#they still just read as white(which in and of itself is not bad) trying to claim otherwise though is silly

[vanilladove]

❤︎ ₊ ⊹ get free (1/3)

pic creds luvpngs | gif creds akashi-tetsuki

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pairing: asylum patient!nikolai x asylum attendant!fem!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre: v suggestive w/ plot (yasssss); read at your own discretion

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ content warnings: unhealthy relationships, infidelity, slightly yandere(?) nikolai, dubious consent, nikolai himself is a warning lol, also sorry if the asylum! au is inaccurate

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ summary: reader is an asylum attendant and is assigned to their newest admit nikolai gogol. ALSO this fic is heavily inspired by @/cherikolya's fic she's the one i'm running with- pls check it out and support her! also i'm splitting this up into 2 parts bc watching the aot anime has been breaking me and consuming all my thoughts, but i still want to post:( ˚₊‧꒰ა read pt 2 & pt 3 & bonus (bad ending) ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ word count: 5.7k (oops...what can i say nikolai makes me delulu)

"Nikolai Gogol. Age 26. Male. Charged with terrorism, first-degree murder, and treason among other things, but he got off with an insanity plea. Look over his file before he comes in later." The man behind the desk tossed the neat file carelessly onto the acrylic surface, exhaling boredly after giving his monotone rundown.

"I'm being assigned to him? But I already have other patients to take care of!" You inquired, fists forming at your sides as you already imagined the overtime and exhaustion you were going to rack up.

"Attendants don't grow on trees, do they? Don't assume I'll give you special treatment. Besides, I'm handing your other patients off to the new girls, so you'll be able to focus on Gogol. He's high priority." The man butted back.

Tch. You sighed and grabbed the file, mumbling a "fine" and turning to leave his office.

"Goodbye, dear." He spat it out like venom with a forced smile. You glanced back once more at the man: your boss--or rather husband--before heading out the door. You two were simply a marriage of convenience--a business transaction. In exchange for funding to build a new asylum on par with Mersault to rehabilitate criminals, your father had offered your hand in marriage to his business partner's son, who had become entranced by your beauty after seeing you once in your father's office. He wasn't too bad of a man at first, and you both related over your occupation together, but your marriage started to go sour after he realized you weren't just a pretty face or obedient wife, and it worsened after his narcissism and egocentricity started to show. He was too traditional and trapped you in his cage of rules and regulations. Even sharing the same bed and having dinner together couldn't reignite the nonexistent spark between you.

You walked back to your office and closed the door behind you before making yourself some herbal tea to calm your nerves. Laying down on the plush couch in the middle of your room, you looked through your new patient's file, trying to memorize all the details.

Nikolai Gogol, huh? What kind of person are you? You shivered reading the list of his crimes, which seemed endless and cruel.

An hour or so had passed before you heard a soft knock at your door. "Miss?" Another attendant had come to fetch you. "Your patient is waiting for you in the white ward." The white ward was where "high priority" or more dangerous patients were kept.

"I'll be out in a moment!" You called out, getting up from the couch and tidying up the space before fixing your hair and pulling down your uniform. It was a black flowy dress with puffy bell sleeves and a white rounded collar. The dress itself was a bit too short, being designed and chosen by your gross and perverted lovely husband. You walked out the comfort of your office and followed the attendant to the white ward.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Miss, this is your patient Nikolai Gogol". The attendant gestured to the tall man standing in the hallway outside of his room. He was strapped and held by two guards, with several others surrounding him holding special guns. He had a neutral smile on his face that turned upwards upon seeing you. You couldn't help but be momentarily mesmerized by the man in front of you. He wore a loose white button up and white linen pants--the standard male patient uniform--and his white hair was messily layered with a long, neat braid on his shoulder. His eyes were the most captivating to you, one emerald and full of life and the other a dull blue with a scar. Without the jester attire donned in his file pictures, he actually looked quite...handsome and prince-like?

You snapped yourself back to reality after remembering who you were dealing with and bowed slightly, just enough to stop your dress from riding up.

Observing the situation, you could sense the belligerence seething from everyone else. Not that you could blame them, the new patient was a dangerous anarchist. Your personal philosophy was always to treat the patient as humanely as possible in order to build trust and security, so you tried to not think about your new patient's file information. Just focus on diffusing the energy of the space and getting the jester to somewhat like you.

"Hello, Nikolai. I'm your attendant and will be taking care of you for the duration of your stay here," You looked back up and smiled gently at him, starkly contrasting the hostile glares from the other attendant and guards. "Let's get along, okay?"

Nikolai's eyes widened immediately and he tried to move closer to you. "Whaaaa! Nice to meet you, pretty miss! I can't believe such a beautiful girl is taking care of me!" The two guards forcibly stopped him from taking another step and the others pointed their guns at him.

Nikolai frowned and stopped squirming. "Hey! All I did was talk! Put those scary things away!" He giggled as the guards retracted their guns slowly and stuck his tongue out at the other attendant, who looked disgusted yet scared. He wasn't intimidated or scared at all. The guards then opened the door to Nikolai's room and placed him sitting down on his bed. Before you could follow to begin debriefing, the other attendant tugged on your arm lightly.

You turned back at looked at her. She had a fluffy blonde bob, light green eyes, and freckles. Lacey, one of the young new hires your husband mentioned earlier. "Um Miss, aren't we supposed to follow the script when interacting with patients? I thought smiling at them and speaking casually promoted unwanted feelings and was unprofessional?" You cringed, loathing that she sounded just like your husband when he was lecturing.

You shot her a fake sugary smile, "Oh, yes, I usually just take a softer approach with more unstable patients. Don't want them to stab you in the back immediately, do you?" You tried to answer lightheartedly, but your efforts clearly failed by the way Lacey had a horrified look on her face from your little joke, like it was the worst answer you could've said. You awkwardly coughed and put your hand on her shoulder.

"Right, thanks for reminding me, Lacey. It's great that you remembered the boss's words." Rolling your eyes once your back was turned to her, you stepped into Nikolai's room. You already dreaded Lacey telling your husband about you deviating from protocol and the long talk he would have with you at home.

"Four of us will be staying here to observe the debrief, Miss. This man is dangerous." You nodded as each of the four the guards stood in a corner of the room and the rest filed out of the room. You pulled up a stool and sat down, giving your new patient a run down of his daily schedule and how the asylum operated. The whole time, his eyes watched you excitedly like a puppy and he giggled and nodded frequently in between your sentences. It was strange and unsettling, but you were slightly relieved you didn't have to deal with an aggressive patient.

Scooting closer to Nikolai, you pulled out a small water bottle and a case of different pills. "These are your daily meds, Nikolai. I'll come to give these to you every morning at six before breakfast. I'll monitor your progress and adjust your dosage as time goes on." He nodded as you stood up and placed the water bottle on the stool, putting on a white latex glove and pouring the pills out into your hand. "I'm going to be administering them to you just for today. Open your mouth and don't close it until I'm done, okay?"

"Okay, missy! I'll be a good boy and try not to bite your pretty fingers off!" Nikolai perked up and giggled like a child getting candy. You mentally cringed and prepared yourself for the worst as you stepped towards him. What could you expect? This man was dangerous and had no reason to listen to you. The guards tensed up as you moved closer and pointed their guns at the jester's face. You swallowed as Nikolai opened his mouth, obnoxiously saying "ahhhhhhhh" and bouncing in his spot lightly.

Heartbeat increasing, you placed your free hand under Nikolai's jaw, thumb supporting his chin and lifted his face up slightly to you as you dropped the pills into his mouth. Mind racing and anxiousness clouding your vision, you missed the way he gaze softened. He closed his mouth and leaned into your touch more, nuzzling your delicate fingers. You swiftly pulled away, turning your head back to grab the water bottle behind you, attempting to hide the light rose that dusted your cheeks, unsure of whether it was from fear or embarrassment. Nikolai's eyes were still intently on you, so you secretly hoped he had missed that.

As you opened up the water bottle and stepped back towards Nikolai again, he shook his head. "I already swallowed them, I don't need any water, miss attendant." He opened his mouth again to show you proof before you sighed out an "okay" and tightened the cap back on. You grabbed the empty pill case before gesturing to the guards to put their guns down. They complied and two came over to slowly undo the restraints on his upper body, making sure to hold him back immediately after.

"Well, Nikolai, that's all for today. Thank you, and I--"

"Whoa, missy, you have a ring! Too bad you're already married!" Nikolai interrupted, his head poking up but quickly being pushed down by one of the guards. You cursed yourself silently as you froze in place. Since you had to move around a lot and constantly clean, you wore your wedding ring on a simple gold chain as a necklace instead. It was usually tucked under your uniform, but it must have slipped out when you were laying on your couch earlier. You cleared your throat awkwardly, tucking your necklace back into your uniform and trying to get rid of the instinctive frown on your face that appeared anytime your partner was mentioned.

"Yes, I'm married. Anyways--"

“But you held my face so lovingly just now. Won't your husband get mad? You're supposed to do that to him, not your new captive, right?"

You tightened your fists at that.

"That man…does he treat you well, pryntsesa?" Even though his head was held down, his dark gaze still cut into you, now not as innocent as it was before. You were sure the cheeky man was smirking too, taunting you with an otherwise harmless question.

You let out a fake laugh and an even faker wide smile in response, just eager to leave and go home now. Whatever charm you had your patient initially under had clearly faded away. "I'll see you tomorrow at six, Mr. Gogol." Nikolai's smirk turned down after hearing the name change, but quickly turned back up again followed by loud hysterical laughs--unbeknownst to you, who had already left his room.

"So the little ptashka wants to play games, does she?"

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Thanks for dinner, dear." Your husband said, wiping his mouth with a neatly folded handkerchief.

Shocking. Is he being...nice?

"Of course, I've already packed your lunch for tomorrow, too." You replied, occupied washing dishes and organizing the kitchen again.

"So, how was your first encounter with Gogol?" He inquired, walking over to you to put his dishes into the sink and lean against the counter beside you. You stopped for a moment, surprised he was making conversation with you today, as he usually retreated back to your shared bedroom or went to the living room to watch the news.

You were about to start until you noticed his brows furrowed and his arms crossed. You took your rubber gloves off and placed them next to you.

Oh boy, he's about to lecture me, isn't he?

"What are you really trying to say?"

He exhaled. "Well, Lacey--"

That snitch. You couldn't believe her.

"Ahhh, Lacey. The sweet young new girl you hired as extra help. What about her?" Your spouse's eyes narrowed.

"Respect your coworkers, dear. Lacey told me about your unprofessional interaction with Gogol. Smiling at a murderer and treating patients as friends doesn't exactly align with the asylum's values, now does it?" He said sternly.

"I was just trying to immobilize him. You can't exactly make a patient trust you when everyone's just shooting daggers at them, y'know?" He didn't look convinced. "Besides, this has always been my approach since I started in this field, and it's never failed me. You more than anyone should know I have the most successful recoveries among all the staff."

"Fine. Just make sure your unorthodox tendencies don't rub off on the other staff." He looked down at your neck. "And don't tuck your necklace under your uniform anymore. Don't want all the delinquents getting the wrong idea. You're off the market now" He lifted the chain of your necklace and traced the outline of the ring before letting go and walking to grab his coat and a pack of cigarettes.

"Going outside for a smoke break. You should get to bed and get some sleep for the long day tomorrow" He replied before walking out the door, your eyes following him.

You didn't miss the way he swiftly grabbed the keys and fixed his hair before leaving.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Good morning, dove!" Nikolai chirped upon you entering his room.

"Good morning, Nikolai. Did you sleep well?" You asked softly, taking his medication out and handing it to him, along with some Ukrainian candy.

"Mmhmm, yes I did! I had a sweet dream, too, doll, but I can't tell you what it was about!" He said excitedly. Used to his antics, you only laughed in response and watched as he took his pills--still without water for whatever reason and unwrapped the minky binky candy, popping it into his mouth.

Five weeks. That was how long it'd been since Nikolai was admitted to the asylum.

Despite your initial worries of dealing with a monster, you and Nikolai had gotten along quite well. He seemed to only listen to you, though, much to the dismay of the other attendants. It was beneficial for you though, since it meant you didn't have to work overtime seeing to other patients.

Nikolai had developed a habit of calling you by anything but your name, bestowing several different pet names on you--a new upgrade from "miss" and "missy".

He also became increasingly touchy with you as well: constantly holding your hand--intertwining his fingers with yours, braiding your hair, and hugging you when he felt "cold". Perhaps you were desensitized to it or just touch starved, but you rarely complained about it. You would rather keep him happy and easy to deal with, anyways.

"Look, pretty girl, I finished all my meds!" Nikolai exclaimed as he opened his mouth to show you proof that he swallowed them all.

You gave him a friendly smile. "You aren't having any bad side effects from your meds, are you?" You found it a bit odd that Nikolai's dosage never changed, since no one could pinpoint his exact condition. It made your job easy, though, so you tried not to think much about it.

"No ma'am. I had some trouble sleeping at first, but it's all gone now!" He stood up from his bed and watched as you straightened it up--simultaneously checking for anything suspicious. There never was anything somehow.

His hands loosely wrapped around your waist as he pressed himself against your bent back and rested his chin on your shoulder, causing you to push your hands into the sheets and wrinkle the thin blanket. You let out a surprised squeal when you felt his warm breath on your ear.

"Love, can we eat breakfast in the courtyard today?" He whispered softly, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You felt yourself blushing as you turned around and pushed him away, his hands still remaining on your waist.

"Y-Yes, N-Nikolai, we can go to the courtyard today." You said, finally stepping away to be free of his touch just for him to hold your hand. He flashed a happy smile at you while skipping out the door, tugging you along with him.

"Yayyyy! Me and ptashka are going on a date~"

"...It's not a date, silly." You replied back, blush still faintly across your cheeks.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You inhaled the fresh courtyard air, still holding hands with Nikolai as you walked on the cobblestone path. His breakfast to-go box and your lunchbox were on the nearby bench; you both already ate, but Nikolai basically ate most of your food, claiming the dining hall food was "stale and dry" compared to the pillowy cream puffs you'd brought.

"Wahhhh! Look at the fishies, dove!" Nikolai exclaimed, waving his finger at the koi fish swimming in the fountain. They eagerly swam towards him, probably thinking he was going to feed them. He giggled, eyes focusing in on two of the fish.

"Don't those two look like us, love?" You were snapped out of your previous trance and looked down to see a black koi fish and a larger white koi fish together cuddling into each other.

"Oh, I guess they do. Because of our uniforms, right?" You looked back up to Nikolai to see him frowning and still staring at the fish.

"No, dove, because they're in love..." He said lowly, to the point where you almost couldn't hear him. His gaze softened as he looked back down at you and cupped your face gently.

In love? Us?

Eyes widened, you felt confused as you looked away, not sure how to respond or think. The sudden action caused Nikolai's hands to drop away from your face. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see his disappointed face as you stammered, "We're not in lo--"

Your eyes flew open again as you felt something hard in your hand.

A bouquet of lavender roses was in your hand, with Nikolai giving you a big grin with his hands behind his back. "Pretty flowers for my pretty girl." You blushed, forgetting about what had just happened. You had always loved roses and their romantic charm.

When was the last time your husband brought you flowers?

"Lavender roses symbolize delight and love at first sight. They remind me of you." Your eyes widened again as you looked up, Nikolai turning serious and gazing at you affectionately, like you were really lovers.

You found yourself getting lost in his heterochromatic eyes. Somehow, you felt peaceful like this. Even though he was a dangerous criminal. Even though your heart was already sworn to another man.

"Thank you, Nikolai. They're beautiful." You said smiling at him, this time being genuine and not passive. You were falling into a serene state, only able to focus on him. His action had somehow touched your conflicted heart and put you in a good mood.

He laughed happily in response, pleased by your reaction. "You look lovely when you smile like that, sweetheart." He pulled your other hand back to the bench so you could sit.

"Also, you should give me a nickname, too. I have so many, but you only call me Nikolai~" He pouted, scooting next to you on the bench.

"Hmmmm...What should I call you then? Niko? 'Lai? Nikolas...?" You pondered, both of you slightly cringing at all of the options, each one sounding worse than the previous one.

"I know!" Nikolai exclaimed, grabbing your hands--still holding the flower bouquet--and clasping them together, "Kolya. Call me Kolya. That's what my close friends and family would call me!"

Family? You mean the ones you murdered? You tried to shake the thought.

"Kol--Ahh!" You cried out as you felt a deep prick on your left ring finger. You pulled your hand away from Nikolai's and dropped the bouquet, watching the blood drip down your finger and down to your thigh.

Nikolai's eyes filled with concern, "Love! You're hurt!" He rushedly rummaged through his breakfast box and his pockets, trying to find a napkin to stop the bleeding. You tried to calm him down, telling him you were fine, but he wouldn't listen.

Suddenly, he seized your left hand and brought it to his mouth, closing his lips around your ring finger. Shivers ran down your spine as you felt him running his tongue over your finger, getting every last drop of blood and kissing the spot slowly when he finished.

Heat rushed into your cheeks as the air felt thick, no longer serene and peaceful. Nikolai's eyes darkened, and an unreadable expression fell on his face.

"There's still some there, dove." He gazed down at the blood that had dripped onto your thigh. Your stomach churned at the thought of what he would do next as he pushed you down onto the bench and brought his lips to your inner thigh, leaving soft kitten licks all over the spot and lightly groaning.

"Niko--Kolya, s-stop--" You tried suppressing the moan threatening to spill out from the contact on your sensitive skin. You tried to push him away softly, but he wouldn't stop, now pressing light kisses that travelled up your thigh to your sweet spot. He was getting close. Too close.

You pushed his head away, not trying to be soft anymore, and sat up again, moving to the far side of the bench. You pulled down your dress again to cover your now reddened thigh.

"W-We can't do this. It's wrong. You're my patient, and I'm your attendant. And..." You hesitated, regaining your composure, "...And I'm married." You said, biting your tongue. The gold necklace suddenly felt heavy around your neck, like it was pulling you down.

Nikolai laughed bitterly, "You don't love him though, myla. He's kept you trapped in a cage. Is that what you want, dove? Do you want to be trapped in his cage?"

"I--"

"Miss! Mr. Gogol! There you two are! We've been looking everywhere for you both. There's a group wellness activity starting for all the patients, and they're waiting on you." You turned around to hear a familiar high-pitched voice.

Lacey. The snitch new girl.

You put on a fake smile. "My apologies, I completely lost track of time. Lacey, you can escort Nikolai to the group's meeting spot. I'll be retiring to my office for the rest of the day." She nodded as you grabbed the bouquet and your lunchbox and took one last look at Nikolai before standing up from the bench and turning away, "I'll see you tomorrow, Nikolai." You didn't wait for a response back.

It felt too awkward. Everything felt confusing; you knew your place but you also wanted to be free. You liked Nikolai but you didn't know if those feelings could be considered love. You surely didn't love your husband...

All you could do was hold onto the roses and gaze up at a dove flying across the sky. For a moment, you wished to be like that dove. To be elegant, at peace, and loved.

You wished to be free.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to scan your access card and enter Nikolai's room. Today was a special day, after all.

"Good morn--"

"Love! You're finally here! I was waiting for you~" Nikolai exclaimed as he lunged towards you, burying his face into your neck. He wasn't wrong; The extra time you spent collecting your thoughts and debating going in or not made you two minutes late.

You lightly pushed Nikolai away--not before he caught your hands and intertwined them with his again--and tried to put a neutral smile on your face. "Nikolai, I have good news for you."

His face lit up as he clasped your hands and brought them towards his chest, "What is it, dove? Are you divorcing your husband and leaving him for me?" He shook your hands excitedly as you eyed him disappointingly. He really wasn't going to drop this lovesick act, was he?

You shook your head and cleared your throat, "No, as a reward for good behavior, you can choose a special place to visit and an item to keep in your room. Your options are the courtyard, the gy--"

"The library. I want a book to read." Nikolai stated, suddenly turning serious, taking you slightly aback; you didn't take him as the type to be able to sit still and read for a long time.

"Alright, the library it is then. Take your meds first, and then we can go, 'kay?" He nodded excitedly as you turned away from him to make his bed and do the usual check. Nothing suspicious, as usual.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The guard greeted you both as you approached the grand library doors. It was an old wooden room with tall glass windows that contrasted the relatively short bookshelves. It wasn't exactly a popular destination for patients, so the books were mostly dated and collecting dust. The natural light inside made it one of your favorite break spots during your trainee days, so it was a bit nostalgic for you.

"There are security cameras around the library, but radio in if anything happens." The guard explained sternly, looking over at Nikolai and then you, "Do you need assistance with your patient, or will you two be fine alone?"

You shifted your gaze over to Nikolai, who had a slightly mischievous smile on his face but maintained a serious expression. "We'll be fine alone. He'll behave." The guard nodded at you before opening the door and letting you two in. The door shut firmly and you tried to grab Nikolai's hand, but he dashed away from you towards the large stained glass window before turning to face you.

"It's so big in here, ptashka. I haven't been in a library in sooooooo long. I actually love to read, y'know?" He said, smiling and motioning for you to join him. The colorful stained glass reflected on his face, casting multicolored kaleidoscopes on his face.

You joined him, admiring his beauty momentarily before leaning against the window and crossing your arms. "I didn't know that, no. To be honest, I didn't think you were much of a reader.." You said lightly with a giggle.

Nikolai grinned back, "Heh. There's a lot you don't know about me, dove." He looked away, lowering his voice a bit, "But that's fine. You'll have plenty of time to learn everything later~" You looked at him confusedly, not quite catching what he said, but you remembered the reason you came and grabbed his hand again.

"Anyways, was there a particular book you were looking for? I know this place pretty well." He laughed in response.

"Ah, is that so? Well, I'm looking for The Overcoat. It's my favorite book." Nikolai said proudly, like he was trying to impress you with his literature selection.

"The books are sorted by last name. Do you know the author?" You asked, leading him towards the bookshelves. Nikolai just squeezed your hand and started skipping forward at a fast pace, practically dragging you behind him as he started giggling hysterically.

"Nope! Not a clue, hehe~" You paused and frowned at him. Who didn't even know the author of their "favorite" book? "The genre's fiction, though, if it helps~" Nikolai said giddily, turning towards you and swinging your arms from side to side. You sighed and slowly headed over to the fiction section. There were about 1,000 books to go through, so you weren't exactly too excited. Not that it bummed you out too much, though, since your husband had asked you to help the new girls clean if you finished early with patient duties. You supposed you'd rather spend your time with Nikolai finding his book.

You both agreed to search the shelves simultaneously, Nikolai looking on the higher shelves and you on the shorter ones. The space between shelves was quite narrow, making his chest rub against your back several times. He wasn't shy either, grabbing your hips to maneuver past you, causing you to jolt when he pressed himself behind you.

Starting to lose count of how many books and shelves you'd checked, you were falling into a tired daze until Nikolai's sudden shout woke you up. "I found it, dove! I'm the winner! Me, me, me!" You looked over to Nikolai, who now had his book in his hands, and shot him a relieved smile.

He hurriedly headed towards you as you gave him some congratulatory praise. "Guess our work's done here, then. Let's get some lunch and call it a da--"

He hugged you suddenly, making you yelp as he giggled and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back against him. He leaned in by your ear, squeezing you tighter, inhaling your scent, "Say, dove, do you still have the roses I gave you from the courtyard?" You perked up toward him as he smiled, awaiting your response.

You did. You'd placed them in a small glass vase--trimming the thorns off--and put it on your dresser. Somehow, the sickly sweet smell was stronger in your room than it was in the courtyard. "Yeah," you smiled, "They're in a vase by my dresser. I couldn't bring myself to get rid of them because of how beautiful they were." Nikolai snickered at that, delighted that you'd cherished his little gift.

He slowly smirked, "Your husband doesn't give you flowers, does he?" You tensed up a bit under his arms but relaxed again, frowning and looking down.

"No, he doesn't. I think the last time was during our honeymoon." Nikolai cuddled into your neck after that, rubbing your sides like he was trying to comfort you.

"What a shame, love. You should leave him for me. He doesn't deserve you." Nikolai said, his teeth barely grazing your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Was the space always this narrow?

"I can't. It doesn't work like tha--"

"Why not, though? Leave him for me. I'm actually perfectly sane, y'know? I know how to make you happy, how to free you from his cage..." He paused, "How to touch you..." His hands on your waist trailed down, pushing your skirt up higher.

"H-hey!" You stammered, stopping his hands from going further with your own, "We can't do this. There are cameras here." You anxiously looked around, trying to find them, but Nikolai's hand grabbed your face and pulled it back down to him.

"Shhhhhh. Stop worrying, myla. This is a blind spot. It's covered by the light, see?" He tilted your face up slowly again toward the camera, which was in fact covered by a big, dusty lantern. How convenient.

He pushed your skirt up again and grinded himself on you, and you swore you could feel his bulge pressing up against you. "You've been driving me crazy, dove, since yesterday I've only been able to think about you," he grunted, slipping his hands into your loosened dress and under your lacy bra to palm and squeeze your breasts. "The sounds you made...I wanna hear them again."

Your head was screaming at you to run away and get the guard, but you couldn't ignore the wet spots on your matching lace panties from your arousal. To be honest, you didn't remember the last time you'd been this intimate with anyone, and your body was clearly craving touch. Your breath hitched as Nikolai kissed below your ear, working his way down to the crook of your neck. You were starting to feel lightheaded.

Becoming more desperate for a reaction, Nikolai suddenly pinched your sensitive nipples and bit down on your neck, causing you to yelp in pleasure. "A-ahh K-Kolya--" The sudden impact caused you to push back against his clothed member and grip onto the sturdy shelf in front of you for support. You could feel him grinning in satisfaction, letting out a low groan.

"Mmm there's the pretty noise I wanted to hear~" Nikolai replaced his lips with his tongue, trailing slowly up and down your neck as you kept bucking against him, needing more friction. "Dove," he heaved as you mewled upon feeling his tip brush against your clit through eachother's clothes. He couldn't handle seeing you start to lose yourself. "F-fuck, kiss me".

Nikolai grabbed your hips suddenly and turned you around, so your back was against the wooden shelf. You looked up at his face; he was panting heavily, eyes filled with lust, and a few strands loose from his usual kept braid. The sight of him made your cheeks flush and your panties even wetter. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in, bringing one hand to his lips and tracing his bottom lip with your thumb. You gazed intently at his lips. Just one kiss will be fine, right?

Both of your noses were practically rubbing against each other as Nikolai started to dip down. "Kolya, I--"

BAM!

You instinctively pulled away as you recognized the sound of the old library door being kicked down. As the stomping of the guards' boots grew closer, you pushed Nikolai off your body and fixed your dress. Nikolai shot you a surprised glance as the guards knocked down the heavy bookshelves to open up the space around the two of you, eliminating the narrow confines. You couldn't process what was happening as five guards circled around Nikolai, drawing their guns and pointing them at him as he put his hands up. Another guard was slowly approaching you, lifting the walkie talkie up to his mouth.

"06, copy. Patient Gogol has been surrounded and apprehended successfully. We're on our way to the interrogation room," He glanced over to you, still sitting down in shock, "His attendant's here, too. We'll bring her to you, Boss."

Boss? Your husband? Shit, had you been caught?

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even notice Nikolai being handcuffed and pushed out the door--or the way he looked back at you--until the guard put his hand on your shoulder and called out your name. "Miss, we need to get going. We'll explain everything once we're with the boss again." He helped you up as you trailed slowly behind him with a churning stomach and The Overcoat clutched tightly in your arms.

˚₊‧꒰ა part 2 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˚₊‧꒰ა part 3 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[whetstonefires]

Man sometimes I still think about Alfred's Bandit Anecdote in The Dark Knight (2008).

So, the most straightforward reading of this sequence seems to have been the one Nolan intended, because he is not actually a subtle filmmaker, and the further we got into the series the more heavily he committed to making Alfred a mouthpiece. Old man provides words of wisdom that frame the correct understanding of the situation; you can tell it's meant to be correct because subsequent Joker appearances reinforce its thesis statement.

Intended takeaway: some men (like the Joker) don't have rational motivations, they just 'want to watch the world burn,' and you have to account for that when trying to counter them. Chaos agents, basically unstoppable by reasonable means.

But the thing is. This is not a story that stands up to even mild interrogation. The number of assumptions Nolan wants us to swallow without blinking is kind of stunning.

First of all the obvious timeline questions that arise: the Anglo-Burmese Wars and periods between and leading up to them where this kind of white man's burden 'delivering jewels to local elites In The Burmese Jungle to sway them toward British interests, but getting waylaid by bandits' scenario makes any sense all, happened in the 19th century.

The Burmese resistance in the 1930s was centered on university student protests and that sort of thing; it was reasonably successful in moving Myanmar toward independence by increments, though who knows what would have happened without WWII. But it did not provide anyone with reasons to be hand-carrying huge gemstones through forests.

Even if we assume this was somehow a 20th century event, it has to have been before WWII unless we want to postulate a complete alt-history setting, and since The Dark Knight leans heavily into being a modern 21st century story with like, cell phone networking as a major plot point, this still makes Alfred old as balls. Born no later than 1920, and probably earlier.

But that's whatever; comics time. Batman Begins did some fun stuff (possibly in imitation of Batman (1980)) with making it ambiguous what decade it was supposed to be set in, though the sequels dropped that conceit. And anyway, people can be 90 years old.

So that's basically fine, although good god Wayne hire some more servants, this man should be fully retired already.

More problematic is the unfettered colonialism of it all, the confident proclamation that since this guy's motive wasn't profit, since he didn't keep the jewels, he had no motive. Because 'inconveniencing the Raj and weakening their control over the locality' isn't a Real Person Motive that a real person could have had. During or soon after failed wars to resist colonial subjugation.

Like. Come on??

The place where this story utterly shoots itself in the foot, though, is the clever bit at the end, where Bruce asks how Alfred's military unit solved the 'bandit stealing jewels he didn't even want' problem and Alfred's like: 'we burned the forest to the ground.'

Because this is so punchy! In screenwriting technical terms, it's quite well done. It's useless advice that loops the story back to its themes; obviously Batman can't burn Gotham down to get the Joker. Even in a Batman movie that doesn't like Batman very much, this is still obvious.

But at the same time this totally takes the legs out from under Alfred's words of wisdom about human nature. Because if that bandit 'wanted' to 'watch the world burn' then what his unit did wasn't so bad, right; he was basically asking for it. Burning a forest down with all the inevitable collateral damage and economic and ecological cost, all for the sake of horribly killing a group of people in the name of government revenues was totally okay guys!

It transforms the whole thing into a pretty obvious post facto rationalization of colonial violence. Which makes the Insights Into Human Nature bit real questionable!

But the movie gives absolutely no sign of having noticed this.

[mutfruit-salad]

read your criticism and have a genuine question about your thoughts on the branding scene. i completely understand how max's branding is inherently tied to a racist history, and it always will be, but i dont feel like the scene itself was written with that bias/intent. thaddeus also gets branded in later episodes and it's implied to happen to every aspirant upon their promotion. at what point in writing are black characters morally barred from specific story points because of their similarities to a history that's not directly related? sort of similar with barb, at what point can black characters not do bad things at all, especially in a story where there are near a dozen non-black characters who do worse things? also considering it's implied (at least, i understood it as) she's sticking to vault-tec to protect her family?

I am not in the best position to comment on this, because I am not black. I will do my best to add what I can, but this is a space for others to chime in.

Barb is interesting because she's essentially become the person who did the most heinous crime in the entire setting- by far and away worse than anything anyone has ever done. There really aren't white characters who did worse things- because all the crimes of Caesar or the Enclave or whoever else pale in comparison to being the one who literally set into motion the total annihilation of all nations on Earth. (This is setting aside her willing participation in the inception of the vault experiments- which is an entirely separate also horrific crime.)

The issue is they've created a setting that is, as presented, colorblind. Race is invisible to the writers, who did not consider it meaningfully while producing the show- as is often the case with white creatives putting characters of color into their stories. Colorblindness does not always produce entirely racist results- and when done with tact and intentionality it can even be revolutionary. Look at the relative inclusivity of star trek as an example, and the radical depiction of Uhura in the original series.

The thing that makes Fallout different from Star Trek however is that it is not depicting its colorblind future with tact and intentionality. This is a show that is intensely concerned with depicting the specific brand of nationalistic American politics of the 1950s and the Cold War- and they've reproduced that system for the show but with a black woman at the head. That's where the issue comes up.

This was a system that had racism baked into it by design. It still does. American Nationalism and corporate violence are built on racism against black people and other minorities. And this show desperately wants to depict these things, but they've decided to put a black woman at the head of them. They're depicting systems that are, by their nature, violently racist- but they've decided to portray them as being run by a black housewife.

Fallout 3 does a similar thing with how it depicts every major slaver as a black person. Eulogy Jones, the slave buyer at Paradise Falls, the head slaver in the Abe Lincoln memorial, Ashur in The Pitt. Hell Mothership Zeta adds in a black woman from the wasteland and even SHE'S revealed to have been a slaver. This is something Bethesda consistently does- depicting ideologies and practices with a deep history of racialized violence- and then showing black people at the head of them, seemingly to try to avoid actually addressing any aspect of racism in their stories outside of hamfisted metaphors like synths and ghouls. (I use Fallout 3 as an example but Fallout 4 does many of these same things.)

Thaddeus does also get branded, and he does also get treated to the same demeaning servanthood as Maximus. The difference, quite frankly, is that Thaddeus is white. There are just some things that are straight up inappropriate to depict happening to black characters without appropriate thoughtfulness and context. Never before this series has the Brotherhood ever done brandings- and yet this show opens with it in the first episode and introduces this brand new jarring concept with the visceral image of a black man being branded by faceless fascist cultists.

It's also important to note that even if they didn't intend the scene as racist, it still is. Like I don't think the scriptwriter sat down and said "oh I'm gonna do a racism" cuz intent just doesn't matter here. The scene was intended as a way of showing the severity of the brotherhood- but it also thoughtlessly reproduces images of historic black violence.

@orange-coloredsky I know you've been talking about this stuff all day, and your initial posts about the antiblack racism in the series were what prompted me to write my thoughts today- which is what this ask is in response to. I was curious if you have any other input with all this.

I'd also be more than happy to have any additional input from people better suited to answer these questions.

[yandere-sins]

A yandere with a darling who is kinda worse than they are but are still into it.....I don't know how unhinged you'd have to be for the yan to be like "Are you ok? Like if you need to talk about it I've put listening devices in the vents but still..."

I didn't want this to go into compliant darling territory or the darling being the yandere for someone else (though I did laugh a lot at the idea of telling the darling that the vents are bugged just in case they need it lol that's a good one). But this somewhat brought me a kind of different idea which you probably didn't intend, but I hope you like it all the same!

Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Descriptive acts of murder, stabbing, punching other people, breaking bones, getting bloody, a lot of blood actually, burying bodies), Sexual Content (Mentioning of non-con, dub-con, taking advantage, doing it in the blood of victims and next to dead bodies), Mentioning of drugs, Mentioning of knives, Patient/Doctor relationships, Murderer/Admirerer relationships, Reader is a serial killer, Yandere captures people for reader to kill, Yandere is also mad but so is reader, Reader doubts yandere's reasons for liking them, Reader is genderneutral but gets lifted into a bridal-style at the end, I once again didn't compile these warnings while writing and editing so I might miss some, sorry :(, Mentioning of wanting to throw up, Reader doesn't actually want to get better, it was different but really fun to write, Long post?, I feel like there are more warnings... but I can't remember anymore, if you made it this far and still want to read it, I hope you enjoy it!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Click

You sighed, holding your head in your hands, arms squeezed between your torso and legs. Your head was throbbing with the headache of the century. One you hadn't had in a long time... like five days. 

"You're a fucking dick, you know that?"

Groaning, you heard your own voice echo through your dizzy brain, nausea building as you felt like you were on a ship, everything moving unsteadily around you. The blinding lights flooding the off-white room didn't help soothe the feeling either, and your whole body kept tensing up, readying itself to throw up. You tried deep breaths, but they barely did anything. Not like they ever did something. You were too far gone for that.

"I did what was necessary," his voice rang out through the speaker in the top left corner, accompanied by the screeching of technical issues. You whined loudly, tearing your hair out as your head felt like it would burst. "My bad," he added, turning down the volume.

"What was it this time? Double the dose, triple? Must you keep drugging me? Some doctor you are..."

"I tried something new," he admitted, a cheeky grin in his voice. 

"Worked great..." you slurred, listening to him chuckle. 

For a while, you gave in to the need to collapse, putting your arm over your eyes to escape the lights while you thought about the last few things you could remember. Therapy was going well... at least that's what you were told. But the nurses—ugh. That one bitch.

"She did it on purpose," you mumbled, hearing the softest of agreement through the speaker. You knew that if it wasn't against regulation, he'd be sitting next to you, brushing your hair out of the way while you'd tell him your woes. He was that kind of sicko. A doctor, yet fascinated with you, his patient. Even though he merely sat behind the cameras, watching you, you could hear the sickening affection he held for only his favorite patient in every one of his words. 

In a way, he wasn't that different from you.

"You beat her up real good, smashed her face in. Got yourself into a frenzy and just tore open all your stitches from your last fight while you were at it, you really..."

He sighed. He was disappointed. Upset. This was a significant setback for him, too, after all. 

"She called me too stupid to ever recover properly and I was trying this time, really! How else should I have reacted?"

"You could have told me."

"And you would have dealt with her how?"

A brief chuckle rang out before he replied, although, had you been less delirious, you wouldn't have needed to ask. You knew what he did to people who behaved poorly with you. "I would have taken care of her, as always. You know you have my unending support."

You couldn't help a smile creeping over your face, the memory of burying the last nurse who bothered you in the asylum's cemetary resurfacing. Digging out the grave had been hard work, but you had to agree with him that the physical labor did wonders to soothe your ever-agitated mind. 

"You're terrible," you mumbled, unable to hide your smile.

"Ah! There it is! Look at those little dimples! I'm glad my services are appreciated by my darling. I was hoping to take you out on a rendevous once the dust settles. Maybe we can do that sooner than I expected."

"Who'd want that, you sicko."

Groaning, you finally sat up, looking down at the cushioned floor while you adjusted to being awake. Standing took a few attempts; the cushions aligned along the wall, not actually graspable, even if they looked like it. Everything about the solitary cell was so safe, it made you feel helpless. But eventually you managed to get to your wobbly feet, sighing in exhaustion once you stood.

"There you go, breaking my heart," he sighed, and you shook your head with a laugh, knowing he didn't mean it. 

"No straight jacket this time?" you asked, raising your arms and, for the first time since you awoke, realizing your movements were unrestraint.

"You weren't in a condition to restrain you. I prioritized your healing over that awful jacket."

"You just don't like it because it does nothing for my figure."

Again, you heard the grin in his voice as he said, "Busted. You're too cute to walk around constrained. Even though I love how crazy you look with it."

"Sicko..." you mumbled, your nickname for your doctor, endearing only in his ears. 

Your limbs were terribly heavy as you moved them towards the door. Part of you wanted to collapse on the ground again; simply pass out where you were. But knowing him, he'd definitely use the opportunity to take advantage of you, especially now that he could get a video of it. 

You didn't always mind what your doctor did to you. In a way, he was helpful even if everything you two did was against any laws in this country. If anyone knew what you two were getting into when no one was looking, you'd both be put down like rabid dogs. But that's just how you two were—feral.

The sicko kept telling you how he'd get you back on track. How he'd "fix" you just enough so you could go home with him. There was no way you'd consider living with him if you ever did get out. Still, he liked to paint the picture whenever he crawled into your bed while on night duty, hugging you and telling you about his ideas. You told him often enough that, given the chance, you'd kill him outside the safety of this institution, but so far... you hadn't.

You had enough chances, enough people he let you murder, watching you while you did it and helping you to hide the bodies once you were satisfied, but you never once turned the knife on him. Maybe it was because of his studies; perhaps he knew more about you than you about yourself. Or it was because he was just as insane. Fucking your patient in the blood of their victims was definitely not normal, even you knew that. So what other reason could he have for it except insanity? 

"Earth to my darling, I repeat: Are you thirsty?"

You felt the heat spread over your face as you felt called out by his question, almost as if he was reading your mind. It wasn't like you two were lovers. There was no chance in hell you'd get together with someone like him—or anyone for that matter. You didn't want the burden of someone clinging to you while you did your dirty work.

But the sex after releasing all your pent-up anger? Out of this world. 

Perhaps his doctorate was in fucking instead of psychiatry, but he knew how to work every part of his body. And he knew just how to get you in the mood, too. An explosive combination, mixing his lust with your madness.

That didn't change much about your feelings for him, though. 

"I'm not," you muttered, trying to hide your face, which probably showed the embarrassment you felt, thinking of the last romp you two had. You tried the deep breaths again, but the thoughts kept popping back into your mind. Must be the drugs, you thought.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course!" 

His excitement was loud and clear as it rang through the microphone, and you weren't sure if you should smile at it or sneer. For some reason, you both held each other in a tight grip, unable to be separated, yet most likely toxic for each other. But he still got excited over any kind of interest you had in him and you about all the things he did so you could live out your best life—even though you were locked away for a reason. 

"Why me?" you asked, standing in front of the door, not looking up. Even if he was just the voice behind a camera at the moment, somehow, this question left a bad taste in your mouth. You didn't want him to see the conflict on your face; didn't want him to know that you were doubting how deserving you were of his favor. It wasn't insecurity, wasn't a need for reassurance, but how could anyone look at you and think, "That's the one!"? You killed people, went into violent rages, and weren't considered safe enough to be reintegrated into society, probably ever again. There was nothing you had to show for yourself. Nothing that could justify the feeling of adoration your own therapist held for you. Especially not he. He should have been one of the good ones. And you weren't. It made no sense to you why he'd behave like he did.

"Why you what?"

"Why do you like me so much? I mean, come on! I mean, look at us! We're batshit crazy! This isn't some romance movie on television, we're actually doing bad shit, and yet you keep shielding me, doing me favors, telling me you love me. I'm sure there are others out there who you can fix and fuck if you like. It's not like..."

Biting your own tongue, you wondered if it was the new drug combo he tried on you that made you feel especially irritated with his feelings that day. You let him do all this stuff to and with you, but now you were getting weirded out by it? It wasn't like you to get so worked up over him; you were more of the cool type, spitting-in-his-face-type if he pissed you off. You didn't even want to validate his feelings for you, but also... being self-aware enough to know you were a danger to humankind, you couldn't shake the feeling he might just be using you for his own sick desires. And that made you angry again. You'd not be a pawn or a means for no one.

Click

"Wow, okay, you bastard." Your grumbling fell on deaf ears as he turned off the microphone. "Sure, I'm going through something here, but by all means, stop listening. Not like it's your job or anything..."

Unprepared, you jolted back as the door to your cell suddenly yanked open, revealing the pitch-black corridor that lay behind. Apparently, it was late at night, but you couldn't focus on that as your doctor appeared from the shadows, a deep frown etched into his beautiful face. He should have been a model. At least that job wouldn't have led him to meet you.

"Do you doubt me?" he asked, stalking forward, undeterred by the open door, not thinking for a second that you'd try to escape. "Do I need a reason to love you for you to believe it?"

He caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back as he matched the steps you were taking backward. Soon, you'd run out of space to back into, but perhaps that was his goal. 

"Can't I just love you because the first time you caved in and told me about the things you went through, things just felt... right? Everything just clicked in my head, and I thought, "Wow, I want to see them happy!" Must there be any other reason for me to love you?"

Your back hit the wall just as his eyes lowered to your lips, his thumb reaching up to brush over them. "I dream about those lips. I can't help but think about you no matter where I go. In the evening, I imagine you curled up on the couch next to me; sometimes, I hear your laugh when you aren't even there. I want that picture-perfect life with you, but the moment I step into your room and see you covered in blood, your eyes showing just how far gone you are, it just..."

He looked up again, his eyes swirling with all the emotions he tried to convey in his words. But when he met your gaze, the color drained, leaving behind what you could only describe as pure, unfiltered madness.

"It drives me insane."

His second hand raised to the side of your face. He cupped your cheek in his palm for a moment, a soft smile creeping over his lips. "I like you like this. Docile, calm, sweet. I like it when you ask me things, I like it when you beg for something. I like it when you only let me do things to you. I want to help you, I do! But..."

His hand sliding down, you looked away, trying to catch it before it slipped around your throat, pressing into it, squeezing so hard you felt as if your head was going to detach from your neck.

"I want to ruin you. I want you worse, I want you deranged. I want you to kill everyone and then me, so I'll be the last of your victims, the only one you remember. I want to be ruined by you so badly that every day, I hope you tell me about yet another staff member we get to kill, and then you can use me to satisfy your needs. Can't you understand? This is love. No one will ever love someone like you, but. I. do. I understand you, I care for you. And I will continue to do so, with no other reason than I love you. I love you so much."

You gasped for air at this point, fingers grabbing his arm. It was hard listening to him, but it was harder to breathe. You knew he wouldn't kill you. This was nothing compared to other things you two did to each other. It stung a little when he said no one else would ever love you, but he was right. Not unless the change everyone expected from you was also something you wanted. 

But why would you?

The pressure on your throat disappeared, only for your breath to be stolen by his kiss. You hated this man. You hated him because he was a little bit too much like you. Too unhinged to be likable. And at the same time, he wasn't at all. He was too supportive, too nice, too forgiving. It disgusted you, honestly. Yet, you reciprocated, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. Before he could back off, you caught his cheeks in a squeeze between your fingers to draw him back to lick off the red fluid, reminding him he wasn't the deranged one here. 

"Don't question me again about my feelings, please," he asked, out of breath, too, as he bumped his forehead against yours. "I love you, I really do."

"You're a sicko, you know that? And your beard is stinging me, you should shave."

At this, he laughed out loud, raising his head to the ceiling. "I spent three days waiting for you to wake up. You can deal with some stubble."

"No, I don't like it."

Grinning, he lowered his face to you and gave you another peck on the lips. "It's gone tomorrow, I promise."

"Can I go back to my room now?"

He hummed thoughtfully before shaking his head. "Someone's awaiting their punishment still. You really want to miss out on that?"

Now it was your turn to grin as well. "Aww, you shouldn't have! Are we gonna cut up that bitch now? For real?"

"Anything for you," he mumbled, raising your hand to give it a quick smooch. "But let me change your bandages first. I don't want you to accidentally get sepsis if your wounds are still open."

"Surprisingly, you're still a doctor at heart."

"That's not true," he gasped, feigning indignation about your statement.

"Are you not?" you asked, watching him bend down to pick you up, bridal-style even. You weren't mad since your legs felt even weaker than before, and you really wanted to conserve your energy. 

"I'm afraid it's no longer medicine that has claimed my heart."

He looked at you, smiling softly. "It's all you."

"And I can't help but love you more, realizing I am becoming more like you every day."

[scekrex]

Ok, but no one talks about the fact Adam was literally MADE to reproduce. I know for a FACT he cums buckets and no one can convince me he doesn’t have the biggest sensitive balls in the show😤 I want to overstimulated him while telling him what a good boy he is. so bad 😭😭

P.S love your Writing!!

Oh nah bc HE DOES cum buckets and his balls are SO FUCKING SENSITIVE I fucking love you for this request so here ya fucking go!!

But I still want more, don't know what I'm after

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, anal sex, sub!Adam, dom!Reader, praise kink, overstimulation

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” the first man moaned loudly as his hands gripped your hair firmly, forcing you to move your head back and forth at a quick pace. Your eyes were on his face, drinking in every little emotion the first man had on display, his mask was somewhere on the floor, just like his clothes. His eyes were shut and he was visibly enjoying himself, the brunette was kind enough to let you hear how much he was enjoying himself. “Best fucking head- shit- I've ever got,” he mumbled mindlessly and you slapped his hip bone harshly, drawing another moan from him.

To you it was quite entertaining that the taller male thought he was in charge when really he wasn't. Yes, he was controlling the pace and yes, he was thrusting inside your mouth, but was he in control? No. Because you simply allowed him to use you, you had given him permission, had even offered it to him - oh how Adam was so clueless how that decision would backfire on him.

The brunette was sitting on the edge of your shared bed, you in-between his legs, sucking him off, giving him ‘the best head he ever got’. Your hands were sliding up and down his inner thighs, whenever your fingers got even close to the brunette's balls he started to shiver - a spot so sensitive yet so tempting for you to touch, to explore. It's not like you've never touched his balls, or licked them, but it wasn't something you were doing daily, simply because they were so sensitive.

Adam's fingers in your hair tightened and his breathing became harder, louder. He opened his eyes a little to look down at you, to watch you swallow his dick - the first human dick that had ever been created. And oh fuck the image of his erection disappearing inside your mouth did things to him, good things, the best things even. “Close,” was the only warning you got before the first man picked up the pace yet again and it only took him a moment longer to actually fulfill his promise and come undone in your mouth.

It wasn't physically possible to swallow it all, not for you and not for another mortal soul. It was simply too much, yet you were always eager to try your best and drink as much as you were able to. However your best was far from drinking it all - so fucking far away from it. Adam's fucked out eyes watched as his cum leaked from the corner of your mouth, he watched the white liquid staining your lips, your chin, fuck, even your cheeks. It was everywhere, inside your body, on your skin, on his skin - some of it dripped on the floor and you knew it would be a bitch to clean that shit up later. Because for now you had other plans.

You kept moving your head through his orgasm, which resulted in a lot of his own cum dripping down his shaft, onto his balls. And who were you to leave your partner all dirty covered in their own fluids, right? So you pulled your head back, Adam's still hard dick slipped from your lips and hit his stomach. You quickly grabbed his legs, yanked them upwards and placed them onto your shoulders, the first man was quick to cross his shins behind your head so that they wouldn't slip and fall. The sudden shift of position and the lack of energy due to his post orgasm haze caused Adam to fall onto his back with a quiet moan. Good.

You were swift to lean in again, your tongue pressed itself against Adam's dick as if it were providing the air that filled your lungs - the reality wasn't as far off as it may have seemed. After all it was his seed filling your stomach. His dick was clean in no time and while you licked and teased it, you felt it slowly going soft underneath your tongue - Lord have mercy with this man because he was not ready for what was about to come. Because the brunette lifted his upper body a little - only the slightest bit - and made grabby hands at you, expecting you to get up off your knees and give him the cuddles he always desired after sex. But you weren't done with him just yet so you ignored his silent request for physical touch and licked down his shaft until your tongue met his balls.

A violent shiver went through his body and you heard how the first man inhaled sharply at the sudden and clearly unexpected contact. “Fuck, no, please,” he whined quietly, the pleaed was muffled by his own hand that he had lifted to bite into. Another request you ignored - if the brunette wanted you to truly stop he'd use the safe word you had agreed on. Unless that was the case, you were good to keep going. At first you just licked the ejaculate off of the sensitive skin, one of your hands held onto his hips, preventing him from thrusting his hips, the other was squeezing his thigh. Adam drew you in closer with his legs, and you chuckled softly at his reaction, “You’re such a good boy for me, you know that?” And while Adam desperately tried to hide it, you heard the whimper that fell from his lips at your praise. “Too much,” he cried out as your lips wrapped around his balls and sucked them inside your mouth - the first man thought he was gonna die from the overwhelming pleasure that flooded his body.

His nails dug into the sheets as his body tensed up and he felt his dick harden again, the tight heat that surrounded his testicles felt heavenly and like his personal fall to hell at the same time - he knew he wanted more despite his body telling him otherwise. “Please,” he mumbled, a whine of your name followed as he pressed the back of his head against the mattress, desperately trying to buck his hips, but you had pinned him down good. “You sound so pretty when you beg for me, baby,” you hummed, your lips stretched into a wicked smile that bittered your sweet words. “My handsome angelic baby,” you mumbled against the sensitive skin of his nuts and Adam flinched a little at the vibration that sent through his lower body parts. “Being so fucking good for me.” And Adam found himself nodding violently in agreement, huffing out excited, “Yes, your good boy.”

The brunette tossed his head from side to side, trying to get used to the unusual amount of pleasure that fueled his body, his dick was fully erected again, throbbing for attention in the most painful way and yet Adam was too lost in desire and lust to do something about it. He wanted more. More praises, more touches, more friction, more love. And yet his body screamed at him that what he had was already too much, that he wouldn't be able to handle more. Adam's hands moved from the sheets to your hair again, pushing you away while also trying to get you closer, to get more. And you let him.

Overstimulating the first man wasn't something he was used to - you weren't even sure if that was something you could get used to in the first place. But over stimulation was so rarely done that he had no chance to even deal with it properly - usually the both of you were too fucked out for it, too spent so that all you were able to do was wrap your wings around each other and fall asleep covered in soft feathers. The golden feathers of his wings tickled your hand that was holding down his hips but you simply ignored that, you were too focused on pleasuring the brunette. And then the hand that had been squeezing his thigh softly wrapped around Adam's dick and he was done. The first man covered himself in his own cum as he moaned your name on the top of his lungs. The white liquid was quick to run down his sides, staining the once pure feathers of his wings and the sheets underneath them. The pain that had been throbbing through his dick was gone and so was the desire for more, exhaustion wrapped Adam in a tight blanket and you watched as he almost immediately closed his eyes to take a deep breath.

“You look absolutely stunning, Adam,” you hummed as you got up, your knees made a cracking sound at that - fuck next time you definitely needed a pillow to kneel on. You climbed onto the bed next to him. “Shut the fuck up ‘n’ c’mere,” he simply mumbled, his voice was hoarse, probably from screaming and moaning for you, as he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you flush against his chest to bury his face in your hair and inhale your scent. “You’re fucking dirty,” you complained but Adam just gave you a tired hum, rolled you two over while wrapping you up in his wings, “Don’t fucking care, just wanna sleep.”

[babydollmarauders]

FIGHT — JACK HUGHES

part of the el!hughes au

summary: y/n (lovie) and jack get into their biggest fight yet

warnings: fighting, mention of bad parents (lovie’s)

my head slumps on the back of the couch as Eleanor’s cries pierce my eardrums.

“El, baby, c’mon.” i groan out.

my recently turned one year old is sprawled out on the apartment floor, throwing a fit over something of which i have no idea.

i tried to pick her up, but she just kept pushing my hands away, screaming ‘mama! no! mama, no! no, mama!’

it’s been two weeks of this, and i have a sneaking suspicion that her constant sour mood has been all because of the particular absence of her favorite person. Jack.

it’s been two weeks of early wake-ups and late nights. two weeks of El having meltdowns if i mess up even one thing, like giving her cheetos in a bowl instead of her snack cup, or suggesting Moana instead of watching Lilo & Stitch for the billionth time, or reading her the wrong book at bed time. it’s been two weeks of sleep regression, no naps, and her throwing her food every chance she gets. two weeks of her screaming if i try and leave the room, but screaming if i try and pick her up as well. two weeks of bags under my eyes, messy buns because my hair is horribly greasy, and surviving purely on coffee.

i’m tired. my feet hurt because every time i sit, El screams at me. my head hurts from her screaming. and now my stomach cramps because i, of course, both started my period, and have not had a moment to eat all day. i’ve broken down in tears nearly every night once i finally get El to sleep, because i don’t know how much more of this i can take.

tears well up in my eyes at this very moment, and it takes everything in me to hold back my own screams. not necessarily directed at my daughter, but just in frustration. i can’t think clearly. it’s nearing midnight and i’ve tried everything to get her to sleep, but she just keeps fighting it.

i know she’s tired, just like i am. she’s been up since five in the morning, which means so have i.

“i give up.” i cry out, burying my face in my hands, weeping into them in frustration and exhaustion. “i get it, El. you want your father. i know. please, i know.”

El’s cries pause and i peek through my fingers to see her watching me with a tilted head, before she bursts back into tears.

i steel my spine, wiping my own tears, and strengthening myself. i rise from the couch, scooping my daughter up, despite her smacks to my chest and pulls on my now-falling-out bun, and shuffle towards her bedroom.

going for the last ditch effort, i grab the hidden pacifier in her top dresser drawer, and pop it into her mouth before turning on the white noise machine in the corner and placing her in her crib.

i gaze down at her, watching as she yawns, tears still slipping from her eyes. her eyelids flutter closed before she pries them back open and stares back at me.

“Eleanor Elizabeth Hughes, you have to sleep.” i scold in a whisper.

retreating from the room, closing the door and listening for her wails; i nearly cry in relief when nothing comes. nothing but silence and the sound of the white noise.

my feet pad across the wooden floors as i walk to the kitchen, keeping an ear out for El’s possible whines. too drained to make myself anything sustainable, i settle for a yogurt cup and a cheese stick. bringing my snacks with me into Jack and i’s bedroom, i settle under the blankets.

i have no energy to put into paying attention to a show or movie, and not nearly enough to read a book; so i sit in silence, staring at the wall as i eat.

placing the now empty yogurt cup on my nightstand, i pick at the cheese stick, lost in thought.

i’m struggling.

i feel like a single parent half the time.

i’m not sure how actual single parents do it. the ones who have to work and take care of their children. because parenting in and of itself is a full time job.

i know it’s not fair of me to think so little of myself, but i can’t help feeling like a horrible mother. she never wants me anymore; only ever yearning for Jack.

and i get it. i yearn for him too when he’s gone.

but can’t she be happy with me?

i miss the sound of the front door shutting; too deep in my own head. too far gone in my own thoughts.

but i do hear the not-so-hushed whispers of my husband and his brother as they venture farther into the apartment.

i hear the ‘goodnight.’ from Luke before his bedroom door shuts. i hear the nursery door opening, the white noise from the room getting louder. and then a few minutes later, i hear the nursery door click shut and the sound of my husbands footsteps getting closer down the hall before our bedroom door opens.

my cheese stick is long gone, and my fingers now settle for playing with each other. my nails picking at the others as i still sit in a catatonic state of exhaustion; staring at the wall in front of me.

Jack lets out a breath of surprise when he notices i’m awake in the dim lighting of the bedside lamp.

“hey, lovie.” he leans down, his fists pressing down on the mattress top, and lays a swift kiss on my cheek before rising back up to his full height.

i glance over as he throws Eleanor’s pacifier onto his nightstand.

“i thought we agreed no more pacifiers when she turned one? she hasn’t had one in the past month.” he huffs, stripping his shirt off and throwing it towards the hamper in the corner of the bedroom, narrowly missing by an inch. he eyes the shirt for a millisecond before shrugging and repeating the process with his pants, this time making it in the hamper.

“yeah, well, you weren’t here to attend to her screams and i was.” i retort.

“so you resorted to the paci?” he questions, pulling a pair of flannel pajama pants out of his dresser drawer.

“stop mom-shaming me.” i snap, scooting down and flopping onto my side, my back facing Jack.

“lovie.” he sighs. the bed dips as he sits behind me. “that’s not what i was doing.”

“yes. you were.” i accuse. “you’re saying i’m a bad mom for giving my daughter what she needed in order to fall asleep.”

i turn in the bed to look up at him and he parts his lips to speak, but i keep going.

“but you weren’t here, Jack. you didn’t hear her cries, or have to try every trick in the book to calm her down. you weren’t awake with her for nineteen hours with no nap only to still have her fight bed time. so, yes, i resorted to the pacifier. and ya know what? it worked.”

“i get that you’re in a bad mood, but why are you taking it out on me? i wasn’t even here for you to get angry at me.” he remarks.

“i’m not.” i deny, closing my eyes and hoping he’ll take it as a sign to just let me sleep.

“you are.” he grunts. “and it makes me feel like i’m the bad guy for doing my job.”

“well, i wouldn't have to do this all alone if it weren't for your fucking job.” i know as soon as i say it that my words were uncalled for. but, before i can take them back, Jack stands from the bed, making my eyes fly open to look at him.

“do i not help when i’m home? i’m so sorry that me providing for our family is so hard for you.” he sneers. his sarcasm is not appreciated, and i sit up in the bed in anger. “i’m so sorry that you have to be a mother, while i’m gone making money so that you don’t have to work.”

i shuffle onto my knees on the bed, glaring daggers at my husband.

“when have i ever complained about being a mother? and when have i ever said that i don’t want to work? i never asked to stay at home! but it’s what i do, because not both of us can work without putting El in daycare. which you said you didn’t want to do.”

my finger juts at my chest before poking his. my words harsh in delivery, but quiet in attempt to not disturb the sleeping baby down the hall.

“i never once complained about being a mother. i love her.” i continue.

“are you implying that i don’t love her?” Jack fumes.

“i never said that!” i cry. “you’re putting words into my mouth!”

“i’m just trying to provide for us!” our attempted quiet is long forgotten now, and i can only hope that the white noise in El’s room is enough to mask our argument.

“you think i don’t know that?” i exclaim, he opens his mouth but i don’t let him get a word in. “i’m just saying that you don’t understand how exhausting it is being a single parent half the fucking hockey season! you leave and play games and go out to fucking bars to celebrate wins and i stay here and take care of our daughter, who for the past two weeks, only wanted you!”

Jack throws his hands up in the air, huffing in anger.

“well, i can’t help that! i get that it’s hard, but you’d think you’d be a bit more grateful. it’s part of my job to leave, y/n!”

of everything he’s said, it’s those words that cut me the deepest. and what hurts the most, as small as it may seem, is that within all of our fights, big or small, throughout our entire six years together, never once has he called me by my name while we fought.

it’s always ‘lovie’.

but suddenly, i’m ‘y/n’.

i lower myself onto my butt on the mattress. tears are streaming down my cheeks and i try to wipe them away before Jack can see them.

“now you’re gonna cry?” he lowers himself onto the bed and i push myself off of it in order to gain distance, now standing a couple feet away.

“i quit.” my voice is quiet and surrendered, my words sheltered. i watch as his face drops, lips parting in shock.

“what?” he mumbles, his eyes softening.

i shake my head, letting my tears flow freely now as i round the bed and i head toward the cracked open door.

“where are you going?” he questions, his tone still holding a dash of anger.

“to sleep in Luke’s room.” i reply. he calls after me but his words fall on deaf ears.

i need space.

i don’t bother knocking on Luke’s door, opening it to find him just now sitting down in bed, his hair wet and leftover steam drifting from his en-suite bathroom.

his head snaps over to the door as i close it, and at the sight of my tears, he pats the bed beside him.

a sob racks my chest as i crawl into bed with the boy i look at as a brother. he pulls me into his side, no words spoken between us as he rubs a hand over my hair, letting me cry into his chest and soak his plain white t-shirt.

a muffled cry escapes my lips and he squeezes me tighter, pressing a kiss to my scalp. nothing needs to be said, no words needed to be shared, just quiet shushes and his hand rubbing up and down my back, the other still holding my head tight to his chest in grounding.

i’m not sure how long passes before i cry myself to sleep, Jack’s words echoing on a loop inside my head.

‘you’d think you’d be a bit more grateful.’

***

i’m unsure what time it is when i awake, but Luke is gone from the bed, and the sun peeks through the bedroom window.

i know Luke and Jack have the day off, so if Luke is already up, then i must have slept in later than i usually do.

despite the apparent long sleep, i don’t feel as well rested as i should. my eyes flutter shut for a few moments, but at the sound of the familiar squeal of excitement from my daughter, drifting in through the crack in the door, my eyes fly back open.

i kick my legs free from the tangle of blankets and throw them over the side of the bed, peeling my tired body up off the mattress. i rub my eyes as i walk over to Luke’s bathroom, ignoring the mess amongst the counter and looking in the mirror.

my eyes are still red and puffy from crying, and i turn on the faucet, cupping my hands under the cold running water and splashing it on my face before drying it with the hand towel that’s thrown haphazardly on the counter.

exiting the bathroom and bedroom, i’m immediately met with the sight of El’s smiling face bounding down the hall. her chubby little legs wobble as she runs.

“mama! dada!” she squeals, motioning behind her. a grin overtakes my lips at her excitement.

“yeah? is dada home?” i ask with a laugh as she runs smack into my legs, reaching up with grabby hands.

my heart melts in my chest. for the first time in two weeks, she wants me.

“mama! dada!” she repeats as i hoist her up, lifting her above my head and rejoicing in her giggles.

my eyes are all too soon drawn to my husband at the end of the hall. he stands leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, a faint smile on his lips while my own falls at the sight of him.

our fight replays in my mind; flashes of his red face and his defensive stance. echoes of his harsh tone and his cruel words.

Jack approaches us, leaning down to press a kiss to my lips, but i shift my face, his lips landing on my cheek instead. pulling back, his face falls, hurt shining in his eyes. it hurts me to see him upset, but i can’t bring myself to feel too bad, as i, too, am hurting.

i maneuver around him, padding down the hallway with El in my arms, making my way to the open layout of the living room and kitchen.

Luke is sat on the couch, eyes on his phone while Lilo & Stitch plays on the tv, and i flop down beside him. El crawls into his lap, pushing his phone out of the way and pushing her smiling face into his line of sight. i watch his eyes light up, sliding his phone into his pocket and tickling her sides.

a laugh escapes my lips as he lifts El upside down in front of his face, making her giggle contagiously. but once again, my lips fall back straight as Jack enters the room again.

the day continues like this, living amicably with Jack, but not happily. as the day goes on, the more i reflect on our fight the night prior, and the worse i feel. i was in the wrong. i knew that last night and i know it now.

i know leaving El is hard for him, just as taking care of her without him is hard for me. but my guilt doesn’t erase his words.

i know he didn’t mean it, just as he knows that i didn’t mean mine, but it still hurts. he cut deep. he accused me of being ungrateful, the very same thing he knows my parents called me when i told them i was moving out.

‘you’re so ungrateful. we offered you to keep living with us even after your graduation, and you’d rather move out with your unstable little boyfriend than live with the people who raised you. well, don’t come crawling back to us, we don’t take ungrateful children.’

a lump grows in my throat as i compare the fights. it’s nine at night and Jack is in El’s room, putting her to sleep, Luke long having retired to his own bedroom, leaving me alone on the couch. my knees are pulled up to my chest, my arms hugging them tight, as tears stream down my cheeks.

a small part of me tells me i should apologize. i know if i do, he will too. he already seems to want to move past it.

but the larger part of me says to wait. to let him apologize to me. to make him acknowledge that we fought. instead of brushing past it like it never happened.

Jack strides into the living room, child free, and it’s the first time we’ve really been alone together all day.

i avoid his gaze, rather wiping my tears and averting my eyes to the television, which still plays the credits of The Little Mermaid from our before bedtime movie.

he sighs, taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch. his hand reaches out to graze my leg and i flinch at the soft touch. the larger part of me wins and i rise from the couch, stalking off to our bedroom and away from him.

i quickly change into my pajamas, hoping to be out of the bedroom before he comes in, but i’m not so lucky.

he enters the room as i’m pulling my t-shirt over my head. my t-shirt. not his. he notices this change quickly and shakes his head.

he stands silently, his back leaning against the now closed door as i pull on sweatpants, watching my every move.

i move to the en-suite bathroom when i’m done. making quick work of washing my face and brushing my teeth. when i finally finish with my nightly routine, i head back out to the still blocked bedroom door.

Jack eyes me up and down, and a quick wetting of his lips tells me he’s horny, but i laugh inside at the thought.

does me angry and upset, turn him on? does he really think he has any chance of getting lucky tonight when he hasn’t even apologized?

“can you move?” i huff, crossing my arms.

“where are you going now?” he questions, shaking his head.

“Luke’s room. again.”

“you know we have a bed, right? the one you were in last night before you left me alone in here.” his words twist my heart, but i stand my ground.

“oh, you mean the same bed i was sitting in when you implied that i’m ungrateful and selfish?” i mock, tilting my head.

“lovie.” his tone is defensive enough to let me know that he doesn’t plan on apologizing tonight, so rather than waiting and hoping for Jack to move, i push him aside lightly with my shoulder and slip through the door.

i knock lightly on Luke’s door and it doesn’t take long for him to open it, letting me slip through into the room.

“you guys are still fighting?” Luke asks, shutting the door and walking over to sit on his bed.

“i promise, this is the last time i’ll sleep in your room. if we’re still fighting tomorrow night, i’ll sleep on the couch.” i assure him, crawling up the bed and laying on my side, facing him.

“i don’t have a problem with you sleeping in here, lovie.” he sighs, laying down on his side so that we lay face to face. “i’ve just never seen you guys fight like this, ya know? you guys are usually so in love, it just scares me to see you fight. i want the best for both of you.”

my eyes soften and i raise my hand, running it softly through Luke’s unruly curls.

“Lukey, i’m still madly in love with your brother. one fight isn’t gonna change that.” i tell him. “he said some things that hurt me. i said things that i’m sure hurt him too. but we’ll get through this. we love each other.”

i speak with assurance, but at this point, i’m not sure if i’m reassuring Luke, or myself.

“you should go to sleep, bubs. you have practice in the morning.” i press a kiss to Luke’s forehead before he turns his bedside lamp off and flops down on his side, his back now facing me.

i follow suit, my back facing Luke as i close my eyes and let myself drift to sleep.

***

i’m woken up by little hands smacking my cheeks, immediately followed by the sound of my husbands whispers.

“oh no, El, we don’t smack mommy. we’re gentle.” he tells her softly, and soon after, i feel her open mouth press against my cheek; her version of a kiss.

my eyes flutter open and i’m met by the smiling face of my daughter. she’s held hovering above me by Jack, who seems worried for my reaction.

“hi, baby!” i coo, a smile stretching over my lips as i take her from him. “good morning, beautiful!”

“mama!” she cheers, followed by a steady stream of babbling.

“she woke up a couple hours ago. she was looking for you.” Jack tells me. “i just changed her diaper, and she already ate breakfast, but i noticed she’s been chewing on everything this morning, so i threw a couple of her teething toys in the freezer and she’ll probably want a popsicle soon to sooth her gums.”

i look up at him and nod, acknowledging that i heard him, before i sit up and lay El down on the bed, tickling her tummy and listening to her joyous giggles fill the room.

“Luke and i are off to practice, we’re running late.” he runs his hand over El’s hair, leaning down and kissing her forehead before turning to look at me again. “Luke said he wants to take El to the park after we get back. he said for me to ask you if you can have her dressed and her diaper bag ready for when he and i get back.”

“yeah, i can do that.” i reply and he nods, pushing off the bed and laying a kiss on my own forehead before he leaves the room.

i heave out a sigh, looking down at El, who’s already looking up at me.

“you wanna go take a shower with mommy?” i baby talk, pasting a smile back on my face. she smiles right back, grabbing at my shirt. “yeah, you do. you love showers, don’t you? my little water baby.”

*

El is all dressed and ready to go when Jack and Luke arrive home, while i stick the last snack into her diaper bag.

“hey, lovie.” Luke chimes, throwing an arm around my shoulder and squeezing my head into his chest. “she ready?”

“mhm! she should be good to go.” i confirm as i push out of his hold, stuffing the bag into his arms instead. “you have the stroller, right?”

“yeah, i’m taking Jack’s car and it’s already in the trunk.” he confirms, slinging the diaper bag over his shoulder and scooping his niece up from where she was already staring up at him by his legs.

“alright, say bye-bye to mommy and daddy!” Luke sings out, waving to us. El copies him, waving her entire arm about in order to wave goodbye, and with that, they’re out the door; leaving Jack and i in silence.

i busy myself by picking up the toys strewn about the living room floor, while Jack unloads the dishwasher. but tension lingers in the air.

maybe i should just apologize.

i hate this feeling.

i hate not being cuddled up with him right now.

we usually spend any El free hours curled up in our bed. napping, watching a movie, talking, or just taking part in general bedroom activities.

but instead, we’re across the room from each other, doing daily household chores and trying hard to avoid the screaming silence between us.

i drop a barbie into the toy box and stand up straight, looking towards my husband, who’s already staring at me with gentle eyes.

“i’m sorry.” i sigh, squeezing my eyes shut, holding my hands to my face. “i hate fighting.”

his hurried footsteps click against the wooden floors, stopping when he gets in front of me. his hands come up to mine, delicately pulling them away from my face before his arms encircle my waist.

“i hate it too.” he whispers, and i know his words hold a double meaning. he hates fighting and he hates leaving.

“i shouldn’t have said the things that i did. i shouldn’t have taken my bad mood out on you.” i let my head bob forward, my forehead laying against his chest. “i was tired, and i was angry at the situation, but not at you. never at you. you’re providing for our family, and i’m so glad that you get to do that by doing something you love.”

he kisses the top of my head, his lips lingering on my scalp.

“i’m sorry too.” he mumbles against me.

“i’m sorry for making it seem like i was mom-shaming you, i should’ve chosen my words more carefully. i’m sorry for making you feel bad. i’m sorry for accusing you of saying i don’t love her, i know that’s not what you were saying. and most of all, i’m sorry for implying that you were ungrateful. you’re not. i know you’re not. i should’ve never implied that you were.

“you’re an amazing mom, lovie. the best i could’ve ever hoped for El. i should’ve been more understanding about how hard it is for you to take care of her alone while i’m gone.”

i peer up at him, my chin still resting on his chest, and give him a pointed look.

“and i’m sorry for not calling you ‘lovie’.” he huffs out through a laugh. the corners of my mouth quirk up and i pull his head down to push our lips together.

my whole body melts even further into his, finally at peace for the first time in over two weeks.

[lovelytsunoda]

foreign affair // charles leclerc

summary: it wasn't supposed to happen. but they say that the south of france is the most romantic place on the planet. so falling in love with her vacation fling should have been inevitable.

pairing: charles leclerc x female reader

warnings: vacation fling, allusions to sex, way too short but it is what it is, bittersweet and filled with longing.

a one in a million chance, you know the moment that you crossed over the line. a casual glance, no one has to read between the lines

in the south of france, it was spring time, special feelings come alive, "there's romance in the air, " so they say, love could be a small café

file it under foreign affairs

the hotel sheets were more expensive than what she made in a day.

this particular resort was divided in two: private villas for the rich and honeymooning, those with money to burn, and the hotel itself, where she was staying.

but they say that france is the country of love, a figure of speech that had proven to be very, very true.

“mon amour, you’re awake.” charles said softly, a towel wrapped around his still damp body, droplets running down his toned stomach as he leaned over the bed to kiss her lips. “I was trying to let you sleep in.”

“but it’s my last day.” she frowned, nipples springing to attention underneath the thin silk sheet wrapped around her body. “I want to be out there doing things.”

three weeks of holiday almost didn’t feel like enough. the trip had been a dream, all sun and sand until she met charles leclerc at the bar. she didn’t know who he was, which perhaps helped to build his attraction to her. and he never felt the need to say any more than “I’m an athlete” when asked what he did for a living.

she fell hard and she fell fast as he offered to be her tour guide. being from monaco and having french friends, charles knew his way around all of the best restaurants, sights and beaches.

it was no surprise that after just three days, finding herself tipsy on wine, she ended up naked in his hotel room, tangled in silk sheets.

“but you will be doing things.” charles smiled, leaning over the bed and pushing his lips against hers with an almost featherlight touch, water dripping onto the sheets. “you’re doing me.”

“you’re so bad.” she giggled, fumbling to throw his towel aside, raking her fingernails down his chest. “promise me you’ll make this last day one to remember?”

“oh, mon cher, i plan on it.”

they spent the morning exchanging kisses and orgasms in charles’ bed before she finally went back to her room, legs worse for wear and a little wobbly on her feet before she changed into her swimsuit and made her way to the resorts private beach. Charles had a standing rental for a cabana, so she settled in with her book and a glass of white wine.

the only way she would want to spend her last day: relaxing by the water.

charles had promised her that he had a surprise planned for the evening to come, and he had left to prepare it shortly after she got out of his shower. despite her attempts at getting the monegasque to give her any hints, the driver was silent about his plans.

“wear that tight red dress and those strapped sandals, and meet me in the valet lot.” was all that he had said in regards to the plans.

charles leclerc, european man of mystery everybody.

bags packed and by the door, ready for her early flight, she dressed in the red dress and sandals, curling her hair and spraying herself with bath and body works. sure enough, when she walked to the valet lot, charles was already waiting next to his Ferrari.

god, she was going to miss him.

the night was young as the sun began to set, hands sticking out of the sunroof and wind blowing her hit round her face as charles drove up the coast, the south of france lit up in the half light.

“can you tell me where we’re going yet?” she giggled, eyes closed as charles lead her though a parking lot.

“hang on, hang on, amour. almost there.”

she could feel the floor moving gently underneath her feet as she let charles guide her body, listening to his calming voice when he finally told her to open her eyes.

“oh, charles.”

she was standing on the middle of a large boat, the sun setting over the water and a picnic blanket set up in the middle of the deck as the vessel rocked back and forth in the harbour, the smell of the saltwater filling her nostrils as charles lit the tall candles that were set up around the picnic.

“one last night to remember?”

she smiled, joining him on the blanket as he popped open a bottle of red wine. “one last night to remember. I’ll miss you, leclerc. thank you for making the last three weeks one for the record books.”

charles smiled sadly, still looking like a greek god even with longing etched on his features.

“to the last three weeks, and to what could have been.”

TAGS;

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @scuderiamh @scuderiasundays @silverstonesainz @diorleclerc @daydreamingleclerc @sidcrosbyspuck @lorarri @thatsdemko @oconso

[heliosunny]

Yandere! Xavier x reader

Twisted sleeping beauty.

English is not my first language, please excuse me for that.

Some definitions are different from the ones in the game.

Have fun reading!

Once upon a time, there was once a peaceful country. No one knows what exactly happened as the civilians who live there were under a spell. The spell made them forget everything, including memories related to the royal family. Not a single soul remembers they once had a kind-hearted king and prince.

Y/n, a time traveler, got separated from her crew and landed her space ship on this foreign land. Her food already ran out, so she had to leave the ship behind and search for food. She stumbled across an abandoned castle. 'What is this place?' She wondered. The girl got inside, the place was left in such bad condition. Carefully, Y/n avoided the cracks on the stairs, thinking there might be food somewhere in this place, anything would do. Rather than risking her life hunting those weird-looking creatures for meat without a proper weapon in her hand, searching for left-overs in this castle had a higher chance for succeed. Speaking of the 'monsters' outside, the second she landed here, she knew something was definitely off. Y/n used up all her bullets on those surrounded her ship to prevent them from damaging the ship further.

'Where are all the people?' To think Y/n is the only one left makes her scared. She hates the thought of dying alone in a foreign land. Despite having checked every single room, no sign of life was found. That is, until she entered a room filled of strange flowers with white petals and star-like pistils. In the centre of the room lies a bed.

"Is that.... a man?" Y/n dashed through the plants, she had a feeling not to touch these things. The moment she got near the bedside, a scroll suddenly appeared in front of her. An invisible force made her grabbed the scroll, it lighted up and opened. Among the strokes on the surface of the paper, Y/n can only understand some of those which are [...... help ....... the ... prince..... curse...]. If only she had brought some translate device from the ship. The scroll burnt itself, leaving no trace of dust. "The hell? What am I supposed to do next?" Y/n sighed, the sound of her growling stomach signal her to keep looking for food or she might die of starving. She turned around only to find the door in which she entered was blocked by those flowers, now grown thorns on its stem. "Damn it, should've brought a knife.."

She sat on the bed and bumped into something. "What is it this time?" Y/n turned her head, she almost jumped after finding out there's about a man lying on the bed which was once empty. 'Is he dead?' She poked the man, once, twice.. no sign of moving. She placed her index finger under his nose, he's still breathing. 'Oh... so he's the prince?' She thought. Although she tried every methods possible to wake him up, nothing works so far. 'Could it be...' Her brain travelled to that one fairy tale she read 'Nope, not gonna happen.' She isn't going to kiss a strange man just to.. escape the place and possibly get some food.. Oh well, maybe she should try before finally giving up. "Here goes.."

It works. The man opened his eyes. "Y/n?" Y/n backed up, how does he know her name. "It's me, Xavier!" 'Who's Xavier?' It's all over her face, Xavier knew he made a mistake. He apologized, saying she looks exactly like a childhood friend of him. Still, that doesn't explain how that specific friend shared the same name as her. The growling sound coming from her stomach breaks the awkward silence. "You must've been hungry, come with me". The man named Xavier stood up from his bed, he made some weird gestures with his hands, the flowers opened a path for them both. 'That was cool.' Y/n thought to herself. Without facing her, Xavier smiled, he knew exactly what's going on inside her mind.

The moment they stepped outside, Y/n coudn't believe in her eyes. The castle which once cold and bleak now look like it's new. No vines, aged rocks, nothing, just brand new. The guards and maids are everywhere, they bowed the moment Xavier walks towards them. 'This is what will happen when I help the prince?' Y/n lost in her thoughts, so many things are coming up all at once. She tripped over his long coat without noticing and was caught by Xavier.

Xavier: You alright? Y/n: Y-yeah... Xavier then called a maid over to guide Y/n to the dining room, he said that he had other plans to do. Y/n nodded and simply went with the maid.

Night falls, Xavier hasn't returned. Y/n had a bath, a lavish meal, changed into a night robe. This literally is the best day since the moment she crashed here. Those monsters were still roaming outside, maybe Xavier is handling them. Eventually, Y/n got bored and sneaked outside. She changed into a more comfortable outfit and got to the top of the castle on her own. She was surprised she encounters no guards on the way here. The wind was blowing strongly, reminding Y/n of her home planet, sadly she couldn't return due to its destruction. A big howl woke her from the thoughts, followed by a bright ray of light.

"Couldn't sleep?" Xavier asked. His steps were quiet, so Y/n didn't notice him standing behind her.

"I want to see you." Y/n turned around to face the young looking man. She didn't know much about him, but he treated her kindly. That raises a lot of questions. "Is that blood?!" Now that she took a good look at him, not only some part of his clothes was torn, blood splashed almost everywhere. He's not even trying to hide the fact that he's cleaning the bloody sword on his hand.

"This? Yeah." Xavier answered nonchalantly, didn't even bother to look up to see the reaction on Y/n's face.

Y/n: Does it related to whatever is going on downthere? The monster and..

Xavier: What monster?

Y/n: The crouching thingy with claws? They're right... there?

She looked down, from where she is, there were plenty of them, but they vanished.

Xavier: You should go to bed.

Y/n: But..

Xavier: I'll answer your question in the morning.

After a restless night, Y/n sat on her bed as she couldn't stop herself from thinking of the eerie things she encountered the moment she got into the castle. A knocking sound, following by a female voice from outside told her to have breakfast.

Xavier: Y/n? You in there?

Y/n: Yeah, coming.

'Why is he rushing?' Y/n brushed her hair and changed into more proper clothes. She couldn't hide the tiredness from her eyes, but maybe he won't notice anyway. As expected from Xavier, one moment he was here calling out her name, the next moment he was already gone somewhere else. Y/n followed a maid, she's carrying some sort of tray with something covered in cloth. Xavier stood up when he saw Y/n entered the room. He ordered the maid to put the tray on the table and leave. "Come, sit next to me." Xavier pulled out the chair next to where he was sitting and gestured her to sit. Before she could ask, Xavier insisted Y/n to finish her breakfast first. Y/n was only able to eat half of what's on the plate. Her eyes wandered all over the place and stumbled upon some portraits on the wall with the face scratched off.

Xavier: That used to be the portrait of my father. I can no longer remember what he looks like. He loved himself and his family, so whenever he had the chance, he would hire artists to draw those.

Y/n: I see..

Xavier: As for the.. monsters.

Xavier seemed hesitate. He walked over to where the tray is and took off the cloth covering it. On the golden tray are some shiny crystals vary in different shapes and colors.

Xavier: They are called protocores. They are used commonly by soldiers to improve their combat abilities.

Y/n reached out her hand to grab one but was stopped by Xavier.

Xavier: They are also known as the core of the monsters you saw.

Y/n: Which mean the monsters are the people of your kingdom?

Xavier: You could put it that way. But, a protocore simply is harmless if it undergoes certain procedures.

Y/n: Then..

Xavier paused for a moment before continued: It's hard to admit, but my father's greed was the cause to the downfall of the kingdom.

The story of a king who loved his people and the greed for power lead him to foolish decisions. One important decision was to ask for the help of a witch. The king requested her to make his army the greatest of all, so the witch gave them mighty strength. The hearts of the soldiers were no longer human, they no longer experience pain or have the ability to express sympathy. They were bold, ruthless, everything to ask from a perfect army. But in return, they have to pay for a heavy price. Those who couldn't endure the strength coming from the protocore, which is now their hearts, turned in to monsters.

Y/n: So that's what happened..

Xavier: My mother sacrificed herself to put me under a sleeping spell, hoping one day someone would wake me up.

Xavier looked at Y/n tenderly.

Xavier: I took a stroll and found your ship. It's..

Y/n: I know... I don't think I'll be able to fix it without the necessary supplies.

Xavier: Then stay.. I believe you can fix it, of course, with my help.

There's no reason not to, Y/n doesn't know where to stay aside from this place. Xavier expressed himself sincerely and succeeded in gaining Y/n's trust. A week passed. Y/n adapted to the life here faster than she thought. Xavier and the others was kind to Y/n, but something feels off. She noticed the way the castle would change during the day compared to night time. How the maid and guards disappeared at certain times of the day. Aside from that, Y/n had a feeling of being watched all the time.

One day, while Y/n was digging up some 'scrap' around the castle, she found a path lead to the underground basement. She hates the dark but also hates to stay at this planet as much, she'd try anything to find materials to fix the damn ship. She misses her friends and probably so are they. Y/n doesn't hate the people here, they are more than kind to her. It's just the loneliness and the odd feeling this place brought her. 'What are those chains?' It was daytime but without the only source of light in her hand, she definitely wouldn't see a thing.

She stepped on something and it cracked, Y/n moved the light down to her foot to see some sort of skulls. Luckily, Y/n managed to cover her mouth before making any sound. 'The fuck?' Just as she was about to retreat, she heard a voice coming from inside.

"You came to draw my blood again?"

Y/n walked over to the owner of the voice, an old lady with both hands chained to the wall, surrounded by weird looking texts on the ground which seem to be drawn by blood.

"Who are you?" The lady's iris lighted up as if she'd found a savior.

Y/n: My name is Y/n.. You are.. the witch?

Y/n took a guess, maybe she was right, judging from the expression on the person's face.

Y/n: What do you mean by draw your blood? Did someone do this to you.

She let out a wicked laugh. "Dear, you don't know a thing. The monster you keep by your side.. he's-" Without letting the lady finished, a sword flew passed Y/n's head and sliced the witch's throat. Y/n dropped the light in her hand and almost tripped over. Rather than the pain from felling down onto the ground, she felt warmth surrounding her. "Xavier?" He nodded, he created a light orb inside his palm.

Xavier: What are you doing here?

Y/n: I'm just trying to find something that can fix my ship... Sorry.

Y/n didn't understand why she had to apologize. Maybe she was scared. 'Scared of what?' Y/n questioned herself but couldn't help but tremble in Xavier's arm. The two didn't speak a word after returning back to the castle. That night, before going to bed, Xavier decided to pay Y/n a visit.

Xavier: May I come in?

Y/n didn't answer.

Xavier: Y/n?

He had this uneasy feeling, Xavier kicked open the door to find Y/n not in her room. He looked out of the opened window, there's a vine lead all the way down to the ground, she must've glide down using it.

Xavier let out a sigh, he knew this day would come, but not expecting it'd be this quick. It wasn't a matter of time before Y/n discovered the whole truth he's been hiding.

Meanwhile, Y/n, who is at the basement, is trying to find more clues relating to the witch. The bodies was removed, no chains, no magic circles, no blood, no nothing. Just as she was about to give up, a wind suddenly blows her way. "Wind? At such place?" She turned back, some glowing texts appeared on the rock wall. There, she discovered the ugly truth, hiding from her. "That explains eveything."

Xavier: Had fun?

Y/n: Xavier!?

Xavier: Judging from the look on your face... how much did you know?

Y/n: You're the one who asked for the help of the witch?

Xavier: Well.. yeah.

Xavier took a step, two step, til he was able to corner Y/n, leaving no way out.

Xavier: Don't you want to know why?

Y/n: The witch left a message, saying that it was for your love. Why did you even blame it on the king?

Xavier: Y/n, my love..

His hand caress her cheek, but Y/n moved her face away.

Xavier: He is the man who ordered to kill her. I simply took my revenge.

Y/n: On the whole kingdom? Have you gone mad?

Xavier: YES! I can do anything for my Y/n. He and his beloved people must pay for taking away what I care most.

Once upon a time, there was a prince who fell in love with a peasant. He dreamt of building a strong kingdom for her to live in peace and devoted his life for her. Soon his father, the king, found out about this thwarted love. He ordered guards to get the girl, tied her to a post and burned her alive. "Such witch dares to charm my son shall receive the worst death". Witch? Xavier thought. Thanks to his father, he had such great idea. He went into the woods where the greatest witch live. "Are you sure about this? You'll have to pay a heavy prince, young man" She said. Xavier smirked, he had lost her, what could be worse? He gained an immortal body, an invincible power and one powerful curse to turn the people he want into the monsters called wanderers. Leaving only a small number of people alive, blessing them with immortal and erased their memories.

He revenged them. Now what. The witch came to collect the price she deserved. What she didn't expect, is that the prince had already prepare for a thing to encounter her spells. "Like what you see? I had to kill a dragon to get this sword. I won't kill you, yet." So the prince locked her down the basement. As he couldn't endure using such power in a long time, Xavier felt sleepier than ever. Each time he sleeps, the amount of time he spent in his dream was more than the previous one. He travelled the planet to find a cure, until he found an oracle in a dungeon. The one said that he'd fall asleep and woke up when the right person arrive. Searching for a clairvoyant is his next step. In the far future, Y/n will land on this planet. That's all he needed to know. He returned to his kingdom, met the witch. He controlled her to put a sleeping spell on him, while he himself wrote the scroll for the future Y/n to come and read. Everything was according to plan.

Y/n: You.. but I'm not the same girl, Xavier.

Xavier: You are.. you are just denying. I'll give you anything you want...

Y/n: I want to go home!

Xavier: This is your home!

Y/n: But I don't want th-

Before she could finish, Xavier moved in, his hand gripping her chin firmly. His touch was insistent, his eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that left no room for escape. Y/n’s heart raced as he leaned in, his lips brushing hers with a force that silenced her protest. The kiss was demanding, taking more than it gave. Her body tensed, a mix of resistance and shock coursing through her. When he finally pulled away, Y/n’s eyes were wide, her chest heaving with the aftermath of the unwanted contact.

“Stay....” he murmured, his voice softer now, but still charged with the weight of his actions. Y/n shook her head. "Then that leaves me no other choice.. I'm sorry.. But you can't escape from me." Y/n felt a strange power flowing inside of her, the next moment, she collapsed in his hands. "Let's start with making you forget this... then.. I'll give you an immortal life." He hugged her tightly "What's next, Y/n? How about I'll make you my queen?"

[unholyhelbig]

How about a bartender!Kate in which Kate is a new employee of the bar that reader frequents on bad days and Kate is one of the first people not to sympathize with her and just full of banter. I just think a cocky bartender Kate would be … neat

[This is 18+, if you are a minor DO NOT INTERACT]

Title: Two Fingers of Whiskey

Ship: Female!Reader x Bartender!Kate Bishop

Warnings: Top!Kate, Bottom!reader, Dom!Kate, Sub!reader, light dom/sub, finger sucking, Fingering (r receiving), Hate fuck (?) yeah, this is a hate fuck.

[A/n: Go easy on me, I haven't written smut since my Pitch Perfect days & I've been under quarantine for the last five days, I've got brain rot & did not proofread.]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Kate began to expect your visits. Her eyes would drift to the novelty Miller High Life clock that was hanging on the wall. Six pm. Twice a week you’d wander into the bar and let out the haze of smoke and Dior Fahrenheit. Your eyes would search for hers with the same amount of ferocity, and Kate would try to swallow back the pride that was resulted by your hatred.

It started out as hatred, anyway.

Kate Bishop had made it a point to listen to people and their problems. Being a bartender at a seedy basement establishment was more than mixing drinks and cracking open frothy beers. She’d been told her first week that she was a half-bit therapist, and had laughed it off until she was listening to stories of corporate drabble, sudden deaths, and quiet loveless frustrations.

It had been two years since she started the nightshift at Copper’s, and she could spot the sadness from miles away. She could spot that frustration too. Kate became admittedly bored with the way her life had fallen into routine, so when a certain energy presented itself, she pushed.

Kate loved to push with you.

You’d looked tentative when you’d first entered Copper’s, your gaze moving across the dark green paint, the booths that were sticky. Your nice shoes had crunched over broken peanut shells and a certain film covered the walls, the stained-glass lamps over each table. Your hand tightened on your bag, and that gave Kate a sick sort of satisfaction. You took note of her nametag, not customed, a small label being printed and taped over an existing name.  

She admired the way you carried yourself with such assuredness after allowing for one moment of doubt. Instead of turning around and going back out onto the busy city streets, you took the two steps down and carefully sat yourself at the far end of the bar.

“We don’t have anything fancier than a house white.”

“Boston Lager?”

You’d lifted a perfect eyebrow and Kate nodded stuffing the rag she’d been using into her back pocket before reaching into the cooler and pulling out the dark amber bottle. She used the edge of the counter to pop the cap off, not caring where it landed. Foam dripped across her fingertips, and she forbade a coaster when she set it down in front of you.

Two sips before you spoke. The first was tentative, and the second was assured. Kate watched carefully as your throat worked at the drink. She frowned in the dark light, trying to rush away any inappropriate thoughts of her lips against an expanse of skin.

“I’m not pretentious.” You said, setting the bottle down.

Kate hummed. It was a non-committal noise. She picked up one of the glasses, still warm from going through the dishwasher, and went on wiping the detergent spots from the clear surface. Though, she saw you frown out of the corner of her eye and bit back her reaction.

“Seriously. You offered me wine.”

“You don’t like wine?”

“No. I like wine; I just don’t like when strangers presume that I like wine.”

Kate couldn’t help but smile at this. She replaced a glass and grabbed another one. The frustration on your face was admirable, and you seemed to balk at Kate’s direct attention. You fidgeted and began to peel the edges of the dark blue label on your drink, only where the condensation had allowed easy removal.

“We have house white, darling.”

“White Horse, then. Straight.”

Kate scoffed and set her second glass down. If she had been worried, truly worried, that you were going to do something stupid she would give you a few more watered down beers and send you on your way. But she liked the way you wanted to spite her. It made her fingers twitch. She pulled the bottle from the second shelf and counted two fingers of whiskey.

You took it back in one gulp, breathing through your nose before taking a tiny sip of your beer to quell the burn. Kate was infatuated with the way you sat straighter, the way you flashed her a small cocky smile. I can take the hard stuff.

“Rough day, then?” Kate sighed and filled your glass again, calling your bluff.

She leaned against the counter and watched you watching her. It gave her a sick pleasure, nudging you like this. She wouldn’t’ go far, really, she just needed to have some break in her normal routine, and you seemed like you needed a few things to forget yourself.

“The roughest.” You leveled her with an apprehensive stare. “You care?”

“Not particularly. But I’ll listen.”

“You’re an ass.”

“I’m an ear.” Kate made a sweeping motion with her hand “be my guest, sweetheart. You can vent to anyone in here.”

It was just the two of them. Sure, in about an hour, her usual crowd would rear its head. There were only three others that frequented, and they lingered by the one pool table and ordered two pitchers of the cheapest beer. They left Kate alone and she left them alone.

You contemplated her offer for a brief moment, letting out a labored breath as if Kate was burdening you instead of offering relief. “I have a shitty client. Very demanding.”

“What do you do?” Kate tried.

“I’m an archivist for the city of New York. Cold Cases mainly. There are hundreds of thousands of physical case boxes that reside in basements and closets just waiting to be digitally entered.” You threw back your drink and tapped the side of the glass. Kate took the hint and poured until the buttery liquid coated the bottom.

Kate had to admit; that was quite the job. It sounded like a lot of sadness, however, that wasn’t what you carried on your shoulders tonight. Annoyance was the overarching emotion that was expressed on your delicate features.

So, the bartender did what she did best, she didn’t’ ask about what was in the boxes. She wasn’t privy to know. She wanted to know what about the boxes bothered you to the point of drinking close to a handle of liquor in a seedy bar.

You answered before she could ask “corporate bullshit. They want us to enter all of these cases for the pure purpose of shelving them electronically. I mean, we don’t even have a cold case unit anymore. But some of these… you can tell the leg work wasn’t done. The boyfriend did it. The jealous co-worker, it’s all written so plainly that I stupid archivist that should be working at a museum can see it!”

“Wow.” Kate said.

“Wow?”

She hummed again, this time after you swallowed your drink, she took the glass and threw it into the plastic tub. It made an empty hollow sound. Kate grinned at you in this infuriating type of way that made you want to kiss her or slap her. Either way, you shifted uncomfortably.

“What do you want me to say, sweetheart? That’s a shit situation, yeah. But there are shittier ones.”

“You are such an ass.” You repeated your earlier sentiment. She smiled brighter.

“That’ll be $15.00 even.”

Despite her difficulty, you dug through your bag until you threw a twenty on the counter and mumbled that she keep the change. Kate watched as you left that day and the smile never left her face. She liked you, she thought. And more than anything, she knew that you would be back. There was something about Kate’s lack of caring that got to people. There was no sympathy, only agreement.

 Two days later you were back inside the grimy interior of Copper’s. It took Kate a second to recognize you. Instead of nicely pressed clothing, you were in a pair of gray sweatpants and a t-shirt that had the band ‘Rush’ scrawled across your chest. Kate didn’t’ let her stare linger. You sat in the same stool, and Kate felt your eyes rake her up and down.

“Have you lodged a formal complaint against me?” Kate asked.

“No.”

“Good. Then what can I get for you, darling?”

You ordered the same Boston Loger as before and Kate complied, not even offering the cheap box-wine they served in a chilled glass just to make it taste a little more worth-it. Strands of hair fell into your eyes and Kate clenched the dishtowel in her hands a little harder to keep herself from reaching forward and brushing them from your stare.

Kate couldn’t hold her tongue, and that annoyed her. The first time she saw you, it was so easy to grate on your nerves. This time, you looked slightly broken, and even Kate had her limits when it came to bothering the patrons.

“What’s wrong?” Kate asked.

“Do you care what’s wrong?”

“If I’m honest, not in the slightest. But you seem bothered, and I’m the only one around the listen.”

“How long?”

Kate raised both of her eyebrows and lilted her head to the side like a confused animal. She had both of her palms pushed up against the bar, a tank-top with the logo of the establishment stretched across her chest. Your mouth was dry, but you didn’t take a sip of your drink. Kate watched as your fingers delicately circled the opening of the amber bottle. You blinked at her, eyelids heavy.

“Excuse me?”

“How long are you going to be alone here?”

She blinked to make sure she heard you right. She had someone coming in to relive her in about an hour but was more than happy to sit here and talk with you until that time. It seemed like you had other ideas, and part of her was curious about that. It shot straight to her core and warmed her cheeks.

“You’re not going to murder me, are you?” Kate teased.

“And add to all those boxes I have to archive? Please.”

Kate cleared her throat and started to work at the back of the apron at her waist. It seemed frantic and you finally lifted your drink, downing it in a few gulps. You needed to let off some steam, it seemed, and Kate was more than happy to provide. After-all, she was a bartender and her job was to listen- to provide. Kate rationalized all of this before she had her apron off.

“Would you look at the time?” you stood, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a ten. “I’m running late. Keep the change, darling.”

Kate paced back and forth along the length of the bar, muttering things to herself. She deserved that, really- she did, but it had been three whole days and she was still sufficiently pissed off that you had thrown her attitude right back at her. That wasn’t allowed.

No one had ever done that to her before and you’d made her stomach roll with attraction and even anticipation with just a few simple words and insinuations. Sure, you tipped well, and you drank and then left, but she didn’t actually want to admit that she was having fun talking to you.

And more than anything, she didn’t want to admit that she was flicking her eyes to the clock on the wall, getting only a slight bit of relief when it passed your usual time. Today, however, you did show up.

Kate could feel the tension in her jaw as she watched you walk through the doors. The scent had become familiar to you, something she could tell by the way you breathed in deeply, grounding yourself.

You wore tighter clothes, and Kate struggled not to rake her eyes up and down your figure, the way the fabric hugged every inch of you. The sweatpants and t-shirt were gone, instead you had on a dress with a long slit running up the side, exposing tanned skin.  She focused on the way you walked, the way you leaned forward on the bar, pressing your cleavage forward.

“This isn’t going to work twice.” Kate said, crossing her arms over her chest.

She was admittedly sore over your teasing, despite how well-earned it was. And that tight dress did look stunning on you. Even the low smoggy haze of Coppers she shivered at the thought of tearing it off of you, of moving the zipper down the small of your back and kissing up your spine.

You cleared your throat. “I actually came here to apologize.”

“Did you, now?”

“Yes,” You said through gritted teeth as if it physically pained you to say the words. “You were right… the first time we met. My problems seem big, but compared to other things, they’re not detrimental. Even though I was mad, teasing you like that was below me.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure much is below you.”

Kate raked her eyes up and down your body. Your cheeks heated and you let out a groan. Because damn-it, she was so infuriating, and though you’d come back to the bar a second time to drive her crazy, it seemed to have the opposite effect.

“I have the keys to the boss’s office.” Kate offered deviously “No windows and a desk.”

Kate watched you swallow hard, contemplating her offer. She twirled the keys around her ring finger expertly and when you finally nodded she felt herself lean against the counter, close enough to where her lips brushed yours, the warmth was all encompassing, electrifying.

“I need to hear you say it, sweetheart. What exactly do you want?”

With hesitation you forced the words through your lips. This was wildly out of character for you, usually prim and proper and not demanding things from a strange bartender with ghostly blue eyes and expert fingers. “I want you to take me into that office and fuck me until I can’t walk.”

Kate smiled, closing the gap between the both of you with a breathless kiss, her tongue invading your mouth. You moaned into the simple gesture before she pulled away. “All you had to do was ask.”

With a chivalrous gesture, Kate took your hand and guided you easily down a large step behind the bar. You’d never seen this side of things, and though you hadn’t expected anything breathtaking, it gave you a better view of the empty establishment.

You didn’t have much time to contemplate as you were guided through a narrow hallway that had an employee schedule posted on the wall, and a few boxes of unopened liquor. There was a citrus scent that invaded your senses and soon you were out of the cold and in a small office that looked as if it hadn’t been touched in months.

The hum of the cooling units was drowned out and a warmth caused bumps to rise against your skin. Kate had you pushed against the door in a matter of seconds, her mouth back on yours, a knee between your legs, shoving them open. Desperately, you tried to grind down, alleviating some of the heat in your core.

Kate’s hand came up to grip your chin, disconnecting her lips from yours “We’re impatient, aren’t we?”

You could only whimper in response, the corner of Kate’s mouth lilted up into a semi smile, too much like a smirk for your liking. The expression did things to you. Here was this cocky bartender that was too content for her own good- yet, in this moment, you would let her have you in any way she wanted.

“I’ll fuck you senseless on the desk, but only if you can be patient. Can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl?”

“I… yes.”

“What was that? I thought we talked about you using your words, sweetheart.”

“Can you please fuck me on the desk? I’ll be a good girl.”

That seemed to be enough. Kate slid her hands around to the back of your thighs and lifted you with an unnatural bout of strength, a noise of surprise escaping your lips. You had seen her arms a few days earlier when she was in that tank-top, but she had settled you on the desk effortlessly, standing between your legs.

Kate’s mouth nipped at your jawline, sucking perfect bruised circles against your skin that she soon soothed with her tongue. You didn’t mind her marking you, though you mentally made a note to pick up some concealer on the way home. She made quick work with the zipper at your spine, pulling it down to the warm air. She slid your sleeves down your shoulders, exposing your breasts to her prying eyes.

She took a moment to admire you, giving your hip a small squeeze. You took the hint and lifted off the desk just enough for her to pull the rest of the fabric away. It dropped to the floor. Kate smiled at you, drinking you in. “Wow”

“Wow?”

Kate hummed and returned to working at your chest. This time she went lower, nipping at the sensitive skin around your nipple. You dug your fingers into the fabric of her shirt, letting out a groan of pleasure. Her fingers were testing at the waistline of your underwear, not quite dipping past the elastic.

Kate’s tongue was so warm, so encompassing. You arched your back, not denying her access to any part of you. Her expert hands finally pushed past the barrier of fabric, running up your entrance.

“Oh, shit, darling. You’re so worked up.”  Her words vibrated against you, and you struggled not to buck forward, to press into her lingering touch. Kate seemed to sense your frustration. “uh-uh, we’re being patient, remember? If you want release, you’ll have to beg for it.”

Beg? You weren’t the begging type. Unfortunately, you weren’t in the position to do anything but what she demanded. The thought of Kate inside of you, even in the smallest capacity, was driving you insane.

“Kate,” You hummed her name.

A sound got stuck in her throat at the sound of her name pushing through your kiss-bruised lips. She edged the end of the noise, almost phrasing it like a question. She didn’t want to give herself away, how much seeing you like this got her wet.

“Please, I need you inside me. I need to feel you.”

Before you could get out another word, she pushed a single, teasing finger inside. You fell forward, pressing your nose against the small of her neck with an exasperated breath. Kate painstakingly added another finger, pumping in and out of you with a method to her madness. You bit into her shoulder, not enough to hurt, but enough to muffle your noises of satisfaction as she swiped her thumb against your clit.

Kate’s other hand returned to your breast, squeezing and toying. It sent pleasure straight to your core, and Kate could feel you begin to tighten around her. She slowed her movements. “Beg,” She commanded.

“I’m going to cum,” you whispered into her shoulder, grasping fruitlessly at the fabric of her shirt, trying to pull her as close to you as possible.

“Are you?” She asked, slowing her pace.

“I… Kate please let me cum, I can’t hold on much longer I-“ another moan escaped you, and it took you a few breathes to compose yourself to some sort of semblance. “please”.

“That’s a good girl,” Kate praised, returning the circular motions to your clit. “Cum for me, sweetheart.”

That’s all you needed to hear to unwind for her. You clenched around her fingers, chills running from your core to every inch of your exposed body. A guttural noise of pleasure was silenced by Kate’s lips against yours, her throat silencing you as much as she could. Satisfaction rushed through you, aftershocks of her movements twitching through you. Kate withdrew herself from you, a self-assured smile on her lips as she moved them up to her lips and sucked them clean, never breaking eye contact with you.

“I need a drink,” You breathed out, words trembling. Your forehead pressed against hers, still panting, still recovering from her expert touch.

Kate scoffed, shaking her head “We don’t have anything fancier than a house white.”

[aihoshiino]

chapter 152 thoughts

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Entirely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: 9

Aqua Hoshigan Status: White??!???!?!?

WELL DAMN. OKAY. LET'S FUCKING GO I GUESS.

With the End Of The Play… miniarc? interlude? wrapping up, Oshi no Ko officially confirms we're in endgame territory and slams down on the gas to barrel full speed towards its conclusion. This chapter was definitely a mixed bag, but I didn't dislike it and I SURE CAN'T SAY IT WAS BORING AT LEAST………….. It reframes a lot of things that lead up to it - I suppose that makes 'recontextualization' the keywork for this chapter, then.

The return to the volume 1 interviews in this chapter were kind of a surprise LOL. Given that the anime trimmed all but Ai's, I kind of took that as an implicit confirmaton that they weren't really that important so it's a bit of a jumpscare to see Gotanda (& Aqua's) revisited here. That said, revisiting them here is more about clueing the viewer that we're caught up chronologically with those flashforwards and thus that everything from this point on is officially uncharted territory, so I still do think cutting them from episode 1 was the right call to make. I don't think it causes any plotholes or incongruities since these interviews are really kind of incidental in the grand scheme of things… also let's be real I don't think any of us are expecting the anime to get that far into the story, even if I would give my left leg to see the anime team work their magic on chapter 137………………………….

That said, it's pretty fucking rich for Gotanda to try and talk big about the movie not being fictional when we heard from the horse's mouth that Abiko and Yoriko just fucking made up the dynamics of one of the most central and pivotal relationships in it out of thin air lol. Not only that, but like…

15 Year Lie is a movie with a pretty clear narrative. This by itself is natrual and expected. Narrative is the shape in which the human brain most readily accepts information but to create a narrative about something is to fictionalise it. Even when it's a narrative about real events - because narratives are, themselves, fiction. They have cleanly defined beginnings and ends, arcs and the promise of neatly packaged payoff and catharsis that is impossible to achieve in reality. To create a narrative about Ai's life in any form, let alone in a movie made for mass general audience consumption, unavoidably necessitates reducing her to a fictional character to observe rather than a fellow human to understand.

Which is… you know, horrifying! Fucked up and ghoulish! It's exploition of Ai in death just as she was exploited in life and I really wish the Movie Arc had actually focused on that uncomfortable undercurrent. This was, after all, supposed to be a movie about Ai.

BUT ANYWAY, CAST SCREENING OF THE MOVIE… we get some detail about reactions to the content but even as characters are literally talking about the movie and Ruby's extremely important role in it they just conveniently avoid discussing the content of it. But surely with all those important scenes that were set up and with the public release of the movie and Kamiki's side of the story to tell, we'll get some more details, right??? [audible copium huff]

Akane's tearful reaction is interesting, though. They're specifically singled out as not being to do with the content of the movie and her expression is a bit ambiguous - you could read is as resigned or relieved just as easily. I think she has clearly recognized something about Aqua's revenge in the movie which prompts that reaction but who even knows what's going on with akane at this point lol. sure not akasaka.

The girls all ragging on Ruby's acting was also kind of… like, yeah, remember when Ruby not being a good enough actress to carry a whole movie was kind of a huge issue??? The fact that this is resolved by everyone saying "yeah it was bad but idk aqua made it good somehow" was kind of silly lol.

I do really like Melt stepping in to stick up for Ruby, though - because yeah, of course hearing that would probably bring up some bad memories for Melt…! I also like that he doesn't try to shallowly flatter her or butter her up - he's frank about where she still needs to improve but hones in on the part that really matters. He really is a good kid.

That said, him sticking up for Ruby and her glomming onto him and calling him 'Master' (ししょ/師匠, shishou, as in the master of a craft addressed by their disciple, in Japanese) does kind of highlight that the MLRB mentorship that got set up in 144… went nowhere??? We can assume by Ruby's response to him here that it happened offscreen but it really does feel like a total waste of time to have spent what was effectively an entire chapter on setting up a new character dynamic that just didn't happen. Like… really, in hindsight, what was even the point of that chapter other than to establish that Melt… was also here??? I guess we still have the final arc for that to resolve into something but.

It just kind of sucks because I think a MLRB friendship could be really fun! I think they have the potential for a good dynamic and there's some really interesting parallels between them both that are ripe for farming. At this point, it's probably way too late for us to expect anything to come of it, so I can only daydream……..

tho it is really funny to me that at this point, since 143, ruby has had more meaningful on panel interactions with melt than she has aqua. What Did They Mean By This.

Gotanda and Kaburagi's talk that followed also left me with pretty mixed feelings. As expansion on/closure for Kaburagi (and Gotanda to an extent), I think this was fine… there's just a few little details that bother me, I guess.

On the one hand, I really like Gotanda's frank admission that there's no way to know whether the movie really captured the 'real' Ai. This is another thing I've talked about over and over during the Movie Arc but nobody making this movie is really in a position to be making that call - the only person who really could is Ai and… well, she's not here anymore to advocate for herself. Seeing Gotanda acknowledge that does scratch some of what was left unitched by this thread but…

Eugh. I don't know. Something about this movie, which is about Ai's life, Ai's tragedy, Ai's final push to be shown to the world as she was and to potentially be accepted being made to be about Gotanda's regrets just feels kind of icky to me. Maybe it just feels especially bad because it feels like 15 Year Lie has become more about every other character involved than her. I'm sure people are sick of me complaining about it, but it really does feel like Ai as a figure of emotional importance to this story is getting increasingly downplayed and dismissed and…… just feels bad, I guess!!!!

Kaburagi's side of this conversation is a lot more engaging, at least. This does tragically represent the end of my Secret Villain Kaburagi Theory and I feel decidedly mixed on the story choosing to frame him so sympathetically… but on the other hand, I do like how this implication of guilt and sense of responsibility reframes basically all his prior actions in the manga. It seems to confirm that he clocked Aqua (and thus by extension, Ruby) as being Ai's child right from the start and explains why he was willing to go so far in pushing their careers along at little benefit to himself - it was out of atonement to Ai.

that panel of young kaburagi and baby ai having lunch together. fuck, man. the fact that she took the burger out of the wrapper like she does in viewpoint b………….. babygirl i loev u so muuuuchchchchchchhchchchchsjsjsskasklsndkdkd

and……………………….. now it's time for aqua's interview. Jesus Christ.

I like the recontextualization of Aqua's interview here and the way we see This Mysterious Interviewer gradually pick apart his responses. I especially got SUCH a thrill out of his 'I won't love anyone' schtick being called out as the bullshit it is - one of my first really meaty OnK metas was of Aqua's interview segment specifically and I zeroed in on this sentiment specifically as being a lie that Aqua was trying to project and seeing the text back that up makes me a very happy Claire

But more importantly though… what Aqua has to say after that makes me particularly excited.

First of all, let's get it out of the way: KAMIKI JUMPSCARE!!!!!!!!! It seems implicit that he was the one doing all the interviews which is very fucking funny considering his presence in the movie itself, but I'm not entirely sure it changes or adds much other than giving Aqua the opportunity to death note speech his ass.

What is fascinating to me about this talk is what it implies about Aqua. Every time we've seen his revenge play come up before this, the very strong implication is that Aqua intends to die at the end of it, either by Kamiki's hand or his own. But here, face to face with the man he's dedicated his entire life to ruining, Aqua doesn't just state his intent to get revenge but his intention to reclaim his future by doing so. We've gotten some pushes towards this since 150 but this is the clearest declaration of his intent to finally seize hold of this second chance and fucking live it that we've gotten out of Aqua… honestly, ever!

And accordingly, we see Aqua return to his white hoshigans here. I don't necessarily know if I want to call this slam dunk confirmed but this WAS really exciting to see given how it falls in line with my interpretation of "white hoshigan = hope = future" and "black hoshigan = despair = futurelessness". Everybody has been spending the last few chapters basically begging Aqua not to throw away his future and hurt the people he loves just to chase his revenge and it does seem like they're starting to get through to him.

Is this development kind of rushed? Honestly, yeah! I would've loved to see this explored more from properly inside Aqua's POV and it feels especially abrupt given how hard he got ignored all during the post-123 section of the Movie Arc. But at this point, it just feels so fucking good to see Aqua say out loud that he wants to have a future, that he wants to finally move forward and live that I can't bring myself to care. I just want him to finally be happy!!!

that said how fucking funny is it that the closest thing aqua has gotten to therapy in years is from his estranged father, a serial killer

break next week…!

[hashtagdrivebywrites]

Y'all bear with me on my bad phone pictures and excessive notes lmao, but, uh, ask and you shall receive.

Here's my concept art for Jason in my fic Imprint, where he's a halfa and Danny's biological dad and the king father/king regent? of the infinite realms.

Here's the first ever sketch I did somewhere around chapter 2 or 3:

Featuring larval Ghost!Jason, Pit madness/Lazarus Water and little bitty Ghost!Danny.

I was already thinking about the possibility of a crown but didn't know what to do with it yet so I just left a halo as a placeholder DBZ-style, which you'll see in the next few concept stages until I finish the latest one.

Ah, the oldest concept I had for the Pit is that it laid dormant in Jason's mind and would physically pull itself out of his head, which is why it's kind of half melded with Jason's helmet in this one. And I'm still kind of considering that idea, but I'm leaning more towards it coming from the bulk of Jason's body instead, as we see it in chapter 8 of Imprint when readers get to see Jason's ghost nonsense from an outside perspective. They (the Pit) is definitely more tiger-like now, and you'll catch a glimpse of a sketch dump where I'm trying to get a handle on tiger shape language (?). They'll still be water based and colored like the pits/a lagoon. It may be hard to picture- just trust me.

Uhhh let's see....the "lantern ribcage" is a part of the design that's really important to me so you'll see me consistently playing with it as I go through these early concepts. That's his core nestled in the lower part of his ribs, visible but protected behind the iron cage of his bones.

I wanted to incorporate Jason's helmet and other parts of his vigilante/hero uniforms in his ghost form since that part of his life is deeply personal to him.

I also knew that I wanted him to have a very monstrous aspect to his design- and I can't resist slapping pointy teeth on any of my concepts that deviate from being strictly human. So those aren't going away. Nostrils to breathe smoke and fire so Jason can better emote with most of his face being metal.

Danny's default ghost form, opposed to Jason's will still kinda be the one he has in his original dimension- black and white suit and the classic DP symbol on the chest, but probably better armored and with a bat emblem thrown in somewhere. So thats what I drew him with here- though little kid sized, with an added black streak in his hair to complete the inverse of the Lazarus Pit streak he has in human form.

In ghost form, when Jason needs precision, his go-to weapon will be the All Blades, which I have kinda illustrated here.

I may kinda set the bones of this design aside to use as a more humanoid ghost form that's closer to his living form, but that's still up in the air.

Here's concept 2, which I did on chapter...5? I think? Which is when I decided I wanted to make Jason's most comfortable ghost form to be kinda big and outrageous:

This one's got some notes doodled around it- but I'll type them out in case you can't read my handwriting.

Jason was definitely leaning more toward dragon (and I'm still trying to find the balance between dragon and phoenix that works nicely for him, but we're getting there.)

I decided not to put heat pits on his face recently so that the parts of his head modeled after the helmet are smooth metal armor. I tried to elongate the head but still keep the lines of his helmet in the design.

This is also the first time I started messing with horns- which have been bent in just about every direction at this point trying to make them mesh well with the rest of his design. The uppermost notes in the image mention basing the shape of his horns off of one of his weapons. I thought that the flaming all blades would just be overkill at that point and decided to play with using the Kris knife he gets from the League. Which is....still overkill but it's less fire to draw, so we'll call it a even. There is also a note on my decision to make his horns into a pair only because of being Bruce's second son and the second Robin. (I have put way too much fucking thought into this if you haven't figured that out already).

Tried a different look for the teeth and ended up scrapping it.

I also started leaning more into making his back look as messed up as possible at this point and started thinking of the....mountain range in plated rows like a croc's back.

And here's concept 3, which also starts playing with colors and the all-tail, no-legs look that I decided to stick with:

This is definitely the biggest jump between concepts so far and was sketched up while writing chapter 7, which I think is the first time we get to experience his ghost forms (there's 2 that we saw in that chapter).

So I continued to smooth and lengthen the head and tried a different thing with the teeth- which I kept. I also felt a lot better about the lines from the helmet with this concept. I tried curling his kris knife horns forward, trying to play with their form. Those have changed since.

This is the first time I added hair, but it's hard to see. He, like Danny, has an inversed streak of black at the front of his 'do to reflect the Lazarus stripe.

Again with the halo placeholder because I was still on the fence about the crown. Started trying to make the mountains of his spine more volcanic looking. Don't know if I'm keeping that or not yet.

So the three major differences between this and it's predecessors is the 1) mantle of smoke that is constantly being expelled from his body that is supposed to imitate a kinds cloak/mantle; 2) the tail, which has since been changed into a fiery tail instead of a ghostly one; and 3) I slapped his Robin 'R' from the movie UTRH on him to make this form more...him, I guess, and also to make Bruce cry like a baby.

So the things that I have changed is the ribcage, the shape of the horns, the crown (which finally has a rough design and a name based on the fight he has to win to earn it- yes, I already have that arc scribbled out and will most likely be adding it into the story) and I added some extra stuff to the face to match the written descriptions in Imprint.

SO. -Claps hands together- I'd love to hear your thoughts on everything, and I am always interested in hearing how y'all have interpreted these characters for yourselves.

If this is something you want me to do again with other character designs, let me know and I will. I am working on Jason, of course, and the Pit, Frankie boy, Danny's big long boi form, Gotham and some other odds and ends.

(Whoops forgot tags again)

[ellaa-writes]

once again I should be working on other projects but here I am (idk why I'm having a hard time writing part 2 to the Roommate fic) but have this instead. (not proof read)

Cw: Enemy Ghost, kidnapping, dubcon/noncon. 18+, MDNI.

It was a simple mission, get in and get out. It was all going as planned until you hit a wall and the security got tripped. Forcing you to abandon your goal, jumping out the 2nd story window onto the snow covered ground below. You were on a solo mission into enemy territory.

You were running, zig zagging through the trees. Too bad it was the dead of winter, no shrub for cover. Your own tactical gear white as your surroundings, giving you a bit of warmth and protection. You could hear the sound of barking and yelling fading off in the distance the further you ran into the woods.

Well that was a fail, not entirely. You retrieved about 60% of the data you were sent to get. That's better than nothing you kept telling yourself. You were mindless running through the dense forest, roughly in the direction of the rendezvous point you hoped. Digging out your tracker from the front pocket of your coat, slowly your pace to try and get a reading.

A shot rang through the trees, and bullet hitting the tree next to your head, wood splinters ricocheting around you. Fuck. Sniper. You thought, picking up your pace again. Just your fucking luck, another shot rang through has the bullet hit the ground in front of you, nearly missing your right leg.

Hiding behind a tree to catch your breath and bearings. You need another plan, with a sniper on your ass it will almost be impossible to make it to the clearing were a unmarked van is waiting. Your tracker not picking up a signal so you were running blind. Poking your head out to try and catch a sight of the sniper.

They were about 100 ft back, perched up on a fall down tree. Covered in white camo, hard to spot but the reflection on the scope caught your eye. Big, who every they were. Just as you ducked your head back and loud bang and another bullet lodged into the tree right where you head was. They are aiming to kill.

Using the tree as leverage you pushed off it, running diagonal from your original path. Only a few feet into running you could hear twigs snapping behind you. The sound of fast approaching footsteps, leaping over a log you changed your direction again. Weaving in and around different trees, you cranked your head behind you which was a mistake. The sniper hotnon your trail, bigger than you originally assumed.

Your foot caught on a rock causing you to lurch forward just as the forest floor disappeared beneath you, down a steep hill. All you could do is brace for impact, hands wrapped around your head as you first hit the ground. Knocking the air from your lungs, the force of your fall making you violently tumble down the hill. Hitting rocks and branches all the way down, finally coming to a stop when your back landed against a tree.

He came to stand at the top of the hill, looking down at you. He was thick, from his calves all the way up to his head. One big mother fucker, you thought, the sniper hung across his back. You tried to get up but damn did you hurt, the tumble down the hill really fucked you up. The behemoth of a man came sliding down just as you made a few decent steps away from the embankment. All he had to do was push you a bit with the butt of the sniper, making you teetering over on your unsteady feet. Collapsing to the ground in a heep, your hand rested along your knife, still ready to but up a fight.

You could hear his heavy breathing has his feet came to stop beside you, one military issued boot dug itself into your back, pushing you further into the frozen ground beneath you. This was your chance, you unsheathed your knife and swung out, connecting across his lower calf. Cursing out he kicked the side of your ribs, the force sending you onto your back in anguish. His other foot stomping down on the hand that held the knife, crushing it underneath his force. Your scream ripped through the silent forest, disturbing the birds and squirrels.

He dropped down, picking up your blood stained knife, tossing it off into the distance. He straddled your hips, gripping your neck as you struggled against him. Still kicking and trashing, trying to fight his heavy weight off of you. The sudden feeling of his hard crotch grinding against you halted all further movements.

"Pathetic!" he spat out at you, his face obscured by a skull mask. His voice was husky, and accented... British. His hands were around you throat, a firm grip but not choking, just yet. A warning, he seaye his hips into your stomach again. The drag of his thick cock protruding into you, panic settling into your bones. "Thought you'd put up more of a fight." he spoke again, flexing his hands around your throat a bit. Making you suck in a deep breath, anticipating his next move. "Fuck you" you spat up at him, bearing your teeth. His palm connected with your cheek, your head snapping to the side. "Cute." he mocked.

With all your force you brought your knee up and against his back at the same time your elbow connected with his jaw. Sending him off of you to the side, flipping over onto your knees you tried to get up but was stopped when his hand gripped your ankle. You kicked back hitting something, managing to scramble away and onto your feet again.

You can hear him close behind you, you can't out run him the voice in your head spoke up. Before you could come up a with a plan you were thrown to the ground again, the sniper plowing into your back. Knocking you to the floor, holding you down my the back on the neck as you heard him pull out something from his pocket. The sound of ripping fabric and the cold air hitting your ass. He ran his knife along the back of your pants, exposing yourself to him. He tried to buck him off again but it only causes the knife to sink into the meaty flesh of your thigh, drawing blood. He snickered behind you, mocking you. "Get the fuck off! " you yelled. "Mother fucker!" you tried kicking him again but to no avail.

Yanking down the scraps of your tatical pants, his knee found its way between your thighs, pushing them further apart. "Behave, then maybe I won't damage you too much." he teased from behind you. A hard smack against the roundness of your ass, making you hiss out. This can't be happening, you were prepared for anything but not this. "Answer this and I'll let you live. Who sent you?" the masked man asked. "Fuck you!" you yelled again which earned another smack to your ass. "Bastard!" you screeched. "Fine we'll do this the hard way." he told you.

You could hear him fumble with his belt, the zipper of his pants being yanked down as he fished his hard, leaking cock out. Slapping it against your ass a bit before he spit on his hands and shoved them into your pussy. "Wait!" you screamed out but it was too late. Another hiss and curse, he was being too rough but not like he cared. "Fuckin' tight." he was talking to himself, more spit and another thrust he got two thick digits into you. Pumping in and out, stretching out your poor hole. "Names Ghost, I want to hear you scream it while I fuck this tight cunt." he gruffed from behind.

It was generous of him really, he didn't need to. He could have just shoved his thick cock right in but the sudden intrusion caused a stream of slick to ooze out of your pussy and onto his fingers. Bringing them to his lips for a taste, humming in approval. He took ahold of your hips, yanking them back so he could get better access. You tried to squirm away but the feeling of a cold blade against your neck froze your movements.

Clenching your eyes closed, praying to whoever was listening. You could feel him lining himself up, the hand that held the knife to your neck now at the side of your face, still threatening. He snapped his hips forward, a gutural groan leaving his mouth and you bit down on your hand to stop the scream caught in your throat. He didn't let up, bullying his thick cock into your tight cunt, his head battering against your sore cervix. So deep inside of you, you swear you could feel it in your throat.

The knife disappeared from your view, he once again held your neck down, forcing your face into the snow covered dirt. Struggling to breath, inhaling mouthfuls of the dirty cold earth. He used it as leverage has he pummeled inside of you, his veiny cock scraping along your drenched silky folds. You couldn't believe you were getting wet, the sound of your slick echoing around you. His muffled grunts, your own whimpering drowned out by the squelching of your soaked pussy.

You felt incredible to him, so tight already. The way your velvet walls clung to his shaft, sucking him in further into your heat. Adjusting his knees to pound into you even deeper, you were holding back your moans but he didn't care. This wasn't for you, no not even close. Ignoring your aching clit, the slap of his hips against you ass, jiggling just for him. He squeezed tighter around your neck, a gasp leaving your throat and your pussy clenching around him tighter. He sped of his thrusts, really pushing his dick has hard and deep into you. Choking on a sob as a shooting pain shot across your lower stomach. It felt like he was punching right through you.

Lifting your head up just a bit, he slammed it back down into the ground. "Fuck!" your pussy clenching around him more, he knew you were a freak. A pain slut, getting off to her own torment. Ghosts rhythm began to falter, sloppy. Feeling his orgasm bubbling to the surface, picking up more speed as he thrusted into you. Chasing his high, burying his cock so deep, his cum drowning into your poor pussy. Giving a few lazy pumps before he pulled himself from your heat, hand still on your neck as he tucked himself away. Watching has his verile cum began oozing out, using his mud covered fingers to shovel it back in.

Standing up from your back, foot between your shoulder blades he talked into his radio. "Objective secured, met you in 5."

The skull face yanked you up by your hair, your ruined pants and underwear still bunched up around your knees. He used his grip on you to walk you forward, a small dirt road was only a few feet ahead of you. An armoured vehicle parked to the side. The back door swung open as a man sporting Mohawk jumped out, holding it open. Ghost shoved you in while the other man slapped him on the back.

"Got her all stretched out for us, huh Lt." both men filed into the vechile, slamming the door closed.

[ripplestitchskein]

I know it’s just a four minute short Stolas isn’t even in, but I think the now running theme of Blitz being “bad” at sex, at least oral, being somewhat confirmed, really ties into what I find most appealing about them. We see in The Circus that Stolas is the one who laughs at his jokes, it’s a running thing, Blitz being unfunny, we see it in flashbacks, in comments made by other characters, by the audience in Seeing Stars, with Stolas always being the notable exception. And Stolas is genuine in his laughter, he truly finds Blitz funny when at large he apparently isn’t. Blitz still presents himself as someone who is though, he sticks to the clown schtick, and despite the failures he keeps trying with increasing desperation, just like he kept trying with the balloon horse and the crystal. This contrast of everyone’s reaction vs Stolas’s is so important that one of the ways Blitz realizes Stolas is truly angry and means what he says is that Stolas didn’t laugh.

The bad at sex gag reads the exact same way to me. We have this idea that because of how Blitz presents himself, that he is considered generally attractive, that he is an asshole but he can throw down in the bedroom so people still give it a shot. But we have several comments that imply his dick game was not what was bringing them in. Verosika is the presenter of this information initially so it could just be from her perspective or even just spite based, at least that was true until we account for the new short which seems to confirm her statements. It is the same contrast of Blitz presenting himself one way, and even expressing that he can try harder if the other party is displeased, and us learning that the world at large is not into it but Stolas is. He like sings about it, he was excited about it, and that’s not down to experience or him not knowing better, he genuinely was into it. He derived pleasure from it and found it attractive. Even in Full Moon he blushes and hesitates when Blitz pushes his legs apart. Sex and humor are bimodal in the way that if you aren’t enjoying it you might give it a go a few more times before deciding it isn’t for you, or that you like some aspects and not others. Stolas is very clearly on the Blitz side for both of these. And he is an exception, if Verosika is the narrative proxy for the feelings of the Anti Blitz party attendees as a whole, which I think she is - stabbing his dick and saying no one wants it anyway - that this is a general opinion held by many, just like Blitz being not funny, that Stolas stands in contrast to.

The other thread tying them together in the narrative is Blitz’s performance anxiety itself. In the past for the humor we see him either failing completely in black and white flashbacks with no relief because Stolas wasn’t there, or we see him failing initially and Stolas reassuring him and giving him his confidence back by laughing. Now that we have additional information that Blitz is, on the whole, maybe not everyone’s cup of sexual tea It could be argued that Stolas’s over the top simping and outward showing of lust is the same as him laughing. Blitz certainly derived confidence from sexual performance when it came to Stolas, he had a lot of bravado about it and he put in a fuck ton of effort to the point where he thinks it’s all he has of value to him. Stolas expresses his appreciation loudly and outwardly. Blitz doesn’t trust it though, just as he doesn’t trust that Stolas is laughing at his jokes for real. Slowly over time Stolas stopped making those comments, and gave him outs on their arrangement. And then he stops laughing too. Blitz had no issue with the crystal when he was performing for Stolas but in Antarctica he freezes up and implies it’s been an ongoing off screen struggle. Just like he seemed to have no problem with performing oral when it was for Stolas. Millie tries to encourage him but Moxxie has to physically step in and show him. Blitz doesnt fix it himself. His confidence is still where it was when he was failing, they were just able to get home because Moxxie stepped in. Blitz has some new information but he didn’t suddenly develop confidence, not like he has in the past when Stolas was there to laugh or flirt. This really highlighted the consequences of what happens when Blitz doesn’t have Stolas to help his confidence both with sex and humor.

In summary I just love the idea that they are compatible on both of these levels in opposition to what seems to be mainstream opinion. That Blitz, the circus clown, has a captive and supportive audience in Stolas in all areas, his humor, his abilities, his business, and his sexual performance.

[m00kieblaylock]

Hey 👋🏻

I have not been on here in I think 18 months-ish. Truthfully, 2023 was the most difficult year of my life. It’s completely surreal to be honest that it all happened, I couldn’t have written it if I tried. I think I’m still in a form of shock. I was in too much pain to write anything or even mindlessly scroll on this app, that has for so long been a comfort for me and where I got support from friends who I met or through joy I got from content etc.

Thing is, I lost my beautiful dog in the April who was my heart and shadow, who was my warmth and safe space. A week later I moved to a rural town which completely changed everything about my daily life. In itself it’s been a massive adjustment and identity and community and comfort is something I’m still figuring out. Then a couple months later my grandfather was diagnosed with cancer. He passed less than three months after. It fucking sucked because I adored him and never got a proper goodbye. It all just happened so quickly.

A few weeks before he died. My other dog, a sweet and beautiful girl who was my boys soulmate went to sleep and joined him. She was a very special girl and I still fucking miss them both. 2023 was basically me getting my heart torn to shreds too many times so close together that it was too much to even believe.

I was the closest to leaving this planet than I’ve ever been before. While it was definitely understandable to struggle with life at that point, it was worse than that. I find it hard to explain but my depression and anxiety were completely untenable for me to even slightly function. I had the darkest times and while I’m proud that I’m still here it’s been a lot. It’s kind of a miracle to think about how bad things got.

I put a lot of hard work into multiple avenues of mental health treatments. I even had an initial round of TMS treatments - something I would definitely consider discussing with anyone who is interested. It’s been completely exhausting. I am taking far longer than I would have ever anticipated to be myself again after the past couple of years and I do get frustrated, but the road is still ahead of me. Recovery isn’t linear or black and white. So here we are.

I am slowly but surely trying to include more positivity in my days, so I really want to come back on here. I deserve that joy again. I need it, in fact.

So, I’m not sure who is still around, who’s read this far or what has changed, but anyone who wants to catch me up on your life or touch base etc - I’m here to enjoy this little space again 💕✨

Molly 🫶🏻

[drdemonprince]

hi, devon. i’m a very socially anxious white autistic person who has been quite active in protests and some related events and actions the last couple of months. i really agree with your opinions on how white supremacy can shift our focus away from community, but i find it nearly impossible to actively parttake in community. i show up with a mindset of actively contributing but feel paralyzed when faced with the chance. i don’t really know how to make social connections in general, but i so badly want to contribute to community. i think white guilt kinda plays into things as well and that makes me so ashamed and then i spiral. ik it’s a lot but do you have advice on navigating a deep urge and feeling of responsibility (as it pretty much is my responsibility as someone who wants to fight for liberation) but feeling paralyzed whenever a chance to connect actually presents itself? i always end up fumbling and unintentionally rejecting people who try to connect w me as well. i used to be very politically active as a teen but that was through organisations with a lot of structure which enabled me to feel more able. i do whatever actions i can, but being hindered by my inability to form connections makes me worried i won’t be able to end up in the communities that fight for liberation in the long haul. i’m ready to this this for the rest of my life, but not alone.

I understand this feeling so much. Please keep at it. One of the biggest problems with the white supremacy brain disease is that it expects us to do more & more quickly than is reasonable or helpful to expect of a person. So it is very likely you are beating yourself up for not speaking up, for not jumping in to offer help, and for not asserting yourself to the degree that you think that you "should," but in reality many of those efforts would be misplaced or self-defeating if you were to embark on them right now. This is a long journey, and white supremacy culture believes in urgency above all things too, and so it's important for you to give yourself some grace as well as to accept that progress for you will be a long haul, and that's okay.

Many people have told me that becoming even a neutral member of a community as a white person is an uphill battle. So many of our impulses and the social tools that we wield actively destroy community. to learn to become a good community member, we have to listen and learn a lot, and keep showing up, and risk looking foolish, inert, useless, or whatever else we worst fear. If you're not doing much right now but still showing up, you might be a neutral member! That's a good start actually. Keep going.

Also try to keep an open heart and an open mind when people of color or longstanding members of the space challenge you, correct you, playfully tease you, or try to include you, even if it feels embarassing or like an attack -- it isn't an attack, but white supremacy brain will have you thinking that it is. If you read my essay Moments of Protest, I describe a moment like this at the Powwow I recently visited. Indigenous men singled me out, brought me into the dances, included me, taught me the moves, and gave me an award even tho I was doing a miserably bad job -- I was MORTIFIED and the white fragile person inside me wanted to run away and apologize for being so inept and never come there again. Instead, I pushed past my stupid ego and kept dancing and felt incredible gratitude in my heart. This kinda thing happens in a lot of POC-led activist spaces too. People will ask you your opinion, tell you how to contribute, correct you, include you, and it will humble you, and it will be scary at first, but do your best to just stick with it and stay present doing the thing, even if you feel red-faced and guilty. Slowly you will get more used to it and you don't reflexively withdraw or push people away. It took me no joke YEARS to get to this point. I used to flee instinctively or even be mad at people for bursting my self protective bubble. You can work through it.

A lot of my usual distress tolerance building advice also applies here (see my substack for more). But I think that if you are already showing up to actions a lot and are self-aware about it, you are on the right track. You just need to keep going. Attend organizing meetings, not just protests themselves if you can. Contribute your opinion when it is warranted. Don't beat yourself up for being silent sometimes and don't beat yourself up for disagreeing with people or having questions and your opinions. Accept conflict as a healthy form of intimacy and dont run away when a moment gets awkward. Just keep learning and retraining yourself and noticing the love that people show -- by offering food, by making jokes, by acknowledging your presence to make you feel welcome, by allowing you to be there and helping you to be a better version of yourself. we all have a long way to go in this work, but you can do it. you're already doing it! you got this.

[docholligay]

I didn't watch this show for a long time because I was so annoyed that they made Louis Black, and I also couldn't say that was why i refused to watch it, because I come off, saying that, like a fucking weirdo.

I am sure some of you in the audience are saying to yourselves, "Yeah Doc, it does kind of surprise me that you were apparently clamoring for Louis to be white. It seems more or less unlike you." Let me explain. Read to the end.

So, Interview With the Vampire is Anne Rice working through some shit, and it's also the only book of hers I would actually maybe argue is good. At the very least, I will argue that she is doing things within that novel, that she never does in any of her others, at least nothing I've ever read as a committed Vampire Chronicles reader.

Louis is her stand-in. Louis is Anne. And because Anne is the least hinged writer on the planet, Louis cannot do anything wrong, fucking ever. Nothing is ever Louis' fault, Louis' life is a tragedy, everyone feel bad for Louis Du Fucking Pointe Du Lac.

Obviously, I had no particular love lost for Louis. BUT, because she was a southerner writing in the 70s, of course Louis' tragic story is that he was a plantation owner, and she does a couple interesting things with that in the novel. You may recognize this as something that a modern audience will not accept. Instant villain. You could write damn near anything you wanted about Louis and he would still be a villain, as a slaveowner.

When I saw that they were going to change it so he was not a slaveowner, and not only that, he was Black, for me it was just another link in the chain of Rice's construction of Saint Louis Whomst We Must Never Accuse. Easily my least favorite part of the books, and she does put the screws to him a TINY bit in later books, but not really in a serious way, and she doesn't really want you interrogating the narrative that way either.

I didn't watch the show. I did not need more Blameless Louis in my life.

Fast forward to season two. Friend of mine watches the show, and given that we have a close enough relationship that I knew she would take the statement in good faith, I told her why I couldn't watch it.

"You should try it, I think you'd be pleasantly surprised" She said.

I WAS SO DELIGHTED TO BE PROVEN INCORRECT. IT DOES A VERY GOOD JOB.

Don't get me wrong, i think there is some very boring fandom stuff about "Who is the villain here" and if I were to say what my greatest frustration with the recent popularity of this is, it would easily be that there are a bunch of people who have never read the books, and so they don't realize that everyone in these books is terrible. Every time you think you've met the most fucked up, worst one, another, shittier one comes out of the shadows like the world's most fucked up Russian doll.

But the SHOW itself, very much lets you take the position that Louis sucks, actually, which ironically makes me more likely to give him some rope. If I am allowed to think he is annoying, and a hypocrite, I am more likely to enjoy him for the fun things about him, as well and even feel for him. I would have delved a little deeper into his being an asshole, and very selfish in a lot of ways, but I don't think the show does a poor job, I think I just have my preferences.

Love being proven wrong about something!