#is maybe the most insane part of wicked to me

[thebibblebobb]

I disagree with all of the takes about how elphaba was less into glinda than glinda was into elphaba, if only because imo of all the ways to make sense of wickeds bizzare politics "elphaba's just down that bad for glinda", is by far the easiest and simplest. imo.

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 5 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: You tell him about your traumatic past and he has a proposition for you. Could the man, who's slowly destroying your life, also be the one to repair it?

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, mentions of murder and rape, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, hinting at depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

Author's note: This chapter has a great focus on sexual abuse (not rape), so I'd just like to put an extra trigger warning here (That's also the reason I didn't manage to check the text for spelling errors, I just wrote it down and left it at that, so I apologize in advance if there are any mistakes.) And what I'd like to add at this point: If anyone is struggling with anything in that regard, I hope you find a way to deal with it. Please talk to someone! And my inbox is always open. I love you all!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

There was not much you could do. But the waiting was slowly driving you insane.

You remembered his words very well. They kept repeating in your head like a broken record and why wouldn’t they? Each and every one of his words was something between a gentle caress and a stab wound right in the middle of your chest.

A proposition, he called it. A proposition.

Doesn't one need free will to accept a proposition?

“Tell me who it was.” He had said. And you felt your insides clench and tingle unpleasantly once more.

“Don’t you remember what happened just twelve hours ago?” You nearly snapped. Of course it wasn’t really wise to speak to him in a tone that was anything besides timid, gentle and careful, but something bigger took your thoughts and your tongue hostage. “I don’t want to talk about it! I can’t! You saw what it does to me!”

You grasped the way he almost rolled his eyes, but decided against it. Instead he leaned closer, resting his elbows on the kitchen table. The way his sleeves were rolled up made something inside of you tighten. He was so handsome. So terribly handsome. What a bittersweet, sick thought.

“If you don’t talk about it”, he said slowly, “you won’t get over it. And if you don’t get over it, then I can never fuck you. And I want to fuck you. Soon.”

You didn’t understand how he spoke of such wicked things without letting a single muscle in his expression twitch. You couldn’t even say the words. You couldn’t even think them.

“I…”

“For God’s sake, just tell me who he was!” He called out impatiently. “Your father?”

“No!” You gasped out in horror. If there was one person in the world who had respected you and loved you unconditionally, it was your father. God, it had been the happiest five years of your life, back when he was still alive. And after his death, everything crumbled down to shit. Your life became your personal hell. On some days, when things grew particularly heavy on you, you had trouble not blaming him for dying. For leaving you alone. For ever getting married to your mother and having you. How could he have missed what kind of monster she was?

Did he even miss it?

You quickly pushed the thoughts away. In your head, your father had no idea. He was kind-hearted and good and it was going to stay that way.

“No, it wasn’t my father.” You murmured, unable to look up from the kitchen table.

He sighed, growing more and more impatient with the minutes. His tone stayed almost gentle though. Which was probably the most terrifying thing about the whole situation. At least, while he was angry you knew where you were at. Whenever he acted kind and calm around you, you expected him to suddenly lash out and knock the life out of you. Who knew? Maybe one of these days he would. You were growing too comfortable around him, denying him answers, talking back and all that.

“Who was it?”

You closed your eyes. “Please, I really don’t want to talk about it.”

He sighed again. “Let’s pretend this isn’t for the sake of me fucking you.” He said and tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. God, his eyes were so pretty when they were soft and calm like that.

Soft eyes.

Another thought for you to quickly dismiss. He hadn’t mentioned anything about him caressing you or begging you to come back to your senses, as you hadn’t either. And you surely wouldn’t. Because that never happened. That was what you kept telling yourself, for the sake of your own sanity.

It never happened.

You were growing far too comfortable around him.

You had a plan here. Play along, get him to trust you, get the hell out of there. And if that meant having to sleep with him, well, to you that sounded like a rather small price for your freedom and your life.

“What would that change?” You murmured.

“Pretend I’m someone you trust.”

These words surprised you and you looked up with a frown. Was it another test? To see if you trusted him? Oh God, would he pull the gun out again?

But no, nothing happened. He just stared at you with this…this calmness.

“And then?”

He sighed deeply. Obviously he wasn’t as calm as he made it seem. “And then we’ll talk about it. Listen, what was your plan anyway? Going through life for the rest of your days avoiding men and sex?”

You looked down at your hands. Yeah, that sounded accurate.

“Look at me.” He said in a soft tone.

It wasn’t your fault. It was your mother’s, again. And that part of you she had genuinely messed up.

Like every other innocent creature you had no idea of what sex meant, why some things felt good and others didn’t, what was allowed and what wasn’t, who was allowed to touch you and who wasn’t. She never mentioned any of that, because she, herself, was too ashamed to speak about it. Which was probably the cruelest trick she pulled on you.

You had no idea who was allowed to touch you and who wasn’t.

So, when he touched you, you didn’t say no, because you didn’t know.

“It was our neighbor.” You heard yourself whisper. A wave of disgust nearly made you shudder and your jaw hurt by how tightly you kept it clenched. Your nails dug into your palms and you took a slow breath.

In.

And out.

“Your neighbor.” He said in a whisper. Like he was afraid he might break your fragile composure. Which was very well possible.

“What did your neighbor do?”

You took a deep, shuddery breath as you kept staring down at your hands.

“He…”

You closed your eyes. All the pictures ran through your head like a camera roll. Except for the ones which were hidden away neatly, too deep imprinted in your mind and so your mind locked them away for you. How incredibly considerate.

“You can say it.” He said with a gentleness that surprised you. For a moment you almost forgot who he was and what he did. It felt like talking to a psychiatrist, a friend, a lover.

A lover.

“It…He never raped me.” You immediately said, almost like you were defending him. You always did that in your own head.

He didn’t rape me. It wasn’t that bad. I’m overreacting.

“He didn’t rape me.” You said again. “It wasn’t like that.”

“What did he do?” He asked slowly.

You tried to think of it as a band aid. Just pull it off.

Just spit it out.

“Sometimes he’d wear no more than a towel. Then he pulled me on his lap.” You whispered, unable to open your eyes or unclench your hands. “On other days, my mother made me bring him some leftover food. He’d open the door, fully undressed. I never saw him naked, like...frontal. I just caught a glimpse of him walking away, undressed.” You choked out.

It got harder with every word, but you forced yourself.

Spit it out, spit it out.

“He always called me his mouse.” You croaked out.

God, how you hated that word. If someone called you that, you were sure, you’d straight up punch them. Disgusting. What a disgusting word.

“Always said, we’re friends. Friends. Friends don’t have secrets. Friends are there for each other. One time, I hardly remember it. I just remembered it recently. He kissed me on the lips. Just a peck. But it were my lips.”

Now, that you had begun, you couldn’t stop.

“I remember the smell in his flat. I remember how much I hated it. There was always a cauliflower somewhere. He had one of those old computers. Sometimes he gave me money to buy myself something sweet.”

And by now, your hands were shaking. You couldn’t look at him and you had no idea what his expression looked like.

Horrified? Surprised? Bored?

“But the thing that weighs the worst on me”, you whispered, “the thing that haunts me the most, is the way he touched my waist. Whenever I was on his lap, he’d slowly slide his fingertips along the bare skin of my waist, creeping under my shirt. Sometimes I swatted his hand away. Sometimes I didn’t. I felt uncomfortable. I always felt uncomfortable. But he didn’t rape me.”

You opened your eyes. The look in your eyes was crazed.

“He didn’t rape me. I’m overreacting.”

The look he wore was like nothing else you had ever seen on him. He looked equally as disgusted as he looked angry. His frown was deep and his eyes far away and thoughtful.

He took a slow, long breath to sort out his thoughts and then slowly placed his hand over yours.

“He didn’t rape you.” He said slowly. “But you still realize that it was abuse, right?”

You stared at him, no words on your tongue and no thoughts in your head. You opened your mouth and closed it again.

It was?

You had never perceived it as such. Mostly for one simple reason. He didn’t rape you.

After your mother found out something was off, she did something that was entirely unexpected of her.

She got angry.

No, she was furious.

She didn’t allow you to go anywhere near his door ever again. She didn’t truly talk it out with you and she was most likely aware that it was her fault to the greatest degree.

But she protected you. From then on, she did. At least when it came to other people.

To men.

She never protected you from herself.

Instead of answering his question, you murmured: “I hated being looked at for years.”

When he curiously raised his brows, you continued.

“No one was allowed to look at me. I never understood why. When I changed. When my shirt rode up the tiniest bit. I hate revealing clothes.”

He hummed softly. “I could tell as much.”

“I hate when someone touches me unexpectedly. I hate when someone touches my…my waist. I hate when someone touches me from behind without my knowledge. It makes me feel ticklish. But not in the way it makes me laugh.”

He looked at you with the same thoughtful frown.

“I hate when someone calls me mouse.” You hissed out.

He raised his hands in surrender. “That word is as dead as Latin in these halls.”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself.

“Alright.” He said softly. “How do you feel now?”

For a while you simply thought about it. You felt…better. Safe, somehow. What scared you a little was the fact that all up until now you never realized you’d been abused. You needed someone else to tell you. You were so much worse broken than you first assumed.

“Lighter.” You finally whispered.

He nodded slowly and ran his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Good.” After a beat, he added. “What about the other thing?”

You exhaled through your nose and averted your gaze again.

Of course you knew why you were so ashamed to speak about it. Sex was non-existent while you grew up. She never spoke about it to you. It was shameful. It was no subject for a mother to tell her daughter about.

It was shameful.

And now you were stuck here, in South Korea, unable to say the word penis out loud.

“I can’t speak freely.”

He frowned in a mixture of amusement and confusion. “Because we’re being spied on or…”

“Because I just can’t!” You snapped again. “I can’t…My mouth, it…The words won’t come out. The dirty words.”

That made him smile, but not in a mocking or even an amused way. It seemed almost fond. Like he found you cute. It was probably the first genuine smile you had seen on him. It confused you more and more.

“Try to describe it in your own words.”

You exhaled again. God, this conversation only ever got harder, it seemed.

“Alright.” You said quietly. “It’s just…”

He waited patiently. That made you feel safe enough to continue on your own. “I never told this to anyone. It’s…It’s the thing I’m most ashamed about. You’ll look at me differently.”

Oh God, what did you just say?

Your eyes widened and you quickly added: “I mean, you’ll think I’m a freak. That I’m twisted.”

That wasn’t even close to a good save. You had just admitted that you cared about his opinion and why in the world did you care about his opinion?

Because you realized it was true. You cared. But you tried to keep these thoughts hidden away.

Play along. Get his trust. Get out.

His smile widened, almost teasingly. “Oh, sweet girl.” He purred. “If you think your desires are twisted, there’ll have to be a new word for mine. Go on. Just tell me. No matter how horrible you think it is. For every twisted thought you have, I’ll have three worse to go.”

Your eye brows shot up and you found yourself mumbling: “Really?”

He raised a brow as if saying, do you mean this question?

“Yes. Really.”

Alright.

“Alright.”

You took another deep breath, then you began. Slowly. Quietly. And carefully.

“I realized pretty early on in my life that my fantasies were a little…dark.”

He said nothing.

“When I was younger, I was…” The words died on the tip of your tongue. And so did your composure. Tears welled up in your eyes and you wrapped your arms around yourself, tightly.

His smile slipped and he frowned again. Was that a hint of concern?

Don’t be an idiot. You’re his pet. His toy. His girl.

“I was…”

You choked down a sob and buried your face in your hands. Your body was being shaken by your sobs, faster and faster, until you were sobbing frantically.

You expected him to get angry at your emotional outburst, but you neither heard the clicking of a gun nor a belt.

Instead, and that was really weird, you felt…

You felt…

You let out a loud, surprised gasp, when he pulled you into a tight embrace. It felt like being struck by lightning or getting hit by a bus.

And waking up in paradise.

He felt warm against you and his perfume was so subtle, yet you caught on it. You felt safe. So safe. It felt amazing. You didn’t want it to end.

Ever.

But after a while, long after your sobs died down, he slowly pulled away.

He didn’t need to say it. You could tell, he wanted you to continue. And so you did. Forcing down a new flash of ashamed tears, you did.

“I needed to think about him when I…”

He nodded in understanding.

“That stopped, fortunately. After a while I forgot about him. I barely ever thought about him again and never again during those moments.”

And then you told him everything. Things about being used, called names, hurt.

Things about things about things which you didn’t understand yourself. Not in the slightest.

But you were forced to think about them, whenever you felt the nervous twitch in your lower body.

Normal things did turn you on.

Or well, the thought of normal things. You couldn’t tell for you hadn’t experienced either.

Neck kissing was good. Oral sex was good. Any way of worshipping your body was good.

But to cross the finish line, you always needed to think about those sick, twisted things. And you didn’t even get the time to properly cross the line, because the shame kicked in faster than you could.

“Is that all?” He finally asked, his expression unreadable and his tone of voice calm.

You nodded.

His lips curved up into a delicious smile.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Hours later, while you sat in your bedroom, digging your nails into your palms in your nervousness, you kept thinking about his words in all your dizziness.

And you got more and more nervous by the second.

He’d be here in a while. And then there would be no way back. If you did this now, then you did it. And nothing could ever change the course of things back to how they were before.

Were they really that much better before? You asked yourself. But again, you forced the stupid-as-hell thoughts away and focused on his words again.

“A proposition?” You had asked in a soft whisper. “What kind of proposition?”

He leaned ever closer to you and looked at you with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

“Your first time will be magical.” There was it again. That silken voice, the one that felt like a gentle caress. “I’ll make sure of it. The whole night. Everything is going to be perfect. I’m going to worship you in ways you can’t even imagine. I’ll take care of you. I’ll guide you. I’ll hold your hands. Look into your eyes. I’ll whisper in your ear and I’ll kiss your neck. I promise you, I’ll make you feel better than you ever felt about yourself. I’ll make you happy.”

For whatever reason, that last remark was what got to you the most. Everything sounded incredible obviously (it also sounded far too good, to be honest, but you decided to trust him when he said this), but when he said he’d make you happy, it nearly made you cry again.

Oh, was that a tear? You couldn’t tell, he wiped it away already, all the while you stared at him in stunned silence.

“And?” You heard yourself whisper. “What then?”

His smile didn’t waver. “Your first time will be perfect, my sweet girl, I promise it. I’ll make you feel loved.”

The words were as sweet as they were cruel. If only he had punched you again. Hit your face. Make you lick the floor clean, if it pleased him. But no. He had to say the one thing that tore at your heart like nothing else, the one thing you longed for, the one thing you burned for.

Love.

Hope was such a dangerous thing and especially for you. Which was why you quickly shut your thoughts down and this time for real. You couldn’t afford to have such thoughts and desires.

These were the real twisted desires.

No amount of blindfolds and handcuffs could get close to that.

“Your first time.” He said, his tone growing more serious. “But only the first time. And from then on, I’ll have you any way I want. Whenever I want. Wherever we are. However you feel. You’re sick? I don’t care. You’re in pain? Good. I’m too rough? Finally. You can’t take no more? Shut your fucking mouth and swallow it.”

You knew that something like that would follow. As you already thought before, it had been too good.

And yet, you couldn’t help yourself.

God, you knew it was stupid.

It was crazy.

It was sick.

And yet, and yet, and yet.

“Okay.” You whispered.

“No.” He said firmly. “I want you to think about it. Truly think about it. You can’t just agree, because later on you can’t back out. Do you understand that? I want you to grasp the severity of your agreement. If you do this, you belong to me. More than you already do. Entirely. I’ll be fucking you, sweet girl. I’ll be fucking you for what could be a month, a year or the rest of your life.”

You took a deep breath. Did you even have the chance to say no? What would happen if you did?

And what did the rest of your life mean? A few weeks, months, years? Until he grew tired of you? Or until fate decided it was time for you to go?

All the things wrong with you combined gave way to the worst thing you could ever do.

“It’s a deal."

_________________________________

Author's note (2): First off, I want to thank each and everyone of you for your support, your kind words and all your messages and generally, anyone who takes the time to read this story! I cannot begin to describe how much this means to me. I'll be honest, I've been writing a lot when I was younger, but at some point in my life I stopped because I got really depressed and the things I enjoyed once suddenly became unbearable and impossible. I felt like I forgot how to write. But this story and all of your kind and sweet support has reminded me that I really, really loved to write once and I still do. So, I'm thanking you. Everyone. Thank you. You gave me back the part of my soul that was missing for a long time. Much, much, much love!

Tag list: @mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3

[pumpk1n-writes]

Tell Me All About The Dark Places You Hide

➥ in which the reader figures out that their best friends are the infamous Woodsboro Killers and decides to help them rather than turn them in. {ft. stalking, in-depth descriptions of how the reader would murder someone, Billy uses “princess”, reader is a bit insane}

Part Two | Word Count ~ 720 (sorry, this one’s pretty short. The next few parts will be longer — this is more of an intro than an actual part and I was rushing to finish it)

The media you consume is your own responsibility and I will not be held accountable for your choices. I’m not going to block minors from this account, but proceed with caution anyway.

Taglist ~ @wasawattpadkid

It was a normal Friday night for you, some old black and white horror movie on, parents gone, and homework lying forgotten about on the kitchen counter.

The phone behind you rang and you groaned, leaving it for a few moments before getting up to answer. “Who’s this?”

Somebody on the other end — clearly using a voice changer — began speaking. “Do you like scary movies?”

“Eh. I enjoy them but the suspension of disbelief needed for most of them is too much.”

“Oh? What do you mean by that?”

“Well, for one, the way that the killers in a lot of them actually do it is disappointing. They hardly toy with their victims and just straight up kill them. There’s hardly any fear, it’s just a single moment of blood and gore before it’s over.”

Billy grinned underneath his Ghostface mask. “You’re an interesting girl, what’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know that right now. What’s your favorite color?”

Without thinking Billy answered. “Red.”

“Like blood?”

“Sure, princess. Like blood.”

“Princess?”

Billy smirked again. “Well if you’re not going to tell me your name I have to find something to call you. You got a boyfriend?”

“Oh god no. They’re all toxic little shits that don’t know how to act. Besides, it’s too messy to clean up their blood.”

A beat of silence then; “For legal reasons, that was a joke.”

And all of a sudden, you were a much more fascinating person than Billy had ever imagined you would be to him. He wanted to know everything about you, all your strange little habits and personality traits that made you the way you are, your daily schedule, what your blood looked like spilled over his blade and hands.

“Hello?”

“Don’t worry, princess, I’m still here. And I have more questions for you.”

“Well I’m getting kind of sleepy so hurry it up.”

Billy smiled to himself, using his binoculars to glance around your room. You sat up on your bed, playing with something he couldn’t see. You also — he noticed, blood pooling southward — were only wearing an oversized t-shirt.

“What would you do differently as the killer in those movies?” That wasn’t the question you’d expected. Maybe your favorite band or your least favorite food. Maybe your name again. But not how you would commit murder.

You thought for a moment, humming under your breath. “For one thing, I wouldn’t make it so obvious it was me. In a lot of those movies the audience is guessing who it is in the first five minutes. That wouldn’t be me. I’m pretty outgoing and bubbly around my friends anyway, so I wouldn’t really be a suspect. Plus, my friends say I’m wicked smart but no one can tell when they first meet me.”

Billy nodded to himself. That much was true. He would never have expected you, one of his classmates who sits next to him in English, to go so in depth on how not to get caught murdering people.

You kept going. “So I would play that up. Cry at any mention of my dead classmates, but not too much or it’ll get suspicious. I’d keep up the facade of ‘perfect student’ and act disgusted when anyone brings up how I killed them. That alone would help.”

Billy laughed. “You sound like you’ve thought about this a lot.” But secretly he was taking notes.

“Sorry, I get really bored sometimes, and this is just what my mind strays to.”

Really? This is what your sick, twisted mind thought up in your free time? He wondered how many times he’d glanced over at you in English and you were plotting his death, spaced out with a happy smile on your face.

“Keep going, princess.”

“Well that’s just how I wouldn’t get caught. The actual murders themselves I would make as grisly and gory as I could think of so people would think a sweet, innocent, ‘perfect’ girl could never commit them. I would maybe draw satanic symbols on the wall in their blood or something to throw off police. I would only kill crackheads or past criminals so that the police wouldn’t really care very much to solve it. And I would only kill weeks apart so that they don’t feel immediately threatened.”

“Jesus Christ,” Billy was mostly thinking to himself, but still. He was impressed.

He also thought he might be falling in love with you a little bit.

[esmedelacroix]

Coffee Shop Love Pt. 1

synopsis ! He's as stern and cold as the snow falling from the sky blanketing the bustling streets of Nueva York, Miguel O'Hara stumbles upon a hidden gem of a coffee shop just around the corner from Alchemax. Only problem is the annoying-as-shit charming barista.

cw ! no use of y/n, fluff, fluff, and more fluff

fic radio ! Bittersweet Faith by Bitter:Sweet

Coffee Shop Love Masterlist | Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

Yet another slow night at the Mug & Muffin Coffee House passed you by. To no one's surprise, not a single soul drinks coffee at night. You always kept the shop open if someone wanted to swing by and get some baked goods for the night. The rest usually went to the soup kitchen five blocks down. You sat by the counter chin propped up on your hand, as fatigue drooped your head down, and Peter Pan sprinkled fairy dust on your eyelids dragging them down.

The lethargic vibe of the shop with slow jazz playing in the background contrasted with the frantic ring of the doorbells. Your head shot up immediately with the sudden burst of noise. The cool winter air bit at your skin until the door closed and you felt the embrace of the blasting heater. Your eyes readjusted to the warm lights bringing you back into your shop surrounded by the endless coffee beans, leafy green plants, books, and the myriad of vintage photos framed in rusting gold Victorian frames. You directed your focus to the customer who had walked in.

Your lips parted slightly as a little gasp escaped them. A middle-aged man, with golden skin the color of black coffee with a bit of creamer; mahogany hair slicked back in a perfect disaster, with wisps of stray gelled hair strands framing his face perfectly waltzed in. He had the sharpest and highest cheekbones, a cleanly shaved face, and pearly white teeth. He stood at almost seven feet and struggled with getting the mistletoe above the door out of his voluminous hair.

Holy smokes he's hot. Where did this man come from?

He huffed as he finally freed himself from the clutches of the mistletoe. "What a low doorframe," he huffed.

"Or—maybe you're just wicked tall," you answered offering him a buzzing smile.

He quirked a brow at your playful comment. His face gave no gateway to his thoughts.

"Welcome to Mug & Muffin, what can I make you tonight?" you asked, looking up at him to meet his gaze.

"I'll have a hot black coffee for here please," he replied, as he took his wallet out.

Your facial expression naturally contorted at this odd request. You checked your watch to make sure you weren't going insane. Yep, 9 pm, why is this psycho getting coffee? You looked back up at his unbothered face.

That perfectly chiseled unbothered face. Fuck you for being so perfect mystery man. You thought as you typed the order into the machine.

"Would you like any cream or sugar with that sir?" you inquired as your eyes met briefly.

"Nope just black coffee," he responded with a touch too much sass.

"Okay, and can I get a name with this order?" you chirped, to which he replied, "Miguel O'Hara,"

You hummed as you printed his receipt out and handed it to him. He picked a seat facing the counter. Lucky me, you thought to yourself. You were quite content that you had some eye candy to feast on tonight.

I moved to Nueva York two weeks ago and I was still struggling to find a decent coffee shop. For convenience, I figured I would stop by the one close to Alchemax.

I already knew it was going to be a shit storm when I had to duck my head to get into the cafe just to get my hair caught in some weird plant above me. Problem number one, they have an agenda against tall people here.

Problem number two, the second I walked in, I saw the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my whole life. Great, the barista's cute. When she asked for my order, her voice was cute too. She did seem a little weirded out that I asked for coffee but how could I function without my 80th cup of the day?

She was waaay too energetic. But it was kind of rubbing off on me.

Problem number three, I let my temptations win me over and I sat in a seat that faced her. Which did nothing for the pile of case studies and documents I had to look over. I'd pretend to type whenever she was looking and resume taking in her beauty and behaviors when he wasn't. She was the sweetest distraction. Sure I was shaming myself for not getting all my work done, but I was also patting myself on the back because, what a view!

You made his black coffee while sneaking little peeks at him. A pair of reading glasses adorned the bridge of his nose as he taped away at his laptop. After a while, you brought his piping hot black coffee to him, and he thanked you with a little head nod, eyes still glued to his computer screen.

"Would you like coffee cake or some kind of muffin? I have a bunch of extras, it'd be on the house," you suggested.

"No thank you, I don't like sweets," he answered. You exaggeratedly gasped at his sudden revelation.

"You don't like sweets?" you demanded, placing your hands on your hips. You tried your hardest to give him an angry face while suppressing a curious smile. He found your efforts to look angry cute rather than intimidating. The corners of his mouth slightly rose as he cooly answered, "No, I do not,"

"Are you even real?" you grumbled, shaking your head and ticking your tongue. You sashayed back behind the counter to pack up the sweets to drop off at the Nueva Hope Soup Kitchen. You looked up in time to see Miguel take his first sip of his coffee(how he didn't burn his tongue? The world may never know). His head shot up and surprise marked his eyes as he looked down at his drink and then back at you, before letting out a satisfied hum of approval. He quickly downed his mug faster than you made it.

Truthfully, the shop closed 15 minutes ago but Miguel sat there too lost in his emails, documents, and reports to realize that you had shut the light off at the counter and put up every chair but the one he was sitting in. He only came back to earth after you had 'accidentally' dropped your keys by his chair. As cliché as the night already was, you both went to pick them up, your hands subtly grazing. Thump. He quickly retreated his hand looking anywhere but your face. He realized that it was beyond time for him to go. "Sorry about that it appears I've lost track of time," he admitted.

"No worries," you smiled finding anything else to do fidgeting with your keys. Thump? Seriously?

He packed his work bag as you loaded the back of your car with boxes of extra baked goods. Closing the trunk of the car, you peeped back into the shop to see Miguel placing money in the tip jar you had just emptied.

Stepping out of the shop Miguel started, "That was the best coffee I have ever tasted," You crossed your arms and smiled warmly looking up at him.

"I never got your name though," he trailed off.

"And you're not gettin' it," you teased.

"Everyone on the block calls me Baby, though," you explained.

"Yeah I'm not calling you that," Miguel deadpanned. You laughed at his response as you locked up.

"Suite yourself. You have a good night Miguel!" you called out as you opened your car door.

He gave you a lazy wave and you drove away. Night fell on Nueva York along with the snow. When you finished your delivery, you entered your apartment right above the shop with the tip jar in hand. You had emptied it before but Miguel had put something in it. When you opened it your eyes widened at the several twenty dollar bills. What the hell? He'd even left a note on the 'Tell us How We Did' sticky notepad. The sticky note read, "You are way too energetic for a shop owner at nine pm. But that was the best coffee I've ever had, will be coming again,"

His handwriting was something in between cursive and chicken scratch. Although you could barley read his note, it still put a smile on your face.

-> Next Part

[intimacyequalsdeath]

Bubz's Slasher Fictober: Day 3 Poly Ghostface Part 1 (Billy and Stu) (Apple Cider)

Day 4! If it isn't obvious by now I wrote like most of these in September so I could post them way easier when October is here so shout out to past me for planning ahead.

Part 2 to this fic here

Notes: Minors DNI, Suggestive themes, Gender neutral reader, no specific pronouns. This is a poly relationship fic so if you aren't into it then this is not the fic for you.

"Stu that's insane" You said as he leaned against the locker next to yours, He laughed.

"Oh come on babe, Billy doesn't have to know anything"

"And you'd really think we'd be able to get away with it?" You asked incredulously, To try and do something behind Billy's back was a risk.

"Yeah babe totally. Me and you, in and out, and good ole Billy would be none the wiser" You closed your locker and leaned against it looking at him.

"Fine, If you really think we'll get away with this, But I swear Stu if Billy finds out-" Stu grabbed your shoulders.

"He won't babe, Stu's got you"

Before third period Stu had approached you with an idea, Billy had some things to take care of and wouldn't be able to do the boys usual Ghostface schtick that him and Stu usually manned. So Stu had come to you, their precious significant other, to help stalk out the next victim.

Billy had always been very much so against you EVER joining them on their excursions ever since they had come clean that they were the Ghostface. Stu had always agreed to keep Billy quiet but he had teased and propositioned you in what you thought was a joking way before until this time around.

The two of you knew that if Billy found out Stu had even so much as thought to invite you to join him while Billy was off doing other things that there would be hell to pay. But it was just a stake out to choose the next victim they wanted to go after, Stu figured it wouldn't be that bad.

"I'll do it then, If you promise Billy won't find out then fine let's do it" You told him, A wicked grin spread across his face.

"Oh babe! I knew you'd say yes!" Stu brought you into a hug and kissed the side of your head "I'll pick you up later tonight and you can even pick who it is!". If Stu Macher was anything, it was enthusiastic.

================================================

Later that night Stu arrived at your house as promised. You left your house through your window as usual and got in the passenger seat of Stu's parents car.

"It's time baby! You're gonna love it I promise" Stu said as you opened the door to get in.

"Sure Stu, I'm more so just interested to see what my boys do when I'm not around" Which was the truth, You'd always wanted to see just how the Ghostface attacks went down and how they singled out who they went after.

"One day maybe it'll be me, you and Billy, Like one big happy family, You pick the victims, me and Billy go after them. It'll be great!" Stu said as he pulled away from your house and heading towards the destination to stake out.

"You know that would take a lot of convincing on Billy's part though"

"That's why we start here, and one day we tell Billy about this and show him how good you did! Then he won't be able to deny how much of a natural you are"

"Stu it's just a stakeout I thought? Like all we're doing is picking one of these sorry pieces of shit to go after" Stu nodded.

"It is, but this is a gateway into your life of the Ghostface, and here we are!"

You looked at the window and noticed you and Stu were pulled off into a shadowy part of the backroad down the road from a house you recognized from a few parties you had went to with the boys.

It was about ten at night at this point and you knew the black car would be almost impossible to see behind the trees you were covered by so you and Stu would be impossible to see.

"Now I do have to warn you this is the boring part, We need to make sure we know when their gonna be home and when they aren't so we know when to strike" Stu told you.

You and Stu then sat in silence for about an hour just watching the house and the people who lives there coming home for the night. You were startled out of the silence by your cellphone ringing.

"It's Billy" You told Stu starting to get nervous, Stu sighed

"Just tell him your sick at home doing homework or something" Stu told you, you shakily answered.

"Hello?" You answered the phone softly.

"Hey baby" Billy's voice poured down the phone like honey.

"What's up?" You asked him "Did you get your shit done?"

"Yeah baby I did, What are you up too?" You froze then remembered what Stu told you to say.

"Oh I'm just laying down and all, I didn't feel so hot after school"

"Really?" Billy asked

"Yeah my stomach started feeling upset" You heard Billy sigh then pause for a second through the phone.

"Well see baby that actually funny, you know why?" Shit.

"Why Billy?" You asked, still hoping to play innocent.

"Well it's funny cause I'm standing in your room right now and you aren't fucking here" You turned your head and frantically tapped Stu on the shoulder to get his attention.

"Billy" You said at a loss for what else to say.

"Don't give me that shit, where the fuck are you?" Billy was angry, You could almost feel the anger through the phone.

Stu now obviously listening in to the call started the car and then grabbed the phone from you.

"Hey Billy man why don't you meet us at my house, We'll see you then, bye!" and then he hung up.

"STU! why would you hang up !?" You knew that would've pushed Billy passed the point of being furious.

"Relax babe just let Stu handle this"

A few minutes late the two of you had pulled into Stu's driveway, his parents way on another trip to some other country. Stu brought you to his room to sit on his bed and wait for Billy to arrive.

A little while later after many hushed words trying to calm you down from Stu, The two of you heard the front door slam open then shut once again, and angry hurried footsteps run up the stairs.

As soon as Stu's bedroom door opened Billy started yelling.

'What in the fuck do you two think your doing?"

"Billy It's not-" Billy didn't stop.

"No, you're gonna wait a second, I fucking told the two of you I didn't want you to be involved in mine and Stu's shit"

"Billy it wasn't all that, It was just a stakeout" Stu piped up. Billy's head snapped to look at Stu.

"Billy c'mon, don't be mad, like Stu said it wasn't all that. I was never in any danger or anything. We kept it from you cause we knew you were gonna be mad" You explained trying to diffuse any confrontation between your two boys before it started.

'That's not the point and you know it, the three of us agreed that you would never be involved at all. The two of you went behind my fucking back and violated something I only put in place to fucking protect you" Billy's anger wasn't dissipating but at least he wasn't yelling anymore.

Billy exhaled and sat next to you on the bed, you wrapped your arm around his shoulders in an attempt to start calming him down.

"Billy we're sorry, we knew you were gonna be mad and still did it, but do you really think Stu would've let me go along if I was actually going to be in any real danger"

Stu appeared on the opposite side of you as you spoke.

"Yeah man, you know I love Y/n as much as you do, If I thought things were gonna get hairy I wouldn't of even thought about the two of us going, especially not without you"

Billy sighed once again but you felt some of the tension leaving his body. You rubbed his shoulder willing him to speak what was on his mind.

"It's not just about dangerous shit like that though, It's also about if for some fucking reason we ever get caught. I want you to have no ties to it at all. You aren't apart of it and you don't know anything"

You nodded in understanding, that anger wasn't cause Billy was actually mad he was just scared. Billy continued.

"When I got to your house and went through your window expecting you to be there only to see that you weren't, I got I don't know, I got really fucking scared. Even though my brain knew you were probably with Stu knowing what we do and what danger you could really be in scared the shit out of me."

Stu scooted closer and wrapped his arm around your shoulders as you brought Billy closer to lean against you as you leaned back into Stu.

"We're sorry we scared you Honey, we honestly just thought it would be a help for me to fill in since you had shit to do tonight and couldn't. Sure we thought you were gonna be mad if you found out but we didn't mean to scare you"

"Yeah man, the last thing we wanted to do was that. I wasn't thinking shit through and thought it would be fun if maybe one day it was the three of us together instead of just me and you"

"I guess it would be nice but I still stand by what I said, for now at least please, I don't want you apart of it" Bill said looking at you, you smiled and nodded before leaning over and placing your lips on his frown.

You felt Stu's hands run up your sides, and tug at your shirt, You playfully rolled your eyes before letting him take your shirt off. Billy let out a laugh before connecting your lips once more.

Stu's lips attached themselves to your neck and Billy's hands made their way down to your pants to unbutton them and move them down your legs. Billy tossed your pants to the floor as you got up onto your knees on the bed in front of him.

Stu wrapped his arms around your middle and placed his chin on your shoulder with a smirk.

"Maybe if I dressed like this you'd let me come with you guys?" You teased.

"Certainly babe" Stu said, Billy shook his head.

"You two spend too much time around each other" he said, placing his hands underneath Stu's on your hips.

"Maybe you should spend some time with us and show us what we're missing" You smirked at him.

"Maybe I will"

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

sorry to post about OUAT outside of the safety of the patreon corral but I just. truly cannot stop thinking about the bugfuck insanity of the writers deciding to drop in the seventh episode of their show ever that Regina has kept the same man as a sex slave in two separate realities.

like the nature of Storybrooke is that, having altered memories and lives constructed by Regina, I think almost everyone is off the hook for any sex under the effects of the OG curse—ie, Snow White might regret hooking up with Victor Frankenstein but the two of them were as on an equal footing as possible in the situation and both consented based on their understanding of reality at the time—with the obvious exception of Regina! who is extremely aware that everyone else in town is the most under the influence that maybe anyone has ever been in the history of the world!

which would be yucky enough if it was like, a bad situationship that developed organically in Storybrooke, but no man she was just recreating her setup in the Enchanted Forest where she kept Graham as a sex slave for god knows how many years. hello! hello!!! is anyone listening I'm going insane.

season one kind of revels in getting to roll out little reveals of Regina's litany of crimes via flashbacks to keep emphasizing, over and over, that she is insane and petty and willing to stoop to pretty much anything. in the first episode you know she's responsible for the curse that drives the entire plot, standard big bad stuff, but by the tenth episode you know she also kidnapped multiple children and sent them to their deaths in the candy house from Hansel and Gretel. which is obviously bad, no shit, but it's like. she's Snow White's wicked stepmother, she's the villain in a loosely goosey live action adaptation of classic Disney movies. endangering children for cruel and petty reasons is part of the territory.

but she also like. you know. she explicitly has a scared, trapped man dragged away to her bed chamber after she forcibly kisses him and magically rips his heart out of his chest specifically so that he can never defy her again. and then in case there was even a little bit of doubt left about what's going on there she continues to make his real world counterpart have sex with her, and even under a spell that's completely erased his memories of his old identity and life, he admits that his relationship with Regina doesn't make him feel anything. no one ever comes right out and says Regina is using her power as the mayor to pressure him into it, but that would frankly be mild by her standards.

I can't even quite articulate why I'm so hung up on this except that it's like, so jarring to have Regina do so many over the top cartoon crimes with her magical murder and mayhem and then also slip in oh, btw, she's also a rapist! she raped that man!" especially when you factor in that, based on my memory of the show and general understanding of what mind of show this is, no one is ever going to acknowledge that. when Regina starts her good guy redemption arc and other characters try to hold her accountable for things it's always going to be "you killed Graham" and never "you killed Graham after raping him repeatedly for many years in two different realities." no one is ever going to talk about that.

except for me, because I'm stuck watching six and a half more seasons and I will not be able to forget.

[vulpisnocturna]

Ahh I rarely write for Gojo and this came out very long lol

Link to NSFW prompt list

18) Hate sex. Character could not hate Reader more, and the feeling is mutual. So of course Character and Reader have insane sexual chemistry, fueled by the humiliation and indignation they feel at being so aroused by each other. What are they supposed to do?

19) Character finds out that Reader is a virgin and finds Reader's overwhelm to be a huge turn-on as they have sex for the first time

Part I

NSFW - minors do not interact

Warnings: hate sex, virgin reader, slight age gap (reader is 22, Gojo is 27), degradation kink, slight dacryphilia, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), Gojo can’t stop talking, hard dom Gojo, squirting, drunk sex, creampie, slight praise kink

3.8k words

Gojo was easily the most annoying person you had ever had the misfortune of meeting. Loud and boisterous, bratty and childish, arrogant and vain, he was the bane of your existence. That was because you were not immune to Gojo’s looks. And god would he have that shit-eating grin plastered on his face if he knew. You would never hear the end of it. He already teased you enough as it was, you could not let him find out you thought he was hot too.

As you looked at him flirting with someone at the club you were in, The Pulse, you hated the feeling of jealousy in your stomach. Hated when he caught you looking at him, his glasses sliding down his nose a little and revealing his mesmerising eyes set on you.

You flushed, gripping your drink tightly and downing it to get rid of the feeling of warmth in your body as you looked at him wearing that white shirt and black trousers that did nothing if not highlight how beautiful he was.

‘Thinking about me, mh?’ his voice came much too soon and much too suddenly, and you jolted, almost bumping into his chest. You spun around, glaring at him. He towered over you, and he was certainly accustomed to using that to his advantage.

‘Aww. Did I scare you, sweetheart?’ the way he said the pet name was mocking, degrading. It made your blood boil.

‘Fuck off, Gojo’ you huffed, crossing your arms. It did not occur to you that it would make your cleavage more noticeable. But as he lifted an eyebrow and the glimpse of his eyes you could see trailed down to the hem of your neckline, you could not help but get redder and redder. From above, he would probably be able to see much more than you had wanted to show off in that dress.

‘You’re so tense. You really dislike me, don’t you? You know, the feeling is mutual. You are quite a rude, angry girl. But because I am a kind man, I will give you one chance at slapping me in the face. If you manage, well, you get what you clearly crave, and if I catch your hand, you drink with me. Just to get you less stiff and less annoying. Maybe I can finally see you smile. Assuming you are even capable of it’

‘You talk too much’ you said, considering your chances. Maybe you could take him off guard. Maybe he was drunk and wouldn’t notice. Maybe you wanted him to buy you drinks anyway.

‘Shut me up, then’ he said with a wicked grin. Your eyes narrowed.

‘Deal’ you said. You went back to sipping your drink, his closeness and dead calm presence both irritating and turning you on. And then, with no warning, you swung your hand. He caught it in a death grip near his face. You swung your other hand, and he caught it as well. Your eyes widened as you pulled your wrists free.

‘Tsk, the deal was one try… you always overdo it. You’re quite arrogant, aren’t you?’ he said in a low, intoxicating voice. You swallowed, your lips twisting in an embarrassed grimace.

‘Prick’ you murmured. He laughed, handing you a shot. You downed it as he guided you towards a secluded booth, gesturing to the waiter as he ordered more drinks. You sat down, crossing your legs and nervously glancing at him as he plopped down next to you, quite a bit too close. The warmth radiating from his body was making you dizzy. You didn’t know if you wanted him as far away as humanly possible or even closer.

He put an arm behind your back and over your shoulder, making your whole body tense up as he chuckled to himself.

‘Relax… you know, I’ve been thinking-‘ he started, but you cut him off with a groan.

‘Don’t hurt yourself’ you muttered. Gojo’s eyebrows furrowed, and his mouth twisted in a comical pout. You almost wanted to laugh.

‘Funny. So funny. I wonder if you’ll still be full of jokes when I pin you against a wall and fuck you’ he said, a sultry smirk on his face. Ah- he was using sex as a way to get power over you. He could see your reactions to him, and he was embarrassing you. And it worked. You grew rigid, your mind picturing the scene as your thighs pressed against each other and your face grew hot. He would probably laugh hysterically if he knew you were a virgin as well. Probably tease you about that too.

‘Maybe it’s just what you need. Suppose you need the anger fucked out of you’ he continued blabbering, making it worse and worse.

‘And you think you’re the best choice for that?’ you hissed, not looking at him as you gulped down the drink that the waiter had put in front of you. Gojo put a hand on your thigh, his long, slender fingers splayed and slightly curled to grip your flesh. You swallowed, looking anywhere but at him.

‘Of course. I’m always the best choice. Besides, you like me, don’t you?’ he taunted, his breath fanning your ear and sending shivers down your spine.

‘No- you’re a vain cunt’ you retorted, praying he would not push any further, because you knew that if he did, you might make a huge mistake and end up in his bed for the night. But Gojo had never done anything in his life apart from pushing buttons. He was like a child left unsupervised in the cockpit of a plane.

‘You wound me. If you don’t like me, why are you pressing your thighs together? Are you all worked up over this much already? You know, you don’t have to like my amazing personality to like my cock’ he continued, seemingly drunk off his face to be saying that shit to you without so much as flinching. He placed a kiss between your jaw and your ear, in a spot so sensitive you couldn’t help but whimper.

‘Good girl. I like you better when you whimper’ he said arrogantly, the hand on your thigh stroking lazy circles around the hem of your dress. You couldn’t even think anymore.

Was this a good idea? Definitely not. Would you regret not taking this chance even more if you refused? Probably.

‘I like you better when you shut up’ you said, clashing your mouth against his. He tasted like sweet rum and a faint trace of mint. And he was maddeningly good. The type of kiss you’d expect to see in a film where two people had done nothing but pine for each other for months. Not that that was your case. But if you could forget his comments, his arrogance, his taunting manners, then you could admit that this was the best kiss of your life. That his teeth sinking into your bottom lip and his tongue exploring your mouth felt like heaven on Earth.

‘Let me take you back to my place’ he murmured after you pulled back to breathe, his fingers tangled in your hair, your hands on his nape, feeling the softness of the short white strands of his hair.

Fuck it, you thought. You wanted this. Needed it. Needed him. Then you could go back to hating him.

‘Take me back to your place then’ you said. He did not need to be asked twice. He left a bunch of cash on the table and guided you to the back door, keeping it open for you. After the stifling air and tension of the inside of the club, the cool air felt nice on your skin and in your lungs, but it did nothing to quell the tightness of your lower stomach.

Gojo tapped away at his phone before he put it back in the pocket of his trousers, pulling you into him and kissing you again, this time, much more feral and unrestrained as his hand grabbed your ass and kneaded it. You were feverish, consumed by his touch, biting his lip and sucking it roughly, just so you could hear him moan.

‘Aggressive. I like it’ he groaned, smacking your ass and then leaving you to stand next to him as if nothing had happened. The taxi stopped in front of you less than a minute later, and you briefly wondered how he’d managed to predict that.

All the way in the taxi, Gojo’s hand was resting on your thigh, softly stroking your skin, making you squirm in your seat as you felt yourself grow more and more aroused as well as nervous. Would sex really be that good? Would it hurt a lot? Would he see that you were a virgin? What would he think? You hadn’t even gotten to being touched by a man other than kissing and dry humping. You masturbated regularly, of course, but you’d never done anything else despite being 22. Gojo was five years older than you, and a known fuckboy. He had probably had so many women who had known exactly what to do, how to touch him, how to behave. And you only knew what you knew from general knowledge, your friends and reading the occasional smut. But this would be different, wouldn’t it?

As you started to overthink, you noticed that the taxi had pulled to a stop. Gojo got out of the car and opened the door for you in a gesture that you would not have expected from someone like him. His hand settled on the small of your back as he guided you towards a lavish, modern house that you should have expected from him. He was filthy rich, after all. But it still surprised you. Your thoughts, however, were interrupted as soon as the door closed behind you and Gojo pinned you against it, kissing you with such fervour your knees were weak. There was no time to overthink what was going to happen after as he pushed his leg between yours, making your clit throb at the friction it offered. His tongue licked the length of your throat, only to nip and suck as his hands freely roamed your body. You clutched his shoulders, pulling his hair, grinding against his thigh, breathing shakily when he gripped your ass with strong fingers.

‘Show me how much of a brat you really are. Don’t tell me you like it sweet and gentle. That would be quite the disappointment, sweetheart’ he said, kicking off his shoes. You did the same, and as soon as you had done so, Gojo flung you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing, laughing and slapping your ass when you squealed.

‘I won’t drop you, no need to squirm around’ he chuckled, evidently having the time of his life as he dropped you on what you assumed to be his bed. You bounced once on the mattress, immediately pinned down by his body as he climbed over you, gripping both of your wrists and trapping them above your head as he licked the swell of your breasts.

‘Gojo-’ you whimpered when his hand started to fumble with the zipper of your dress. Your heart was pounding in your throat, but he did not seem to mind as he pulled the zipper down, starting to peel the sleeveless dress off your body.

‘It’s Satoru when you want to scream it. Or you can give me a cute pet name if you want’ he said, throwing away his glasses and turning on the lamp on the bedside table as he removed his shirt. You stared at his toned abs, the muscles on his arms, his slim hips, the lines that disappeared under his trousers along with a small trail of white, almost invisible hairs.

‘Should have done this much earlier. You are quite a pretty thing, aren’t you?’ he asked, his eyes roving down your body, liquid with want as they lingered on your bare chest.

‘It’s quite selfish of you to keep these hidden’ he continued, kneading your tits in his large hands, rolling your nipples between them, making you forget your embarrassment as he started to suck and lick them, making your clit throb in your drenched panties.

‘Shut the fuck up, Satoru’ you moaned quietly as he pinched your nipples. He snapped his tongue against his teeth, tilting his head, his unruly hair framing his angelic face, on which a wicked smirk was painted.

‘You are so rude… I know how you can put that mouth to good use, sweetheart. Show me if you’re just as filthy when you suck my cock as you are when you insult me’ he taunted in your ear, sucking on the curve of your neck. You tensed up, biting down on your lower lip. What would you do? Would you try and pretend you knew how to do that? Or tell him? No, you couldn’t tell him. You wouldn’t be able to survive the humiliation.

But Gojo didn’t seem as oblivious as you had thought him to be, because he lifted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stopped moving.

‘What’s up?’ he asked, staring at you with those hypnotic eyes, ‘you don’t have to- if you don’t want to’

His moment of kindness and thoughtfulness confused you. You weren’t used to it. You swallowed, averting your eyes, caught unprepared.

‘I- have never done it before’ you said, burning from shame. Gojo’s eyebrows lifted, and he tipped your face towards him again.

‘Okay. Tell me what you like. What works for you. If you still want to keep going. I promise that as much of a dickhead you might think I am, I’m not such a prick. Just tell me what you’re thinking’ he said oddly gently, staring into your eyes until you crumbled.

‘Satoru, I don’t know what I like. Because I have never done this before’ you begrudgingly admitted, feeling as though you would implode from the shame you felt soon. Gojo looked… perplexed.

‘You’re a virgin?’ he asked, almost disbelieving.

‘Yeah’

‘You been hanging out with a bunch of monks up until now?’ he laughed, giving you a playful smirk. Your brow furrowed.

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ you muttered, though you had to admit his playful tone was making you feel more at ease.

‘I’m saying you are way too hot to be a virgin. Or were you waiting for me? You’re so sweet. Let me make it unforgettable for you. Ever got your pussy licked, sweetheart?’ his eyes were dark with lust, and you shook your head weakly, feeling a tightness in your stomach at his words.

He grinned, looking almost elated. Almost as if this was turning him on even more.

‘Aren’t you cute. After this, you might not want to let me go. You just sit there and look pretty, mh?’ he crooned, his hand cupping between your legs, making you whimper when his fingers pressed slightly against you.

‘You’re so wet. Such a cute little cunt. Seems you like me more than you’d like to admit, sweetheart’ he grinned, pulling the fabric to the side and stroking you, tearing broken moans from you that you tried to contain.

‘Shut up, Satoru- ahh!’ you got cut off by his fingers flicking your clit as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He was good. So good. So much better than you. It was like he knew straightaway what you liked and how you liked it, and then did something more that you could not describe.

‘Don’t tell me what to do, pretty girl. I know you like my voice way too much to want me to stay quiet. You’ll see’

And you did. The first lick of his tongue on your bare cunt was like fire in your veins. It made your back arch and your fingers curl on his scalp, your hips jolting away from him and into his face at the same time. He moaned, unable to shut up even as he lapped at you, sucked on your clit, pushed his tongue inside you and quivered it on your clit until you were sobbing and thrashing and he had to keep you pinned down with your thighs locked on his shoulders. Every time you tried to scoot away from him you were pulled back, until tears ran on your temples and pleas you had never wanted to utter to him poured out of your lips inbetween whines that sounded so filthy you were unsure they belonged to you.

When he lifted his head and pushed two fingers inside you, scissoring them and stretching your muscles, you were undone by the burning look in his eyes, the way his lips glistened, his chin damp with your slick.

‘That’s a good girl. You moan like a proper slut, don’t you? Look at you, crying for me. Are you going to cum, sweetheart? I know you can do it for me’ he said in a sweet, thick as honey voice, his fingers curling inside you as he sucked on your clit, making you cum with a sob and a breathy moan, your eyes scrunching up. You felt light and airy, like you were floating. Gojo lifted himself up, wiping his chin and standing up to take off the rest of his clothes. You gulped as you stared at his hard cock. It was thick even in his larger hand, and you struggled to imagine how much it would hurt. You weren’t sure you could take it.

‘Next time, I’m teaching you how to suck it. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A little slut like you… you’d cry for it, I bet. But for now, I want to feel just how tight you are’ he said, stroking his cock with the fingers that had been inside you, spreading your slick on his length.

‘Are you on the pill, sweetheart?’ he asked, and you nodded, thinking you saw him grin for a second before he nestled himself between your legs, spreading them with his knees.

‘Breathe for me, pretty girl. I’ll be gentle with you until it doesn’t hurt anymore. You can hold onto me, just try not to tense up’ he said, rubbing his cock on your labia and your clit, making you twitch and rake your fingernails across his shoulders. He moaned along with you as the tip of his cock pushed inside you, thick and hot, making you pant with the burning sensation that followed as he pushed a little more.

‘Fuck- you’re fucking amazing. You’re doing so well for me. Good girl, just a little more’ he groaned, his eyes narrowing as your muscles squeezed him. There was some sort of resistance and then a sharp sting, but Satoru had the presence of mind to stop and wait for you as you dug your nails in his back and gritted your teeth. The burning feeling started to quell down along with the pain, and your muscles eased up a little around him, until you could feel just how full you were, and how good it was.

You rolled your hips tentatively around him, and he bottomed out, giving another shallow thrust and making you whimper before he pushed all the way in, until his balls rested against the curve of your ass.

‘God- Satoru…’ you moaned, arching your back as his hand gripped your thigh and the other wrapped around your throat, his thumb pressing on the side.

‘Good little slut. You were made for my cock, weren’t you? You hate me so much, and yet, your little cunt loves me. What does that say about you, mh?’ he crooned, starting to slam his hips against you, making you whine as though you really were a slut as he said. For some reason, the insults he was throwing at you were doing nothing but making your clit throb and your lower stomach tighten into an even tighter knot than before. And he seemed to know it too.

‘You wanted me to be your first? I don’t think you’ll be able to forget me now. You love this too much, don’t you? You’re such a mess, sobbing and drooling for me. Such a cute slut’ he drawled, his cock pressing against your g-spot with every thrust, the tip kissing your cervix, making you cry with pleasure. His words echoed in your head, making you feel dirtier, hotter. Heightening the sensations in your body.

‘Please, ‘toru…’ you moaned after a few minutes of torturous pace, slow and rough, meant to drive you insane.

‘What do you want? Tell me’ he urged, playing with your nipples and sucking on your chest, where you were sure you’d find purple marks in the morning. You didn’t care at all.

‘Harder- fuck me harder. Fuck me like you hate me’ you said in a frenzy, and he groaned, slipping out of you without a word and flipping you on your stomach, gripping your hips and lifting them unceremoniously before he pushed his cock back inside you inch by inch.

‘You want to cry more for my cock? You’re so desperate. Take it then’ he groaned, voice gruff as he fisted your hair and pulled, starting to fuck you so roughly you near screamed his name.

‘That’s right. Fucking scream- serves you right for mocking me. You just wanted this, didn’t you? Wanted me to have your cunt all to myself. Bet you touched yourself every night thinking of this. God you must have hated it- wanting me so badly’ he panted, smacking your ass and pounding into you until the knot in your stomach snapped and released, making you gush around him. Gojo moaned and let out a dark laugh.

‘God, you love this so fucking much. I was right, huh? You need the anger fucked out of you. I prefer you like this- so much sweeter’ he hissed, his hand snaking underneath you to roll your hypersensitive clit between his fingers, making you jolt and squirm.

‘You’re going to cum again. It’s only fair. Just one more time around my cock, and then I’ll cum inside you’ he said, pushing even deeper in that position, hot tears running down your face, your makeup ruined as you fisted the sheets desperately, pushing your ass into him until you felt yourself squeeze him again, your clit pulsing, your mouth open in a silent scream as you came again, seeing white. Gojo moaned, his thrusts getting more erratic until he came with a groan, pushing lazily into you.

He slipped out of you, making you hiss a little from the pain. You both collapsed on the bed, your arm draped over his torso as he caught his breath, his eyes closed.

Maybe you loved to hate Gojo Satoru, you thought.

Part II here

[bambi-kinos]

Thank you for your refreshingly honest comments about Yoko Ono. I find people’s sycophancy towards her and refusal to examine her behaviour a bit sickening, to be honest. There’s clearly an unspoken rule that Yoko is off limits, which is very strange, given that no other person or subject is. Anyway, what I would like to ask you is this: to what extent, if any, do you think Yoko was herself a victim? Did she simply find herself surrounded by bad people who manipulated her (the Sams, John Green, Fred Seaman, etc), or did she seek those people out to do her bidding? From what we know of the plan she made at the start with Tony and the fact that Dan Richter (a very unsettling character in the whole sordid tale) was an old friend who she brought in as part of that plan, I think the latter. But most people on here think she’s great and that she couldn’t help being mentally ill, so hey, maybe it’s just me and my cynicism that says she’s every bit as wicked as her ex-employees claim. What do you think?

When it comes to how Yoko is treated, there's genuinely a lot of nasty history there so fans on tumblr try to tread carefully. It's not an exaggeration that Yoko faced a lot of horrible racism when she was with John and there were even moments when John had to shield her from physical harm. And she was a lightning rod of criticism for lots of other reasons. Once John died she was essentially put in the role of "grieving widow" and boy howdy she milked that forever but it also meant that people were suddenly less willing to criticize her because they didn't want to add to her troubles.

Not to mention John and Yoko worked very hard to network with up and comers once they realized old hands like Ray Connelly wasn't going to play ball with them since they were too experienced. They created a lot of journalistic careers by making the right friends in the 1970s. Many media personalities feel indebted to them and would happily throw themselves in front of a car if Mommy Yoko and Daddy John don't suffer even a whiff of a papercut. When you read Eliot Mintz's book you realize that John and Yoko very deliberately targeted emotionally vulnerable people with empty lives and no strong parental figures so that they could become a quasi-family to them. That's what happened to poor Mintz, John would scream racial slurs at him (because Mintz is Jewish) and Mintz would just kind of. Stand there and take it while John screeched and squalled trying to pretend he was still a bigshot and not a drunkard in his 30s abusing his personal assistant. So much of the public bubble you've noticed is a result of John and Yoko's recruiting tactics. Celebrities usually get a level of protection but John and Yoko cynically courted and elevated the right people to wrap themselves in adamantium.

Fans try too hard to handle her lightly as a result of all the heat she took after marrying John, especially since a bit more is now known about her life and how she grew up and how her dad didn't treat her very well. I also think that there's an element of disbelief, like Yoko's crimes are insane and outlandish, no one wants to believe that they are true. And I know from personal experience that if you try to bring outlandish but true things to someone's attention about their favorite celebrity, you immediately get screaming and hysterics. Cult think is strong.

I don't think Beatle fans on tumblr necessarily buy in to excuses about mental illness and trauma but I do think that they're scared of being criticized or being accused of racism if they're too hard on Yoko. Tumblr users are uniquely vulnerable to that sort of thing because of this website's history and demographics so they take the easy route. I don't really blame them tbh, you never know when something is going to blow up in your face and who wants to court that trouble? There's no benefit to talking about Yoko's problems and abuse of John and Sean in depth since most people are just here for the fanart.

But to move on to your question: I think Yoko was an experienced con artist and manipulator with a genuine artistic vision but I also think she got in way over her head. Yoko's thing appears to have been that she and Tony would scam John with art pieces and that's why they did insane shit like making a contract to split the earnings they got from John 50/50. Get him to buy some plastic crap (that was quite literally all the rage in the 60s "zomg plastic!!!!") and then take the money and run. But I think Yoko sensed early that John was an easy mark and that he was someone she could pump and dump. I think that Yoko started seeing dollar signs and pursued John to get a bigger and bigger payday, she was chasing that dragon.

When it comes to the people Yoko was surrounded by, it's another case of her walking in with her eyes wide open but not realizing how completely in over her head she was. She very deliberately surrounded herself with con artists just like her because she thought it would be easier to control John and fortify her power over him. There were outliers like John Green/Charlie Swan where she believed his bullshit (the man is a masterful con artist) but she was convinced that she was much smarter and savvier than she really was and that she would see through any scams. She was blinded by her pride and never realized just how many rides she was taken for. Like IIRC Charlie Swan helped someone fence a fake painting to her that she paid millions for lol. They realized that she was an easy mark specifically because of her conviction that she was a worldly and experience player. Reader, she is not.

You can see this mindset during her life with John, they were hiring people off the street to work for them and never noticed they were being robbed blind. Like she and John were hoarders to the Nth degree, they bought all those extra condos in the Dakota specifically so that had storage units for all the useless shit they bought. Hundreds maybe thousands of shirts, pants, dresses, coats, scarves, jewelry, never worn and never catalogued, never looked after. Paintings and ancient artifacts stolen from Egypt on the black market, Yoko may have purchased as many as two different Egyptian mummies. Those people that they brought in from the street learned quickly that they could steal whatever they wanted and John and Yoko would never notice. A few of them were caught but there was one case where someone lifted 5 Hermès scarves from Yoko and she didn't notice for over a month and then dragged her heels on filing the police report. Because the Hermès scarves were not actually important since she had dozens of them in the storage apartments. I imagine the staff that stayed on learned quickly that they could steal freely so long as they were smart about it. God knows that's what I would do lmao.

But the point is that Yoko knowingly took in people who were willing to steal from her because she thought she could outsmart or control them, she had no idea how to defend against complicated tactics like "I'll put this in my bag and walk out with it at the end of my shift." I have the feeling John took the theft a lot more seriously than she did. Not that he was willing to do his bit and look after their collection of high end junk, I can't imagine what all their expensive clothes looked like after 10 years in that storage unit since neither of them protected them from pests.

Yoko willingly took these people on and invited them into her home. She and John thought they could use the likes of Charlie Swan and Fred Seaman and the Sams the same way they used journalists like Jann Wenner. What John and Yoko did not realize is that journalism is Hollywood for ugly people, that journalists are uniquely deficient in character or backbone and that journalists are always on the look out for a new Daddy and Mommy to pat them on the head and say "good job son!" Journalists and Hollywood actors are the same, they have holes in their chests were Mom's love and Dad's pride should be.

The problem for Yoko is that the scam artists she hired were extremely skilled, experienced, and ice cold. I love Charlie Swan's book Dakota Days and I believe every word of it (I can repost my review of it if you like) but especially because he coldly shows how childish and self absorbed John and Yoko really were. While they were faffing around doing rich people shit like flying around to random cities based on one guy's bespoke numerology, Charlie Swan grew up having to work for a living before getting into the astrology business. He knew what it was like to work difficult jobs for little money and even attended university and earned a degree in a time before universities became diploma mills. He was savvy and educated and lived an entire life before meeting John and Yoko, got spiritual fulfillment and assurance from his magickal practice. Charlie Swan did not have a hole in his chest where Mom's love and Dad's pride should be. Which meant he simply could not be manipulated the way a journalist can be manipulated. And Yoko Ono could not comprehend this and could do nothing about it. Nothing she said or did had any power over Charlie. She couldn't do anything to him and he frequently scammed her out of millions all while laughing up his sleeve. She thought she could control him but the truth is he had her completely under his thumb. Kind of amazing actually.

The thing that has always baffled me about Yoko is how easy it is to kick her around and stand up to her. John Lennon too as a matter of fact, I don't understand this handwringing and moaning and fear around his "great wit." I grew up on 4chan, I know people who could turn John inside out with a well placed photoshop. It's genuinely baffling to me that Yoko and John were not savagely and relentlessly bullied. They should have been. It lead John and Yoko to develop inflated egos where they thought they were genuinely intimidating. They never realized how pathetic and easily taken in they were because everyone else found it more useful and lucrative to scam them. It's fascinating that Yoko willingly brought these people into her life with John and never once realized that there was a problem.

[sanccharine]

13 | winners and losers

hogwarts au

pairing: hufflepuff!tzuyu x slytherin!reader genre: fluff, slice of life word count: 3.3k

warnings: brief descriptions of injuries, swearing, and stupid angst :D

summary: whether on the field or during class, you never shied away from trouble. and in your sixth year, trouble seemed to follow you like a shadow, though you couldn’t complain. especially when that series of misfortunes led you to the transfiguration prodigy, chou tzuyu. includes: red velvet’s yeri, ateez's san, txt’s yeonjun, viviz’s sinb, loona’s olivia hye

status: ongoing a/n: happy pride month yall, tho there is nothing happy about this part i fear, very homophobic of me ik, time i out myself

masterlist | chapter 12 | chapter 14

More than anything, it was instinct that saved you. 

Well, instinct and the cushioning spell. 

You couldn’t have cast it even if you wanted to. Not that you didn’t know the spell, you simply forgot it existed. You were more than all right taking the fall, can’t be more dangerous than usual. But, you really did appreciate the softer landing. One moment, you were free-falling with the ground rising at insane speed and the next, you’d hit the land, rolling around as you kicked sand up. 

With a defeated groan, you stopped on your back. Coughs sputtered out of you, no doubt a result of all the sand you ate, while your hand gently let go of your broom. The whine was clear even between the sounds of an ongoing match. 

In your hands, lay your broom—your gift—cracked in two.  

That’s it. 

You were done. 

And so was your broom. 

Maybe you hadn’t broken any bones, but your back was gone. There was no way you were going to class the next week. Lying on the sand, still running on adrenaline, the pain hadn’t settled. You were sure, all through next week bruises of all colours and various levels of pain will bloom much like flowers during spring. But at least, you were done. 

You were done!

A relieved sigh escaped between the panting as you squinted up at the players. Most of them had stopped to see if your fall had been fatal. The game was momentarily paused for you.

Eunbi was the first to arrive. Where from is a question you will never have answered. 

“Told you we’d win,” she said with that wicked grin of hers. 

She was standing at your side, leaning down enough that her face made up most of your vision. From her neck to her ears, she was flushed. It was a scarlet so dark it was almost concerning. She was bearing all her teeth, something between a smile and a method to catch her breath. Exhaustion or elation, it wasn’t clear. Eunbi looked at you all expectantly, as if you had to share the excitement. You weren’t privy to what was running on her mind, you seldom were. 

“No,” you groaned, grappling at the strap digging into your chin. The helmet had done its job. “No, you didn’t.”

Eunbi pouted. 

You sent her a look at the expression, though she just let her smile grow again. The referee landed a few meters away from you. Before they could ask the relevant questions and make it a whole thing, you were quick to give them a thumbs-up. The crowd erupted at your sign, the game didn’t need to be stopped. Still grinning, Eunbi stuck out her hand. The quicker you get out, the quicker the game ends. You took her hand. 

“And,” you paused. 

Something stopped you from fully clasping her hand. 

Something round. 

“We… didn’t win.” 

Staggering, you came to stand, your helmet slipping behind you. Toe to toe, you stood with Eunbi, hand still gripping hers. This close to her, you could really see the specks of light catching in her eyes, her iris alight with mischief. A sight you only witnessed on the field. 

Gulping, you looked down just as your conjoined hands pulled apart. 

Golden wings unwrapped and fluttered, the singing ball floated right up to your eyes as if it were greeting you. And then, it was turning towards Eunbi, circling around her as if begging for her attention. 

“There is no way—!”

The referee blew the whistle. 

“You can’t be serious.”

The points dinged as they rose. 

“You’re insane.”

The crowd was raucous. 

“Told you we’d win,” Eunbi smiled before looking up at the rest of the players. Widening that bright grin, she caught the snitch again and then held it up high. 

To say the Slytherin team were dumbstruck would be a very easy statement, but a lie. Every member of your team was agape, frozen. To be fair, even you couldn’t move—and no, it was not because of your injuries. 

When Slytherin did begin to lose their stupor, Gryffindor was still fuming. 

You could understand them… just a little bit. 

���Did you really need to do all of that?” you asked, cringing at her dramatics. Of course, she pulled stunts like this. That’s how she won her first game. Though they mostly happened to be tricks of the mind rather than extravagant displays. 

“The game was boring,” she shrugged, glancing at the crowds and then at your broken broom. “Probably, the most interesting thing was you struggling for half the game and then plummeting.”

Addressing the jab with a roll of your eyes, you asked. “When did you even get it?” 

“Maybe around ten minutes ago,” Eunbi shrugged again, smiling and waving at our teammates who were landing. The snitch responded with her. “Everyone was too busy focusing on you. Soobin never announced his spotting of the snitch, if he even spotted it, and you were unpredictable. Gryffindor was struggling to get around you and Yeri—a smart choice to change plays in the middle, by the way. Good distraction. So, yeah—”

You put it together quickly. 

“You used me,” you stated, kind of hurt. A lot, hurt actually. Eunbi just shook her head. “Yeah, you did! Ten minutes ago—You could’ve stopped the game, you know I was struggling and you even removed our substitutes—”

Eunbi turned to you with a dead stare. All of her mirth from the previous seconds was gone. A look saved just for you, moments before the team engulfs the two of you with praise. 

“You were finally getting out of your head, finally playing the game,” she said. “I wasn’t going to stop that.” 

And then she pointed at your left hand. And you followed her finger.

It wasn’t shaking at all. You hadn’t even noticed. 

You didn’t know what to say. 

When you looked at Eunbi, she must’ve recognized some emotion in you. Perhaps, gratitude, maybe fondness, either way, she couldn’t handle it, so she turned away. 

“Besides,” she cleared her throat to salvage herself. “We were twenty points behind and I—oof!”

Eunbi went down. Olivia had basically pounced on her. 

You let out a snort. “As if that mattered with the—!”

Yeonjun slammed into you and down you went, for the second time that day. 

Turns out your injuries weren’t too bad. Nothing a little magic couldn’t fix, right? Though you guessed it was more that Madam Yun was sick of you wasting space in her wing. 

The weekend after the game, Slytherin dorms had their wildest party yet. Your team finally was allowed to let loose, going all out and doing the most. Yeonjun had challenged Olivia in some muggle game, clearly baiting her into some easy bet. Olivia, being the competitive spirit, fell for it headfirst. Your beloved first-years just watched their seniors with glassy wide eyes. You doubt there was anything admirable about their seniors, but you weren’t going to burst the first-year's bubble. Minwoo had gained another chocolate frog from you (stolen from the hospital wing, of course) but he let the frog sit atop his shoulder. He’ll have to learn the hard way why that was a terrible idea. 

From time to time, your housemates dropped by to drag you into the revelries but you just shook your head. You were quite comfortable on your couch. After the week you’ve had, you appreciate the stillness. Speaking of…

Your hand was fully under your control. 

Holding both your left and right up, you turned them over and over again to study them. No trembling at all. There were faint shots of pain, more memory than actual pain. 

You were clenching and unclenching your fist when someone whacked your hand away. 

Yeri propped herself on your lap and nestled in, making herself comfortable at your expense. Her legs hung over the couch as she sighed at the ceiling. 

“Happy?” she asked, looking at you upside down. 

Rolling your eyes, you gently moved around her straying strands of hair and she closed her eyes. 

“We won, didn’t we?” 

Yeri hummed. “Not what I was talking about.” 

You paused your ministrations. You weren’t sure what she was talking about.  

With a sigh, Yeri reached out to take your left hand in hers. Intertwining her fingers from the back, she showed your palm to her face so she could trace the lines with her index finger. 

“I feel like you worry over nothing,” she said, suddenly deep in thought. “You know, no one on the team doubted you for a second.”

Now she was drawing random shapes on your palm, from stars to smiley faces. 

“I don’t understand how every year you keep second-guessing yourself,” Yeri said with another sigh. “Eunbi was adamant on it—kicking Hyukwoo out, that is.” 

Your whole body tensed. On a mind of its own, your eyes found Eunbi all the way across the common room. And as if she felt your stare, she looked back at you, coolly.

“No one was against it, but everyone knew it was a dicey move,” Yeri confessed. “Whether the fight happened or not, I think she would have done the same. It just so happened she got lucky—an easy reason—no one could refute her argument. That is, even if it meant it would burden us.” 

Now this was going beyond a simple school game, beyond your personal squabbles. 

“She shouldn’t be playing games like that, her actions will get back to—”

“Eunbi has already been scouted, her position is already confirmed—”

“Alright, then what about the team? What about us?” About me? was the unspoken question. “This year won’t be easy, they won’t make it easy—”

“Then, we’ll just have to wait and see,” Yeri concluded at the same time she dropped your hand. Your best friend stretched like a cat, before turning over to lie on her stomach. Propping her chin on her hand, she kicked her feet as a shiny gloss lit her eyes. “So how do we feel about Tzuyu?”

“That’s quite the topic change,” you pulled a face but she continued, undeterred. 

“And your detention with her?” 

“I don’t,” you paused to think about it. What did you feel about it? “I don’t really feel anything. It's just detention.”

“Yeah, somehow I doubt that,” San’s voice chirped from your right as he seated himself on the armrest, his shoulder bumping into yours. 

“You know there are perfectly empty chairs right across,” you said, faking your derision. 

“Yeah, but I just want to snuggle close to you like—” You shoved San’s face away before he could plant a kiss on you. Though it was proving to be difficult when both his hands were already wrapped around your shoulders. 

“Oi, don’t change the topic—we’re talking about Tzuyu,” Yeri swatted at his arms, but with no real fight. “Seriously, how do you feel about her?”

“I thought we were talking about how I feel about detention with her?”

“Same difference,” both your friends said at the same time. 

You frowned at that. 

“What exactly am I supposed to be feeling?” you asked, in a way to stall so you could honestly bring out your thoughts of her. It was all too muddled, unfortunately. 

San rounded himself and took a seat on the coffee table, your knees almost touching. 

“Well, you like her, don’t you?” San asked as if it were so simple. You were already shaking your head but he just continued. “You’re always worrying about her.”

“Well, more like worrying about how Tzuyu sees them.” At that, you shot Yeri a questioning glare. “Don’t act like it’s not true.”

“I’m not, is it so bad that I don’t want to look like a fool in front of her?”

“Well, you’ve never cared about it before—”

“Well, I guess she’d never been on my radar before—”

“Alright, then, what changed? Why is she on your radar now?” 

You purse your lips. 

They’d caught you. 

You didn’t have an answer. 

What was different now?

“I don’t know,” you admitted. 

The confession made you feel more bare than you’d like.

San and Yeri shared a look. 

“It is clear how much you care for her,” San says so sweetly, you shudder a bit. Care for her? Of course, you do! You just don’t understand the distinction that deserves a whole conversation. 

“Teasing aside, it's good for you—I mean you’re studying and working harder than ever,” Yeri said, “but most of all you’re finally stepping out.”

Before you could ask what that means, she continues. 

“You never really cared for anyone but us, Slytherins, or quidditch players—I could even argue anyone but our team doesn’t really register as important in your mind,” you had to bite back the nerve to ask, why would they? “But standing up for those first-years—”

“Anyone would’ve done that,” you rolled your eyes. 

“Alright then, on top of that, studying with Tzuyu? Practicing with Yeosang!” Yeri stressed the last point while San nodded. “They’re small changes to you, yes, but to an outsider, it looks like it is really helping you.” 

Helping you? Helping you for what? 

You narrow your eyes at Yeri, but she doesn’t shy away from you. She just kept staring at you as if she heard the question in your mind. As if she was urging you to think about what she meant. As if you had the answers. 

So you did. 

All the way back to how you befriended Yeri. 

Or more so, how she had befriended you. She had clambered onto the train, wide-eyed and loud, instantly recognising the name embossed on your suitcase. She hadn’t even asked to enter the cabin or if you were waiting on anyone else. Yeri asked a million questions, all of which you ignored until she called you out. On your passive expression, on your unfriendliness, and on how you stared out your window when your parents didn’t even wait to see you depart. When you finally deigned her with a response, she grinned, having struck gold. 

Later in the year, she revealed that you’d met her before. None of it rang a bell to you, but by that time, she’d grown to be someone quite important. You found yourself clinging on to her more than she did to you. Besides, it did help that whatever trouble you caused or didn’t, she was always the first to back you up. Very quickly, you found yourself doing the same—a loyalty so unwavering, that you didn’t really care for anyone else. 

That’s how it went with Yeri. That’s how it went with everyone else. Every single one of your close friends. 

How San introduced himself with a snack because he’d bought too many, (he had lied, he believed sharing snacks would help him make friends if his words failed). Or how Yeonjun had passed you notes because he was bored at the back of the first History lesson, (you both had been kicked out and never earned the professor’s trust ever again—not that either of you cared for it). How Eunbi made a singular comment on correcting your form when she’d caught your practising spells late at night, a throw-away note, she hadn’t even stopped to say it (and you never got to thank her after the Charms professor praised you).  

All of them had approached you first, regardless if their intention was to befriend you or not. They come to you, befriend you, and you just let them… Or more that they’d broken through. Seen you through your passiveness and unfriendliness as a young Yeri had put it. 

How many more were there? How many more interactions filtered through your mind as irrelevant much like how you’d met Yeri before and had no recollection of it? How many more friends had you lost because you were busy picking and choosing who to speak to and how to speak to them? Whether they deserved your response, being selective on whether they deserved to take up space in your mind? 

When put in words, it sounded awful. Even if it wasn’t your intention, it seemed so so awful. Almost like… your parents. 

“I hope they help you. Help you understand that the world doesn’t end when you make one wrong move. Help you understand that you’ll be fine if you fail from time to time,” Yeri paused to let out a deep sigh. You knew she was thinking about your parents too, but she didn’t feel like saying. Why, when you knew already? “I hope that they help you understand that you’re more than just some Quidditch player, or a decent Transfiguration student, or another L/N.” 

“That’s not her job,” the words escaped you before you could even recognise what you were saying. 

You’ve truly lost where this conversation was going. 

“That’s not their job,” you corrected. San and Yeri shared a look while you folded your arms. 

Weren’t there bigger problems to concern yourselves with than whatever you had going on with Tzuyu? Which wasn’t much. 

“That doesn’t matter! Focus on how I broke my broom—”

“We all saw that, don’t change—”

“Yeri, I’m just saying Tzuyu is not a concern—”

“Our next game is not a concern! It isn’t for weeks! Plus we have school brooms,” Yeri said.

“And spare brooms,” San added, knowing he could ask his parents to send some for you. 

“That still doesn’t guarantee a smooth game, I mean this game we barely—”

“I don’t understand why you won’t let anyone near you,” Yeri shuffled back, now kneeling on the couch. 

“And I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” you flashed San a look, hoping he’d help you in some way. Nothing. “Seriously, what are we even talking about now?”

“I forget how you can be so clueless,” Yeri shook her head and moved away from the couch. She gave you one last look before leaving. “That’s my bad.”

You watched her disappear into the crowd with a sour taste in your mouth. This fight was not a new one. Every year something along the same lines always came up, but truly this time there was no root to it. At least, not one you could pinpoint.

“You’re distracted,” San offered kindly. When you pursed your lips, he sighed. “Tzuyu has been distracting you.” 

“Is she helping me, or distracting me? Which is it?” you asked, and a passing look on San told you he didn’t appreciate the tone. You mumbled your apology before running your hand down your face. “I’ve been practising the best I can, studying the best I can, what are you saying—”

“It’s not a bad thing,” San stopped your words. “Anyone with eyes can see the two of you have been circling each other since the start of the year, though it's become so tense—”

“Yeah, well, I was injured because of her,” you emphasised the point as much as you could. Then you brought your hand up to unfurl a finger every time you made a point. “And then, she went and took the blame. And I don’t even know why she bothered to try to make a friend out of me—”

“Don’t you think these are things you should be talking to her about?” 

Then you froze. 

Whatever you’d said you didn’t feel at the start of the conversation had just poured out of you, out of nowhere—no, from somewhere deep in you. 

“That’s what Yeri means, though she put it less kindly,” San said, placing a hand on your knee. He furrowed his brows, debating if he should say the thing he was thinking, far too gentle to not mince his words, far too different from Yeri. “You can confront people without your fists connecting with their face.” 

You stared at the hand on your knee. “Does it matter?” 

“If you’re so wound up over it, I’d say it does,” and then San reached for your left hand. 

And with horror, you felt it flinch away.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: i said two months but it was three guys im sorry im such a liar ;-; lol anygays have a good day/night everyone !

taglist: @someone-who-likes-broccoli @tatliegilim @nanabongos

send an ask to be added !

[dollyfl1rt]

warnings: 18+ mdni, anal, smut, a really handsy ex police officer

6:49 am

everyone was either just waking up or eating breakfast. in your case, you had just woke up.

“y/n, theres a bathroom upstairs by my room you can use. andrea’s hogging the downstairs one” maggie suggested sweetly her country accent apparent “thank you, maggie” you smiled as she nodded.

you walked upstairs finding the bathroom she told you about. you entered it in awe about how stunning it is.

“those shorts are small..no?” you heard from behind you as you jumped a little “you scared me” was what word vomited “they’re thin, thought you said you were cold?” rick teased his eyes everywhere except yours right now “i am cold it’s freezing in here”

“let me warm you up” he shrugged his gaze finally meeting yours with that wicked smirk, you peeped over the railing of the stairs to see who was down there and who wasn’t. to your advantage, if rick seen something he wanted he went for it. which that something was you right now. just as you were about to turn around to brush your teeth rick’s chest clashed with yours. he pulled you into an embrace just looking down at you. you reached up for his cheek and kissed him, your lips moving fast. you were so eager it was insane. everything you’d been thinking about for the past few days.

rick placed his arms under your thighs and carried you to the bathroom, closing and locking the door. you softly moaned at how rough he was being. sad to say, shane was never rough with you. always so scared he’d ‘break you’. rick broke the kiss and turned you around, your stomach against the bathroom counter. he quickly unbuckled his belt pulling his pants and boxers down.

you felt his cock perked up against your butt cheek. maybe rick was bigger than shane, maybe. you squirmed against his length lowly whining. rick let out a low husky chuckle. he tapped his tip against your ass. “you sure?” you couldn’t be more sure of anything in your life. so to answer his question you nodded.he aligned his cock with your hole and pushed himself into you. your eyes widened and you bite your bottom lip. he was in your butt, you’d never done that before so it shocked you how different it felt.

his hands found their way to your butt cheeks. those huge, rough, calloused, hands gripping at the fat of your butt. once he found a steady pace he continued with it. soon enough whines escaped your mouth. rick licked his hand, reached down, and rubbed your clit. he fucked you hard against his chest “god you feel fucking amazing” he growled in your ear rubbing at your clit faster. you came. “mm fuck, right there” you moaned quietly holding rick’s hand.

“hush up baby” he demanded groaning. you did as you were told and eventually you were a mess. “please” you breathed out heavily as rick chuckled lowly and slapped your ass earning a whine from you. his thrust became sloppier but nonetheless they were still happening. you orgasmed, your body shaking a little bit. it was enough that he was in your butt, but him massaging you and rubbing everything all over? jesus christ. he pumped his shaft that for the most part, was still in your ass. after a few beats you felt him release in your ass. “fuck” rick dragged as your mouth fell agape.

“that..i never done that in my ass before” you breathed out leaning forward against the counter, rick smacked your ass again “glad to be your first” he winked with a lazy smile.

[thewonderfulwitchofthewest]

my thoughts on Wicked part 1 :D

(spoilers for act 2)

stuff that made me happy:

Absolutely loved and appreciated that there weren’t any huge song or scene removals, just smaller stylistic changes that were usually made to help things flow better

More emphasis being put on Elphaba’s midwife/primary caretaker being an Animal. That was one of the gripes I had from the musical, especially since it forms the basis of Elphaba’s motivations and empathy. Plus, the book was more prevalent about it as far as I remember

Elphaba causing the mural of The Wizard in Shiz’ welcome hall to crumble and reveal the Animal mural underneath was one of my fav additions!! What a clever way of pointing at that revisionist history, and also foreshadowing Elphaba herself being the one to uncover the truth behind The Wizard later.

The recurring For Good leitmotifs FUCK!! that was so mean of them, but so amazing

Set design went insanely hard, kudos to the team!! Everything was visually stunning! I’m in love with Shiz’ rotating library in particular, keeping to Wicked’s theme and aesthetic of circularity

Speaking of circularity, costume design also went incredibly hard!! Of course I miss some of the original designs, like Glinda’s yellow dress, but the new outfits brought in do feel similar to the ones that weren’t included, so I’m not pressed about it. I’m very happy that most if not all of Galinda’s outfits incorporated circles/curves (see above; also a nod to the bubble aesthetic)

Elphaba’s innocence and joyous whimsy in The Wizard and I!! So beautiful. She’s so outwardly excited and fantasizing so vividly, something she only expresses in the safety of her own solitude. But she has a chance, she’s free to explore something she never thought she could have before, she’s unlimited. Really great I Want song sequence

Original Dillamond is more humanoid and looks more refined as a professor imo. But I’ll admit, this Dillamond’s very endearing…he’s just a lil goat. And I love him :)

I really enjoyed all the The Wizard of Oz-like stylizations being included, like the title font. The references were great too, like the ‘ruby slippers’ in Popular

The gadgetry in general was super cool. Gotta love all those fun lil inventions, like Dr. Dillamond’s tea set that accommodates the fact that he doesn’t have hands

The vocals HOLY SHIT. Do I need to say anything?? I was blown out of my seat dude. Loved all of the little personal touches added into the songs, it felt so raw and close to what actresses would’ve done on stage

things that could’ve been better:

Honestly, my biggest issue is that I needed Elphaba to be more mean. I like my Elphabas blunt, and angry. She was grumpy and petty and bitter from the start, but was still a good person, and I loved that about her character. While I respect the decision to make this Elphaba more composed (possibly to garner more sympathy from the audience), she came off as a bit too somber and self-pitying for my liking. Elphaba is witty and sarcastic. She’s unapologetic, but knows when to yield. And most importantly, she’s very much fuelled by rage, as much as she’s moved by love and compassion. I hope part 2 brings in all her nuances and inner fire, because that would really elevate everything for me!

EDIT: As an extension to the point above, I do still love fiery Elphaba, but I recognize there was nuance in this particular decision for this version of her character! This is the insanely good post that changed my view of things (for the better)

Somewhat related, I was looking for a bit more oomph, more emotion and inflection in tone for some of the line deliveries. The ones off the top of my head would be Elphaba’s explanation about being green, and Glinda’s sadness over Fiyero’s changed behaviour at the train station. Maybe this is a nitpick, maybe it only makes sense on a stage, but yeah I do miss the intensity.

Overall, I’m not the biggest fan of Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero. No disrespect to him, but I think they could’ve found someone a bit less charming and more rogueish for Fiyero, especially since he’s supposed to be a troublemaker and an airhead in this act

Also no disrespect to Michelle Yeoh, but I’m not the biggest fan of her singing. I wasn’t that torn up about it. It came and went, that’s what I’ll say. As for her as Morrible acting-wise, she’s okay. I love when Morrible is more over-the-top and loud, but Michelle plays her quieter, sneakier. She’s got room to be more intimidating later on in part/act 2

godddd I wish we could’ve gotten new scenes with Elphaba and Fiyero because as fun as gelphie is, fiyeraba is a compelling dynamic to me too, and I think the movie could’ve taken a great opportunity to rectify what a lot of people’s problem is with the ship, aka it being too rushed. I would’ve loved to see an additional moment where they shared something with each other and only each other, like a personal tidbit about Fiyero’s life as a prince, or something he did at other schools, anything Elphaba could grasp onto and relate to in order to flesh out their relationship more, as two people who understand what it’s like to not be happy and seen for who they really are deep down

Even just making the I’m Not That Girl sequence more visually appealing would’ve been nice. I miss the poppy field. We lost that flower symbolism in this particular context, representing love, remembrance and hope for the future, which does encapsulate the basis of Elphaba and Fiyero’s relationship

The Defying Gravity sequence was of course absolutely incredible on several fronts, but it did feel a little clunky at times. Somehow the pacing was slower here than it was in the musical. I should feel my heart pounding alongside Elphaba and Glinda’s. Elphaba trying to steal The Wizard’s balloon was a nice touch though, I loved that.

Small gripe, but I would’ve loved more steampunk stuff incorporated (the train to the Emerald City was great!!), as well as the Time Dragon Clock somewhere (unless I missed it in the opening sequence?)

If I think of more, I’ll add it in later, but that’s pretty much it for now! I really enjoyed watching this movie. It was very well done and it captured the soul of the musical!!

[eaglyn]

Mr. Crazy and Mrs. Crazier | Dottore x reader smut

Warning: gore, human experimentation, dismantling of a human heart, psychopathic behavior Not proofread

You were just about the perfect being that he could imagine. In his eyes, you were smart, entertaining and downright gorgeous. Normally, Dottore wouldn't think such things about anything he didn't create himself, but you? You were different. You were perfect.

You were a very successful graduate of the Sumeru Akademiya's Amurta Darshan, some even say that you're the most promising student the Amurta Darshan's ever had. That was arguable. On the other hand, it was an unarguable truth that you were insane. You had about as much regard for human life as Dottore, or maybe even less. They tried to change you for some time, after all your knowledge and talent was definitely in the wrong hands considering your usual projects, which more often than not included human experimentation.

Obviously, they failed. When Dottore joined the Akademiya, he heard news of you, and he was intrigued. He searched for you day and night, week after week until you finally decided to see what his deal was, and once you saw his... creative potential, to speak lightly, you decided to teach him all sort of messed up tips and tricks, from the easiest way to disassemble a human body to reconstructing a human body with mechanical parts.

And that should give anyone the understanding of why and how Dottore was kicked from the Akademiya. When they learned of your cooperation with him, they were all but thrilled. In fact, they were mortified.

Dottore and yourself turned into a wicked pair, eventually ending up serving the Tsaritsa, but while he became a Fatui Harbinger, you just remained in the shadows, but eventually earning the rank number 2.5, as you and him practically came as a package deal. You continued working together for centuries.

Unlike you, he had to resort do different means of achieving a long lifespan, but you were always by his side to give him new ideas and help him out with whatever he needed. As such, you went from his mentor to his lab assistant who would sit atop a countertop in his laboratory and entertain him.

Fatui agents would often hear howling laughter coming up from the lab as you two were working on a new project, and could only imagine which part of cutting young humans up was it that entertained the two of you so much.

In reality, you could turn anything into entertainment.

"Why are you holding the scalpel like that? It looks like you're trying to use it as a chopstick." You raised your eyebrows at one of his most recent techniques.

"Criticize all you want, princess, but it's easier from me to cut at this angle. See?" He maneuvered around the current test subject's ribs, attempting to cut her heart out, having a prototype machine in hand.

"Or you could've just removed the ribs? Why are you so afraid to put the device down, it's not like we didn't sanitize everything a few minutes before starting this experiment." You rolled your eyes.

"But we always take the ribs out, and putting them back is such a pain."

"For you. I thought I gave you a detailed demonstration on how to reattach nerves properly. Also, how do you want to take out the heart with everything still in the way?" You crossed your legs, feeling that you've won the debate.

"By taking it apart, of course. The machine is also attached piece by piece, so the lack of open space won't be a hindrance." He grinned back at you.

"Excuses, excuses." With that, you went back to constructing some random trinket out of spare parts.

After a while, he finally managed to remove the heart, taking all the bits in his hand and raising them in the air victoriously.

"AHA! I've succeeded- oh shit..." He dropped one of them onto the floor. He placed the prototype heart down onto a sterile field, along with the scalpel before walking over to you. "Here, I shall give you my heart." With that, he dropped the dismantled pieces onto your lap, staining your pants with blood.

"Ew, you ruined my pants!" You grabbed a few pieces and launched them at his face as a payback.

"How dare you? I give you my heart and you just throw it away? Why so cruel, Y/n?" Both of you break out laughing like maniacs as you continue throwing bits of the test subject's heart at each other.

"Alright, alright, let's compose ourselves now." You said, gathering the bits before throwing them into a jar.

Dottore installs the prosthetic heart and sews the person back up, and after he was done with that, the two of you transported her to a cell.

"Now we just wait to see if the transplant was successful." You hummed in response, glancing down at your bloodstained pants again.

"Oh come on, those are just pants, Y/n." The blue haired man said with his arms crossed over his chest.

"But I liked these pants." You pouted. They were white shorts tailor made for you, and you knew that you'd never be able to get the blood out of the expensive material.

"Well I prefer you without pants, you don't see me complaining." He stepped closer to you, settling himself between your legs as you sat on the countertop. "And without a shirt too."

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him, and he eagerly kissed back, while his hands were already creeping up on your torso underneath your shirt.

"In that case, remove them, Doc." And he just did that. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head, attaching his lips to your neck while you pulled your arms out of the shirt, tossing it onto the ground.

You moaned softly as he continued sucking hickeys onto your soft skin, working on removing the belt from around your waist. When that was done, he pulled your pants down, tossing them onto the floor before going for your neck again, meanwhile his hand pulled your panties aside and he started rubbing your clit with two fingers. You threw your head back, moaning when you started feeling a knot forming in your stomach, but then he pulled his hand away.

"Oh come on." You said, scrunching up your eyebrows.

"It's not fair if you get all the fun and I don't get any." He said before stripping himself of his clothes and going back to you. He unclipped your bra, pulling it off of your body and tossing it away before hooking his finger around your panties and ripping them off.

He took a breast in his hand while using the other to rub the tip of his cock over your clit, lubricating it in the process.

"Please just put it in." You whined.

"As you wish, princess." With that, he shoved his cock into your entrance. No matter how many times you've done this, the first few seconds always hurt. His cock was big by all definition, almost too big. The length couldn't even fit all the way in, while the girth was so thick that you felt like your walls were being thorn apart each time. He slowly pulled out before going back in, letting you adjust a little before he started thrusting at a steady pace.

You hummed in pleasure, feeling his veins graze against your walls, and it was like a little spark ignited inside your stomach every time his tip kissed your cervix. He continued thrusting steadily until he started to see signs of impatience on your face. Then he decided to speed up, kissing you hungrily before doing so.

He shoved his tongue into your mouth as he was thrusting inside you, squeezing your breast once in a while as well. You were a moaning mess, gripping his muscular back with your hands.

The way he felt inside you was intoxicating. You were addicted to him. Only he could make you unfold this way. The way he kissed you with such lust and hunger, and he knew all your most sensitive spots. He knew just how to reach that sweet spot that made you scream out loud in pleasure each time, and when he'd do that, he'd speed up and start thrusting into you at an inhuman speed right afterwards. You felt like your insides were being rearranged, while he just grunted into your ear, telling you how nice and tight you were, just for him.

After all, nobody has seen you like this. Not for a very long time, at least. And you were only the happier to know that you were the only one that he fucked like this, and the only one that he'd keep in his lap, cockwarming him as he did paperwork or some other task that would be way too boring other wise.

And just as always, now too he managed to time his release to yours, and he moaned out loud as your walls clenched around them while he shot his cum deep into you.

But he didn't stop after that, he never does. He waits until you get down from your high before thrusting into your overstimulated pussy for three more rounds, until there is cum dripping down from the edge of the countertop and both of you are completely exhausted.

Dottore then grabs you by your thighs, his cock still buried deep inside you, and he sits down on a sofa, where you both take a nap.

At times like this, it's not only the psychopathic hollering of two maniacs that the Fatui Agents hear, but also the way that he makes you completely lose your mind in pleasure.

[aspoonofsugar]

Could you analyse ‘Insane’ (the Alastor song by his original voice actor) with the added context of the show itself?

Hello anon!

Thank you for recommending the song, I had yet to listen to it!

That said, I don't really know if there is much to analyze, as the song was written before the series. It seems mostly a fun way to characterize Alastor. It gives you some vibes about who he is, rather than exploring his arc or giving hints about the future. In the end, it is pretty coherent with Alastor's superficial demeanor, which is rooted in his enjoyment of violence and power.

In any case, I would say the most interesting part is this:

Wait a minute, do I know you? Weren't you an old pal of mine? Departed from us far too early But now we're meeting a second time We used to have such fun together And maybe you have what I need But first, I have one tiny question Tell me, do you demons bleed?

It might foreshadow some kind of future character since none of Alastor's current aquaintances fit. It is implied he meets Husk and Vox in Hell and the lines do not fit his dynamic with Mimzy. Of course, it might also be generic, but it is still interesting.

In general, I would say the main message of the song is that he likes Hell and refuses redemption, which is more or less what we learn about him from the pilot. It is also highlighted by Alastor's own reprise of Charlie's song:

Inside of every demon is a lost cause, ha But we’ll dress 'em up for now with just a smile (Wicked smile) And we’ll chlorinate this cesspool with some old redemption flair And show these simpletons some proper class and style (Class and style) Oh, here below the ground, I’m sure your plan is sound They’ll spend a little time down at this Hazbin Ho—

What's interesting about the Radio Demon so far is that he doesn't really have his own song. Rather, he likes to "steal" others':

Alastor: Can you butt out of my song? Lucifer: Your song? I started this!

As a matter of fact Alastor:

Takes Charlie's Inside of Every Demon is a Rainbow and twists it into Inside of Every Demon is a Lost Cause

Takes over Vox's Stayed Gone song and uses it against the TV Demon himself

Tries to make Lucifer's song his, but Mimzy comes and takes over herself

He also has small parts in other songs, where he sings unheard by the protagonist of the scene:

He sings with Rosie (and to himself) in Ready for This, while Charlie is distracted

He sings alone in the Finale, while the Hotel Crew is all together

Why is there such a stylistic choice when it comes to his character? The reason is quite simple. As I have discussed here, Alastor is everyone's Jungian Shadow. This means that he embodies what other characters repress. He is Charlie's fear to fail, Lucifer's sense of inadequacy as a father, Vox's unsolved feelings. So, he either takes over the characters' songs as they fail to face these hidden emotions or he sings unheard, because they are not even ready to aknowledge some parts of the self.

This also ties with Alastor's radio motif. After all, what is a radio if not a technology that "captures" people's voices and songs?

Mimzy: No one knew what happened to 'em, until these strange radio broadcasts started going out. All you could hear were screams. Every time an overlord went missing, there'd be a new voice screaming in the broadcast! That's when Alastor revealed himself as the radio demon, and anyone that would mess with him… chuckles well, let's just say, his broadcasts never lacked new voices.

Alastor grows in power by defeating Overlords and broadcasting their screams. So, he takes others' voices and makes them louder (in a bad way). In the series, he has a similar double role:

He takes over others' voices by hijacking their songs or twisting their messages

He makes and will make other people's voices stronger (in a good way). For example, he is gonna amplify Charlie's voice and message:

At the same time, Alastor himself uses the radio to hide his own voice, which is constantly filtered:

The moment his staff gets broken, Alastor shows his real voice, his real self for a short moment. His mask cracks.

So, Alastor not having his own song is actually much more meaningful for his character than having one. It shows how he likes manipulating others and their insecurities, so he doesn't have to truly show who he is:

Alastor: Just because you see a smile, don't think you know what is going on underneath. A smile is a valuable tool, my dear. It inspires your friends, keeps your enemies guessing and ensures tha no matter what comes your way, you're the one in control.

He is the radio demon, a jungian shadow who steals and twists others' music, so that he can hide his voice behind others' words.

In conclusion, I don't think the Insane song is very meaningful (I might be wrong or change my mind), but I think there is much to analyze in Alastor's lack of a song. Moreover, his parts in the song he invites himself are actually loaded with meaning. His foiling with Charlie, Lucifer and Vox tells a lot about Alastor, much more than any solo song :)

Thank you for the ask!

[lily-onher-grave]

Okay I saw Wicked again and I’m reobsessed so anyway some of my favorite things from this performance and just in general

The first word of the show is good and the last word of the show is wicked and if that doesn’t sum up how well the symbolism hits idk what does

Watching NOMTW it really did just hit me all over again the themes of fate and destiny and the limitations society puts on us and the limitations we put on ourselves

Wicked is a tragedy in the truest sense! No matter what Elphaba does she will not win and she cannot change things! No matter what Glinda does she will lose Elphaba!

Glinda’s sad face in NOMTW, and also how she is surrounded by the Ozians but is still so alone. They’re all giving her so much space, she has to walk across the stage and reach out just to get them to look her in the eyes (she’s lost the only people who ever saw her as a person rather than a doll)

The first time Elphaba runs downstage and she’s grinning so wide and she has so much hope for herself and for the world

The silence while Elphaba is dancing alone at the Ozdust, but more importantly, the way the music starts all soft and quiet when Glinda starts dancing with her. It’s the most romantic tune in the first act, maybe in the entire show

All the hand holding

The way that Glinda almost goes with her in Defying Gravity

The way Glinda reaches for Elphaba once she starts flying. Not caring at all that the guards and the Ozians and everyone else on stage can see. She’s just trying to reach her one last time

(The way Elphaba reaches back)

Glinda’s solo in Thank Goodness (Celia Hottenstein nails Glinda’s lower parts and she was an absolute dream especially in this song)

When Elphaba returns and Glinda walks into the room, the first thing she does is run into Elphaba’s arms. She’s horrified at the situation later but at that moment she doesn’t even notice anyone but Elphie

As Long As You’re Mine. Look Fiyero and Elphaba are Not It for me but the intensity of that song, the way the music slides into these dark little motifs, the harmonies. It’s so good

Glinda mourning Nessa when no one else is around

Elphaba blaming herself and Glinda immediately trying to comfort her even though they’re mad at each other

Idk if this is a normal thing and I’ve just never caught it before but when Fiyero was holding Glinda at gunpoint Elphaba was shaking her head, she looked so scared

Glinda tossing Elphaba her hat back and telling her to go

The opt up on FiyeeEErroooOOOOOOooooo

(All of No Good Deed)

Especially when she’s further back and the smoke is whirling around her and everything is purple and gold and it’s so sinister and her cape is flying around her and she is well and truly broken

I actually really love March of the Witch Hunters. It sounds sick af and it makes me imagine a world where the musical was closer to Maguire’s book and kept that super eerie, darkly violent vibe

(I feel the same way about when Fiyero is alone after ALAYM, and the music gets all intense and he’s running around the stage, holding up his lantern. idk those scenes hit a very specific vibe and I don’t quite know what it is but I like it)

Before For Good, when Elphaba started to tell Glinda to run, Glinda sobbed her name and it hit so hard

Have I mentioned the hand holding?

The way that they stand so still in For Good. So many songs have such insane movement to them, or even interludes between parts but For Good is just the two of them

(It’s such a love song)

Elphaba blew a kiss to Glinda and then pressed her hand over her heart when she hid her behind the curtain before the melting scene

Glinda’s sad face in NOMTW pt2

Again idk how common this is but before the lil For Good reprise Fiyero started to lead Elphaba away and she was about to take his hand but then Glinda started singing “who can say…” and Elphaba immediately turned away from him to go walk toward Glinda

[redhead-batgal]

can I request you do a Tim Drake x reader where the reader is a spider-like anti-hero that is infamous for getting on batman's bad side due to their methods (i.e. hurting bad people like r*pists, etc.) as well as criticizing him for his techniques, and Tim one day bringing them to the manor after a night of patrol and how the batfam reacts? [can you use 21, 8, 15, 28, 31, 32, 19, 35, 26, 17, 3, 1 & 25 from the neutral prompts; 23 from the angsts prompts; and 1, 27, 34 from the fluff prompts]

I'm so sorry this is pretty long, you can cut out any prompts if you'd like wefhsdkj anyways, have a nice day/night & I love your writing!

Pairing: Anti-Hero! and Gender Neutral! Reader x Tim Drake/Red Robin

Prompts: ϐ1: "“Hmmm, what if-” “Oh no, don’t you start that sentence, don’t you dare make that face." ϐ3: "Go on, keep calling me names, see what happens." ϐ8: "FINALLY! Someone who gets me!” “They literally just breathed.” “It was a sigh and fuck you.” ϐ15: "Are you fucking kidding me?” “No, not in the slightest” ϐ17: "She is my favorite sister.” “I’m not even your sister.” “Not yet.” ϐ19: “Are you insane?” “Most likely.” ϐ21: “You’re late.” “You see I would have been on time, but I was kinda keen on not dying.” ϐ25: “You, my friend, are going down a very dark path.” “Well, the light is broken.” ϐ26: “Get the fuck off of my car.” “Say please.” “Please get your fucking ass off of my fucking car” “that’s not very nice” “I’m done.” ϐ28: “And here I was thinking you were dead.” “As if death could be so lucky to be blessed with my presence.” ϐ31: “IS THAT A KITTY!” “Be quiet, we are supposed to observe and report!” “But the kitty…” ϐ32: “Shock me,” “I would but I’m afraid it’d kill you, old man.” ϐ35: “You know it’s very nice to be wanted.” “NOT BY THE FUCKING FBI DAMN IT!” ✢23: “Heroes die young anyways, might as well live as a villain.” ☙1: “I honestly don’t think there’s anyone I ever loved as much as I love you.” ☙27: “I love every damned piece of you no matter what anyone else says.” ☙34: “Damn you smell really nice.”

Content: Cursing, fluff, antics and Batfamily shenanigans. (This is technically what you asked for but also not. I just couldn't help myself with the chaotic batfam scenario sorry if this isn't what you were expecting!"

Word Count: 2,132

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life is complicated, especially since people are so bizarre. They have the capability for good and, unfortunately, for evil. And evil tended to rein from what you had seen in life.

It was part of the reason why you decided to become a vigilante of sorts. Part of the reason why you went out in the middle of the night and fought for justice for those who couldn't fight back.

Batman and the rest of the bats wouldn't do what it takes to keep the people of Gotham safe. The vulnerable people of Gotham, the working girls, boys and in-betweens... the people who don't follow the social norms with gender and career.

You chose to help others in a way that the bats couldn't. Killing of course wasn't something you did, that would defeat your purpose. These people- how could you even call them people? These scum, needed to be taught a lesson. And you would make sure it got through, even if it meant you ended up with some bruises and broken bones as well.

This, of course, put you on the big bat's bad side. He didn't see you as an enemy, but he certainly didn't like your actions. However, this did not apply to all of the bats.

"You're late." He sighed.

Rolling your eyes, you tilted your head back. Shrugging you smiled at him lazily.

“You see I would have been on time, but I was kinda keen on not dying.”

He turned to you and a wicked smile slid onto your face. Even with his mask on you could see his seething glare. Rolling off of the heating unit, you flipped to land on your feet before walking towards him.

"Come on Red, can't you take a joke?"

Red Robin did not reply, and you sighed. Maybe you should have tried to take this more seriously. After all he wanted you to officially meet the rest of the bats.

"Alright," You began, "I'm sorry."

Red Robin sighed; eyes narrowed as he looked you over before shaking his head.

"Are you insane?"

Instantly speaking before he could continue, "Most likely?"

He laughed slightly and you bounced a bit before speaking once again, “Hmmm, what if-”

“Oh no, don’t you start that sentence, don’t you dare make that face."

Hopping closer to him you leaned in and opened you mouth to say something, noting the slowly appearing smile on his face. Before opening your mouth, however you took a breath in, and words spilled from you.

"Damn, you smell nice."

He paused for a moment, and you met his gaze before smiling at him and leaning in even more. It hadn't been long since your friendship had officially morphed into something more and every little since of affection seemed to make Red Robin- Tim, it made him nervous.

“I honestly," You began looking at him a mischievous smile on your face, "don’t think there’s anyone I ever loved as much as I love you.”

He took a step back and you looked at him raising an eyebrow.

"Is something wrong Red? You want me to meet them because we're together, right?"

He didn't reply, in fact he looked away from you and you paused. All jokes aside you did love him. You did care about what he said and how he felt. It hurt a bit, him ignoring your question.

"Or" You began letting your mind speak before you thought it through, "do you want to know how they seem me before you decided how you feel?"

He paused again and you sighed, you knew he didn't always know what to say to your antics and fears.

"Please tell me that I'm wrong, Red. I-i want you to reassure me. Say things- things like... I love every damned piece of you no matter what anyone else says.”

He finally looked to you and nodded slowly. Clearing his throat, he took a step towards you, and you smiled.

"I do, I do. I'm- I'm just-"

"Nervous?" You asked watching as his hands fluttered and his body twitched.

"Yeah."

Moving so there was no space between you, you leaned against him.

"It's okay, I get it. If things don't go well, you can just say it's your rebellious phase."

Tim laughed and you smiled at him, grabbing onto his arm you began pulling him across the roof top.

"Come on lover boy, we've got somewhere we need to be."

It did not take long for the two of you to arrive at the vast estate of the Wayne family. Nor did it take long for you to reach the front door. Opening it, that was another matter though. Voices seemed to blast from within and you had to bite your lip to keep your composure.

"Go on, keep calling me names, see what happens!" A voice yelled.

"As if you can do anything Thomas!" A younger voice replied, and you almost turned to Tim who sighed before yanking on the doorknob.

You peeked your head into the manor to see dimly lit rooms and straight ahead a tv screen blazing. Wandering in you found two boys sprawled across the couch just in front of the tv.

“Get the fuck off of my car.” The young Wayne boy, Damian remarked.

A controller pinned in his hands as he glared at another boy.

“Say please.” The other remarked and you recalled his name, Duke.

Damian glared before seething, “Please get your fucking ass off of my fucking car.”

“That’s not very nice.”

Throwing the controller down, Damian shook his head scowling, “I’m done.”

"Where on earth did Robin hear that language?" You snorted.

"Jason probably," Tim sighed.

There was silence before a voice shouted in reply sending you into a pearl of giggles.

"You're one to talk pretender!"

Tim rolled his eyes as he gestured to the boys in front of the two of you.

"These are some of my family members. Duke is a daylighter so you probably haven't seen much of him, and you already know that Damian is Robin."

Duke looked up before blinking a few times, you smiled and waved, and Duke's face went blank as he waved back. Damian raised his head for a second spotting you and scoffing.

"Hello, L/N. Still wasting your time with Drake I see."

Tim's hands were on your make moving you towards the kitchen as your jaw dropped at Damian's comment. Clearly, he did not want to deal with his younger sibling today.

Tim pushed the kitchen door open and sitting on the counter a carton settled in her lap was an unfamiliar girl. She blinked before smiling upon noticing the two of you.

'Hi' She signed, and you tilted your head.

"This is Cass, you probably know her as Black Bat though."

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head as you looked to Tim your jaw dropping. Her? Black Bat? Wow. You had been dying to meet her.

"Wow," You breathed out stepping forwards, "Uh Hi! I'm Y/n. Woah, yeah uhm sorry. I've just heard a lot about you and- and I'm a big fan."

Cass blinked; her pale cheeks being tinted with the slightest pink as she tucked her hair behind her ear hiding part of it from view. Suddenly, she quickly began signing and you shook your head trying to keep up but being unable to.

"Huh, yeah. You're right Cass. I should show them the cave." Tim muttered, he then looked to you and weakly smiled, "Do you want to see the bat cave?"

You nodded rapidly. While you wanted to stay and talk with Cass, you doubted you'd be able to keep up an actual conversation and you really didn't want her to feel uncomfortable.

"Alright, this way. And just down the stairs."

“IS THAT A KITTY!” Spoiler's voice echoed through the comms.

“Be quiet," Batwing hissed "we are supposed to observe and report!”

“But the kitty…”

A sense of surprise raced over you. You really didn't expect to hear things like that. You were almost certain that patrols were serious and yet, here was Spoiler surprising you. Continuing your descent, you made it to the bottom of the stairs to find an unmasked Batman at the computer with a civilian Red Hood behind him waving his hands.

"Shock me." Bat- no Bruce sighed.

"I would but I'm afraid it'd kill you, old man." Red Hood snorted.

You laughed and he turned to you before laughing as well, “And here I was thinking you were dead.”

“As if death could be so lucky to be blessed with my presence.”

Bruce ignored the two of you, eyes locked on the screen and Red Hood- no Jason, looked at you.

“Heroes die young anyways, might as well live as a villain.” He said reaching his fist out, "right?"

"If anyone's like a villain between the two of you it's gotta be Y/N." Bruce mumbled.

"What? Why? I was a drug lord and killed tons of people." Jason questioned his nosed scrunched up in confusion.

"They castrated a man in broad daylight," Was Oracle's calm response that echoed through the cave cleaving it into silence. A smile nearly jumped onto Jason's face as he turned to you.

"Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No," Tim sighed, "not in the slightest.”

"You castrated a man?"

Heat flushed your cheeks, and you waved your hands spitting out a defense, "He was using his dick for bad things! He deserved it."

"It was more than one, and you are now wanted." Bruce Wayne sighed rubbing his temples.

Your reply was instant, “You know it’s very nice to be wanted.”

“NOT BY THE FUCKING FBI DAMN IT!” Tim bellowed turning towards you his eyes wide.

A sheepish grin was on your face as you batted your eyes at him, and Tim let out a groan. Shaking his head, he gestured towards the stairs.

"I think we're done with the Batcave."

You sighed before scowling and moving towards the stairs. However, before you could even raise your foot to the first step you heard Bruce Wayne's booming voice.

"It was nice to meet you Y/N. I hope you keep making Tim happy."

Looking over your shoulder you smiled brightly, meeting the bat's face before nodding.

"Oh, trust me. I will."

Jason burst into a fit of laughter and Tim suddenly was pushing against your back and forcing you up the stairs. You had just made it into the hall when, yet another bat began coming your way.

“You, my friend, are going down a very dark path.” Harper remarked a phone tucked into the crook of her neck.

“Well, the light is broken.” You heard someone reply and you sighed.

Harper turned to look at you before her eyes lit up, "Gotta go, I'll see you later."

She then abruptly hung up before spinning towards you and Tim. She pointed at you and then at Tim her eyebrows raised. Shaking her head, she smiled brightly.

"FINALLY! Someone who gets me!” Harper exclaimed.

Tim looked to her an eyebrow raised, “They literally just breathed.”

“It was a sigh and fuck you.”

"She is my favorite sister.” You snorted.

Harper looked at you confused, “I’m not even your sister.”

You smiled before turning towards Tim, “Not yet.”

A delighted look appeared on Harper's face as she looked you over before turning towards Tim.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well-" You began a wicked grin on your face.

Tim grabbed your arm and began pulling you towards the door, "I think that's enough for tonight. Bye Harper!"

Harper giggled in reply and Tim continued pulling you towards the door. Only to be stopped by a request from Alfred Pennyworth.

"I do hope that you will bring Mx Y/N for Sunday dinner Master Timothy. It will be a far better setting for them to get acquainted with everyone."

Tim sighed, his head hanging as you held back a laugh. He nodded and half turned towards Alfred with his hand weakly waving.

"Of course."

"Goodbye Alfred!" You shouted causing the butler to turn towards you a small smile on his face.

"Farewell Mx Y/N. I do hope you have an enjoyable rest of your evening!"

You continued to wave as Tim pulled you out the door. Finally, the door closed, and Tim let out a haggard sigh.

"So," You began causing him to look at you, "Sunday dinner? I'm pretty sure I didn't get to meet everyone after all."

Tim closed his eyes before pressing his hand to his face, "Damn it."

Another giggle escaped you and you grabbed onto his arm patting it slightly before shaking your head a smile stretched across your face.

"Damn it!" He said again and you laughed.

Tag List:

@andromedaj2003 @daemonnix96 @zvtanna @masset-fotia @thomasbeloved @sskai @krswrites

[daisyful-gvf]

✿ little wing ✿

part 3

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

pairings: jake x reader

word count: 7.5k

notes: finally!! god i love this chapter. and i can’t wait for the next :)

warnings: sexual situations, marijuana use, drinking, angst :(

playlist (which i’ve become rly attached to lol)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

-✿-

You’re insane if you think The Beatles are better than Cream

You laugh to yourself at his message. It’s a very Jake thing to say. Your answer is playful:

i think you’re just stubborn

It’s been nice texting Jake here and there. During the long stretches in the cramped sprinter van, between braiding Violet’s hair and plucking absentmindedly on your acoustic, it’s an exciting little activity. He’s witty, and also somehow awake most hours of the day.

That could be. But consider this:

He sends a Youtube link to a live performance of Crossroads, and you know before you even listen that he likely has you beat. You watch it anyways and smile at the thought that he shared it with you.

alright, i’ll concede

You answer. After another moment you add

for now

“What’s that about?” Paisley’s voice catches you off guard in the seat row in front of you. Her eyeliner is still half on from the show the night before, and she rubs at it as she smiles at you, “The giggling at your phone. Jake?”

If you act surprised, she’ll see right through it. You just nod, and try not to blush too hard. She offers you a knowing smile and you wave her off.

“I’m just saying…” she laughs and plays with the wooden beaded bracelets on her wrist.

“Well don’t,” you smile and pick up your guitar again, putting Jake out of your mind for a moment.

“Come on,” she grins, “What’s going on?”

The air seems stuffy in the van suddenly, so you crack a window. The summer Texas air is inviting on your skin and through your hair.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, “Truly, I don’t. I think we’re just friends, I think…”

She gives you an anticipatory look as you gather your thoughts.

“He’s a flirt, but he seems to tone it down with me. I think he’s just being nice. Professional, even.”

Whether or not she means for it to, the boisterous laugh that comes out pangs at your chest. As your face falls and you resort to playing a riff on the acoustic, she notices.

“Hey,” she soothes, “I’m not trying to be mean. I just wish I should shake some sense into you.”

You raise your brow at her as you play.

“I don’t know that even if I spelled it out for you, that you’d get it, babe,” she says gently, “But if he’s making you happy to be around, go with it.”

“Just don’t leave us in the dust for some rockstar dick, please,” Carol chimes in from the front. She gives you a wicked grin and then smacks her gum.

“Oh my god,” you roll your eyes, “It’ll never be like that.”

Paisley reaches over and ruffles your hair before she turns to lay her head against the window, and then you’re left with your own thoughts again. The buzz of your phone on your thigh startles you.

What do I get for winning? :)

You roll your eyes at his cheeky message.

well, what do you want?

He reads the message instantly, and after about a minute of silence your stomach starts to knot.

And then it hits you. You’re in it. You haven’t felt nervous over a text from someone in god knows how long, and it’s almost embarrassing how plain it is for yourself to see. And maybe, it’s not such an insane thing to like him. Maybe you’ll let yourself see where it goes.

Smoke with me again?

You don’t notice you’re smiling at it until your cheeks ache a bit.

if you insist, kiszka

The beds of your nail starts to bleed as you chew at the skin anxiously. You send the next message with your breath held:

time & place?

He answers quickly

After the show? I think our hotel’s right across from the venue. Meet me at the lobby bar?

Trying your best not to overthink it, you reply

see you then. good luck with the show tonight! big crowd.

Oh yeah? You think I need luck?

Your stomach turns at the playfulness of his response.

so humble, you are

The bubble of ellipses taunt you for a moment as he answers.

;)

You stare at the small winking face for a while before you decide it’s probably bad for your cardiac health, and set the phone face down on the seat. The Texas wind knots your hair, but you smile as the breeze hits your face.

-✿✿✿-

You find yourself in a trance as you watch the crew pack up Greta’s equipment from the side stage. Fog still curls through the edges of the room from the machines. After you let yourself watch for a bit, you take a deep breath and make your way back to the girls.

Outside by the van, you find Violet with a leg propped against the small metal barricade, puffing on a cigarette.

“Hey,” she says gently, “We’re gonna go get pizza I think. Coming?”

You lean into her and give her a sloppy half hug, shaking your head, “M’gonna go hang out with Jake for a bit if that’s alright.”

She grins like a cheshire cat and puts her cigarette out on her heel of her docs.

“It’s sweet, y’know,” he clears her throat.

“Mm?” you shuffle your feet around, acting oblivious.

“I can tell you like him. It’s sweet.”

You shrug and lean against the barrier, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

She laughs softly and leans next to you, “You don’t have to, that’s the fun of it. Just see where it goes.”

Her words seem so obvious, yet so hard to abide by in the moment.

You nod anyways, and then stand back up, stretching your hands up into the warm evening air. The crop top you’re wearing exposes your stomach to the breeze, and it’s unexpectedly grounding.

The rest of the girls round the corner and motion to Violet, and she leaves you with a soft wave and a smile.

After a deep breath, you turn on your heels and begin to walk around to the front of the venue, making your way to the hotel. The streetlights are warm orange against the dark sky, and it comforts you in an odd nostalgic way. The hotel is nice, a tall, shiny building, just a block away. You enter the lobby with your breath held.

He’s laughably easy to spot in a crowd. He’s in a black cutoff tank, and his brown hair spills in waves over his shoulders.

You approach the bar slowly and tap him once on the back. He turns with an already gentle smile on his face. He never seems caught off guard.

“Hey, little wing,” he grins and turns to bring you into a side hug,

You head reels, all at once hit with the smell of him, the warmth of him. In your head, his voice echos:

little wing

If he didn’t have a soft hold on your torso, your knees surely would buckle.

“Little wing?” you try to sound casual as you slide into the barstool beside him.

He nods, then is quiet for a moment as he adjusts back onto his stool.

“Seems fitting,” He finally says, taking one of the final sips of his drink, “That alright?”

You hum your approval, trying desperately to relax.

“I don’t have a nickname for you,” you blurt out.

He shrugs and signals the bartender for his tab, “You’ll think of one m’sure.”

“You want one?” your smile is genuine.

He smiles at his drink and takes the final swig, then shrugs as he sets it down and swallows. His eyes finally meet yours. “If you wanna give me one, yeah. ‘Course.”

“Hmm,” you bite your lip, “I’ll get back to you.”

He nods and takes the check from the bartender, exchanging his card and finally signing the receipt before he motions to you to exit.

You follow him across the white tile floor of the lobby to the elevator, where you’re met with a silence that is shockingly comfortable. Finally, he breaks it.

“Have a good show tonight?”

He’s standing in the opposite corner of the elevator, waiting your answer intently.

You nod, “One of the better ones actually. You?”

Instantly, he’s smiling, “Yeah, I felt good tonight.”

After you nod, he continues, “I watched your set.”

The comment makes your chest flush. You try to remember that he’s just a musician after all, too.

“And?” you bite your lip nervously.

The steel elevator doors creak open and he gives an ‘after you’ wave of his arm. He exists, then leads the way down the red-carpeted hall.

“I enjoyed it,” he answers, turning slightly to you as he walks, and he fidgets with his rings, “Your band is talented, that’s undeniable.”

You smile, thinking of the girls. The bond you all have is intense, and you can’t help but be proud on their behalves from the compliment.

“You especially,” he grins as he tugs his wallet from his jean pocket and retrieves the key card.

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes.

“I’m biased, as a fellow guitarist,” he opens the door and lets you in, “But I’m serious. It’s good.”

You spin to face him once inside, once again taken by the slight smell of shampoo and moisture from his pre-show shower.

“Thank you,” you say genuinely, “Really.”

He hold eye contact as he nods and smiles, and you suddenly don’t feel so on edge. He’s sweet.

“So,” he drums the tops of his thighs and moves to sit on the bed, “You were crazy for trying to argue The Beatles over Cream, y’know. You had this coming.”

You laugh, turning to make your way to the couch, and then—

There is no couch. Just the king bed, large and white in the middle of the room. Your cheeks heat.

“You good?” He asks, as you’ve fallen silent. Your head whips back around to him and you nod.

“You’re gonna make your whole room smell like weed, y’know,” you say, trying to talk yourself into normalcy.

He shrugs, “I don’t care. Better weed than stale hotel.”

You smile and make your way to the edge of the bed. You sit on the very corner, unsure of what else to do. He giggles, you’re pretty sure at your nervousness, but then he gets up and goes to his bag that sits on the desk.

Out of it he retrieves his metal tin and a lighter. He also pulls out a small bag of starbursts, and when he makes his way back to half-lay on the bed, he extends the yellow package to you with his eyebrows raised.

“M’good,” you smile. He nods and sets them aside, opening the metal tin and pulling out a pre roll. He lights up quickly, and the smell calms you instantly.

“You can lay down if you want,” he rasps as he holds in the green hit, “M’not gonna bite.”

The laugh that trills out of you is loud, and it makes him giggle in response.

“I’d hope not,” you try to ease the tension, and then let yourself lay down. You face each other, propped up on your sides a few feet away on opposite sides of the mattress.

He hands you the joint and after you take it, he plops flat onto his back, sinking into the weight of the mattress. His eyes flutter shut for a brief moment as you inhale.

When they open, his eyes a bit sleepy, he feels his pockets for his phone. You watch him scroll through it as you take another deep hit, and then finally he sighs and sets the device aside.

“I know I said I don’t usually watch movies when I smoke, but I’m not really feeling music right now,” he says. He stretches for the remote on the nightstand, revealing a strip of his stomach above his jeans that makes you blush. “That okay?” he asks.

Nodding, you cup your hand under the joint as the ash accumulates. He notices and gets up to grab an empty cup from near the ice bucket, passing it to you as he settles back onto the bed. This time, he lays up by the headboard, an arm stretched up behind his head casually.

He looks so good. A glimmer of hope crosses you, that maybe he will take this further.

“You wanna pick the movie?” He says, clicking at

the remote, stealing you from your thoughts.

You shake your head, “Go ahead.”

He bites his lip absentmindedly, and yeah, this is bad for you. There’s no denying that you want him, but you know yourself, and you can’t make a move first.

“Pirates?” He smiles at you and points to the TV with the remote.

You swivel your head to find Johnny Depp’s charming, dirty face grinning at you. After a short laugh, you nod. Jake nods back.

Passing him back the joint, you roll to lay on your stomach, parallel to him.

“How you gonna watch the movie if you’re faced this way?” He smarts. You shrug, swiping your hand along the soft plush of the comforter.

“Maybe I just wanna lay here,” you counter.

“Fair,” he puffs on the joint. There’s smoke in the air now, clinging to the mild humidity that seeps in from the summer evening, “So when did you start playing?”

“Guitar?”

He nods, hitting it again.

“Mm,” you ponder, again and again brushing your hand over the fabric, “Maybe twelve or thirteen?”

He nods and passes you the joint. As he holds the smoke in his lungs, he rasps out, “It shows.”

You can’t help your eye roll—while it’s very polite of him, it’s comical in some way that you feel such validation from it.

“What?” he giggles.

“Nothing,” you laugh, “Nothing, thank you.”

“You have a favorite song to play?”

“On stage?”

He shrugs, “Anywhere.”

You scoff, “You should know that’s an impossible question.”

His giggle is effortless, and he shrugs again, “Maybe. Try.”

Taking your last hit, you answer him upon exhale, “Right now? Maybe Red House.”

“God,” his smile is wide and toothy as he takes the joint back.

“What?” You blush at his response.

“Nothing,” he parrots your earlier response, “Good song.”

“You?”

He finishes off the joints and puts it out in the bottom of the cardboard cup; likely a fire hazard, but one that will be disregarded. He pops another starburst into his mouth.

“Right now it’s Orchid,” he smiles, as he talks around the candy “But it changes about every three days.”

“Mm,” you hum in acknowledgement. A gentle silence blankets the room, and in the background, Pirates plays on. You stare are your fingers, mostly, as they play with the edge of a down pillow now. Jake’s eyes flit between the screen and you.

It’s quiet for maybe ten minutes before he finally speaks, his voice now a little more hoarse.

“Wanna drink?”

You look up to him. His eyes are heavily lidded, and he looks relaxed. Only after you’re looking somewhere other than your hands do you realize you’re starting to feel the weed. You nod.

“Like water, or like whiskey?”

Blinking at him, you can’t bring yourself to decide.

“Whiskey it is,” he laughs, “Took too long, silly girl.”

Unable to help it, you bite your lip at the name. It’s laced with affection, or at least you’re pretty sure.

He slides off the bed easily, his jeans making a soft noise against the comforter. You don’t know how he’s always in jeans; perhaps for the aesthetic. The moment your set had ended earlier, you opted for some soft, flowy pants and a cropped shirt to cope with the temperature.

“Just one,” he’s handing you a can before you know it.

“This is soda,” you furrow your brow. He giggles.

“Not just,” he eases the can toward you, “There’s no more cups in here. I poured it in.”

The smell hits you then; the sweet dark liquor mixed with the sugary cola smell. It’s enticing.

You take a heavy swig, and yeah, he was right. He settles back on the bed, feet crossed, back against the headboard. You’re still parallel to him, you head about in line with his waist. As he sips from his drink, he plops his right hand down on the bed freely.

Quickly, his bracelets catch your eye. There’s four, a couple metal and a couple textile. You wonder how he came to have them, and why they all look like they’ve been on him for years.

“These old?” You ask, reaching up to tap one. Your fingertips brush his wrist, but he doesn’t flinch. Unable to think better of it, you continue to toy with one of them. It’s braided cord, very worn, frayed at most edges. Your trace the braided pattern over and over, occasionally bumping his skin. The feeling is electrifying, like you’ve just held hands with your childhood crush for the first time. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Mmhm,” he answers. He takes another drink and then watches you play with it.

“Tell me about them,” you touch another one, a thin silver chain with a small gem pendant.

He takes a soft breath.

“Well. The cord one is from Josh. I’ve had it on about a year. Guess he thought it ‘suited my aesthetic’ or whatever,” he chuckles to himself, “The silver one is from my sister. Think I’ve had that one for three or four years.”

You nod and spin it around his wrist, all but holding his hand at this point. The weed has left you without embarrassment as a crutch, and it feels nice to let your fingertips skirt over his skin.

You point to another woven one, a blue and green friendship bracelet.

“That one is from some gas station in Michigan. A few months ago, before this tour started.”

You nod at his answer and point to the last one, a solid silver bangle with a small, ancient looking symbol.

“From my dad,” he smiles, “No idea where he found it. But I love it.”

The bracelets and your fingers graze his skin gently, and you wish you could stay in the moment forever. It’s tender, and it feels safe. You spare a glance up at him and he’s looking at you like he feels the same. Somehow, it’s more intimate than if he were to just kiss you.

“How bout you, hm?” He lifts his wrist and taps the small woven bracelet on your wrist, “Good story?”

“We all have one,” you say, and then realize that you’ve given very little context, “All the girls. Violet made them in the van during one of the rides in between shows.”

“That’s sweet,” he says softly. If it were anyone else, you’d think they were making fun of you. But not him, with the way he says it.

You nod and keep playing with the bracelets on his wrist, spinning them around and around, tracing them. You’ve mesmerized yourself with them. Eventually, the hair tie on his middle finger catches your eye, and you trail your finger down to circle that. His hand twitches slightly under your touch, but then relaxes.

It’s a natural progression, or at least it feels that way, as you begin to trace up and down his fingers with the nail of yours. The touch is gentle, and you intend for it to be soothing. Just when you’re unsure if it’s too much, and you consider stopping, he murmurs,

“Feels nice.”

You look up and his eyes are closed, his head leaned back against the wall. You take the cue and continue to trace over and over the tan skin with care.

Finally after five or so more minutes, you peek back up at him, and he’s grinning at you.

“Hi,” he barely gets it out before he giggles. You laugh back.

“Hi,”

“I’m high.”

“I had no idea,” you burst into an uncontrollable laughter at the sight of him, eyes heavy. He laughs with you.

“Feels nice,” he says again, though you’re not sure now if he’s talking about the high or you touching his hand.

Your arms tired from propping yourself up, you slouch down against the bed, your hair brushing over his hand. Quickly, you realize you’re cold.

“Cold,” you get out, rubbing the goosebumps over your arm. He lifts his hand to skirt a finger over your arm and feel the goosebumps.

“Get under the blanket,” he says, as if you were dumb for not thinking of that solution. You eye him hesitantly, unsure if you should be reading into this.

“Little wing,” he sighs, affectionately rolling his eyes, “Just get under the fucking blanket. You think too much.”

A little shocked, you laugh, but do just that. You slip off the bed and he does the same, and as you both sink under the plush of the down comforter, you realize how close you are.

For a bit you try to focus on Davy Jones and Will Turner, but then the high leaves you craving to touch him, and you can only ration with your brain in its dazed state for so long. You’re pretty sure he won’t freak out, so you let your head fall against his shoulder.

You can feel and hear him inhale, and you brace yourself for rejection, but all he says is

“C’mere,”

It’s soft, and he’s easing his arm behind you, allowing you to sink into his side if you wish. You look at him, and he’s close, and he still looks very high.

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if we just cuddled,” he says quietly, “S’no big deal.”

You wish he hadn’t said that, because you wish it could be a big deal. You wish it could snowball, with hands and lips everywhere, a culmination of all the little moments. But if he’s letting it be casual, so be it, it’s better than nothing at all.

Like you’ve just crawled through the desert, and like he is a pool of cool water, you fall into him, slotting perfectly against his side. His arm comes around you and rests on your waist.

“This okay?” He murmurs, barely audible over the TV and the blood rushing in your head. You nod against his chest. “You high too?” You nod again. “Good,” he says quietly.

Try as it might, the movie doesn’t hold your attention whatsoever. All you can focus on is the soft rise and fall of his chest, his body heat, his fingertips and their gentle pressure on your side.

It’s unclear when you drift off. When you wake, the TV is playing some 90’s sitcom at a soft volume. The blue glow from the screen washes over Jake’s face, which you’ve propped yourself up to look over.

He looks dreadfully sweet—lips parted slightly, eyelashes creating small shadows in their wake. His hair is messy, like he raked his hand through it shortly before dozing off.

Your eyes land on the digital clock on the nightstand to his side, where the time glares red: 3:34. Jesus christ, you have to be on the road at 7:30.

One last time, you look at him. The irrational part of you, the part of you that craves warmth, wants to curl back into him and say fuck it. But a few deep breaths later, you know that’s not what this is.

Carefully, you try to slip out from under the comforter, shivering as you slide the cover off your torso.

“Hey,” his soft voice breaks through the night air.

Blinking, you turn to make quick eye contact. He’s rubbing one of his eyes, stretching.

“I don’t know when I fell asleep,” you chuckle softly, “Sorry.”

“No,” he shakes his head and plops his hands back into his lap, “S’fine, I did too. You…”

He looks like he wants to say it, too: stay. Or maybe you’re delirious from the late hour. But he chews on his bottom lip a moment, and then pick back up,

“You gotta leave early too, huh?”

You nod, and he nods back.

“Let me walk you down to the lobby,” he murmurs, sliding one of his legs from the comforter. Then he stills.

Suddenly, like a wave of nausea, you are hit with an emotion so unpleasant you fight tears.

If he doesn’t do something now, with you in his hotel bed during the witching hour, craving his touch and so clearly willing, maybe he never will. Maybe it’s just not like that, and this intense and well-fed crush you have is girlish and dumb.

“It’s fine,” you choke out, quickly putting your feet on the ground and searching for your sandals.

“No, I can—“

“It’s fine,” you reiterate, finally kicking on your other shoe and pivoting to the door.

“Hey—“

“Goodnight, Jake,” you get out, hand finding the room door in the dark only based on the rectangle of light coming from the hall.

“Little wing, hey—”

It’s the last thing you hear as the door latches behind you, and barely three steps into the hallway, the hot tears roll down your cheeks.

The bartender in the lobby gives you a concerned look as you rush out the front doors, where you walk a far too long twenty minutes back to your own hotel room.

When you sink into the bed next to Paisley, head pounding, sleep takes you quickly.

-✿✿✿-

In the stark light of the morning, with your head against the bus window, Paisley nudges you about twenty minutes into the drive. Her grin is devilish as she whispers,

“Why’d you come back to the room so late?”

Her look is expectant, much like you were last night. You answer her shakily

“Just lost track of time. Nothing happened.”

She nudges you again and says, “Okay,” with a knowing tone. Instead of arguing, you let your head fall back again my the window. Two more tears escape you before you fiercely wipe them away, determined not to let it get to you. He’s just a boy.

-✿✿✿-

You really should have just gone to the hotel tonight. The lack of sleep from the night before plagues you still after the show, especially on the adrenaline comedown.

But in the spirit of touring, you are convinced by Violet to accompany them to a bar, where you throw back a second vodka cran quickly and accept a hit of Carol’s cigarette.

And then there’s Jake. You can’t quite manage to peel your eyes away from the girl on the bar stool beside him. Her and her charming little grin, the way you can see her lipgloss sparkle from across the way.

Most infuriatingly, the way that Jake gives a wolfish grin back, and his eyes seem darker as he turns to her. The final blow is a flash of his hand skirting over her thigh, dancing over her skin.

Your head snaps to Paisley, “I need a fucking shot.”

She scans your face and seems to sense the panic, but like the sweet being she is, she places a gentle hand on your shoulder and gives a reassuring smile.

“Thought you’d never ask. Lemon drop? Green tea?”

Your head is shaking before her questions are over.

“Whiskey.”

She nibbles on her bottom lip and looks at you, and softly, she starts, “You okay?”

You shake your head again and she nods, going to fetch the shots as you take a shaky breath.

After one more fleeting glance at Jake, with his hand trailing over and over her knee, you swear it off the rest of the evening. There’s nothing you can do; there’s no need to stare at him and cause yourself misery.

“Cheers,” Paisley’s voice is in stereo as she swings around your right side, plopping 4 whiskey shots on the bar table in front of you. “Girls,” she says to get the other’s attention, divvying up the shots.

“Whiskey?” Carol scowls, holding it up in front of her.

“Oh hush,” Paisley smarts, “I said, cheers!”

You clink shot glasses and throw it back, willing the tears away in your eyes. The burn of the liquor does just that, and when you slam the glass down, a small smile finds its way to your face.

When you meet Paisley’s eyes, she’s giving you an inquisitive look. She must read your face.

“I’ll go get some more,” she says, turning back to the bar. You nod and take a sip of your third drink. You can absolutely feel it, so you should probably slow down, but it’s helping squash the anger that had bubbled up in you.

After Paisley returns with the second shot, and after it trials a warm path down your throat, you give her a wide smile. You feel fuzzy and nice.

“There we go,” Paisley giggles and tussles your hair, “Better?”

You nod, giggling.

“Good,” she smile. Her next words are softer, “Forget about him, babe. He’s an idiot, and you’re a hot rockstar.”

She means well, but it makes your chest ache a bit. You push it away with a nod as she pats your shoulder.

Not long after, the room spins. You really should have seen it coming, perhaps you even did, but it hits all at once.

“Paisley,” it slurs out of you, “Gotta go outside.”

Her hair whips everywhere as she spins her head to look at you, her eyeliner smudged and her eyes heavy from the presumable weed she smoked in the bathroom.

“Need me to come?”

You shake your head, giving her a salute as you back away.

“Be safe,” she points a serious finger at you, “Go straight to the hotel.”

Nodding, you make a swift exit into the warm air of the night. You’re somewhere in the desert now, and the air is dry and cool. You inhale it as deep as you can as you watch the neon from the bar signs across the street flicker. They’re pink and green, and it feels like outer space, which makes you giggle.

Willing the nausea away, you begin the short walk to the hotel, and try not to think about Jake. Inevitably, your inebriated brain does not listen, and you’re stuck between wanting to hate him, and wanting his hands all over you.

It’s still on your mind as you open your hotel door, as you slip inside the room and kick off your boots. You stare at the hotel bed, the empty, glaring white sheets. And you don’t want to lay in it alone.

Instead, you squint to look around the room for the ice bucket. You’ll waste some time getting ice and a drink from the vending machine, and perhaps by then, your mind will settle down.

Slipping the key card in the pocket of your denim skirt, you enter the hallway, barefoot and pleasantly drunk. You trudge to the ice room, offering the empty bucket to it for filling. Unable to resist the urge, you pop one of the cold cubes into your mouth and crunch. It’s refreshing, and you smile to yourself as you make your way back out.

There’s a figure in the hallway, about half way down and blurry, and you wonder to yourself for a moment if it really is him, or if you’re that drunk.

You turn to disregard it, to head to the vending machine, but sure enough;

“Hey.”

His voice is warm, and so wonderfully gentle. You hate how gentle it is.

You turn back, against your own will. And there’s Jake, wandering the few feet down the hall to you, dragging his hand through his messy hair.

“Hi.” You answer back, popping another ice cube in your mouth. He stops a few feet ahead of you and gives you a once over, and that shit eating grin appears on his face.

“No shoes?” He nods down at your feet.

Swallowing the water in your mouth, you nod and hold up the bucket, “Just wanted ice.”

He nods and rubs his hand over his flushed cheek. He’s drunk too.

“Wanna come in? I have drinks in the mini fridge,” he jabs his thumb in the vicinity of his hotel room.

You are silent for a long time, far too long for a normal conversation. You’re attempting to weight all of the options: should you, shouldn’t you, who cares, should you care, etc, until finally he breaks the silence:

“I’m just offering you a nightcap, I’m not gonna eat you alive, doll.” He smirks, and jesus christ, you wish it didn’t make your stomach turn the way it does.

You try to stay upset at him as he winks. Reluctantly, with an eye roll, you move to follow him to the room. He holds the door open wordlessly.

“Did you have a fun night?” you ask with a tone, walking in and setting the ice bucket on the desk. Might as well get the dig in before the liquor catches up to you fully, and you’re too drunk to be witty.

He nods and throws his phone and wallet on the bed, “You?”

You give a curt not back.

“You want a drink?” He offers.

“No liquor,” you sigh, “Already drunk.”

He nods and starts to fetch a sprite from the fridge, cracking it open as he hands it to you. His hands are large, you notice for the hundredth time. His fingers are long.

“So, why’d you ask like that? He says, reaching for his own soda. You step close to him, probably too much so, but it’s like he’s got his own god damn gravitational pull. When he comes back up from the fridge, you’re a few feet away.

“What?” you ask.

“How my night was,” he clarifies, cracking his soda can open and leaning with one arm against the hotel furniture. He takes a long sip.

You shrug at his question, “Just seems like you had a fun time,” you raise your brows and take another sip. You’re being petty, but you don’t care.

He studies your face for a moment and scrunches his brow down, pressing his lips together. After a second, he shakes his head,

“Just say it, whatever it is you’re not saying.”

You blink at him. You should leave, probably. But the words pour from you before you can stop. You set your soda down on the desk with some level of aggression. He sets his down too, softer.

“You played with my hair,” you say, emotion creeping up in your voice.

He watches you, his lips parted, his drunk mind trying to understand what has just come out of your mouth.

“You said I have a sunset aura. We fell asleep together.”

The thoughts are disjointed, but it’s what comes to your mind.

“I thought you liked me,” you finally get it out—the meat of what you’re trying to say. You feel embarrassed, childish and petulant, “I thought—”

Your throat begins to shut as tears start in your eyes. The embarrassment is combusting into anger, fueled by the alcohol.

“I thought—”

“I do,” he interjects before you can say it again, “I do like you.”

You’re in stunned silence for a moment at the admission, but then the words find you.

“Then why the other girl?” You force the words out through your tight throat, though they wobble, “Why—why do that when I was in your bed last night? You had me.”

He winces at that, barely, but you see it. He licks his lips and furrows his brow more, standing with a hand hooked through one of his belt loops. He doesn’t seem angry, though, maybe confused.

“Little wing,” he sighs finally, with such a genuine regret in his voice that you almost soften, “I don’t know,” he rubs his face over his hand, “I just flirt, I don’t—”

“You could flirt with me,” you know it comes out harsh and borderline desperate, but the liquor has ripped down your walls, and your frustration is glowing hot at the surface.

“It’s not just that, I just—,” he sucks in a breath and shakes his head, “I’m fucking drunk, doll, I don’t—“

“Spit it out, Jake,” you have no patience for niceties.

“I just wanted a hook up,” he blurts, “But I didn’t, I mean, obviously, I’m here,” he holds his hands out at the room, “I just—”

“What is this, Jake?” Forget soft, you’re angry now, “You like me but don’t want to hook up with me? I didn’t ask you if you wanted to be friends, I asked if you like me—”

“I do,” His voice is soft and his eyes are sad, and as he says it, he steps forward and touches your cheek. Try as you might to maintain your anger, the touch takes your breath. You want it: you want him to be soft with you, to touch you like that.

“I do,” he repeats as he strokes over your cheek with his thumb, gentle as a breeze, “You do remind me of a sunset. Little wing, I fucking—” he laughs, breathless, and you can do nothing but watch, “I’m damn near obsessed with you.”

Out of your stunned silence, you manage a hushed response, “Then why not me? At the bar…I…your hand…”

He shakes his head solemnly and strokes your cheek again, “Because I don’t—I don’t know how to do that, doll. I don’t really…I just usually fuck girls and then that’s it. I’m not really used to much more, y’know, with the touring, and,” he sucks in a breath, collecting himself, “And I don’t want to do that with you.”

“I…” you search for words that never come, “Jake…,”

“You’re too sweet,” he’s suddenly so close, leaning in with whisky on his breath. His cheek nuzzles yours, “You’re so fucking…sweet, fucking beautiful, and feminine,” his lips drag over your cheekbone, “talented, special, pretty little thing…”

“Jake…” it’s all you can manage.

“And I can’t…” he nips at your jaw and your head is spinning, “Fuck, I can’t do… that… to you,”

“Why?” it comes out as a whimper, “Why can’t we?”

You can’t bring yourself to care about any of his cryptic warnings: you just want him.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t—I’m drunk, this isn’t—“ His hand leaves your jaw and he pulls away.

You tighten your fist into his jacket lapels, strangling the black leather fringe, and he suddenly comes to, his eyes locking on yours.

“What are you scared of?” You bite out.

He sucks in a breath and his eyes scan over your face.

“I’m drunk, doll, I really…we should really talk when I’m not.”

“Why? So you can phrase it better? Just say it,”

He licks his lips, “I don’t want to mess this up. I like my time with you, I like how we just…how easy it is. It’s sweet. I don’t wanna ruin it. I don’t wanna fuck and then never talk again, or make it all complicated, or…” he shakes his head, “I just wanted it to stay sweet.”

The admission is gentle, and you ease up on him, speaking softer.

“I didn’t take you as careful.”

“It’s just you, little wing,” his eyes scan your face, soft brown and kind, “Just with you.”

The silence invites a palpable tension, suspended between both of your anticipating glances.

As precautious as he speaks, it seems his body cannot help but surrender to the temptation, and he leans in again. Feather soft, his lips brush yours. You can feel his breath, and the scent of him is dizzying.

“M’sorry,” he’s slurring suddenly, “I’m—um…” he falls silent and he moves to rest his forehead against your temple. You can feel his shaking breath.

Your heads are pressed together, breathing against each others necks. In your chest, your heart is a drum.

You know you should be sorry too; this isn’t how you want to kiss him for the first time. But he smells so good, and his skin is warm, and his hands on your waist are making your spine tingle, and you can’t care about anything that should or shouldn’t happen.

“Jake?” you sigh.

“Yeah?” his voice sounds strained.

“Can you stop being sorry and just fucking kiss me?” you hiss against his jaw.

“Fuck yes,” he breathes, slamming back into you. His lips are hungry, and you’re needy.

His hands are against your bare ribs as he licks into your mouth, and his palms pressed warm against your skin makes a heat flare in your stomach.

He backs you up a couple feet to push you up against the wall as he kisses down your neck. His hands are wandering, skirting hesitatingly over your breasts, his thumb dips under your skirt hem into your navel and then retreats. His hand falls to your hip, flirting with the hem of your skirt. Your legs open for him and it makes him whine.

“Can I—“ he swallows.

“Please,”

His hand moves along the front of your thigh, and then it’s between them, his thumb rubbing over the soft skin slowly. Then, it moves up to your panties, touching softly over you.

“Warm,” he breathes, like he didn’t even mean to say it aloud.

“Jake,” you whine, “Please.”

“Oh,” it’s nearly a whine, and his eyes are squeezed shut, “Don’t say my name like that, doll, or this is gonna get out of hand quick.”

The words make your legs clamp together around his hand.

“You like the thought of that, huh?” He nips at your ear, “Don’t tempt me. Let’s not—“ there’s a sharp inhale as his thumb brushes the hem of your panties, nearly dipping his finger under the fabric, “Let’s not get carried away.”

“Why can’t we?”

“Jesus christ, little wing, you’re makin’ this hard for me,” he withdraws his thumb and skirts it over the front of your panties, “You don’t—“ his breath hitches, and he looks directly into your eyes, “You don’t wanna wait?”

“For what?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs, “I just—fuck, I just didn’t want it to be like this,”

“What do you want?” You ask, and you mean it. He draws his hand away from your thigh.

“I’m not good at this, like I said, I just—I don’t know what this looks like tomorrow if we do that tonight.”

“I want you to want me bad enough to not care about any of that,” it comes out of you before you can decide better.

“Oh, doll,” he’s breathless, shaking his head. He meets you in another desperate kiss, and okay, maybe you’ll believe him.

“I want you,” he says it with a shudder in his breath. The back of his hand graces your cheek, “God, do I want you,” he looks at your for a long moment in silence before he takes your hand and brings it down to the front of his jeans, where you can feel the hard warmth of him beneath the clasp. It makes your cheeks hot.

“See?” He slots your fingers with his, then, “ But I can’t not care…” he kisses your cheek, “Even drunk, I know that.”

“Please?” You give him doe eyes, and you reach for his hand, placing it back on the hem of your skirt, “Jake, I…please, touch me.”

“Listen to you,” his eyes roll back in his head, “Fuck, I don’t even recognize myself, I normally…mm, jesus you’re hard to resist,”

He takes a deep breath, and then removes both of his hands, holding them up in the air as he releases the breath. They come back to cradle your face.

“Doll…,” he says softly, “Not tonight. I’m sorry, I wish—“ he clears his throat, “You’re welcome to stay here, but I can’t do that tonight,”

He shocks you with the display of reservation, and suddenly you’re hit with a wave of embarrassment.

He can tell.

“Hey,” he kisses you softly, “It’s alright. Just—I can’t do that with you like this. It’s not fair to you.”

You nod softly and embarrassed tears begin to sting at your eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he wipes them with his thumb and kisses you again, so tender your heart aches, and you want to be mad but all you can do is kiss back.

“You can stay here,” he says against your lip, “I can hold you.”

The thought of laying there with him after all this makes you almost frantic, you wish it could go any other way.

For the second night in a row, he’s sighing as you turn away.

“Little wing,”

It’s sad, and in the pit of your stomach, nausea brews. You’re already walking away when he repeats it, and because your body cannot help it, you turn back to him.

“What?” it’s far harsher than you meant; you can see it in the way he recoils that it stings.

“You can stay,” he offers again, “Please—I—It’s alright, I promise.”

A thousand replies run through your mind, but you settle on a heavy breath. You don’t think even if you could put the disappointment into words, that he might understand, or that it might make any difference. You don’t want to spend the night chastely laying beside him while you wonder again if he wants you the same way you want him. So you don’t.

“Goodnight, Jake,” you say softly, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes.

And for the second night in a row, you let the hotel door shut as he’s saying the nickname again.

“Little wing—”

fin.

-✿-

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