week and she told me to keep it. ”

“ does it have a name? ”, hope questioned softly.

hiro snorted slightly and looked ahead, “ you can give it one. ”

looking at the squishy toy, hope pressed her thumb against its belly and rubbed it playfully. it was perhaps the best feeling in the world, and the toy was just adorable, she could easily get distracted with it.

“ he looks like a . . . wilson. ”

“ jesus christ, never have children if that’s what you’re going to name him ”, hiro commented with slight alarm, and adjusted himself in his seat before peering down at the toy. “ he looks like a . . . uh— ”.

“  —like a hiro. hiro jr. ”

hiro met her gaze for a moment and rolled his eyes, but hope spotted a slight smile against his lips. “ fine. that’s not too bad ”, he commented. hope sighed and squished the toy again before feeling like the lights had dimmed. her heart sunk but settled at a normal rhythm within some moments.

looking about for a moment, hope noticed that the meeting room had grown increasingly full. to think that most of them were other voyage members. she forgot just how big this corporation was. so after the lights dimmed, a spotlight hit the center stage.

hope was expecting a public figure, perhaps a general or a lieutenant like creed to step on and take over the mic, but her eyes widened when a woman did. and the chatter around her grew tenfold when the lights fell in beatrice yoh, in all her terrifying splendor.

in a white suit, she looked somewhat angelic, but her eyes were hard and her gaze went over the crowd that soon grew quiet. hope found herself gripping the toy a little harder.

“ welcome ”, yoh’s booming voice echoed. hope inhaled deeply. “ i appreciate all of you coming here on such short notice. i am aware that it is a lot to ask many of you to stop your lives and come here. but what i’m about to announce will impact all of us. ”

hope rose a brow when yoh suddenly paused and then stood with her shoulders broad. “ it’s come to our attention, with the increased crime rates around the colonies, that a rising activity has been created. and that we might be looking into a coup d’etat “.

“ holy fuck ”, hope heard hiro mutter beside her. her own brows were furrowed in confusion as the chatter and mumbles around her grew once more. an announcement like this was alarming. she found it weird, for a moment, that yoh mentioned crime rates were increasing . . . she thought that with the number of bounty hunters and officers growing, crime rates were decreasing.

but the woman continued, “ a week ago, it seemed like a particularly pesky group managed to find their way into our base on earth and decorated the place with vandalism after breaking through our security system. they left various symbols on the walls. ” yoh paused. “ and the same thing was just repeated at j-colony two days ago. ”

hope felt like she was going to faint. she had just been at j-colony and to think that she was there possibly when this had occurred. but surely they would have called her in, knowing she was there, knowing she could help, how did nobody tell? how did creed not tell her?

“ whatever the reason for these acts, we’re taking it as a sign of rebellion. or some criminal group trying to attack our ways of living ”, the chairwoman said and looked out into the crowd. hope frowned and gulped slightly, and her thoughts couldn’t help but wander to the pirates.

who were sat outside, waiting for her to return.

pirates she had helped enter the base. giving them false identities. knowing they had bounties on their heads. knowing voyage was probably hunting them.

“ we’re going to find the people behind this. an attack on voyage inc is serious, and whoever is behind it will have to pay with very . . . grave . . . consequences. ”

[nsfw-bnha-and-dangan]

Commission

Another piece to the Gonta x Reader x Korekiyo bondage series! This one was super fun to work with, there's a sort of damsel in distress/capture scene going on, I hope you guys enjoy! Under the cut for length!

Movie nights had become a standard thing for the three of you. Every week or two, you would come to Korekiyo’s for something that wasn't just sex, something fun and relaxing all at once. And it felt nice, just snuggling up between Gonta and Korekiyo while a movie played in the background. You were watching closely, subconsciously biting your lip as the story's main character was captured by a villain and tied up, blindfolded to hide her surroundings. 

Your thighs squeezed together tightly while the villain toyed with her, threatening her and reminding her that she was all alone, with no one to save her. Korekiyo glanced over at you, noticing the concentration on your face as you stared. He said nothing, though, just quietly noting your interest until the movie came to a close. Usually now, the three of you would get up and either stay the night or go home. But Korekiyo made no move to stand, instead turning to face you.

 “So, I take it by your eager reactions you enjoyed the movie?” Gonta looked between the two of you with a confused expression as you went a little pink. 

“It was a good movie.” You said softly, knowing Korekiyo saw right through you. 

“I'm sure it was, but it seemed that something piqued your interest a bit more than just the plot.” You huffed a little and played with your hands, leaning back against Gonta. 

“There might have been a scene I liked… more than the others, I guess.” 

“What scene did (Y/N) like? Gonta liked all of them!” You smiled and hung your head, embarrassed. 

“I liked that scene where… the girl got caught and tied up, the damsel in distress thing, you know? Being at the mercy of a villain, not knowing what's going to happen next, it gets me all worked up.” Korekiyo smirked and you recognized the glint in his eyes, your heart skipping a beat in your chest. 

“Gonta, how would you feel about also being caught by a villain and tied up?” It finally clicked for him just what you were referring to and he made a soft noise in the back of his throat. 

“Gonta wouldn't… mind that, if Kiyo was the villain who caught him.” Korekiyo nodded, finally standing. 

“Glad we’re on the same page, then. Normally I would invite the two of you to stay the night, but I have some research to do. Are you alright with that?” You nodded a little too eagerly, staunchly ignoring the way your knees wobbled when you got up. You took Gonta’s hand and were out the door in seconds, almost too worked up to drive. You managed to keep it together long enough to go to sleep, although it took all of your willpower to not get off before you did. You knew the wait would be worth it and, two days later you got a call. You nearly dropped your phone when you saw that it was Korekiyo, a faint blush already dusting your cheeks. 

“Hello?!” 

“Ah, someone sounds quite excited today. Would the two of you care to come over? I have the scene ready for you.” You confirmed with him eagerly and sped over, already needing to press your thighs together tightly. Korekiyo smirked a little when he opened the door and you came inside, biting your lip. 

“I'm sure you're more than eager to get started, but I wanted to go over a few things first.” You nodded, sitting on the very edge of the couch with Gonta beside you. 

“I'd like to go a bit further in this session than is our standard. Nothing too severe, but i'd like to experiment a bit with your pain tolerance. Of course, if you aren't comfortable with that then I'll refrain, but I felt it fit nicely with the scene.” Gonta was the first to speak up, fidgeting. 

“Gonta isn't sure how much pain he would like, even from Kiyo.” 

“I promise, I won't be doing anything extraordinary, just a bit more intense than usual. As always, your more than welcome to use your safeword at any time if you need it.” Gonta nodded and relaxed, Korekiyo running a hand through his hair gently and tugging at the ends. 

“Another thing I need to make clear is that, while I am playing the villain, my threats to your life will not be real. I want you two to have the utmost trust in me and know that some of the things I will say are for the sake of the scene and nothing more.” You nodded and shivered a little, wondering just how dark Korekiyo’s persona was going to be. 

“We trust you, we know you would never do anything horrible to us that we weren't okay with.” Korekiyo smiled and stood, holding out both hands. You and Gonta each took one, letting him lead you to a room you had been to more than enough times to find on your own, yet you never minded being shown the way. It didn't look much different from usual, several toys laid out on the bed as well as restraints. 

“I'm going to get you two set up, alright?” You nodded and stripped down to your underwear, letting Korekiyo guide you so that you were more or less in Gonta’s lap, your arms around him and tied together tightly with a length fabric. Gonta’s arms were tied around you in the same way, forcing the two of you to embrace. You couldn't stop yourself from kissing Gonta sweetly as Korekiyo finished tying him up, humming softly against his lips. 

“How do you feel? Comfortable?” You tested your bonds, finding them solid. 

“I feel good, I'm ready. Gonta?” 

“Gonta is excited, he likes this a lot so far.” Korekiyo nodded and smiled, a hand lingering on Gonta’s shoulder. Then, he added the final touch, silk blindfolds that completely cut off your vision. 

“I'm going to return in a moment, and when I do, you two will be my captured prisoners, understood?” You nodded eagerly and wiggled in Gonta’s lap as Korekiyo left the room. Your breath hitched when the door closed and a tense silence set in, the anticipation building in your chest. A wave of arousal made you shudder as the door opened once again, Korekiyo walking in almost silently. You couldn't know for sure where he was, barely able to follow his quiet steps. 

"Look at the two of you, bound together so closely. Makes for quite a picture, id say." You heard the shutter of a camera and tried to turn around quickly, nearly smacking your head into Gonta's. It wouldn't have helped regardless, your vision dark behind the blindfold. It only made your heartbeat quicker, trying to look around and find where the sound emanated from. 

"W-what are you…" 

"Blackmail, of course. That is, if I decide to let you live, otherwise, they will be nothing more than fond reminders of you." You swallowed thickly, feeling Gonta pull you in closer protectively. 

"Please… don't kill (Y/N) or Gonta!" Korekiyo hummed, walking in a slow circle around you. 

"That all depends on just how well you behave for me. Are you going to do as your told?" You nodded quickly, jumping when Korekiyo's fingers started running through your hair. 

"Y-yes! We'll do anything you want, please, just let us go!" You cried, biting your lip when long fingers traced your lips from behind.

"You shouldn't say things like that, see. I could ask you to do anything I liked and you would have to hold to your word. Are you prepared for that?" You nodded, struggling a bit when something foreign slipped between you and Gonta. You shivered when the large head of what you guessed to be a vibrator settled at the front of your panties. Even off it was enough to make your cheeks heat up, doing your best to keep still. You were about to speak up when Korekiyo pressed a button and the toy buzzed to life, stealing the air from your lungs. It was strong, probably one of the strongest vibrators you had ever had the joy to experience. Korekiyo held it firmly to the front of your panties as you squirmed and moaned, Gonta fidgeting in front of you nervously. Fingers traced your throat gingerly as you bucked your hips against the toy, choking on anything you could have hoped to say. 

"You said anything, did you not? Then come." You were helpless against his demand, sobbing into Gonta's shoulder as your body shuddered with the force of your orgasm. Korekiyo kept the toy on you until you were whining and oversensitive, Gonta gasping moments after it disappeared. He fell over the edge quickly, crying out your name as he squirmed. Finally, the room fell silent save for your labored breathing, face burning with embarrassment. 

"Now, was that so hard? All you have to do is anything I ask of you, understood?" You nodded and went to reply, only to have a finger shush you. 

"No talking. No noise at all, actually, I much prefer silence to your whining and begging for now. In fact, if you make any sound, I'm going to have to punish you, and you wouldn't like that, hmm?" You wanted to challenge him but kept your mouth shut, biting your lip roughly when two fingers slipped into the front of your sticky panties. 

"Can you keep quiet even when I do this?" You forced yourself to breathe, ignoring the little sparks of oversensitive pleasure that were shooting up your spine. 

"So well behaved, I almost wish I could see you fight back. Perhaps seeing Gonta will put a little fire in you?" You didn't even have time to blink, your heartbeat shooting up as you looked around, the sudden light making you squint. 

"No noises, from either of you. If I hear even a whine, you'll be learning just why I'm so good at what I do." Those fingers traced your neck again, curling around it before pulling back. You almost couldn't breathe with fear, knowing you couldn't make a sound. It was so hard to be quiet when Korekiyo slipped his fingers inside you, fucking you slowly while his thumb rubbed your clit in torturous circles. You could feel yourself getting far too close to making noise and, in your desperation, shoved your lips against Gonta’s. He nearly yelped in surprise but didn't pull back, returning your kiss in hopes of keeping you quiet. It was just enough to muffle your moans as Korekiyo played with you in the worst way. He knew exactly how to work you up, what spots to focus on to make you shudder.

It was just this side of painful, still so sensitive from your earlier orgasm, but Korekiyo was ruthless. Just when you felt like you were adjusting to Korekiyo’s touch, Gonta squeaked into your mouth. You looked up, seeing his face go red and the barest threat of tears in his eyes. You couldn't move, wondering if Korekiyo was going to get upset, but he didn't seem to take notice. You felt his other hand moving between you, the source of Gonta’s sudden noise. You did your best to keep the both of you quiet swallowing your moans and muffling Gonta’s as you messily made out, impossible to keep coordinated as Korekiyo stole any focus you had. His fingers were steady, working you over and over till you were close to the edge and tightening around the digits. You squeezed your eyes shut behind the blindfold, so close to your second orgasm when Korekiyo’s hand stilled, fingers slipping out of you. It was almost impossible to choke down the needy whine that rose in your throat, hips twitching in hope of finding that friction again. He must have pulled the same stunt on Gonta because you could feel him shaking, his breath hitching against your lips. 

“Awe, were the two of you close? I suppose that was a little rude of me, stopping so soon, but it's no fun if I make things easy for you. I have to say, you did do quite well so far. Let's see what it takes to break you.” You felt Korekiyo’s presence disappear from behind you, his footsteps silent as he moved around the room, keeping out of your sight. Just as you were getting uneasy, he returned, kneeling somewhere behind your back. 

“You won't be needing this, will you?” You jumped when you felt something chilled and metallic trace the swell of your breasts, something you quickly realized was the flat of a knife. You felt no pain or sharpness, just the cold steel against your skin. You didn't dare move an inch or breath, squeezing your eyes shut tight. When Korekiyo cut the straps of your bra in two fluid motions you gasped, feeling him unhook the back to take it off of you. Thankfully, the knife disappeared after that, leaving you wondering if he was planning to use it again. Lithe fingers teased and pinched your nipples, making you squirm and take in a breath. 

“What's wrong? Are you not enjoying this enough?” You kept silent, pulling back from Gonta to try and catch your breath. It was in vain when those damn fingers slipped back into your panties, circling your clit roughly. You were forced to kiss Gonta again, a blessing as he swallowed your moans and pulled you close. You closed your eyes and tried to relax as Korekiyo worked you up, fingers dipping inside of you for a moment before returning to your clit. Korekiyo was relentless, doing just enough to keep you on edge without pushing you to orgasm. His other hand left your chest to wind around your waist, Gonta leaning into you as Korekiyo started teasing his cock. The pleasure came and went, Korekiyo edging you over and over with only his fingers as his warm body pressed against your back. You choked out a sob as Korekiyo pulled back for the umpteenth time, leaving you desperate and shaking. All you wanted was to cum, any consequence was nothing in your mind. Korekiyo started up again, even slower as he circled and teased your clit. You pulled back from Gonta, tears burning your eyes as you threw caution to the wind. 

“Please!” You sobbed, pressing your forehead to Gonta’s shoulder. 

“Was wondering how long it would take you to crack, (Y/N). I have to commend you for holding out so long, most of my captives don't have the willpower. But, I can't simply let it go, no matter how nicely you beg for me.” Korekiyo started rubbing your clit faster than ever, your blood on fire as Korekiyo forced a second orgasm out of you like it was nothing. As you basked in your afterglow Korekiyo gave Gonta the same treatment, getting him off easily. You sobbed as your mind returned from the clouds, knowing just how badly you had messed up. 

“I was almost tempted to be lenient with the two of you. You’re by far my favorite captives so far, making such pretty noises for me, I couldn't ask for better prisoners. But a promise is a promise, I can't be going back on my word now.” You yelped as Korekiyo roughly undid the ties around both yours and Gonta’s wrists, pulling you up with more force than necessary and tugging you to the bed. You were shoved down unceremoniously, gasping in a ragged breath as tears burned at your eyes. You felt dirty and used, your panties clinging to you with your own mess. Korekiyo stood by the edge of the bed, pulling various toys out from beneath the comforter. A massive dildo with menacing spines, plugs, a few whips, and paddles, among other things.

“You going to take your punishment like a good girl?” Korekiyo asked. You glanced at Gonta, still on the floor and watching you nervously as Korekiyo mulled over his options. 

“Y-yes…” You swallowed thickly as Korekiyo picked up what looked like a frayed whip, testing its weight. He smiled, deciding it was his weapon of choice. He sat at the edge of the bed, tugging you over his lap roughly and making you whine. 

“Can't have you making all that noise again, you’re quite the loud one.” Korekiyo undid the button on his jeans and pulled his cock out, precum beading at the flushed tip. 

“Suck. And no teeth.” You did as you were told, taking the first inch or two into your mouth to suck on. You tried to focus on the taste, the heat of Korekiyo on your tongue as you slightly bobbed your head. But your focus was quickly broken when Korekiyo’s hand returned, spanking you roughly enough to push you forward onto his cock. You knew it was only a prelude to what was coming next, the whip looking thing he had so lovingly chosen. 

“There you go, just like that. See, not so bad, hmm?” Korekiyo looked pointedly at Gonta, motioning him over. 

“You can watch, for now, it’ll be your turn soon enough." You could see Gonta shudder, his cheeks red as he squirmed on the floor at Korekiyo’s feet. Another rough spank had you whining through your mouthful, tears threatening to drip down your cheeks. For a moment there was peace, Korekiyo letting you focus on sucking him off, slow and deep the way he liked it. But then, something different made contact with your skin. You cried out, the impact shoving you deeper on Korekiyo’s cock, enough to make you gag briefly. 

“Can't take a little flogging, pretty girl? If you can't even take this much pain, you're not going to like what I have in store for you later.” Tears burned hot tracks along your cheeks and you pulled back for a moment to breath, almost tempted to use your safeword. The flogger was more painful than anything Korekiyo had done with you before, and he must have noticed your uneasiness because he gave you a moment to rest before starting back up again. The noise was the worst part, though, the thick crack of the leather against your ass before the pain would register. Korekiyo's other hand rubbed you through your damp panties, taking the edge off the pain as the flogger connected again and you sobbed. 

"Three more. Three more and you can stop." You didn't respond, your mind too hazy with pain and muted pleasure as Korekiyo hit you again. Time moved too slowly, each second passing between hits dragging on for ages as anticipation made you stiff. Finally, Korekiyo yanked your head up by your hair, flogger tossed aside. You moved your sore jaw, trying to catch your breath in quick pants while Korekiyo pushed you to your feet. He turned you around, nails biting into your hip as he looked you over, admiring his work. 

"You look so beautiful like this, almost makes me want to keep the two of you around for a while longer. You respond well to pain, I like seeing you squirm and cry." He pushed you to the ground and you made no move to get up, exhausted and barely hanging on to linear thought. With the flogging over, the pain lingered on, your ass stinging as Gonta was pulled into the same position you had been in. It was almost harder to watch, knowing how much it had hurt as Gonta was spanked and whipped with the flogger. He could barely manage to get his mouth around Korekiyo, too distracted by the pain. Fearing he would be punished for not listening, you got on your knees and started sucking Korekiyo off for him. Gonta tried to help, your lips connecting around Korekiyo's length a few times, but he couldn't do much more than that. Each time the flogger connected he sobbed, fat tears slipping down his cheeks. You kissed them away when you needed to breathe, comforting Gonta silently as the crack of the flogger echoed around the room. Just as you started to worry Gonta couldn't take any more, Korekiyo stopped, running a hand through Gonta's hair as he struggled to catch his breath. 

"This is what happens when you don't listen. Disobey me again and you'll be in much worse shape afterwards. Understood?” You nodded quickly, looking over and seeing just how red Gonta’s ass was from his punishment. You felt bad, knowing it had been all your fault. You had been the one to break and beg, and Gonta had gotten flogged for it. You bit your lip and nudged your forehead against Gonta’s, cupping his cheek. 

“I'm sorry, so sorry.” You muttered, jumping when Korekiyo’s hand ran through your hair. 

“I couldn't pick favorites, now could I? One misbehaves, the other takes the punishment just as harshly. You’ll find that I can be quite nice if you earn it.” 

“I want… to earn it.” You said softly, perking your head up and squeezing your thighs together. As lost as you were in the moment, you were still turned on by Korekiyo’s forcefulness, his demands and threats. You wanted to please him, especially if it meant sparing Gonta from any punishment. 

“Oh? And how do you expect to do that, princess?” 

“I can… get you off. You can use me, do whatever you want with me, and I won't complain.” Korekiyo smirked, moving Gonta off of his lap and pulling you up by the hand so that you were straddling him. 

“You won't? Even if I have you going till you can't take it anymore?” You nodded, fighting down a whine when Korekiyo smoothly cuffed your hands behind your back. 

“Turn around, then, and make yourself useful. Don't think for a moment that you get to enjoy it, either. You did offer to take care of me, after all.” You awkwardly turned around so that your back was to Korekiyo, shuddering as he pulled your panties aside and lined you up with his length. But he made no move to push inside you, leaving all the work for you. You tried to tease, at first, rutting against his cock and letting the tip nudge your entrance, never quite going inside. It was enough to make Korekiyo yank at the chain connecting your wrists, a warning to hurry up, or else. You lowered yourself onto his cock, a breathless moan escaping you as he finally filled you properly. Another tug and you started to move, squeezing your eyes shut as you bounced slowly. 

You found a pace that seemed to keep Korekiyo happy, if his quiet groans were any indication. It kept you on edge, enough to make you shiver every time he bottomed out inside you, but not enough to get you off. You knew he had done that on purpose, making sure you didn't get to cum, no matter how much you wanted it. A few fingers were looped into the connecting link of your handcuffs, his other hand groping and squeezing your sore ass. It still stung, but that only wound up turning you on more, the little prickles of pain traveling up your spine. Gonta watched the two of you with wide eyes, unable to look away as you bounced in Korekiyo’s lap. 

“Care to make yourself useful?” Korekiyo asked, his voice dark as he smirked. “Clean up the mess she’s making, Gonta. Don't force my hand into punishing you again.” 

Gonta was quick to kneel between your legs, messily lapping at the spot where you and Korekiyo were joined. His tongue would graze your clit every so often and make you shiver, trying to ignore it as you got Korekiyo off. If you came now, who knew what he would do to you? You weren't keen to find out, squeezing around his length tightly when Korekiyo’s hand roughly grabbed your breast. 

“Just like that…” He muttered, clearly losing his composure as he reached his breaking point. You sobbed when his hips started meeting you movements, fucking you quick and deep while Gonta’s warm mouth was between your legs. His cock rubbed over your sweet spot, over and over till you were seeing stars and couldn't take it anymore. 

“P-please! Please, please let me cum, i-i’m gonna… no, no, p-please!” You begged, knowing you wouldn't be able to stop now, praying for Korekiyo’s permission. 

“Cum, then, my beautiful little whore.” Korekiyo groaned, and you lost it. Tears slipped down your cheeks as he forced a third orgasm out of you, still fucking you even when your legs gave out and you couldn't move. Distantly, you felt him spill inside you, warm and wet as you rode out the waves of pleasure running up your spine. Gonta didn't stop licking you and Korekiyo, doing as he was told and cleaning the two of you up. Korekiyo collected himself quickly and helped you off of him, getting Gonta to move you into a better position on the bed. You were weak and didn't fight it, still up in the clouds as the scene ended and Korekiyo started bringing you back to reality. It wasn't till the camera shutter clicked again that you came to your senses and sat up slowly. 

“How are doing, beautiful?” Korekiyo asked gently, setting the camera aside and added the picture to a stack beside it. 

“Sore… still fuzzy. I'm really tired too…” 

“I'm not surprised, I may have taken it a bit far with the two of you this session.” You shook your head, Gonta moving behind you and hugging you to his chest. He was still hard against you, having not gotten off when you and Korekiyo did. 

“Wait, Gonta…” “Gonta is fine, (Y/N) shouldn't worry! Gonta just wants her to relax now.” You felt a little bad that he hadn't come, but didn't have the energy for anything else. 

“It was really good, Kiyo. It was almost too much but I knew you wouldn't push me too far.” 

“Are you certain? I should have warned you about the flogger, or used something more gentle.” You smiled and yawned as Korekiyo wrapped a blanket around your naked form. 

“I liked it. I liked it a lot. You really do make a good villain, Kiyo. If I didn't know it was a scene I would have been terrified.” You laughed a little, squirming when you felt Korekiyo’s cum dripping out of you. 

“Gonta was pretty scared of Kiyo for a while, he wasn't sure if he was going to ever escape.” You smiled, letting your eyes close. 

“I would never let anything happen to the two of you, I want you to know that. As intense as things may get in this room, I would never let you be truly hurt. Go ahead and rest now, I'll bring you some food and have a bath ready in a short while. Do you need anything in the meantime?” You shook your head, turning over to face Gonta, who repeated the action. 

“Rest well, then, you deserve it. I'll wake you up before long.” You were already out by the time Korekiyo pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead, making sure you were comfortable before starting to clean up the room. It was an easy clean up and by the time he was done, you and Gonta were sound asleep and cuddled close. Carefully, to not wake you, Korekiyo picked up the instant camera and snapped a few photos of the two of you. He wanted to capture it, the way you held each other so close, how evident your love was even in sleep. As much as this relationship was about scenes and punishment, Korekiyo still enjoyed the moments where things were quiet and sweet. 

He smiled at the slowly developing photos, picking up the pile of the others and bringing them with him as he left the room. Much as he would have liked to join you, he had things to do. Once the two of you were rested and fed, he was going to take care of every inch of bruised, sore skin he had left in his wake. It was the least he could do, since the two of you had been such lovely prisoners for him. 

[inyournightmares97]

The Truth Evasion (Pt. 2/2)

Part 1

Jackson Wang, GotSeven’s ace hitman and local strip club owner, has had his eye on the girl who helps the gang stash away their dirty money for years now. He wants to know why you won’t give him a chance, but you’re fairly certain that Jackson can’t handle the truth of your past. There are some obstacles that mere sexual attraction and a good fuck aren’t enough to overcome.

Warnings; Strong language, discussions of prostitution, sex work and sexual abuse. Lots of delicate stuff, this one’s a landmine. 

Word Count: 4.5k+

The Mafia (Masterlist)

“You’re late.”

Jackson beamed, his usual handsome, cheeky grin adorning his face. Sometimes you wondered how he switched so fast from the genuine, heartfelt lover he had been last night to the cocky, sleazy hitman that stood in front of you now. You’d spent a long time trying to decide which of these personalities was actually real, but you’d come to the conclusion that they were both indispensable parts of Jackson. It was just one of his many charms.

“Sorry baby, I had to shower in the morning. Couldn’t come down here and protect you while smelling like blood and sweat from shooting that robber’s brains out last night.”

You sighed, handing Jackson the heavy briefcases and watching as he smoothly placed them in the trunk of his car. You had to admit that he smelled nice; of soap and a hint of some expensive cologne. Forcing yourself to turn away from him, you folded your arms across your chest and gave him a disapproving look. You were in no mood to deal with Jackson’s antics and flirtations.

“You’re not here to protect me, you’re here to protect the money,” you reminded him firmly.

Jackson raised his eyebrows at you and smirked. “Oh, so if a guy put a gun to your head and asked me to hand over all the cash then you would want me to take the money and leave you to die, is that it?”

You ignored him. “Get into the car, Wang.”

“No, I think we need to straighten out our priorities here. What if there’s a crisis and I don’t know how-���

“Wang, get into the fucking car before I shoot you with your own gun.”

He grinned at you playfully, but obeyed and got into the driver’s seat. You sighed as you buckled your own seat belt and watched Jackson place his gun in the cup-holder in case he needed it. Technically, nobody knew that you were in possession of the money so there was no reason for it to be in danger, but GotSeven didn’t take risks where cash was involved. Jackson noticed how your gaze followed his gun and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Scared? I have another gun in the back, you can have it if you want.”

You blinked at him. “You know I can’t handle weapons. I’d probably shoot myself in the face. No thanks.”

“Yeah, that’s what I don’t understand about you,” Jackson mused, pulling out of the driveway and hitting the road at full speed. Jackson drove like a madman, befitting of his expensive sports car. “How did you get so deep into the underground without even knowing how to shoot a gun? Aren’t you scared for your life? What if someone is after you? What if you’re in danger?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I operate bank accounts from a laptop all day. Who’s going to come at me with a gun?”

Jackson shrugged. “I mean, sure, Jaebum doesn’t send you into the field so you work from headquarters. What about earlier? When you worked for that Russian gang, the one we took out before Jaebum decided to hire you? I find it hard to believe that they let you work for them without any self-defense training or teaching you how to use a weapon or two.”

You bit your lip and turned to glance out of the window. It was true. A couple of years ago, when GotSeven had still been establishing their territory, a Russian gang had operated this area. They’d been running some real estate fraud, investing their dirty money into high-rise buildings and condos near the sea. The official story was that GotSeven had taken them down one-by-one to establish dominance; Jaebum had only offered you a chance to live because you had skills that he needed and you’d agreed to use them to help GotSeven.

Nobody except you and Jaebum knew what really happened that day.

“They didn’t let me handle any weapons,” you said simply.

Jackson blinked at you. “You’re really mysterious, you know that?”

“If you’re so curious, why have you never asked Youngjae to pull up my files and do a background check on me?” you challenged.

Jackson glanced at you briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. “Nah. If Jaebum trusts you, then I trust you too. Besides, I like the thought of you hiding some dark, mysterious trauma that you finally confess to me one day, only to discover that my love transcends the scars of your past,” Jackson mused cheerfully. “Did you by any chance kill one of those Russian guys? Are they going to come after you someday? I’ll protect you, baby.”

You let out a sigh of irritation. “Oh god. You’re unbelievable. They’re all dead. You guys made sure of that yourselves.”

“I’ll be honest, though, I have always wondered why Jaebum didn’t kill you too, that day.”

“Maybe he couldn’t kill a woman.”

Jackson scoffed. “Please. Jaebum could choke a baby if he thought it was necessary.”

“… I don’t think that’s true.”

“Yeah, it’s not.”

“Are we there yet?”

“Patience, darling. The Bear told us to park behind this old warehouse, and we’re a couple minutes late so he should already be here… yup! There he is!” Jackson pulled up to the only other car in sight and let out a low whistle. “Damn, he got a new car. Smuggling must be going well. Hey man! Sweet ride!” he yelled out of the lowered window.

The Bear was standing beside his car and grinned. “Thanks, I got her last week. You guys have the goods?”

You stayed in the car and watched through the open window as Jackson grabbed the briefcases full of cash. He put them safely in the Bear’s trunk and then shook hands with him, before he started admiring the paint job on the new car. You rolled your eyes in irritation and leaned your head out of the window. “Jackson! Get the fuck back here, we’re not here to chit-chat. Did you guys get the message I sent you about the drop-off location? My guy’s going to meet your people there tomorrow,” you told the Bear.

The Bear nodded. “Yeah, I got the details. Don’t worry, your cash is safe. The Macau route is easy to navigate, we get entire shipments of illegal arms through it every month. Your cash is no problem,” he replied. “Besides, it’s not every day that GotSeven asks us for help, eh?”

You grinned. “Savor the moment, you’re going to want this favor returned someday.”

“I don’t doubt it. All right, I’m going to get this cash back to our guys. Say hi to your leader for me,” the Bear replied.

“Will do.”

You convinced Jackson to get back into the car and drive off, relieved once the cash was safely transferred off your hands. Carrying precious items like that always made you a little jittery. You had no combat training, and you didn’t like being in the field or interacting with other gangs. You could feel Jackson’s gaze on you and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?” you demanded.

“Nothing,” he replied with a shrug. “Back to headquarters?”

“Yes, please.”

You leaned back in the passenger’s seat as Jackson drove silently. You couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eyes. You had always found Jackson extremely handsome; he worked out and his body was possibly the fittest you’d ever seen. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t feel attracted to him. Your judgement had lapsed before, and you knew from that experience that Jackson was an affectionate, caring lover.  But there was something beyond physical attraction, something that held you back from allowing yourself to fully love this man.

“Damn, why does this idiot keep calling me?” Jackson interrupted your thoughts, glancing at his cellphone that was buzzing in the cup-holder. You could see the caller ID and it was Bambam. Jackson sighed and pulled over by the side of the road before answering the phone. “Talk. This better be important, I told you I was doing a drop-off this morning….What? Last night?... Why the fuck are you telling me this now, Bambam? Damn it. I’m on my way.”

You stared at Jackson as he hung up and restarted the car.

“What happened?” you asked him.

“Emergency at the club. We need to take a detour.”

You stiffened. “Drop me off first. I don’t want to go to your stupid club right now-“

“Look, there’s no time, okay?” he snapped.

You sat still. Jackson never snapped at you. Despite your severe revulsion towards his strip club, you silently allowed him to turn back and head towards the shadier parts of town, where men came with their dirty money and spent it on their dirty pleasures. You stayed stiff in your seat as he pulled up outside the club and got out, raising an eyebrow at you. “Are you coming in, or do you plan to sit in the car?”

You glared at him, but got down and followed him into the club. Despite having known Jackson for years, you’d never set foot in this club. Jackson had tried a lot to convince you to come get a drink with him here, had professed excellent bartending skills and tried to woo you with cocktails. But you’d always been adamant about not wanting to come here. As you stepped inside for the first time, your eyes swept the place curiously. It was deserted, as it would be on a Sunday morning. The place was well-lit, the tables pushed back against the walls and the floors swept clean. You followed Jackson upstairs to the VIP rooms, where he coolly burst into one.

“Bambam. Start talking. What happened here?” Jackson demanded.

You stepped into the room and immediately felt your stomach lurch. There was a girl sitting on one of the VIP couches; she had a darkening black eye, a busted lip and a dark red cut dripping blood across her jawline. Her entire body slumped forward and she was clutching her stomach in pain. Bambam was pacing the room nervously, while his girlfriend tried to dab at the injuries of the beat-up girl.

Bambam looked at both you and Jackson and lowered your voice. “One of the clients did this to Star last night,” he muttered.

Jackson’s eyes widened. “What? Here? On the club premises? What the fuck where you doing while it happened?”

Star interrupted, her voice weak with pain. Your eyes widened as you watched her look up and struggle to speak. “No, I… I left the club with him after my shift. He’s a regular here so I thought it was safe. But there were a lot of men at his apartment and when I said that I had only agreed to fuck him, he got angry,” she mumbled. A choked sob escaped her throat. “I thought they were going to kill me.”

It was too much for you to take. The sight of the girl in tears, the thought of what those men must have done to her, her injuries both visible and invisible… your stomach lurched and you ran out of the room, running over to a bathroom at the end of the corridor. You leaned over the toilet and dry-heaved, trying to calm down your racing heartbeat and ignore the blood rushing through your head. Terrible memories flashed through your mind, and you felt weak as you slumped against the bathroom floor.

“Get her to the hospital,” you could hear Jackson’s voice saying faintly from the VIP room. “And get me the tabs from last night so we can get this guy’s address.”

There were a few voices and then you heard approaching footsteps. The door to the bathroom swung open and Jackson looked down at you, your sweat beading on your forehead while you slumped in front of the toilet, pale-faced. His hand came and rested on your shoulder gently. “Hey,” he whispered, helping you sit up straight. You flinched away from him and he froze, kneeling beside you. “Are you okay? I thought you were stronger than that. You didn’t even bat an eye when I carved this one guy’s guts out last month.”

You glared up at him. “I want to leave.”

“What’s wrong with you-“

“Is this how you treat all the strippers that work at this fucking establishment of yours?” you yelled at him, fists clenched. Your eyes were red with anger. “You let your clients beat them up and gang rape them for a few extra bucks? This is the source of your money, Jackson Wang? How do you live with yourself?”

Jackson looked like you’d slapped him. “What? No.”

“What are you even-“

“I didn’t tell her to go home with that guy! I employ Star to be a stripper, my contract with her only extends to her performances on stage. That’s all I pay her for. If she chooses to go home with clients then that’s on her, I’m not running a whorehouse. I’m only employing strippers so don’t you dare try to make me feel like this is my fault,” Jackson insisted. He was offended, and he reached out to take your arm gently. “I’m not lying, she’s just a stripper-“

You laughed derisively. “Just a stripper? You keep telling yourself that.”

Jackson glared. “What?”

“She’s no stripper, Jackson, she’s a sex worker and what you’re doing… you’re essentially their pimp. You attract rich men to this place so that they can watch these women dance on stage and then pick which one they want to take home for a price. It’s sex work and what happened to Star is an occupational hazard.  You want to know why I would never give you a chance, why you and I can never happen? Because of this. Because you make a living off the misfortune of these poor girls.”

Jackson stared at you, speechless.

“That’s not… I don’t…”

You got to your feet, trembling, and pushing Jackson away. He watched silently as you shoved past him and walked towards the door.

“I can’t stay in this disgusting place for another second.”

--

You felt weak and miserable for the rest of the day. You locked yourself up in a room in the headquarters with your laptop, trying to focus on tracking the money going to Macau and figuring out how you were going to get it back. But Star’s face kept flashing in your mind, her miserable expression and the pain she’d had to go through because of that horrible man. It made you feel sick and you ignored Jinyoung when he knocked on the door and asked if you wanted lunch.

It was late evening when Jackson Wang entered your office.

There was blood on his clothes and he walked inside unapologetically, the door banging against the wall. There was a fire in his eyes as he looked at you, his fingers clenched into tight fists at his sides. “I killed the man who hurt Star,” he told you proudly. “And I didn’t make it easy on him. He’s not going to try that with any of the girls ever again. None of the club’s patrons are ever going to try that again, I’m sending out pictures of his dead body as a message.”

You were silent as you stared at the laptop screen, trying to ignore the tears brimming in your eyes.

Jackson’s eyes softened as he set his gun down on the table and slowly took a seat next to you. He seemed worried that you would push him away again, but he relaxed when you didn’t move. His large hand came to gently rest on top of yours. “I talked to Jaebum,” he mumbled. “He told me what you were really doing with those Russian mafia guys. I should have known that a girl like you wouldn’t have really been working with them, I don’t know what I was thinking. I wouldn’t have killed them so simply if I had known-“

You cut him off. “Save it, Jackson.”

“No. I want you to know-“

“The Russian mafia guys were the easiest part of my former life. My father first sold me into prostitution when I was fifteen.”

Jackson was silent. You could only hear the sound of him swallowing.  

“I got out of there because one of those Russian guys was a regular client of mine,” you replied, trying not to let your voice crack. You had been suppressing these memories ever since you started working for GOTSeven, ever since your life got better. But the way Jackson was looking at you made you want to break down in front of him. “I convinced one of those fuckers that we were in love and he paid a huge amount of buy me out of the whorehouse. He was one of the guys who managed their money. I learned how the mafia rerouted their dirty money through foreign investments because of him. Some things he told me himself, others I learned through documents and stuff he left lying around like his laptop.”

Jackson was silent for a long moment. “That’s why Jaebum didn’t kill you,” he mumbled.

“Of course he didn’t kill me. I wasn’t a member of the mafia, I was a whore and I knew about their operations. He knew I was more useful alive than dead.”

Jackson nodded. “Right.”

You turned away from him and stared at your laptop for a few moments. Your eyes were too blurry with tears to see anything clearly but you simply couldn’t bear to look at Jackson. He sat beside you silently, hands clasped in his lap. For a while you wondered if he’d even gotten up and left, but then he finally spoke in a slow, desperate voice.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” he said quietly. “But you have to know that I’m not who you think I am. All these women came to me, they all want to work here. I made sure of that, I’ve never forced anyone into anything, especially not into doing sexual favors for anyone. They want to be there-”

You cut him off firmly. “No woman wants to be there.”

Jackson turned to you angrily. “Yes, they do. They came to me asking for work. I know that you were forced into this industry at a young age and that you didn’t have a choice in it. But they’re not all like that.”

You closed your laptop and turned to glare at Jackson. “No, Jackson. It’s not something a woman chooses to do. Sometimes she’s deluded into thinking she had a choice, by men like you who don’t want to deal with the burden of forcing a woman into a life like that. Maybe it makes you feel better about running a strip club if you think of these women as sexually promiscuous sluts who enjoy this life and want to be there, but that’s not the reality. It’s not a choice if it’s the only option you have. I guarantee you that none of these women ever had a real shot at doing anything else with their lives.”

Jackson looked down at his hands and took a deep breath. His voice trembled when he spoke. “I love you,” he whispered. “And I hate that you consider me disgusting. Tell me what I can do to change it.”

“Shut down the strip club. Stop employing these women. Stop making them think that the only thing they can do to support themselves is to sell their bodies,” you replied firmly. You took a deep breath and bit your lip. You turned to look at Jackson and stared into his deep eyes, the pain in them making your heart skip a beat. You knew he wasn’t a bad person. Not really. And you believed that he loved you. “Jackson… you mean a lot to me. But it took me years to escape from a life of prostitution and I’m not going to let myself fall in love with a pimp. That’s not negotiable.”

Jackson ran a hand over his face. “I can’t just shut the strip club down,” he said shakily.

You felt your heart sink. “The money means that much to you? You can’t find another way to make it?”

“It’s not the money. If I fire those women then they’ll just end up somewhere else, with someone who treats them even worse than I do. It’s the worst possible thing that could happen to them. I know I was careless, I let Star get hurt but I’m not going to throw these girls out to the street to fend for themselves when another gang could pick them up and traffick them.”

You stared at Jackson calmly.

“Then we have nothing to talk about,” you muttered.

He looked at you desperately. “Baby, don’t say that. Please don’t say that. I’m not who you’re making me out to be, you know that-“

You stood up and picked up your laptop.

“I don’t have anything left to say to you, Jackson.”

--

You cried yourself to sleep that night. You weren’t sure what to do, and you still didn’t know if you’d done the right thing with Jackson. You knew he loved you, knew that he would take better care of you than any man alive. But that terrible shameful feeling in the back of your mind wouldn’t go away. Why would you fall in love with a man like that? You barely got yourself out of prostitution and now you want to date a pimp? That’s not normal. That’s the unhealthiest thing I can think of. Don’t do this to yourself.

Jinyoung gave you a sympathetic look when you entered the headquarters the next morning, your eyes red and face pale from lack of sleep. He probably knew what was going on; Jackson and Jinyoung were surprisingly close, they never kept secrets from each other. You forced a smile at him.

“Hey,” he said. “Jackson’s waiting in your office.”

You stiffened. “I don’t want to see him.”

“I think it’s business.”

You took a deep, calming breath. You didn’t want to see Jackson now, couldn’t bear the fact that he was probably going to leave your mind messed up for the rest of the day. But you forced a smile and entered your office, seeing him sitting at your desk. You put your bag down on the desk and raised an eyebrow at him coolly.

“What are you doing here?” you asked stiffly.

Jackson stood up and walked over to you. His own expression was miserable and you couldn’t help but wonder how hard you’d hurt his feelings the previous day. He bit his lip and gently picked up a briefcase, placing it on your desk. He opened it and revealed piles of cash. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I need help converting this into clean money.”

You blinked. “Why?”

Jackson took a deep breath and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Then he looked down at you, dark eyes piercing into yours. “You were right last night. I fooled myself into thinking those girls wanted to work as strippers. They never had any other choice, not really. Nobody ever gave them a way out. But at the same time… I’m not going to fire them. I don’t want even a single one of them ending up in a common whorehouse, or part of some trafficking ring. So I’m not going to shut down the strip club, I’m not going to fire any of these girls.”

You glared at him. “Is this what you came here to tell me-“

“No. I’m going to make sure they’re all here by choice. I called a meeting yesterday, told them all that the only way they would be allowed to keep working for me by night is if they all went to school by day. So I’m paying for all of them to go to college. Well; Shimmer and Eliza dropped out of high school so they’re going to start by getting high school diplomas. The rest of them are enrolling in the local university this fall.”

You stared at Jackson. “Oh.”

Jackson bit his lip. “I know it’s not a lot,” he whispered. “And I know that you still consider me a pimp and it’s difficult because men like me have hurt you in the past but…” he took a deep breath and reached out to grab your hand, pulling you closer to him. His fingers came up to cup your cheek. “I love you. But I don’t know what else I can do. I can just make sure that if these girls ever want to get out of this career, then they’ll have some skills they can use legally. I’m sorry if that’s not enough.”

You felt tears spring to your eyes, and Jackson released you hurriedly, stepping back. “I’m sorry-“

You cut him off, pulling him closer and kissing him hard. Jackson gasped against your lips but within seconds he had his arms wrapped around your waist, his mouth slanting over yours as he kissed you back. You let yourself melt against him, letting his strong arms wrap around you as it sank in how amazing he was. You had been holding back for so long but it suddenly struck you how much you loved Jackson. If he was willing to do this… to pay for at least fifteen girls to go to college out of the goodness his of his heart… then you doubted that you would ever find another man like him in the world.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips. “Thank you for doing this.”

Jackson smiled and pulled you closer, his lips caressing yours and sliding down your jaw and neck until his face was buried in the crook of your neck. He hugged you to him tightly and took a deep breath, his arms crushing you to his chest as though he was afraid you would change your mind.

“No, thank you,” he whispered. “For making me want to be a better person.”

You pulled back and smiled at him, wiping away your tears and giggling at the relieved expression on Jackson’s face. Then you gently removed his arms from around you.

“Come on, Wang. We need to figure out how you’re going to pay for fifteen college tuitions without the money being traced back to your illegal strip club. That means a lot of foreign transactions and maybe we need to open a new shell company. I’ll need the social security numbers and IDs of all the girls who work with you, and we need to find a legitimate source for their income. How do feel about creating a couple of non-existent dead uncles who left them loads of cash as inheritance?”

Jackson sighed.

“Oooh, sounds fun.”

--

[magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics]

The Life of a Bartender - Request

Requested by anon:  I was wondering if you could write a Black widow x Reader fiction... Natasha is such an awesome character and I would find it incredible to read about her.

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

Word count: 2.221

Warnings: Not romantic, not edited, not thought through. I also played  A LOT with the timeline, so forget everything you know.

A/N: So this is an experiment of a new story format I wanted to try, and a character I love but have never written before. It’s also the first fic I finish since I started my break, so it’s a huge deal for me and would really appreciate it if you were to offer your feedback. Seriously, it means a lot to me because I am very excited about this, but also about being back and just want you to tell me if you liked it or not.

Also: I’m back, bitches. Requests are still closed, though.

Enjoy!

The bar hadn’t had much clients in the last couple of weeks. Only the five usual alcoholics who basically lived here, and a couple of teenagers every now and then, pretending to be all grown and ready to drink but who would leave whenever one of us asked for their ID.

I was attending my shift solely because I had nothing else to do. I didn’t even enjoy this job anymore, not without a good story to spend the night with, that is.

All the good ones had gone. The only stories left were the typical: my wife left me, violent parents, terminal diseases… I wanted adventure, thrill and fantasy, not another episode of Desperate Housewives.

“Scotch on the rocks, please,” a girl on her thirties asked, sitting on the stool right in front of me.

“Do I know you?” I inquired as I started pouring down her drink.

“Don’t think so, I’m not from here…”

“Newscast! A new threat raises and the Avengers struggle to take it down… find out more on tonight’s Broadcast with Jimmy Buffay and Marlon Branaghan.”

“I hate those guys,” I mumbled and turned of the TV. Nobody noticed except for the girl, who simply chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, pouring her another glass.

“The Avengers always struggle to take down threats, but they always report that as news.”

“Damn right.”

She drank a few more glasses of Scotch and then asked to change to Tequila.

“Slow down, why would you do that?”

“To forget.”

And so I noticed the story I was craving for had been sitting in front of me for a whole hour.

It took three tequila shots to convince her to tell me her story, but I finally achieved my goal.

“When I was a child I moved to Russia with my parents. I lived there until five years ago, when I moved back here.

During my last three years there, things got dangerous around the area where I lived. Some bad guys were terrorising the town a little. My parents died victims of those assholes, and I got sent to this sort of academy for orphans.

I met a woman there… she was a bit older, but we got along right away. If you know what I mean…

That academy turned out to be even worse than the gangs on the streets.”

“How come?” I asked.

“You wouldn't believe me.”

“Try me.”

She sighed before talking in a whisper. “They… trained us to be some sort of femme fatales so we could get important information for them in order to end with all those criminals.”

“That’s awesome.” I mumbled, she chuckled sadly.

“That's what I thought too at first, but then I realised we were actually getting brainwashed into working for said criminals.”

“How?”

“They sterilised us, and filled our brains with fake memories so we’d remain loyal to them. I was rather new so I still had some of my  own memories, but Nat… the woman I talked to you about, didn’t even remember who she was anymore.”

“That's… fucked up.”

“It is, indeed…” She asked for another shot and I poured it down without second guessing. She drank it like water, sighed and looked down. The shadow that formed around her eyes in that moment, due to the dim light from the bar, only added up to the dramatic story she was telling. “So this one night, I’m out of my room, just walking around because I couldn’t sleep. I hear steps on the other side of the hallway, so I hide in the shadows, waiting to see who the intruder was.”

“And?”

“It was Nat.”

“What was she doing there?”

“She was leaving,” her eyes were far away, back in Russia, reliving the moment those very eyes caught Nat running away.

“And?”

“And I begged her to take me with her.”

“Nat, please, I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“I know, I know… I promise you I will come back for you, okay? You have my word.”

“She wouldn’t do it, she had planned everything, there was no room for me.”

“She sounds like a bitch, I’ll tell you that,” I interrupted, as I started drying the glasses that the other bartender had washed and left on my side. A tough looking man approached, asked for a bloody Mary for his partner, I poured it and then he left. “So? Did she come back?”

“Not exactly,” she mumbled, “I spent a whole year in that hellhole, and it was worse than before. They left my remaining memories untouched, but not because they wanted to be good but the exact opposite; they had checked the security cameras and microphones installed in the hallway the night Nat escaped, and they had heard me asking her to take me away…”

“What did they do?” She lifted her Tequila glass, I poured her another one, then she repeated the motion and I obeyed. She drank two more shots before she continued with her story, and every word she said became more and more slurry.

“They tortured me, day by day, they found ways to make my life impossible, without stopping my training. I obviously became stronger, because I could stand more pain than the rest of the girls there, but at what cost?” She chuckled once again, “I ended up hating Nat so much that I became loyal to the criminals I hated in the beginning. I wanted to have my revenge…”

“Did you ever?”

“Well, this one day I get a mission to stop someone from S.H.I.E.L.D. that was trying to get some info on some secret project my superiors were working on. So I prepare myself, I get to the mission and it turns out Nat is the enemy.”

“What happened?”

“So we meet again,” said (Y/N).

“I see you’re still with them,” Natasha muttered.

“Well, somebody didn’t come back for me,” (Y/N) replied. There was something dark in her eyes that Natasha hadn’t seen before.

“I couldn’t…” She apologised.

“Well, isn’t that sad?”

“This time is different, I can help you out of here if you just let me take the information I need.” Natasha begged.

“I don’t think so.”

What followed was a violent fight that involved three different martial arts combined with other combat techniques and weapon managing. They used everything in their power to defeat the other, even the furniture from the office they were in. Tables, chairs, glasses, wires and even broom were used against each other. Kicks and punches were thrown, some into the other’s face, some into the air. It was a proper fight that would, invariably, end with blood.

Natasha was still too fond of (Y/N), who she kept in her heart as a sweet and innocent child, and therefore she was controlling her strength, something (Y/N) didn’t do.

At one point, Natasha was on the ground, absolutely defenseless, hurt and lacking of air. (Y/N) would take this as her advantage, and so she pulled out a gun from her belt, pointing it directly into Natasha’s head.

Natasha lifted her hands up, as a sign of surrender, and connected her eyes to (Y/N)’s.

“I know you’re hurt, I know it’s my fault, but killing me won’t change anything…” She started, “It may actually make it worse.”

“Talking from experience?”

“No, but… I learnt that this is not the way out, okay? I know good people, kind people, who will help you no matter what. Please, let me take you to them.”

(Y/N) took the safety lock from the gun. Natasha swallowed loudly before pronouncing the words she would only say in the dark, when her mind was off this realm; words (Y/N) hadn’t heard ever after Natasha left. Words that mattered.

“So what did you do? Did you shoot her?” I inquired. I had forgotten about the glasses or the other clients. My focus was on that poor woman, and her amazing story.

“Will you tell the cops?”

“No,” I rushed to say, “my lips are sealed.”

“I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I was still in love with her… She was defenseless, and she wasn’t even hurting me that much whenever she punched me - like, I knew how strong she was, and she didn’t even left a single bruise on my body that night.”

“But she abandoned you, and the people she abandoned you with tortured you, and…”

“And I’m an idiot for letting her live,” she granted, “but I don’t regret it.”

“What happened then?”

“I decided to take the information myself and run away.” Another Tequila shot. “I didn’t go back to my superiors, instead I escaped to Croatia, changed my last name and my general information.”

“What about that super important information?”

“I sold it to S.H.I.E.L.D. for a good amount of money and a guarantee of witness protection. With that I moved here and tried to start a new life.”

“How can someone like you start a new life? What do you do for a living?”

“I work at a library, live in a very tiny apartment in the outskirts of the city, and try to keep a low profile.” She responded, and suddenly everything she had told me stopped making sense.

“Right, so you’re going to tell me you went from being a Russian spy to a librarian.”

“That’s what I said.”

“And what? Nat is now an Avenger or some shit like that?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” she replied, “Natasha Romanova, or Black Widow as the press like to call her.”

I bursted in laughter right in front of her face. She didn’t flinch, nor changed her poker face at the action. She simply poured herself another shot of Tequila.

“I know what’s going on here,” I said.

“Yeah? Tell me.”

“You read everything about the Avengers, and probably a lot of books about the Cold War and shit like that, because that’s what librarians do, and then you came here trying to mock some chick with a story you created based on what you had learned from your precious books,” I explained, “am I right or what?”

She giggled. “You’re damn right.”

“I knew it!” I cheered, “No Russian spy would come here and tell her story so easily. I think I deserve a tequila shot,” I said as I took a glass out for myself, “and you get another one, which is on me because that was the greatest story I have heard, and I’ve been in this business for quite some time.” She agreed happily and we both drank together.

Out of a sudden, a huge robot arm fell from the sky and into the bar, leaving a whole on the roof and killing the two folks that were playing pool right where the arm fell.

Chaos begun, the clients ran away screaming, as other the bartenders all gathered around me and pulled us down. (Y/N) got up from her stool, a bit shaky from the multiple shots of alcohol she had consumed but on full alert mode. She took a gun out of her jacket and pointed it to the door.

It opened, and a strange looking man walked inside. He barely took a glimpse of (Y/N) when Black Widow struck him from behind, beginning a fight as violent as the ones in the movies. The man hit her on the stomach, making her fall and stop attacking.

He was carrying a trident, which he was about to use to stab the famous Avenger, when (Y/N) shot at him. Of course, she didn’t hit, because she was too drunk to aim properly, and she noticed and so she threw the gun back to us and ran towards the man.

A similar fight as the one with Black Widow begun. (Y/N) was very good, in spite of her drunken condition, and although she didn’t harm the man as much as he harmed her, she gave Black Widow time to get back up and take another gun out.

Headshot.

His brain splattered all around the walls. It was green, and viscous. Grossest thing I have witness in that bar, including those girls who think they can drink and end up recreating the Exorcist in the bathroom.

“Are you drunk?” Black Widow inquired, approaching (Y/N).

“A little,” she replied. Black Widow gave her a stern look. “It’s her fault,” (Y/N) said, pointing towards me.

“We need to talk after this is over,” Black Widow told her.

“No, you need to thank me for saving your ass,” (Y/N) argued. Black Widow smirked.

“I’ll be back for you,” She promised.

“Prove it,” (Y/N) dared.

Black Widow shook her head as her smirk grew into a huge smile. “Don’t let her drink anymore!” She ordered and strut outside as a green spat of light shone through the bar’s windows.

“I forgot to tell you that,” (Y/N) said, as she turned around to look at me, “we kind of made up.” She took her wallet out and left more money than what she actually owed. “Thanks for the talk, and the tequila.” She winked at me and walked out as if nothing was going on.

Best story ever.

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[babydoll1947]

Let’s Talk: Mental/Emotional Abuse, from a Survivor

If you read my recent post, you have seen that I am a true crime lover, and have been watching the ID channel as if it may disappear when I’m not looking (kind of like this post did the first time I wrote it, but we’ll get to that). However, I have found that my obsession sometimes comes at a cost to my mental health. You see, when I watch these shows and hear about these horrible people with horrible traits... well, sometimes it triggers recall of some of the equally horrible traits of the man who once abused me. Now, do I think one day he will escalate all the way to murdering someone? No, I think there is a fairly slim chance of that, just given the lack of physical violence I have seen him exhibit. But, I could be wrong, and I sincerely hope everyone he encounters stays on their guard with him. Do I, however, believe this man is a sadistic psychopath who derives pure please from controlling and harming other people (especially women)? Yes, yes I do, with every fiber of my being. No matter the type, abuse is a topic people cringe at the thought of having to talk about. Trust me, the first time I wrote this before tumblr threw it off into the cosmos somewhere, it turned out to be one of the most difficult and painful things I’ve ever had to write. And, I do not relish the thought of having to write this all over again. But, even though we don’t want to talk about this, I believe that we NEED to talk about this. And yes, I said “we”, because it takes small actions from a whole lot of people to make a change in the world around us, not to mention the fact that I think everyone can gain something from the takeaways of abuse survivors. So, here I am, about to write about one of the worst years of my life, hoping to help others gain more understanding. WARNING: I am about to share graphic, detailed accounts of abuse. If you do not feel you can emotionally cope, that’s okay, please just skip to the end of the post for the recap. If at any time you feel you need support, please send me a message and I will be happy to direct you to some amazing resources! I met Chris... and I am choosing to use his real first name, as I do not feel he deserves any anonymity at all... when I was 17 and a senior in high school. When I said earlier that this man is a psychopath, I do not use that term lightly. Like, “Oh, that girl is psycho, like, totally cray cray!” I mean it in the full sense and scope of the disorder. I met him through a close friend who was seeing him, and our first real encounter should have sent off warning bells in my head. To protect the privacy and dignity of myself and my friend, I am not going into details of that particular encounter here, but I will say that it was sexual in nature. False promises were made to my friend to convince her to do this, and it was not an overall a good experience. Even with that, though, there was something so charming and alluring about him that you just felt pulled in. Right away I started seeing him on my own. At first, it was almost like a secretly agreed “sister wives” situation... each of us knew about the other, and knew we were both seeing him, but also both adored him so much that we didn’t seem to care. Over time, as we both started to want more with him, he would lie or manipulate the situation to keep us placated. Often, he would tell me he was not dating her, but tell her that he was. He loved to lie. Like, genuinely loved it. He once told me that half the time he would lie even when he didn’t need to, just to see what he could get away with and how many people he could fool. Another red flag I missed, since that is one of the hallmark traits of a psychopath. He could also fake any emotion necessary to obtain his end goal, even though I doubt he really felt much of anything. Before long, I was practically living with Chris and his roommate in their apartment. Despite this closeness, and his supposed care for me, we never “officially” dated. This is where things started to go haywire. He frequently would list off things he desired in a potential girlfriend, and I would jump through hoops to make them happen. I grew my hair out because he preferred long hair (even though I hated maintaining long hair), got French manicures because he didn’t like bright colored nails (even though I did), changed my mannerisms and reactions to be the “cool girl”, literally anything I had to do to please him. Sadly, I never realized that nothing I did would ever please him or be good enough for him... he just wanted to see how far he could push me. Over that year I morphed into a person I didn’t even recognize in the mirror. Then came the “reminders”, as I like to call them. He would not only talk about girls he liked from work or school, but bring them home with him when he knew I was there, parading them in front of me to remind me that I still wasn’t good enough. Next were the subtle put downs. Then the more serious put downs. Then came the tough love. So tough, in fact, the he held me by my arm while I was sobbing and trying to go home, holding me there until he was done telling me everything that was wrong with me. That was the closest he ever came to physical abuse, his hand wrapped around my forearm, but hell... sometimes I wished he would just hit me, thinking it would hurt less than his words piercing my heart and self-esteem. Still, I fell in love with him. Still, I stayed. Things continued to spiral, and with that spiral came the sexual abuse. That was undoubtedly the worst. His idea of sexual fun was to make me give him oral sex until he was almost ready to orgasm, then push me onto my stomach so he could fuck me for a few seconds until he came on my body. It was no longer about my pleasure or desires, only his. He convinced me that I would like being submissive, that I enjoyed it. He made me call him master, and bend to his will. On more than one occasion he would put me on my knees to give him oral sex, then hold me by my hair and half-drag/half-make-me-crawl over to him like a disobedient dog. Like an animal. I didn’t like it, but I just figured as long as it pleased him it was okay. I had only one hard boundary which I had communicated to him several times: I would not do anal sex. So, to get around this boundary, he decided to just rape me instead... One night as he was fucking me from behind, he pulled out of my vagina and ruthlessly thrust himself into my anus. I buried my face in the mattress and screamed, the pain being indescribable. He did not stop when I screamed. He kept thrusting until he finished inside me, and gave the final demeaning blow as I followed him into the bathroom: “This is why I don’t do anal, it makes your dick smell bad.” I sat on the toilet for several minutes in disbelief, dripping blood and cum into the bowl. I had never felt more humiliated in my entire life, and I don’t know if I ever will. But, he apologized (though he did not mean it), I forgave him (as I always did) and life moved on. Any time I tried to pull away from him, he made sure that didn’t happen. He would talk bad of people I liked, talk bad of me to the people I liked, and sabotage any attempt to let him go. The final few months of hell came with his drug abuse. He became addicted to Xanax and Percocet, and I became his caregiver and guardian, ensuring that he ate, finished tasks, etc., and watching over him on many sleepless nights, making sure he didn’t start to overdose in his sleep. He never once thanked me for helping him, or saving his life until he finally went into rehab. The only good thing that ever came of our relationship happened during one of his attempts to be sober: he began going to church, so I went with him and ultimately rekindled/strengthened my relationship with God. That relationship is what lead me to eventually leave Chris behind. As more time passed we slowly parted ways, him going into rehab and then halfway homes, and me leaving home permanently. Still, it took a very long time to remove him from my life completely. He was like a cancer that I had to extract from my soul one piece at a time, and it took me a lot of time, distance, and perspective to come to the realizations I have about who he really is. Here are the reasons why I am telling you all of this (if you didn’t want to read the details, come back now). First of all, something that still haunts me to this day is how nobody did anything to help me. I mentioned that he lived with a roommate, and they regularly had another friend at the apartment with them, but neither of them tried to intervene on my behalf. I know how hard it can be to confront a friend for doing shitty things, believe me I do, but we MUST do this. Please. If you are friends with someone who shows signs of being a perpetrator, please talk to them, or help the person they are with. The next thing is, please be understanding and patient with people who have survived or are currently experiencing abuse. I already know that a lot of you were thinking while reading my story “Why didn’t she just leave?” The answer is a simple one: I really believed that I loved him. I couldn’t process what was happening to me while I was still wearing the rose-colored glasses, and it can be extremely difficult to discern how bad a situation is in while you are still in it. Give your loved ones time to process what is happening, but still support and protect them as much as you can. Nothing is as black-and-white as it seems. Also understand that just because the abuse isn’t physical, it doesn’t make it any less damaging. I still struggle with the trauma to this day, seven years later. The last few days I found myself dealing with flashbacks and bouts of intense anger. It happens sometimes, and will likely continue to happen here and there for the rest of my life. And lastly, I leave you with this: If you have experienced abuse of any kind, or if you still are, I promise you that you will be okay. You are strong, a fighter, and a survivor. You are a WARRIOR. Time may not heal all wounds (I still have plenty of scars) but it truly does make it easier and less painful. There will come a day when the pain is not a constant ache, and when you can breathe freely again. Never, ever, EVER give up! I love you all, and I am always here for you! Thanks for going on this journey with me. 

[sserpente]

A/N: Request from anon and anon. I love this type of AU too, my dear.

Words: 2088 Warnings: Loki wins the battle of New York, implied smut

You were one of the few people who had been allowed to keep their job. As a skilled lawyer, your work was it mainly to help innocents winning in court. Even now after things had changed so drastically, with Loki ruling Earth under his command, setting up new laws and an entirely new way of life—a life you had been living in fear for weeks now.

The God of Mischief himself didn’t scare you much. You barely ever saw him, except for the news. Most of the time, he hid in his “palace”—Stark Tower, which he had taken residence in until his own castle was finished. A castle made of gold, paid entirely by the citizens of New York. Taxes had never been more outrageous but surviving was bearable. You swallowed your rage when looking at your pay cheque and you imagined your pillow to be Loki when you brought your fist to it repeatedly.

What you were scared of were the Chitauri. Ghastly creatures, aliens from outer space speaking a foreign language. They were patrolling through the city at all times, making sure no one stepped out of line. If they did… death was merciful compared to the horrible consequences that threatened you when you disobeyed King Loki’s laws.

For you, it was even more difficult to hide. There was a reason for why you were so good in your job and there was one, simple explanation: You could read minds. Not all the time, needless to say. But if you concentrated enough, quiet voices in other people’s heads would whisper out loud their thoughts.

It was a useful skill, even if sometimes rather scary. Some people, so you knew, had terrifying thoughts that kept you awake at night, especially when they imagined pictures and lively experiences of theirs—for you could see those too. So when a murderer in court thought about how he had driven his knife into a body over and over again, the images would come back at night to haunt you.

Life could be easier for sure. Back when the Avengers had still lived, back when freedom was something all but natural to each and every single citizen in New York… back when you had still smiled every day.

But it was about to become even worse. You were woken early by the doorbell that morning, yawning tiredly and wondering who would possibly disturb you this early on a Sunday. When you opened the door, you spotted your boss, handing you a letter with a regretful expression on his face.

“It couldn’t wait,” he started without greeting you properly. “I’m so terribly sorry, (Y/N).”

Panicking slightly, you took the letter and ripped it open. Your boss didn’t want to watch. He nodded one last time, then turned on his heel and left. Nervously, you shut the door again with your leg, your eyes never leaving the paper in your hands.

It was an invitation, a request for a skilled lawyer to help in a case, underneath an address.

Stark Tower.

You sank to the ground when your breathing stopped altogether.

The Chitauri guarding the entrance shot you dangerous glances when you approached the building, your heart beating like a steam hammer and your hands sweaty. The letter had not informed you about what you were needed for—only that you were not to reject. Why Loki had chosen you out of all people, you did not know. Somehow, he had to be aware you were the best lawyer New York City had to offer.

There was a human waiting for you when you stepped inside, his eyes icy and blue. You had heard on the news that it was Loki’s sceptre that had caused his automatic behaviour. He took the letter from you when you handed it to him, then asked for your ID before allowing you to step in the elevator, which brought you closer to your terrifying ruler with every floor you passed.

Ding. The metal doors opened, presenting a vast living area with windows instead of walls. The view was amazing but the man who had taken residence in it… he was even more beautiful in reality. Raven hair, blue eyes, a sharp jawline and a mischievous smirk on his thin lips… oh and you loved his hands. Loki’s fingers were slim and long and you knew without touching them they would be soft. The rest of his body… it was godly, to say the least.

Was this a trick? The worst monsters were invisible to the naked eye.

Loki must have noticed your awe when you lay eyes on him. Chuckling, he lifted his hands to invite you inside. You were still standing in the elevator, frozen to the spot.

“Please… come in.”

There were Chitauri guarding the area too when you obeyed and slowly approached him, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. You had been wrong. You were even more afraid of your king than those disgusting aliens—from them, you at least knew what to expect. Loki was unpredictable.

“So… (Y/N),” he began mysteriously. Your heart skipped a beat when he spoke your name. “Word has it you are New York’s best lawyer. Is that true?”

You were too scared to speak. Instead, you settled for a timid nod. Relief flooded you when he allowed you to sit down.

What do you want from me?

Your eyes flew to his sceptre. He was holding it swiftly, ready to strike with it. Was this what he wanted? Was this going to be your fate? A mindless doll, obeying his every order without knowing what you were doing?

“No worries, my dear, if I had wanted to take your free will, I would not have sent you an invitation.” He mused, noticing your discomfort.

“Then what do you want?” You finally chirped.

“Oh, is there no need for formalities? I am your king, little one.”

And that arrogant bastard wanted you to address him so. He was stalling you. Cocky idiot.

Your heart skipped a beat when you finally dared to look him in the eye again, your mind focusing on his. Come on, Loki, tell me what you want. Eager for the whispering voice inside of his head, you narrowed your eyes and then… nothing. His mind was blank. It felt like hitting a wall.

“It is very rude to read people’s minds without permission, my dear.” You suddenly heard him say.

No. It was then you realised what he really wanted from you. You working as a lawyer was unimportant. Your supernatural skill on the other hand… how had he found out?

“I… I didn’t… I mean, I… how did you…?” How were you to justify this? Curiosity? Loki was your king. If anything, it was disrespectful to intrude his privacy.

“I have been practising magic for centuries, my dear. I notice when people try to invade my mind—and I have learned to prevent it.”

You should have figured that before trying to do so. Biting your lower lip, you locked eyes with him again. The mesmerising blue in them paralysed you once more. Was he mad at you now?

“I want you to work for me. Your skill is, quite frankly, remarkable for a mortal. It will be ridiculously easy finding those who seek to betray me.” His suggestion made sense. Of course he would want to find a way to keep his people at bay—he couldn’t possibly mind-control them all. But he was the villain in this story. How would you ever work for a criminal?

“And what if I don’t want to help you?”

“Do you not?” Loki smirked, tilting his head a little. “You did not seem too repelled by me when you first stepped foot into my humble home, little one.”

Blushing, you faced the ground. Great. So your ruler knew you were physically attracted to him too.

“So? I know what you have done. I have seen the footage.” You spat angrily.

“Then you know what I am capable of if you dare disobey me,” Loki replied calmly, unaffected by your outburst. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips, your gaze following the seductive movement. “You will not do that, now will you?”

Woosh.

Like a tidal wave, you were flooded with images when suddenly, Loki lifted the barrier he had protected his mind with and practically forced his thoughts onto you. You tried keeping them out but you still saw him, even heard him, his lust and desire pulsating through every single thought.

You saw yourself standing naked before him, kneeling on the ground and devouring his cock eagerly. You saw yourself tied to his bed, his mouth tasting every inch of your body, slowly and intimately. You saw the two of you fucking like wild animals in every thinkable position and then, you practically felt yourself cumming for him.

A moan escaped your lips when Loki finally retreated, an evil smirk playing on his lips as you fought for composure, your fingers clawing at the soft material of the couch. If the imagination of having sex with this man was so intense already, how would it really feel like?

Had this… been his attention? Loki had told you he could keep you out of his thoughts if that was what he wished. His smirk gave him away. Yes. He had done this purposefully.

“Let’s say I agree to work for you. What’s in there for me? How can I know you won’t just kill me at some point?”

More pictures. More sweat, more passion, more sex. Your breathing quickened. You were unable to shut him out at all. If he was trying to arouse you, it was working. But if he only wanted to sleep with you in the first place, then why had he asked you about your skill? Was your body some kind of bonus to him?

“I am not a whore,” you growled, clenching your fists wrathfully. “Stop this immediately.”

“You give me orders?” Loki raised his eyebrows in a warning manner and although you did feel the fear cursing through your body, you went on.

“Answer me!”

The God of Mischief chuckled. “I will not kill you… not if you behave and I will not lay a hand on you unless you beg me to. And beg me you will, little one.”

Now, you saw yourself swallowing his load. So much of it… you could almost taste the salty semen on your tongue when you let it run down your throat…

“But… I can’t just show up whenever you need me! I have an apartment, a job, a life!”

Loki frowned. “You’re right,” he said. “Your old apartment will not do. You will move in here with me so I can keep a close eye on you and make sure you do not betray me.”

Paranoid bastard. “No! No, I can’t, I don’t want to. Who do you think you are?”

Now, Loki rose to his feet. The barrier was back up and not a single thought reached yours when he glared down at you, daring you to continue.

“I will have your belongings brought here—until then, I suggest you learn how to properly treat your king. Kneel.”

“I don’t even think about it!”

“I said… kneel.” Growling like a wolf, the sound of his dark voice rippled through you and vibrated in your chest. Anxiously, you did as you were told. I will not kill you… not if you behave.

It was just like how he had imagined it to be—only in reality, both of you were wearing clothes… for now. Instantly, your eyes travelled down to his crotch… longingly.

“Is there anything you want, little one?”

Arsehole.

“No,” you mumbled through gritted teeth, tearing your gaze away from him. There was a bulge forming in his tight leather pants, you could see it—and you practically ached to touch it. Loki was right. He could read you without reading your mind like you could. He was better than that.

Chuckling darkly once more, he tilted his head.

His words shot waves of heat directly between your legs. There was no way you were going to be able to keep up the act much longer. You hated him for what he had done but then again… he seemed so tender, so playful and oh, so handsome…

“Well, if there is… do not hesitate to ask, my dear. I promise, I take good care of my servants.”

A/N: If you liked this story, would you care to support me a little by buying me a cuppa? I would appreciate it so much! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[bastardtravel]

August 11, 2018. Manchester, New Hampshire.

After seven hours on the road, pausing only to explore an Old Ones cult site, storm a terrible castle, and eat distressingly dry corned beef at a Greek diner that still advertised one of their menu items as “Michael Jackson’s favorite grinder”, we were in dire need of respite.

Establishing a forward operating base was our first priority. For my part, I can sleep anywhere. My bonfire days in the Frozen North frequently necessitated pitching a $10 K-Mart tent over gravel, then drinking bottom-shelf whiskey until you didn’t realize you were sleeping in a puddle of rainwater and broken glass. That’s not a knack you lose. It’s like riding a bike. The Girl was always more discerning, and became doubly so after our experience in Phoenix with the inept criminal front halfway house hotel. We agreed that she can veto any of the lodgings I book. Sometimes, late at night, I’ll hold a flashlight under my chin and tell her spoOoOoky stories about hostels in Ireland.

She insisted on the airport Super 8. I was hoping to stay in a quaint deep woods motel called “Unsmiling Jed’s Sleepaway”, attached to sister business “Unsmiling Jed’s Discount Plastic Surgery Silo and Chili Kitchen”.

If I can’t protect it, I don’t deserve to have it. That goes double for life.

A friendly foreign woman checked us in at the Super 8, then proceeded into utter bafflement when I asked for a first aid kid. I chewed myself up pretty good climbing Bancroft’s Castle, and I’d spent the last half hour bleeding into an oily dog blanket to avoid ruining my upholstery. I’m pretty sure that’s how plagues start.

There were no band-aids here, or antiseptics, or possibly medicine as a concept. There was a three gallon tub of hand sanitizer. I thanked her for the offer but gently declined.

We went up to the third floor. The hallways were lined with people sitting on the carpet outside their rooms, shouting and smoking cigarettes. The room itself was clean and the air conditioning worked. All my boxes were checked. The bathroom reeked of weed, which some would interpret as a bonus. I scrubbed my wounds raw in the sink, tucked away the precious cargo of wine and peaches, and set out to investigate downtown Manchester.

Streetlight technology has not yet made its way to Manchester, so we spent twenty minutes missing exits in ocean-floor darkness. It looked worryingly like Wilkes-Barre, which is not where one would choose to vacation, were one sane.

Downtown erupted from nowhere like graphic pop-in on a video game running at its lowest resolution. One second you’re in leatherface country, with nothing breaking the abyssal darkness but the occasional half-broken Jiffy Lube sign. The next, you’re on vibrant neon market strip, replete with hipsters and the homeless.

We knew we had hit downtown proper when we passed by the “craft grilled cheese bistro”.

only programmers will understand!!!! like and reblog if u get it

Since I am an adult man, grilled cheese cannot be dinner. Both “gastropubs” we tried, despite their bitchin Greek mythology names, offered generic terrible burgers and a draft list that consisted of Coors Light.

“I’m so hungry,” the Girl told me. “I’m gonna die.”

“We all will,” I assured her. “Soon.”

Yelp claimed there was a brewery five blocks away. We walked off the only lit street, into absolute, encompassing blackness. It would’ve been spooky if I didn’t always kind of hope some Putty Patrol mook would lunge at me from the dark while I’m far away from home, having told no one where I’m going and left no paper trail.

There were no incidents. No one was murdered in self-defense. No one knows what we did last summer. The Stark Brewing Company was in the basement of a grim looking office complex, and it was vacant save for two other wanderers.

We sat at the bar and ordered a flight and an imperial stout. I was pushing for finding an actual restaurant, but the Girl ordered “Penne with vodka sauce”, which was not the right color, flavor, or texture to be anything but penne bolognese. The Girl didn’t seem to mind. I ate a pulled pork sandwich.

The beers were warm, but I didn’t care. It didn’t matter what the beers were, so long as they were beers. And not Coors Light. The brewery themed all of their beers off of dogs, for some reason, which I believe to be the ideal business model. According to the bartenders, the brewery had been open for 25 years, but hadn’t yet received their big boom. I was outraged. The beers were excellent, and would probably be even better if they weren’t room temperature, and the taps were not only named for specific dogs, but also provided pictures.

To say nothing of the bathroom, which was covered in sharpie beer lore.

The bartender and waitresses swore a lot more than you would normally expect in this context. The Girl maintains they were swearing at us. I disagreed.

“They were swearing <i>with</i> us,” I mansplained.

“We weren’t swearing,” she countered.

“But if we HAD been.”

As I’ve grown larger and more sinuous, I’ve tried to cut back on how often I cuss at strangers. Cultural relativism is the understanding that not everyone grew up among the coalcrackers, and good-natured oaths like “how the hell are you” or using the fuck-word as a conversational placeholder, while subjectively soothing, can set off fight-or-flight in the small, soft, and bourgeoisie.

I try to maintain direct proportionality between my barbarism and my well-heeledness. Neither the wait staff nor the other two customers shared my bond, and the middle-aged guy on my right proceeded to tell me how his hometown of Denver, Colorado is the greatest fuckin’ city in America, next to maybe Southern California. Which is not a city.

We talked about our homes and travels for a while, then I got my pulled pork sandwich and they left. The sandwich was slightly warmer than the beer, which beat the alternative.

An armada of children came into the bar.

“Oh, shit,” the woman tending bar said. They were visibly teenagers, and on the wrong side of it. They had that gangly awkwardness you get around fourteen or fifteen, and if they were trying to play it off, they were woefully bad at it. There were also nearly twenty of them. It looked like a field trip.

People in their twenties don’t travel in packs of more than six. It’s hard to transport a throng, unless you have a party bus, and why do you have a party bus when you’re twenty-eight? You’re twenty-eight and party buses have always been sad. Get a job. Also, it’s hard to get that many adults to agree on something.

It can be done. You can say, “Hey, adults, you want to do some drugs?” And in a sufficiently sized crowd, you’ll manage to pull twenty or so who will follow you to your house or whatever. This is called an “afterparty”. It doesn’t go to bars at 9pm.

Have you felt out the social zeitgeist recently? Look at a random handful of current memes and it’ll be pretty clear that most adults consider socialization to be a required burden, like paying emotional taxes. “Going out” is the price of living in a civilized society. You’re not going to scare up twenty people, then put them in a party bus, then take them to an abandoned bar half a mile outside of where the actual nightlife is.

“Hey, we’re just about to close,” the bartender said.

A reedy blonde in a top that seemed to consist mostly of straps screeched, “But your WEBSITE said you were open til ONE!”

Screeched.

The bar fell silent. Well, more silent. The Girl and I traded looks, her horror for my delight.

“Uhhhhhh,” the bartender said, but with excellent elocution, as though that were the word she had deliberately chosen. “Okay.”

They sat the itinerant mall food court in an enormous corner table, whereupon they requested shots.

The waitress who had sworn at/with us the least came back to the bar and said, “You guys said you were from Pennsylvania, right?”

We nodded.

“Can I see one of your licenses quick?”

She compared mine against the obviously fake ID one of the tweens had given her. After a moment she said, “Yeah, you can see, the font is different. And the picture looks like it’s photoshopped.”

“Yeah, no one’s license picture ever looks this good,” the Girl said, studying the fake ID.

“Except mine,” I added. They ignored me. I didn’t take it personally.

The waitresses disappeared into the back. Five minutes later, the only dude working at the place was gendered into being the bad cop. He sulked over to the teens.

“You guys gotta leave,” he said. “We know your ID’s fake. We’re not trying to get fined. You gotta go.”

For maximum accuracy, imagine this said in Toby’s voice from the Office. Shamefaced, the flash mob of children dispersed.

We paid for our room temperature beers and left the poor, foul-mouthed brewery to close at 9:30 on a Friday. The Girl and I accidentally stalked the battalion of teens through the street, but only because we were all moving back toward the only lights in the city, not unlike moths. They turned a corner and vanished, presumably to find an arcade or laser tag or some sort of large carousel.

The Girl and I followed the sounds of some obnoxious bros announcing, “It’s like a fahkin sketchy ally, dewd”.

It was, in fact, the least sketchy alley I’d ever been in. Cat Alley was the best lit venue in all of New Hampshire. It was clean and well-maintained, and it was covered less in graffiti and more in an outdoor art gallery dedicated to cats.

There were more, but they didn’t all warrant a picture.

Portland Pie Co loomed from the endless darkness like a beacon in the night, hearkening back to those days lost in Maine during the Great Lobster Drought of 2017. We split a bourbon barrel ale which did me in. It was bedtime.

On the way back, toward the end of the main drag, a man made of pure light rode by blasting EZ-Listenin from his Tron bicycle, also made of pure light.

I can’t prove he wasn’t Jesus.

Heartened, we returned to the hotel, where no one was smoking or yelling in the hallway anymore. Excellent.

Next stop, Portsmouth.

Love,

The Bastard

Into the Abyss August 11, 2018. Manchester, New Hampshire. After seven hours on the road, pausing only to explore an Old Ones cult site, storm a terrible castle, and eat distressingly dry corned beef at a Greek diner that still advertised one of their menu items as "Michael Jackson's favorite grinder", we were in dire need of respite.

[kindabraveandlittlestupid]

A love/hate review of The Division game and all the things I wish it could have been. Please note that as of this point I have not played the massive update that supposedly took place to ‘fix’ the game. This critique is opinion based and if you love (or hate) the game more then I do feel to let me know how/why. Just be respectful of your dissent of my review.

I am of two mindsets about this game in the fact I thought it was a great concept and I generally enjoyed the setting and gameplay (to some degree) but on the other hand, the storytelling was less than exceptional, they had with PVP element and RPG damage system which ruined the game.

New York City Setting (Loved) Reading up on this game I appreciated the groundwork the developer put into getting the setting right. How they contacted with real government agencies to try accurately portray the JTF accurately and took thousands of pictures of New York to capture the city. Like a winter cemetery with monolithic skyscrapers looking like dark pillars reaching towards the sky from the very beginning you knew you were in the Big Apple. There are many games that take liberties with real-world cities in games by shrinking them down to manageable sizes, you can love GTA all you want but if you lived in LA you know San Andrea is like a shadow compared to the real thing. The Division had no such issue as almost every second (save the underground/sewer levels) kept me believing that I was elite agent fighting in for New York.

Shoot First, Ask Questions Never (Hated) An aspect of the game that really bothered me was “Always Shooting” approach to the gameplay. Find a group of guys in the street with guns? Shoot them. Meet a fellow agent in the Dark Zone? Think about shooting them. Find two people over a body? Shoot them too. I understand this was a gun game but this really undercut the morality and humanity that could have made this game great. In eyes of the developer, everyone was guilty of something but by the rules of probability, not everyone in the city who was armed had to be a ‘bad guy’. Those group of men standing with guns on the corner? Neighborhood watch protecting their community. The two guys over the body in the alleyway? Found it like that and looking for ID or supplies.

Point is they could have easily put a verbal engagement into the game where you get the drop on somebody and allow them to surrender peacefully. Give a Mass Effect conversation wheel where you can get to the root of what the hell they are doing and either let them go, arrest them, rob them or even (if they do end up being bad) shoot them. I don't believe video games desensitize kids but they don't make me arguing their case for them any easier when the only option is to kill kill kill. 

Story Telling (Love/Hate) The use of the hologram playback of events was an original way of telling stories and gives you an almost interactive perspective on what transpired before. As did listening to the voice recordings, hunting down missing agents and reading the walls also helped paint the city that is in utter chaos. 

Perhaps I spoiled myself with the Brian Wood comic DMZ (totally worth the read) which really dove into a New York warzone setting but I felt like the developers took the story to a point and then just kind of stopped. No long-term plot, no secondary missions with a rich fiction to delve into or even a good use of the secondary characters who made up the JTF. This a consistent issue with most Tom Clancy games (save the Splinter Cell series which is linear but fun as hell). I would have happily given up the whole ‘Dark Zone’ for investment in more plot but most companies look to multiplayer now as the measure of success instead of having the fans keep a lasting impression in their mind like Mass Effect or other story-driven games. I think that metric of success is simply wrong.

Death By A Thousand Bullets (Hate) Probably the BIGGEST failure of the game was the DPS element to the guns. Nothing like being a firefight with a guy and pumping him with hundreds of bullets and only taking away a sliver of his health. I understand why they wanted to have a quality of weapons aspect of the game to encourage people to try/loot new weapons but going this route really just ruined the experience. They could have easily gone with a gun jamming up over time requiring maintenance or switching it out for something new to encourage alternative firearms. They did a really good job with the weapons system of Ghost Recon: Wildlands and for some reason omitted this game from that quality weapons system.

I just marvel the most at the fact that there was a probably an office somewhere full of developers creating this game and someone said “Hey shouldn't a bullet to the head kill a guy?” and someone saying “No, he is a level 13 and you’re only a level 2, therefore, your bullets do less damage!” “That doesn't make any sense...” “Shut up, Derek. No one likes you.” Did it actually play out like that but I promise you someone had a conversation like that AT LEAST once.

Missed Opportunities (Love/Hate) Getting passed the nitpicky elements above let's talk about some things it could/should have been. There was so much potential with this game for alternative missions, game modes and ways to play that I wish some developer might correct in the next version of this game.

The Convoy Mission - Seems simple enough but in a city full of cars, there should have been convoy mission where an APC or a group of Humvees needed to drive a couple blocks to help resupply one of the safe houses. Walking alongside it, dealing with the occasional attack and smashing open windows of cars that are in the way and push them to the side. Seems simple but a diversity of missions is never a bad thing.

Reclamation Tug-O-War - Would have been great to have seen a game mode where you hold your block and work to liberate surrounding areas from the various factions which sounds simple but also have those factions push back trying to reclaim blocks you control. This would have provided a replayable element where you take areas, establish a JTF presence and hold them until the city is under control.

Establishing Safe Houses - Like the Reclamation idea, when you set up a safe house it should have not simply been unlocked and then done. I would have enjoyed having missions focus on the success of these alternative safe house location away from the main base with tangible perks for doing a job well done. Could be complex like defend it from attack, find a new radio so they can keep in contact with HQ, or something simple like deliver the blankets where you keep the people happy and alive.

Zombie Mode - Lots of people shit on zombie mod mostly because they are dime a dozen but I doubt anyone could argue that this setting (the city itself) doesn't look like a setup for a zombie movie. It would be amazing to have a co-op horde mode being a separate playable game mode for players.

The Dark Zone (Hate) We know why they put this into the game but fuck me if it doesn't make any sense. “Hey! My radio stopped working over here.” *Shakes it* “Guess I can let my psychopath flag fly now and kill other agents.” This REALLY cut into the Achilles tendon and dropped the game to a new low. I already talked about how Shoot First, Ask Questions never basically was a green light for murdering anyone you came across but this game mode plays to the worse aspect of gaming culture.

Co-Op (Love) I wanted to end on two high notes after ripping into the game with so much hate. I enjoy games with a Co-Op element where 2 or more players join me in the world to set things right. There is always chance that one of my friends will flashbang me on purpose to piss me off but for the most part, it enhances the experience and the Division does this well, making Co-Op a feature and not a mandatory function for enjoyment.

Ola Strandh (Love) A special shout-out to the composer of the game's score. While I did not notice the soundtrack to much while playing the game, the score eventually popped up on my Spotify and with some easy listening, I started to appreciate the complexity of the music and the use of sounds to create an atmosphere. I would suggest giving it a listen and if you like composed movie/game scores adding this to your playlist wouldn't be all that bad.

Conclusion You’re a special agent with the license to kill murdering your way through a civilian population that was basically abandoned by their government during the quarantine. Kinda hard to have a moral footing when you think about the game like that. The story itself was unrealized and the RPG element to the game (along with PVP) killed the immersion that could have made this game epic. I leave the weapon/gear perk element in my RPG’s with the suspension of belief of ‘because fucking magic” but it has no place in the realistic shooters like this.  I will probably play it again as there was that update but I doubt they did the overhaul that this game badly needed. Regards Michael California