#in a fashion. spoilers for the canon but not for the fic! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nametakensff · 3 months

Text

Happiness (D/isco E/lysium, M/M)

Final part of my little three fic series - here is the follow up to 'Revelation' and...it's a monster. 17.4K. If you actually manage to stick with it all then I commend you <3

K/im angrily confronts H/arry about his inappropriate conduct. H/arry reluctantly reveals why. Fucking ensues

~~~~~

Content:

M/M, past M/F, hinted past M/M if you squint, H/arry has a sneezing fetish, K/im is a kinky motherfucker, cold sneezes, sympathetic sneezes, manually induced sneezes, rapid sneezes, mentions of dust allergy sneezes, sexual fantasies, masturbation, hand jobs, dry humping, frotting, finger sucking, mentions of anal sex, mentions of blow jobs, some mild mess, spray, sneezing on someone, licking spray off fingers (sorry lmao), edging, (brief) orgasm denial, elements of domination/submission, some voyeurism/exhibitionism, verbal teasing, dirty talk, praise kink, embarrassment/humiliation, graphic descriptions of semen, crying a little during/after sex (guess who), K/im and H/arry like each other a lot more than either of them realised

CW: (unintentionally perceived) public masturbation, drug and alcohol mentions, potential heart attack mentions, potential priapism mentions, bullet wound mentions, self-hatred, H/arry is still a mess, internalised homophobia, H/arry experiences a lot of shame re: the fetish and describes himself with degrading language, K/im is perhaps a little too forward initially, mentions of dead bodies (in a murder investigation / gallows humour way), mentions of potential STDs (K/im is just being cautious)

Notes:

Takes place in the canon game timeline so again, please don't read if you don't want spoilers!

For the sake of the fic, the bed in the coastal shack is a proper single large enough for both of them to lie on and the room has a working sink. I had to let these men clean themselves up

K/im should not be doing this with a concussion but. It's my fic, so

EXTREMELY NSFW - Minors DNI!

It has been at least five days since you first touched yourself to the thought of Lieutenant Kitsuragi sneezing. You have touched yourself in a similar fashion every night since – up until a bullet to the thigh and your subsequent fevered unconsciousness prevented you from doing so. You did not mean to make a habit of it, but the orgasmic release the thoughts ultimately lead to is almost as addictive as any drink or drug. The fact that the Lieutenant has sneezed multiple times each day in your presence has made resisting your nighttime jerk-fests damn near impossible.

The fantasies have evolved into an increasingly varied (and sordid) collection of scenarios. Your favourite is the one starring Kim as your butler, burying his face into a feather duster to alleviate his allergic misery by inducing an endless series of sneezes. Naturally, you play the role of the voyeuristic employer, watching the scene unfold from your grand office chair and stroking your cock until you cum all over the hardwood surface of the desk that Kim has just finished cleaning. It is incredibly self-indulgent and fantastical, which naturally makes you cum with the force of a firehose. Every morning it is a little more difficult to look the Lieutenant in the eye. He is completely innocent to your sins, and you are a filthy pervert.

You still have your cold. Now that you have returned to the fishing village with the fierce seaside air whipping at your face, your nose runs without cease. You have been using an endless supply of Frittt brand pocket tissues, having abused Kim’s loaned handkerchief so much so that not an inch of fabric has been left unsoiled. Your nostrils are tingling, threatening to flare with every laboured snuffle.

It really isn’t a terrible cold – but it appears to be a persistent one. You’ve certainly sneezed far more from previous illnesses. One cold in your thirties left you bedbound and sneezing almost like clockwork – you had noticeable abs, then. You remember this, and you remember thinking to yourself that the torso-crunching sneezes that barrelled out of you were just as effective as any targeted exercise.

The persistence is one thing. The suggestible nature of your cold sneezes on the Lieutenant is another. You had both been good-natured about this admittedly comical routine, in which you try not to sneeze, fail, and sneeze anyway – followed immediately by Kim in a near-identical fashion. Today has been a difficult day, however – you are drawing closer to the end of your investigation, and you are both exhausted. Objectively absurd though it may be, neither of you can any longer find much amusement in these twin responses. Neither of you bless each other. The most excruciating (meaning: cock-teasing) thing of all is that Kim has abandoned any attempt at holding back. He is more and more frequently sneezing openly, or in the general direction of his fist – a lazy covering at best, doing little more than dousing his gloves in a delicate burst of spray.

Actually, there is something that arouses you more. As Kim continues to sneeze, his immaculate composure begins to falter. You are not referring to the ways the sneezing overpowers him. It is more so the fact that following each sneeze, the Lieutenant has started to moan. Quiet, shaky sighs at first – now full-blown groans of exhaustion - and what you hope is an element of indulgence at the post-sneeze sensation of relief. They sound practically orgasmic to your one-track mind.

Try as you might, every time the Lieutenant sneezes and sighs, you grow hard. It is perhaps more accurate to state that you have spent more time hard than soft. You wonder if this is enough for you to start worrying about a potential case of priapism. It is rather impressive – at your age and with the recent blood loss you experienced. Perhaps you ought to embrace this as a display of virile masculinity.

Either way, you have very little way of masking this unfortunate physical response. You shuffle awkwardly – you have also tried tucking your cock upwards and into the waistband of your trousers. You are almost one hundred percent positive that Kim has seen you pawing at your responsive genitals more than once but seems to be intent on ignoring it. You understand. You’re not sure how you would address the situation were you in his position. You ought to be more embarrassed but the triple combination of illness, drug withdrawal and injury saps you of fucks left to give.

You have no time to stew in your own thoughts. You are here to ask Lilienne if you can borrow her boat to get to the Islet. You manage to do so and almost leave the interaction unscathed. Almost.

“HAAAAEEEISHHHH!! EISHHHHHhHhuu!!”

The tickle once again renders you helpless and you sneeze twice – loud enough to send a nearby seagull sky bound. You turn away from Lilienne just in time to spare her an unfortunate baptism. The post-sneeze ecstasy leaves the skin of your forearms breaking out in goosebumps, hidden by the sleeves of your Disco blazer. It takes all of your remaining composure to fight off a full-body shiver. You straighten up sheepishly and wipe the result of your sneeze out of your moustache with a crumpled tissue. A blush is creeping over your face. Making a disgusting spectacle of yourself in front of a woman you have attempted at least four times over the past couple of days to ask out on a date (to no avail) does nothing for your morale.

“Bless you, officer!”

You mutter a small thank you from behind the tissue. If your dick hadn’t already been hardening in anticipation of Kim’s reciprocal reaction, that enthusiastic blessing would have done the job. Speaking of the Lieutenant – Lilienne has barely finished addressing you when he spins around – gracefully, controlled and completely balanced, unlike your own frantic whiplash motion – and sneezes thrice uncovered into the cold sea air.

“Hhp’Tsschhh! hHD’Tschh!! Hh! HahHD’Tzshiew!! Ahh, mon dieu…”

They sound like they feel incredible. Before you can do anything to avoid it, you are mentally constructing a detailed visual of the sneezes that the Lieutenant’s expert timing and manners had prevented you from witnessing. What do you expect after committing every sneeze you have glimpsed to memory to then masturbate to with vigorous abandon? Your prick is like iron between your legs. Lilienne turns to Kim with a look of surprise.

“And bless you too, officer! I don’t like the sound of that.”

Whatever Kim is saying to her in response, you miss. Your focus is lasered in on the tip of his nose, moving slightly side to side as he tends to his nostrils with a neat blue handkerchief. You want to be holding that handkerchief for him. Better yet, you wish it was your own hand wiping his nostrils clean. Thought after lewd thought overpowers you. You are painfully hard.

You should really rearrange things down there before Lilienne notices your erection to end all erections. You cup yourself as subtly as you can manage – you’re not sure what you’ll be able to achieve stood mere feet away from the two of them. The waistband trick requires two hands – maybe if you were to turn around?

Before you get a chance to try, Lieutenant Kitsuragi has fixed his eyes on you. You freeze in your tracks, as if paralysed by his gaze. A distinct feeling of combined shame and guilt overcomes you, not unlike the way a child feels when caught with their hand in a cookie jar. Except you are not a child – you are a 44-year-old man, with his hand on his cock. His eyes flash down to your crotch almost imperceptibly before returning to your face, darting about as if in attempt to locate any visual cue that may implicate whether you have indeed gone batshit insane. It is likely a matter of seconds, but it feels like an eternity as you watch the subtle shifting of his facial features through a spectrum of confusion, shock, disbelief, shock again, and finally – rage.

This anger is unlike anything you have seen pass over the Lieutenant’s face in your week together. It sends a spear of utter self-hatred straight through you. You really have reached an all-time low, Harry-boy.

Lilienne appears not to have noticed the intense stare-off between the two of you – likely because it has lasted approximately 1.5 seconds and is broken by Kim thanking Lilienne for her cooperation and asking that she excuse the pair of you for a moment. His gloved hand reaches out and grips your bicep, hard enough to hurt. Anxiety overwhelms you – he is mad mad.

He marches you the short distant to the shack you have been staying in, shoves you through the door and follows behind you. He does not slam the door, although you can make out enough tension in his slender frame to see that he would very much like to do so. The screech of the rusty hinges is more than enough to amplify your anxiety. He turns to face you, and you shrink in on yourself, feeling naked and exposed within the shooting range of his ire. Your legs are weak – particularly the one in which a bullet had been embedded. You sit on the edge of the small bed and watch him watching you. He looks for a moment like he may be too angry to speak. At last, he opens his mouth.

“What the fuck is the matter with you??”

The Lieutenant’s thick accent and heightened emotions intensify the remark. You are sweating. Shame practically radiates off of you. You’ve truly done it now. You say nothing in response to him, hanging your head in misery. He continues.

“I have been nothing but supportive of your unconventional methods of policing. For all the outrageous things you have said and done, you have genuinely done some excellent work. I have given you the benefit of the doubt for your drug problems, the amnesia, your emotional outbursts - but public masturbation? In front of a female citizen? You really are a piece of work.”

Your face burns. Every word aches, cutting into you like a blade and whittling you down into a hollow receptacle of disgrace.

“I wasn’t – I wasn’t masturbating!” These words tumble out of your mouth before you have a moment to reconsider. The Lieutenant glares at you, clearly not buying it, but he makes no move to cut you off. Your mouth is dry and your hands are shaking. You open your mouth again.

“I was trying to…relieve some pressure. I wanted to hide it. I didn’t mean for you - or Lilienne - to see...”

Your voice sounds reedy, pathetic – incriminating. Maybe if you could stop sweating like a pig, you could actually convince Kim that you are not a sex pest. Shockingly, something in your expression as you look up at him with pleading, frightened eyes convinces him to believe you. He blinks owlishly, then reaches up to massage the bridge of his nose under his glasses. He sighs, a deeply exhausted sound – it seems to physically deflate him, as if the tumultuous anger trickles out of him with the exhale. You watch, clutching your hands together nervously, as he removes his glasses all together and drags a hand down over his face. It rests on his mouth for a few moments longer, and then he is putting his glasses on and looking at you with a mixture of exasperation and pity. His eyes are the first to dart away from your exchanged glance. He clears his throat. You wait.

“I can’t believe I’m about to suggest this, but…Listen, detective, do you-? Need some time to yourself? I’ve noticed you’ve been tense. I thought it might have been your injury, but I suppose I was wrong. At this point…” He hesitates, clasping his hands behind his back. “At this point, having a moment to relieve yourself might actually be pertinent to the progression of the investigation.”

It is your turn to blink, dumbfounded at what you have just heard. Is Lieutenant Kitsuragi actually suggesting you should jerk off? And that your jerking off is of utilitarian necessity? You should confirm this.

“You want me to whack off so that I can focus on the case?”

He looks pained by your turn of phrase; it is much harder to feign professionalism when his own suggestion is bounced back at him in cruder, less obfuscating language. He nods all the same and clears his throat.

“If you think it will help, I will excuse myself and be back in-” He glances at his sports watch. “Twenty minutes.”

Wow. Twenty minutes is probably a whole nineteen minutes too generous given your current state of rampant and unforgiving arousal. The way the Lieutenant falters indicates, however, that he is doubtful of your capability to achieve orgasm even once. You can’t really blame him. He did admit to thinking you were well into your fifties. You nod your head.

“You’re unwell, and injured – I don’t think it would do you any good to continue working this case when you’re also so – distracted.”

He is actively skirting around the issue and choosing his words carefully. It doesn’t change the fact that he is recommending that you pleasure yourself whilst he awkwardly stands outside and waits for you to finish. This makes you visibly cringe. Your own embarrassment only fuels the Lieutenant’s. He clears his throat again, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He takes your silence as an indication of consent.

“Well, then. I’ll leave you to it, officer.”

You watch helplessly as he turns to make an exit. Before the Lieutenant is even able to grasp the door handle, however, you hear a frantic intake of breath. Fuck. There is no mistaking the sound of the Lieutenant fuelling up for a sneeze – but this time it occurs with no prompting on your part. He is clearly very sensitive today.

“hHupt’TSSCH’uu!! Merde…”

You watch it all go down – the way his slender frame shudders, shoulders jumping as he is temporarily unbalanced by the voracity of his own release. It isn’t especially loud, but you can tell that it is powerful. You bite your lip. Do not moan. I repeat – do not. Moan.

You moan. It seems violently loud in the small room. Both of you freeze in response. If you didn’t want the ground to swallow you up before, you do now. Despite the humiliation, the utter mortification of it all, your cock is leaking through the fabric of your trousers. Maybe Kim, still facing away from you, will think you have already started working on yourself, and will simply step outside and pretend he doesn’t share the same planet as you for another twenty minutes. Crisis averted.

Luck is not on your side. The Lieutenant turns around. He is looking at you as though studying a particularly challenging crossword puzzle. Were he a dog, his head would have been tipped inquisitively to one side. You are sweating bullets.

“You know, detective…” He starts, and you do know. It is over. You know he has put two and two together. In a way, it is surprising he hadn’t clocked on sooner, but you imagine this is due to his general acceptance of your sporadic and unpredictable behaviour as a rule of thumb.

“If it didn’t sound so ridiculous, I would think…no.”

He turns to leave again. This should be an auspicious turn of events for you, but for whatever reason, you feel disappointed. Burdened. You realise you want the relief of exposure, like a sinner spilling his guts in confessional. You should keep your mouth shut and wank your miserable cock in peace.

“You’re right.” You groan. You do not look at him as he turns to face you. “I’m sorry.”

Was that worth it, Harry? Was it really worth it to confess? You can only wait for his response in silence. You aren’t breathing. You’re convinced that if you breathe, it will scare him away.

Since you are not looking at the Lieutenant, you do not see the expression of contemplative fondness on his face, nor the sparkle of curiosity in his eyes. He is taking in the sight of you, curled in on yourself like a naughty child. You hold yourself rigid as he starts to speak.

“So you mean to say – that when I sneeze…?”

Just hearing that word enunciated in his soft, enquiring tone is enough to trigger another rush of blood to the face. It is a miracle there is enough left north of your belt to do so. You whimper, which only makes you blush harder, and nod your head in way of response. This is pure torture.

“Hm.” The small sound that leaves the Lieutenant is a cross between a huff of laughter and a hum of consideration. Your eyes swivel up to meet his own. You had expected disgust, reproach – not amusement. He is smiling ever so slightly – the corners of his mouth are turned up as he takes you in, arms crossed over his chest. He no longer radiates waves of irritation and confusion. The man before you exudes confidence and control. Your cock throbs shamefully and deposits another glob of precum into your underwear. You open your mouth to speak, but words fail you.

“You really are an interesting man, detective. I’ve never even heard of this particular fétiche before.” His words must trigger a sudden realisation in him. A look recognition passes over his features, and you know he is connecting the dots – looking back at all your behaviour this past week and re-contextualising it. He snaps a thumb and forefinger together. “This makes perfect sense.”

His scholarly enthusiasm is somehow unsettling to you, as if you are a specimen he is examining. You now regret disclosing this sordid piece of information. What had you been expecting, really? For him to put on a show for you, like one of your sick little fantasies? Stupid. You hang your head.

“Yes, I’m a huuuuge pervert, Kim. Now please leave me alone to my shame.”

Oh god, are you going to cry? You’re actually going to cry, aren’t you?

“I never said that, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor.” His tone is suddenly overwhelmingly gentle. It only makes your eyes prickle harder with tears, threatening to overflow. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

He means it, too. He sounds incredibly regretful, perhaps even a little pained. You can’t look at him, but his palpable remorse at unintentionally beating you when you are down seems to open the floodgates. You feel the reluctant confession blurting out of you before you’re even entirely sure of what you’re going to say.

“I forgot about it, like everything else. Until I didn’t. Until you…” You wind your hand through the air.

“Sneezed?” Kim fills in helpfully, though you wish he hadn’t. It goes straight to your cock.

“…Well, I suppose in a strange way I ought to be flattered.”

You do look at him now, and see him smiling at you supportively. He looks a little apprehensive – but who wouldn’t in this ridiculous situation. Your heart beats wildly in your chest. A single tear runs down your cheek as you blink. You’re about to say something really, really stupid.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

God, Harry. Stop. Stop now.

“Thinking about my – my sexuality. And what it means. And you told me you’re a member of the ‘homosexual underground’. I – I think I might be too.”

The Lieutenant looks back at you, wide-eyed. You need to abort this. Kill him. Kill yourself. Anything that stops you in your tracks.

“I mean, I might be a partial member. I like women. I…there was…someone. She smelled like apricots and – oh, god-!”

A wave of sadness engulfs you. You start to sob, uncontrollably, like a little boy, and cradle your head in your hands. Wow. You really nailed it, Harry. You sure don’t do anything in half measures. You told him his sneezing gets you hard, that you have an inexplicable man-crush on him, and you even threw in an ex-woman-person reference to spice it up, all before crying! You should write a book on how to be the biggest fuck up known to man.

The bed dips as Kim comes and sits beside you. He rests a tentative hand on your shoulder. It is awkwardly limp – he is uncomfortable with physical displays of affection. Something tells you he has not touched somebody conciliatorily in a long time, likely by choice. But he is trying, and that is more than you could have ever expected you deserve. You cry a little harder.

“Harry,” he sighs. “You’re overwhelmed right now. Don’t force yourself to think.”

Ordinarily, he would have followed this with some comment about focusing on the case over personal matters. That he doesn’t shows you how much empathy he is affording you in this moment of distress.

Your crying eventually begins to taper off into little gulps and hiccups as the Lieutenant rubs tiny, tentative circles into your shoulder. Incredibly, your dick has barely softened.

“I’m –! Sorry-!” You gasp out. It sounds pitiful, almost hysterical. Kim just continues to rub your shoulder until you run out of steam entirely, before handing you an opened pack of tissues to clean up your face. As you do so, he takes the opportunity to speak.

“As far as sexual fetishes go, detective, this one is pretty tame. Harmless. A little unsanitary, maybe, but not without a certain appeal.”

You pause in your ministrations. He notices and seems suddenly ashamed by his own forwardness. He clears his throat and retracts his hand.

“Khm. Anyway – as for the homosexual underground – or bisexual underground, as the case may be for you…It certainly isn’t a crying matter. It can, at times, even be fun.”

Ooh, the Lieutenant’s got jokes. You appreciate this reassurance. The crying has left you wiped out and extra sniffly. You have to blow your nose in four different tissues before the congestion subsides. Kim doesn’t flinch at the gurgling sounds you produce.

“I’m going to leave you alone for a while, like I said.” Kim utters after a couple of moments of silence.

As the Lieutenant stands, a foreboding sensation of fear washes over you. You do not want to be alone right now. Before you can stop yourself, you are reaching out at lightning speed and gripping his wrist with one huge paw, halting his departure. Kim freezes and looks down at you. You stare back up at him. His face shifts through a series of emotions before solidifying into an impassive mask.

“Officer. You need to let go.”

There is not contempt in his tone, but his voice is firm and commanding. You are compelled to release him. You do not stop looking up at him. You have no idea what kind of face you are making, but it is apparently making it very hard for him to withdraw the way he had intended. His face is relaxed, but his eyes are burning.

He is the first to break eye contact with you. He strides towards the door and opens it in one swift motion, hesitating for just a moment to look back over his shoulder at you, and then he is gone. The door closes behind him with a decisive click.

Well. That was horrible. You are dejected and alone. You have driven the Lieutenant away, finally. Rejection stings in your throat and swollen sinuses. And you are still. Fucking. Hard. The brief respite of a mind-numbing orgasm might give you fifteen to thirty seconds of ecstasy before the pain sets back in. At this point, bereft of narcotics and alcohol, you will take it.

You flip yourself onto your back, pushing your head into the flimsy pillow and opening your fly with fumbling hands. You manage not to injure yourself as you pull your throbbing cock out of your underwear. It is a deep shade of red, almost nearing purple in your desperation, and even as you wrap your fingers around it in a familiar grip, it drools clear liquid from the sensitive head. You cannot help yourself. Now that you have started stroking and pulling, rubbing the copious precum all over your length, you cannot stop. The shame and the sadness recede at the pure animalistic pleasure of it all. Your head falls back and you moan. One of your hands reaches up to squeeze a nipple through the cotton of your shirt, and you gasp.

It will not take you long. You feel the heated pressure building inside of you, your cock twitching as you caress it in all the ways you like best. Pure, mindless masturbation. You do not want to think thoughts, but you are about to. They skim the surface of your consciousness – your fantasies, some memories. They blur together in a miasma, barely comprehensible the way you dart back and forth between them, but they are turning you on all the same. You are so, so close. Your mouth tips open in a pre-orgasmic moan.

The door of the shack slams open, and the shock nearly makes you orgasm on the spot. The Lieutenant is cursing and closing the door behind him, making sure to lock it. You push yourself up and fumble your dick back into your underwear, hissing as you attempt to close the zip of your fly. It is impossible, so you hold your hands sheepishly in front of your crotch instead. Kim watches you, an intense expression of – need? Desire? Surely that isn’t the case. You can barely think straight. You swallow, head spinning.

“Kim, what-?”

Your words set the Lieutenant’s in motion. He all but lunges at you, pushing you back on the bed and partially straddling you. Your hands fumble to grip at his waist, steadying yourself as the bedframe creaks violently at the activity. It occurs to you for a split-second that the elderly washerwoman outside may be able to hear the ruckus you have been making from where she sits tending to her clothes – she may be blind, but she is certainly not deaf. You banish the thought with a rapid blink of your eyes.

You look up at Kim in sheer disbelief. He is breathing heavily – not nearly as heavily as yourself, almost panting on the brink of orgasm – but heavily, nonetheless. His hands grip your shoulders firmly, and he worries his bottom lip between his teeth whilst his eyes rove over your face. And then he is leaning forward and kissing you.

For a moment, your mind short circuits. Not in a million – no, a billion-trillion – years, did you think the past week had been leading up to this moment. The Lieutenant’s lips are wonderfully soft as he works them against your own. It takes a couple of seconds for you to relax, shocked as you are, but then it is electric and instinctual and you are moaning against him, yanking his pelvis down against your own. You open your mouth and his tongue slips in immediately, and then it is even better. You both groan in tandem, as if neither of you can believe how good it feels. The kiss is like a practiced dance – you both know when to bite, when to suck, when to pull back and when to dive deeper. It is simultaneously saccharine and downright fucking filthy. You cannot believe the pair of you haven’t tried this before.

Kim breaks the kiss, sucking on your tongue before pulling back with a lewd pop – you chase him but he holds you in place by your chin.

“Do you want this?”

His eyes dart nervously back and forth behind the thick lenses of his glasses, slightly foggy where your activities have steamed them up. You lunge forward, intending to show him just how much you want this with another kiss, but he manages to hold you back. He is deceptively strong.

“I need to hear you say that you want this.”

He sounds so, so desperate. You realise right then and there that you are a fool for him.

“I want it.” You breathe out, and before you have even finished he is kissing you again. Your head reels, and you feel yourself beginning to tip back onto the bed. Kim goes with you, kneeling with a leg on each side of your torso. He presses the length of his body against your own, and you feel his hardness pressing against the soft flesh of your gut. Your hands travel up and down his back, frantically, squeezing his ass one moment and gripping his shoulders the next. Your cock pulses and pulses between your legs.

And then you feel it. The tickle. You have ignored it for far too long. All that crying and snorting has left you vulnerable to future attacks. All it takes is for one poorly timed deep breath through your nose as Kim explores your molars with his tongue, and you know you cannot fight it. You yank your head back, eyes beading with tears and face cringing in pre-sneeze agony. The resulting sneeze is going to be monstrous – more so than usual. Your lungs suck in a desperate inhale, chest expanding against Kim’s and raising him a good inch higher above you. He seems to understand all at once, angling his face as far away from your own as he can.

You manage through sheer willpower to tilt your head in the opposite direction and over the side of the bed. It tears out of you in a cloud of spray - an angry, irritated explosion.

“IIIIEEESSSSSHHHHTTTtt!!!”

Your hands squeeze reflexively at Kim’s hips. The intensity of the outburst shakes the both of you and the creaking bedframe. Fortunately, you have not pulled any muscles as you awkwardly crane yourself away. The Lieutenant scrambles for purchase atop you, reaching out to steady himself with one hand on the wall.

Your head has barely flopped back onto the pillow before you are cringing with a second, even deeper breath. Your nostrils flare wide in preparation, and you do the whole thing all over again.

“HHHAEEEEEESSSSSCCHHHHHhhh!!!”

You do not have enough energy to be embarrassed by the roaring, desperate nature of them. It felt so fucking good to let it all out. The tickle must have been brewing for some time and you had simply been too distracted to realise. You groan a little, reaching up with one hand to rub your tingling nostrils on the skin of your wrist. You mutter an apology under your breath before angling upwards, pressing your lips to the Lieutenant’s and resuming the kiss.

When he pulls back mere seconds later, you are terrified that you have disgusted him with your indulgent display. And then you remember.

Kim sits back, resting his ass on your pelvis and nudging up against your cock. You gasp as he shifts, clutching his hips hard enough to leave bruises. He calms your squirming with a hand to your chest, holding you down on the mattress. His expression is deeply irritated as his own tickle begins to crest – one eye squints against it, and his mouth drops open to take in gentle hitching breaths. Your hips give an involuntary thrust, jostling him slightly above you. The head of your cock, clothed only in your sticky underwear, ruts against him.

Your entire world narrows down to watching Lieutenant Kitsuragi’s building sneeze. You realise you are involuntarily holding your breath, eyes roving from the flare of his nostrils to his creasing forehead to the way his tongue presses just so behind his bottom teeth. He has raised his free hand loosely before his face. Your cock twitches as he fans his face once, twice, and the mere suggestion of it seems to be enough to have him gasping one last time, nostrils flared to capacity, before he is jerking above you.

“hHDT’TSZCHhhh! AhhDTt’TZsCHh’uu!!”

The bed shakes beneath you as he rocks forward twice. Your entire body feels like a live wire of sensation as you watch him through unblinking eyes. Your fantasies were erotic, but being able to actually feel the Lieutenant’s body strain and tremble as the ticklish urge overwhelms him is something else; the unguarded, desperate expressions as he lets loose are painfully arousing. You do not make out any visible spray but you can feel, from behind the pathetic semi-covering of his hand, each burst of air across your collar bone and neck. You shiver in ecstasy.

The Lieutenant pauses for a moment and leans back again, preparing for a third sneeze. You take advantage of his shifting to free yourself from under the press of his palm, pushing yourself up on your elbows and leaning closer to him. You want to feel the next sneeze on your face. It really seems like it is going to happen, too; Kim is so overwhelmed by the tickle in his nose that he appears to look straight past you, focusing all of his concentration on the sensation as it builds, and builds. He shivers, a delicious little trembling motion that you feel travel through him and down to your own hips, before gasping one last time – an audible, desperate “Hahh-!”

At the very last moment, he tilts his face away from your own, raising the back of his hand in front of his face with his palm towards you. It is a poor attempt at shielding you from his sneeze – you can still make out every minute detail of his face as his features draw tight. It is the slight downwards tilting of his head that spares you any real contact, but the proximity and poor covering means that you can see the fine aerosol that bursts from his mouth and nose as the uncharacteristically harsh sneeze overwhelms him.

“hHUPT’TZSCHhh’uuu!! Nnn…”

The cloud of spray glitters briefly in the air beside you before dissipating just as suddenly. Your hips buck again and you cannot help the guttural moan that pulls itself out of you. His own little moan of relief drives you insane. You wish he hadn’t turned away, but you say nothing – the last thing you want is to spook him. One wrong move and you might wake up trembling in the throes of a nocturnal emission. It is starting to feel very much like one of those kinds of dreams.

But ohh, that third sneeze had been wet. As well as leaving the Lieutenant visibly shaken, it has left a tantalising sheen of dampness on his bottom lip. As Kim blinks, taking a moment to recover, you reach out to swipe across the surface of the moistened skin, drying his mouth and transferring the wetness to your thumb. You hesitate for a moment. The Lieutenant is watching you silently, one hand still outstretched and pressed against the wall, a little taken aback by this unpredictable action. Maybe you should apologise.

Fuck it. You lick your thumb clean, moaning a little in both arousal and shame at what you have just allowed yourself to do. It was a stupid thing to do. If Kim walks out of this room with immediate effect and refuses to work with you any longer, you have only yourself to blame. This time, for sure, you have taken things too far. You brace yourself, awaiting the Lieutenant’s reaction. You force yourself to lock eyes with him.

You were not expecting to see an even more intense look of desire boring back into you. You watch as Kim removes his gloves before using his own forefinger to finish what you started, wiping away any residual spray.

“You really do like this, don’t you?”

There is a hint of amusement in this question, which is not really a question at all but a damning statement. It does not sound manipulative or sadistic, however; he seems to be genuinely enjoying your lascivious responses.

“Sorry, god, sorry,” You mutter anyway. Once again, his enthusiasm has had an adverse effect on your own sudden brazenness. You do not know how to do this. The dreamlike haze of arousal has up to this point protected you from the sobering reality that you are now engaging in sneezing fetish sex activities. With a man. With Precinct 57’s Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi. Your life has been full of ‘what the fuck’ moments, but this has to be waaay up there, man. This was so much easier in your fantasies where you alone had control.

Kim shakes his head. His smile is heated, but kind.

“Don’t be.” He murmurs. “It’s intriguing. You’re intriguing, Harry.”

He reaches towards your face as he speaks. Your mouth is already hanging slightly open in gormless disarray, so it is with little resistance that he slips the middle and forefinger of his right hand – yes, Harry-boy, the very same one he used to tend to his mess – between your teeth and onto your tongue. You start sucking on them almost immediately, flushing with pleasure at the sensation and the compliment. Kim’s breath hitches and he moans, a deeply satisfied purr of a sound that goes straight to your throbbing cock. Your underwear is now drenched, sticking to the head of your cock in the aftermath of his most recent nasal display. You are painfully hard and entirely desperate, sucking on those fingers like they’re the best thing you’ve ever tasted.

“Ahh, detective…” Kim sighs. His voice is low and thick with arousal of his own. You shift underneath him so that he is no longer straddling you with a leg on either side, moving backwards slightly and manoeuvring one of your thighs – the uninjured one - between his own. He goes eagerly, enthusiastically. You press up and between his legs with purpose.

There is no lack of certainty as he bucks back down onto your leg – Lieutenant Kitsuragi is hard, and he is rubbing that hardness against you whilst you suck on his fingers. You have no idea how you have managed to pull this off, but there is no point in overthinking it – especially when every drop of blood in your body feels as though it has pooled exclusively between your legs. You clamp a hand down around his wrist for leverage and start to increase the intensity of your oral stimulation. Your head bobs slightly as you suck the digits in and out of your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tips of Kim’s fingers. His breath catches, and your eyes dart up to his face. Your cock twitches at the sight of his glittering brown eyes, heavy lidded and pupils blown as he follows the motions of your ministrations.

A swell of pride fills your chest. You realise that all you’ve ever really wanted since meeting the Lieutenant is for him to like you. He has stood by you despite the fact that you’re – well, you. And he actually does seem to like you, as inexplicable as this may be. You intrigue him. He said so himself. You don’t want to disappoint him – you want to make him feel good. Allowing yourself to acknowledge this desire for Kim outside of your own one-sided, pornographic fantasies fills you with a burning determination to do just that. Operation ‘Make Kim Orgasm’. Fuck the case, fuck this stupid murder, fuck police work – this is what you were made for. If that sounds dramatic, then so be it. You’re a dramatic kind of guy.

Kim rolls his hips against you as you press your tongue between his fingers, taking just the tips back into your mouth as you pull back up and suck hard.

“You’re a tease.” He says this in approval. You moan, and the hum this produces seems to please him very much.

A moment later, you regretfully pull back, another sneeze teasing your sensitive sinuses. This frequency and persistence would be irritating under ordinary circumstances, but with the promise of triggering a sneeze (or three) from the Lieutenant, you embrace it. You take a deep breath through flaring nostrils to stoke the subtle itch into an all-encompassing tickle. It is so effective that you sneeze immediately, on that inhalation alone.

“AEESSSSCHHHHHhhh!!! Hh…”

It shakes you so violently that you slump back against the pillow, bereft of all energy to remain partially upright any longer. Your back was starting to ache anyway. Your hands return to the Lieutenant’s hips as you look up at him expectantly.

“À tes souhaits,” he offers, even as a look of distinct irritation begins to cloud his features. You moan, and your cock jumps in your pants.

You only have to wait a matter of seconds before Kim’s breath begins to hitch. An irritatingly strong gust of wind from outside causes the entire shack to creak. You strain your ears in a valiant attempt to drink in every little inhalation over the sound of it.

What the Lieutenant says next could have been taken directly from one of your dirty little fantasies. As you gaze at him, your own breath hitching for notably more dick-related reasons, he raises a loosely-curled fist up to his face – or rather, just beneath it, leaving you plenty of room to watch – and begins to speak.

“Hh-! Ohh, Harry, you’re going to m-make me-! Hhdt-!!”

You almost cum on the spot. By sheer willpower you manage to hold back. Your forehead beads with sweat as Kim inhales definitively, bucking forward with four shuddering sneezes, supporting himself as before with a hand to the wall. You are certain if he had not done so he would have been thoroughly unbalanced.

“hhdt’Tszchhu! hHUpT’Tschu! HDT’Tzsshh! hH-!! Ahh’TSshh’uu! Ahh, mon dieu…”

You do not miss a single detail, intent on committing this painfully erotic performance to memory. The way his fine eyebrows draw together, contorting his brow in desperation. The way his nostrils flare with each contraction to almost double their resting size. The way his jaw flexes as his teeth clench together. It is a sight to behold, and you lose yourself in it.

You have been unable to keep your hips from bucking upwards, rubbing yourself against the surface of the Lieutenant’s thigh. He blinks, looking utterly drained for a brief moment, and it is one of the cutest things you have ever seen. No grown man has any right being that adorable. Once he has recovered, he presses his thigh firmly between your legs, binding your balls up and against your cock. You gasp, and he smiles, rutting against you.

“Excuse me.” He sniffles as you writhe. “That felt wonderful, I must admit.”

Fuck. You really must be dreaming. He has taken to this like a duck to water. How can he possibly know exactly what to say, and when? It is just as good as you imagined it could be – no, it is better. He is playing you like a god damn fiddle.

The Lieutenant shifts atop you, extracting his slender thigh from between the squeezing grip of your own as you dry hump him like your life depends on it. Your resistance forces him to pinch the meatiest section of your uninjured thigh – you jerk in shocked pain and release his leg as intended. He rubs the tender skin through your trousers, then squeezes into the space between you and the wall, lying on his side next to your supine form and swinging his right leg over your thighs. Your arm instinctively reaches under him to encircle his back.

“Sorry.” He apologises, smiling at the small frown on your face. “I’ll make it up to you.”

And just like that, he is reaching past your open zipper and into waistband of your underwear to grip your cock. You whine his name, embarrassingly loud and high-pitched. Your captured shaft throbs and leaks onto his fingers. His hand reaches up to collect the moisture, pulling back your foreskin ever so gently – and then he is pumping you in a steady rhythm. It is intentionally slow; you are close, and he knows this.

“Tu as une bite énorme…” You hear him mutter. Your chest swells with masculine pride. That’s right, baby. You are huge.

But holy fucking fuck, this feels – it feels – it’s so good. You wonder if he does this often – whether he touches himself just like this, or if this particular technique is reserved for other members of the homosexual underground. You groan, your head pressing back into the pillow and allowing him to work you. The skilful motions of his hand slowly build the pleasure until it sends small waves of ecstasy through your extremities, like miniature orgasms in their own right. When you do cum, it is going to be mind blowing. Your hand claws at the fabric of his bomber jacket, the other clutching the bedsheets.

“Kim…” His name rumbles out of you, a warning of the explosion to come.

Suddenly, his fingers encircle the base of your cock in a cruel, tight O. Your orgasm is halted in its tracks. Your cock throbs valiantly against its bondage, trembling as though in hope that the mimicry of orgasmic convulsions will trigger the real event – but no dice. A strangled groan tears its way out of you.

“Nooo…! Why…! You said you’d make it up to me-!”

You turn your head to face him. The look you flash him with your baleful green eyes would put the cutest puppy dog in the world to shame. They are glossy, wet with tears of betrayal. He looks at you fondly, but you can tell he is enjoying toying with you like this. Kinky bastard. You should have known.

“There’s no rush.” His voice is a seductive drawl. “I don’t want you to finish yet, Harry. I want to ask you some things.”

He is serious. The ring of his fingers does not loosen in the slightest. You sigh. You’re the questions guy, not him. You don’t much like the idea of an active interrogation whilst your swollen dick quivers dejectedly in his grip, but the promise of eventual orgasm softens the blow. You will humour him.

“Do your own sneezes turn you on? Do you remember that from before?”

Okay, wow. Straight to the meat and potatoes of the issue. Your cock twitches to hear the word ‘sneeze’ in his lilted accent again. You look to the ceiling for a moment of silent contemplation.

“I’m – not sure. They feel nice.” Your eyes swivel back to the Lieutenant’s face. “I like the effect they have on you more.”

Kim is softly biting his bottom lip. His eyes look heavy and heated – you imagine he might look the same after several glasses of wine. Except he’s somehow drunk on you – on this insane coupling.

“I can see that.” He shifts slightly, pulling himself partially atop you. He releases your cock from the grip of his right hand for the briefest of moments before replacing it with his left. His right hand begins to roll your balls in their sack, tugging at them expertly. You don’t doubt you could come from this sensation alone if he would only release your cock.

“You poor thing…” he murmurs against your cheek. “I must have been torturing you all this time.”

Arousal shoots through you like a bolt of lightning, electrifying and filthy.

“Kim, please-! Fuck…”

You could go insane. You cannot remember the last time you have been so intensely turned on for so long without the release of orgasm. Your entire body is an exposed nerve ending. Kim just sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to the dimple on your chin.

“Tell me what you like about it. Explain it to me. Try your best.”

He isn’t going to let you cum until you divulge this information to him. You could easily overpower him if you wanted – you are a hulking beast of a man compared to his compact frame. You could flip him over and rut against his ass like a caveman. But you won’t. You will do as he asks. You swallow audibly.

“I like – thinking about the way it feels, for you. About the t-tickle,” You are blushing like a maniac, tripping over your words. You cannot look him in the eye. “…And how good it must feel for you when you finally sneeze.” You pause, screwing your eyes shut in mortification.

“Go on.” Kim encourages you, making his way to your earlobe and nibbling on the sensitive flesh.

“I like the faces – and the noises – you make. When you lose control.” You swallow again. “You’re so put together. It’s a…nice contrast.”

It is simultaneously humiliating and invigorating, hearing in your own voice a comprehensive explanation and breakdown of your sexual deviancy. Kim pulls back from your ear and rests his cheek on your shoulder, fingers still plucking lazily at your sack.

“You know, I’m not all that put together.” He smiles. “I have my moments.”

Lies. He’s the most put together man that was ever put together. Granted, the amnesia hasn’t left you with much of a frame of reference for this, but still.

“I’m not very put together right now, or when I barged in here knowing you would be – touching yourself.”

He actually looks a little bashful when admitting to that. It’s cute. You kiss the tip of his nose.

“Could have fooled me. You quite literally have me by the balls.”

Kim smirks and squeezes your sack with considerable pressure. Your eyes roll back into your head with a throaty groan of appreciation.

You cannot take much more of this – this constant thrumming of arousal. You could have orgasmed any number of times by now, but either through your own or Kim’s suppression, you have not. You want to cum. You need to cum. You want the Lieutenant to cum, too. You want him to know how badly you want it. Say something, or you’ll go mad with desire.

“I want to make you cum. I want to fuck you ‘til you scream my name, and then I want to fill you with my cum while your writhe on my cock.”

Umm…Okay, then. Good god, Harry. You’ve only just had your first homosexual kiss. Reel it in.

Luckily, this pornographic confession seems to have been an entirely appropriate thing to say. The Lieutenant looks at you with a downright predatory expression of hunger. Your cock gives a frightened little twitch.

“We don’t have time for that,” His voice practically rumbles, both in your ear and vibrating against your palm where it rests on his back, sending a heated shiver through you. “But we can definitely do something else.”

He moves to sit back up, but it is poorly timed with an emerging tickle in your nose. You frantically pin him against your chest in a sudden bear hug – he initially squirms in your grip before the rise and fall of your torso against his own clues him in to the fact that you are going to sneeze yet again. He relaxes against you, pressing his face into your neck. The frames of his glasses dig in a little uncomfortably, but the closeness is thrilling and intimate.

You do not have time to enjoy the feeling of the Lieutenant draped over you – the sneeze rushes out of you, shaking the bed, and you, and Kim. You try to aim it so that your spray doesn’t just rain down on you both, but also angle it up enough that you aren’t sneezing all over Kim’s jacket. You imagine he would be less than thrilled if you did. You manage to avoid making a mess but the fabric of his jacket still ripples with the force of your release.

“EEEISSSHHHHHUuu!!”

Luckily, it is just the one - it leaves you trembling in equal parts exhaustion and hedonistic pleasure. The motion of your body bucking against the Lieutenant’s felt especially nice in this position. You loosen your arms and wait for Kim to pull away. You are confused when he doesn’t do so immediately, and then the sound of a wavering inhale freezes you in place. All sensation in your body seems to subside apart from the heated skin of your neck where the Lieutenant’s breath hitches, preparing to sneeze. You feel the tip of his nose pressing against your jugular, his glasses digging into your jaw. Time seems to stand still as Kim’s ribcage expands under your hands, and then he is shuddering against you, smothering his sneezes against the column of your throat.

“HH’Dtsshh! Hh’Mptschh!! NGx’tsshh!!”

You arch your back, gasping, each little sneeze sending a shivering wave of warmth through you. It is one thing to watch Kim sneeze, but to feel him sneeze against you, pressed as close as he is – your brain feels as though it is short-circuiting.

He gently shakes your arms off and sits up, wiping his mouth and nose with the back of his hand. He casts you a sheepish, almost embarrassed look that lets you know he had not intended to sneeze against you, but one glance at the dumb, almost drunken expression on your face and he looks a lot less sorry.

“Pardon,” he mutters, reaching into the interior pocket of his jacket. You watch as he takes out - a condom. Wait - he carries condoms with him on police investigations? Perhaps he carries them everywhere he goes. You should be more prepared yourself, quite honestly.

He rips the packet open skilfully with his teeth. You think he is going to slide the condom down your own length – it won’t fit, you want to say - but the sight of the Lieutenant opening his fly with one hand in expert timing and whipping out his cock leaves the words dead in your throat.

You stare at Kim’s erection. It’s not as big as your own, but it’s definitely a decent size. It’s pretty, too – a nice thickness, a neat head, curving a little off to one side. It’s fucking beautiful, actually. Your mouth waters at the sight of it resting in his loose grip. He watches you watch him, pumping the length of it a few times before teasing the head, making himself gasp. Your own neglected dick spits a jet of precum onto your lower stomach.

You reach greedily for his cock, but he gently slaps your hand away. When he rolls the condom down his length, panic hits you like a freight train. Is he going to fuck you? In the arse? Oh, god. You want him to fuck you up the arse. You think you might want that more than you want to fuck him up the arse. You gape at him, fingers flexing and eyes roaming his face.

“Listen, Kim, I- I’ve never done this before, and don’t get me wrong I – I want to, but I’m not – I don’t think I can-!” Kim silences you with a finger to the lips.

“Harry, I just said we don’t have time for that.” He laughs a little, and your entire body slumps back onto the bed as every muscle relaxes at once.

“Ohhh, thank god…” You hear yourself mutter, like a total asshole. Kim just laughs.

But then what is the condom for? Your brows furrow in confusion. He picks up on this immediately and sighs, still massaging his cock in a leisurely fashion.

“This is just a precaution, detective. I mean no offense, but I’m not sure I can trust your sexual history in light of the amnesia and unpredictable behaviour.”

It’s a totally fair point, but you still don’t entirely understand the point of it if you’re just giving each other hand jobs. Don’t ask. You have a feeling it’ll all make sense in a moment. You look up at Kim, and whatever expression you’re making seems to melt him, leaning forward and pressing a sweet kiss on your chin. He seems to really like the dimple there.

“Don’t worry. This is going to feel great, I promise.”

Kim shifts on top of you, hovering above you with a hand planted either side of your head. He pushes your shirt up over the expanse of your stomach then aligns your hips together until – fuckkkk. You toss your head back in pleasure. The Lieutenant begins to thrust against you, reaching between you for a moment to smear your wetness all over his sheathed cock, and you are sliding together with the most delicious friction. You buck up against Kim, arrhythmically at first before finding the perfect complimentary motion to his own thrusts. Nothing could have prepared you for how good it feels to have his cock sliding up against your own. Your toes are curling in an instant, and you are making embarrassing little mewling sounds.

Kim leans closer, hovering above you on deceptively strong arms. Your hands grip his jacket as his breath tickles your ear.

“I think I’m starting to understand, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor,” he murmurs, drinking in the sound of your groans. “The way you shuddered against me when you sneezed – it’s always wonderful to feel the physical result of somebody losing control. A good sneeze is like an orgasm in its own right.”

Ohh, fuck. He’s too good at this. Or maybe you’re just easy? Either way, your balls are starting to draw up and you can feel the pressure building as your cock gives a heavy, pre-orgasmic throb against Kim’s. And still he talks.

“Just now, you said you wanted me to fuck you. I can do that. I can make it so that it’s all you think about. You’ll dream about it every night, and wake up wishing my cock was inside you…”

He purrs into your ear, a continuous stream of dirty promises, and you’re imagining it all, imaging him fucking you, then you fucking him, images flood your mind and your cock is throbbing and everything tenses before –

Release. Pulsing, gyrating release. The pleasure is monumental – all you can do is submit to it, washing over you in waves and pulling a shuddering moan out of you. Your weakened heart flutters as the sheer magnitude of sensation incapacitates you. You had been denied for too long, and now it seems as though the orgasm is actively trying to kill you out of revenge. You do not care. It feels so, so good. The best you’ve had since god knows when. It feels like it could go on for an eternity. In reality, it is over in a matter of seconds, but when it finally releases you, twitching and gasping in the aftermath, you feel almost reborn.

As you wind down, you are aware of Kim murmuring gentle words of encouragement and praise. You feel him kiss your cheek. He is handling you carefully, like you are a delicate flower and not a muscular slab of a man. You are enjoying it immensely. You let yourself be soothed, sinking into the mattress as the afterglow leaves you floaty and relaxed.

It dawns on you, as you come back to earth, that Kim is no longer thrusting against you. Well, he is a little, but only minutely, barely enough for you to make out. He has shifted his hips slightly so that he is no longer pressing directly against your sensitive cock, but against your hip bone. His cock is rock solid against you, and you realise in a sudden wave of shame and disappointment that he hasn’t had an orgasm of his own.

“You didn’t cum,” You manage.

“No.” Kim confirms, resting his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder. He seems to like it there. You like that he seems to like it there. “I’ll need a little more time than that.”

You wince. You were so turned on and came so hard you barely had time to reflect on the fact that your orgasm had taken a whopping 40 seconds to crest from the moment Kim’s dick slid up against your own. You’re not even a minute man. Teenage boys last longer than you. You are unable to prevent yourself from letting out a pained, reedy whine as these thoughts consume you.

“S’rry…” You mutter, and to make it all worse, a couple of tears begin to spill down the sides of your face and into the burning shells of your ears. You focus on a patch of discolouration on the ceiling and attempt to astral project your body out of there. It does not work.

Kim pushes himself upwards and positions himself in a seated straddle above you. You offer no resistance. You do not look at him until he forces you to do so with a firm grip on your chin, pulling your face towards him. Even then your stubborn eyes only swivel to look at him once he compels you with an authoritative “Harry.”

He is looking at you fondly. You’re not sure how much more you can take of his relative kindness. It’s probably just the post-orgasm loopiness and raised temperature, but you swear you can make out the faint glow of a halo around his head.

“Don’t apologise. You held out for a very long time – an impressively long time, given how worked up you were.” He gets up off the bed then, taking the few steps over to the small basin and wetting the washrag lying beside it. You turn your head to watch and see that his erection hangs insistently in front of him, though it has wilted a little. The surface of the condom is slippery, covered in your semen and pre-cum.

“This was never about me, anyway. I got…carried away.”

He sounds…pained. You wonder if he is feeling a regret similar to that of an unsuccessful one-night stand, once the orgasm has cleared his mind. Only he hasn’t even had an orgasm. You feel a pang of guilt in your chest, not only for him but faint memories of various drunken affairs. You have a feeling a lot of women have slammed the door of your apartment behind them, their own orgasms neglected as you lay there in selfish completion. Fuck. Say something before you ruin things even more.

“I like when you get carried away. I want you to get carried away.” You push yourself with no small amount of effort to sit up against the wall, legs swung over the side of the bed.

You watch Kim’s profile. He says nothing, but he’s smiling. He slips the condom off of himself and flicks it into the nearby bin. You watch with a sinking heart as he tucks his half-hard cock back into his underwear. It feels like rejection. This is totally harshing the mellow of your earth-shattering orgasm, man. He turns with the washcloth in hand, takes one look at your face and smiles at you with such naked adoration you almost swoon with it.

“What’s that look for?”

You shrug, eyes darting around like a desperately guilty dog.

“Officer.” You look back at him. “We are still in the middle of an ongoing murder investigation.”

He is such a square. How he can be this level-headed and persistent whilst he’s still at half-mast is beyond you. You snort out of your nose like a petulant child. That was a bad idea – your forgot that you have a cold. You scramble around you looking for a tissue, but before you find one Kim is cleaning up your mess with the washcloth. Your ears burn. Having your nose wiped for you like a child should not be this arousing, but it is. Kim folds the washcloth and works downwards, cleaning the semen from your skin and the trail of hair that covers the length of your torso.

“Don’t look so disappointed.” His face is so close to yours. “If you still mean everything you’ve said when we’ve closed this case…” He whispers against your mouth. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

You lunge forward too quickly and awkwardly crash your teeth against his own. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, sinking to his knees in front of you and craning his neck upwards to maintain contact. You lean forward, clutching his shoulders with flexing fingers. He is such a good kisser. He does amazing things with his tongue whilst his hand still works on scrubbing your torso clean, working its way to your crotch, and –

Kim breaks the kiss and looks down your body. He is wearing an expression of utter disbelief, which you would find incredibly amusing if it wasn’t aimed at your person.

“What? What’s wrong??” You ask in horror, clutching his shoulders tighter.

He doesn’t answer you. He reaches one hand between your legs. You cannot help the obtrusively loud moan of pleasure that rakes its way out of you as he squeezes your cock.

“Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor.” He says despairingly. “You’re still hard.”

You look down. The swollen head of your cock peers back up at you, twitching happily within the constraints of Kim’s fingers. Huh.

“Oh. Uhh. So I am.”

The look of bemusement Kim flashes you is objectively too funny for you to not grin back at him, so you do. He raises an eyebrow.

“Is this normal for you? Do you remember?”

“I’m. I’m gonna say no.”

“No, you don’t remember, or no, this is not normal?”

“Yes.”

The Lieutenant blinks. He sighs heavily, releasing your cock. It throbs angrily at the sudden absence of his expert fingers. If a cock could pout, yours would.

“Harry.” He places his palms on each of your thighs, making sure to keep his touch light on your injured leg. “The entire reason I suggested you take care of things is because I thought it would provide you with some relief and mental clarity.”

The Lieutenant doesn’t seem angry – maybe a little concerned. You get the distinct impression that he is beginning to think you may actually have a medical issue of some kind. Your regard your stubborn erection. It doesn’t hurt – you hadn’t even noticed its persistence because you are still enjoying the buzz of your afterglow. Are you still aroused? You ought to test that. You picture Kim leaning down and sneezing all over your crotch. When your cock gives a heavy throb in response to this thought, drooling more clear liquid down your shaft, you relax. You’re not suffering the early stages of priapism; you’re just insanely horny.

Kim has been watching you think. He also watches your cock bob in the air with poorly feigned disinterest. You think, despite it all, he is secretly happy with this outcome. Perhaps a little flattered that he has managed to work you into this rabid state despite the multiple factors of injury, illness and drug withdrawals working against you. You are hyperaware of the grip of his hands on your thighs. He has very nice hands - angular and masculine, but delicate in their motions in a way your own huge paws are not. You should tell him to get to work with those hands of his.

“It’ll go down soon?” You offer instead.

Spoilsport.

Kim looks up at you like he doesn’t believe you in the slightest, because he doesn’t.

“Humour me, officer. When might that be?”

You shrug noncommittally. He sighs again, eyeing your cock. It twitches a little under the scrutinization.

“Do you need to have another orgasm?” He asks you. It is a sincere, almost clinical question for which he would like a straightforward answer, almost like a physician consulting with a patient. That doesn’t stop your hips from squirming in response.

“I…don’t know if I can.” You admit.

And you mean it. Earlier this week you may have suffered a genuine heart attack. You were shot in the leg just over 48 hours ago. Another orgasm of that magnitude may kill you. You ponder this a moment longer. There are definitely worse ways to go, and you trust Kim to take good care of your corpse should your petite mort just become…mort. The Lieutenant is patiently watching you, still crouched in front of you. You could do worse that Kim Kitsuragi, Harry-boy. Just blow your load like a man and enjoy the ride.

“…Fuck it. Sure.”

You stroke your cock experimentally. It feels as intense as if you’d never come in the first place – the only evidence to the contrary being the floaty, rejuvenated feeling your previous orgasm bestowed upon you. Once you start touching yourself you can’t stop. You groan and tip your head back against the wall. Yeah. This probably won’t take long either.

You realise after a moment of passionate self love that Kim has made no move to either offer a helping hand or leave you to handle yourself alone. He’s watching you work yourself with naked interest, eyes heavy-lidded and bright. When you groan in response to your own teasing fingers rubbing gently over your frenulum, you hear his own moan of appreciation and feel the flexing of his fingers on your legs. It is his own sigh of arousal that seems to break him out of this intense observation. He stands up, and you look up at him, meeting his heated gaze with your own.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” He says, pushing his glasses up his nose but otherwise unmoving. His own erection tents the front of his cargo pants.

“Don’t go.” You say. “Stay.”

He smiles down at you. It makes your breath hitch.

“You want me to watch?”

“I think you want me to want you to watch.”

“I want to get back to the murder investigation.” He teases.

“Please. Don’t talk about murder right now. I’ll never cum that way.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” He smiles at you. He is finding some enjoyment in this – standing over you while you masturbate yourself furiously. You find yourself enjoying it as well – so much so that it takes you a moment to take offense.

“I’m not! – not that fucking weird, damn.” You mutter. He just laughs.

“I want to make you cum.” You offer after several beats of silence. He fidgets in response, a small movement that would have otherwise signalled a routine shifting of weight from one leg to another, were it not for the obscene tent in his trousers.

“You should focus on yourself.” He breathes out, sounding almost as out of breath as you.

“What does it – look like I’m doing?” You get out between moans.

You’re getting close. It feels good to stroke yourself with your own practised hand, but you can’t help but feel like you need more. The Lieutenant is the entire reason you are in this position in the first place, and now he’s not even touching you. His sneezing was the catalyst for a whole new world of never-ending arousal and homosexual revelations.

You should ask him to sneeze for you. The thought is simultaneously thrilling and mortifying. It is one thing for Kim to barge into the room and start kissing you, and sneezing all over you because he can’t help it – yet another thing entirely for you to request his active participation. Perhaps you don’t need to ask. All you need to do is sneeze again, and it will certainly trigger a reaction of his own. You sniffle experimentally, but all you get for your efforts is an uncomfortable burning sensation. It is just your luck that the second you actively want to sneeze, you cannot. Fuck.

Why do you find yourself hesitating like this? You couldn’t have imagined a more positive response from the Lieutenant before. He called you intriguing. He dirty-talked you. He rubbed your dicks together and compared sneezing to orgasm. What’s the worst thing that could happen?

You regard the Lieutenant. Sexually charged energy practically oozes from him as he stands before you. His pupils are blown and his body bows towards you with a subconscious desire for closeness. All physical signs, not least his solid cock, point towards his want for sex with you, and yet – he’s just standing there. Watching. It occurs to you that he is potentially holding himself back now because his uncharacteristically enthusiastic advances have spooked him into a form of cowed paralysis. For a rigid professional like the Lieutenant, niche fetish sex with a fellow police officer is a huge deviation from his usual composed behaviour.

You take this all into consideration, and open your mouth to speak.

“I want you to sneeze for me. Please, Kim. I’m desperate for it.”

Your voice is steady, if not a little strained, but you have said it. It is out in the open. Your face heats in anticipation, heart fluttering in your chest, and your arousal seems to amplify at the thrill of voicing these most erotic desires out loud. Kim makes a low noise in the back of his throat, and you are worried for a moment that he is going to bolt out of the door, but then he is stepping closer, standing between your legs and cradling your cheek in his palm.

“Okay.” He smiles at you, and the relief is overwhelming. He looks excited– it is as if he had been waiting for you to put into words what you really wanted from him. You have a feeling that you had been dead on the money about the source of his reluctance. He had taken too much control of you, far too quickly. He didn’t want to look desperate, or lecherous in his handling of you, even though you went easily, enthusiastically. He had said you could do whatever you wanted to him – granted, he had meant this for a time in the future when you had more blood in your brain than your dick, but. Either way. Perhaps all you had to do was use your fucking words.

The Lieutenant is suddenly glancing round the expanse of the shack as if looking for something. When you ask him what he is doing, he looks at you as if it is obvious.

“I can’t just sneeze on command, but there doesn’t appear to be anything dusty in here for me to use. Isobel is clearly a fastidious cleaner.”

That last part expresses a deep respect for the old woman’s neatness despite her visual impairment. He says it so matter of factly that it takes a moment for the sheer eroticism of what came before to wash over you. Your cock drools down your knuckles at the thought of Kim willingly inducing an allergic reaction in himself, proposing he do so as if it is the most normal thing in the world. You picture him again with a feather duster, teasing his flaring nostrils until he cannot take anymore. He seems pleased with your immediate physical reaction, running his hand through your hair. You thank this morning’s Harry for the decision to shower despite the pain in your leg.

“Don’t you need to sneeze? That’s as effective a method as any.”

You sniffle again, but it is the same result as before – which is to say, nothing at all.

“Fuck…” You tilt your head back against the wall in disappointment. Perhaps you had better let this idea go and just think about tits or something.

You remember then, in a flash of foggy memories, a certain fool proof method for inducing a sneeze. A small, twisted piece of coated wire – the kind you might use to seal an open bag of food. You remember using it, tickling yourself into a relieving, shuddering sneeze when the urge refused to crest without external encouragement. God. Maybe you like your own sneezes more than you previously thought. You feel another stubborn memory, just on the periphery of your consciousness that refuses to reveal itself to you. Nevertheless, you have a hunch – no, a suspicion - that you are not the only person upon whom you have used that little tool. This confuses you. You had been so convinced this was a secret you had never shared with anybody, but now you are not so sure. But who? It wasn’t…her, at least. You decide to bury this troubling thought before you develop a headache or start to cry.

Anyway. This tool. You have a feeling. A feeling that in the lining of your blazer, through a small rip of the fabric…You reach inside, and moments later, you are staring at the small twist of wire pinched between your thumb and forefinger. The Pavlovian elevation of your heartbeat at the sight of it only confirms its intended usage.

“Umm. I think this should work.” You hold the small tool up to the Lieutenant, your expression a confusing amalgamation of sheepishness and excitement.

He takes the tool off you and brings it closer to his face, squinting a little at it through his glasses before a look of recognition spreads across his features. His lips quirk up into one of his small smiles. You swallow audibly.

“I’m assuming this is intended for internal stimulation?” His smile widens as you nod, squeezing your cock for good measure. “Very resourceful, detective.”

He twirls the small piece of wire between his fingers as if testing his grip. You are giddy with anticipation, practically vibrating with it. Kim uses his knee on the outside of your leg to push it inwards – you instinctively move your legs closer together, out of the wide spread you had adopted as you slumped back against the wall. He hums in appreciation at your quick understanding before kneeling in a partial straddle atop you, knees pressing into the mattress. It squeaks in protest anew at your combined weight, but neither of you pay it any mind.

Kim rests his left hand on your shoulder, twirling the wire between thumb and forefinger of his right and watching your reaction. You swallow thickly.

“Please,” You whine. “’M so close…”

“Okay.” He leans forward to kiss you for a moment, and you almost reach up to pull him back into it before you remember that more kissing means less sneezing. “But if you’re still hard after this, I’m driving you to the hospital.”

He isn’t joking. You nod obediently, trying your best to look innocent and failing spectacularly. Kim hesitates for the briefest moment, as if it dawns on him how ridiculous his current position is – how every decision and success he has undertaken in his career and life in general has led up to this bizarre turn of events – before slipping the tool into his slightly flared right nostril.

Almost immediately, he is pulling back with a look of pained irritation, but it is not the kind either of you were looking for. He coughs a little before rubbing at his nose frantically with the heel of his palm, eyes scrunched shut.

“Kim - shit, are you okay?” You ask him, concern overriding the way your cock twitches at the sight of him roughly manhandling his nose.

“Ahh, sorry, sorry,” The Lieutenant apologises, slowing the motion of his hand. He lowers it again and smiles bashfully at you, eyes watering ever so slightly. He looks so cute in the moment you barely suppress the urge to gnaw on his glasses.

“I think I was a little overzealous. I didn’t expect that sensation.” He moves the tool back into his nostril, trying again.

You watch in fascination, eyes roving over his face, taking in every little detail as he tickles his nose for you. His nostrils are your favourite thing to watch, predictably. They are incredibly expressive, and the shape of them lends to a wonderful flare. Each little twist and thrust of the tool triggers another series of uncontrollable twitching. The eroticism of this moment cannot be understated – you feel so good, so unbelievably turned on that your hand has paused on your cock for fear you will come before he has even succeeded in initiating a build-up.

Suddenly, the Lieutenant’s breath catches. You hold your own involuntarily, as if any sudden movement will scare his budding sneeze away. Your eyes wander from his flaring nostrils to his furrowed brows to his mouth as it falls open. His tongue cups itself, pressing slightly against his full lip. You briefly imagine the feeling of that tongue wrapped around your cock as he sucks it down. You resist touching yourself, intent on enjoying every moment of this. The second you do it is game over.

“Oohh, I think-!” Kim manages to gasp out before the sneezes are tearing their way out of him – a desperate little triple that leaves him shivering in your lap.

“hHUPT’Tschh’uu!! Hhdt’Tszschhh’uu! hHADT’TSCHhhtt!!”

He aims them at your chest, but mostly catches your neck and chin with the light spray. Your skin feels electric with sensation. You swallow your groans to avoid drowning out the sound of his releases, cock throbbing heavily with each one. It is hard to imagine that you could be more turned on than in this current moment, especially as Kim sighs heavily, orgasmically when he has finished.

“Ahh, my god. That felt so good.”

It doesn’t matter if he is only saying it for your benefit, or if it really is the case – you’d put money on both – and you allow yourself to groan openly at last. Your free hand reaches up to clutch at the front of his shirt, more to tether yourself to him than anything else.

“Did you like that?” He purrs, knowing full fucking well that you’ve probably never liked anything else quite so much in your life.

“Yesss…” You manage, hesitating for a moment before offering a “B-bless you” that you stumble over as if it is the naughtiest, dirtiest phrase known to man.

“Thank you.”

He sighs emphatically, delighted to see you squirm and blush. The Lieutenant rests the hand still clutching the inducing tool on top of your own where you are crumpling his meticulously ironed shirt into a wrinkled mess. He leans forward, holding his face just in front of your own. He sniffles, then smiles smugly at the flicker of your eyes to his flaring nostrils.

“Harry.”

You murmur an affirmative, unable to do much more as his deep brown eyes seem to stare into your soul. It makes you feel a little drunk – the fun, relaxing part before the anger and shame sends you into a spiral of self-destruction.

“Why aren’t you touching yourself?”

The Lieutenant could read a phone directory aloud and that voice would probably still have the same effect on you. Soft, but deep and commanding. It sends shivers down your spine. Before you can answer him, he is murmuring against your lips again.

“Touch yourself for me. Be a good boy.”

You can be his good boy. His best boy. You sigh against him, fingers moving to firmly encircle your cock before his words even fully sink in.

“Yes,” you breathe out, beginning to stroke yourself obediently. Your other hand releases the front of his shirt and moves to grip his waist instead.

“Good.” He smiles, leaning back once more, hand gripping your shoulder firmly whilst the other slips the tool back into his waiting nostril. “Here’s your reward.”

You watch in what can only be described as adoration as the Lieutenant starts to tickle his nose again. You are trying to hold out, keeping the squeezing rhythm on your cock as slow as you can manage, but the longer you touch yourself the harder it is to do so. A few moments later, Kim’s nostrils give a definitive twitch. You hear him suck in a shuddering breath. This time was much faster – he is figuring out the best spots to tease in an impressive display of aptitude.

The Lieutenant’s face freezes in pre-sneeze agony for a beat, and then he is tilting forward with another round of sneezes, hand squeezing your shoulder tight.

“hHPT’Tsschh!! HdDDZT’Tzshieww!! ‘TSCHhh’uu!!....HAHd’tsschht!!

These, too, were aimed in the general vicinity of your upper torso, though the last one – a straggler – seems to catch him off guard. You feel the delicate spray that bursts out with it settling over your left cheek, some on your lips. You shamelessly lick them clean. It wasn’t a particularly messy affair, hardly even wet enough for you to feel it, but a thrill rushes through you all the same. Kim doesn’t notice, pausing for a moment to scrub at his itchy nostrils with his knuckles and scrunching his eyes shut as he does so. It is both endearing and erotic that he makes no effort to hide just how much these sneezes tickle and tease.

“Bless you-!” You all but growl at him.

“Thank you, detective.”

He is enjoying this immensely, which only makes it better. You doubt, despite the lax and forgiving nature with which he has approached some of your more…unpredictable behaviours, that he is the kind of man who does anything in bed that he does not want to. He wears his arousal well – he doesn’t blush so much as he seems to glow, radiant and healthy.

“This is fun.” He admits, out of the blue, returning the tool to his nose. “I wonder why I’ve never thought to try this before.”

Because you’re not a huge fucking pervert, you do not say. You imagine he finds a certain appeal in having some power over when he gets to sneeze. He can enjoy the release when the reflex is triggered by his own hand and following his own decision to do so. It is an entirely different ball game to when his allergies or suggestibility render him helpless in environments he cannot control. Now he has an opportunity to indulge in the sensation – and it certainly does no harm that he is reducing a large man like yourself to a quivering mess whilst doing so.

Before you realise it, your muscles begin to tighten in pre-orgasmic tension. Your hand is stroking your cock mercilessly, doing everything it can to drive you closer and closer to climax. It is working on autopilot, for which you are grateful – you don’t want to miss a moment of this thinking about anything that isn’t the Lieutenant.

“Kim…” You whine. You mean to say more – that you’re close, you’re going to cum, something to that effect. You don’t manage to, but the desperation with which you utter his name is enough for the Lieutenant to understand.

“Are you going to cum for me?” He murmurs, rubbing his thumb in small circles against your clavicle.

You sure fucking are. Your hand is a blur over your crotch, your frantic efforts almost sending vibrations throughout the protesting bed frame. You try not to think too much about the expressions you’re making. Kim has already been witness to your O face and certainly doesn’t seem to have been deterred by whatever he saw. He’s watching you with a hungry look even now, working his own face into a different but not dissimilar mask of desperation to your own.

Suddenly, his hand is squeezing your shoulder especially hard, thumb digging into bone and muscle.

“I think – if I -!”

He is trying in desperation to communicate something between hitching breaths, but it is futile. He inhales hugely, audibly gasping at the intensity of the tickle he has inflicted upon himself. He makes no effort to remove the tool this time.

“AhHH’TSchhTt!!-‘TSSChhh!-‘TSSh’uu!! – god, I-! AESSCH’uu! Hhp’Tzshieww!*

A wave of heat consumes you, the eroticism of the moment almost unbearable. You realise that Kim has found a sweet spot and deduced that simply holding the tool in place will result in an endless barrage of sneezes. Your cock throbs, drooling down your knuckles as you caress and squeeze yourself stupid. The hand resting on Kim’s waist grips him more firmly, a kind of anchorage, though for whose benefit you are not entirely sure.

“IhHd’TSsch’uu!! aAHDd’TszchhT!!-TTSChh’uu-ttschht!! Fuck, it’s so -! HahDD’TZSCHHhht!!”

The bed shakes under your combined efforts. You moan loudly, wantonly, almost out of your mind with desire. You wish you could shut yourself up – not out of any kind of embarrassment or shame. You’re beyond that now. But your own noisy exclamations are beginning to drown out the sound of Kim’s relentless sneezing. They have been increasing steadily in pitch as his body fights to mollify the tickle. There is no relief to be found, however – as long as he presses that little piece of wire against his sensitive spot, he will sneeze ceaselessly.

“Hupt’CHShh’iew! Hhdt’CHhhssh!! Hh-!! HhGG’TSzsch’uu!! TZSSCHh’iew!! Hhd’TZSCHshhtt!!”

They have been spraying your chest, neck and face indiscriminately, as it is all the Lieutenant can do to keep himself upright and find enough air to breathe between each convulsion. That most recent sneeze is also the most productive yet. You blink reflexively against the spray misting over your cheeks and nose, tangibly more wet than the preceding baptisms you have received. Kim’s pink, flaring nostrils are beginning to glitter with moisture. You almost feel envious that it has taken him such an intense series of sneezes to develop a bona fide runny nose. You can only imagine the mess you would have made by this point.

Unable to clean himself up throughout the continuous onslaught, you notice the tiniest string of saliva drips from the Lieutenant’s bottom lip. You want to lick it off, but all you’re capable of in the moment is fucking your own fist and moaning low and loud like a cat in heat. Your orgasm is mere moments away – it is building so intensely that your earlier fears of simply cumming yourself to death reemerge. You couldn’t stop the frantic motions of masturbation if you tried, however. You are a wanking machine, operating purely on animalistic impulses.

The Lieutenant, it appears, has reached his limitations. He looks dizzy and breathless, glasses askew and eyes streaming in irritation. He removes the tool from his nostril and drops it between you, realising much the same as you have – the cruel little press of that wire would have made him sneeze and sneeze until he passed out.

He clutches your shoulders with both hands now. You stare, utterly and totally enraptured, as his breath hitches towards yet another release. Removing the direct source of irritation seems to have stoked some kind of residual tickle – and by the absolutely miserable twist of his features, it is perhaps the most intense of them all. Your cock shudders with the first pulse of your orgasm.

My god, you might die. You might actually die, you think, as the steadily cresting pleasure curls your toes and begins to pulse through you in luxurious waves. It is so overwhelming that you are unable to make any noise at all. You manage to watch through unblinking eyes as Kim tips forward with a punishing double.

“hHAhdt’TSZCHhh’uuu!! HhHDT’TSZSChhst!!”

They spray across your chin and neck, deliciously wrenching and wet. The Lieutenant gasps, head shaking almost imperceptibly as the tickle grinds vindictively against his sinuses – one final ‘fuck you’ - before he is lurching forward with a definitive, body-crunching explosion.

“hhHAHPT’TTZSSCHHhtt’iewww!!!”

It is the loudest and wettest sneeze you have ever heard from him. More importantly is the fact that he has managed to aim it down his body, chin squeezing against his collar bone. It drenches your cock in a teasing cloud of spray, the cooling sensation of it settling onto the delicate skin and elevating your orgasm beyond anything you thought imaginable. You are reeling with it, trembling pitifully.

Completely without means to control your own shuddering, you are helpless to fight it as your head drops back against the wall, thunking hard enough that there is pain even through the tremendous pleasure. You feel Kim slip a hand between your skull and the wall, cradling it protectively as you continue to shiver. The jarring movement seems to have triggered you to find your voice again and you moan stupidly, eyelashes aflutter.

Unlike your first orgasm, when the pleasure finally releases you this time, you slump as though dead. You have never come so close to losing consciousness from orgasm; you didn’t know it was something you were physically capable of (falling asleep immediately after the fact or passing out from drugs not-withstanding). Your breathing finally regains some semblance of consistency. Your eyes fell closed at some point and you make no move to open them. As you twitch with the occasional aftershock, wilting dick in hand, you feel Kim disembarking and hear him moving round. Your lascivious cock gives a few appreciative twitches at the sound of him blowing his nose.

“Harry. Harrier.” Kim calls your name softly from above, and you realise that you have started to doze.

“Mmf.” You grunt. You wish he would leave you to your peaceful oblivion.

A sudden cool sensation against your face makes you jolt slightly, eyes fluttering open. You look up at Kim, who is watching you with undisguised fondness and amusement, pressing a damp cloth to your cheek.

“Hi.” You manage.

“Hello.” Kim replies, before moving the cloth over your face and neck with a mechanical efficiency.

You grunt a little in indignation at being jostled here and there. You imagine this is what a milk drunk kitten being groomed by a fastidious and overbearing mother cat would feel like. Kim ignores your protests, wiping your dick clean with several quick strokes.

“Sorry.” He slows down just a little when you hiss and jerk as he works over the head of your cock, rubbing the over sensitised skin with tender care.

Your sticky hand is the last to be cleaned. You offer a lazy smirk as he wrinkles his nose at the sheer amount of mess you have made. The cloth, which you realise had been one of his many clean handkerchiefs, is tossed into the bin without a second thought. When you continue to sit there, arms hanging loosely at your sides, he clears his throat and looks pointedly at your crotch. Oh, right. You tuck your cock away, finally and blessedly flaccid.

“Do you normally make such a production of orgasm?” Kim asks in faux irritation, pulling his gloves back on.

You know he liked what he saw – he just likes to tease you. You ignore him, unable to formulate a witty or biting remark in response. Your brain is still jelly. Evidently your legs are, too – the second you try to stand, they are buckling under you. Kim steadies you, supporting your weight as best he can, until you are able to stand on your own. You swoon a little from the sudden rush of blood.

“You okay?” He asks, patting your back as you wash your hands in the basin.

“Fuck, man. I’m better than okay. I’m the living embodiment of Disco, baby.”

You giggle a little, loopy from the rush of endorphins. Your head also feels about a thousand times clearer, your morale at an all-time high – which gives you all the confidence you need to follow through on what you have been dying to do for days.

You turn to Kim, some variation of ‘The Expression’ plastered onto your face. With one fell swoop, you are scooping him up and depositing him roughly onto the bed, pulling a startled and rather undignified squawk out of him. Before he has time to stand up, you lower your mass over him, pressing a thigh between his legs and up against his cock and balls. The moan that escapes him is an unexpected and embarrassing to him as it is intoxicating and motivating to you. His hands reach up to grip your shoulders.

“You’re hard.” You mutter, before leaning forward and pressing a series of kisses to the exposed column of the Lieutenant’s neck.

“Astute observation, detective,” he breathes out, using his grip to pull you closer and arching himself up against you.

“I still want to make you cum. Will you let me now?” You nose along his jawline, careful to avoid pressing too hard and ruining the moment with a poorly timed sneeze. He shudders and bucks up against your leg, squeezing his thighs around it.

“Yes. Fuck, yes.”

That’s as clear an affirmation as you’ve ever heard. You reach between his legs, balancing over him on one arm. As nice as it felt for the position to be reversed, you can’t deny that your present arrangement is reaffirming to your masculinity. You spit into your hand, then manoeuvre his rock-solid cock out of his pants and hold it for a moment in your palm, getting a feel for the weight and thickness of it. You look down the lengths of your bodies in appreciation at the pretty head, beaded with moisture. You swipe over it with your thumb, spreading the wetness around and pulling a shaky sigh out Kim in response.

Before you can begin to stroke the Lieutenant, he is gripping your chin with one hand and forcing you to look at him.

“One thing before you start.” His brown eyes burn into your own. “If you ever pick me up like that again, I’m breaking both your arms.”

He is only half joking. He appreciates your wanton displays of virile masculinity, but he does not appreciate being caught off guard and thrown around like a toy. You nod within his grip, and he releases you, pulling your face to the crook of his neck and moaning in appreciation as your hand starts to pump him. He temporarily lets go of your shoulder to reach down and pull his t-shirt up to his nipples before resuming his hold, gripping you almost possessively.

“Is that an appropriate way to speak to your superior officer, Lieutenant?” You tease. There are times that you are especially grateful for the heavy timbre of your voice, and now is one of them.

You work your way over Kim’s neck with tiny kisses. His jugular flutters under your lips with each frantic beat of his heart.

“I believe it’s warranted when you’ve made your superior officer orgasm twice by sneezing on his person.” He murmurs, intoxicatingly breathless, into your ear, making you shudder involuntarily. You feel the smile on his lips as he nibbles gently on your ear lobe. Oh, god. He’s a monster. He’s going to eat you alive, and you’ll happily let him.

“God. You can’t be doing that. I’m serious, Kim, you’ll make me hard again.”

You don’t want him to stop. You want to lie there and let him tease every inch of your body. But this is no longer about you. You are overflowing with endorphins and post-orgasmic rejuvenation, and it is the Lieutenant who has brought you to such a state. He deserves your total and undivided attention.

It feels wonderful to stroke his cock, and you seem to be very good at it, if Kim’s increasingly enthusiastic moans and gasps are of any indication. His skin is velvety soft in your calloused palm, and everything feels perfect and grounded and right. A sudden wave of emotion overcomes you as you realise this is the happiest you have been in a very long time. You blink the traitorous tears away before they threaten to fall, but there is still a lump in your throat. You’re beginning to suspect you are just a regular sex crier.

“I can hear you thinking,” Kim gasps out.

You lift your head out of the crook of his neck to look into his face. He looks amazing like this, as though he can barely believe how good it feels, eyebrows furrowed and teeth worrying his bottom lip.

“I’m thinking about you.” You murmur, pressing your thigh even harder against his balls and squeezing his cock with a purposefully slow upstroke. He writhes under you, and the half-strangled sob he makes as his hands scramble for purchase on your blazer is possibly the best sound you have ever heard in your life (sneezing aside).

“Harry-! Plus fort, comme ça…!”

You obey, increasing the force of your grip as you squeeze him, a steady and punishing rhythm. His closed-mouth groan of approval spurs you on.

“I meant it all. Everything I said. And I’ll still mean it tomorrow, and the day after that.” You know this, with the strongest sense of clarity you have experienced since the start of your amnesia. “I want to fuck you. I want you to fuck me. Do you want that?”

You omit the ‘do you want me’ part.

“Fuck…” Kim mutters. “Fuck, yesss.”

Your heart is overflowing. You feel hope, real genuine hope, for a better future. One where maybe you don’t hate yourself, and happiness isn’t something reserved for the rest of the world while you stand on the periphery looking in. You watch his face, his head thrashing from side to side on the pillow. He grits his teeth, eyebrows furrowed in ecstasy. He’s done for. Push him over the edge.

“I want you to cum all over yourself. Make a mess for me, Kim.”

The Lieutenant gasps, tossing his head back as his entire body tenses underneath you. His cock spits in your grasp, painting his torso with white stripes of pleasure. He is certainly making a mess; the sight makes your mouth water. You rub him through it, drinking in his soft whines and hitching breaths. You’re impressed by the amount of semen that spurts out of him – you wonder if he is as disciplined with his orgasms as with his cigarettes. Maybe he’s in the middle of a dry spell. Or maybe you’re just that good. It is probably an amalgamation of all three reasons.

You stroke him until he reaches down to tap on your wrist, signalling over-stimulation. Your movements cease and you loosen your grip, cradling his twitching cock like a delicate treasure. Your eyes haven’t left his face. The serene look of satisfied blankness makes him look youthful and handsome. Your heart aches to look at him, but it’s a sweet, gnawing agony that you would rather endure.

When he opens his eyes to glance at you, a shy little smile playing on his lips, you are unable to stop yourself from leaning forward and pressing your foreheads together. The frames of his glasses dig into your face, but you do not care. Still, you make a mental note to do this again sans spectacles. He reaches up to wrap both arms around your shoulders. He is much more affectionate post-orgasm than you would have expected, but you have learned a great deal of things about him today that have equally surprised and delighted you.

“Good?”

“Very,” He presses a small kiss against the side of your mouth. “I need a moment. Fuck.”

You cannot help it. You beam like a moron. You can add ‘Sex God’ and/or ‘Certified Orgasm Donor’ to your extensive list of talents. Let yourself have this moment before you must return to the cruel world of responsibilities and capital. You lower yourself onto Kim, soft gut resting against lithe stomach, closing the gap between the two of you entirely. You remember the copious semen a moment too late.

“You’ll ruin your shirt.” Kim protests weakly, but his heart is not in it. He sounds half-asleep.

“Whatever. I have a spare.”

Several spares, actually. A veritable wardrobe of bold fashion statements just waiting to be made as you limp around Martinaise.

The pair of you lie there in satisfaction until the threat of impending sleep urges Kim to shove your uncooperative mass off of him. You sigh, sitting up on the bed and removing your blazer and shirt. You use a dry section of the shirt’s fabric to clean Kim’s torso and cock before it is unceremoniously balled up and tossed in the bin, alongside the equally as tarnished washcloth and handkerchief. Sorry, Isobel. The room is muggy with the smell of your sex.

You look through your things for another shirt, pulling yourself together, and in time Kim stands and rights himself too. He wets (and wastes) another handkerchief going over his cock. The pair of you dress and clean in relative silence.

“Well.” You offer up to the air after several minutes, wincing only a little as you lean carelessly on your bad leg.

“Well.” The Lieutenant echoes.

The two of you wear matching expressions of smugness. That was some ground-shaking sex, and you both know it. You don’t need to say anything – following a successful conclusion to the murder investigation, this will happen again. It will probably even happen again following an unsuccessful outcome, unless that outcome entails significant maiming and/or death.

The Lieutenant lets you lead the way, and as you step out into the waning afternoon sunlight, the world seems just a little bit brighter.

#the sheer number of CWs lol #lmk if there's anything else I ought to mention - I tried to cover it all #this is extremely self-indulgent and got away from me but I hope some of you get something out of it!#RIP to everyone in the fishing village subjected to the noises coming out of that shack #nametakenfic #d/isco e/lysium #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz fet #snz kink #snz fucker #snzblr #sneeze fucker

59 notes · View notes

it-happened-one-fic · 5 months

Text

Ink and Magic - The Usurper From The Wilds

Author Notes: Part 2 of this sort of halfway non canon compliant what if with the overblots and their aftermath! A lot of what I said for part 1 counts for this section too. This isn't exactly romantic. in fact, I would say it counts as more platonic, but it certainly can be taken as shippy. This will also be a series, though the Diasomnia section won't come out until that entire matter is resolved in game. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Spoilers for Book 2: Usurper from the Wilds!!

[Heartslabyul] [Savanaclaw: You're here!] [Octavinelle] [Scarabia] [Pomefiore] [Ignihyde] [Diasomnia: To be released]

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fic series/ Can be platonic or romantic/ fluff/ angst/ comfort/ Spoilers for Savannaclaw overblot.

Word Count: 2353

Sand was still whipping through the air even as the giant leonine creature let out a final bellow before collapsing. It’s ink mixing with the golden sand that covered the earth, as if trying to hide what had happened here.

Leona’s overblot had, if anything, been more horrifying than Riddle’s. Sand had swirled around us, diminishing our vision and biting into our skin, but Leona himself had been what was truly terrifying. Because unlike Riddle, he’d maintained a sense of lucidity.

He hadn’t been himself, but…. He’d still had his tact. When he’d spoken, it had been filled with a bitterness that spoke of sense. No person who’d totally lost their mind could have managed that much acerbity.

Even Riddle, who’d been my only other overblot example, had really just screamed and bellowed basic phrases. Nothing he’d said had seemed quite as pointedly self-depreciating as Leona’s words had.

But what was perhaps more upsetting was the sound that filled the air as Leona was truly defeated. A sound that melded with the blot creatures cries and that I could only describe as a pained roar.

A cry of a power that spoke of an unexpected defeat that had occurred against all odds.

My eyes were wide as I watched Leona, of all people, stumble. Because it seemed so impossible that someone so strong would fall in such a fashion.

It was true that what he had done was horrible and that his signature spell had perfectly terrifying possibilities, but… Seeing him look so broken was almost more frightening.

Because up until this point, Leona had been many things, but fragile would never have been a word I would've used to describe him.

He looked up, his painfully bright green eyes briefly meeting mine as the golden flame around his right eye flickered out of existence. Signaling the end of his overblot.

There was something there in his gaze—something that spoke of loss and made my heart clench painfully in my chest.

I inhaled as I felt it, just like I had with Riddle. That instinctual yet inexplicable need to go to him.

I started forward, only for my arm to get caught in a vice-like grip by Ruggie, who released a pained sound as soon as he moved his injured arm to grab my wrist, “Are you mad?!”

I looked back at him, noting the pain in his large blue-grey eyes and realizing that I had to be crazy to do what I was about to do. But even as I realized that I was gritting my teeth and going through with what I'd already started.

I swallowed thickly as I mumbled a hasty apology before yanking my arm away from Ruggie, whose expression was a mixture of pain from his injuries and utter confusion.

But there was no hesitation in my motions as I whirled, running towards the weakened prince, who seemed to look my way as soon as I darted forward. Driven on by this unspoken need to reach the lion beastman in front of me.

“Y/N?!” My friends cried my name behind me, but I didn’t heed their pleas for me to come back. I could only trust Riddle to explain my actions as I let my already wobbly legs carry me towards where Leona stood alone.

After all, Riddle was the only one who might understand what I was doing.

Leona didn’t even brace himself as I slammed into him, wrapping my arms around him in a feeble attempt to keep the already sinking beastman from falling to his knees.

As if by instinct, one of his arms wrapped tightly around me, his clawed fingers digging into my back like he was afraid I would abandon him or suddenly disappear one.

His grip steadily tightened, and he let out a choked sound as he waged against his own exhaustion and tried to stop both of us from falling, even as he stumbled backwards.

But his actions were all for nothing as he continued to sink towards the ground, dragging me down with him.

It was immediately clear that I couldn’t support him as my already trembling legs gave out, and we fully collapsed into the sandy ink that covered the ground as he fell backwards. Still keeping a tight hold on me as we plummeted.

I barely made out his faint words over my friends' shouts as darkness slowly began to consume me, “I wanted…. To be king….”

…

It was different this time.

Instead of the old-recording that had played all of Riddle’s memories, the first thing that sliced its way through the blackness was Leona’s crystal clear, embittered voice, “From the moment I was born, there's been a boulder on top of me that's too heavy to move.”

I tensed at his words because, unlike Riddle’s narration, it felt strangely like Leona was actually directing his words at me. As if he somehow knew that I was here and listening.

He’d barely finished speaking before a black-and-white scene burst to life, briefly blinding me until my eyes adjusted to the new environment that surrounded me.

Two unfamiliar people were walking together in this scene. They appeared to be servants who were discussing the crown prince as well as Leona and his power. And judging from the sounds of it, me and my friends weren’t the only ones who feared Leona’s signature spell.

“Crown Prince Falena is such a bright and cheerful young man. I don’t understand why his younger brother has to be so moody all the time.”

“And he possesses such a terrifying power! Imagine being able to turn anything to sand!”

What followed their words was Leona hypothesizing about what they would have said had he been the crown prince. And I found myself frowning at his resentful words. But I couldn't deny that he wasn’t necessarily wrong.

It wasn’t fair of the servants to look at his magic with only fear. But, considering what had just happened moments ago, it also wasn’t wrong.

It really was one of those situations where I could understand both sides of the argument and couldn’t really fault either one of their perceptions of the situation.

Leona was bitter, though. Bitter to the point that I wondered if something involving his signature spell had happened to him in the past.

Why were the servants so afraid of him, and how had he known that he could turn living people to sand?

The thought was chilling and made me wonder exactly what accidents might have occurred while Leona was learning to control his magic in his youth.

The scenes continued, uncaring that I was privy to Leona’s memories and now showing that there had been a birth of the new prince. Leona’s nephew.

I cringed in sympathy for Leona’s brother, Falena, as I watched the scene play out in front of me. Even just from this memory of Leona’s, I could tell that this man loved his little brother.

But Leona either didn’t realize that or he’d undergone such a number of comparisons that Falena’s love could no longer reach through that deeply entrenched bitterness.

The scene faded away, and it was once again just me, the darkness, and Leona’s voice that seemed to be actively questioning me, even though there was no way I could give him an answer.

“Why will I never, ever get to be the best?”

I didn’t know enough about his circumstances, and I could not simply forgive everything he’d done. But his voice still continued, almost insistent in its questioning, “Why? Why? Why??”

There was such rawness and unrestrained frustration in his words that, despite what he'd done, I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for Leona.

Who hadn’t noticed themselves being compared to someone and wondered what the difference between the two of you was?

And Leona was right. He was powerful, clever, and all the things that should cause people to revere him and for him to the best. But he also seemed defeated. Like he’d come to the conclusion that no matter what he did, at this point it wouldn’t matter.

“Life truly is unfair.”

With those final, resentful words, I was released from whatever held me tied to Leona’s memories.

I exhaled slightly, my throat tight with emotion as my consciousness returned. The first thing I felt was a hand resting gently on my back, but it wasn’t until I opened my eyes that I realized exactly where I was.

I began to sit up, but found I couldn’t since Leona was, to some degree, holding me to his person.

Apparently, I’d fallen on top of him when we’d both collapsed and now lay half-sprawled across his body, using him as a pillow as he held me to him.

“Y/N! Oh, thank the Seven! Are you alright?! Are you hurt?” Cater’s frantic voice was accompanied by the sensation of whiplash as he harshly tugged me away from Leona’s passed out form.

The orange-haired third year was now looking at me with a deeply worried expression as he grasped my shoulders tightly and repeatedly scanned my body for injury, “What were you thinking?!! Didn’t you see what he did to Ruggie? He could’ve killed you!”

I shook my head, attempting to clear the fog from my head as I gently pulled away from the worried young man, “I’m fine, Cater. He wasn’t going to hurt me; he passed out and-”

I stumbled almost immediately as I broke away from Cater’s support, but was soon caught by a pair of steady hands. Glancing behind me, I made eye contact with a concerned set of golden eyes and registered that Jack was frowning at me worriedly.

I was half-dazed, and everything was happening too fast. But even as I tried to gain my bearings, the questions kept coming. And on top of it all, I could already feel a massive headache coming on.

“Did it happen again?” Riddle’s blunt, to-the-point question sliced clearly through the frenzy of people asking if I was alright and caused me to tense slightly before I looked his way and immediately spotted Crowley standing behind him.

I hesitated before I responded, meeting Riddle’s gaze and nodding, “Yes. I think I may have seen some of Leona’s memories and… heard his thoughts.”

I fell silent, deciding not to mention how it had felt—almost like he’d known I was there. Riddle said he’d felt me there, but he hadn’t seemed to be addressing me. Not like Leona had.

“And you don’t think that’s bad?” Ace’s voice came from behind Jack, who was still holding me upright, but the redhead was soon stepping around Jack so that he could better scold me with a frown on his face.

“Y/n, have you considered what connecting with overblotted people might do to you?” The pure irritation radiating from Ace startled me, but he didn’t get to fuss at me for very long.

Instead, Ruggie stepped, or rather limped, forward. He was still cradling his arm as he stared at me, “Is he alright?”

Silence fell over the group at Ruggie’s solemn question, but I nodded. Holding the young man’s gaze as I responded, “Yes, Leona’s okay… I think” I paused, frowning as I looked at the hyena beastman, “Are you?”

He managed to crack a smile and nod, but he didn’t get to say anything since Deuce was now questioning my well-being and Grim had begun nudging the still-passed-out Leona with one of his front paws, “Hey! Wake up.”

We turned in time to watch Grim scurry away as Leona let out a groan. One hand reached up to his face to block the bright sunlight as he sat up with a grimace.

His hand fell away from his face, and he opened his eyes before, almost immediately looking directly up at where I stood. His expression perfectly unreadable.

Similarly to me, the prince wasn’t allowed to recover any, though, as questions and explanations began flying around at a dizzying rate.

The next few moments flew by in a haze, with the Savannaclaw team being given a pass to play just so others could gain their revenge, and the ghosts had shown up so that Ramshackle dorm could have its own team and play in the Spelldrive tournament.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get to experience much of the game though, since the last thing I heard during Ramshackle dorm’s opening game was Grim saying the words: “I call this baby the Great Grim Hurricane!”

It was indeed a great Grim hurricane since my next lucid moments took place in the infirmary with a splitting headache and bandages wrapped around my head.

I wasn’t alone, though. The usually motley crue had apparently come to await my awakening, along with a few less expected companions.

Evidently enough, Leona and Ruggie had also been admitted to the infirmary. But that was no great surprise considering one was heavily injured and the other was exhausted from overblotting.

What was concerning was the way Leona stared at me the entire time.

It wasn’t until his nephew had come and gone and the nurse had run everyone else, including Ruggie, who’d apparently been cleared to leave, out that the elephant in the room was finally addressed.

“You saw into my head, didn’t you?”

I flinched slightly in my cot but twisted my head, wincing with the motion, to look at the frowning lion man who was currently staring at the ceiling. “I…. Yeah.”

He twisted to meet my gaze, a blank expression on his face as our eyes met just as they had in the stadium earlier today, “Riddle said you saw his memories and thoughts too when he overblotted.”

He paused, eyebrows lifting, before he continued, “And Ruggie told me about how you charged me and then collapsed.”

Silence hung heavily between us, and I shifted awkwardly before looking away, “Sorry for invading your privacy….”

Green eyes drilled into my head as I continued to look awkwardly away from him, but then I heard him scoff, “Go to sleep, Herbivore. You’ll need it if you're gonna recover from that head injury.”

131 notes · View notes

addledmongoose · 1 month

Text

Good Omens Fanfic Friday (05 Apr 2024)

Almost everything this week is canon-compliant/adjacent. For a change there's only one human AU.

Nice And Ominous: a reluctant eschatology of the Second Attempt (series) (84K currently; Rated T/E)

Every so often there comes along a week where I'm absolutely ecstatic to recommend something. I spend all week in anticipation of sharing it with everyone in the hopes they'll love it as much as I do. This week, it's this series, a three-part post-S2 that definitely deserves way more kudos and attention than it currently has.

Part I (rated T) is from Crowley's POV and focuses on him slowly healing from the heartache of losing his angel. He learns to be friends with Maggie and Nina, becomes like a big brother to Muriel, and even gains an almost-friendship with Eric. The story isn't as angsty as it sounds, though Crowley doesn't always have the healthiest coping mechanisms (a tendency to drink and drive across the world). The author does a great job of not putting all the breakup blame on Aziraphale. You can always tell the difference between Crowley blaming Aziraphale in a story and the author blaming him.

Part II (rated T) is from Aziraphale's POV. This story is definitely more angsty that Part I. Aziraphale's up there doing is best, but with only one real (human) friend back on Earth to rely on and trust, he's mostly on his own. Just as with Part I, the author doesn't put the entirety of the blame for the breakup on Crowley any more than he does Aziraphale. Be warned that it ends in a cliffhanger.

Part III (mostly rated T but some E) is still incomplete, but the author posts weekly and the story is already written, so I feel confident we'll see the end. I can't say much about the plot of this one without serious spoilers, but if you read the first two parts you'll definitely want to read Part III. It hurts at times. A lot. If you need mostly fluff right now, this isn't the one for you. (The rest of today's list is pure fluff, though, because I needed it after obsessing over this story).

If you don't like to be left hanging on a story, read Part I, but hold off on Part II until Part III is complete. It won't be too long; the author has already released two chapters since I started writing this note (7 of 14).

This series is incredibly well-written. It's almost certain to make my year-end best-of list, as it's easily one of the best "what happens next" after Aziraphale leaves for Heaven. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all week.

***

Break the Rules (1.4K; Rated G)

Aziraphale has a beard. Crowley loses his mind.

***

In Love We Rise (11K; Rated E)

One of two AJ_Constantine stories on my list this week filled with fluff and gorgeous writing. It's Easter Sunday and Aziraphale is feeling a little down about the holiday. Crowley decides to cheer him up.

***

Bad Communications (series) (15K; Rated T)

Funny post-S2 three-part series where Crowley and Aziraphale are made to realize (by Nina/Maggie and Muriel respectively) that they might not have communicated with each other as clearly as they thought during the Final 15. I particularly love how Muriel is written here.

***

Heaven On Wheels (3K; Rated M)

Aziraphale buys a Scoopy moped and convinces Crowley to go for a ride. The author, CopperBeech, describes it as "a sappy, happy, old-fashioned s1-compliant (and s2-defiant) post-Nopocalypse getting-together fic."

***

Caramel Delight (16K; Rated E)

Human AU. Another wonderful bit of fluff from AJ_Constantine. Crowley is delighted when his terrible neighbors move out and even more delighted when he sees his new neighbor is a gorgeous blond man. The neighborly thing to do would be to bring over a jar of his Nan's caramel sauce as a welcome to the neighborhood gift, of course. Crowley is really dense here; hilariously so. The "they share one brain cell" tag would be appropriate, but Aziraphale is the only one using it.

#good omens fanfiction #fanfic friday

23 notes · View notes

sugars-fluffy-escapes · 2 years

Text

Unconventional Ice Breakers and Equally Unconventional Comfort Methods

Eddie Munson x Introvert!ND!Reader

SFW; angsty to fluffy, lots of comfort, new friends to lovers energy, reader has ADHD + Autism

Words: 7883 (oops- jesusfuck- 💀)

Summary: After moving back to your hometown of Hawkins, Indiana, you find yourself connecting with a former classmate of yours that you didn't get to talk to during your time at Hawkins High. As you two come to realize how much you have in common, you open up to him about being a college dropout. In classic Eddie Munson fashion, he seeks to cheer you up and encourages you not to be ashamed.

Warnings: Non-graphic description of past depression + su*c*dal feelings (Though there's nothing explicitly detailed, please do not read if it might trigger you. Your wellbeing comes before a story on tumblr), mild diss*ciation, w33d usage is mentioned by both reader and Eddie (please skip if that makes you uncomfortable. There will be plenty of Eddie content that doesn't mention w33d), fear of failure, self doubt and shame, lots of cussing (as per usual), Eddie being his obnoxious dramatic self <3, fluffy tickles (this is a tickle fic after all which is really no surprise on this blog AHHSHDHF /lh) and lots of comfort, not canon-compliant

DISCLAIMER: The reader in this story is the same age as Eddie and has a mullet hairstyle, but it is neverspecified that their hair is a specific texture or type (being inclusive of fellow Black fic readers is my top priority) It's whatever style of mullet you want it to be. Hell, it could even be a wig! However you want it to look, is how it looks. All of the reader's experiences are inspired by my own experiences as an ND person (and my personal experience being a college dropout, though I am NOT explicitly telling my personal story here). Not everyone who's ND acts how the reader in this story acts. This story is not meant to romanticize mental health struggles, nor make light of how people find ways to stay afloat in the midst of them. (As someone who's been through my own mental health battles, my only hope is that people can find comfort in this story and be reminded that there's a calm after the storm). Also, I'm still not as familiarized with D&D as I want to be (my introvert self needs to find a group to play with), so in this fic, just envision Eddie is acting like he's straight out of a cheesy 80s fantasy movie when his theatrics jump out later in the fic, because he would absolutely watch those films.

*Spoilers for Stranger Things 4 (both volumes) under the cut*

You'd been standing frozen as you stared at the pathway that led to the front door of your childhood home, holding the last box of your valuables, yet to be carried inside. The house had received a fresh coat of paint, soft yellow in color, and in the window, you could catch a glimpse of the banner your loved ones had hung up in the living room.

~WELCOME HOME!~

the banner read, but you didn't feel welcome... The idea of that final trek up to the steps, felt akin to preparing to take the walk of shame. It was a shame you couldn't shake from your head. Despite your family being more than understanding, despite them, in a time where being misunderstood was running rampant like a plague, the shame you felt, the shame your mind haunted you with, would not shake.

The ringing in your ears, brought about by the complete silence that surrounded you, seemed so loud. It was so loud... so loud that you didn't even hear the rumbling engine of the van that had stopped on the street right behind you. As your eyes continued to stare forward, defocusing in the midst of your overthinking, you hadn't heard him calling out to you with concern lacing his voice.

The voice, now louder and closer, snapped you from your thoughts. "Hellooooo? Earth to strangerrrr!" You let out a shriek, body jumping violently before you whipped around and jumped a second time from how close he was, the box nearly slipping from your grip.

Before it could fall, another pair of hands were quick to steady it. You gazed at them, his fingertips nearly touching yours, and concluded that the silver rings that adorned them, along with the chain bracelet on one wrist and a watch on the other, seemed oddly familiar.

"I got you- it! I- got it- the box. Uh... Sorry about the scare. You were standing still an awwwfully long time. Are you good?"

"Y-Yeah... I-I'm... I'm okay..." The KISS shirt he was wearing caught your eye, though it was the black leather jacket and denim battle vest you knew you'd seen before. When you looked up at him to say thank you, the realization finally dawned on you. After the words left your lips, you were silent for a few seconds, gathering the courage to look into his eyes before you spoke again. "Eddie...? Eddie Munson, r-right...?"

Eddie's brows furrowed curiously, initially wondering how you knew his name. The gears stopped turning in his head and he let out a gasp that startled you briefly. He raised his hand with his finger already pointed. "Wait a minute... Do my eyes deceive me, or am I currently face-to-face with Y/N 'The Wallflower' L/N, the most brilliant mind, in the Hawkins class of '84, who's sporting a mullet~?"

"W-Wallflower!? I... Is that what people called me...?"

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. "Noho! Nooooo~ I never heard anyone call you that, don't worry. I-I didn't mean that as a bad thing, promise. You were just... as quiet as a church mouse in school, and I- maybe heard you talk loudly like- once, so..." he shrugged, making sure you had a steady hold on the box before he crossed his arms and let his hands rest beneath his shoulders.

"...the mullet does look nice. Suits you. A lot, actually."

"Thank you." You hummed in acknowledgement, setting the box down beside you, rocking back and forth on your heels as you tried to think of what to say. The silence was painfully awkward, and your often very quiet neighborhood did little to ease the tension.

Eddie opted to make another attempt at breaking the ice. "Have we- ever actually spoken to each other? Like, before now?"

"I..." you knit your brows as you pondered. You couldn't think back to a single time you two had spoken, and Eddie, who already knew the answer, was chuckling. "N-No... We dihidn't! Wait! Hohow?"

"Sahahame age, same grade, eheven had quite a few classes together, buhut we never had a conversation. Funny, isn't it?" He smiled impishly and leaned a little closer, his expression growing serious and his voice lowering in volume. "Were you afraid of me~?"

Were you? Had you been? Was he mad? Annoyed? The question gave you butterflies, and you quickly shook your head in a slight panic, worried he was truly upset with you as you struggled to read his tone. "What? No! I... I wasn't afraid, I just..." Your words trailed off upon seeing that he was laughing again.

"IhIhI'm just teasing you~"

You could feel your face growing a little warm from embarrassment, eyes darting down to the pavement as you tugged on your sleeves. "Right... right... Sorry..."

Eddie tilted his head sideways as he waited for you to look up again, offering you a warm and reassuring smile, his hair beginning to fall in front of his face. You couldn't help but return it, before looking down at the box on the ground. "You back in town to stay? Or are you just visiting?"

The shame that had been churning in your stomach several minutes before, that for a short amount of time, lay dormant, bubbled up to the front of your mind again. "I... Um... I'm back in town to stay..." You were hoping he didn't ask you to elaborate further. Much to your relief, he didn't.

"Wellll, would you maybe... wanna catch up, or something? At some point? Y'know? IhI say catch up, when really we'd finally be getting acquainted. Maybe we can actually get to know each other?"

Eddie's question caught you off guard, and in the process, briefly interrupted your shame, and as your body responded to the sudden joy, you began to bounce on your heels. "Yeah! I-I'd uh... I'd like that, actually."

Your eyes seemed as though they'd lit up when Eddie caught a glimpse of them. He'd seen you happy stim before when you were in school together, but he'd never seen the endearing sight so vividly. His smile morphed into a grin and he nodded.

"Cool! Alright!" He clapped before pointing at you as he began to move backward toward his van, cussing when he nearly lost his balance upon stepping off the curb. "What do you say- SHIT! What do you say, we go grab some food tomorrow or something? I could pick you up. Maybe around four?"

"F-Four... yeah... Sounds like a plan!" You gave a rather awkward thumbs up, and Eddie laughed as he returned the gesture from his spot in the front seat, before giving a quick wave as he began to drive off. As your brain started to catch up with everything that had just happened, you blinked a few times, and took a breath before picking up the box.

You can do this... Last box... Your family's excited to see you... They're still proud of you... You're hanging out with someone tomorrow... You can do this... No shame... no shame...

Those words echoed in your head repeatedly. With one final inhale and exhale, you walked up the concrete pathway, and up your front steps.

***

Your eyes felt heavy as you attempted to talk yourself out of bed the following morning. You'd been surprised with your favorite dinner and dessert combo the previous night, which you accepted with hesitance. Not even your comfort foods could take your mind off of the impact of what you saw as your biggest failure. The sudden ringing of your morning alarm, made you violently flinch and scramble to hit the snooze. You'd woken up a mere three minutes before it had been set to go off.

Throughout the day, you felt as though you were losing yourself. It was as if your mind lagged behind your body. All you could think about, as you looked in the mirror and didn't quite see yourself looking back at you, was one word... failure... As time continued to tick by, you silently got ready, since somehow, you'd done nothing but blink and suddenly four in the afternoon was fast approaching. A soft, collared sweater was your top of choice, with comfy shorts of a soothing fabric.

"So, I ran into Wayne Munson at the market the other day." A family member said from the kitchen as you slowly put your shoes on. "Y/N, didn't you go to school with his nephew, honey?"

At first, the question went through one ringing ear and out the other, but after a few seconds, you registered the statement.

"Y-Yeah... yeah... Um... I'm hanging out with Eddie today."

"Oh? Old school friends catchin' up? IhI'm not teasing, I'm genuinely curious."

You finished tying your shoes and stood up to grab your bag, settling your building anxiety by pinching the fabric of your sweater sleeve between two fingers. "We never actually spoke in high school... S-So, I guess you'd call it new friends getting to know each other... right?"

"I'd say so," your relative said with a smile on her face. "You put that rock I gave you back in your bag, right? The... what was it called...? Sensory rock?

"I got it before I came back downstairs. Thank you for the reminder." Your body jolted with a burst of adrenaline upon hearing the knock at the door. It hadn't been loud, or obnoxious, but your hypersensitivity was in full swing and it left you jumpy.

Eddie was all smiles when you opened the door, and gave a little wave with his hand as he greeted you. "Hihi. Ready to go?" The quiet thumping of your younger cousin running to the door had given you time to brace for them bumping into your leg.

"Mama! Are you and the rest of the grownups aware that a cute guy with funny hair is taking Y/N out?"

Eddie's brows knit together, but he began to chuckle. "Fuhunny hair?"

"They know! And I am a grownup!" You exclaimed quickly, shaking your cousin off of your leg and tugging at your sleeve as you moved to step outside with your former classmate.

An elderly family member guffawed from the living room, which travelled down the tall ceilings of the hallway. "Have fun, baby! Make sure Eddie says hello to his Uncle Wayne for me!"

"He knows my uncle?"

The answer to Eddie's question came seconds after he'd asked it far too quietly for anyone except you to have possibly heard him. "From work!"

"IhI will, love you all, bye!"

"You're gonna dip without introducing him?" Oh boy. You gave Eddie an apologetic look, but he only grinned as your little cousin led him to say hello to the rest of the house. You knew your family wasn't uptight or judgmental, nor did they buy into Satanic Panic, but still, your worries weren't eased right away. When Eddie ended up with an invitation to Friday's dinner and family game night, you knew right then and there that you'd had nothing to worry about after all.

Thirty minutes passed by, and when you'd actually stepped out the door to walk to Eddie's van, you took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry..."

"Don't be! Dohon't be. Your family's really kind." Eddie was smiling bright as could be, taking energetic and funky little strides toward the passenger side of the van, which he held open for you, offering his hand for support as you stepped inside.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure." Eddie hopped into the driver's side, resting his hand on the wheel. "So... This hangout is completely zero pressure and whatever you want to do, so... if you wanted to eat in somewhere, we could do that. If you want to get food to-go and just eat it wherever, I'm down."

The van was quiet as you pondered. "Um... C-Could we... Take our food to go...? And just be somewhere with less people...?"

"Absolutely, we can. You don't mind listening to Black Sabbath on the way, do you?"

Eddie's question had you smiling involuntarily, wrists shaking with suppressed joy. "Orchid is my fahavorite song."

His eyes widened, before his brow furrowed, head tilting in your direction, starting the car and pulling out a Black Sabbath cassette tape which he briefly fiddled with. "Are you telling me that not only is the Hawkins Wallflower sporting a mullet, but they're also a metalhead!?"

"Y-Yes...? Is that... a bad thing...?"

"No! No. IhIt's... it's wihihicked, actually! What uh, what other bands do you listen to?"

The entire time you were driving to get food, Eddie listened eagerly as you info-dumped about all the metal bands you listened to, and at one point, the two of you were head banging to Detroit Rock City, the music far too loud in your ears to be bothered by an elderly couple gaping in horror in the car next to yours.

Another half hour passed by after that, and as you held your food in your hands, the two of you trekked through the woods, venturing to your hangout spot of choice, Skull Rock. It was quiet enough, and oddly peaceful despite its eeriness. Despite the many moments of joy in the evening thus far had helped to distract you from your woes, they were still sitting at the back of your head. The ringing in your ears was still there. The pressures you felt were subconsciously building.

Eddie had been telling you about one of his concert experiences when the ringing became worse. He saw the way your stimming had changed, and recognized it as a sign of stress, one he'd noticed when your class was taking tests or if the room became too noisy.

"Hey. Y/N... are you alright?" It felt as though you were hearing Eddie from several feet away, instead of right next to him. You fiddled with your sensory rock, which sat in your open bag, and took a few seconds to ground yourself.

"Um... Y-Yeah... just... I know we're far from them now but... I was just, overwhelmed by big groups of people today... I-Including my family... I know that's mean to say..."

"Wehell, they love you, and you've definitely made them proud. They'll survive if you need a breather from thehem. I promise."

Made them proud... You didn't feel that way... not one bit... and it was eating away at you now...

"IhI... I don't know about that..."

"Are you kidding me? I can see in their eyes how proud they are!"

"They shouldn't be, Eddie... They really shouldn't." You could feel the pressure in your chest growing heavier the longer the conversation carried on. It became too much. You couldn't skirt around your guilt and shame any longer.

"What could you have possibly done that would make you think your family shouldn't be proud of you-"

"I didn't graduate!" Your outburst was just as surprising to you as it was to Eddie. He'd almost never heard you raise your voice above an indoor speaking level in school. "I-I'm so sorry... I... I didn't graduate college, Eddie."

Eddie smiled in disbelief at the sorrow in your eyes. "Thahat's okay-"

"No... No it isn't. Th-That's... This isn't okay..." You saw Eddie tilt his head in your peripheral vision.

"Do you... wanna talk about it...? Y/N...?"

"It's... so much, Eddie. I don't want to burden you with this. I-I... I really don't..."

You wanted to keep the shame to yourself. You wanted to. But you couldn't...

"Y/N. If you need someone to ramble to, about anything that's on your mind, I'm here. I'm sittin' right here, and I'm not going anywhere." The air was near silent, save for the distant sounds of birds calling to each other in trees, and the crunching of the grass beneath your shoes when you rocked your heels.

"I don't know what happened, Eddie... I... I fell behind in everything... The more time passed, the more I... the more I just..." The tears you had been fighting to hold back, the tears you had been trying to will away, to dry up and disappear, finally fell, and poured out in long streams down your cheeks. "The more I... thought th-that... things would be better... if... if I was gone..."

You hugged your own arms tightly and closed your eyes, too ashamed to look up at your former classmate while your body rocked back and forth.

"Y/N-"

"I spent everyday, of college... more high than sober... Every... hour... that I was awake, I was smoking weed," You rambled, leg bouncing rapidly and body moving in distress automatically. "I'm not ashamed of it, please don't think that I am... I'm not against marijuana usage or anything... I just... I wish it hadn't taken being high all the time, just to keep me here. It was... it... it was the only thing that kept me floating, when all I wanted to do, was s-sink."

Eddie was silent as he looked at you. Never in a million years would he have guessed you went through something like that. You'd always been hyper-vigilant about doing well in school, at one point a teacher even suggested asking you to tutor him. He'd had no clue how to approach you. Neither of you had even spoken to each other at that time.

He'd seen the brightness in your eyes the day you graduated. A student with highest distinction, accepted into your dream college and hopeful about the future, now broken and in tears with your future feeling like a lost cause. You realized he'd been looking at you, and you hastily wiped your eyes with a hollow laugh. "S-Some star student I turned out to be, right...? I... I only made it halfway..."

"Y/N-"

"I-I've embarrassed myself enough, Eddie... I don't... I don't know why you wanted to get to know me... This... This is me... I'm a college dropout... All my potential... it... it was wasted... It is wasted..."

Eddie couldn't let you continue on. "Can I tell you what I've been doing since you graduated, Y/N?" He waited until you looked up at him before he spoke again, and even then, he was silent for a few moments, wondering if what he said would provide you any comfort at all.

"E-Eddie...?"

"I've still been trying to pass senior year..."

"What...?"

Eddie leaned closer to elaborate. "Yeah... I was held back again. I'm the last person, who'd ever judge you for being a college dropout. You have nothing to prove, Y/N. You're... you're brilliant, alright?"

"You're wrong, Eddie. That's wrong. I-I... I'm not."

"Yes, you are-"

Your words came out louder than you'd meant them to through your pained sobbing. "No, I'M NOT! I-I'm not... I'm just living proof that church mice and wallflowers don't make it anywhere..."

Eddie's heart sank even more upon hearing those words leave your mouth. He began to wonder if that nickname had only hurt you more. In your peripheral vision, despite your tears blurring your sight, you saw Eddie offering a hand. With a deep breath, you took hold of it and squeezed it.

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

"For what, Eddie...? You didn't do anything wrong... I'm the failure here..."

"No, no... You're the farthest from a failure someone can be. I never meant to discourage or hurt you with those nicknames. If I'm responsible for shaking your confidence at all today, I'm sorry. You've been through enough and... I made that worse-"

"No, you didn't, Eddie. I swear, you didn't. I've... just spent a long time trying to keep myself hidden. I didn't want to be seen. I didn't want to be judged." You sniffled and wiped your eyes. "I'm just really surprised... I didn't expect to be seen by anybody... I-I really didn't expect it when you asked me to hang out, because it meant that you saw me... A-And maybe that scared me a little bit... But, I really don't mind the nicknames."

"Are you sure, Y/N?"

You nodded firmly, before lowering your head. "I guess... if anything... I-I'm... I'm embarrassed that you ever had to see me like this, Eddie..."

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" Eddie saw your eyes water and quickly assured you he wasn't mad at you. "Wh-What I'm trying to say is... damn it... Have you seen me, Y/N? I can't tell you how many times I've felt the way you feel... You're looking at the guy who's barely about to, maybe, finally pass senior year and graduate. The obnoxious nerdy 'freak' who carries the weed he deals in his fucking lunch box. You will never, ever, hear any kind of shame, from me, toward you... 'Kay...?"

"Eddie... don't... you don't have to..."

"I'm not gonna give you the chance to feel embarrassed about crying in front of me!" Eddie argued. "So, come on! What's it gonna take to get you smiling again? To get that little fucker known as 'shame,' to leave you alone for a while?"

"I-I don't kn-know..." you sniffled, staring down at the ground beneath you, tugging on your sweater sleeves. A fresh wave of tears fell from your eyes and you sobbed into your fabric-covered hands. "God! I-I'm *hic* such a crybaby!"

"Nononono, no, Y/N! You're not a crybaby. Y-You're... you're processing something heavy and... dammit. Please, don't be so hard on yourself."

Eddie was growing more distressed by the second over seeing you so unhappy. It wasn't usually so hard for him to help someone feel better. He'd become a natural at it; an expert, even. But, your mind was struggling to believe any of his words, and that worried him. He sat in front of you, mindful not to touch you in case it would make you uncomfortable, as he did his best to figure out how to support you.

"A hug? A stupid story? Give me something, please." Eddie moved closer, the panic in his voice evident as he tried to figure out how to make you feel better. Your sobs turned to quiet hiccups, but you struggled to think of something that could make you feel alright, and you silently shrugged, wiping your eyes. "Jokes? Funny voices? Stupid faces? Christ! I-I... I don't know what would help you, and I reallywant to help you... I don't want you to feel sad, Y/N. Shit... Tickling?"

He immediately noticed your breath hitch in your throat upon hearing his final idea, and he saw the faint hints of happy stimming in the way your body moved. Your eyes briefly shifted to meet his gaze, but as quickly as you'd looked at him, you looked away. "Hold on... what was that?"

"What? What w-was what...?"

"You know exactly fucking what~" Eddie pointed at you with a tiny smirk forming on his lips. "Are you ticklish, church mouse?"

"I... I-I don't kn-know!?" you stammered out, sniffling and wiping your eyes. "What d-does this have to do with- why did you- I... I'm not-"

"Ticklish~?"

His sudden utterance of the word caused a squeak to leave your mouth. "Stop saying it!"

"Why? Is it giving you butterflies or something?" Eddie's tone was growing increasingly playful in nature, and he stood up, holding his hands up cautiously and pointing at you, eyes widening. "Carefullll~ They say there's a terrifying presence out in these woods. An all powerful being... A magic user... who replenishes his power, with the sweet... sounds... of... laughter~!"

You jumped when he leaned forward, inhaling with a loud gasp and tucking your arms close to your chest, a giggle slipping out. "Eheddie!"

"Shh! He can hear you~" Eddie whispered, looking around as though he were expecting something to jump out. "Some folks even claim, that he can possess whatever living human being he desires, to carry out his bidding~"

"E-Eddie..."

"Something tells me he's been keeping a verrrry watchful eye... on a certain tearful hero, sitting juuuust beneath... Skulllll Rock~" When he suddenly turned to look at you, you couldn't help the stim that took over your hands, and you attempted to stay composed by once again tucking your arms close to you. He leaned closer again, crouching down so he was at eye level with you, and his voice became hushed and genuine in tone. "I'm not actually gonna do anything unless I have the alright from you. Okay?"

You bit your lip and pondered briefly. The shame was so trapped in your head, so heavy on your person, that you knew a major distraction was needed. Your brain needed to focus on something else. It needed to. With a deep breath, your leg bouncing rapidly, you looked up at him.

"I... I really need the distraction... You can... You can... you know... You have the alright from me..."

Eddie's eyes remained gazing at you, his expression seemingly stuck. You furrowed your brows curiously, tilting your head as you looked at your friend frozen in place. "Eddie...?"

All of a sudden, his eyes rolled back, he clutched his head with both hands, and keeled over with a roar, making you jump and shriek. "It's- GAHHH! He's... he's got me, Y/N! FUCKIN- CHRIST! Hurry! Run! Before he-" He let out a low and gravelly scream through grit teeth as he exaggeratedly writhed and kicked in the leaves on the ground. After a moment, his body was still, and his head whipped in your direction to look into your eyes with a blank stare, his lips having curled into a smirk. The expression on his face was nearing feral.

You felt your heart flutter and skip, still frozen where you sat. "Eddie...?" The moment he spoke, a wave of chills washed over your body.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, Y/N~ Eddie Munson is now merely a vessel, for the being only ever before described, as nothing. but. a. myth. You, my adventurous wallflower, are now face-to-face... with the Evilllllll... Overlorrrrrd..." he slowly lifted his hands before teasingly wiggling his fingers in the air, "...of tickling!"

The loud squeak you let out had been completely involuntary. Your eyes widened when he took a couple steps toward you, feeling the nervous laughter bubbling in your throat and up to the roof of your mouth. He suddenly lurched forward, with his hands resting on his knees, making you shriek and stim with your legs, your hands covering your mouth to muffle the giggling that he'd startled out of you.

"I have one question for you to answer~ Since it is evident that you are doomed to laughter, I'll let you make this decision for me." Eddie stood back up, and slowly paced in front of you, hands clasped behind his back. "You can attempt the hero's journey; run, hide, or fight... It doesn't matter in the end, but you can try it~ Or, you can continue sitting still, like you are right now, and accept your fate, instead of prolonging the inevitable. Which do you choose?"

"W-Whahat!?"

"Try and run, timid adventurer, or surrender to your destiny. Which. Do. You. Choose~?"

It took a few seconds for you to decide, and even then, you weren't quite sure what you were doing, but you slowly stood up, and began to back away, the sound of the leaves and dirt only amplifying in your ears due to yours and Eddie's silence. "Well then~ A chase it shall be~"

An evil cackle tore its way from Eddie's chest and echoed in the trees, which sent you squealing and running to the other side of the rock. You noticed a lack of running noises in the dirt behind you, and turned back. Eddie wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"E-Eddie...?"

You let out a loud and shrill scream when Eddie jumped in front of you with a startling cackle, wrapping his arms around your waist and wrestling you to the ground.

"EDDIE! You don't play fair!"

"Oh on the contrary~ I did chase you. I just never told you how long or short the chase would be~" He gently took hold of your wrists, and slowly moved them to hover above the ground by the sides of your head. "Now then- play along- I shall cast a spell, and pin these hands, right by your head."

As he emphasized the word, he set your hands down, and, to play along, you kept them there. He was taking his act so seriously that you almost wanted to laugh then and there.

"As evil a being as I am, it's still vital that you're feeling comfortable. If you do not feel alright with me using my hands directly on your skin, I'll respect your wishes." Despite still acting in character, you knew he was reassuring you that he would not cross any of your boundaries.

With a bite of your lip, and a timid huff, you averted your eyes at first, but, to make sure Eddie knew that you weren't feeling pressured, that you were okay with the slightly more intimate affection, you met his eyes once more and answered, awkwardly attempting to tell a joke in your response. "I don't m-mind... It's okay. I-I'm... kihinda... kinda fahahated to l-laughter either wahAHAYYY!"

You couldn't help the nervous squeak when Eddie carefully moved his hands under your sweater, feeling his hands just centimeters away from your torso. "I hope you're prepared to laugh hysterically, you endearing little church mouse."

His pointer fingers began to trace slow, light patterns up and down the skin on your sides, making your nerves jolt, the giggly whimper that left your lips causing you to swear under your breath with mild embarrassment. The smile on his lips was growing wider, dimples and all.

"Mmph- hmhm... ohoho nohohoho! Pffft! Shihihit! ShihIHIHIT!"

"Something tells me that you've just realized you're far more ticklish than you thought you were, my helpless mortal~" His tone was low, the vocal fry in his voice only making him sound more menacing. "I wonder if I... Ah? Ahhhhhh? Uh huhhh~"

He'd begun to brush more of his fingers over the ticklish spots, a grin creeping onto his face as he kept them wiggling agonizingly slowly. A small yelp leapt from your throat in response to the ice cold sensation of the rings making your nerves jump and causing goosebumps to form.

Eddie chuckled mischievously, the sound of which had your ears tingling and growing hot. "Dohohon't laugh! Thehe r-rihings a-are f-fREHEEZING! Mhmph!"

"You can't hold in all of your giggles forever, you darling mortal. Oh~? Another squeak? You do realize, I've only just begun, yes? This overlord has a loooooot of mana to recharge~"

Just as you opened your mouth to retort Eddie's cheesy theatrics, the ticklish sensation grew fivefold.

"EheheheHEHEHEDDIEEHEEE!" A snort soon followed your loud cackle of laughter in response to Eddie spidering all of his fingers on the bare skin of your sides. Your shoulders pressed into the ground as your back arched, and you twisted your torso. "OHOHOH MYHYHY GAHAHAAWWWWD! *snort* SHIHIHIHIIIT! IHIHIHIT'S *hic* SOHO MUHUCH WOHOHORRRRRRRSE!"

"I'm afraid Eddie can't hear you, you giggly little mortal. Must I remind you, that he's been possessed by me~ And, the more you wiggle like a rabid earthworm, the worse it's gonna tickle~ Which is no issue for me, considering my magic replenishes eiiiiither wayyy~" How Eddie was taking his character so seriously, you had no clue. What you did know, is that your cheeks and ears were hotter than a flame, and your stomach had become a butterfly garden.

He snickered, watching fondly at how rapid your happy stimming had become. It was evident that you were trying your hardest not to clamp your arms down to your sides, as your arms twitched when Eddie moved to a particularly bad spot. "It seems that the ticklish mortal cannot withstand even a fraction of my attacks~ However, my spell doesn't appear to be strong enough to keep your hands piHIHINNED- HOHOLY SHIHIT! I was soho right~"

You'd let out a loud squeal and kicked your legs, unable to stop your hands from shooting down to instinctively hold onto Eddie's wrists as his thumbs dug into your hips. He watched you carefully, noting that you weren't actually trying to push his hands away, but you had tightened your grasp to bear with the sensation.

"NohoHOHOOOOAHAHAAAAA! *hic* STAHAAAAP!"

Eddie stopped instantly, though he grew briefly confused by the near sad expression that graced your face. Christ, you were adorable, and he couldn't stop thinking about that fact. "You okay...?"

"I-I... I d-didn't actually mean..." You were growing embarrassed by your own words, and you partially covered your face with your hand. "I-It... U-Um... Reflex... F-Force of habit... I... S-Sorry..."

Much to your surprise, Eddie gently moved your hand away, and back down, holding onto it a little longer before he let go just so he could see you stim by running your thumb over his rings again. "Y-You... uh... want me to keep going?" When you nodded, he began to smile.

"I-I'll... f-figure out h-how to... tell you when I-I really c-can't laugh anymore..." Your avoidance of simply saying 'When it tickles too much' did not go unnoticed by your now-smiling new friend, whom you gazed at nervously as you waited for him to say something.

A screech left your mouth when Eddie's thumbs suddenly began digging into your hips again, cackling obnoxiously and making you scream a second time, giggles spiking in pitch and intensity. "PFFFHEEEEEEEEEEE! SHIHIHIT SHIHIHIT SHIHIIIIIIIIT!"

"As per your request, my darling giggly hero, though I may be an evil overlord, in the interest of ensuring you don't laugh yourself to death, I'll give you a lifeline~" Eddie paused his hands, but kept them on your hips, and though unmoving, you still felt the sensations and couldn't keep from squirming. "If you want to save your friend, Eddie, from my possession spell, and free yourself from my clutches, all you have to do, is say 'tickler, be gone!'"

"W-Whahahat!?"

Eddie hummed before his fingers moved to hover above your belly, where your shirt had ridden up from all the moving. "Three little words~ I know you can do it~ It doesn't have to be now by any means, however." He lifted his pinkie finger, before setting it down and lifting the next, smirking at the way your torso twitched each time he drummed his fingers over your skin.

Once you had looked up at him again, he winked at you, before rapidly clawing at your belly and grinning over how much you were suddenly happy stimming with your body.

"NOHOHOHOT *snort* FAHAHAHAHAIR! NONONONOHOOOO!" You began taking sharp gasps of air between your laughter, hiccuping and squeaking with utter mirth. It took nearly a minute to calm down when Eddie eased up to let you breathe.

The stray hiccupy giggles that came out with after each inhale were an utterly darling sound to Eddie's ears. "I think it's time I give your poor sides and tummy a bit of a break~ I've still got quite a lot of mana to recover. Though, lucky for you, that stray symphony of mirth that continues on even when I'm not actively tickling you, can still be fed on~"

Eddie's eyes softened at the giggly whimper that his statement drew from you. Your hands were hyper with giddiness, a stark contrast to your body, which had become relatively still (save for the rising and falling of your belly) in the leaves and grass as you awaited Eddie's playful attack again. You twitched and squeaked every few seconds when the grass brushed your sides.

"Perhaps I should tell you a little bit about myself, you giggly mortal~ Would you care to hear a little tale about the Evil Overlord of Tickling?" He teasingly wiggled his fingers in the air to add dramatic flair to his words. Despite your initial squeak, you shyly inquired.

"Whahahat ahabout hihim?"

"For many millennia, long before you and my current vessel even existed, the Overlord has been a very misunderstood creature. He's watched, as the fables, the bedtime stories, twist and morph to make him sound meaner, and scarier." You saw the corners of Eddie's mouth falling downward despite his attempts to fight it. He stared at the ground, clasping his hands as he rested his elbows atop his knees. "He began to internalize it... he stopped disputing the rumors and judgement that came hand in hand with it. He saw himself, as an outcast... a freak... a monster..."

Your brows were knit as your mind began to read between the lines. "W-Wait..."

"...but what they didn't see, was the broken soul... not understanding why he was shunned by everyone else... They didn't see him fighting hard to make sure he didn't end up like his father... Didn't see him trying to prove himself, to everyone... by not giving up, when he didn't graduate the first time..."

"Eddie..."

"They also never saw, that his desire to bring mirth and merriment to those around him, came from a place of not knowing how he could have either of those things, for many years of his early life..." Eddie cleared his throat and wiped his eyes, taking a breath as he willed himself to say what he wished to. "And the one thing, he wouldn't let them, nor anyone else see, was that the moment his eyes landed upon the ethereal... mysterious, wallflower... sitting at his table in his freshman year English class, the Overlord felt his heart fluttering. And that flutter, lasted for days... weeks even... months..."

You began to sit up, palms planted firmly in the grass, eyes wide, as you'd fully realized what Eddie was truly trying to tell you. "Eddie...?" He glanced at you, and you jumped, but you outstretched your arm, and timorously offered him your hand.

Eddie took a deep breath and chuckled when you began stimming with his rings once more, even using his silver chain bracelet every so often. "When the Overlord reunited with that wallflower, a few years later, and finally got to talk to them, well... he realized, that the fluttering had never stopped."

You were too nervous to speak, so you gave his hand a quick squeeze with the most mild strength.

"The Overlord just wants his new friend to know, that their value, and their worth, should not ever be determined by their shortcomings. No matter how many times people may have told them, or how many times they may have told themself..."

"What if... what if it takes forever for the wallflower to believe that...?"

Eddie gave a soft smile and raised his brows before smirking at you cheekily. "I suppose that in the meantime, the Overlord will just have to make you giggle your troubles away~"

Your eyelids quickly lifted at those words, and you let out a loud squeal when he suddenly growled and wrapped his arms around your shins. "EHEHEDDIE! EDDIHIHIE! DOHOHON'T YOU DAHAHAHARE! EEEEE!" With a low stubborn grunt, you tried tugging one of your legs free and succeeded, but, it had been at the cost of one of your shoes, which Eddie tossed out of reach, leaving you with only a shin-high sock to protect from the playful attack.

"How many times must I tell you, mortal? 'Eddie' is currently occupied by an ancient tickling creature- GOTCHA!" He exclaimed, catching your ankle and locking it in his elbow with a triumphant guffaw. "WOAH! You kick me and that second shoe is coming off. IhI'm warning you~"

"Whyhyhyhyhyyy!" You half-heartedly tugged at your trapped ankle, one hand already happy stimming from the anticipation.

"Well, I was gonna go for your knees, but, uh... well, I'm not the one who yanked my own shoe off. Is it that bad a spot~?"

"IhI dohohon't kn-knohow!?" How convenient it was that seconds later, you did find out just how bad a spot it was. Eddie trailed one finger up your sock, eyes going wide when you let out a scream and snorted, slowly sinking back into the grass while your abdomen shook with hysterical giggles.

"So it appears the answer to that question was yes~ If one little trace along your foot through fabric is this bad? Well. That's just more laughter for me~"

"NononononoNONONOHOHO! OHOHOH MYHY GAHAHAWWWWDAHAHAHAAA!" It took mere seconds for you to be reduced to silent laughter when Eddie spidered all of his fingers along the bottom of your foot. You stomped your free foot on the ground, happy stimming in overdrive and hiccuping from your mirth. "EHEHEDDIE! *hic* IHIHI *hic* CAHAHAHAHAN'T!"

"Remember the spell if you need it, adventurer~" Eddie's sweet reminder had your face growing hot. "I must say though, I'd be quite content with tickling you to bits for the remainder of the day~"

"IhIhIt's sohohoho bahaHAHAaAaAD! IHIHIT'S SO BAHAHAHAD! IhIhIt TIHIHIHICKLES! AHAAAAAAA!" You let out a scream when he traced his fingers over the top of your foot.

"HOLY- Wohohoah~ Really~? It tickles~? I'm baaaarely spidering my fingers~ Are you sure it tickles, you adorable mortal~?"

You had been far too giggly to notice that Eddie'd released your ankle, only to turn himself toward you and lock your legs with his in record time. "H-Hehey- Wahahait- wahaHAHAaAaAIT! Nohohot thehehere- EHEDDIE!"

"Evil. Overlord. Of Tickling." Eddie made sure you could see he wasn't truly mad despite his grit teeth. "You're in trouble, my adventurous wallflower~"

He spider-crawled his fingers up your legs at an agonizingly slow pace, making your hands flap rapidly as you giggled nervously. Your legs were covered in goosebumps and they twitched from the ticklish trailing. The moment his nails brushed against the skin on your thighs, right above the inner sides of your knees, your stomach turned with butterflies and your squeak echoed.

"Oh? Hmmm? UH HUHHHHH~!" Eddie chuckled darkly before grinning impishly over your reaction to the tickling. Your laughter was the most intense he'd ever heard, and for a split second, he was worried you might run out of air.

"OKAHAHAHAY!" You cried after a few seconds. "SHIHIHIHIT! *hic* OKAYOKAY! *snort* TIHIHICKLER BE GOHOHONNNNE!"

In an instant, like he promised he would, Eddie ceased the playful torment, withdrawing his hands and freeing your legs from his. He clutched his chest dramatically, rolling back his eyes before falling to the grass beside you, making a silly croaking noise that caused you to giggle all over again. Upon "waking up," Eddie grinned.

"Phew!" He wiped the nonexistent sweat from his forehead. "You banished him... But, considering you're giggling like mad and missing a shoe, it appears the Overlord replenished all of his mana by tickling you to tears before you could recite the spell, right~?"

You hadn't even noticed your tears of mirth, but hastily wiped them with your sleeve. When your eyes met Eddie's, you couldn't stop yourself from giggling even harder. He laughed softly, before offering his hand to help you sit up.

"I-IhI got it... Th-Thank you though, Eddie..." Eddie didn't take any offense, as you'd made him aware that you could get touch averse sometimes, and he was more than understanding that all the tickling must have been a lot to deal with.

"How are you feeling...? Honestly?"

"Gihiggly... but... behehetter than I've felt in years..." Your admission was genuine, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Eddie beaming at you. "Thank you... IhI mean that... Thank you, Eddie..."

"Of course, Y/N. I gotta say, it's awful cute that you like tickles too."

"T-Too? Wait- You..."

"Yes. I'm well versed in the art~" Eddie said with a dramatic voice that emphasized how much of a nerd he was. "Got this whole 'Munson Doctrine of Tickling.' Kihidding. I dohon't have it. Not on paper at least~"

You hid your face in your hands momentarily and playfully swatted Eddie's leg. After a few minutes, as the two of you settled down, you found yourselves leaning on each other, the sky orange as the sunset was fast approaching, air feeling a little colder than it did half an hour earlier.

"Eddie..."

"Hm?"

"I-I'm sorry I didn't say this before, but..." you took a breath, and bounced your leg to recollect your thoughts, "...thank you, for opening up about yourself... You didn't have to... I'm- I'm glad you did, don't get me wrong, it's just that- well... I appreciate your vulnerability. And, I want you to know, that you've brought me a lot of joy in the one day I've spent with you so far... so, I know that the joy you bring everyday to people who know you the best, is too great a number to count. I-I want to help in some way, with anything, because I'm really thankful for you, so... if you did still need a tutor, I could... I mean... What I'm trying to say is... you're wonderful, and you deserve wonderful things... You're not a freak, Eddie, and I wish more people truly knew you..."

Your heart was racing, as you were fearful your words didn't come out right, but when you found the courage to look up at him, his large, brown eyes were softer than you'd ever seen them before. "I will absolutely take you up on that tutoring offer."

"R-Really?"

"Can we count it as a study date~?"

Your brows furrowed momentarily, and Eddie had to resist the urge to poke your nose. "Study- Wait... Do you like me...? I-I... I think I understood when you were telling the story, but... I don't want to have misread your tone..."

"Yeah... I... I do like you. I could see you, Y/N. I did, see you. I just, didn't want you to be frightened, by me-seeing-you. You, uh... looked a bit like a deer in the headlights whenever our eyes mehet in school." Eddie chuckled quietly, before leaning close to you. "You sure you weren't afraid of me~?"

"I wasn't afraid! I- Hey! Y-You're teasing..."

"IhI am. But not about liking you. So..." He bit his lip, and looked toward the setting sun. "Is there any specific time your family's expecting you back home by?"

"I-IhI, uh, never told them a time..."

"Do you... uh... wanna make the rest of this day a first date... maybe?" You could hear nervousness in his voice, and it left you momentarily flabbergasted. If the orange glow of the sunset had not been so strong, you would have seen the red adorning his cheeks.

Your heart was racing, body overtaken by the urge to happy stim, and you welcomed it with a nod of your head and a simper on your lips. Though you had a long way to go before the burden of failure would be lifted from your shoulders, for the rest of that day, your shame was nowhere to be found.

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

EEEEEEEEEE 😖💕 FIRST FULL LENGTH EDDIE FIC ON THE BLOG 🥳 I hope this was worth the wait. I'm back in business and the Eddie Munson content train is a rollin' 🥰 (This fic- was so FLUSTERING TO WRITE AGSHHDJFJFJF)

I sincerely hope that this made y'all feel some joy today. You deserve joy, and you deserve to feel proud of yourself. I'm proud of you /gen /p

Love you all!

~ Ushu 🤍

#eddie munson x reader #nd!reader #autistic!reader #adhd!reader #ler!eddie munson #ler!eddie #lee!reader #ticklish!reader #sfw tickle fic #eddie munson fluff #I really can't stop writing angst to fluff-#wow 💀#neurodivergent tickle fic

821 notes · View notes

choccy-milky · 2 months

Note

1. your fic is absolutely amazing. Have been bingeing it and I’m literally obsessed. The way you write just itches my brain in such a good way, literally cannot contain my love and appreciation for your work👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 cheers to you!!! Can’t wait to keep reading

2. As I was reading I found out you also deadass drawing the art to go w/ the fic?? Literally you’re living my dream 😭 plus your art is so so so well done!!!!! It’s added so much joy to my reading experience

Cannot wait to see what else you have in store!!’ Hope you have an amazing, AMAZING day, week, year, etc.!!!! 💞🙌🏻🫶🏻

OMG IM GONNA CRY 😭😭 BAHAHA U SENT THIS AT SUCH A CRAZY MOMENT cuz i just checked my ao3 comments and was down about a rude comment i got, and then i come to tumblr and like, a few mins later/literally AS i was venting about it, u send this BAHAHA your choccy senses were tingling. IM SO GLAD U LIKE IT THO AND THAT YOURE ENJOYING IT (and my drawings, even if youve defs seen spoilers by now BAHHA) hope u have a good day too, u defs brightened mine!! THANK UUUU💖💖💖

@kaviary-blog this looks so funny bc i censored u just to keep it (mostly) spoiler free BUT AW THANK U DAMN IM HONOURED THAT MY FANFIC WAS THE ONE TO MAKE YOU CRY?? IM SO HAPPY HOW INVESTED YOU ARE 😭😭💖💖 im also super happy with that chap and its so satisfying like you said to finally be able to tie of all those threads so IM GLAD IT WAS WORTH IT💖

@lovesicklovermia ONE DAY???? OMG. FIRST TWO DAYS NOW ONE?? ITS JUST GETTING SHORTER AND SHORTER. next thing i know someones gonna be like yeah so i took some highly experimental drug that lets me read at 1000% the pace of a normal person, and i finished ur fic in 2 hours 😍omg loved it!!!😍😍 BAHAHAHA but omg i totally see what u mean, they do HAHA. AND THANK U💖💖 IM GLAD UR LIKING IT💖

YEAH so in my fic fifth years are 16, and by the time things get....explicit....clora and seb are 17. im not against consuming media with teenagers depicted in sexual situations like euphoria or riverdale or w.e else bc i get that its fiction and these are just real things that happen so its fine to write about them, but their canonical ages of 15 was still too young for me and i wanted them to be 17 before it got the E rating (which is why clora and sebs birthdays end up being so close, bc i was RUSHING for them to turn 17 BAHAHHAA)

BAHAHA clora and seb secretly being together is like the most poorly kept secret in my fic, like im sure her parents technically KNOW, but due to old fashioned traditions and whatnot (and it being 1891) seb wants to be able to propose properly and with a proper ring, bc clive is intimidating and he doesnt wanna just be like "yeah so im dating your daughter and weve already fucked and i plan to marry her" LOOL he wants to do things properly and be with her with her dads permission(even tho its a bit late for that HAHA) BUT WE CAN JUST PRETEND. tldr its basically just out of some sense of chivalry on sebs side, a fear of her dad, and wanting to do things right LOL

ALSO WAIT OMG STOPPPPP I WAS LITERALLY JUST ABOUT TO POST THIS BUTI HAVE TO INCLUDE THIS NOW

YOU SAW MY POST AND IMMEDIATELY DREW THIS AS A RESPONSE WHILE IN CLASS?? BAHAHAHA IM ACTUALLY SO TOUCHED RN IM TEARING UP WTF THATS SO SWEET OF YOU WTFFFFFFFFF THANK YOU SO MUCH😭😭😭💖💖 (NOW PAY ATTENTION IN CLASS!!🤬🤬)

#ask #rude comment?? forgotten. coke zero?? SLURPED #the irony of drawing CLORA in class bc she would disapprove and want u to pay attention BAHAHAH

52 notes · View notes

racfoam · 1 year

Text

🫧 Rac’s Masterlist Of Snippets 🫧

(last updated: 6th April, 2023)

BTS Dh Part 2

nynn snippets

graveyard add-on

what-if, Voldemort kisses Harry on the graveyard (Read the Warnings!)

Hermione Defending Harry (4th Year)

nynn Harry meets Movie Voldemort (Graveyard)

Voldemort licks Harry’s wound (Graveyard)

Sirius’ reaction to Harry crushing on Cedric

Cedric gives Harry clue about the egg + Moody reacting to Hedric

Fred & George’s nickname for Voldemort

Voldemort Faces The Dursleys Pt 2 (what-if)

Voldemort shows Harry he can fly

Harry dreaming of Voldemort

Harry’s Letter 1

Harry’s Letter 2

Sirius' reaction to Harrymort getting together

Harry & Voldemort Summer of 6th Year

Harry hears Voldemort laugh

Harry & Bellatrix Ministry fight (5th Year SPOILERS)

Harry under Amortentia (6th Year)

Harry almost gets attacked by McLaggen, Voldemort & Ron team up (6th Year)

Harry & Voldemort, Harry & Slughorn (6th Year)

Scene with Mirrors (SPOILERS)

old fashion vs new fashion

no towels, walk naked (SPOILER for 7th Year)

Flashback Scene - Slughorn Meets Voldemort after he was refused the DADA position (6th Year)

Harry & Voldemort talking about Slughorn, Slughorn is the father that STEPPED UP 😤 (6th Year)

Harry high on Liquid Luck (6th Year)

Voldemort calling Harry beautiful (SPOILERS 5th Year)

Harry being beautiful (6th Year)

McLaggen eyeing Harry during Quidditch Practice (6th Year)

Harry vs Snape (SPOILERS 6th Year)

Harry asking Voldemort for help with homework through the soul bond (5th Year)

Harry using the soul bond during Potions (5th Year)

McGonagall murdering Umbridge (5th Year)

Hedwig is accepting bribery

King's Cross Meeting

Harry talks to Sirius after the Atrium (SPOILER)

Voldemort & Barty (SPOILER)

Slughorn hugs Harry (short)

Harry & Sirius during Ministry fight (short)

Fred & George teasing Harry

Two Apples (SPOILER)

Harry's Quotes in 5th Year (SPOILER)

Death Eaters (SPOILER)

The Quaffle Incident (SPOILER)

Harry dreaming about kisses (SPOILER)

Bellatrix meets Harry

what Slytherin Locket is doing during nynn

Voldemort & Dumbledore Face Off Atrium (SPOILERS)

“I lie to myself.” (SPOILERS)

Harry asks Voldemort about his anatomy

Harry & Voldemort 6th Year Summer

Harrymort cuddles (6th Year)

Muttons (be proud)

Reference Pictures for Voldemort in nynn

Fem Harry Reference Pictures

nynn Deathly Hallows AU

escape from Ministry

Harry going into the Forbidden Forest

"I'll blow it up!" The Trio

Nagini in Godric's Hollow + nynn Voldemort stealing cupcakes

Harry flying on Ili

Seven Potters Polyjuice Scene

Dursleys packing + fight at Malfoy Manor

Harry's no good 17th Birthday

Harry & Hedwig after sky chase, Harry is so done with everything

Voldemort & Death Eaters celebrate Harry's homecoming

nynn Voldemort raises Harry AU Masterlist

nynn Lily & James alive AU

Harry is too chill and very hungry after dementor attack + Lily & Harry heartwarming scene

James & Harry

future son-in-law

all the times Voldemort calls James dad, and the time James calls Voldemort son

nynn James survives, Voldemort Wins AU

nynn Lily survives, Voldemort wins AU

nynn Professor Gaunt

pt 1

pt 2

pt 3

pt 4

snowball fight

Gaunt gets jealous

Harry finds out Gaunt is Voldemort

pt 6 kiss™

nynn Same Age, growing up together & 1st Wizarding War

Tom & Harry’s first meeting written by Anon

Tom sneaks into Harry's dormitory

Harry & Voldemort moments during 1st Wizarding War

Lily & James discussing whether the Dark Lord has a wife

when Voldemort & Harry argue

Voldemort tells Harry about the Prophecy

Halloween 1981

Dolohov returns with baby Voldemort in 1983

Voldemort decides not to kill Harrison

Harry & Voldemort raising Harrison (angst)

Harrison says his first words

Harrison meets Hermione (Harmione)

Harry & Voldemort + 17-year-old Harrison going to meet Hermione's parents

last thought, last breath

- Canon Compliant, Harry surrenders in Forbidden Forest, Voldemort discovers Harry is a Horcrux, Captive Harry, Dark Fic

Narcissa is too sober for this

Harry tries to get drunk, Voldemort stops her

The Dark Lord wants his birthday gift (Mature themes)

your fingers seek mine (Masterlist)

generousity - Harry Time-Travels to 1st Wizarding War AU (Masterlist)

#masterlist #harrymort #tomarry #female harry potter #snippets #harry potter #lord voldemort #tom marvolo riddle

173 notes · View notes

presidenthades · 4 months

Text

Once again, I am doing a series of my behind-the-scenes thoughts for The Golds while I do light edits for formatting, typos, and continuity. Here’s Chapter 1!

DO NOT read these commentaries until you have finishes reading the entirety of The Golds! These commentaries have many spoilers for future chapters.

First I’m gonna talk about why I decided to write this fic in the first place, because it wasn’t part of my original roadmap for the series. After I finished writing Daemon’s Handbook, my plan was to write an epic longfic with POVs from all the Targkids that encompassed a multi-year timespan a la the ASOIAF books…and then I realized if I did that, I had high odds of burning out halfway through 💀.

I’ve discovered that I do better at writing fic if I have an ending an mind when I start writing it, and the story needs to be something I can finish writing in several months so I don’t lose steam or get distracted/go on hiatus too long. That meant I needed to focus on a specific story with 1-2 protagonists/narrators that had its own complete story arc within the series’ larger arc.

When I finished writing the Handbook, I read a lot of books during my break. Several of those books were about fashion history, and one was the official GOT costumes book. I got really obsessed with fashion in the HOTD world, and I temporarily thought about writing a Rhaena POV fic because in my verse, she’s really into fashion and I wanted to put my newfound amateur knowledge to use 😅. But as I brainstormed what her story would look like, I realized it was super adjacent to Jace’s story because Rhaena is her lady-in-waiting, and eventually I shifted over to a Jace-centric story.

While I was brainstorming the Rhaena fic, I thought of a pregnancy subplot where Rhaena has to create Jace’s pregnancy wardrobe, and that pregnancy plot ultimately became the central story in The Golds. I was originally going to make Jace the sole narrator as she deals with the pregnancy, but I realized Aegon would have some really entertaining thoughts so I made it dual POV. This is when I started thinking about the Bridgerton approach, where each Targkid gets to be the star/costar of their own story in roughly chronological order.

The title “The Golds” is a reference to the canonical Greens and Blacks. There’s a theme throughout the story of Jace and Aegon accumulating popularity and soft power at court and among the smallfolk. This growing faction will unofficially be called the Golds because Jace and Aegon are strongly affiliated with that color, due to Sunfyre’s scales, Jace’s preference for gold, and all the symbolism that gold entails.

Most chapter titles are lyrics from the in-universe lullaby “The Song of the Seven.” Since the fic is about pregnancy, childbirth, and parenthood, I thought a reference to this lullaby was appropriate. My original outline had 7 chapters for the fic so I was going to title each chapter after the first line of each stanza in the lullaby. As I wrote the fic and realized it was going to be more chapters, I had to get creative. For Chapter 1, I picked the Maiden lyrics because the Maiden is associated with innocence and young women. Aside from this chapter including the wedding night (and thus Jace’s last night as a maiden), this is also the beginning of Jace’s character and emotional journey, during which she becomes less innocent/naive and, as you know, encounters a lot of darkness in the real world.

Ok now for the actual chapter commentary lol

I started showing during the Handbook that Jace is a responsible, dutiful “eldest sibling syndrome” kind of person, and I wanted to really highlight that in this fic. In the beginning of this story, Jace is the neurotic workaholic while Aegon is hedonistic and urges her to relax. Throughout the story, Jace does learn to relax and delegate better, but Aegon also starts picking up responsibilities along the way. By the end, my goal was for them to meet in the middle, where Jace learns that she has to take care of herself if she wants to take care of others, and Aegon learns that he needs to put in some work in order to secure the things he really wants in life.

There’s also a theme of private vs. public. Jace starts as having a very public life (she’s the heir to the throne, her life is on display at court) while being very private about things like her body and personal wants. In contrast, Aegon is very public about his body (the casual nudity is canon, don’t blame me) and personal wants (“I love my wife and everyone must know it”), but he wishes he could have a private life (be his own person and do what he wants, rather than be the prince and politician his family wants). Again, they kind of grow to meet in the middle by the end. Jace learns to be more selfish about her desires and fight for them (she also becomes more comfortable with her body around Aegon, although the self-consciousness never entirely goes away). Aegon learns to put aside his hangups about “I don’t want to be a player in the game” and steps into the arena so he can ultimately achieve what he wants, which is to protect Jace and their child.

We see the beginnings of Aegon’s powers of observation this chapter. He notices the Bracken/Blackwood exchange (these are the same lovers that Daemon spies in the tunnels in Chapter 9 of the Handbook) and deduces a likely explanation. This trait was inspired by a TGC quote about how Aegon is very observant and knows people’s weaknesses. I loved this idea that Aegon observes a lot of what’s happening around him, but canonically he’s too drunk and apathetic to do much about it. Here, Aegon is not an alcoholic and he’s a lot more grounded, so he actively registers a lot more details.

I mention in Chapter 2 that Daemon is part of the reason Aegon doesn’t drink so much, but that’s definitely not the whole story. Aegon seems very driven by the pursuit of dopamine, things that give him pleasure. In canon, he achieves this through whoring and alcoholism. Here, he has Jace, who has always fulfilled many of his emotional needs and now his physical needs. His life is a lot happier, so there’s no need for him to drink himself into a stupor. He did still have a youthful period of debauchery, but it’s not an outrageous amount of debauchery for a spoiled prince—although still in an upper percentile.

Aegon remains impressively chaste during the Stepstones because he realizes his youthful debauchery was a big reason Rhaenyra disapproved of him. And by the time he leaves for the Stepstones, he’s realized (thanks in part to their forced separation, thanks in part to Jace being the prettiest girl he can ever imagine existing) that no other woman is ever going to compare to Jace, so why bother? (He definitely had a locket or something with Jace’s mini portrait and lock of hair lol)

Aegon’s attitude toward dancing (he’s good at it but he hates the formality) is similar to his overall attitude toward court life and politics. He can do it if he wants, but he just doesn’t want to—unless it makes Jace happy.

Confession: the Tyroshi subplot wasn’t supposed to happen the way it did. I’ll explain more in future chapters, but for now, I’ll just say Floris and Sara weren’t always intended to die. But they did die in the final draft, and in hindsight I’m glad I included the Baratheon scene this chapter. Originally the scene was supposed to showcase Jace’s politicking and diplomacy, as well as lead up to her eventually picking Floris as a lady-in-waiting. Now it has extra meaning because it shows how sweet Floris was, how she fit in with her sisters, and how her mother doted on her 🥺.

I actually kind of like Maris, she’s funny in a mean girl way 😂. But she canonically has a tendency to run her mouth and say nasty things. Here, I think she feels jealous that Cassandra is getting so much attention from potential suitors, and that contributes to her rudeness. Jace could have publicly shamed Maris for being so rude to a Targaryen bride at her own wedding, but she decided to be sneakier about it and not cause a scene. Jace wants to maintain a good relationship with the Baratheons while making it clear what Maris said is unacceptable, so she extends the private tea invite to the other Baratheon women while deliberately omitting Maris from the offer. Now Lady Elenda feels honored by the invite and relieved to not have disfavor, and she’ll probably give Maris a terrible scolding in private.

The bedding tradition seems awful and potentially traumatic, especially for the bride (but that’s ASOIAF for you!). I can’t remember what’s canon or fanon, but I went with the interpretation that the bride and groom are supposed to be stripped naked or close to it. I feel like the royal family ought to be exempt from it (in a privileged “nobody else is allowed to behold our naked bodies” kind of way), but I know Alysanne made a point of having the bedding ceremony so nobody could question her marriage was consummated. The ceremony also seems horribly wasteful because all that expensive material and labor that went into the wedding clothes is just trashed, but I guess it’s a status flex. Only the super-rich can afford to deliberately destroy all those resources after one use.

I wish I wrote more scenes where Jace and Aemond hang out 😭. They have a lot of similarities: dutiful, studious, responsible for their siblings. I imagine their relationship being super chill. Then again, they’re very proper so they probably have hangups about spending alone time with someone of the opposite gender for extended periods of time 🙃. Anyway, their relationship is much less antagonistic than in canon. Fem!Jace thinks bullying is wrong and tones down Aegon’s mean streak, while Aemond has a chivalrous and gentlemanly attitude toward women (contrast with book!Aemond, who seems pretty misogynistic). Since a lot of the friction from canon is removed, they get along much better, and this Aemond is more comfortable with the idea of fem!Jace being queen one day because they start from a better place, and he’s her good-brother.

You can see my newfound fashion history geekery showing itself during the scene where Jace gets ready for bed. (Also, take note of how meticulous Jace is. It highlights her general cautiousness, and it serves as a contrast for Chapter 3). I try not to get too flowery with description, but I decided it was relevant to highlight key fashion choices like her wedding dress because it is an aspect of Jace’s influence at court, and she is concerned about appearances. I incorporated a lot of design aspects from GOT, which are much less medieval than the HOTD gowns. I had this idea that the older generation (Alicent and Rhaenyra) stick more to traditional cuts and designs, while Jace and the other girls are starting a new fashion trend akin to what we see in GOT, where styles are more flattering and multicultural.

Jace’s wedding dress is strongly influenced by Margaery’s Purple Wedding dress. The backless part makes it rather daring, and it’s part of Jace and Rhaena’s goal to depict Jace as a leader among the younger ladies at court since matrons are far less likely to wear something so revealing. Also, in GOT, Daenerys’s dresses tend to be much more revealing than anyone else’s, so I deduced that the fashion culture in Essos is overall more daring than in Westeros. Rhaena grew up in Pentos, so I decided she brings that influence into Jace’s wardrobe, which then spreads through court. Jace’s jewelry (heirlooms owned by Valaena Velaryon, mother of the Conqueror and his sisters) is also a statement to highlight that she was born a Velaryon but now she’s a true Targaryen in name.

Jace’s lingerie is definitely Rhaena’s (and Baela’s) influence. Otherwise she would have zero clue what’s fashionable in Lys. 😳

Jace deciding to work on her wedding night is very in character for her. And Aegon making her stop to enjoy herself is also very in character for him. Definitely a recurring pattern for these two.

Like any scene I write, I try to make sure the smut has a purpose in the story. I don’t usually write PWP but I think smut scenes are an excellent way to demonstrate dynamics and emotional connections between characters, so that’s how I typically use them. Here, we see Aegon is devoted to Jace: makes her feel comfortable, ample foreplay, even cracks a few jokes because their relationship is familiar enough for that sort of thing. He literally “lets her hair down” so she can shed her usual inhibitions.

True to character, Jace overthinks the process. She knows the theory of how it works (Rhaenyra would ensure her daughters are informed of the mechanics, and Jace has been living with Baela for three years). She also knows Aegon enjoyed his time on the Street of Silk and she desperately wants to meet his expectations. She doesn’t realize that she could do literally anything (or nothing) and Aegon would still think she’s perfect.

Since Aegon hasn’t had sex in three years, he’s trying very hard not to finish too early 😅. It’s OK though, Jace has no idea how long a guy is supposed to last and they have the whole night to make up for it 😂.

In the Handbook, I hint at Aegon’s artistic tendencies when he doodles in his letters. Here, I expand upon that so he’s sort of a Renaissance man: he sings, he plays lute, he dances, he draws, etc etc. All the skills he enjoys are skills not conducive for a politician/king. In this verse, Jace encourages him to sing and draw, so he pursues it further than he would’ve in canon.

I like to think of the morning-after smut scene as when Cheeseball is conceived 😂. It’s when Aegon dirty talks about making heirs for the throne, and Jace thinks about how much she would like to have children with Aegon. It just makes sense lol.

GRRM makes his female characters give birth way too young. Some people argue it’s historically accurate, but it’s really not. Other than Margaret Beaufort (who gave birth at 13 and never had any other children, probably due to complications), royal and noble women generally married in their late teens and early twenties. But this is the world and culture GRRM created, so I’m trying to work with it. I still headcanon that in normal peacetime, highborns try to wait until bride and groom are at least 16 to marry because they are aware that giving birth too young is dangerous. It’s during wartime or when politics require an earlier consummation that we see things like Sansa marrying at 13 💀. So I made Jace realize, after she’s had time to stew, that being forced to wait three years was best. (Especially since she IMMEDIATELY gets pregnant.)

I had to research whether people with a broken nose (or recovering from rhinoplasty surgery, which apparently has similar side effects—the more you know!) could have sex. Apparently one of the concerns is causing blood vessels around the nose to expand/contract/whatnot, and arousal impacts blood flow so that’s why Orwyle bans any nookie 😔. No wonder Aegon bribes Alyssa to wake Daemon early lol.

A side effect of broken noses is bruising around the face and black eyes, so Jace looks like she got hit very badly. The ensuing gossip about how she got injured ties into the recurring themes of a) Jace’s concern with appearances and b) that courtiers can and will gossip about anything, and the more salacious the better.

Jace is pretty peeved that Luce was so reckless re: the tunnel incident, and probably upset that it inadvertently led to her broken nose. But as soon as Luce needs help, Jace stops caring about her injuries 😭. Another recurring part of Jace’s personality: she’ll do almost anything to help her loved ones but she’s much harder on herself. (Note Luce’s little question, “What do I do now?” which is a question she always asked Jace when she was in trouble as a kid.)

Aegon is closer to Aemond than in canon, since a) they went to the Stepstones together and b) Aegon had far fewer options for male companionship in this genderbent world so he had to lean on Aemond a lot more. The brothers aren’t the kind to have heart-to-hearts, but Aegon knows Aemond well enough to know that Aemond is really into Luce and is probably going to try to marry her.

With Larys dead, there isn’t a very good option for master of whisperers. The council keeps trying to fill it but the candidates never last for long. I like to joke that they’re holding the seat open for when Joff is old enough, but finding a good spymaster seems pretty difficult. Daemon would probably be good at it but he’s already flamed out of several council positions, and he would hate working with Otto.

A little more fashion history! A surcote is that quintessential medieval gown for women, which I decided is very traditional in Westeros. This is Jace’s first day at her new job, so she wants to dress extra conservatively. Color is a big deal in this world of Black versus Green, so she deliberately picks very neutral and inoffensive colors. She also styles her hair and wears gold jewelry from Aegon to emphasize her new marriage, which shows she’s a mature woman and is forging harmonious bonds with her husband across the Black/Green divide.

In canon, Corlys resigns his position as master of ships around Episode 2. Tyland is canonically master of ships during this time, but I made an error in the Handbook and turned him into the master of coin. So I decided to just force Lyman Beesbury into retirement, and this can serve as an in-universe explanation for the change in roles: Viserys (or somebody else) wanted Corlys to have his position back, so they reshuffled the council a bit.

Aaaaand Jace officially has a “first day at work” horror history. Vomited, fainted, and cried in quick succession. And for someone who values privacy regarding her body, this was an awfully public way for her to find out about her pregnancy (and have it announced) 🥲.

#my writing #meta #fanfic meta #hotd meta #house of the dragon meta #Aegon II Targaryen #female jacaerys velaryon #the golds

26 notes · View notes

somekindofflowergirl · 5 months

Text

Timeless, Hollywoodland, and The Philadelphia Story

I found this old meta I’ve had in my Google docs for years but I don’t believe I’ve ever posted anything about it, since I originally intended to use the idea in a fic. Since that isn’t happening, even though it’s been years and I doubt anyone is out here writing or reading Timeless meta anymore, here you go. Obviously spoilers for both.

Most Garcy fans will groan if I suggest we take a look at Hollywoodland, but considering a certain admittedly fantastic dress:

…and a certain cut scene involving a pool, it’s interesting to consider through the lens of The Philadelphia Story, of which the dress and pool scene are iconic elements. Here is a still from the movie:

Look familiar? This is also poolside.

The Philadelphia Story revolves around Tracy Lord (Katherine Hepburn), a wealthy socialite who is preparing to marry her fiance, George (who matters as little as Lucy’s quirk-of-the-timeline-fiancé Noah in Timeless but manages to be far less likable) in a matter of days. The head of Spy Magazine assigns Macaulay Connor (Jimmy Stewart, oddly nicknamed “Mike”) and his photographer, Liz, to go to the wedding and get the story posing as friends of her expatriate brother, with an actual friend of his as their in: C.K. Dexter Haven (Cary Grant). Dexter also happens to be Tracy’s first husband. They divorced years prior due to his alcoholism—including a nasty incident of him shoving her down—and her criticism of him. Dexter originally seems to be doing this out of spite, but we quickly learn it’s actually to keep the magazine from releasing a bigger scoop about Tracy’s father’s affair and estrangement from her mother, which have devastated Tracy. The rest of the film is about Tracy’s entanglement with all these men.

(Sidenote: there are some very old-fashioned diatribes and comments about the nature of women and marriage and the shoving I found very hard to overlook, but that’s not the point of this post. Just heads up if you do ever watch it.)

On the eve of Tracy’s wedding to George, she dons The Dress to attend a ball in their honor. She gets drunk for only the second time in her life, and she and a similarly drunk Mike spend time together. They mainly talk drunk nonsense, drive drunk, and Mike sings Over the Rainbow. They have a grand time, end up kissing, and jump in the pool for a midnight swim.

Similarly, in Hollywoodland, Lucy and Wyatt share a sweet poolside conversation while she wears The Dress to a Hedy Lamarr party, they kiss, and they would have jumped in the pool if not for wildfire filming issues. They spend the night together, scar Rufus the next morning, then head back to the present. Wyatt soon receives a text from his supposedly dead wife. He takes off, without telling anyone why, and Wyatt spends the rest of the season trying to win back Jessica permanently while still having feelings for Lucy. In the “movie” (reminder: Christmas isn’t canon), Jessica is a pure evil Rittenhouse operative who lied about being pregnant, is killed, and Lucy and Wyatt are hastily shoved back together without fixing the issues between them on-screen. TPTB have claimed that their pairing was always endgame and the reunion would have happened anyway–albeit less swiftly and unrealistically–but they were Made For Each Other, loved each other all along, blah blah blah.

Which brings us back to The Philadelphia Story. The scene at the pool between Tracy and Mike is iconic for a reason. Mike is very “eat the rich” and she calls him out for being an intellectual snob, he tells her she’s wonderful and that the other men didn’t know what they were talking about, and their kiss is incredibly cinematic. It’s truly romantic…

In the moment.

For that moment, that one night, the audience can root for this couple. Mike is saying what Tracy needs to hear, and she’s enjoying letting herself fail by getting drunk and doing the unexpected. It’s sweet.

But it isn’t the endgame. No one means it to be.

After the multiple confrontations that arise out of the pool situation, Tracy breaks off with George just before the wedding. Mike asks Tracy to marry him and she turns him down. Liz loves him, and while he and Tracy like each other as friends, they would both be unhappy long-term. They live very different lives and have different values. And they’re not actually in love.

I don’t honestly believe this was intentional as foreshadowing that Lyatt may not be endgame so much as Abigail Spencer really wanting to wear The Dress. But even as a subconscious accidental parallel, it’s decent. Mike is nice and he and Tracy get along fairly well, but he’s better suited to Liz, who has stood by and loved him for years while waiting for him to mature enough for forever with her. Tracy, having realized that she doesn’t want the picture-perfect (on the outside) life she envisioned—and having seen that Dexter, now sober and much changed, is not the man he was when he hurt her—she forgives Dexter for the pain of their past. He lets go of it all as well and they remarry, this time making it down the aisle rather than eloping as they did before.

And as a book I adore (Love Walked In by Marisa de los Santos) says: “Jimmy Stewart is always and indisputably the best man in the world, unless Cary Grant should happen to show up.”

#timeless #garcy #lucy preston #garcia flynn #wyatt logan #anti-lyatt #the philadelphia story #timeless meta #long post #boy is it #christmas isn’t canon

36 notes · View notes

fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic · 3 months

Text

Good Omens Fic Rec: stalwart sun, wily moon

Anthony J. Crowley is a world-class art thief with a complicated past who, until now, had been pretty content with going through life as part of a prolific black market art trafficking ring. He enjoyed the thrill and danger of the hunt, especially if it meant he got to travel the world, play with state-of-the-art technology, and make enough money to afford anything he could ever want. That is, until a simple logistical hiccup leads him straight into the path of one Aziraphale Fell, former Head Conservator of the British Museum turned antique repair shop owner. Suddenly, there's a space in Crowley's life that only Aziraphale seems to fill, but his clandestine life of crime paired with Aziraphale's industry connections and indomitable penchant for good seems like a relationship doomed to fail. Little do they both know, the strands of friendship, morality, and deception in their shared circles of the London art world are interwoven in even more complex ways than either of them could have expected...

Length: 369,866 words

AO3 Rating: Mature

Best for: Safe in Public, Slow Burn, Human AU

Triggers: Past Abuse, Violence

Read it here, fic by dustnhalos

Note: this is a locked work you must be logged into AO3 to view

*Minor Spoilers* This one was recommended to me by @aq-uatic! I had just posted about Fakes and Forgeries, which is another art thief AU, so they sent this one over for me to read! This story is a powerhouse! Not only does it boast a very engaging plot, but it is also well-researched and well-planned! A true epic.

The length of this story is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, I loved the rich details and care put into the descriptions of artworks and settings, making it very easy to immerse myself in the world. I was also grateful that the climax of the story unfolded slowly, without rushing through towards the end. Having details gradually presented made the payoffs even greater. On the other hand, sometimes it became a little too wordy for its own good, crossing a line where it started to feel like a Wikipedia page. Additionally, it wasn't the right time and place for me when I tried reading it in shorter increments during breaks between working and cleaning. I was getting frustrated by the slow plot progression in those 20-30 minute spans. Once I committed to only reading this in larger blocks of time, I had a lot more fun with it! (ironic note to make on an extremely wordy rec post eh?)

I particularly loved the characterizations in this one. I found all of the side characters to be excellently written and, more importantly, welcome. There was never a moment when I felt annoyed by the appearance of a side character. The relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley is integral, but their plot line isn't the only one worth reading. Canon characters are conveniently rewritten into their new places, but don't just feel like names attached to OCs. Deep down, they remain the characters we know, just with new backstories. Warlock was a particular favorite of mine. Speaking of OCs, they're great here! I was very intrigued by the new characters, and their histories to our characters. Crowley's backstory was heartbreaking, and I loved the mystery of putting all the pieces together.

One small note I'll make about Aziraphale and Crowley: my favorite detail of their relationship in this story was their passion for fashion. It's refreshing to see Aziraphale described as fashionable rather than merely 'old-fashioned'. He possesses his own sense of style and takes great pride in it, which was very much appreciated. The fact that they can keep up with each other in style, knowledge, and culture, was so enjoyable.

Safe in public, but keep in mind what I said about pacing. Maybe shorter blocks work for you, but for me I really needed those longer sessions with this. It's also written as ace friendly! The mature tag is for violence/themes there is no sexual content here. Oh and this features amazing artwork as well!! I actually recognized many of the pieces included and had no idea they were tied to this story! I really enjoyed this story, and I'm constantly impressed with the stories you guys come up with.

Read it here, fic by dustnhalos

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #fanfic rec #aziracrow #good omens fic rec #aziraphale x crowley #stalwart sun wily moon #dustnhalos #extra long #no spice #slow burn #human au #safe in public #criminal au #artist au #one sitting #antique au #ace friendly

20 notes · View notes

sablegear0 · 6 months

Text

Finished TotK Finally

As in, finished the story. End numbers after buying the last boss pictures and completing the Compendium were 87.72% complete. I may go back and do koroks and minigames sporadically when I want to wander around in the world again.

So I suppose people might expect my thoughts or a review. Idk if I have anything unique to say but I may as well so: Plot and BIG ending spoilers under the cut. Also extremely long detailed opinions. Like this one got REALLY long. TL;DR at the very bottom.

The End Bits The Light Dragon In a previous blog I applauded Nintendo for letting their women characters turn into incomprehensible beasties lately (TotK, Dread). For the record, I posted that shortly before being spoiled on the fact that Zelda changes back at the end. Needless to say I was re-disappointed. I get WHY they did it. Permanently removing the title character from the game via 10,000 years of ego death doesn't really seem like a great reward for the player seeking out the plot; BotW/TotK Link and Zelda have gone through more than most of their incarnations to get where they are, so it's nice to give them a happy ending, etc. It just... kinda sucks because that was a really cool move otherwise. But Nintendo will not tell us an intentionally tragic (or even bittersweet) story so we got our girl back.

Also she was fine, by the way. She just woke up fully able to move and speak like she'd just had a bit of a rough nap. She also canonically does not remember her millennia spent as a dragon in any fashion. I know the fan writers are probably having a field day with injury/trauma recovery fics for her and I don't blame them. 10k years of ego death and a monstrous transformation should come with some consequences, shouldn't it?

To be honest the nature of the deus ex machina in question bugs me more than the fact that it happened. "Idk Sonia and Rauru did something" is the actual explanation we get (thanks Mineru, you're a real one tho) and it feels... hollow. Like, if the two dragons had clashed and injured one another, and "dying" knocked Zelda out of the transformation the same way destroying the Secret Stone that Ganondorf had taken destroyed his dragon form, that would make more sense, right? You still get your dramatic ending that's a cinematic reflection of Skyward Sword and a symbolic close (presumably) to Ganon's cycle of reincarnation. The arbitrary "power of love" (and not even the Hero's love, come on) ending just doesn't sit right.

Ganondorf Neither did the actual fight with Ganondorf, to be honest. I prepped some pretty high-value weapons, assuming that like BotW I'd have to break a few swords on him before the fight was over. But they just, again, deus ex machina'd that the Master Sword was indestructible for that fight and at no other time. My big scary weapons did see some good use in the wave fight beforehand, which was kind of neat but also kind of underwhelming. I guess that's the point where the game checks if you can handle that many enemies (ie. did you bring enough friends), similar to how doing the Divine Beasts halves Calamity Ganon's HP in BotW.

The duel-style fight for the first two phases was kind of cool. Made a bit annoying by TotK's tighter timing on parries and dodges. And the fact that the legitimate pressure of having your HP outright destroyed (cool, stressful) was removed by the third phase (annoying, no consequences for doing poorly in that part of the fight).

Third phase was neat. It was cinematic, but with no actual danger. I don't think I took any damage that wasn't just gloom-ticks from standing on the demon dragon to attack it. Didn't even get to use my cool bows in the aerial battle. Additionally I didn't have any need for the cool armour I had worked so hard to upgrade. I spent quite a lot of time and effort upgrading the Ancient Hero's Aspect and a second high-defense set (Champion's Leathers, Soldier's Greaves, Amber Earrings). The latter I did use in the demon dragon phase because it looked cool. The former I completely forgot that I had (despite having had to kill an ungodly amount of King Gleeoks to complete it). I used the Depths set for the first two-thirds of the fight because of the Gloom resistance it offered.

The Mechanics Devices All that said, what TotK set out to do it did decently well. It expanded on the physics-heavy improvisational gameplay of BotW with the addition of the Ultrahand fusion mechanic and Zonai Devices, improving on their base engine to create a system that I have heard other devs consider basically magic. Devices and weapon fusion, however, were clearly balanced with the early-to-mid-game in mind. The devices were tools, not weapons, even the ones that were nominally weapons. They simply did not put out enough raw damage to be used offensively, and were better as deterrents or distractions for enemies.

Weapon Fusion I know people weren't crazy about weapon degradation in BotW and I think TotK managed to make it slightly worse. In BotW, all you had to do was find where a desirable weapon spawned and make note of it so you could come back to pick it up after the Bloodmoon respawned everything. In TotK, you have to do that AND fight a monster with a good fuseable part to improve it. You have to do twice as much farming for about the same amount of gain. And that's not even accounting for the weapons you'd break fighting something big like a Lynel - sure they drop good parts, but you might break 2 or 3 weapons taking one down, even with help from your sages. You're operating at a net loss.

Granted the fused part of a weapon does the bulk of the work, but TotK did the interesting thing of making each flavour of weapon ("Soldier's", "Zonaite", "Gerudo", etc) have its own unique properties. This is very cool, until you find a type you like and struggle to find enough of them. Again, you have to trek around to find them and also hope you have the materials for a good fusion. It has its moments, like sticking a Silver Lynel horn on a Gerudo weapon to get a damage value over 100 (which is absurd, most "good" weapons cap out around 50 on average, barring any extra effects), but again, you're usually operating at a slight loss with respect to weapons.

Armour Upgrades To be frank: It's bad. It's bloated and way too resource-intensive. In BotW there were a limited number of sets you'd actually want to upgrade, as each had its own unique thing and that's it, there's one of each. Even doing all of them for completion's sake was achievable. In TotK they have those basic sets, plus a few more unique sets, plus a few redundant sets, and a frankly absurd number of generic aesthetic sets (which flavour of Link would you like? Ocarina of Time? Twilight Princess? Link's Awakenng Remake?) And in all of this they never thought to rebalance the amount of materials required for upgrading.

And on top of THAT, I think they messed with the item drop-rates too! Most enemies can drop 2 kinds of resources, some potentially have more, some only drop 1. in BotW I don't think (thought I may have to check) each type was a guaranteed drop, but you saw every type fairly frequently. In TotK each enemy now has distinct rare drops. And they can be RARE. And the worst part is you need a LOT of them for some armour upgrades. For example; Lizalfos tails are the Lizalfos rare drop, and the armour sets that need them can need up to 15 of the stupid things from a particular species of Lizalfos. Have fun grinding, because now you're playing Monster Hunter instead of Zelda.

Vehicles and Horses The vehicles both did and didn't trivialize crossing the map; a significant amount of grinding is needed before you have enough batteries to cover any distance, Wings (the bird-shaped gliders) have a limited lifespan to keep you from just flying everywhere, and the overworld is generally complicated enough that any fast wheeled vehicle will not be useful for long, and any all-terrain vehicle moves only at a modest speed. Ironically, just use horses where available. They're faster, more versatile, and can be called to you if they're within earshot. Also horses can spawn with overall higher stats than in BotW, and can be upgraded, though with significant resource investment. (It is worth noting that the "best" horse in base BotW, the royal white horse, is only middling to above-average stat-wise when compared to a good wild-caught horse in TotK. They power-crept the horses!)

The most interesting vehicles/movement devices, to me, were the rockets and hot-air balloons. Both add a lot instant verticality in a game that is all about traversal. Fusing a rocket to a shield gets you a huge boost for little resource expenditure (rockets are a bit rare until you can purchase devices). And once you find the Autobuild schematic for a hot air balloon base, all you need to add is a flame-emitter and you can ascend as far as your batteries allow.

Shrines In my humble opinion, TotK knocked it out of the park with its shrines. The ones that have actual puzzles, anyway. There is an unfortunately large proportion of "blessing" shrines that have no puzzle in them, and not all of them even need to be worked for that hard. The ones that do have puzzles are excellent. There are quite a few that highlight different uses for devices, and a good handful that take the Eventide Island/Master Trials-style challenge of stripping you of all your gear and put some twist on it. (Notably these are most interesting in the mid-game, when you have enough hearts to survive but not to trivialize the no-armour combat difficulty.)

They also did the very classy thing of not locking outfit parts behind hidden chests in Shrines. All the hidden chests were perfectly optional bonus chests that required no frustrating re-visits after finding out where that last piece of armour was hiding. Also the slight variations on the music theme was a nice touch that kept the shrines feeling fresh. No shade to the Sheikah Shrine theme, but the strong synths could get a bit grating at times. TotK's gentle, plinky shrine theme variations were an improvement.

The Map The Overworld Probably(?) the most common complaint about TotK and one I share. It's too damn big. In addition to mostly recycling the map from BotW (which bothered some people more than it bothered me, I think), they added an equivalent-sized map for the Depths. Now, BotW's overworld already felt a bit sparse, but it fit the tone of a literal post-apocalyptic world and encouraged you to poke around looking for koroks and investigating enemy camps. TotK's surface overworld is dotted with far more enemy camps and significantly fewer koroks, so it is about as dense but more dangerous/annoying (depending on your hp and gear) to traverse.

There are some major changes to the surface, beyond adding ruins to some spots; most of Death mountain is now safe to travel on foot (probably to encourage use of vehicles) and is no longer superheated, and there are a few spots where the road network is broken, dividing the map into 2 halves that cannot be crossed between on horseback. (In BotW, by comparison, all the roads were connected and you could auto-pilot a horse from one end of the map to the other, provided you took roads marked on the map.)

The Sky The Sky islands were relatively few, for all the hype they got in the promotional material. However I think their self-contained structure and handful of unique features (the "death star" islands, the dive challenges) helped them not overstay their welcome. Besides, the islands themselves are technically also ruins, 10,000 years old and finally visible to the naked eye from the surface, It's a wonder there's as much left and it's as functional as it is. They are beautiful, though. I did enjoy just loitering around in the sky to take in the view and the relaxed atmosphere, as there are fewer enemies up there.

The Depths The Depths... I think I share the majority gripe with the Depths. They're too big. The Depths are another whole open world that is more hostile with even less in it. It exists to grind for resources and pad the playtime. The challenge of the depths is in initially traversing it, having to light your way through impenetrable darkness and navigate dense enemy encampments and find Light Roots to fill out the map. After that, provided you have enough battery power, it can generally be ignored by flying over it. Which is unfortunate. If I were to fix the Depths, I would make it more akin to the Sky Islands; more self-contained, make it a series of winding, interconnected discrete caves, like one big dungeon crawl, rather than a second open world to ignore. Still have the Light Roots be important to vision and mapping, but have the general landscape be more contained. Maybe even have a few more areas that are inaccessible at first except by dropping into the correct chasms, like they did with the Eventide Island and Tingle Island Chain areas of the Depths.

Everything Else Side Quests and Koroks Honestly I enjoyed the variety of sidequests in TotK, and also enjoyed that some of them were quite involved. TotK had two "Tarrey Town"-equivalent long-form side-quest lines; one being visiting all the stables with Penn (I am counting this as one quest because you get drip-fed armour pieces from a unique set throughout it), and the other being the Mayoral Election / Local Cuisine questline in Hateno Village. There were also side-quests to optionally construct the Champions' weapons, which was neat, and to build a house with crazy Ultrahand powers, which was totally frivolous but fun to do. The one thing that bugged me a bit about the side-quests was running into NPCs that reasonably should have remembered Link but didn't. It felt odd, especially poking around Tarrey Town initially.

The Korok puzzles had some new variety to them, which was nice. The block puzzles were given the extra interest of being able to rotate things with Ultrahand, and the vehicle/towing mechanics were given a chance to shine with the "help me reach my friend" puzzles. Having Hestu appear in some less-than-ideal places to begin with (and the whole Lost Woods thing omg what a pain) kind of sucked, but getting those sweet sweet inventory upgrades is always worth it.

The Characters I love all the Sages, I'm going to say it right now. It was really cool to see some familiar faces from BotW (that actually recognized me) and learn what they'd been up to in the ambiguous time-gap. Teba being the slight exception but honestly - meeting Tulin and realizing this sweet bean bird boy looks just like both his parents hit me right in the heart. Mineru was also very cool and I'm glad we got to hang out with her (and bid her a tearful goodbye... my lovely lanky lady...). I also appreciated that doing the Ancient Writings quest teases Mineru's introduction. That was a nice touch.

Penn and Purah are fun, and the Lucky Clover Gazette and Monster Control Crew quests add some depth and background progression to BotW's Hyrule. You get to see how ordinary people are faring and how things are advancing post-Calamity. Seeing the various peoples of Hyrule gather at Lookout Landing after clearing a regional temple was neat, even if it was really only for show.

I know some people have beef with Rauru and that's maybe a blog for another time, but I don't think I have a strong enough opinion to bother. I didn't mind him, I think his arc was clear enough, I think I would have liked to see more of him and Sonia interacting with Zelda in a more everyday fashion - it seemed like she had a lot of fun in the distant past and something more than just a text log of that and a couple cutscenes might have been nice. Honestly I think I would have liked to see more of Sonia especially, she seems like an interesting lady (again, something more than Chaucerian text as proof would have been nice).

I'm honestly kind of mid on Matt Mercer's Ganondorf? I get that he's a big name and people were excited to hear him in the role but idk if the voice was entirely a good fit. They rocked the hell out of his visual design, though. Very good updated look, borrowing elements from some of his previous incarnations. Again I would have liked to see more elaboration on him though; what was the Gerudo tribe like under his rule? Were there dissenters? Give me more worldbuilding or I'll be forced to do it myself.

Music Mostly the same, actually. Overworld themes were recycled. Shrine themes were different and an upgrade imo. Combat themes were slightly different but I probably wouldn't be able to tell them apart at a listen. The Temple music though, oh boy. I loved these themes; they took the ramping instruments from the Divine Beasts control panel gimmick and mixed the Divine Beast Approach themes with each Sage's unique motif to create some really cool but pleasantly unobtrusive tracks. The Depths ambience was appropriately spooky, and the dynamic theme that kicks in when you high-dive was a nice touch, especially since there are distinct versions for diving to the surface and diving to the Depths.

But the standout tracks for me? First, the intro sequence where you descend with Zelda into the foundations of Hyrule Castle and hear the ever-layering Zonai chanting with the spooky reversed voice clips? MMM. 👌 So spooky, so tasty. Genuinely had me on edge even though I knew nothing would happen because it was the intro. The return sequence by the endgame has it build even more intensely as you descend even further and it's fantastic. Second is the Gloom's Approach / Gloom's Source battle theme. The distinctly electronic drone and beat associated with the Depths/gloom-related stuff gets room to shine when this tense bass-heavy track kicks in.

The Little Things I am actually going to stop this one here because I think this part deserves its own blog. There are a ton of little details in TotK that I absolutely adored and I want to gush about them with proper space allotted.

TL;DR TotK is alright. I know I'll catch flak for saying it's "good", so I won't. Settle down. It's alright. Some things it does extremely well, some things could have been edited for time, and some things remained just kinda mid from the original.

If I have to give it a number, it's a solid 6.5-7/10 . Competently constructed, technically impressive, mostly cut-and-pasted, mildly bloated, narratively kind of boring with no sense of stakes and an ending that undoes some otherwise interesting choices.

#sable has a take #sable talks about games #this one got away from me #long post #totk #loz totk #tears of the kingdom #tears of the kingdom spoilers #totk spoilers #seriously the first thing i do is talk about the ending in some detail so if you care avoid this one #now with headers for your reading convenience

24 notes · View notes

auncyen · 26 days

Text

I had 2 ISAT fic ideas when I was at work. ...And I was about to say one disappeared but now I remember! *chucks them both into drafts quickly*

Okay so these are definitely sitting far behind other wips (and spoilers ahead) but

idea 1: Siffrin's PTSD that affects him during act 4's first King fight is bad enough that everyone afterward is like no, no, we need to talk about this. especially if Siffrin was also asking the King "weird" questions. OR if, say, Isabeau defended Siffrin from a hit because they were so out of it and got injured fairly badly (maybe not a repeat eye incident, but broken arm?), but then that's less talking and more Siffrin spiraling because last time it was Bonnie, who is it going to be next, they can't do this anymore they can't go to the Head Housemaiden because this will just reset and they can't do it anymore they can't fight the King one more blinding time they can't they can't they can't and like. idk what kind of resolution this would have, if any (maybe they just panic so hard they DO loop back somewhere and upon realizing they have to fight the King AGAIN go dead inside). I mean I would like to give Siffrin a happy ending but. ...yeah I'd have to think on it.

idea 2 (much more experimental, slightly au): y'know how Euphrasie only has a partial view of why the loops are happening well what if it wasn't partial. what if the loops had nothing to do with Siffrin's wishes. What if the King's right about only Vaugarde being affected by the time loop. What if it just kept going and going and going and going even while Siffrin checks out and hundreds of years later Poteria or Mwudu or SOMEONE finally breaks the time loop from the outside through some means of Craft or tech that's advanced in that time.

(As for why someone outside would try to break the time loop: maybe the amount of Wish Craft involved is having adverse effects on the whole world with it going wrong. Or maybe they've made advancements in Craft and think they could harness that energy! Or maybe they just want the land/are sick of things disappearing into there and are going to be a little surprised when they realize the whole country is still there. Centuries displaced.)

...I'm not sure how this would resolve either. This would likely be a very experimental fic with most of it taking place from a non-Vaugardian's PoV (or maybe multiple PoVs, but most non-Vaugardian). But yeah AU because I honestly don't think the time loop as in canon could go centuries because Siffrin can't and as soon as his mental state breaks down badly enough it'd probably break down in some spectacular fashion as well.

#in stars and time #in stars and time spoilers #siffrin #...is not having a fun time in either of these

17 notes · View notes

mrsreginagold · 19 days

Text

Fic: A Funny Thing That I Cannot Explain

Fandom: Nikita

Pairing: Ari Tasarov x Nikita Mears (Nikari)

Rating: R

Spoilers: Canon-divergent AU, would take place sometime during the second season.

Summary: Nikita discovers that the more time she spends in Ari’s company, the more she wishes for it to never end.

Author's note: I love them your honor.

On AO3

A Funny Thing That I Cannot Explain

Nikita Mears winced when far too bright illumination hit her directly in the face and an evening of incredibly bad choices decided to remind her of its existence.

Her head was pounding, and she felt sore all over. Groaning, she clung tightly to the pillow in her arms while burying her head further into the plush fabric. “Kill me.”

“Where would the fun be in that?”

She shot up abruptly at the sound of a familiar, deep, and incredibly alluring male voice.

Ari Tasarov merely peered over the rims of his reading glasses and lowered the book he was holding a fraction.

Unable to help it, Nikita gaped at the image he made beside her. His dark hair was tousled attractively, and his exquisitely defined torso was on full display since he was shirtless with the bedsheets pooled around his waist.

Her heart thundered as she glanced down, relieved to see that she was covered, but frowning when she realized that it was by one of his dress shirts.

She inhaled shakily before asking, her voice unsteady. “What happened last night?”

There was a rustle of fabric and then a feather-light brush of fingers against her arm. “You don’t remember?”

She glanced over at him, pulse jumping when she saw him stretching languidly before resting on his side. He propped up on one elbow, so they were face-to face, and brought his hand up for a gentle caress along her cheek, which caused her breath to catch.

“The room probably needs to stop spinning before I can,” she admitted with a hard swallow, resisting the urge to reach out and trail her nails through the hair that dusted the broad expanse of his chest.

His lips curved into a slightly wicked smile, as if he knew exactly what direction her thoughts had headed. “I suppose I’ll just have to remind you myself.”

His proximity and her addled mind made it very difficult to focus. Ari’s eyes were a stunning mix of blue and gray, framed by eyelashes that could make other women jealous. They were arguably his best feature, though the rest of him was just as appealing.

Not helping matters was the fact that he was observing her so intently, and it was taking every ounce of her self-control to not pounce.

She was seconds away from having a full-blown crisis, tempted to pull him to her and claim that soft-looking mouth in a kiss, but reason demanded that she know the extent of their current intimacy. “Ari, just answer me one question honestly.”

“What’s that?”

Nikita took a sharp breath. “Did we have sex or not?”

“Call me old-fashioned, but it’s definitely not standard practice to make love to someone who is unconscious.”

Relief was the primary response she felt to his answer, though it was tinged with some disappointment as well. “I was unconscious?”

“To be fair, you had consumed quite a large portion of alcohol. I didn’t realize cocktails were so dangerous.”

With an embarrassed sound, she flopped with minimal grace onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t know why you put up with me. I swear you have the patience of a saint…though. Wait a minute,” she furrowed her brow and looked at him. “If nothing happened, why are you naked?”

He flipped the bedsheets back to reveal he was wearing pajama pants. “Not completely.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

Ari shrugged and got out of bed – running his hands through his hair and smoothing it away from his face. “Maybe I wanted to see how you’d react. Or maybe it was because someone barged into my bedroom, took off most of her clothes, and I needed to cover her up.”

“The second part sounds more likely, and more humiliating,” she threw one arm over her eyes, her pretty features flushing considerably. “Could I ask you one more thing?”

“Of course,” she heard him rummaging around.

“Help me to the bathroom? I want to freshen up but I’m worried that I’ll get sick if I move too quickly.”

He turned back around from where he had been messing with the room’s coffee maker, his expression softening at noticing her distressed one. “Sure.”

Ari’s method of helping, apparently, was to bridal carry her into the washroom.

Nikita was torn between mortification and appreciation for this gesture. She found herself leaning towards the latter when he went to get her some fresh clothes.

She took advantage of the privacy while he was out to brush her teeth and then started the shower.

A brief respite in the warm water combined with some medicine for the hang-over was just what was needed to clear her head, and by the time she emerged, she saw that he had placed a new outfit for her on the counter.

She was touched that he had respected her space despite the fact that she wouldn’t have minded if he had joined her. Quickly, she dressed and then wandered back out into the hotel room.

Her companion had also changed and was now fully clothed in a simple white button-down, tucked into dark blue jeans. Both seemed to cling to his build in all the right ways, making color rush to her cheeks as she recalled just what lay beneath the fabric covering his chest.

He was preoccupied with examining the contents of a room-service spread that was laid out on a roll out table, and if he had any inclination of how keenly she was checking him out, he didn’t show it.

She cleared her throat to announce herself. “What’s all this?”

He looked over in her direction with a smirk. “I believe it’s referred to as breakfast.”

Nikita rolled her eyes. “I know that, but why go to the trouble?”

“Because, we don’t have to be back at our respective headquarters for another couple of days and I want to spend this one with you.”

Her heart flipped at the warm, inviting and completely sincere expression that lit up his handsome face. “Really?”

Ari bridged the distance between them and tucked a lock of hair back over her ear. “Really. We’re in Paris, Nikita. We should take advantage of it.”

The idea of exploring the most romantic city in the world with him had an appeal she couldn’t resist.

“One stipulation,” she inched closer.

“What’s that?”

“Just for today: we aren’t agents for rival organizations working together in secret. We’re normal. That’s what I want.”

“Very well, we’ll be an entirely normal couple,” he leaned in, nudging her nose with his. “On a completely normal date.”

“As long as that date starts with you kissing me because I’m about to lose my mind if you don’t.”

He grinned before doing exactly as she requested.

The kiss was tentative at first – a testing of the waters, so to speak – but any imaginings that Nikita might have had paled in comparison to the delicate sensation of Ari’s lips against hers.

She relaxed into the embrace immediately and curled her arms around his neck to tug him closer, nipping playfully at his mouth to signal that he could be less careful if he wished.

Skilled fingers weaved into the silk of her hair, the kiss deepening as they allowed months of pent-up emotion to take hold, teasing and tasting each other until they had to part in order to breathe.

They stood there illuminated by the light pouring in through the room’s windows, foreheads touching, and eyes closed, unwilling to separate just yet.

He was the first to break the silence, amusement lacing his tone: “We should eat before the food goes cold.”

“I’m half tempted to call the whole thing off and drag you back to bed,” she confessed with a nuzzle.

“Fun as that would be, I have plans for you that involve clothes,” he took a step back, though he twined their fingers together so he could lead her to the breakfast table.

“Damn,” she half-joked, beaming when he gallantly pulled out a chair for her. “We’re in a country with nude beaches, so I thought we might have a work-around.”

He choked on his drink at her remark, which was a reward in and of itself. “That’s not what I had in mind.” he sputtered.

With a giggle, Nikita loaded up her plate with scrambled eggs, some croissants, and fresh fruit. She figured that whatever Ari was plotting, it would require energy.

They fell into pleasant conversation while they ate and enjoyed their coffee, and when it was finally time to depart – they did so arm-in-arm.

The life of a rogue operative was actually the furthest thing from glamorous, and though Nikita had traveled to many foreign countries, she had never been given the opportunity to explore.

This was partially what drove her to dive fully into the guise of tourist, much to Ari’s delight.

Their first stop of the day was to procure sunglasses – though her hangover had abated somewhat, the bright sun still hurt – and brochures to guide them through the famous landmarks.

They perused shops, visited the Paris Opera House and the famous Notre Dame cathedral, and then had lunch at a quaint café. When the weather began to chill later in the afternoon, they ducked into a store to get jackets before they continued to the Eiffel Tower.

The couple had an early dinner in the famous restaurant that overlooked the city, and finally took a romantic walk along the banks of the Seine.

Though her feet hurt a bit from walking so much, and exhaustion was starting to seep in, Nikita was in bright spirits. “Today has been wonderful.”

“I’m glad.” Ari bumped her shoulder with his, pausing at a scenic vantage point on the bridge that they were crossing. “I know things haven’t been easy lately.”

“They haven’t.” She confirmed, referring to the ever-complicated battle to take down the organization that had turned her into a lethal weapon, for better or for worse. “Having you by my side certainly takes the edge off though.”

They stood close together and watched the sun dip into the horizon – appearing to disappear into the famous river. The sky above was awash in hues of red, pink, and orange, and she now understood why the song La Vie en Rose was so beloved.

A flurry of emotion settled in her heart when she turned to gaze at her companion.

There was no doubt that the man beside her was handsome, but the evening light cast a soft glow that befit the sharp angles of his face and made him irresistible in her eyes.

Her heart began to beat rapidly. Instinctively, she reached out to touch him, only to falter when his gaze caught her own.

A quizzical look was directed her way. “What is it?”

“Do you ever wonder if we should just stop? Run away. Adopt new identities. Start a proper life?” The words came pouring out, and she blushed before ducking her head. “I mean…”

“What are you actually trying to say here, Nikita?” elegant fingers curled beneath her chin to tilt it back, so she was looking at him properly.

Her breath hitched. His expression was utterly tender and full of affection but tempered by concern at her unexpected rambling.

“I’m trying to say that I’m in love with you,” she declared. “I tried very, very hard not to fall for you because the life we lead is always uncertain, and I’m sorry but, I couldn’t help it.”

He shushed her and placed a palm against her cheek. “Don’t ever apologize for how you feel.” He leaned in and granted her a sweet kiss that seemed to calm the anxiety that had erupted unintentionally.

Then – he said the words that would change everything.

“I love you, Nikita. If you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

Tears sprung to her eyes, and she practically leapt into his waiting arms, stealing a far more passionate kiss. “As if I’d want to get rid of you. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

He smiled against her mouth. “Fine by me.”

Although she had been the one to suggest it, by the time they reached their destination: Nikita found herself dealing with a different case of nerves.

The irony of them ending up back where they had started wasn’t entirely lost, and while she certainly wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the night in Ari’s arms, she was also hesitant. After all – the man she loved had been utterly respectful in every sense of the word, mindful of her boundaries and putting her feelings ahead of his own.

She followed him silently after they reached the floor they were staying on in the hotel, mulling over her insecurities when it came to the subject of intimacy. She was no virgin, but her few sexual encounters had been brief, to the point, and usually as part of a cover. The truth was she had never actually made love with someone besides the fiancé that she had lost, and that was some time ago. Nikita was certain that with Ari it was going to be about more than the physical act.

“You’ve grown quiet,” her companion remarked, jolting her from the reverie. “Is something wrong?”

Her cheeks flared with color, and she shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong! I was just thinking.”

He turned around to face her, apprehension written on his striking features. “If you think we’re moving too fast, I’m fine with slowing down.”

“That’s not it.” She shook her head again and draped her arms over his shoulders. “I want this. I want you.” She kissed him lightly to prove her point. “But I also don’t have the greatest track record when it comes to relationships.”

“I wouldn’t say that” he leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. “Earlier, you seemed to be doing just fine.”

“That’s because you’re the first man I’ve felt comfortable enough around to let my walls fall,” she confessed. “And I’m afraid of taking the next step and having things end up awkward between us after.”

“I’m honored that you trust me,” he murmured, nuzzling their noses together. “And I understand your trepidation. You’re also the first person I’ve wanted to be with in this way in some time.”

Her heart fluttered at the affection and his heartfelt admission. She leaned into him instinctively, emitting a quiet sigh. “I didn’t mean to ruin the mood by laying this on you so abruptly.”

“You’re not,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to look deeply into her eyes. “Nikita, the last thing I want is for you to ever feel uncomfortable. Whatever happens between the two of us needs to be mutual.”

At a loss for words, she nodded, her heart skipping when he offered her a gentle smile and another kiss that she gratefully returned.

“So…what now?” she inquired.

“Now – we go into the room, and I draw you a bubble bath.”

She blinked, not expecting that answer. “A bubble bath?”

“You need to relax,” he elaborated, taking the room key out to unlock the door. “When was the last time you were pampered?”

“Never?”

His response to that was to hoist her into his deceptively strong arms, lifting her effortlessly so he could carry her inside. “Now, that simply will not do.”

Though his action had momentarily startled her, Nikita was quick to wrap her arms securely around his neck.

He toed off his shoes but didn’t let go of her once they were through the entry, pausing only so she could pull off her ankle boots, and then he carted her off to the bathroom.

It was there that he set her down carefully on the small vanity chair, and she watched contentedly while he discarded his coat and then rolled up his shirt sleeves.

She cast aside her own jacket by draping it over the back of the chair as he tested the temperature of the water before letting the faucet run.

A delicious strawberry scent filled the air after he added a few capfuls of shower gel to the bath. Then he rose and faced her, wiping his hands off with a spare washcloth. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“What?” confused, she snapped out of her trance-like state. “I thought you were going to join me.”

“I never said as much,” he chuckled, moving to her side, and brushing his lips against her temple. “However, if you decide that’s what you wish –I’m right outside.”

Stunned, she watched him exit the room and then returned her attention to the state of the bath.

When it appeared to be more foam than water, she turned off the faucet and methodically began to undress, wondering just what kind of point her beloved was trying to prove.

Surely it’s a test…he’s probably stretched out naked on the bed by now, waiting to see how desperate I’ll get.

Completely nude, she padded over to the door and cracked it open, peeking out cautiously.

Ari was indeed stretched out on the bed, perusing a magazine, but had not removed one stitch of clothing. The only alterations were that he had undone several buttons on his collar and his sleeves remained rolled up.

Blushing, she ducked back inside and hastily wrapped a towel around her body. Well. I read him wrong.

After a few more minutes of consideration, she realized that her embarrassment over the circumstance didn’t change the fact that she wanted him there with her.

She breathed in deeply to steady herself, quickly checked to ensure the bath wasn’t starting to chill, and then opened the door again so she could lean against the frame.

“Ari?”

He looked up from reading, the crystalline blue of his eyes glittering with appreciation as they took in the sight of her. “Yes?”

She extended out one hand. “Please join me.”

He smiled and stood, his fingers entangling with hers seconds later.

She coaxed him into the room, drawing him to her for a kiss while her hands worked to free him from his shirt.

The crisp fabric parted over his torso, and he rotated his shoulders in assistance so she could slip it down his arms.

She pulled away from the kiss so she could stare at her leisure, her eyes roving over the sculpted contours of his chest and abdomen, and then lingering along the fine taper of his waist. The bright light of the bathroom should have been unforgiving, but being able to discern the bits of silver in his hair frankly made him more of a sensual picture than ever.

Without preamble – she lunged, claiming his lips urgently and quickly removing the barriers that remained between his skin and hers.

Strong arms circled around her protectively while they embraced, and she marveled over how right it felt to be with him. She could barely stop kissing or touching him long enough to steer them over to the tub, and she jolted in surprise when he scooped her up and did the work for her.

They sank together into the bubbles, naked limbs entwining while they became lost in one another.

“If you’d waited any longer, the water would have gone cold,” he remarked, tugging back to caress at her face.

“What can I say, I’m all about timing,” she smirked.

A playful grin was directed her way before he dipped his head and pressed several kisses to her throat, his tongue laving over her clavicle and then drifting further down.

She tilted her neck back and reclined fully against the edge of the bathtub, her legs hooking over his waist under the water to keep him close as he continued in his explorations.

Ari proved a generous lover: discovering paths along Nikita’s increasingly sensitized skin that he followed with both hands and mouth.

Suds of strawberry-scented foam were eased aside to grant him better access as he worshipped her body in a manner that was downright intoxicating. Even the most feather-light brush of his fingers along the curve of her hip was enough to spark pleasant tingles, heat gathering at her core the longer his ministrations wore on.

She idly wondered if he was drawing everything out on purpose, but then he finally joined them together with a fluid thrust and the world around her shattered.

A whimper tore from her throat, and she gripped tightly to his biceps, her legs coiling around him to anchor them fully before they set off on a steady rhythm.

Their eyes met; raw emotion evident in the bright blue of his gaze that was mirrored in her own. As she’d suspected – this was about so much more than a physical attraction.

Her heart thundered as they engaged in an intimate dance, damp skin causing delicious friction that led to inevitable surrender.

His mouth found hers right as they reached completion, embracing wildly in a manner befitting their coupling until – at last – they were entirely sated.

They stayed in the bath long enough for the water to turn cold, at which point Ari suggested that they finally switch to the more comfortable appearing bed.

Nikita made no protests and was quick to join him in cleaning up around the tub, as their exertions had resulted in plenty of water splashing onto the floor.

They wrapped themselves up in the comfortable, fluffy robes provided by the hotel and settled together on the mattress not long after.

With a content sigh, she cuddled close and took his hand within hers, grazing her mouth lightly over his knuckles. “I want more days that are just like this.”

“I want to give them to you,” he admitted. “Were you serious earlier? About stopping?”

“Did you think I wasn’t?” she slung a leg over his.

He reached out with his free hand and tucked a lock of errant, still-drying hair back over her ear. “I just know that bringing Division down means a lot to you.”

“It did… I’m not so sure anymore.” She traced an invisible figure over the triangle of exposed skin revealed by the open collar of his robe.

“Then let me rephrase that,” he leaned in to give her a languid, gentle kiss before murmuring. “What is it that you really want, Nikita?”

She searched his gaze, taken in by the honesty there, and knew to be sincere in return. After a moment of pondering his question, she answered. “I want to be happy, Ari. With you. With a life where I’m not constantly looking over my shoulder. What about you?”

“I want to be the one who makes you happy,” he confessed. “And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to ensure it.”

“I think I already knew that; I just wanted to hear you say it,” she smiled, stretching, and then twisting so she could pin him beneath her, hands fisting in the soft fabric covering his chest. “I also think we’ve taken a long enough break.”

There was a low, seductive sound on his part and then she was yanked into an ardent kiss that proved that there was nothing further to discuss for the time being.

After all – the promise of a future was more than enough.

The End

#nikari #ari x nikita #mine #mrsreginagold #fanfiction #otp: enemy mine #otp: this is the life we've chosen #peter outerbridge #ari tasarov #they invented romance I don't make the rules #nikita 2010

7 notes · View notes