#i need some kind of assistance and this just keeps happening

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Fallen Snow AU, Chapter One, Fossilized Memories:

(Warning: This fic contains dark themes such as abuse, neglect, self-harm, mentioned/contemplated su*cide attempt, sedation, creepy fluff, and platonic yanderes. You have been warned...)

If you're being honest with yourself, you don't remember most of your childhood.

If you're being honest with yourself, you don't want to remember most of your childhood.

Everyone has their reasons to forget things or to ignore them. You have yours. Yet late at night, or early in the pre-dawn hours, it sometimes comes to haunt you.

It's not an easy ghost to be rid of. There's several you'd rather never think of again. But the nightmares... For thr last four years, those nightmares have kept you awake. They've made you scream, cry, shake, even stay awake just to avoid having to go through them again and again. It was too much. It was always too much.

They didn't happen once a month, or once a week, or every few days. It was every. Night. For months now. And you were at your rope's end.

So thats why you're here, in a small diner at the edge of town, trying to drown your sorrows and your sleepiness with coffee and eggs. Coffee burned your tongue and kept you awake; eggs fsatiated the hunger that always gnawed at your insides, that restless pain that clawed at your guts and bit at your ribs. It was just the way it was. You didn't ask to be born with the X gene, and you didn't ask to be a mutant.

Of course you're a mutant. Couldn't be something normal like a student or an assistant or a librarian or a baker. No. You just had to be the one in a thousand person who has some weird power and is universally hated by most humans.

But you'd made it work for you, these last four years. People in a small town don't trust strangers, no... but when that stranger takes any kind of pay, doesn't ask questions, and does some hunting for you and yours... well, they tend to not throw that person out, odd or young or strange as they may be. The town isn't all that bad. It's small, nestled in the snowy clearing between the endless woods and the long, thin road, but it kept its secrets and kept yours, too. The prey here was plentiful enough, the place was fairly quiet, and as far as anyone could tell, you were the only "odd one" around for miles. It was a win-win.

It wasn't hard spending most of your time alone out on errands. The woods offered quiet respite; the lake offered fish; the town offered some company; and your old cabin, nestled in deeper in the forest, offered you relief from the cold and the snow and when people were too much.

The cabin was nice enough. A few boarded windows, the rest draped over with blankets or rugs or drapes, a wooden floor that squeaked when you moved, an old fireplace that kept the place warm, and the old couch you'd found, covered in a nest of blankets and pillows, as close as you could get it to the heat of the fire. It wasn't much, but it was your home, your refuge, and it was all you had.

It was better than what was before it, and that was what mattered...

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You don't know why you decided to get involved when some strange kid wandered into town.

The people here weren't being very open or friendly, even less so to them than they were at first to you. Them being some poor kid covered in a jacket, with blue hair and odd yellow eyes, and currently trying to find anywhere to go to wait out the snowstorm approaching.

"Please... I just need a place to stay for a few hours. I v'ont be here any longer than that. Just to vait out thr storm... please..."

Maybe it's the way he's curling in on himself. Maybe it's the sad, desperate tone in his voice. Maybe you're just tired of being out here yourself.

"He can stay with me... I'll keep him out of trouble," you mutter, pushing forward to glower at the crowd, then at the kid. You sigh, but offer a hand.

You're surprised when he takes it.

You don't show it.

"Come on, my cabin isn't too far. Any broken windows are covered, and I can get a fire started so we don't freeze to death," you grumble as you both trek through the snowy forest floor. The air is clean here, the cold stinging your lungs and the wind biting at your hands and face. The kid doesn't seem quite as bothered, but considering he's a little more covered than you, maybe he's just more cold natured.

When the cabin peeks through the flurry and trees, you drag him along, being careful not trip over the wooden steps or slipping on the icy boards. The moment the door opens, he's inside, shivering and shaking like a dog to get the snow off himself. You snort, but leave him be.

Setting some dry, dead wood in the fireplace, you strike a match, then toss it in. You barely smile at the scent of fresh woodsmoke and the soothing crackle of the flames. You turn sharply when you hear your guest clear his throat.

"Um... thank you... That vas... very kind of you," he says quietly, rubbing his shoulder. You nod, not saying a word. You feel a small teinge when he sits on the cold floor, and find yourself going over to the couch. You drag off a larger pillow and a few blankets, then toss them over him. He yelps, and you can't help but smirk a little.

"Vhat? Vhy'd you do that!"

"You're cold. You need to stay warm. Sit on the cushion, and drape the blankets around you. If you stay lioe that and stay close to the fire, you'll be toasty as a marshmallow in no time," you explain. You gesture at him to move closer to fire, then flop onto the couch. You don't wrap up in your nest, but you lay there, keeping an eye on the kid and the burning wood.

He doesn't look like he's dangerous. No claws, no fangs, nothing out of the ordinary. He's certainly not bigger than you. And as far as you can tell, he's not hostile or sinister. So as far as you're concerned, he's not a problem.

It becomes a problem when he starts talking to you.

"So... are you alone here? It's very quiet," he asks. You narrow your eyes, but answer.

"Eh... it's not a problem."

"But..." He looks upset for a moment, but quickly changes his expression. "Vell... vhat is it like around here? It seems very cold."

You let out a dry laugh at that. "Yep. Cold, freezing, unfriendly. It's normal. Not any worse than anywhere else I've seen."

That doesn't reassure him. If anything, he looks more worried, like you just told him someone hurt kittens around here or had run over their grandma.

"T-that is so?"

"Yeah... but eh, it's not bad. It just takes awhile to grow on ya," you say uncomfortably. You didn't want to upset him, and now you're worried if this kid is about to cry. "The fish here is great. Plenty of trails to walk, lots of cool animals to see, clean snow and fresh air too."

He nods, looking pensive. He stays silent for a few minutes, but goes back to asking questions after a few minutes.

"Hmmm... does my host have a name?"

"Yeah... it's Reader..." It's been ages since you've said your name, or referred to yourself by it. It feels odd, as though adding a small bit of personhood back to you.

"Reader... So, Reader, vhy are you alone out here?" He means it well, you think.

You sit still for a minute. You don't really talk about what happened... It's never done you any good, and it haunts you every night. Why should you think about it in the day? But... well, a little of the truth can't hurt. (It's not because you're lonely, or hurt, is it?)

"Bad crowd. They didn't like me or want me, so I left." No names said, no blame cast. No one needs to know, no one needs to see.

"Oh..." Is it just you, or does his eyes seem to glisten in the light? "I'm very sorry... you seem very nice..."

Nice? Has anyone ever told you you were nice? Or needed? Or helpful? Or even wanted-

No, no no. Do not go there. Now is not the time.

You think your eyes are glistening a little too now.

"Thanks..." you whisper into the warmed air, falling silent after.

The rest of the evening is quiet, as you both try to stay warm and curl in the blankets. You end up going through your rations to give him some jerky, and eventually drift off after hearing him recite some kind of prayer in a different language...

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When you wake up in the early morning hours, he's gone.

The blankets he borrowed are folded neatly, and stacked on the pillow you gave him. There's no trace of his jacket either. When you exit the home to look for him, you find a few tracks... but then they disappear, as though he vanished into thin air. The scent of sulphur wrinkles your nose, but otherwise... no clue to where he went.

You try not to let it bother you, but in the end, you can't help but worry for the poor kid... maybe wherever he is, someone's watching out for him... maybe they love him, and are taking care of him now that he's not here...

With that, you decide to go to go on a walk... maybe the icy winds will keep you awake, and keeps your fears at bay...

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Kurt was happy to be back home. Of course he was! His friends had missed him, so had his pack and his mother and sister and their family. But well... he was worried for his new friend... They weren't in a good place to stay. They were in a cold, lonely town. And they had no one with them, to care for them, to help them or keep them safe or warm...

It didn't sit right with him. It didn't sit right with him at all.

But he didn't even know where to go to find them again, or how to help them.

It took a week before he discovered something odd.

He'd never noticed it before, but there was an old picture hanging in the halls underneath the mansion, the one that led to some of the old sleeping quarters and safety rooms and training halls. Except... well, he knew the faces of his family, of his friends, Scott and Jean and Rogue, Wanda and Pietro and Evan, even Storm and Logan and Victor and Mr. Lehnsherr and the Professor... but there, nestled in the photos as well, was a face he also recognized... a younger version of thr same person he'd only met a week ago... Reader...

And now, he needed to ask the adults a question.

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@hermesserpent-stuff @sugar-soda @vivid-bun @danniloversugar @thewickedweiner

[thecoffeelorian]

The Anomaly Series, Chapter 3: The Quest (Jod Na Nawood x Reader)

A/N: ...Yes, this story is now, OFFICIALLY, canon divergent. Ya know, because I don't condone/endorse violence against children, and any other disclaimers I need to put here.

Also, there are three literal episodes left, so pardon me if I'm still holding out for Jod and Neel eventually twinning in their clothing choices in canon. 'Nuff said.

Chapter Title: The Quest

Genre: Drama/Romance; Slow Burn; Obvious Canon Divergence.

Word Count: 1,698 words

AO3: Click Here!

Special Notes: As I'm not yet sure how I even begin to breach the topic of child abuse here...let's just do the safe thing and label this as 'Spoilers up to Episode 4'. Thank you.

No Pressure Tags:

@chenoa-devyn-blog @not-approvedtrash @lulalovez @deepestballoonllama-fandoms @papa-poutine

@xbeyondthegatex @bridge-always @loverdjudeforever @kucharka23 @khaleesihavilliard

@xitlalli2001 @braveincafleet @amawu23 @gun-roswell @bruceewayne

@shirley-girly @cloudofpinkicecream @lokigirlszendaya @valdasha @aemondvelaryon

@carry-on-wayward-daughter @pantasticalcat @robin-hyperfixates @down-down-by-the-river @sydneyann623

@brookeandherfandoms @kazunish @redermraven @ladyofthelakee @nightlordsvengence

@tarboo13 and anybody else who wonders what romance would look like for this hot mess of a man. :D

I’m a person who needs your help…

As of ten seconds ago, every other thought that had once been safe inside your mind feels as though they’ve all flown away, and so not left much else behind them save for one of the few thoughts that remains.

You’re officially involved.

There’s no other way around it now, because you’re feeling it too deep in your consciousness to turn back. You’re involved in this stranger’s case, and it’s going to take nothing less than a little Reclamation of your own to knock you off this path, and—despite all of your previous attempts to calm down, there’s some of the old adrenaline starting to course back into your body.

My help…? What kind of help do you need?

This rush makes you just a tiny bit lightheaded as you wait for Jack’s response, not knowing if he’s about to try and sweet-talk you into arranging a jailbreak or not. That was THE one thing that the Reclamation Committee had been worried about, and so, even if he let loose with a mountain of ‘Sweethearts’, odds already were that you would have to turn him down due to your ingrained obedience to the Law.

The same Law that, unfortunately, has spirited him out of your reach and out of your sight.

Something that I doubt my jailers want anything to do with.

And why is that?

They’re the ones who just robbed me.

Not that you’ll necessarily have to, maybe, because he hasn’t brought it up yet…but then again, he could always try to trick you up by slipping some kind of missing key or lockpick into the mix. Judging by how the security droids were more than happy to keep their weapons trained upon him, anything is possible here.

I’m sorry.

No need to apologize to me, sweetheart. You’re not the one who did this.

But I am the one you want to help fix it...right?

That depends. How good are you at finding lost things?

That’s one thought you have to keep fresh and safe inside your mind no matter what, along with eventually refusing him in that sense if it should happen.

In the meantime, though, you’re adding a second page to this new file of yours, as you have a slight feeling that you might certainly need it later.

Well…I once found my best friend’s missing keychain back in school.

That must have been a while ago, though. What about recently?

That depends on where you’re going with this. What’s so important that you need my assistance?

Fine. They took all my belongings away before they locked me up. Happy now?

Another thought that you’re unfortunately blessed with, though, is the image of Crimson Jack being attacked by two prison droids. The first never thinks twice about administering a few short electric shocks; the second strips him clean of any and all weapons or tools; and then finally, both of them turn and tilt their heads to each other in a gesture of smug triumph.

More like slightly flustered, but thank you—

—‘Flustered’?

It’s what happens when a person’s annoyed, confused, or both. Continue.

All right…

This is one thought you don’t want to fixate on too strongly, because you already have a feeling that you might end up worrying yourself sick if you don’t pull yourself together first. No, it’ll be better for the both of you if you have work like this to focus on instead, and for this reason, you add a third page.

…First item, a blaster pistol of my own making, about twenty-five years old with a slim wooden handle. Second item—

—Wait, what’s a blaster?

You’ve never seen a blaster before?

I’ve never seen a war before. Care to describe it?

There’s a small pause between writing, almost as though he’s stopping to think or else let out a sigh of frustration—then your next set of directions comes.

All right, look. I don’t want to take all day, and I’m guessing you have plans, so let’s keep it simple. Put your hand flat out in front of you.

As for you, you’re left raising both eyebrows before doing as you’re asked, though not without feeling just a little bit silly.

Now, take the last two fingers on whatever hand you’ve picked, and curl them in towards you.

Another curious direction, to be sure…yet you obey that one as well.

And finally, once you’re ready, raise your remaining three fingers up and act like you’re shooting the wall.

Once you’ve fully caught on to this particular mental image, however, that’s when you almost drop your writing equipment out of shock.

…Heck.

Nasty thing, isn’t it?

Wow, you think?!

Try spending twenty years with one of those aimed at you, and you’ll get what war is.

Whatever you say, CJ…

You let out an annoyed huff of your own before adding a fourth page to your document, somewhat feeling as though you might cut this conversation off if it gets too—well, wild. As someone who still knows precious little about the one you’re writing to, you certainly count this idea as a possibility.

…Any other weapons I need to know about?

‘CJ’?

Those are your initials, silly. Think of it like a nickname if that’s easier.

Hm…

Another small pause. He seems to be taking his time figuring out what to make of you as well, or so the slow pacing of this ‘meeting’ suggests to you.

…Anyways. As I was saying, second item, fairly unused Lightsaber as I prefer the blaster.

I suppose that's like a knife?

If you want to make comparisons, yes. It's got a thin, metallic hilt and so far, it's powered by a green colored stone somewhere in there.

Right...thin hilt, green stone. What else?

Brown jacket with gray stripes on the sleeves and collar. That’s the third item I’m missing.

And the fourth?

It’s sewn inside the third. In fact, if you have a chance, I’d prefer to recover both of them before we find the others.

So it’s all a big mystery for you to solve, then. Some off-the-wall version of the Great Party Icebreaker to endear you to The New Guy In The Office, provided as always that you don’t end up contracting Foot-In-Your-Mouth Disease.

Ah, well...your nights at home, totally alone, were getting a little boring anyway.

Very good...so you’re in a holding cell right now, I assume?

Obviously.

What are you being charged with?

A fifth page. Gods, this file’s getting a little big, or so you’re all too happy to tell yourself as nobody else can see the awkward look on your face right now.

Nobody’s bothered to tell me.

Have you been provided any legal counsel?

What’s that?

And yet, as awkward as all of this feels, you’ve definitely got your work cut out for you. Work that involves making sure that any possible trial moves forward without a hitch, because with a suspect as high-profile as this one, there’s no way anybody will want to risk the case being thrown out.

A pity they don’t make Lawyer Droids for this exact purpose.

Nevertheless, with the three words ‘MUST. FIND. LEGAL COUNSEL.’ written on the imaginary wall in your mind, you’re still pushing yourself onward just a bit further, as you’re more or less feeling that you’re too far in to turn back now.

Okay...just a few more things before we wrap things up here.

Go on.

Firstly...why me? And—and what was it that happened out there on the landing pad?

A third pause. He’s either taking his time finding the right words to answer you with, or else to cook up a pretty plausible lie with which to keep you occupied. Strange how the one seems so much like the other, at least at this moment in time.

I...don’t really know for sure.

‘Don’t know’? You don’t know if you have some special talent, or you don’t know why your special talent reacted the way it did?

Both. Neither. It’s as crazy to me as it is to you.

Fine…

You’ll be sure to find out what’s really taking place here, though, if there’s any way to get in touch with the people—or droids—who took him into custody. You might also try poking around the local library later this week, if there’s any chance at all that there might be some hint of your new life situation to read up on.

As for how the little crew he traveled with might figure into this, a fact that you’re far too keen to forget about even as you add a sixth page to this file—

And the last thing you wanted to ask me?

Simple…do your traveling companions know where you are?

—You’re working on it. Maybe you’ll have to get parental consent before questioning them. Maybe they’ll instead show up on your doorstep one day, hands full of dataries and voices full of pleading, totally ready to cooperate and compensate you for your time in one go. Either way, they’re witnesses.

When it comes to whether or not Crimson Jack himself will help his case or harm it, well...that concept just isn’t as clear. In fact, he very nearly confuses you with no pauses, awkward silences, or hesitations of any kind.

Just a slowly written No, almost as though just thinking about this part is too painful.

As for you, you can still remember how scared those kids were at the mere thought of him being harmed by the security droids...so it’s more than just a little bit understandable. Whatever else happened up there, whatever blaster fights, lightsaber duels, or anything else that this group saw...they must have had some time to bond.

But you’d like to see them, right?

YES.

Good. I won’t waste any time if I can help it, but I will need you to give me something in return first.

And that is…?

Your true name.

And if you have any grasp upon this stranger’s character, which you hope very much that you do—that bond just might be the key to saving old Crimson Jack’s life.

TO BE CONTINUED

[teememdee]

post to hold me accountable for making some kind of call in the morning to maybe try and get an adhd diagnosis or something finally because i cannot handle this organically anymore

[buckyalpine]

You know what I was thinking of all day? Comforting our sad baby Bucky who just wants a hug. He's tired from a bad mission. His body aches. He saw things he didn't want to. He could really just use something.

Even just a smile?

He doesn't have a lot of friends and most people around the compound outside of the team avoid him. Even those who'd worked with him for ages were still wary, scared he'd snap if they just asked how he's doing. He would have liked it, even just a hello in passing. When he walks by with a scowl on his face, no one meets his eye. If they did, they would have seen the storm that was brewing inside was not an angry one.

He just needed to be held.

When he continues to make his way towards his room, he's given a few nods from a couple of teammates but he knows they're doing it while holding their breath. He reaches his room and the damn is about to break, he hasn't been held in years, he feels so cold and empty, was he really so terrifying, no one would-

"Sergeant Barnes?"

A gentle voice calls for him, forcing him to swallow the lump in his throat. He knows that voice, mustering his best smile as he turns around to find Tony's lab assistant with a cup of chamomile tea in his mug and a file with the mission report he was supposed to fill out.

"Everyone's filling their reports in the conference room, I figured you'd rather have some privacy so I thought I'd bring it to you" You give him the same warm smile you grace everyone with, handing him the steaming cup, "and of course, your favourite"

It's too much. Normally it wouldn't be but he's never given such kindness but he always gets it from you. You're so unbelievably affectionate to everyone and he really doesn't feel worthy but today he needs it so he graciously accepts the tea and file with a soft thank you.

"and call me Bucky, doll"

You stiffen at the slight crack in his voice, frowning when he keeps his eyes trained to the floor. It wasn't unusual for Bucky to keep to himself but you catch his reddened nose and glassy baby blues and it breaks your heart.

He opens the door to enter his room ready to drown in a lonely storm when that voice calls again. Surely he was dreaming. He sets down his things, turning to find you still at his door.

"Bucky?" You enter his room, standing before him when he doesn't ask you to leave, "Are you okay?"

He doesn't trust himself, nodding and desperately blinking back tears. He wished you'd leave, he wished you'd stay, he wished he could just tell you what he needed, his hands fisted into balls by his side, he should just suck it up, what was he expecting-

"Come here" You whisper, your hand coming to cradle the back of his head, bringing it to rest into your neck where he can let go, your arms wrapping around his body.

Bucky doesn't get a chance to realize what's happening because as soon as he feels your touch the first sob escapes. He's hidden himself away in your hold, his tears wetting your skin with no remorse. He clings onto you like a lifeline while you coo and comfort him, playing with his hair and rubbing his back.

You don't let go, allowing him to cry for as long as he needs. Even after his cries turn into sniffles, you comfort him, pressing a kiss to his temple while he holds you extra tight.

When he's finally ready to let go, albeit reluctantly, he's instantly shused from trying to apologize. You don't ask questions asking what happened or why he was upset. It really didn't matter. You just knew. Bucky whispers a thank you, making a mental note to get you some flowers to properly showed you how much he appreciated it.

Of course you'd always just know when he needed it so he'd thank you again with coffee.

Dinner.

Dinner again.

Eventually, a ring.

You always knew what he needed.

A hug.

That was all.

[anim-ttrpgs]

something I don’t get about the disability metaphor is that for eureka monsters obviously it harms another person to eat them. the help a disabled person needs doesn’t actively harm or kill another person. Maybe it’s a difference in perspectives that cannot be resolved

(What I’m about to write could potentially sound very fucked up at first so I’m going to need to trust everyone to read the whole thing before forming an opinion.)

Also this message and response references these two posts.

Eureka’s stance on disabled people is that they (including myself writing this) are, or at least can often be, burdens.

Disabled people often require more resources to live than they are able to “give back,” which, in our capitalist and artificial-scarcity-based economy, is just about the worst thing a person can do.

Anti-ableism sentiment often focuses on the idea that “disabled people aren’t burdens, that they’re just as good and capable as everyone else,” but if they were, they wouldn’t be “disabled” would they? When you say stuff like that, you’re conceding that a person’s worth is determined by how capable they are at doing work, and then having to bend over backwards to justify thinking that a person without arms is just as valuable as a person with arms. Eureka is asking you to decouple a person’s value from how much net resources they can produce.

Often times also, the resources that real disabled people consume are human resources, and those human resources are very much capable of suffering for it. Nurses are overworked, around-the-clock care is absolutely physically and mentally exhausting, people who have to care for their elderly or otherwise disabled relatives on top of their regular jobs don’t get to have social lives or hobbies, etc.

To this end, we wrote the monsters in Eureka to be unquestionably people who “cause damage” to society by literally eating up human resources, because they have to to live, they have no other choice unless they want to just die. Your friend is gone from your life because he has to spend all his free time caring for his comatose wife after a freak car accident. Your friend is gone from your life because a vampire randomly ate him. Providing a metaphor isn't all the monsters are doing, they just work well through that lens.

And then Eureka forces you to look at these people as people, and make up your mind as to whether they have value and a right to prologue their own existence. We can’t force you to agree that they do, but if you think they don’t, then you’ll have to make that argument looking at an intelligent person with a life rather than a pure hypothetical or statistics on a chart.

There are some monsters in Eureka where, if the economy or societal structures were changed, they would stop being such severe drains on resources and could exist harmlessly within society, and there are some monsters where no imaginable amount of societal change would solve the problems they cause. This is true of disabled people IRL as well. Some of them would require no further assistance with living if certain things about society changed, and others would still require a massive amount of human resources.

And even when it’s not necessarily human resources, the extra resources that disabled people need also cause huge energy expenditure and create huge amounts of plastic waste, which are things that contribute to global warming and pollution, which do have significant harmful effects on everyone’s lives. Despite this, they are still “worth it” to keep around.

As for actively causing harm, that happens too. I randomly scrolled past this post after we got this message and saved it so I could link it here.

This person and their family had to cause a big stink in a restaurant just to get an accommodation that they needed, and to us reading it from their perspective, we’re obviously on their side, but I can assure you that the overworked staff at that restaurant didn’t see it that way. They saw the disabled person as an aggressive Karen whom they would never in a million years want to have to provide customer service to. The disabled person & family had to get aggressive, and ruin the staff’s day, to get what they needed. That’s actively causing harm - harm we all agreed was justified to cause - but harm nonetheless.

Plastic straws aren’t that big of a deal for global pollution, but even if they were, the point is that this person still would have needed a straw. It doesn’t line up one-to-one, because metaphors rarely do, but a vampire asking if they can drink someone’s blood, and being told No, may find themselves in much the same position. (And if you bring up that some people find vampires really sexy, you’re missing the point. “I would give them a straw if they had sex with me.” is not actually a great thing to announce about yourself.)

I can also come up with an example from my own life. I personally am very sensitive to noise and noise pollution. If there’s music playing at a public space, I usually can’t handle it. (Earplugs don’t work for other reasons I won’t get into - plus, if I just deafen myself to all sound, how can I socialize with anyone in this public space?)

If I want to exist in this space, I will have to actively cause harm to everyone there, or else stop existing in that space. I will have to go up to whoever is responsible and ask them to turn off the music, actively taking it away from everyone else who was enjoying it. I have to take action to ruin their good time if I want to exist in that space at all, and they might, very understandably, be pissed off at me for doing that. Because, like I said in this other post, the people that monsters eat do have a right to prevent themselves from being eaten by monsters. We aren't proposing that the solution is everyone has to line up to be mauled to death by monsters or else they're a bad person.

Who has a greater right to enjoy themselves in that space? That’s the kind of question that Eureka poses, and makes you consider both sides as human being rather than denoting one as just an ontologically evil villain to be destroyed.

We actually don't know of perfect solutions to all the problems presented by the existance of monsters in Eureka, we just know that "exterminate all people who are parasites and burdens to society" ain't it.

[retrosabers]

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫.

FICMAS DAY 2: BAKING

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: when steve comes over to help you make christmas cookies, things end a lot sweeter than you expect.

contains: ooey gooey fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers, steve being a flirty klutz, kissing, a tinge of angst if you squint

word count: 2k

a/n: welcome to another installment of “i’m incapable of writing something short and sweet 🧍‍♀️ this is what happens when i revisit writing for my favorite pretty boy

!! divider by @strangergraphics !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

“steve?”

“yeah?”

“you’re supposed to be decorating the cookies, not eating them.”

steve’s tone is nothing short of soft and shy when he breathes out an “oh,” between bites of chocolate chip infused dough. when you recruited him to assist in baking cookies for the holiday potluck tomorrow, you didn’t expect it to end with half of them being consumed before they even got a chance to be decorated.

“sorry,” the brunette squeaks, wiping sugar-dusted fingers over the expanse of his very favorite pair of levi jeans.

it’s hard to stay mad at steve. not when he looks so cute, with a tinge of pink in his cheeks and his normally styled hair slightly askew. not when he so generously offered to help you out, and not when he was standing so close.

no, you can’t stay mad at steve harrington, because it’s impossible to stay mad at the person you’ve had a crush on for years.

momentarily distracted, your hands wrapped around the handles of a rolling pin halt in their ministrations, and steve worries that he’s screwed up big time.

but your frozen position isn’t from the slight wrench in your plans. it’s him and those stupid, pretty, big brown eyes, that always find a way to short circuit your brain. even more so when they’re pleading for forgiveness.

it takes another second to remember that you still have things that need to be done. that you promised robin and nancy you’d supply the gathering with your renowned baked goods. with a shake of your head, you’re back in business, waving steve off with a quick flick of the wrist.

“don’t worry about it,” you reassure him, despite the fact that your anxiety was kicking at the thought of having to prepare an extra batch. “just try not to eat the sugar cookies when they’re done, yeah?”

steve’s expression shifts from panic and embarrassment to something sweeter, sheepish almost. when he nods in reply, that rogue strand that always rests against his forehead bounces in a way that almost makes you roll the cookie dough off the counter completely.

this is just because you’re stressed. you tell yourself. you’re off your game today because you’re in a time crunch.

lucky for you, steve doesn’t notice the slight quiver in your motions, instead opting to shift the conversation in another direction.

“when did you even learn to bake like this anyways?”

you perk up a bit at that, a faint smile on your lips.

“every christmas eve when i was a kid,” you begin while simultaneously cutting out little gingerbread men using cookie cutters. “my mom and i used to make cookies for santa.”

there’s a nostalgic kind of warmth that blankets the room while you retell stories of your childhood to steve, who surprisingly keeps his hands off the treats and his attention completely focused on you. on how your nose wrinkles when you mention the year you accidentally added too much cinnamon, the gleam in your eyes that comes when you talk about making them by yourself for the first time.

it causes a slew of butterflies in steve’s stomach, a gallant whoosh that he’s been trying his damndest to ignore ever since he opened the door to your apartment and found you clad in a flour covered apron and with a red ribbon tied in your hair.

it's very hard to pay attention to anything when he’s confined to a cramped kitchen with the very adorable girl he’s had a crush on for as long as he can remember.

“obviously i figured out at some point that santa wasn’t real,” you joke, transferring the cutouts onto a baking tray. it snaps steve back to reality, away from the ooey-gooey ness in his heart that had nothing to do with the residual taste of melted chocolate chips. “but we still do it every year as a tradition.”

steve hopes he’s not smiling like an idiot, but it’s hard not to when you look so happy, so content. “it sounds nice.”

it's absent minded when he says it, and you know it. but that doesn't make the quiet muttering of “wish my folks were like that” under his breath sting any less. you had a general idea that steve’s parents weren’t the greatest, but it was never something he outright said, not to you anyways. this little glimmer of vulnerability he displays, whether intentional or not, only adds a spark in the torch you carry for him.

the oven timer beeping pulls him from mourning what he could’ve had. any falter in his smile is quickly reconstructed as he moves to grab the oven mitts on the counter. something that only makes your sympathy grow.

“i got it honey,” he murmurs while slipping past you, his hand brushing against the small of your back for a fleeting moment.

honey.

it sends an electric shock up your spine that makes you straighten out comically, unsure of any other way to react to his touch that doesn’t involve squealing like a schoolgirl. thankfully, your face is obscured from view while he very carefully pulls out the piping hot baking tray, your cheeks free to turn as crimson as they please.

honey, honey, honey. how he managed to make that word sound even more saccharine you’ll never know.

steve catches you in his peripheral, face redder than your hair ribbon. i’ve still got it, he mentally pats himself on the back. though his suaveness only lasts for a second when he remembers he’s got something scorching in his hand. the brunette drops the sugar cookies onto the counter rather ungracefully, huffing out a curse that makes you giggle.

you think you prefer when he's a little dorky over the pretty boy charm.

as much as steve wants to obey your request to not dive into the sugar cookies, he’s having a painfully hard time restraining himself. that heavenly smell of vanilla is overpowering all self control, an enticing and comforting aroma he’d never had the joy of experiencing until now.

the childlike wonder in steve’s eyes melts away any stress or frustration.

against your better judgement, you walk over to where he’s standing, resting your chin on the edge of his shoulder. if steve is surprised by the act, he doesn’t show it. this time though, the thrum of his heart is hard to miss, noticeable even through the layers of fabric separating you.

“you can have one,” you speak lowly into the cashmere material. “and you have to wait until they’ve cooled down. i’m not taking you to the emergency room because you burnt your tongue.”

steve chuckles at the memory from earlier in the year, when eddie’s impatience got the best of him and he burnt the roof of his mouth trying to get a taste of your baking. he remembers watching that interaction from afar, how you doted over the metalhead when he hurt himself, and it made a vile little twinge of jealousy move within him. though steve always tries to ignore that last part, simply focusing on your kindness. like he was right now.

“i still can’t believe munson managed to do that,” steve replies through his laughter.

the feeling of your own giggles vibrating against him is something he never thought would happen. in that moment, those butterflies in his stomach valiantly escape their cage, a flurry he’s not sure he wants to contain.

all he can hear in his head is robin’s voice screeching, “for the love of god dingus, you need to stop staring like an idiot and just make a move.”

when you suddenly pull away from him, he’s afraid that opportunity is gone. steve’s rather confused when he catches a glimpse of your face before you round the other side of the kitchen island. there’s a shyness in you that he’s not used to seeing. if he’s learned one thing in getting to know you better these past few months, it’s that you hardly ever got timid. only when you were uncomfortable, or scared, and he prays it’s not either of those things.

it’s not looking very good when you turn your body completely away from him.

“y’know,” you begin shyly, toying with the strings of your apron. “you’re more than welcome to come over again next year.”

oh.

steve’s lips part slightly, eyes widening in surprise. “yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe out, nerves taking over while you busy yourself with the frosting. you’re not really doing much of anything, just mindless fiddling with the bag and adjusting the parchment paper on the cookie sheet. everything but looking at steve.

“just think you deserve to be a part of a christmas tradition,” you say so softly he almost doesn’t catch it. the wholehearted sincerity in your voice, despite its low volume, makes him feel dizzy.

as he stands there, dumbfounded and mulling over your words, he knows he can’t chicken out any longer. not when you were offering a place for him in your holiday traditions. something steve knew you held very near and dear to your heart.

“that is, of course,” you add hurriedly, turning around to make sure you haven’t made him feel pressured. “only if you want to.”

oh boy does he.

steve crosses the room in long, slow strides. partly to test the waters and partly to watch the way you get a little squirmy. your hands struggle to find something sensible to do, but everything is a jumbled mess and you eventually drop them at your sides by the time steve glides into your peripheral vision.

your eyes squeeze shut in preparation for his polite rejection. that he’s going to let you down easy, and leave you to finish all this by yourself.

but you should’ve known steve better than that.

a tender hand wraps around your wrist, the scent of his cologne enveloping your personal space, and the syrupy sweet murmur of that damned word finds your ears again. he was consuming all your senses, an act of reverse psychology that makes you open up instead of run away.

when his hand travels further south, experimentally brushing your fingers together, you can’t hide anymore. there’s nothing you could possibly do to ignore the jolt of electricity that travels through you from head to toe. as your eyes slowly peek open, you find steve leaning against the counter beside you, a boyish little grin on his face. barely a feet of space between your bodies, yet you were buzzing with anticipation.

“i want to,” he says matter of factly despite the airiness of his voice. “i really, really want to.”

a hint of nervousness dances across his features when he utters, “but only if you’ll let me.”

there’s a double entendre to his proclamation that’s undeniable. steve leans closer, enough that you can see just how long his lashes are, how those stupid pretty eyes have flecks of gold in them, how his cupid bow is so perfect, so kissable. enough that you can’t mistake the way his gaze keeps flicking down to your lips. an unspoken permission you happily grant with the slightest nod of the head.

kissing steve is exactly how you dreamed it would be. those perfectly plump lips were just as soft as you hoped, as skilled as the girls back in high school used to whisper about. there’s a confidence behind the way he kisses you, though it’s still incredibly languid and gentle. his hand migrates from your wrist up to your jaw, gently caressing and cradling it with a care no one else has ever shown you before.

you’re not sure how long you stand there for. it could’ve been minutes, or hours; either way you didnt care. the cookies were long forgotten in your mind, having found a new craving that could only be satiated so long as steve held you close and his lips remained on yours.

a laugh bubbles in your throat at the faint flavor of chocolate on your tongue. you discover a new fact about steve that you don’t plan on sharing with anyone else as long as he’ll have you.

he tastes sweeter than sugar.

thanks for reading! <3

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

[dontbesoweirdkira]

How would Platonic! Yan! Batfamily react to Reader with Narcolepsy?

A/N:Thank you for requesting. I hope I did okay with this, please respectfully correct me if I got anything wrong or unintentionally offensive with this as I do not suffer from narcolepsy.

Warnings: Toxic and abusive family dynamics, infantalization, medication tampering, worsening issues

Masterlist

Requests: always open

Oh my gosh that would be the worse thing to deal with in a Yan! family. Especially with one as affectionate as them.

Can you imagine trying to avoid Dick or Tim but just falling right asleep in their arms from the stress...then when you wake up moments later, they aren't allowing you to leave their grasp...oh how terrifying that'd be.

Anyways, they are rather attentive to your needs and observant. If one of the siblings notice that you are showing signs that you will abruptly collapse, they will rush over and quickly guide you to a safe area where you can rest.

The family is very strict on not giving you certain tasks that may be hard on your body. Especially if you deal with cataplexy. If you need help with moving something, or completing a task, just ask someone. They will be very upset if you get yourself hurt.

The down side of not having great muscle control or overall weakness is the constant babying. They treat you as if you were made out of glass. It can be quite annoying when you need to strengthen your muscles even if it's very difficult for you. They also might enjoy keeping you weak and vulnerable because you have less of a chance to escape and no real ability to fight back. You are far to precious to not be in their care.

Your family is strict about not allowing you to hang out with friends and staying only in the home. Occasionally they'll allow you to have a supervised visit. They even may force you to take up schooling at home and you're not allowed to work. It's all far too dangerous when they aren't near to assist you. You cannot trust anyone outside of them.

If you suffer with hallucinations, whether that may be audio or visual, they will be very understanding. You aren't the only one in the family to suffer with symptoms like such. Many days Jason and Bruce are struggling with those things. I can't imagine anyone would poke fun, they'd just redirect you.

But his can kind of suck given that sometimes you cannot tell if something that happened was real or not. Your family may say that you were just having a hallucination but you swear that you heard them talking about tampering with your meds.

Speaking of such, they most definitely do. The medicine that is supposed to help with your EDS seems to have the opposite effect on you. Some days it seems like you've been sleeping for weeks. You swore that you feel asleep in the living room...why are you now in an entirely different sect of the mansion..???

If you suffer with memory issues, that will be a huge problem because so many things they get away with or manipulate you about and because you have no recollection of any events..you are just forced to go with it, even if your gut says something is wrong.

Sometimes the family can get a bit worried if you are up all night..they worry you might wonder off or get hurt while they are either on patrol or sleeping so one designated person must be up with you at all times.

Even when you're sleeping. Someone is monitoring you and your health. Usually Alfred or one of the siblings if they are free.

Often Tim will take the shift since he is usually home and doing work anyways. Too many times have you randomly woken up in his dark room with him in the corner watching you.

Your constant fatigue is an excuse your siblings may use to just carry you around without your consent. Yes, you were struggling up the stairs. but no. you didn't really want Dick to just come and pick you up and carry you around the house like a pet. It's worse when it's Jason because he throws you over his shoulder...he's working on it.

Alfred has a specialty diet for you, which kind of sucks sometimes when the others are eating your favorites. But it's for the best he tells you. It's supposed to help with your symptoms but...every time you eat his cooking, you just feel sick then super drowsy..Alfred says it's the adjustment period to the new diet..but you can't shake the feeling that the food is worsening your conditions

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter two ♡

Summary: You see Joel for the first time after the night of his birthday, and things couldn't be more different from how you thought they were. Word count: 6.8k A/N: Thank you so much for all your beautiful comments!!! I'm so glad you liked the first chapter. I honestly can't wait to keep discovering the path of this story together with you <3 thank you thank you thank youuu. FIRST CHAPTER: ♡ here ♡

Saturday. You woke up with an ache stretching through your chest, as if all the warmth you’d fallen asleep in had cooled to an empty space beside you. Joel was gone. The clock flashed 9:00 a.m., and you imagined him awake hours earlier, deciding he needed to leave. You wondered what might’ve filled his head as he slipped out—regret, embarrassment, maybe something close to the uncomfortable doubt now tightening in your stomach.

It was painful, how your mind filled in the blanks: if he’d stayed, if he’d wrapped his arms around you before you woke up, maybe it would mean something. Some quiet acknowledgment of what had happened, that you were now something different, and that it could be okay. But he’d left, and his absence felt like an answer. His own kind of message. You didn’t know exactly how to feel, only that your heart was broken, frayed by thoughts that raced faster than you could catch.

After lying there, staring blankly at the wall for what might’ve been hours, you managed to sit up, body aching and sore from each place his hands had traveled. You stepped into the shower, closing your eyes as the hot water hit your shoulders, the places where his fingertips had traced your skin. You felt sadder than you wanted to admit as the water washed away his touch, erased his kisses—but somehow, you also needed this; needed to cleanse away the confusion he’d left behind. The way your heart twisted told you everything: that after years of loving him quietly, of wondering if you were foolish for feeling this way, you’d finally seen it in his eyes. It was undeniable, the way he looked at you. Dark, intent, and carrying something that had always been just out of reach. But there was something else there, something heavy that you still didn’t understand, as if he were as conflicted as you.

For the rest of the day, you collapsed onto the couch, letting the TV drone on without paying attention to any of it. You didn’t see Joel or Sarah, didn’t even think about glancing out the window, afraid he might be there.

*

Sunday. You woke up early and walked the neighborhood, hoping you wouldn’t cross paths with him. You had no idea what to say, and you weren’t ready to hear anything he might want to say to you. Joel wasn’t sentimental, and you knew this situation would be far from easy for him, as well. When you returned, you rounded the block and entered through the back door to avoid even the sight of his house. You spent the rest of the day tearing through closets, dusting shelves, filling bags with clothes and objects to donate. Anything to keep busy, to drown out the echo of his absence. When you reached the hall, you noticed a picture hanging askew—a memory of your best friend pushing you playfully against the wall. You straightened it, feeling the weight of that simpler time.

*

Monday. Work, mercifully, absorbed you the whole morning. Manuscripts stacked on your desk piled up, five drafts to review before the week’s end. At lunch, you let yourself get caught up in the interns’ gossip, grateful for the distraction of someone else’s drama: an assistant had apparently thrown a scene in the kitchen. For those few minutes, you were somewhere else entirely.

When you got home, exhaustion caught up to you in a wave, and you napped for hours, hoping to sleep off the ache. You buried yourself in work for the rest of the evening until finally crawling into bed. Even though the hours of sleep should’ve soothed you, the headache stayed, an insistent reminder that you couldn’t keep avoiding the thoughts that waited just beneath the surface.

*

Tuesday. Work was just a blur of the usual. A steady hum, a low buzz of screens and staplers and muffled voices. Then your boss leaned out of her office door, gave you a quick look, and said you could take off two hours early if you wanted. No explanation. You gave her a polite nod of thanks and were out of there before she could change her mind.

When you got home, you stood in the shower for an eternity, letting the water pour over you, but your mind kept circling back to Joel. The ache of it pressed on you, and you felt almost embarrassed by how deeply it stung. Why did it always come back to this?

Out of the shower, you wrapped your hair in a towel, looked up at your own face in the mirror. The eyes staring back seemed hollow, that same expression you’d worn on Saturday—worn thin and tired, as if all the energy you’d stored up was suddenly gone.

You knew you had to do something. Sitting around was unbearable. A surge of restlessness spurred you forward. You changed into workout clothes, slid your headphones on, set a playlist going. The music buzzed in your ears as you left, footsteps echoing on the stairs, mind already reaching for the rush that would come when you pushed yourself hard, sprinting until everything in you felt like liquid fire.

You’d barely opened the front door when you stopped short. Sarah was there, one hand raised to knock, her backpack slung over her shoulder, her hair falling in loose, carefree waves. She looked up, surprised, but her face split into a grin, and at the sight of her, something warm unfurled in your chest.

“Can I stay for a while? Dad’s working late again,” she said, and you felt the familiar twinge at the mention of him— Dad.

“Of course.” You stepped back, pulling the door open wide, stretching your arms out for a hug, which she slipped into immediately, her hands resting lightly on your back.

“Were you going somewhere?” she asked, tossing her backpack to the floor and heading straight for the couch. She plopped down, her hair bouncing as she did, and looked at you with that expectant smile, as if she’d just brought a bit of sunlight into the room with her.

“Just a run.” You wave it off, but there’s something in your voice—she tilts her head, gives you a curious look. “I was bored, that’s all,” you add, softer.

"Ah,” Sarah murmured, letting the sound stretch and float between you. "It’s a nice day, a perfect day for a run.”

“It is," you agreed, the words soft, casual, "but it’s even nicer now that you’re here.” You couldn’t help smiling as you lowered yourself onto the couch beside her, picking up the remote and flipping on the TV. You laughed under your breath when My Best Friend’s Wedding appeared on the screen, as if fate itself were nudging you, teasing you with its sense of irony.

Sarah didn’t miss a beat, slipping her arms around your waist and nestling her head against your right arm, curling into you in the way she always did. The warmth of her comfort settled over you.

“What happened between you and Dad?” Her voice was quiet, the kind of softness that demands honesty. You looked down, meeting her open gaze, and your heart clenched—how could you explain something you hadn’t yet pieced together yourself?

“Nothing,” you murmured, trying to keep your tone light. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged but kept her head resting on you, her voice low, musing. “I don’t know… I haven’t seen you since his birthday.” She toyed with the hem of her sleeve, eyes downcast, like she was searching her memory. “And last night, when we ordered pizza, I told him I wanted to see you. He said no, that you were probably tired, but I told him you always come, even when you’re tired.” She glanced up at you, lips curling with a faint, sad smile. “Then he just told me to drop it, and I could tell he was in one of his moods. You know him.”

Each word pierced you, gentle pinpricks you could feel sinking in. Joel was shutting you out too, it seemed, yet you were beginning to accept that as inevitable.

“I really was tired,” you lied, hating the sound of it even as it left your lips. “Yesterday was long. You know how much I read every day?” She nodded, that same wide-eyed curiosity looking up at you. “Well, yesterday was one of those days I could hardly see straight. When I got home, all I wanted to do was sleep.”

“Oh, right,” she replied, and you felt her cheeks lift against your arm, her smile warm and trusting. “Well, I was just gonna ask you to help with my homework. Have you ever read Poe?”

A chuckle escaped, breaking the tension. “Yes, I’ve read Poe.”

She pulled back a little, her eyes gleaming. “Are you tired now?”

“No.” You shifted up straighter, meeting her gaze with a small nod. “Come on, let’s get comfortable at the table.”

Soon, you were placing a steaming cup of cocoa and a plate of cookies in front of her, the familiar ritual setting in, grounding you both. You sat beside her, ready to dive into the morbid worlds of *The Black Cat* and *The Tell-Tale Heart,* classic Poe to whet a young mind. She didn’t need your help—you knew that. Sarah was bright, quick; it was more the routine of sitting together in the kitchen, tracing the dark, winding paths of literature, that you both cherished. Sometimes she’d even ask for math help, which was the last thing you were qualified for. Literary theory? Of course; Atiyah's geometry? Forget it. 

At seven, the kitchen was dim, the soft click of the clock marking the evening. There was still no sign of Joel. You watched from the living room window, your breath creating small fogged circles on the cold glass. Sarah had drifted to sleep, limbs splayed out on the couch, her bare feet poking over the edge. After homework, she’d switched to a documentary about whales and somewhere along the way, gentle little snores had taken over. You, meanwhile, were skimming through an article on your phone about a woman from Nigeria with the world’s largest wig, lost in a rabbit hole of Guinness World Records—another one of your distractions to keep from thinking about the ache lodged firmly where thoughts of Joel tended to linger.

Then, you heard it: the low rumble of Joel’s truck. You didn’t need to see him to know. You could recognize it anywhere, the steady approach, the engine growling over the pavement. For a moment, you stayed frozen, staring blankly at the phone in your hands, the words blurring together. You were just waiting—knowing that any moment, he’d come knocking at your door. Because that’s exactly what he would do.

Joel would enter his house with that familiar, end-of-the-day exhaustion weighing down his steps. His shoulders would drop, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Sarah!” he would call out, but the house would echo back only silence. A quiet that felt too deep, too empty. He’d stand in the middle of the hallway, pausing, absorbing the emptiness for a beat, then walk to her room and crack open the door just enough to check her bed. The unmade sheets and abandoned books would confirm what he already suspected: she was at your place, just as she always was when he was running late.

With a soft sigh, he would turn and head downstairs, the familiar creaks of the house echoing around him. And as he moves toward your door, he’d feel the tension in his back, muscles tight and weary from the day. He’d roll his head in a way that sent a dull ring through his neck, feeling the tendons pull, listening to the slight pop of his vertebrae—an old habit that usually helped him settle. But tonight, it did little to ease the tension running through him. Then, as he gets closer, he- 

Knock, knock—two sharp sounds that broke through the quiet of the evening. You looked up from your phone, startled from your reverie, the light of the screen dimming in your periphery. Sarah was curled up beside you, blissfully unaware, her breathing steady and peaceful.

“Sarah,” you whispered, reaching out gently, fingers brushing her shoulder. You called her name softly a couple of times, but she merely rolled over, a sleepy mumble escaping her lips—a mix of protest and the remnants of dreams still clinging to her.

Knock, knock. Again, insistent, echoing through the room.

This time, you stood up, feeling an unsteady flutter in your stomach as you made your way to the door. You inhaled sharply, letting a sigh escape, your body tensing involuntarily with each step. There it was again—that heaviness, low and unsettling, growing with every inch you closed toward him.

As your hand wrapped around the cool metal of the doorknob, you found yourself hesitating, fingers pressed into it but unmoving, as if the door itself had grown an invisible weight.

Be. Fucking. Strong. You took a slow breath, steadied your grip, a final reminder for yourself. Maybe, just maybe, Joel was feeling the same tightness, the same knot of uncertainty in his chest. You let yourself imagine that possibility, just long enough to give you the courage to turn the knob and let him in.

In one swift, impulsive movement, you flung the door open, and there he was. Joel. Standing there as if time itself had stilled, his gaze locked onto yours. It was the first time you'd seen him since that night. Your heart lurched at the sight of him, the familiar lines of his face, the small furrow between his brows, and maybe—just maybe—a slight tremor at one eyebrow as if he was bracing himself, too.

“Sarah’s here,” you said, quickly, your voice sharper than you’d intended, as though saying it fast enough might keep him from asking first. 

“I assumed so,” he replied, glancing briefly into your house, his tone measured, careful. “Is she asleep?”

You nodded, stepping back just enough to signal he could come in. He hesitated for a beat, then crossed the threshold. As he passed, his arm brushed yours, a fleeting contact that sent a surge through you—a reminder of all the words you hadn’t said, couldn’t say. It made your heart race, each beat loud in your ears as he moved further into the room.

You watched him approach Sarah, his frame bending down as he placed a hand on her shoulder, voice a low murmur. “Sarah, baby, let’s go home,” he whispered, as if his quiet words might coax her awake. But she only turned her shoulder, a soft groan escaping her, and nestled back into sleep. 

He sighed, a sound that spoke of familiarity and resignation. It was a scene he had lived through a hundred times before. Knowing it was useless to waste words trying to wake her, he slipped his arms beneath her and lifted her in one smooth motion. She stirred only slightly as he held her, and you saw the small grimace on his face as he straightened up, her weight adding to his already tired frame. 

You stayed in the doorway of the living room, arms crossed, a faint shield against whatever unspoken things might spill out of him. The sight of him in your space stirred a confusion of emotions—anger, frustration, an ache edged with sadness. Joel had been pulling away, barely looking you in the eye; Joel was acting as if you were strangers or as if nothing had ever happened between you. Joel was a—

“Thanks for watching her,” he said, his voice low as he walked past you, his eyes averted, as though speaking to the floor. He held Sarah protectively, her feet swinging softly past you, careful not to let her brush against you.

Something about his words made your stomach twist. He was speaking to you like you’d done something extraordinary, some rare act of kindness, as if this wasn’t something you did all the time. It was ridiculous. Sarah spent half her days here, half her nights, and he was thanking you now, like you were a kind neighbor who’d offered to babysit for the first time or some shit like that.

You didn’t respond, feeling the words trapped in your throat, unwilling to form. Instead, you walked him to the door, waiting as he stepped over the threshold. Your hand found the doorknob, ready to close it as soon as he left.

But he stopped. He turned back, and for a moment, his eyes met yours with a rare intensity. His expression shifted—there was something else there, something that looked like it was on the verge of spilling over. You waited, holding his gaze, a silent impatience building in you, daring him to say whatever was lodged inside him.

“Good night,” he said at last, flat and simple, letting the words fall like stones between you.

Before he could wait for a response, you slammed the door shut, perhaps with a bit too much force. But you didn’t care. You didn’t care at all. He could stand there in the hallway, speechless, for all you cared. The way he had looked at you, his voice so flat and distant—like you were nothing more than neighbors exchanging small talk—made your chest feel hollow. As if you hadn't spent the last four years glued to each other, inseparable, as if he hadn’t been completely entangled with you, entirely and recently. Joel could go fuck himself.

With your heart still aching, you walked to your bedroom and changed into pajamas, too upset to think about eating. You crawled under the covers, letting the silence settle around you, picking up the remote and flicking through channels until you found a rerun of one of those bizarre home and health shows. On the screen, a woman was recounting a story that seemed almost surreal: she had given birth to a baby alone in her bathroom after a shower, completely unaware she’d been pregnant. No anesthesia, no doctor, just a child falling into her hands, catching her by surprise.

Unbelievable, you thought, entranced, the human body is astounding. 

By the time the second episode started, your mind had drifted away from Joel, and all you could feel was hunger, sharp and insistent. The grumble in your stomach left you with no choice but to get out of bed. You tossed back the sheets and slipped your feet into the pom-pom slippers Joel had given you last Christmas. Fucking Joel, you thought, but they were soft, comfortable, and warm, and they carried you to the kitchen with a small feeling of comfort despite everything.

You made yourself a ham and cheese sandwich, humming a song you’d been listening to earlier that evening, right before Sarah knocked on your door. You poured yourself a glass of water, sat in the gentle glow of the under-cabinet lights, and took a bite. As you ate, your thoughts drifted back to the woman giving birth alone, imagining her shock and fear. If something like that ever happened to you, you thought, you’d probably be completely terrified, unprepared.

Then again, maybe you’d surprise yourself, discovering strength you didn’t know you had.

You shook your head slightly, reassuring yourself that it could never happen. You were meticulous with birth control; it was nearly impossible. After all, it had been a lonely year, with plenty of solitude and very little excitement. Not that you lacked options, but you’d grown comfortable in your independence.

Oh. Joel. You had slept with Joel, hadn’t you? And you hadn’t used a condom, a fact you had almost managed to ignore, until now. The thought gnawed at you.

As you finished your sandwich, you reminded yourself to check that your alarm was set for noon tomorrow—right when you took your birth control every day.

What would it be like, really, to have a baby? You’d never held one close or even spent much time with one, always keeping them at arm’s length, like something fragile you didn’t understand. Growing up an only child, you’d had no younger siblings to fuss over, no little cousins to chase around. None of your friends had children, either—not ones young enough for you to witness the first days, the delicate first few years. Sarah was already eight when you met her, and while you’d watched her grow up since, it wasn’t the same as seeing a baby. A newborn. Someone who came into the world with no words, just endless, vulnerable need.

Knock, knock. The sound jarred you, your heart jumping as you nearly choked on your last bite of sandwich. You looked up, squinting at the clock on the wall. Eleven p.m. 

Who could it be at this hour? His name appeared on your mind.

You reached for a paper napkin and wiped your mouth, slowly pushing back from the kitchen counter, your feet moving reluctantly toward the door. Your pulse quickened with each step, and a voice inside you whispered to run upstairs, to pretend you hadn’t heard. But the lights were on. He’d know you were awake; surely, he would.

Peering through the peephole, you felt that sudden jolt all over again. Joel was there. Standing in the yellowish glow of the hallway lights, looking down at the floor with one hand absently scratching his chin. For a moment, you watched him like that, as if observing from far away, taking in the unguarded heaviness of his expression. It softened something in you, even as your mind told you to hold your ground. 

Finally, you turned the lock and opened the door, just a sliver at first, easing it open slowly until you were half visible. His gaze lifted the moment he saw you, his body straightening, hands falling to his sides. There was something unmistakably nervous in his stance, a sense that he’d already doubted coming here but had decided it was too late to turn back.

He said your name in a whisper, as if startled to see you standing right there in your own doorway, his voice almost swallowed by the silence around you both. Then he took a step forward, his hand lifting slightly as if he’d reach out. 

You stayed frozen in place, your heart loud in your ears.

“Were you in bed?” he asked, almost sheepishly, the corners of his mouth pulling up slightly as if he wasn’t sure he should be there.

“No, I…” You hesitated, glancing briefly over his shoulder like you were expecting someone to jump out and catch you doing something wrong. “I was just eating something.”

Joel nodded, his eyes darting over your shoulder, taking in the familiar space inside your home, then flicking back to you, then to the doorway again. You could tell he wanted to come in, but he looked uncertain, almost nervous.

“Did something happen?” you asked, your voice coming out a little louder than intended.

“No, no,” he replied quickly. “Sarah just… she forgot her backpack, that’s all.” That’s all. The words sounded small.

You nodded, feeling a slight warmth creep into your cheeks, a forced smile stretching across your lips.

“I’ll grab it for you,” you said, hoping you sounded polite and unaffected. You closed the door nearly all the way, leaving only a thin sliver between you and the hallway, and hurried to where Sarah’s backpack and shoes sat beside the couch.

You grabbed her things hastily, inhaling sharply as you bent down, determined to hand them over and end this interaction on a courteous note, the way he’d left things with you earlier that evening.

“Jesus, Joel,” you muttered as you stood back up, a hand pressed to your chest. He’d somehow slipped inside and was standing right in front of you, eyes steady but unreadable, mouth set in a straight line. “You scared me to death.”

He glanced around your living room, slowly, buying time. He looked back at you, but this time his eyes were softer, a hint of something deeper lingering there.

“Can we talk?” he asked, and your heart leapt, relief breaking through your careful composure. 

You placed Sarah’s things back on the floor, feeling the weight of this moment settle over you, and then sank onto the couch. You didn’t say anything, but you glanced toward the seat beside you, silently inviting him to join you. Joel sat heavily, elbows on his knees, staring down as though the floor itself held the answers to questions he couldn’t voice. His silence felt endless, stretching out between you until you finally broke it.

“What do you want to talk about?” you asked, your voice almost too casual, as if you weren’t bracing yourself for the answer.

What was there even to talk about? The weather?

He exhaled, his voice almost too low to hear.

“About what happened. I… I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He straightened his back but still didn’t meet your eyes. 

“Sorry about what?” you asked, your own voice coming out softer than you’d intended, colored by a hurt you couldn’t hide. “For sleeping with me, or for disappearing in the morning?”

The flash of hurt in your tone seemed to hit him hard, his head dropping even lower. He turned toward you, his gaze sweeping across your face, as though trying to memorize the hurt he’d caused.

“Everything,” he said at last, voice thick with regret. “For messing it all up, for not coming to talk to you sooner.” He looked away again, his hand resting on the back of his neck, and his eyes drifting down, unable to hold yours. 

Your body felt tight with nerves, and you nodded, though it was barely a nod at all.

“Why did you leave?” you asked, almost a whisper.

He looked like he was searching for the right words, for something that would undo the damage, something that wouldn’t hurt you more.

“I panicked. I woke up and saw you next to me, and it all rushed back—everything. I couldn’t handle it, and Sarah was going to wake up soon, and I just… I just left.” 

“You could have at least told me,” you murmured, your voice strained. “Do you have any idea how that felt?”

He turned fully to face you, his eyes dark and full of something you loved, but now it looked almost foreign.

“I know. I hate myself for making you feel that way. I can’t forgive myself for that.” He shook his head slowly, as though to emphasize the depth of his regret. “I messed up. I messed everything up.”

“Then be clearer, Joel.” Your voice cracked on his name, and you hated how fragile it sounded. 

He ran a hand over his chin, staring at you with an expression that was unreadable but intense, his fingers pressing into the stubble on his jaw. He exhaled, licking his lips, and it was as if the words were something he’d been rehearsing, something he’d said to himself over and over but couldn’t say until now.

“I lied to you. And then I acted like an asshole when you found out,” he said, the words halting and heavy. “I’m sorry. I felt cornered when you found out about Sienna, and i reacted defensively.” The name slipped out reluctantly, and you felt a sharp pang at the sound of it. “I felt weird, and I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I know this is my fault—all of it is. If I’d just left when you asked me to... God, you asked me so many times. If I had left, none of this would have happened.” He shook his head, almost in disbelief at himself. “But I didn’t. And I ruined it.”

Sienna. The name hung in the air, thickening the silence between you. It sat heavy in your chest, like a stone. You tried to picture her, tried to put a face to the name, but the image wouldn’t come; your mind was racing too fast.

A warmth crept down your spine as Joel’s words landed, heavy, final. You sat with the silence for a moment, like you were stealing a few extra seconds from time to filter through what he’d just said, to let the meaning sift in slowly. He regretted it—this, everything. That was why he’d left in the morning, why he’d ignored you for days, why he couldn’t hold your gaze now. His eyes stayed down, fixed on the floor, while yours were betraying you, welling up without permission.

“You ruined it,” you whispered, echoing his words more to yourself than to him, taking them in and feeling their weight. But Joel must’ve thought you meant it, that you agreed with his confession. He winced slightly, like he’d been stung. “You regret it. Now what?”

He swallowed, his eyes still cast down.

“Now, now I don’t know,” he muttered. It sounded like a confession, like the last thing he wanted to admit. “But we have to fix it somehow.”

Fix it. Joel had always fixed things; it was almost second nature to him. Floors, windows, cabinets, the bench in your backyard that he’d broken one night when he stood on it, laughing, doing something you couldn’t even remember now. Joel fixed anything broken or cracked or worn down, anything that wasn’t how it should be. And now, that’s what he thought you were—something to be mended.

Your throat tightened, and you felt your eyes sting as a tear escaped, soft and warm on your cheek.

“Do you want us to pretend nothing happened?” you asked, your voice low but clear, cutting through the heaviness in the air.

“No,” he said, looking up quickly, like he was startled by the idea. When he saw your face, his brow twitched in concern. “No. But we can work it out; I know we can. We have to.”

You laughed, short and sharp, a hollow sound that escaped before you could think. You shook your head, as the irony hit you—how he thought he could repair something like this, as if he could slot you both back together seamlessly, like nothing was shattered, like no pieces were missing.

“How, Joel?” you asked, your voice tinged with exasperation, though your lips held a half-smile—an odd defense that barely softened the ache. “How am I supposed to act as if this never happened?”

He clasped his hands, his fingers moving restlessly against each other as he took in your words, his face an irritating calm that made you feel exposed, like you were some unpredictable force he needed to steady. When he finally spoke, his voice softened, though there was a tiny thread of frustration just barely visible.

“I’m not asking you to pretend or act, not at all,” he said, and the slight waver in his voice hinted at some urgency he was struggling to mask. “I just… we’re adults, you know? And sometimes things get messy. It doesn’t make it… doesn’t mean it was meant to be. It was just a mistake. That’s not who we are, you and I.”

“A mistake?” you echoed, his words heavy on your tongue, repeating them to see if they would settle into meaning. But they felt as alien as they sounded, and Joel could see it. He shook his head gently, almost admonishing, catching the resistance etched across your face.

“Yes, a mistake,” he replied, almost chiding, and then he sank forward, his head resting in his hands. His eyes closed, and you couldn't tell , but he was replaying some private memory; you didn’t know how often he’d been revisiting it in his mind—how his thoughts had kept catching on the feel of your skin, the taste of you, the soft pull of your fingers in his hair, the unmistakable sense of being surrounded by you: tight, warm, everywhere. Too much. It was a memory he couldn’t shake, and one that, in his mind, he had to. It was a torture that needed to stop.

He drew in a deep breath and looked up. “We can’t go there, not you and me. That’s not us.”

You leaned forward, heart pounding, voice edged with something sharper than before.

“A mistake?” you repeated, but this time louder, any hint of softness dissolving as it turned to raw anger. “What the hell, Joel?”

“That’s exactly what it was,” he started, his voice tentative, as if he were trying to convince you of something you didn’t want to believe. “We were arguing, a little drunk, and in the heat of the moment, things just… got out of hand—”

“Stop it.” Your interruption came out firm, a sharp edge cutting through the air between you. Joel froze, his gaze locking onto yours, as if you had just thrown a switch. “You know perfectly well that’s not what happened. If I remember correctly, we barely finished a bottle of wine, and you need a lot more than that to get drunk, don’t you?”

“I was mad,” he insisted, his voice rising slightly, a mix of defensiveness and frustration swirling in his tone. “I was angry, and you were teasing me with all those—”

“Bullshit.” The word slipped out with a fierceness that surprised even you. You shifted closer, locking your gaze onto his, making it impossible for him to look away. “We both know what happened wasn’t just a result of some drunken argument. You were angry, yes, and so was I, but it was still you and me.”

Joel shook his head slowly, exasperation spilling from him like a tide. He scrubbed his face with both hands, a gesture of weariness that spoke volumes about the struggle playing out in his mind.

“So what do you want me to tell you then?” he blurted, his frustration breaking through the surface, his voice loud enough to echo in your ears. “That I got carried away? That I completely screwed up and regret everything?”

At that, you felt a jolt of emotion surge through you. You sprang up from the couch, taking several steps back as if creating distance could shield you from the reality of what he was saying. You turned away, unable to hide the tears that had begun their silent descent down your cheeks. The worst suspicions you had harbored were confirmed; he was sorry, miserable at the thought of having touched you, and that thought cut deeper than you expected.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you spat, the words sharp and raw as you wiped your face with the sleeve of your pajamas. It was a pitiful gesture, but it felt like the only way to wipe away the emotional mess he had stirred up inside you. “Fuck off and leave me alone.”

“No,” he blurted out, the word escaping him almost like a plea. He sprang from his seat, crossing the space between you in just a few strides, desperation etched into the lines of his face. “Please, sunshine, please, we can fix this. We just need to talk it out and give it a little time—”

“Don’t ever call me that again.” The demand tumbled from your lips, cutting through the air with an urgency that surprised even you. You saw the flicker of hurt in his eyes, how your words landed like stones against his heart. “Don’t ever call me that again, Joel. I don’t want to listen to you. I can’t pretend this has a solution because, honestly, I don’t feel like there is one. You don't realize what's going on, do you? Or you're just too stubborn to do it, as usual, Joel, you're always so fucking stubborn about everything.”

“What do you want me to do?” His voice strained, as if he were grasping at straws, desperate for a lifeline.

“Nothing!” The word burst from you, frustration boiling over until it turned into a sob you wished you could swallow back. The tears threatened to overflow, blurring your vision and your resolve.

“Tell me what I can do, and I’ll do it. I—”

“Stop it, Joel.”

He reached out, his hand hovering in the air between you like a promise hanging unfulfilled. But you took a quick step back, your back hitting the wall with a thud that echoed in the silence, an absurd reminder of how trapped you felt in this moment.

What did you want him to do? To turn back time; not to leave your bed, to reciprocate for at least a few minutes more, to pretend it was okay, to lie to you at least. But that wasn't possible, and suddenly, the quiet sturdy house you had lived in all these years, hiding your feelings for your own good, had now collapsed.

Joel stared at you for a few seconds, his silence stretching between you like a taut wire ready to snap. You could see the shift in his expression, the way it softened and crumbled, no longer the confident facade he usually wore. Instead, he looked downcast, a man weighed down by burdens that felt alien to you, yet you could sense the depth of his struggle. Or so you thought.

Then, your name slipped from his lips like a broken prayer, fragile and desperate.

“I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you,” he implored, his voice wavering with an urgency that made your heart twist. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. Please listen to me, just for one more moment.”

In that instant, his words pierced through your defenses, sinking deep into your chest and igniting a flicker of hope. For a heartbeat, you were on the verge of rushing to him, promising that everything would be okay, that you could forget the hurt and revert to the easy laughter and shared secrets of before. You could stash away all your feelings, pack them neatly into boxes, and hide them away forever just to keep him close. But reality loomed over you like a storm cloud, and you knew that was no longer an option; everything had irrevocably shifted. You couldn't bear to look at him without feeling the sharp sting of heartbreak.

Swallowing hard, you tasted the salt of your tears, and it burned your throat like an unwelcome reminder of the turmoil within.

“I’m not sure I can be your friend anymore, Joel,” you confessed, your voice shaking with the weight of your admission.

He shook his head, disbelief flashing across his features as a weak smile broke through the hurt. It was as if he couldn’t quite fathom the words that had just escaped you.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do,” you asserted, each syllable a battle against the rawness in your chest.

“No, you don’t,” he countered, stepping back just inches, his tone laced with incredulity. The mocking sneer that crept onto his face felt more like a mask than a reflection of his true feelings, and yet, the moisture pooling in his eyes betrayed the battle raging within him.

You regarded him in silence, the atmosphere thickening with unspoken words as you watched his smile fade into something that was almost painful. It twisted his features, morphing into a look of discomfort that hung between you like an unsaid apology. He remained still, his gaze locked onto yours, waiting for you to break the tension with a word or a gesture. The sight of him like that burned inside you, igniting a longing to rewind time, to swallow your questions, to let him live his life free from the weight of your curiosity and the tangled feelings that had blossomed between you. But that wasn’t an option; the reality of your situation loomed large and unavoidable. You had to confront the truth: he didn’t feel the same way about you, and for him, sleeping with you felt like a transgression, a sin, a burden he couldn’t carry.

“Joel, please,” you began, your voice cracking under the pressure of your emotions. A tear slipped down your cheek, salty and bitter, tasting of the anguish that your words carried. “I can’t be your friend anymore. I can’t do this. I’m sorry, I really am, but you’re breaking my—” You hesitated, swallowing hard against the swell of grief that threatened to overwhelm you. “I think this is over.”

His eyes darted between yours, searching for the meaning behind your confession, as if trying to decode the gravity of your words. A flicker of something—perhaps understanding or denial—crossed his face before a semblance of a smile returned, albeit a strained one. He nodded gently, his gaze dropping to the floor, avoiding your eyes as if he were trying to hide from the truth that hung in the air between you.

In that moment, an overwhelming impulse surged within you—a fierce desire to bridge the chasm that had opened between you, to run to him, to tangle your fingers in his hair, to pull him close and make everything right again. You wanted to erase the pain, to heal the wounds that you both had inflicted.

But you didn't. You held back in silence waiting for him to move first. And when he looked up and fixed his eyes for the last time on you, you knew you were right: nothing would ever be the same, ever again, for when he turned on his heel and finally left without another word, your whole world fell at your feet.  It was over. 

-

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[makeyoumine69]

Memory Reboot

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: You work at P&P, and one day you come into Bateman's office and witness his breakdown. Your attempts to comfort him only increase his obsession with you, and without realizing it, you push this man to his limits. The outburst that finds you both in a club called the Tunnel will change your lives forever and irrevocably.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, obsessive behavior, desperate-touch-starved Patrick, masturbating, oral sex (reader receiving), aggressive foreplay, dirty talk, body worship, teasing, biting, drug usage, pet names.

WORDS: 3k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent - Memory Reboot

A/N: This is for my dear @iron-flavored-lipgloss! It was such a pleasure for me to write this for you! Enjoy!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [EDIT]

Patrick Bateman. What kind of a mess was this man? Chaotic, impulsive, pathetic? Or all of the above?

Smirking, you went to his office to deliver some documents you needed him to sign, but when you got there, you noticed that Jean — his lovely blonde assistant — was absent and the door to his office was suspiciously half open. It was strange, to say the least, but you just shrugged your shoulders and stood there for a while when you heard a loud thud coming through the door — the sound almost made you jump in surprise. 'What the hell?' You wondered as you approached the door, turning around to see if Jean was coming, but there was no sign of her. With measured steps you got closer to the hole in the open door and just peeked in out of curiosity, but the scene you saw was not what you expected — Bateman, all flushed and covered in sweat, was storming around his office, his hands desperately fumbling with his tie as if it was choking him.

Your reaction was quick, and you didn't even notice as you opened the door and stepped inside. "Bateman? Are you okay?"

The man stopped shaking the moment he heard your voice and leaned down on his desk. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came to get your signature on some of my docs when I heard you crying,” you grinned, watching his face go pale. "What's wrong, Bateman? Did you miss your facial?" The way he balled his hands made you laugh. "But really, did something happen?"

"Yes," Patrick replied, looking at you and running his hand through his disheveled hair. "I mean...no...nothing happened…" You saw his lips tremble a little each time he spoke. "Gimme the docs."

Frowning in confusion, you pulled out a napkin and handed it to him instead, meeting his scornful gaze. "You're sweating…” You placed the white piece of cloth on his desk, only now noticing a small jar that you were sure was full of pills. "Maybe I should ask Jean to bring you some coffee? You look really sick..."

"No!" Bateman suddenly blurted out, pointing his finger at you. "I asked Jean to take the day off..."

"Hey, hey, relax," you raised your hands defensively. "Relax, I was just trying to help."

Slowly, you placed the folder of documents on his wooden desk, which he grabbed almost immediately, and your hands touched for a brief moment, and Bateman didn't flinch, and neither did you. 

"Take a seat." Patrick muttered incoherently.

"What?"

"Sit," he repeated irritably. "And wait."

His tumultuous behavior actually frightened you, but you did as he said and sat down in the chair opposite him. ‘My God, he really is mental, Tim was right.’

"What are these pills? Some vitamins?" You tried to keep the conversation alive, not even knowing why, as you watched his long, thin fingers floating across the pages.

Your question made him stop and look up at you. "That's none of your business, (y/n). I asked you to sit and wait, not ask me stupid questions."

‘Why does he look so cute when he's so angry?’ The thought brought a smile to your face, but then you zipped up your mouth theatrically and Bateman's office went silent for a while. And you used it to admire his perfect jawline, even though his brown hair was messy now, it looked so inviting to touch anyway.

"Is that all?" Bateman asked suddenly, arching his eyebrows and interrupting your train of thought.

"Uh, what?"

A prominent line appeared on Patrick's forehead — a testament to his annoyance. "Are you deaf or something?"

"Lemme see them," you pointed at the documents. "I want to make sure you put your cute sign on every page." Your playful tone made the line between Patrick's eyebrows even more noticeable. "I don't want to come back here."

Bateman didn't even try to jab back, his face still pale and sweaty, his eyes nothing but dark voids — oh, how fucking empty they were. Sighing heavily, Patrick raised his gaze when he heard the chair creak as you got up and walked around his desk. The sudden cut in the distance between the two of you was something Patrick didn't seem to be ready for, as his hands nervously gripped the armrests, but you pretended not to notice.

"We all feel down sometimes," you murmured over his ear, literally sensing the tension radiating from his body. "And that's okay." Placing your hand on his broad shoulder, you leaned down to look at the documents, surreptitiously inhaling the scent of his perfume mixed with his sweat. ‘Fuck, what am I doing?’

"I didn't know you had a part-time job as a therapist," he grumbled, examining your palm, wondering if he was going to kill you here and now, or keep you in here forever. "Listen, I have a reservation at Barcadia..."

"Mmm, Barcadia? Really?"

Bateman nodded and finally removed your hand. "Yes, I'm having lunch with Coutrney." 

"I wonder what Luis thinks of these lunches with his fiancé." You picked up the folder and stepped back from his armchair. "You don't feel guilty about sleeping with Coutrney behind his back, do you?"

Gritting his perfectly white teeth, the brown-haired man abruptly got up from his desk and stormed toward you, surely intending to yell at you or say something rude, but the moment he stopped directly across from you and your eyes met, Bateman's expression suddenly became lost and confused. "Just stop," he finally managed to mutter. "Stop poking around in my fucking head…" As you noticed his pupils widening, things were no longer funny to you. "Understand?"

‘Well, maybe turning it into a joke is not a bad plan,’ you hummed and nodded. "Sure, Bateman," you sneered a little nervously. "I'm just reading this book Timothy gave me," you slowly turned and walked to the door. "The book about Human Psychology." That was surely a joke, but judging by the serious look Patrick gave you, he didn't seem to get it.

"Tim gave you... a book?" He repeated, frowning in confusion and disbelief.

When you opened the door, you paused for a second, wanting to say something smart at the end. "Oh yeah. Why don't you ask him about it? Maybe he can recommend some books about... human relationships or something." And with that, you smiled in satisfaction at seeing Bateman's face quiver with anger before you left his office, leaving him with a raging tempest in his chest.

Later that day, Patrick couldn't sleep because his mind was so full of different thoughts, but the only thing they had in common was that they were all connected to you. You, you, you. The sound of running water echoed off the marble walls of his lavish bathroom as Bateman stood in the shower, enjoying the way the strong streams of cold water hit his back. Huffing, Patrick desperately scrubbed his skin as if it would help him get rid of the thoughts of you that haunted him the day he first met you — you were so cheeky, so sweet, everyone loved you and wanted to hang out with you. How fucking cute. Patrick groaned as he felt a throb at the base of his hard cock, God, he felt like it was hard all the time and no sex could help him with that because all those people, they weren't you. 

"Argh, fuck," he groaned as he finally allowed himself to touch his twitching dick and give it a few strokes. 

"F-fuck..." Bateman pumped his length rhythmically, recoiling at the memories of today, the way you put your hand on his shoulder, the warmth of your breath on the back of his neck. And what would it feel like if you had placed your hand on his chest, or run it over his abdomen and then down? 

"Uh, a-ahhh," the man moaned louder, shaking uncontrollably from the orgasm building at the base of his spine. "(Y/n), your hands feel so good on me, oh-shit…" Patrick had to lean against the shower wall as his legs buckled from the intense waves of ecstasy as he cummed with your name on his trembling lips, the water still running down his sculpted body, washing his cum off, but he was still so hard. 

"Reading books on psychology," Bateman chuckled, tilting his head. "What an idiot." His nervous giggle bounced across the shower, but soon the laughter turned to a low wail. "Pathetic…” 

Time flowed like sand through your fingers, and you couldn't even remember how many days had passed since your visit to Bateman's office, but since then something had changed between the two of you, but you both couldn't understand what exactly had changed, or maybe you didn't want to try to understand. To be fair, it was so fucking annoying that when you found out that Tim, David, Craig and Patrick were going to the Tunnel, you saw it as your chance to dot the T's, no matter how the evening would end.

When you arrived at the club, it was so crowded that it took you a while to find the group of yuppies sitting on the plush couches next to the dance floor, jamming to the music and drinking their cocktails. 

As you approached, Craig was the first to spot you. "Woah, woah, look who it is!" His cheeky remark caused everyone to look at you, including Bateman, whose teeth were visibly clenched around his cigar at that moment. 

"Hey, guys! Enjoying the music I see?" You smiled, fixing your hair briefly from the sudden rush of panic.  ‘Damn it, stay calm! Why am I so nervous?’

Timothy winked at you and raised his glass. "Did you come alone or..." he stopped abruptly when he noticed someone behind your back. "Hey, is that Paul Allen?"

‘Shit, shit, shit. That was so much easier in my head than it is in reality.’ You chewed on your cheek, and while the men were guessing whether they really saw Paul Allen or not, a sudden idea came to your mind, but you hated it before you even started to bring it to life. "Do you have a gram?" You asked without thinking, hoping they would say no.

"I do," Bateman's voice came out of nowhere and you almost screamed in your head, but you had to keep your composure. "But you will owe me." As he said this, you came closer to where he was sitting with a playful smile on your face and took a seat next to him. "Wait, we are not going to do coke here."

"Hey, why not?" David chuckled and took out his business card holder. "What's wrong with it?

"Oh God, look at that cheeky bastard," Craig pressed a palm to his face. "Van Patten decided to be a bad boy today."

The men laughed and high-fived each other before Bateman whispered in your ear, making you almost jump. "Follow me." Those two simple words made you obey like you were under a spell. 

As the two of you made your way to the bathroom where people in the Tunnel usually did coke, your heart pounded to the heavy beat of the music, or even faster. Patrick went first, his elegant silhouette like a shining star in the midnight sky — so eye-catching and mesmerizing that it wasn't surprising that a lot of people turned around to look at him, but you didn't care as soon you would be alone with him. ‘Just you and me, Bateman.’

The bathroom was surprisingly empty today. The last time you were there, you had to wait almost half an hour to get into the free stall, but now luck seemed to be on your side. As you stepped into one, Patrick pulled out his business card holder and rolled the $100 bill; you did the same, watching as Bateman made lines of coke with his platinum AmEx card.

"I have to say, you look much better." You commented briefly.

The man was about to lean over to snort the white powder, but your words made him freeze. "Huh," he chuckled abruptly and brushed away a stray lock of hair. "I was just reading some books about... relationships," Patrick grimaced, drawing out the last word with a cocky grin. "It changed my mind." Before you could say anything, Patrick was snorting the coke, holding the rolled-up bill to his nostril while holding another down with his thumb.

"Very funny," you mumbled, tapping the rolled note against the inside of your palm. "Where was your wit when I walked into your office a week ago?"

Bateman coughed quietly and threw his head back for a moment to clean his nose. "What does this have to do with anything?"

Rolling your eyes, you moved closer to his business card holder to inhale the white line of powder that had been left there, your mood was already off, and at some point you even began to regret coming to Tunnel tonight. Though it wasn't your first time doing coke, you felt so dizzy as the drug began to intoxicate your system that you almost fell to the floor if you hadn't bumped into Bateman's chest, leaving a white stain on the lapel of his Valentino suit.

"Hey! What the fuck!" Patrick blurted out, ready to push you off, but the way you grabbed his shoulders stirred something strange inside him, something he was fighting all the time. "Have you ever done coke?"

You coughed several times, blinked nervously, and only then did you let him go. "Sorry..." you gasped and leaned against the wall of the stall behind your back. "It's been a while."

"You stained my jacket."

"God! I'm sorry, okay?"

"No," Bateman replied, brushing off. "Not okay."

"What do you mean?" You asked confusedly, batting your eyelashes and breathing heavily.

Patrick dropped his head for a second before looking at you again, your faces dangerously close. "I'm not okay."

You licked your lips nervously. "Why?"

Instead of saying anything, the man pulled you against his massive frame, giving you no time to react as his hot mouth covered yours; it was difficult to call it a kiss, it was more like the act of claiming — his strong arms trapping you between the wall and his muscular body while yours hovered motionlessly like whips. When Bateman released you, he tugged at your lower lip and licked it with a wet, obscene sound. "Because...because of this."

Panting, you stood in shock for a moment before nodding and touching your wet lips. "Yes," you put both hands on his chest, exploring it slowly but boldly, causing him to close his eyes for a second. "I don't think I'm okay either." After whispering it in his ear, you slid your tongue down his bare neck, right over the mole, and when you heard him grunting, you lowered your hand to his belt, playing teasingly with the buckle.

"Lower," Bateman husked, and when you didn't listen, he grabbed your hand and lowered it himself — the outline of his fully erected cock eliciting a muffled moan to break out of your cramped throat. "Ahhh-fuck."

"God, you're so needy," you murmured against his neck, busy undoing his belt. "So touchy."

It only took a few seconds for you to undo his pants and let his taut dick pop out of his underwear. ‘Mmhhm, his cock is so perfect, just as I expected,’ you smiled to yourself, and in the next moment you were stroking his throbbing length, smearing his slick pre-cum around his swollen tip without any shame or fear of getting caught.

"(Y/n)," Patrick hissed as he pressed you against the wall with his weight, his hands sneaking down your back to grope your ass. "Be quiet," the man ordered when he heard your soft moans. "Keep quiet and undo this." Bateman pointed to your bottom and just the thought of what he was about to do to you almost made you cum.

"Why?" You gave him a foxy grin and tightened your grip on his dick, forcing Patrick to hold his breath.

"Just...just do what I say..."

"Okay, honey."

"Don't call me that!" He uttered and squeezed your ass painfully, your bodies grinding against each other, making you hot and sweaty.

"Patrick..." You attempted to kiss him, but he turned away.

In one swift motion, the man reached your neck and aggressively nipped at the throbbing artery. "Shut up! Just shut up and undo this fucking..."

You didn't let him finish his tantrum as you caught his lips with yours, increasing the tempo of the jacking, and you could feel he was so damn close. But since he was so insistent, you undid the lower part of your garment, and everything that happened next was like one of your recent dreams. Bateman, flushed and panting, crouched down, his cock slipping out of your grasp, but the next second his fierce mouth found its way between your legs as he began to suck on your sensitive flesh with sheer greed and passion, not forgetting to pump his dick and growl softly against your skin.

"Ohh, Pat-Patrick," you gasped, tugging at his brown hair, dishevelling it, but neither of you cared. "I'm gonna cum if you don't stop..."

"Mmm-fuck, you taste so sweet," Patrick pressed his face closer to your core, his free hand nailing you to the wall to hold you in place. "You're shaking like a fucking whore."

Chucking, you yanked at his hair a little harder. "And you're devouring me like a starved man, are you starved, Bateman? How long have you been... so fucking s-starved?" You hiccupped as he redoubled his efforts, lapping at your crotch and jerking himself off. "F-fuck, I'm... I'm gonna..."

The loud footsteps made you both stop in your tracks, and when you heard people coming into the bathroom, you stalled completely, only to quickly fix your clothes and then pretend nothing had happened as you left the stall. Later, as you were washing your hands, Patrick stood behind you and you met his eyes in the mirror. "Are you leaving or..." You asked briefly as he handed you your twisted bill.

"Yeah," Bateman straightened his jacket and wiped his mouth with a paper towel before opening the door. "You better forget about it. Believe me."

‘And now I feel like I need a memory reboot.’

Chapter 2 is here! 💗✌

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[kaneaken]

author's note; bringing forth my soft capitano agenda with a short drabble

content notes; gn!reader, established relationship (married), you adopt ororon for a bit, mention of having children (as in raising them together), slight hurt/comfort, slight spoilers about capitano's origins

When you hear your husband's been injured in an altercation with the Pyro Archon, you were rushing out of the Fatui camp immediately. Multiple Fatui soldiers chase after you, telling you to return to camp.

"Lord Capitano will have our head if their partner gets injured! Move!" You hear one of the soldiers call out to their comrades. You ignore them. The only thing on your mind is to make sure your husband is alright. You know he's strong, stronger than you know, but it doesn't ease your stress.

In your focused state, you don't notice the man you're worried about approaching. You bump into his chest, almost tumbling over if not for him catching you by the shoulders.

"What are you doing outside of the camp, beloved?" He asks, looking down at you. You don't answer, your hands quickly moving about in search of his wounds.

"I heard what happened. Are you okay? Does it hurt? Where did you get hit?" You sputter out your questions, not bothering to let him answer.

"Excuse me..." A voice interrupts, causing you to turn your head. You make eye contact with a dark-haired male. He definitely wasn't a Fatui soldier, but his clothing reminded you of the locals.

"Who is this?" You ask, turning back to Capitano.

"A child from the Masters of the Night Wind. He assisted with my escape," Capitano answers. He readjusts his hand, leading you back to the camp with his hand on your back.

The male walks beside the two of you, interjecting whenever needed to explain himself.

Ororon is his name. You learn much about him as he spends time at the Fatui encampment. Whenever your husband is out, you find yourself making small talk with Ororon.

You learn about his garden. You smile when he promises to bring you some of his vegetables. He tells you about his family back home. He tells you that his granny will be especially furious with him when he returns home. You wonder what kind of woman his granny is.

As the days go by, you realize Ororon is a very sweet, young boy. You find yourself worrying about him more. When he goes out to search for herbs, you secretly tell the soldiers accompanying him to keep a very close watch of him. You always offer him an extra serving of food despite your husband's insistence that he's eaten enough.

"You're overfeeding him, beloved."

"It's better than underfeeding!"

When Ororon returns home for the first time, your husband notices your faltered state.

"You spoiled that child as if he was your own. I fear you have become too attached, beloved," Captiano remarks as he takes a seat next to you.

"Ah, I suppose so..." You admit. You chuckle soflty, resting your head on his shoulder. "We don't have any of our own, so I suppose I was just projecting."

"Children..."

"It's a silly dream of mine. Don't worry."

Capitano shakes his head. "It isn't silly at all. I suppose... I never believed you'd want children, especially with a man such as I."

That shocks you. You lift your head, facing him. "Why wouldn't I? There isn't anyone else I'd rather have children with."

You understand his hesitating. The curse he bears makes the future he once dreamed of almost impossible. You don't want him to believe that. He deserves a future as much as any other person.

"You'd be a wonderful father," You reassure, placing your head on his shoulder once again.

"You truly believe that?"

"I do."

[bogleech]

In your general appreciation of nature, I am curious about your take on this - do you believe nature has reached "peak complexity"?

There was a time without flying animals. There was a time without land animals. There was a time without vertebrates, without segmented exoskeletons, without fur, without feathers, without complex social structures, without eyes. There was a time without plants, or any kind of photosythesis. There was a time without multicellular life.

But at this point, do you feel nature on planet Earth has evolved all "milestones" there are (and from now on, all additional complexity will have come from civilization, one way or another)?

I mean in terms of potential, assuming for a moment "nature" of some kind still exist during the next billion years or so.

Yes or No would be enough (lol), but of course spec evo ideas would be even cooler!

Nah I think there's absolutely infinite things nature could evolve some day that we can't even imagine. You really never know. Like it's 100% biochemically possible for something to "breathe fire;" there just has to be a sequence of mutations and the right competition to gradually make it happen, possibly starting with something that sprays boiling hot compounds like a bombardier beetle. I could also imagine a whole class of animals evolving like the modular people from All Tomorrows, because we already have Siphonophores. It's just a matter of something evolving to be a colony that can also come apart and keep functioning. I'm also obviously obsessed with the concept of a creature that weaponizes its own little symbiotic bugs, since I've used that a million times. Like maybe millions of years from now, a descendant of sloths will have upgraded from being full of moths to being full of tiny wasps? And then what if that's so effective they actually start diversifying like crazy and there's a whole era dominated by mammaloid wasp nest beasts ranging from grazers merely cleaned and guarded by their insects to predators who hunt with their assistance. Plant/animal physical symbiosis is also another thing that's not really taken off outside a few insects. Why shouldn't a plant some day decide it likes growing on some kind of animal's body? It's not a plant, but lichens grow on a species of weevil. It's so rare there aren't even photos, but I swear I saw video of one on BBC when I was a kid:

What if a moss adapts just to the shell of some big reptile and eventually the reptile starts to derive sustenance from it too?? Over time what if this evolves into basically real life Bulbasaurs, where the animal part can be sustained off sunlight? It'd just have to slow its animal metablism way, waaay down to meet the plant halfway. Maybe it hibernates for years and years at a time or spends decades developing like a cicada and then it emerges in pure mating mode, using up all the food it conserved as its flower finally blooms. I know most of my examples are now elaborations on something that's kind of almost already begun happening somewhere but you get the idea. Furthermore you never know if all life as we know it will die out one day while there's still a couple billion years left of the planet's physical existence. Then a whole new line of life could evolve that we can't conceive of at all, from the ground up. Like crystalline mineral trees that start talking to each other with laser light. Or maybe only bacteria are left but for some reason bacteria develop what they need to start sticking together and building a new kind of multicellular organism. What the heck would an equivalent to "animals" look like if the ancestor was a bacterium????? Holy fuck I'm mad I won't see it. Fuming and seething actually. This is the worst thing ever. Why am I doomed to die on regular animal planet with google bots and disney remakes. I wanna see salmonella animal planet. It's not fair.

[swampjawn]

What happens when you let a film nerd make an anime?

Fuuga Yamashiro (山代風我) joined Science Saru in 2017 as an Assistant Production Manager during production of "Night Is Short, Walk on Girl." He was essentially Studio Co-founder Masaaki Yuasa's secretary, but he worked his way up to assistant director on "Keep Your Hands off Eizouken" and finally got to direct his own first full Anime series, Dandadan.

Having worked so closely with one of the greatest living auteur directors, you might think he would share that overpowering individual creative influence, but as he has pointed out in interviews himself, it's much the opposite.

Instead of relying on his own creative voice, which he doesn't seem confident about in interviews, he literally collects techniques from his favorite movies, breaking them down into storyboards and adding them to his arsenal to re-contextualize later. And as you may be able to tell from watching Dandadan, his biggest influences aren't anime and manga, but live action film -- something he seems to have studied obsessively.

And when you compare the anime to the original manga (which itself is already filled with references to old movies and TV) subtle adaptation choices make the deft application of techniques borrowed from other storytellers very clear. Every choice is made for a reason and furthers the story being told in some way; nothing is there for no reason. like the simple, controlled camera pans and tilts that make the serpoian spaceship feel cold and sterile, or the crazywackysilly, un-predictable wide-angle camera movements that intrude on that cold sterile world when turbo granny shows up.

In one interview during the production of "Keep Your Hands off Eizouken" Yamashiro pulls out his notebook where he had collected all these techniques and gives an example:

"There's a technique called 'Dolly Zoom', which is a technique that changes the perspective of the background while keeping the size of the subject." […] "In 'Cult of Chucky,' which I saw recently, there is a scene in which a long passageway is filmed in telephoto, while a wheelchair moves forward. The character is 'getting closer, but the viewer feels farther away'. This is the kind of thing I collect." […] "I'd like to combine these things in various ways and do it in animation." (I took some liberties with this, the translation was pretty rough)

And sure enough, that exact same type of dolly zoom rears its head in Dandadan as Okarun sprints away from Turbo Granny and the mouth of the tunnel stretches impossibly into the distance.

It may seem counterintuitive to ascribe too much importance to the creative vision of one person who specifically talks about his own lack of strong creative vision, (and to be clear, he's far from the only person playing a major role) but I think it's precisely that encyclopedic knowledge of film techniques and that pragmatic, meticulous attitude that may have acted as a stabilizing force for Yuasa, and that also provides some needed structure to a ball of pure energy like Dandadan, while still preserving its essence and the eclectic influences that it wears on its sleeve.

Also, mad respect for using the seventh installment of the Child's Play franchise as your example of a dolly zoom instead of, like, Vertigo, Jaws, or Goodfellas.

This is just a sliver of what I talk about in this full video! A minuscule piece of the pie! Some tiny little crumbs for the peasants! So if you consider yourself worthy, go watch the whole video. I think it's good.

Uhh also reblog! I spent way too long on that intro animation, so I need it. Bad.

[unluckiestmember]

Hey so I LOVED your X-Men x sweetheart reader and I was wondering if you could do a similar head cannon of X-Men x kind reader but their reaction to you being good with kids. I just feel like they would have various opinions or feeling if they saw you interacting with a child.

Coming right up!

X-Men '97 X Compassionate! Reader

Characters: Nathan Summers/Cable, Scott Summers/Cyclops, Jean Gray, Remy LeBeau/Gambit, Rogue, Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler, Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto, Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch, Pietro Maximoff/Quicksilver, Morph, Logan/Wolverine and Jubilee.

Warning: None. SFW.

A/N: So how did you guys feel about Deadpool and Wolverine?

Cable

“Well would you look at that! Seems someone knows how to get along with the kiddies… Oh don’t mind me, keep playing.”

Cable isn’t used to hanging out with children or being around them due to his workload, but he does enjoy the presence of kids that look up to him. He hasn’t really thought about wanting kids because of his fear that the disaster of a future he’s from would be too harsh for a child to be raised, let alone he is scared that something will happen to them.

However, when he sees you being so compassionate with children, it makes him reconsider a little bit! The sight of you and the kids at the local shelter on his base laughing and playing together makes his heart sour. Whenever he finds himself down in the dumps and needs a good boost or reminder of what he’s fighting for, he will just watch you and the children happily running around and realize why he’s the famous freedom fighter the young ones and yourself admire.

Cyclops

“Huh, you’re a natural at this! Makes me wonder how things would be when you become a parent of your own kid.”

When he sees you taking care of children on and off missions, Scott can’t help but stand and watch you with the biggest smile tugged on his lips. The sight of you all happily living your lives without a care in the world makes him remember the civilians he is fighting for. And more importantly, it makes him think of giving the family thing another shot!

Can you blame him? The way you are with children makes him daydream a perfect life away from the mansion raising a family together and properly being there for your child. Though there is hesitance to it all due to the result of Nathan and his last relationship, if you assure him, then he will definitely try to be a father again. Because with you by his side, can he really fail again?

Jean Gray

“Aww! Are you playing nice? Mind if I join in? I’m sure they would love to see my powers in action.”

Jean has thought of having a family with you when everything is settled down. So before she can have this ideal world of raising a kid with the love of her life, she can get a peek into a potential future in the brief moments of you caring for children, mutant or human. Whenever she sees you taking care of a child, usually during a mission, she will assist you in any way and naturally take up a mother role she’s used to having around the mansion.

The team can always find you two trying to make sad or distraught children on missions turn their frowns upside down with some powers or just speaking to them and making sure they are heard. You and Jean are definitely the go to for young ones, and if you both around children confirms anything, it’s that you two would be great parents someday.

Gambit

“Look at you all go! Mind if Gambit takes a stab at this, mon amour? I’m sure I can win their hearts. I won yours, didn’t I?”

Gambit is used to dealing with the younger folk of the world because of his time around them back home. So when he’s around children, he can easily adapt to them by playing some mindlessly fun games, pulling off tricks with his cards or telling some jokes. That’s not surprising though. What’s really surprising is him finding out you’re a pro when it comes to little kiddies!

When he found out you were a natural, he was beyond impressed by you and even let his mind wonder on a more intimate possible future down the line for the both of you. Around children, he’ll have you both as a package deal with you as the caring caretaker and him as the funny guy who will not hesitate to flirt and send signals your way in front of the kids. With how much he’s flirted with you, the kids always mistake you two for a married couple! A married couple… That doesn’t sound half bad.

Rogue

“You got these kids all excited, running and screaming like a bunch of baby banshees! You’re a natural, babe!”

Rogue wasn’t a big kid person on missions. She simply gets the job done and if there are children that need assistance she leaves it to someone who can be more intimate without fearing they’ll hurt them. She stayed this way until you showed off innocently how well you were with younger civilians.

At first when the mission called for dealing with kids, Rogue watched you from the sideline in silent awe of your tender love and care for children that were distraught or needed a distraction. Yet with time, simply watching you gave her the courage to join in and actually help out by giving out free rides on her back or showing off her immense strength. Together you two are a happy fun couple kids love to be around as much as Rogue just loves being around you. Now whenever there’s a mission with the young ones, she’s more than excited to tag along with you and live in the moment.

Nightcrawler

“May I cut in? I can play a mean game of tag!… Really?! Then round up the kiddies because I’m it!”

Because of Genosha, Nightcralwer is just as good with children as you are! He enjoys his time with the little ones around town or during stakeouts because of how accepting they are of him and how much their laughter fills his heart with joy. Now mix your own laughter in because of your handling with them and the blue devil was sure he was getting a slice of heaven.

The both of you are so well together and with others that the team delegates you both to taking care of the children on missions and making sure they’re okay. Around you both, the kids can expect a bunch of games to be played and a lot of memories to be made. Whenever a mission calls for babysitting, Nightcrawler knows exactly who to call on to assist him in having a little bit of fun on the job!

Magneto

“The future of mutants is bright if you’re around to bring such laughter and happiness.”

Though Erik has children of his own, he’s pretty subpar for a caretaker let alone a babysitter of mutant children. He tries his best of course, but the lack of fatherhood he was allowed made him a bit rough around the edges. Luckily he can depend on you to pick up where he lacks and he thanks you deeply for that.

Everytime he takes a moment to look at you with kids just minding your own business and being giddy without a care in the world, it makes him wonder if he’d be open to trying to raise a family once again. He knows with age and with the weight on his shoulders, it may be harder for him. But if you’re by his side, he wouldn’t mind giving it another try and stepping up to the plate to be a better father than he ever was for Wanda and Pietro.

Morph

“Hey, if the kids want to see a few tricks, send them my way, alright? I can throw them for a loop and think there’s two yous running around!”

Morph is decent with children, but they mainly leave that kind of work to you. When it comes to the more emotional attachment, they need a bit of work on that, but if you’re talking tricks and jokes? Then they are the right person to work with on missions dealing with kids!

They use your connection with children to playfully throw you for a loop by shapeshifting into someone and tricking you a lot just to get some laughter in the air. Most of the time he succeeds but there have been a few times where both of you just team up in some funny interactions that are bound to leave the children happy in your presence. Honestly, Morph wouldn’t care so much, but since you’re around? They don’t know- You just bring out that side of them! And they kind of love it!

Wolverine

“Of course you’d be good with the children, what did I expect?… Don’t mind me, I’m just keeping watch. Have fun.”

Children and Logan don’t mix that well. He just finds it annoying to babysit when he already does that with the teenagers at the mansion. Add that with some crying, whining and begging and he becomes pretty livid. Which is why he doesn’t like missions that deal with kids. That is, unless you’re there to help him out.

He finds your handling of children to not only be a big help for him but also a nice change of pace. It’s adorable seeing how kids easily gravitate towards you and how you let them do whatever they want. Whenever they have you pinned down in a game or surrounded, Logan can’t help but laugh at the cute little ambush before he breaks everything up. He doesn’t like kids and he still can’t stand them. But you make them more bearable, so there’s always that!

Jubilee

“Hey, babe! Send the kids over here- I’m gonna do a mad fireworks show for them!”

Jubilee is, surprisingly enough, really good with kids! She’s a lot like a cool aunt to your nurturing parent bit! She thinks it’s cute that you’re good with children and even compliments you around them when she’s not busy with other kids on a mission. The firecracker can rely on you to assist her or even stop her from making whacky moves that could get some children hurt out of pure excitement.

It’s not hard for everyone to know you two are a couple because of how much she calls you by pet names or makes fireworks that send signals to you if not make some look like you. It’s awfully sweet of her and it makes you comment that not only is she a great girlfriend, but she’d also make a great mom. Though, it’s highly recommended to hold that because if Jubilee hears you speak of motherhood, she’ll cringe at the thought. She likes kids, don’t get her wrong! But she could never be a mom!

If you got any requests for X-Men '97 or Arcane, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[solxamber]

Can't wait to request Skully boy, but let's do a part 3 of White Rabbit!Reader since the overblot aftermath is usually somewhat of a positive effect on the overblot person, I want it to do the opposite to White Rabbit!Reader since before their overblot, they were always jumpy, timid and anxious.

Now, I kind of want them to be like this half the time whenever someone bothers them:

Aftermath of White Rabbit! Reader's Overblot

Characters: All NRC + Staff + Rollo, Neige, Che'nya

Original White rabbit! reader ask ; White rabbit! reader overblot ask

thanks for the request <3

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is probably the first to notice the difference. While he usually relied on your obedience to the Queen's rules, your newfound bluntness shocks him. He asks you to organize paperwork, expecting the usual nervous compliance, but instead, you sigh and mutter, “Yeah, yeah, I’m getting to it, don’t have a heart attack.” Riddle is speechless for a moment, his face flushing. Though he won’t admit it, he’s at a loss. “What… happened to you?”

Trey Clover

Trey has always been the calm, stable figure in your life, a grounding presence in Heartslabyul. But even he’s taken aback by your sudden shift. “You’re not the same nervous bunny I’m used to,” he remarks when you snap at someone who’d pushed you too far. You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Guess I finally had enough.” Trey offers a small, understanding smile, knowing all too well the pressures of keeping up appearances. “If you need to blow off steam, my kitchen’s always open. Just don’t burn out.”

Cater Diamond

Cater, who usually plays things off with a lighthearted comment or a perfectly timed selfie, can sense the change in your mood. "Whoa, who flipped the switch on you, bunny?" he jokes, holding up his phone for another pic. You barely glance his way, grumbling, "Put that away before I snap." Cater's smile falters briefly, unused to you being so short with him. "Yikes. Someone's in need of a chill day. Maybe a group selfie will help?" He backs off but keeps an eye on you, curious how long this new attitude will last.

Ace Trappola

Ace is taken aback but more intrigued than anything. He used to enjoy teasing you for fun, always expecting a shy or flustered response. Now, you roll your eyes and say, “Do you ever stop running your mouth?” Ace laughs nervously but is secretly impressed by your sass. “Hey, I liked you better when you were jumpy. You were easier to mess with.”

Deuce Spade

Deuce feels bad. He didn’t realize how much the teasing had affected you until now. He approaches cautiously, noticing your new, weary demeanor. When he tries to help, offering to carry something, you grumble, “I’ve got it, I’m not helpless.” Deuce scratches his head, feeling guilty. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I’m sorry if we pushed you too hard.”

Leona Kingscholar

Leona finds your transformation amusing at first. As one of the few prey beastmen in the school, he always enjoyed calling you "herbivore." But now, when you meet his taunts with a dry “Yeah, real original, Leona,” he raises an eyebrow, both impressed and a little curious. “Finally got some backbone, huh? Good. Don’t expect me to go easy on you just ‘cause you stopped cowering.”

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie is caught off guard by how done you seem with everything. He tries to pass off some chores, as usual, but you just give him a deadpan look. “Do I look like your personal assistant?” Ruggie chuckles nervously. “Whoa, you’ve changed. Guess I’ll just… do it myself, then. Heh.”

Jack Howl

Jack, being the most straightforward, notices something is wrong immediately. He never liked the way people teased you, and now your exhaustion worries him. “You don’t look so good. Is there something I can help with?” When you respond with a tired “Just let me get through the day, Jack,” he frowns, unsure how to handle this new side of you.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul appreciates how compliant you were before, especially when he needed help with contracts or deals. Now, your indifference makes his eye twitch. “Care to assist with a little… business?” he asks. “Do it yourself, Ashengrotto,” you reply without even looking up. Azul’s smile falters. “How… unfortunate.”

Jade Leech

Jade enjoys your shift in attitude. To him, it’s fascinating to see prey become more assertive. “My, my, you’ve grown quite bold, haven’t you?” he muses. You don’t even glance his way, muttering, “Bold? I’m just tired.” Jade chuckles, intrigued. “I do hope that exhaustion won’t stop you from keeping things interesting.”

Floyd Leech

Floyd used to love squishing you just to see you jump. Now, when he wraps an arm around your shoulders and you groan, “Not now, Floyd,” he pouts. “You’re no fun anymore, Little Rabbit. Bring back the scaredy-cat!” He sulks but also seems weirdly fascinated by your new attitude, poking you to see if he can get a reaction.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim’s sunny disposition remains unchanged, but even he notices that something’s off. He invites you to join a party, only for you to respond, “I’m not in the mood.” Kalim blinks, genuinely concerned. “Hey, is everything okay? You always used to come… I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Jamil Viper

Jamil is more analytical about your change. He senses something deeper at play and approaches cautiously. “You’re different now,” he observes. “No kidding,” you mutter, pushing past him. Jamil hums thoughtfully, wondering if there’s something he can learn from your overblot experience—or if it’s just another thing he needs to keep an eye on.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil is used to elegance, control, and composure, so your new bluntness strikes him as unbecoming. “You’re really letting yourself go,” he comments sharply. You simply stare at him, unbothered, and say, “And you care because?” Vil frowns, his perfectly crafted facade slipping for a second. “Honestly, how disappointing.”

Rook Hunt

Rook finds the change in you utterly fascinating. “Ah, the hunted has become a hunter in their own right! Magnifique!” You stare at him with exhausted eyes, muttering, “I’m just trying to get through the day, Rook.” He laughs, completely unfazed by your exhaustion. “Every day with you is an adventure, mon lapin!”

Epel Felmier

Epel, who never liked being underestimated, gets where you’re coming from. He nudges you with a grin. “Bet you’re sick of everyone treating you like you’re fragile, huh?” You shrug tiredly, “Sick of a lot of things.” Epel chuckles. “Yeah, I get that. Don’t let ‘em push you around anymore.”

Idia Shroud

Idia is a little freaked out by your change. You used to be predictable, easy to understand—now? Not so much. He glances at you from behind his tablet and mumbles, “Uh… you okay? You seem… different.” When you snap back, “What do you think?” Idia recoils, instantly regretting his question. “Yikes… never mind…”

Ortho Shroud

Ortho, ever the optimist, immediately notices your shift in behavior and tries to cheer you up in his own enthusiastic way. “I can analyze your stress levels! Maybe we can find a way to relax together!” he offers, his eyes lighting up with data scans. You give him a tired look and sigh, “Thanks, but I just want to be left alone.” Ortho frowns, his usual cheerful energy dimming. “Okay… but remember, I’m always here if you need help!” He can’t quite figure out how to help you, but he makes a mental note to keep monitoring your well-being.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus can feel the weight of your exhaustion and frustration. He’s perceptive and doesn’t need to hear you say much to understand how deeply the overblot has affected you. “You carry a heavy burden now,” he says quietly. You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah, well, it’s not like I have a choice.” Malleus watches you with a somber gaze. “You do. You always have a choice.”

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia is concerned but also intrigued by your sudden shift. “My, you’ve grown up in such a short time,” he teases, though his tone carries a hint of seriousness. “Not sure if that’s a good thing,” you mutter. Lilia’s eyes narrow. “Be careful not to lose yourself, young one. This world can be… unforgiving.”

Silver

Silver, ever the calm and observant knight, is probably the least surprised by your change in demeanor. He approaches cautiously, noticing your exhaustion even before you speak. “You’ve been through a lot. Don’t push yourself too hard,” he advises softly. When you sigh and mutter, “I’m just tired, Silver,” he nods, understanding in his quiet way. “If you ever need to rest, I’ll stand guard for you.” He’s not one to pry but offers his silent support.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek is offended by your change in attitude, especially since you no longer respond as deferentially as you used to. “What happened to your respect for authority?” he barks. You shoot him an irritated glare. “Respect is earned, not given.” Sebek’s jaw drops, his mind struggling to compute your audacity.

Rollo Flamme

Rollo has always had a certain disdain for the chaotic nature of magic, and as someone who seemed so harmless before, you were never a particular blip on his radar.

But after your overblot, when you return to a more cynical, jaded version of yourself, Rollo is... intrigued. “I see you’ve shed your naïveté,” he comments one day when you cross paths, eyeing your newfound sharpness.

You sigh and rub your temples, muttering, “I’m too tired for whatever lecture you’re about to give me, Rollo.” He raises an eyebrow, slightly amused. “Perhaps you’ve come to realize that order, after all, must be maintained by force. Even for someone like you.” His words are clipped, but there’s almost a sense of kinship as he recognizes the exhaustion that comes from living within strict expectations.

Neige LeBlanche

Neige is disheartened by your exhaustion. He approaches you with genuine concern, his wide, innocent eyes full of sympathy. “I’m sorry if anyone’s been making things harder for you,” he says softly. “You don’t deserve that.” You give him a tired smile, “It’s fine. People just… don’t know when to stop.” Neige nods. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

Che’nya

Che’nya finds your new personality endlessly amusing. “My, my! You’ve finally joined the cynical side of Wonderland!” he teases, popping in and out of view. You roll your eyes, unimpressed. “I’m too tired for your games, Che’nya.” He grins, floating above you. “That’s what makes it so fun, friend.”

Crowley

Crowley had always seen you as one of the more manageable students—timid, hardworking, and, most importantly, someone who didn’t cause him headaches. But after your overblot? Let’s just say he’s... mildly concerned. “My dear White Rabbit, surely you don’t mean to talk to your esteemed headmaster in such a disrespectful tone!” he blusters, feathers metaphorically ruffled when you brush past one of his long-winded speeches with an eye roll and, “Please, for the love of Seven, just get to the point.” Crowley is left gaping, unsure whether he should reprimand you or seek out some sympathy for your newly discovered spine.

Divus Crewel

Crewel is quick to notice your shift in attitude and respects your newfound bluntness—though only to a point. “You’ve finally found some grit,” he comments, his voice sharp as usual. “Good. Just don’t let it cloud your judgment.” You nod wearily, “I’m way past judgment.”

Mozus Trein

Trein raises an eyebrow at your attitude shift but doesn’t comment much. He simply sighs, “I hope you’re not letting stress affect your studies.” You shrug. “Stress is part of the deal, Professor.”

Sam

Sam’s sharp eye notices the change immediately when you stroll into his shop, a bit of a scowl replacing your usual fidgety demeanor. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite bunny. What’s got you hoppin’ mad today?” he teases lightly, hoping to bring a smile to your face.

But when you shoot him a tired look and say, “Sam, please, just give me the potion before I scream,” he lets out a low whistle. “Whoa now, partner! You’re wound up tighter than a jack-in-the-box! If anyone knows about stress, it’s me—how ‘bout I toss in some tea on the house?” He’s concerned, but he can’t resist a little ribbing, hoping to ease your frustration.

Masterlist

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: F.L.U.D.D. (Flash Liquidizer Ultra Dousing Device)

Debut: Super Mario Sunshine

F.L.U.D.D. was Mario's first ever Platforming Buddy! Unless you count the Lakitu Bros. from 64, but they just operate the camera and don't affect Mario's platforming moveset, so I do not. So really, F.L.U.D.D. is- hold on, I really don't want to write every individual period each time I write its name. I'm just going to leave all the periods at the end of the post and you can put them where they belong yourself, or anywhere else you think is funny. Or you can keep them, I don't mind. Put them on a bagel and tell a friend they're poppy seeds!

FLUDD is a big deal. A landmark for the series in terms of mechanics. Not that these specific mechanics returned, but the concept of a buddy granting Mario some new abilities has become a recurring thing. FLUDD even talks, and is fully voice acted! In a robot voice! Like mine! A cute and silly little robot buddy for Super Mario.

So then... why don't I absolutely LOVE it? I feel like I should! But I'm just not getting that urge to imagine it driving a kart or playing tennis like I do with far less important characters. Does it work so well as a Tool that I have a hard time viewing it as a Character? Let's See!

I think FLUDD's design is honestly kind of perfect. The two massive screws that evoke eyes are really clever, and especially great is that they give it + shaped "pupils"! Aside from that, the nozzle's funnel shape is an extremely funny shape for a mouth, and FLUDD does indeed speak out of there. Excellent head! Though I feel like the excitement fizzles out once you look past the head, because the rest is much more "equipment" than "character". That's fine, this IS a piece of equipment! It just makes it feel less like a character, when I'd like it to have a bit of a balance of both. Maybe if the handles also functioned as little feet that it could walk around on? I don't know. Maybe that would be stupid... but I do love when creature designs are stupid!

FLUDD was made by E. Gadd, but that's all the backstory we get. We never learn why it was just there on the Delfino Airstrip, and that's really weird! The perfect tool to combat the game's main conflict is just there immediately when Mario arrives. It could have been a cool little mystery, but I guess the reality is just that some Pianta ordered it when the Goop Incident happened and got express delivery. Or maybe someone already had it and was just waiting for a calamity like this to happen, to justify the purchase!

I don't need to go over everything FLUDD does, right? I'm not the Super Mario Wiki, it's not my job! I'm here for the Weird. And a weird thing is that FLUDD freaken dies.

During the final boss against Bowser's Hot Tub, FLUDD starts stuttering, as if breaking down. And then in the final cutscene... it Dies! Mario goes to it, it tells him it hopes it was of assistance, and it dies. And Mario is sad, because this was his friend. But then in the very next scene FLUDD is back! Some Toads fixed it and it's fine now. So this ends up having the emotional impact of Mario needing to change the battery on his TV remote.

Even though it's our and Mario's friend, FLUDD is still an object, a product. It's technically not just FLUDD, but A FLUDD, one of many, mass produced. I have to wonder if it actually formed any bond with Mario, or if it was a one-sided friendship. Is it even capable of friendship...?

Whatever the case, the others absolutely consider FLUDD a friend, and well, that's just so sweet. During the credits we get to see some extremely compressed pictures of Mario and friends enjoying their real vacation, and FLUDD is there with them! It's not even on Mario's back anymore, or always WITH Mario, for that matter. Sometimes it's hanging out with Peach and some Toads, sitting there independently. I think it is safe to say FLUDD is a real true friend, and likes to just Hang Out sometimes! Even better, maybe it wasn't originally sentient, but learned how to love over the course of the adventure. Such a wonderful robot thing to do!

As expected, thinking in depth about FLUDD has absolutely endeared me to it. Hooray! It's about time. Well, it's too late for FLUDD to be relevant again, probably. I'm not saying it should be a driver in Mario Kart, but I AM saying there should be a kart based on it, and I'm also saying that this kart should canonically be the FLUDD, now upgraded. This feels like something that should have happened long ago!

This has been a long post, but it is far from all FLUDD has had to discuss! So next time, I will post about FLUDD once more, and its various appearances during the GameCube days and beyond! There is milk involved at some point. Get excited to learn what milk has to do with any of this!

Here are all those periods you were promised! I hope you like them.

....................................................................................................

[oukabarsburgblr]

Fair warning, i wrote this like three years ago idk. might be cringe or shit but im not planning to edit this haha have fun

Context: this is from an old wattpad story i wrote. dont visit my wattpad pls. we're sovieshu's and navier's concubine where the two went to celebrate sovieshu's birthday, and kosair came to visit. navier let kosair use her new consort (us) since the girls he slept with couldn't keep up. navier is a yandere in the first part of the series. sovieshu tricked us into marrying him as well. rashta is pissed cuz yada yada. ill edit this into a better format later. enjoy this trash.

-

"W-Wait- ah! You're going to b-break something- hngg ahh!"

Chokes of gasps reverberated from his throat as his back was continuously slammed over and over into a wall. The man holding his thighs only laughed at his concern over damaging something in dark room. "Do not fret slut." His large hand grasped (m/n)'s jaw as it slowly trailed over his throat.

"That will be the least of your concern once I'm finished with you." Kosair snarled as his thrusts became harsher prompting (m/n) to spill moans that echoed in the guest bedroom. His head was pounding from the sheer ecstasy his body was receiving and his loose robes was slowly slipping from his bare shoulders from the repeated thrusts.

He expected this to happen of course, Navier had given him the heads up that her brother was to arrive tomorrow and he will be needing...assistance in his needs. (m/n) reluctantly agreed to this of course after he heard Navier's odd reasonings. It will only be sex. He thought. But he didn't know the man he would have to please would be so commanding.

"Lift your leg up." Kosair turned his body to face the wall and (m/n) planted both his hands to steady himself. His face was sweating and his cock was dripping pre cum from the pleasure as he dazedly lift his left leg. The blonde grabbed under his knee and lifted it into the consort's chest. Before (m/n) could ask he screamed as Kosair roughly slammed into the consort once more.

Short and shallow thrusts were drowning the consort as his ass bounced slightly back onto Kosair's crotch. The blonde hugged the consort from behind and buried his face into (m/n)'s neck, his lips grazing his hot skin and he was tempted to take a bite. "Mm- ah! You're s-so big! Wait!" The (h/c) bit his lower lip harshly as his orgasm was forced through his body.

White sticky liquid shooted onto the wall and some landed on his own body as heat swelled his mind. "Ah! Ahh..." He panted from the adrenaline as Kosair paused his movements. His left the consort's leg as his thumbs circled (m/n)'s hips. "I'm not done yet, alright?"

The (h/c) nodded sluggishly as his body was turned sideways and Kosair grabbed his right thigh this time and placed it on his shoulder. (m/n) leaned his body fully against the wall for support as his head rested on the thin wallpaper. A sigh escaped the consort and Kosair leaned in close to peck the shell of his ear. "You can handle more, right?"

The consort's eyelashes fluttered close as he pursed his lips nodding to the blonde. Rough and calloused fingers slowly trailed into his ass as (m/n) flinched feeling two digits sliding down the crack of his ass and pressing his entrance lightly. "You must've done this before. Being married to the emperor means you're just his entertainment." The blonde glared at the consort as he received no reply.

His heart pounded loudly in his chest, (m/n) moaned again when Kosair started to caress the rim of his asshole and gently prodded inside to press his wet entrance. "St-Stop playing around." The consort stuttered feeling the heavy gaze on his naked body. Kosair pushed the robes off his body with his hand as he did the same to himself while smirking at the consort.

"Thought you would like foreplay. You seem the kind of man who would love to be pampered." Kosair started to roughly finger the consort. "F-Fuck! Ah hah." (m/n) leaned his head back and peeked at the blonde who was still looking down on him possibly berating the consort in his mind. The consort scowled and spat. "Fuck off."

Kosair grinned as he leaned close to the former's face. His tongue started to lick at his jaw, traveling deeper to his neck while his fingers were still moving in and out of the consort. "I'm sorry but who's the one doing the fucking here?"

Arching his back, (m/n) unintentionally stuck his ass out more as he mewled from the sucking on his neck.  The harsh fingering in his asshole was getting rougher by the second and he felt a hand grab his dick. "Hey answer me now." Kosair purred in his ear, giving a few pecks here and there. "Didn't you hear me? Who's the one fucking who now?"

He wanted to release, to achieve the fulfilling orgasm but Kosair's tight grip on his dick said otherwise. (m/n) furrowed his eyebrows as he felt tears pricking in the corner of his eyes from frustration. "Y-You! You're the one who's doing me..." He meekly responded, turning away as he refused to meet his gaze.

Gasping aloud, his face was grabbed by a hand stained with cum and Kosair snarled as he forced the consort to meet his eyes. "Look at me when I'm talking to you." (m/n) shook his head as his dick twitched to cum but Kosair quickly took a hold of it again, not letting the consort get what he wanted.

"I-I don't want to." He mumbled as he choked a gasp, four fingers up to the knuckles deep in the consort's ass. "Ah ah ah! Too much." Kosair scoffed as he moved from his dick to his ass instead. "Tch. You're lucky you're pretty." He mumbled as he took his fingers away and slammed his thick cock inside the consort.

(m/n) let out a shriek as his eyes began to roll back, his body was rocked heavily by Kosair's pounding. "Shit shit! Ummff!" Saliva drooled from the corner of his lips as (m/n) reached his high. Cum spurted between the two naked bodies. The consort felt flustered as he saw his own semen dribbled down the blonde's washboard abs. A grin stretched on the blonde's man handsome face as he chuckled while biting his lips.

His pounding hadn't stopped and (m/n) released endless groans. "You can feel me up if you want." Taking the consort's hand as he laid it on his stomach. His fingers twitched as he felt the pure muscle under his fingertips and the rock hard abs Kosair owned. The wall (m/n) was leaning on trembled lightly from the sheer harsh thrusts the man emitted.

The (h/c) whined as Kosair stepped closer to him as if they weren't close enough already. His body was folded with one leg on the floor and the other on the blonde's shoulder. He felt the dick piercing his hole reached even deeper and his prostate was pressed harshly. "Haa! S-So deep!" (m/n) unintentionally shrieked as he hissed once Kosair pressed closer to him. he had to step on his the edge of his toes to prevent from falling down. (m/n) tried telling the man currently fucking his ass but it seemed this was what Kosair intended. Deep laughter rumbled from the other as the blonde mocked the consort. "Now now. Don't cry already."

Fingers swept the stray tears rolling on (m/n)'s cheeks, he didn't even notice when he had started tearing up. Heat from deep within his stomach was burning lowly as the flame started to reach his chest from the sheer bliss. "I haven't even cum yet." This shocked the consort who had already came twice by now. "W-What?" "You heard me." A kiss planted on (m/n)'s cheek.

"I haven't had my fill yet. So you'll be working hard for me until I'm satisfied. You'd do it for me, won't you?"

Nodding harshly, (m/n) felt another wave of orgasm almost crashing him. "Ahn! Ah! Ah!" He screamed as he reached his third orgasm for the evening.

"Hold still." Kosair mumbled as he slid his hand onto (m/n)'s back, both his arms holding the consort up. The (h/c) felt himself being lifted slightly as his feet couldn't reach the floor anymore. He buried himself in the blonde's chest, his face pressing on his pec as Kosair began to heavily thrusted into the consort. Said consort had only reached his high and wasn't given any rest. His hole twitched around the blonde's fat cock and Kosair groaned in pleasure as he buried himself deeper in the consort. Pulling out until the tip, he began to pound (m/n) into oblivion, not paying mind to the short screams by the former as he used the (h/c) as a personal sex toy.

Finally, Kosair reached his first orgasm as he came when he was pulling out of the consort filling a part of him and spraying on his ass. They both panted as (m/n) was slowly placed down so his foot was touching the floor.

"That's my first orgasm." The blonde panted as he slicked back (m/n)'s hair, placing his lips on his forehead. "I'm targeting five tonight."

Shit. It took (m/n) almost four orgasms to reach Kosair's first one. How was he going to last until the latter's fifth? The blonde saw the look on the former's face. "As I said, no worries." The (h/c) felt hands groping his throbbing ass.

"I'll make sure you'll please me properly tonight."

-

"Shit SHIT! AH!" He screamed as he came another time. The skin of his stomach now washed with his own semen as his hands was pulled back as leverage for Kosair to pound in his ass. (m/n) arched his back as his knees dug into the maroon duvet. The collar on his throat lightly restricting his air flow.

They had moved to the bed and Kosair wasted no time to fuck the consort again as he forced the latter to kneel on the bed, facing the wall as Kosair climbed behind him and pulled both his hands as leverage to thrust into his hole using it like a pocket pussy once again.

(m/n) felt like a whore. His body was being used by a man he barely met, let alone it was his brother in law and the consort thought about demanding compensation but the fat dick he owned was already a good enough reward.

There were even sex toys in nearby cabinets that were free for them to use. Kosair had already grabbed a black collar and a leash which he locked around (m/n)'s neck. He threw the attached leash to the side for now.

Now, Kosair was filling (m/n) to the brim with his member. The consort didn't have to look at it to know how big it was, it was already in him for the past hour. It had a thick girth that managed to make his asshole shudder as it brushes harshly and tearing his walls bit by bit but (m/n) likes it. The pain made his body tingled and all those pricks was converted into pleasure.

What a masochist he was. And Kosair just so happened to be a sadist.

(m/n) threw his head back as another orgasm rocked his body, his semen spilling out of his cock, drooping down his stomach and between his thighs eventually mixing with Kosair's that was sprayed messily onto his ass. "Mmh haa ah ngg!" His mouth was still moaning endlessly and it was almost at the same level of a cheap pornstar. The blonde liked it however as he crawled closer and grabbed the leash attached to the collar on (m/n)'s neck.

The consort yelped as he was forced to lean behind on Kosair's chest. "You've been holding on for quite some time. All of the women I had before would've passed out by now." The blonde mumbled as he sneaked his hand forward to pinch at his nipples. (m/n) bit his lip as a grin almost stretched at his lips from the pleasure.

Kosair never stopped humping the consort's ass repeatedly to get to his high. The latter mewled as another orgasm wringed out of his own cock. Semen that was spurted visibly became more dilute as the consort panted heavily. His head was fuzzy and the blonde was still ramming his cock in (m/n)'s asshole. The tip was driving into his prostate and every time it hits (m/n) would mewl happily as he bounced his ass back on the blonde.

The (h/c) was slowly starting to like this. To have someone treating him like a sexual object simply to release some steam with was very exciting now that he was in that exact situation.

Tugging the leash, (m/n) was pushed onto the bed as he fell flat on his face. His ass was still sucking in a cock and the consort instinctively spread his legs further to give space for the blonde to thrust to or maybe he just wanted to tease the latter. A large hand pressed in between his shoulder blades, forcing his upper body to lay on the sheets while his lower half was pressing to his crotch closer.

Silently shuffling to get the blonde to fuck him again earned him a strike on one of his asscheeks. "Don't mindlessly try to provoke me." Kosair growled but this invoked the consort to tease him more. "Why not?" (m/n) glanced behind as he grinned lewdly, his eyes scanning all over the blonde's body drinking in the muscles and his fat man tits.

Sneakily his two hands trailed over his own full ass as he gently pulled his buttcheeks apart, giving a clear view of his wet and throbbing asshole that was already filled with Kosair's cock. "Please use me however you like." He grinned messily with his twitching cock that was drooling precum.

Kosair scoffed as a malicious grin stretched sadistically on his face. His grip on the leash tightened furiously as he tugged it to serve as a reminder to the consort to behave. "I'm happy to do so."

"Ahh! Haa! Mmm ah you're so big!" (m/n) stuck his tongue out and clenched on the sheets in front of him as Kosair drilled his cock into (m/n)'s ass stretching his cum filled hole to fit his cock once again. The consort's body was rocked heavily and he felt pain from the constant tugging and pulling of his collar but he wasn't going to complain any time soon. The bed was also moving and the frame was hitting the wall with every thrusts from the sheer force of Kosair's pounding.

He came again and Kosair followed soon after but this time he managed to pull out of the consort and grabbed his head and turned it to face him as he sprayed his semen all over the consort's face. (m/n) felt a good portion of the cum enter his mouth as he deviously swallowed it and licked the corner of his lips cheekily.

Kosair held in a laugh as he tugged his hairtienout from his hair, letting his flowy golden strands fall. His hair was similar to Navier, of course they were siblings. It was still only evening and the room was dark with the curtains close but some sunlight still managed to peek through which shone on the blonde's face perfectly.

Now that (m/n) noticed it, his face was eerily similar to the empress. Like Kosair was the male version of her, (m/n) would always love her and he knows that. But to have someone with the exact features currently fucking his ass with such atrocity and ruthlessness...well it reminded the consort of the woman he loved.

Not noticing that his body was turned so his back was on the bed, Kosair tapped his thigh bringing him back to reality. The blonde brought his legs propped on either side of his body so the consort would be spreading his legs as if to offer himself to the blonde. Caressing his (s/c) thigh, Kosair moved forward to embrace the consort as he peppered more kisses on his shoulder.

(m/n)'s neck was painted with hickeys and bite marks all over, the culprit adding more without mercy. The consort liked that of course, he mewled messily as he took a hold of Kosair's long hair and began tugging it to tell him he wanted his dick in his ass. The blonde scoffed as he bit into (m/n)'s neck, the latter letting out a shrill moan by the sensation.

"Ahn! Ah ah! Haa- mmggh!" He bit his lip as he felt his entrance probbed and stretched once again. (m/n) felt his ass clenched as he realised he had a dry orgasm just from Kosair's member entering him. "Aren't you embarassed?" The consort looked to him in confusion while silently marvelling over the fact that he looked like Navier.

"That I'm treating you like a fuck toy."

It was more of a question, Kosair had his fair share of flings at the borders but prostitutes now denied of his demands as they all said his stamina was far too much for them to keep up with and he was too nasty in bed. Said blonde was amused over the fact that Navier offered his own consort to help him with his relief and when the two men were having sex, Kosair constantly observed (m/n) to see if he had any regrets nor pain for having to service him but all he could see was the consort enjoying having a dick in him.

It confused the blonde to be precise, if he was into men, why would he marry Navier in the first place? He was angry when he found out Sovieshu took in another woman and doted on her instead of Navier and when another man joined the picture, he assumed that said man will treat his baby sister the same way.

But all he could see was a whiny (h/c) who loves affection and pain as the consort now constantly tried reaching out to wrap him in his arms. Can a man like this could ever bring pain to the empress' heart?

"I think you're right."

(m/n) giggled lightly as he licked his bottom lip with seduction. "I like to be treated like a slut." Kosair faltered by this as he stopped moving his hips as he chuckled deeply while tugging the leash prompting another moan from the bottom. A snort came from the blonde as he laughed while threwing his head back and he sneered at the consort.

"My sister married a fucking freak."

Earning a wink from the consort, Kosair started to pound the consort's ass, his balls slapping against (s/c) flesh and the moans between them became even louder. (m/n) continued to caress the blonde's face as his mind was constantly reminded of his loving wife. Maybe he had missed the empress but to see a male version of her giving empty affections to him empowered him greatly.

A strong hand pulled at one of the cupboards, Kosair picked a small red bottle that had an enchanting aura to it. "Here." The blonde bit off the cap, spitting it to the side as he gestured the bottle to the consort's mouth. "It's a libido potion."

Without hesitating, (m/n) took the bottle and downed a good amount of it as he handed it back to the blonde. Kosair did the same as he pulled out, drank the potion and poured the red liquid all over the consort's entrance somewhat using it as lube. It didn't take effect immediately but when the potion reached his head (m/n) gasped loudly at the throbbing heat now flaming all over his body.

"Ahn! Ah! Mmff gah!" His moans were now louder as his ass clenched emptily. He felt so fucking wet with the potion seeping into his hole and Kosair started to moan too as he quickly thrusted into the consort. (m/n) shouted in quick moans as he fisted the sheets in fear of the adrenaline now consuming his body. The blonde's pace increased drilling himself into the consort.

It was nowhere near romantic but the blonde sure was falling in love with his receptive body. The way (m/n) was so easy to fold and how loud his moans were, it was eye catching to say the least. Said consort however was getting dizzier by the moment as he came again, white sticky liquid bursting from his red tip and decorating his already messy figure.

Everything was sensitive. Kosair didn't stop slamming himself deep into his ass, only pulling out halfway and fucking him in short deep thrusts. (m/n) loved this as he begged for more. "More- ah! Harder harder!" He whined. The blonde scoffed as he pulled the consort's hair earning a yelp from the latter as he used it as leverage to fuck himself into the consort.

(m/n)'s body was sweating and heavily rocked by the force of the top currently humping his lower half. The rim of his asshole was sensitive as every crease of Kosair's cock, every vein and every curve was felt as it thrusted in and out repeatedly. His insides were all painted with white as Kosair came balls deep inside the consort. "Mm- ahh! Nggh haa ha ha." He panted heavily as a dry orgasm was forced out of him without even touching his cock.

Kosair smirked at this. "Guess you're able to cum without even touching your cock." Flicking the red tip, he earned a whine from the consort as he stilled himself inside his ass, not even pulling out yet to empty his cum fully in his hole. Five full seconds later, then he pulled out and cum spurted from (m/n)'s pink asshole painting a lewd sight for the blonde to enjoy.

"Hmm." He groaned feeling himself being engulfed by the toxicity of the aphrodisiac, his penis hardening once more. A whine below him and Kosair glanced at the consort, scrutinising him silently. "So demanding." (m/n) whimpered as he bucked his hips to Kosair's crotch wanting more.

A yelp and Kosair pulled his knee and propped it on his shoulder, grinning all the way as (m/n) instinctively turned sideways for support. The blonde wasted no time to enter the (h/c) once again.

At this position, (m/n) was finally able to have a good look of his face. Kosair had a handsome face with a sharp jawline, a fairly built nose and sharp eyes. All the consort thought while looking at him was Navier.

"N-Navier! Ah!" Kosair's eyes widened as he realised whose name the whore was calling for. He scoffed as he leaned close to his face. "You're really whipped for my sister, aren't you?" (m/n) was only able to mewl and enjoy the repeating thrusts as he moved his bottom half to meet Kosair's cock halfway.

The consort now is fully doused by the drug, his mind now fuzzy and his body moved to satisfy his boosted lust with the blonde as he pulled Kosair's hair. "Navier!" He didn't even remember who he was fucking at that moment only thinking of the empress he had loved oh so dearly.

Without hesitating, (m/n) pulled the blonde into a kiss, messily pressing his lips to the former and bit on his bottom lip. The consort sucked harshly and Kosair groaned into the kiss as he sucked his teeth and started to fuck the consort faster.

(m/n) was now out of his mind, lost in the ocean of pleasure and lust having sunk at the bottom of the sea floor. With Kosair who he drunkenly thought was Navier, he enjoyed bringing relief to his desires as he offered his body to the blonde for him to use however he likes. Kosair who was also drugged by the aphrodisiac was amused by the consort as he used his body like a cheap toy for his dick. All of his stress melted away as he held the consort for the rest of the evening.

-

"Haa ha ha..." Pants rang through the room as the man laid on the soft mattress, the bed creaked however when he moved harshly. Kosair noted that he might have broken the bed. His eyes glanced to his left at the man who had passed out by his side, his body littered with hickeys and bitemarks.

Most of his skin was coated with a thin layer of sweat and cum. (m/n) was laying on his side, unconsciously deciding that his ass senstive after having sex for 10 rounds with Kosair as he said before only cumming for five times.

The blonde stared at the ceiling, pondering on his thoughts regarding the (h/c). He has a very small view involving consorts and concubines. Concubines were only personal whores for the monarch while consorts just had a fancier name to it in his opinion which is rather shit. When he was informed of the news of his sister's second marriage, he was angered at the thought of another man hurting her sister's feelings.

Imagine his face when Navier herself offered her consort for his sexual desires. He was stunned by her offer and after contemplating that it had been so long that he last had sex so he just took up the offer. After all, weren't consorts are just sluts as well?

He was proven right and wrong. (m/n) most definitely acted like a whore, the way he openly admitted to like being treated like a sexual object and a full blown masochist. Freakier than Kosair if he was to be honest.

But when he went drunk by the libido potion, he was taken aback once again when he called out for Navier's name when he reached his release. Sober (m/n) was probably holding it in but the fact that when he was at his most horny and vulnerable state and he thought Kosair was his sister....it just proved that (m/n) really loved and only desired the woman rather than having someone else.

I'll let you live this time...Kosair silently threathened the consort as he went to sleep, his energy wasted having use it all to fuck the (h/c). His body relaxed as he let the sweet embrace of slumber engulfed his being.

-

The blonde didn't expect to be waken up like this. The sun hasn't risen yet but here he was awake as he felt someone touching his lower half. A naughty (h/c) was still under the effect of the aphrodisiac so he used the closest person to him to fulfill his lust.

(m/n) didn't pay mind to the dazed blonde as he hollowed his cheeks. His tongue eagerly lapping up the hardening cock in his mouth as he bucked his face to shove it down his throat. His other hand jerked his own member off as he moaned relentlessly around the thick cock.

A hand grabbed his hair and clenched it tightly. "You fucker..." Kosair seethed as he groaned when (m/n) sucked harshly on the bulbous tip. The blonde moaned as he bucked his hips into the (h/c)'s mouth. The consort didn't mind as he continued giving the blonde a blowjob.

"You're still horny after all those rounds." Kosair threw his head back, relishing in the fantastic mouth (m/n) had as he sat up properly. Saliva coated his cock and the consort began to lick the underside relentlessly, pressing his tongue on the visible veins around his member. The (h/c) cheekily stroked what's left of his dick that he couldn't fit in his mouth, enjoying the blonde's reaction.

He pulled away for a second to retort. "What could I say? With such a sexy man sleeping beside me, I couldn't exactly resist." (m/n) winked at the blonde as he straddled him, his ass hovering over his member. Kosair smirked and rolled his eyes in a teasing mock. He lied back down with his hands behind his head, preparing to enjoy the show.

"Go ahead doll." The blonde hummed, his eyes trailing all over the (h/c) enchanting body. "Please yourself on my cock." Placing both his hands on his torso, feeling abs under his fingertips, the consort gently placed himself down and started to fuck himself on Kosair's dick.

It seemed that the blonde underestimated the aphrodisiac's effect on the consort. Well now he knows for sure that the (h/c) is a slut. One he might have kept if it wasn't for his sister. As the moans started to erupt in the once empty room, the two held each other to fulfill their now boosted lust as they forget all their duties in the world just for a brief moment.