#but he was doing this bit as a russian cab driver and it was fucking uncanny. too real

[callixton]

i have started referring to him as that boy in my head instead of by his name btw. in case you were wondering

[makiruz]

I posted 15,723 times in 2022

1,397 posts created (9%)

14,326 posts reblogged (91%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@logo-comics

@maswartz

@phoenixyfriend

@aspiringwarriorlibrarian

@laschinasbiencaguais

I tagged 15,021 of my posts in 2022

Only 4% of my posts had no tags

#moon knight - 970 posts

#rwby - 965 posts

#au - 935 posts

#the owl house - 810 posts

#star wars - 760 posts

#rants - 736 posts

#my post - 512 posts

#danny phantom - 430 posts

#miraculous ladybug - 428 posts

#tumblr - 427 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i have great parents but i don't often pay attention to my own body so i don't always realize i'm feeling bad because i'm cold/hungry/tired

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I have been informed that in the comics Jake Lockley is not the most murder-happy alter, that’s Marc (who apparently once beat a dolphin to death and tried to eat it?????!!!!)

But people stereotype him as such because...?????? He’s a cab driver, maybe?????

224 notes - Posted June 6, 2022

#4

By the way I'm not supporting the invasion, don't be ridiculous; this war shouldn't have happened. My position is that you need to listen to other sources, including RT because you know its biases so you can read between the lines; once you do you realize it's not a matter of the evil Slavs invading an innocent nation.

First off Ukraine and Russia were part of the same nation until about 30 years ago; second Ukraine is made up of actually different nations and diverse groups of people, and some of them are Russian; third the Ukraine government discriminated against those Russian people, I mean come on it's not even a secret!; fourth NATO is involved, how the fuck do people forget NATO when Biden is just giving weapons to Ukraine to extend the war; fifth, yeah NATO and more specifically the USA wants to extend this war at the expense of Europe and specially the Ukrainian people; sixth the Russian people are people, they're about as accountable to the actions of their government as the Ukrainians are of the existence of the Azov Battalion and Zelensky's bs, and the dead ones have nothing to do with anything so all this Russiophobia is ridiculous; seventh, can we stop acting like it's normal to ban a language because it's country it's at war? If that were the norm English should be banned in the whole world; eighth, wait no, I think that's it, in short: it takes two to tango, and USA wants Europeans to freeze to death for the sake of owning Putin

382 notes - Posted November 30, 2022

#3

In all honesty I’m a bit sad for the people liking Ms Marvel uncritically, specially the ones being like “why won’t more people love this?”; because the show is very problematic.

I appreciate Disney finally giving the Muslim community something solid, but does it have to be like this?

Does it have to include colorism? Does it have to have a multiple Indian actors portraying Pakistani characters? Does it have to insert magic/sci fi bullshit to what was a normal human tragedy in the comics*? Does it have to make Kamala’s powers and origin all about her ethnicity even though that wasn’t the case in the comics? Does it have to change the powers to something completely different? Does it have to make the first Muslim hero of the MCU a genie? Does it have to include a group that had absolutely nothing to do with Kamala in comics just because they’re Djinn? Also, does it have to include said characters in name only? Does it have to change Kamala’s family in Pakistan from a normal working class family to rich? Does it have to make the relationship between Kamala’s mother and grandmother strained when that wasn’t in the comics? Does it have to erase the theme of internalized racism and wanting to become white and blonde to fit in into USA society?

Does it have to be like this? Does it have to be completely unrecognizable in a way that flattens the comic’s themes but also hyperfocuses on Kamala’s ethnicity?

457 notes - Posted July 11, 2022

#2

Here’s a newer, better picture of my cat for Friday the 13th

661 notes - Posted May 13, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

The professional opinion of an actual mental health professional on the so called “fakers” is that:

You cannot tell for sure if someone is faking it or not with a 30s TikTok video

People who probably don’t have DID, probably believe they do because they have some other kind of mental illness and need help not mockery

People who actually fake DID are coming from a place of pain and making fun of them is not helpful

Focusing on “fakers” does not help people with actual mental illness and in fact only promotes the stigma

In short, shut the fuck up and promote correct information without undermining strangers online

2,223 notes - Posted September 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

Waiting For A Star To Fall

Nikolai x Selina

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: minor angst and fluff, oral sex (m/f receiving), brief thigh riding, penetration, use of sex toys, language gif by @vousnavezrienvu

A/N: Selina and Nikolai's first date turns into more than they ever imagined. 

This took a stupid amount of time to write and became a pure labor of love. Thank you @magic-multicolored-miracle and @neuroticpuppy for being with me the ENTIRE way.  And @bisexualnathanyoung and @forenschik for being my guinea pig

September 1992

Selina’s phone rang, but Sunny beat her to it as he threw himself over the arm of the futon in her minuscule apartment.  His elbow rammed into the wall, and Selina insisted he deserved it.

“Hello?” 

There was a momentary pause.  Selina stood cross-armed with a frown on her face.

“I don't recall anyone with that name living here.  It's just my sister, myself, and the guy from the sixth floor who was murdered in 1985.” 

“SUNNY!!” 

He waved her off,  “Why would I be fucking with you?  You called here.  My sister didn't give you this number, she's a virtual nun!  She's not one to take up with strange foreign men.”

Selina launched herself at her little brother.  He held the cordless phone above his head and levitated the ten feet towards the ceiling.  His legs curled up underneath so she couldn't grab him by the ankle. 

“UNFAIR!!”  

“EVOLUTIONARY ADVANTAGE!” he shouted and stuck out his tongue.  “You were saying?”

“You aren't evolution!  You're a science experiment that was implanted in our mother by The Men In Black.”

“Low blow.” Sunny flipped Selina off and went back to the caller.  “I mean that may or may not be the woman you ravished lakeside.  I know my sister is her own woman.  You scandalized her though.  I think you made her feel.. feelings.  Rude.” 

“NICKLAUS ELTON KOSTAS GIVE ME MY PHONE!”

He held up his hand.  “HEY! I can speak Russian you know.”  And then Sunny did for the next several minutes occasionally glancing down at his sister.  

Finally, he came back to the couch and held out the receiver to Selina.  “It's for you.  He's very perturbed, and Slavic.  And sexy.”

She yanked the phone from her brother and flipped him off.  “Klaus should've left you in 1989.”  Her voice softened and her cheeks flushed as she finally answered, “Hi.” 

Sunny hovered a few feet off the ground as Selina blabbered on in flirtatious Russian.  He sneered and poked fun at the way his sister wound her finger up in her hair and then released it.  When that didn't work, craving her attention, he began to hold an imaginary conversation with an exaggerated Russian accent.  

Selina threw the first thing she could at her little brother.  The remote control sailed across the room at Sunny who simply held up his hand, palm towards his sister.  The remote hung in the air like he did.  Then he narrowed his eyes which caused the object to lower to the floor. Selina sighed and returned to the conversation. 

“Wait, you wanna take me out?”  A pause.  “You don't have to repay me.  I'm just practicing for when I'm ethically obligated to save someone.” Pause. “Arsonists and thieves too!”  Selina smiled wide as the flames licked her cheeks and ears now.  “How attractive you are doesn't alter Samaritan laws, Nikolai.” 

Sunny rolled his eyes flabbergasted at how his sister’s entire demeanor changed the moment she began to speak to the Russian from Sway Lake.  She was being coy.  Dare he say seductive as she ignored everything he managed to garner attention.  

Sunny had always been the object of his sister’s devotion.  EVERYONE’S devotion really.  As the youngest of eight “children,” it was his birthright.  Now here he was, slowly becoming Selina’s third favorite person.  Not a single soul, no matter how rakish or good in bed, would ever replace Leon. 

“Sure.  Yeah, I’d like that.”  Selina had a dopey grin on her face.  “Tonight?!  I mean can you even get reservations?”  “Trust you?  I don't know why I should, but I guess I will.  I'll meet you there. Do svidaniya, Nik.. KOLYA.”  

Selina hung up the phone and threw a pillow this time at Sunny.  He crashed to the floor having been caught off guard and rubbed his ass.  

“Just be HUMAN FOR FIVE MINUTES.” 

“I AM HUMAN!! I'M JUST.. Super.” 

“Super egotistical.”

“I can't help that the love of our parents turned me into a badass.” 

“I just pray Reginald never finds you.  You're the success to his failure with Klaus.”  Selina meant that last bit with her entire being.  “Now get out, I've a date tonight.” 

---

“Nikolai, I can't run that fast in these boots!”  Selina yelled as she desperately tried to catch up to her date.  She could hear a fast-approaching man behind her yelling obscenities in a dialect she wasn't familiar with.  Bulgarian or Lithuanian maybe. 

He stopped at the corner.  “We are wearing the same ones, look how fast I'm moving.  I think it must be the several rum and cokes you had.  Come,” Nikolai held out his hand, “we will go faster together.” 

Selina rolled her eyes but linked her hand with his.  Nikolai took off, and she started to laugh.  The exhilaration and adrenaline coursed through her veins.  Never in a million years would she have imagined dining and ditching.  

Nik was so calm as he spoke to the waiter in the dialect they were being bellowed at.  He never blinked.  Then the waiter nodded, took something from him and walked away.  Nikolai stood and clasped Selina’s hand and began to make his way towards the door. 

“Nikolai, shouldn't you pay?” 

There was a slight shake to his head.  He never looked back, just kept going with Selina tight to his side.  They made it to the door before they both had to give chase. 

Selina swung out into the street.  She waved and whistled loudly at an oncoming taxi.  To her shock, it stopped to pull over for them.  Nik was incredulous but had no choice except join his date as she yanked him inside the cab.  

“Bleecker and Christopher, please,” she instructed the taxi driver.  Selina turned to the Russian beside her,  “Are we going to break the law EVERY time we're together?”  

“Yes.  Like a new Bonnie and Clyde.”  Nikolai lifted the hand Selina hadn't realized he was still holding.  His lips brushed the back of it, “Without being shot to death by the FBI.” 

Selina's heart pounded in her ears.  She couldn't remember seeing anyone look attractive in the color orange.  Yet here was the man beside her, currently with a look she could only describe as voracious, pulling it off.  Her cheeks grew hot under the weight of his stare. 

“What?!” came out in an embarrassing giggle. 

“I cannot look at something beautiful?” 

“You don't have to lay it on THAT thick.  I'm taking you back to my apartment already.” 

“I'm not trying to trick you, Lina.  I think you are beautiful. I almost blew my own mission.  Especially under the moonlight.  You made me forget what I was doing.  Your willingness to allow me to do unspeakable things to your body helped,” he teased.  

Selina decided to play coy as the taxi stopped in front of her building.  “Let's see what happens under this month’s full moon.” 

---

Selina and Nikolai on the fire escape outside her living room window.  Selina a few beers in and a few steps above.  Nikolai nursing a beer of his own while settled between her knees.  His arm under her knee to snake around her calf.  His fingers mindlessly stroked her ankle to the naked foot dangling in his lap. 

They had fallen into a contented silence after nearly two hours of talking.  Sharing stories in Russian and English.  Nik’s curiosity about the photos and books and records she owned was endless.  Selina had a hard time keeping up and answering as he flitted along from keepsake to keepsake. 

Yes, that's Elton John.  Somehow he and her parents were old friends.  He dedicated “Your Song” to her parents every concert they went to.  Selina could never figure out why. 

The somehow dower, yet smiling man, with a giant cigar in his mouth that tossed Selina in the air while little Sunny hung from his back was her Godfather, Tom.  He had been a CIA agent that now lived in a cabin with his beautiful French wife, Ella.  That's where she had been  staying up at Sway Lake.  Yes he did always look like a lion with a thorn in his paw, but he was soft and kind and loving.  

The Lady Godiva on the horse was her mother, Honey, back when she frequented Studio 54.  Selina recalled her hair rivaled only Cher’s at that stage.  Raven colored and long enough to hide her naked body (barely) as she sat side saddle on the white mare.  Her head resting against the back of an equally nude man. Her one arm wrapped around his thin waist. 

Nope, Nik was totally not imagining things.  The man holding the reins did strongly resemble her brother and himself.  That was HER papa, Leon. His hair in perfectly wild curls to his shoulders. His face full of confidence and sex. 

The questions began to wear Selina down.  No one had ever been this inquisitive or interested in her life.  Her family.  Her.  The endless questions, punctuated by making out until their lips chapped, about her personally.  Then, between an anecdote about Luther and rollerskating and tongues fighting for dominance they stopped.  

Now Nikolai lifted Selina’s foot and kissed the top of it.  Then his mouth made its way up her shin.  When he reached her knee, Nik turned abruptly to face the woman behind him.  He set the bottle down on the windowsill before kneeling on the stairs.  He slid the hem of her dress up, fingers hooked into the fabric of her panties to tug them off.  He kissed her inner thigh before letting his tongue trace painfully slow along her sex. 

Selina could only grasp the railing.  Her fingers curved around the cold metal and she cried out in pleasure as Nikolai slipped his tongue inside of her.  

It slid in and out before eventually discovering her clit.  His hands on her ass so that he could pull her onto his face.  Encourage her to ride him as his tongue flicked in circles and then snaked in and out. 

Selina started to lose herself.  Her free hand tugged at Nik’s hair while her hips bucked and the spark grew.  She twitched and cried out louder as his mouth and tongue worked faster.  She opened her eyes to look down at the man keen to make her cum. 

Almost as if he could feel her eyes on him, Nikolai looked up at Selina.  She felt strange, shameless and used her own thumb to wipe away what was on his lips.  She sucked on it briefly then grabbed Nik by the shirt towards her.  Wanting for a kiss.  

Selina revelled in the way she tasted on his lips and inside her own mouth.  Like beer and bitterness.  She had never done that before Nikolai and the lake.  She wanted to do it again, and every time he went down on her.  She wanted to put him in her mouth.  To suck and lick and make him bend and writhe.  

She could, she thought, now.  Selina pushed Nik away at arms length meaning to have him sit on the stairs so she could give him head.  Her fingers deft at the belt buckle and buttons on his pants. She laughed full of nerves as he fumbled, THE OVERCONFIDENT RUSSIAN FUMBLED!! 

Nikolai fumbled with the buttons on his dress shirt before he finally came loose.  He yanked his pants and boxers over his hips and held his cock in his hand. Nik parted her legs and started to push inside, but Selina held up her hands.

“What are you doing?”

“Do you not want me to have sex with you?”  He was more shocked than angry. 

Selina ran her hands over his chest and stomach then up around his neck.  “I very much want to fuck you.” Nikolai huffed, but Selina continued, “I mean I've seen you naked and can't get over how fucking sexy you are.”  

“Then what is wrong?  Not here?  Maybe this is not comfortable for you.  We’ll go inside.”  He stood and held out his hand.

“It's probably the same as fucking on a bunch of sticks and acorns.”

Nikolai sniffed again at the use of the word “fucking.”  “Then what is wrong?”

Selina stood and climbed in through the windows.  Her date followed.  “There's an international health crisis.   A incurable disease that passes mostly via sex and fluids?” she shouted from her room as she rummaged through drawers. 

“Do you mean The..AIDS?  Is that not for,” he chose his words carefully, “The gay men?” 

Selina could tell Nik was more confused than anything.  She heard this all the time at the clinic where she volunteered. “Or you could be bisexual or pansexual like my brothers.  Contract it from a man and pass it to a female partner.”  

She appeared in the living room now with a small foil package.  “Or an IV drug user, also like my brother, and get it that way.” 

Selina started to unwrap the condom without noticing that Nikolai was standing completely nude in her living room.  “This is usually where most guys bail.  They're not interested in protection or rubbers.  Mostly just a pump and..” she looked up and paused in her tracks. She was distracted by his body and neck and eyes and jawline.  “Christ on a cracker.”

“What?”  he chuckled.  

“Sorry! I know. I know.  AIDS talk is a bummer.  I get this close to just.. sitting on a dick and I panic?  Everyone in my family got the sexual confidence memo but me.” 

“Why are you panicking now?  You did not freak out by Sway Lake.”  

Nikolai couldn't help the teasing in his voice.  He reached out for Selina to draw her close to his body.  His knee inside of her thighs just like that night.  

Now he unzipped and helped her out of the dress.  “I think it's very sexy when you talk like a nurse. So smart and commanding.”  His hands ran over her bare back and down to her ass as he brushed his nose along her neck up to her ear.  He nipped at the lobe, “That can be very erotic putting a condom on.” 

“Nik,” Selina could only squeak out.  Her body involuntarily started to rock back and forth. 

“It's Kolya.  In Russian we use end of names,” he breathed in her ear.  “Like your sister, Vanya.   Little Ivan.”

“Ok,” Selina didn't want to hear about Vanya right now.  Or Klaus.  Or Diego.  Instead she got down on her knees.  The condom was still in her hand as she used the other to hold his erection towards her mouth.

“Lina, what are you doing?”  

She looked up through her bangs, her tongue darted out to trace around the head of the cock.  “Sucking your dick.  What else does it look like?”  She took it fully in her mouth, letting the tip hit the back of her throat.  

“Fuck,” he mumbled in Russian.  “Dorogoya, stop.”  

Selina sat back with a popping sound, “Did I do it wrong?  I'm like, the LEAST experienced person in this family.”

“You don't have to be an expert.  A blow job is a blow job, we can practice another time.  I want to be inside of you.  And I have been very patient.”

Selina stood, but Nikolai lifted her completely off the ground.  She wrapped her arms and legs around him as they stumbled towards the futon.  Mouths and tongues at war as Nik sat her down on the cushions.  Selina held eye contact as she expertly unrolled the condom down the length of his cock.  She kissed his stomach as he noticeably shuddered.  

Nikolai let his fingers caress Selina’s bottom lip before crawling on top of her.  She still held his erection in her hand as he threw one of her legs over his shoulder.  He held her bent knee to the side as she taunted him with her sex.  Guiding it just inside before digging her nails into his ass so that he buried himself to the hilt. 

Selina clawed at his back as Nik started to undulate.  Over and over, further inside each time.  Their bodies rocked wildly as Selina’s muscles started to shake from the position she was in.  She clung to him desperately as he searched for her neck and chest with his lips.  

Nikolai’s mouth devoured one of her breasts.  He sucked and bit at Selina’s nipple.  She cried out in shock at the sensation.  The sound egged him on to go harder.  

“So you like that too?” His voice raspy in her cleavage. His suckling and biting increased.  She mewled in reply. 

Selina was worried that it wasn't working.  That she couldn't or wouldn't orgasm.  Not like she did when he went down on her.  How she hung from the cliff.  

She WAS being pleasured.  Nikolai was hitting the right spots, but she was so nervous about what she looked like under the lamplight.  His rhythm and pounding, it was pounding, into her was unmatched.  She cried out with exaggeration to indicate she had cum hoping he wouldn't notice. 

“Fuck!” he cried out and propped himself up by the back of the futon.  

Nik’s body arched while his hips made circular motion.  He spasmed and shuddered as his body immediately went into shut down mode.  His face covered in a sheen of sweat as he pressed his forehead into Selina’s neck then pecked it a few times. 

“I.. am sorry, Lina.” There was disappointment in the Russian’s voice as he held the condom so he could pull out.

“For what?”   Her arms and legs still enclosed around his back and hips.  

“You did not.. cum,” Nik’s eyes searched the woman below him.  “I should have tried better.  I just was so turned on by you.”  He swept the damp hair away from her forehead. 

“You were fine!  It was good.  Really good.  I got in my own head is all.  Maybe next time?” 

“You mean later tonight,” he winked then pecked the tip of her nose. “I won't leave until you are honestly screaming my name.”  There were four dimples Selina counted in his smile.  

“Then we’ll sleep on it first.” 

---- 

Selina tip toed out to the kitchen both starved and thirsty.  She thought about Nikolai's playful threat about not leaving until she got off and chuckled to herself.  Then she peered around the wall to see him asleep on the futon.  His mouth slightly agape and one hand under his cheek. 

Would it be so bad with him around all the time? She thought as she cracked open a beer.  To not be alone when she came home from a shift?  How nice it would be to have conversations with someone not “related” in some form or another. 

And Nikolai was interested in Selina.  He still dodged questions about himself, answering straightforwardly with no details.  She knew it was because he didn't trust her just yet.  It wasn't like she didn't have secrets of her own, but the more open she COULD be, the more she knew Nik would reciprocate.  It had to be lonely with only one confidante. 

Selina turned around and jumped a mile in the air.  “Motherfucker!”

Nikolai was casually leaning against the doorway watching her contemplate life and drinking a beer.  “She IS very sexy,” he replied with a cheeky grin. 

Selina rolled her eyes and walked towards her kitchen table to keep distance between herself and the Russian.  As if she were daring him to chase her.  Nik made her feel so contradictory.  In control and submissive.  Safe yet dangerous.  Lustful.  

There was no opposite to that, she realized.  The light from her small kitchen window illuminated the lines and definition of his chest and shoulders.  The collarbone that met in the middle and moved up into his thick neck with its Adam's Apple bobbing along as he swallowed.  A sharp intake of breath before he clenched his jaw.  

Selina’s heart pumped into her ears as he casually reached across the table for her, but she ducked out of the way.  His eyebrows knit together in confusion as they danced around for only a few moments until she allowed him to grab her by the elbow.  Her world stood still as he took her in his arms, back to his chest. 

“I have been thinking, rypka, about our little challenge,” Nikolai settled one hand on her breast which he massaged lightly paying close attention to her nipple.  His mouth somewhere behind her ear as his other hand dropped to her sex. 

A finger found its way inside of Selina and she lost the air in her lungs.  It curved and hooked before making a lazy swirl around her clit.  “Already?” was all she managed.  Her nails closed around his wrist and urged him on. 

“I would like to try a different way of having sex with you.  I just don't want you to be offended.”  

Nik let go of Selina and placed her arms on the tabletop.  He spread her hands out; bent her forward so that her top half was pressed into the wood surface.  Then he grabbed her hips so that her ass was flush with his hardened cock.

“No anal,” she moaned.  “Wear a condom,” another instruction. “Bathroom shelf.” She grazed against him. 

“If you insist,” Nikolai replied in Russian. “I will obey.”  

There was a playful slap on Selina’s ass, and she felt herself swell and throb.  A first time for everything. If she enjoyed it, wet from the sting of being struck, it was.. genetic.  

Her brothers, father, even Honey mentioned the occasional pain got them going.  Klaus and Sunny with varying degrees of punishment.  She knew from eavesdropping or snooping that her parents preferred it light: spanking or hair pulling.  Maybe she did as well.  Too vanilla to ask.  Inexperienced to what she wanted from a partner. 

“Do it again?” Selina tried not to sound desperate as Nikolai tore into the condom wrapper.  She almost presented herself to him as she felt the smooth surface on her cheek.

“What?” he was distracted.  There was a strange snap of latex as he adjusted it.  Then taunted Selina with the head of his cock.  He rubbed it along her slit, marveling at how easy it was to slide in. 

“Hitting me?” she asked timidly. 

“Why would I hit you?” Nikolai was offended.  His hand flat on Selina's back as it traveled to her neck and hair.  His fingers combed and intertwined with her dark waves then lightly tugged. 

Selina braced herself as he lost himself up to the hilt.  Nikolai's pelvis met her ass and pulled out to just the tip.  He repeated this until he gained friction.  Her head and hips were his anchor so he could thrust quicker. Their bodies make a clapping noise. 

“My ass.  Like you did.  Hit it.”  She was willing to try anything.  Wanted to cum for him.  She knew she could, she did it alone all the time.

“Really?” Nik was surprised.  His pace was even faster and the table started to creak under the motion.  “Did you like it then?” His hand cracked her flesh but only slightly harder than before.  

Selina cried out.  Her sex ached and was swollen.  Nikolai did it one more time, but she could tell it wasn't really his thing.  Sensed that it bothered him to be serious about erotic corporal punishment.  Playing was different.  His hand did tighten in her hair to bend her head back. 

“I don't know,” was all he mumbled in Russian.  

The hand that spanked Selina now encompassed her own on the table.  He bent to kiss her shoulder as he found his breakneck rhythm. 

“Then just go harder,” Selina found her voice now.  She relaxed and allowed her body to take how deeply he penetrated her.  His cock at that angle hitting a spot she found mythical. 

Nikolai railed into Selina.  The table and their bodies shook almost violently as he pounded into her.  His shaft lost until she felt a pressure in her womb.  He stood straight and clutched at the thick of her hips.  Her curves she inherited from her mother.  They cushioned her as his body and cock pleased her.  That spark and wave rolled over Selina like on the couch.  

They weren't quiet.  Both forgetting about neighbors as Selina mewled and screamed out. Nikolai growled and uttered obscenities in his first language.  They were certain this would be it, that Selina would orgasm and Nik would feel satisfied that he could please her.  

Instead, his body violently shuddered as he exploded inside the condom.  His muscles and adrenaline gave way to Nik almost collapsing on top of Selina.  He faltered prior to catching her up in his arms again.  He held her and whispered apologies to her as they kissed. 

“Kolya,” she whispered back.  “It's fine.  I was really close.  We have other times to  experiment.”  Selina swept his damp curls back. 

Nikolai leaned into her hand, “You want to keep being with me?” 

“That's what dating is,” she laughed under her breath. “I like being with you.  I wanna know more about YOU though.  Come on,” Selina took his hand.  “Let's actually go to bed and talk.”

---

Selina reached blindly for Nikolai after her alarm went off.  Sitting up, she slammed the clock and turned to see an empty space on the side of the bed he had fallen asleep on. 

She knew he wasn't obligated to be there when she woke up.  This time waking up alone left a weird knot in her stomach.  

“Fuck,” she tossed herself back and threw a pillow over her head to scream.  Her arms and legs failed around like a toddler throwing a fit. 

How long was enough before she called him?  Would he just disappear now? Klaus called it, funnily enough, ghosting.  Why did everything Nik say tread a weird line between romantic and calculating?  And why did Selina want him to keep saying things, anything at all, to her? 

How does someone know they're falling in love? How did Honey and Leon?  Klaus and Dave.  Allison and Ray.  Diego and Patch or Lila.  Vanya and Sissy.  Uncle Tom and Aunt Ella.  Poor Luther.

Selina’s family had a knack for impulsive behavior when it came to attraction.  Her mom moved to a foreign country with a man she had slept with for money.  Klaus fought in Vietnam for a closeted man that kissed him once. Sunny went home with, to Selina’s chagrin, anyone who showered him with the simplest of affection. And Selina had laid down and spread her legs for a Russian committing arson.  

“Lina you are awake?” Nikolai asked from the other room. 

She threw a bathrobe on and wandered into the kitchen.  “You came back.”

Nik was reaching above her tiny sink for coffee mugs and plates.  “Did you not want me to?”

He set the dishes out and opened a box to pull out some pastries and bagels.  Then poured coffee and handed Selina the cup. 

“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” he offered her the plate.  “Greek, Italian and Russian,” a satisfied grin flashed across his face.

“Well that was kind of you,” she smiled back and helped herself to a cannoli and Russian tea cookie.  “Yes, I wanted you to come back. I think I kinda always do?” she questioned her own intentions with a mouthful of pastry. 

Nik leaned over and kissed Selina.  His tongue darted out to taste the sweet ricotta filling on her lips; she reciprocated.  Her own slipping to the back of his mouth to catch him off guard. Nik steadied himself on her hips. 

There was a muddled sound of pleasure when Selina’s fingers unbuttoned Nikolai’s shirt in expert time.  Their mouths never separated as she went to work on his belt and pants as he struggled to take his boots off. 

“This was not my plan for this morning,” Nik breathed heavily in Russian. 

“I'm just really interested in us reaching that goal,” Selina helped him out of his clothes.  

Kissing again, they could feel their lips start to chap already as Selina began backing Nik into her room until he hit the foot of her bed.  As he leaned back, she climbed on his lap.  Her hands seized his cock and settled it in the folds of her sex.  Selina rolled her hips.

“What are you doing!?” Nikolai could only cry out. Astonished by the lack of a condom.  

“I'm sick of being the safe one,” she raised up on her knees so that she was above him.  Her hands on his face and neck as she snaked her tongue to the back of his teeth again.  

Selina shoved him back on the bed and threw off her robe.  She straddled Nikolai like a woman possessed, took his hands and placed them on her breasts as she rode him.  Still not penetrated.

Nik lost himself for a moment.  He massaged the breasts.  One hand teased a nipple, pinched it,  before sitting up to devour it.  Selina held him to her chest, clung to the hair on the back of his head and pulled in her excitement.  Her fingers found the gnarly scar and she rocked harder on his lap. 

“I want you to fuck me until I cum.” 

Nikolai looked up and held her back, “It is not fucking at this point.  Not for me, Lina.  Also you must not compromise your principles for anyone.  I do not want this for you.”  

Selina groaned with exasperation.  Her walls were swollen and slick and wanting.  “It's not a compromise, Nik.  Everyone jumps in my family and trusts they’ll fly while I stand on the cliff pacing back and forth.” 

He blinked, mouth just slightly agape.  That face.  Selina knew that face.  She loved that face.  She loved this face. “Lina, you are extraordinary.  You don't need to have a big life just yet.  It will happen.” 

“Kolya,” her words softer now as she relaxed, “I love you.”

“Do you?!” a dopey grin spread across Nikolai's face.  “It is the same for me I think?  I've never done this, you know.  “That I love you.”  

He kissed Selina before turning under her to rummage around the nightstand drawer. “Now we will go back to the way you prefer?  If I need to I will get..” he stopped and held something aloft.  Now his smile and dimples were devilish. 

He studied it before making it buzz with a push of a button.  “Pocket Rocket?! Lina, are you secretly naughty?" he giggled. 

"I don't think it's a secret to you anymore,” she reached for it.  Her cheeks turned red. 

"Who do you fantasize about when you use it?" Nikolai held it to Selina’s breasts.  He watched with fascination as her nipples hardened.  He let it travel over her stomach and back up. 

Selina moaned and twisted. "You're just trying to get me to say you, but I've had it since I turned twenty.  So mostly you know.. Keanu Reeves..”  

“But not me?" his eyebrow cocked.  Nikolai traced the vibrator along her hips and over her pelvic bone.  

"Once in a while,” her words came out breathless.

"As a Russian, I'm already superior at using it because rocket?” he waggled his brows now.  “We can now?  With you on top?”

The toy found her slit and slid inside easily.  It buzzed and made the air rush out of Selina’s lungs.  She dug her nails into Nikolai's chest while he started to use the vibrator to have sex with her.  Found a pattern of in and out while she bucked and writhed.  

Selina reached back to anchor herself on one of Nik’s thighs. It allowed him better access to her clit.  He Marveled at the way she agonized under his hand as it manipulated her.  His free hand on her ass to coax her faster as SHE undulated now as he had done on the couch.  Her hips danced separately from her upper half.

Nikolai rolled Selina on her back all of a sudden.  Her hair hung off the bed as he propped up on an elbow.  He worked the vibrator in circles.  In and out of her slick walls before going after the clit.  

Selina got tangled up in the sheets as she felt a warmth spread from her stomach to her sex.  Her thighs started to tighten around Nik's hand as she thrust her hips off the bed.  Eyes clamped shut as the first wave washed over her body.  Neck exposed for him to suck and bite which urged another orgasm to burn through her.  

Nikolai was stunned by her silence.  Selina’s mouth opened in a silent cry as she came a third time in succession.  This last time she managed a strangled scream of his name which he swallowed with a kiss.  

A shiver ran through Selina while she relaxed.  Her fingers traced patterns along Nikolai's bicep as her eyes closed.  Cumming was like a sedative.  Nikolai cupping her face and drawing it to his for a lazy kiss was a sedative.  The rain she had no idea was pouring in buckets outside her window was also a sedative.  

The vibrator continued buzzing until it didn't.  The room grew quiet save for the breaths that came from Nik’s nose.  Still heavy with his still hardened bulge pressed into Selina’s hip.  There was no move to get on top of her.  To have sex with her so he, too, could cum.  She started to idly jerk him off. 

“Lina stop,” he gently took her hand.  “This was about you, not me.  It'll go away eventually.  Like I will,” he said that last bit with a challenge in his voice.  

Selina curled on her side towards Nikolai.  “Or maybe don't go?” 

“Ty khochesh', chtoby ya ostalsya?” You want me to stay?

“Po krayney mere, yeshche odno polnoluniye.”

At least one more full moon.

Tag list: @elliethesuperfruitlover @super-unpredictable98 @messengeronthemoon @nightmonsters @070188 @rob-private @firstpersonnarrator @ghouls-buddy @frogs--are--bitches @maerenee930 @duck-noises @bwritesstuff @sylvertyger @a-ghoulish-tale @icecoffeegirl @iamsexytrash @clumsyramen @falloutby @inspiremeandsetmefree @philodenmonstera @seancekitsch @the-freckled-luba @violetrainbow412-blog

[the-cult-of-russo]

Push and Pull (Part 8)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing, Canon description of violence, murder and blood.

-----------

Daphne liked to think she was a pretty good PI. The investigation part of it she seemed to be great at. She'd gotten herself a reputation for it. But her people skills still needed some work, Foggy hadn't been wrong about that one. And it was times like this where she doubted herself with her job and wondered how she even got hired in the first place. She was running around her apartment, shimmying into her jeans and tugging a grey long sleeve tee over her head. She'd woken up at 10am to see 5 missed calls from Mr Lee. The client she forgot even existed the past few days. After snooping in his son’s house and coming to the conclusion something was off, other than him fucking his own father’s wife, she forgot to move the meeting up to warn him. With everything Matt and Italian related and then Foggy turning up trying to be friends, she'd forgotten about the old man. 

Their original meeting had been the day before and obviously she hadn't turned up. Now she was stuffing all her picture evidence in her backpack before flying out her door. She felt bad that she'd kept him waiting, especially when she had a bad feeling about his son. She was even considering waving the fee of her investigation for being such a shitty person and forgetting about him. Her hair was shoved up into a messy bun perched high on her head and she didn't have time to dwell on it as she flagged down a cab. Before long she was being dropped off outside a fancy looking house. She made him pull over a few houses down, always being a little precautious and protecting her clients confidentiality. 

"Could you wait for me?" She asked, grabbing the bills from her jeans pocket and passing it to him. With a grunt and nod as a reply, she got out and walked to the house owned by Mr Lee. 

It was a large modern looking house and looked far more expensive than anything she'd ever hope to own. But when she got to the front door she noticed it was open slightly and she got an ice cold feeling of dread slip down her spine.

"Mr Lee?" She called out hesitantly. There was no answer but something in her gut was firing alarm bells off left and right in her brain. With a shaky breath she pushed open the door with a creak. It was quiet, eerily so, as she stepped into a grand looking foyer. She glanced to her left, an archway that led to what looked to be some kind of office and library. She made her way over calling his name again with no answer. As soon as she stepped foot inside the office, her blood ran cold. There crumpled in a heap on the floor was Mr Lee. Very dead and very much covered in a ridiculous amount of blood.

She'd been in a lot of situations but she hadn't ever seen a dead body before. The amount of blood made bile rise in her throat and panic seized her limbs. She knew something was off about this and she could have warned him. He was dead because of her and the guilt hit her like a tonne of bricks. A sudden creak of the floorboards behind her had her whipping around, coming face to face with Mr Lee's son, Keiran. He was covered in his father's blood, looking rumpled and crazed with a sinister grin. A glint drew her eyes to his right hand to see the knife he'd used on his own father glaring back at her. He took a step towards her and she took one back. She didn't know if she'd be able to get out of this one and her heart was beating so fast she was surprised it didn't implode.

"What do we have here? The PI, I presume? How unfortunate that you came," his voice was smooth, no faltering or anything betraying what he had done. That scared her more than anything.

"What do you want?" She bit out, edging to the side a little. Maybe if she could buy some time she'd be able to make a dash for it. 

"Well you see, we have a problem. I know you've been snooping around. Daddy dearest told me before… well, you know," he smirked cruelly at her. Her eyes flit to the lifeless body on the floor and her throat tightened. Mr Lee was a good man. He didn't deserve this. She should have warned him.

"If I let you go, you have a lot of evidence that puts me in a bad situation. So you can see what my issue is here, right? I mean, I can't let you go," he laughed and it was the sound of a crazy person. She knew there would be no reasoning with him. 

He moved quicker than she expected and she ducked, dodging him. But then his large hand grabbed a fistful of the back of her shirt and threw her into the wall. She cried out in pain and suddenly he was standing right in front of her, his knife pointing at her. He still wore the creepy smile painted on his lips and she tried to appear confident despite her trembling hands.

"Where's your phone?" He demanded. She clenched her jaw, eyes glancing between his maniac face and the large knife pointed at her. She hated how it reminded her of what happened with the Russians and how much that had messed her up.

"My front left pocket," she replied reluctantly. She had no choice but to play along until she could try and figure a way out of this. She cringed as he stuffed his hand in her pocket, invading her personal space. He looked at it, then her, and with a smirk he dropped it into a glass of water on the desk with a plop. 

"You really should've minded your own business," he mused softly, still seemingly not perturbed by anything about the whole thing. He took a step back, twirling the knife carelessly as he did. Once his eyes went to look back to his kill, no doubt to admire it, she made a mad dash for the door. He was on her in seconds though. It was a flurry of movements as she tried to dodge his advances and it left slices on both her arms from trying to protect herself. They weren't deep and she tried to ignore them. She kicked his knee, and he went down but on his way he swiped wide and caught her stomach on the side. She cried out as the pain ripped through her. That one hurt like a bitch and would definitely need stitches. If she even got out of this. She lost track of the milder slices he got in as she tried to fight him off with graceless punches and kicks. She wasn't a trained fighter but she was ferocious when she needed to be. 

She managed to disarm him and the knife clattered to the floor. But it only seemed to make him angier as he tackled her to the floor. He was much heavier than her and his large hands wrapped around her delicate throat making her gasp for air. She bucked wildly trying to free herself but he just gripped harder. She wanted to tell him he was a monster for what he'd done. That she hoped he'd rot in hell. But no words came out with her desperate choking gasps as he strangled her. Her right hand darted to the side, desperately trying to find something, anything, to help her. Something cold and hard brushed against her fingertips and she tried to reach it. Her vision was spotting now and she wouldn't have much longer. The blood loss wasn't helping either. But she refused to die by this asshole's hands. 

She managed to grab what felt like a statue and hit him over the head with it. He fell off her, out cold. She scrambled to sit up, big heaving gasps of air filling her now burning lungs. Her bloodied fingers touched her throat gingerly and she winced. She stood on shaky feet, the mix of blood loss and being strangled had her disoriented and dizzy. She shot him a fleeting look and he was still breathing, just knocked out. She couldn't work out if she was disappointed or not. The shock set in then and she looked at Mr Lee. His end would have been brutal and this asshole no doubt dragged it out. It was all her fault. She could have stopped it. A stifled sob left her lips as she stumbled out of the house. Calling the cops didn't even pass her mind just then, she didn’t have a phone anymore anyway. She needed to get help before she died from blood loss. Then this struggle would have been for nothing. She made her way uneasily to the cab and got in.

"Holy shit, lady! You need to get to the hospital!" The cab driver exclaimed as he glanced at her. She was bleeding from the numerous cuts to her arms and bleeding profusely from the big gash on her lower belly.

"No hospitals. Just drive," she rasped with a broken voice. She didn't know where to go really but there was only one person in mind and he owed her anyway. It was still morning but it was Saturday so she just hoped that he wasn't busy. She rattled off Matt’s address before leaning heavily against the window as her breathing got more shallow. She only knew his address because she'd bothered Brett for it not long ago. He and Foggy knew where she lived, she felt like it was only fair. 

The cab driver refused to take any more money after dropping her off. He'd offered to help her inside but she waved him away. The stairs were hard to manage in the state she was in. Spots danced in her vision and she was losing more and more blood by the minute. She was in a state of shock completely now. Both physical and emotional shock. Her chest was heaving with broken sobs and not for her own injuries. She leaned heavily against the wall, no doubt leaving a trail of blood behind her but she was in no state to even consider that. She was lucky no one saw the state she was in as she made her way to the door she was after.

Before she had a chance to raise her weak hand to knock, it swung open anyway. If she was in her right mind she'd consider how weird it was to see Matt in sweats and a vest for once with nothing obscuring his face.

"Daphne? Jesus christ, what happened?" He sounded a mix of shock and panic but she didn't reply in words. Just the strangled sound of a sob she was trying to keep to herself. She swayed on her feet and he was quick to wrap an arm around her, leading her to his sofa. He carefully sat her down and disappeared from her vision for a moment. Everything sounded like it was underwater and she kept getting flashes of Mr Lee's dead body. She didn't realise her whole body was shaking.

The feel of two large hands on either side of her face made her jump, wide startled eyes glancing at the face in front of her.

"Just breathe, you're gonna be okay," Matt soothed. She blinked at him wondering why he sounded so far away. Why did she feel like her body was floating? She kept zoning in and out, only picking up on Matt muttering curse words and murmuring to her that she was safe.

"I need to take this off to help. Is that okay?" He asked softly like he was scared to spook her. She blinked at him dumbly before nodding. He was careful in removing her shirt and she could feel his unseeing eyes surveying the damage. He seemed to settle on the deep gash on her lower left side of her stomach. 

"I need to stitch this, lay down for me," he instructed with a sigh. She tried to lay down but winced. Her whole body was hurting in one way or another. She felt like a train had run her over. He eased her on her back and she stared at the ceiling as she went in and out of it. Everything was so fuzzy and her ears were ringing. She was already in so much pain that it didn't even faze her when he cleaned her wound and started on stitching it.

"Was it the Italians?" He bit out. She just about registered the angry tick in his jaw when she looked at him. Her eyes squeezed shut as she shook her head and inhaled a shaky breath. She felt her lower lip tremble when she thought of Mr Lee. Matt seemed to register she wasn't up for answering questions yet and he continued to fix her up and clean her wounds. When he was done, he helped her back into her sliced up shirt and sat her up. 

"Can… can I use your phone?" She rasped. Her voice was raw and she cleared her throat a little. He nodded tensely, passing over his cell phone. Her hands were trembling though and she felt a wave of hopelessness at not even managing a simple task. She actually found herself relieved when Matt’s large hand rested over hers before delicately taking the phone back.

"Who do you need to call?" He asked softly.

"Brett," she replied simply. She needed to tell him what happened and she hoped the asshole would still be there so they could arrest him.

She heard the beeping as Matt dialled and then held it to her ear. Brett picked up after a few rings.

"Murdock, everything alright?" He asked, no doubt since the call was coming from Matt’s phone.

"Brett, it's Daphne," she hated how bad her voice sounded from the abuse it took. The shock was wearing off and now she was left with guilt that weighed far too heavy on her and complete hopelessness. 

"Daphne, what's wrong?" He asked, concerned. It didn't take a genius to figure out something was wrong with how her voice sounded. She quickly rattled off the address to Mr Lee's house to him.

"He's a client of mine. His son was sleeping with his wife. I had a meeting with him today and… he's dead. His son killed him. I think for the insurance money. I have pictures of the evidence I found about the life insurance and cheating," she stated unemotionally. She was starting to shut down, to keep herself together by a thread. 

"And you're sure the son was the one that killed him?" Brett asked, unsure. Ever the cop.

"He attacked me when I turned up, so yeah I'm sure. You need to be careful. He's got a big knife and he's fucking insane," she bit out. She noticed Matt clenching and unclenching his other fist as she spoke.

"Oh shit. Are you at the hospital?" Brett asked. She heard him calling to some of the other cops, telling them to roll out. 

"No but I'm getting fixed up. I'll come by tomorrow and give a statement. Drop off what I have," she replied monotonously. 

"Alright. Your evidence might be what we need to nail this guy. We'll head out now and keep you updated," Brett said firmly.

"Okay. My phone's broke, should still be at the house. Asshole put it in a glass of water so I couldn't call the cops," she huffed.

"Alright, you with Murdock?" He asked, the sound of a car door shutting on his end of the phone. She couldn't really deny it since she was using his phone.

"Yeah," she said softly.

"Alright. I'll call him when I got news. Be safe, Daphne," with that he hung up and Matt moved the phone from her.

She felt a swirl of emotions surging inside of her after stuffing them down for the phone call. She could feel herself about to snap and she wished she was somewhere alone where she could cry and deal with this in private. She wasn't so lucky.

"Daphne…" Matt said softly. Her breathing hitched, lower lip wobbling a little as she glared at her boots that were splattered with blood.

"This is my fault," she whispered brokenly. 

"No, it's not," he insisted, scooting closer to her from where he was perched on the coffee table.

"Yes it is! You don't get it! I knew. I fucking knew something was wrong, Matt. I checked out this guy's apartment days ago and when I saw the life insurance stuff… I had a bad feeling and I was gonna warn Mr Lee. But I've been so wrapped up in so much bullshit lately that I forgot about him. I forgot he even existed! What kind of person does that?! If I warned him he'd still be alive right now!" she was boarding on hysterical the more she spoke.

 Her chest constricted making her feel like she couldn't breathe. When Matt’s large hands took her own she clung to them like they were the only thing keeping her from floating away.

"You said yourself, this guy's insane. Even if you warned Mr Lee, this guy would find a way. There's nothing you could have done. But what you can do is help put him behind bars. You've got evidence and he attacked you. Use this to get justice for Mr Lee," he murmured patiently. She tried to let his words calm her a little. She knew he was mostly right. Even if she told Mr Lee it was only a matter of time before it happened anyway. And she learnt from her interactions that Mr Lee loved his son despite knowing he was screwing his wife behind his back. She was sure he either wouldn't have believed her or chose to be in denial anyway. But it still hurt her. Knowing she hadn't done enough. 

She sniffled, still gripping his hands as she tried to calm herself down. When she glanced at his face, his unseeing eyes were on her face, a patient and sympathetic look on it.

"Trust me, I know about guilt. Any time someone I let get away hurts someone else, it kills me inside. But one day you have to realise you can't change the past. The what ifs only hurt you," he sighed. She wondered what it must be like for him. Experiencing this kind of guilt all the time. She didn't know how he coped. She took her hands back, wiping the tears that had stained her face.

"Sorry. I'm just… being dramatic," she snorted mirthlessly. 

"No, you're not. You've been through something traumatic, you have every right to feel the way you do. But I want you to know that it's not your fault," he implored. She nodded, inhaling a deep breath to help ground her. She really hadn't expected today to go the way it did. 

With the shock wearing off, the pain was really setting in followed by a large helping of exhaustion. 

"I should uh… probably head home," she yawned with a wince. He just quirked a brow at her from where he sat.

"You can stay here and rest. Just try and sleep most of it off and tomorrow you can talk to Brett," he left no room for argument and it reminded her very much of when he turned up to her apartment with a gunshot wound. 

"Guess we're even now," she smirked weakly. He chuckled with a shake of his head. 

"Let's not make it a habit," he grinned. He stood up and took the first aid kit with him. It wasn't even lunch time yet but she knew she should heed his advice. She'd been through a lot and she needed to rest to help heal. She lay back down carefully, hoping to just have a short nap for a while. As she started dozing off she felt a light blanket being delicately placed on top of her. Her pain started to fade into nothing as she slipped off to sleep.

[popculturebuffet]

The Three Caballeros Movie Review: Rejoice Now Donald’s Been Laid (Commission)

It’s time at long last we talked about those three happy chappies in snappy serapes. Who say so? @weirdkev27​ say so! He’s planning on funding an ENTIRE retrospective on the boys, so in addition to my Tom Lucitor Retrospective (Expect that to return very soon as one of the episodes in it is time sensitive), Road to Just Us Justice Ducks, and look at “The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck”. I’m proud to announce a new recurring feature on this blog “The Ride of the Three Caballeros!”, a look back at these birds of a feather who flock together and their wild and wonderful history cumulating in “The Legend of The Three Caballeros”.  Honestly I thank Kev for the idea as it’s a damn good one. Ever since seeing them on House of Mouse, which I both really need to cover and Disney needs to add already as we’re a year into Disney plus already, I’ve loved Jose and Panchito, and reading barks story years ago, and again recently, gave me a lasting love of these goofs. They have great snappy designs are the rare pre-ducktales 2017 non duck bird character, and have wonderful personalities. There’s nothing not to love and thus nothing not to love about covering their adventures. So i’m excited for this and not just for the much needed christmas money.  Naturally we’re starting the adventure here with the founding of the trio, though Kev, for now he could change his mind, choose to start with this movie instead of it’s predecessor Saludos Amigos,  on this date for two reasons. The first is it’s Friday the 13th, which besides being the basis for an utter classic of a Hey Arnold episode

Which yes for those unfamiliar with Hey Arnold features Arnold dealing with a spell of bad luck, some bullies and his grandmother dressing up wlike a black cat to rescue black cats, which is sweet.. and training them into her horrifying army of the damned, which is somehow still sweet as it is awesome.  It’s also the day this guy barges into my house thinking it’s camp crystal lake

I swear to gods Jason GET A FUCKING PHONE WITH GPS. We are not clearly not teenagers. And he’s always so embarrassed and the stab wounds always take so long at the hospital to treat. It’s just a mess.  But it’s also, according to this film Donald’s BIrthday! This was during an earlier point in his career, that will be important in a bit, so Disney hadn’t yet settled on their tradition of having their characters birthday’s being the same date as their first appearance. For the record that would make Donald and Della’s current birthday June 7th. I did a special on Donald Duck shorts for it this year. Not sure what i’ll do the next. We will see. And for fun and my own curiosity I looked up the birthdates of some of the other Ducktales castmembers as well as my boys here They are: 

Jose: August 24th (World Premier of Saludos Amigos)  Panchito: December 21st (The Mexico City Premiere Date for this very movie) Scrooge: November 14th (Thank you INducks seriously it’s a massive help with this.  Daisy: June 7th (Debut of Mr. Duck Steps out) Huey, Dewey and Louie: October 17th (First appearance in Donald’s Newspaper Strip) Webby, Beakley and Launchpad: September 18th, thanks to launchpad’s driver’s license as well as all three characters debuting in the opening arc. Though to separate them i’d likely  try to find different dates for both. For now i’m going with October 12th for Mrs. Beakly (The airing date for the Ducktales 87 ep maid of myth) and October 29th for Webby (the airing date for another 87 episode, this one about webby and a horse).  Gladstone: August 15th, as while it was released in january there is no firm release date for it. Plus a summer birthday fits him better anyways. Thank you Inducks for that.  Magica:  September 28th, finally a firm publication date. While there’s a creation date unlike Gladstone I see no need to use it.  Darkwing Duck/Drake Mallard: September 6th GLOMGOLD: July 26th Was that entirely necessary? No Would I do it again.. absolutely. It also means I really need to do something for Scrooge’s Birthday in two days. But that’s future me’s problem. Current day me has his own problems specifically a movie review to continue.  The films genesis was a in a good will tour Disney did in South America, as part of America’s Good Neighbor Policy. FDR started it in order to try and strengthen ties between Latin America and North America, to prevent any sort of war with our close neighbors and to foster good economic ties between both as well as integrate Latin culture into americans lives to make them care about those countries more. And given it was started as HItler’s rise to power grew, and America knew they’d inevitably be dragged into World War II, and thus wanted to put the kibosh on several Latin American’s Nazi Ties. So in exchange for Money, since Disney was struggling due to overextending itself and the big animator’s strike at the time, The US sent Walt and some of his animatiors to South America, where MIckey Donald and Goofy were big and to make a film based there. Hence we got Saludos Amigos which is .. kind of forgettable to be honest, though the Gaucho Goofy segment is fantastic as the “How to” shorts with goofy around the time usually were. But the film gave us Jose, hence why Donald and him are familiar with each other here, and was a moderate success. This lead to the Goverment, who’d already contracted a bunch of propaganda, one of which I covered in my Donald Duck Shorts Birthday Marathon because it contained prototypes for Gladstone and Scrooge, so another feature for South America was a win win: The US got another way to strengthen ties between the Americas, and Disney got a film they could put out during said war to lift spirits, as well as on that would likely be a hit in South America due to them not being under wartime money crunch or the misery of having a war looming overhead. As a side note. I found out after looking at the wikpiedia article on The Good Neighbor Program.. it eventually and sadly collapsed as the US post WWII shifted to the Cold War and thus threw away non interference if it meant beating the Russians. Classy.  So yeah.. this film and i’ts predecessor are technically propaganda pictures. There was also another disney full length propoganda picture about fighter jets, I only learned about this thanks to the slashfilm article I found on the movie that told me a lot of this in the first place. It’s not avaliable but it should be.. though at the very least unlike say House of Mouse, Wander Over Yonder, Penn Zero: Part Time Hero, American Dragon Jake Long, The Weekenders, Pepper Anne and MANY more, it’s absence from Disney + makes sense. And I will continue to bitch about this till Disney actually starts adding more legacy animated shows, or at least makes a few of it’s own, though I will concede reviving the Mickey Mouse shorts that Disney Channel started up is a VERY good first step and i’m sure What If and Proud Family: Louder and Prouder will be fine. I just want more animation content on the streaming platform of one of the biggest animation studios in the world with one of the most storied histories. I’m REALLY not asking a lot. 

That bit of bitching aside I will give Disney+ credit where it’s due. The service offers MOST of the Disney vault for a very reasonable price a month, in crisp HD, and thus allows someone like me, who hasn’t really dived into the disney vault and slept on watching three cabs despite borrowing it from some friends, to dive into beautiful animation like this any time. It also allows me to explore disney’s older films, the ones I want to anyway, at my leisure and it’s a REALLY nice feeling. It’s also nice to have all the various animated shows in nice clean copies. So while there are sizeable gaps in the library, many of which as highlighted above have no reason for not being there and some like Song of the South have DAMN GOOD reason for never being there, I still apricate the service for being a vast, glorious digital library of Disney content as well as stuff they’ve acquired like the marvel show library, and this review would not have been as easy to do without it. So with my opinions on D+ and the exposition for WHY this exists out of the way, as I couldn’t find much else on this flim’s background, join me after the read more for a full review of the film! Who says so? I says so! 

We open with.. the Disney+ content warning again. In my review of the last part of “Catch as Cash Can” I went on about how much I apricated it and it stands: while i’m not blind that it’s a blanket statement to cover disney’s rears, it’s still apricated for them to care enough to force the content warning on the viewer. Given how bad they usually are at falling on the right side of history, this is very admirable. Though thankfully this film isn’t as offensive as the last content warning I got for the last part of “Catch as Cash can” aka “Watch registered White Guy Hamilton Camp play a bad indian sterotype for 22 minutes while my soul slowly dies”. Here there are bits, which i’ll get to now to save me the trouble later: The Littlest Gaucho’s side characters are all drawn pretty carcturish and a bit cringe inducing. The other is of course Panchito our Mexican representative.. who wears a sombrero and shoots two pistols around. And there’s just a tinge of white man going ot another country to get laid with the way Donald behaves throughout the picture. Basically little touches here and there but nothing that spoils the picture overall or makes whole scenes unwatchable. Still worth having the warning up, but not worth getting too worked up over.  So onto the film itself and as mentioned i’ts Donald’s birthday! And I will say the film has lots of great little gags here and there.. I won’t be pointing all of them out because this film was 70 minutes long but their very charming. HIs first gift is a projector and screen.. which he naturally has to fight to get working and which first projects on his ass, already a good start. And a general thought I like is how receptive Donald is to soaking in another culture. He just seems joyusly enthralled by the various films, gifts and places his friends bring him.. 

But again we’ll get to that. Point is it’s very nice to see Disney portay learning about another culture so positively and with such a hot head as donald. Even if i’ts in part to appease the US Goverment, ther’es a genuine feeling that they truly fell in love with these countries and aren’t JUST shilling them because it’s in their contract, but because they genuinelly liked it there.  So with that we get to our first segment. See the film is one of Disney’s Package films, anthology films taking a bunch of short segments and pasting them together, but here it’s framed through the narrative of DOnald’s birthday, so there is KIND of a plot.. but it’s mostly an excuse for musical numbers, short films, and more musical numbers.

Dammit Elmo, we will get to it! So naturally i’l lbe dividing up this review into various pieces. First up...

1. The Cold Blooded Penguin: Life of Pablo, The Good Version This is a brief but endearing short about a Penguin named Pablo who dosen’t like cold weather, can relate, and wants to move to some tropical paradise, again can relate. It’s BARELY related to the theme of hte movie, celebrating Central and South America, but it’s so damn charming I can’t help but love it. And Pablo is so damn adorable, as are his friends. I mean look at him. 

He’s just so precious and you just want him to finally get to his paradise with the help of his friend, his boiler there smokey joe, and root for him as his farewell party dwindles from a bunch of penguins to just bob and gary here. 

I may love Gary, the tall one, more than I love Pablo honestly> His sad eyes or the way he’s the ONLY one who sticks it out to the end, seeing Pablo off at last. Pablo’s first attempts, going without his boiler, which just ends iwth him freezing and attempting to carry smokey joe on his back both fail, he eventually decides to go with a boat and cleverly simply saws the ice berg he’s on so it’ll drift with his house and possessions, and has Gary hit it with a bottle both to christen it and to send it flying. Plus having bags on the bags on my eyes myself, I can relate to their tired expressions. As can we all after this year. Just a month and a half and it’s finally blessedly over. 

Pablo makes his way through, finally finding his island only to nearly have his iceberg melt before he gets there. But he persevers and gets his paradise, even adorably eating a banana> Though it ends on a mealoncholy yet still funny note of Pablo missing home even though he has a pet turtle/butler now. Man I want one of those.  One final note is that the short is narrated greatly by Sterling Holloway.. aka the future WInnie The Pooh using that exact voice which while a little weird in hindsight, just makes the short that more adorable if you imagine Pooh is reading a story to you. Just a really damn cute short with some good and intentive gags, and penguins. I mean i’ll be honest I have a soft spot in my hart for those tudeoxed boys thanks to the comic strip BLoom County and it’s lead character Opus taking up a LOT of real estate in my heart and brain. Here’s a few samples of him just so you get why.  

Just a sweetheart. Though his honker would grow exponenitally with time. And once get grabbed by a card carrying MAGA asshole. But I can talk about my boy here and this strip again another day. Point is I may love pengies but even that aside this is a good short and a good way to start things off. Sadlly the pacing then lops out a bit as the next two bits aren’t QUITE as entertaining. 

2. Birds Birds Birds: Of Arcuan BIrds and Toucan Sex Donald then watches a film on birds, and i’ts basically just a bunch of short funny gags with various tropical birds. There are a FEW notable bit sin the short, and I will get to them now, but otherwise it’s just okay.. not great but not exactly memorable. I honestly forgot there was anything BUT the Arcuan bird in this bit. Speaking of which A) The Arcuan Bird, a hyperactive pink little guy who makes a little “yatatata” noise, and boops donald a bit and later shows up in the film to steal Jose’s Cigar. Easily the most entertaining part of this section and there’s a reason why he became a massive fan faviorite, as well as got a more expanded roll in Legend of the Three Cablleros. He’d also apparently later return for another Package Film. What a bird.  B) There’s a bit with Toucans, which I remember because I freaking love Toucans, the big colorful beaks look neat contrasted with their black and white bodies and they seem friendly and the one fictional one besides Toucan Sam I can rmemeber is Tuca of Tuca and Bertie. Nuff said. And because they mention the Tucan’s making love. First off this is how a Tucan makes love. 

And secondly, clealry the term has evolved considerably, but it’s still chuckle inducing to have that term in a disney movie, especially since it makes me think of a number of things most notably this. 

Which, fun fact, is the song that will likely be sung when Donald and Daisy finally have sex in the Ducktales Reboot. Della didn’t buy those choir robes for nothing. Though the joke here is simply that they can’t kiss because they have big noses. GET IT. Though I have seen incompatable noses end marriages. 

See I told you his honker got bigger. Okay onto the 3rd thing from this bit. 

C) The Flamingos, who retract into themselves while Donald adorably copies. What a boy. With that I can move on from this segement thankfully and onto... an even worse one!.. wait... 

3. The Littlest Gaucho: The Boring One  This one’s a leftover from Saludos Amigos, likely because that one already had a Gaucho Bit with goofy and because it’s not very good. But Disney was strapped for cash so use everything you got. And yes I advocated for using everything in my review of life and times part 1.. but that’s more for a shared universe and left “Oh hey I found this short in our garbage let’s put it in another movie to save money” way. I appreciate being cheap, I myself am unemployed and right now these reviews are my source of income, but you could’ve just you know.. let the film be shorter? You didn’t have to waste animation leading inito this bit.  This one is the story of a young boy, as narrated by his older self who can somehow see through the veil of time and yell at his younger self. How? 

But it dosen’t really help the story as i’ve seen far better interactive narrators and ones clearly editing history. Especially since, despite ending on a VERY sour note, How I Met Your Mother was a pro at this. It’s not the film’s fault, but even back int he 40′s I swear they could do this better. 

It’s the simple story of the little Gaucho finding a flying Donkey, befriending him, and then entering him in a jockey race which they win. There’s one or two good gags here, but it dosen’t have the cutness of the previous segments and only one or two good gags. It just feels like filler and if I watch the film again, which I probably will, I will fast forward past this. Thankfully after this we finally get a break. 

4. A Song For Bahia: They call him JOSEEEEEEEEE.. and he’s Donald

Jose enters! Donald’s next gift is a book from Brazil that’s smoking..mostly because so’s Jose. The two friends reunite, with Jose in a story book asking Donald about , what I assume is Jose’s home state of Bahia, one of Brazil’s 20 states and spelled Baia in this movie for some reason.  We then get an absolutely beautiful sequence of Jose’s voice actor singing about Bahia and showing off how beautiful the country is through gorgeous animation. It’s a really marvelous segment and really pretty to look at. And once that segment’s done the film starts to pick up in energy, though unlike the Gaucho segment, the Bahia song is actually good. 

5.  Os Quindins de Yayá: The Sleeper Has Awakened.. and by the sleeper I mean Donald’s Penis.  There’s a few bits here. We start with the wonderful song, “Have You Ever Been to Bahia?”.. which is almost entirely Jose asking that to donald who says no, with some fun mindscrewy animation.. the film has not BEGUN to mindscrew, but we’ll get to that. 

Also for this segment Jose apparently has Jamie Madrox powers.. or he’s from Cragg.. either way, Donald hasn’t been to Baia so let’s go. The boys take a train, the Arucan messes things up again, etc etc and soon their in Baia where two major aspects of the film show up: Blending Live action with animation, and Donald being really horny. It’s not to a creepy degree outside of one segment, we’ll get there, but Donald being really into live action women is a major part of three segments of this film. If your wondering while Daisy had debuted, she wasn’t the ETCHED IN STONE, presence she’d become for Donald. Which I don’t have a problem with, I love them in Ducktales 2017, their one of the few tolerable aspects of the quack pack’s i’ve watched, and they were great in House of Mouse. I”m just saying some works don’t really have her around in them (Donald’s spy and papernik adventures), while other more charming and eligible women are, while others have her as outright abusive (Legend of the Three Caballeros). I’m not against Donsy when done properly, again huge fan of the Ducktales 2017 version of the couple, I just dont’ think it has to be mandatory. The fact the Italian comics made Donald a fairly likeable alien queen as a love interest proves it. 

But yeah here Donald’s thirsty as fuck, can relate, and thus we get our next musical number.. and that blend of live action and animation. I will admit, especially on second viewing.. it’s pretty obvious their mostly using a green screened animated backdrop with the charcters on it. The other segments are much more integrated. That being said.. i’m perfectly fine with it, as Disney was on a really low budget, only able to get financing for package films like this since their main financer wouldn’t given them money for anything but shorts, so it was a workaround, not to mention having a mass talent exodus over the strike and World Fucking War II to contend with. So cheeping out on ONE segment in a large film, and STILL having it come out good is fine just fine. And it truly does, the segment centers around Yaya, a cookie seller and the object of Donald’s affections, though he gets mad when a guitar man slips in and woos her instead for a bit before eventually leaving her alone, with Donald getting a kiss. But while parts of that clearly haven’t aged well, it’s an utterly joyous and fun musical number in an already fun musical, and Aurora Miranda who plays Yaya, and is sister of Carmen Miranda something Disney actually put in promotional materials.... come to think of it I didn’t watch the trailer.. I’ll get to it in a moment. Point is, Miranda is very talented and it’s  VERY fun number. Have a listen since the sequence itself is WAY to long to put video of up on youtube. 

And having watched the trailer during that music break, it’s not bad, I expected more cringe. The most I got was them calling the women “latin american lovlies” which.. seems.. wrong. But with the romance of Bahia setting and Donald dragged out by Jose, we can get into our next segement as, over halfway in, we finally get our third Cabllero 

6. The Three Cablleros: Who Say So? We Say So!

HERE COMES THE PANCHITO Ladies and Gentleman and Others! HERE COMES THE PANCHITO! the moment you’ve been waiting for! HERE COMES THE PANCHITO! the pride of Mexico! HERE COMES PANCHITO! Panchito Pistoles! 

When then meet Panchito who joyfully shoots guns around, because stereotype but thankfully he’s also joyful, jubilant and likeable much like his pal Jose. Panchito’s just a thoughtly likeable character and next to his smooth talking pal, it’s easy to see why the two became huge fan favorites. And thus we get our title track. 

IT’s a beautiful, fun segment, that while some portions, such as Panchito’s yelling or “some Latin baby’ haven’t aged particularly well, is still a fun colorful number with amazing music and great gags, that utterly sells our boys camaraderie. I have no notes, ten out of ten flawless classic number. Who Say So? I SAY SO! Also given both boys kiss Donald at some point.. yeah these boys are bi as fuck and damn i’ts awesome. 

7. Mexico: Bored Again, Naturally.  Donald then gets a pinata and we get a short story about a bunch of kids going around to places only to be told “no shelter no posada”. Like the Gauchito bit.. it’s pretty boring and nonconesquential and only gets a leg up due to being far shorter and a little adorable versus not really as adorable as the segement thinks it is. The kids end up at a party with a pinata. We do get a fun sequence after this nothing of a story of Donald batting a pinata around while the boys mess with him a bit. It’s fun stuff.  Out of the PInata we get another storybook, and another slow segement of Panchito singing about mexico which is a less fluidly animated, and thus far less entertaining, version of the Bahia song.. diffrent song, same premise of a bird melodically and beautifully singing about his home land, but less engaging because it’s just still images. I get they were low on budget but while I can forigve that for the Yaya sequence.. this one.. I just can’t as they not only already did this, but did it less good the second time around. The song is lovely though, and I do miss a time in our culture when we looked at Mexico with fondness and didn’t have a FAR too large portion of our population think anyone from there should go back where they came when they come to our brave country to find shelter, aslym and opportunity just because they didn’t go through “proper channels’ even though that’s difficult. WHat i’m saying is fuck our immigration policy for the last 4 years, and bless the president-elect for planning to fix that ASAP. I felt it was worth mentioning in a review ABOUT a Mexican character who, in the reboot, is an immigrant to America. 

8. Everybody Dance: Another fun number. 

We’re onto Mexico and it’s time for another musical number

So our heroes dance, Donald hits on some more women.. stuff we’ve seen before but it’s still a fun beautiful song and unlike the last bit while the animation has clearly aged enough to be more obvious, it still looks great next to the various live action dancers and blends real well. A fun time that gives us more great music and another reminder from donald that...

I mean I get being thirsty as shit, again can relate.. but the next segment takes it from Donald and the Boys being kinda horny to. 

9. The Beach: Donald Gets Creeptacular

Yeah this bit is .. less endearing. The boys fly the serape over to a beach, and divebomb the girls, which isn’t a sex act.. that i’m aware of. But yeah chasing around several women, and donald leaving the Serape to chase them around old beach movie/benie hill/trying my patience style. It’s cringe is what i’m saying as a man literally chasing a woman around is considered flirtitng here and that’s all kinds of EUGGGGHHHH. The previous segments had Donald be kind of respectful in his woman chasing: while he was pretty horny, he also tipped his hat, flirted a bit, asked to dance you know, normal shit.. not decided “let’s chase them with a serape that will turn them on!’ jesus.. yeah not much to say here either just.. really creepy. But we have not reached peak horny donald yet.. oh no. 

10. Donald’s Surreal Revere: WHAT EXACTLY THE FUCK. 

Dora Luz appears in the sky of Mexico after the boys exit the book and flip to Mexico’s night life... just go with hit and Donald swoons over her before joining her int he book and after getting a kiss from her and swooning over her.. has an acid trip. I .. I don’t know how else to describe Donald’s surreal reverie. It’s clear Walt just told the animators do whatever. I will TRY to describe this sequence as best I can, but I make no promises except what I describe is exactly what happened, see for yourself.

Okay so after Dora’s magical floating kisses, just go with it, kiss donald he explodes, in a rocket blast clearly symbolizing his errection, then becomes a neon sign and a hummingbird, just go with it, tries to kiss Dora’s image appearing on a flower, then Jose and Panchito BURST out of the flower with tiny chipmunk voices and gun violence, a SCREAMING TECHNICOLOR TRANSTION, dora singing the song in the middle of a flower again , donald making out with the flower but it turning out ot be panchito with a giraffe neck saying “Some fun eh kid?”, donald falling through a sea of ladies, donald chasing the ladies on a serape. Donald’s disembodied head looking at the ladies before bursting out of the picture to chase them GOOD GOD DID WE NEED MORE OF THAT?! The boys ending up on female bodies and them some sort of horse abomination. Then we get into what must of inspiried a young david Lynch as donald kisses the flower agian, then ends up in one as they replay a creepy whispery recording of either Jose or Panchito saying pretty girls while we see still images of the girls from the beach. Hummingbird Flower Donald then has a romantic duet with a lady because WHY NOT at this point, then multiple donalds before he spins away. We get one last number with donald dancing with living cacti that turn into mini donald’s that’s slightly more sane and finally this bit is done. IN conclusion. 

I just.. I have no words. The giant mess of text up there should explain it and I purposfully didn’t divy it up as i’ve been trying to do more often, as it deserves to be one long string of nonsense. I just.. it’s beautiful to look at but what the hell was that. Is this going to happen every time Donald and Daisy have sex? Is this what Donald’s brain is like all the time? Did Panchito inject him with pure liquid acid?

So yeah we thankfully conclude the film after that with 

14. The Wrap UP The boys horse around with a bull and then heartwarmingly watch fireworks together.. there isn’t much to add it’s jsut fun to watch and a nice pallete cleanser after loosing my sanity. Isn’t that right keith david?

You always say that! So...

Final Thoughts: I’ve made my thoughts on the various segments clear, but what of the film as a whole? As a whole.. it’s pretty fun. Is it the best film Disney’s Produced? probably not. But it’s a fun, brisk 70 minutes, hampered by a few slow spots and some weird horny bits, and various segments feel like an acid trip despite having never taken acid. But our boys easlly anchor the surreality and thirst and all three have great chemistry both comedically, friendship wise and romantically. It’s also very easy to see why this film and it’s cablleros got big in Mexico and Brazil as the film seems like a love letter to both, and is fairly respectful. WHich for the time, sex tourism aside, is pretty damn inspried. So yeah in conclusion, this is a really fun memorable film, it was even better on a second watch and it’s an enjoyable colorful reminder of Disney’s package film era, which I might dig into a bit.. I just may have to borrow a copy of make mine music.. guess what just got added to my list of “why the fuck isn’t this on disney plussss?” 

Regardless this was a fun review and auspcious start to the ride of the Cablleros. if you’d like to comission your own movie or tv review, hit up my ask box or submit box or shoot me an ask to get my discord. You can also join my patreon, patreon.com/popculturebuffet, Until then you can check this space for the various ongoing series mentioned and regular Ducktales coverage every monday. Until then, Adios, with a christmas message from my personal fourth Cabllero

[justsassysworld]

Five Demons And A Baby Part 4

Five Demons And A Baby Part 4

Zhuk x Fem!reader

Warnings: Nsfw, Nsft, oral sex, vaginal sex, erotic massage

Waking the next morning, you find yourself equal parts nervous and excited. Today could very easily be a huge turning point in your life. You try closing your eyes for a few more moments of peace, when they fly back open. What the hell am I going to wear? What should you wear? Panic sets in as you try to plan with no idea what to plan for.

You bolt up, rushing to the lush closet holding your clothes. Your eyes flit from piece to piece, never settling on any one thing. Just as you start to hyperventilate two very strong, very large arms wrap around your waist.

"Breathe, svezda moya," the tall Russian growls into your ear. "There is no need for such worry."

You fold your arms over his, taking comfort in his embrace. Turning, you smile up at him, really taking in his handsome face, his strong, stubbled jaw, thick brows, full lips. The way his dark hair lightens at his temples, how the green blends as it curls at his collar, it really makes you happy you sent that letter.

Not letting yourself stop to over analyze, you slowly move your arms up his defined arms to wrap around his neck, once there you apply some pressure. His smirk lets you know that he knows exactly what you're doing, and he slowly starts to bend his head, as you rise onto your tiptoes. Never in your life have you felt as delicate and petite as you do in this mans arms.

When your lips are a hairs breath from his, you both pause, seeming to seek the others approval. Looking deep into his eyes, you see a hunger and a passion that must surely match our own. Wanting, no needing, to taste his emotions, you surges through those last few centimeters.

Your lips crash into his, your longings clear in your furiousity, a fever that doesn't go unmatched. He crushes you to him as his lips begin their languid and thorough exploration. Almost immediately, you notice how different this kiss is making you feel. Where Scarabee's kiss is a hundred shot firework lighting up the night sky, this is molten magma, flowing deep and true, changing you in ways you can't possibly notice until the passion cools.

He cradles you as he starts to pull you back to the bed. Lost to the moment, you don't care about the date or the wooing, you just want this man. This man whose hands haven't strayed from your waist, but still seem to caress your very soul.

Zhuk stops moving, making you think you've reached the bed and prepare to be dragged down and ravished. That's not what happens though. He slowly pulls up, not wanting to put any more distance between you than is necessary, his forehead against yours.

"Oh, zaika moya," he groans. "You will be the death of us."

He steps away, straightening his sweater, making you realize just how firmly you had gripped it. You both struggle to catch your breath, though he does compose himself a little bit faster. Moving back towards the door, he reaches it and turns. "For this morning, wear something light and comfortable,” he says before leaving the room.

"Something light and comfortable," you mumble to yourself, inspecting your closet. Finally, you decide to just wear your favorite warm weather outfit.

You take a quick but decadent shower vowing to really enjoy the grandiose space at another time. Debating on if you should wear any makeup, and what to do with your hair, you throw on your clothes. Looking in the mirror, you finally decide to throw your hair up and to just wear a light gloss on your lips. Shoes are a much easier decision to make, since you decide to just pull on your favorite sneakers. Giving yourself a final look over, you nod, liking your final look.

No longer hesitating, you throw the door open and find a very sexy Russian waiting for you. He looks you over, dragging his gaze over your body. You feel every inch of that gaze and answer his pleased smile with one of your own. You take his offered arm.

"Ready, svezda moya?"

Biting your lip, you nod and answer, "Yes." The smile he gives you in return is truly magnificent.

He leads you down several new halls and corridors, pointing out rooms along the way, but you don't even try to remember them, far too excited to even try. After many twists and turns, he finally moves to open a door. Walking in, you stutter to a stop.

You may not know that much about cars, but you can tell just how over the top the collection before you is. There are cars in every shape, size, and color. Some look brand new, others are timeless classics, and all are absolutely pristine. Well, all but the very familiar one at the end.

"Is-is that my car?" you ask, glancing up at him. A smirk is his answer. "What the-"

He pulls you in for a quick kiss before leading you to a luxury sedan. Opening your door, he helps you into your seat. The seats are incredibly soft and so much more comfortable than you could have imagined. While he walks around and takes his place in the drivers seat, you take it all in, the sights, feels, and the smells.

The engine purrs as Zhuk fires it up. With one hand, he steers out of the garage, as the other grips one of yours. There is a comfortable silence in the cab and you watch him while the world blurs by outside. For all his apparent strength and external gruffness, you watch his face soften and relax as you get closer to where ever you're going. All while you enjoy the peace and the warmth of his hand.

He pulls to a stop in a nondescript part of town and you feel your brows pull down in confusion. Before you can question where you are, he pulls out a thin piece of what looks like silk.

"Do you trust me, zaika?"

Deciding that honesty is your best policy, you reply, "I'm not sure yet."

A sharp grin is his answer. "Good, I will always reward the truth." You reward is another toe curling kiss.

"Wow," you whisper.

"Oh, svezda moya," he chuckles against your lip. "I know trust must be built, so I am asking you to let me do this. I promise, I mean you no harm, I just want to surprise you."

Nodding slightly, you turn your body and he slips the silken material over your eyes. His hands slip down to your shoulders. Teeth nip at the sensitive skin there and you let out a shocked moan.

"How-how long until we get there?" you stutter out, hoping it won't be long.

"Not long," he chuckles.

Thankfully, he's telling the truth. In less than five minutes, you feel the car pulling to a stop.

"Wait here," he orders before you hear him climb from the car. Less than a minute later, you hear the latch release and feel a slight breeze. A hand drags across your chest, pausing over your tits before he reaches down and unbuckles you.

Taking both of your hands, Zhuk pulls you from your seat. With one hand holding yours, the other resting just above your ass, he guides you, helping you over and around unseen obstacles. Finally, he pulls you to a stop.

Pulling your body flush against his hard one, he murmurs, "Are you ready?"

Nodding, you whisper back, "Yes." One arm wrapping around your waist, the other reaching up to your blindfold.

The bright sunlight momentarily blinds you. Blinking, you wait less than patiently for your eyes to adjust. Taking a moment, when they finally focus, you turn up your face to the man standing behind you in confusion. The only thing before you is a fairly unassuming building with tall fences snaking from it.

You open your mouth, but he cuts you off, "You'll see." Pressure at your lower back has you moving up to the door. Instead of knocking, he simply opens the door and ushers you inside.

A surprised squeal catches in your throat.

The whole room is filled with people holding, feeding, swaddling, and just looking at a variety of baby animals. Some are fuzzy, some are scaly, and others are covered in down, but they all have one very important thing in common; they all are so fucking cute.

A very kind looking woman with a huge grin approaches you both, her hand outstretched to take Zhuk's. "Mr. Sloggoth? It's such a pleasure to meet you."

"Mrs. Abbernath," he returns with a nod. "The pleasure is mine. Allow me to introduce my companion." He does and then asks, "Might we start the tour?"

Hours later, you lean your head back against the car's headrest, a huge grin stretching your lips. You'd seen, and even held and fed, so many unique and amazing animals. Apparently, Zhuk is a huge supporter of animals. So huge in fact, he set up multiple foundations that are geared to help them, including the one he took you to. The whole purpose of this one being rescuing "exotic pets" from, and you quote, "Entitled asshole with more money than empathy for living things.”

There were several snakes, none a species you recognize, a hand full of young penguins, and even a baby emu and flamingo, but the ones you were really drawn to were the mammals. You saw everything from tiny, adult hedgehogs, some slightly bigger adult fennec foxes, a fairly young wolf with wolf-dog pups, and a hand full of various big cat cubs, a couple of bear cubs, and even a full grown male lion.

"Fair enough," he grunts, taking your hand and steering you out of the parking lot, in the opposite direction from where you came. You give him a suspicious look, but he just keeps his eyes on the road and tracing circles in the back of a your hand with his thumb. Hearing you open your mouth to draw in breath, he says, "No. It is a surprise," in a tone that invites no questions.

Zhuk glances your way when you snort in derision. Before he can say anything, you ask, "What kind of jackass names a male lion Nala? And don't say someone who's thumbing their nose at gender norms. Anyone who's conscientious enough to think like that isn't going to have a lion for a pet in the first place, and anyone dumb enough to buy one, is dumb enough to not at least google "Lion King" before naming them."

Pouting, you flop back in your chair, but you refuse to let go of his hand.

You try to focus on the world passing by your window, but between the excitement of the morning and the exhaustion of growing another person, you find your eyes growing heavy. You try to fight it, but the smooth ride has you dozing, a deep voice humming sees you sinking deeper.

Feeling arms wrap around you and slowly lift you from the car, you slowly wake, blinking against the light. The first thing you see is a huge, opulent room, the likes of which you've never seen in person, but had always hoped to experience when you'd saved up enough money. This is the most expensive luxury hotel in the area, and Zhuk is casually strolling through, with you in his arms, acting like he owns the place. You wiggle, trying to get him to put you down, an action that's become a bit too familiar, but he simply gives you a warm smile and keeps moving.

Instead of stopping at the reception, he breezes right on passed, seemingly headed to the bank of elevators. At the last hundred feet, he turns, making his way to what looks like a nondescript section of wall, but it's no wall. Opening a small panel, he punches in a code so long you couldn't remember the amount of numbers, let alone the actual code. Finally, there's a quiet snick and an elevator shows itself.

He carries you inside and the door slides shut, starting moving immediately. As the elevator ascends, he finally sets you down, but instead of giving you space, he backs you against the wall. His large hand cups your cheek before he leans in and places a heart meltingly sweet kiss on your lips. Never in your life have you had so much casual, meaningful affection. These men are going to do terribly amazing things for and to you. The elevator pulls to a gentle stop, but still he holds you. It's a sweet kiss, a longing kiss. A kiss to make you long for more and beg to stay. He is making you crave him, making you wonder about the rest of them.

"Oh zaika," he groans, finally pulling away. "You tempt me so, but we have an appointment that I will not let us miss."

Dragging you through the extravagant space, he doesn't give you a chance to take it in before you find yourself in a fully equipped spa wing, including a couple people waiting for you with warm smiles.

Shock has you jerking to a stop, but gentle pressure at the small of your back has you moving again. An incredibly soft robe is placed in your hands.

"Mr. Sloggoth, we have everything ready for you," the young woman informs. "Just let us know when you're ready for us.” The pair both nod before exiting the suite.

"What's going on, Zhuk?" you ask. "I know I can't do most of the spa experiences."

His gentle chuckle is a caress just as firm as those given by his hands. He takes your hand and pulls you near.

Cupping your belly, he grins. "I know svezda moya, I have taken such limitations into account. If you are agreeable, I will give you a full body message before calling on the others to give us both facials, manicures, and pedicures."

"Really?" you gasp, voice and face doing nothing to hide your excitement. "But what about you?"

"This is for you, well," he tilts his head, a knowing smirk lighting his face. "I will be getting my own pleasures."

The look in his eyes shows you exactly what his pleasure will be, though you suspect you will definitely enjoy yourself.

"That is," he adds, watching your expression. "As long as you are comfortable with that."

You bite your lip, thinking before you ask, "Will this be a 'happy ending' massage? And will I be reciprocating?"

A growl rumbles through the air and a glow lights his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes and calms. "As much I would love that, this is for you. We have all night and I want you to be as relaxed as possible."

He's really willing to get me off without getting any himself? All because he's trying to woo you, to get to know you, maybe to fall in love.

"Allow me to escort you." He takes your elbow, leading you to a warm, dimly lit room, with candles spread throughout and soothing music playing in the back ground. Just being here has your heart rate slowing and your breathing calming.

"I will give you some time to get ready. If you are open to an... inclusive experience, disrobe and lay under the towel. If not, there is a bikini you can put on." Before turning to leave, Zhuk drops his lips against yours.

Leaning back against the table, you bite your lip as you watch him walk outside, or more accurately, his ass. Shaking your head, you force yourself to focus on the dilemma at hand, bikini or no bikini. You think about the others, would they be upset? No, is the immediate answer that comes to mind. They all knew this was a possibility and it seems they all have their own plans for you. So really, the only thing you truly have to decide is if you want everything he's offering right now, or try for more later. Holding up the tiny pieces of cloth, you make up your mind.

A few minutes later, Zhuk finds you laying on the massage table, on your stomach. Turning your head, you smile at him. "Hi

"Hello, zaika," he replies, coming to stand next to you, sleeves rolled up. "Are you ready?"

You nod, then ask, "Is it okay for me to laying like this?"

"Yes, you are perfect."

Your eyes follow him as he moves to grab a bottle of oil off a table. Thighs clenching, you force yourself to close your eyes, too tempted by the sight of him. Startled when you feel him pull the towel down your back, you know when he realizes you aren't wearing anything beneath it. The air grows thick with your combined arousal.

A splash hits your back, and he quickly rubs it in. Next comes both arms, then he moves the towel off your legs, leaving your ass as the only thing covered and without oil. Already you feel incredibly relaxed, sinking deeper into the cushion.

His deep voice blends into the ambiance, "Can I continue?"

"I don't know," you snark, too relaxed to know better. "Can you?"

"Careful, zaika," he growls, firm hand gripping your ass with a bruising force. "I may not be able to punish you fully for the time being, but I will keep track of such things."

His threat does far more to excite you, rather than instill fear, but still, you don't want to risk doing or saying anything that might have him deciding not to continue.

Turning your head to look at him, you practically beg, "Please, Zhuk, Please."

Smiling, he grazes one of his knuckles down your cheek. "Of course, svezda moya." He teases a quick kiss against the back of your neck, before finally removing your towel completely. Before you can truly adjust to the air caressing your skin, the oil is all ready rubbed in, and the massage can truly begin.

Zhuk is incredibly thorough, starting at your hands working his way way up to your shoulders and neck. Then he went down to your feet, kneading and working way up. Moans and gasps you've never heard escape you as he releases tensions you didn't even know you hand.

Your breathing quickens as he gets closer and closer to your ass, finger digging into your inner thighs, so close to where you desperately need him. Inching your legs apart, you try to tell him what you want without having to say a word.

Unfortunately, he doesn't take your silent plea, instead, he goes back up to your shoulders. His firm fingers find knots and kinks you never realized were there. Even as you tell yourself to focus on what you're feeling, what you're feeling has you more distracted than ever. An almost constant whine is coming from your throat as you desperately fight not to grind your clit against the table. Still, your hips start to move uncontrollably.

Chuckling, he finally starts kneading your lower back, occasionally grazing the top of your cheeks, which isn't helping at all. You clench your fists, wrestling for control, when his finger starts playing at your cleft. Legs spreading even more, you hope to draw him further, but even if it doesn't work, the comparatively cool air feels so good against your heated flesh.

"Oh god," you moan as his strong hands caress and grip your ass. His fingers dip and play, dancing over your rosette, sneaking ever closer to your increasingly desperate hole. You suck in a gasp when he ghosts over your wet pussy... and let out a disappointed scream when he immediately pulls away.

Frustration has you flipping over to glare up at him, not caring one iota that you're flashing him. Laughter is his only response. "I'm sorry, Suezda moya, but I did need you to turn over for me." But the look he's dragging down your body tells you just how sorry he is, not at all.

Still glaring, you lay back, legs splayed. You're already so incredibly horny you feel no shame. Looking right at him, your hand slides over your hip, heading straight for your mound, but just before you reach your clit, a hand grips your wrist.

Zhuk's eyes blaze as he warns, "Careful, your pleasure is mine to give. Try to steal that from me again, and I will tie you down and make you regret it." Part of you wants to test him, but you know he still has more planned for tonight, and you don't want that effort to go to waste. “Do you understand?"

Nodding, you decide to push just a little. "Yes, sir."

Growling, he pulls you into a punishing kiss. He bites and tugs at your lips, stealing your breath. Pulling back, he groans, "Volshebnitsa," against your ear.

With a glare, he takes your shoulders and pushes you back, ordering you to stay with his eyes. You bite your lip as you silently debate whether to keep your eyes open and watch him, or if you should just lay back and enjoy what you know is coming. In the end, you decide to trust and just feel.

Just as he did with your back, he starts by coating you in the lotion, only this time, instead of starting at your extremities and working inward, he moves up your arms and down your body, only avoiding the spot between your legs. In fact, your mound is the only place he truly pays no attention to.

Starting at your feet, he pushes and prods, making your toes clench and release.

As he moves up your calfs, you relish the occasional catch of calluses. Teeth catch your lower lip as you try to hold in your whimpers, not that it does much good. Firm fingers kneading your inner thighs has gasps and moans breaking free.

You so desperately want to play with your nipples or maybe stroke your clit, but you won't risk getting in trouble. Not wanting to blatantly defy him, you subtly rub your thighs together. Strong hands immediately pry them apart again.

They slip and slide up your slick skin, tips digging, nails lightly grazing. He reaches around and grips your ass before having his hands follow your hips, thumbs brushing the creases between your thighs and mound. And then he's gone.

You surge up on your elbows, making sure he sees your grumpy pout. There is no remorse in his answering smirk, only a malicious gleam that tells you he's enjoying your reaction to his teasing.

Falling back as his hand travels up your stomach, you resign yourself to having to persevere through his torture. I will not let him win, you think to yourself, deciding to hold back your reactions to keep a hold of as much control as you can. Even as he very gently massages your stomach, the rest of you clenches. Your eyes squeeze shut, you set your jaw, and tense your shoulders.

Slow, deep chuckles fill the space. "Zaika, you wish to hide your reaction from me?" he asks, obviously not expecting an answer since he adds, "Challenge accepted."

Before you can analyze what he means, his hands are on you once again upon you, but this time it's no gentle tease. He twists and pulls on your nipples, making you fight not to respond. Then, something warm and wet closes over your right nipple. Your fight is lost as you let out a strangled gasp.

His eyes glint up at you and you feel his sharp teeth nibble on your hardened nub. The other is being pinched tight.

"Oh god," you gasp, one hand weaving through his hair, the other covering his pinching one. Your reaction has you wondering what exactly is in that oil, but honestly, you're far too horny to care.

"Zhuk, please! I need you!" the voice coming from you is completely unrecognizable.

He places a gentle peck on your nipple before standing and removing his shirt. You follow him up, catching him off guard when he frees his head and finds you undoing his pants. With his help, you have him completely naked in just seconds. Kneeling in front of him, you glance up, asking with your eyes if you can touch him. He gives you a small nod, so you reach out, hands slipping up his thighs. Muscles twitch as you explore them. His fingers tangle in your hair. Your hands slide over his hips to cup his ass, which brings your face very close to his cock.

Looking up, you watch his face as you very intentionally breathe on his member. His eyes are squeezed shut and jaw is clenched, making you feel like the most powerful woman in the world. One hand plays at his hip, the other teasing between the base of his shaft and his balls.

Moving close, you treat it like an ice cream cone, alternately swirling your tongue and suckling at the head. A constant growling hum reaches your ears, with several moans and groans letting you know how he's liking it. His grip in your hair grows tighter when you start to trail your tongue up and down his shaft, following the veins.

Spitting on both of your palms, you start pumping him with both fists and playing with the tip. Your tongue dips and explores at his slit, tasting him. As a quick surprise, you take him as deep as you can, sucking hard.

A sudden roar rips through the room, and you find yourself cradled in strong arms, being rushed somewhere new. Flinging open a door, you shriek when you're suddenly flying through the air. Before your back has fully settled on the soft bed, he's there; one hand playing with a nipple, the other wrapped around a thigh, holding you down, all while his tongue starts its own exploration.

Starting at your clit, he slowly circles it, listening, feeling, learning your spots. Whimpers and whines fly from you, helping him with his studies. Once he's figured out some tricks, he moves lower, starting to thrust into you with his tongue, tasting you. While he drinks his fill, his fingers dance over your little bundle of nerves.

"Ah, Ah, Ahh!" you cry out, already so close to release.

His tongue disappears, only to be replaced by his finger while his mouth latches on to clit, sucking, sending you into orbit. The pleasure of the orgasm is so intense you try to jerk away, but he holds you tight. There is nothing you can do but lay back and experience.

Zhuk finally slows, letting the orgasm ebb. As you begin to regain control of your body, you reach down and pull him up, well, he lets you pull him up.

"Please, Zhuk,” you pant, body still craving more. "I want you."

Nodding, he positions himself over you, but still he asks, "Are you sure, svezda moya? Do you want me to wear a condom?" The concern in his voice almost makes you cry, telling how much he already cares for you.

You shake your head, "No, you can't get me any more pregnant, and if I remember right, I was told y'all can't get 'human' diseases."

He chuckles and shakes his head, before kissing you softly. "Yes, zaika."

Wrapping your arms and legs around him, you press kisses across his jaw as he lines himself up with your entrance. His lips take yours as he starts thrusting forward. Unlike so many men who start with long, deep strokes, Zhuk is more tempered. His strokes are slow and shallow, exploring with his cock what he'd explored with his fingers and tongue just minutes earlier, and it's so effective.

There are no words that can truly explain what you are feeling in this moment. It's more than just the physical, which is admittedly spectacular. It's the connection that's quickly growing between you, which ties into the feelings you've already built with Scarabee. It's the way he's already shown such care to not only you, but to the baby, and all those animals back at the rescue.

You can't say you're surprised by your new, but intense emotions you are feeling towards him, even if they have come on so fast. It may not be love right now, but you can see how easily it will be to fall for him, for all of them.  

Finally, he starts to pick up pace, still not going very deep, but consistently rubbing your g-spot. His weight shifts and there's a finger on your clit, rubbing in small circles.

"Oh god," you moan into his mouth, hips moving to match his, consistent pressure on your clit, inside you, combine with the feel of him on top of you and the way he tastes, and you cum again, muscles clamping down as you scream out in pleasure. Thrusting harder and faster, Zhuk quickly follows you over the edge, murmuring in a mix of Russian and English. Hot sperm fills you, making you shudder.

Zhuk practically collapses on top of you, rolling and pulling you on top of him. You both take a long time to relax and calm back down, sweat cooling and drying on your skin. You lie there for what feels like an eternity, probably falling asleep for at least a few minutes.

Moaning in displeasure, you clutch him, not liking him sliding out from beneath you.

"Hush, little one," he cajoles, managing to break free. "I need to get something to clean you, and I need to cancel a few reservations."

Disappointment fills you, "I'm sorry. I-"

He cuts you off with a kiss. "Do not blame yourself. I was no passive participate and I am very happy with the turn tonight took. I will call us room service and will ask you to accompany me to the shower."

You tap your finger against your lips, as if in deep thought. "I think I can accept your terms, but I do worry that I might not have the strength to make it all the way to the shower."

Laughter babbles up when he hoists you up and whisks you away, taking you to be prepped for more to come.

@janitor-boy @1-rosewiththorns @doyouhearthatsound-after-dark @dilfyjuice

[chromecutie]

Not A Ghost - part 25

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Taglist: @emma-frxst  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @holamor ​  @empressme-bitch  @marvel-is-perfection  @hazilyimagine ​ @marvelhead17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash ​ @whitewitchdown ​ @master-sass-blast ​ @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen @emberbent @leo-writer . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

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“Mr. Pool, you were right about upgrading to a minivan,” a younger man with an Indian accent said after giving Piotr and Rhonda awkward greetings. “It fits your friends much better than my cab did.” Cheerful music played on the radio, possibly from a Bollywood movie. 

Wade answered from the front passenger seat, “With the stow-and-go seating, too! Good choice, Dopinder, you can fit so many more bodies in the trunk this way!” 

With Piotr in the second row of seats, Rhonda was in the very back, scrunched between the window and Cable. She asked under her breath, “How often are you dealing with bodies?”

“Not as much as I’d like to!” Wade called over his shoulder, face covered with his red mask. “What are you even doing here? Separation anxiety? Do you need one of those thunder vests they give nervous dogs?”

Piotr said, “She is, let’s say, emergency backup.” He turned in his seat as much as he could and offered his wife a half-smile.

In the seat next to Piotr, a woman with her hair pinned into something like a mohawk turned and said with a casual demeanor, “Wade is bad at introductions. I’m Domino. Hi.” The space in the van was too awkward to shake hands, but she waved and Rhonda returned the gesture.

“Rhonda,” she pointed loosely at Piotr’s steel shoulder. “His wife.”

“Yeah,” Domino had an easy smile like nothing ever bothered her. “I heard you busted out of the Icebox a few months back.”

She shrugged, “I didn’t ‘bust out’ so much as get lucky. We were in a transfer convoy, and they had us in these cases, right. Well, when the convoy got wrecked, my case got thrown around and busted enough that I could get out, so...here I am.”

“Transfer convoy?” Domino frowned, then laughed. “Oh my god! That was us, Wade, we were there! That’s twenty bucks you owe me.”

“Naaah, no, no, no, no,” he retorted, waving a finger, “That doesn’t sound like your luck powers to me--”

“How else would you explain it? We were there, I was lucking out at the top of my game to keep us alive, and your buddy’s wife, who we had no idea was there, just so happens to get free?” Domino’s hair bounced as she nodded her head and gestured emphatically.

“Or maaaaybeee,” Wade drawled, “luck had nothing to do with it and we’re just side characters in someone else’s story right now and--” 

“Uh-uh,” Domino insisted, “No. Do not launch into your whole conspiracy that we’re fictional characters, I cannot deal with that shit today.” She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms.

Rhonda leaned forward and whispered to Piotr, “[What the fuck is going on?]”

He turned his head and whispered in reply, “[Wade is strange and it’s best not to encourage him by asking a lot of questions.]”

Banter between Domino and Wade continued the rest of the drive. Every so often, Cable would roll his eyes and rumble, “Jesus,” next to Rhonda, or Piotr would admonish the others for their vulgar word choice. They ribbed each other, the way most teams will do in anticipation of a fight. It was a pattern sweetly familiar to Rhonda, and it was all she could do not to smile as she listened to their bickering. This wasn’t her team, as she had to consciously remind herself, but it felt surprisingly nice to be on the edge of it. 

Dopinder pulled into the truck stop, and parked near a row of eighteen-wheelers. This particular truck stop was some distance from any city and was nestled between the northbound and southbound sides of the interstate, rather than being set off to one side or the other. On the west and east side of the truck stop were a long row of parked eighteen-wheelers. A few of the trucks were unmarked, most were emblazoned with company logos, and one or two looked to be hauling a corrosive or flammable chemical. Between the rows of trucks were a McDonald’s to the south, diesel pumps to the north, and between were a large gas station and travel center with two dozen or so regular gas pumps.

In the central area, families were taking a rest in the middle of their road trips to tank up, get a late lunch, and restock on snacks. Wade and Domino hopped out of the minivan as if they were going to race to the gas pumps. Cable muttered a polite, “Excuse me,” to Rhonda as he grabbed his gear next to her and made his exit. 

Piotr stepped out of the car and leaned back in to give his wife a quick peck. “You will stay here?” he asked with a soft expression.

Rhonda bit her lip and nodded, confirming, “I will stay here.”

“Dopinder is good people. You can trust him.” He smiled and gave her one more kiss before he turned toward the parked trucks and gas pumps. Piotr squared his shoulders and stood at his full height, officially putting on his field duty face as Colossus. It was such a familiar image for Rhonda, and it tugged at her heart in ways she didn’t expect. As Colossus headed toward the rows of gas pumps, she called sternly after him, “Be careful!” 

Dopinder waited a whole minute in the tense silence of his car before speaking up, “Miss Rhonda, I’m going to get something at McDonald’s, do you want something?”

Rhonda’s gaze was locked onto the direction her husband had walked, even though she couldn’t see him after he disappeared behind a parked eighteen-wheeler. In the lengthening shadows of late afternoon, she thought she saw a shape move. “Do they still have the dollar menu?” she asked absently.

Dopinder returned with a chuckle, “Yes. I’m pretty sure if they ever got rid of that there would be riots!” 

“Maybe an apple pie or something?” she replied. “I’m not picky. Thanks...”

When Dopinder slipped out of the driver’s seat to walk over to the burger joint, Rhonda waited another minute or two until she was sure he wouldn’t see her. She left the car and headed toward the rows of parked trucks. 

She kept her stance loose as she walked, arms swinging at her sides, head high enough to look confident like she knew exactly where she was going. Row after row, she checked between the trucks, a feeling tugging at her that she would find what she was looking for on one of these rows.

Finally, she heard a pair of voices - both very deep, one with more gravelly grit to it than the other. Without making a sound, Rhonda crept between two trucks and ducked low enough to see two pairs of massive boots on the next row. One was definitely Colossus, and the other pair was even bigger. 

“I still owe ya for stickin’ a live power line up my ass, commie,” one voice grumbled with a simmering fury and a meaty cracking of knuckles.

A rich, deep Russian accent replied, “Pivet, Fuckernaut. You would not believe how hard it is to fix steel teeth.”

Almost two thousand pounds of muscle and steel squared off, ready to tear into each other. Rhonda sucked in a breath, hoping she was fast enough.

In her years as part of X-Men, Rhonda wasn’t the type to hesitate backing up an ally. Although she’d promised to stay out of the way on this mission, she had no intention of idly standing by. Before either of these massive men could take more than two steps toward each other, she rolled under the trailer that was between her and Colossus and the Juggernaut. Gritting her teeth against the asphalt scraping her bare arms, she scrambled to her feet between them. She threw her hands up and shot sparks from her fingers and shoulders, yelling, “Cain, wait!”

When the Juggernaut saw the familiar four-fingered hand, he hauled himself to a stop out of surprise more than anything; he barely managed to stop within arm’s reach of her. He wouldn’t have recognized her by the elaborate floral painting covering her arm, and her face wasn’t familiar to him since he’d only seen it once before, but that voice and that hand - he’d seen that hand hundreds of times as it passed him cups of pudding and half-eaten lunch trays. He’d seen the little stump scabbed over as it healed to a bright pink nub. That hand used to be so quick, darting in and out of the slot in his door, and over time it had grown slower and smoother as they had gotten used to each other.

“Rhonda, what are you doing?” Colossus had stopped within inches of his wife and was ready to yank her out of the way if it meant her safety. 

“Wait,” she was firm, harsher than she meant to be.

“X-Girlie,” The Juggernaut growled. “What’d I tell ya if I ever saw you wearing their colors again?”

Rhonda scoffed in her casual black leggings and purple tank top, “Do I look like I’m wearing their fucking colors?”

“Whaddaya want?” His hands were still in fists, raised at the right height to fling Rhonda against the trailers that flanked them.

She spoke slowly, clearly, loudly, making every syllable heard, “I want you. To take five steps back. And sit.” Without taking her eyes off Juggernaut, she angled her head slightly toward Colossus. “Both of you.” She shot a few small bolts of lightning upward as a warning shot.

Colossus started, “Rhonda, have you lost--”

She shot another bolt upward to silence her husband.

The Juggernaut briefly tightened his fists. “You got your juice back, huh?”

There was a tense few beats before Rhonda answered. “Not like it used to be, no,” she admitted, “But I can give you a few hundred volts of go-fuck-yourself if you don’t take five steps back and sit.”

“Hm,” the walking landmass of a man shifted his feet, then pointed, “Him first.”

Rhonda could feel his breath on her from behind. “Piotr, please. Five steps. Sit.”

Stunned, angry, confused, Colossus slowly took five begrudging steps backward, and lowered himself onto the pavement. He kept one hand on his knee and the other palm on the pavement, ready to spring back up at a second’s notice. “And now?” he asked.

“Cain,” she prompted.

The Juggernaut, with his hulking shoulders and huge helmet, matched Colossus in the begrudging slowness of his steps, before also planting himself on the concrete. “Now what?” he growled.

Rhonda didn’t lower her hands. She still had her right hand raised toward Juggernaut and her left pointed lower, toward the ground near her husband. She had never threatened her husband like this, or gotten between him and an enemy, and it had her so nervous she was shaking, desperately hoping it didn’t show. They could already hear gunfire from closer to the buildings, and civilians screaming. “We wait for the fight to fizzle out. We talk, if you feel like it. But mostly, you two sit your asses here and don’t fight.” Colossus said something to her in Russian, to which she replied, “And we don’t do anything underhanded like that either.”

The three were quiet for several minutes, listening to the sounds of Wade and Cable’s gunfire and the occasional explosion. 

The Juggernaut broke the silence, “So...looks like you made it home. Like I said before, you could always join the Brotherhood.”

She relaxed the sparks around her shoulders, but kept the ones emitting from her hands. “So they can use me as a political prop to say what horrible things regular humans do to poor innocent mutants?” She shook her head. “No thanks. The worst of what happened to me wasn’t even the humans and you know it - it was the other mutants.”

“All the same,” he replied, “you ever get sick of self-righteous assholes, you know who to find.”

“It won’t be you, Cain,” she softened, “Sorry.” Another silence. Colossus was seething. The Juggernaut was fidgeting.

“How’s that kid?” he asked.

She had to think a moment before Colossus prompted, “He means Russell.”

“Right,” she nodded once. “He lives at the house now. As far as I know...he’s doing okay.”

“And you, X-Girlie?” he shifted his legs and rested his forearms on his knees. “You put some weight on...looks good.”

Colossus interjected with a severe throat-clearing.

The Juggernaut rolled his eyes, hardly paying any mind and focusing on Rhonda. “How long until you could use your powers again?”

“Weeks,” she said flatly.

His helmet made a soft scraping sound as he shook his head, grunting. “Guess the collars hit you harder than some, huh.” There was a softness in his voice that most people would miss, but in their time talking in the Icebox, Rhonda had learned better.

“I never got to thank you,” she said. “I don’t think I would’ve made it home if you hadn’t helped me.”

He looked away from her, shifting uncomfortably and shrugging. “Those collars pop off like nothin’ if you know what you’re doin’.” He added in a quieter note, “I was just glad you weren’t dead.”

A heavy sigh came from behind Rhonda, and she turned to see Colossus getting to his feet. She started to protest, when he raised his palms and took two very slow steps toward her, then three, then four. “It was you? You took off her control collar when she escaped?”

“What about it?” Juggernaut retorted as if it was an insulting accusation.

Colossus took a hard look at his wife, her firm brow, strong stance, scraped arms, his painting partially peeling off her right arm, revealing the Xs underneath. The way she stood now, arms extended and firing sparks, was something he’d seen hundreds of times, but only ever directed at enemies. Seeing the worry and determination on her face, and the slightest tremble in her fingers, Colossus understood that she had no enemies here, just two people she cared about and wanted to keep them from ripping each other to pieces.

Staring down the Juggernaut, one of the most infamous mutants ever, Colossus said slowly, “I thought my wife had died years ago. You helped her when she needed it, and she came home.” Taking one more step, he held out his open right hand over Rhonda’s shoulder. “You are not my enemy today, and I will not fight you.”

Rhonda’s face softened and she let out a breath with relief. With one more look at the Juggernaut, she finally lowered both her hands. 

The helmeted behemoth laughed to himself, shaking his head. Taking his time to get to his feet, he sauntered to close the distance and clasped his rival’s hand. “Fine. Today. But next time, no promi--”

“ALL MUTANTS ON THE PREMISES,” a deafening megaphone rang out, “GET ON THE GROUND WITH YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD. THIS IS THE DEPARTMENT OF MUTANT CONTROL.”

[forever-rogue]

Words and Paper - Part VI

Summary: Y/N is a brilliant young lawyer who was hired by Tony Stark himself. She didn’t expect half of the things that would happened, but she was sure glad Bucky happened.

A/N: Sorry for the delay, fam! I’ve been busy with my law finals and holiday stuff and work and all that jazz. I hope this makes it better? Please enjoy and let me know if you’d like to be talked. PS: more holiday fluff is coming!

Word count: 2.1k

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: language, mentions of crime/criminal activity

MASTERLIST

PART I | PART II | PART III | PART IV | PART V | PART VII | PART VIII | PART IX | PART X | PART XI | PART XII | PART XIII

Y/N ran out of the tower and quickly hailed a cab, deciding that would be a lot faster than walking or running. Time was of the essence of course, just as Tony had told her. She subconsciously rolled her eyes as she mentally went over what to pack. She hadn’t ever been to Russia before, but she figured it would be cold, and that was something she was not excited about. One of the small joys of California living had always been having mild and temperate winters.

The cab stopped and pulled her out of her thoughts as the driver asked her for his money. She quickly pulled out a twenty dollar bill and shoved it at him as she headed out of the cab and into her building. She bounded over the stairs and started taking them as quickly as her legs would go, happy she didn’t live near the top half of the building.

Out of breathe and still pushing herself to go faster, she unlocked her apartment door and slammed it behind her, gasping when she saw Bucky sitting on her couch, Pickles fast asleep in his lap. His head whipped in her direction and he narrowed his eyes at her, surprised at her sudden reappearance.

“Bucky,” she said still out of breath, “you’re still here! Good.”

“Yes, I’m still here...but why are you? Shouldn’t you be at work?” He gently removed Pickles from his lap and placed her on the cushion next to him as he stood up and walked over to Y/N. Pickles cast him an annoyed glare before curling back up.

“Oh Buckaroo, I have to leave in a few hours. Tony told me to come home and pack,” she had already headed into her bedroom, Bucky trailing after her.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh-oh fuck, I’m probably not making any sense. I got into work this morning and Tony gave me a job. He said it’s important, and timing is important. I’ve got to head to Russia and help deal with issues with some citizens being detained,” she sighed and ran her hands over her face. She looked over at Bucky and saw his worried expression.

“He’s already making you do this? I don’t how good of an idea that is. Russia is dangerous, anything he’s going to be making you do like this will be dangerous,” he walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. He was not a fan of her leaving so suddenly, not knowing exactly what she was walking into.

“Tony chose me to do this. This is part of my job,” she grabbed one of his hands and held it tightly in hers, “it will be okay. I’ll probably only be gone a few days. Just as long as this takes and no more. I’ll be able to handle myself, trust me.”

“Y/N-”

“Bucky, I know this is hard for you, and I can understand why. But things don’t always have to end badly, and I promise this is not one of those times,” her words of reassurance did very little to ease his conscience. He bit his lip in order to keep himself from saying anything else negative.

“Okay...if you’re sure about this,” he leaned down and kissed the top of head, “promise me you’ll be careful. And that you’ll keep in touch. And you that won’t do anything even remotely dangerous.”

Y/N laughed a little bit, both amused at his over protectiveness and happy to know how much he cared about her, “I may be small, but trust me, I can take on anyone. But, Mr. Barnes, I’m glad to know you’re worried about me.”

“Someone has to be aware of your mortality, and apparently it’s not you,” he chuckled as she went back to attempting to pack quickly. She snorted at his comment.

Y/N pulled the zipper closed on her suitcase and sighed in relief. It hadn’t taken her nearly as long as she had anticipated. She had packed the warmest clothes she had and called it a day; she wasn’t sure how long she would be gone so she only grabbed a week’s worth of clothing. Bucky had provided very little help other than nodding or shaking his head at the clothes she held up as he laid on her bed.

She pulled the suitcase off of the bed and flopped down on the bed next to Bucky, trying to savor the little time she had left with him.

“I’m sorry for having to leave so suddenly, Buck,” she sighed and rolled on her side so she could face him. He mirrored her actions and looked deeply into her eyes. While he knew it was her choice to go, it was still not something he wanted her to do. He reached over and stroked her cheek for a moment.

“Me too, pretty girl. But you’ll be back soon, and it’ll be like you never even left,” she beamed at his words at his words as she leaned into him and kissed him hungrily. He smiled at her when they pulled for air after what seemed like an eternity, “I’ll miss being able to do that.”

“Oh my God, you drama queen,” she laughed as she smacked his arm, “I’ll miss you too though. Want to hear a fact?”

“Well, obviously, you owe me one,” he said softly as he ran his hand through her hair.

“I can’t wait to come back and finally….” she trailed off and a deep red blush set into her cheeks. She started giggling a little bit.

“And finally what?” He squinted her eyes at her as he processed what she was saying, “oh. OH. Well we don’t have to wait for that, you know.”

“Way to kill the mood, Buck,” she kissed him quickly, “but now you’ll have to wait for it.”

“I’d wait for you for however long you wanted,” he said in earnest, “my turn?”

“Mhmm,”

“Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, from the nightmares, I like to bake,” he buried his face in her pillow in embarrassment.

“Aww, that’s so cute. I mean not the reason behind the baking, but the baking. I better have some cupcakes waiting for me when I get back,” she poked his side and took a look at her watch. She sighed when she realized she had to head out., “shit, I’ve got to go.”

“Already?”

“Yeah,” she responded softly. They both got up and he grabbed her suitcase and followed her out the door.

He walked her out to the cab she hailed and put the suitcase in the back. She looked at him fondly as he said his goodbyes to her, “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes, with cupcakes please. I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay?”

“I’ll be on the lookout. Goodbye for now, Y/N,” he gave her one last kiss and she slid into her seat, Bucky closing the door after her. She held back a few tears as she mentally prepared herself for what was ahead.

Y/N loaded her stuff on the jet when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned around, expecting Tony, but was surprised to see Zach, holding a suitcase, approaching her.

“Hello Zach,” she said quietly, opting to tread lightly, after having seen him and his cohorts out last night, “what are you doing here?”

“I”m coming with you,” he flashed her his pearly whites, “didn’t Tony tell you?”

“Can’t say he did,” she said shortly, “I thought you worked strictly in finance?”

“I can work wherever I need to. I’m a sort of jack of all trades,” his response was short and snappy, “by the way, did you tell Tony who you’re dating? He might be interested to know.”

“Huh? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” her eyes widened as she stammered through her lie.

“Don’t try to lie. I saw you with him last night. The Winter Soldier? Really? That doesn’t like very good for you, does it? I mean, we all know what’s he done and what he’s capable of. A murderer and a lawyer, what a duo.”

“First of all, his name is James, and second of all what I do in my private life is just that - private. I suggest you don’t pry where you don’t need to,” she hissed at him and took a window seat far away from him. She hadn’t thought he would end up being someone she’d have to watch her back around, but alas he was.

“Sure, Y/N, I mean Dr. Y/L/N. Whatever you say,” he gave her a smirk as he took a seat opposite her. She rolled her eyes in disbelief at his ego.

Russia wasn’t much like she had pictured. It was definitely not the winter wonderland she had thought it to be based on the movies and shows she had seen. Instead, it was gray and overcast, rain threatening to break through the clouds and onto the crowded city streets. She rued not bringing an umbrella; much to her chagrin Zach had.

Once they had arrived in Moscow, they had been greeted by an emissary from the American Consulate.

“Dr. Y/L/N, Mr. Walsh, a pleasure. We’ve been expecting you,” a middle aged woman met them and stuck her hand out to them, “I’m Florence Hersh. I work here in Moscow at the US Consulate, protecting our citizens when they are away from home.”

“A pleasure,” Y/N gave her a warm smile as she lead them out to her car. Zach was less impressed, and opted to remain silent, eyebrow raised in annoyance.

When they were all settled in and on their way, Florence pulled out some briefing packets and gave them to the two lawyers, “these are the summons and charges that were served upon Rick Claflin and Anthony Williams. They are both being held in the prison in town. We have 2 days to answer and serve our response and establish a prima facie case to get them released. Otherwise they’ll be subject to Russian law, and if they were convicted of the crimes they are accused of, they’d likely end up dead. Something, we obviously want  to avoid. However, this is a case of them being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Are there experts bringing in evidence? Solid alibis? Witnesses?” Zach skimmed through the documents.

“Alibis are solid and we have plenty of witnesses to support their story. However,” Florence sighed, “evidence seems to be seems to be conveniently disappearing whenever we get access to it.”

“You think there’s some sort of outside influence? Like what? Or who?” Y/N narrowed her eyes as she realized this might be more than she bargained for.

“We’re not 100% sure yet, but if there is some kind of interference it might be KGB related. It’s too early to tell, but the experts are working on it,” Zach and Y/N looked at each other in shock. Definitely not what they thought they were getting into.

“Oh. What would they be trying to get scapegoats for?” Y/N asked quietly as she read over the charges.

“Drug smuggling. Murder of Parliament members. Sex trafficking,” Florence was very matter of fact, but Y/N was getting more nervous by the second. She could see why Bucky was reluctant for her to go. Suddenly she was too.

“When do we begin?” Zach was already trying to formulate a game plan on preparing pleadings and trying to free the two men.

“I’d say right about now,” Florence gestured out of the window as the large and ornate consulate building came into view.

“Alright, I guess this is where the fun begins,” Y/N let out a long exhale as they exited the car.

She did say she was ready for anything and had wanted a challenge. And this would be quite the challenge.

Y/N felt her phone buzzing in her pocket and fished it out. She said it was a text from Bucky asking her if they had gotten there safely. She read it, deciding to respond later and put the phone back into her pocket without a second thought.

Taglist: @sebstanwassup @ladyabby-1996 @bookaddic @jems8241 @ruinerofcheese @supernatural508 @courtneychicken @nerissa98

[letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked]

Accidents Happen (Episode 3/?)

Peter Parker x Pregnant!Reader

A/N: Wow, I am on a goddamn roll with this series! I’ve spoiled you guys, today! LOL! You guys are lucky my class was cancelled! I have a full day of classes, tomorrow, so we shall see when part 4 comes out. I’ll keep you updated!

Warnings: Teen pregnancy, swearing (why is this even a warning?), bullying, etc…

Masterlist

 Accidents Happen Masterlist

You didn’t want to stay in the apartment, alone.

You had texted peter, asking him to come home, and he replied that he was staying at Ned’s – needing some space. You texted Michelle with no response. Aunt May had to leave, having gotten called in for a night shift. You couldn’t go back to your apartment, because of your mother…

Natasha.

You had your own suite at the tower, too, but you didn’t want to be alone. You needed someone to be with you. Natasha had become one of your very few friends, in the short time that you had known her. She liked to make jokes that you were the little sister she never asked for, but loved immensely. You didn’t quite want to tell her about your little… okay, pretty fucking big pickle – just, yet. You just wanted a nice, relaxing evening with Natasha – and Wanda, if she wasn’t busy.

You grabbed your cellphone, a sweatshirt of Peter’s, and your bags. When you reached the ground level of the building, you used your phone to request an Uber to come pick you up, then called Natasha.

“Hey, Pechen’ye,” Natasha answered, calling you her little nickname for you: Cookie. You still don’t know why she calls you cookie. “How are you? Steve said you were sick, today.”

“No, I’m fine. It’s passed.” You lied, “I’m actually staying at the tower, tonight. I wanted to know if you and Wanda were free to come watch some Netflix with me?”

“Yeah! Wanda is gone, but I just have some training to finish with Barnes and Sam, if you want to come? We’ll be in the gym. We could binge after?”

“I’ll meet you in there. See you soon.” You hung up your phone, hoping that she didn’t catch any weird vibes from your call. It’s Natasha. Of course she already knows something is up. You were surprised that she didn’t hack into your medical records, figuring out what was wrong. Or maybe she did, already, and just wants you to tell her? Not happening. Not for a while.

Your Uber took forever to get to the tower, and tried to hit on you twice. You were, also, 95% certain that you saw Peter swinging around, on your way to the tower. You shot him a small text: I can see you. I’m headed to the tower to hang out with Natasha and Wanda. May went to work. See you tomorrow?

He never responded. You figured he wouldn’t. You should have known that he wouldn’t go to Ned’s. Whatever.

When you got to the gym, Bucky and Sam were arguing. Natasha was just stretching on the side of the main sparring mats, watching them with an annoyed look on her face.

“What are they arguing about?” You asked, dropping your bags to the ground and stretching with her.

“Who won the spar. I called it a draw. I wanted to see if they would fight about it, and what would happen.” She smirked, looking over to me, “Straighten your back, if you’re going to stretch. Do you want to train?”

No. I’m pregnant. “I’m good. I just want to relax, tonight. My body healed itself from whatever I was sick with, and it took a lot out of me.” Don’t catch the lie, don’t catch the lie…

“Why did you even go to the doctors?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at you, “You always come see Cho if you are worried about something, or think your powers healed you from being sick.”

“Cho’s out of town.” Not a lie. “I’ll talk to Cho when she gets back.”

“You’re lying to me.” Nat stopped stretching, “Something is happening. What’s going on with you?”

You didn’t realize that the boys had stopped arguing and were now listening in. You huffed, laying back against the mats as Bucky came over to stand by your feet. “Steve thinks you’re pregnant.”

You shot up, “What?!” You stared at him. “Why would he think that?”

“Because you went to the doctors, and had to come talk to Peter – then, Peter looked upset all day.” He shrugged, “You’re not that sneaky, and it doesn’t take a scientist to figure something like that out. Plus, the look you just gave me sort of confirmed it.”

“You’re pregnant?” Natasha shouted, hopping up from the mat. “What the hell, Y/n! We have been training! And you’re sixteen! You are too young for a baby!” She started swearing in Russian.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Nat.” You sighed, standing up and grabbing your bags, “Are you having a relaxing night with me, or not? I just want to b-be fucking normal tonight, okay?” Your voice had cracked, and tears started to blind your vision. “Just for tonight, okay? We can talk about it, tomorrow.”

She looked over at Bucky and Sam, who weren’t saying anything. Then, she let out a deep breath she had been holding, “Okay. We can talk about it, later.” She marched over and took your bags from you, “But we stay in my room, tonight.”

____

“Shit.” You looked around for your school bag. “Nat, I think I left my backpack at Peter’s.”

“He dropped it off, already.” She called out from the bathroom, where she was brushing her teeth, “It’s by the door.”

Oh. You looked at your phone, which had been sitting on the nightstand, and checked to see if he had texted you or called you. Nothing. Still.

You swallowed down the nausea that had been building, along with your anxiety. Were you supposed to act normal at school, today? Were you still going to act like a couple? Were you still a couple? He only said he wanted space – not that he wanted to break up.

Will he break up with you?

That did it.

You ran into Nat’s bathroom, throwing up in the toilet while she brushed her teeth.

“Don’t brush your teeth, use mouth wash. I heard it grinds the acids into your teeth.” She said, handing you the bottle when you were done. “Also, I think you should move out of your mom’s apartment.”

“Nat.” You shook your head, “I can’t. I’m only sixteen.”

“Oh, please.” She waved her hand dismissively, “You know that Stark could get you emancipated in a heartbeat.”

“I’ll think about it.” You rinsed your mouth out after the mouthwash, and gathered your school stuff, “Hopefully today is just an easy, peaceful day.”

Oh how wrong you were…

You were running late, so you didn’t get to eat, again. Plus, you felt exhausted.

Then, the cab driver couldn’t break the hundred that Tony had given you for your ride, so you had to run into a cafe – still on the meter. Then, Flash Thompson was standing by the front doors to the school and said something rude as you walked in – dampening your mood further.

Finally standing at your locker, you ripped your coat off and shoved it on the hook, forcefully.

Peter still hadn’t talked to you. You understood he wanted time and space, but you weren’t used to not talking to him. You’d always had him as someone you could talk to at any time, even before you two had started dating.

You didn’t like this. Not one bit. It was stressing you the hell out.

“Hey, stranger.” Michelle was suddenly next to you, “I take it you feel better? You were obviously sick, yesterday. You never miss.”

“Yeah,” You carded a hand through your hair, clearing your throat. “I’m fine. Just tired, still. Hey, have you seen Peter?”

“He’s at his locker, talking with Ned, like he always is before class.” She laughed, giving you a funny look. “You sure you’re okay? You don’t look too good. You look a little sweaty and pale. Are you still sick?”

You shook your head, putting on a fake smile, “Must be left over from yesterday. Let’s go.”

She linked her arm through yours, pulling you towards Peter’s locker – where the boys looked to be in a serious discussion.

“H-hey, Y/n.” Ned cut Peter off, putting on a fake smile. “How are you this morning?”

“Fine.” You smiled, feeling awkward. Peter was facing away from you, looking like he would rather be anywhere but next to you. You cleared your throat, and fought off a wave of exhaustion. You tried to talk to him, “Hey.”

Michelle looked between you and Peter as he ignored you, “What’s going on? Are you two fighting?”

Peter slammed his locker shut, making you jump a little. He walked away without so much as a glance your way, and you felt tears fall down your cheeks as your heart broke a little more.

“Excuse me.” You mumbled, wiping your face and walking towards an empty hallway. The bell had rung a few seconds after you found a spot, but Michelle had followed you, anyways.

“Y/n, what the hell is going on?” She asked, looking around to make sure the two of you were really alone. “Are you two really fighting? You two never really fight. More like bicker. Almost like an elderly married couple. It’s sickening, really. Although, I guess it was bound to happen-”

“Michelle.” You cut her off, shaking your head. You wiped your face with the sleeves of your – well, Peter’s – sweatshirt. “Please?”

“Wow.” She frowned, setting her backpack down on the floor, “It must be serious. What happened?”

You shook your head, “We fucked up. Really bad.” She motioned for you to continue, handing you a tissue from her backpack. “I wasn’t here, yesterday, because I went to the clinic.” You gulped. “I went to Planned Parenthood.”

Her face turned to one of shock, “Are you…?”

You nodded, “I’m around twelve weeks pregnant.”

“Holy…shit.” Michelle dropped down to the floor, leaning her back against the wall, “When did you guys…?”

“Back in October.” You chuckled at her grossed-out expression, “After I went to band camp, and I’d slept over at Peter’s again.”

“Oh, wow. That’s way before you guys actually started dating.” She shivered in mock (or maybe real?) disgust. “That was around the time that you two started getting all touchy feely. More than usual.”

“Yeah. That was the only time we had sex, though.” You sighed, “Now, look at us.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I have no fucking idea.” You sat down next to her, leaning your head against her shoulder, “He’s mad at me, because we agreed on aborting. Then, I changed my mind without talking it out with him. I sort of just went all protective and told him that my decision was final.”

“It’s your body, Y/n. It’s ultimately your choice.” She argued, “He doesn’t have a say if you do or you don’t have this baby.”

“It’s his life, too.” You tried to defend him, “This is his baby, too. It may be my choice, but it’s also his.”

“Y/n.” She grabbed my hand, “I’m not here to tell you what to do, but I think that you and Peter need to sit down together and really talk about this. If he isn’t talking to you, he’s probably just panicking because he thought that you two had it figured out – then, you didn’t. He’ll come around.”

“I hope so.” You closed your eyes, tiredly gripping her hand tighter. “I miss him.”

___

“Oh, no.” You whispered, staring at your phone in the hallway, a few hours later.

Flash fucking Thompson tagged you in a tweet.

“Pretty sure I just heard @Y/n say that she was PREGNANT?! WTF!”

Shit. He heard you talking to Michelle in the hallway.

Every 4-letter word you could think of was on repeat in your mind.

People were staring at you. That had been tweeted about an hour previous. Meaning, people had definitely saw it. There were comments, retweets, and replies.

You shut your phone off in a panic, scanning the hallway for Peter. You didn’t see him, and ran for the front doors, pushing people out of your way as you went.

“Hey! Y/n!” You hear Flash just before you see him standing in front of the exit. “So, are you really knocked up?” A crowd was gathering. “That’s a shame. Looks like you’re going to end up just like your momma.” He laughed, and so did the stupid little crowd of assholes. “Just make sure to lay off the hard drugs, you don’t want to lose your looks. What little looks you did have.” He smirked, gesturing to your body.

“Fuck off, Flash.” You were about to go the fuck off. Your heart was racing, you felt cold, you needed to sit down. “Let me leave.”

“Naw. I think I’ll just-”

You didn’t let him finish before you flew forward and hooked him right in the jaw. You didn’t stay for the aftermath of your punch, before you were running out the doors and into the city. You needed to think. You needed to go home. To your own apartment. Where nobody would bug you, and your mom was most likely passed out.

No such luck.

You ran into the apartment, ready to break down, when you suddenly heard a shatter next to your head. “What the fuck, Mom! Did you just throw a bottle at me?!”

“Are you fucking knocked up, you stupid little bitch?” She yelled, slurring and taking a chug from a different bottle, “Fucking Susie Q, or whatever - some fucking chipper lady called from Planned Parenthood. Said that they couldn’t get a hold of your cellphone and that you forgot some papers.”

Shit. You should have never put your home phone number on the form. “I am.”

“Stupid piece of fucking shit!” She threw another bottle towards me, “Didn’t I teach you anything when I told you all about the birds and the bees? Are you too fucking stupid to comprehend contraception? What am I paying that fucking fancy school of yours for, anyways?”

“You don’t pay them, Mom.” She threw another bottle at you. “Where the fuck are you getting all these bottles, you psycho! Stop! Mom! Stop!” She kept throwing them, getting closer and closer to you. A burst of pain radiated from the side of your head as one knocked you right in the temple. “Mom! Please!” You raised your shaking hand to your head. It came away sticky with blood.

You ran from the apartment, blood dripping from the cut above your eyebrow.

Fuck. What the hell.

You called Peter, but only got his voicemail.

“P-peter? It’s me.” Your voice cracked as a sob racked through your body, “I’m headed to the tower, can we please talk? I just tried to go to my apartment, and m-my mom threw a f-fucking bottle at my head. I’m bl-bleeding. Please. I- Shit.” You dropped your phone, hearing the phone’s screen crack against the sidewalk as you collided with a giant man on the street. “I’m sorry, sir.” He grumbled and kept walking. Great. Phone’s shattered.

The walk to the tower was long. You usually took an Uber or a cab, but you had left your wallet in your purse. Which was still in your locker. Along with your coat.

Shit you were cold. Really fucking cold.

It took you forty-five minutes to get to the tower, because you had to stop and catch your breath. Why am I breathing so hard? Your head was still pounding from the bottle, but you were sure that the blood had stopped running down your face. Fuck, you felt dizzy. You needed to work out, more. Jesus.

“Miss Y/L/N?” Ed, the security guard, was suddenly in front of you. When the hell did you get to the tower? Weren’t you just on a park bench? “Miss, you’re bleeding.”

“I-I…” You heard an alarm go off. What? What was the alarm? You looked around and people were standing above you. How the hell did you get to the floor? Weren’t you just talking to Ed? “Why a-am I on the…”

Darkness washed over your vision as you passed out.

Episode 4

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[ekultanraine]

Bloody  Knuckles (Rating R) August Walker/OFC

Warnings: Sex and violence (is there any other way with Walker?)

“Whisper all the naughty things you want to do to me, Mr.Walker,” she murmured into his ear, he closed his eyes as he felt her warm breath tickle his skin and reopened them as she pulled away, her hand still on his inner thigh.

“Baby girl, you can’t even imagine the things I want to do to you,” he remarked, sliding a hand behind her neck and she smiled at him, leaning closer. He pressed his lips firmly against hers and she moaned into his mouth, causing his cock to stir. 

“Let me go freshen up and we’ll go,” she promised and he released his hold on her, watching as her hips swayed as she made her way through the crowd. His eyes quickly moved to a man that had been leaning against the bar, the man’s eyes were on her and he followed through the crowd. August’s jaw flexed but he let it alone, she knew how to handle herself. 

It was twenty minutes later and she hadn’t returned yet, he pulled himself off the couch. He quickly moved through the crowd, his eyes on the bathroom and leaned against the door, listening quietly. He heard her voice, it was distressed and he abruptly pushed through the door, finding her against the wall. The bald man held her in place with a hand around his neck and another man stood with a gun pointed at her, they both looked over their shoulders at the entry.

“Ah, August Walker, we were wondering when you’d finally show up,” the bald man hissed and August’s eyes went to her, she held his gaze. She made it known between them that she was ready when he was and he looked back at the bald man. “I thought you would’ve been quicker to protect your lady friend here,” he grunted in his thick Russian accent and August studied him. The man was short but his muscles made up for everything else, the gun the other held looked like it shook slightly. It was clear this was one of the first missions for his friend and it would only play in August’s favor. 

“I think you underestimate my lady friend,” he snarled and the Russian began to laugh but her knee was swift, slamming into his crotch. He grabbed at it, groaning in pain and let her go. She was quick with her other knee, giving a good jab to his chin and he fell backwards towards August, who had a left hook ready. The fluid and well versed dance between August and her turned him on even more. She knew where to step, where to hit and where to avoid so she wouldn’t get in his way. He had a moment to watch her in action and god she was fucking gorgeous. 

“Who sent you!” August demanded, a foot on the Russian’s throat and he gurgled, August let up slightly. He looked back over his shoulder as he heard a crack and saw the other man go through the bathroom stall door, falling to the floor. She tossed her black hair over her shoulder and looked back at August, a triumphant smile on her face.

<<>>

Once they gained the information, it was obvious they would be going back to their hotel suite and she couldn’t keep her hands off him in the taxi to the hotel, sitting in his lap. She unbuttoned his shirt, sliding her hands beneath the fabric and rubbing it over his hairy chest, kissing down his neck. He saw the cab driver peering at the rear view mirror but quickly looked away when he caught sight of August’s glare. 

The cab pulled up to the hotel, August threw money at the man and took her hand as she led him through the lobby, his shirt still unbuttoned. She slammed her finger against the elevator button and it slid open, everything seemed to listen to her command, including his cock that was twitching at every touch she gave him. She pulled him into the elevator and as the doors slid shut, she slammed him into the back wall with her lips against his. He dug his fingers into her voluptuous ass and she groaned into the kiss, the heat between them was intense. The doors slid open to their penthouse suite and she pulled him out, shoving him down onto the red couch. 

She straddled him, digging her fingers into his brown curls and kissed him passionately, grinding her hips into his crotch. His hand reached beneath her to unbuckle his belt but she shook her head.

“No, not here,” she commanded and pulled him off the couch again, he growled. “Patience, Mr. Walker,” she warned, a smirk over her shoulder and opened the glass doors to the balcony, turning to him. She reached back, unzipping her gorgeous silver dress and it fell around her ankles, his eyes widened taking in her naked body. 

“Fuck,” he muttered and she grinned at him, reaching out for his hand. She pulled him against her and he kissed her hungrily, biting at her bottom lip as he pulled away. She reached down to undo his belt, unzip his pants but he slid to his knees before her, her eyes lit up as he pushed apart her tan thighs. 

His face buried itself between her legs, his tongue darted out and he hummed against her lips at her sweet taste, closing his eyes in absolute delight. She moaned, leaning her head back and leaning against the glass railing, tossing her hair over the edge. He continued to eat her out, feeling her thighs quivering on his face but he wanted more, he thrust his tongue into her pussy. She moaned loudly, her knuckles turning white as they gripped the railing and with one last long lick to her pussy, he stood up. She growled and her green eyes, heavy with lust, turned on him angrily. 

“Patience, Mrs. Walker,” he warned with a teasing smiled, unbuckling his pants letting them as well as his boxer briefs drop to the ground. She turned so her breasts hung over the railing and he admired her round ass, slapping it. She yelped and he grinned, spreading her cheeks. He slammed his cock deep inside her, just as she liked and she groaned loudly, he leaned against her. He bit her shoulder and she moaned again.

“Fuck,” she grunted and he smiled, kissing her neck. Her hair was scooped to one side, giving him plenty of access and he reached around, pinching her nipples. She moaned and wriggled her ass, causing him to growl in pleasure. He thrust in and out of her, hungrily demanding her as well as his release. Her moans told him how close she was and he quickened his pace, knowing she liked it hard as she came. He slammed into her, a hand on her shoulder and she cried out in pleasure, he moaned as he spurted inside her. He pulled out of her, stumbling back into the red arm chair on the balcony and she turned, breathing heavily. He admired her large breasts as they moved up and down with each breath. “I told you I wouldn’t be a liability on your missions,” she said, smiling at him and he laughed.

“No, I just have to deal with the erection when we fight,” he stated and she laughed now.

“Not such a bad thing, is it?” she asked and he smiled, shaking his head as he studied her. She was gorgeous and he was a damn lucky man to be married to her. 

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

130lb of Ukrainian Courage (pt 7)

The drive is mostly silent. Yevgeny asks if they will see Grandpa another time and his mother says she is not sure. Svetlana texts Terry and tells him they will get an ice cream for Yevgeny and wait by the swings. Mickey says nothing. He is thinking, planning and bargaining with God and the Devil simultaneously to please, please let Ian be alright.

He made Ian stay home. He wouldn’t let him come to the park. If Terry is there, if shit is already going down, then that is on Mickey. If Ian is dead it is Mickey’s fault. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

He speeds through a red lights and weaves in and out of traffic, ignoring angry horns and the screech of brakes as other drivers try to avoid collision. Svetlana gives him a side-on look but she wisely chooses not to say anything. A  taxi cuts in front of them two streets away from the Alibi and Mickey slams his own brakes on and exits his silence spectacularly, letting fly a string of threats and curses which are creative even by his standards and leave him breathless and trembling.

Yevgeny sniffles in the back seat, the noise is like nails down a chalk board against Mickey’s raw nerves and he shoots his son an angry glance in the rear-view mirror.

“What? I wasn’t yelling at you. What the fuck you crying for?”

“Sorry Papa.”

Svetlana is keeping her eyes on the road ahead and that in itself tells Mickey that he must look fuckin’ deranged because normally she would kick his ass for raising his voice at Yevgeny like that.

Yev sniffs again and Mickey bites the insides of his cheeks hard.

The kid is clearly frightened and Mickey doesn’t blame him. As far as Yev knows, they were going for a day at the park and now all of as sudden his father seems to have lost his fucking mind and is screaming things that no seven year old should hear at random cab drivers.

Mickey closes his eyes and desperately tries to form a reassuring sentence for his child amid the chaos of his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, man. I’m not mad at you and I shouldn’t have yelled.”

He pulls in outside the Alibi and Yev unbuckles himself before the car has fully stopped, lurching forward to throw his arms around Mickey’s neck, squeezing him tightly.

“Sorry you didn’t get to see your Dad, Papa.”

“Psssh. It don’t matter bud, I got to see you and that’s way better.”

Mickey forces a smile into his voice but detaches the kid swiftly and nods to the door.

“Go ahead, Yev. I’ll see you later.”

Svetlana helps Yevgeny out of the car and then grips Mickey’s shoulder

“I will settle Yevgeny and be there.”

“No. Stay with the kid.”

“I will be there.”

Svetlana repeats.

Mickey doesn’t have time to argue. He simply repeats his order to stay with Yev and slams his foot back onto the gas pedal, speeding away.

*

Mickey parks around the corner and takes the back alley toward his home. The curtains are drawn and that tells Mickey everything he needs to know. He shrugs off his jacket and leaves it on the ground, he doesn’t need anything that might hinder his movements. He sprints across their yard, picking up an empty Jack Daniels bottle and gripping it by the neck, heedless of the rain water that trickles out, soaking into his jeans.

He peers in through the kitchen window and his grip on the bottle tightens. The house is a state, it looks like it has been robbed.

The back door is unlocked and he eases his way in as quietly as he can, ears straining. The TV is on, far louder than Ian would ever listen to it. It is there to cover other sounds. Fine. That means Ian is most likely still alive and Mickey clings to that thought for all he is worth.

His heart is thudding painfully in his chest but his mind is becoming clearer by the second as his survival instinct clicks into place.

Mickey takes a steadying breath at the foot of the stairs. There is a familiar smell that is so foreign in their home, he can’t place it but it makes him think twice about his weapon and he puts the bottle down, drawing his gun carefully. He thumbs the safety catch and begins to edge his way up the steps, keeping his back to the wall and looking over his shoulder frequently. The hair on the back of his neck is standing up stiffly. Mickey is fucking terrified. The smell he could not identify before is stronger now. Blood. He realises he can smell fresh blood and all caution leaves him.

“IAN? IAN WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

He kicks the bathroom door open, then Yev’s door and finally the bedroom he shares with Ian. The door hits something behind it and slams back in Mickey’s face but not before he has seen Ian, his hands bound roughly behind his back, slumped over the end of the bed, his face hidden in the comforter, knees buckled and bowed.

Mickey opens the door again, more cautiously this time, preparing himself to confront the nightmares spilling out of his head, bleeding into the fabric of reality and tarnishing everything with the colour of sorrow.  

“Ian?”

Mickey kneels beside the bed and runs a trembling hand over Ian’s shoulder, down his bare back. Slowly, Ian lifts his head from the blanket and by some miracle Mickey manages to force himself not to react. His fingers are steady as he pushes the hair back from Ian’s forehead and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Mick?”

“You’re okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

Mickey mumbles, unsure of which of them he is trying to reassure most. There is a knife on the bed and Mickey picks it up, standing and moving behind Ian, hacking at the rope around his wrists, careful not to nick the chapped, pale skin beneath.

“I knew you’d come.”

Ian is smiling, delirious and too far toward unconsciousness to feel much and Mickey silently thanks whatever God or fuckin’ spaceman is up there for it.

Mickey averts his eyes as he carefully helps Ian into a pair of sweatpants and tugs them up his legs, covering him.

“We’re getting you out of here, come on.”

Mickey doesn’t ask him where Terry is, it doesn’t matter. He’ll be back soon if he isn’t already lurking somewhere in the house. It doesn’t fucking matter. Mickey can’t explain the feeling that has settled around him, he just knows with an absolute certainty that Ian is safe now, because Mickey has him and he will never let his father hurt him again.

“He said you don’t love me. He said I’m a disease, that I’m rotting you.”

Ian mumbles, tears slipping out of his bloodshot eyes, turning pink as they slip over his blood stained cheeks. Mickey half lifts, half drags Ian upright. Ian needs to talk, he’s concussed or some shit, but he doesn’t need Mickey’s answers, they will come later. He doubts Ian would hear them now anyway.

“I bit him. I think I broke his finger.”

“Good.”

Mickey nods, that explains Ian’s face but it doesn’t excuse it. Nothing can excuse any of this. No amount of miseducation, fear of the unknown or ingrained bigoted belief can ever excuse any of this.

“I think he went to get a bandage.”

Ian wobbles and sways into Mickey who tucks his gun into the back of his pants and sweeps Ian up into his arms, taking the stairs sideways, careful not to bump Ian’s head. Ian finally slips into unconsciousness and he goes completely limp in Mickey’s arms. Mickey’s back protests the strain but he barely registers it. They’re nearly there. Mickey can see the door and he sets his teeth in his lip taking the last few steps as quickly as he can.

The back door opens as Mickey and Ian get to the bottom of the stairs.

Terry’s lip curls upwards and he shakes his head, running a heavily bandaged hand over his face with a groan of frustration.

“Can that God damned Russian whore do nothing I fuckin’ ask?”

Mickey has his arms full of Ian, his gun pressing heavy and useless against his back, and in that particular moment, as he sets eyes on the man who has done this to Ian, it is the only thing that spares Terry Milkovich’s worthless life.

“Turn around and walk away or I will fuckin’ kill you.”

Mickey’s voice is flat and emotionless but his eyes burn into his father’s with a hatred that gives Terry a small thrill to behold.

“Because I broke your toy?”

Mickey begins walking backward to the front door, he just needs to get Ian out, the rest will unfold as it will, but he needs to get Ian away first.

“You didn’t break shit. He’s gonna be fine.”

Terry presses his tongue into the inside of his grizzled cheek and smirks at Mickey, his eyes shining with malicious glee at the way his son is cradling the larger man to his chest. It’s almost too fuckin’ easy.

“Makes some funny fuckin’ sounds, don’t he?”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth.”

Mickey backs into the edge of the sofa and nearly unbalances himself but keeps moving. Terry is coming towards him, slowly. It is a familiar game.

Terry could rush him, knock them all to the ground and fight from the dirt, he’s used to it and he out-weighs Mickey by close to a hundred pounds. Prison has made him fat, and meaner than ever. But no. Terry Milkovich likes obedience, control and fear.

Mickey is jiggling Ian now trying to wake him. He’s going to have to put him down because he is going to have to fight and he has never fought Terry and won before. He’s tried once, at the Alibi when he came out, but Mickey knows if the police hadn’t arrived he would probably have been killed.

Ian groans and his eyes flutter slightly and Mickey huffs a sharp breath down onto his face, urging him to hurry up.

Ian blinks as Terry rolls his neck and Mickey makes a decision. He bundles Ian over the back of the sofa and charges before his father knows what is coming, slamming bodily into him, his forehead splitting the skin above Terry’s cheekbone.

“Little fucker!”

Terry grabs at him as they crash to the floor, one hand locked around Mickey’s throat until the impact of their fall separates them. Mickey rolls away as his father’s fist slams the spot his head had been moments before. He pulls the gun from his pants but Terry seizes the back of his head and drags his face sharply down again his knee. There is a crack and a flash of blinding pain as Mickey’s nose breaks beneath Terry’s then all thought leaves him. He is screaming words that he will never remember, fighting not just for his life but for the vengeance Ian cannot take. Giving back as many wrongs that Terry has visited upon his lover’s body as he can with all the violence Mickey has within him.

He hits Terry with the butt of the gun, a dull, thudding blow that would end a less experienced fighter. They grapple for possession of the weapon and Mickey cries out as his father briefly crushes his knuckle between his teeth.

Father and son lock eyes Mickey is panting, sweat drips from his messy hair, mingling with the blood smeared across his face. Terry’s left eye is almost completely swollen shut and one of his front teeth is chipped.

“… I’ll kill him … ruined you … that Fucking faggot ...”

Terry is raving at him through his breathless rage and the gun is trapped between them as they struggle, shoulder to shoulder. Mickey is holding on for all he is worth as the barrel becomes slick with blood from their mangled hands.

“Fuck you … better man than you … don’t fuckin’ touch him.”

Mickey grunts, dimly aware that in this moment, his guttural snarling is identical to his father’s. They are speaking with one voice and two completely different hearts and Mickey has to win this time. Mickey has to win.

But Terry is strong and his weight is gradually sliding Mickey’s feet back across the floor, pushing him aside. The barrel aims wildly around the room and Mickey yanks furiously backwards, trying to stop it pointing in Ian’s direction.

“NO! NOT HIM!”

Mickey heaves his shoulder against his father’s huge bulk, knocking him back a couple of steps but Terry recovers quickly and manages to wrap a hand in Mickey’s hair, twisting his neck back and throwing him to the floor. Mickey convulses as a boot catches the centre of his chest. He can’t get up, can’t breathe and Terry is turning toward Ian, the gun in his hand trembling but loaded and Mickey throws out a pleading hand, forcing himself to his knees, choking through his bitten and bloody lips, three desperate words that he has been saying for as long as he has known how to speak.

“Dad, please don’t ...”

Mickey will never know why his plea gave Terry pause this time when it so seldom has before but his father hesitates for a split second, finger lightly resting on the trigger, aiming at Ian’s head.

A shot explodes in the small room, deafening in it’s nearness and both men freeze. Mickey hunches over reflexively, holding his hands halfway to his ears, eyes wide with shock as Terry slumps to the floor, the front of his shirt turning sticky crimson.

“Shit.”

Terry whispers before collapsing face first in front of his youngest son.

Mickey stares at him, mouth working silently for a few seconds and then his eyes flick upwards. Svetlana is standing in the doorway, her arms still outstretched, clutching Mickey’s old Ruger in a steady, double handed grip that he taught her himself.

“We need to go.”

She says giving Mickey a weird sense of De ja Vu that almost makes him laugh. Shock has always taken him that way, he laughs at the smallest fucking thing. At school it got him into so much fucking trouble. He once got kicked out of English cause they were reading some love story and two guys kissed and the shock of it made him laugh until he couldn’t breathe and Mr Waldrick thought he was being an asshole.

Mickey blinks. Why the fuck is he thinking about Mr Waldrick right now? The laughter bubbles up again but it comes out as a weird sob and Svetlana moves forward, bending down to slap his cheek firmly.

“I have friends, we will take care of this. Get Ian to a hospital.”

Ian!

Mickey does a sort of staggered crawl toward the sofa. Ian is out of it, most likely the result of his own shock and trauma. Mickey glances at Svetlana but she is speaking in rapid Russian into her phone and not looking at him at all. His face is throbbing viciously and he is pretty sure a rib is broken but he has driven with worse injuries before.

Somehow he get’s Ian out of the house and manages to lay him across the back seats of his car. He doesn’t try to buckle him in, Mickey’s whole body is shaking like a leaf and he will need to drive slowly anyway.

Mickey begins to cry as he drives, his shoulders shaking silently as tears soak into the collar of his shirt. He is thinking of Ian. Of Terry. Of Svetlana and Yevgeny.

“I love you. And I am so fucking sorry.”

He doesn’t know exactly who the words are for, maybe for one maybe for all, but it doesn’t matter because besides him, no one can hear them anyway.  

They make it to the hospital, Mickey hails a couple of paramedics to carry Ian inside, he simply cannot lift him. He follows them into the ER and waits by Ian’s stretcher, stroking his hair and cleaning a little of the blood from his face with the hem of his shirt. Ian’s lip quirks upwards in a sweet half smile that he sometimes has when he is on the edge of sleep and Mickey touches him just  right and Mickey bends, placing a chaste kiss against the dimple it creates.

He closes his eyes and leans back against the cold, white wall waiting for a doctor, one hand resting protectively on Ian’s shoulder.

*

Ian wakes beneath the bright lights of the hospital. His head is pounding and his face feels as though the skin is stretched too tight. He blinks and breathes and glances down the bed. A familiar dark head is resting on folded arms, one bandaged hand resting on Ian’s covered thigh.

Ian reaches down the bed, his fingers don’t quite make it and when he tries to lean forward a series of sharp pains from across his body stop him.

He must have made a sound because Mickey stirs and blinks up at him uncomprehendingly before pushing himself upright and rubbing the sleep hastily from his bruised eyes, wincing as his fingers brush against his nose.

“Hey! How you doin’?”

“Sore … Mick, what happened to you? We were going to the park … no wait … you were… Did you get in an accident?”

Mickey sits gently on the edge of the bed, reaching out to cup the back of Ian’s head gently

“I’m fine, it’s just a couple bumps and bruises.”

“Why don’t I remember anything?”

Ian is looking up him desperately, his eyes flicking across Mickey’s face trying to read him with endless shades of perfect green. They hadn’t been sure the left eye could be saved but they managed it and Mickey had actually hugged the doctor when she had told him.

“You will. It’s just the meds they got you on. Everything is fine. I promise.”

Ian is clutching Mickey’s shirt but he nods, trusting his words completely.

“Will you lie with me?”

He asks softly and Mickey smiles, kicking off his boots. Ian goes to try and scooch over but Mickey stops him, not wanting him to cause any unexpected shoots of pain.

“It’s fine, I got loads of room.”

He squeezes himself between Ian and the guardrail, sliding down so that they are eye to eye.

“Is Yevgeny alright? I don’t remember ...”

“Yev is fine. He came by earlier but you were asleep. He’ll be back after soccer.”

“Soccer is a waste. He’ll never get a soccer scholarship.”

Ian mumbles and Mickey smiles wetly at him, dashing a hand under his eyes and laughing

“We got plenty of time to worry about college. Let him get through second grade, huh?”

“You always say that.”

“You always fuss.”

Ian smiles broadly, relaxing into the familiar rhythm of a conversation he remembers without any effort and kisses the tip of Mickey’s nose.

“We’ll get him there though right? I don’t want him to struggle like we did.”

“He won’t.”

Mickey trails his thumb under the worst of Ian’s cuts, it is just beside his chin but already a fine smattering of red gold stubble is burying it.

“You’d look good with a beard.”

“You looked like shit with yours.”

“Hey!”

Mickey shows Ian the back of his hand but is laughing as he does so. It is another familiar routine and Ian nestles into Mickey’s chest with a grateful sigh.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

Mickey wraps his arms around Ian and kisses his forehead fiercely

“And I ain’t going anywhere.”

[peculiarmindset]

perhaps Yuri P and Otabek both getting bloated from dinner, and once they're home they make a competition out of seeing who has the most gas. Yuri probably starts stretching to get his farts out

Hohoho…I haven’t written for this pairing yet. And like I’ve said before- I do love contests ;)

Yuri groaned as he held his stomach.

“Are you alright, Yuri?” Otabek asked with a worried expression on his usually stoic face.

They were currently taking a taxi back to the hotel they were staying at. Much to the the sixteen year old’s glee, he managed to convince Yakov to let him share his room with a certain Kazakh figure skater.

The duo had gone for dinner and Yuri might have overindulged a little on the restaurant’s many tapa dishes (Yalov and Lilia were going to kill him tomorrow at his free skate).

Yuri let out another groan as he cradled his bloated stomach. “Nah, I think I ate too much of those chorizo-things. Ahh…I can’t wait to get back to our room.” He grumbled.

Otabek nodded as he gave the blond a short pat on the back, cheering the other up slightly.

When they were outside their hotel room, Yuri fiddled with the card key a few times before the stupid door finally buzzed open.

“Fucking finally!” Yuri spat in Russian as he rushed into the room.

As soon as the front door clicked closed, a loud fart echoed inside the room.

Ppppppppprrrrtttttt!

Yuri spun around and looked at the source of where the fart had come from (because it sure didn’t come out of his own ass). “Otabek!” He called out in shock.

The Kazakh teen blushed a light pink but his expression remained as stoic as normal as he merely gave a shrug. “Excuse me. I’ve been holding it in since the cab ride- I think it was the shrimps.”

Just as the last words left his mouth, Otabek’s eyes widened when Yuri immediately let out a fart of his own.

Bbbrrrrrrrtpppttttt!

“Ah! Damn that felt good!” Yuri sighed in relief, fanning his backside with his hand. “I also been holding that sucker in since the ride here- didn’t want to blast out you and the driver with my ass.” The Russian teen grinned.

Otabek snorted but grinned back at the other. “How considerate of you then.”

Letting out another fart, shorter this time, Yuri smirked. “You bet I am.”

The two friends spent the rest of the night talking stories with one another as they channel surfed to see what was worth watching.

But throughout the night, both of the boys kept letting out farts here and there and soon enough the smell in the room was so bad that it made them almost gag by how rancid the stench was.

Bbbbbbrrrrrrtttt!

“Damn, Beka.” Yuri whistled, impressed by that last fart.

“You’re one to talk, Yuri.” Otabek pointed out when the other let out a zipper-like fart right after.

After a few more gas emissions, the friends started to make a contest out of their farts- whoever can let out the loudest fart wins.

Bbbbbrrrrraaaapppp!

“Oh come one, is that the best you can do?” Yuri mocked.

Otabek raised an eyebrow at the other from where he stayed lying on his bed. “At least I don’t have to be in a weird pose to get anything out.” He pointed out.

Yuri huffed as he adjusted his balance. He was currently on his hands and knees on the floor, his position reminding Otabek of an alert guard dog.

Ppppppprrrrtttttt!

Pfffffffttttttt!

Yuri groaned when he heard Otabek’s last pitiful-sounding fart. “Come on, Beka! Are you even trying?!” He yelled at the other.

Otabek blinked as he moved onto his side, still on his bed, and actively pushed out a louder fart this time.

Bbbbrrrrrrrrtttttttttttt!

Yuri grinned as he shifted himself so he was on his hands and feet with his butt sticking out. “Better. You know that I’ve always hated easy competition.”

The next few farts from them both were getting longer and louder by the second.

Now that Otabek was finally treating the contest seriously, the battle between the two was as fierce as any of their skating competitions.

Whereas Otabek stayed on his bed and only needed to shift his body slightly- to put one leg up or to move onto his side- Yuri on the other hand had to stretch his body out into various yoga poses to get his gas to come out.

Phhhllbbbbtttt!

Otabek sighed as that last fart left him- it was a bit wet, but the feeling it left in his gut was very relieving. He made a mental note to never eat at that Spanish restaurant again. His stomach and nose just couldn’t take it.

Yuri was now lying back straight in the ground, in a prone position. Taking in a deep breath, the blond gave out an audible grunt.

Bbbbbrrrrrrrrrrrrtttttttttttttttttt!

Otabek clapped at that one. “It wasn’t very loud but it was the longest one yet.” He complimented the other.

Yuri grinned as he changed into another position, this time pulling his knees up until it touched his chest. He was really having fun doing this.

BRRRRAAaaaapppp….

Otabek tsked a bit as his fart had started off quite loudly before quickly getting softer. If only it had stayed the same, then he would have definitely won.

BbbbbbBBbrrRrrttTtT!…

Yuri’s gasped as the fart that came out of him had a mixture of both quiet and loud sounds. ‘Dammit’ he thought angrily to himself.

PPPPPPRRRTTTT!

Otabek panted. His fart was a bit louder but it still wasn’t enough. He looked down to check on his friend and the sight that greeted him made him snort before he broke down in quiet chuckles (and for someone like Otabek, that was pretty much the same as breaking down, crying tears of laughter).

Yuri heard the kazakh’s laughter and merely flipped him off before focusing on letting his gas out. This was it. He could just FEEL it!

And if he had to be on his knees, folded in half, arms laid straight on the floor as he bent all the way down so his freaking forehead touched the damn ground in front of him…well, Otabek can laugh all he fucking wants. Stupid poses or not, Yuri was gonna win this no matter what!

Taking a deep breath, Yuri pushed with all his might.

BRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPP!

Both boys gasped when Yuri let out the longest, smelliest, wettest and most importantly, the most loudest fart ever.

Otabek covered his nose as soon as the gut-rotting stench hit his nostrils. “Whoa, Yuri.” Otabek whistled, the bottom half of his face covered by his blanket. “I surrender. You are the Ultimate Fart Master.” He even gave a little bow to the other as a show of respect.

The winning fart left Yuri breathless as the young Russian was now out of his pose with his body pretty much splayed on top the ground, feeling completely exhausted but satisfied at the moment.

And to his friend’s declaration, all Yuri could do was to let out a tiny, almost pitiful squeaky fart as his answering reply.

Prrrt!

Hell yeah, he was the Fart Master.

And may Otabek never forget it.

[thisisnothowidie]

can you write my a daredevil preference? I've had a really bad day and your work cheers me up :) I don't have anything in mind and I wouldn't mind having any ideas that you don't know where to put. Thank you.

How about a quick one shot about getting a flat tire (and its totally not cause I got a flat tire today and had to wait around for 4 hours for someone to come fix it for me. Not at all) Matt reajusted in his seat for the fifth time in the last 10 minutes. They had been in the back of this cab for two hours already and he was getting antsy. Foggy who was sitting beside him wasnt doing much better, and Matts constant wiggling around wasn't helping.Foggy leaned forward in his seat opening the partion in the cheap plastic partition in the cab. "Excuse me mr. Uhhh.." "Anatoly." The driver provided. "Right, Anatoly how mich longer doesnt the gps say?' Anatoly glanced at the gps, proped up on his radiator. "45 minutes.' "Thanks.' Foggy said falling back in his seat. Cursing his parents for moving out of the city. Matt groaned next to him. "Car sick?" Foggy asked hoping that wasnt the case. "Hey, he better not vomit in my car.' Anatoly said narrowing his eyes at Matt in the rearview mirror. "Im not going to throwup." Matt said grudgingly. "I just dont like driving so long." Anatoly watched him for a moment longer, still unsure before his eyes flicked back onto the road. Matt sighed rubbing the bridge of his nose. Just as he did, the cab drove over a bump, cauing Matt to fly a few inches off his seat and hit his head. Foggy cursed as the same thing happened to him. Antoly frowned. "That is not good." Toly muttered,listening to his car. "It was just a bump, no harm done." Foggy said before Matt could make a sarcastic comment. "No, I think... we have a flat.' Anatoly said pulling onto the side if the high way. "You have to be kidding me.' Matt deadpaned. "Is not problem, I have spare in trunk.' "Oh good, i'll help.' Foggy said. Anatoly nodded, turing the car off. Foggy moved to climb over Matt to get out so he didn't have to open the door into oncoming traffic. "What is happening?' Matt said confused, as Foggy climbed into his lap. "I dont want to step out into a car." Foggy said, rolling his eyes. "Thats a lie you make like six comments a day about how your going to walk in front of a miving car.' "For the money Matt, not for death.... naybe for a month off if work. But not death!" Matt rolled his eyes and shoved at Foggy to get off his lap, "just fix the tire." "Yes, your majesty.' Foggy said in a fake posh accent and got iut if the car. Anatoly was already standing at the trunk, staring down into it, eyebrows frowed. "What?' Foggy asked walking around seeing the empty trunk. "Этот сукин сын" "Sorry what?" Anatoly looked at him."someone took my tire." ".....shit.' "Very shit."Foggy placed his hands on the back of his head. "Well what now?" "I will call my brother, he will bring us spare.' "How long is that going to take." "Fatser than a tow truck, besides all the garages will be closed abd i can no drive all the way back on donut.' Foggy sighed "fine you call your brother, i'll tell Matt what is going on.'Anatoly nodded and Foggy went back into the car. The sun was starting to set over the tree tops. "Move over princess.' Foggy said. "What's going on?" Matt asked sliddibg over in the seat. "We have to wait for someone to bring a tire.' Foggy said taking his phone out to call his mom and tell her they were going to be a bit late. "What?" Matt groaned "how long is that going to take?""I dont know, another hours... two..." "What!? Come on can't your mom vome pick us up?" "The sun is setting, and she can't drive in the dark." "What about your dad?' Matt asked as Foggy put the phone to his ear. "He can't drive on the high wa-hey mom, we ran into som3le car troubles so we are gonna be a little late... yeah... yeah... i know... yeah... yeah... yeah... i love you too.... yeah... okay... yeah... bye.. love you too... bye.' Foggy hung up. "What did she say?' "Shes going to save some dinner for us and make up the guest room." Foggy flanced up as Anatoly slid into the front seat. "My идиот brother is on his way." Anatoly said. Matt and Foggy nodded. "So we wait.' "да. We wait.' The car fell to slince. The first 15 minutes: Anatoly was laying across the front seats, picking at his nails, the dlince filling the car welas defining. "....so... you two are uh... the gay?" He asked. Matt blushed brightly "what?!" Figgy laughed loudly. "да. We are the gay." "Hes kidding." Matt said. "Oh." Anatoly said sitting up to peak over at them "so you are not the gay?' "Hes totaly gay for me.' Foggy said.Matt blushed "im not." "He is." Foggy mouthed. Half an hour in: "It is not wrong to be gay." Anatoly said, h3 had somehow managed to flip his body all the way around. "I know i am Russian and people think Russian is very not the gay. But it us okay.' "I know its okay.' Matt said "but we are just friends.' "Okay." 45 minutes in: "Can we please turn the ac on." Foggy said "i am dying back here." Toly sighed "да. Fine.' He turned the car on."Thank you." Foggy breathed a sigh if relif.55 minutes in: Matts stomach growled loudly. Foggy chuckled "hungry?" "I was saving my appitate for your moms cooking." "Mom's always have the best cooking.' Anatoly confirmed from the front. "Especially my mom." Foggy said, with a smile. Anatoly sighed and muttered in russian about how he missed his mother. "You know you voukd always come in and have a bite once we get there." Foggy said "think you've earned that." "Is okay." Anatoly said. "I keep Cheetos in glove compartment.' "Ill give you 20 bucks for the chettos." "What do I need 20 deer for?" Anatoly asked confused. "He means dollars.' Said Foggy. "Oh.... well then yes, i will accept your dont 20 bucks.' Anatoly said opened the glove boc and pulled out a new bag of chettos tossing them into the back. "Foggy give me 20 bucks.' 1 hour in: "Matt your fingers are all orange.""Well i ate chettos foggy." "I know. Cause you slapped my hand when i tried to eat one." Matt shurgged, licking off his fingers. 1 hour 10 minutes in: "The stars are pretty.' Anatoly said. "Want to get out and look?' "Ill go." Matt said seriously. Foggy snorted. "What is funny?" Anatoly said. "Well i don't think Matt can really appreciate the stars.' Foggy said. "Oh." Anatoly blushed "sorry.' 1 hour 30 minutes in: Anatoly was pacing outside the car, on the phone. "VLADOMIR WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!" he yelled at his brother, getting sick of waiting. "WEll i dont care.... dont you dare.... this is why mom loved me most... yes she did... she did... yeah well you sucked your thumb till you were 12!... oh yes I am going there!... just get here, already." Matt looked over at Foggy inside the car "russian is such a beautiful language.' 1 hour 45 in: "Do either of you have sibiling?" Anatoly asked. "No, only child.' Matt said. "I have a half sister but she is like 20 tears older.' Foggy said. Anatoly nodded. "Being the oldest sucks.' 1 hour 55 minutes in: Vlad pulled up behind his brothers car, still grumbling about their phone call. He jumped out of the car, walking over to the cab. "Is he here?' Matt said hearing tires stretch and a door slam. "Yup." Anatoly said. "Come help me." Anatopy shouted feom outside the car. "Ill be right back.' Anatoly said getting out. "Hello little brother.' He said getting out. "Hello piece of shit.' Vlad said. "Where is the tire?' "My backseat.' He said, getting on his knees to jack the car up. Anatoly nodded going over to his brother car. He paused seeing an empty caton of ice cream and spoon in the passenger seat. "....did you stop for ice cream?' "да." He grunted. "Why?" "I needed some emotional supposrt after you screamed at me.' "You are such a loser.' He laughed grabbing the tire. "I do all this to help you and this is how you treat me.' "You were sitting at home... probably eating ice cream." "I had things going on.' "Like what?' "Big things." Vlad said, holding his hand out for the tire. Anatoly handed it ovwr, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, thanks for coming i guess." Vlad bent down to finish up the tire. "You are welcome.' He muttered. "Got it?" "да. Is done.' Anatply grinned "thank fucking god." He walked around to tell the boys there were good to go."What do you want me to do?" Vlad asked him "... you can follow behind or go back whatever you want.' Vlad nodded, going to walk back to his car. Anatoly sat in thw drivers seat "and we are!" He went to start to car, only to freeze with his hand on the key " out of gas...." "What!?" Matt cried. "How!?" "I turned it on to use the air conditioning!" "So its your fault!" Matt axcused foggy. "What!? No its not!" Anaroly sighed and leabed out the window "VLAD!" He cried to his brother, who was looking ready to drive out. Vlad sighed and leaned out his window "what!?" Anatoly sighed and got out to get over to explain. "I hate you." Matt muttered to foggy. "Are we breaking up?" Foggy said deadpan. "After all the years i put into you. Please " matt scoffed. Foggy rolled his eyes. Anatoly walked back over. "My brother is giving us a ride.' He said. The two frowned "fine, whatever gets us there.' Matt said. Foggy nodded, getting out.Vlad was waiting in his car, a frown on his face. (His personal car Toly!) Matt and foggy got into the back "we really appreciate this." Foggy said. "Yeah. Yeah." Vlad grumbled "i pick the radio." "...okay.' Anatoly rolled his eyes. Giving him the address to Foggy's mothers house.

[artificialqueens]

Cherry Bomb (Katlaska)- Squeaky

Brian and Justin go from professional drag queens to wing men. It gets out of control.

It had started like all of Brian’s best ideas did- after a bottle of beers, two shots, and three swigs of whiskey.

“I’m tired.”

“How can you be tired when you haven’t done anything all day?” Justin said with that smirk. That smirk. The one that made Brian want to punch him in the face.

“No, I’m…tired of this- this thing,” Brian slurred and moved his hands out to gesture at everything and nothing.

“Hm?” Justin murmured as he turned to check his phone.

Brian childishly swiped the phone away: “Pay attention to me, Jus’n.”

“Okay, you fucking pain in my anus. I’m listening,” Justin sighed and leaned down to rest his head on his hands, “What exactly are you tired of?”

Brian leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “The game.”

“Drag Race?”

“No, dumb-ass. I’ll never get tired of Drag Race. I’m tired of the whole pretentious-ass game of picking up trade, pretending to be sexy and normal to get men to put their dick in me. Like having a cock wedged up my anal cavity is some kind of treat.”

Justin rolled his eyes, “Is that what this is all about? Just because you haven’t gotten laid in a month doesn’t mean that you need to take it out on me.”

“Got laid last week.”

“With who? That blonde midget?”

“He gave good head.”

“Honestly, the less time that I spend thinking about your libido, Brian, the happier I’ll be.”

“Don’t roll your eyes- I’m fucking serious. Dead. Fucking. Serious. The chase of the game and the mediocre-ness and the mess and the morning after? It’s not worth it to me. I feel like I’ve over-sex-saturated my senses and now it’s just all, like, whatever. A bleh blob.”

“Did Brian Mccook just tell me that sex wasn’t worth it? Maybe you’ve had a little too much to drink for tonight.”

“Think about it though…all this dick chasing has gone stale. The dicks are bread, and I’m done collecting salty crumbs,” Brian said and dramatically tipped back his bottle to lick out the last drop. Justin grabbed the bottle from him and helped him get his ass into an Uber. Brian sent him off with a sloppy kiss on the cheek and urged him to “think about it.”

——————-

That should have been the end of it. Just a drunken ramble born from his usual inebriation and gone by the morning light. Brian didn’t think about it until he rolled out of bed and his phone rang.

“‘Ello?”

“You know. I was up all night, and I think…I think you were on to something!”

“Huh?” Brian blinked and held the phone away from his ringing ears. All he could remember from last night was downing shots and Justin rolling his eyes. Oh, and that insufferable smirk. Everything else was a pleasant blur.

“I think that the game has gotten stale. It’s all the same build up with an inevitable let down.”

“Uh huh,” Brian yawned as he went to brush his teeth. His mouth tasted like how goat sex looked. Bad.

“So why don’t we spice it up? Put a twist on the game?”

“Russian roulette?”

“Kinda. I have to find you the perfect guy, and you have to find me the perfect guy. Deal? First one to find the other a boyfriend wins.”

Brian laughed with a mouth full of toothpaste: “‘Ow tha’s fooking genius!”

“Loser has to suck the winner’s dick?”

He spit and wiped his mouth. “I like the way your twisted mind works. Let’s do it tonight.”

——–

Brian ran a hand over his bare chest, as Justin flipped through his shirts. They’d decided to dress each other up. Brian had quickly picked out a pink button down for Justin with a pair of slacks. Yet, here Brian was, still languishing away on his apartment bed. He looped his fingers and tugged at his jeans-

“If you wanted to lose this bet and just suck me off, Lasky, all you had to do was ask.”

“I’m working on winning it, but your boy wardrobe leaves a lot to be desired,” Justin snapped as he threw a Hawaiian mumu at his face. Brian pretended to strangle himself in it.

Finally, Justin pulled out a black shirt that read simply ‘Carpe Diem,’ which he didn’t remember owning. Brian pulled it on and wrinkled his face at how tight it was. When he raised his hands, the black material rode up to reveal his white stomach.

“Doesn’t fit.”

Justin smoothed down his shirt, fingers lingering: “Fits perfectly.”

Brian’s stomach twisted a little as he looked down at Justin’s fingertips and how they looked splayed across him. He was already getting horny, for some reason, and they hadn’t even left for the club. This low simmering state of semi arousal made it hard to concentrate. In the cab, Justin pressed up close, and Brian leaned in even closer, so he was practically plastered to the older boy’s side. Brian was happy to glance down and see that Justin was just as flustered as him.

“See something you like, Lasky?” Brian teased as he leaned in, slight stubble brushing against Justin’s soft shoulder.

“We’re not even there yet. How can I see anything but your annoying ass?”

Brian only giggled as he playfully reached down and pressed the heel of his hand to Justin’s crotch: “Seem flustered.”

Justin groaned and roughly pushed him towards the other side of the cab. It quickly turned into a tickle fight in the back seat that left Brian more excited than he’d started. The cab driver watched them through the mirror as Brian straddled Justin and tried to pin down his hands. The cab jumped, and Justin pushed him off.

Justin’s hair was sticking to his forehead, and Brian snickered as they stumbled out the cab, side by side, and flicked his fringe. The humid LA night made him glad for his own buzz cut.

“You look pretty gay.”

Justin rolled his eyes: “No, really? Did the fact that we’re walking into a gay bar give it away? Or maybe how hard we got from our hetero-no-homo tickle fight.”

“I’m a growing boy,” Brian teased. “I get hard from anything. What’s your excuse?”

“Mhm.”

“But it’s true, Lasky,” he continued over the beat of the club music as they wove their way through the crowd. It must have been Hawaiian night because Brian had already spotted ten guys dressed like Maui and one like Lilo.

“How about Mr. Tan-line in the corner? He give you anything to get hard over?”

Brian ordered a cocktail, and, not looking away from Justin’s insufferable smirk, slowly nodded. He should be paying attention to the dance floor, but Justin’s hair was distracting. Brian reached up to push back his fringe and Justin let him, leaning ever so slightly into his touch.

It was like a back and forth game of ping pong as they sent each other to different corners. Each guy that Justin picked up for him was even better than the last. They all had soft eyes and easy smiles, but Brian found himself making excuse after excuse to get back to Justin. They were all too tall, too small, too thin, too thick…too much…but also not enough.

“You’re being picky,” Justin huffed as he slung his hand over Brian’s shoulder. He leaned into his side and just shrugged. The fringe had flopped back, and Brian reached up to push it back into place. Justin slapped his fingers away with a rough order of ‘concentrate.’

“Hey! Maybe I’m just holding out for Prince Charming. Need me a man like that to come sweep me off my feet. Someone with a sense of humor…soft…but a bit of a freak.”

“Sounds like you wanna fuck yourself,” Justin teased as he looped his hands around Brian’s chest and tugged him closer. They were weirdly spooning now. Actually, was it considered spooning if you weren’t lying down? Whatever, they were doing some gay ass shit that Brian didn’t know how to explain. All he knew was that he didn’t have eyes for anybody on the dance floor.

Justin squeezed him: “How come I haven’t seen you trying all night? Given up already I see. Seems like you’re pretty desperate to get on your knees for me- hoping to pleasure your reigning queen?”

“Nah, I just know someone perfect for you,” Brian said as he twisted around, so his chin was resting on Justin’s chest. He looked up at him through his thick rimmed glasses.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, she’s got long, blonde hair…always keeps ‘em coming back for more…kind of a high class, Russian whore-”

“Bitch!”

He leaned up on his tippy toes, so his lips were right by Justin’s ear: “I hear she’s a scorching hot mess in a skin tight dress.”

Justin’s hands settled on the curve of his back, right above where his shirt rode up. Brian leaned in, so the hard line of their chests were pressed up together. He could feel the heat of Justin’s breathe curl around his neck. Goosebumps.

“Sounds like my type. Does she put out?”

“For the right price,” Brian promised, switching his voice so it was huskier. He realized to the untrained eye right now they must look like a couple. To the trained eye….no, they probably still looked like a couple of married fags, Brian realized.

“How much you think it’d cost to buy her mouth?” Justin murmured, and his voice had gone from teasing to something else. Those large hands settled over his ass, and Brian whimpered a little as they squeezed him through the denim of his jeans.  

“10,000 dollars…”

“Via paypal?”

“No, I prefer cash. Or credit.”

Brian gasped as he felt Justin’s leg pressed up in between his own. He was painfully hard now, and, whatever game this was, he needed to keep on playing. Brian experimentally ran his hand through Justin’s hair and dragged him down by the roots for a peck. He waited for some shocking revelation, but it was just a kiss. Maybe he should try again? So Brian pressed in closer and tasted the vodka still on his lips. He felt Justin’s cock twitch against his thigh as he took control of the kiss. 

Brian let go for a breathe of air, and he was pleased to see that Justin’s eyes were just as dark as his, pupils overblown with desire. Fuck, Brian bit his lip, he wanted to taste him.

“But I haven’t found you Prince Charming,” Justin weakly protested as Brian tugged him towards the bathroom stall by his wrist.

“You win. I lose,” Brian said as he pushed Justin into the bathroom stall. Click. Justin pulled him in by the scruff of his black shirt and kissed him. Fuck, Brian wouldn’t mind just slowly rutting off against his leg, like a horny animal.

“Oh, that’s new, huh?” Justin taunted. “You losing to me?”

Brian roughly squeezed Justin through his denim jeans. He was so firm. God, the feel of him in his hands made his mouth water. 

“Listen, ‘Lasky, you want this blowjob or you want a slap?”

“Kinky.”

Then Brian was down on his knees, tugging down Alaska’s slacks. He bit his lip when he saw the ‘ALASKA’ underpants. What kind of marketing genius? Brian pressed a kiss to the thin boxers, and Justin throbbed against his lips. When Brian looked up at him, Justin smirked down at him.

“You look kinda gay like that.”

Brian groaned, and his jeans were too tight. He felt a bead of precum drip down Justin’s boxers as he massaged him through the material. Brian sucked him through the fabric just so he could see how sinful Justin’s cock looked straining against his boxers. 

He treasured every moan that he stole from Justin’s lips. He knew those sounds would find him in his wet dreams, and Brian whimpered as he sucked down, cheeks hallowing. 

“Stop teasing,” Justin pleaded, and Brian loved the hint of desperation in his voice. The door opened, and Brian knew how he must look like down on his knees. 

He pulled down Justin’s boxers and just held him there. Justin whimpered as he swirled his thumb over the slick skin and slowly pumped down his hard length. Brian twisted his hand as he pulled up, just like how he liked it himself, and Justin’s knees buckled.

Then he was back at it, with his wrapped his lips around him. Brian bobbed to the beat of the music. He could tell by Alaska’s sharp breathe that he was pushing him closer to the edge.

“A-ah, Brian!”

He held him there and swallowed up every last drop. He licked him clean, loving how wrecked that Justin sounded.

“Is that how you play a wing man?” Justin laughed as he pulled Brian up for a kiss. “Didn’t know it came with complimentary blow jobs. I’ve been doing it wrong all these years.”

“Yeah, how about a new game? Let’s pretend to date until one of us catches feelings.”

“You’re a crazy, bitch, you know that, Brian?“ 

"You love it.”

“Fuck, I do.”

[ecotone99]

[AA] Keep the Change Kid

WARNING: Contains swearing and sexual references.

Introduction: This is a chapter from a mostly finished novel I wrote 10 years ago. Time restrictions and especially a huge amount of editing yet to be done have prevented me from completing the project, though I do fully intend to finish it before my time on planet Earth is up, which may well be sooner than I would prefer. At any rate, the plot of the novel is as follows; after shooting Condoleeza Rice (remember her?) in the head with a sniper rifle, a lone and expert assassin is being hunted by the dark forces of one government or another. These hunters are led by an individual going by the cover-name of “Mom”. Mom is a British ex-secret service operative with SAS and a “diplomatic” background in South-east Asia, among other locales. He is a very tough and capable individual (picture someone like the actor, Charles Dance, perhaps best known for playing Tywin Lannister in Game of Thrones). He employs a band of Russian/Chechen ex-military/FSB operatives, particular in their capacity for violence and ruthlessness. The assassin they are hunting is a young half Asian/half Caucasian woman of exceptional beauty and grace, as well as cold-blooded focus and precision in the trade she has assumed for herself. She goes by the cognomen of “The Angel of Death”. A tacky cliche of a name to be sure, but this was not intended to be permanent, but rather only a working handle for her as I developed the plot. She is being protected by a type of guardian angel named Aidan. Aidan is a wise-cracking smart-ass type, unique in that he was brought back from the dead by the “Heavenly Powers That Be” (whomsoever those might be), for the express purpose of protecting the life of our lovely assassin.

The novel’s plot is set in and around Vancouver, British Columbia during the unfortunate reign of George W. Bush, one of my favourite whipping boys at the time. This chapter (and the following one) deals with one of Mom’s operatives named Anton. Anton is a hapless Russian of limited intelligence and unlimited violence. On orders from Mom he is trailing a couple travelling north from Vancouver on the way to Pemberton BC in a pick-up truck during a lengthy and ferocious summer storm. Anton thinks this couple are the assassin and her guardian angel Mom and his crew have been tasked to take out. He will discover many things during this long, stormy night and the following day.

If any readers of this story indicate a desire to read the next chapter in this drama, please comment to that effect and I will post that under the title of “For Morons Like You” forthwith.

Hope you enjoy the read. Cheers, Popeye Le Pew.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

‘Come on ya prick… hurry-up fer chrissakes… I'm gettin soaked here, eh!?’, a woman’s raspy voice, punctuated by a burst of desperate, phlegmy coughing, calls out in the night.

‘Yeah, yeah. Keep yer friggin panties on will ya, I gotta piss’, a man’s booze-slurred voice barks back.

Anton, lost deep in a dream of perplexing dimension, is rudely awakened from an uneasy sleep by the loud drunken voices just outside his Pathfinder.

‘I ain't wearin no panties.’

‘Well then keep yer bra on.’

Disoriented and groggy, Anton looks around trying to blink the sleep out of his brain and trying hard to figure out where in the Hell he is.

‘I ain't wearin one of them neither. Let’s go Stud, its takin ya longer to piss than it did to blow yer load, eh?’

It comes to him after a moment or two and he curses the one that put him here: MOM! Fucking Mom!! Ублюдок!!! Anton is in fact in the parking lot of the Chieftain Pub in Squamish, BC. ‘If is not asshole of world, is sure smell like”, he’d scowled as he drove into town earlier that day. The paper mill just across Howe Sound bestowed “a certain something” to the Squamish air. Though he doesn’t realize it, he's been fast asleep for the past couple of hours… with the truck’s engine idling.

The wind is still howling like a troop of drunken banshees and the torrential rain that was falling when he’d arrived hasn’t let up, but rather seems to have increased in intensity. The voices are coming from the right and, leaning across the passenger seat, Anton wipes a narrow strip of condensation from the window. He can see a man and a woman by a pick-up with “Pemberton Spud Farms” on the driver-side door. “Is where cell-phone signals come from, for sure.” In the downpour, he can’t quite make out if they’re the same two people in the photos Mom gave him, but it is the truck he’s been looking for.

The man finally finishes relieving himself, opens the driver’s door and climbs into the pick-up. He rolls his window down and spits before leaning over to unlock the passenger door. The woman climbs in saying, ‘about friggin time, eh! Couldn’t ya have pissed before we come out?’

‘Couldn’t you shut the fuck up?’

‘Close yer goddamn window, I'm friggin cold.’

‘Ah quit yer bitching,’ he says, lighting a cigarette and tossing the match out the window.

‘I wanna stop at the Mickey D’s to get some grub.’

‘Fuck that, I ain't stopping till we put some miles behind us.’

‘Come on ya cheap prick, I’m hungry and it’s a long ride to Mount Currie, eh? Be nice to me and maybe I’ll blow ya on the way up.’

It was an offer he wasn’t about to refuse. It’s a long drive up to Mount Currie after all.

‘Yeah, yeah OK, we can stop at the slop-shop up on the highway.’

‘Alrightee then Stud, but yer buyin, eh?’

‘Sure. That’s me, last of the big-time spenders,’ he says as he fires-up the engine and drives to the parking-lot exit, spitting out the window again and planting a large gob on the hood of the Pathfinder as he drives by.

Anton waits for them to get ahead a bit and then pulls out after them, staying half a block behind the pick-up. Is not matter with the raining like this, they are not seeing nothing. They are the goddamns drunk anyways. Fucking shit, he thinks, wishing he were off somewhere, drunk himself with a hooker to take the edge off his blues instead of following these two through the driving rain in this god-forsaken stinking dump of a town. Anton does bad moods rather well.

Taking out his cell-phone he tries calling Mom again, but doesn’t make a connection. ‘Is the bullshits’, he snarls. The pick-up stops by the intersection at the highway and turns north. Anton comes up to the flashing traffic signal, waits for a couple of cars to go by and then follows. Up ahead, just past the main intersection, the pick-up slows, turns into a McDonald’s lot and lines-up in the drive-thru lane. He pulls the Pathfinder over to the side of the highway and waits. Is going to being the long goddamns night, he thinks, watching as the driver gets out, walks around to the back and rummages around in the pick-up’s box. He removes something and deposits it in a garbage container by the take-out window. ‘What’s in fuck he is doing now?’, he mutters. The man then takes a sports-bag from the box, looks the cargo over and gets back into the cab. Though Anton can’t get a good enough look to compare him to the man in the photos, he thinks, must be is guy. Mom is saying he is having the sports-bag with him and is tall.

The cloying odour of hot grease and fried food wafts in through the heater blower and Anton’s stomach starts to growl. Though he hates American fast-food, Anton realizes he’s famished. He hasn’t eaten since before he left Vancouver and thinks, I am gotting to eat somethings, anythings.

Waiting until another car drives in behind the pick-up, he shrugs his shoulders and pulls into the McDonald’s lot, lining-up in the drive-thru lane and calling his order into the mike on the menu board when his turn comes up. Sitting there, compulsively cracking his knuckles, he sees the pick-up’s order being handed out from the take-out window. It then pulls ahead to the road, stops to let some traffic by and turns onto the highway. Shit!! Is better I not am losing this prick in pick-ups, Anton thinks and puts the transmission in reverse to pull out of the drive-thru line himself. Checking the rear-view mirror he curses seeing that two more cars have come up behind his, boxing him in. He’s stuck there and fidgets nervously, waiting for the car in front of him to get its order and get out of the way. Ahead, a hand holds a large fast-food bag out of the take-out window and remains suspended in mid-air, waiting for the driver of the car to take it. But the man appears to be having some kind of a problem with the transaction. He’s dropped his money on the ground.

‘Come on fucking motherfucker, you are hurrying ups. I don't am having all the fucking nights to waiting for you’, he calls out his window.

A man’s head emerges from the car’s window, completely ignoring the bag plainly being held out to him, and turns to glare at Anton. It is a large, curiously deformed head, perhaps the product of foetal alcohol syndrome. The head sticking out of the car window bears an exceptionally ugly face, sporting an exceedingly belligerent expression. And it looks only too eager for trouble. Anton has seen a number of unfriendly faces in the course of his life, starting with the band of mujahedeen fighters who came to kill his father, uncle and older brother when he was seven years old. That face in the car in front of him is even uglier and less friendly-looking than that of the FSB drill-instructor who made Anton’s already miserable life a living Hell. One of the most satisfying moments he ever had was when he put a bullet between the bastard’s eyes. The eyes on this guy’s face are having considerable trouble focusing. He’s obviously very drunk.

‘Eh!? What the fuck’s goin on buddy? Ya got yerself some kind of problem back there or what?’

Anton sticks his head out the window and looks at the guy, thinking, oh shits, now what is!!?

‘Who, me? You are meaning me? I not am was speaking at you, I am calling the friend who is go to washrooms for the pissing.’

The face continues to glare at him, it’s mouth hanging open and it’s eyes each looking in a different direction. It’s not buying Anton’s contrite explanation.

‘Zat right, eh? Sure sounds like yer having a little problem with me.’

‘No, no. Is cool, is completes cool.’

‘I could maybe fix that problem for ya… howboudit pal… ya wanna go, or what?’

‘No, no, is not the necessary, is not the problems with you. Is with the friend I am was calling. At washrooms. Not you. He is pissing the long times.’

‘Yeah? Well yer startin ta piss me off, pal!’

‘Is all the big mistakes. I am not here for the pissing-offs to you, I am come for Bigs Mac and fry, like you.’

‘Ya sound like yer some kinda foreigner. Zat what ya are, some kinda goddamn foreigner?’

Anton reaches over and takes his M88 from the glove-box and screws the silencer onto the barrel. He considers firing several rounds into that ugly drunk face glaring him right away, but remembering why he's there in the first place, puts the pistol on the passenger seat and pulls his jacket over it. He pokes his head back out the window, smiling with as much meekness as he can muster. Not an easy feat for Anton.

‘No, no I not am the goddamns foreigner like you are say, I am tourist. I not am being here for having the problems with good guys like you. Nice to be meeting you and visit your great city.’

‘What the fuck…? Yer a tourist? Ya sure you ain't got yourself no problem with me? Cuz if ya come looking fer one… I’m the guy fer ya alright!’

Fuckings Hell, this prick is not wanting to gives up, Anton thinks.

‘No, no, is no problems, you can believing to me. Is everything cool. Only with friend at washrooms, he is taking really long times for the pissing. You are the friendly Canadian guys, I am not having the problems with you. Really.’

‘Oh Yeah? Ya sure bout that?’

‘Yeah, is no problems, for sures.’

‘I mean, if ya wanna go… ya wanna go or what?’

‘Look mister guy, there is being your Bigs Mac and fry, they are wait for you. You are enjoying delicious hamburgers and having the nice evenings.’ You are fucking-offs now or I am shoot you in goddamns face, you prick, he thinks as his hand reaches for the locked and loaded M88 next to him.

The face looks at him, still trying hard to focus with limited success and then, somewhere in the remnants of his tiny pickled brain, the penny drops and he abruptly turns toward the hand holding the bag out to him. His head collides with it and he exclaims, ‘what the fuck!? Oh yeah right, my burgers.’ He looks down at the bills he dropped a moment ago, opens his door and reaches down to pick them up, grabs the bag the hand is holding and hands the hand his money. He takes his change and drops it on the pavement and says, ‘aw fuck-it!’, and closes the door again.

‘Hey… awright then buddy. So yer a tourist eh?’, he says looking at Anton again with a crooked grin on his stupid face.

Anton smiles and nods his head enthusiastically as he takes out a pen and paper. He jots down the car’s license-plate number thinking, I am fixing you later you сосунок петуха, you just are waiting.

‘Sure, you are rights-on, I am the tourist to you fantastics country Canada and I am visit you beautiful city Squamish this nights.’

‘Zat right? Huh, well whaddya know, a tourist!? Hey, I don't got me no problems with no tourists.’

‘OK mister guy, this is good… I don’ts gots the problem with you too.’

‘Aw that's great, that's just great!’ He turns to his companion beside him and says, ‘Ain't that just great baby? Guy’s a goddamn tourist.’ He sticks his head out the window once more, blinking his eyes as he tries to focus on Anton. ‘Well you have yerself a real nice time in our town there buddy, we gotta get goin now… welcome to Squamish, eh?’

‘Fucking crazy whacks-job,’ Anton says as the car pulls out to the exit and drives up the highway in the same direction the pick-up went earlier. He considers ignoring his own order and leaving immediately in pursuit of the pick-up, figuring it must be quite a ways up the highway by now. Screwing it, he thinks, pick-ups is not can be that far and I must am eating something, even if is this shit of McDonald, and moves up to the take-out window.

‘That’ll be twelve dollars and sixty-three cents please,’ says a skinny teenager with bizarrely pointed ears, buck-teeth and coke-bottle glasses somewhat too large for his face. He looks like a rabbit who’s parents could well be closely related, too closely perhaps. And, possibly being that particular fine dining establishment’s number one best customer, has really, really bad acne.

Holy cows, is the fucking Canadian mutant, Anton thinks, recoiling. He shakes his head, reaches over to take the bag the kid is holding out and hands him a fifty.

‘Oh, a fifty,’ the rabbit-kid says, holding the bill up to his glasses and squinting. ‘Don't you have anything smaller?’

‘No, is all I am gots. Make it fast kid, give to me the changes, I am in the big hurry.’

‘Well I don't have change for a fifty sir, you'll have to wait for my manager to come and break that bill for me.’

‘Where this goddamns manager is?’

‘He’s just in the men’s room.’

‘What he is does in there? Is jerks-off?’

‘I’m not really sure but I think he’s taking a long du…’

‘Is OK kid, I don't are needing to knowing of detail.’

‘If you’d like to pull into one of those parking slots off to your left to wait, he’ll be out to change that as soon as he’s done, sir.’

‘No! I not am having times for waiting of fucking manager to wiping asses of he. You are keeping of changes kid, buying yourself new head,’ Anton says and pulls out to the highway. He peers squinting through the driving rain, one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding a soggy, dripping burger on which he munches while trying to keep the Pathfinder steady in the howling wind. After several kilometres he finally sees the car that was in front of him at the drive-thru and what looks to be the pick-up’s tail-lights beyond it in the distance.

The weather has turned from really bad to atrocious. Anton finishes the now cold French fries and second triple burger and, feeling like he’s just been horribly violated, belches loudly. ‘Fucking Americanski garbage’, he scowls. Throwing the wrappers and bag out the window in disgust, he takes out his cell and tries calling Mom again but still can’t get a connection. He watches as the car from the drive-thru pulls out to pass the pick-up and smiles. Flipping his cell-phone open again, he dials 9-1-1 thinking, you wait Canadian cocksucker prick, is shits hitting the fans for you soon, and is connected after half a dozen rings.

‘This is emergency services, what area are you calling from?’

‘Yeah, I am driving on 99 Highway to the Whistlers.’

‘Exactly where on Highway 99 are you sir?’

‘Sure, you are right. I am exactly on 99 Highway.’

‘What part of Highway 99 are you travelling on at the present time?’

‘I am not knowing what is part, but is… you know, on way to the Whistlers, just north at Squamish.’

‘Do you have an emergency to report? What is the nature of your call please.’

‘Yeah sure is emergency, is why I am call you. What you are think, I am being lonely?’

‘Could you please tell me what is your emergency sir?’

‘There is the car just now, is passing really fast, is swerves like the crazy guys, almost crashing to me. I am seeing this car is passing of pick-ups ahead and almost is crashing to pick-ups too. Car is nearly drives in ditches.’

‘I see. And what would you like us to do?’

‘What kinds of question this is!!? I am thinking you are better to sending somebody for stopping this crazy guys before he is kill somebody.’

‘Were you able to get the license-plate number of the car sir?’

‘Yeah sure, I am getting. I am writing this down, just the minute, I am telling you number… OK, here goes… is VNG 642. You are getting this?’

‘VNG 642. Did you happen to take note of the make and model of the car as well sir?’

‘Is looking like the Chevy Blazer, old shit-box, lots rust. Brown maybes, yeah, colour is for sure brown.’

‘An older model Chevy Blazer, brown in colour with lots of rust, is that correct sir?

‘Yeah, that’s it, is what I am say to you. The old shit-box Chevy Blazer. Is the goddamns rusty buckets.’

‘And the vehicle is northbound on Highway 99, north of Squamish at the present time? Is that correct?’

‘Uh-huh, this is right. The 99 Highway, past of Squamish. Is driving north.’

‘What type of vehicle are you in sir? Are you the driver of this vehicle or are you a passenger?’

‘No, I am driver for sure. I am being all alones, is not no passengers here. And is the Pathfinder I am driving. Nissan.’

‘Is this your own vehicle sir?’

‘Vehicle of me? No, I am renting.’

‘A rented Nissan Pathfinder. Which year would that be sir? And what is the colour?’

‘Why are you ask me questions like this about car I am driving? Is the fucking pricks in goddamns shit-box Chevy Blazer who are drunks you must are worry for, not car of me.’

‘I require the information about your vehicle for my report sir. And I would appreciate your not using foul language when speaking to me.’

‘OK, I am being sorry for to say fucking at you and pricks and goddamns too, is no personal, I just am being nervous with this kind of dangerous drivers. I am scare he is killing me. Sorry lady.’

‘I understand sir. Can you tell me the year of the vehicle you're driving?’

‘What year is!? Is 2002! You don't are knowing this? Month is September in cases you don't are knowing this too.’

‘The vehicle sir, I am inquiring as to the age of the vehicle you're driving, not what the current year is. What is the year of that vehicle please?’

‘I don't am knowing. I am not asking guy at renting place what is year. Is not making the difference for me as long as is running. But colour is black.’

‘I see. Do you know the license-plate number of the vehicle?’

‘No, I don't am knowing. What this is, the fucking quiz-show? Oh sorry, I am forgets, you don't are liking the fucking. But OK, I can stopping car to having looking at plate numbers if you are wanting this.’

‘That won’t be necessary sir.’

‘Good, because is raining like the dog and cat. I am not wanting to gets wet like the duck.’

‘I understand. I’ll need to get your name sir.’

‘Name? Why for you are needing name of me?’

‘For our records sir, we require your name for our records.’

‘You are telling my names to the drunks guys in Chevy shit-box Blazer!!? I am rather you not are telling this. I not am want to having troubles with this drunks guys.’

‘No sir, you won’t be having any problems from that driver. Any information you give us will be kept strictly confidential.’

‘What this is meaning, strictly confidential?’

‘It means we do not give out the information that you provide us with.’

‘OK, if you are being sure.’

‘Yes sir, I'm sure. What is your name please?’

‘My name? You still are wanting to knowing name of me?’

‘Yes sir, what is your name please?’

‘Is Josef.’

‘Is that your surname or your given name sir?’

‘Giving name? I am just giving you name of me? Is Josef. You not are understanding my English?’

‘I can understand you perfectly sir. I just need to get your name.’

‘Josef, I am telling to you already.’

‘I will need to get your surname as well sir.’

‘What this is meaning, how you are saying? Sir-name?’

‘Surname refers to your second name, given name refers to your first name.’

‘I am already giving to you first names. But I am having four names. What you are calling other names?’

‘I need you to tell me your name, sir.’

‘Which names you are wanting first?’

‘Your first name sir.’

‘I am telling to you already, Josef. Is first names.’

‘I will need your surname as well sir.’

‘What name? Sir-name?’

‘Your family name.’

‘You are not wanting other names first? They are coming before the family name.’

‘Just your first name and your family name is all I require. What is your family name please sir.’

‘Stalin. Like Great Hero of Soviet Union who is squashing Hitler like the cockroach.’

‘Have you been drinking this evening Mr Stalin?’

‘Yeah sure. I am drinking delicious super-size Coca-colas with eating triple lousy cheeseburgers of McDonald and shitty fry. Is diet Coca-colas. Why you are caring what I am drinking?’

‘I meant have you been drinking any alcohol this evening Mr. Stalin.’

‘No, of courses I am not drinking no alcohols. I do not drinking the alcohols. Besides, is against law for drinking the alcohols and driving of cars. You are not knowing this!!?’

‘Yes Mr. Stalin, I am familiar with the law.’

‘Well I am sure hoping you are being familiar about drinking the alcohols and driving cars law. Is very big problem in my country. So, you are wants to knowing something elses?’

‘What is your address sir?’

‘I am visitor to your country. I am living at Moscow. You know in Russia? Used to be Soviet Union, but now we are calling Russia agains. Same places but name is different. You are wanting address in Moscow, Russia?’

‘Do you have an address here in Canada Mr. Stalin? A hotel or friends you're staying with perhaps?’

‘No, I am just flying at Vancouver today. I am not yet having time for to checking in hotels.’

‘What is your address in Moscow then sir?’

‘You are not telling address to drunks guys in car? I am not wanting to having no troubles. I am telling you this before. You have listen to me when I say this to you?’

‘Yes, I am listening to you Mr. Stalin. I promise you, you won’t have any trouble. Your address will remain in our confidential files. There's no need for you to be concerned. I only need it for my report.’

‘Is happens all times in Moscow. Guy I know is get shoot last year because he is giving address to police. In fucking head. Oh sorry, I am keep forget you don't are like fucking. Sorry lady.’

‘Yes well, we do things a little differently here in Canada Mr. Stalin. You don't need to worry about that happening.’

‘OK, you are sounding like the nice lady, I will trusting you. But oh boys, I am hope is not nobody waiting to shoot in head of me when I am comes home.’

‘If that should happen Mr. Stalin, you may rest assured it is not in any way connected with this call or the information you provide.’

‘Yeah sure. OK, I am giving to you address now. You are having the pens to write this down?’

‘Yes sir, I have a pen. You may go ahead and give me your address.’

‘Is Kremlin Apartments, number 622, 1942 Red Square Moscow. You are getting this?’

‘Kremlin Apartments number 622, 1942 Red Square Moscow, Russia, is that correct sir?’

‘Yeah sure, that’s is it.’

‘Is there a postal-code for that address?’

‘Of courses is being the postal-codes, but I am not remembering. I just am movings in.’

‘Well thank you very much for calling this in Mr. Stalin. We really appreciate it.’

‘You welcome. Is nice country this Canada you are having here. Maybe I am buying couple house in the Whistlers for girlfriend of me. Listen lady, I am hoping you are not minding for me to saying this, but you sure spending lots time asking the question to me. You don't think you should be getting off from phone now and catching drunks guys in shit-box Chevy?’

‘Yes sir. Enjoy your visit to Canada. You drive safely now. Good night Mr. Stalin.’

‘Yeah so longing lady.’

Several minutes later, two police cruisers come tearing up the highway behind him with their lights flashing and sirens blaring. Anton chortles with glee and pulls-over to let them pass and then resumes on down the dark highway. They should is taking cares of drunks prick from drive-thru of McDonald. It is not long before he comes up to the Chevy Blazer and cruisers by the side of the road. Slowing as he passes, he sees a couple of constables struggling to put a large hand-cuffed man into the back of one of the cruisers. ‘Is what you are gets for piss-off to Anton, you stupid fuck,’ he says laughing as he drives by.

Trying Mom again, he still cannot get a connection. Well, at least drunks prick from drive-thru back at Squamish has getting whats is comes to him. Is too bads I am not having the chances to shoot this prick in face of him, he thinks, I can trying Mom later, after fucking storm is finish. Is must havings to stops sometimes. Maybe is being the phonebooths on this bullshits highway to nowheres and I can call to Mom from there. Anton emits a sigh of dejected resignation and settles down to what he figures will surely be a long and uneventful drive down a dark deserted highway. (Just you wait Anton my lad, just you wait - ed)

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Chisinau and Minsk: Two Offbeat Soviet Cities

This year, in my effort to visit every European country, I made trips to two new cities: Chisinau (pronounced KEE-shee-no), the capital of Moldova, and Minsk, the capital of Belarus.

Why pair these cities (and countries) in a single post, even though these trips were months apart? Because of their similarities. Chisinau and Minsk are the capitals of two of the poorest countries in Europe. Both were formerly part of the Soviet Union, yet maintain a very Soviet feeling to this day with clear loyalty to Russia. Both felt like I had gone back in time. And both are off the beaten path for travelers, due in part to significant language barriers.

I even realized I have a lot of similar shots from both cities!

Traffic in Chisinau.

Traffic in Minsk.

Parks in Chisinau.

Parks in Minsk.

Friendship in Chisinau.

Friendship in Minsk.

But beyond the similarities between the two cities, my trips also played out similarly. I only had a little time to spare, and only visited one city within the country, even though I hate traveling that way and try to visit more places whenever I can. Both were stopovers I wasn’t terribly excited about, with more exciting cities (Odessa and Kiev; Vilnius and Tallinn) planned next. And I struggled in both cities, never feeling comfortable in either.

Here’s what I got up to in these cities.

Chisinau, Moldova

I arrived in Chisinau on an Air Moldova flight from Bucharest. As the tiny plane dipped and bobbed, my seat neighbor, a forty-something male, smiled and explained to me that the ride was bumpy because smaller planes are bumpier than larger ones. (As I smiled weakly and thought to myself, “Buddy, I fly for a living.”)

I hopped into one of the airport taxis, watching the outskirts of the city whirl by as I followed our path on Google Maps…then was dumbfounded when he dropped me in a parking lot far from my hostel.

“No,” I told him, showing Google Maps and the star of my accommodation. “Not here. Here. Take me here.”

He grabbed a piece of paper, wrote down a number, and handed it to me.

“1,3 km.”

Are you fucking kidding me? “No,” I snapped. “No. I’m not walking that far with a suitcase. Take me here.”

After a few minutes of arguing, neither of us understanding the other’s language, he finally acquiesced and drove me to the quiet suburban street where the star was…but where there was absolutely no sign of any hostel.

A few minutes of searching revealed that a hostel was located behind a fence, and I made my way inside. I grabbed my keys, dropped my bag in my private room (which, to my disappointment, was located off the dorm and far from the sole bathroom), and went out exploring.

Chisinau’s main street was surrounded by gray, crumbling, blocky Soviet buildings and torn-up sidewalks. An old man walking next to me suddenly unzipped his fly and began urinating on a staircase. Food stands would have “pizza” in their name but not actually sell any. And when I saw the roadside stands, I was bemused by the t-shirts for sale: Putin in sunglasses. Putin with a machine gun. Putin in karate gear kicking Obama in the face.

Bleak was the word that kept running through my head. I’ve always felt like Eastern Europe stereotypes were massively overblown, but Chisinau felt so depressing, it was pulling me down. Even strolling through the parks couldn’t lift my spirits.

By the end of my first afternoon, I thought to myself, “How the hell am I going to spend three days here?”

But did Chisinau get better? Yes, it did. 

First off, Moldova has some of the most outstandingly delicious red wine I’ve ever tasted. Seriously, it could go head to head with Italy and France and Napa, and a glass won’t cost you more than a few dollars.

Unfortunately, nearby Cricova Winery was not accepting guests, but I went to a little wine shop called Carpe Diem and got to sample several local libations. It’s very expensive by Moldovan standards — I think I paid around $15 USD for five generous pours — but with so little to do in the city, I didn’t mind the splurge.

The National Art Museum of Moldova was tiny but lovely, featuring art by both local and international artists.

And I spent a good chunk of time at Tucano Coffee, arguably the coolest cafe in Chisinau, but more like a Starbucks than anything else.

As a solo female traveler in Moldova, I felt safe for the most part — aside from the unlit streets and barking stray dogs surrounding the hostel. But when it came time to plan a day trip to Orhei Vechi, just outside the city, I was told that the options were either to wait around hours for the returning minibus (no thanks) or to hire a private driver for 50 to 100 euros.

Now, this wasn’t a car service or tour you could book online — this was just “some guy with a car” that the hostel owner knew. I’ll often say yes to that when I’m traveling with someone else, but when I’m traveling solo, that’s where I hesitate. Sometimes I decide to go for it — like when I was in Albania, there was no connecting bus in Fier, and I just hired a random guy with a van to take me to Berat. But I felt very comfortable in Albania. And other times, like when I wanted to visit Preah Vihear in Cambodia but got the “some guy with a car” option, I decided to skip it, as my third trip to Cambodia had been defined by extortion and robbery.

Moldova is not a place where I felt comfortable being alone in a car with a strange man — and for that reason, I decided not to go to Orhei Vechi at all. Nor the quasi-republic of Transnistria, which I regret a bit, but it was just too logistically difficult.

Eventually, I departed Chisinau by bus to the gorgeous city of Odessa, Ukraine. Finding the right bus and buying my ticket was a bit of a challenge with the language barrier, but the border crossing couldn’t have been easier.

Minsk, Belarus

There’s one reference about Minsk that everyone in my generation knows: it’s where Phoebe’s boyfriend David the scientist moved! The statues of Lenin reminded him of her beauty! Wait, you all know I’m talking about Friends, right?

First things first: Belarus can be tricky without a visa for most nationalities, but currently it’s possible for US citizens to visit visa-free if 1) they arrive and depart by air, not via Russia 2) they stay for less than five days 3) they obtain medical insurance covering 10,000 euros.

I arrived in Minsk on a Belavia flight from Helsinki. And let me say that immigration will not be happy when you pull out phone to show your onward ticket and World Nomads travel insurance policy on your phone. I got yelled at a lot. Print them both out! (And if you don’t have travel insurance, there’s a place by immigration where you can buy it.)

Minsk was overwhelming from the start. My cab driver dragged me all over the airport before getting me to leave the city, and he had a hard time finding where to drop me off, then I had major trouble finding my apartment. The language barrier was strong — the young man who let me into the apartment and I had to use Google Translate to communicate.

If I hadn’t had a knowledge of Cyrillic from my previous trips to Eastern Europe, I would have been completely lost.

I was lucky that I actually had internet in the apartment, though — almost everywhere in Minsk requires you to have a SIM card in order to access wifi (they send passwords via SMS). As someone who uses wifi to navigate her way everywhere, I found it a bit frustrating having to do all my research in advance at the apartment and then wing it for the rest of the day. A throwback to the travel style of yore!

The strange thing about Belarus is that there are two official languages — Russian and Belarusian — and the metro stations each have Russian and Belarusian names, which are often totally different. For example, one station can be called either “Plošča Lenina” or “Vakzalnaja.” And then the train might announce the station in one language but the signs are in the other language! You basically have to memorize both names and double-check.

I was initially planning to leave Minsk by train to Vilnius, Lithuania, and spent a long time painstakingly buying a train ticket, writing down what I thought was “Vilnius” in Cyrillic, then confusing the lady even more.

Then, thankfully, one of my readers pointed out that under this visa-free scheme, I had to leave by plane as well. I double-checked online and she was right! It was insane — the US State Dept site only says that you must enter Belarus by air, not depart by air. The Belarus Embassy in the US site, however, does say that you must depart by air as well.

That is a major oversight and I’m shocked that the US State Department would omit such critical information. Had I taken that train to the border, I would have been in a LOT of trouble. At any rate, I am dearly thankful to my dear reader and I am buying her dinner if our paths ever cross. I was able to get a flight to Vilnius for about $60.

But did Minsk get better? Yes, it actually did.

I grew to appreciate the grandeur of Minsk. It wasn’t on the level of anywhere in Ukraine, but I loved the wide avenues, large buildings, and how the bright yellows played against the blue sky.

I loved discovering that Belarusian women love buying flowers. There were tons of flower stands in the underground passageways throughout the city.

I found an adorable coffeeshop called Uptopiya 60 — and they were the only place in the city where I didn’t need a SIM card to get wifi access! Which meant I could actually summon an Uber to take me to the airport!

But for me, the biggest highlight was walking along the river. It was a gorgeous day and I loved seeing people out and about — the amorous couples, the bickering mothers and daughters, the twenty-something guys taking super-serious selfies gazing into the distance.

Could I have done more in Minsk? Absolutely. There are so many museums and viewpoints and day trips I could have experienced. There just wasn’t enough time on this trip.

The Takeaway

To be frank, I doubt I’ll be returning to Chisinau or Minsk. If a cool opportunity arises, perhaps, but I doubt either city has enough draw to pull me back. Could I have done a better job exploring either city (and country)? Absolutely! I’ll be the first to point out that I didn’t do nearly enough!

But does that mean that I have to return and do it right? We all have a finite amount of time on this planet, and I plan to spend mine exploring new and beloved destinations, rather than returning to do Moldova and Belarus over again.

Even so, I’m glad I went to both Chisinau and Minsk. Both felt like traveling back in time; both gave me an idea of what it was like to live behind the shadow of the Soviet Union. Both were a reminder that Europe isn’t all pretty old towns and tourism-driven cities.

If Chisinau or Minsk seem to be your kind of place, I think you should definitely go! But if you’d like something still Eastern European and off the beaten path and a bit like a time capsule but perhaps a little bit nicer and easier to travel, I wholeheartedly recommend Tirana, Albania; Skopje, Macedonia; and Kiev and Odessa, Ukraine.

READ NEXT: The Funk Factor of Tirana, Albania

Essential Info: In Chisinau I stayed at Chisinau Chill Hostel, which was decent, but I would prefer to stay in a nicer place in a better location next time. Do note that the only private room is off the dorm, so you have to walk through the dorm in order to go to the bathroom or anywhere else. The surrounding streets are unlit at night, so be sure to get back before it gets dark. There are several stray dogs in the neighborhood. Dorms from $6; private with shared bath from $22.

Admission to the National Art Museum is 10 Moldovan leu ($0.50).

In Minsk I stayed at Minsk Centre Apartment, a nice and central one-bedroom apartment. The hardest part was arranging the arrival and key drop-off, since Minsk has almost no internet available without a SIM card. Full apartment from $37 per night.

Travel insurance is vital for trips, and it’s a legal requirement for visiting Belarus. Whether you get appendicitis and need to be hospitalized, or your phone gets stolen, or an injury means you need to cancel all or part of your trip, travel insurance will help you in your time of need. I use and recommend World Nomads as travel insurance for trips to Moldova and Belarus.

Have you been to Chisinau or Minsk? Or elsewhere in Moldova or Belarus? What did you think?

The post Chisinau and Minsk: Two Offbeat Soviet Cities appeared first on Adventurous Kate.

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