#Latch Doorman

[lokeefe19]

Murder Drones - Reconstructed Copper Quotes -#2

Time for another edition of Quotes from My Future Au as they are so fun to make conversations for. This one features Bolt and Latch again Plus some Nuzi nonsense.

A Secret crush

Bolt - We need to talk about your love for Tyler.

Latch - I don’t have any love for Tyler.

Bolt - You have a ten step plan on how to confess to him.

Latch - Bite Me! It needs to be perfect!

Playful banter

Uzi - Have you realized how handsome you are honey?

N - Yes. And you’re still as gorgeous as always Sweetie.

Uzi - Even if I was also a disassembly Drone?

N- Yeah. Because you be taller. Hehehe.

Uzi - My height is not a punchline.

Nuzi Anniversary

Uzi - N? What would you considered our anniversary? The day I confessed to you or the day we got married?

N- Wouldn’t it be the day we destroyed that spooky maid crab and exploded the company’s Building and you kissed me back on the ship?

Uzi - That’s too long of a name to put on a card.

[lullalbee]

✰ Shared Thoughts ✰

A Francis Mosses x GN!reader, chapter 1

Warnings: Gets steamy but no smut, no pronouns for reader but afab anatomy is used, francis calls reader ‘darling’, he also pleads for like one sentence ik you guys like that, not proofread <3 this is so bad and so self-indulgent i'm so sorry

Word Count: 1.7k

The tenant grumbled, barely keeping open your tired eyes, latching onto your ID and entry request as you waited for your turn to be interrogated just so you could be let into your own home. For a while, you thought the precaution was stupid until you experienced a “code red” for yourself. Typically, you were amongst the last to arrive at the apartment building, considering you worked late nights, almost every night. You didn’t mind it, really, as you had lots of free time living alone, so that meant you were home during the early hours of the day when most tenants had left and wouldn’t return home for a few more hours, and by that time, you’d be gone yourself.

You knew today would be especially tough entering the building, as you were called in to work suddenly, so you couldn’t put in a request in time to be put onto the list for today. Once it was your turn, your trudged along to the window, passing in your papers through the metal slit.

“Why aren’t you on the list?” The doorman asked, brows furrowed, clearing searching for any signs the tenant was a doppelgänger. “Got called into work suddenly, wasn’t able to put my name on the list.” You explained, voice as monotone as ever. The doorman nodded, checking over a few things and making a phone call, before finally letting the tenant in.  You gave a small thanks, grabbed your papers back, and walked through the door. Sighing, you stepped into the elevator, ready to press the “four” button.  As you stepped back against the elevator, all your thoughts and anxieties began surfacing, most of them being of doppelgängers. What if the doorman let in one, killing us all? You didn’t doubt their abilities, but the thought always crossed your mind, with how often the alarm went off.  The elevator stopped with a ding! on the second floor, letting in another tenant of the building, Francis Mosses. 

You thought of yourself as fairly close with Francis. A lot closer than the typical tenants are with the others. You two enjoyed each other's company, giving small hello’s as you passed by, small talk exchanged whenever he’d deliver the milk you’d ordered. There were a few times, as well, where you hung out at the other’s place, your shared exhaustion over your careers being a driving factor in the start of your friendship.  Now and then, in the pits of night, you found your mind drifting to the thoughts of Francis. How his bicep flexed as he lifted up the milk carrier, his button-up shirt tightening ever so slightly around his arms and elbow, leaving little to the imagination. Or how his sensual, monotone voice sent shivers down your spine.  But your relationship was purely platonic of course. These feelings would never be acted upon nor would they be reciprocated… “Hello…? Earth to Y/N?” You were snapped out of your thoughts as the familiar voice filled your ears.   “Huh? Oh, sorry…” You mumbled, chuckling awkwardly. “Just.. tired from work.” I was totally not thinking about you… You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, both out of embarrassment and just from him looking at you.

“Mmm… Okay…” Francis nodded, albeit suspiciously. You prayed he didn’t notice the blush, and if he did, won’t say anything about it. Hopefully, he was up for as much conversation as you were at the moment… God knows what you would do to just lay down and take a nap right here. You both stood in awkward silence, avoiding eye contact before Francis got off on the next floor. You breathed a sigh of relief, mentally berating yourself for allowing that to happen. Once the elevator stopped on your floor, you bolted out and headed immediately to your apartment. There was always something so eerie about the hallways that made you want to be in them as little as possible. You struggled a bit with inserting your keys into the keyhole, but eventually, they implied and allowed you in. Closing, and locking, the door behind you, you breathed out, not even aware you were holding your breath.  You looked around your apartment, everything in the same place as it was before. Good. No doppelgängers have been in your home. The apartment was rather small, but that’s alright since you were the only person here. It was cozy that way. Trudging through the tiny hallway, you made it to your room, changing out of your work clothes and into some more comfortable ones. Immediately, you plopped down onto the bed and began drifting off to a dreamless sleep.  …Was that the sound of the phone? Well, it’ll be alright…

After what felt like only a few minutes, you heard someone knocking at your door, rather quickly. Begrudgingly, you sat up and got out of your bed, combing through your hair with your fingers to try to smooth down any bed head that developed in the small frame of time you were sleeping. You stood up, attempting to make yourself slightly presentable. Making your way to the door, you glanced at your rotary phone which sat on a small table next to the couch. You paused for a moment, wondering if the ringing you heard was real, but shrugged, assuming it was nothing.  You looked through the peephole of your door, spying the one and only Francis Mosses, at your door. He wasn’t in his usual milkman garb, but rather some common, everyday clothes. Quickly, you unlocked your door, opening it to greet Francis. “Oh, hello.” You gave him a soft smile, cocking your head slightly. “Are you off the clock?” “Yeah, my uh- my shift ended not too long ago.” He swallowed, nodding. “Wanted to check on you, you seemed real exhausted earlier.” “Well, you did just wake me from a life-saving nap, but that's alright.” You quip, giving him a smirk as you move out of the doorway, allowing him in.

“Oh, I’m- I’m sorry, I can go–” “No, no.” You shake your head, furrowing your brows. “Stay, please.”  He smiled at you, seemingly relieved you didn’t let him go. Internally, you were screaming, he never showed up to your apartment unless you had a pre-planned hang-out session, or he was doing his rounds, delivering the milk.  “Do you want anything? A snack, or…” You ask him, walking towards your tiny kitchen.  “Oh, no, that won’t be necessary.” He said in that monotone voice that made your knees turn to jelly. Francis went and sat on the couch, you following close behind. “I, uhm.” He began, looking away. “I wanted to talk to you… I’ve been, thinking a lot. Since we talked in the elevator.”  Oh fuck, he’s so creeped out by me, isn’t he, you panic internally, but barely manage to scrape together your composure. “Oh- I’m sorry, about that I–” You started before he interrupted you.  “I’ve been thinking about… you specifically.” He gulped, causing your heart to race. “Now, you can slap me if you think I’m creepy or anything, but I’ve thought about just us in general for a while, long before the elevator. Y/N, I–” He grabbed your hand, looking you in the eyes, his own clouded with infatuation and something else you couldn’t quite make out. Before he could finish his sentence, you cupped his cheek with your free hand and kissed him with so much desperation your teeth clinked together. He was taken aback by this, not reciprocating, causing you to panic and think you misread the situation so you pulled back, breathing heavily. “Fuck, did I- Did I fuck that up? Oh my god, I’m so–” He cut you off with a kiss of his own, holding the back of your head with his hand, keeping his grasp on you as he kissed you with a lot more passion and less desperation than the first. Immediately, you kissed back, snaking your arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss.  He broke the kiss first, to catch his breath. You smiled at him, letting out a small laugh. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for that.”  “Oh, but, I think I do,” Francis smirked, eyes darkening. “I’m a lot more perceptive than I think you realize. I’ve seen the glances you’ve stolen.” This caused you to blush and cover your face, burrowing into the crook of his neck. He maneuvered his head to give you a small kiss on your own, still smiling. “It’s cute, ‘loved knowing at least one person was paying attention to me.” He chuckled as you raised your head, still blushing fervently. He leaned in for another kiss, but this time it was much more needy, resting one hand on the nape of your neck and the other on your hip. Your hands entangled themselves in his hair, pulling your bodies as close together as possible. 

“I’ve thought of you, so many nights.” You whispered between kisses. “Trust me, me too, darling.” Francis groaned, biting down on your lip. You decided to tease him and keep your mouth closed. In turn, Francis snaked the hand on your hip up under your shirt, causing shivers to be sent up your spine, as you moaned into the kiss, which Francis took as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring every crevice he could, mapping and memorized the sensation.  You tugged on his hair, causing a moan from him to vibrate through you as he explored the inside of your mouth, your arousal growing further in your core. He cupped your breast through your bra, causing you to break from the kiss for a moment and moan his name, him looking at you, pleadingly, for consent to go further. You gave him an over-enthusiastic “yes” just before you kissed him again, but before either of you could continue further on, a loud ring ran through your house, coming from the doorbell. Whimpering a little, disappointed you had to pause your wonderful makeout session with Francis Mosses, you stood up, smoothing out any wrinkles on your clothes. Heading towards the door, you ponder over who it could be. You knew you shouldn’t have any visitors today, and you certainly weren’t close enough with your other neighbors for a surprise one. As you leaned up to peek through the peephole, all you were met with were eyes just like your own, a face sculpted just like yours, with the most sinister smile plastered on. It was your doppelgänger.

[artbyblastweave]

Hey so, thought exercise, how do you think Taylor would fare if she got dropped into the invincible universe? For the sake of mechanics let's say she literally gets dropped in via doorman portal or something.

So one thing about Invincible is that I think it's setting is protagonist-centric in a way that Worm's isn't. To the extent that Invincible's setting has worldbuilding- worldbuilding that isn't, like, ported in from the books's early association with the confederated Image Comics shared universe- it's worldbuilding that exists to convey the impression of a big-two-flavor universe. Here's our spin on the undersea kingdom, here's the riff on the Martians, here are our riffs on SHIELD, on Gotham, on Themyscira, on 70s blaxploitation-adjacent heroes, and so on. This is the entire ethos underpinning the Guardians of the Globe in particular- piggybacking on pre-existing audience affection for the Justice League to convey that it's a Big Fucking Deal when the guardians get blendered in issue 7.

You have flashbacks demonstrating that there was capital-S Superhero Stuff going on in the seventies and eighties, or as far back as the thirties with Immortal, you create the impression of a status quo, a big pond in which Mark is a little fish. And to Kirkman's credit, some effort clearly went into making sure that the non-Mark capes are sufficiently fleshed out that you can believe that they've got other stuff going on in their lives. But at the end of the day, it's the Invincible universe. You don't see a lot of people talking about the Guarding the Globe spinoff. Many of the most interesting characters- Cecil being a big example here- are interesting because of the ways in which they bounce off Mark specifically, the ways in which he chooses to deal with them. The universe is less of a character in the story the way that Earth Bet is- it's just the place where Mark's story, specifically, is happening. If there's a codified setting bible, I'll eat my hat.

Now of course the world of Worm is, in many ways, equally Taylor-centric, because that's what it means to be the protagonist. But owing in part to the themes of the story, and in part to the sheer number of false-start protagonists Wildbow played around with before settling on Taylor, it's very good at conveying the idea that there are many stories happening in this setting and Taylor's is just the one this particular work happened to focus on. There's an actual point to doing OC worldbuilding for what the superhero scene looks like in Wormverse Denver or Seattle or whatever- whereas you can come up with superhero teams for Invincible-verse Denver, but what actually ties them to that universe? What are you getting out of putting them in Invincible specifically, that you wouldn't get from whipping up a barebones MASKS setting to support your OCs? Anyway. This is a really long way of getting to my real point, which is that I think the question is less "how does Taylor bounce off the Invincible setting" and more "How does Taylor bounce off Invincible the character, around whom the setting orbits even when it pretends not to."

This I'm unsure of, because where do you stick her in his life where you get an interesting dynamic? One thing that's interesting here is that Mark's overall character arc already involves learning a lot of taylorisms- the strategic ruthlessness, the shift from a good-evil dichotomy to a helping-not-helping dichotomy-so what about his arc is going to change if they spend time together? Why would they spend time together? Given the different power levels on display, what would differentiate her, in his experience, from the dozens of filler capes that exist for him at the level of "vague acquaintance?" This is assuming she's active as a cape at all, which she might not be if this is Post-GM. Mutual association through Cecil and the Global Defense Agency might be a hook- maybe they're paying for her new arm or something- but would she latch her cart to Cecil's wagon in the first place, barring some obvious crisis situation? Hard to say. If she's depowered, and present in his life somehow in a civilian context, well, that's a fast-track to not being part of the story anymore either, given how Mark's civilian connections slowly fading away was kind of a quiet plot point.

There's some configuration of these pieces that could be interesting, but I'm not quite sure what they are. Soliciting input here.

[jamiesfootball]

Some Sentences Sunday

“There he is! Captain of Los Merengues himself!” Jamie grinned, teeth sharp and white against a bright summer tan. “You gonna invite me in?” “Jamie,” Sam gaped. He lowered the phone from his ear. “What are you doing here? You- how did you get past the doorman?” He wasn't sure why that was the first question his mind latched onto, other than he found it impossible to imagine that Oscar, with his grandfatherly smiles and strict adherence to rules, would allow anyone to slip through his rigid guest protocols — even someone as capable of charm as the man in front of him. With an impudent flick of his tongue, Jamie shook his head. “I told him I was Jamie Tartt, and that if he let me in I’d make sure Real Madrid won this Saturday,” he explained. His smug smile faltered when Sam remained speechless. Tucking the bottle against his chest, he bounced nervously on his heels. “You gonna let me in?”

[ask-elliot-doorman-fam]

*Looking around, the owl creature can't help but admire this room. It looks very cozy, they would have a nest like this if they could. After figuring out the latch's function, they pull it, watching the skylight open. Not wanting to overstay their welcome, they spread their wings and take off into the night sky. They will now be more careful if they ever try approaching the Doorman house again.*

- 🦉

Mars Bar whimpers as he comes out of his hinding space, looking out the window to watch his new freind fly away...

He howls mournfully.

[kissanon]

francis and anastacha hc before i go insane

francis is a little out of shape and he wants to be healthier to support himself, nacha, and anastacha, so him and anastacha take daily walks and talk about their life!

It was a little past 3 PM, right after Anastacha had gotten out of school and had her father Francis pick her up. They walked up and down the blocks of their neighborhood, giggling as they shared itty bitty parts about their day.

“Today, i like, found out that my science teacher missed school yesterday because he got into a car accident because a spider fell on his lap!” Anastacha would blurt out, giggling halfway through her sentence. She was loud, but she was happy, and as much as Francis disliked noise, he didn’t mind hearing the booming laughter and words of his daughter. “You know, it kinda reminds me of something you would do!” She added on, playfully hitting her father on his arm.

“Mmm. . Oh really? How mean you are! I swear i’m more composed than that!” He teased back, ruffling the pigtail ridden hair of the smaller child on his right side. Both of them shared more laughs as they walked down the broken cracks of the concrete sidewalk, Anastacha using both of her hands to try and playfully push her father off her head. “Mhm. Maybe you’re just self projecting, i know you can’t stand even the smallest of bugs, Annie!” The milkman joked, returning his hand back to his pocket and off Anastacha’s head.

Anastacha let out a “harumph” as she jokingly crossed her arms against her chest, basking in laughter with her father. Before she could say another sentence, a large booming signaling thunder erupted from a nearby cloud and had both of their heads turning. They both shared a shocked expression as they stared back at each other, going back to giggling at the sudden lightning.

Rain began to pour and Anastacha winced, using her backpack to shield her head. “MmnNo, No Ana. You’ll hurt your neck like that, dear.” Her father pushed the backpack back onto her back and took his hat off, planting it on Anastacha’s head and patting the top of her back. “No—Dad, what about you? Now you have nothing to like, protect yourself with or whatever.” The girl struggled to find words, but Francis shrugged it off.

“Mmm. Don’t worry about me, get over here, silly.” He teased, before quickly wrapping his arms around Anastacha and carrying her just high enough so that his head rested on her covered one, for extra protection. Heavy rain droplets would soak and stain Francis’ hair and uniform, but he didn’t mind, as long as Anastacha was mostly dry, he planned to keep it that way. The milkman’s arms found a tighter grip on his daughter as he began to speed up, the silhouette of the apartment complex they shared slowly approaching his vision.

Francis found his way to the apartment door, opening it quickly and rushing his sopping wet dress shoes towards the window of the booth. He greeted the doorman, fishing around in Anastacha’s backpack to find her documents. As his hand went to grab the latch to his daughter’s backpack, he fished out her documents and quickly went for his own in his pocket.

After the doorman’s approval let Francis and Anastacha inside, he stamped his way up the stairs and standing in front of Nacha’s doorstep. His free hand quickly went to knock in 3 intervals on his wife’s door, (yes i hc their together….) before it wasn’t so free anymore. As his hand retreated and Nacha opened the door, she quietly squealed and wrapped her hands around Francis, giving him a quick peck before gesturing her hands back to hold Anastacha.

Francis went to set Anastacha down, but he noticed the girl sound asleep into his chest. She snored softly and buried her head into her father’s collarbone, hands gripping his shoulders. Her father smiled a warm smile he hadn’t expressed in a while and snuggled the girl tighter before Nacha would giggle and just let Francis inside. The milkman made his way into the house as Nacha would reprimand him for being so wet and not bringing an umbrella. “Francis, did you not see Channel 42 this morning? Izaack said it would rain around this time!” She scolded, lovingly pecking Francis’ cheek in the process. Francis groaned and he shrugged once more, making his way into Anastacha’s room and peeling her backpack off of her to set on the ground before carefully taking his hat off of his daughter and gently lifting the hair bands off of her pigtails.

“Mmm. . I didn’t have time, honey. I was in a rush and didn’t even think of turning on the TV all day, especially in the morning. .” He muttered, laying his cap on his chest and messing with his wet hair. “Ack—You! Mmh. You’re lucky you’re so handsome.” Nacha giggled, pecking her husband on the cheek again, taking his shoulders into her hands. “Come, baby, stay the night! I’ll cook you a hot meal and get you some clean clothes. You still have some clothes here, i remember seeing them somewhere in here. .” The chef muttered, kissing Francis on the lips. He chuckled and grabbed his wife’s waist, embracing himself into the kiss. “Mm. I have another way i can get warm.” He teased, a little embarrassed as his hand went to pinch Nacha’s cheek. “Oh, fineeee!” Nacha would pretend to be annoyed, grabbing Francis’ collar and dragging him into her bedroom.

[yourfavehasajjbastandact2]

Khan doorman from murder drones

Name: Back Doorman

Namesake: Back Door Man (song by The Doors)

Stand Master: Khan Doorman

Stand appearance: Back Doorman's design is that of a Worker Drone, almost deceptively so; aside from the usual details common with Worker Drones, its eyes are a neon green hue, with short dark-emerald hair beneath a jade-coloured helmet similar to the one sported by its user (without goggles). Its clothing matches Khan's style, being a olive-hued jacket & large black boots. Telltale signs that Back is a stand include usual signs (unable to be seen by non stand users, distinct red glow), as well as an inability to speak.

Abilities: Back Door Man has the ability to create doors. It can transform any object into an openable & closeable barrier, which can fill any space smaller than 10ft^3; these can only be opened by its user, or those he mentally deems acceptable to control (this is assuming a given door has a handle or latch, otherwise it cannot be used by anyone other than the user).

Stats: POWER: C SPEED: C RANGE: B DURABILITY: A PRECISION: E POTENTIAL: E

[tysaescorner]

Dreaming. 27February2023

There were multiple dreams. A boy and his younger brother running up all 80 floors of an old hotel, chased by the doorman who really didn’t like them. The youngest brother made it to the elevator first and went in. It closed before the older brother could join him. Doorman, a cruel shell of a man, had this long pole that could latch on to things really tightly. He caught the older brother’s leg…

[thatsnotmymilkman]

*Whenever anyone actually heard his call, he didn't know. It didn't matter, plus the static of the radio made his head hurt. Latching it back onto his belt, he returned to fiddling with the switches. Some worked, and he managed to restore the heating system for the entire building. Some were barely intact but let him turn on the electricity in some apartments. The others though were beyond repair, he unable to tell if it was intentional or not.*

-Doorman B Anon i do not have plot laid out i am just winging it feel free to interrupt anytime😭

*Francis groaned when he heard the heat turn on*

[serialvx00100000]

∞ The maze's end, and Uzi's acknowledgment of this end, finally allowed V a chance to breathe a sight of relief. The Disassembly Drone had definitely been acting cool, but that was all it was in the end. And while she didn't really feel much pain from how Uzi had been handling her tail, she was glad to have her not latching onto it so hard. Even though it had brought her a strange sense of reassurance throughout the whole experience.

But she was also a little anxious. They'd just been putting off finishing that conversation from earlier until they got out. Well, now they were out. "I dunno if we're scared of things that are that different." Humans, Worker Drones, they had all run in terror when the Disassembly Drones descended. Aside from Uzi anyways, and Lizzy. "There might be more overlap then we think. Maybe we should ask that Mika chick who's always hanging out at your place?"

Technically she lived there too, V.

Things moved fast, and before V knew it they were talking about Uzi's Cyn prank. She'd had some time to let her feelings settle. "Whatever, I'm over it. Just don't do it again." She was getting a little grated watching her look up and down from the ground, so she reached over and tilted Uzi's face up by the chin to face her. "And look at me when you're talking, would ya? You're last name's Doorman not Dormouse. You're creepin' me out... here..."

It took V all of two seconds before she realized she was forcing Uzi to stare into her eyes and dropped it. "A-Anyways! You said only you could traumatize me - us, I'm including N! So if you're going to do it, at least invent some new trauma instead of rehashing Cyn crap!"

Damn V and her cool stoicism! Uzi had been talking a big game, then she'd gotten spooked by a fat human in a red suit! The actor continues to watch Uzi, presumably sensing her weakness, as V walks past, with the smaller drone sidling against the wall and not dropping eye contact. It's only once they've rounded another corner that she finally relaxes.

Well, 'relax' is a relative term. "Bite me," says Uzi, glancing over her shoulder. "You already help yourself without asking, you should be thanking me that I don't charge you. Also N wouldn't care!"

In fact, he'd probably be worried about her, and then he'd pick Uzi up in his arms and carry her out and it'd be cool and romantic and why is she thinking about this right now when she could be jumped by jack frost at any moment? She squeezes V's tail, then catches herself and relaxes her grip. "How long is this frickin' thing? If we were humans, we probably would've frozen to death by- Oh, we're here."

The ending is abrupt, with the icy corridor just opening up into a rather non-descript lobby. Uzi just follows V as a human worker ushers them in front of a camera, flashbangs them, and then hands them both a pin. That it, I guess. Oh, wait, there's a photo too. That's kind of a fun keepsake, and Uzi smiles until she notices that her hand is still clutching onto V's tail in the photo. She flushes, stuffing it in her pocket without another word.

"Well, that was..." She pauses, frowns, and finally grins. "That was so frickin' cool! I've never done anything like that before so I wasn't sure how it'd be and sometimes human stuff isn't really that scary 'cause I guess it's like drones and humans are scared of different stuff 'cause it's like why would I be scared of some dude with a knife but-"

Looking up, she sees V looks... somewhat less enthused. Oh, right. The prank. Uzi curls in on herself a little, her eyes flicking between her companion and the floor. "Hey, uh... Sorry for that whole Cyn impression thing. I didn't really think that, uh... I guess I just didn't think. Sorry."

[lokeefe19]

Murder drones Reconstructed Copper - Bolt and Latch (Nuzi Fan kids)

Yes. I had fallen down a hole a while ago and Already made Fankids. These two Goobers are a part of a Big AU I had where The Pilot’s Plot was continued.

And Now to introduce them both with some facts and details about them.

Bolt Missle Doorman

The oldest One of the two kids.

The mediator of the chaos Within the doorman household.

Has Uzi’s Hair Color and N’s Eyes.

But he can be Rebellious on some occasions.

Has a best friend In the form of Jenn who tries to manage his own chaos.

Has gone on to many adventures with Aunt V and Lizzy.

 Is the owner of Rail Gun 2.0 much to Latch's Dismay sometimes.

Has more combat experience than you may seem to expect.

Latch Doorman

The younger, rebellious, Chaotic Menace.

Has N’s hair color and Uzi’s Eyes.

But She has more of Uzis data within her than N’s.

Wears a modified version of Uzi’s Old jacket.

Is Rebellious as Uzi was (and still is sometimes) in her youth.

Thinks that Her mother likes Bolt more than her because he was made first. Even though she loves them both equally.)

Has been trying to get the most popular boy school Tyler to acknowledge that she exists.

Said bite me as her first word.

Dreams of Being popular with Copper High.

And here’s also a One Shot fic that I made a while ago showcasing them more along with Uzi.

[blurredcolour]

Nom De Plume | Part Three

Nom De Plume Masterlist

Summary: A party is never just a party, particularly when hosted by Cloé Elgin.

Pairing: Austin Butler x Female Reader

Warnings: Emotional Whiplash, Mean Girl Trope, Alcohol Consumption, Allusion to Drug Use, Angst, Tears, Bullying of Reader, Confrontational Situations, Romanticization of France, Reference to Character Bleed, Vague Understanding of Movie Production, Mature/Explicit Themes – 18+ Only

Word Count: 6067

»» ────── ஓ ๑ ✧ ๑ ஓ ────── ««

You had been out of sorts all day. Since you woke up…like that. From that dream. From that orgasm. Time was hard to keep track of and it flowed through your fingers like water as you constantly found yourself staring off into space while taking your shower, while cooking your eggs, while choosing your outfit.

If you had a better relationship, or more accurately any relationship, with Cloé you would have begged off sick from the party. If you had messaged Austin that you weren’t feeling up to it, he would have surely appeared with a muffin basket, and you really could not handle him in the same space where you had just…

How would you even finish that sentence?! Cum at his expense? No one had been harmed but it somehow felt exploitative and extremely complicated. Clearly the whole thing was rooted in more than just smoldering desire from those two hours in your office. It was tied up tightly with the warmth in your chest and the trembling in your abdomen. It was apparent that your psyche was no longer ok with you willfully ignoring the symptoms. You had most definitely developed feelings for Austin, and there was no way to deny it any longer. So, what to do with this newly confirmed knowledge? Keep it to yourself? Try and ignite some sort of awkward conversation with the gorgeous, blonde Adonis who had surely been written by a woman?

You stepped off the train at Paddington station and pulled out your phone to follow your map app’s directions to the building where Cloé and Austin were staying. Even though it would take nearly an hour-and-a-half to get there, you would just show your face, extend an olive branch, and go home. The idea that you could have at least neutrality with Cloé was motivation enough.

The doorman took your name, letting you in to the gorgeous apartment building, and you rode the elevator up to the sixth floor. The hall was filled with revelers, all the doors open as it seemed the cast members were staying all on the same floor, and that entire floor had become one party space. You recognized a mix of cast and crew milling about, every single one of them with a beverage in hand. Every last one at least a little tipsy. You wove your way through the mass of them toward Cloé’s apartment number.

“Criiiiickeeeeee’!” You heard Austin’s jovial slur as you walked past one of the open doors and peered in to see him holding court with Cloé draped across his lap, her lips latched onto his neck. You felt immediately and intensely sick – bile rising in your throat, stomach in knots, palms sweating. “Let’s getcha a drink!”

The table in front of him was laden with glassware, smoked and unsmoked cigarettes, and the remnants of tidy lines of white powder. It was as though the universe had compiled every reason for you to remain an anonymous author and presented it in one tableau. Numbly, you settled into a chair across from the two of them, and someone…Ryan?...From the lighting crew?... put a disposable cup in your hand. You made polite small talk with him as the plastic crinkled faintly in your death grip.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Cloé working the remaining buttons of Austin’s shirt open as he watched you with glassy, unfocused eyes and took generous sips of his drink. You poured all of your attention into Ryan then, throwing him softballs to encourage him to expound on his extensive career. At some point during all this Cloé pulled Austin from the couch and behind a closed door. It must have had a hollow core as you could hear their bodies collide against it. The way her lilting French combined with his rich, husky moans. You abruptly excused yourself and set the untouched cup of liquid down, forcing yourself to walk to the elevators at a normal pace.

You managed to maintain that pace until you were outside the building and that was when you allowed your legs to burst into a run. Allowed the tears you had been holding back by sheer will to pour down your cheeks. You found a small, quiet park with a bench and sat down heavily to succumb to your anguish. Pulling out your phone, you hiccupped as you angrily texted Pearce. He was, of course, completely blameless. But you could not yell at oblivious, entangled Austin. So, Pearce would have to do.

– I should have never let you talk me into this. What a fucking mistake this whole thing was. –

You stared at the screen angrily, waiting for his reply, roughly wiping at your eyes with your shirtsleeve. You jumped as your phone started vibrating with his phone call.

“Pearce…I don’t…I can’t…” You babbled tearfully as you tucked the phone into the crook of your shoulder.

“Ok, ok, hold on. Where are you?” He asked as a particularly aggressive cabbie honked angrily at some pedestrians crossing the road behind you.

“Fuck if I know…” You looked around, overwhelmed and, frankly, lost. Your breath shuddered as you tried to calm down.

“Send me your location, I’m coming to get you, and you’re going to speak to me in full sentences.” He said sternly before ending the call.

You did as you were told, feeling reassured that an adult was taking charge of the situation. Twenty minutes later a cab pulled up beside you and Pearce jumped out, waving you in. A fresh wave of tears flooded your eyes as you slid into the back with him, sniffling and chewing your lips the entire drive back to his apartment. He installed you on his couch with a box of tissues and pressed a hot mug of tea into your hands.

“Out with it.” He said in a tone that was both gentle and commanding.

You took a sip of the tea, for courage you supposed, before you began pouring your feelings out all over his living room. It was halting at first, until your words were coming out faster than your mouth could form them. As you spoke, you came to realize that though Austin had not done anything explicitly wrong, he had truly hurt you. Clearly your feelings had been one sided, all those visits to your apartment and those car rides had been purely professional for him. And you had never had the chance to put your emotions into words for him, so naturally, he had no idea how you felt. But you were also feeling quite set-up by Cloé. She had seen your attraction to Austin clear as day and dangled acceptance into the clique in front of you to get you to that party just so she could show off that she had turned Austin into her fuck toy.

Pearce was suitably sympathetic and outraged on your behalf, ensuring a constant supply of tea and biscuits to fuel your outpouring.

“I’m…I’m so sorry. This was not…” He, an accomplished screenwriter, struggled for words after you finally fell silent.

“No…no neither of us could have known, I suppose…I’m sorry I yelled at you over text…” You sniffed and he laughed once, shaking his head.

“Well clearly you don’t want to see either one of them for a while, hm?”

“Fuck, I have no idea how I’m supposed to work with them for the next eight weeks.” You looked down, brows furrowed.

“Well I. I hope you’ll stay, and I do have an idea for the next week at least?” He offered hopefully and you looked up to meet his eyes. “The set is closed for the next five days of shooting anyway, as they’re filming scenes with nudity. Which I am also very certain you do not wish to be a part of.” He grinned a little at your emphatic nod. “So, I’ll do set this week and you do dailies for me.”

Your eyes widened.

“But that’s…way above my pay grade, I’d have no idea what I’m doing in there?!”

“Honestly? I just read along with the script and confirm which takes are accurate. Otherwise, Greta knows exactly what she’s looking for.”

“What if…she sees right through me? I’m…not very good at hiding my opinions…” You fidgeted with your hair nervously.

“Would it be so bad if she knew?” He raised his eyebrows and you sighed softly, shaking your head.

“No, I trust her. Barely know her but, she’s just a lovely person…”

“That’s settled then. And when you are back on set, it’ll be fully clothed scenes for a week and then France.” He waggled his eyebrows and your breath hitched in your throat.

“France…oh we’re so close aren’t we…” You murmured, aching to see Normandy. To see places that you had only ever visited in your mind.

Pearce smiled softly and patted your head.

“Exactly. Now, you can sleep in my guest room tonight, no use in you navigating your way back to Slough in your current state.”

He tucked you up into bed and right before you turned out the light, Austin had texted you his call time. You replied that you were on dailies that week and would make your own way to and from the studio. You then turned off the phone. Despite your swirling mind and the cold hollow feeling below your sternum, a deep, dreamless sleep was merciful enough to take you. You took the train back to Slough with Pearce the next morning, stopping to shower and change at your apartment before heading into Pinewood around noon.

Even though set was closed, every corner of the studio was buzzing with news of Austin and Cloé’s romance. The story of the rocking trailer from two days ago growing more and more epic with each retelling. If it was to be believed, and that was a big if, they had hooked up right after she dragged him for your office. That was a particularly awful piece of math to calculate.

You got a text from Pearce when filming finished for the day and decided to take the long way to the editing suite, making sure to avoid make-up, wardrobe, and especially the trailers. Greta was making her way down the hall from the more direct route and smiled to see you there waiting for her.

“Hi! Pearce told me you two decided to divide and conquer, a very wise decision. Come on in.” She led you into the compressed version of a theatre with a bank of editing equipment about halfway back from the screen.

She was so gracious and welcoming, offering you dinner as she ate hers. You could tell she was weeks into multi-tasking, and you could not help but be impressed by her upbeat attitude despite the chaos of her life. Watching Austin and Cloé mimic the act of love making in high definition was decidedly painful and you clung to your script binder like a ship to anchor in a hurricane. It was helpful to have something to be able to focus on, to give purpose to the whole exercise.

While it was maybe not an Olivia-Rodrigo’s-SOUR-on-repeat level of devastation, traitor did become your anthem for that week.

guess you didn’t cheat but you’re still a traitor

There were comfort foods, copious amounts of tears, and heart spilling conversations at all hours with Pearce and your closest friend. They helped you lay your burgeoning feelings for Austin to rest, to let go of what was clearly not meant to be. They helped you keep yourself in one piece and focused on your desire to ensure your novel was properly translated onto film.

You and Greta proved to work well together, a natural partnership solidifying between the two of you.

“I’ve asked Pearce if I can keep you next week, too. He was delighted to have an earlier finish time, but what are your thoughts?” She asked you as that week of shooting came to a close.

You smiled warmly and nodded.

“I would love to.”

“Great, and we will need your eye on set as well. Big climax with the fight scene next week.”

“Of course, yes. Thank you very much for your faith in me, Greta.”

She winked warmly and went off to do yet another task that night. You could not help but wonder if she had figured it out… Making a mental note to never, ever get into directing, you happily headed home for a few days rest and fortification. You had managed to avoid Austin, and Cloé, for a week. But you had a job to do, and you would have to come face to face with them eventually.

You were thankful there was a new face on set this week; Jannis Niewöhner had arrived to portray Leutnant Khöler the German lieutenant who provided Yvette with special favour in return for sex. The reason she was labelled as a collaborator. He was very kind, very handsome, and a refreshing brunette contrast to Austin’s golden blonde. You had been very impressed with his acting in Munich: Edge of War and his casting announcement had thrilled you.

He was idly chatting with Pearce and yourself as Austin strolled onto set with Cloé hanging from his lanky frame possessively. The pair of them were so completely wrapped up in one another, in their own little world, that it was easy to avoid their notice. Greta called Jannis over onto set to run through the shots of that day and you sat behind Pearce, watching quietly. Cloé alternated between preening and laying claiming hands on Austin’s chest and shoulders.

He hadn’t texted you in over a week, you realized. No questions, no offers of a ride. Complete silence. What a naïve fool you had been. And how odd it was to be so hurt by someone so oblivious. About midway through the morning, you slid from your chair, asking Pearce and Greta if they wanted anything from craft services. Cloé happened to the flouncing by and jumped in on the order completely uninvited.

“Yeah I’ll have a half-caf extra hot oat latte with cinnamon sprinkles and Aus will have…Babe? Drink?” She yelled back over her shoulder, and you ducked your head to make quick notes on your phone, hoping he wouldn’t notice you were involved.

“Black coffee, babe!” He replied before turning back to talk to Jannis.

“Got it.” You said tersely before she could open her mouth again and made a quick exit. You grabbed an extra coffee for Jannis, because hey you were already juggling two full trays and he deserved to feel welcome. Thankfully one of the crafties held the door open for you and you slipped back into the studio to deliver the drinks, setting the tray with three actors’ cups near their chairs as they were deep in discussion with Greta again.

You did your very best to stay low and out of Cloé’s eye line for the rest of the day but eventually a trip to the washroom was required. As you were washing your hands you noticed your hair needed a bit of attention and you used your damp fingers to try and tidy it. One of the stalls behind you opened and out sashayed Cloé, her eyes meeting yours in the mirror coldly.

“Merde you are so plain…” She mused before laughing maliciously, the sound following her and her unwashed hands out of the washroom.

Your eyes flooded with heat, and you blinked back unbidden tears. You had felt such a relief graduating from high school, leaving the queen bee of your generation behind. Apparently, they were just out in the wild in this industry. You roughly pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes to cram those tears back in before you headed back out to do your job like a fucking professional. You watched from your chair as filming continued.

Somehow, the fact that she perfectly captured the nuanced character of Yvette made the fact that she was a raging bitch in real life so much worse. If you could hate all of her maybe it would have been easier. Easier to watch her hold Austin under her spell. Easier to endure her cruel comments and demeaning requests of you. But nothing could make it easier to tolerate her campaign for Yvette to have a superhero glory moment.

The climax of the movie involved Yvette taking the bullets Leutnant Khöler fired at Antoine, with Antoine dealing the killing blow to the lieutenant with a pitchfork. Around day three of that week, Cloé had begun wheedling and pushing for Yvette to be the one to wield the pitchfork, taking the shots as a result of her actions rather than for Antoine.

By day five, you had reached your limit. She was planted in front of Greta and Pearce, arguing for the sake of her ego in a whiny and entitled voice. You snapped, leaping to your feet, your binder crashing to the ground as it was launched carelessly from your lap.

“Because that’s not who Yvette IS! She’s not some warrior princess, she’s not badass. She’s an ordinary person in extraordinary times! Ordinary! Not the same old extraordinary people Hollywood trope. I will not allow you to ruin the essence of her character for your vanity!” The words tore out of as you found yourself unable to take one more moment of her condescension and arrogance.

Deafening silence flooded the entire studio as all eyes turned to settle on the drama unfolding. No one dared to move, dared to breathe as you crossed your arms, your own eyes fixed on Cloé.

She had looked between Pearce and Greta, seeking back-up. “So we’re just going let some assistant tell us what to do here?! What a fucking bore this movie is going to be” “I am afraid, Cloé, that I will have to defer to the author here.” Greta said coolly, the long evening hours in the editing suite having obviously given you away.

Your grip on the sleeves of your shirt tightened until your fingers were numb as you fought hard to school your face. As every single person turned to stare at you openly. Including Cloé. Including Austin. That was that, then.

“Thank you.” You managed to breathe in gratitude to Greta before turning to walk out of the studio, yet again forcing your feet to move at a normal pace. You sighed to yourself as you opened the door to a deluge of warm spring rain, hesitating a moment, the desire to flee making your lungs burn before you dashed out into it. You skidded to a stop as you heard your name shouted across the parking lot and turned to look back at Austin, standing under an umbrella held up by his make-up artist who had politely turned their back to you but still…you were not alone.

“Cricke’, I…well I don’ know wha’ ta say I…”

You laughed bitterly as the rain soaked further into your clothes and hair.

“Austin you’re only out here because I wrote the fucking thing.” You croaked, eyes welling with tears as you finally allowed yourself to speak honestly. “Go back to your starlet.” You turned and marched off through the wind and rain and puddles, leaving him speechless under his umbrella.

Once you had been certain you were out of his sight you broke into a run, dashing up to your office and treating yourself to a cab ride home. You pulled out your phone only after a hot shower and a change of fresh, comfortable clothes. You chose only to reply to Pearce, apologizing and asking him to cover dailies that evening, which he was more than happy to do for you. You ignored the texts from Austin.

You stood at the knock on your door, thinking it was your Chinese delivery. And well, it was in way, but carrying it was Greta. Your eyes shot wide. Glancing down to your comfy clothes, you frowned, but she was shaking her head.

“Can I give you a hug?” She asked softly and you looked to her startled for a moment before nodding your head ‘yes’.

She stepped in and hugged you tightly, careful to balance the food behind you.

“I’m sorry you had such a shitty day on set…” She said as she pulled back and you waved her into your apartment.

“It was in no way your fault, Greta…” You watched in stunned silence as she unpacked the food and guided you to sit with her on the couch.

“I’d heard Cloé was problematic from others in the industry, and I am so grateful you found a way to be with us to protect the intent of your writing, but I am also extremely sorry that she pushed you to the breaking point today.”

You sniffled as you found your eyes yet again damp.

“You’re doing such a good job of it, I’m so excited you’re the director.” You gushed in a watery voice, and she laughed softly, pulling you into another tight hug.

“We really need you around…we’ve got all the location scenes in France to shoot, and we won’t make it without you. So. What do I need to do to make you stay?” She asked you frankly and you gulped.

“Abso.absolutely nothing, I am.” You took a deep steadying breath. “I am perfectly happy to continue as we have been…” It was somewhat of a lie but her confidence boosting heart-to-heart was working wonders on you in that moment.

“Well, we both know that’s not possible. But my thought is this. The splinter unit is going to Germany for the next three weeks to film fighting scenes for the paratrooper unit. I was thinking of sending Pearce with them and keeping you in Normandy with me while we film Yvette’s back story.” Seeing you hesitate she hastened to add, “Cloé has already changed her tune. Apparently once she learned you were the author, she had a full melt down in her trailer. I would expect apology flowers any minute. She’s not nice but she knows who to suck up to.”

You nodded thoughtfully, knowing it would give you a break from Austin again…and after you’d just shouted at him in public that would surely be for the best.

“Yes. Yvette is the whole story; Antoine is just the love interest. So yes, I would be happy to help ensure we get it right.” You managed to voice.

She grinned brightly in reply and the two of you dug into your takeout. It was a good thing she had appeared; you had ordered far too much food. As she predicted, a vase of a dozen white roses, apparently a flower for forgiveness, arrived not twenty minutes later. You had not realized the weight you had been carrying around as you pretended to be something you weren’t. It was all out in the open now, and you adored discussing and owning your writing with Greta.

Before you knew it, you were unpacking your bags in the Saint-Lô hotel that would be your home for the next six weeks. France did her very best to heal your still-tender heart, offering you springtime blossoms and warm buttery croissants. Even Cloé was on her best behaviour here as she deferred to you easily and often. These scenes were pivotal to de-stigmatizing the survival actions of women in occupied Europe. It was easy to look back and crow that one would have never stooped so low as to entertain the affections of a Nazi officer, but you had been determined to prove that humans did whatever it took to survive, and they should not all be shamed for it.

There was a fine line between those you were trying to redeem, and the type of collaborators who were complicit, or active participants, in the persecution of their neighbours. That was what made this series of scenes so very crucial to nail. Watching the dailies from both the main unit and the splinter unit, you and Greta were cautiously optimistic that everything was coming together quite nicely. Keeping merely a portion of Greta’s schedule was exhausting, and left you no time to explore the country that you had been so excited to finally set foot in.

So, the free day you found yourself with at the end of the first three weeks was a blessing. The sun was shining, the weather was warm, and you were excited to get out and explore. You slid on a good pair of walking shoes and pulled open the door, jumping with a shout as Austin was right there, hand raised, having been about to knock. You pressed your hand to your chest to slow your beating heart and let the nervous laughter bubble up your throat.

“Sorry! Sorry, Austin. Some day I won’t yell at you. I promise.” You smiled softly and found that your heart hurt significantly less than the last time you had seen at him.

His raised hand shifted to rub against the back of his neck nervously as he chuckled softly.

“Some day I won’t scare you, cricket. I promise.” He replied and you found yourself staring at his voice. His real voice. A hint of Elvis’s twang still hung around like a bad penny, but the rest of the vowels were all Southern California. “Are you…headed out somewhere?”

You nodded dumbly before shaking your head to clear your brain, trying to remind yourself how to speak.

“Just going out for a walk around, nowhere in particular.” You bit your lower lip, rocking back and forth on your heels a little. “D…did you want to join me?” You had come to realize, over the last three weeks apart, that you really ought to apologize for the lies you had spun around him. Somewhere outside seemed to be the safest place, particularly as the entire production was booked into the hotel rooms around you.

It was his turn to look startled, but he managed a nod.

“Can I just…grab a hat?”

“Of course.” You smiled softly and he easily strode a few doors down the hall with his long legs before using his key to dart in and grab a black baseball cap. He fixed it on his head as his long strides brought him back over to you and the pair of you headed down the stairs and out the front door. “Do you have a favourite direction?” You asked, trying to ease the tension a little.

“Mmmm south.” He replied, rubbing his fingers along his jaw and you nodded, turning to follow the road that way. The pair of you walked in silence as the town thinned, and nothing but farms and fields surrounded you.

“I just wanted to…” He started at the same moment you blurted, “I’m sorry, Austin.”

He stopped walking and turned to look at you, stunning blue eyes wide with shock. You swallowed tightly.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been lying to you since the day I met you.” You forced yourself to look into those eyes as you apologized. “I’m sorry I yelled at you in public and made assumptions.” You stopped as he held up a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose with the fingers of the other as he shook his head.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing.” He cut in and you still found that normal voice distracting. “I got in way too deep. And I let things happen that I am not proud of. And I know that I hurt you.” You swallowed roughly at the anguish in his tone and looked to the side, finding a sudden, intense interest in a herd of dairy cows.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Austin, we weren’t…”

“But I wanted us to be.” He said quickly and your eyes shot back to his, stunned. “I got so wrapped up in Antoine and Yvette that I didn’t stop Cloé when she made a move on me that day. I lost sight of Austin and Cricket and hurt all of us in the process. I ended whatever that was. It was…I just hope I haven’t fucked up the movie as well.” The wobble in his voice made your breath hitch in your throat and you reached up quickly to squeeze his shoulder.

“The dailies look great, Austin. It’s coming together so well, and Greta is so happy…” You hurriedly reassured him, your own voice wavering with emotion.

He looked to you, eyes shining with unshed tears, and you stepped forward, pulling him into a tight hug.

“I forgive you, Austin.” You murmured against his chest, feeling his arms coming to wrap around you, pulling you tightly into his rosewood and cinnamon scent. You had missed that scent…

“There’s nothing to forgive you for cricket, but I am happy to say I do forgive you if it helps.” He sniffled, laying his cheek on the top of your head.

“Pretty sure not lying is one of the ten commandments so there is definitely something to forgive me for. So, thank you for doing so.” You pulled back to look up at him and he smiled weakly.

“Thank you, cricket.” He murmured and you chuckled.

“I don’t think either of us are going to out-apologize or out-thank the other, so should we maybe quit while we’re ahead?” You smiled softly, squeezing him once more before stepping back from his embrace as he laughed softly.

He took your hand and you found yourself lacing your fingers through his as though you’d done it a million times. His smile widened and he continued walking down the road with you until you came across a small café overlooking a field that was actively being tilled in preparation for the growing season. He tugged gently on your hand and led you inside where the scent of freshly baked bread enveloped the pair of you.

“It smells amazing in here…” You murmured and somehow you managed to communicate with the staff in a mix of languages and gestures, ordering some sandwiches and drinks, sitting out on the terrace surrounded by lilac bushes.

You were beaming like a kid in a candy store as it felt like walking straight into your own novel. You closed your eyes as you savoured a bite of your sandwich, sipping your drink slowly.

“This is perfect. I’m only going on walks with you from now on cricket. None of them have ever turned out this nice before.” He smiled warmly and you looked down shyly.

You could not lie, you missed the Louisiana accent, but the intention behind using his regular speaking voice was not lost on you. He was making a deliberate effort to separate himself from the character and spend time with you as himself. Besides, the nickname he had bestowed upon you still sounded very good this way, too.

“This is a first for me, too. Must be some kind of combined magic.” You replied softly, wiping some crumbs from your lower lip with your napkin. You did not miss the way his eyes followed your movements. “How was Germany?” You tried to refocus him, not quite ready to consider ‘Austin and cricket’ just yet.

His eyes quickly rose to meet yours.

“It was great! Boys trip is what it felt like. It was really interesting to explore that part of Antoine. It was also really nice to have Yvette’s reply tucked into my breast pocket.”

You felt heat spreading along your cheek bones up to the tips of your ears.

“I saw that…in one of the dailies; you reading it in the background of one of the shots.” You worried your lip with your teeth lightly. “I’m a terrible liar, I really don’t know how I managed to get so far…”

He chuckled softly and shook his head.

“In retrospect, I probably should have seen it in the way Pearce deferred to you. The perfect answers to my thousand questions. How easily you wrote that reply from Yvette.” He paused, pressing his lips together before tilting his head. “May I ask you something, though?” He continued as you nodded. “Why were you so determined to remain anonymous?”

You exhaled slowly, considering the best way to answer this without repainting that moment from the party in London.

“I live a very ordinary life. I have a regular job and I can go out and do things without anyone noticing me except my friends and family. It’s comfortable. And watching the way the public life tends to chew people up and spit them out. Well, I was terrified. Not that I, in any way, shape, or form expected my novel to do this well. But the potential of it scared me, what I could lose as a result. But it turned out that Yvette’s character was more important than all of that to me. And that is something I will have to reckon with soon, I’m sure.” Your fingers twisted and tugged at your napkin as you struggled to explain yourself, eyes fixed on your empty plate in front of you. “Sorry I’m rambling, I’m so much better on paper.” You glanced up at him and hesitated at the intensity of the look he was giving you.

“I’m sorry…” He rasped out, apologizing yet again and your eyebrows came together in confusion. “I’m sorry that you were put in the position of having to make that choice.”

“It was my choice to come here, pretend to be someone else.” You shrugged your shoulders, still unsure what the fallout of it all would be.

His hand reached across the table, fingers enveloping yours, squeezing gently.

“Brave little cricket…” He smiled fondly and you laughed shyly, picking at some imaginary lint on your thigh. “I’m really, very fond of you. I had every intention of asking you out that night before…. everything got wildly out of control.” He pulled at his plush lower lip with his free hand as you glanced up at him through your eyelashes. “And I would still really like to but I’m going to hold off until…. until I can get this film out of my system.” Your mouth started moving, trying to make words…sounds even…to no avail. “You don’t have to answer now I just, wanted to get that out there.” He smiled softly and squeezed your hand again before standing slowly. “We should head back before it gets too late.”

You nodded quickly and stood with him, walking back to your hotel in a sort of dazed silence, heart having completely lost track of its normal rhythm as the feelings you thought you had laid to rest were quivering to life in your chest. Yes, he had hurt you. Especially with the latest insight that he had reciprocated your feelings before Cloé… It was difficult to say what she had done; what Austin’s level of instigation and participation had been.

There seemed to have been some element of character bleed – the dark side of method acting. And one could argue you hadn’t really met Austin until today. Had been working alongside a person who was at least in part, if not completely, Antoine.

And yet.

Your attraction, your adoration for Austin had re-ignited so easily over the course of a few hours. You were admittedly grateful for his insistence that he would not pursue you fully until filming ended. Some time to process, to be very certain, would be the best for both of you. He stopped in front of the door to your room, and you looked up to him as cupped your cheek gently.

“Thank you very much for the incredible day.” He smiled, fingers caressing your cheekbone.

You fought against the urge to flutter your eyelids to look into those deep azure eyes.

“Right back at you, Austin.” You murmured shyly and licked your lips.

His eyes followed the movement of your tongue intently, inhaling sharply through his teeth, hissing a little before he forced himself to take a step back.

“See you tomorrow.” He smiled, pulling off his hat and running his long fingers through his hair before heading down the hall to step into his room as you unlocked your door and fell onto your bed to smother the tiniest, but giddiest, squeal in the bedding.

»» ────── ஓ ๑ ✧ ๑ ஓ ────── ««

Read Part Four

Nom De Plume Masterlist

[angie-long-legs]

Angel could very well deal with Valentino being cruel and violent - at this point, it was all but part of his job description. He could also cope just fine with mockery, having been subjected to it for the majority of his existence. He could take a joke.

But when Val mocked him? That stung.

Gritting his teeth, Angel glowered at the towering moth, whose obnoxious pointing and laughing at something that was, objectively, not particularly funny, was garnering a few curious stares from onlookers. This was his tactic to be let into the party? To make Angel feel like a joke?

"Yeah, hilarious. Take a picture, it'll last longer," he muttered, eyes rolling emphatically towards the ceiling.

The Overlord's next statement gave Angel pause. He had actually read the invite? He hadn't just heard the whispers and shown up on Angel's doorstep, itching to cause some kind of scene? He opened his mouth, ready to fight his corner by reiterating that Val didn't have to be doing anything to be kicked out: simply latching himself onto Angel was reason enough for Charlie, Vaggie or Alastor to take great pleasure in removing him from the premises. However, the echos of Val's jeering rang through his mind, rattling his confidence in his role. He didn't want to be seen as some loser stuck on door duty while the rest of the crowd had fun. If he tried to enforce hotel policy, he risked Val ridiculing him even further, drawing more attention to the situation than he already had.

Fortunately, the moth had graduated from insulting Angel's assigned duty to insulting his costume, which he was far more prepared for. In fact, Val's assertion that "cats don't have wings" flooded him with relief: clearly, he hadn't picked up on Angel's costume paying homage to Husk, which was one less aspect of Val's unexpected appearance to worry about. Angel would be lucky if another bout of hysterics was the only consequence to Valentino picking up on the pair's couple's costumes.

"Hey, drawin' the nose wasn't... practical," he hesitantly defended himself. If he planned to snort his way through the stashes of chancers, which he did, he wasn't letting a smudged, powdery cat-nose give him away. "And anyway, I don't- hey-" the spider choked out a cough as he was interrupted by a stream of smoke, the gasping breath that followed only causing him to inhale more of the substance. He wasn't... opposed to a little of Val's pheremone (especially given his drug-seeking approach to being the doorman), but not when the moth caught him off guard. Which, of course, he often did.

However, as Valentino embarked on his woeful tale, mourning the days of Angel being the life of the party, he couldn't help but feel a little glad of the smoke's mellowing properties. Although, it didn't entirely succeed in blocking out the budding shame that grew as the Overlord reminisced, reminding Angel of how things used to be when the pair would hit the town together. How everyone would stare at them in jealous awe rather than snickering and whispering; how they turned heads when they danced; the pride Angel would feel when Val pulled him onto his lap in the VIP booth because he was the one that the Overlord wanted to get up close with.

Oh, Val was playing him. Angel knew it. As the pimp turned on his heel, all dejected and huffy, citing that he'd only wanted to show his star off to the masses, it was so obviously a ploy to win Angel's favour. To tempt him, to reel him in.

It wasn't going to work.

The spider hugged himself with both sets of arms, as though physically holding himself back.

It wasn't going to work.

Valentino's heels clacked against the hardwood as he sauntered off.

It wasn't going to work. It wasn't going to work. It wasn't-

"Wait."

Fuck. Angel cursed his stupid, pathetic longing. Couldn't he let Val walk away? Even now, after everything?

"Fuckin'... come in, alright?" he muttered, holding an arm out to gesture towards the party. "Just... don't go makin' a scene or nothin'. An' don't let the Princess see yer party candy." There was no way Val showed up empty handed, no matter what the invite said. Hell, probably because of what the invite said.

"And, uh. Technically, ya ain't supposed ta be around me." Angel looked down at his feet, shifting uncomfortably. "So... maybe ya should, uh. Keep ya distance, ya know?"

Unlike most of the hotel's mind-numbing activities, a Halloween party was something that Angel could get behind. Obviously, the Princess was using the opportunity to promote the hotel and attract new clientele, but those factors didn't negate that it was an honest to god party, complete with booze, snacks, costumes, music, more booze, sexy costumes, games, dancing, and so much booze. At least Charlie got something right: if there was one way to encourage sinners to attend her festive gathering, it was to provide copious amounts of alcohol. Even if Angel suspected that this key selling point came courtesy of Alastor and Husk rather than the Princess herself.

Angel's role for the night was simple: greet guests at the door, welcome them in, turn away anyone who seemed like a troublemaker. He had also been gifted the responsibility to turf out anyone who got too rowdy, which he suspected he was going to enjoy tremendously. He wouldn't be entirely just with his newfound authority - after all, who was going to stop him from pulling rank on demons whose costumes were a little too similar to his own, or didn't abide by the sharing is caring rule with their drugs? Technically, Angel wasn't supposed to let in anyone who was carrying drugs, but provided he was given a "tip" of sorts, he was willing to turn a blind eye.

Hey, he had promised to help out - he hadn't promised he would be ethical about it.

In fact, when the door rang, announcing the arrival of yet more guests, Angel positively leapt to his feet. Another visitor he could extort for a free hit! The devious intentions were plain on his face as he rushed to greet-

Oh.

The spider's mischievous smile dropped immediately as the thrown-open door revealed the familiar pink-toothed leer of his boss looming over him. Evidently, the sight of Angel Dust was enough to provoke a smug smirk from the infernal moth who was now posing audaciously in the doorway, framed by the expansive front entrance that was now hilariously dwarfed by the sheer size of him.

Before Angel was able to quip back at the obnoxious guest with a heavily sarcastic "yeah, Val, I'm shakin' in my boots", he was being scrutinised, an obvious look of distaste crossing the Overlord's features as he squinted at him. Whether Valentino was trying to casually insult the porn star or was truly too near-sighted to make sense of his costume was anyone's guess. However, only a blind man or an idiot would look at Angel's pointed ears, tail and scrawled-on whiskers and still not have a clue what he was dressing up as.

How typical. With a tongue-in-cheek attempt to resemble his lover, he had inadvertently portrayed himself as his bewitching boss's loyal familiar.

It had been Angel's idea for him and Husk to match, the low-key couples costumes only obvious to those who knew to look. While Angel was a cat, Husk had taken on the more arduous task of strapping on extra arms to be a spider, an admirable feat considering he was tending bar for the entirety of the event. Angel's costume was both simpler and sexier: he had chosen to rock a similar low-cut bodysuit to Val's but in shiny black latex, his usual thigh-high boots, pale pink garters with a matching pink bell collar and sharp, black stiletto nails. The only noticeable nod to Husk was the pair of pink, fluffy wings protruding from his shoulders.

Once again, Angel's sharp-tongued response was cut short by the moth's evidently unfinished spiel, this time with a phone being shoved in his face. It took him a moment to adjust to the sheer brightness of the screen, but when his vision finally calibrated, he was insulted by the absurd image of Valentino wearing a perfect replica of his everyday outfit.

Thank fuck Vox made him change.

With a groan, Angel pinched the bridge of his nose. "What I'm supposed ta be," he started, choosing not to address the wolf in sheep's clothing that was Val dressed like him, "is watchin' the doors. Charlie put me in charge a' security." The glimmer of pride he felt as he acknowledged his responsibility was immediately snuffed out by guilt - he hadn't exactly been sticking to Charlie's rules.

Here was his chance to change that. Here was his chance to kick someone out that he knew Charlie wouldn't approve of.

Clearing his throat, Angel backed out of the arm slung around him, squaring up to the unwelcome pest. "You ain't supposed ta be here, Val," he reasoned. "Ya know ya ain't allowed at the hotel." The words came out far more pleading than he would have liked. He decided to change tactic - clearly he alone wouldn't be enough to scare away Valentino. "Look, ya better clear off before Charlie sees ya with me," he tried, shifting his tone from a failed attempt at commanding authority to something more subduing. One hand reached out to the Overlord's upper arm in an assuring gesture. "Ya met her broad? With the angelic spear? Trust me, Val, ya don't wanna mess with this chick. She'll make ya inta a moth skewer before ya can say boo."

[honeesucker]

Pairing: Alpha!Bokuto Kōtarō x F!omega reader

Genre: A/B/O AU 🐾 | Smut, 18+ // minors DNI!

WC: 3,057

My whole body was shivering despite it being a sweltering sunny day, my mind was hazy and clouded with the need to submit to an Alpha. 

To be overtaken, pounded into until I was a dumb mess of omega mush and knotted until I was fat with pups.

Fucking hormones and omega instincts.

Fucking expired heat suppressants.

Stupid fucking idiot me for not noticing until it was too late.

My rational mind fought off the swarm of nuisance thoughts as I hurried my way back to my apartment carefully avoiding anyone’s gaze, suffocating my scent glands in a thick hooded sweater and scarf I had kept at the bakery for the unexpected colder days. It didn’t do much to ward off the curious glances and sniffs from the passing Alphas and others on the street, but luckily none acted on instincts, I didn’t stick around long enough to trigger anything in them.

My thighs were sticking together uncomfortably beneath my summer dress as the slick pooled in my panties and ran down the sides. The friction against my sensitive core only added to the ache, and I had to fight every ounce of instinct in me to hold back the whimpers, to not just fall on the ground and present myself to the next suitable Alpha that crossed my path.

I just needed to get home unscathed and get on my pharmacy app to order a fresh batch of suppressants, wait out a week for them to take full affect and I’ll be good to return to my normal, uncomplicated life.

I had been lucky in avoiding anymore people. No one was waking along the final stretch that led to my apartment building; a high-rise nestled just outside of the main district of downtown but still fairly luxurious for an apartment building. After a rough time in my earlier years out on my own, I decided once my bakery was successful enough I would splurge and put myself in a comfortable apartment with extra building security for my own peace of mind. I made my way to the door where the Beta doorman was waiting with it open for me, smiling until he caught the edge of my currently overwhelming scent.

“Quick, quick in miss Y-N,” Ferris ushered me through the door and shut it behind us. Walking me to the empty elevator and pushed my floor, nearly the top, at 27 of 35. “You shouldn’t be out wandering around in such a state, it isn’t safe for you!” The older man patted my hands in his with a worried expression. I just smiled and nodded along to his worrying over me.

“I know Mr. Ferris,” I sighed, “there was an unfortunate mishap with my medication so I’m gonna be staying cooped up for a bit.” He just nodded and ushered me along, and I gave a small wave and smile as the doors closed and he gave me one final wave off. I sighed, releasing the death grip I had on the jacket around me, still covering my scent glands as best as I could, but not with so much force around my throat. I’m surprised I didn’t pass out from self-asphyxiation on the way home.

After a few minutes in the elevator my floor was finally reached with a gentle ding! and I was hurrying out into the hall to make sure I was alone. With no one around I felt safe enough to walk briskly to my apartment without any further paranoia. I was reaching my door, just about to press in my key code and slink into a week of needy depression when I heard the door slighty adjacent to mine across the hall open behind me. 

My whole body froze like a bunny caught in a wolf’s gaze.

Fuck.

“Hey hey hey, my sweet little Y/N!” A bright, jovial baritone rang out behind me, and soon I felt the looming presence of the man I feared most coming into contact with at this very moment right at my back. The immense heat radiating off of him in waves with his sweet, clean scent with mint, along with a headier male musk underneath. “You’re home early! Sorry to be a pest but did you bring any pastries home with you? I have such an awful craving right now and-” my kind, handsome neighbor regarded me silently, and what I didn’t see were his sweet golden eyes darkening to a dangerous lustful shade as he leant forward and took a gentle sniff in. A ragged breath leaving his chest as he inched forward just enough for me to feel his clothing ghosting against my back. “Y/N? Are you okay? You smell.... you s-smell so good. Different,” he slurred behind me, leaning down to rub his cheek against the top of my head and nose my hair as he took in deeper breaths. I was completely frozen, in fear or need... I couldn’t decide.

Maybe both.

When my neighbor let out a deep, rumbling groan from inside his chest I leant more towards need in my current aching state as I instinctively pressed my body back against his. “Y-Y/N you shouldn’t be out right n-now in your state s’not safe y’know...” his voice trailed off, a pained mixture of a whimper and a growl leaving his chest as I reached forward and punched in my key code to my apartment.

“Ko,” I heard the Alpha behind me purr as his name slipped from my mouth, my voice and body trembling. “I had a bit of a setback as you can tell, so no pastries today,” the whimper that left him made my cheeks warm because it wasn’t hormonal, it was just Bokuto being a pouty baby who wanted a soft bread or sweet cake.

“Mm s’okay Y/N...” Bokuto’s voice trailed off as he placed his large hands on my hips, palms swallowing my sides and pressing tightly into the plush flesh, fingers gripping down with a bruising force. He was leaning forward and placing soft kisses along my shoulder and up my neck until he licked a small strip up along where my scent glands were and I couldn’t stop the full-body shudder than shook me. “D-do you want me to stop?” His voice was a whisper, still heavy with need but more Bokuto than Alpha was talking to me. I shook my head, stepping into my apartment and allowing the Alpha to come in with me, slipping out of our shoes in a tangled mess of legs, and laughing as Bokuto hastily locked the door behind him.

“I know we’re both kind of teetering on the edge of control right now,” Bokuto continued gently, hands still gripping my sides tightly as he allowed me to set my things down on the bench in my entryway. A low growl leaving him when I almost slipped out of his hold. “But I need to know it’s not just your omega pushing you into this Y/N. I’ve admired you since I first met you, wanted you,” Bokuto was peppering my neck and the side of my face with butterfly kisses, “but if you tell me to stop, to leave... I will. Nothing will change between us if you put up a boundary for yourself right now but everything will change for the worse if you force yourself into something you don’t want...” I couldn’t believe the articulated thoughts of pure, sweet kindness coming out of Bokuto’s mouth but I was so happy to hear them. I’ve had such a huge crush on my long-time Alpah neighbor since he came knocking on my door one late evening when I was testing recipes, a mess of apologies and need as he caught a whiff of the new cakes I was trying to perfect and the poor thing had just returned home from an away game with his volleyball team, starving and exhausted. He spent the night giving me feedback on my testers and I let him sugar-crash on my couch, waking him up with a healthier breakfast more suitable for an athlete in the morning. 

We’ve been close since that day.

Well, close but not as close as right now... despite the aching deep in me that always welled up inside whenever we spent time together. My omega whimpering at how perfect of an Alpha Bokuto would be.

“Y/N?” Bokuto was asking once again, I could feel his hands shaking as his control over his instincts began to slip. 

I simply nodded.

“Y-yes Ko,” I swallowed hard when his hands gripped tighter on my hips, crushing me further against him as his arms snaked up my body to wrap me in a tight hold from behind. “I want this - I’ve wanted this, w-wanted you...” I couldn’t form full thoughts, not like he deserved to hear but we were both in a compromising state of mind right now. “P-please Alpah, need you so badly,” that was all it took to have me turned around so fast in his arms, his lips crashing against mine in a mess of teeth and saliva as pure need took over us both. One of his hands was fisted in the hair at the back of my head, the other cupping the side of my throat, his thumb stroking along my jaw as he deepened the kiss like he was trying to crawl inside my body through my mouth. 

He was pushing me back toward my couch, his hands now fumbling behind me to pull the zipper of my dress and have the fabric pooling to the ground. He growled into my mouth as he hooked two fingers in the hem of my lace panties to pull them down and off while his other hand guided me down softly onto the couch. He had me draped over the arm of the sectional as he layed down between my legs, I was able to peek open my heavy eyes in time to see the primal look on his face before he licked his lips and leant down to lick a long strip up my soaked pussy, the sensation sending electric shocks through my whole body as I arched off the couch with a yelp.

Bokuto let out a deep, rumbling growl with a whisper of “so sweet,” before diving back in and devouring my sopping pussy like a man starved. His mouthed latched around my swollen clit with a pressure that had me seeing stars as he suddenly plunged two thick fingers into me, curling upward against my sticky walls, quickly bringing me to the edge. He didn’t relent his assault on me, mouth staying locked on and fingers curling cruelly as my body shook and arched up off the couch with a shrill scream, my whole body convulsing with wave after wave of electric pleasure shocks. Bokuto removed his fingers slowly and licked them clean, blowing a cool stream of air against my sensitive clit, causing me to whimper in his hold as he delved his tongue into me to lap up more of my slick. I was a whimpering mess above him, wriggling to be free of the stimulation to the newly over-sensitive area but he kept his pink muscle deep in my pussy as his nose occasionally brushed up against my clit causing my hips to buck further against his face. The groans he was letting out were downright sinful and soon had me back on the precipice of another impending orgasm. Bokuto reached one hand up to thumb circles on my clit as he kept himself deep in my pussy, soon I was bucking up against his face as another heavy wave crashed down on me. I was panting and swearing and pleading to be released because the pleasure was stating to morph with a tinge of pain as he kept up the relentless assault.

“K-Ko please no more,” I was whining above him, my chest heaving with broken breaths. Bokuto’s mouth was shiny with my slick as he crawled up my body and crashed his lips down on mine. I could taste myself on his tongue, in combination with feeling his still-clothed cock straining against his joggers, had me mewling with need and bucking up to meet his bulge.

“You say no more but your body is begging for me,” Bokuto muses. “Do you want me to stop?” His golden eyes were looking down at me, dark and swirling with lust as a beautiful half-smile graced his face. I shook my head and he just chuckled. “Use your words baby, ask for what you want,” he cooed, leaning down to pepper kisses and gentle nips along the side of my neck, stopping to suck on a particular spot once my let out a gasp and wriggled beneath his large body caging me in.

“Mmphf, p-please Ko, Alpha, need you,” my cheeks were burning but I didn’t care, my whole body was on fire for the man on top of me, crying out to him for any crumb he’d give me, “need your cock-mm-need to feel so full with you please Alpha, please,” Bokuto crashed his lips back down against mine with an urgent need while he ground his hardened cock against my slick-covered core, the friction of the fabric bringing another whine from my throat.

“How can I say no to such a pretty omega begging to be knotted, hm?” Bokuto was nuzzling down into the crook oh my neck, “pretty omega, perfect omega, my omega.” I didn’t realize when he had shimmied out of his joggers but soon I felt the large tip of his cock pressing into my hole, even with two orgasms and the slight stretch from his fingers earlier it still burned so wonderfully to be full of Bokuto’s cock, every inch of his cock catching on my walls and dragging new sensations forward as I clawed at his back, wrapping my arms and legs around him in an attempt to be closer to him, to pull more of him inside of me. “Such a needy slut for her Alphas cock, hmm?” I nodded my head so vigorously, rolling my hips to coax the man above me into moving. “Poor thing, I’ll give you everything you need...” with a quick snap of his muscled hips, his thick cock was driven deep, the head pummeling against my cervix with blinding pressure as he slammed his hips over and over into me, heavy balls slapping against my slick-coated ass sending shivers up my spine. “Fuck, ‘mega, you’re so tight-fuck- so fucking perfect, so perfect for me.” Bokuto was all bared teeth and snarls above me, leaning down to kiss and bite over his earlier marks along my neck. I craned my neck, exposing more of myself to his assault as he kept up the brutal pace inside of me. It didn’t take long before I was crying out with the sudden hit of an orgasm I didn’t even feel the buildup to, the walls of my pussy were sucking a Bokuto in deeper with each of his thrusts, and soon I could feel the way his hips stuttered, sloppy and less practiced. I didn’t realize his teeth were on me, biting deep into the flesh of my neck where my scent glands were, blood spilling out of the wound and into his mouth and down my neck and chest as Bokuto marked me as his, licking one long, final strip up my neck across the wound, sealing it.

There was a final quick snap of his hips, until Bokuto’s large knot stretched me with a burn that had me whimpering, gasping when it popped through the small opening of my pussy, slick helping to coax it inside as my walls clamped down on him and his knot further in another orgasms as he emptied ropes of hot, white cum deep inside of me. The continued short, sharp thrusts Bokuto made as he continued to empty himself inside of me brought on one more orgasm, my whole body siezing and shaking, walls clamping down around the fleshy member knotted inside of me, my chest was heaving with deep breaths as my eyes edged with black and every small twitch Bokuto made inside of me had me crying out - with pleasure or pain or both - I couldn’t tell. He leant down to scoop me up, our bodies still connected as he sat down on the catch and allowed me to stradle his lap, nestling me tightly against his chest as he kissed my hair and whispered such sweet things to me over and over, petting my hair, my face, peppering kisses along my cheek, jaw, down my throat and to my shoulder, gliding over the mark he made earlier with a gentle ghost of a kiss. My whole body felt like a live-wire ready to make contact with the wrong type of metal at any given moment, but Bokuto kept rubbing small patterns over my exposed skin, kneading his fingers deep into muscles I didn’t realize were sore, kissing un-kissed inches of skin over and over until he felt me relax in his arms, felt my body droop with exhaustion as I rested my head on his shoulder, snuggling into the crook of his neck as I bit back into him, giving him a small omega mark. Bokuto shuddered beneath me, gripping me tighter as I licked up the blood and kissed over the already-healing mark, nuzzling back into him.

“Y/N~” Bokuto said in a whisper sing-song voice, shaking me gently, “I think we can separate now baby,” he said, trying to lift me off of him gently.

“Mm, no Ko,” I grumbled, a gentle growl leaving my throat, “wanna stay like this  a little longer.” Bokuto just nodded, rubbing my back and resting his head on my shoulder.

“Yeah, a little longer baby,” he mused, “but then can you bake me something?”

You just shook your head, your body shaking with held-in laughter as you agreed to bake him as many sweets as he wanted just as soon as you could walk. Bokuto offered to do all the heavy lifting if you just told him what to do - and you relished in the idea of sharing the kitchen with Bokuto - with your Alpha.

What a sweet start to something beautiful. 

[catversary]

Reading the American Psycho novel and I have a few thoughts. 

Note I’m only about 150/400 pages in so there’s much to come. Much to see. I can make a few observations though.

1) JESUS CHRIST everyone is so much more vitriolic and worse in the novel. Not just Bateman - every one of his friends.

2) Patrick seems to have latched onto Timothy Price as a friend, and a lot of what Timothy says (or at least the sentiment) in the novel gets repeated by Bateman, actually, in the film. The choices to make Bateman more central in film, with virtually no friendship expressed between him and Timothy Price, makes both tellings of the story feel more alienating, in a way. The book feels more alienating because Bateman loses his friends, and loses his reality - and losing something is the worst part of having had it, even just the facsimile of it. On the other hand, Film Bateman doesn’t appear to have any *real* relationships, and that makes him feel so so so hollow and alien and horrifying. 

3) Novel has more Bateman interactions w/ customer service people, such as the doorman and the cashier at the video store (the film, if I remember correctly, shows the Cleaner’s scene, but not these). Bateman is unable to discern these people due to their lack of brand motivation - and lack of recognition of his brand motivation. They cannot see that he is wearing $300 gloves and a $1000 jacket. They do not perceive his impressive hollow shell. And Bateman knows this and he has these AMAZING reactions to how these people look at him. I remember the scene with the cashier - he is sweating, having an anxiety attack, and he desperately wants/needs to see what kind of *shoes* she is wearing, because he has to know. 

So, as much as American Psycho is very much a satire drama about, like, materialism and capitalism in the 80s among the Wall Street elite and how it is ABSOLUTELY SOULLESS - I feel like something within Bateman’s character, that longing to be seen, to be perceived, to understand and be understood, makes him so much more human than he is, possibly, meant to be. Not to cosmoligify Patrick fucking Bateman of all people, but I think I can empathize with that feeling of going crazy. Everything feeling crazy - nobody listening - no empathy, no soul - wanting to scream and take off your skin. 

Tentatively, maybe it’s not that Patrick Bateman is hollow, but that everyone else is. 

[itstheimpossibledream]

Only A Play

Part 5 

Word Count: 2213

Pairing: AU Henry x FemBlack!Reader

Warning:  Smut, Angst, Some fluff

Summary:  Can reader & Henry work out their differences or will they be better apart? Breakup sex? Idk it’s the finale let me know what you think!

“ and that’s when I packed my things and came to New York.” Henry finishes.

 You’d been looking down at your hands, trying not to get lost in his features while he spoke, knowing the tabloids would make a day out of it. Angling the photograph and captioning it something cheesy about ‘love being in the air’ or the fact that you’re ‘just in time for Valentine’s Day’. The dating speculations you could take but, the photographic evidence that made your mom ask questions was a different story entirely.Since the show had opened the two of you toured from interview to interview and then performed at night. The day usually culminating in a needy fuck at his apartment or in your dressing room if he couldn’t wait. You stayed at his place often and while it was still mostly in booty-call  territory, (despite the previous year of apartment crashing and drunk declarations of love) the dinners and breakfasts remained consistent. You answered the interviewer’s questions calmly but,nothing could have prepared you for the final follow up. He turns to Henry, “And so aside from your new relationship(he motions to you),have you made any other friends during your time in New York?” He only hesitated slightly,before answering. He smirks but,the curve of his lip is gone before you know it. “I have really enjoyed working with her, and I hope our artistic relationship will flourish long after this production has ended.” he smiles diplomatically while reaching for your hand.“As far as new friends I believe my doorman Jason and I have gotten pretty close.” he laughs. When he laughs, the whole world laughs with him and the audience is no exception.Eventually , the hours of embarrassment have passed and you’re being rushed back into a cab to Henry’s apartment. 

“So what was that?” you say as he closes the door, sliding into the car behind you. 

“What?” he asks blissfully unaware of your annoyance. 

“That whole continuing relationship thing?”you push.

“I said artistic relationship.” he corrected sternly.

 “ You gave them ammo.” you cut back quickly.

“And so what? Two people in a romantic play together are speculated to date?How awful.” He grumbles. 

“You don’t get to make a choice like that before talking to me about it.”

“It wasn’t a choice, it was the truth.” he quips back sternly.

“A truth that will put the tabloids on my ass.It’s been bad since we opened the show but, you and I both know this is only going to make it worse.” you mirrored his tone, clearly losing your cool at the idea of being followed to your apartment by cameras. 

“Well you can stay with me as long as you need.” He says, firmly setting his jaw.You roll your eyes towards the window, Watching the people who pass by. 

“So, this is what it was about? control ?”

“Please!” He scoffs “I don’t need the paparazzi holding your apartment hostage,to get you to stay at my place.You’re practically there every night anyway.” It comes out sounding like more of a complaint than he had meant for it to. Your blood boils with resentment of his comfortability.You can feel the heaviness in your eyes when the car pulls up to his ‘flat’. A term you had started using sarcastically but had slowly begun to stick. Even now, you despised that while being a convenient fuck , he had permeated your subconscious enough to make you even think to refer to it as a flat. 

“What’s on your mind?” he finally asked, breaking the silence that had been holding court in the elevator. He didn’t sound like he really wanted to know, infact he seemed like he was solely asking for courteous purposes and that was it. You turned your entire body to face him, you could feel that no matter how hard you were trying your face had begun to break. 

“You know, you were right. There’s no reason for me to be here.” your lips upturned in a smile as you saw the glassyness of your eyes reflected in his face. It was an odd pain , not one you could name but, one you knew without a doubt was real. You had shared something special, he knew that. But, anyone could see that the lack of compatibility outside of the bedroom left the relationship forever doomed.He rolled his tongue between his lips and you couldn’t help but think of how blissful the silence was between you two. Someone had to say it, and in true fashion Henry was not strong enough. 

“ What are you talking about?!” He followed behind you into the hallway as you fled the elevator, opening the door to the apartment.

“We aren’t compatible Henry. You don’t get me. My lifestyle, my friends,my choices; you think it’s all a fucking joke or something. Well, it’s not,It’s not a fucking joke.It’s my real life. I know we play and talk about how much money you make but when it comes down to it I’ve never seen you put a red cent to helping anyone else. But, you watch me tithe everything I earn to give back to the communities that raised me. If you wanted to be with me, like really wanted to be with me,you would have already invested yourself in the things I find important. Instead, what you do is stand on red carpet at a black, trans fundraising gala and steal the attention once again.”

“I thought you were mad about the interview, now you’re mad about the gala?!?”

“I’m mad about all of it!” you screamed directly into his beautifully manicured face. Not an eyelash out of place and yet he still couldn’t contend with the neatening of his moral compass. 

“I’m mad because you center yourself in any safe space for people of color I take you to.I’m mad because you don’t ask for my opinion or consent before doing anything, because you don’t care.Actually, I’m not even mad anymore.I just see it for what it is.”The tears had started to slowly flow now, and while your pride kept you from full on sobs,a total breakdown was on it’s way without a doubt. You removed your bag from your shoulder,sitting it in the chair by the door and headed to your bedroom. You had graduated from the guest bedroom, to mostly staying in Henry’s bed with him, a convenience thing really. 

“And what is it?” he asked , finally unable to continue being berated by you.

“A mistake.” you said calmly, what had to be mere minutes felt like passing hours, the two of you standing there, looking at eachother, seeing the relationship for what it was. 

He spoke first.

“I love you.” his baritone timbre you had become so accustomed to sounded far away, you questioned if you had even heard him clearly.

“I love you, does that not matter to you at all?”he sounded stern, almost scolding you for not immediately reciprocating his affection.

“It’s not real Hen.” you said between tears “Someone who loves me, wouldn’t need me to explain all the ways his privilege consistently harms me. I wouldn’t have to ask him to donate to causes I’m passionate about, causes I’ve devoted my whole life to getting fundraising for. Someone who loves me would not make party conversation about how their black girlfriend has to sleep with a bonnet on.” He was silent,now. He stepped towards you, closing the void of misunderstanding.

“I'm sorry that I ever made you feel as though you aren’t the most important thing in the world to me.” He kissed your forehead, and then on the top of your head. 

He whispered into your hair but, you could feel his voice reverberating  through your curls.

“Can we not fight tonight ?” You exhaled, relaxing the weight of your body into his. You didn’t have to fight anymore because you heard his answer loud and clear. He didn’t want to fight because he couldn’t.  He could not think of something important enough to cause him discomfort,couldn’t think of anything worth his unhappiness. He placed his hands on either side of your face, pulling you in for a kiss. You kissed him back slowly, making up your mind to give in to your emotions for one last time. A spark went through your body as you felt his hands trail their way over your curves. You tugged at the bottom of his t-shirt and he quickly obliged,pulling it over his head. He lightly pushes you towards the bed and when he rolls ontop of you it feels more like a safety net than a sexual maneuver. Even as he undresses you, slowly, kissing over your body. He touches you so gently,assigning value to every square inch of your skin.Before long he’s looking into your eyes as he thrusts into you, rutting his way  inside you of.Your breath hitches as you begin to synchronize your breathing with his, becoming one, breathing as one whole. He held the backs of your knees, pushing them up further into your chest.You cried out at the depth of the new angle and he smiled, moving a hand from the back of your knee to your neck, lightly applying pressure. You loved his hand around your throat, the way his veins looked, the muscles in his arm , all of it. And he knew that, he was pulling out all of his best moves tonight. 

“You’re so bloody beautiful right now.so tight for me.” He murmured close, into your ear. 

His dirty talk alone sent you over the edge but, the added view, from this angle of his body was everything a partner could want. He moaned as he pushed into you , the result of your walls tightening around him. Your spasms brought him over the edge,as he came into you.You latched your nails onto the skin of his back, clawing for safety in his embrace. 

“I love you. I love you.”he said in between kisses as he came down from the high of physical contact. “I love you too.” you returned the words, because they were true and in that moment, nothing could have been more honest.He rolled over onto his back and you snuggled up next to him.

“I do love you” he whispers into your hair. The room is dark,aside from a sliver of light where the moon shone through the blinds. He slowly runs a hand over your hair and down your back.

“Then why haven’t I met your parents yet?” you sighed,turning your head upwards to face him.

The loudest silence of the night fell over the room, that was what made it real to him. He couldn’t deny it anymore. Even he knew, he had never invited you to visit his family, or even out to dinner when they were visiting in the states. You didn’t know if it was that he was embarrassed , or that he just didn’t know how to tell them. You weren’t even upset anymore, as much as you were resigned to the fact that you had to begin putting yourself first, to choose your needs first. And whether you wanted to admit it or not, if you were honest with yourself you knew he wasn’t the one. His brows furrowed and you could tell he was running through every possible response. His hand smoothed it’s way over your hair again and while you had resigned to the fact that it was over you couldn’t help but allow a piece of your heart to break as you saw his eyes become glassy. 

Before long he was fast asleep above you. Henry would be leaving the show, for another movie gig in two weeks but, since the  first rehearsal you hadn’t spent a day without Henry, or Kal for that matter. Sun peeked through the shades as you redressed yourself in the dark , you couldn’t be sure if this was something you wanted, or simply something you knew you had to do. You looked back at that beautiful apartment one more time,and then finally closed the door behind you. You recall the first time you entered the building, that day you had been instructed to bond as you step into the elevator. Watching the city below through the glass,a flicker of light catches your attention, then another and you realize it’s snowing. It had been a full year since the first time you had actually spoken to him. The doorman held the door for you,as you sparked your lighter. Touching the flame to the end of your cig as you stroll down the street.