#like sure yes it would be quite painful I’m sure I’d be writhing in pain but like let’s be real most ways to die currently are also painful | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

invalid-prongs · 3 years

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“For who could ever learn to love a beast?” from Beauty and the Beast, except I’m making it Starchaser because I miss writing about them </3 Also, the Gryffindor password is “venom of the snake” but in Italian, just in case you didn’t know.

It burns far worse than Regulus thought it would. He keeps wondering if there’s something wrong with it—there’s no way it should burn so much after having weeks to heal.

He clutches his left forearm between his thighs in an attempt to ease the pain and bites into his right hand to stop himself crying out. It’s kind of late and waking up his dormmates doesn’t seem like a bright idea.

Asking his parents for help is useless—they would just tell him to get on with it surely. The look of disappointment in his brother’s eyes would be too much to bare. Who else could he turn to?

With a deep, shaking breath and silent tears trickling down his face, he slowly peels back the covers of his bed and slips out from the green and silver sheets. He scans the room to make sure the other lads in the room are fast asleep before pulling his right hand from his mouth and using it to grasp his wand.

Regulus waits until he’s stood outside of the Slytherin entrance before waving his wand and muttering “Lumos” under his breath. The wand lights his way down the endless corridors as he drags himself around the castle, thinking of places to go. The burning in his arm doesn’t cease, even when he presses it to the cool stone walls and steps outside in the softly raining night.

It hurts and adds another layer of regret onto the Slytherin lad.

After what feels like hours of aimless wandering, too scared to visit the hospital wing, Regulus turns to head back to his dorm room. He can suffer through the next few weeks, and if it gets exceptionally bad, he can go to Hogsmeade one weekend and find something to help.

Before he can reach the Slytherin quarters, however, he’s stopped by the light tinkering of footsteps heading straight for him. He gasps softly, waving his wand behind his back. “Knox,” he mumbles, pressing himself flat against the wall as another figure steps around the corner.

“Hello?” a voice calls out and Regulus curses himself silently for picturing them in his mind. “Hey, is somebody there? You can come out, you know, I’m not a teacher or anything.”

Regulus takes a daring breath but doesn’t reveal himself. The person chuckles softly. “Hey, come on, don’t make me feel crazy.”

There’s nothing else for a few moments as Regulus screws his eyes shut and holds a hand to his mouth to muffle his breathing. But then there’s a lit wand in his face and the wide grin of one James Potter. “Gotcha. What are you doing out here at this time of night, Reg?”

He swallows thickly, trying to hold back the pain in his voice. “M-My name is R-Regulus, y-you know.”

James’s elegant face twists slightly. “Hey, are you alright? You sound like you’ve been crying?”

The Slytherin clamps his lips shut and shakes his head, but the Gryffindor isn’t fooled. He reaches softly for Regulus’s arm—his left one since it’s the closest—but it’s snatched away quickly.

They stare at each other for a few moments, wide eyes. James’s expression is hard for Regulus to decipher; he’s hurt, confused, and it causes the younger lad’s guilt to flare. James steps back slightly, allowing Regulus to fall out of the shadows.

“It’s hurting you, isn’t it?” James whispers into the darkness, and all Regulus can do is nod pathetically and whimper. James sighs and runs a hand through his unruly hair, assessing the situation. After a moment, he sighs again and holds out his hand. “Come on, come with me.”

He doesn’t trust James fully—what if he takes him to Madam Pomphrey, or worse, Dumbledore? But Regulus takes his hand anyway and lets himself be pulled in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

“Veleno del serpente,” he nods to the portrait, who twists her nose at the sight of a Slytherin buts lets them through anyway. Regulus is terrified of entering, because he’s sure there’s a rule specifically against entering the wrong house even on accident.

There’s probably a rule against having the Dark Mark, too, he figures to himself, ad follows James down the small tunnel. When they step into the empty common room, Regulus is hit with the warmth and comfort of the place, and the fire roars to life.

“Wait here,” the elder pushes him onto one of the sofas and wraps a blanket around his shoulders. “I’ll be right back, okay?” he disappears up the spiral staircase and Regulus just sits there, his eyes trained on the burning fire.

He thinks he should probably look around. Investigate the mighty Gryffindor house whilst he can. But his left forearm is turning numb, and not for a good reason, and his shoulder feels like it’s carrying the weight of a brick. He inhales sharply, willing himself not to cry again, and James reappears from the stairs with a small tray and a box.

“My mum is a healer,” he explains slowly, setting everything down on the coffee table and kneeling in front of Regulus. “She taught me some things, and I always have supplies for Quidditch accidents and such. Can I see your arm?”

Regulus pulls his left arm behind his back and shakes his head. He himself has avoided looking it as it as much as he can, and the thought of showing it to not anybody, but the proudest Gryffindor on the planet who is violently against everything Death Eater related…

But James’s eyes are so soft and welcoming, and when he smiles gently and whispers, “I won’t judge you, I want to help you, Reg,” his voice is like velvet, and all Regulus can do is offer forward his arm and turn his head.

“I’m sorry,” Regulus chokes out when James gasps softly. “I didn’t—I had no choice.”

James simply shushes him softly by resting a hand on his knee before getting to work. Every movement is fluid and gentle, as if he’s cleaning a priceless artifact, and not just helping to stop the burning of a Dark Mark. It doesn’t hurt much, just a few stings, but it feels uncomfortable when James waves his wand over the snake and it writhes on the younger’s arm.

He tenses and automatically pulls away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” James soothes him softly. “I just needed to cast a spell, but I guess it didn’t like that.” He chuckles softly, and Regulus takes enough comfort in the sound to let a smile tug at his lips.

“Guess it didn’t.”

James works for a few more minutes, and by time he’s finished, Regulus can barely feel the mark. James flicks his arm experimentally, and Regulus flinches softly, so he’s assured he hasn’t lost all feeling in his arm.

Their eyes meet for a moment, flickering with the fire in the background. “How can I repay you?” Regulus asks gently. “I—you really didn’t have to help me. I’m sorry if this made you… uncomfortable.”

“You don’t have to repay me with anything. I would hate for you to be in any kind of pain, love.”

At the slip of the name, Regulus blushes softly and James clears his throat. They look away for a moment until the Slytherin dares to peers through his eyelashes to see James staring straight at him.

“I missed you,” he mumbles before he can stop himself, almost smiling at the way James cocks an eyebrow in questioning. “Over the summer. I kept thinking of you. I was… I was half tempted to come and see you before… but I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

James tentatively reaches up a hand and wipes a tear Regulus didn’t know was falling. “It’s okay, I understand. I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you I missed you too. Sirius is nice, but he isn’t quite the same.” He winks at the end of his sentence, and Regulus can’t help spitting out a small giggle.

James bites his bottom lip softly, one hand still on the younger lad’s face, the other moving to rest on his knee again. Regulus knows they have a lot to talk about, and probably won’t get it done in one night. He knows he should be going before someone finds his empty bed or walks into the Gryffindor common room. But instead, he bats his eyelashes at James and tips his head down ever so slightly.

“Can I…” he trails off softly, waiting for James to pull away, maybe even yell at him about how he’s a Death Eater and they’re on opposite sides and they can’t.

But James doesn’t. Instead, he nods so softly that if he didn’t whisper a soft “yes” then Regulus would have thought he imagined it.

Their lips connect in harmony, and they melt together like they did every other time they did this. It’s as easy as anything, and Regulus can feel every negative emotion, every horrible feeling be flooded with the absolute adoration he has for the boy in front of him.

And then Regulus pulls back sharply to stare at James with his eyes wide and jaw slackened because he’s in love with him.

“Sorry,” James rocks back on his feet and pulls himself up off the floor. “Fuck, uhm, I’m so sorry, I didn’t… we can just… I don’t…”

“I love you,” Regulus whispers, raw and rough, and James shuts his mouth, honey-brown eyes snapping to meet an ocean of grey-blue. “I-I’m sorry, but I love you.”

James doesn’t reply straight away. He just sinks onto the sofa and reaches out, running a finger against Regulus’s bottom lip, which is red and slightly swollen. And then he smiles wider than he ever has, pearly white teeth almost blinding the room, and he laughs.

“Don’t be sorry, don’t ever be sorry. I love you too,” he replies, and Regulus reaches up a pale, aristocratic hand on James’s. “I love you more.”

The younger lad goes to protest, but his words are swallowed by another kiss, and when he wakes in the morning, stretched on the sofa with his limbs tangled with James’s, all he can do is smile and thank whoever controls fate that after everything that has happened, given everything that is and will happen, he’s found somebody who can still love him.

#jegulus #regulus black #james potter #james x regulus #regulus x james #death eater #dark mark #angst #fluff #one shot #harry potter #marauders #gryffindor #slytherin #jegulus one shot #starchaser #starchaser one shot

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nik-the-bik · 3 years

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Henriel Week Day 7: Alternate Ending

"The Fate of Your Soul"

Summary: A "What if Hyde didn't end up dead and Utterson spoke to him after finding everything out?" scenario

Last entry of Henriel week and I am once again thanking @corvidayyy for putting this together because I had too much fun planning these

****

Utterson squeezed the bridge of his nose as he fought off the pain and exhaustion of everything that had happened tonight.

Poole’s arrival, listening into Jekyll’s cabinet, breaking down the door, and the awful, terror infused screaming of Hyde pleading for mercy as the two charged in, pinning him to the ground as a vial of some substance clattered to the floor, the man writhing beneath them.

He didn’t think he would ever be able to escape the echoing shouts of “Not you! Not like this—please not you!” that had made his blood run cold as he called out to Bradshaw to summon the nearest policemen.

By the time the police arrived, Hyde had entered full hysteria, gasping sobs melting into unhinged laughter in a way that was overwhelmingly pitiful, if Utterson only but listened. To see the man struggle only tinged these feelings of pity with disgust. He did his best to keep his gaze averted.

And while his search of the cabinet hadn’t found Henry Jekyll, he did find the letters.

God, the letters. The information within them was all too much for his mind to process, and his head was hurting him worse than it had in years. When he had first finished Henry’s confessional, he had found himself sobbing—something that he probably hadn’t done in three decades. Too many conflicted feelings existed within him to make any sense of them, but as he composed himself with a hot cup of tea (with a healthy dose of bourbon mixed in), he brought himself to reading them a second and third time, desperate to understand.

After pouring through these pages, eyes burning from the strain of reading in the dim study, Utterson could understand nothing but a deep, deep ache in his very soul for the fate of poor old Harry Jekyll.

He pried himself out of his chair, desperate to do something—anything, but sit here for another moment with his thoughts. He turned to his coat and hat, still laying in a heap where he had tossed them after coming home, and prepared himself to step out into the brisk, dark air.

It was not long ‘til dawn when Utterson arrived at the precinct where they were holding Mr. Hyde.

After pacing the outside block a few times, Utterson finally steeled himself enough to enter the building where he almost immediately ran into a gentleman he recognized – the Newcomen who he had assisted during the Carew case. Thinking back to that time made his stomach turn anew.

“Ah, Mr. Utterson, good morning,” said Newcomen, looking tired himself. “I regret to inform you that there is no news yet of the whereabouts of Dr. Jekyll, but we have a full team dedicated to finding your man as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, Inspector,” Gabriel muttered, peering around nervously. “But that’s not the only reason I’m here.”

“Oh?” Newcomen shifted, doing his best to hide his sudden burst of curiosity.

“I would like to meet with Edward Hyde.”

Newcomen laughed. “No need for that! We have everything under control with him, and before long his time before the gallows will be scheduled—”

“I insist, Inspector.”

Newcomen froze.

“I’d like to speak with him alone, sir,” Gabriel continued.

“-er---alone?”

“Why yes, of course. I’m acting as his legal counsel.”

“You—you—I'm -- sorry, what?” Newcomen was standing there, mouth agape, no longer showing any signs of fatigue. Gabriel, however, felt the exhaustion run deeper than it had before. He sighed, handed the officer his card, and asked to be shown into a private interrogation room.

As he sat in the small, cold, gray room, head in his hands, Utterson couldn’t decide whether he had made the correct choice in coming here or not. The endless ways this encounter could go were daunting, the wait unbearably long, and he suddenly found that he'd much rather be back home in front of the fire. Or in bed.

Utterson’s stomach sunk low at the sound of the door opening. Hyde was escorted in by a pair of officers, who forced him into a chair and chained his hands together and ankle to the leg of his chair. Utterson couldn't bear to watch—the whole proceeding making him nauseous. He kept his gaze on the floor as he waited for the policemen to finish. He gave a curt nod as they departed while they reminded him that they would be in the hall and at his full disposal if anything were needed.

When they were alone, Utterson finally let himself look directly at Hyde.

Before this night, Utterson had only ever seen Hyde on one other occasion. To see him now, it was almost difficult to say that it was the same man.

The Edward Hyde before him was a little taller, a little older, and much more pale and sickly than his previous self. There was also something much more feral about him, with the way that his eyes sharply dashed across the room, unnaturally tense and agitated. His body was tightly coiled inward, breathing shallow, like a snake preparing to strike. He could see his jaw working too, as though he was chewing his words before he allowed them to tumble out of his mouth.

“You, then?” was all that the creature before him managed to grunt out. His voice sounded much raspier too, raw from the screaming that had taken place earlier.

“Me.”

Another interlude of silence.

“Why are you here?”

“I would like some answers.”

“Answers to what?” Hyde asked, eyeing him suspiciously. The words were spit at Utterson like they were poison.

“I’ve read the letter. All of it. And Lanyon’s too.”

“You have?”

“Yes.”

“And yet you’re here?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know all. Henry Jekyll is gone. I can’t help you.”

“Are you sure, Harry?”

Hyde convulsed suddenly, looking as though he had been smacked. When he composed himself again, staring directly at Utterson, he seemed to soften, if only slightly. His eyes, darker than Henry’s, nonetheless held something in them that drew Utterson in.

“I’m quite sure. It’s a hopeless case. You’re pleading for a dead man,” Hyde answered, a little more gravity to his voice than the short, raspy whispers of before.

They stared at each other for another moment, Utterson desperate to find anything, anything at all that would connect the miserable creature before him to the man he used to regard as his dearest friend, his family, his—well—everything.

“Henry Jekyll was not one to abandon hope so quickly.”

Hyde laughed then, a sad, desperate cackle. “Really? Is that so? I guess you didn’t know him as well as you thought! You really think that after all this, after everything you’ve learned, that you even knew him at all? The Henry Jekyll you knew, the Henry Jekyll you WANT, is gone. In fact, he never existed. I’m all that’s left—the miserable, miserable testament to all his sin, his failure, and every twisted thing that he had always been all along. You’re wasting your time and mine, Utterson, and I have precious little of it left.”

Hyde shut his eyes then, turning his face away from Utterson, refusing to even look at him. Utterson was afraid that the pitiable hysteria of before—when they had found Hyde alone in Jekyll’s cabinet, would resurface. He could see that Hyde was restraining himself against some deep emotion.

Utterson brought his hand to his brow and groaned. It was too late, or early, and exhaustion was clutching him like a vice. He continued to watch Hyde, and that usual disgust that his presence typically inspired was beginning to wane, ever so slightly, the longer they sat with each other. Of course, he had to keep reminding himself who this man truly was in order to keep those feelings at bay.

Finally, “What are we going to do, Henry?”

Hyde sputtered. “We? I--”

“The eyewitness account doesn’t help us at all, and the fact that I had previously cooperated with the police to corroborate the testimony—”

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

“And it has been far too long since I’ve been involved in criminal law—”

“Utterson!” Hyde pleaded. Gabriel paused and brought his gaze back to Hyde. “You can’t, you can’t really be here to—”

“Have you forgotten my promise? I once promised Henry Jekyll that I would ensure Edward Hyde gets his rights, and that is exactly what I intend to do. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do anything to save you, but…”

Utterson trailed off. Hyde looked at him, dumbstruck. It was though he were finally considering the character of the man before him, and not instinctively assuming every man he faced was an enemy. Tears began to brim Hyde’s eyes again, and Utterson was on the verge of letting his own tears spill for the second time in over 30 years.

“Why are you doing this?” Hyde asked, voice trembling.

How to answer? There were so many things to say, lifetime's worth.

Utterson reached a hand across the table and grabbed hold of one of Hyde’s. The smaller man flinched and started to pull away but stopped himself. While it didn’t feel quite right to Utterson, it wasn’t the hand of Henry Jekyll, there was a bewildering comfort in it nonetheless.

“Because the fate of your soul is not sealed yet, but no matter where it goes, I refuse to let it go alone,” Utterson said.

The two sat there in silence, hands held tightly, as dawn broke in the cold London morning outside.

#henriel week 2021 #henriel #the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde #jekyll and hyde #doctor jekyll #henry jekyll #gabriel utterson #mr utterson #jekyll/utterson #jekyll and hyde fanfic #nikki tries to be a writer #this is why i ship this pairing btw #utterson would die for his friends and henry is like ''damn you're amazing you're the greatest''

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elliesguitarstrings · 3 years

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Silence (Part 5)

Masterlist//Series Masterlist

Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Summary: You and Peter have been best friends ever since he stepped foot into the avengers compound. After a year of being friends you realize you’ve developed a crush on him, but he doesn’t feel the same way… at least, you don’t think he does.

A/N: Last part!! I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it :) I may or may not do an epilogue to this but we’ll see bc I have a lot of other stuff I want to work on.

Warnings: language, angst with a happy ending

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You lay on your bed, contemplating how in the world you’re ever going to manage ignoring Peter on patrol. Truthfully, you know you won’t be able to avoid him, but you want to go as long as possible without talking to him, which will be nearly impossible since it’s just going to be the two of you. Why couldn’t you just go with Nat, or Wanda, or like… anyone else?

Then the dreaded moment comes when your dad calls you downstairs to suit up for patrol. You rush down to the lab before Peter gets there, slipping into the suit you’ve been working on for the past few months. It’s nothing special, just your average stealth suit with a little bit of tech incorporated, but it’s yours. And now you can finally wear it for something other than basic training.

You admire your suit in the mirror, excited to put it to good use. In the reflection, you see Peter walk into the lab, already suited up in everything but his mask. Presumably he already knew you were joining him on patrol, but he still looks surprised to see you nonetheless.

Luckily, before he has the chance to say anything to you, your dad steps in.

“Great, you’re both here! Pete, you know the drill. Station at a tall building, look for bad guys, be back my midnight.”

Peter nods, “Yes sir. Same as always!”

God, what a suck up.

Your dad turns to you, “Y/N, follow Peter’s lead. He’ll brief you on the basics of patrolling and what to expect. Tonight’s a quiet night, but still watch out for trouble. And please, for the love of god, behave yourself.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, dad, got it.”

“Alrighty then kids, get to work. See you later.”

You follow Peter out, trailing behind him at quite a distance so you don’t have to talk to him.

Peter starts lecturing you about the basics of patrol (which you already know) as you walk out onto the roof of the compound, getting ready to head to Queens. He offers to swing you there, but you cross your arms and shake your head, still keeping your silent streak. Thankfully, you had installed jet thrusters into your suit, and while they aren’t very strong, they are enough to get you through the short trip to Queens.

As you fly through the city, you contemplate just going off on your own, away from Peter. But you decide that the lecture from your dad when you come back wouldn’t be worth the trouble.

You loosely follow Peter and land on a tall apartment building in the middle of the city. He sits on the edge of the roof, looking out over the city, motioning for you to come sit next to him. Instead, however, you swiftly turn your back and sit on the opposite side. Luckily, he takes the hint and doesn’t come to you, and the two of you sit in silence for a while, with both of you surveying each side of the city.

It’s not until about thirty minutes in that something finally happens. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a man in a black hood sneaking into a dark alley. You know if you say anything to Peter, he would want to come with you, so you slip down the building as quietly as possible, going to see for yourself what’s going on.

At first it looks like an average drug deal, something you could easily stop in no time. But then, you see one of the three hooded men pull a glowing weapon out of his duffel bag, something you recognize as alien tech. You try to sneak further around the corner to get a better look at the weapon, but you make the mistake of not looking down and you step on stick, the crack audibly heard by all three of the men in the alley.

You try to turn and run, but it’s too late. They already have you cornered, each of them equipped with one of the alien weapons, so you prepare to fight.

One of the men slowly inches towards you, weapon in hand.

“Well well well, if it isn’t little Miss. Y/N Stark. Daddy finally let you join the team huh?”

You don’t answer him and reach for the gun in your holster, but stop when you feel another gun pressed to the back of your head.

The man speaks again, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you sweetie. One shot of any of these weapons would kill you in an instant, so I’d do what we say.”

“What do you want from me?” you ask, trying your best to hide the fear in your voice, while also trying to devise an escape plan from this unfortunate situation.

“We’ve been looking for you for a long, long time Miss. Stark. We have questions about your dad and his little gadgets, and you have answers. And you’re going to give them to us, whether you like it or not.”

You decide that it’s now or never, so you take action.

“No.” you state, and swiftly kick the man behind you in the stomach, dodging the blast of his weapon as he shoots it towards you. He’s too hurt to try to shoot again, so you steal the weapon from his hands and hit him across the face, successfully knocking him out.

Unfortunately, you fail to pay attention to the two other men advancing behind you. Before you can even process it, the weapon is knocked out of your hand and you are pinned to the ground, with the smaller man holding your shoulders and the larger one restraining you with his knee. You writhe and struggle to try and loosen their grip, but they are too strong.

“So, you wanna play hard, huh little girl?” the larger of the two men drove his knee further into your abdomen, making you cry out in pain.

The other man speaks up, “Since you won’t cooperate, we’re just gonna have to make you,” he motions to his partner, “get the needle.”

Your eyes widen as the larger man pulls out a giant tranquilizer needle, still keeping you down with his knee. Both of the men tighten their hold on you, trying to restrict your movement. Still, you kick and writhe as much as possible, keeping the man from stabbing you.

“STOP FUCKING MOVING” the smaller man screams, following with a hard blow to your face, drawing blood from your nose and cheek.

At this point, you are helpless, accepting your fate as the needle inches closer to your neck.

“Not so fast!”

Peter.

The needle is snatched out of the masked man’s hand, catching him off guard and making him loosen his grip enough for you to swiftly knee him in the groin. Peter catches the needle and uses it to stab the smaller man in the neck, immediately knocking him unconscious. The man who you had previously knocked out starts to stir again, so Peter runs to fight him while you still struggle with the larger man.

Although the masked criminal is much larger and stronger than you, you are able to use his own strength against him, throwing him to the floor (you learned that from Nat). Establishing control over him, you repeatedly punch him in the face until he is successfully knocked out. Once you are sure the man is fully unconscious, you glance at Peter, who is already webbing up the other two criminals.

You motion for him to web up the man you just knocked out, and you call your dad to explain the situation.

“Good job Y/N, we’ve been looking for those guys for a while now, so not bad for your first patrol. I’m sending agents to come pick the three criminals and bring them to the compound for interrogation, so just wait there with Peter until they show up.”

“Got it dad, thanks,” you say, still breathing heavily from your fight.

“Proud of you kid.”

He ends the call and you smile to yourself, happy that you made your dad proud on your first day as a part of the team.

And then Peter ruins it.

“You’re welcome,” he says flatly.

With all the adrenaline flowing through your veins making your blood boil, you decide to finally break your silent streak.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, would you look at that. She speaks!” he comments sarcastically.

You roll your eyes, “What am I supposed to be thanking you for, exactly?”

“Uh, for just saving your ass out there. Or maybe you didn’t notice that you were about to get tranqued in the neck and kidnapped by some of the city’s most wanted criminals.”

“Oh please, I could have handled myself just fine.”

To be honest, you know you wouldn’t have been able to handle yourself, and deep down you are grateful for Peter coming and saving you, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“Come on Y/N, we both know that you would have been fucked if I hadn’t come to help.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you Peter.”

“Yeah, okay. Go back to giving me the silent treatment. That’s what got us into this mess anyways.”

“I’m sorry what? How the fuck is this my fault?” your voice is rising increasingly in anger.

“If you had just stopped ignoring me for one fucking second and didn’t sneak off on your own, we could have handled this so much easier!” his voice rises as well.

“Why does it even matter anymore Peter? We took them down anyways, who cares how it happened?”

“Because you’re ignoring me Y/N! And I have no fucking idea why!”

Oh, so he wants to go there.

“Don’t play the innocent card here, you know exactly what you did.”

“Please, enlighten me, because I have no clue what the hell you’re talking about.”

“YOU’RE SHUTTING ME OUT PARKER!”

“I’M SHUTTING YOU OUT? YOU HAVEN’T SPOKEN TO ME IN THREE FUCKING DAYS! YOU’RE THE ONE SHUTTING ME OUT! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING THIS Y/N?”

“BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU OKAY!”

Oh fuck, you just messed up. You didn’t mean to say it, but your mind kept wandering back to your conversation with Nat earlier and it just… slipped out.

Peter stares at you in bewilderment.

“What did you say?” his voice becomes noticeably softer.

Fuck it.

“I love you Peter. I’ve loved you since the first day I fucking saw you when you walked into the compound and we watched A New Hope on my bed and I fell asleep on your shoulder but I know you only see me as a friend and you like MJ and I just ruined our friendship but I-“

Peter cuts you off by pulling you into him and pressing his lips onto yours. After a few seconds he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours and taking your hands in his.

“I don’t like MJ, I like you. Fuck it, you know what, you already said it so why don’t I, I love you. I’ve always seen you as more than a friend but I never thought you felt the same way.”

So many emotions are flowing through your head, trying to process what the fuck just happened. The main one, however, is just plain confusion.

“But then- then why have you been avoiding me for MJ?”

“Is this about our friendiversary thing?”

You nod your head, still trying to get an answer out of Peter as to why he was being such a dick.

“Look Y/N, I know this sounds stupid, but I- I was avoiding you because when you woke me up and told me about our one-year friendiversary, it reminded me that we were just friends, so I got weird. It wasn’t just you that remembered it, I did too. And I was actually planning on telling you how I felt about you, but then I got scared and bailed. And then I invited Ned and MJ to come with us because I didn’t think I would be able to handle myself if it was just me and you. I’m so sorry Y/N, it was such a shitty thing for me to do and I hate myself for it-”

This time it was your turn to cut him off with a kiss, still holding on to his hands.

“I forgive you Peter. And also, I’m sorry for giving you the silent treatment for three days,” you laugh.

Peter starts laughing with you, “We’re both such idiots, aren’t we?”

“Yeah. We totally are.”

Both of you are still giggling as you kiss for a third time, this one more passionate. He wraps his arms around your waist and you move yours around his neck, drawing him as close as humanly possible. You deepen the kiss, the both of you completely getting lost in each other, and in this moment, its like you and Peter are the only two people on Earth.

You pull away from Peter only to rest for a moment and catch your breath.

“I love you Peter,” you smile.

“I love you too Y/N, so much.”

~~~~~~~~

Taglist: add yourself to my taglist here!

Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you :(

All: @pxkajesus @hollanddolanfangirl @roseke @agentsofparker @lifeasjazzz @damnrancidchicken @loopyolivia @iwannabekilledtwice @rafehogwarts @non-eexistent @rosiexx8 @nearlydanger9 @realityisabitch07 @midgardassassins @jbreenr @cap-marvxl @ellesmythe @deepestcolorgiantopera @that-one-person @clandestine-nerd @nevertrustapanda16 @ohabbyoh @rxmanxff @bubbleskz @quinn-spn58 @baby-pogue @strangebouquetqueen @thatforgottenangel @pjmjams @tiredstudenttrinity @isabella-bby @i-will-take-care-of--you @hollandprkr @ladykxxx08 @white-wolf1940 @runawayolives @geekgirleve @thathurtbrolol@heyiheardyouwereawildone36

Peter Parker: @blizzardbabe @ifyouwereanybraveryoudbealioness @newsies-yeet @zosia-cichoracki @elismacleod @parkerpeterparker2004

Series: @t-hollanderr @allycat449-blog @haley-talks-too-much

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nalu4emily · 3 years

Text

Nure-Onna

Hello!

So I wanted to write a story based on chapter 74 of FT 100YQ. Mostly, I was happy with it, but I wanted to make it even more Nalu, and this was the result.

Yes, I am aware that this wouldn't actually happen, but it's fun to write up something that diverges from canon just a little, that's what fanfiction is for, so indulge me.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and if not, you can always read the real thing. :)

Summary: With Lucy as the newly created Yokai - Nure-Onna - How is Natsu going to handle her snake like form and find a way to bring her back to him in one piece?

"It… hurts… But it feels so good…" He was being crushed between Lucy's sizeable chest, wrapped up in a crushing hold by her tail… "Hold on! You… Your legs! What's wrong with your body?!" He freaked, catching sight of the scaly snake like tail that held a vice-like grip around his body, making it hard for him to breathe.

As he stared into her eyes, he could no longer see those beautiful big brown orbs that once held so much love and care for others, now they were slitted and golden, almost predatory and followed his every move. Her face held nothing of the Lucy that once was, only the monster that she had become—what those witches had turned her into. He squirmed, tried to wriggle free which only made her coil tighter, a sickening smile adorning her cheeks. She was enjoying his struggle.

"Dammit! How's she so strong?!" He grunted, trying his hardest to fight against her bone breaking grip.

The nure-onna chuckled lightly, bringing her face slowly closer to the man in her hold, "Natsu." She called, her voice taunting, laced with darkness. Natsu could do nothing but stare, sweat dripping down his face as the sexy, snake girls lips were practically on top of him, gliding smoothly over his skin. "I'm gonna eat you up." She growled, licking her lips, the heat of her mouth fanned across his, giving him goosebumps. She opened it further, allowing her slippery tongue to glide over his cheek, causing a gasp and yelp to escape him.

This wasn't like Lucy; she would never be so… snaky, "Hey! You gotta change back, Lucy!" He was desperate now; he didn't want to see any more of this.

"Could you not talk so loudly into my chest?" Her tail unravelled from around the boys body and stuck the end of it straight into his mouth and down his throat, choking him. Without warning, she grabbed him around the middle and threw his body up into the air, before slamming him down onto the ground.

"Aargh! Damn, Lucy, that hurt!" He grunted, straightening himself back up, balling his hands into fists, brows furrowing as if battling his own internal conflict.

"But I thought you said it felt good when it hurt?" She chuckled lowly, licking her lips once again as she circled the boy, waiting for the right moment to strike. "Maybe I'll show you just how much I'd like to hurt you!"

"This isn't like you! Snap out of it!" He raised his voice, like he was trying to call to the other Lucy—his Lucy. "I don't wanna have to fight you, but I will if I gotta…" He lowered his voice, adorning a battle stance as he challenged the Lucy looking monster before him.

"Bad choice, Natsu... Now, you're mine!" She launched forward before the boy could even see what was happening and shoved him down into the ground again, coiling the end of her tail around his neck and dragged him up into the air. She approached the gasping young man, another small laugh rumbling through her chest. "You look tasty." Using her strong appendage she brought him back to her face, an evil glint in her golden irises that told him she'd won this before it even began.

He felt trapped, he didn't want to fight her but also felt like he had no choice, if he waited much longer, he'd be a goner for sure. Whilst she was distracted, he lifted his fist to the top of her tail and raised the temperature in it. She gasped and looked down, a fiery hand sizzling her scales, enough to scare her off and retreat but not enough to burn her.

Natsu dropped to the floor, coughing and spluttering, trying to refill his lungs of lost breath. He managed to stand up once again, a pained expression with hands encased in fire, ready and waiting.

"I'm mad now snake-Lucy." He leapt at her, fist drawn back about to strike her head on when he stopped.

"Natsu! Stop! It's me!" Lucy held up her arms in front of her face, tears forming in the corners of her eyes, "Natsu!"

His own eyes widened. A moment of hesitation; a moment of hope.

Had she returned to him?

Giving her the opening she needed, she used the water to swirl around him, trapping him in her spell. She cackled, "You fell for it!" Slithering over to the boy, she forced him against the rock and used her newly found strength to hold him there, nearly breaking his back in the process. He groaned in pain. "What part should I devour first?"

Stuck in place, partially submerged under the water and unable to use his magic, he simply watched her ogle his body, using her hands to squeeze his muscular form, salivating by the feel of his muscles in her palms.

"Lucy… Please… I don't want to hurt you!" He grunted through the stinging of his skin scraping against the sharp rock behind him.

"Hurt me? Oh, Natsu... Do you not see yourself? With you as my opponent, I'd already won." She licked across his jaw and down to the scar on his neck, sucking on it harshly enough to bruise. "You're my prey and I'm going to savour every last inch of your hot body."

Sweat began beading across his face again, gritting his teeth through the discomfort of Lucy's mouth pulling and tugging on areas he hadn't known were so sensitive until now. In any other circumstance, this would have been quite the turn on. Nights had gone by where he'd dreamt of Lucy doing this to him, to feel her sweet mouth on his...

His eyes grew wide as an idea slowly formed in his head. That was it! The perfect way to win! To use her new found dominance against her. And he'd be lying if the thought wasn't a little exciting, even in her snake form. He just hoped she wouldn't remember when she finally returned to normal, for her own sake.

As she grazed over his nipple, a small hum of satisfaction rumbled through his chest, catching the snakes attention. "Hmm… You seem to like my touch." She said, gripping hold of the erect bud once again and twisting it this time. "How about that? You like that, too?"

He winced and hissed as she continued her sweet torture on his now sore nipple, but remained quiet nonetheless. As hard as it was not to moan from the pleasurable soreness, he needed to see if she'd take the bait and let down her guard.

Just as planned, the man eating serpent did just that. Pressing her mouth to the sore area and grazing it with her teeth. She eyed the boy above her, revelling in the contorted expressions he pulled, all the while becoming more and more distracted from her main goal—which he assumed was to devour him.

As he endured Lucy's heavenly mouth bite and suck his skin, Natsu held down his small victory as her grip began to slacken, giving him more and more freedom to move. Just as her tongue was about to lick over his lips, his teeth unexpectedly snapped at the wet muscle and bit down on it, causing her to yelp and jerk backwards, freeing him. He smirked, bringing his newly liberated hands up and encased the back of her head with them, holding her in place.

"You've had your fun, Snake-Lucy, but now it's my turn!" He growled, raising the temperature around them, slowly evaporating the water she'd created.

Hissing at the boy, the snake attempted to escape, yanking and pulling at his arms but his grip was unyielding. Stinging her scales with his heat, she struggled, not liking how the tables had turned in his favour.

"Natsu! It's burning! Natsu, please, you wouldn't hurt me, not your Lucy!" She screamed in a panic, writhing under the intense heat of his body.

He feigned sympathy, a worried look luring her into a false sense of security. He pulled her close, his hands cupping her clammy cheeks, "You think I'd fall for that again?" He smirked, brushing his lips up against hers.

He could hear the voice of one of Selene's minions, giving away just which of those bitches did this to Lucy, "Huh… I was sure she'd beat him! No matter, she was one of the weakest Yokai in my arsenal anyway."

"Weakest, you say?" Natsu may have been looking into Lucy's eyes as he spoke, but he was addressing the one he'd just made his next target, "If you knew Lucy, then you'd realise she's not weak."

"Of course she is! My Yokai would never humiliate me by losing!" Youko's voice was laced with disgust for the nure-onna she had created. "How pathetic!"

"Why you-"

"It seems it's true…" Lucy's voice cut through, a soft whimper as she stopped her struggle, her forlorn expression pulling at Natsu's heartstrings. It was the face of a girl who was giving up. Her eyes shone with the water droplets that were yet to fall, her irises flittering between golden and brown.

"Nothin' that thing says is true, Lucy, don't listen to her!" Natsu tried to make her see reason; to talk some sense into the girl who'd been turned into a monster.

"Even as a Yokai with all the magic power of Elentir, I'm still so weak." A lone tear fell from her eyes and Natsu knew with a little push, Lucy—human Lucy—just might come back to him. "Do what you must, I've no place as a human or Yokai…"

Natsu stared in shock; she was just going to except her fate? To give up? This wasn't like her—this wasn't her and there lay the problem. "Lucy, don't you dare give up, you're stronger than this… Than them up there. What they've done to you is unforgivable, and I'mma be sure to make 'em all pay, but first you gotta come back to me." In the deepest depths of those golden slits, he could see that his best friend was still in there trying to reach out to him. He knew she was, all she needed was that extra bit of encouragement.

"See! I told you, worthless! I should have just killed her and saved everyone the trouble." Youko laughed maniacally, spurring her comrades to cheer and laugh too.

"She's right, I'm just a burden not worth your time, just end this already, I'm tired of waiting." Snake-Lucy let more tears fall in her frustration, her thoughts conflicted and her heart in pieces.

"Fine, I'll end this." Natsu grabbed a hold of her cheeks and brought her face to his, welding their lips together in a fierce and heated embrace.

At first the nure-onna fought against it, but the longer he held on, the less she resisted until she all but melted into it, eventually responding to his inexperienced but determined ministrations. Their mouths danced in a steady rhythm with their tongues interloping, albeit, a little awkwardly.

Natsu fought to show just how much she mattered to him, to show her place in his heart and how deeply he cared for the Lucy that'd always been by his side. He loved her, there was no doubt about that and when they finally pulled apart, he looked deep into her eyes and smiled at what he saw. Those beautiful big brown orbs that shone with the love and care she had for everybody, even her enemies, had returned.

There she was—his Lucy—in all her two legged, naked, glory.

"But that's impossible! I turned her into a Yokai; how did she manage to change back so easily?!" Youko shouted, but neither Natsu nor Lucy took any notice, too entranced in each other.

"Natsu…" The blonde whispered, bringing her hand up to his face to caress his cheek, a small smile adorning her features, "Thank you."

And with that, her eyes closed shut; her body falling limp in his arms. Totally exhausted and her magic spent, the relieved slayer laid her on the ground, hidden from view trying to cover as much of her nakedness as possible. Once satisfied nothing would run into her whilst she slept, he stood back up, his eyes covered by his hair and spoke now directly to the women on top of the mountain.

"I hope you realise now, attacking my friends was a big mistake! Not only are they strong but we share a bond that'll never be broken by the likes of you." Natsu ignited his entire body, his eyes grew serious and angry.

Youko, still shocked by what'd just happened, felt a little fearful of the boy surrounded by flames; maybe they'd underestimated their opponents?

"I hope you're ready, 'cause I'm coming for ya and I won't stop until I see you all burn!"

#Nalu #fairy tail nalu #nalu fanfic #nalu fanfiction #Natsu and Lucy #natsu x lucy #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #natsu lucy #fairy tail #fairytail #fairy tail fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction writing #fairy tail 100 year quest #fairy tail 100 years quest

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miss-tc-nova · 3 years

Text

Taboo Indulgence - Riku x Reader

Have you ever read any of @lucky0stars YMX x Reader fics? You should. They are amazing! Seriously, check them out. That’s what got me thinking about relationships between GoL and SoD characters. I don’t think I got exactly the dynamic I was hoping for, but without making a gigantic series of this, I probably won’t. So tada!

Also, screw coming up with a title for this!!!

~~~~~

Nary a noise breaks the silence upon arrival. A canvas of stars stretches across the sky, framing the pale moon that graciously grants its borrowed light. It’s a beautiful night tonight on Radiant Garden; it makes me excited to see him again. I’ve been keeping tabs on him for a while now and finally, after some weeks, I’ve managed to intertwine our paths once again.

Excitement bursts in my chest when I catch sight of the young man up ahead and my feet swiftly carry me in his direction.

Breath suspended in my lungs, I stalk towards my prey. His head is bowed, watching the little device in his hand; however, his attention is not entirely employed in the screen. He pauses to glance around but I’m lucky enough to have found cover around the corner of a shop. His walk resumes, as does my stalking.

Grinning ear to ear, eager to get my hands on him, practically trembling in anticipation, I reach out.

My fists snag his jacket and the full weight of my body throws both of us back into the dark portal. The second our feet reconnect with solid ground, he rips away from me, retaliating with a keyblade ilms from my skull but never connects. Our eyes meet and his teal eyes shift from fight to something much brighter.

“What are you doing here?” he says, putting his all into sounding annoyed.

Smile none perturbed, I hum, “Oh, you know, caught wind that my favorite Guardian was traipsing around Radiant Garden and I just had to have some fun.”

“How many times have I told you to stay away from me?” Despite our opposition, his guard drops.

“Nine. And yet you ended our last little rendezvous with ‘Remind me to teach you some manners the next time I see you,’” I say in a rather spot on imitation of him if I do say so myself. “So it seems to me, that you were expecting me to come crashing into your life again, Riku. And who am I to disappoint.”

Oh, my joy is tremendous in seeing that frown as his words are turned on him.

He grumbles, “Yeah, well, you still don’t have any manners.”

“You didn’t like my little sneak attack?” I feign shock.

“No, otherwise it wouldn’t be called an attack.”

“Sure it would.” Twirling around, I wave to the peculiar rising falls. “Besides, just look at this view. How could I find someplace so beautiful and not share it? You should be honored.”

His teal eyes look out at the water. With a sigh, he dismisses his keyblade. “It is pretty; more than it is during the day actually.” I grin but he’s not really having it. “Was there actually something you wanted me for?”

“No, not really,” I hum, my gaze following the water to the sky.

When I realize there’s no response, I turn to him. There’s something on his face I’ve only seen glimpses of. Since we met in the Realm of Dreams, Riku’s made a point of keeping me at arm’s length with a serious attitude. I can’t blame him, but now and then, he slips up and shows me someone gentle and almost innocent. However, this is the first time he’s worn that expression while looking at me. It’s almost as if he wants to interact without his usual bite and I find myself now and then hoping that he will.

And then he realizes I’m watching him and glares.

“So you just wanted to be annoying.”

“Aren’t I always annoying you, Riku?” I say with a cheeky shrug.

“I suppose that is your M.O.,” he mutters. “So what did you get up to since your last ambush in Arendelle?

“Ah, you know. Some heartless here, some terror over there. The usual.”

His head shakes. “You’re impossible to understand.”

“I don’t know why. I’ve been perfectly honest with you.” His skepticism is palpable. “Oh you wound me! How could you ever assume I would lie to you?! Go on, ask me anything.”

He ponders his opportunity. “What were you doing in Twilight Town last week?”

I shake my head, hands raised. “Well I can’t tell you that.”

“You said you’d tell me anything.”

“No, I said I wouldn’t lie.”

“Okay, fine. Why do you keep following me?”

That’s a question I could answer in a heartbeat: it’s fun. But that’s a shallow answer; I know that and I’m fairly certain so does he. Admittedly, his response to my pestering had first marked him as the perfect plaything, but I can’t actually write him down as just a toy—not anymore. Still, I’m not entirely sure what it is that draws my wandering feet back to him. I suppose, if I were being honest with myself, I want to see the person he is when he doesn’t know I’m watching: someone bright in spite of his darkness. I’ve seen his sincerity and perseverance and those are things to be admired, even if we are on opposing sides. Even if I can’t name them all, there are reasons I keep coming back.

Fuck.

In lieu of this enlightenment, I find my gaze hitched on his mouth. Sparks flicker in my chest, but I grin nonetheless.

“Because it’s fun. Don’t you enjoy our little run ins?”

The instant protest dies on his tongue. “I…I don’t know.”

That’s not the answer I was expecting, but it spurs the hope growing in me. I decide to start pushing some boundaries. With his guard against me nearly gone, it doesn’t take much to push him up against a rogue stone.

“That’s not a no,” I say, my eagerness creeping into my voice.

A blush tints his face. Despite my forwardness, Riku seems more mesmerized than appalled.

“No…it’s not.”

My excitement is getting away from me, compelling me to lean closer. “Between the two of us, I believe you’re the peculiar one here.”

For the first time, he cracks a smile, albeit, something wry. “I’m starting to think so too.”

“Are you aware of how easy it would be for me to dispose of you in this instant?”

“I am.” I see the anticipation in the way in his mouth writhes.

A smirk plays at the corner of my lips. “And you still trust me?”

My advance halts, his shuddering breath ghosting across my lips. I’ve been at the steering wheel of this rollercoaster relationship, doing whatever pleased me in the heat of the moment; but I won’t take this. No, this is far too important to be stolen on a whim. I need to hear him say it, no matter how my heart flutters.

“Yes.”

Relief bleeds into my soul, but at the same time, the madness I’d barely been able to contain ignites. The dread that spreads across his face at my resultant expression is absolutely precious.

“What a shame.”

I plunge headlong into my avarice, drowning Riku with me.

With each kiss, part of me assumes the novelty will weather away—that I’ll finally be content. What a fool I am. I crave more and more with no end in sight. No matter the pressure, the duration, the angle: I simply cannot get enough.

Riku is barely more than a passenger in this experience, struggling to keep up as I string him along. Of course, what participation he can sneak into my barrage serves as encouragement. When he finally falters though—breaking the kiss to gasp for air—I retaliate. My hand pulls at the silver hair and his lips curl back in a grimace, but he gives me what I want: access to his neck. The moment my lips graze his skin, his body goes rigid. As I trace the muscle with my tongue, I finally seem to be making ground on this greed when I hear his breath stagger. A new wave of eagerness crashes down on me as I take hold just above his shoulder.

Sufficiently satisfied with the mark left behind, I survey my victim. His brows stitch together but do nothing against the pink tint painted across his cheeks. Even his eyes burn with a hunger I assume matches what I feel.

I let my hands trail from his hair to cup his face.

“My, aren’t you just beautiful,” I whisper.

That shade deepens and, without hesitation, Riku places a hand behind my head to begin another round. This time, he attempts to lead, but my gluttonous response brings him down to my level in a back-and-forth of action and reaction. It’s not quite the vindication of having him a floundering mess beneath me, but I admit, I like the bite he tries to fight back with.

Suddenly, fingers ensnare my hair, ripping me away from the object of my desire. I can hear him shouting as I’m being led away in pain. When released, I just have time to see the dark portal disappearing, leaving me in the wastelands of the Keyblade Graveyard. I whirl on my attacker with a homicide on my mind.

I am royally screwed.

Golden eyes burn with the fury barely contained on the rest of his face. I could’ve lied through my teeth to just about anyone, maybe even the old man himself, but the one person I came here with is the one person who could tear the truth from me.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Just like his expression, anger smolders beneath his words.

The question is rhetorical; he already knows the answer. Still, I have to say something.

“What? Didn’t you want him on our side?”

Xehanort slights his eyes at me. “Are you bringing him to the darkness? Or is he taking you to the light?”

“Excuse me?!”

“I trust you. You could damn near kill half our members and I would have your back.” His rein on his composure is slipping. “But this! How could you choose him over us?!”

“How fucking dare you!”

“HOW CAN I NOT WHEN I FIND YOU MAKING OUT WITH THE ENEMY?!”

He has a point, but I can’t admit that. “Please. You of all people know how little a kiss can mean.”

“So then what did it mean to you?”

Glaring straight into his eyes, voice low and steady, I answer him. “It meant nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

Of all our friends, Xehanort could be the most observant and calculated. He probably saw ages ago what it took me until today to realize. I never had a chance against him.

“You came here with me to save them.” His bristling smooths out and Xehanort releases all the emotion riled inside. With cold ruthlessness, he looks me dead in eye. “And if I have to, I’ll save you too.”

I can’t fight him, and I can’t lie to him; I’m just…

Fucked.

“Xehanort…”

“I’ll keep your secret for now.” I won’t be able to get another word in—this conversation is over. “But if I find you with him again, there won’t be any more secrets to keep.”

Leaving me heartbroken and miserable, Xehanort disappears into a Dark Corridor. I don’t know who I was trying to kid. I told myself a million different things when meeting with Riku—it was just a game, I wanted to screw with him, I was bored—but I wanted to see him because I was interested in him.

Now I have a choice to make and there’s no one to blame but myself.

#riku #kh riku #riku x reader #gender neutral reader

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keilemlucent · 4 years

Text

the sex party: i

(r18+)

shinsou hitoshi x reader

ao3

part 1 (you’re here!) || part 2

word count: ~7.1k

You and Hitoshi definitely have a thing for each other, but who would've thought that a 'sex party' would produce a confession?

warnings:

COLLEGE AU! characters are explicitly aged up to college students as early 20 year olds!

not really a sex party, mutual pining, friends to lovers, confessions, reader is canonically bi, brief momo x reader, light dom/sub, spanking, references to drug use, smoking (cigarettes, salem trademarked fic thing), drinking, and smut

there is a scene where there is attempted sexual assault. it is marked with ***** before and after.

---------

this.... this piece is a monster. i’ve been wrestling with it for a month and now its here for y’all. the second part is already out ;^)) thank you to @keiqos for being an absolute king and beta reader this monster. enjoy y’all!!

|||||||||||||||||

You never imagined that you would be where you were. It was under weird circumstances, but god if you weren’t going to try and enjoy it.

The party you found yourself attending was lit with flashing lights and rainbow projections. There were two different DJs on various floors of the suburban mansion. They bumped out remixed club music, making the walls hum and thrum and bodies writhe and sweat. One of the kitchen counters was loaded with bottles and bottles of hard liquor and mixers.

You were quickly making a third mixie. Just a vodka soda, boringly. There were certainly more fun options, but you weren’t exactly sure how to feel about this party just yet. You were having trouble discerning whether this was a ‘gin and tonic millennial’ party or a ‘jungle juice in an old cooler’ party.

Denki and Jiro had convinced nearly two car-fulls of your friends to roll up. It sounded so fun, so wild!

“Yo! Our friends from the EDM scene are throwing a SEX party! You all should come! It’s at a mansion across town!”

Their ‘friends’ were two middle-aged, white hippies who did a lot of molly for their age.

Nonetheless, you found yourself in a massive, odd house and managed to lose your friends fairly quickly (and accidentally). All the rooms stayed dimly lit and loud. You could hardly keep track of your own two feet.

Someone pressed you into the counter, a hand grazing against your barely covered ass.

You whipped around, watching as a couple walked away, one of them giving incredibly loud bedroom eyes.

Oh yeah, the ‘sex party’ part.

It wasn’t a kink party, or really a sex party at all. Sex was encouraged and provided for, but not necessary. The mansion’s massive attic was where most of the sex acts were happening with its five beds, three bondage rigs, a wall of toys of all types, condoms, lube, whippits, and even Viagra in decorative bowls. You had yet to venture up, but Denki had already spammed the group chat about it.

(It had been the first place he went upon arriving.)

You took your drink down the stairs (the place had three fucking basements) and turned into a small hallway that led outside.

It was cold, but your somewhat drunk body hardly minded. The sobering bite of wind gave a nice reprieve from the thrumming heat inside.

You immediately spotted Hitoshi leaning on a retaining wall, half a cigarette hanging from his lips. His face lit up, when he saw you, waving you over.

You smiled back at him, glad to find a friend and best of all Hitoshi.

You two were quite close.

In addition to both being sociology majors and having a lot of overlap when it came to classes, you’d known each other since freshman year and only grew closer with time. You’d spent many nights at his house off-campus, sipping cup after cup of black coffee in the midst of a paper writing and studying. You also definitely didn’t ever have close calls of affection though, no.

No.

Never.

You and Hitoshi were obviously just friends.

...

“Wild party, huh?” Hitoshi quirked an eyebrow, nodding to the house. He offered you a cigarette that you took greedily.

You placed it between your lips, Hitoshi ever so casually leaning forward to light it with his signature clipper. He’d nabbed it off some ‘milf’ at the casino which he and Denki had gone to for bingo ‘for the meme’ freshmen year.

You let out a puff, “Thank you! And yes, very wild. I’m on drink three and I still feel overwhelmed.”

Hitoshi sipped his own, nodding in agreement, “I know Jiro and Denki know some wild people from the scene, but this seems over the top.”

“It is kind of fun? But definitely an ‘I need to be a little more fucked up’ kind of fun,” You remarked.

You set down your cigarette on the cement wall, attempting to boost yourself up onto it. You nearly had it, except you really didn’t and slipped back down. You anxiously turned around, checking your dress over for any sort of tears.

Hitoshi set down his own cigarette, standing in front of you. You looked up at him and felt very small and very horny all of a sudden. It certainly wasn’t an abnormal set of feelings, given how the two of you teased each other relentlessly.

“Need some help there?” He chuckled at your struggle as you frowned up at him.

“If you insist.” You expected him to offer a hand to stabilize yourself on but no, Hitoshi’s big hands were suddenly grabbing at your waist, lifting you on the walls with little effort.

You swore you almost felt him squeeze you before letting go.

“You’re welcome,” Hitoshi just smirked as he returned to his spot, taking a deep drag to look at you through lowered lids.

You glared, but in good fun.

At that moment, a few other of your friends poured from the door to the patio. They were all shouting, jarring and drunk, and very happy to see the two of you.

You unconsciously shifted a bit closer to Hitoshi on the wall, bare leg just barely touching his shoulder.

You didn’t notice it, but Hitoshi definitely leaned into you too.

“(Y/N)! Hitoshi!” Momo addressed you firmly as Denki and Hanta snickered behind her. “You both are smarter than to smoke, aren’t you?”

“Nope,” You popped the word from your mouth to take another drag.

“We’re drunk, give it a rest,” Hitoshi waved his hand dismissively. You were both her friends, but she did have a pole up her ass sometimes.

Almost to emphasize the point, Jiro withdrew her own pack and started offering to other people.

As the ever-important smoking ritual continued, you couldn’t help but shiver from the now-painful gusts of wind. You abruptly hopped off of the wall, only wobbling a little on your heels as you hit the ground. Hitoshi moved to steady you, a firm hand on your shoulder.

(God, you wanted to melt into him.)

See, Hitoshi had been smart enough to wear a warm outfit. A pair of black jeans, a form-fitting, well-cut sweater, and a jacket which was slung over his arm.

He offered it to you, eyebrow raised, “If you’re cold, you’re welcome to this. I’m gonna stash it when I get inside anyways.”

You shook your head, pushing back on his arm, feeling the hard muscle beneath. You almost shivered. “No, no it’s okay. I’m gonna head back in.”

“Mind if I tag along then?” Hitoshi asked, eyes scanning around you. He seemed well aware that there were some creeps at this party.

Most of the time, you wouldn’t feel great about needing some tall, beefy dude to casually stand around as a deterrent. But, honestly? You appreciated it immensely.

“Right this way, smokestack,” You just had to give him shit, it was part of your cute dynamic right?

(It made the incessant flirting easier to hide.)

...

You couldn’t help but continually notice how Hitoshi had bulked up. He had been hitting the gym a lot and working on himself physically.

God, did it show.

His body had been a bit lanky and wiry before, but he’d filled out so well. With his cute sweater on, you could see how the fabric stretched tight around his biceps and his chest. You couldn’t look at his forearms in any setting or risk drooling all over yourself.

Not that you would mind drooling for Hitoshi, but you’d prefer it to be in a different context.

(But, you’d never admit that.)

The two of you wordlessly winded through the house, finding a somewhat less feral living room in one of the basements to relax in. Most everyone occupying the space was just mingling, save for a few couples making out. It seemed manageable. You settled for a spot on the carpet against a wall.

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow, “Really?”

“I feel way safer sitting on a floor than a couch here,” You couldn’t help smiling when you saw him snuff out his own amusement.

You both watched as a couple was grinding and audibly moaning on one of the aforementioned couches. Hitoshi relented, “Point taken.”

He slid down the wall next to you, shoulder to shoulder, drinks in hand.

You both sat in silence for a minute, just taking the sounds and sights of the party. People-watching could have been an olympic sport at this shindig.

“Hey,” Hitoshi broke the mild tension, tapping your upper thigh over your dress. “I’m not saying this to be a creep, really, I promise. But, I really like your dress.”

You turned your body slightly, towards him. Oh, now you needed to give him shit— “Oh, how complementary. Not creepy at all. Just my very sweet, male friend telling me how I look pretty in my party dress.”

Hitoshi leaned closer to you, mirroring you by lying half on his side. His breath and heat curled over your face and neck, “Oh, (Y/N), now you’re putting words in my mouth. I said that I like your dress. Because it’s one of Mei’s designs, right?”

You looked down, heat filling your cheeks.

Fuck your drunk mouth.

“Though,” Oh, Hitoshi was closer. He had leaned to your ear, steadying a hand on your shoulder. “I do think you’re pretty in this dress. I’d use a different word instead of pretty though.”

“Like?”

“Mmmm, gorgeous,” He hummed too casually. “As strong of a word as I can use without being a creep, right?”

“‘Toshi,” You groan, swatting his hand away. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”

He just beamed at you, “I’ve been told.”

Hitoshi drew back and met your eyes.

Once more, you mirrored each other. Both of you bore comically dilated pupils, wet lips, flushed faces and slight tremors in your hands.

“You know, I think I referred to you as ‘sweet’ too...” You raised an eyebrow at him. You couldn’t help the way your gaze flickered down to his lips. It flitted back up, “But, that’s nothing, right?”

Hitoshi bit his lip, taking a big breath.

Suddenly, he was standing up.

“Hey, wait—” You stammered, standing as well. “I’m sorry, that was a lot. I only meant to tease.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Hitoshi put his hands in front of himself, creating distance between the two of you. “Same. You know I can’t help giving you trouble, (Y/N).”

Ouch.

You cracked a smile, rubbing your arms, “Of course, yeah. Silly friend shit.”

Hitoshi was quick to redirect, pointing a thumb out of the room, “I’ve gotta hang this somewhere. See you in a bit, or you can come with me if you like?”

“Nah, I’ll wander,” You patted his shoulder, waltzing off your churning gut by cutting in front of him. “Take it easy, smokestack.”

You couldn’t hear if he replied.

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

You did, in fact, wander. With meandering feet, you moved through room after room. You poured yourself another drink, but it’s not nearly as strong. Your run-in with Hitoshi soured your mood. While not fully ruined, you were definitely feeling weirder than you wanted to be.

Hitoshi and you obviously had energy, yeah. But the most either of you had acted on it was ‘seemingly meaningless’ flirting. It was always followed up with a ‘no homo’ or ‘aha, got ‘ya!’, yet it always felt real in the moment. You weren’t a dumbass. You had caught Hitoshi eyeing you a few (read: many) different times. There were so many close calls and contacts between the two of you.

There was one time while you were making a box of mac and cheese in Hitoshi’s kitchen circa 2 AM. You had borrowed one of his shirts and a pair of joggers to sleep in, a common act of yours. He walked past you for a glass of water, keeping the cup under the tap until it ran over just to look you up and down.

His gaze wasn’t prying or predatory, not even close. You trusted Hitoshi with your life and you knew that he wouldn’t ever breach boundaries like that. Rather, he regarded you in a way that made him lose time, something soft and gooey in his eyes. That time, it wasn’t lustful attention. It just felt-

(Like the way lovers look at one and other, enamored.)

Another time was during one of his performances. The house venue had been dimly lit and musty as fuck, but that didn’t distract Hitoshi. As Jiro’s vocals shook the basement, you met eyes with Hitoshi as he slammed on guitar. His gaze always returned to you throughout the whole set. When you had teased him about it, he claimed that looking at you helped keep his stage fright in check.

The reasoning didn’t calm the butterflies in your stomach.

There was another particularly telling occurrence where you had fallen asleep on Hitoshi’s floor in the middle of working on your final paper for your theory class the semester prior. He returned from his smoke break to find you curled up under the first piece of cloth you could find (which, in that case, was one of his hoodies). You weren’t fully asleep, and you certainly weren’t when Hitoshi hefted you into his arms, laying you so gently down on his bed and covering you with a throw blanket.

Oh, god, the sweetness, like something you’d never known when you felt his hand on your face, smoothing over your cheekbones, your nose, and then your lips. His gentle voice, deep with the late-night, “You work too hard, you know.”

He nestled next on the floor next to the bed, leaving you to sleep undisturbed the rest of the night.

There were, of course, many more instances of Hitoshi’s way-too-kind kindness, and a pile of your own moments as well.

It was all damning, but relatively ignored. Your friendship was more important than any stupid feelings the two of you had right? You refused to acknowledge your own feelings beyond semi-sexual remarks, jabs, and jests. You couldn’t jeopardize your friendship, right?

...

You eventually found yourself at the foot of the stairs that led to the attic. Even from the landing, you could hear various rhythmic slaps, moans, and laughter.

You ascended the stairs and took in the sight greeting you.

There were various bondage rigs that were free-standing, all occupied at the moment you entered. Loops for ropes and chains to be tied to drilled into the ceiling. Flogs, whips, canes, and other implements hung heavy on one of the walls.

The room was lit dimly, yet nothing seemed obscured. A few rainbow lights illuminated the sweaty bodies about the room. Not everyone was having full-on sex. Most people were actually clothed. A lot of folks it seemed were just there spectating.

Speaking of most people, your party peers were all lounging on the beds. Sans, Hitoshi, of course, standing and laughing with Kaminari.

The lot saw you enter and flagged you down. You walked past a heavily-tattooed man getting pegged by a woman in a tutu and a crowd of costumed partygoers doing whippits which were being handed out by a man in an elaborate steampunk top hat. A cute girl with silver hair was strung up in a nearby rig, moaning as a leather-clad man fingerfucked her.

You stood next to Hitoshi, bumping into his arm with your own, “Didn’t take you for a voyeur.”

He snorted, joshing you back, “I have my moments.”

“I didn’t take you for a prude, (Y/N)!” Denki snickered, bringing attention to you. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost when you walked in here.”

“Denki, please,” You rolled your eyes. “I walked into a room made for very wild sex acts. That’s a very different expression than the one you’re describing.”

That made him snort and fall back onto the bed, along with Hanta and Mina.

(How high were they? That wasn’t even a good joke.)

Hitoshi chuckled himself, something low and lumbering.

(Don’t think about how hot that is.)

“This makes me think back to that night, in sophomore year,” Hanta spoke as he sat up. “You know, kink night.”

“Oh, yeah! I forget about that,” Denki turned towards you and Hitoshi and raised his eyebrows.

You flushed.

Momo, innocently, asked, “Kink night?”

Hitoshi cleared his throat, looking anywhere but you.

“Oh yeah!” Mina piped up, hugging Momo’s shoulders from behind. Jiro was sitting in Momo’s lap, head on her tits. “We made a drinking game of exposing our weird sex acts and kinks to each other.”

You laughed uncomfortably at the memory, avoiding the very embarrassing and horny part that involved you, “That was the day that we found Mineta was into scat.”

“Oh wow,” Jiro gawked. “That was before Mineta got canceled?”

“Oh, yeah. He got wasted and ran off after that. Thank god.” Denki snickered. “You know what else happened that night?”

“Denki, please, stop talking.” It was Hitoshi placing a firm hand on the other’s shoulder.

Denki just looked at the two of you like he was some old god of mischievous, turning back to the girls, “That’s when we all found out about Hitoshi and (Y/N)’s suuuuuuuuuper compatible kinks. Like, scary compatible.”

“They got sooooo awkward about it too!” Mina snickered, looking at your and Hitoshi with matchmaker in her eyes.

You would kick her ass for it later. In that moment, you tried to keep a somewhat neutral expression as you recalled the night in question.

Sure, it was a year or two back and you and Hitoshi weren’t half as close back then.

The lot of you had been sitting on the floor of Denki and Hitoshi’s dorm, passing around a bottle of cheap, flavored vodka in a fucked up, horny game of truth or dare.

...

“You’re next (Y/N)!” Mina passed the bottle to you and fell back against the carpet. You swallowed thickly, swishing the content liquor inside. “Dare or sex act?”

The rules of the game were simple. Choosing ‘dare’ meant that someone else chose a sexually-charged dare for you and ‘sex act’ meant exposing either a kink or a sex act you’d done. It was a roulette either way, but one option gave you far more control than the other.

After the last dare consisting of Denki giving a very messy lap dance to Eijiro, and you weren’t really in the mindset to repeat anything even close to that.

“Sex act,” You sighed in defeat.

Denki snickered in the corner, “Spill it!”

Hanta cheered you on as you bit your lip in thought.

The liquor swirling in your stomach was affecting your inhibitions, and with one shy, half-glance to Hitoshi, you spoke up.

“I have a spanking kink, what of it.”

You drowned out Hitoshi’s red cheeks and the cheers of your friends with a deep chug from the bottle.

The bottle was passed to Hitoshi as you asked the question, “Dare or sex act?”

Jiro giggled from the bed, sipping at her own drink as well.

“Sex act,” Hitoshi groaned, rolling his eyes at Denki, but you all knew he loved what was going on.

“Reveal yourself, Hitoshi! What gets your rocks off!?” Mina shouted drunkenly as she rolled on the floor. You made a mental note to cut her off from having any more of the trashy vodka.

Hitoshi gave you a fleeting, but very horny look before regarding the group.

There was a twitch in your lip that made you think his smirk was all for you.

“I love pulling a cute girl over my lap and turning her ass purple while she’s begging for more.”

As everyone around you jeered and cheered, you gulped.

And so did Hitoshi.

...

“Yeah!” Hanta fell back. “That was so fucking funny. Like, all night it was all (Y/N) being like ‘I’m a filthy masochist!’ and Hitoshi being like ‘I’m a filthy sadist!’”

“Hanta, for the love of god,” You interrupted him, face burning with a fucked up mix of shame and lust. Hitoshi was mirroring you. “Why do you have to bring that up?”

“Oh, dude, because whenever we talk about it, you and Hitoshi get so embarrassed, it’s hilarious!” Hanta fucking giggled and reached for his drink.

“Are we gonna talk about how you and Denki both like fisting—” You give them a taste of their own medicine, watching the two of them choke and gawk. To the side, Momo whispered to Jiro, eyeing you.

Hitoshi barked out a laugh, losing some tension in his shoulders. You met his eye for a moment, only to see the jewelish purple taken up by his blackened pupils.

Fuck.

Momo spoke up, brow furrowed, “Can I request something a bit odd of you, (Y/N)? It’s perfectly okay if you say no.”

“Shoot,” You reply, sipping your beverage.

Momo bit her lip, eyes going to Jiro, then you, “Can I try spanking you?”

Everyone collectively choked. You especially.

You took another nervous sip of your drink, avoiding eye contact with the group.

You regained composure, refusing to look at Hitoshi, but letting the fucked up idea brew and brew in your mind, “Uh, I mean, is Jiro okay with it?”

“Oh yeah, totally,” Jiro nodded, kissing her girlfriend’s jaw. “Pain isn't my thing, at all, and she’s always wanted to try it. And hey, if you’re a ‘filthy masochist’, be my guest.”

But, would you be her guest?

Your drunken mind considered.

It was the most acceptable setting for it to happen in public. You really did like getting spanked and were a raging masochist, so it would, at the very least, be fun for you. A little humiliating, but that was also a turn on. You’d also get to indulge Momo, who was dating Jiro, but they both seemed perfectly okay with a bit of platonic pain play, so what was the real harm?

Your gaze flickered to Hitoshi.

Oh, fuck.

His face was lit up with a deep blush even in the irisian hues of the sex attic. His eyes were pointed distinctively opposite of you, a hand literally over his mouth as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Your mind lit up with ideas.

Terrible, sinful ideas that you would be the peak of you and Hitoshi’s teasing.

Fuck it.

“Sure, I’m down,” You smirked and Momo lit up. Immediately, she was up and scouting out the area for a spot to go to town. Momo even seemed to be eyeing up a wall of toys.

“Hey,” Jiro whispered to you as you truly realized what you got yourself into. “Thanks for this. She’s really into this kind of stuff, and I like indulging her, but I can’t handle too much.”

“Oh, of course!” You spoke so brightly. “I have a high pain tolerance, so I’m sure I can take what she dishes out, too.”

You heard Hitoshi clear his throat behind you.

You let yourself take another glance at Hitoshi and it made you want to die on the spot. His eyes glared in anger with the sinful intensity that was entirely directed at you. You could tell by the awkward way he was leaning that he was trying to hide the bulge in his jeans.

Is... Is he that turned on by just the thought of me getting spanked?

Oh, this truly was your best teasing yet.

(Were you taking this too far?)

Kaminari was gripping the sleeve of Hitoshi’s sweater, not allowing him to leave. Judging by how the latter was looking and staring, he wasn’t going to either way.

Momo walked back over, tugging you by the hair to a bed that was a lot higher than the others. It was the perfect height for you to bend over.

“What’s your safeword?” She asked, running her hand down your back to push you against the comforter like she’d done this hundreds of times before. Your chest fell against the bed, forearms giving you a bit of leverage.

You hummed, “Just ‘red’ should be good.”

“Perfect,” Momo smiled before pressing the back of your neck, forcing your face into the sheets. “I’m gonna give you ten with my hand, okay?”

“I trust you, Momo, do your worst,” You spoke so confidently, but truly you didn’t know what was coming.

Momo smoothed a hand over your ass, hardly covered due to the angle you were bent over. The pretty fabric of your dress, pulled over your curves, was hiding less and less. Momo hummed, running a firm hand down the zipper of the dress, “Do you have a preference as to if I pull your dress up or not?”

Oh, holy fuck.

That was beyond teasing.

Fuck it.

“You can pull it up, but keep my panties on. I need some dignity,” You winked back at her.

Momo blushed. She delicately pulled the fabric back, resulting in a round of wolf whistles from your friend. Sober you was going to hate the fact you did this, but drunk you? Thriving.

(Though you wished it was Hitoshi delivering, but you digress.)

Without warning, Momo brought her hand down on your ass, a loud smack resounding around the room, causing a slight hush.

Oh fuck.

You were already drawing some attention.

Despite the pleasant haze of painful pleasure that was beginning to swirl in your mind and gut, you couldn’t help but notice the looks and stares.

Particularly, you got a nasty feeling from the figure in the far corner eyeing you up from ass to toes. He looked fairly nondescript, but the aura he was giving off felt like poison. Something sticky and unpleasant formed in your gut when you looked at him. Your drunken mind chased it away by turning your head the other way.

And then all you could see was Hitoshi’s gaze on you.

It was damn near feral.

His cheeks flushed and dewy. A bit of sweat was dripping down his temple, reflecting the party lighting like some sort of sick joke. One of his hands was raking through his violet locks. His teeth dug into his full lips as he stared you down.

Your eyes met and you refused to look away.

So did he.

Another hit, harder, made you bite your lip to suppress a cry.

Three more and you couldn’t help the bubbling sounds that were spilling from you. Soft cries and moans, maybe a whimper or two leaked from your bitten lips. Momo wasn’t holding back, and you were sure your ass would ache tomorrow.

Good.

Two more and tears leaked from your eyes. You were sure your friends were just waiting to give both you and Momo so much shit, but you couldn’t care less. All you could do was drink in the hungry way Hitoshi eyed you.

It was definitely not the way people who were ‘just friends’ looked at each other.

“Last two, make ‘em count!” Mina shouted from behind you with a cheer. Some of the others in the room were clamoring to watch.

Momo ran a soothing hand down your back, “You doing okay?”

“I’m peachy,” You push out, voice clearly tear-stricken. “Finish me off, Momo. Bruise me.”

That apparently set her off. Momo smacked your ass with such a force that your face pressed harshly into the bed, obscuring your view of Hitoshi.

The last slap was, by far, the worst. Momo decided to tease you, torturing the raw skin of your ass. She would wind up only to pet your lower back or stroke the tops of your thighs. When she finally gave you the hit you deserved (for torturing Hitoshi and yourself), it sounded across the room just as loud as your sob that followed it. Tears leaked from your eyes as your breath came out in shudders. You loved the feeling of numbness and pain that emanated from your abused cheeks. You relished it.

You turned your head upright, vision blurry. Momo pulled your dress down, helping you sit up.

You didn’t get much of a chance to catch your breath as Hitoshi dashed away and out of the sex room, very tense and very distressed judging by how Denki was shouting after him.

Oh fuck.

You kicked yourself mentally, cursing your stupid fucking hubris.

You took it too far.

He’s either turned on, uncomfortable as fuck, or both.

Probably both.

You start to sit up, ignoring the sobering pain heating up your ass. Quickly, Momo pressed you back down to the bed. A solo cup of clear liquid was offered to you.

“Aftercare, obligatory. Drink this, it’s just water,” Momo stated curtly, watching you down the water. You rubbed the tears from your eyes.

“How’s my makeup?” You asked, ignoring the rising panic in your chest.

Momo inspected you for a moment as the others came over, jeering. She quickly rubbed away smears of mascara, running a hand over the side of your face, “Do you feel okay?”

“Yeah, totally. Shit was fun,” You prayed you were disguising the turning of your gut well enough with your nonchalant tone. “I’m gonna find Hitoshi and make sure he has an extra pair of pants.”

Momo frowned, pressing you down and squeezing your shoulders, “Somehow, I don’t believe that. Please rest for a moment, (Y/N).”

You faltered, following Momo’s command without much thought. Your mind was still in a somewhat of a fog as you sipped at the water she gave you. Her hand rubbed at your shoulders and back, dropping praise every few moments.

The rest of your peers filed over, cheering, flopping on the bed around you.

“Holy fuck, (Y/N),” Hanta whistled, clapping your shoulder.

“That was so hot,” Denki sighed, red-faced and wide-eyed.

Momo ran an affectionate hand through your hair as Jiro fell into her lap, winking at you, “She’s so good, right?”

“Yeah, holy fuck. If y’all ever need a third, you have my number.” You breathed, shaking out a laugh. “I think I need to find Hitoshi, though.”

You stood up, wobbling for a moment, comically aware of sets of eyes on you as you dashed away. Your friends shouted encouragement from behind you as you descended the stairs.

Truthfully, your intent was to smooth things over and make the routine, ‘but we’re bros!’ comment. You knew that this wouldn’t be enough, considering how far you pushed it.

You fucked up.

Took it too far.

What does Hitoshi even think of you now?

...

Your mind was sobering with the help of the water and pain.

You had to find Hitoshi.

So, you quickly moved about the house.

You scanned room after room, checked the front and back yard, but couldn’t find him anywhere.

Where the fuck was he?

You passed by a room upstairs, door shut, and you swore you heard his voice inside.

The panic that had been brewing in you was spilling over. Your ass ached and walking hurt like hell with the bruises that were forming. All you wanted was a cigarette and to apologize to your best friend for taking things way too fucking far—

You swung the door open and was met with a scene that did not include Hitoshi Shinsou.

A mess of four very cute, very high girls, mostly but not entirely clothed, were writhing on the bed, all popping up to look at you.

You flushed, body tensing as you tried to laugh it off, “Oh, wow, sorry about this! I thought my friend was in here. I’ll let you all get back to it.”

The girls hardly seemed perturbed by the sudden intrusion, rather they seemed quite complimentary.

“Aw, you don’t wanna join?” One of the girls pouted, giving you puppy dog eyes. “You’re so pretty!”

“T-thank you,” You shook your head, “You are all very sweet, but I have to find my friend.”

“The one behind you?” A different girl asked.

Your hazed mind hadn’t even picked up that was anyone behind you.

You couldn’t help lighting up. Hitoshi had to be behind you, of course, this silly anxiety attack would come to an end—

You turned.

Your face fell.

***********

It was the creep from the sex room, grinning down at you. There was a nasty glint in his eye.

Your heart started going faster. Your gut soured with a feeling far off from drunkenness.

“Actually, uh, no, I’ll be going, thanks.” You tried to sidestep the man, but he quickly blocked the doorway, boxing you in.

“No, I think we’ll stay,” Oh, the man’s voice was sick in your ears.

You were too shocked to move at first.

His reached for your shoulder, but you managed to stumble back from him.

“No, hey, dude, don’t touch me,” You barked back, pass your growing fear.

He scoffed, muttering something about you being a ‘cheap whore’ and stalked you down.

Your back hit a wall. You froze.

You felt trapped.

His cheap cologne was choking you.

He was just inches away.

You looked helplessly to the girls on the bed, but they had dissolved back into each other. Their hands were grabbing at each other's writhing bodies, clothes being torn away with light moans filling the air. They were far too fucked to be bothered with what was happening to you. The deafening music of the party drowned out your senses beyond the small room.

You tried to slip away from him, out of the door, but his arm slammed beside you.

He caged you.

His hand shot to grab your wrap, squeezing hard and shooting pain into your shoulder as you tried to rip yourself away.

“Get the fuck away from me!” You snarled, trying to wrench out of his grip, away from him. You fell deeper into panic.

You could feel his breath on your ear, and your heart dropped in your chest. With the thrum of the party, it felt far too loud for anyone to hear you. Even if you shouted for help, would anyone come? No one even knew that anything was wrong—

A voice cracked like a roll of thunder through the man’s actions and the drone of the party.

“Get the fuck off of them before I break your fucking fingers.” A familiar, blessed voice cut the air from behind you.

Thank fucking god.

Hitoshi stood in the doorway.

You almost sobbed in relief.

His broad form took up most of the door frame, chest puffed out in his anger. His brow was lowered, mouth twisted in revulsion and fury, all directed at the man who had you caged. Only rage colored Hitoshi’s features. Until he caught your gaze, anyways.

Then, it all dissolved to fear.

“We’re busy, she’s fine, fuck off.” The guy said, digging his hand into your side.

You kicked at his shoe, relishing the way he hissed in pain.

The man glared at you, then looked to Hitoshi. The man scoffed, looking him up and down to assess whether putting up a fight was worth it.

Apparently not, as the man shoved you roughly towards Hitoshi.

*********

You tripped into the latter’s chest as he caught you easily.

Without missing a beat, he steadied you and crushed you to him. One of his broad hands moved up to almost shield the side of your face. You were surprised to find that his body was shaking just as hard as your own. You both mirrored each other in rage and panic.

You pressed your face into his sweater as tears remained dangerously close to falling from your eyes. Fear still tore through you and everything about Hitoshi made you feel a hell of a lot safer.

Hitoshi’s arm tightened as he continued his stare-down.

The man grumbled, exiting the room in a huff and harshly pushing back Hitoshi (and you). You flinched, wincing. A low, rumbling growl rumbled in Hitoshi’s chest as he stared death at the man.

You knew that this was probably all too much. There were details of intimacy and boundaries that were being broken without thought from both of you and that was very bad, probably.

But, you also were drunk on fear as opposed to vodka, and having someone safe to hold you felt better than any hit you could’ve found at the party.

You surrendered to your very obvious reality.

When the man was gone, filtered back into the party, Hitoshi looked down at you, his mood entirely changing.

His anger dissolved. His face softened as he tenderly (and quickly) assessed you. Concerned, but earnest eyes searched your face and body for visible signs of harm. When he was satisfied, Hitoshi linked your hands and pulled you from the room.

He walked you through the party, quickly but gingerly. Your mind buzzed, still panicked and anxious, but the thought of cold air and a less stimulating environment was like aloe on a burn.

Finally, you reached the front door, walking onto an empty front landing.

You fell into Hitoshi.

Your sweaty, shaking hands clung to the back of his sweater as you buried your face into his neck. The familiar scent of his woodsy cologne and natural sweat was more of a sedative than any drug you could find at the party and you fucking needed it.

Hitoshi wrapped his arms around you from the small of your back to your shoulders, squeezing as he buried his face in your hair.

You stiffened but relaxed a moment later. You couldn’t keep pretending. You didn’t have it in you.

You were surrounded by him and the cold air, and nothing felt more comforting.

You decided to forget the semantics of your relationship for a little.

(You hoped, prayed, that he would too).

Hitoshi suddenly tensed, “Is it okay that I’m touching you?”

You could only nod, voice weak and small in the back of your throat, “Y-yeah, it's cool. It’s been cool.”

Hitoshi grounded you, turning the two of you so you were protected from any potential prying eyes. He moved you just right so that his cheek rested on top of your head.

You allowed yourself to close your eyes and focus on the calming beat of Hitoshi’s heart.

He soothed you by existing; he always did. But, in that moment, after such an uncomfortably close brush with something fucking disgusting, his presence was almost cleansing. It purged you of the incessant clawing in the back of your mind.

You’re safe.

You pulled away just enough to look up at Hitoshi’s face. You felt him give you a squeeze which made the smallest, unlikely smile form on your lips.

Slowly, like he was trying not to spook a wild animal, Hitoshi cupped the side of your face. The hold was firm, like it had power to it. You sank into his palm.

(Fuck that feels nice—)

“How are you feeling?” Hitoshi asked softly, gaze warm and honey-like.

You laughed weakly, leaning into his palm, “Like shit. Holy fuck.”

The hand cradling your lower back stroked a thumb idly, “I can only imagine. What happened back there? That guy had been in the ‘sex room’ with us, right?”

“Uh, excuse you, ‘sex attic’, I think you mean?” You still managed to joke. “And yes. Must’ve been following me or something, fucking creep.”

“If you want, I’ll go back in there and kick the shit outta him. I’m sure the others will help. It’d be so worth getting him thrown out for,” Hitoshi snickered, turning his head towards the door as he did.

As he turned back, his eyes widened as your fearful expression returned.

“P-please don’t leave,” You knew it was too much, right? Obviously. But, you didn’t care.

You felt fairly certain Hitoshi didn’t either by that point.

You pressed yourself back close to him and buried your face in the crook of his neck, clutching at his front. “Please don’t go.”

You weren’t sure if he’d return any affections (obviously earlier gestures were just to comfort you, right?).

He did. Immediately, he squeezed as much of you as he could reach, nuzzling his face into the side of your head.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.” Hitoshi reassured you with his voice as well as his touch. You shuddered, feeling his lips and breath so close.

The two of you stayed like that for a while.

You retained your death grip on Hitoshi, contemplating it all. Perhaps it was the setting or the way your body was thrumming, but something was forcing you to come to terms with how you really felt about him.

You enjoyed teasing Hitoshi too much for it to just be platonic. You knew this.

You wondered how Hitoshi felt considering all of those heated looks and smirks he loved dishing out.

(An insecure thought or two crept about only being a fuck to him. You tried to repress it, though it certainly didn’t calm you.)

Despite these thoughts, you held Hitoshi with everything you had, fearing that whatever long-cultivated connection the two of you would slip away by the end of the night.

After a few minutes of slow silence, Hitoshi offered you a cigarette, which you took graciously. He leaned forward to light it, silently regarding you with warm eyes.

You took a fat inhale, breathing out with shaky lungs.

“I’m sorry.” You spoke abruptly.

His eyes widened and he shook his head, gently grabbing your shoulders, “No, (Y/N), there is literally nothing for you to be sorry about.”

“No, there is. The thing with Momo,” You shook your head. “That was bad. I’m sorry, I was teasing you and I took it too far. Way too far.”

Hitoshi went still, averting his eyes and biting his lip.

“I appreciate the apology,” Hitoshi's face erupted in red. “B-but, you don’t need to be sorry.”

He’s... embarrassed?

Oh.

(You truly were a dumbass, but god love ‘ya.)

You took another puff, nodding.

Hitoshi pulled you to him again, this time wrapping an arm around your shoulders. His thumb rubbed idly at the bare skin of your arm as he whipped out his phone.

“What do you want to do?” The air was cold as Hitoshi spoke. It nipped at your skin and made you crinkle your nose.

With a moment's hesitation, you replied in a hoarse voice, “Can we go home?”

Hitoshi visibly softened for you, “Of course. I can call us an Uber. To your dorm...?” There’s a question in his voice that you both already knew the answer to.

You shook your head, “Your place?”

He nodded, “Of course, (Y/N).”

You leaned into his shoulder, letting yourself relax.

#salem writes #hitoshi shinso x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #shinsou x reader #shinso hitoshi x reader #mha smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shinso hitoshi #shinso hitoshi x y/n #hitoshi shinso x y/n #shinso hitoshi x you

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orbitariums · 3 years

Text

love lessons | neville longbottom x black slytherin reader

omg this was requested sooo long ago and i’m only just completing it. reader, whoever u are, i hope you’re still out there to enjoy this in full <333

here’s a lovely playlist in honor of neville longbottom— i didn’t make it but i adore it!

love lessons | neville longbottom + black slytherin! reader

You kicked the crunchy, orange-hued fall leaves underneath your brand new combat boots, which were laced tight all the way up to the top just like you liked them to be. You shrugged your crochet cardigan around your shoulders, the cold breeze nipping at the nape of your neck. You scrunched your shoulders up as you folded your arms, irritated by the uncooperative weather. You actually liked being outside on the empty quidditch fields, it was the one place you felt you could be alone with your thoughts. The rest of the Slytherins were always rather loud and obnoxious, constantly trying to one up the next person. You preferred staying to yourself, only proving yourself when necessary, which hardly ever was.

People, including the other Slytherins, tended to stay out of your way. You were quiet and smart, but it was no secret that your mouth was quick and sharp, and that if you ever were challenged, you were very no-nonsense. You ended things just with the bat of an eye, or a cool glance in someone else’s direction. No one really bothered you much for that reason— they knew what you were capable of. Still, you always felt crowded in the buzzing, magic-filled halls of the castle, so you spent as much time alone outside as possible.

You had just settled down in the stands, quill and journal tucked safely in your lap so you could reflect through your writing, when you sensed another person in the quidditch field. Looking up, you could see clearly that it was Neville Longbottom, the Gryffindor in the same year as you. He was trudging around quite stupidly, lugging his broom at his side, and glancing up worrisomely at the sky every now and then. You scoffed as you watched him, rolling your eyes. He hadn’t noticed you yet, but every part of you had noticed him, and it felt like his presence was a complete invasion of space. All you wanted was to be alone, and here he was ruining that.

Neville noticed you in the stands and went red in the face, apologizing,

“Sorry, I-I didn’t realize anyone was here, I was going to practice on my broomstick, I’m quite terrible at broom riding. I’ll just be going, then, sorry to bother you—”

You rolled your eyes, shouting back to him,

“It’s fine. Just keep to yourself, don’t make any noise and we’ll be fine.”

Neville seemed grateful, huffing out a great sigh of relief and nodding appreciatively your way,

“Sure, sure! Thanks!”

“Whatever,” you muttered to yourself low under your breath.

You went back to journaling while Neville steadied himself on his broom, hoisting himself up into the air and trying to keep his balance as he trudged half-heartedly in the air. You weren’t paying much attention to the boy, so any awareness of him disappeared as you journaled. You liked to spend time writing in your journal, just getting your thoughts out and reflecting on your life. You had no one to talk to about your life, as all your Slytherin friends, if you could even call them that, were much too self absorbed and not at all understanding. You liked solitude because it was your only way to find peace, your only way to feel understood. All you had was you, and that was all that mattered. You were just getting to the next page in your journal when something interrupted you— a loud, hoarse scream that seemed to be growing louder and louder, followed by a sudden thud.

Confused, you looked up, and when you saw the blob writhing around in pain on the ground, you realized instantly that it was that pitiful Longbottom boy, who you’d long since forgotten about. Your first reaction was annoyance— he had been doing so well all this time making no noise and not bothering you, and now he’d ruined it. But then, your humanity settled in and you were worried, and so you rushed over to him. With a huff, you kneeled beside him, and he rolled over pathetically and looked up at you, wincing.

“Ohhh,” he groaned, and you sighed loudly, rolling your eyes.

No one else was around, so now you’d have to take him to the infirmary. After all, you couldn’t just leave him there. Most Slytherins would expect you to, but you were at least a little decent.

“You idiot,” you spat, still unable to conceal your irritation at your alone time being so abruptly interrupted.

“‘M sorry, I fell off my broom,” he said hastily, and you rolled your eyes,

“Yeah, I can see that. Come on, get up, I’ll take you to the hospital wing.” Poor Neville tried getting up, but by the way he was wincing and moaning, you could tell that that wouldn’t be possible. You sighed again, burying your head in your palm and rubbing your temples, thinking, Merlin, if I help this blithering idiot, I better get perfect marks this semester.

“Oh, honestly,” you growled, standing up and reaching your hand out for him to grab.

He hobbled up and you pulled him up to your height.

“Put your arm around me,” you commanded. He looked at you as if confused. “Just do it.”

He slung his arm around you, and you suddenly felt all the weight of his body on you at once. He was limping and hobbling around, barely able to walk on his own. You sighed, heaving and hawing as you trudged through the empty quidditch field and through the halls, hissing at any one who made your journey any longer than it needed to be.

“Out of the way!” you bit at a couple Hufflepuffs gathered in the middle of the hallway.

They cleared the way immediately, and you made your way to the hospital wing, where you were met by a worried Madam Pomfrey, whose brows immediately knotted together when she saw you and Neville.

“Oh, my dear! What happened to you?” she asked, sort of eyeing you in a way that told you she was suspicious you’d done something to him.

You rolled your eyes.

“He fell off his broom. Do they just let anyone into Hogwarts these days, honestly?” you said the last part under your breath, watching as Madam Pomfrey escorted Neville away.

You followed because you figured if you’d wasted this much time already, you might as well see this through. You at least wanted to know if the bloke would be okay. As you sat beside him, watching Madam Pomfrey observe him and declare his injury a broken leg, you could see the color drain from Neville’s face. He started to frown and whine,

“I knew I shouldn’t have tried getting on my broom by myself, I knew something like this would happen. Idiot.”

“Yes, well, it’s good that you wanted to improve your skills, dear, but-” Madam Pomfrey glanced down at Neville’s twisted leg. “Please do so with proper supervision next time. You’ll have to stay here and recover for the next few days, but you’ll be alright. I’ll be back.”

You glared at Neville, and he finally looked over at you apologetically, tripping over his words as per usual,

“Th-thank you, really, thank you, I-I wouldn’t have known what to do, I’d probably be there for hours alone. I’m really sorry, I really didn’t mean to bother you, you seemed to be-”

“Save it, honestly,” you sighed.

Neville’s face went a few shades darker, and he nodded.

“Well… I-I’m Neville.”

“Yeah, I know who you are.”

“Y-you do?” Neville looked surprised, raising his eyebrows.

You nodded calmly,

“Yeah. We’ve got potions together, don’t you pay attention? You get yelled at by Snape almost every lesson because you can’t make potions to save your life.”

Neville blushed again here, but explained himself,

“Yeah, I-I know. I just didn’t think you would’ve noticed me, that’s all…”

“Yeah, only reason I notice you is because you’re an idiot,” you chuckled to yourself, though you were almost meaning to make a joke between the two of you.

Neville smiled sheepishly,

“Well… I know you too. You’re YN. The Slytherin girl.”

“That is correct. Save the formalities, Longbottom, you owe me.”

Neville started talking incredibly fast,

“Yes, yes of course, of course. I-I’ll do anything, I’ll… I could help you with Herbology, I know you hate it.”

You made a face, squinting at him.

“How do you know I hate Herbology?” you interrogated.

Neville laughed nervously,

“I overheard you talking about it in Potions once. I’m actually okay at Herbology, I could help you out.”

You looked long and hard at Neville. Typically, you’d have no interest in being tutored by anyone, especially someone like him. You liked your solitude. You’d honestly rather struggle on your own. But, some part of you told you that this might be worth it. So, you’d give it a shot.

“Fine,” you said, after a long moment of silence. “But you better make it worth my time. Meet me in the library, Thursday evening.”

You stood up, and Neville nodded frantically, watching as you began to leave,

“Yes- I’ll see you there.”

You were due to meet Neville in the library in a few minutes. It was after class on a Friday, so everyone was looking forward to the weekend, and hanging out in the Slytherin common room being loud and vivacious. You on the other hand, still had your school robes on and you were carrying a stack of books in your arms, trying to discreetly make your way to the library to meet Neville. You didn’t want any of the Slytherins finding out what you were doing and with whom, not because you cared, but because you knew they’d never shut up and stop being so childish.

“Where’re you going, YN?” shouted out Draco Malfoy from his typical corner of the room, surrounded by his idiotic goons.

“Library,” you replied shortly without looking at him, making your way out of the common room and down to the library.

You found Neville there sitting at a table near the Herbology section of the library. True to his nature, he had a plant in front of him whose leaves were stretching out in all different directions, moving like squiggly arms. You sat down at the table, but he was so immersed in the plant that he didn’t even acknowledge you. You waited a moment, watching him with a raised eyebrow, but he still didn’t budge. Growing annoyed, you slammed your hand on the table in front of him, making him jerk up in surprise and look at you with wide eyes.

You rolled your eyes when you made eye contact, shaking your head,

“Still as much of an idiot as you were the last time, I see.”

“S-sorry, I’ve just been watching this plant for a few weeks now, he’s only a baby.”

“I’m kidding, Neville,” you said, and for the first time you cracked a smile that was more than just a slight tug of your lips.

Flustered, Neville’s cheeks grew red, and he shook his head, chuckling,

“Right. Err, so. We could… get started, if you’d like?”

Surprisingly, Neville Longbottom made for a great teacher. He was actually interested in the subject and while you thought he was insane for being so wrapped up in something you found mind numbingly boring, you couldn’t help but be engaged in the lesson. He made something you hated into something interesting for the hour and a half you were in the library together. You even found yourself softening up around him, laughing quietly and sharing smiles. His awkward demeanor could never really die, but his walls seemed to fall a little as he tutored you, as if he were comfortable. You found yourself admiring him even, and who were you, a Slytherin, to be admiring the silly Gryffindor boy like this? Hell, he was even a little cute. A little.

When you’d finally finished, you had pages chock full of notes and textbooks that were annotated to the core. Neville was just asking if you wanted to meet again, and fretting over whether or not he’d done alright when you interrupted him, turning fully in your chair to face him.

“Neville,” you said, and he cut himself off, pausing to look up at you. There was a slight pause and silence hung in the air before you continued, a bit sheepishly, which was not in your nature. But you also weren’t used to being as nice as you were about to be. “Thank you, really. Thanks loads. You’re… you’re great… at this. Really…” you awkwardly patted him on the shoulder. “Er, thanks.”

Neville’s face was burning bright red and he knew it, because he started stammering and looking anywhere but directly at you. Normally, you would’ve been irritated, but this time around, you couldn’t help but grin amusedly.

“Er- it-it’s really nothing, ‘m not all that good, just—”

“We should meet again, yeah?” you interrupted him again, and he looked up.

“Huh?” he asked stupidly.

“We should meet up again?”

“Oh, of course, if-if you’d like, no pressure.”

“Of course there’s no pressure on me, Neville, I came up with the idea,” you snorted, shaking your head. It was hard not to find him adorable, honestly.

“Right,” Neville blushed again, scratching the nape of his neck.

“Maybe we could share a pumpkin juice,” you smiled, meeting his eye as he snapped his head up in shock, both your eyes meeting with a warm sparkle.

Neville cracked a grin, goofy and wide,

“Yes. I-I’d like that.”

You smirked, gathering your things and getting up out of your chair. Perhaps there was more to Neville Longbottom than you’d previously thought, and some part of you was desperate to figure it out.

“See you around,” you gave him a three-fingered wave and smiled softly at him, the softest smile that had been brought to your lips in a long time, its warmth melting some of the ice in your heart and blowing Neville away.

#neville longbottom #neville longbottom x black!reader #neville x reader #neville longbottom x reader #black reader #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #harry potter poc #black!reader #black! reader #slytherin reader #slytherin #gryffindor #slytherin x gryffindor

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enigmainvestigations · 3 years

Text

ENI Season 1 Finale (episodes 8 - 14)

AO3 post: ??? Series link: ???

Episode 8 - A New Client

The man on the ground before him was out cold. Edward knelt and checked the hitman’s jacket pockets and found a pack of Lucky’s, which he pocketed. Next, he checked the man’s pants pockets, but those turned up empty. He pivoted on his feet to check the condition of the hitman behind him, hovering his hand near the man’s nostrils. This one’s breath was faster than the first, and Edward figured he must be coming to. But he didn’t need to worry too much about that; they all looked too beaten up to be much of a threat. Edward rolled the man over to get to his jacket pockets, and, as he did, the man groaned under his breath. Stuffing a hand into the man’s jacket, he found a small piece of paper. His eyes scanned it -- it looked like a phone number -- and he pocketed it to keep it out of the rain. Checking the other pocket in his jacket, Edward heard the man groan again. He looked down and saw the young man’s eyes staring up at him.

Edward grinned as he continued to search him. “First time, huh?”

The man moaned in pain, and rolled over, his motions stiff and weak. Edward patted him down, checking for a firearm. The man attempted to push his arm away, but Edward swatted at his hand to stop him. “Oh, stop complaining. Let me let you in on a little secret, it hurts much more the second day. I’d take it slow if I were you.”

Moving up on his feet, Edward made his way down the alley to the third hitman, who was also beginning to stir on the ground. Checking him, he pulled out a photograph from the man’s jacket. It was a photo of Edward himself -- it looked like it was taken on his night out at the local bars. A small smile crossed his lips, and he pocketed the photo; the man didn’t seem to care, instead focusing all his attention on an attempt to stop the blood gushing from his nose. As he stood, Edward looked down at the men who were writhing in pain, one rigidly attempting to sit up.

“Well boys, you’re on his bad side now. I wish you luck,” he tilted his hat to them, a wide grin on his face as he turned to head out of the alley.

He traveled away from the area, taking a few side routes just in case they’d gotten to their feet and made the idiotic decision to try to kill him a second time. He knew better than to assume the Bat had moved on. He was sure the dark figure was watching him, following him from above like a stalking predator. Edward assumed the Bat had left to see what he would do in his absence. It was a test, something he did frequently to observe people’s behavior. He hated to admit it, it was an intelligent move. But Edward hadn’t touched any of the men’s money, even though the thought had crossed his mind. He could consider it payment for trying to take his life. However, that wouldn’t have been a smart thing to do. If he’d done it, then the Bat would come after him once he was at a safe distance from the alley. That was still a possibility even now though, and his eyes scanned the rooftops around him as he walked and listened to his surroundings for any motion.

Edward hoped Batman wouldn’t reappear -- that whole encounter had been quite jarring and confusing. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that Batman would show up, let alone assist him. His mind kept trying to figure out why the vigilante had entered the fray. The logical answer was that it was because Edward was a civilian now, a citizen that had a hit out on him, and the Bat did what he always does in that situation. But that concept felt too simple, too foreign for him to accept. So, his mind continued to speculate what Batman’s play could’ve been.

He had to admit, it was quite frightening to see the man in action from a different perspective. The spine-chilling tales that surrounded Batman made more sense now. He could only imagine what that encounter must’ve been like from the perspective of a regular citizen. Edward had always seen Batman as a foe -- not quite an equal, but close. The fear he instilled in others had always been something he’d considered the woes of lesser men. But now, the chess pieces had moved, and they were both playing on a different board. Perhaps that was it: he was one of the lesser men now, a regular citizen that needed a phantom to swoop in to save him. Edward felt a wave of emotion hit him abruptly; the sensation of not belonging once again invaded his mind. He tried to keep himself focused on his route rather than waste the time letting it control his thoughts.

Edward couldn’t use the underground shortcut to return -- it was too risky with Batman tailing him. Instead, he opted to make the trip as boring as possible, especially now that he was too far for the men to follow. It made his walk longer, but he needed the time to think over the stark amount of new information he’d acquired.

Two of the hitmen had been young and inexperienced. The man he’d crossed paths with in the loading alley appeared just as surprised to see Edward as Edward was to see him. The thing about young and inexperienced hitmen is they’re cheap, and easy to find in Gotham. Ignorant boys trying to make some quick cash, though any real criminal in the city wouldn’t waste their time on them. Those two facts boded well for him. He was dealing with someone who didn’t know what they were doing, and surely this wouldn’t be the only mistake they made. Whoever they were, the need to hire hitmen showed they were afraid, and fear makes people do stupid things. Stupid things like tilting their hands too much, letting information slip, or jumping out into the open in an illogical attempt to hide. It was a human trait Edward had preyed on frequently during his criminal career, an easy emotion to exploit under the right circumstances.

However, what he hadn’t expected was that whoever this culprit was would take the drastic action of trying to kill him. Nothing in the evidence pointed to such behavior being a predictable reaction. To the culprit it was only a bunch of empty buildings, and he couldn’t fathom what payoff could be involved that would be worth murder. Then again, they were playing a dangerous game and were clearly out of their league. Edward poking his nose around might have been just enough to scare them into making such a silly mistake. Though, he doubted they knew very much about him, or they wouldn’t have been so foolish. Nor would they have made the classic mistake criminals did regularly in this city.

They didn’t hire one hitman, they’d hired three -- the logical fallacy that greater numbers mean a greater possible outcome of success. It was a mistake many in the underground made with the Bat. One guy with a gun couldn’t stop him, so get twenty guys with more guns and the plan will be successful. No one ever considered the obvious: the guns didn’t work, no matter how many you added to the scenario. The more men you used simply meant you wasted more money. It was a mistake he’d never made when dealing with Batman, and it was one of the first riddles about the man he’d solved.

Though, Edward wasn’t very happy about having a hit out on him. He was sick and tired of people trying to kill him, and the fact that he’d have to spend even more time looking over his shoulder just made him feel drained. As he crossed the bridge to the south island he checked his watch; it was three in the morning. Much later than he’d intended to be out, but it didn’t appear that anyone had seen him out and about -- anyone other than the Bat, that is. He could only hope Batman wouldn’t pull some passive-aggressive move and tip off some officer to his activities this evening. By the time he’d unlocked his office door, he was beginning to feel very exhausted. So exhausted, in fact, that he might not even have to drink tonight to get his mind to quiet down.

He was correct in that belief, and he didn’t have to lay on the couch for very long before sleep took him. His rest was deep, and by the time he was awoken by the ringing of the phone the next morning, he had impressions on his skin from the cushions on the couch. In a haze, he pulled the phone down beside him, picked up the handset, and rubbed his face, trying to wake up.

“Isn’t this late for your check-in call, officer?” he muttered into the phone.

There was a short pause on the line, “Excuse me?” Edward could hear quite a lot of noise through the phone, and the voice wasn’t officer Blue 334. “I’m sorry, is this Edward Nigma’s residence?”

Edward yawned, fumbling with his glasses on the floor beside him, “Yeah? Who is this?”

“This is officer Wilkes, I’m --”

“Ahh, Wilkes the snitch. How’re you this fine morning, Wilkes?” Edward propped his glasses on and ran a hand through his hair as he continued to wake.

“I-I’m fine?” He seemed confused by the question, but he cleared his throat in an attempt to regain his professional demeanor. “Mr. Nigma, I’m calling you on behalf of the Commissioner --”

“Is that right?” Edward interrupted.

“...Yes, he would like to speak with you, it concerns a case he’s investigating --”

Edward let out a groan of annoyance.

“-- he would like for you to come to his office this evening.” Wilkes finished, a slight twinge of irritation in his tone.

“This evening?” Edward asked through another yawn.

“Yes, he’s very busy, but he can work you in at eleven tonight.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Tell him I’ll be there,” and he dropped the handset back onto the receiver on the floor.

Immediately, he drifted back to sleep. When he woke again, he adjusted his glasses -- as they’d started digging into the bridge of his nose -- and checked his watch. It was one in the afternoon, and he struggled to pull himself off the couch, his muscles sore from the exertion of the night before. He went through his normal morning routine: he grabbed one of the apples from the kitchen and picked through the new pieces of evidence he’d acquired on his desk. The photo was still a source of amusement for him, and the paper with the phone number didn’t have any other useful information on it. Tossing the apple core into the trash bin, he picked the receiver up off the floor and dialed the number on his rotary phone. He was surprised when the operator picked up the line and asked him to check which number he was calling. Reciting the digits to her, he waited as she checked it again, but, unfortunately, the line was a dead end. He thanked the operator, and, as he set down the phone, he began to fidget. Perhaps they weren’t as foolish as he’d thought, or the number wasn’t a phone number at all.

He flopped into his desk chair, took out one of his notepads, and began working the number through any variation he could think of. He tried to see if there was any alphabetic translation, or if it was some kind of cipher, but everything ended up being nonsense. He flipped the paper over and over in his hand, trying to figure out what else it could be, before tossing it back to the desktop. He was applying too much intelligence to this, there was no way it could be this complicated. The events of last night had proven that, and every time he tried to look at it through a more skilled lens he ended up at a dead end. He was starting to get the feeling that the answer was easy, and it was right under his nose. But right now his mind was foggy -- he was sure he’d gotten too much sleep. He slid the paper and the notepad into his desk drawer and shut it with a flick of his hand. He needed more coffee.

The rest of the day was uneventful. He’d taken a trip down to the diner closer to Old Gotham, thinking a change in environment might help his brain get in gear. A morning paper had been left in one of the booths, and so he’d spent most of his time drinking coffee and scanning the classifieds for any potential work. There hadn’t been any fires yesterday, though that might be because whoever was responsible for the others was now focused on him. After he left the diner, he was feeling more alert and much more energized. He started to make a mental list of places he needed to visit to further the fire investigation, or at least to see if he could get his hands on some records to find a connection between the buildings. He swung back by the office in the evening and grabbed his coat and hat. Then, he headed down to the underground train station.

Once he got onto the platform, he checked his watch; he was early. Just how he liked it. When you weren’t sure what a meeting was for it was best to show up much earlier than the agreed time. It gave the other side less time for preparation and made it more likely that you would enter the discussion at an advantage. He was lucky today -- the trains were on time -- but as he got into the car, his leg muscles tensed. He’d certainly exerted too much energy last night in his malnutritioned state. Edward watched as the lights on the tunnel walls flashed by the windows as it continued on its track, the ambient rustle of the train car almost relaxing. The woman in the car with him kept sneaking glances in his direction. He was sure she recognized him. At one point he caught her staring and stared back, but it was immediately obvious she wasn’t another hitman. He saw nothing but fear in her eyes. Eventually, she got up and moved to the back of the car to put more distance between them and to place herself closer to an exit.

As the train finally approached his stop, Edward stood up and headed to the door, grabbing hold of the railing above to keep his balance. He noticed the woman in the back of the car watching him as he exited the train; at least now she could be at ease. The station was much busier here, and he watched the crowds of people migrating to and from the train around him. He found himself gathered in with the night workers as they traveled up the stairs to the street level. Some of them looked in his direction, but most were too preoccupied with their morning routines to worry. Getting up to the sidewalk, Edward looked around. The traffic was much busier here, even at this late hour. He remembered that this part of the city was very chaotic during the territory wars, but it looked as if it hadn’t suffered too much of the destruction. The streets looked much the same, and to a tourist it would look like it had been nothing but business as usual here. It felt like a photograph, almost like a time capsule.

He looked across the street to his destination, the GCPD headquarters -- the new one, he reminded himself. They had a bad track record of letting these buildings get destroyed, or at least become unusable. He hurried through a break in the traffic and made his way up the wide stone steps to the entrance. He’d only walked through the front doors of this particular building twice, and he was barely conscious at the time. Once inside, he stopped and looked around the small entryway, spotting a plaque on the wall with office numbers. He barely looked at it, just skimmed, knowing the name would catch his eye. And it did. Commissioner and 3rd were all he needed, and he hurried up the steps on his right.

He wasn’t sure what this meeting was for, but he did find it odd that Gordon hadn’t made the invite call himself. Having Wilkes do it could be interpreted in different ways, some insulting and some logical. He assumed Gordon was going to try another tactic to question him about the events inside the Narrows, and he was more than willing to show up for that game. He’d grown tired of his frequent phone calls, and the idea of Gordon trapped in his office with an unrelenting Edward sounded like a good way to spend the evening hours. He wondered how long it was going to take Gordon to figure out that most of the people affected weren’t going to speak. It was Jim’s job, yes; Edward knew that, but it was too ugly of a thing to look back at.

As he climbed the stairs, he noticed many nasty looks from the officers he passed. Some of them looked angry, but others just looked disappointed. Probably that you’re still breathing, Edward thought. Good, I hope it ruins their day. Finally getting to the third floor, Edward began a slow stride down the long hall. The open area to his left was filled with mostly empty desks, and only a few detectives spotted the area, hunched over paperwork or clicking away at their typewriters. He noticed one staring and felt a burst of excitement in his chest. Bullock was sitting at this desk, staring him down, their last encounter clearly not forgotten. Edward noticed he had a new haircut, and that, like last time, he didn't look as rough for wear as Edward was used to. Maybe he finally quit drinking, probably not the best decision in the current climate. With a tilt of his hat he gave Bullock a smile, but Harvey only let out a groan Edward could barely hear and turned back to his work in a huff. Thanks, Bullock, he thought. That at least told Edward he wasn’t here for some empty threat of arrest; Harvey wouldn’t be able to contain his joy if that was the case. That was good, he was tired of that boast.

Getting to Gordon’s office door, he knocked in a rhythmic pattern and entered after hearing an invitation from within. The room was dark other than the lamp on Gordon’s desk, and as Edward entered he noted the slight look of surprise on Jim’s face. Edward closed the door behind him and watched Jim sit up in his chair, and the annoyance on his face made Edward’s mood fly into jubilation.

Jim looked at his watch. “I guess eleven o’clock is ten-thirty in Arkham time.”

“Early bird gets the worm, Jim. I’m a working man now, being overly punctual looks good on all my paperwork.” Edward responded, happily nestling his hands into his coat pockets.

Jim let out an exhausted breath. Taking the work folder off his desk, he shoved it into one of the drawers, but not before Edward could catch a few words off the pages. Jim lit a cigarette as he stood, making his way over to the filing cabinet by the window.

“You want a coffee or anything?” Jim mumbled as he pulled a few files out.

“Got anything stronger?” Edward prodded.

“Yes, but I’m not wasting it on you,” Jim said as he moved back toward his desk with a stack of files in hand. As Jim moved past the window, Edward spotted a tall dark figure there, blocking the moonlight shimmering through the panes. In an instant, his jubilation was gone. Edward glared at the white eyes staring at him from the darkness, and he felt his chest tightened at the realization he hadn’t noticed earlier that the Bat was there.

“Have a seat, Edward,” Jim said as he sat back down at his desk.

“I’ll stand.” Edward blurted out, his eyes still fixated on the dark corner.

Jim’s eyes shifted between the two men, but he decided to ignore the clear animosity Edward held, “Whatever makes you more comfortable, I guess.” He took a deep drag from his snipe and looked Edward square in the eyes, “Alright, Ed. We know --”

“Edward. We’ve been through this, you don’t get to call me that.” Edward interrupted.

“...Edward, I know that you’re investigating the fires.” Jim finished.

Edward stuffed his hands deeper into his coat pockets, giving Jim a stern look. “Is that what this meeting is about? I’m not telling you a damn thing, Jim.” He gave the commissioner a smug grin. “If that’s all, can I go now?”

Jim narrowed his eyes, leaning forward over his desk a bit and piercing Edward with a stern look that only fathers could muster. “How about you let me finish? You think you can keep that smart mouth of yours shut long enough for me to explain?”

Edward gritted his teeth, “Fine.”

Jim puffed on his cigarette, and Edward could tell he’d already gotten on the man’s nerves, which would’ve been enjoyable if it wasn’t for their third wheel. Letting out a deep sigh, the smoke flew around Jim in the bright light from the lamp.

“Edward, I know you’re investigating the fires. You’ve been spotted at a couple of the scenes, and --”

“They weren’t locked down.” Edward interrupted again, but a swift look from Jim made him shut his mouth.

“And, I don’t know how much you’ve figured out on your own. I know this is going to sound strange, but I’m not asking you to divulge all your intel to us. I asked you here to tell you what we know.” Jim finished.

Edward frowned in confusion, then laughed under his breath. “You can’t be serious. You want to tell me what you know?”

“To be honest, this case is pretty complicated,” Jim mumbled around the cigarette in his mouth, “We both decided that the more eyes we have looking at it is a good thing. And then, you’ll have a better idea of what to look for should any new evidence crop up.” Edward could tell he was trying his best to remain professional, to ease any suspicions that Edward had. But the detective knew this was a trick, it had to be. There was no way on Earth either of these men would confide information to him. Edward opened his mouth to speak, but Jim cut him off.

“And, before you say it, no, this isn’t some scheme to get you to tell us what you know. And, again, before you ask, yes, there’s a catch. There’s something we’d like to ask for in return.” Jim huffed out a puff of smoke. “C’mon, Nigma, you’re used to this. We help you with your investigation, and in turn, you help us with a problem we’ve been running up against. It's been causing us some trouble and slowing down progress in the investigation.”

Edward looked between the two men, running through possible options in his mind. He felt out of sorts again, unsure what guise would be the best strategy for this situation. He couldn't play his tried-and-true Riddler shtick, that could ruin everything. But he was too flustered to act out the know-it-all attitude, too put-out for the calm and collected better-than-you routine. The offer was intriguing, but it was sending off every alarm bell in his mind. Then the Bat stepped out of the shadows, and as he got closer to the desk the lamplight made more of him visible. It was much different seeing him in the light than in the dark alley the night before. Edward felt his pulse quicken, and then that grating deep voice finally filled the room.

“Nigma.”

“Don’t,” Edward interrupted, yet again.

“Nigma --”

“I’m here to talk to Jim! I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. If I knew you were going to be here, I wouldn't have come at all.” Edward’s breath hastened, and he cursed himself mentally. That came across less direct and more childish than he’d intended, but the Bat remained silent.

He hated that, he’d always hated it. That expressionless, silent stare always grated on his nerves. Edward hated it even more now that he knew what it was, and that, before, he’d fallen for it so easily. It was an interrogation tactic: remain silent to entice the other to continue speaking. He wasn’t going to fall for it this time, he’d learned this tactic as well, so he simply stared back. Which seemed like a good idea at first, but the longer he looked, the more uncomfortable he became. The light showed him how different the cowl was now, and the cape had changed as well. It always annoyed Edward when the Bat would show up with a whole new suit -- keeping up with all the variations was tedious work. He saw a small nick in the cowl on one side, Hit with something no doubt. Edward’s first thought was that he hoped it hurt, but that thought brought on a strange melancholy sensation. He remembered that the Bat had been hurt a lot recently, and he had no idea how badly since he wasn’t there to see it. He had been... preoccupied at the time.

He’d heard some of the stories, but when it came to the Dark Knight those were mostly untrue. He wasn’t as extravagant as the tales made him out to be. Then, all of a sudden, one of those stories flashed in his memory. They said he’d stayed outside the barricades for a whole week, trying to find a way to break in to save people. But, all his attempts were unsuccessful. Edward hated that one in particular; it sounded exactly like the sort of thing the stubborn idiot would do, and the thought of it made him uneasy. He broke the long stare, his eyes wandering around the room as he tried to look unbothered.

Jim’s gruff voice broke the uncomfortable silence. “Edward, we need your help. That’s what he’s trying to say, that’s why we called you here.”

Edward froze and attempted to hide his shock at that statement, but his gaze darted to Jim’s. He saw genuine pleading in the commissioner’s eyes, and he let out a howl of frustration. Jim arched a brow at the sudden outburst but only watched as Edward reached up and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes in annoyance. Placing them back on, he stomped over to the chair in front of Jim’s desk and sat down with a completely defeated look on his face. Jim seemed to relax at this development, his eyes rested on Edward for a few moments before standing up, “I’ll get you that stiffer drink.”

“Yeah, you better.” he replied, ignoring Jim as he walked past him toward the front of the office. Edward took his coat and hat off, tossing them in the vacant chair beside him. He flinched; suddenly, there was a large file being slid in front of him by a gloved hand. It opened the folder and flipped through some of the pages before stopping on a pile of photographs. As the hand retreated, Edward began to sift through them. There were a lot more fires than he’d known of. But it was what he’d come to expect: the fires all started on different floors, there were different levels of damage, and they were in all different areas of the slums. He heard Gordon pouring some liquid into a glass, which he placed next to him. Flipping through the investigation notes, Edward noticed that they’d already answered one of his questions. The building’s owners had no connection -- at least that was one lead he wouldn’t have to waste his time on.

“You’re sure they’re all connected?” Edward’s question was directed at Jim, and he hoped he’d take the hint.

He heard Jim’s voice move across from him as he sat back down. “That’s what he says. There are some connections, but not many, on paper at least.”

Edward kept that in mind as he continued to read through all the statements from those involved, noting the lack of actual witnesses. He took a sip from his glass without thinking, scotch, he noted. Of course, he’d have scotch. A familiar address jumped out on one of the pages: Mrs. Hattie’s previous residence. He noted the lack of a witness report from her as well as he took another sip from his drink and removed his cigarette pack from his jacket pocket.

“You think it's arson?” Edward asked, though this question was directed at Batman.

There was a pause before that grating voice spoke. “It's possible.”

“It’d have to be someone who had direct access to every building.” Edward stated plainly.

“Not necessarily. A lot of the buildings have been vacant for an extended time.”

“So there isn’t a lot of foot traffic. I get it, but you’d think that it’d be in just one area. It's up north, south, all over.” Edward slid a snipe into the side of his mouth and lit it with a match.

“That’s one of the issues with that theory,” the Bat said. “It's possible, but someone blending in in that many neighborhoods would be difficult.”

“Unless they’re some public servant or something. No one ever suspects the mailman.”

“It's possible, but there are other theories as well. I’m sure you’ll figure them all out.” said Batman. The tone of his voice sounded rather final, as if he was putting an end to the questioning.

Edward put the file back on the desk, taking a drag on his snipe. “Have somewhere to be, do you?”

“Is that satisfactory, Edward?” Jim cut in, Edward shifted his gaze back up to the commissioner and gave him a tired nod.

“Good. Feel free to take it with you, and give it a good look over. Not sure how many of those folks are your clients, but hopefully it helps.” Gordon leaned back in his chair, and Edward could tell he was about to be put in an uncomfortable situation. Jim rubbed his mustache, giving Edward a stern yet pleading look. “We’re having trouble getting people to cooperate with us on this. The owners of the buildings are the only ones speaking to us, the people who lived there or even nearby don’t want to talk. It puts us in a tough spot, and we’re really strapped on any potential witnesses. That leaves us with just paper trails, and stakeouts to see who shows up at the scene. As you can see, it's not much to go on.”

Edward saw the opportunity for a dig right away, and his eyes narrowed, as he took another drag on his snipe. “Did you expect any other reaction than that? Only a fool would think the people in those areas would cooperate with you two.” Edward noted Jim’s quick glare and held up a questioning hand. “What does that have to do with me?”

Jim took a deep breath, snuffing out his cigarette in the tiny ashtray on his desk. “You didn’t seem to have too many issues getting them to talk to you.”

Edward’s eyebrows raised, a knowing smile crossing his face. “Ah, I see. Were you all tailing me on my bar crawl the other night?”

“Maybe. And you didn’t appear to have too many issues. People were willing to talk to you --”

Edward waved his hand in a flippant gesture. “Jim, they’re a bunch of working people. They get off their shifts, and head to the local watering hole. They only talked to me because they were intoxicated, and, well, because they live in the damn slums. They’re not used to us flashy people who are all over the news showing up in their area.”

Jim raised a brow. “You think they talked to you because you were a super-criminal?”

Edward shrugged, draping his arm over the back of the chair. “Is it that hard to fathom, Jim? They’ve only read about me in the papers, seen me on the television. Or they’ve seen my mugshot on wanted posters plastered around the city. I’m sure they never thought I’d show up in a tiny dive bar in the slums wanting to talk to them.” Edward looked between the two of them, a smug grin crossing his face. “I know you two think I’m terribly dangerous, but you need to understand that to some people, dangerous is exciting.”

Jim contemplated his reasoning and briefly looked to Batman, who nodded in response to his questioning look. Edward’s eyes shifted between them again, and he took one final drag on his cigarette before snuffing it out in the ashtray. “So that’s it, huh? You want me to go bar hopping for you two?”

Jim rested his elbows on his desk, his fingers brushing his mustache. “Do you think they’d speak to you again? Would more people talk to you if you tried?”

Edward shrugged, crossing his arms across his ribs and his ankles under Jim’s desk as he slumped in the chair. “It's an idea. I could canvas the areas, but it will require some door-to-door visits. That’s not exactly the safest situation to put myself in.”

Jim nodded and looked to Batman again. “We should do some thorough background checks on these people, make sure none of them are sympathizers or supporters.” Batman nodded in agreement, and Jim looked back to Edward. “We'll send along a list of people to avoid. I guess we’ll try to take another crack at them while you’re gathering intel.”

Edward pressed his lips together, fixing Jim with a serious look. As long as they were agreeing to do that for him, it wouldn’t hurt to see what else he could get them to agree to. “So, how much am I getting paid for this job? And who is buying my drinks? I’m not spending my own money buying booze for people all night long.”

Jim huffed as he leaned back in his chair, gesturing towards Edward as he looked to Batman. “See? I told you.”

Edward smirked, but Batman shifted his gaze down to him. “You’ll be compensated, Nigma.”

“Oh, you’re paying for it? How do I know this isn’t some scam to get a bug into my office?” Edward’s eyes narrowed, but the Bat didn’t react, still giving Edward that silent, annoying stare.

“You’ll be compensated.” he said again, and Edward let out the breath he was holding. That had been too easy, and he decided to see how far he could go until he encountered some push-back.

“Fine, but there’s one more thing. I’m going to need some help.” Edward uncrossed his arms, draping them over the armrests of his chair.

“What kinda help?” Jim asked, giving Edward a suspicious look over the rim of his glasses.

“Well, some people do find chatting with me to be exciting, but others might need a little push to be more upfront with their information. Sometimes it can take people a while to start opening up to me --” Edward decided to ignore Jim’s eye roll of agreement to that, “and since time seems to be a factor in this, it would be smart to have some backup. Some... persuasive backup.”

Jim frowned. He could tell this wasn’t going anywhere good, and Edward was attempting to manipulate the situation. “Alright then, who are you suggesting be your persuasive backup?”

Edward grinned, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the armrests. “Robin.”

Jim’s eyes widened. “Really, Nigma? You’re gonna pull that kinda shit?” Edward could feel the Bat’s intimidating presence grow as the mood in the room drastically shifted.

He quickly held up his hands. “Calm down, gentlemen! I have my reasons.” Both of the men were glaring at him with anger so tangible he felt like he could cut it with a knife, and his mood improved in an instant. “Okay, number one. He’s,” Edward flicked a finger toward Batman, “too intimidating. He’d just scare the shit out of them and they’d clam up. Number two, I’m unwilling to work with him under any circumstances.” Jim rested an elbow on his desk and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “Number three, the kid can actually take direction. He has ears and he knows how to use them. He doesn’t interrupt me every couple of seconds. Number -- whatever, look, no matter how much I hate to admit it, the kid isn’t a complete imbecile. He can keep up with me, at least, he seems like he can. He’s not going to slow me down, and I’m sure he can take a clue if things get too sketchy.”

Jim’s expression was still very untrusting, but now he appeared to be listening to Edward’s explanation. The Bat, on the other hand, wasn’t buying it, though Edward didn’t blame him. The more obvious solution to this problem would’ve been one of Gordon’s detectives, and Edward was sure Batman could see right through his weak reasoning. “Robin carries the impression of Batman being involved, without all the messy consequences of Batman being involved. I’m sure he can be persuasive enough with people that might need it, and I’m more than confident he can handle himself when I inevitably piss off the wrong person. It’d only be minimal involvement, I want to be around him about as much as he wants to be around me. Another perk is, I don’t have to talk to him during this whole investigation.” Edward concluded, flicking a thumb in the Bat’s direction.

Jim was mulling over what Edward had said, looking at Batman with an exhausted look. “I’m sure it’s just bullshit, but it does make sense. You two would just be at each other’s throats the whole time.”

Batman gave Edward a piercing glare, “No.”

Edward scoffed. “Why? What do I look like to you? I’m not the Joker --” he quickly held up his hands as Batman’s fists clenched at his sides, a light growl leaving his lips. “Okay fine, that was too far. All I’m saying is, you let the kid follow me around, break into my house, but actually putting him to work is too much for you?”

“Him tailing you and monitoring your movements is completely different than having him be in a situation where you are expected to watch his back. You know that, and you’re pushing my patience.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. They’re just a bunch of people who lay down tar, or dig ditches for a living. It's not like they’re hardened criminals. All I need him for is to be a second pair of eyes, and to be there in case someone thinks it's more exciting to talk to a vigilante than an ex-super-criminal.”

Batman continued his intense glare, but he went back to being a silent presence in the room. Jim let out an exhausted sigh, rubbing his temples with his hand. “Sweet lord, you two are tiresome.”

The Bat leaned closer to Edward. “Fine. Minimal involvement.” With that he turned and climbed out of the open window, gliding off into the night without a sound.

Edward leaned over the side of his chair to stare at the vacant window, surprised. Jim just waved a hand, “He does that, don’t take it personally.”

Edward looked back at Jim as he grabbed his belongings off the chair next to him. “Good to know he’s just as rude to you as he is the rest of us.” Putting his hat on, he downed the rest of his drink with an uncomfortable hiss and stood up to put on his coat. “So, do we schedule our next team meeting now? Next time, do we meet at the bat-signal?”

Jim let out another tired sigh, handing the large evidence file up to Edward. “Nigma, just leave. I’ve dealt with you enough tonight. We’ll be in touch.”

Edward snatched up the folder and tucked it under his arm. He gave Jim a slight tip of his hat as he exited the office, a proud smile crossing his lips the moment the door clicked shut. He headed toward the stairs to leave, a happy air to step as he went. But his good spirits were short-lived. By the time he’d gotten to the ground floor, a sense of anxiety had started in his chest. As he stepped out of the front doors, he could feel the thoughts trying to pry into his consciousness. He tried to push them down, to ignore them, but that only made them press even harder.

After all these months you finally get to see him, and you messed it all up, as usual.

Continue reading:

Ep 9 * Ep 10 * Ep 11 * Ep 12 * Ep 13 * Ep 14

#writing post #Season 1 episodes #Season 1 Finale #Edward Nigma #batvillains #Batman #S1 eps 8 - 14 #zorasublime #fic

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hope-to-hell · 3 years

Text

This is a long one, so I’ll split it up into three parts. The Walker possession fic that nobody asked for but is happening anyway.

A Possession, part one: Convergence. August Walker x Henry Cavill. Warnings for the entire fic: possession, dubcon (possession-related; our hero never asked for this), mentions of past torture (prior to story events), some degradation, praise kink. Roughly 6k words altogether. Section heading titles largely pulled from whatever music I was listening to at the time. Part two is here, part three is here

Your body is a temple

—-

He doesn’t die, not quite. He finds something better.

It’s like this. You tried sitting on your hand once til it was numb, so that when you closed your hand around yourself it would seem like it belonged to someone else.

A face at the glass. The sensation of falling, of oil under your skin. Sharp pinpricks in every pore, a headache that threatened to split you in two. Stillness, for a moment. Then

Wake up.

Nobody there.

Wake up.

You push up on your elbows, look around. Everything looks the same as always. You’re alone, as always. Even Kal is asleep in the other room, and anyway if he’s started talking then you’ve got more problems than you thought.

Get up. Isn’t there a mirror?

There is, on the wall above the dresser. You rake your hands through your hair, making your bedhead even more pronounced. It feels good, so you do it again, tugging a little on your curls. And again, scraping one hand down through your stubble, over your jaw and down your neck. Press just a little.

We look good.

What?

Pay attention. I know you won’t want to miss this.

It’s like this. Your hand is your hand is not your hand. The calluses are the same, the thick fingers are the same, but there’s static fuzzing the signal somewhere between brain and hand. You surprise yourself with the way you scrape your fingers down your chest, with the way you dig those fingers into the skin of your belly, nails raising red welts.

Hm, you really like that, don’t you? Look at you.

And yeah, it’s a little surprising, watching the blood pulse into your cock like that, watching it twitch and jump, but it is morning and you were dreaming—

Dreaming about what? Tell me. Give me your secrets. Was it something like

Your hand closes around your cock, stroking dry once, twice, before pulling away and you whine, you whine and want to touch again, it’s like your hand is your hand is not your hand and you grip the edge of the dresser, breathing just a little harder than you should.

like this?

And you open your mouth, shove the first two fingers of your right hand inside. Suck. Get them wet for me. What? You’re not sure where this is coming from but oh there’s a line of fire running down from your fingers to your cock and it’s so so so

Good. That’s a good boy.

Oh fuck. Your left hand slips off the edge of the dresser. You catch yourself on your forearm and that’s going to be a bruise for sure. And now, bent over like this, it’s just so easy to reach back behind yourself with your right hand, feel your fingers stroking cool and wet down the cleft of your ass. Feel the muscle of your hole twitch, just a little. But it’s not—

Not gonna work. Where do you keep the lube? Fucking tell me we have lube.

You do, and it’s right here, regular fucking boy scout aren’t you; you squeeze it sloppy onto your fingers and kick your legs farther apart, getting into position like you’re presenting your ass for, for what?

For me. Now, get your fingers inside yourself. You know how I like it.

Yeah, just a little too fast, a little too hard. You breach your entrance with one fingertip and it’s like fire; your head jerks up like someone’s grabbed you by the hair and there you are in the mirror, eyes just a little too bright, eyes on me, that’s good, oh you good boy. Look at you.

One finger becomes two becomes three, slopping more lube onto your hand like it’s going out of style, and the stretch, the burn of it has you gasping voiceless, breath fogging the mirror as you try to lean forward and reach back at once, as your strange tv-static fingers search for the spot that makes your vision white out.

There. Just like that. Oh you’re so greedy, aren’t you. You’d take my whole fist if I wanted, you’d take it and you’d like it.

Fuck, yes, god you can’t breathe, can’t think, because you’re hitting that spot with every press of your hand now, you could swear you feel fingers gripping at your hair, raking down your chest, closing around you and it’s impossible, impossible, it’s

Me. Come for me, now, that’s it. Don’t look away.

And oh, fuck, that’s all it takes until you’re coming hard, so hard it drives you to your knees, right hand wrenching free and you think maybe you’re dying. Is this what dying feels like?

Obviously not. Now get up. Get dressed. We have such a busy day ahead.

—-

Blinking lights and revelations

—-

He makes you lick your own semen off the dresser. Well, he doesn’t make you exactly; you have the sense that he’s more a passenger than anything, but fuck if it doesn’t get you going anyway. He says clean up after yourself in that weird way that’s like talking but not, like he’s right inside your brain (am I not? What do you think is happening here, boy?) And that weird static feel is ghosting down your spine, nerves firing in a fingertip pattern. So you lick at the wood and fist your cock which is somehow, impossibly, hard again already. Until

No.

“No?”

Drop it. I will tell you when you can touch yourself.

There’s that static again, bursting down your spine to your arm your hand your fingers. Your hand drops open and you breathe hard, pained, every nerve firing at once.

Maybe not just a passenger after all. There’s a rich warm sensation, curling under the skin behind your ear. Try again, pet. See where it gets you.

“Who even are you? Why is this happening, I don’t understand.”

You don’t have to understand. You just have to deal with it.

“But who—“

You don’t know? Even though we fit so well? I think maybe you do know, and you’re scared.

He’s not wrong.

Of course I’m not.

You dress, let Kal out and back in. He looks at you skeptically before disappearing to wherever he goes when he’s not lounging at your feet. You get out egg whites and chicken breast for breakfast which somehow becomes bacon and eggs and those weird American biscuits that are like scones except not. You certainly don’t know how to make them, and yet there they are being formed under your hands. You watch a little, feeling your mind disconnect from your body a bit. Static again.

Your body is a tool. You have to take care of it. And if you don’t, then I will. Now drink.

The water is halfway to your lips before you realize you can’t remember pouring it. The glass drops from your suddenly nerveless fingers.

Well, clean it up. And get another glass. Christ, we’re thirsty. What have you been doing to yourself?

You eat your ridiculous breakfast and drink your water, and you hate it but he’s right. You do feel better. You could almost forget what has turned out to be the weirdest morning of your life so far.

You flex your fingers, roll the stiffness out of your spine and

Oh, fuck. That feels good. Do it again.

What? You go through the motions in reverse, stretching your spine til it pops, shaking out your fingers, flexing them against the opposite palm until you feel yeah the coil of pleasure in your gut. And oh that drops a thought like ice into your veins. A little detail you thought up during one of those never-ending script rewrites, something you’d never shared and had in fact put out of your mind because it was so ridiculous. His hands hurt. They always hurt.

Walker.

This is ridiculous. It’s completely insane, completely impossible, and yet

And yet here we are. Funny, so I exist here too?

“You’re just a character. A figment. You aren’t real.”

Not real, huh? I saw how hard you came with our fingers in your ass.

And oh how your cheeks burn at that. You can still feel echoes of that stretch, that soreness that lingers.

“But if you’re here, then—”

uh-uh. You start to feel that static creeping down your spine—again?—come on, there’s a good boy.

“Honestly? I don’t think I can.”

You can. You think I don’t feel it? That ache, that burn, that little bit too much? Think I can’t feel what makes you weak?

“You’re deflecting.”

And it’s working.

Fuck, he’s right. You hate that he seems to know you as much as you know him. You’re frantically scrabbling through your memories, trying to pull up your sense of Walker-the-character but it’s been two years. Still, you reach bits and pieces, his confidence, his almost aggressive masculinity, his betrayal.

His—

Bright, blinking lights. Shouting. Begging. Asking why—

A burst of static drops you to your knees. It hurts him. This little bit of backstory you’d pulled out of your ass to try and keep Walker consistent in your mind when the script changed every damn day. It hurts him and you take it back, you take it back.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t, I didn’t know.”

—-

“I got a hunger and I can’t seem to get full”

—Bright Eyes

—-

You prod at him like a bruise, a wound, a scab you pull off before it’s healed so you can see, just for a moment, the raw wet flesh before blood comes rushing in, feel the flare of pain as the last of the scab lifts away.

Knock it off.

“Come on. Please. I didn’t know, how could I? I didn’t even think you were real. If I’d known, I wouldn’t— Shit. This isn’t coming out right. Look, if something like that happened to me I wouldn’t want someone digging it up either.”

Something like that.

Something like that? Something like

Static bursting in your head again, loud and overwhelming, the signal lost and all you can do is writhe, all you can do is crawl as it takes you under. Because

The lights are bright, so bright, and the blood roars in your ears as they tie your wrists down tight, as they pull off your nails one by one. As they break your hands lovingly, bone by bone by bone. As they leave you to lie on the floor, gasping through tears and snot, clutching your hands to your chest.

And that was an easy day.

Jesus. The static fades, receding back up into your spine as you lie there gasping, trying to push down the memory because that’s what it was, wasn’t it. Not backstory, not theory, and oh your hands ache with it. So you rub them, thumbs pressing between bones, until the feeling recedes, until you feel a little spreading warmth work its way up your arms.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Don’t.

“I—“

Not happening. Now you know and that’s the end of it. Worry about it on your own time. With anyone else, you’d bring them something to drink, sit close enough that they could lean into you if they wanted. Give them space while offering up your own. Even knowing what kind of man he is, what he’s done, he’s still hurting and you always were taught to help those in need. But here you are more intimately connected than you’ve ever been with anyone before, with Walker so deep inside you, and there’s nothing you can do for him.

Phrasing, boy. Amusement, warm at the back of your neck. Besides, if I was inside you, I doubt you’d have the space to think about it. You feel that static again, radiating out from your spine. It curls around your hips, wraps around your inner thighs. It’s gentle, effervescent. And god help you, but you want more of it.

“Deflecting again?”

Obviously. Now shut up and let me take care of us. It’s nearly soporific, the way he curls around your mind. You can feel him picking at the seams of your worries, brushing them away and leaving an emptiness behind. Let me do this, I’ll make it good.

You’ve thought about it, haven’t you. Thought about the way Walker would fuck. You always do, when you’re feeling out a new character. After all, it’s the closest you can get to another person, the most honest and intimate you can possibly be with someone.

Almost, anyway.

Charles Brandon? Up for nearly anything, anywhere, with anyone. Likes to surprise his partners with a silk bow around his cock. Has a scar in his left armpit from a knifeplay experiment that nearly went very wrong.

Clark Kent? Gives and gives and gives. Always holds himself back, likes it out in the cornfields where he can smell the warm earth. His first orgasm blew out every window in a three-mile radius.

Napoleon Solo? Oh, you don’t really like to think about that one. He’s tried just about everything and enjoyed almost none of it. Would really like to be tied down and petted until he falls asleep, but doesn’t know how to ask for it.

And August Walker?

Come on. Tell me how I like it.

“You, oh Christ this is embarrassing.”

Mmm, is it? I can feel it, you know. You can’t hide from me, not really. Now be a good boy and tell me. I want to hear it from you.

“You—oh hell. You like to leave marks, alright? Cuts, bruises, it doesn’t matter. You just want them to look at themselves after and be reminded of you. You always make it good for them, it’s a point of pride I guess. But you never let go, so you’re never really satisfied.”

Clever. Go on. How do I touch them? I want you to show me.

—-

“And who is to say what flesh should do, and who is to have it for that use?”

—Built to Spill

—-

It’s like this. Your hand is your hand is our hand. Show me.

“I— I don’t even know where to start.”

Same as anything. You start at the beginning. Here, I’ll even make it easy for you.

There’s that creeping, bubbly feeling again but this time it’s crawling up the side of your neck. You follow it with your fingers and yes, good, definitely the right choice. Press your fingers to your lips, try again, move your hand to your hair and tug. There you go. Show me your throat. You can picture him, can’t you, drawing your head back with a grip just the wrong side of too hard. Can feel him nosing at the point of your jaw, biting over your Adam’s apple.

“How in the fuck?”

Your nerves are my nerves. Keep touching. Mmm, yeah, like that. That’s your carotid artery, can you feel the blood pumping? Not too much now, follow the blood down.

And yeah, yeah you can feel your artery pulsing as you press into it with your index finger, hold it long enough to feel that thrumming in your skull, but

Not today.

Fuck but it’s good, it’s so good, hold it long enough and you could drop to the carpet, starve your brain of blood a little and you could

Don’t.

That static again, sharper this time. Driving your hand down, unbuttoning your shirt with one clumsy hand. It’s like you’ve never undressed yourself before. And it hurts, somehow, little prickles of pain at your fingertips with every button. But that creeping static is curling under your shirt as you work, running blunt little tendrils down your chest and circling your nipples until they pebble hard, until your hips make the tiniest movement, seeking any kind of friction you can get, until you open your pants and get yourself out in the open air. Until

“What the fuck?”

You can feel a hand on your cock, sure and strong, but it can’t be yours because by this point you’ve got one hand playing with your tits and the other wrenching your head back by the hair. And you try to speak but the angle of your throat crushes the words, rasps them out weak and strangled.

“Oh, that’s good.” Your voice is doubled, echoing on itself, flat American accent chasing your own. His words are hot in your throat and you can’t tell if it’s actually good or not; it’s like being in a hall of mirrors and not knowing which way is out and which way will break your nose against the glass. He’s like fire in your throat, under your skin, everywhere.

Fuck, you’ve got that tightening coil in your gut and this might be it, might be the first time you’ve ever come untouched

Untouched? Really? I’m insulted.

And then you feel it. That hot white spark inside, the one you’ve only sometimes managed to hit with fingers and a careful angle, the spark that makes your balls draw up tight and your cock pulse even as something just barely holds you back from the edge. Whatever it is, it’s

“Christ. I— what is that? How are you—?” You’re wound tight, so tight. All it would take is the smallest push; you’re so hard you’re sweating and your nails are tearing at your chest, at your scalp, everywhere except where you most need your hands to be. And when you feel the first tears start to prick at your eyes, you hear him.

Hey. He sounds— stretched, somehow. You ever come so hard you see God? And with a flare of fire deep inside, you do. You come harder than you ever have in your life, and it’s the last thing you know for a long, long while.

#henry cavill #august walker #my fic #mission impossible #mission impossible fallout #august walker fic #august walker smut #henry cavill fic #henry cavill smut #august walker x Henry cavill #august walker x Henry cavill smut #mission: impossible fallout fic #mission: impossible fic #mission: impossible smut

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the-gay-prometheus · 3 years

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AU Segment - What’s In A Name (Parts 1 and 2 Combined!)

Oh hey, hi, hello. I finally finished this bit! I’m not sure how I entirely feel about it, but considering all of these segments are still just ‘test runs’ for this AU, that’s kinda to be expected. No warnings needed for these to my knowledge, just wholesome silly stuff and a bit of heartfelt moments thrown in. Just some notes before I share this full segment: 1. You’ll notice that unlike the last segment I posted, the creature is simply called Creature with a capital c rather than “the creature.” There is a reason for this! The narrator, although omniscient, has a bias toward Victor and his point of view about this character. The name of said character changes along with Victor’s view of him - from being a mess of all kinds of nasty things (’beast,’ ‘monster,’ ‘demon,’ etc.), to simply being ‘the creature, then to being more of a formal name ‘Creature,’ and finally to his actual name. In moments where Victor is particularly upset with this character, the title used by the narrator may change to reflect that. 2. This is veeeery very long considering it’s both parts 1 and 2. Knowing tumblr, formatting may get all screwed up, but I’m hoping for the best! 3. Both parts will also be posted to ao3 in their own works, so if you’d rather have links to them there so you’re not endlessly scrolling through a massive wall of text, feel free to ask! 4. I’m still practicing my ‘not-so-angsty’ writing, so some parts may be a little wonky because the wholesome silly stuff is not quite where my skills lie yet 😅 5. Special shout-out to @fergus-reid! The name ‘Percival’ suggested in part two that Victor rejects because it is a ‘name that he heavily considered’ was 100% influenced by his incredible podcast “The Marksbury Incident” - a beautifully written and acted modern/cross-over type AU where Victor is also a trans man (and canonically considered the name Percival for himself)! It’s a really neat story and I totally recommend checking it out! As always, likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are appreciated! Without further ado, I present ‘What’s In A Name?’

PART 1: “How about… hm… Gabriel?” Victor and Creature trekked along the mountain trail, Victor taking the lead so Creature wouldn’t go too far ahead. “That’s a good name, don’t you think?” Creature shrugged his shoulders, pausing to inspect the nearly white bark of a silver fir, tracing along the jagged edges with curiosity. “Is that a no?” Victor asked, somewhat out of breath as he turned to check on his creation. “Yes, that is a no,” Creature mumbled as he looked upward toward the top of the tall conifer. “Oh! I know! How about Luca? It means light!” Creature turned toward him with a disappointed frown. “Perfect, because surely I am the light of your life,” he remarked with clear sarcasm. For a moment Victor was almost impressed; after all, this was the first he had heard him make any kind of obviously sarcastic… joke? Was it a joke? “Well, no, that would be Henry,” Victor replied, turning back toward the trail and motioning for Creature to follow. “But you were born of lightning, so it would at least have some sentimental meaning?” The creation shook his head. “I would rather not be consistently reminded of my origins.” The two continued along the trail, Victor staying quiet as he tried to think of another name that might work. As they walked, they came along a portion of the trail with a steep, rocky cliff that harbored the continuation of the trail on top. Victor, being the stubborn person he was, insisted that he could climb up himself, but each time he tried to scrabble up, he would lose his hold or lose his footing and fall back down. Though he continued to insist he could do it, Creature lifted him up and set him on the top of the stone. Victor shot him a nasty look, brushing off his clothing as if where he had touched him was somehow now dirty, but Creature ignored it and hoisted himself up to the top with ease. “Then how about Adam?” Victor suggested, turning and starting his way down the trail once again. Creature stood at the cliff edge, staring at his creator. “After all, you came up with that one yourself.” “I… I do not want a name that I came up with,” Creature began. “I would much rather it come from you.” Victor gave him an odd look. “What does it matter? A name is a name, right? I named myself and you don’t see me complaining about it,” he retorted, crossing his arms. He glanced off to the side, then frowned. “Well… I suppose Henry technically helped- but I’m the one who chose it.” Creature crossed his own arms and gave him the kind of look that said ‘well, there’s the answer to your own question.’ Victor stared at him, then dramatically waved his arms and spun around. “Fine! Fine. Alright. What if I said I was giving that name to you because I thought it fit you and not because you came up with it? I mean, it is rather fitting considering-” “Then you missed my entire point of what I had said when I brought that name up,” Creature cut him off. Victor looked back to him. “Then what were you saying?” “I said I ought to be your Adam but… that it was not who I actually was to you. It was…” He hesitated. “A painful moment for me, Victor. To come to the realization that everything I should have been was everything I never would have had the chance to be.” Victor sighed, hanging his head. “Well, what if it’s who you are to me now?” he asked, his voice sincere. Creature shook his head. “That makes no difference. Once again it would simply be a reminder of such dreadful memories. I would rather live my life without being constantly reminded of my past simply by someone calling me by my name.” Victor didn’t answer, opting instead to take a step and continue onward. Creature hesitated, but followed all the same. “Gilbert?” Victor called out as he walked. Creature couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well that was out of nowhere.” “But is it a no?” “Yes, it is a no.” Victor made a grunt of disappointment, then looked around, pointing to a tall conifer with beautiful vibrant orange needles. “What about Larch? Like the tree?” he asked. His creation paused, looking at the tree and others of its species around them. “It is certainly a beautiful tree,” he remarked simply. “Though I am not sure it is a good name.” “Come on, it’s a great name!” Victor exclaimed, turning back to the trail and clambering his way up a boulder that blocked the path. “I will… give it some thought,” Creature promised with a slight smile, hopping over the boulder as though it were only a mild inconvenience. “That doesn’t sound like a no to me,” Victor proposed, grinning. “It is not a no, but it is also not a yes,” Creature explained, reaching up and plucking a handful of the orange needles from one of the trees and inspecting them closer. “Then it’s basically a no and I should keep going,” Victor suggested. Far ahead, the trees cleared and open sky above distant ridgeline could be seen - signifying they were nearly home - and Victor let out an exasperated sigh. “I told you I’d have a name for you by the time we got home. You’re making this more difficult than it has to be.” “And I told you that these things take far more time than what one walk will procure,” Creature countered. “Not that you listen to me, of course.” He continued onward, passing Victor, who watched as he walked by. “I don’t listen to anyone,” Victor called to him as he watched him walk. “I thought that would’ve been fairly obvious by now.” “Oh, it is certainly obvious, but that does not make it - or you, for that matter - any less irritating, Victor,” his creation answered from ahead. Victor frowned. “Hey- Hey! Wait up!” He scrambled as he broke into a run, tripping over a stone and nearly falling but somehow miraculously not falling flat on his face. “What was that supposed to mean?” Creature kept walking, pausing to lift a bough that crossed in front of the path and ducking beneath it, holding it away from the trail so Victor could pass without walking into it. “I was simply stating a fact,” he mentioned, letting the branch go once Victor was through. “Hmph.” Victor strode past him, ducking his way through the last tangle of branches before emerging to the ledge where their little hut stood. “Could’ve kept it to yourself,” he grumbled as he straightened his vest and brushed off his coat. “I will keep that in mind,” Creature stated, emerging beside him with at least one twig sticking awkwardly out of his long black hair. Victor looked up at him, staring at the twig in his hair with narrowed eyes until Creature got the hint that there was something there, then started making his way back toward their home with his shoulders drooped and his eyes on the ground. Grumbling something about how ungrateful his creation was, he made his way to the door, reached for it, and then- whack! The door flew open, hitting Victor directly in the face and knocking him backward. He clutched at his nose with a yelp of pain. Creature couldn’t help but chuckle - this was at least the third time this had happened in the past week alone. It was Henry who had opened the door, and who had promptly let out a sharp gasp of surprise upon seeing his boyfriend dramatically writhing around on the ground with his hand over his face. “Good lord Victor!” he exclaimed, dropping to the ground to check if he was ok. Victor sucked in a breath and hissed it out through his teeth, slowly removing his hand from his nose and blinking his eyes back open. Upon seeing Henry, directly above him, he managed a half smile. “You’re lucky I love you,” he sneered, pushing himself up onto his hands. Henry grinned, planting a kiss on Victor’s lips, which Victor gladly reciprocated. As he pulled back, Henry stood, offering a hand to help his boyfriend up from the ground. “I know I am,” Henry answered Victor’s original statement with a smirk. “Not that he poses much of a threat regardless,” Creature quipped from behind them. Victor rolled his eyes and Henry snickered. “Well, threat or not,” he began, wrapping his arm around Victor, “How’d it go? Did you two finally figure out a name?” “No, we didn’t. That one is too stubborn,” Victor complained, pointing to his creation. “I simply did not relate to any of the names you suggested, Victor. That is not stubbornness, that is…” He paused, thinking of how to word it. “Well… I suppose it could be stubbornness.” Henry shook his head. “Not stubbornness at all. A name is an important and meaningful thing, so if you have yet to hear one that you feel fits you, then it just doesn’t fit and that’s all there is to it,” he explained with a kind smile. Victor gave him a side-eyed glance, then sighed. “Alright, sure. Not stubborn. Just irritating,” he retorted, giving Creature a sneer. Creature stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. “Well, you did create me, after all.” Henry tried to hold back a laugh, and couldn’t help but let it out as Victor pushed him away with a scoff. “I am not irritating!” he announced, earning even harder laughter from Henry. He spun on his heels to face him, crossing his arms. “It’s not funny! I’m not irritating!” “Pfff- Yes you are!” Henry exclaimed through his laughter. Victor wanted to be angry, but Henry’s laughter was contagious as always and he found himself starting to snicker along. “No I’m not!” he repeated, though much less seriously. “You most certainly are,” Creature mentioned, starting to chuckle a bit himself. “I- I am absolutely not,” Victor reiterated, trying to make himself sound very serious but only making himself - as well as Henry and Creature - laugh even harder. “Yes you are!” Henry teased, reaching out and flicking Victor’s nose. Victor flung his hand up and stumbled back. “Ow! Henry that’s still sore!” he exclaimed reaching out to flick him back. Henry jumped out of the way and took off toward the open land of the ridge just beyond their hut still laughing as he gave his boyfriend a look that seemed to say ‘just try to catch me.’ Victor smirked and ran off after him, shouting “You sly bastard- get back here!” Creature watched them chase one another, his laughter slowly subsiding to a smiling sigh. Name or no name, he felt like he was finally so much closer to the life he wanted - a loving family of sorts, though a strange family it may be. He watched as Henry switched directions and came up from behind Victor, tackling him to the ground. Though he couldn’t make out what they were saying, he could hear as their own laughter turned to quiet words, and then to quiet as Henry silenced Victor with another kiss. A content expression on his face, Creature lay back, sprawled out on the ground, and watched the clouds as they passed through the sky. PART 2: The afternoon was fair-weathered and peaceful, blue sky hardly obscured by a few fluffy clouds with the sun casting its brilliant light evenly over the mountains. Creature had spent just about the entirety of the last few hours still lying on the ground, the first half watching the clouds that passed by while considering each shape they took as they changed with the wind, and the second half so well at peace that he had fallen asleep. That was, of course, until the feeling of something being dropped on his chest caused his eyes to snap open. Above him stood Henry, who was looking down at him with his arms crossed and a smile on his face. Creature managed an awkward smile in return, and looked down at what had been dropped on him. He recognized the small leather bag and gently plucked it off his chest, reaching up to drop it back into Henry’s now waiting outstretched hand. “Fancy a game?” Henry asked with a grin, shaking the bag and causing the contents inside to clink and rattle. Creature chuckled and slowly lifted himself upright. “Of course, though you could have woken me in perhaps a less startling manner,” he replied. “Where’s the fun in that?” Henry joked, tossing the bag back and forth between his hands. “Will Victor be joining us?” Creature inquired as he rose to his feet and brushed the dust and dirt from his cloak and pants. “Begrudgingly, yes,” came a flat voice from behind him. He turned to find Victor standing there, looking almost entirely unamused - almost, though Creature could tell he was actually looking forward to it. Henry was the first to jog over to their typical outdoor playing spot, a fairly flat length of stone close to the edge of the ledge, and emptied the contents of the bag onto the ground. An array of clearly non-professionally made dominos, all somewhat unevenly cut with a yellow-stained tint (the clear sign of being made with real bone), clattered down and Henry quickly flipped any that fell right-side-up over so that only the blank sides were facing. Creature arrived and sat down carefully, knowing the drill by now and beginning to choose his five tiles. Victor flopped himself down beside Henry, faking an annoyed sigh as he started to pick his tiles. Henry caught the fake sigh and snatched one of the tiles Victor was about to pick before he could take it, resulting in the two in the two of them giving each other mock-mad looks before they both devolved into a small fit of giggles. As the two of them continued to pester each other while picking their tiles, Creature picked up his own tiles to see if he had managed to pick up a doubles tile. “All-threes as usual, correct?” he mentioned above their antics. Henry looked up at him with a nod. “Yes, unless you wanted to try something different today?” Creature thought for a moment. “No, I am content with the usual.” “Well that’s perfect,” Victor quipped as he looked at his tiles, his expression brightening. He set one of his tiles down, one with six pips on both ends. “Twelve points for me,” he mused, picking up a small splinter of stone and scratching twelve tally marks down beside him on a bare spot of the stone ground amongst a multitude of other scratched-over tallies from games past. “Perfect for me too,” Henry teased, placing a tile with six pips on one end and none on the other. “That’s twelve points for me also.” Victor shot him a clearly sarcastically scathing glance, which Henry countered with a smirk as he reached for the stone splinter Victor had been keeping tally with to tally his own points. “It seems we are starting this with a tie,” Creature examined, placing a fully blank tile beside the one Henry had placed down before picking up a much larger splinter of stone beside him and carving out twelve tallies for himself. Victor gave him a disappointed glance before checking his own tiles and finding one he could place, though it would earn him no more points. Henry placed his next tile and the turn was passed to Creature, who managed to score another twelve points. “Hey Victor, I think I figured out what name we should give him,” Henry mentioned with sarcasm as Creature scratched down his tallies. Creature glanced upward, listening carefully. Victor didn’t answer, but instead rolled his hand in a motion that meant ‘go on.’ Henry snickered as he placed down a tile of his own. “I think we should call him Victor the Second because at this rate you’re going to lose your winning streak.” “No, I think we should call him Henry,” Victor countered, voice dripping with sarcasm as he played his own next tile and scratched down six points for himself. “I am not taking either of your names,” Creature muttered with a slight smile as he placed his next tile down and etched twelve more points on his tally. “That would be far too strange.” “Fair enough,” Henry replied, checking his tiles and realizing he needed to draw from the free-pile in order to place one down. “How about… Ah! I’ve got it!” he exclaimed. “How about Hector?” Both Victor and Creature gave him an odd look. “Hector?” Victor repeated, raising one eyebrow as he also picked up a few tiles from the free pile in order to find one to place down - which he did, and scratched in three points for himself. “Henry, Victor,” Henry explained, raising one hand with each name. “Hector,” he finished, clapping his hands together. Victor couldn’t help but let out a snort of laughter, and Creature chuckled softly as well. “Amusing and sweet, Henry, but I do not think that is the name for me,” he replied, placing his final tile down. Checking over the playing area again, he grinned. “And I do believe that is a win.” Victor shot his glance down. “What?!” He looked at what had been put down. “How? Are you already out of bones?” Creature nodded. “Indeed.” “Ha!! The unbeatable Victor finally tastes defeat!” Henry exclaimed, ruffling his fingers through Victor’s hair - Victor, who flicked his hand away to take a closer look at the spread as if somehow that would make it change. “No, no - not possible. Absolutely impossible.” He looked up at Creature and squinted. “You cheated somehow.” Creature gave him a confused look. “I… do not believe it is even possible to cheat at this game?” “Don’t mind him, he’s just being a sore loser,” Henry reassured him, bumping Victor in the shoulder with his elbow. Victor gave a huff and crossed his arms. “Rematch?” Creature nodded. “If you are both so inclined.” Victor glanced away, trying to hold back a smile. Truth was, he actually was very much enjoying himself. “... Fine,” he said at a length, beginning to flip and mix the tiles. They each plucked their dominos from the pile. “Anyone have a double six?” Henry asked as he looked at his tiles. Victor and Creature both looked at each other as if asking each other the same question, then both shook their heads. Creature looked back down at his tiles, then placed down a double five. “Good enough.” “How about Daniel?” Victor asked as Henry played a tile. “Do you have a reason for that name?” Creature responded as Victor played his next and scratched a new tally of three. “Not particularly. It’s just a nice name,” Victor replied, gesturing that it was his turn. “I see.” Creature placed a tile, and scratched a six for himself, which prompted a quiet ‘scheisse!’ from Victor. He couldn’t help but smile at the reaction. “I would have to say no.” “Does it have to be a name with meaning?” Victor asked as he watched Henry play his turn. “I would prefer it to, if possible.” Victor thought for a moment as he placed his next tile. “Percival is a good name,” Henry suggested with a smirk toward Victor. Victor gave a thoughtful look, then furrowed his brow and gave Henry a look of flat annoyance. “He can’t just have the name I didn’t take,” he muttered. “You had considered naming yourself Percival?” Creature inquired as he picked up a tile from the draw pile and placed it down, etching a twelve in his tallies. “Considered it, yes,” Victor grumbled in reply. “I… do like the sentiment of taking on your unused name,” Creature mentioned, thinking it through more as he watched Henry play his next turn. “Well- you can’t have it,” Victor responded, picking up two tiles and placing one down. “What about Prometheus? I fancied myself to be like him while I was making you, so there would be some meaning to it.” Creature took a moment to think, then shook his head. “I feel I really do not want something that relates in any way to my creation. Not… that I resent being created, mind you, but I have tried to put the past behind me as much as possible, as you know,” he explained as he set down his next tile. Victor sighed heavily, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand as Henry played his turn and scratched a twelve down for himself. They continued their turns in relative silence, until finally as the sun was beginning to set in the sky it was Victor who placed his final tile. Though he felt like he should be celebrating that, instead Victor felt… defeated. He got up, muttering, “Good game, both of you,” before sulking off back to the cabin. Henry watched him go with a concerned gaze. “Have I… said something wrong?” Creature asked quietly, suddenly beginning to worry that he had hurt his creator in some way. Henry sighed. “No, you’re fine,” he reassured him as he began collecting the tiles and placing them back into their holding pouch. “You coming inside?” Creature shook his head. “I… think I will stay out here for the time being.” Henry smiled at him and gave him an understanding nod before making his way to the cabin. As he stepped inside, he set the pouch down on the side table by the door and made his way into what they considered the ‘common space,’ where Victor sat by the fireplace which only softly glowed with a freshly started fire. “Are you alright, love?” Henry asked gently, sitting beside him and wrapping an arm around him. Victor heaved a shaky sigh and rested his head on Henry’s shoulder. “I just… I feel like I can’t do right by him,” he mumbled, pressing himself closer to his boyfriend. “Nothing I’ve ever done has been… right.” Henry listened carefully as he spoke, holding him tighter and resting his head against Victor’s. “Well, you’re trying, aren’t you?” he suggested softly. “I think he’s just happy that you’re trying.” “Trying isn’t enough,” Victor stated, sitting upright and staring into the small, flickering flames. “After all I’ve done and all I’ve said, trying isn’t enough.” “Then let’s change our approach,” Henry recommended with a smile, reaching out and gently turning Victor’s face toward him to give him a tender kiss. Victor exhaled softly and leaned into it, then slowly pulled back. “How so?” “We could start by doing what we did when we chose your name.” Victor’s eyes widened. “Oh!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Henry, you’re a genius!” “I’m flattered, but that honor belongs to you, love,” Henry quipped with a grin. “Come on - let’s start reading.” The two of them scoured the collection of books that Henry had brought up with him, picking out names and sounding them off to each other one by one. They went through book after book until the sun disappeared and the sky went dark, either one of them occasionally throwing a new log into the fire to ensure they had plenty of light and warmth. After a few hours, Victor stared down at a page, and uttered, “I think I’ve got it.” Henry looked up from his own book and set it down, swiftly moving over to him. Victor pointed a word out to him. “That one.” Henry gave him a quizzical look. “Are you sure? That’s hardly a name.” Victor looked up at him. “I know, but think about the meaning! It’s perfect!” Henry thought for a moment, then wrapped his arms around him with a smile. “With a bit of tweaking, I think you might be right,” he murmured, planting a kiss on his cheek. “You really do mean it, don’t you.” Victor glanced back at him. “Hm?” “You’ve really come to care for him, I mean,” Henry explained, releasing his grip. Victor hesitated, but then nodded. “I have - genuinely. I just… hope this will be enough to prove it.” “I’m sure it will be perfect.” Creature was sitting out near the edge of the ledge, resting his weight on his hands as he stared up at the stars as they glittered above. Victor took a deep breath as he stepped outside and breathed out slowly. You can do this. It’ll be fine, he thought to himself as he walked over as quietly as he could. He sat beside his creation, and tilted his head back to look upward as well. Creature turned his head slightly to look at him, then returned to his stargazing. “Agape,” Victor said suddenly. “...What?” Creature asked, once again looking over to him. Victor kept his eyes on the stars, but smiled slightly. “Do you know what it means?” Creature stared at him, thinking, then returned his gaze upward. “It is… Greek.” “That’s right.” He thought some more, racking his brain for memories of the word. “One of the… three Greek forms of love, correct?” Victor nodded. “Indeed.” He glanced away as he continued to think. “...If I recall correctly, it is considered the highest form of love. A deep, profound respect. Some define it as… the mutual love between God and man, and between man and God.” Victor’s smile grew - his creation’s intelligence still continued to amaze and fascinate him. “That is also correct. Though… I think I’d like to propose a more general definition.” Creature looked over at him. “What definition would that be?” Victor took a moment, then closed his eyes. “The mutual love between a creator at his creation, and between a creation and his creator.” Creature’s eyes widened, and for the sake of trying not to immediately shed a tear by thinking about that statement, he stared back up to the heavens. “That is… a definition I could approve of.” “How about a name?” “A… name?” “Is it a name you could approve of?” Victor reiterated, opening his eyes and looking over to see that Creature was now once again staring at him, though this time clearly not trying to hide the tears in his gleaming yellow eyes. His silence disturbed him, and he looked away. “...No, no nevermind - forget it. Forget it.” “Victor I,” Creature began, his voice soft and shaken. “That is so much more of a meaningful name than I could have ever imagined.” Victor glanced back at him. “Are you sure?” Creature nodded, smiling wide as tears streamed down his face. “I have scarcely been more sure.” Victor swallowed back tears of his own and smiled back to him. “Then consider it finalized, Agape.” He paused, then leaned forward and embraced him as tightly as he could. “Agape Frankenstein, my first and only…” he paused, thinking for a moment, then smiled contentedly, “son. My first and only son.” Agape didn’t know how to react at first - he was overwhelmed with so many emotions; relief, hope, joy. The most he could do was wrap his arms around his creator - his father - and finally take in what it really meant to be loved.

#frankenstein #frankenstein au #clervalstein #fanfiction #victor frankenstein #Henry clerval #the creature

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 4 years

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Never Be Sorry, Not For This

It was just supposed to be two friends dancing. You should’ve known better: Eugene Roe + Dirty Jazz in a dark club on a hot Georgia night would be the death of you.

(i listened to Death Letter by Cassandra Wilson while writing this, in case you wanna feel the spice)

You giggle slightly when Gene’s hand presses hot on the middle of your back, the giggle graduating to an apologetic snicker when he shot you an impatient look.

“Really? Are you twelve?” Roe grumbles, holding your right hand up gently and keeping it close to their sides.

“And a half.” You wink, smirking as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head at you.

He looked stupidly handsome in the low light of the club, a light sheen of sweat on his skin catching the light and making him shine like some sort of angel.

Careful, a voice in your head whispers. Don’t read more into this than there is.

He had only brought you here because Bill fucking Guarnere was incapable on minding his own business and keeping his goddamn mouth shut for longer than two minutes and practically strong-armed Gene into inviting you.

During a night of Sobel-assigned kitchens inventory with Gene and Guarnere, Bill had asked you about your recent birthday- what you’d done, who you’d heard from, if you’d gotten anything.

“Paperwork, my dad and my sister and her family, and Sobel gave me an earful about controlling my facial expressions when he’s trying to establish his authority- Thanks for asking.”

Your answer was apparently incorrect, and Guarnere had turned to Gene and pointed at you with his thumb conspiratorial.

“That’s gotta be the saddest shit I’ve ever heard, eh Doc? Can’t let such an important day go to waste like that, can we, pal?”

Guarnere proceeded to bully Gene into inviting you to the jazz club the medic always flocked to on his weekend passes, the place he chose to escape to in lieu of the bar favored by most residents of Toccoa.

But before you’d had a chance to tell Bill to shut up and stop being weird, Gene had nodded and looked down at the inventory sheet in his hand.

“I mean, we could if you wanted to.”

You had a feeling that he was regretting extending the invitation now.

When the two of you had entered the club you’d suddenly realized that this wasn’t the traditional, big band jazz you’d been expecting.

Oh no, you were pretty sure Gene had accidentally taken you to a sex club of some kind- and you became even more sure the moment your eyes had adjusted to the darkness and you’d been able to make out your surroundings.

The singer on the stage was lit with a red light, voice smokey and seductive as she crooned a slow melody, eyes hazy as her hands trailed up and down the microphone’s stand in a clearly suggestive manner. There were two men with instruments behind her, the one with the drum looking at her silk-clad body like he meant to ravage it.

Maybe jazz means something different in the south?

Couples were writhing to the drums rhythm, bodies draped over each other like some kind of Rodinian menagerie.

Now, you were pretty confident in your capabilities as both a soldier and a human woman- you wouldn’t have gotten this far if you hadn’t been able to trust yourself and what you could handle.

And you knew for a fact that you were incapable of pulling this off.

Now, Gene was a patient man, but you could see in the set of his jaw he was starting to get frustrated.

I don’t blame him, I’m acting like I’ve never been alone with a boy before.

Clearing your throat, you bite the inside of your cheek to try and get your shit together.

He’s trying to do something nice for you and you’re ruining it….

”I’ll stop, I promise.” you plead, ducking your head to try and catch his gaze. “I’m just nervous, give me a break…”

“You’ve literally run out in front of a moving plane to get a piece of debris off a runway ” he interrupts you like you hadn’t been talking. “You stole Sobel’s car—”

“At least if those things went wrong I would’ve just been killed.”

Eugene snorts at that, and you hear him mutter something to himself in French.

“And now?” He asks, tilting his head towards the band on the stage and the other dancers around you . “You think this is worse?”

You fix him with a look of shock that you know will make him laugh again. “Death over humiliation, every time! Obviously. What sort of question is that? C’mon Genie—”

“I know you know how to dance. I’ve seen you and Nixon dance at Malarkey’s birthday dinner in last July—”

You cringed internally. You’d forgotten there had been witnesses to that.

“Ok, first off,” you tap one of your fingers against his shoulder for emphasis. “that only happened because I lost a bet with Lewis. And to be clear-I know how to ballroom dance, and that’s different because the whole point is to be rigid and straight and precise. This is….proving to be a challenge.”

You’d always been good at those sorts of things- order and rigidity and accuracy. You were used to knowing what was expected of you and how you measured up to those expectations. But you were going into this completely unprepared. You hated it.

“Just think of this as a basic waltz step, just slower.” Gene supplied, and when you started to fall into the familiar step he immediately made it clear that he was going to be dictating the pace, meeting your quirked brow with one of his own.

“Much slower. Glacial. Frozen molasses sliding down a flat hill—” You chide lightly, trying to disguise the waiver of apprehension in your voice.

“I don’t think that’s a phrase. But yes- that slow.”

You sigh, letting him lead you in an almost unbearably slow box step, letting him take you through five box-steps before huffing and hooking your chin over his shoulder and rest your head there, groaning melodramatically like you were in pain.

“This is impractically slow.” you lament. “It doesn’t look or feel right—”

With a quick move of his arm he presses you closer into his chest, knocking you slightly off balance before moving you so his thigh is wedged between your legs.

You flush at what you assumed was a mistake on his part, and when you go to step back down from his thigh he moves with you and holds you in place.

Eugene Roe, you saucy boy.

“Gotta let me have some of your weight. That’s why it feels like you’re doing it wrong….”

His voice is soft as stone, and you know he can feel your breath catch in your throat. “C’mon, mon cher- I got you.”

You’re suddenly very glad that he's pulled you so close because you don’t have to hide the scarlet blush on your cheeks at the imploring tone in his voice.

It made you want to trust him. It made you want him, period.

Full stop.

It’s dancing. People dance. Friends dance, it doesn’t mean anything unless you want it to.

Unless you let it.

You take a deep breath and let your knees bend slightly, allowing your hips to slot together and your heart thud against his.

Just as he promised, he keeps a hold on you, the arm around your waist like a belt holding the two of you together, and your ribs jump in a quick inhale as his fingers curl around your waist.

If he notices your reaction, he’s kind enough not to mention it.

“Good,” he says under his breath, and you feel him nodding against your hair. “That’s good.”

Good God, had his voice always been so low? Fuck he was good at this….

You hmm in reply, your self-consciousness put on the back burner in order to cope with the absolute burning electric currents seeming to run through your body, just beneath your skin.

You’ve never been so overwhelmed by another person, let alone some boy as you felt at this moment in Eugene Roe’s arms- you couldn’t so much as breathe without him knowing, each inhale bringing with it the sweet, clean smell of the aftershave you couldn’t quite identify and the salt of his skin.

The steps of the waltz have melted into a rhythmic sway of your bodies, shifting weight from the ball of one foot to the other in time with Gene’s lead.

It’s everything you can do not to shake as his thigh flexes between your legs, your sex rubbing agianst it deliciously every so often and making you feel stupid with longing.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, and you realize that you’ve been holding your breath the whole time, a distracted chuckle escaping your lips before your nod softly.

“Yeah, course.” You wrap an arm around his shoulder and sway with him, giving the hand holding yours a quick squeeze of reassurance. “You?”

You feel him nod. “Yeah, me too.”

You hum, letting your eyes drift closed as you try to think about keeping your breathing even and touch light.

Which was proving harder than you’d anticipated— the slow curling beat of the new song beginning and it’s rumbling melody settling over your heads like the foreboding clouds of a storm that neither of you seemed too interested in seeking shelter from.

This whole place could burn down and all I’d see is him

After a few more moments you feel the hand at your back begin to knead at the knots along your spine, strong fingers rolling like revered thunder against your tense muscles.

“Give me some more,” he quietly demands. “You need to lean on me more….you’re still too tense—” and you bend your knees a bit so you can feel the pressure of his thigh where you’re throbbing for him the most.

“Shhhhhhiiiiiit…” he hisses quietly, almost to himself.

“Eugene,” you breathe before you can stop yourself, titling your head so your temples press together. “ We, uh…..We said we wanted to go by eleven...”

Your reminder is purely for show, arousal hot in your chest and stomach.

When he hums in acknowledgement, you can hear the lack of intention behind it. The idea of separating from this man made you feel cold—a prospect you found unbearable despite the heat making your hair stick to the back of your neck.

Staying, we’re going to stay.

Part of this feels inevitable, like the two of you had always been destined to end in this sinfully filthy embrace with nearly every single part of your bodies touching, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to curse the humidity you so loathed.

A whimper escapes your throat when you catch your clothed clit on some bunched fabric from the leg of his pants, and his arms abandon their dancing position to wrap around your torso and smooth his hands up and down your back

“Like this, Doc?” you can’t help but whisper, sighing prettily when his grip digs into the meat of your shoulder blades.

You know you aren’t dancing anymore, haven’t been dancing for a while. You feel your hips jump against his, a low groan rumbling in his chest as one of his hands flashes down to squeeze at your ass.

“Fuck darlin’....”

You turn your head so your lips are at his ear, eyes nearly rolling back in your head at the sinful roll of his hips as he drops a bit lower, a growl in his chest at the breathy way you gasp his name.

“I’m sorry” he’s whispering. “I’m sorry—”

You know what he’s apologizing for.

He thinks he’s confirming Sobel’s horrible accusations— that you’re nothing more than a warm body in the eyes of the men of Easy Company.

Their CO had a special place in his heart for taking the time to remind you that you were a woman and insinuate that you were nothing more than a barrack whore who was a pretty good shot on a rifle.

“Even pious Winters seems to find you distracting, Miss Y/N. Maybe we should send you ahead of the pack to give the Krauts something to enjoy before we show up.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you shake your head and bring one hand up to lightly touch his cheek, voice thick in your throat. “Never be sorry. Not for this— Shit, Gene....”

One of Gene’s hands slid up your neck and into your hair, holding your head as he turned to look at you, pupils blown wide beneath heavily lidded eyes.

You look at his lips, bringing your thumb over to smooth the furrow in his brow.

“Never?” he asks, and with one final look into his eyes you shake your head.

“Never.” you hear yourself say,

You kiss the corner of his mouth first, not wanting to rush him, still worried that (somehow) you were misreading his intentions.

As if he wasn't gyrating his hips with you in a way so dirty that you were surprised you hadn’t been asked to leave. As if you couldn’t feel the ghost of his hard cock against your hip….

Apparently Gene thought you were now the one moving too slowly, because he uses his hand in your hair to turn your mouth to his and kiss the breath from your lungs.

His lips taste like whiskey and a tiny bit like the candied pecans you’d brought him as a thank you for taking you out.

You sighed against his mouth as you slid one of your hands down his chest, fisting his shirt as his tongue parts the seam of your lips and deepens the kiss.

“Embrasse-moi (kiss me),” he mumbles between the kisses he plucked from your lips. “Je pense toujours à toi, Je ne peux pas vivre sans toi….tu as besoin de savoir que (I always think about you, I can’t live without you. You need to know that.).”

You’re french is lackluster at best, but something in the way he’s saying the words that makes you feel as if he’s being unbearably sincere in whatever it is he’s telling you.

“I dont…” you begin, but then something wicked and heavy settles in your lower belly that has you pulling back enough that you can look him in the eye.

HIs lips are pink and swollen, and you nearly forget what you wanted to tell him.

Debauched, absolutely lewd and lustful.

Your hands find his and with a reassuring nodyou put his hands on your hip and thigh, another curse slipping past his lips as his fingers bunched the soft fabric of your skirt in his hands.

“Show me what you said.” You know you’ve said it like a command but you’ve never felt more less in control in your entire life. “Please, Eugene—”

He nods solemnly, and when he replies you get the feeling he’s making you a deeper promise than you are aware of.

“I will. I promise.”

and he does.

(*throws fic at you and runs away* than you for reading bYE (p2?))

#band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #eugene roe x reader #it's vv bad but I'll just add it to the pile of already burning garbage pile that is my bibliography #idk if anyone wants to be tagged but if you so for some reason let a sister know

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lifblogs · 3 years

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Kinktober: Day 1 - Overstimulation

Yeahhh this is late. Sorry.

Title: Fire and Light Fandom: Shadow and Bone, Grishaverse Pairing: Darklina Word Count: 1980 Summary: The Darkling has invited Alina to his rooms after dinner, and she is beyond delighted with what she's in for. READ ON AO3

I hadn’t quite known what to expect when Aleksander invited me to his rooms after dinner that night. I knew what I had wanted, but being tangled up in him, the black silk sheets on his bed a mess from our tumbling was not what I had expected. It still seemed like a dream, even as I lay on top of him on my side, legs bent upwards, and he was beneath me on his back, driving into me relentlessly.

Aleksander was my first, and I was embarrassed by that initially, but he didn’t seem to care. He was gentle until my body warmed up to him, and relaxed, and wanted more. I couldn’t even remember how many times I’d reached my end at this point. There was against the wall from his mouth, beneath him with his fingers, and again and again with his cock, his fingers teasing at my clit like they did now.

He groaned as he pushed in, and a moan left me. After biting my ear, making my mouth open in a silent cry, he murmured, voice low and rough, “Alina, you’re glowing.”

I hadn’t even realized it, so taken was I in the throes of his passion for me.

I opened my eyes, and became aware of the golden light flooding the room. Cheeks heating, I tried to fight with my power, but there was no fighting his touch. It beckoned more and more from me. I writhed atop him, walls clenching tight to his thick cock, as he didn’t show any sign of slowing. He fingered my clit as he held me against him.

I crooned his name, like he’d asked me to do so many times this night, and he growled before thrusting in particularly hard.

Before I knew it pleasure was winding tight in my lower abdomen and pelvis again, the promised delight already beginning to tingle through my body. I wasn’t sure I could handle another climax, but oh, how I wanted it!

“I’m so close,” I panted.

“Good.”

I whined, needing more, needing him, needing everything to burst through me in mind-shattering pleasure.

“Faster,” I begged. “Aleksander, faster. Please…”

“As you wish.”

His fingers worked at me viciously, making my body scream with sensation, and the pace at which he began to drive into me was near-incomprehensible. I clenched down around him tight, wanting to feel how big he was inside my body, how much he stretched me, how deep he went.

Golden and white fire burst through me, and a scream tumbled past my lips. He cut it off, a hand over my mouth, perhaps not wanting his oprichniki guarding his rooms to hear. Somehow that just made it more intense. I was flush with pleasure between my legs and in my gut, and it flooded my body in waves. My light thrummed through the room, throbbing to the tempo of my contracting walls. My power reveled in his touch, every part of my body awash in him.

This climax seemed endless, but it did end, and he was still taking me. I cried out against him at the discomfort that quickly turned into pain, one of my legs going around him as if it wanted to try and control his strong body.

I knew I could grab his wrist, ask him to stop, and I knew he would listen, but I soon realized I didn’t want him to stop.

His hand left my mouth, and choked cries came from me.

“There we go, Alina. That’s it. Good girl.”

I swore I almost came again just from those words.

A keening sound began to leave me, my hips stuttering against him. But he held me tight, held me close, as if he wanted all of my skin touching him. I did too. I wanted his touch as much as possible. I wanted my power to overflow me to the point of breaking. I wanted this pain that was owning me. I wanted his cock, his fingers.

He moaned, lips hot and wet against my neck. His thrusts began to slow, and I reached back and down, hand squeezing his hip and part of his ass.

“No, no. Please. More.”

“I am going to give you more. But I think you’d like it deeper.” He pushed against me hard, so hard I nearly thought I was going to break. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Mm-hmm,” I whined as I nodded.

I was like a doll as he repositioned us, malleable and open to his every touch from his large hands.

With this new position I was above him yet again, but I was spread over one of his thighs, and he entered me from behind.

I didn’t think, couldn’t think. I just began to ride him. And ride him. My folds and clit rubbed against the skin of his thigh, the touch hot and nearly abrasive. I begged him to thrust as I rocked on him, his cock driving into me with more force, driving ever deeper as he pulled at my left leg to widen me.

I gripped his knee for dear life, and I soon realized that tears wet my face.

“I’m not sure I can—” I began.

He interrupted, “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, no!” The mere thought of it was torture. I whined, and rubbed hard against him, my clit and insides positively burning and throbbing. I was so close again. So close! But I couldn’t—! “I don’t think my body wants to finish again.” And maybe it was true, it was as if I’d had too many climaxes. Yet I wanted this one so badly I’d give up anything for it, do anything.

“Do you want to?”

“Yes! Yes, please!”

I shrieked in surprise as he sat up, and grabbed me, hands squeezing at my breasts.

“Alina, have you ever felt a man finish in you before?”

We both knew the answer, but I think he wanted to hear me say it, even as I shuddered. “No.”

His fingers rubbed over my hardened, wanting nipples, and I couldn’t hold back the absolutely filthy moan that slid up my throat.

Part of me knew I shouldn’t let him do it, but I wanted it all the same.

“I’ve been told it’s quite a delightful experience.”

“Oh?” I gasped, wanting to hear his voice, wanting him to keep talking, and tell me all about it even before it happened.

He stilled me, and then had me get on my knees, the top part of my body pressed against the bed.

I squeezed my eyes shut, and cried out when he thrust into me. I felt like he had reached the deepest part of me. My body was sore from how long we’d been enjoying each other, but I loved it just as much as I loved the way my power sang from his skin touching mine.

He rested over me, his sweat-slicked chest pressed against my back, mouth near my ear, forearms holding him up on either side of me. I was completely and utterly trapped by him, and just that alone had me involuntarily tightening my insides.

I could’ve sworn he nearly collapsed from that. Was he close too?

“You’re going to feel me throb in you, Alina. All of me giving myself to you.” He grabbed my jaw with one hand, tilting my head to the side, so he could speak with his lips brushing against mine. His thrusts were impossibly fast, and he panted against my mouth. I cried out in time with the pummeling I was receiving, my body wound tight, pleasure building and building yet not breaking and bursting. “I’ll thrust harder, deeper, and I won’t even mean to. And then you’ll feel it. Feel me, and all that gushing heat. I’ve heard of women reaching their end just from that sensation alone.”

I whined, wanting it so badly.

Still holding my face, keeping me to him, he kissed me, mouth open, his tongue that I knew he was so clever with dipping inside of me.

He moaned, and grunted, and growled into me, his hips driving at a merciless pace, my light near-blinding now. His darkness joined it, the room dancing in shadows, our story painted in the air all around us.

His shadows touched my heated skin, like a caress. I shuddered, I tried to kick my legs. My back arched, my body fighting for release. I began to pray to every saint I knew of without even the intention of it. I wasn’t even one for prayer, but here I was, on my knees beneath the Darkling himself, the general of the Second Army, praying.

He bit my swollen bottom lip, and a shuddering moan left him. His hips drove harder, so hard it hurt.

I loved it.

My voice joined his, and I felt what he spoke of. Everything inside of me tingled as I felt him throb, and throb. I clenched around him, insides hugging him, needing him so badly it hurt. I couldn’t take it anymore!

There was a gush of heat, searing my heated walls for just a few blissful seconds.

Yet I still didn’t reach my end.

I started to cry, a sob clawing its way from my chest. It was all too much. Had my body really been so overstimulated that it couldn’t do it?

Aleksander held himself deep in me, wiping away my tears.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

I shook my head.

Immediately he was getting off of me, leaving me. It made another sob escape me, but soon he was laying me out on my back, and he was caressing my face. Just that touch alone hurt, but it promised more.

“What’s wrong? How do I help?”

“Please, just make me finish. I can’t—” My words cut off in a stuttering sob.

He kissed my forehead as he held me, and then promised, “I will. I will, all right? You have nothing to fear. Now spread your legs.”

I did so even before he’d finished speaking, and he kissed his way down my body. I whimpered, and my hips thrust up into the air, wanting, wanting…

When his mouth was on me it wasn’t a moment too soon. His tongue lapped over me, his lips kissing, mouth sucking. I was surprised when three of his fingers entered me, so sure he would be averse to touching any of what he’d left in me. But he wasn’t. He beckoned, and his mouth was so good to me.

I burned, all of my light driving back his darkness. I squirmed, and kicked, even with him holding one of my thighs.

And finally—finally!—I reached my end. I became lost in it, forgot everything else. I could’ve been screaming, or crying. I didn’t know. I was taken over by all he had done to me, and all I was feeling, completely and utterly floating in bliss. In gold and white.

Nothing had ever felt so good, and I was sure nothing ever would for as long as I lived.

My pain was at an end, cleansed by the fires of pleasure rushing through me.

I wasn’t sure how much time passed before it ended, but I was aware that I was now cradled up against Aleksander. The mere brush of his skin against mine was a slightly painful discomfort, but I welcomed it.

I began to drift off, and I was aware of him combing a hand through my sweaty hair.

“Sleep, Alina. Rest for now.”

I tried to say that I would, tried to whisper his name, but my entire body was heavy; so heavy.

I just barely registered the final words I heard before drifting off, his voice a sweet murmur in my ear: “I’ll be ready for you again quite soon, and I will have you.”

#kinktober2021 #shadow and bone #grishaverse #the grishaverse #darklina #nsft #fanfiction #writing #my writing

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shyneanon · 3 years

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So I know almost nothing about Nightmare Sans but I decided I wanted to write something on the creepier side, so yeah! That’s what this is, something on the creepier side. I guess it’s technically “x reader” but it’s not particularly romantic....

---

You were in a marsh.

At least, that was what you thought at first. You were almost knee deep in what you had first assumed was water, and you could see trees. But when you attempted to move your legs, you discovered that the water was more like tar. Almost like there’d been some awful spill, so bad that the entire marsh was just filled with oil now. You looked around. Everything seemed very black; you could only assume it was nighttime.

Where am I? It looked almost like an empty void save for the trees and tar. You saw no night sky.

A dream, probably.

Well, nothing was really happening, so you began to wade through the marsh. It was gross, and very quickly you found yourself struggling to move. Not like quicksand, it just took a lot of effort to move and you were getting tired. You weren’t sure why but you were starting to get eerie vibes from this place.

Maybe it was the fact that there was no sound at all.

You hadn’t noticed that before. It was just… dead silence, besides the sound of you sloshing (or attempting to slosh) around in the tar. There didn’t appear to be any signs of life, despite this being presumably a marsh.

Just darkness, trees, and oil.

Nothing more.

Silence bothered you, so you observed, “There’s nobody here,” in an attempt to calm your nerves.

“I’m here.”

You froze in place and then looked around. It was a soft, polyphonic voice. You couldn’t pinpoint a single direction from which it could be coming.

“There’s no need to be afraid.”

Having the other voice talking at you made you feel a little helpless, so you decided to respond, but the best thing you could think of was, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I mean I was hoping for a longer answer,” you said. “Who are you?”

The voice answered with, “A friend.”

“A bit too vague for my liking, friend.” You looked down and observed just how difficult it was for you to move in the sticky black substance flooding the marsh, and you began to move towards a tree. If your new friend wasn’t really so friendly you could try climbing the tree to get away.

“Do you want a name?”

“I mean, I guess a name would be nice.” It was taking you ages to get to the tree.

“Tell me your name.”

Uh… sure, why not?

“My name’s (y/n),” you said as you finally got to the tree. You reached out to grab it--

The tree suddenly formed a ghastly face with sharp teeth that bit down into your hand.

Hard.

And it hurt.

It was so painful you let out a yell. Instinctively, you tried to tug away from it but its teeth only sank harder into your hand. You swore. Why is the pain so real? Why does it hurt so much?!

You managed to yank your hand away but at the expense of the teeth raking through your hand. You looked at what it had left behind; you could see bone and muscle. The flesh was completely ripped off in some places. You looked back at the tree and saw that it was devouring what it had torn off of you. Looking back at your hand, you noticed there was blood… So much blood…. Horrified, you stumbled backward…

And fell back into the tar. The sensation stung your mauled hand, and while you writhed to get out, its consistency was too thick, too sticky. Where was the bottom of the tar pit? You had been wading through it before but now it felt like you were sinking…

There was the feeling of a hand grabbing your uninjured arm and pulling you up from the tar as if it were mere water. When you surfaced, you doubled over and started to cough; you could feel some of the tar still clinging to you. Eventually you were able to look up from the ground to see who had rescued you, and if they looked like they were just here to inflict more pain.

It… looked like a person, someone about your height. Sort of. The shape did, anyway. They were wearing some… kind of hoodie, you thought? And shorts. And their head appeared to be round, but they were coated in that tar you were wading in. And they had these four massive tentacles coming from their back, that also looked like they were covered in the tar. Or were they made of tar? You weren’t sure. Thankfully, seeing as this was a dream and you were confused and frightened, seeing tentacles didn’t bring to your mind anything humorous.

Or maybe that’s a bad thing. At least if you had been laughing at the thought of hentai you wouldn’t have been feeling the stinging, piercing pain on the hand of yours that had been torn apart.

For some reason, you weren’t really afraid of the stranger. He had a bizarre appearance, yeah, but he had just saved you from drowning, he wasn’t attacking you, and… and you weren’t sure. You just felt really calm around him. More than anything, you were curious. Your eyes were drawn to this one teal eye he had.

Without thinking, you reached up to touch him, and then noticed your mangled hand. Seeing the gore startled you enough for you to yell and almost fall over backwards again, but the stranger grabbed your uninjured arm like before.

“It’s alright. You don’t need to be scared.”

It was the voice from before. This was its owner?

“I mean,” you said, “my hand has been destroyed, so…”

“I can heal it,” he said.

One of his tentacles slowly reached out, but not for your hand. It was aiming for your forehead. You didn’t pull away, just watched. You had the feeling you were both curious about each other, right?

This was going to be one of those awesome-in-hindsight dreams, wasn’t it?

The tentacle eventually touched you. It was gooey but you still couldn’t tell if it was made of tar or just covered in it.

It then turned itself around and slowly ran down your face. You blinked a little at the sensation-- it was still covered in goop, so ew, kinda-- but it wasn’t all that bad.

You saw a smile play at the stranger’s features. The smile was very toothy, and as he cocked his head, exposing more of his neck, you realized why he didn’t look quite normal.

Well, there were a lot of reasons why he didn’t look normal. But why his human-like figure didn’t seem quite like any other person’s.

You could see the vertebrae of his neck.

A skeleton.

Weird.

You lifted your uninjured hand a little. “Can I touch you?” you asked.

He looked at your hand.

“Of course.”

You reached out with your hand and touched his cheek. All of him felt gooey. Man, your brain came up with the weirdest things, didn’t it?

You felt two of his tentacles take your injured hand and the stinging sensation faded. When you looked back at it, it was completely healed, as if nothing had ever happened to it.

Well, this wasn’t really such a nightmare, it had its upsides.

You smiled at the stranger. “Thank y--”

There was a sloshing sound from behind you and you turned to see a harrowing figure of tar rising up from behind you. Before you could do so much as let out a sound it tackled you so that you were back in the tar, though this time you could feel a bottom.

You quickly wished there was no bottom.

Instead of drowning you felt the sensation of the figure’s hand tearing straight through your chest, shattering your ribs and tearing apart your insides.

It was agonizing.

You screamed (or, attempted to) and began to writhe in pain as you suddenly felt like you’d been stabbed in the stomach. Before you knew it you felt like your whole body was getting torn into pieces. Why does it feel so real? This is a dream! It shouldn’t feel so real!

Eventually the pain grew so overwhelming that your consciousness(? In a dream?) began to fade, and eventually everything went black.

You didn’t wake up.

---

Nightmare listened to the sounds of your screaming as the entities he’d summoned tore you to bits and pieces. They ripped your heart out, tore holes in your lungs, took off your limbs…. Nightmare closed his eyes.

Her screams are beautiful….

When you stopped screaming, and he realized you had passed out, he held out his hand and the figures melted back into the tar where they’d come from. He reached down and hauled you out of the tar before making his way to a tree. Unlike with you, the tree made no move to injure him, and he used his four extra limbs to climb up to the top with no problem.

He then began to heal you.

You barely resembled yourself after what the creatures in the tar had done to you. It pained Nightmare to see it. They had torn apart your beautiful face…

But he’d needed to feed. And besides… your screams… He let out a shuddering breath.

And in a few minutes, it would all be worth it.

It took a while before your body was able to reform and put itself back into place, but once it did, Nightmare smiled, taking you in his tentacles.

“So pretty,” he murmured to himself. He wasn’t used to… enjoying the sight of people. Usually his emotions didn’t leave much room for positive thinking. But he supposed you fulfilled certain criteria that fit his… personal tastes.

One tentacle curled around you possessively.

“M… Mine….”

He knew he couldn’t actually keep you here. While he was virtually godlike in his realm (if he weren’t, you would be dead from all that maiming earlier), keeping you here wasn’t feasible.

Right now, at least.

He waited for you to wake up, lovingly stroking you with his tentacles and watching your soft features.

To think he had come up with a perfect plan so quickly…

---

You eventually woke up.

Well, not really, it appeared you were still in the dream. Had you been having a nightmare in the dream? Was this a dream within a dream?

You noticed that you were being held by something odd, and as your vision focused you could see that it was the stranger from earlier holding you.

“You’re awake,” he said. This was the first time you’d seen him frowning. “I was worried I’d lost you….”

You looked at your hands, then felt your body. It was like nothing had touched you. “How…”

“I healed you again, after driving the creature off.”

You looked up at him in shock. “You could heal me from that?” You weren’t sure why you were questioning the logic of a dream, but here you were.

“This forest is a very dangerous place. If I didn’t have these capabilities, I would be dead. There is no one here to heal me.”

Wait.

“So you’re stuck here? All by yourself?”

A nod.

“That’s… horrible,” you told him.

“It’s alright.” He smiled. “You being here… makes it much less lonely.”

Your face warmed up. Why was it warming up? “Oh…. Thanks.” You smiled apologetically. “I can’t… stay here forever, though.”

“I know.”

One of his tentacles brushed aside some of your hair. You seemed to be held in two of them.

Huh. You didn’t see so many tree trunks. Were you still in the marsh?

You looked down and then instantly jumped, clinging to his neck. So high up we’re so high up--

The stranger let out a soft laugh. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall.”

Well, he’d saved you from death twice now, so you’d trust him on that. You nodded. “Thanks… for saving me.”

He cupped your cheek with one hand.

“I have never seen anything as beautiful as you,” he said.

Your face got hot.

He pressed his teeth to your lips.

At first, you just didn’t know what to do. This was a little bit shocking. What was this dream?

But you felt so calm near him, and he was lonely, and he had saved your life… and it was just a dream, so...

You kissed back.

---

Nightmare felt a surge of emotion that he hadn’t felt in a long time as your lips returned his kiss.

Mine…. She loves me….

His tentacles wrapped firmly around you and he deepened the kiss. You reciprocated.

I’m her hero….

One of his tentacles stroked your thigh and he opened his one functioning eye, watching as your face flushed pink.

If only you were a being of darkness like him, able to withstand immense amounts of pain… How he could tear you apart, spill your blood, make you beg for mercy…

Only to have you beg for more….

He growled into the kiss and you seemed to pay no mind. In fact, you shifted in his hold so that it was easier to kiss you.

He wondered… was it possible to change a human into something like him…? He would have to look into that.

The things that he would do to you….

As he thought of it his tentacles began to encroach on slightly more sensitive areas of your body, and he raised a hand, bringing out your soul. He hoped you wouldn’t notice, and at first you didn’t, but when it began to shine brightly enough, you opened one eye and then broke the kiss.

“Wh… what’s that?”

“It is your soul,” Nightmare explained, hoping you wouldn’t ask how it got here. “The entirety of you, embodied in one small object.”

Curious, you blinked and reached out, tapping it.

“It’s warm,” you observed.

“It is.”

So warm…. So soft….

He gently ran a finger along it, watching your face.

You flushed red.

The things he would do….

He suddenly came to the realization that it was almost time for you to wake up.

Not fair….

But that was how things were. So he gently returned your soul (much to his dismay) and kissed your lips.

“I hope that I can see you again,” he told you.

You seemed to be aware that you were dreaming, so you probably thought you wouldn’t be seeing him again. Still, you responded, “I hope so too. Especially if I end up back here. I’m gonna need you around or I’ll die.”

His plan had worked out so perfectly. He was unused to playing the hero, but it had worked out so well….

He would keep being the hero for you.

“If you end up here I promise I’ll find you.”

You nodded.

And then you dissipated as you were awoken by the sound of your alarm.

Nightmare glared at the empty space where you’d been.

It’s not fair.

It’s not. Fair.

His brother had people who cared about him while Nightmare was stuck on his own. You were the only person who wanted him and now you were gone until the nighttime. Until you went to sleep. He clenched his fists.

No. No. There’s no need to be angry.

This was good. The fact that you were gone was good. During the time you were gone, he would eventually find a way to keep you here.

Not just keep you, but change you. So that he wouldn’t be alone.

He would make you into something cold and dark, like him.

And how he’d hurt you….

Such beautiful screams.

#I dunno I was like #how bout somethin' creepyyyyyy #fanfic #fanfiction #reader-insert #self-insert #x reader #sans x reader #nightmare sans

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imagine-loki · 3 years

Text

Blushing in His Colours, Chapter 23

TITLE: Blushing in His Colours CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 23 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki being a Daddy Dom, his adores and loves his little, worships the ground she walks on. She has vaginismus, but he couldn’t be more supportive with her. RATING: M

‘Relax, sweetling. I know you can do this.’ Loki said softly as he rubbed her hip gently.

Mia took a deep breath and was able to relax her muscles enough for Loki to push the dilator into her. With plenty of lube, it slipped in and she gasped at the feeling.

It was the next size up they were using, now on the third one, as they both felt she was ready for it. She could certainly feel it was there, that was for sure.

‘How does that feel, love?’ Loki asked as he made sure it was nice and secure, wiggling it a little and making her gasp, that made him smirk.

‘It feels… weird.’

‘Good or bad weird?’

‘Good… I think. There’s no pain. Just… full.’ She blushed.

Loki grinned and moved up the bed to lie next to her. He trailed his fingers over her stomach, making her squirm a little. He slid his other arm underneath her body to her other side and he started to tease her nipples, his hand at her stomach slid downwards to play with her clit at the same time, making her gasp.

‘You look so beautiful, blushing and writhing in my arms.’ Loki hummed as he strummed her clit and right nipple at the same time, alternating to her left nipple now and then. His arms were so long it was easy for him to reach wherever he needed to, none of her was off limits to him.

Mia turned her face against him, hiding as she grabbed hold of his arm. The pressure on her clit was heavenly, a nice firm and steady rhythm. Having the dilator inside of her, making her feel full added to her pleasure too.

‘Your lovely quim held nice and open for me, you love being filled, don’t you little one?’ He growled.

She nodded quickly.

‘Use your words, sweetling.’ Loki said firmly, tugging on her nipple.

‘Yes! Daddy!’ She cried out, gasping.

‘Yes, what?’ Loki teased.

‘Yes… I love being filled, Daddy.’ She whined, still keeping her face hidden.

‘Mmm, good girl.’ Loki had her so wet, he was actually worried for a moment that the dilator would just come flying out again. So he used his ring finger to push against the base of it, making sure it stayed in place.

That became more needed when she had an orgasm, her muscles started contracting around it. She trembled and gripped his arm tighter, digging her nails into him. He almost came himself, it was always so arousing to make her cum.

He let her just rest for a while afterwards, with the dilator still inside her. He spoke softly to her, just stroking her back and hair. Until ten minutes or so had passed and he deemed that long enough for this time.

After showering together, they had yet another lazy day around the villa. Mia spent most of her time in the pool, Loki had to use his firm tone to get her out of it so she wouldn’t turn into a prune.

‘You are quite the water baby, aren’t you?’ He grinned as he held a towel open for her, she was pouting at having to come out again, even though she had been in for near two hours this time.

He wrapped the towel around her and started to dry her, kissing the top of her head. ‘Maybe we should get Stark to install a pool back at base.’ He chuckled.

‘That would be ace!’ She said excitedly.

‘Although then I would never see you!’

Mia shrugged. ‘I could become a mermaid. You could be the handsome visitor that comes to feed me and give me orgasms.’ She grinned over the top up at him, making him throw his head back with laughter.

‘As delightful as that idea sounds, I’d much rather have you in my bed with me every night instead of in a pool.’ He tapped her nose playfully.

When they went back inside, Mia went to put on some clothes. But Loki stopped her when he followed her into the bedroom.

She was confused as he sat down on the bed, but it became clear when he patted his thigh.

‘You said this morning how you wanted a spanking, I think now is the ideal time.’ He purred and put his hand out towards her.

Mia’s mouth went dry at the thought. She took his hand and he helped her down over his lap, ass up. She could feel his erection pressing against her stomach through his trousers.

‘Hands.’ Loki said firmly.

Mia reached back, giving him her hands. Instead of attaching the bangles together, he just held them both in one of his hands and started to stroke her bum. He smirked when he saw her glistening wet already, he couldn’t resist sliding a finger up and down her, making her moan.

‘Wet already. And I haven’t even begun yet.’ He teased.

He checked that she still remembered her safe word, then he began to assault her backside. The smacks echoed around the room, making her jump each time at the harsh impact. She couldn’t understand it herself, why she had been wanting a spanking. Or why she was absolutely dripping with every hit.

She could feel the power behind every swat, his large hand covering a huge area. It didn’t take much effort from Loki to have her entire bum reddened so soon.

Loki stopped after ten smacks, to play with her cunt for a while. He managed to slip two fingers into her rather easily, no resistance, surprising them both a little. But both were delighted at the same time.

After getting his fingers into her rather easily, he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity. As much as he wanted to continue spanking her, he put that on hold.

He curled his fingers and twisted them about, until he pulled a moan from her when he found just the right spot. He concentrated on that spot and started thrusting into her, harder and harder, until she shook so much she almost fell off his lap when she came.

‘Beautiful, sweetling. Simply beautiful.’ Loki hummed, slowing down his thrusting and stroking around inside her gently.

‘Oh god!’ She groaned, going completely limp on his lap. His hold on her hands kept her steady, he wouldn’t let her fall.

When he pulled his fingers out, he quickly sucked them clean before continuing to administer some more spanks. She yelped with each one, as it progressively got harder. Until Loki was sure she was almost at her pain limit, then he stopped and rubbed her bright red bum softly.

‘What a good girl you are, Mia. Daddy is very proud of you.’ He carefully helped her to sit up, she hissed as her bum stung against his trousers.

She cuddled into him though and held onto his shirt tightly, clinging to him. Loki rocked her back and fore for a while, until she had calmed down more. Then he lay her on the bed and got some soothing cream for her bum, helping with the stinging almost instantly.

Though weirdly, part of her wanted to feel it for a few days.

Mia felt quite floaty and content for the rest of the day. In the evening, they were just watching a comedy film on TV while they ate some snacks and cuddled on the sofa. Mia was naked while Loki was wearing his trousers and had an open shirt on.

‘Uhm, Daddy?’ She said quietly, turning more to face him. She had her upper body on his lap and had been like that for most of the evening.

‘What is it, love?’ Loki asked, stroking her arm.

‘I still don’t really get why I find so much pleasure in a spanking? I mean… I still feel good now after it too. And I, weirdly, enjoy feeling the sting whenever I move.’ She blushed hard.

Loki smiled and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. ‘That’s natural, sweetling. Some people are highly into pain play, but some, like you, don’t enjoy pain much but do enjoy a good spanking. It’s the intimacy of it, and the lasting effect. It makes you feel owned, doesn’t it?’ Loki said knowingly.

She nodded and bit her lower lip.

‘Pain also releases endorphins, which can make you feel good. And because you’re being spanked on your bottom, it causes blood to rush to that area. And what else is in that area?’ He smirked and lightly stroked her abdomen.

‘My… my cunt.’ She said a little shyly.

‘That’s right. So it heightens everything else. I’m guessing being over Daddy’s knee in such a vulnerable position is part of the excitement too, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, Daddy.’ She nodded again.

Loki smiled and kissed her forehead.

He had noticed since they’d been at the villa for the last week, just the two of them, she seemed to be in little space more often. More vulnerable seeming. Not that he was complaining, he loved looking after her. If she felt safe and happier being in little space, he was more than happy with that. He just felt bad about when they would return to base, she wouldn’t be able to be herself quite the same.

Though he decided to cross that bridge when they come to it. In the meantime, he was going to enjoy all the exclusive time he had with his girl.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #blushing in his colours #chapter 23 #fanfichiddles

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