#he knew that he could’ve gotten the money in other ways (and in fact does so by the end of the book)

[farosdaughter]

“Coryo only cared about Lucy Gray’s survival for his own selfish reasons”

Coryo thinking about Lucy Gray’s survival:

Before any thought of his own well-being or the incumbent threat of his family’s imminent homelessness, comes Coryo’s desire to help Lucy Gray survive the Games. Those worries don’t negate the sincerity of his intentions towards Lucy Gray, just like Katniss cared both about the survival of her family and keeping Peeta alive. Personal, ‘selfish’ needs can and do coexist with altruistic ones in most people. Not to mention that Snow being willing to do anything to ensure his and his family’s survival doesn’t scream villainous mastermind. He’s an underdog whose only concern is staving off hunger and doing a good enough job to achieve some sense of security.

His determination to keep Lucy Gray alive is born out of gratitude, honor as well as selfless love. Coryo’s motivation here is entirely altruistic: he risks everything he has at stake (his reputation, his chance to save his family from ignominy and hunger, his entire future) to give Lucy Gray a bigger chance at survival.

If it had only been a matter of getting the Plinth money, he would’ve focused all his efforts on endearing himself to the Plinths (as he ends up doing at the end of the story). On the contrary, violating the Academy rules and basically challenging the purpose of the Hunger Games could only result in Coryo’s fall from grace.

It’s not the cheating itself, but the circumstance that he did so for the love of one of the tributes that lands Coryo in exile. If he’d cheated simply to show off or for any other selfish reason, you can bet his punishment wouldn’t have been as extreme. Dr Gaul sees how having a soft spot for Lucy Gray will eventually compromise his allegiance to the Capitol: it’s one mistake that cannot be tolerated in the future elite of Panem.

[sideblogformindtrash]

The small cabin formed an island of warm light in the quiet stillness of the graveyard as the rising smoke from the chimney slowly faded into the dark sky. Fire was out of fashion now, with electricity growing more accessible by the day and enchanted lamps providing a decent alternative to chopping wood or candle making. He realized he missed it. Being close to fire spoke to something primal within him, comforting and making him feel human again, just for a bit. 

As he approached the house, he felt guilty. The things he had done had disconnected him from himself, he felt broken and knew deep down he belonged to the frozen soil below him. Yet, he was guided and welcomed into the cozy home by what could only be described as an angel, and even if he knew that wasn’t the case, it still felt like being received once again by the hands of god, offering him forgiveness despite his sins.

The yellow dog rushed ahead of them, crossing the threshold and sitting by the fireplace. That beast had carved its teeth on his leg, and he sighed in relief when he saw it pouring down red, because in the darkness he could swear it had been thick, cold and dark, as if his very life force had been replaced by oil. 

Seeing the inside of the cabin he figured it wasn’t just the fire - the angel wasn’t too keen on technology. Everything seemed like it had been built decades ago and remained the same way since, the furniture minimal and rustic, not even providing the cabin with necessities like a fridge or a stove. Everything except for a workbench in the corner covered in gears, metal and wires, the discarded pieces of ancient lost technology someone seemed to be trying to put back together. At the bed in the corner, a man with long brown hair and half burned face tinkered with a few of those tools and pieces. Unlike the angel he seemed angry, giving him an annoyed look when he got into the house.

He couldn’t blame him for being upset, he would be too if he had been awoken at four in the morning because a stranger invaded their home. He could’ve gotten away with it, if not for the dog. 

“...Take a sit. I’ll make some tea and get you something for the wound” The angel says, filling up a pan and hanging it above the fireplace. After settling it, he searches around his cabinets for some bandages and disinfectant  “I’m Säel, this is Lazarus”

The brunette on the bed simply grunts, looking exhausted as he continues to tinker with a weird machine. The angel doesn’t seem bothered. In fact, he doesn’t seem to feel anything, not a single expression crossing his face despite the circumstances they met in. 

“...Theo” He replies, rolling up the muddy pants to expose the bite wound. He applies some of the medicine, and when it stings… he’s kind of grateful it does. 

While he cleans the wound, Säel places a warm mug of herbal tea on the table. After hesitating, he touches it, wrapping his hands around it, a soft moan of relief as the warmth spreads to his nearly frozen hands. 

“...Why’d you let me in?” The man should’ve just called the guards, runned him off or attacked him, anything other than inviting a grave robber into his home. 

“You weren’t after money. You look like you need help” The angel replies in his monotone voice, sipping his share of tea with a calmness that unsettles him. 

“I don’t think you could help me” He didn’t think anyone could, if not the god above or the god on the depths. 

Säel doesn’t contest that. He simply stares, grey dull eyes locking onto Theo’s for a long time. There’s something of heaven on him, but also something painfully mundane that made his whole appearance uncanny, highlighted even further by the tattoos that cover his whole body. But the fire crackles, the dog snores, the tools on Lazarus hands squeak and clinks as metal collides on metal. This place is lived in, the deathly silence of the graveyard doesn’t exist in this tiny home, even so late at night.

“Talk to me” He simply states, and Theo figures he has to. He stares at his hands, nails broken, dirt caking it, sore joints from digging frozen ground. But they are warm now, and he can move them, and his blood is red and not oily black. And maybe if he speaks he’ll be able to see a way out of this mess. 

[4am-enha]

Enhypen when: you go to a haunted house together.

General description: You and an enhypen member go to a haunted house together in honor of halloween.

Word count: ≈ 6K.

Genre: light fluff, comedy, one shots/short story imagines, self insert.

Pairing: enhypen x neutral gender reader

Includes/Tags: every enhypen member, holding hands, teasing, clinginess, protectiveness, screaming, pranks, fight or flight, light fluff and romance.

Warnings: mentions of blood, horror house stuff, swearing.

!! This is purely an imagine for entertainment and should not be taken seriously, nor does it have anything to actually do with the real members of Enhypen thank you !!

thank you to my wifey @euphoricfilter for suggesting the idea <3

𝖓𝖎k𝖎.

(Word count: 882)

Spooky month was here, and there was no way you could’ve forgotten about it. Why? Because of Niki. He had been hyping up Halloween for weeks now.

As soon as September began, he begged to watch horror movies and even started waking you up to the song “Thriller” by Michael Jackson. At one point, he actually claimed to be the ‘next Michael Jackson’. By now- you were absolutely sick of the song. You constantly had to remind him that it was too early to start celebrating toward the start of the month, but at last it was finally just a week until Halloween, and nothing could stop Niki now.

Niki had plans. Plans, and plans, and more plans. He wanted to watch horror movies, make Halloween cookies, costume shop, carve pumpkins, buy candy, pull pranks, go to a haunted house, scare random peoples' kids, try a maze or a horror themed escape room, and so, so much more. You lost count of it all.

However, today Niki had decided it was haunted house night- and he was not going to change his mind. He had already signed the both of you up for it when he saw it advertised while strolling the town recently.

Considering you dealt with Niki every day, you weren’t that much of a scaredy cat. In fact, you were sure this would be a cheaply put together event, not scary at all. Just some people dressed poorly in store bought costumes that were painfully fake looking, and some plastic props from amazon. You thought it was a waste of time and money, but you couldn’t bare reject Niki when he had been so excited for Halloween week.

“Niki it’s so cold.” you complained as you got closer to the entrance of the haunted house. It was a lot warmer outside when you had originally left your house, but Niki had gotten distracted by all the Halloween stalls around the town on the way, so now it was later than you had planned.

“The adrenaline will warm you up soon.” he replied with a smile, an evil, smile.

You pushed him slightly on the shoulder.

“Stop with that stupid smirk of yours, would you? It’s annoying me. Let’s just get this over with.”

“You sound scared” Niki teased.

“I’m not scared at all. As if I could be scared of something like that!”

You pointed to the dog walking around near the entrance in a little Halloween costume its owner had forced it into. It plodded around sweetly, dressed as a tiny walking, barking- pumpkin.

“Poor dog.” you mumbled. It was a bit cute though, you had to admit.

“Don’t be so pessimistic. C’mon let’s go.” Niki rushed in front of you toward the area.

You both signed in and began the spooky event right away. For the first five minutes, there was barely anything even relatively scary. You knew it would be like this. Just some people dressed up, yelling and trying to jump at you. It was so predictable. The only people screaming were literal children.

Niki watched you and noticed you weren’t having that much fun. He couldn’t settle with that. He also couldn’t bear the thought of admitting you were right about how tacky this was. Good thing he had something planned this whole time. This would definitely satisfy him.

You and Niki entered a very dark room with a low hue of green light. You could barely see each other. The silence started to dawn on you. It began to make you nervous.

To make matters worse, Niki suddenly disappeared around the corner, out of your sight entirely.

“Niki come on don’t be like that, wait for me.”

He seemed to be nowhere near you. You called out his name a few times, but you never got a response.

“Niki stop playing it’s not funny.”

You actually began to get quite anxious; it was too quiet for a haunted house, and you just wanted Niki to come back. Why did he have to run off so much. It was like babysitting a kid gone rouge, you wouldn’t think he was his actual ag-

“RAGHHHHH”

You fell to the floor covering your ears and screaming, your heart rate going at a concerning pace. You had to catch your breath, only to realize it was just Niki standing there almost pissing himself laughing. He couldn’t even stand straight, holding his stomach from hard laughter.

“You act so tough but look at you right now!” he continued.

“You little shit…” you began to chase him.

The haunted house staff- who were supposed to be the ones scaring you, just watched in confusion.

Niki was still laughing the entire time as he ran. He came to a sudden halt and almost jumped out of his skin when someone jolted at him out of nowhere. You began to laugh; it was like instant karma.

After you guys had exited the place, you were both almost entirely out of breath. You would have thought you had just run a marathon.

“That was so much fun” you admitted.

Niki smiled widely, it was a pure success for him, and now you were having just as much fun, he was so happy in this moment. He was happy that you were happy too. Your smile was contagious to him.

“Wanna go again?” He joked.

“With you? Absolutely not” you laughed.

𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖔𝖔.

(Word count: 856)

“Are you ready?” you looked at Sunoo.

He seemed a bit hesitant. He was fiddling with his fingers.

You quickly suggested an alternative,

“We can just carve some pumpkins instead if you would prefer that. I have some cool designs in mind.”

You knew Sunoo was one who liked the softer parts of Halloween. Pumpkin carving, Halloween cartoons/kid movies, dressing up, trick or treating. That was just who he was. Halloween definitely wasn’t Sunoos favorite holiday nor was it within his top 3.

If Sunoo was a widely celebrated holiday, he would be valentine’s day. He was sweet inside out. He was always giving more than he ever received. Sunoo was a big softie. Even his attempts at scaring people were too cute to be afraid of.

But another thing about Kim Sunoo was that he was daring. Sassy, daring, and definitely not to be messed with unless you wanted your whole life roasted within a few sentences produced from his impressive on-the-go comebacks filled brain.

“No, I want to try this” Sunoo said sternly.

“Are you sure?”

He gave a little nod, and so you both went ahead.

“How did they even make this place?” he scanned the area around you guys as you walked closely side by side.

Not only was the vibe eerie, but the place also didn’t smell that great either. It was humid inside; it made your hands feel clammy and sticky. You were breathing in very warm air, it felt like you were suffocating on it. You could also hear distant screams from other people in the DIY house, or was that just a sound track they were playing to add to the impact?

At first, it seemed empty. calm almost.

The lighting was very dim from the attempt to black out all the outside light. The hallway was almost clear of things except false webs and decorative spiders. The walls weren’t actually walls, however. The walls were made from tall office space dividers or “mobile office screens” (that kept privacy between each office space) and blankets, garbage bags and other various materials used as a roof cover.

“Why do they even have this many dividers?” you stated, surprised.

This wasn’t a bougie haunted house. In fact, technically it wasn’t a house at all. It was just a small event the community had put together to raise money for charity. They used common objects around them to create the house. It truly was respectable. They had done quite a good job on their limited budget.

“It’s not that bad actually,” Sunoo admitted a little too soon, “I thought it would be a lot scarier than this.”

Almost immediately after that, a tall, bulky figure dressed in bloody rags, sprung themselves at you and Sunoo. It was so unexpected, you even found yourself jumping quite hard at the scare and letting out a small yell of stun.

The grip Sunoo had on you was borderline painful. There was barely any room for oxygen to pass through your arm. His nails were dug into your skin. The fear that paralyzed his body made sure your arm suffered just as much as he was.

Speaking of painful, the screech that left Sunoo's mouth was so abdominally loud and sharp you were sure your ear drum had just exploded. Even the jump scarer flinched at the noise, instantly regretting their life choices. The scream that Sunoo produced was the sound of true, bloody murder.

You giggled through the pain, letting Sunoo cling onto you as you kept walking. The sounds of chainsaws roared nearby, and things were getting really tense all of a sudden.

“I guess the further we go in, the better it gets” you commented, expecting a response. However, there was none.

You looked at the poor boy holding your arm like it was his only life support.

“Are you okay?”

Sunoo wouldn’t open his eyes, squinting hard as he tried to seal them shut. He shook his head. “Let’s get out of here A.S.A.P”

He opened his eyes to look at you for a reaction, but as soon as he did another monster-like person ran at you both, making Sunoo scream again. But it was different. This time, Sunoo had let his shock get the best of him.

“BITCH” he yelled. Then he caught his breath and rolled his eyes. That was a classic Sunoo moment. The sassiest man around.

The monster like man broke character and laughed, genuinely not expecting such a reaction.

The rest of the way basically consisted of the same thing. Sunoo screaming and clinging onto you for dear life, barely opening his eyes.

The outside light shone through the exit of the maze-like house, and Sunoo ran toward it like it was heaven. You couldn’t blame him though, the way his soul completely left his body each time you were jumped at, it might as well have been heaven they were headed to.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” you dared ask.

“Can we just stick to pumpkins next time?” he replied absolutely terrified.

You let out a small laugh, you had really enjoyed yourself and you were very, very glad Sunoo had not passed out from fear back there.

“Sure thing.”

𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖓.

(Word count: 844)

“So, is it like an escape room?” Sunghoon asked.

“It depends on what you mean. Technically, no it’s not, but it can be” you answered cheekily.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You don’t need to solve things to escape, you just need to survive.”

Sunghoon's eyes widened at your statement. You said it so casually, but it was a very concerning sentence. Sometimes he wondered if you were mentally okay.

“Survive?”

“Yeah, survive to escape.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I really hope it’s not like that horror escape room you made me do last time. I think I almost died.”

“First of all, I did not make you do anything. Don’t be dramatic.”

“It’s not an exaggeration. I saw my life flash before my very own eyes.”

“But you also didn’t die. That’s what’s important.”

“The point is- wait. Are you wanting me to die of a heart attack?”

You shrugged jokingly.

“What would you even do without my pretty face around?”

“Yeah, okay pretty boy, no more questions let’s just hurry up and get there before I die waiting.”

“Beauty takes time.”

You rolled your eyes in response to his pettiness.

“You wouldn’t know” he added on quietly.

Your jaw dropped and you actually looked slightly hurt by that. Sunghoon immediately felt guilty and pulled you into a hug.

“I’m just messing with you. But seriously, if I die tonight, you’re responsible.”

After Sunghoon had finished up getting ready, you took a taxi to the entertainment strip not too far away from where you lived. It was the best place to go for fun events, especially as they had new things to do with each passing season.

“There it is” you pointed to a very tall, mysterious looking building. Many people were gathered around it waiting for their turn. Sunghoon felt himself gulp a little. As petty as he could be, and although he didn’t look like it, he was very easily scared by things. He was one to constantly be on edge.

You left the taxi, a chill finding its way down Sunghoon's spine. He wasn’t sure if it was the vibe or the temperature at this point. He instantly knew this was worse than the escape room by the very first glimpse at it. You really were trying to kill him, he thought to himself.

Both of you waited in line for about twenty minutes and during that time Sunghoon's nerves were working themselves up. You noticed and patted his head in reassurance.

“It’s going to be okay Hoon.” You smiled, and he smiled a little back at you. He held out his hand, implying he wanted to hold yours before you went in. You stuck to each other like glue.

You looked around the place eagerly. Sunghoon, not so much. He trotted a little behind you, still holding your hand. He was very cautious and aware. Eyes sprinting everywhere to be prepared and on the lookout.

The first couple scares were light and Sunghoon had squeezed your hand and yelled a lot, but he was also laughing. He was enjoying it really.

However, one specific scare pushed him over the line a bit. He sprinted at full speed away, screaming, completely leaving you behind. You watched absolutely baffled.

“NAHHHHHHHHHHH” his voice trailed off.

“SUNGHOON WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” you yelled after him.

He was gone-gone. You could still hear him screaming distantly. At least he was alive.

You laughed and shook it off, carrying on exploring by yourself.

The scares here were surprisingly really good. You were genuinely terrified by the next few jump scares, screaming like a little girl. You didn’t hate it though. It was a fun adrenaline rush, and you were definitely an adrenaline junkie. You loved this stuff.

Sunghoon finally appeared again, sprinting back towards you. You flinched at first, mistaking him for a haunted house member for a slight moment. The way he ran at you with his arms swinging was terrifying enough.

“IM SORRY, IM SORRY” he yelled in panic, grabbing the life out of your wrist and dragging you like a big dog on a leash, getting way ahead of its owner almost tripping them up.

“HUH? SLOW DOWN!” you yelled back, focusing on not falling flat on your face trying to keep up with his pace.

“IM SORRY I LEFT YOU BEHIND,”

He tried to catch his breath as he continued running.

“BUT I CAME BACK FOR YOU.”

You smiled and felt yourself even slightly blush at his panic.

Even though Sunghoon had ran off in fear and completely abandoned you to be scared on your own for a little while, he eventually came back through the house to collect you- despite being terrified to the core.

When you finally got out, Sunghoon started laughing, which wasn’t what you were originally expecting if you were being honest. You thought you were pretty much going to be scolded and nagged at for the next few months.

“We made it” he said through a breathless laugh, patting your head just like you had patted his earlier.

You giggled with a big smile; Sunghoon returned the smile.

“Yes, we did.”

𝔧𝔞𝔶.

(Word count: 906)

Jay wasn’t much of a screamer.

Though Jay yelled and scolded everyone around him quite often, you never could recall him screaming- especially not in fear.

Jay had always been pretty hardcore about things; it was sometimes hard to read his emotions or fully understand how he was feeling- let alone know what he was thinking about most of the time.

Unless Jay was yelling in anger or frustration at his younger friends, he always had pretty much the same facial expression. Although when he did smile, it was very admirable, and it was often because of you.

Tonight, you weren’t quite sure what to expect. It wasn’t hard convincing Jay to come along with you to the haunted house. Perhaps Jay just didn’t find these types of things scary, or maybe he just enjoyed going to things with you. You had no idea. All you knew, was that you were more than ready for some good fun tonight. It had been a while since you got a break quite like this.

There was no time to waste, you rang Jays doorbell.

“Oh, you’re dressed... quite fancy” you commented as you scanned Jay up and down. He had just finished getting ready to go out, appearing at his door with a collared polo and smart dress pants. Not to mention the expensive looking jewelry, a tie, and sunglasses? When it’s dark outside?

You had dressed quite casually. The weather was getting too cold for your special section of your wardrobe recently, unless you layered, but that was a lot of work. You stuck to comfy black sweats and a plain oversized hoodie, styling it a bit with a cream-colored corduroy cap. Your hair was in a loose ponytail, and you had a small friendship necklace on. Jay had seen you bare faced many times so now you felt comfortable not even putting on any makeup.

“Thanks” he replied.

“What are the sunglasses for though? You do know that you could’ve dressed more casually, right?” you wanted to make sure he had not mistaken the event for a more formal type thing.

“I’m a fashionista.”

That was something Jay said often, so you kind of expected it, accepted it, and moved on. He could dress however he wanted too anyway. Who’s to stop him from feeling good about himself?

You had both made your way to the event after stopping to say hello to some familiar faces on the way. The wait time to get in was very short, so you were let in quite quickly.

You soon realized that this actually seemed a lot scarier than you had intended it to be. You held your breath and began to feel sweaty. Your stomach did flips in anticipation and anxiety.

“Jay” you began.

He hummed in response.

“I’m not so sure about this anymore” you continued.

He wrapped him arm around your shoulder and pulled you in closer to him.

“Let’s not separate then.”

You acknowledged his idea and stuck close by his side.

When the scares began, you had screamed and flinched a lot; you were enjoying yourself though.

Jay was relatively calm, not too surprising coming from him. He was more focused on the route of the place.

You had started to think that this was actually boring for Jay, when he instantaneously proved you wrong.

The next scare must have really caught Jay off guard because next thing you knew, Jays fist was flying toward the innocent staff members face.

“Oh my god Jay what did you just do???”

You weren’t really sure on what to do now. The injured guy held his jaw groaning. You looked at Jay. He had a very regretful expression, filled with guilt.

Jay apologized like a maniac. He left no room to breathe between words.

The staff member began to laugh.

“Don’t worry so much. This isn’t the first time this has happened tonight” he said.

You didn’t know how to feel about that.

“It’s a part of the job. It means I really got you good huh?” he added on.

You still felt tense and awkward at the situation, but Jay looked relieved. He was laughing too now, realizing how intense his flight or fight reaction was. He helped the staff member up from the ground.

After a small talk, you continued on just as you had been to the very end.

When you found the exit, the light started to make your eyes partially ache. It took you a minute to readjust.

“I can't believe that just happened” Jay mumbled in disbelief still.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you were trying to get us arrested tonight” you declared.

Jay landed a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, at least I got you covered if something comes and gets you” he laughed.

You smiled and then stared at something that had caught the corner of your eye. Jay picked up on this and turned around to see for himself.

It was a small fair ground with a lot more activities.

“Hey what’s the time?” you randomly asked.

Jay pulled out his phone which displayed ‘8pm’ on it. He tilted the screen so that you could see the answer to your question.

“Is that Harry Styles?” you giggled at his lock screen.

“What?” Jay blurted in embarrassment, pretending he had no idea what you were talking about.

“Anyway, this place doesn't close until 10pm, we still have a lot of time. Should we?” you suggested eagerly.

Jay caught on quickly.

“Let’s go then.”

𝔧𝔞k𝔢.

(Word count: 882)

Each year, you and Jake did something special for Halloween. Growing up in foreign countries, Halloween had always been a huge thing for both of you but living in Korea now changed that. Though Halloween was still celebrated- it just wasn't done the same.

It was a perfect excuse to do some fun activities that reminded you of your childhood.

Usually, you were the one coming up with the ideas, but this year Jake was the one to come running to you excitedly, suggesting going to a haunted house. You had never been to one before, and you loved trying something new, so you immediately agreed to the idea.

Jake had also never been to one and was very eager to go. He was almost jumping up and down of impatience on the way to the place. He really was just like a golden retriever, getting way ahead of you.

"Wait up Jake!" You yelled out to him.

"Oh, oops!" Jake turned around and started running back toward you and grabbed your hand. "I just don't want to miss it is all."

"Don't worry, we won't." You reassured him.

When you arrived, Jakes excitement died down a little. You wondered if he was having second thoughts upon seeing the haunted house and people running out screaming.

"Let's go" he interrupted your thoughts.

You followed in behind him. He looked around with wide eyes, taking everything in. He acted calmly, smiling like he wasn't nervous at all. In reality, Jake was just trying to hide his fear. He was really scared, but you didn't need to know that. He just seemed like he found it funny.

Jakes act broke though when he froze in his place, listening out for something with fearful eyes. He looked as if he was trying to solve something in his head. You were about to ask him what he was doing, or what he was thinking about, but he beat you to it.

"Do you hear that?" he questioned you.

"No, hear what?" you questioned his question.

"I hear someone nearby" he said with an anticipating tone.

You suddenly heard it too. The sound of footsteps and rustling material. It was hard to creep up in complete silence wearing ridiculously baggy costumes. However, the place was so dark you couldn't see anything coming your way, nor could you figure out which direction you were hearing it from. The buildup made you unbelievably anxious.

You and Jake screamed in almost perfect synchronization when you were both met with the small tap on the shoulder of someone behind you. When you had turned around you saw a woman with hair covering everything but her beady black eyes. Her pupils were like voids of nothingness and death.

Jake grabbed your hand and forced you to run with him, screaming the whole time. He had a huge smile on his face though, very contradicting to his vocal expression of fear right now. It was a fun type of scary.

He dragged you with him around the corner where he was met with someone holding a fake machete. He screamed even louder, completely taken aback.

You both ran into another room hidden in the corner of the hallway. Jake had to take a breather, or he was sure he would pass out. He sat quietly for a moment exhilarated with emotions, laughing it off.

"This is so fun."

"Right?" You added.

"I didn't expect it to be this scary, but I like it" he giggled.

"I can't believe I have never tried this before," you started, "I have really been missing out on this. I am really glad you suggested this, Jake. I'm having a lot of fun"

"Me too. Next time let's bring Sunoo and Sunghoon along, I think they would totally piss themselves!" Jake shared his thoughts.

You laughed at his statement, imagining the faces and reactions of your dear mutual friends if they were here right now with you guys.

You both finally continued through the house, screaming at the top of your lungs. You had been running around so much, taking random directions, that you lost focus on the direction you were supposed to be going.

"Jake."

"Yeah?"

"Where are we?"

'What do you mean?" Jake looked around for a minute.

"Oh" he muttered.

You weren't sure what was scarier- the people in costumes, or the fact you were completely and utterly lost in a haunted house.

"What do we do now?" Jake verbally wondered.

"Shit" you were hoping Jake had the answer to that.

The smart choice would have been asking a staff member where to go next, but you were both too nervous to even go up to the terrifying masked staff. Not only that, but there were actually none to be seen right now. You guys must have been really off path. You wanted to blame Jake, but there was no point being bitter about it right now. The important thing was that you needed to get out, fast.

"Let's just keep going this way."

You both continued to circle around for a while before Jake suddenly noticed an exit sign where you both made your escape. A sigh of relief was heard from the both of you.

"That really was scary" Jake commented with a small laugh, still trying to recover from what had just happened.

"Yeah, for real" you added.

"LET'S GO AGAIN!" Jake grabbed your wrist and ran with you to the entrance again.

"WAIT JAKE-"

𝔥𝔢𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔲𝔫𝔤.

(Word count: 815)

"Let's go to the haunted house Heeseung!"

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow. "You? You want to go to a haunted house? You?"

"Yes me, why is that a problem?"

"Aren't you scared of like, I dont know, minions?" he teased.

You flicked his forehead. He yelped a little and frowned at you.

"So what if I am? They have no reason to be that scary looking," you argued, "and this is different anyway."

"How is this different?" he smirked.

"I know it's just people in stupid costumes, it's very fake."

That reasoning made no sense to Heeseung. Minions were very fake too. But he didn't argue any further- to save his poor forehead from anymore violence.

"Ah, I misunderstood. I thought you meant like a real one, with ghosts." Heeseung watched your smile drop.

"Not a chance" you exclaimed.

Heeseung giggled, "A fake haunted house huh? Yeah, that sounds fine, you know- since literal children go into those" he teased again.

You rolled your eyes at him, "So were going?"

He took in an audible breath and wandered his eyes around for a moment, smiling, pretending like he was deep in thought. You smacked his arm gently to make him stop.

"Yeah, we can go" he finally decided.

You cheered in glee and went to go grab your shoes. You sat yourself down on the bottom step of the staircase and leaned over to tie your shoes. You felt something placed around your shoulders. You looked up, and Heeseung was standing over you. He had put a jacket around your shoulders. It was in this moment that you realized how tall he truly was compared to you, even if you were sitting down right now.

"It's getting colder now" he said with a small smile.

You nodded and continued to tie your shoelaces. After you had finished you stood up and put your arms into the jacket and made your way out of the door, Heeseung following behind you.

On the way, you noticed the impacts of autumn starting to really take a noticeable place. The leaves were so bright with warm toned colors. Yellow, red, orange, brown. Some trees were already losing a lot of their leaves. It was windy and a little chilly, but not freezing.

Heeseung watched you admire the scenery with a smile, "How far is it?" he asked you.

"Not too much further."

And you had told the truth, it was really close by and it didn't take much time to get there at all. In fact, you had got their early, so you were first to enter. There was nobody else around yet, so you had no idea what to expect. You hesitated a little at the start. Heeseung came up behind you and pushed you in.

"Come on then miss brave girl" he mocked.

The spooky music being played was already enough to terrify you. You wanted to turn back as soon as possible. You hid behind Heeseung.

People began jumping out of the most unexpected areas. You kept screaming like you never had before. And Heeseung? Well, he just had this stupid smirk on his face. The face of 'I told you so.' You wanted to rip it off his face so badly. Why wasn't this scary to him?

You continued to hide behind tall Heeseung, barely looking where you were going, too scared to watch. You clung onto Heeseung for support.

Heeseung tried to hide his smile. Secretly, he loved when you got scared and hung onto him like that. He started to act protective. It was all too predictable for him, so he wasn't really scared. He just enjoyed being there as your support system.

He wanted to seem cool, that was until he turned the corner, and his predictions had failed him this time, making him scream like a little girl.

Heeseungs scream shocked you more than the random figure standing there in front of you both had. His scream was so high pitched and girly. You burst out laughing.

Heeseung looked at you with his eyebrows furrowed, "It's not funny. Stop laughing."

That just made you laugh more.

He shook you gently, nagging, "Seriously, stop laughing."

Of course, you didn't listen to him. This was the funniest thing to you right now and it satisfied you that the stupid smirk was gone from his face.

He continued to act chill and unbothered, "Whatever."

You took a break from laughing, still with a smile you said, "Let's just keep going little scaredy cat."

Heeseung couldn't handle a taste of his own medicine. He hated when you were able to tease him. He tried to continue on as he had been, but slightly embarrassed this time.

You linked your arm with his and looked up at him, "You're funny Hee, I enjoy doing things with you."

Heeseung blushed slightly at the action and new nickname and held back a smile, "Uh huh, let's just get this over with."

You nodded and continued on, arm in arm, with a slightly flustered Heeseung.

𝔧𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔴𝔬𝔫.

(Word count: 831)

Jungwon loved dressing up. It was truly his specialty. He never failed to amaze you with his creativity each year when Halloween came around. This year Jungwon had decided to dress as a wizard. You had dressed as a cat. It was very basic of you, but this year you just didn't have the budget or the effort even. You had already spent so much money on buying candy to hand out. You lived in an area with a lot of children around, so you had to prepare.

Jungwon looked adorable. For such a sweet person, you would think he could be quite skittish. He looked so fragile after all. Yet, Jungwon was actually more scared of loud noises than anything else.

When you watched horror movies together, he would get invested in the plot, rather than being scared by the jump scares. You thought this was some sort of immunity he had, but actually it was quite beneficial to have someone endure all the horrors for you.

It wasn't quite Halloween yet, but the town was already celebrating with festivals and fun events. That is why Jungwon was dressed up today. There was no way he could go to a Halloween festival without a costume. If he, or anybody for that matter, were to go in normal clothing, they would stick out like a sore thumb. Where's the fun in not dressing up at the one time of the year where it was perfectly acceptable to dress as anything? - and I mean anything. There was even a family walking around dressed as giant feet.

You and Jungwon had been on a few rides, played a couple games, took a lot of photos, and had even participated in a costume competition. Unfortunately, the child dressed as a chicken won. Jungwon insisted it was a sympathy vote because he was a kid, and you found Jungwon's saltiness amusing.

You were strolling around beside him, looking at all the people. You were really enjoying yourselves. A bustling crowd caught both of yours and Jungwon's attention.

"Is that one of those haunted house things?" Jungwon asked curiously.

"Looks like it" you answered, still watching the crowd that surrounded it.

"I guess it must be good, I see its very popular."

You were also dying of curiosity, "Do you want to go check it out?"

Jungwon smiled and you knew that meant yes. Without any further words, you both made your way towards it.

You found yourselves waiting for about an hour in the crowd, but you were desperate to see what all the hype was about, so you never left the line. The only time one of you left was when Jungwon started to get ‘hangry’. You stayed in line to save your places and he came back shortly with some street food.

You had finally made it to the front of the line, screams from people before you bellow and echoing in the long hallway in front of you. You looked at Jungwon and gave a small nod to signal that you were ready to go.

It was mortifying.

Not only two minutes in and you felt like you were grabbing onto your own soul, begging it not to leave your body right now in fear. You were literally shaking and petrified. You were on the verge of tears, and it was very noticeable. Jungwon noticed.

Jungwon thought it was HILARIOUS. Not that you were scared- but the whole thing. He could not stop laughing at the people trying desperately to scare him. You did not find it so funny. The staff were just confused and also frustrated that they were comical to him.

Jungwon even began to mess with the staff. He would jump back at them, and when they would scream in attempt to scare you both, he would just scream back at them- but not because he was scared, he was just mocking them.

This little wizard was mocking them.

You started to laugh at what he was doing.

"Jungwon stop doing that, leave them alone" you urged, giggling still.

He didn't listen to you, he just kept messing around.

"Look, look at this." Jungwon circled around the guy with claws for hands, making the guy spin around trying to face him, getting dizzy. The guy roared in frustration and Jungwon roared back at him, except in a more adorable way. He put his hands up and made a claw-like gesture at the dizzy scarer. The guy just gave up trying to act tough and laughed at Jungwon along with you. This was very unexpected and random.

You laughed hard. It was so stupid.

However, while you were laughing and concentrated on Jungwon, you had been completely distracted. You had stopped being so scared. Suddenly it was hard to find it scary. You were just finding everything funny now because of Jungwon. You felt relieved.He was so good at comforting you in the least obvious ways.

He was one smart wizard, and he had more tricks to him than just a magic wand.

Note: HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Thank you so much for reading. I did not have much time to write anything too special for Halloween, so I hope this is okay. I hope you enjoyed it. I was sleepy editing it, so if there’s mistakes I apologize. The word counts may not be 100% accurate because I made some changes.

Who would you want to go to haunted house with the most in enhypen? I might be biased but I think going with Jungwon would be fun, especially after watching the escape en o'clock episode!

Q: What are you dressing as for Halloween?

[aimless-imagines-for-fun]

Racing Heart

Pairing  ::  Clark Kent  x  short/petite fem!Reader

Warnings  ::  Smut, Size Kink

Word Count  ::  4,265

Summary  ::  You never knew why, but whenever you were around Clark, your heart always raced.

A/N  ::  Just an fyi, I used Henry Cavill’s Clark Kent, but I used the comic book height of Clark, which is 6′3′’, versus Henry’s 6′1′’

You never quite understood why, all you knew was that your heart always started racing when you were close to Clark. It wasn’t whenever you saw him, or when you were just in the same room as him. It was only when you were able to notice how small you were compared to the 6’3’’ man. 

There were many occasions when this happened. Whenever Clark hugged you, helped you grab something on a top shelf, or even when he was standing so close to you, you two almost touched, your heart began racing. It had gotten to the point where you went out of your way to avoid getting close to the man, making sure you were always on the opposite side of the room from him.

There were three specific times though that made your face heat up just thinking about them.

-

The first one was in the break room.

You had managed to open the cabinet doors right above the refrigerator, but were struggling to grab the box of plastic utensils. You always forgot to bring a fork or spoon from home for your lunch, though you never had to worry about it because The Daily Planet had some. Of course, in an office full of tired reporters, others were bound to forget their utensils as well, and thus the box that was placed on the counter was now empty.

You stood on your tippy-toes, fingers barely grazing the corner of the box. The heels your wore offered no help, only adding a mere inch and a half to your height. You open the cabinet with ease, and a huff of annoyance left you when you saw the box of forks was on the second shelf. You had grown so frustrated, you began hopping just to try and hit the box that you now believed was taunting you. However, your hopping was working, as you managed to hit the corner repeatedly to make the box slowly come out. You didn’t care if you were wearing a skirt. It ended right before your knees and you were wearing black tights so it was fine.

You just needed one more good hop and you knew you’d be able to grab the box. You bent your knees only slightly, and then-

“Do you need some help?” A deep kind voice asked, followed by a large hand reaching past you and grabbing the box.

You whipped your entire body around, now facing a tie and button-down plaid shirt. You tilted your head up, seeing the man from Kansas, Clark Kent. He was giving you one of his classic golden boy smiles, looking down at you.

You gave him a small smile in return, and you could feel your heartbeat begin to grow faster. Perhaps Clark sneaking up behind you startled you, and he seemed to notice.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I just saw you were struggling for a bit,” He commented, holding the box out for you.

You grabbed it, thanking him quietly before a small idea popped into your head. “Were you watching me?”

You swore you saw a small tint on Clark’s cheeks as he let out a cough to clear his throat. “Um, no, I had walked by earlier and saw you struggling then, and, well, when I came back I saw you were still here so I decided to help.”

You let out a small giggle. “I’m teasing Clark.”

You saw him visibly ease up, letting out a small exhale. Little did you know he had been staring at you for a small while before he helped you. Watching you hop up and down had brought a small smile of amusement to his face. 

-

The second one was in the supply room.

Some people bought their supplies, and that was their stash. Others, such as yourself, helped themselves to the abundance of the supply room. What you had just ran out of only moments ago were sticky notes. You used them quite often, not only for notes but also for little drawings you did to pass the time. As a matter of fact, your entire desk was nearly covered with either small memos or doodles of random characters.

The sticky notes, unfortunately, were located on the top shelf. To add to your bad luck, there was also no stepping stool or ladder. Now, you could’ve been rational and go get someone taller to help. ‘Nah, I got this,’ you thought as you carefully began to climb up on the shelves. You believed in your climbing abilities, even in your heels. Admittedly, it was a bit awkward trying to grip onto the shelves, and the heels of your feet were hanging off, but you felt secure enough. 

You reached the top shelf with relative ease, only needing to step up two shelves. Then came the matter of the box of sticky notes that had yet to be open. There was no way you could open the box to grab the small number of notepads you needed, not without both hands though. You could throw the box down, but what were the chances of it breaking open and creating a mess? ‘I really should’ve thought this one through a little better,’ you regretted.

Busy thinking of how to get the sticky notes down(along with how often you found yourself in this sort of ‘you’ve made your bed now lay in it’ situations you’ve been in) you didn’t notice the door open and close once again. “(Y/N)?” 

“Wha- Ah!” You let out a squeal, losing your balance from being pulled from your train of thought. Your eyes widened and your heart froze, feeling your feet slip off along with your grip.

You squeezed your eyes shut, ready for the oncoming impact from the floor, along with the pain. Thankfully, the person who had caused your fall was quick enough to save you. Instead of feeling the hard tiled floor, you felt a pair of strong arms catch you. They held you close, almost squeezing you a bit too tight, but you felt safe in the embrace. You opened your eyes, blinking a few times to make sure you were indeed okay. You looked up to see who had caught you, your (e/c) eyes locking with blue ones behind a frame of glasses.

There was a clear worried look on Clark’s face. “You need to be careful (Y/N), you can’t just climb up shelves. If you need help, ask for it,” He continued to scold you, but you couldn’t focus on a thing he was saying.

Your heart was pounding, though you thought it was from the adrenaline of almost falling, and your mind was elsewhere. You couldn’t listen to him with him still holding you, it was all your mind was focused on. His grip on you was frim, and you were so close to him you could smell his cologne, citrus with a hint of musk. You always knew you were petite in build, but being held like this made you feel tiny. ‘His arms are so big. Am I really this small? He doesn’t look like he’s struggling at all. When does he have the time to work out? How-’

“(Y/N) are you even listening to a thing I’m saying?”

You blinked once, looking at him with big eyes. “Um… You’re still holding me…” You pointed out, a small blush coming to your cheeks. Unable to look at him any longer, your eyes darted down, missing his flustered face.

He put you down quickly, apologizing, and you told him not to just as quickly in response. After, you thanked him and rushed out without even taking a single sticky note with you. Later on in the day though, when you had walked away and returned to your desk, there were two sticky note pads on your desk.

-

The third one was at a charity event.

You and Clark were assigned to the event together as it was a rather large event. The money being raised was for meta-human teens and children, to help them better understand their abilities safely.

After hearing the guest list, you knew you had to wear the one forest green dress you wore to every fancy event. It was the nicest, and expensive, dress you owned. You paired it with three-inch black heels and a simple opal pendant. You never like dressing up too much. Clark wore a simple muted dark brown suit, with a navy blue button-up and blue tie to match it.

Now, it was rather tricky to keep your distance from Clark this time, and you really didn’t want to get flustered during work. Before it was at work, now it would be during work. There was a difference, granted a small difference, but still, a difference. At work, you just minded your business, and on occasion, goofing off when you weren’t writing an article. Here you were supposed to be interviewing and taking notes of everything happening. You couldn’t miss something important because Clark wanted to dance and you couldn’t keep your mind straight after. He didn’t ask you to dance, but, if he did you’d refuse.

“So, Mr. Wayne, Mr. Queen-”

“Please, call me Oliver,” The blond said.

Before you stood Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen. You were intending to speak to Mr. Wayne alone, but just as you approached him, Mr. Queen also got to him. You were about to apologize and walk away, however, Mr. Queen, or rather, Oliver, insisted you interviewed them together. You had to admit, it was rather nice having Oliver around as Mr. Wayne, even though he was known as a playboy, gave you a rather intimidating aura. 

You began interviewing the two, asking them the same questions you had asked all the millionaires, but ended up talking with them and enjoying it. Mr. Wayne wasn’t as intimidating as he had seemed, and Oliver was rather humorous. It was clear to you the two were friends.

You were in the middle of laughing at a joke Oliver had told when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. You turned your head, seeing Clark, standing right beside you with a smile. 

“Well you most certainly are having a good time,” He commented before turning his attention to the men in front of you. “Mr. Wayne, Mr. Queen, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He reached out with his free hand to shake theirs.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well…” Mr. Wayne’s voice trailed off as he looked down at Clark’s badge from the daily planet, “...Mr. Kent.”

“Call me Oliver,” He said as he shook your coworker’s hand. “I take it you two were sent together?”

“Yes,” You said in sync.

The conversation continued, and the entire time Clark kept his arm around your shoulders. You nodded along, even humming a few times in response to make it appear as if you were listening as your mind wandered. ‘Why is my heart racing? Why is he still holding me? Should I say something? What if I seem rude? I don’t want him to let go though.’ Even though you didn’t want to acknowledge it, you knew there was a small part of you that always liked how petite you were compared to Clark. 

Then, you felt his thumb begin to rub small circles onto your bare shoulder. Without thinking, you slowly leaned into his larger frame. Now, you couldn’t see it because you were still looking ahead at the two millionaires, but Clark glanced down at you, happy you had come closer.

-

You couldn’t avoid Clark forever though, despite your best efforts.

You walked down the sidewalk, holding four large reusable grocery bags each full to the brim. You lived alone, but you liked to shop in bulk so you wouldn’t have to go out often. You were struggling a fair amount though. Normally, you had a friend who’d come with you to help you out and then the two of you would hang out. Sadly, all your friends were busy for the next few days and you were beginning to run out of your favorite conditioner, not to mention you were low on food.

You didn’t drive to the grocery store either, adding to your struggle. It was only three blocks away, why waste gas? You wouldn’t be struggling much longer though.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” A male voice called out.

You stopped, eyes darting everywhere to find the owner of the voice. It took you a moment until you eventually spotted Clark in front of you, a good distance away.

“Oh, hi Clark!” You placed two of the bags down to give him a large arm wave.

It took him a moment to get to you, and when he did he looked down at your groceries puzzled. “That seems like a lot for one person to carry.”

“Yeah, I tend to bite off more than I can chew.”

“I’ve noticed,” He said with a chuckle. “Do you want some help?”

You shook your head. “No. I couldn’t possibly drag you away from your day off to help me.”

“It wouldn’t be a hassle at all,” He reassured you. “Plus, it’d eat at me all day knowing I left you struggling.”

Knowing he wouldn’t take no for an answer, you let out a sigh, agreeing to his help. He took three of the bags, leaving you with the one bag filled with two bags of chips, three loaves of bread, and two dozen eggs. You tried to hold two bags, make the work even between the two of you, but he insisted. He tried to carry the bag you held as well, but you were adamant you held at least one.

Walking down to your apartment complex, the two of you mainly talked about work. At least you did, and Clark more so listened. This was the first time your heart didn’t start racing as you stood next to him, probably because you wouldn’t shut up about the deadline for your new article. You refused to look up at him, eyes fixed only on what was in front of you. It didn’t take long for the two of you to get to your apartment. You thanked him and told him he could go on with his day, but he insisted he helped you carry the bags up to your apartment.

You were quiet from then on, listening to Clark talk about the building. He lead you all away to your front door, standing patiently for you to unlock your door. Then, it hit you. You noticed his shadow over you as you faced your front door. Your heart quickened a bit, still, you ignored it as you opened your front door.

You speedily guided him to the kitchen to place the groceries down, and just as fast you tried to rush him out. His brows furrowed, confusion written all over his face.

“(Y/N), why are you in such a rush to show me out?”

‘Because I can’t think straight now with you around!’ You thought. Instead, you said to him, “Because I’m tired and I want you to enjoy your day off!”

He didn’t seem to believe you. He stood in front of you, a small frown on his lips. “Do you like me?”

Your eyes widened, mouth left ajar at his question.

“Because sometimes I get the feeling that you don’t like me.”

‘Oh-’ “What- No. I think you’re a great guy Clark.”

“Then why are you always avoiding me?” You didn’t think he had noticed. “Whenever I get close to you, you scurry off, and when you can’t you look uncomfortable.”

Like a child who had just gotten caught, you covered your face, too embarrassed to look at him. You didn’t want to tell him the real reason you were avoiding him, but, you also didn’t want him thinking you disliked him. It was the exact opposite.

“I’m not avoiding you because I don’t like you, Clark,” You said through your hands. You spread apart your fingers so you could look him in the eyes. “I… I avoid you because you’re… you’re so big.”

Now Clark was taken aback, a brow raised. “What?”

With a long exhale, you lowered your hands. “I said, I avoid you because you’re so… so big, and it makes me feel really small, and I can’t think straight.”

“You avoid me because I’m too big, and it makes you feel small, and you can’t think straight?” He repeated.

You nodded.

He was silent for a few seconds, tilting his head to the side. “In a good or bad way?”

“What?”

“In a good or bad way?”

You could feel your face heat up, and it wasn’t the only spot on you beginning to grow warm. Softly, you answered him. “In a good way, I guess.”

Clark took a step closer to you. “So you like the fact that I’m larger than you?”

“Yes, I just-”

“No.” His normally bright blue eyes seemed to darken, his eyes narrowed on you. “I want you to say it.”

You closed your legs closer together, feeling a heat rise in between your thighs. “I like that you’re so much bigger and stronger compared to me.”

Swiftly, Clark scooped you up, hands just beneath your bottom to raise you to his face. With how fast your heart was racing now you were sure he could hear it pounding in your chest. 

You looked into his eyes as you carefully took off his glasses and tossed them onto your couch. Then, you placed a hand on each side of his face and gave him a long soft kiss. He returned the kiss gently, though after a few minutes you could tell he wanted more, his kiss began to grow rough. 

You had wrapped your legs around him to be more comfortable, giving him a better grip on you. He squeezed your ass and in response you let out a soft moan. He lowered you a bit, only enough for you to feel his growing erection against your fully clothed core. He held your hips close, moving you against him for a bit of friction. You whimpered, lowering your head into his chest and gripping his dark grey shirt.

“Clark, please,” You whined.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He asked, voice deeper than usual.

You pulled your head away from his chest, nodding over in the direction of your bedroom. “Second door to the right,”

Almost hurried, he carried you straight to your bedroom. He stopped right at the edge of your bed, letting go and letting you fall back onto your mattresses. He crawled on top of you, placing a knee between your legs. Gently, he peeled away your clothes, tossing them to the side and leaving you in your underwear. He began peppering kisses around your neck, slowly moving down to your collarbone. As he did, his hand crept its way behind your back and undid the clasp on your bra. He pulled away from his kisses to watch your breasts bounce free, eyes fixed on your bare chest. 

Feeling embarrassed, you moved to cover your chest with your hands, but he pinned your hands above your head with one hand.

A low chuckle escaped him. “Aw, are you feeling shy?”

You were about to turn your head away when Clark dipped his head down, capturing your lips again. You could feel his free hand slowly trail up your side, humming as a shiver went down your spine. He cupped your breast firmly, beginning to knead it in his palm.

Small moans left your lips, arching your back, body begging for more. You already knew your panties were wet, and you needed him, but he was still fully clothed. All the while you could feel his denim-covered erection against your thigh.

“Clark,” You groaned against his lips, “It’s not fair.”

He pulled back, brows raised. You struggled to pull your hands free, to no avail.

“You’re still dressed,” You said with a pout.

He gave you an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, how about you take care of that for me?”

He let go of your hands and you eagerly reached for the end of his shirt, pulling it off of him. You almost started drooling seeing him shirtless for the first time. Your hands began to wander around his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles. Your hands wandered down further, to the hem of his pants. Just as you were about to reach for his belt, his hand stopped you.

“You’re not ready yet sweetheart,” He warned you. 

“Clark-”

He pressed his mouth against you, silencing you before you could complain. Even though you weren’t allowed to undo his pants, he slid them off with ease and you felt his long hard member pressed against your thigh. You momentarily pulled away to glance down, gasping loudly when you saw his length.

Worried, you looked back up at him. “It’s not going to fit.”

He dipped his head back down to your neck, peppering kisses across your jaw. “That’s why we need to get you ready.”

His hand moved down to your soaked panties, pushing them down so you were completely bare now. Your breathing hitched, feeling him stick in a finger and begin to move it in and out of you slowly. He picked up the pace with his finger, eventually sticking in another and he could already feel your pussy tightening.

You were growing close and he was only fucking you with his fingers. Granted, his hands were larger than yours, so two of his fingers felt much larger than two of your own.

To add on, he lowered himself so his head would be right at your dripping cunt and began sucking on your clit. 

“Ah!” Your hands went straight to his hair and began to tug. You were a mess in his hands.

It didn’t take long for your body to shudder and your hips begin to spasm as you hit your high. Clark licked up your pouring juice, humming at your sweet taste. He looked up at you, two fingers remaining and now scissoring inside of you.

“You know, you really should ask for help if you can’t reach something,” He began. “It’s hard trying to hold back when you reach for things in those tight skirts of yours.”

“Well, now you don’t need to hold back,” You teased.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, grabbing his face with one hand and guiding him back to you. You could taste your juices in the kiss, humming in delight.

He pulled his fingers out, your core aching to be filled again. Luckily, you soon felt his already dripping tip at your entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself into you and you could feel your walls stretch around him. You nearly cried, your body in a mix of pain and pleasure. Your back arched, breasts pressing against Clark’s chest. Your hands gripped his arms as tight as you could, and you were sure you were digging your nails into him.

It was so much. You could feel your eyes water and tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

Clark kissed your forehead, muttered against it, “Just relax.”

He gave a small moment to adjust, noting how your breathing changed when you had gotten used to him. He pushed himself further in though, and you cursed under your breath, body growing tense again. 

Again, he gave you a moment to adjust, despite how painfully tight your walls clamped around him. He pulled out a small amount before pushing back in, bucking his a few times to get you used to him. Eventually, your quiet whimpers turned into small moans.

“M-more,” You breathed out, breath shaky.

Like a switch had been flipped in him, Clark pulled out almost all the way and speared you, no longer as gentle as he had been before. He did this again and again, going a little harder each time at a constant rhythm. Then, with one thrust you shouted his name loudly and your cunt squeezed around his cock.

“Ah! Clark again! Right there, please!” You begged him.

Knowing he had found your g-spot, he pulled out all the way this time and pounded that same spot, earning another cry of pleasure from you. He did this repeatedly now with a faster rhythm, leaving you gasping and clenching with each thrust. With each of your breaths growing ragged, it was clear you were both close to your release. 

You wrapped a leg around his hips to try and bring him closer, and he gripped your thigh harshly. He squeezed it so tightly, you were sure there’d be a faint bruise. 

With a few more thrusts, you shuddered, juices flowing out of you again and around Clark’s cock this time. You swore you heard Clark curse, feeling you squeeze around him and juices cover him. 

His rhythm was growing sloppy, and he pumped in and out of you until he let out a low groan of relief. You took a sharp breath, feeling his warm seed enter you. He continued to buck his hips, riding it out until he finally stopped, breath heavy.

He looked at you with now clear eyes and a smile on his face. “So… Do you need help putting your groceries away?” He asked cheekily.

You giggled. “Only if you don’t put anything important on the top shelf.”

“Why not? I’ll be around to help you now.”

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Can I ask for drunk Nesta flirting with Cassian in front of the ic and him getting all flustered but being secretly pleased about it???

Hell yeah you can! I love this idea! It wasn’t specified so I’m going modern here just because I’m not really sure where this could’ve happened in the canon timeline without a bunch of other factors impeding. Also I’m throwing in a dash of my fav jealous Cassian 😏

It wasn’t that Cassian didn’t want to be there. Well, no, actually that was exactly what it was. Cassian didn’t want to be there. He was exhausted and he hadn’t gotten to the gym that morning and he had a massive deadline that Rhys kept insisting they could push back but Cassian didn’t want to. He just wanted to go home and finish his report and maybe have a glass of whiskey to close off a truly awful week.

But Feyre’s art exhibit opened earlier that week and he hadn’t even gotten to see it yet and so it wasn’t like he could blow off her big party when he already felt like the world’s worst friend.

And he was completely lying to himself and everyone else. He didn’t want to be there because he didn’t want to watch Eris Vanserra’s slimy ass mill about the elegantly decorated, high ceilinged, natural light dripping, beautiful space, with his eyes glued to Nesta’s ass as if it was the art they were meant to be appreciating.

Did Cassian also appreciate every inch of her body like it had been sculpted by Michelangelo? Yeah but that was besides the point. And he had the respect to do it subtly.

“Remind me why he’s invited,” Cassian grumbled into his overpriced merlot. Because apparently only wine was classy enough for these fancy, classy, art events.

“He’s Lucien’s brother.” Azriel also didn’t look impressed by Eris’ uninvited hand on the small of Nesta’s back. Or the way he kept refilling her glass before she asked or was even done. “And he’s richer than Midas and spends a lot of that money on art.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “We have as much money as he does.”

“Yes but you know Feyre’s rule. No family purchases. She doesn’t want to be a success just because Rhys could buy and sell this entire gallery.” Azriel was stoic as usual. Betraying no opinion on the matter.

It was several hours of carefully constructed comments where Cassian pretended he knew anything about art and pretended his neck wasn’t getting increasingly hot under his collar as Eris kept glued to Nesta’s side.

Cassian had no right to be jealous. He knew that. He and Nesta weren’t anything. Casual flirting. Witty banter. Eternal, pining, unrequited love on his end that she didn’t even seem to notice or care about. So fine. Maybe Eris was her type. It wasn’t his place to interfere.

Except that she really needed a glass of water right now and-

Cassian’s hand darted out on instinct as Nesta walked past him, wobbling a little on her completely impractical shoes.

“Careful sweetheart.”

He braced for the hissed don’t call me that, but When he looked up Nesta was blinking slowly through a hazy wall of the wrong wine.

The wrong wine because Eris had been giving her a Nappa Cab Sauv all night when she preferred old world Syrah. Which was probably why she kept drinking it so quickly, looking for her opportunity to get what she really wanted.

“Cass,” she smiled. It was a little lopsided and definitely off kilter, but even through her wine brain he could see that she was playing at something. Nesta had never called him Cass in his life. “It’s so good to see you!” Her voice went up a full octave and she pressed her entire body against his as she hugged him.

The display turned a few heads in their direction. It was mostly just family at this point, and Eris who couldn’t learn how to take a fucking hint. Technically, he supposed, Eris was family. Nesta’s fucking brother in law. Was that how it worked? Was the brother of the person your sister married also your brother in law? Brother in law once removed?

Not important, moron. Drunk Nesta. Body. Wrapped in a tight sheath dress and clinging to him. Cassian closed his hands around her back and got lost for a minute.

Holding her against him like she was made to fit in his arms. Breathing in her scent like he could capture it in a bottle and spray it on his pillow every night before he went to bed.

Someone cleared their throat. Feminine. High pitched. Mor.

Nesta had already let go and was smirking at him a little. He dropped his hands immediately. “Um, yeah, always a pleasure.”

“Interesting choice of words,” Nesta’s grin was feline. She was definitely up to something. And normally he would make a stupid remark, probably something about how much more pleasurable the evening would be back at his apartment, except that she was drunk and his entire family was staring and Eris was still standing there.

“Can I get you a glass of water?” It seemed like the right thing to say. To offer. Feyre smiled a little, a silent thank you. Azriel was covering a laugh, Mor was watching them both with narrowed eyes like a hawk, and Rhys honestly couldn’t have cared less. Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Or maybe throw you into a pool,” Cassian joked stupidly.

“You should probably buy me dinner before offering to get me wet.” Someone dropped a glass. Cassian honestly thought it might have been him and he wouldn’t have noticed. Not in that moment. Not with Nesta looking at him through hooded eyes and talking about…

He could do this. His pants were not getting tight. Not at all. Because he wasn’t a damn teenager.

“I- um- do you-”

Nesta burst out laughing. It was a sound he’d never heard from her. She was usually all sultry under her breath snorts or ironic guffaws. Full, deep, angels singing, laughter was not usual for Nesta.

As evidenced by the fact the no one was even pretending not to be watching them anymore.

“I’ve got her.” Eris pushed himself back to Nesta’s side.

“Does he?” Nesta looked straight at Cassian, one eyebrow raised. “Because I’m willing to bet he wouldn’t have made it past glass two if your family wasn’t here.”

Azriel coughed. Amren cackled.

“You… do you want him to have you?” It came out wrong. The words. He meant did she want Eris to take her to get some water. Like he offered. He didn’t mean, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t…

“I want you to have me.” She was drunk. She was so drunk and it shouldn’t have been hot but fuck him it was. It wasn’t some sloppy college night out messed up drunk. It was a woman whose inhibitions had been soaked in wine just enough that every word out of her mouth was low and hot and honest.

“Find somewhere else to be, Vanserra.”

“Hey man what the fuck? We were talking-“

Cassian scoffed, snapping out of whatever flustered mess Nesta had put him in. “Anyone who gave her that much Cab Sauv doesn’t deserve to talk to her. Get lost.”

“I saw you eyeing the bottle,” Nesta laughed a little, swaying on her toes. Cassian moved his hands from a support on her bicep to a full arm around the waist support. Even if she did try to fall he could lift her with one arm easy. “Thought you might say something after…”

After the night they spent in her apartment with a bottle of her favourite Syrah only a week ago. It hadn’t been on purpose. Feyre and Elain and Azriel and Lucien were all supposed to be there. And they all conveniently cancelled only after he’d already showed up.

Which, judging by the barely contained grins on their faces, was even less of a coincidence than he thought. Busybodies.

“I’d offer you a glass of Syrah now, but I think what you need is a coffee.”

“Oh but then I’ll never sleep. And I do think I’m ready for bed.”

Sensing that he’d lost, Eris swore under his breath and stomped off.

“Let me take you home, Nes.” Cassian whispered into her hair.

“Hmm, your place or mine.”

“Yours,” he kissed her temple, pulling her legs out from under her and not even paying his family a backwards glance. “For a nightcap of 2 big glasses of water and a bottle of aspirin that I’m going to leave on your nightstand for the morning.”

“You don’t want to be there in the morning?”

Cassian groaned. “You said it yourself, Sweetheart. Dinner first.”

“You’re never going to let me live this down.” Nesta sighed, head lulling onto his shoulder.

“Actually go for dinner with me next week and I promise to never bring this night up again. And bribe our friends to do the same.”

“Deal,” Nesta said immediately.

An hour later after Cassian had supervised Nesta drinking her water he was about to leave her apartment when she yawned.

“Hey Cass,” she mumbled, half asleep.

“Yes sweetheart?”

“You made a bad bargain. I would’ve gone out with you either way.”

Cassian chuckled, a low rumble. “I’m satisfied with the bargain I made.”

“Cheesy as hell.”

“You love it.”

Nesta laughed, “I am prepared to tolerate it at best.”

“Good enough for me.”

[candychronicles]

heavens // t. keigo/hawks

A/N: my take on the roommates theme for the bnharem collab! honestly didn’t know where i was going with this one and it seems a bit random/rushed so i apologize in advance but hope you enjoy nonetheless! 

CHARACTER PAIRING: Takami Keigo/Hawks x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,491

WARNINGS: oral (f!receiving), some language 

SYNOPSIS: despite his growing popularity, you two remained steady roommates, which confused you to no end. what was his true motive in keeping you around? 

And they were roommates! Click here to read more!

Hawks was an interesting character to say the least. when you first moved in, you weren’t all too sure what to expect. he was, at the time, a fairly popular hero, but nowhere near the status he held today. he was charming, suave, friendly and it seemed genuine at the time. things went downhill quick though as his popularity rose and along with it, his annoying, god-like tendencies. 

what you didn’t understand was why he kept you around after all this time. you didn’t necessarily need to live with him still, but as he got more popular and therefore gained more money, the areas he lived in grew nicer and nicer until you were on a gorgeous top floor penthouse with a stunning view, all for the price of your original, dingy apartment. what you could afford on your own would be nowhere near the luxury that he was offering. that’s why you stayed, but you weren’t sure why he offered to let you continue to stay with him after all this time.

sure, you were friends, got along for the most part and when you didn’t, stayed out of each other’s hair, but he didn’t owe you anything and you certainly didn’t want to feel like you were in his debt. yet something attracted the two of you together continuously despite it all. 

what you didn’t know was that Hawks very much enjoyed having you around. you’d deny it until you were blue in the face but he heard one too many times you touching yourself in your bedroom, muffled moans matching those of the girl or guy he was fucking that night. he often did his best to give you a show, cursing, spitting, hitting, anything he could do to rile you up, get you to hear the lewd sounds coming from the apartment. you acted like you didn’t know what he was talking about, scoffed when he invited you to join him or give you his own private show and acted like you didn’t know he was doing that all on purpose just to tease you. 

truth be told, you pushed all those thoughts aside when it came to him. he was attractive, very much so, and also very unattainable, in your eyes anyways. his god-like complex was annoying at times but also very warranted. he was popular with everyone he met-children, women, men, the elderly, hell, you don’t think he ever met a dog that didn’t like him. he was strong, powerful, commanding of the quirk he weld so well. his personality was nothing short of smooth, like honey over ice cream melting on your tongue. you felt so incredibly drawn to him that your brain absolutely shut out any idea of it, giving yourself no hope that he would ever reciprocate the pure feelings of desire you felt towards him. after awhile, your convincing became reality and you began to question everything, desperate to detach yourself from his enigmatic ways. 

hey sweetheart, will be gone for most of the day. left some money for groceries and a little extra for whatever you want. don’t miss me too much

-H

you scoffed at the note pasted to your refrigerator, neon pink glaring at you in the morning sun trickling from the balcony window. he had been gone a lot lately, sometimes bringing home people at night, mostly crashing straight on the couch before he had even gotten a chance to change clothes. you acted like you didn’t miss him, miss his presence, the lingering touches that you swore were just him being an ass and making fun of you, but in reality, you missed the hell out of him. the domesticity that he showed when it was just you two vulnerable late at night, tired from a hard day of work, it made you realize that he wasn’t a god all the time after all.

that thought didn’t change your mind about his attainability, however. in fact, it only seemed to spur your ideals on more, convincing yourself that a man who could be so vulnerable and yet so strong was one who deserved more than what you could give. it would never be you and you were content with that fact, or so you thought.

your day was long and grueling, working patrols and small missions as a pro hero. you were likeable enough but when it came down to it, you didn’t care to be popular, didn’t care to make a ton of money or be interviewed by dozens of people a month. you just wanted to do your job and keep people safe and at the end of the day, that was what you accomplished. 

it was nearly midnight when you returned home, the elevator dinging closed behind you as you walked into the penthouse. the lights were still off, everything in place from this morning, which meant that Hawks had not arrived home yet despite him being gone for nearly the whole day. anger bubbled up underneath your skin. you knew he didn’t owe you anything, you knew you were nothing more than roommates, but sometimes feeling so isolated and alone in this big space with no one to talk to or do anything with left you antsy and annoyed. in simple frustration and retaliation, you locked the balcony window, forcing him to come up the elevator like a dignified man, bringing his nightly fuck in through the lobby instead of sneaking them inside like he often did.

it was nearly six am before you were woken up to a loud thud, the door smacking against the wall. you sighed, allowing yourself to calm down before you tried to go back to bed, but before you got a chance, a knock sounded at your door.

“what?” you asked irately, not in the mood to entertain him and his antics.

“why’d you lock the balcony window?” he asked simply, arms crossed. 

as you sat up to answer, you noticed his calm demeanor not so calm anymore. his chest was flaring up and down, body wobbly, and he reeked of alcohol.

“so much for a calm night,” you muttered. “i locked the door because i didn’t want to hear you fucking any of your whores while i was trying to sleep.”

“oh baby, you know you like it, like the sounds i make, the words i say. all you have to do is admit it and i can be all yours.”

“you wish bird brain,” you spat back at him, done with the conversation as you shimmied yourself back into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin and promptly shutting your eyes, ignoring the feeling of his stare burning into your brain.

“i do wish. i wish it were you i was fucking. i’ve wished that since the day i met you, all excited and doe eyed, ready to take on the world and all of its challenges. you never let my fame get in the way, never treat me any differently. you’ve been by my side throughout it all and yet you won’t let me get too close to you. why is that? afraid i’ll break your heart little one?”

you sat back up again quickly only to realize that he had moved to the foot of your bed. he sat down, taking off his boots and shucking them on the floor only to crawl practically into your lap, snuggling into your thigh.

“i won’t break your heart. i’ll only hurt you if you want me to, which i know you do, at least a little bit. but i’d n-never hurt your heart. you’re too precious for that princess, so sweet to me, so so angelic. and yet i can hear your moans through the walls, practically feel you arching off your bed as you chased your high, desperate for a release, wishing it were me who was touching you instead of your own fingers. i can do that you know. all you need to do is say the magic word and i’m yours. no more fucking other people, just me and you. i’ll spoil you rotten, anything you could possibly want and it’s all yours. you’d never have to worry about a thing again, yeah? what do you say?”

your heart hitched into your throat at his babbling confession. surely he wasn’t serious, right? it must’ve been the alcohol talking. you knew that if you said yes he was just going to tease you and tell you that he was joking and never wanted to see you ever again. you were just sure of it… but, in the off case that he was being serious… you couldn’t mess this up.

“yeah, okay,” you replied, voice hitching in your throat as you agreed with him.

you waited a few seconds for the harsh sting of a reply but nothing came. you cast your eyes down to see Hawks passed out, clinging to you as if his life depended on it. sighing, you flopped back down onto the bed, heels of your palms pressed into your eye sockets, brain full of thoughts as you tried to sift through your feelings. eventually you just gave up and passed out against the cool sheets of your bed, too tired to deal with the emotional turmoil you were putting yourself through.

when you woke up the next morning, Hawks was no longer against your thigh but rather plastered to your side. you weren’t sure how you ended up being spooned by the lanky man but it wasn’t necessarily the first time you had cuddled. your brain began working against you almost immediately, convincing yourself that the previous night's events were nothing more than a drunken spur from your roommate and that he did not, in fact, want to be with you.

with those thoughts in mind, you began to wiggle your way out of his grasp, nearly making it out of bed before you felt a hand shoot out and grab you by the wrist. 

“where are you going beautiful? sleep with a man and then ditch him before he even gets a chance to wake up? how heartless of you.”

“oh shut up, you know damn well that we did not sleep together. in fact, you came in here at six in the morning just to simply annoy the hell out of me. now that’s what i call heartless.”

“we didn’t sleep together but we could’ve,” he teased, fingers rubbing gently up and down your arm as he attempted to coax you back into bed, but your mind worked on overdrive, simply not believing that he was interested in you at all. 

“why do you always like to make fun of me, huh? does it give you some sick satisfaction to dangle hope like that in front of my face only to snatch it away from me if i ever say yes?” you spat, getting sick and tired of his games.

“princess, i’m not lying to you, nor am i making fun of you. i would never offer something like this if i wasn’t serious. i want to take care of you in any way i can-emotionally, sexually, financially, anything you need, i want to give it to you. i was trying to drop you hints, give you the space to come to your own conclusions but it seems that i miscalculated how that pretty little brain of yours works. instead of believing that i was seriously flirting with you, it seems as if you thought that i was making fun of you instead. how funny that the mind works like that sometimes. i must admit i was a fool for not seeing it sooner, but now it makes so much sense.”

“what are you rambling on about?” you asked, furrowing your brow in confusion as you tried to make sense of the fact that he was not only dead serious about wanting to be with you but also psychoanalyzing your thoughts at the same time.

“how you would always get mad when i brought people home but never said anything to me, how you always scoffed at my sweet words, would never take money from me despite me leaving it very clearly for you, never getting too close to me despite living together for years. i’m honestly dumbfounded that i didn’t realize sooner. you’ve been in love with me for a long time too, huh? except, unlike me, you truly never thought you had a chance.”

“u-uh, yeah, i-i just, Keigo, what are you really trying to say to me?”

“sweetheart, be mine, wholly and fully in every way possible. let me take care of you like i’ve always wanted, always tried to do. this isn’t some joke or elaborate ruse, i’m not lying to you or trying to hurt you in any way. i really, truly want to be with you.”

you exhaled heavily, not realizing you had been holding your breath the whole time, searching his eyes for any sign of a lie, not finding anything except sincerity and hope.

“okay,” you relented, nodding your head. “yeah, if you say you’re not lying to me, i’ll trust you. i just, i don’t know. i never realized that you actually liked me back. i never would’ve guessed it in a million years. never would’ve thought i would hear any words like that come out of your mouth let alone so sincerely.”

you looked down, twiddling your thumbs as you contemplated the situation once more, but before you could let your brain get the best of you, Hawks placed his slender fingers underneath your chin, lifting your face up so that you could peer at him. he leaned forward slowly, foreheads pressed together.

“is it okay if i kiss you?”

you nodded your head, squeaking out a quiet “yes” before surging forward to place your lips on his, desperate to feel him, desperate to quiet the negative voices in your head and surround yourself with him instead.

he matched your pace eagerly, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck to pull you forward even more, his own desperation leaking through the kiss. he was so enamored with you, the way you smelt, your mussy hair, the sparkle in your eyes, the feeling of your soft lips against his own. it was almost too much to handle. he hadn’t been with anyone in awhile, preferring to wait it out and confront you when he had the courage to do so, and he felt himself getting more and more antsy as time went on. he wanted to respect you, treat you with the dignity and honor that you deserved, but in that moment, all he wanted to do was ruin you and mark you as his own.

“baby, you need to tell me if i go to far, yeah? i just want to make you feel good, never uncomfortable. let me take care of you like you deserve,” he panted, adjusting himself closer to you.

“i trust you Keigo. i’m yours.”

he groaned at the sound of you, of how pathetic and weak you were towards him, how you trusted to be vulnerable around him, trusted that he would take care of you. he had never wanted to ruin anything so badly in his life and he was going to do his best to make sure you knew you were his.

the kisses turned more sensual, tongues dipping in and around each other, exploring one another for what felt like the first time ever. for you, it had been awhile, telling yourself that you were too busy to be sexual with someone else when in actuality you had been craving a certain blonde all along. for him, this was something entirely new and special. he never got the chance to be truly intimate with anyone, let his guard down, want to please his partner more than himself, but you were different, special in the fact that you loved him for him and no other reason than that. 

“please Keigo, i need more,” you whined, fisting at his shirt as you tried to pull him impossibly closer to your body. 

“anything for you princess.” 

his shirt came off first, a delicate process he mastered years ago. he reached for your own shirt, fingers playing at the hem as he once again asked permission. you replied by pulling it off yourself, exposing your breasts to him. he immediately latched onto your left nipple, hand coming up to pinch the right, gently coaxing you to lay back down on the bed as he followed, hands and mouth never leaving your body. he laved you with his tongue, leaving a trail of cool moisture in its wake, sucking and biting at every soft spot he could think of, wanting so hard to hear you moan. 

“that’s it baby, don’t be shy. i want to hear you moan, say my name.”

you responded with a groan as his hand came to rest on your clothed cunt, feeling the wetness through your shorts. he smirked at the realization that you did truly want him as bad as he wanted you and the thought had his cock straining in his pants. it wasn’t long before he had freed himself from his confines, watching the way your eyes drank up the sight of him through the filtered light. 

gently, you reached out your hand to paw at his cock, marveling in the way it twitched at the slightest touch. you were enamored by him, all of him. before you kneeled a greek god willing to worship you, a mere mortal. you didn’t know what you did to deserve this but you figured you’d spend the rest of your life thanking the heavens.

“don’t worry about me right now, yeah? let’s just focus on making you feel good,” he cooed, reaching down to gently tug at your shorts.

you lifted your hips up without question, allowing him to pull the fabric down your body, your underwear coming along with it. he greedily watched as your slick stringed against the fabric before snapping. he was amazed that he could make someone so wet just by kissing them and was more than curious to see how soaked he could get you by the end of the morning.

he slowly dropped himself down to the edge of the bed, positioning himself between your thighs. kisses were placed to the soft flesh on your legs, pinching and nipping along the way, relishing in the squeals and moans you let out of your mouth. experimentally, he licked up your slit, watching how your breath hitched and your hands grasped the sheets below you, desperate to hold onto something. he licked again, this time using one of his hands to hold you down and the other to come and open you up. you responded immediately, back attempting to arch off the bed at the already intense situation.

he started up a steady pace, watching each little movement, breath, moan, grasp of the blanket to analyze what you liked best. he was enraptured with you, everything about you. you were so strong, fighting crime like it was nothing, doing anything you could to keep citizens safe and yet here you were, putty in his hands, baring your heart for him, trusting that he would take care of you.

the pressure inside of you slowly built up. it was like an intense heat you had never felt before, white hot and pulsing inside your abdomen. you clutched the sheets, your thighs, his hair, anything you could to purchase yourself to this earth as he brought you closer and closer to the promised land. finally, with one final lick, you came, crying out his name in a symphony of praises, singing to the high heavens.

he watched as you came done around his tongue, how your breath labored, eyes screwed shut, face flush and face twisted in pure pleasure. it was a magnificent sight to see, you so relaxed and carefree, enjoying every feeling that flooded over you.

when you had finally come down and your breathing began to even out, you opened your eyes to find Keigo still nestled between your thighs, head resting gently on you.

“how are you feeling love?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your hip.

“like i just left this world and came back,” you answered truthfully, laughing at his proud expression.

“are you okay? is there anything i can get for you?”

“no, Keigo, i think i’m okay,” you answered truthfully.

for the first time in a long time, you felt at ease. your body was relaxed, your mind foggy from the pleasure and you had the man you loved staring up at you like you were the only thing in this world that mattered.

“good, i’m glad you’re okay because we’re not done here. lay back down baby bird, let me make you feel good.”

[hotwings0203]

i’m thinking abt Police officer reader arresting scummy smexy Touya. Like he smirks when she arrests him and cuffs his hands to his back. I want him in me fr 😍‼️

Tw:none really, maybe sexual harassment and implied noncon

“Officer 776, we got a black sedan coming up your way on I-10. Do you copy?”

You sign and turn your music off before reaching for your walkie talkie and responding, “Yes, I copy.”

And sure enough, the only car that zooms by at 2 am on a Saturday night is a black sedan. It’s a shame, really, you were enjoying the city view by yourself without anyone to keep an eye on. You’re usually posted for ticket duty, but this time you got promoted for night watch.

You would’ve liked to continue leaning back in your seat and watch the only sky slowly dust with stars, but duty calls as the blue custom headlights go streaking past you.

Begrudgingly, you pull your driving handle back and start going after him, turning your lights on in the process and raising the siren.

You’re not even surprised when it takes some slight honking and almost a two mile mini-chase to get the car to pull over at the side of the gravelly road.

The car in front of you stalls, and you observe the status of the car itself. It’s hard to make out the look of the vehicle in the dark even with your headlights blaring in front of it, but you guess it’s a Mazda sedan or something of the sort just like how your higher-up said.

You take a deep breath and gather your flashlight as you open your door and swing outside.

On the short walk to the driver’s side you notice darker marks on the car…almost like they were scorch marks.

That’s strange.

The window is tinted and up. You roll your eyes in annoyance and give three sharp raps to the glass.

“Open the window and keep your hands on the steering wheel after.”

You wait a moment. It doesn’t budge.

A crease appears in your eyebrows and you quickly glance around. It’s completely deserted, just you and the perpetrator.

“I’m gonna have to ask you once more. Open the window otherwise-“

You cut off as the black glass slowly rolls down, revealing a man with ivory hair and black tips at the ends, his face scarred but astonishingly handsome. His mouth, eyebags, lower half of his face and ears are laced with silver piercings…stitches? Maybe, but whatever. Focus on the task at hand.

“What can I help you with meter maid?” Comes his sleazy, gravelly voice.

You lean down and rest an elbow on his lowered window, squinting at his smug face. His eyes are crinkled with the slight upturn of his lips, imitating a crude smirk.

No ones in the car with him, but you can faintly smell some kind of skunk aroma, and alarm bells go off in your head.

“Sir, do you know how fast you were driving?”

“Fast enough apparently, if I copped a sexy thing like you all for myself.”

He props his chin on his scarred hand and rests his elbow right next to yours, mocking your petulant expression.

You grimace and move your hand away from his. He pouts as you continue berating him.

“It’s 2am on a weekend, sir. Where were you headed off to that you had to be there in such a rush?”

The man sighs loudly and lets his head fall back against his leather seat, lips puffing out and fingers moving to drum against his steering wheel.

“Oh you know, the usual. Fucking bitches, getting money, anything a no-good handsome bastard like me does on the regular. Not like I’d expect you to know, meter maid.” He smirks showing his white canines and slowly looks you up and down.

When you scowl he raises his hands innocently and shrugs.

“Just kidding sweetheart. I was actually on my way to burn a few bodies, I’m a hit man y’know. Very much on the wanted list. I’m good at what I do…if you ever need a man, or a body,just call me.” He winks and his infuriating grin doesn’t falter as you yank open the door and practically throw his lanky figure out of the car.

He doesn’t put up any effort of resistance, just lets you push him down by the neck onto the hood of his car, his body bent as you begin searching him.

You know you smell some type of drug in the car but you’re not actually rooting through his pockets looking for gold. You just want a little bit of saving-face from his sleazy mouth.

He exhales and laughs as his cheek smushes against the black steel, his breath puffing up condensation on the hood while you pat his sides down.

“Put your hands on the car sir, and don’t move unless you want to be taken into a cell overnight.” You mutter as you feel his studded belt, his white tee revealing a toned yet sharp body underneath.

The man sighs in faux annoyance. “What’s with the attitude babe? If you’re feeling me up you might as well lose that cold shoulder. The name’s Touya by the way, I would’ve given it to you sooner if I knew you just wanted to get under my pants.”

You freeze as his words register right when you pay down his inner thighs for any suspicious substance-just following protocol.

Nevertheless, you instinctively shoot your hands to your side and sputter indignantly.

“You-you can’t talk to an officer like that! Are you drunk? Count to 100 for me.” You try to divert the conversations to where you have the upper hand, but you should’ve known Touya wasn’t gonna let it be that easy.

“Sure thing meter maid. It’s 1-800-*******.”

“What?”

“That’s my number. Be grateful, I don’t usually give opps my digits that easily, but you’re giving me a fun time so why not?” He cranes his head toward you and licks his lips seductively.

You’re thankful for the darkness of the night, for you can surely feel the best rise to your cheeks at his blatant…flirting?

“Shut up. Just let me do my job asshole.”

The walkie talkie crackles with static as your supervisor calls in to check on how you’re doing, but before you can speak into it Touya cries out suddenly.

“Help! Oh, help me officer! This meter maid is touching all over my little willy! She has ulterior motives I swear it!” He moans loudly and you snap the device shut before turning to him.

“Are you fucking crazy? Do you want me to get fired?” You hiss, but all you get in return is a maniacal grin.

“Sure, ‘means you can fuck around without any protocol then, right?” The man starts arching his hips up in a perverse manner and shoves his ass back into your torso.

You snarl and reach over his back, grabbing both of his hands and slapping a pair of cuffs on him before manhandling him the other way, his face finally aligned with yours, back against the cool steel.

“Oh, so you like it rough, huh?”

You ignore him and drop to a squat, taking his combat boots off less-than-gently and shaking them out for any real baggie.

“Shoulda’ told me sooner doll, we could’ve gotten this along wayyyy sooner.”

You slowly raise your eyes up and take in an eyeful of his thrusting hips mere inches from your eyes.

He’s looking down at you with one eyebrow raised and his usual smirk adorning his features.

Your blood rushes through your body like you just ran a marathon, and you abruptly stand before him, making sure your shoulder checks his straining bulge on your way up.

He yelps and doubles over, unable to clutch his prized possession.

This time when he straightens up with a twisted scowl, you’re the one grinning at him instead.

“Yeah, you’re right, actually. If you’re gonna get me fired anyways might as well do what I want, right?”

You open his passenger door and give him an innocent smile as he watches you warily.

After about 10 minutes of looting through his car and trunk, sure enough you produce a couple of large ziploc bags filled with white powder and copious amounts of cash under thinly concealed pockets in the back.

You hold all of these findings up, and each one of the revelations are either met with a mocking pout or a careless shrug.

Your skin starts to get hotter despite the chill of the night as none of your efforts to match his energy are met with any fruition. In fact, it seems to rile him up more.

“Looks like you’re getting tired hon. Why not use all that energy on this dick?”

“Hmm, I guess you’re not very good at this job, huh? You’d be better as some kind of stripper. Actually, nah, that’s too good of a job for you, maybe a prostitute stuck in my bed would satisfy you.”

On and on he goes as you practically raid his car, even throwing out belongings that aren’t in any way questionable.

Eventually you reach your tipping point. You make sure he’s watching you as you walk around back towards him and plant your feet squarely in front of him, taking your stance.

You reach into your pocket to produce your walkie, cock your arm back, and throw it as far as you can into the surrounding field.

“Where’s that smile now Touya? You scared you can’t defend yourself without anyone on the other side listening in?”

The ivory haired man shakes his head and sighs as if dealing with a grace loss. Your own brows furrowed as he looks up at you with a sorrowful expression, one that doesn’t quite scream sincere when the car lights reflect an excited gleam in his cerulean eyes.

“Nah, sweetheart. I’m actually more worried for you.”

And with a sound as soft as bell chimes, the tugs his hands at the back for a moment and brings his arms forward, palms spread and showing you cuff-less palms of blue hellfire.

He thinks you look pretty when the blue light reflects pure terror on your shadowed face.

“That was a stupid move, throwing your only hope of salvation away. I wasn’t lying, y’know. I really am a hit man. But I’ll take my own offer.”

As you turn to begin to sprint away he smiles again, this one more earnestly remorseful.

“I’ll be a hit man and a body you need for tonight.”

[extremelyblackandwhite]

illicit affairs

pairing: sheriff lee bodecker x younger! reader

warnings: smut (18+), cheating, age gap

a/n: i love perfumes which smell of daisies so i made the reader use something like that. i do imagine her going for a very much female appearance and aura despite her personality and i can see lee fancying that sort of fragile femininity look paired with her independency. this song is based of illicit affairs from taylor swift but i was also listening to all too well at some points so i think some of that passed onto the writing. hope you enjoy xx

> DRESS

Leave the perfume on the self that you picked up just for him so you leave no trace behind like you don’t even exist. Take the words for what they are a dwindling, mercurial high, a drug that only worked the first few hundred times ... And you wanna scream don’t call me “kid”, don’t call me “baby”, look at this idiotic fool that you made me. You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else. And you know damn well for you I would ruin myself a million little times ...

The snow settled onto the ground, a view she could see from her white window. Sprawled against her window pane, the blue soft fabric of her dress cascaded down her body as she watched the snow fall and become one with the mass of white covering the once green grass of her home. Her feet dangled in anticipation, hair cascading into hairdresser set curls, held away from her face with a pearl barrette. Her fingers dangled across her collarbones, feeling the cold matching pearls which unlike her barrette clip, had been offered to her by Lee on thanksgiving. “A pretty girl like you deserves her own pearls” his voice echoed in her mind whenever her feeling felt the smooth irregular circle shapes of the pearls laying against her collarbones. There was nothing more than she wanted than to wear those pearls to the police winter ball, to show up wearing something he had bought for her with what money he gathered from his fickle Captain position, but she couldn’t. Everyone knew what she had, what jewellery she had, it was all valued at the insurance centre downtown and the pearl necklace definitely wasn’t. Her own pearls rested inside her ivory jewellery box along with the ribbon she was wearing around her waist when she first kissed him, and the comb that held her hair in place whenever she met him during windy nights. 

Her grandmother had left before her, leaving with the grocery shop owner as her date for the ball but she had stayed behind. She had told her she’d rather go alone, blaming her loneliness on the fact all the boys her age were either engaged thus going with their wives and the single ones not wanting to do with her. Of course that was further from the truth and as she watched the snow fall, she imagined Lee’s cruiser driving through the snow, stopping in front of her home and knocking on her door to take her. But those were nothing but impossible scenarios created from the deepest part of her psyche. Looking over her shoulder, the clock on her bedside table shone 9PM into bold red letters. She should get going before her grandmother got worried. Her eyes lingered across her beauty parlour to the silver platter with her perfume, the one she’d picked just for him after hearing how much he loved the smell of daisies. She had to leave it, she couldn’t put any perfume on, she couldn’t take her pearls, she doesn’t exist. At least, she as Lee’s lover does not exist for all that everyone could know and nothing hurt more than the sound of her pearls returning to her ivory box. It was were they belonged, away from everyone, hidden, a mysterious sin secret. 

With her white fur wrapped around her arms, she entered her glossy yet dull red car, pulling the hood up despite the weather. She wanted to feel the cold, she wanted that numbness to hide what she had been feeling for the last months. It was all so exhilarating when it began; the summer walks, laying in the middle of the forest in an old towel as he feed her ripe strawberries, escaping from her grandmother’s house at night and meeting him up under the apple tree in light dresses. However, at time wind down, she started to crave the rest of a relationship, the holding of hands. Instead what she got was clandestine meetings in parking lots, behind the bars or in the middle of the forest when no one could see them. She constantly told herself it was going to eventually be her turn, he was gonna leave Jane for her. Yet, she seemed to constantly fall on the same error every mistress before her did, the mistake of forgetting her place. Stopping in front of the old town hall where the ball was being held, she could see the soft lights, hear the laughter and it made her sick. She didn’t want to go in, she didn’t want to see those happy couples but she had too. She had to put up a show, be the little pedestal trouble starter woman she was expected to be and so she would. 

Stepping into the hall, her eyes immediately found Lee in the corner speaking with the Sheriff, arm draped over Jane’s shoulder while the other hand held a clear cup probably with his favourite drink. Her heart sunk to the same place it always did as she got lost in the dance floor. She knew everyone in this town hall, from the first boy she ever kissed Jonah and his third wife Elizabeth to Billy whom had been prom king with her. There was nothing new anymore and what once felt new and true was now anchoring her inside a fishbowl of images of her own mistakes and unfulfilled life needs. 

      - Hey, Y/N. - Billy called out for her attention. She held onto the fur wrapped around her for comfort as she prepared her facade of a happy girl at a happy party. - Your grandma told me you ain’t gotta a partner for tonight. Could’ve told me, I would’ve taken you. 

      - It’s ok, ain’t like I need a man. - she replied, almost angrily although he deserved no anger from her. - What’s the stage for? We’re getting a band tonight?

      - No, the new sheriff candidates announcing themselves tonight. Prepare for the blood bath. 

      - Sounds interesting. - she spoke out, her voice getting mumbled out as the mic’s sound hurt her and everyone else’s ear. The police chief stood there in his best attire, holding a small piece of papers, his fat thumbs hitting the mic to gather everyone’s attention. He already had their attention merely by wearing a cowboy’s hat with a formal suit. 

       - Now folks, we all now how much we gonna miss our good old Sheriff but it’s time to elect a new one. - his southern accent was pronounced, too pronounced, cartoonish even. Y/N remembered laughing as a child when she first heard him speak only to immediately shut up when her grandmother looked her way with a look which left room for no questions. She herself had barely developed an accent, her grandmother still very keen on instilling in her the education she herself had gotten. However, the longer she spent with Lee, the more it would sometimes slip; one or two words, nothing major. - Of course, Leroy is running again.

     - I don’t know why he tries. - Y/N whispered to Billy, concealed laughing smile behind her hand. 

     - You gotta admit it’s a good thing to imagine. Damned Leroy and his prostitutes running the town? We’d be forgotten by God.

     - We’re already forgotten by God. We were banished from the garden of Eden, don’t you remember? - she teased, always enjoying to toy around with the religion Knockemstiff was so hang up on. - We’re probably direct descendants. 

     - You ought to keep that mouth shut if you don’t wanna get in trouble. - he warned yet it went through deaf ears. Y/N liked stirring it, specially when it came to things which were so analytically flawed. 

The regular list of candidates continued to go from officers to common folk who all believed they could make the town better. At least that was all they said they wanted to get some votes but at the end of the day, they just wanted to control the town with an iron fist. Do what they wanted without anyone question it. She couldn’t blame it, humans are hardwired to go crazy for power and let it consume them so she just let it pass. She knew all the candidates, they were always the same. Leroy, Matthew, Edwards ... all the common ones, she even wondered why they kept announcing it. Those three competing for the sheriff position was as certain as the sun coming up each morning. 

      - The last candidate is our cap’tain Bodecker. - her head snapped to the stage as every sound seemed to dim until she was surrounded by pure silence. All she could hear was the buzz from her ears as she watched him climb up the stairs to the stage, shaking the chief’s hands. 

Everything seemed to be stuck in slow motion yet her mind was running faster than a shot bullet. The clapping was slow, everything was silent yet she could see their hands slowly clap and their lips moving in whispers. Her eyes roamed the crowd finding Jane right in front of the stage, looking up at him with adoration at the possible place she could possible hold; the sheriff’s wife. The slow motion ended with a loud crash and suddenly everything seemed just too fast. She ignored Billy’s pleas for her attention and moved straight to the small plastic tables covered in burgundy towels to make it look fancier where all the drinks and food were being held. One of her only friends from high school Mary was the one in charge, happily serving food and drinks to anyone who asked.

     - Hi Y/N. - she always looked like the perfect housewife and that was always what she wanted to be. Beautiful, bountiful blonde hair with a few flowers matching her pink dress. Despite it all, she was always nice to her even with their different life goals. 

     - Hey Mary. How’s Paul? I heard from rumours you two had quite a nice honeymoon. St.Louis, right? 

     - Yes. He booked us a nice honeymoon suite, it had flowers and those heart shaped beds and chocolates. It was real nice, I’m hoping to be pregnant soon. What about you? Your grandmother said you came alone. You could’ve told me, my brother would’ve taken you.

    - That’s alright, Mary. I don’t intend to stay for long ... Uhm, can I have a drink?

    - Of course. Sidecar, as per usual? 

    - I think I’ll just have a double cognac, please. Or maybe some gin ... whatever can make me dizzy the fastest.

    - Everything, okay?

    - Just need to forget some stuff, it’ll be okay. - she forced a smile. At least half that phrase was true. Mary served her up with her best gin and she returned to the dance floor, trying to blend with the rest of the attendees, however her baby blue dress was much too different from anything else in town. 

Y/N thought she’d be best outside where no one could see her and so she left, avoiding Billy who kept asking for her. She leaned against the old wood of the town hall, mascara running down her cheeks, and gin glass on the other one. She looked like the perfect warning tale of why you should not mess her married men. She knew better, she knew so much better but she still did it, like the idiotic little fool she seemed to be. Y/N sighed, the air condensing in the air as she drank from the glass.

     - Pull yourself together, Y/N. - she looked to see side, her grandmother standing outside with the look she used to give her when Y/N embarrassed her as a little girl. - What did you expect?

     - I’m just not having a good day, nana.

     - You’re hanging around with Captain Bodecker that’s what you’re doing.

     - What?

     - Don’t play innocent with me, Y/N. You’re just like your mother and I’ve raised your mother so I’d know. I saw you leave in his car last week. Do you want to defend yourself?

     - Is it even worth it? - she took a sip out of her drink. - What do you want me to say? 

     - I want you to pull yourself together and go inside. You better have this finished off before those elections start. I will not have my granddaughter be a home wrecker.

Y/N ignored it. There was nothing her grandmother could say that hurt more than what she was already feeling. She watched the snow fall from the cover of the banner covering the town hall, cold and icy yet somehow warmer than her. The drink didn’t last forever and although it was much stronger than what she was used to, she didn’t feel the slightest bit dizzy. It was if the universe was punishing her for her choices. She shook her head, leaving the glass onto one of the windows. She’d be better off at home and she’d already made her appearance. If someone asked where she was, she could’ve blamed it on their drunkness. Opening her little clutch, she started fishing for her keys through a sea of change, makeup and receipts. 

    - You better not be thinking of driving after you just drank. - she turned her head to see Lee with his hands on his waist, playfully smiling at her. His smile faded as he noticed the streaks of mascara from her eyes to her jaw. - Did that shithead Billy say something? 

     - No ... Lee, I wanna go home okay. - she sighed. - Can you just pretend you didn’t see me drink?

     - I was hoping we could spend the night together. Rent a hotel room outside town. A real nice place, with a pool and some room service. My treat of course.

     - I ... We can’t, Lee. Your wife is inside as she’s gonna notice you’re not there and you’re not home. 

     - She’s going home early. Jane’s been taking a few sleeping pills. She’s down for the night, won’t even notice. - he took a few steps closer to her, knowing everyone was too drunk to even remember. - I was waiting for you to come greet me, congratulate me. I can’t believe my girl wanted to leave before showing me how pretty she looked. 

     - You didn’t tell me you were running for Sheriff. - he cupped her face, thumb caressing her cheek. - You said it was a silly position.

     - Yeah but ... it’s a Sheriff. I could become Mayor, ya know. The old sheriff thinks I’d be good for it. - he scratched the back of his neck, something he always did whenever he was nervous or was confronted by something he did not expect. Y/N had learned to read him and knew him better than her own favourite books. - C’mon, kid. It’s a night worth celebrating, don’t you think?

     - Don’t call me kid. - she shot her head his way, his word hitting a particular hurt spot which she didn’t realise she had. 

     - Hey, I’m not trying to mock ya. - he rose his hands. - What’s wrong, huh baby? Hm? Tell me sugar, I hate it when you’re upset. Besides, if it was that Billy kid I’ve been wanting to give him a good beating.

    - Don’t call me baby, either. - she sighed, throwing her purse inside the car, before turning to him. - Billy didn’t do anything I’m just ... tired.

    - I’ll drive you home, then.

    - I don’t wanna go home either. - she pushed her hair from her forehead, looking at the ground. The snow engulfed her feet and her shoes, yet it might as well have engulfed her entire being. Lee noticed her lip trembling and how her free hand was trying to stop tears from falling down. He looked behind him, the town hall door shut, before taking his jacket off, draping it over her shoulders, and opening the car door for her. 

 Y/N daren’t look him in the eye, instead sitting in the passenger seat as he pushed the hood of her car up. After all, most people did not enjoy driving in the snow with the hood up. She didn’t know where he was taking her and for all it mattered she didn’t want to know. If he was driving her to her killing location, it sounded much better than having to work out through the bubbling feelings in her tummy. Y/N didn’t even noticed how much she was crying until the tears started streaming so fast they were falling onto the palms of her hands like diamond daggers. She leaned her head against his shoulder, watching the road ahead through the blurry orbs of her own eyes, trying to find some warmth through him. The drive seemed endless and her mind rushed in an even more endless way as she considered all her choices til now. She found it unbearable how not guilty she didn’t feel about it. She could still remember the feeling of the cold water against her body and his lips against hers, being tangled in his bed sheets while he drank a beer, his grunts as he thrusted into her inside his patrol car. She remembered every detail either it being lust or romantic but most importantly she remembered how he looked at her. It was almost as through rose coloured glasses, most of the times agreeing with her pessimist view of the town she was in. Lee looked down on her, watching her perfect hair break through the gelled curls she had set down. He never liked the polished look anyway, he loved to see her walk in her white dresses and freshly washed hair flowing with the wind. This woman sat next to him was gorgeous but he preferred his Y/N, he preferred the woman who would poke fun of casualty and rush into the woods with her nightgown. This woman next to him was pretty yes but she seemed tainted by a sadness he could see yet couldn’t help. He didn’t want his Y/N to be the slightest bit sad. She did not deserve it. She was too pure, too young to be consumed by the loneliness, darkness and sadness that came with being an adult. Yet again, he had to start learning the young woman she was wouldn’t stay young forever. He wanted to know how to help. he wanted to be the man who wakes up next to her on summer mornings and winter evenings but life is not how we plan it out to be.

She watched the snow fall from her window as “You are my sunshine” played on the background from her radio. Looking up to him, his eyes were glued to the road, the sign of leaving Knockemstiff way past them and the hotel on the horizon. She called it the Heartbreak hotel, with its red walls and luxurious nature. A more fancy place for those who wanted to give a better night to their mistresses but that was not why she called it the heartbreak hotel. It was due to the fact she ended up crying every time she or he left. While inside those walls, she could pretend they were Mr. and Mrs. Bodecker, young couple moved out of Knockemstiff on a romantic getaway yet she wasn’t Mrs. Bodecker, Jane was. She had seen who the future sheriff’s wife was and it was not and it would never be her. He stopped the car in the parking lot, looking at her who was lost in thought, leaned against his shoulder.

   - Come on, sugar. What is it? - Lee kissed the top of her head. - The heck happened in that Town Hall?

    - Just being silly, Lee. - she shook her head, faking a smile. - Just don’t like parties one bit.

    - I hate ‘em too, sugar. All show no action. Besides no party is a party without my baby. - he hooked his ring finger under her chin, softly pulling it up. She tried not to look at the moonlight illuminating the silver band around his finger, a symbol he belonged to someone else and she knew it. She had seen the wedding photo on his secretary, a much younger Lee with a much younger Jane with the facade of a happy marriage. Thinking about it always made her sick and ever since seeing that picture she couldn’t bring herself to do so. - Come on, let’s get you a bubble bath, yeah?

She followed him into the hotel almost in a zombie like state until the reception. The talk was a dance she had danced before, it was all the same. Lee would present money in cash so it wouldn’t show up on his credit card statement. He would sign in with a fake address but with his own name and no one would question it. After all, the staff wanted money, they didn’t care if it was an illicit affair or not. To be honest, she didn’t care much anymore.

     - Mrs. Bodecker? Mrs. Bodecker? - the receptionist called out to her but it didn’t even register until she was looking her into the eyes. Mrs. Bodecker, she was definitely not. - Would you like a complementary tea? You look cold.

     - No, it’s okay. - she smiled while Lee grabbed the keys. His hand wrapped itself around hers, leading her over to the elevator.

God, she wanted him. She really did, he thought to himself. It was an unbelievable feeling to have someone who loved him back, someone who always had encouraging words to tell him, someone who would stay after a fight. He thought and imagine what it would’ve been like if she was born earlier, god he would’ve courted her and would’ve married her the second they were out of high school. Sadly, the woman he loved was born 10 years after and he met her when he was married. He led her to the 13th hotel room and closed the door behind them.

     - Things are gonna be different when I’m sheriff. No more sneaking around, no one will dare  say a word. I can move to Brewer Heights, heck, I can buy two houses, one just for you and me.

    - Lee ...

    - Where are your pearls, sugar? You know I love to see you with them, makes you look so pretty.

    - You know I can’t wear them in public, Lee. I am not your ... - she shouldn’t say that, she should not let those words out. - They’re not insured under my name, people would comment about it.

     - You worry too much. - he pushed the fur that covered her arms down, placing a small kiss on her elbow. - My little over-thinker.

     - One of us has too, Captain Bodecker.

     - How about some champagne? - he pointed towards the champagne bottle in the ice bucket by the dresser before walking towards it, raising it so he could inspect the brand. He longed for the finest things in life, no longer wanting to be that middle to low class man he’d been forced to be. Being Sheriff, Mayor someday was going to be really something, it’d be his chance.

    - I’m not 21 yet, Captain.

    - Only a month til you are, kid. - he filled two long crystal flutes, handing it over to them. - By then I should stop calling you kid, huh?

    - You shouldn’t call me kid, now. - she took a sip of the golden liquid, hoping it would take away her jealousy. Lee hummed, leaned over to kiss the crock of her neck, climbing up to her jaw in a move that was sure to leave marks. It was okay for him to leave marks on her, she was unmarried, young but on him? Sometimes she wanted to, sometimes she wanted to mark his pale plump skin as a possession, one that screamed Jane might have the wedding ring but she had the man. Yet, she couldn’t. - You look so handsome tonight.

    - You’re my worse critic. - he smirked, placing his glass on the bedside table before pulling her chin towards him, placing a soft kiss on her plump, painted lips. - God, you can’t even imagine how fucking hard I got when you walked in.

    - Such gentle behaviour. - she teased, fingers lightly tracing the skin of his face. He moaned, leaning in to kiss her again. - I wore it just for you. Blue. I knw you like it.

    - You’re always such a good girl for me. - he started to remove his jacket, pushing on her chest lightly so she laid against the luxurious bed.

The alcohol sure did a better job than her about making her forget what she was doing it. The alcohol and his kiss, his touch on her skin made her forget the clench in her heart when she saw Jane Bodecker clap once they said his name. It made her forget she couldn’t hear perfume around him unless he showered, it made her forget. Both of her moaned through the kiss, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that it was a sin. Maybe that’s why it taste so sweet, the sin, the thrill. None of them cared really and all he wanted to do now was hold her, touch her, look at her.

    - You are so beautiful. - he spoke, more to himself than to her specifically, leaning down on the bed as he spread her legs, taking his place in between them which was so familiar to him. Lee ran his knuckles through the middle of her folds, cold hands making her shiver. - Ev’ry darn day I wake up and I think, I got myself the most beautiful woman in the world.

Her eyes were glued to the ceiling, the white paint of it engulfing her as his hands caressed her thighs. All she could feel were his cold hands massaging the skin of her thighs, spreading them apart and giving him full access to her. His lips attacked her core, always chapped which made her feel so good, it made her know it was him giving her that pleasure. She moaned out loud as he dwelled in like a starved man, her head relaxing against the pillow. There was never any mercy with him, he teased her like he owned her, focusing on her clit while licking her folds. He had her exactly where he wanted her - starving for him.

   - You’re gonna see. - he mumbled out while he relentlessly ate her out. - When I’m sheriff there will be no more hidin’. No one gonna dare say anythin’ about it.

   - Lee, please ... no foreplay. - she whined, begged even as he stopped his motions. His eyes curiously searched for hers, hands pulling his body up as he stood on top of her. - I just want to feel you.

   - Weren’t you feelin’ me, sugar?

   - You know what I mean, Lee. - she wrapped her hands around his neck, head cocked to the side. - I don’t want any foreplay today.

    - Oh sugar ... - he chuckled leaning down to kiss her collarbone. - You’re just a cock slut for me, aren’t ya? Can’t just wait for me to treat ya right ain’t it, baby?

     - Lee, please. - she whined, hands wavering over his police issued chunky belt. Lee smirked, holding her hand before she could do anything. Y/N pouted, head leaning against her shoulder. - C’mon.

   - But baby, you look so pretty when you’re begging. - he returned to kiss her neck, leaving marks which were sure to become hickeys tomorrow but she didn’t care. No one was going to see it. - I was expecting you to come congratulate me in the way you always do, maybe in the back of the town hall. Hoping someone would catch us so they’d see you’re my girl.

    -  Lee ... -  she whined as he kept kissing her neck and collarbones. - Please.

    - Tell me what you want, baby. You know I do everything you want. - he rose from her neck, toothy grin as he leaned down to kiss her plump, pink painted lips. - Tell me you want my big fat cock. I know you do, baby. Tell me how much you need it. 

  - Lee ... please, need you.

  - You have me, baby, tell me what you need. Tell me what you want. - his knuckles ran through the middle of her folds again. - You’re so wet, baby. Just tell me what you want, c’mon

  -  Lee ... please. - she looked at him with those wide eyes that could get someone to commit murder for her, as he pushed down his trousers. - I want you to fuck me with your ... big fat cock, Capitain. 

  - Oh, baby ... - he leaned his forehead against hers as he pushed his cock past her entrance, eyes shut tight  as he tried to keep himself sane at the mere feeling of her walls contracting against him. His lips found hers as he shed himself fully into her. Her hand searched for his, as Lee slowly rolled his hips against hers, basking in the mere high that was being inside of her. - You okay, baby? 

  - Yeah. ... fuck, move. - she whined as he removed himself from her and pushed back in, slowly starting to rock into her as he always did. The little tease. Her hand clenched his as he speed up his thrusts, lips returning to hers in a messy, moaned filled kiss. All she could hear was the sound of skin against skin and interrupted breathing. - Lee, fuck.

  - I know, baby. - he laughed, returning to kiss her the way he liked as her walls started to clench more forcefully against his member, milking him for all he was worth. His free hand grabbed her hip as he further sped up against her, bruising her skin as his breaths got more raggedy. He bite onto her neck as he felt his control over his own orgasm disappear. 

  - Lee, fuck! - she moaned, almost raising off the bed as her own orgasm washed over her. Her head fell against the pillow, sluggish as he continued to thrust into her until ropes and ropes of cum painted her walls. He chuckled mid grunt, holding her against him as he turned around in bed. 

  - You all fucked up, aren’t ya, sugar? - he kissed the top of her head. - You’re gonna see, sugar. Things are gonna be so much better.

  - Right ... - she cuddled against his chest. - Hm ... Lee can you drive me back home early on?

  - Early shift?

  - Yeah.

  - Okay, sugar.

The morning was a harsh breaker of dreamy hazes and just like that she was back to the place where she always was, in her home, surrounded by the scent of the perfume she had bought just for him. She sat on her dress, taking the necklace he had given her from the little mother of pearl seashell shaped box and holding them against her chest. She loved him, she really did. Some people had their downfalls and hers was painted onto her neck and held by her hands. He was her downfall. 

The sun was high up on the snowy midday in Knockemstiff and once again Lee had been resigned to desk duty after the Sheriff not taking it too lightly he decided to run without his permission. Normally he would’ve been upset but he knew, he knew he was close to winning and then he could throw away those stupid hotels and just get her a little house close to him. God, he couldn’t fucking wait.

    - Captain Bodecker, someone here for you. - his secretary knocked on his door. - Mary Gillies, sir. 

    - Mary Gillies? - he knew her to be a friend of Y/N’s, perhaps her only friend other than that punk Billy. - Send her in.

    - Good afternoon, captain. - she said as she walked into his office. - I’m so sorry to be bothering but Y/N ...

    - Is she alright? - he interrupted her.

    - Yes, well ...  - she rummaged through her bag to find a cushioned envelope with his name on it. - She told me to give you this.

   - What is it?

   - I don’t know, captain. I must get going, my husband is waiting for me.

   - Of course. Thank you, Mrs. Gillies.

He waited for the woman to be out of his office and for the door to be shut for him to open the envelope. The minute he opened the envelope, pearls fell into his desk, the same pearls he had given Y/N followed by a small note in the dusty pink stationary that normally laid on her dresser. Turning it around, he saw the words he’d been dreading to read or hear ever since he met her. I’m sorry, Lee. He threw the letter on his desk before getting up from his desk as fast as he could, ignoring the calls from his colleagues as he got into his cruiser. Damned, Brewer Heights, why couldn’t it be closer?

He approached her home fast and closed the door as fastly as he ran up to the door. Her hag of a grandmother was possibly at church and he had learned where they kept the spare key; behind a violet pot. His heart was beating as fast as a deer on a hunt as he climbed up the stairs and found the once filled room was empty, with only a perfume bottle on her empty dresser. He observed the whole room as if he were in a nightmare, sitting on her bed as he clenched the pearls he had given her not so long ago, the smell of daisies in the air as some song played on the still turned on radio.

You never know dear how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away ...

taglist: @lookiamtrying​ 

[enbylesbianism]

ANY WAY THE WIND BLOWS: Simon Snow trilogy wrapped! (review)

Hi, there! It took me a while to finish this post, as I could talk about it for... a long time (not necessarily a good thing), but I got it! I like praise, so if anyone wants to tell me I did a good job... Also, I might edit this post later on. I don’t remember anything else I’d like to add, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I did after posting. My brain does not obey me. Anyways, off to it! By the way, I won’t give this book a real rating.

While this is a review on Any Way the Wind Blows, I intend on analysing some points of the overall series too. The book starts where Wayward Son left off, the end of the road trip, Simon and Baz having problems in their relationship, Penelope helping Shepard with his curse... and the whole situation of the NowNext vampires. Rainbow Rowell only seems to remember the first part. That leaves us with the second book of the series ignored almost completely, with the exception of Simon and Baz’s feelings as well as Shepard’s existence.

Don’t get me wrong, aspects of the book are mentioned, but never in a truly important way. Lamb, the Vampire King, is mentioned by Simon, but only focusing on his and Baz’s relationship, never about the fact that there are a bunch of vampires (supposedly ‘evil’) in the U.S. but I guess what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right? I could count on one hand the times the NowNext vampires were mentioned (like, literally, this isn’t an exaggeration, I looked up ‘NowNext’ on the e-book and only got five results), all of them either being one of them considering telling someone else about it, then not following through with it, or dismissing it as a concern for Lamb. Which makes the plot of Wayward Son completely useless for the trilogy. Now, that wouldn’t matter as much if everything else had been properly developed, but we definitely can’t say that.

We are introduced to a brand new, poorly developed villain, Smith-Smith Richards, whose character arc is as ridiculous as his name. He’s one of the fake Chosen Ones that started appearing after the events of Carry On (and the only one to be mentioned and/or defeated, for that matter). It becomes clear that presenting as Simon Snow-ish is part of his brand, especially when Baz describes him as looking like the Netflix adaptation version of Simon, and that he was raised and guided by his uncle, who’s just... there. I don’t think it would’ve been hard to make him manipulating Smith-Smith into believing he’s the prophetic savior of the Magickal World, which would not only make both of their characters more interesting, but it could also serve as a parallel of Simon’s relationship with the Mage. Richards also has some special powers such as increasing a mage’s magic for a limited amount of time, but taking it away afterwards, as well as making someone immune from spells. It’s worth saying those aren’t skills that are usual in the Magickal World, or else there wouldn’t be so much confusion and shock from people (specially Baz and Penny, who would definitely have heard of something like this before), but we get no explanation on why or how Richard has them.

Then, we have the Salisbury’s. We, as readers, already know Lucy and Davy are Simon’s parents, making Ruth his grandmother. It’s noticeable that Rowell builds up to that discovery, by making Simon get along with Ruth instantly, him thinking about Lucy a lot etc. It makes us excited to read the part where they actually figure it out, to know how Simon would deal with that, him dealing with the fact that he’s the Mage’s son and the fact that, technically, he killed his father. I suppose that’s the point, but actually getting to that part was incredibly underwhelming. The way they discovered about Simon—being able to lift a family sword—hadn’t been mentioned or hinted at before. One would’ve expected Simon, who’s particularly interested in swords as it’s mentioned many times throughout the series, to notice a freaking Excalibur at the Salisbury’s place before. 

And speaking of noticing things: when it’s finally revealed that Simon is Lucy’s son and the Mage’s heir, Baz pointed out the uncanny similarities between his boyfriend and the deceased Watford principal. “Those narrow eyes. That tilt of his head. I thought... I thought he’d learned it. Was imitating it.” + “Merlin, Simon, you even look like him.”  (Any Way the Wind Blows, chapter 86) Simon was the Mage’s protégé for years and I assume the Magickal authorities knew that he was the one to inherit all of his money and personal belongings, but no one, in the whole British Magickal community, thought about them being related? I refuse to believe there were no conspiracy theorist teachers at Watford or that Mitali or even the Pitch’s alongside everyone who was against the Mage didn’t at least check to know if there was something behind those characteristics. Baz literally said (chapter 88), “I think it’s undeniable. I’d cast ‘Flesh and blood’ on them, but it would bounce right off of Snow (...)”, so there is a spell for that. Plus, we didn’t even have one whole chapter of Simon dealing with this information! The chapters (no more than five, out of ninety-one) were divided between Simon, Baz and Lady Ruth’s POVs. He’s the main character, so one would think he’d get more development.

Another point that felt rushed was the romance. While Simon and Baz’s relationship wasn’t, as it’s been a topic Rowell has explored for three books (we’re not counting Fangirl here, as their ‘participation’ on it was minor and their personalities weren’t as consistent as in the trilogy. Not that it is that consistent there), the others just felt like she wanted everyone to finish the trilogy with a pair. I’ll start with Shepard and Penny. There were fans who liked them together before Any Way the Wind Blows, but it wasn’t hinted at—it was more like a fandom thing. I personally like them as a couple, but it could have had development and, maybe, foreshadowing in Wayward Son. I mean, they did fight monsters during a huge part of a road trip together.

The next one I’ll talk about is Agatha and Niamh. I love them, don’t get me wrong. Actually, it’s precisely because I love them that I wish they’d gotten a better treatment. Niamh wasn’t introduced before Any Way the Wind Blows. I get why she wasn’t introduced in Carry On—it was interesting to see a character who wasn’t caught up in Simon and Baz’s drama during the school years—but a hint of her existence could’ve been left in Wayward Son. Agatha is an important character on it, and a mention of her father training an aspiring veterinary could’ve fit somewhere, as a hint, maybe. (Also, Lucy, the dog, being absolutely forgotten during this book when a lot of Agatha’s time is spent in a veterinary clinic...) Besides, we could get the vibes from them, but after they kissed, there was barely any content. We didn’t get them calling each other ‘girlfriend’ (or if they even like that label at this point), or the aftermath of the kiss, or a POV from Niamh. Or Niamh appearing the epilogue? If Agatha was taking care of the goats, I’m sure Niamh would have a part in that too. Still on Agatha’s character, but not on Niamh’s, it felt like Rainbow Rowell was setting up for aromantic and asexual Agatha, specially because of this quote: “It was like she'd pulled the feeling right out of my heart. I could have kissed her. (I still wish sometimes that I wanted to.) (That would feel like an answer to... the question of me. Then I could say, 'Oh, thats who I am. That's why I've been so confused.')” (Wayward Son, chapter 4).

And I was leaving the best (I need to be sure everyone knows I mean this sarcastically) of the romance topic for the end: Fiona and Nicodemus. It’s just... so forced and undeveloped. Not even because, to me, they’re both gay as hell. There was just... such a lack of development! I don’t think we had any interaction between the both of them before Any Way the Wind Blows. There was no foreshadowing or why would Fiona, a vampire hunter from a family of vampire hunters, would marry... a vampire! I’d already find it weird to see fanfiction of them as a crackship, but it’s canon?! Like, canon as in they’re going to get married and use Fiona and Natasha’s mother’s ring? Seriously, nothing will take from me that this is a lavender marriage (as I’ve already discussed with my best friend, which inspired this post of theirs.)

I’d also like to speak about a topic that’d been hinted throughout the series, especially post-Carry On, which is the criticism towards the Magickal Community in the U.K.. That criticism is very much embodied in Shepard’s character. It’s explicitly said that the British mages have some kind of supremacy towards other supernatural beings, such as vampires for example, gatekeeping literal magic. Up until relatively recently, mages with weak links with magic couldn’t attend Watford (and that’s a major plot point in the final book) and there’s a denial towards any other kind of magic except the ones that are part of their craft. Even within the Magickal community itself, there are more important families that are more likely to succeed, like Natasha receiving criticism for marrying Malcolm, as a Pitch. It felt pointless not to tackle the issues you’ve set up yourself in your own universe. Penelope has very strict morals related to magickal law and beliefs, something that she could’ve deconstructed, especially considering Shepard, her love interest, symbolises that. Another point related to that is, the trilogy is very clearly heavily inspired by Harry Potter, where many of those points are very clear (e.g. wizard supremacy in relation to other species, such as werewolves and domestic elves and the status quo that makes some traditionally magical families more influential than others, like the Malfoy’s vs. the Weasley’s), so it’s not an easily forgettable concept.

The series also had a lot of inconsistencies. The one I’ve seen talked about more often is Simon and Agatha’s... intimacy status, let’s call it that. Simon���s whole thing in the first book was that he struggled controlling his magic when experiencing intense emotions, which makes it hard to believe that he managed to have sex withount an... accident. Besides that, though, there’s this quote, “She (...) presses a kiss into my temple. No one has ever kissed me there. No one has ever kissed me anywhere but on my mouth” (Carry On, Chapter 27), but in Any Way the Wind Blows, when Simon’s about to have his wings cut, Agatha says, “It’s a strange feeling to look at someone’s chest and know it’s nothing to do with you anymore, but still to remember kissing every inch.” (Chapter 14)

So, we have established that Rainbow Rowell’s work, both character and plot driven, is flawed. “But we got the characters interacting for the closure of the series, at least!” Well... we got interactions between the canon romantic relationships, yeah. But besides that, we didn’t get much. There were no interactions between Agatha and Penny, or Shepard with Simon and Baz. Or Penny and her mother figuring stuff out. Or literally anyone with a therapist. And not gonna lie, the interaction we got between Baz and Dev was underwhelming, to say the least. Niall is nowhere to be seen, too.

Rainbow Rowell’s writing is beautiful: she writes poetic lines that make the book seem perfect at first glance, if you don’t think about it for too long. Her words are very shiny, but once you get use to that light and see what’s behind them, what’s between one shiny quote and another, it has so many flaws and plot holes that it reads like a first draft. There are many concepts in there that are genuinely good: the rest of the trilogy focused on the protagonist dealing with the trauma of being a child soldier instead of being entirely an adventure, Simon being unlabelled, a fake Chosen One that gives mages fake hope... Those are all good ideas, but so poorly explored that, despite being an entire book/trilogy, it still feels like a writing pitch or something among those lines.

I felt iffy about other things during my reading of the series, but they aren’t exactly plot points, so I’ll just list them below:

Mitali, Penny’s mom, including ‘discovering your bisexuality’ as a mid-life crisis thing 

As I’ve seen people talking about biphobia/bi erasure in the books, I’ll be including this post that features both unlabelled and bisexual individuals talking about the topic (it isn’t my place, as a lesbian, to talk about this, that’s why I decided not to do so.)

Romanticising of Baz’s suicide (a.k.a. chapter 61) in the first book. If you’re not in a good place mentally, like I was when I first read Carry On, I hope you know that a kiss or romance doesn’t help any mental illness you or others might have. Don’t let anyone use your guilt to manipulate you. Paraphrasing Alice Oseman in their graphic novel Heartstopper, love can’t cure a mental illness.

Any Way the Wind Blows was... very horny. I can’t point out how this makes the book bad exactly, but it wasn’t something I enjoyed. One of Rainbow Rowell’s strongest skills is that her quotes, when loose, are good. They tend to be poetic and just beautiful, overall. But in the... explicit scenes, these skills were barely used, and I felt like I was reading NSFW tweets off of someone’s private account on Twitter. Besides, the first two books of the series weren’t written like that, so the change was very sudden.

The older people could’ve been more explored. Penelope and Mitali’s relationship and how similar the both of them are compared to each other, Daphne and Professor Bunce’s insecurities and why they believed in Smith-Smith, Fiona, Nico, and Ebb... Also, the Mage and Lucy. We could’ve had more on them, y’know. 

The pop culture references. They made the book read even more like Twitter’s feed. Honestly, if I wanted to read prompts and nice ship content alongside memes from Twitter with some horny thoughts sprinkled all around, I would’ve opened the Twitter app. Or Tumblr, Instagram, whatever.

The POV switching felt lazy to me at times. It’s nice to know how different characters are experiencing that situation, yes, but sometimes, like during the discovery that Simon is a Salisbury, it read as if Rowell wanted to create tension, but couldn’t think of any other way to do it except the switching around.

Narrative wise, I think Simon and Baz should’ve spent more time broken up. 

[potteresque-ire]

hello, ily metas! thank you for taking the time for them. i hope you dont mind an ask with two follow up questions to your metas i'm curious about: 1) has mxtx rly been sentenced? i have seen others also share this news but other fans have quickly dismissed and gotten pissed at these reports for being fake news that are bad for mxtx, and as fearmongering. 2) for those who want to support yizhan but not the ccp, do you have advice how to navigate fan support and interaction with their media?

Hello! I apologise for the late reply!  You’ve brought up some interesting points, so please forgive me for responding with an essay.

First, about MXTX — This is a follow-up to this post.

Unfortunately, this is all we got—all everyone has got about MXTX’s current situation: on 2020/11/10, she was sentenced in Hangzhou Shang Cheng District’s People’s Court (杭州市上城區人民法院). No details were given on her verdict, due to “人民法院認為不宜在互聯網公布的其它情形”  (“The People’s Court decided it inappropriate to announce further details on the internet”). Here’s a link with the screenshot that showed all the information released about the case that day.

There are enough copies of similar screenshots to this one online, with the differences dependent on where the publisher pulled the information from the same website: 中國裁判文書網, an online archive of verdicts run by China Supreme People’s Court. There’re few reasons, therefore, to believe the information on the screenshot was fake. The link I used was Sina’s Financial News, which I believe is trustworthy enough for China’s standard.

It is also important to note, of course, that two scenarios may still render this screenshot irrelevant. 1) The verdict, which was not mentioned in the screenshot, was “not guilty” and 2) the name listed in the case, 袁依楣, was not MXTX at all.

Few have seemed to suspect 2) to be a possibility. Her real name might have been prior knowledge among some fans, or the combination of her surname and city of residence. 1) has been the where the concern / debate is.

I included China’s rate of conviction in the original post for this reason: acquittal is exceedingly rare (<0.1%) for the arrested in China. This short article discussed some reasons.

So, is it possible that MXTX is now a free woman? Yes. Is it likely? Not at all.

Still, since the probability that MXTX is imprisoned isn’t 100%, is spreading this news smearing her name? Fear-mongering?

I can only answer for myself, Anon, but my answer is no for both questions, which is why I’ve felt comfortable posting about her case. MXTX’s alleged “crimes” are things we already knew she did, or common practices among Chinese IP writers. We know she penned MDZS and other BL works; we know MDZS, in particular, has an 18+ element. She was said to have sold merch based on her works, but that wasn’t unusual at all for writers in Jinjiang, where she published her writing. Even those who don’t like her have seemed to agree that it was her writing that got her into trouble, not some other crimes she could’ve committed.

IMO, a guilty verdict doesn’t tell us as much about her as it does about the judicial system, the business practices of her country. It’s worth re-mentioning that media giants such as Tencent are closely tied to the government; Tencent’s WeChat, for example, is part of China’s Great Firewall and is used for surveillance, for censorship and removal of political dissidents. What MXTX’s case hints at is this: the government has (very likely) convicted her, while its close allies are continuing to use her works—works that got her into legal trouble in the first place—to make money. Some fans of MXTX have questioned if the courts have censored the details of the case to save the embarrassment of the rich and powerful, calling what has happened to MXTX 人血饅頭 (“human blood steamed buns”), an idiom used to describe the act of profiting out of someone elses’ life.

As for fear-mongering, here are my thoughts ~ it would’ve been fear-mongering if the public has access to the facts, and not years after they happen. Specifically, it would’ve been fear-mongering to leak the rumours of MXTX’s sentencing, when the judicial system is transparent and the case details will soon be published for all to see. Why? Because “fear” comes from the unknown, and “-monger” is the unnecessary promotion, stirring-up of this fear.

To promote, stir up anything, one needs a reference level. The reference level in this scenario is this: what is the level of fear if the facts about MXTX’s (and other BL writers’) situation are known? Of course, this knowledge doesn’t make MXTX’s experience any easier or more just; it doesn’t cause her less fear. However, she isn’t the target audience of this likely-to-be-true rumour. The target audience is the public and in particular, those who consume and/or generate BL material online.

What is the level of fear among this population if the facts about MXTX’s (and other BL writers’) situation are known? It’s the (relative) comfort in knowing the government’s stance on what they do: how the administration feels about BL, 18+ BL, and their distribution methods. The comfort comes from having the right information to decide how to act accordingly. For example, if I’m a BL writer based in China and I know the court has found MXTX guilty of bypassing publishing houses but not of writing M/M romance, then I’ll know to not produce paper versions of my writing, but I can keep writing.

This reference level of fear is unavailable here, however, since the government has decided to withhold all details about the case. Without this reference level, fear-mongering becomes a ... difficult to define concept.

Are these likely-to-be-true rumours agents of fear, or are they hints on how to survive in a country that lacks transparency?

Continuing with the example of I being a Chinese BL writer, since I cannot expect to hear more facts about MXTX, this rumour is all I’ve got in choosing what to do with my hobby, in deciding whether it is safe to continue. As I’m aware that a rumour isn’t a fact, I first research on the rumour’s likelihood of truth (similar to what I’ve done for MXTX’s case), and cross my fingers that I don’t get it wrong.

By doing so, I’m turning these rumours into my survival guide.

Is it risky? Yes. Is it exhausting? Absolutely. But this is the way of life for people who live under secretive, authoritarian governments—the authoritarian element making it impossible to demand more facts. It may take people outside such regimes some time to get used to—to the lifestyle, and to the idea that, in a place where news is often synonymous with propaganda, rumours are breadcrumbs of truth that should be sieved through with equal care as one would sieve through the news. Heeding, considering the probable truth of what the authority has deemed to be fear-mongering rumours can be a matter of literal life and death. 

Take...COVID. (I apologize for bringing up this unpleasant topic!)

I shall link to an article about the early spread of COVID in Wuhan here and ask: were Dr. Li Wenliang and the seven other doctors fear-mongering? Wuhanese chose to believe in the government, but at what cost to them? What would the world be like today if they took the early COVID rumours as true and masked up like Hong Kongers—Hong Kongers who weren’t any smarter or better, but had simply learned their painful lessons from the 2003 SARS epidemic? 

(Why hadn’t the Wuhanese learned? Because the government has long changed the narrative of SARS, taught their people that the illness originated in Hong Kong.) 

(How can one learn from past mistakes if one pretends those mistakes never existed?)

You must be wondering, Anon, why I’m talking about COVID when your next question is about YiZhan. The death of Dr Li Wenliang on February 7th, 2020, sparked a demand for freedom of speech rarely seen in internet-age China. Its fury, its ferocity forced the government to change its stance on Dr Li, again an unusual move. Since January 2020, Weibo had been censoring COVID news and opinion pieces that shedded a negative light to the central government; after the death of Dr Li, the censorship apparatus stepped up, making way for the propaganda machine to kick in later and change the narrative of the pandemic.

Here are some questions without definite answers, but may be food for thought for YiZhan fans:

1) While the Chinese government’s censorship apparatus (including Weibo) might have silenced the voices of dissent, of mourning on the surface, was it more likely to pacify, or fuel the anger of netizens, many of whom had lost loved ones, many of whom were still under quarantine?

2) Less than three weeks after the death of Dr Li, a group of fans demanded even *more* censorship from the government—the closing of an internet website that had been seen as a relatively free space to express oneself. How would these netizens react, even though they knew little about these fans or their idol?  

(It was, in the context of the massive silencing of COVID discussions in China, that I learned about the ban of AO3. There had been rumours that the government would censor more websites on 2020/03/01. When I read about AO3′s ban on 2/27, my thoughts were 1) Hmm. This came two days early. 2) AO3? Really?)

(I wouldn’t watch The Untamed or know who Gg was until several months later.)

Now, Anon, this is a good time to get to your CCP (Chinese Communist Party) question.

The very short answer is no. There’s no way to support YiZhan without, to a certain level, supporting the CCP. As mentioned above, the media companies are all part of China’s surveillance system. Weibo is where freedom of speech is curbed. Our two boys have been part of the propaganda machine; the BBC article linked above had a tiny picture of Gg on it, as he was a performer in the Hero in Harm’s Way (最美逆行者), a “real-life based” drama on COVID. DD just did a show glorying the Chinese police force (and here’s a video of the same force welding doors to lock in COVID-stricken residents).

Nonetheless, here’s my first advice: please do not beat yourself up for supporting YiZhan!

Gg and Dd are people who live within the system, inside the Great Firewall. They understand the world the way their government has taught them to—not only in school, but also in the news and media. Like most youths in every country, they’re patriotic—and to expect them to be otherwise, especially because of information they don’t have, is both unrealistic and unfair. Even if they do know about certain things impermissible within the Firewall, in China (as in many Communists countries), openly expressing / performing one’s proper political leanings (ie. loyalty towards CCP) is among the most important pre-requisites for any job. This has been especially true for c-ent in recent years .

They, like most of their countrymen, are doing what they have to do.

In this case, it comes to us, our decisions on how to interact with their works. How should we deal with them, their propaganda elements?

The answer, of course, varies from person to person. Personally, I’ve chosen the approaches of “immunisation” and “restriction”. By “immunisation”, I mean learning about as much historical and sociopolitical facts from non-CCP sponsored sources; this is understandably difficult for someone who doesn’t already have some familiarity with the culture and politics of the region, and/or cannot read the language. 

Restriction means limiting my consumption of media produced by China. I avoid shows (dramas, documentaries, variety etc) featuring topics that are likely to contain heavy propaganda, such as the military, the police, Hong Kong/Macao/Taiwan, and of course, anything pertaining to the CCP, from its rise to its governance of the country.

In general, I’m wary of all information presented about the post-monarchy years (post 1911), even though CCP wouldn’t begin its reign until after WWII (1949). Why so early? 1) Because CCP was formed in 1921 and so its glorification requires a change of narrative since then; 2) because the Nationalist Party (Kuomintang, KMT), which governed China between 1912 and 1949 (the so-called Republican Era 民國), would end up exiling to and setting up a new government in Taiwan.

How much propaganda should one expect in shows depicting the country post-1911? The current TV and webdrama directives (previously discussed in this post) offer some hints. Here are my translations of the relevant items:

D7) Dramas about the Republican era: Glorification of the Republican Era, the Beiyang Government, and Warlord Era requires strict control.

D10) Crime drama: crime drama is the focus of content auditing. The Ministry of Public Security (Pie note: in charge of law enforcement, ie, police) will be involved in the audit. The process of crime solving cannot be exposed; criminal psychology and motivations can however be depicted in detail. Undercover police cannot use drugs or kill, or damage the image of the police force. Criminals must be punished by law.

D12) Dramas featuring realistic topics: realistic topics must adhere to the correct world view, philosophy of life and moral values. They cannot place too strong an emphasis on social conflicts, must showcase the beautiful lives of the commoners. Regular folks should display larger-than-life sentiments and aspirations; they can pursue wealth, but must use proper means to do so; they cannot damage the public image of specific employment types, groups and social organisations. Do not preach negative or decadent world view, philosophy of life and moral values. Do not exaggerate, amplify social issues; do not over showcase, display the darker sides of society; do not preach affluence, avoid things that have no basis in real life.

D16) Dramas featuring the Revolution (Pie note: CCP’s coming to power): 2019 is the publicity period of the 70th Anniversary of the People’s Republic of China. Although the “Three Importances” (important revolution, important people, important events) are still encouraged, the  National Radio and Television Administration requires all departments, at all levels, to strengthen the control of content and the overall management of the industry, and focus on the auditing of content pertaining to the Sino-Japanese war and espionage dramas.

These directives (as those translated in the other post) are as vague as they are restrictive, and to err on the side of caution, production companies tend to “overachieve” to avoid going against headwinds at the censorship board. This means their products have a tendency to malign the Republican Era (D7). It means they will likely twist history in trying to depict the CCP as faultless heroes (D16). It means they'll probably present a utopian-like society and call it reality-based (D12), a society in which the good guys share the same values as the CCP and always win (D10).

Yes, my “restriction” means I skipped Hero in Harm’s Way. It means I’ve never listened to Gg’s version of 我和我的祖國 despite my absolute adoration of his voice. It means I just missed Dd’s performance in the law enforcement celebration event. It means I don’t plan on watching Being A Hero and Ace Troops.

So here’s where I’ve drawn the line, Anon, but it doesn’t mean that’s what anyone should do. Only you alone can decide where your own comfort zone is. I write these metas in the hopes that it can offer a … gateway for those who’d like to understand, with a more telescopic lens, Gg and Dd’s country—a country that holds a particularly strong hold over its citizens’ fate including, yes, their romantic fate. It’s not my wish to impose my opinions on anyone.

If I have other hopes… It’s this. Please, as long as it’s safe for you to talk, do not self-censor—especially about facts, especially on sites like Tumblr or Twitter that have long been banned by the Chinese government. I don’t mean one should go about and confront those who insist on a different version of reality. To undo opinions rooted in years of education, IMO, the process has to be voluntary, and the information is already at the fingertips of those who’re surfing these sites and wish to learn more. More importantly, open discussions of these topics may be risky for those who still have close ties to China, and keeping them safe should always be the top priority. 

What I mean is simply this ~ please do not feel obliged to agree with every perspective presented in YiZhan’s work just because you support the leads. Please do not feel you must remain silent about the CCP—its good, bad and ugly—just because your favourite stars happen to come from the country it’s ruling. And please remember: “Chinese”, as a term, has always included people who live outside CCP’s control, many of whom still fully embrace the culture, traditions and values of Historical China, a 5000-years long string of dynasties with shifting borders, ethnic makeup and customs. The Untamed is a mainland Chinese production, yes, but its genre, its manner of presenting certain traditions, wouldn’t have been developed, or flourished, without the diaspora. The CCP has only been the ruling party of one country, the People’s Republic of China, for 71 years, and as a party with foreign (soviet) roots and a record of destroying the pillar of the country’s tradition, Confucianism, it doesn’t own a monopolistic say on how every Chinese should think and act—no matter how much it insists it does—or how everyone should think and speak about China and its people.

It isn’t qualified.

[mypoisonedvine]

Double Take | Charles Blackwood x reader (with a special guest...)

summary: Charles Blackwood and Bucky Barnes are twins, adopted by different families.  For the first time, Bucky has something that Charles wants: a girlfriend.  And what’s the point of having a twin if you can’t use it to switch places at least once?

warnings: smut (dub con), loss of virginity, lots of little manipulative things from our classic manipulator charles, infidelity, daddy kink, innocence kink, praise kink, corruption kink, (slightly?), a lil degradation but not really

word count: 4.7k 

Charles Blackwood was definitely not jealous of James Barnes.  Charles had been adopted by a more affluent family than James had; he’d never wanted for anything, while James had grown up in a more traditional suburban environment.  The few times they’d met throughout their childhood, Charles had always been shocked at the way the Barnes family lived.  Hand-me-down toys, no television, and not even a nanny or maid!  

And yet, James didn’t seem to mind.  He’d always been a little dim-witted, Charles figured.  Didn’t he see how well Charles lived and wish that he’d been the one adopted by the Blackwoods?  

No, James was just fine being a Barnes, apparently.  What Charles really could never get his head around was how much they all talked to each other.  Mrs. Barnes asked him more questions in that one afternoon visit than Mrs. Blackwood had probably his whole life.  Mr. Barnes was more excited about Charles’ high marks in school than Mr. Blackwood could even dream of.  

It was all rather peculiar.  Who were these people and from where did they get their bottomless energy, their incessant peppiness?

That was why Charles had stopped visiting them as soon as he was old enough to decide not to.  They’d never been close anyways, and him and his twin had never really gotten along.  Yes, it was odd to know someone who looked so like him but who was so terminally different, but after a while it just became a fact of life for the both of them.  

He’d heard that twins often looked less alike as they got older, so Charles hadn’t expected to see an exact double of himself that day on the street.  For just a moment, the shock was just as strong as it would’ve been if he’d never known he’d had a twin, simply because he spent so little time thinking about it.  But there he was-- Bucky, as he’d heard he went by now, looking like a spitting image in the rearview mirror of Charles’ car, walking down the sidewalk arm-in-arm with a young woman.

You were laughing at something he’d said, your head tossing back as you reached up to shyly cover your smile with your free hand.

And now Charles understood why his brother was never jealous of him.  Sure, Bucky hadn’t had the quality of belongings or opportunities that Charles had, but it was clear that he’d acquired something money can’t buy.

Charles Blackwood was truly and properly jealous of James Barnes.  And he didn’t care for it one bit.  Thankfully, as always, he had a plan.

~

“Bucky, hey!” you called out as you saw your boyfriend across the park.  He didn’t turn at first and you wondered if he hadn’t heard you, but then he did.  

His smile was a little different, somehow, but it still melted you instantly.  He opened his arms and you ran to him, nearly knocking him down with the force of your hug.

“I know it’s barely been a week but I’ve missed you terribly,” you admitted, holding him tightly.  

“I’ve missed you too, darling, more than you could know,” he replied as his hands slipped around your waist.

“Your hair… you’ve done something different with it,” you noticed as you pulled back from the embrace.

“Oh, this?” he smiled, reaching up to touch it.  “Yeah, I think they reformulated my hairspray.”

“I didn’t know you used hairspray!” you giggled.

He shrugged.  “I figure my secret is safe with you.”

“You know, I thought it was sort of romantic that you asked me out with a letter at my door!” you remembered.  “Did you have somebody else write it for you?  I hope you won’t be offended, but I’m confident your handwriting isn’t that nice.”

“Sometimes a phone call is too impersonal,” he explained.  “And I’ve been working on my cursive.”

“Regardless, it was sweet,” you smiled shyly, “you know, old-fashioned-- in a good way.”

“Seems like a nice way of saying that you think I’m behind the times,” he accused with a smirk.

“No!” you denied.  “Being a gentleman never goes out of style.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, a strange sparkle in his eye, “I’m no gentleman at all, my dear.”

~

It was a wonderful date; a walk in the park at first, then a quick stop for some ice cream.  You could’ve sworn he spent more time watching you lick your cone than he did eating his, but you paid it no mind.  If anything, it made you feel oddly excited-- and beautiful.  

You stopped briefly as you passed by a jeweler on the street, admiring a beautiful necklace on display.

“Do you like it?” he asked from behind you, and you could just see his reflection above yours in the glass.

“Who wouldn’t?” you chuckled.  “It’s lovely.”

“Do you want it?” he pressed, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder.  You turned around, giving him a confused look.  

“I mean, sure,” you furrowed your brow, “but… I wasn’t really expecting anything…”

“Let me buy it for you,” he offered.

“F-for Christmas?”

“For now,” he corrected.  “For fun.  Because you deserve it.”

“Deserve it?” you blinked, trying to comprehend his words.  “It’s twenty dollars, Bucky.  It’s more expensive than anything I own.”

“That’s a shame,” he frowned.

“What would I even wear it with?!”

“You could wear it with a feed bag with holes cut for your arms, and you’d still look ravishing,” he dismissed.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but--”

He stopped you, stepping closer and slipping his hands onto your back with a smile.  “Darling, you deserve to be spoiled.  Is it so crazy that I want to see my best girl wearing only the best things?  Now wait here while I pop inside and buy it.”

You barely had time to protest before he’d stepped in the door, the little bell ringing as he waved down the jeweler.  Sure enough, you saw him reach in to the window display to take the necklace out, pulling off the tag while Bucky wrote a check.  You didn’t even know Bucky had a checking account, let alone one with enough in it to buy you such an extravagant gift… not that you were going to complain.  No, you just blushed and smiled nervously, pulling your hair up and out of the way so your boyfriend could put the necklace on you.  His fingers brushing against the back of your neck made your eyes flutter shut as you felt like you could melt into it.

“How does it look on me?” you asked shyly as you turned around, letting your hand trail down the chain.

“Sparkles almost as much as your eyes,” he grinned.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” you murmured.

“Don’t worry about that,” he purred.  “I should probably take you home soon, right?”

“R-right,” you agreed, wishing the date wouldn’t have to end so soon.  “But maybe we should wait longer.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, my mom and sister won’t be home for another few hours,” you explained, “so we might as well kill some time so I can meet them when they get back.”

“Or,” he suggested, “we could go there now, and I’ll keep you company until they get back…”

You liked that idea, but felt guilt pang in your gut.  And yet, you suddenly didn’t know how to say no to him while you were wearing his expensive gift around your neck.  So, hand-in-hand, you walked back to your house.

~

“You’ve seen the living room before,” you remembered, “but I don’t think you’ve seen the kitchen.”

“It’s a little small, isn’t it?” he noticed as he looked around.

“Yeah, but it’s comfortable,” you shrugged.  “And it’s home.”

“What about your bedroom?” 

You froze.  It was already a bit risky to let him in at all-- if the neighbors had seen, they would certainly talk.  But you cared so much more of what Bucky thought of you than what they did.

“I don’t mean to be too forward,” he chuckled.  “It’s just, don’t you think somebody’s bedroom says a lot about them?”

“You’re right,” you nodded, “and I didn’t think it was forward.  I just worry sometimes…”

“I know,” he smiled, “it’s endearing.”

You led him down the hall and around the corner to your bedroom.  “Now I’m worrying that it’s a little girlish,” you admitted as you opened the door and revealed the pink, frilly visage of your room.  

“It’s perfect,” he denied.  “Innocent and adorable, just like you.”

“Do you remember when you won this for me at Coney Island?” you beamed, picking up a small stuffed rabbit from your bed.  “I’ve slept with it every night--”

You stopped as you turned around to find him standing right in front of you, his face much more serious than before.  You looked down suddenly, afraid his gaze would pierce right through you; his finger slipped under your chin, gently pulling up your face until you looked at him.

“Bucky…” you mumbled, a little surprised.  He said nothing, his hand trailing down over your neck, toying with the chain of your new necklace briefly, before running along the neckline of your dress.

Your body tensed, even as a paradoxical warmth was spreading between your legs.  The way he touched you made you feel nervous, excited, guilty, and desperate all at once.

You’d wanted Bucky to touch you like this for a while now, but you’d known it was better that you didn’t.  As much as you didn’t understand why he was suddenly interested in doing something you both knew was wrong, you weren’t exactly complaining either.

Suddenly he kissed you, and it was so different from every other time he’d done it.  His tongue slipped into your mouth and you let out a little moan of surprise; his teeth grazed your lip and it made you feel wonderfully dizzy.

“You are so beautiful,” he cooed as his kisses trailed to your neck.  You could barely contain your moans then, your head falling back as you melted into his arms.  “So shy,” he continued, “so precious.”

You pressed your body closer to his, loving the way his hard, muscular form complemented your softer curves.  You felt him smile against your skin, giving a playful bite to your collarbone which made you yelp a little.

“I’ve wanted you ever since I first saw you,” he whispered as he pulled you closer.  “Knew I had to make you mine.”

He pulled back and you looked up at him with wide eyes.  “Really?”

“Of course,” he chuckled, “don’t you want me?”

“Yes,” you answered quickly.  “I’m already yours, Bucky.”

His face shifted suddenly.  “Don’t call me that,” he frowned.  

“Wh-?” you began to ask, but he anticipated it.

“Call me ‘daddy,’” he smiled.

You gasped a little, feeling heat burn from under the skin of your cheeks.  “I- I don’t know… it’s a little strange, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s perfectly normal,” he soothed, but you found it difficult to relax as you felt his fingers trailing down your back, and then fiddling with the buttons of your dress. “Not all the time, of course.  Just… when we’re doing something special.  Something secret.”

You breathed out shakily as your dress fell to the floor, leaving you only in your undergarments.  You might have worn nicer ones if you’d realized what would be happening, but he didn’t seem to mind the plainness of them as he let out a low groan, tracing the line of your bra over your chest.

You instinctively began to wrap your arms over yourself but he gently pried them away.  “Let me look at you, darling.  You’re gorgeous.”

He sat down on the bed and motioned for you to sit beside him, and you awkwardly obeyed.  

You jumped when he touched you again-- this time tickling your thigh with the tips of his fingers-- and you chewed your lip as you tried to look away.

“You know what I want to do, don’t you?” he asked you darkly.

“I don’t know if I’m ready--” you murmured, even though you felt your body reacting so positively to the way his fingers moved up your leg.  His touch left goosebumps in its wake, and you felt your back arch without having meant to do it.

“Don’t you love me?” he pressed, and his voice was sad but his gaze never moved from where his hand was now wrapping around your inner thigh.  

“Of course I do,” you promised.

“I just want to show you how much I love you,” he explained, “that’s all.  I’ll make you feel so good, darling.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that but then he leaned in and placed an aggressive, wet kiss to your neck, teeth grazing over your pulse point, which made your heart race wildly.

“Ohh, Bucky,” you moaned softly.

He tutted disapprovingly as he suddenly pushed your legs apart.  “Try it again.”

His pointer finger drew a delicate line along your panties, right between your lips, and you shivered.  “D-daddy,” you finally stuttered out.  You felt him grin against the slickened skin of your neck.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, and you felt your chest warm with his compliment.

His hands wrapped around your waist and they felt so strong and hot-- not as rough as you’d imagined, but masculine nonetheless.

He gently pushed you back to lay on the bed, rubbing you through your panties as you gasped.  His eyes watched you with a smoldering intensity as you squirmed and whined at the strange sensations his fingers were bringing you.  

You shivered when those fingers pulled the fabric aside, finally touching your swollen and sensitive folds.  Honestly, you’d been expecting more of a reaction, but instead he instantly pushed his middle finger into your opening; he touched you like he knew exactly what he was doing, and though you weren’t sure how he knew what he was doing, you were too focused on how good it felt to care.  He slipped a second finger in and your head fell back onto your pillow.

“O-oh, god, daddy,” you whimpered, your legs quivering a bit as pleasure jolted your body.

“You like how I’m making you feel?” he presumed with a smirk.

“Yes,” you gasped, unintentionally kicking your legs with joy, “yes, yes, yes, I do.”

He leaned in to kiss you again, trapping your mouth in his.  His fingers twisted inside you, putting pressure against your walls just as his thumb brushed over your clit.  Your muscles tightened around him, and he shut his eyes as he let out a low groan.

“I think you’re ready for me, baby,” he decided, his fingers slipping out of you suddenly and instead fumbling with the buckle of his belt.

“D-daddy,” you stammered, jolted from your bliss to shock and confusion.

“Oh, you’re so perfect,” he praised, “I know you’re a little scared.  It’ll be good, I promise.  I could never hurt you.”

He must have sensed that you weren’t quite convinced as you began to move back on the bed slightly.

“You trust me, don’t you?” he asked, his voice deepening while you watched him take his hard cock from his trousers.  You nodded, but the size of it… intimidated you, to say the least.

Before you could slide back again, he caged you in with strong hands above your shoulders.

“Darling, say that you trust me,” he demanded.

“I trust you,” you assured, looking up at him and wondering when his eyes got so dark.

He reached down to spread your legs for him once more, but never looked away from your face.

“Say that you love me,” he requested, quieter yet firmer.

“I love you,” you answered, but the moment the words had left your lips, he pushed his hips forward and forced his cock into you.  You were wet but it didn’t make it an easy fit at all; you cried out and instantly grabbed his shoulders tightly, your whole body clenching with the pain.

"Shh," he soothed, but the way he kissed you was rough and strong and dominating.  He pulled back and slammed forward again, making you whimper into his mouth.

"It hurts," you whined as you turned your face away, wincing when the way he pulled you closer only heightened the sting.

"Oh, I know, but you're doing so well darling," he praised, "you're taking me so well.  It'll feel so good soon, if you're just a little more patient for me.  Can you do that?"

You nodded, and he stilled inside you bringing some relief.  "Say it properly, please," he requested.

"Yes, daddy," you answered shyly. 

He smiled and kissed you quickly before thrusting again, a little slower.  

The pain was starting to dull as you felt pleasure overtaking it, pleasure unlike anything you’d felt before.  You felt so full in a strange but addictive way.  You bit your lip as moans started to pour from your lips.

“Don’t get quiet for my sake,” he encouraged, “I wanna hear you, darling.  I want you to show me how good I make you feel.”

“D-does it feel good for you?” you asked nervously.  He grinned and leaned back to run his hands over your legs, and even kiss the inside of them a few times.  

“Darling,” he growled, “you feel incredible.  You’re everything I dreamed you’d be.”

You sighed with relief, though it turned to a gasp as he began to move faster.  His cock massaged your walls so perfectly, and you felt pressure building inside you as the pleasure turned from relaxed to searing.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he noticed.

“Y-yes,” you admitted, feeling your face burn.  You felt guilty for liking it so much.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, “it’s supposed to feel good.  All good girls love their daddy’s cocks.  You love it, don’t you?”

You moaned as you nodded, that pressure getting stronger until you were worried you would get light-headed.  “I… I feel funny,” you stammered.

“You’re about to come, darling,” he explained.  “It’s a good thing.  It feels good.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, trusting him even though you were a little afraid of what would happen when you came.

"Go ahead, come on my cock.  I know you're so close.  Come for me."

You were wondering what you would have to do to obey him, but then you realized all you would have to do was let his pleasure wash over you-- and now, there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“I-I’m coming, daddy!” you yelped, and all at once that coil of energy snapped inside you.  Your whole body tensed and jolted involuntarily, moans getting louder until it almost sounded like screaming.  You hoped he knew that these were good screams, and you weren’t in pain.

He seemed to, because he kept going, fucking into you harder and rougher.  “Fuck, you like that baby?  You like how I feel inside you?”

“I do,” you nodded quickly, “feels so good…”

You started to feel sort of sleepy and confused, your head heavy from the exhausting pleasure of having just come.  He smiled down at you, admiring your fucked-out expression as you gave in completely to your body’s needs.

“Such a perfect little cunt,” he growled, the filthiness of the word only barely registering in your fuzzy brain.  “You get even wetter when you come, darling, and so fucking tight… god I never wanna stop.”

“Don’t ever stop,” you begged, “you feel good, daddy.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” he warned, “you’re so delicate, you couldn’t take it.  You’ll be begging me to stop by the time I’m done, darling.  Gonna ruin this needy little hole.”

His words made you feel nervous and confused, but oddly aroused.  That coil was tightening again, already.  You wanted more; you weren’t sure you could ever get enough.

“Daddy, I-- I’m gonna come again, if you don’t stop,” you admitted sheepishly, looking down to watch the way his cock disappeared into your body.  You could hear how wet you were each time he thrusted forward, and it was shameful but addictive.

“Look at you,” he purred, “you love it.  You were made for my fuckin’ cock, darling.”

He leaned down and kissed you again, his thrusts changing from fast and reckless to slow but deep.  He pulled back languidly only to slam home harder every time, making you cry out against his lips.

He reached down to hook your legs in his arms, pushing them back until you were bent into a strange position-- when he moved again, his cock brushed against something so deep inside you that you worried there would be none of you left.

You winced and gurgled from the feeling-- it wasn’t quite painful, but it was close to it, along with incredibly intense.  “Oh, daddy,” you gasped.

“You didn’t even know somebody could fuck you like this,” he posited.  “You didn’t even know you could feel this good.”

You nodded breathlessly, your body shaking and shivering underneath him.  This time when you came, it seemed to never end.  He just kept going and you were sure you would stay suspended in this pleasure forever so long as he didn’t stop.

“Fuck, you’re coming, aren’t you?” he growled.

You nodded again.

“I’m close too, darling,” he admitted.  “Beg me to come.  I know you want it inside you.  Ask me nicely.”

“D-daddy,” you moaned, too lost in it to remember how dangerous this was, “I want you to come… I want it inside me…”

“Fuck, I know you do,” he groaned, his head falling back as his thrusts became more erratic.  “Gonna fill up this wet little pussy, gonna claim you with my come-- you’re mine forever, darling.”

“Yours,” you gasped, “all yours, daddy.”

“Fuck!” he cried suddenly, his voice breaking as he pushed as deep into you as possible.  You could feel his cock flexing against your walls, pushing you to your absolute limits, as he came.

You both laid there, nearly frozen still, as your breathing began to slow down a bit.  He moaned when he pulled his softening cock out of you, and took a moment to watch his come leak out of your hole before falling limp beside you.

You blinked to clear your spotty vision; you were sure you were experiencing a pleasure-induced hallucination, or maybe the force of it was just making you see double… because how was your boyfriend in bed with you, and simultaneously standing at the door?

Bucky’s arms wrapped around you slowly, holding you to him, and it was the way the other Bucky weakly called your name that made you know it was the one in bed with you that was the impostor.  He called your name as if he couldn’t believe it was you he was looking at; you understood the feeling.

“Bucky, I--” you started, with no idea what to say.  “What’s going on?”

Bucky’s shock shifted to anger, and you tried to struggle against the arms holding you back but it was fruitless.

“Charles,” Bucky hissed.  “This is… how could you?”

“The difference between you and I,” the voice behind you, just like his, began to explain, “was never money, or random chance.  We had the same opportunities…”

His fingers traced over your thigh and you shuddered.

“...I just knew how to take them.”

“I didn’t know,” you tried to explain, “I thought it was you--”

The other man-- Charles, as Bucky had called him-- clamped a hand over your mouth.

“Your girlfriend’s a bit of a whore, James.  I mean, sort of a tough nut to crack but damn, once you get inside--”

“Shut up,” Bucky seethed.  “Stop talking.”

“You heard her call me ‘daddy’, right?” Charles laughed.

Bucky tightened his jaw, silently answering the question.

“You heard her beg me for more?  Beg me to come inside?” Charles continued.

Bucky stormed across the room, jumping on top of the both of you to wrap his hands around Charles’ neck. 

“Me!” Bucky yelped, “she thought it was me!”

“Still could be,” Charles managed to grumble out through the pressure on his throat.  

Bucky’s face shifted, anger turning to something… else.  Shock, maybe, but it was more than that.  He looked at you, eyes fierce and wild.

His hands relaxed from Charles’ throat, who coughed a little as he caught his breath.

“Do you love me?” Bucky asked you quickly as he moved off of Charles and hovered over you.

“O-of course,” you stammered, tears welling in your eyes.

He leaned back to undo his belt, and Charles laughed.  “Don’t let my come get in the way or anything.”

“I won’t,” Bucky growled before roughly thrusting his cock into you.  Your head fell back but he was already fucking you hard and rough.  His body was the same as Charles’ but he felt completely different.  He fucked you with so much anger and ferocity, and as sick as it made you feel, it felt good, too.

“Bucky,” you gasped, “s-slow down…”

It fell on deaf ears as he grabbed your hips and pulled them up so every thrust was as deep as possible.  You felt like putty in his hands, and you loved it.  Though you didn’t know why, you wanted him to use you.  You wanted him to make you his again, the way you’d been before, erase everything that had happened with you and this… stranger laying beside you.  Who, by the way, was watching the whole ordeal with a raised eyebrow, seemingly more curious than jealous.

Bucky leaned down until his whole body was covering yours, and you wrapped your arms around his wide, muscular back.

“You feel… so good…” he whispered huskily against your ear, and you heard the strain in his voice.  “I can’t last…”

“It’s okay,” you soothed, “I want you to feel good, Bucky; I want you to come.”

“Not until you do,” he said with determination in spite of the way his whole body was shaking, “not until you know that you need me.”

You could only respond with broken moans as he reached down and rubbed your bundle of nerves with his thumb.  He watched the way you cried out and struggled underneath him, the pleasure so intense that your body could barely take it.

“Bucky, please!” you sobbed, not exactly sure what you were asking for, but he kept going, moaning loudly and reaching up to hold onto your headboard even as his own thrusting slammed his knuckles into your wall.

He made a noise that made your heart twist-- something like a whimper and a growl all at once-- and you knew he was coming, but he didn’t stop.  Even when he looked like he was going to hurt himself, even when sweat rolled down his brow and made his hair cling to his face, he didn’t stop.  You came undone all at once, feeling your walls tighten so hard that you were afraid they’d cramp up or something.  Tears burned your eyes from the sheer force of it; your fingers dug into his back through his clothes.

Finally, he let himself slow down to a stop.  You sighed, still feeling little aftershocks reverberate in your body.

“Charles, 2; James, 1,” Charles mumbled to himself as he sat up, patting his twin on the back.  “Good try, though.”

Bucky shoved him off, so hard that he rolled off your bed and onto the floor with a thud.  You wanted to check that he was okay but Bucky grabbed your jaw and kissed you deeply.  When he pulled out, you could feel the rush of warm, sticky come as it left your body.  You felt blissfully disgusting, filthily beautiful.

“Bucky, I didn’t know,” you attempted to explain through your panting breaths, “I never would’ve-- I thought it was you--”

“I know,” he shook his head.  “I know.  It’s okay.”

You could tell that it wasn’t okay.  He was devastated, it was all over his face.  This wasn’t how you wanted any of this to go.  

“Can I ask you something strange?” Bucky requested.

“Of course,” you agreed quickly.

“Where did you get that necklace?”

Charles’ face popped out from across the edge of your bed, painted with a prideful grin.

[dontcallmecarrie]

continuation of this, because why not:

.

“Oh, this is fun,” Loki hadn’t realized just how irritating his voice could get until now, was this why the Soldier kept throwing knives at him? 

“I am only dragging you along because our interests align for now, do not expect this to continue.” He snapped over his shoulder, keeping an eye out for any potential attack even as the alarms continued to blare. He was lucky his counterpart was in such poor shape; had he even had a fraction of his usual power available, this entire enterprise would be much, much more difficult. 

As it was, Loki was faintly impressed his counterpart had accomplished as much as he had when he was running on fumes. When he wasn’t sneering at the sloppiness of his plans, anyway. Magical compulsion or no, what kind of idiot went and paraded about proclaiming their intentions for subjugation?

“Come now. Do you honestly expect me to believe this isn’t to your advantage? Unleashing double the chaos.” 

It was a pity breaking the magical compulsion had done nothing for his counterpart’s mental state. On a number of levels— he was a stone’s throw away from madness, all jagged pieces aimed outwards and it was uncomfortable to look at for too long for reasons Loki preferred not to dwell upon. 

Well. At least he could use it to his advantage. 

.

Victor was not a happy camper. 

First had been the discovery that, as he’d suspected, that damn gun had landed him in another universe. 

Second, said universe was quite possibly his worst nightmare.

Because his country didn’t exist, hadn’t existed for decades now: the Latverian civil war in this world had decimated its people in more ways than could be named, neighboring countries had snapped up just about every scrap of territory his men had fought and died for and goddamn HYDRA was using war orphans for their experiments.

...had he been a bit hasty when he’d taken out the first base he’d encountered? Sure. Sorting out the logistics for taking care of all the victims he’d encountered was a major pain in the neck, and this accelerated his plans for establishing himself in ways he hadn’t entirely expected. Klaue was as annoying as ever, and, if possible, even more of an arrogant bastard to deal with in this strange world.

Did Victor regret it? Absolutely not.

Especially when it resulted in his encountering his first ally in this hellscape. 

...though this ‘involuntary twin’ thing would get old fast, he just knew it.

“Hello, Winter.” Victor greeted with a smile. “Looks like you’ve been busy, too.”

.

The Winter Soldier could not believe that Justin’s stupid self-help books had been good for something, but here they were.

Him, and the poor bastard who shared his face and was now stuck in that incredibly awkward stage between ‘living weapon approximately three seconds from Murder’ and ‘going through deprogramming’, smack-dab in the middle of what had used to be a HYDRA stronghold but was now a bloodbath because somewhere in between fighting himself, and everyone else coming at them, the other Winter Soldier had started breaking through his programming.

He hadn’t realized just how much progress he’d made, until now. 

“What do you want me to call you?” He asked again with a tired sigh.

“The Asset does not nee—”

“Oh, fuck no. Pick something else, you’re a human being, you have value.” ...goddamn it, he sounded just like Justin. 

Ugh. Justin could never, ever know, he’d never let him live it down...okay, the worst part is that he would, not that the idiot with a death wish needed any encouraging when it came to this sort of thing.

The man’d had a knife to the neck, and still offered him food, offered him help. The Winter Soldier gave his counterpart a dubious glance, and fought back a shudder. 

As much as he sympathized with the guy— he’d been there, literally— the idea gave him chills.

Though...he could almost see it, now. If he squinted, he could see the tiniest speck of self-determination that HYDRA had tried its best to crush into oblivion, the ghost of a hint of personality in the twitch of his right hand, the way his left hand curled. 

“Right, okay.” He sighed. Again. He probably sounded like a goddamn teakettle, but fuck it, he was at the end of his rope here, dealing with people was Justin’s thing, he was much better at punching people. “If you’re anything like me, you’re going to have some serious migraines in the next few months, and no, aspirin doesn’t do shit. You have questions, means your personality’s coming back up which is good... oh, you’ll probably want to stick around for answers because I’m about as confused as you are.” 

Because this is what happened the one (1) time he tried to be nice and check up on Justin’s friend group. He could’ve been chasing down that lead in Argentina, but no, he was stuck here instead. 

Ugh. 

.

Ivan was running on spite, caffeine, and not much else. 

Living on the streets was a pain in the ass, exacerbated by the fact that he was apparently supposed to be dead and...buried? Cremated? He wasn’t entirely sure, none of the sources he’d found had been able to specify and to be completely honest, he hadn’t tried too hard to look.

Just seeing his own name in the articles had been disturbing enough, the realization that a version of him had apparently gone through with his suicidal plot was...something. Not great. His vodka stash back home was going to take a hit as soon as he got back. 

As disturbing as reading his own death had been, it’d still been no match for what he’d been able to find on the man who’d given him another reason to live. 

Because this world’s Justin Hammer was still alive and well, and locked up in an unspecified supermax for the foreseeable future, and...

An incompetent idiot with far more money than brains, apparently.

Which was so far from the man he knew it was hilarious, because Justin’s charisma had been enough to get a dictator of a sovereign nation wrapped around his finger without even trying, had the boogeyman of the intelligence world on speed-dial and an alien god as his bodyguard-slash-PA. He was untouchable on a number of levels, so when Ivan had first read that article?

He hadn’t believed it, at first. 

Had been certain it was an imposter, and while he probably should’ve spent that time researching how to get back home, he’d instead ended up down a rabbit hole of what kind of man Justin Hammer was in this world.

Call it morbid curiosity, or whatever— but Ivan had to know.

It wasn’t like he was making much progress on his own, anyway, not when his resources were staggeringly limited.

And then. 

A sleek car pulled up by the overpass where he’d been sleeping, and the window rolled down to reveal a face Ivan was inordinately glad to see. 

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping.” Loki called, and Ivan didn’t even question why there were two of him. Or why his twin looked like a grad student during finals week.

“Mean Girls? Really?”

“He was correct in calling it a classic.” Loki replied with a haughty sniff as he pulled away from the curb. “Besides— from what I’ve seen, I also know more about this world’s culture than their Captain.”

His twin looked lost, as he stared between them both and whoops, that was probably a terrible first impression. “Is this one of your allies?”

“Yes.” Ivan said, even as Loki spoke.

“When he’s not blasting us all to other dimensions, certainly.” 

“It was an accident!”

It was a good thing Loki had so much practice driving, because he would have gotten very nervous by the way their eyes met in the rearview mirror otherwise. “Oh, I know. I’ve told you—”

“There is no innovation without risk—” Ivan defended, only for Loki to snort.

“Have fun explaining that to Victor.” 

Ivan froze for a moment, breath stilling in his throat. On a good day, Victor was the epitome of a type-A personality...

“He’s here too?”

“Oh, yes. Not sure where exactly, but how do you think we found you?”

“If you say magic—”

“Are all your allies mortals?” Loki’s twin asked with just the slightest hint of a sneer, and just like that all levity was gone and Ivan didn’t even need to meet Loki’s gaze to know his answer.

“If you have a problem with that, feel free to leave. Right now.”

“Come now—”

“Ivan here blasted us all across space and time, without tearing open any paradoxes or destroying any timelines, entirely by accident. Victor? Is the ruler of a sovereign nation feared and respected throughout the realm. I do not know your approach to such things here, but any insult to my allies is an insult to me.”

.

Ivan...probably shouldn’t have been too surprised to discover that Victor had not only amassed a following of rabidly loyal minions, but also managed to meet up with the Winter Soldier. Er... two Winter Soldiers.

Man, this was going to feature in his nightmares for months.

“Where’s Justin?” Was the very first thing Victor said upon seeing them, and he cringed as the rest traded looks because of course the one who’d introduced them to each other was the missing link now. Justin was hands-down everyone’s favorite, and if Ivan was stuck being the one to break it to them after having spent hours hacking just to get a name?

Man, this was not going to be pretty.

“First, you have to promise not to get mad.”

“What.”

Ivan told them.

...suffice it is to say, nobody was happy to hear the answer.

.

“Okay then.” Victor said, face impassive save for the way his eyes gleamed. “It’s been a while since I did a prison break, anyway.”

[lilyclawthorne]

Escaping Expulsion Thoughts (once again very stream of conscious-like while i rewatched the episode so there’s a bunch of stuff here)

i fucking knew odalia was gonna be an oracle, i knew and i hate that for her family. i’m not sure if this necklace thing is specifically a form of oracle magic or not but im assuming it is, and either way the second i saw it happen that made my stomach twist. the fact that she just keeps this direct line to her daughter at all times feels so disturbing

so, i get that the joke with glyph lessons here is that eda and lilith are probably acting the exact same way they did when they were younger, but it does also feel a little odd for me. in my post for episode 1 i talked about how it felt like lilith probably missed the structure of the coven, and maybe even having an authority figure, and it does concern me a bit that it could be projected on to luz here. 

also, i saw someone mention that they thought lilith could be regressing a bit, which is interesting seeing as she’s been in the coven since basically being a child and now that she’s out, she could be going backwards because that was probably the last time she had a personality of her own instead of one that was carefully crafted to be socially acceptable for others. and to be fair, the few moments in season 1 when we see glimpses into the true lilith, she is pretty childish.

anyways lilith has such pretty handwriting i love it

gus!! witch puberty!! do not worry buddy eda will get your name eventually. probably.

amity went out and murdered those fairies for luz didn’t she

i need to know why the heck bump has no choice in the matter of the expulsion. typically a pta (or pca in this case) wouldn’t have power that much stronger than the principa?? so i wonder if the blights have something over bump, or if its even just something such as donation money they’d withdraw

odalia blight you gaslighting bitch “I’m appalled you’re not in class right now what are you thinking” YOU MADE HER COME HERE

PLEASE i know gus and willow are sad here but the whole “live off the land” thing and “water you one last time, with my tears” are so fucking funny ok

GO LUZ, YOU TELL OFF ODALIA

i feel like alador doesn’t really care what’s going on and just wants to be back home making his abomination inventions, also he seems to have an affinity for different creatures as well which is an interesting detail

i love that willow stated they would get back in on their own right in front of alador and odalia. these people fucked up her friendship and caused her a lot of trouble that she shouldn’t have had to deal with so i love that she’s unafraid to speak like that in front of them

between the first & second episode, and some of the seasons trailer, it seems like Lilith may have an affinity for ice magic? which is interesting seeing as eda was always a fan of her “spicy toss” aka some fire magic. interesting to see the two of them as fire & ice basically

i LOVE how much bump loves luz, willow, and gus. it’s kinda really sweet, but again it feels so concerning that he had no choice in the matter. makes me think he’s more likely to eventually rebel against the standards that have been in place for so long at some point. (also abominations coven for bump!! interesting!! i appreciate seeing the coven marks included on the adults so far)

what is it with these kids and being dragged off by their hoods in this episode

love that the blights address includes “right arm”, also i took a quick look up of the word “bruegal” which is boulevard they live on, and it’s probably just a coincidence but the first google result was actually for a european think tank that specializes in economics

yknow i actually have wondered about layering glyphs on top of each other and making a super glyph the way eda did, so good to know that would NOT work out

luz you’re really gonna give the blights their own flowers??????

it goes by so fast but please take a moment to take in and appreciate the design of that blight entry room/living room-esque area and it’s combination of abomination and oracle decor. also the blight family portrait.

i could talk about alador and odalia and their relationship dynamic here, when luz is meeting with them, but i think it’s best to save for the end, but i will say i don’t think it’s just odalia controlling everything (though she does control a lot) and alador just suffering and being silent. 

the more i stare at odalia’s hair the more i feel like she has an odd receding hairline

love that the abomination kept the cat shape luz gave it and that amity knew immediately from that

WILLOW’S DADS!!! I LOVE THEM! I love how much they want their daughter to have a great education even if they have to be the ones to do it! (even if it could come across as a little intense) Although, the fact that they’re prepared to teach plant magic to her makes me question why they put her in abominations once again. (wish we could’ve gotten a glimpse of their coven marks!)

odalia is definitely the one who handles more of the parenting and alador is more distant. at least that’s what i get based on the twins specifying to amity not to tell their mom specifically

absolutely insane that odalia is just letting the abomiton destroy the whole place to kill a child

“stay away from my luz!” oh my god,ohmy GOD 

i like how lilith can’t tell if these are normal noises or distress ones. really sums up life in the owl house. also lilith? kicking doors in?? this combined with “I AM A WITCH, UNHINGED” tells me she’ll be as chaotic as the rest of the owl house in no time and i am here for it.

the music when amity jumps in to protect luz is absolutely killing it here i need a soundtrack now

YES AMITY DESTROY THE NECKLACE (and oh god please don’t let odalia give you something even harder to remove or destroy)

Luz is blushing!! The feelings are starting to be returned!!!

“Luz, Willow, and Gus are my friends!” love it. love the open declaration. love that she’s telling her mother off. love that i have something to check off my bingo board already.

okay, i know a lot of people have already suggested that alador is smiling here because he can tell luz and amity like each other, but i’m pretty sure it’s only because he’s noticing how much amity’s magic has grown and improved

small detail but i love the smoke from the units order sign filling the background while odalia is fuming herself

oh? alador has had the ability to tell odalia off and successfully calm her down this whole time? and chose not to use it till now? yeah he sucks too. he very clearly has a plan for amity as much as odalia does as well, but he’s much better at seeing the long-term goal

“the glyph combo, copyright me, lilith” im screaming, lilith you DORK

ok i really wish eda or lilith asked where luz had been. i’d kill for these sisters to go off about how much they hated the alador and odalia in school, as well as threaten to hurt them for hurting luz.

the statue lilith made and her reaction to the gold star she received re-emphasizes my concern about her need for approval and for an authority figure. (ok but her noise at the gold star WAS very cute tho)

alright lets get down to business on the blight parents. so far i definitely do not view their relationship as being one-sided with odalia in control. honestly, i think they do have a sense of mutual respect for the other. to me it seems like all alador really wants to do is focus on his work and nothing else, and odalia seems not only more than happy to let him do so, but willing to take care of everything else the company needs, and he seems fine with that and going along with whatever because he only has to do his part. and clearly his abomination tech combined with her showmanship/advertising (and honestly probably some oracle magic) has clearly made them successful. 

so what im saying is that i think their power in their relationship is actually pretty balanced, if it looks otherwise that’s just because that’s how they best function together, with odalia being more forward and alador being more distant, and therefore they’re very much both to blame for shitty parenting. 

also I know some people have joked about the blight family name coming from odalia (which is also a dumb joke like why is it funny if the family name comes from the woman and not the man) but anyways I definitely do think blight is aladors family name and odalia married in simply because he takes the whole blights keep up their end of the deal thing much more seriously than odalia. probably something that’s been taught to him since he was a kid yknow, whereas she was super ready to ignore it when it inconvenienced her.

as for the very final scene with them and the golden guard, i had an interpretation of it that i saw, but it seems that everyone else ive see react to it so far saw something different than me so maybe i’m just plain wrong. but like, i have this feeling that maybe the blight parents, while they do want power, might not be as aligned with the emperor and his coven as we may think?? not saying they’re good people, just that there could be more going on here. but idk, i’ve seen no one else interpret it that way yet so i won’t go off about it unless either someone wants to know more of what i thought or if i ever actually make myself get around to making a separate post about it. 

[enigmainvestigations]

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

[stellar-imagines]

HEADCANONS REQUEST: ❝taking a hit.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou ]

「Headcanons of Midoriya, Bakugou and Kirishima reacting to their S/O taking a hard hit for them in battle and it puts them in such a bad state that they have to stop fighting and becoming a hero entirely.」

MIDORIYA IZUKU

♤ His initial reaction was to be expected. He was scared. When it came to the heat of the battle, there's always adrenaline pumping within his body and his senses became a bit sharper than usual. But he was so focused on the enemy and trying to create a chance to attack them that he forgot to watch his back. He had cursed himself for getting too cocky and forgetting that the enemy was able to strike from behind as well. Midoriya had turned around in an instant but he knew that he was too late. He thought he was a goner until you stepped in and took the hit for him. The blood that splattered onto his suit and the ground made him sick.

♤ Tears were accumulating on his eyes and after blinking once, it flowed endlessly. The villain was taken care of with the help of backup but Midoriya could care less about them right now. He never felt such intense pain before. The pain wasn't from the cuts he had on his entire body. He never felt so hopeless before. Midoriya could've done something to prevent this from happening. At this point, there was nothing he could do but wait and pray for you to recover without any major issues.

♤ When the news came, he was so devastated and he would apologize to you so many times. Midoriya blames himself so hard that you have to remind him every time that it was no his fault. Every time he sees you, he's reminded of that day where he failed to protect you. Now that you're unable to continue your hero duties, he's the one who has to work hard. Well, it's not like you don't have enough money or anything. You were so passionate about becoming a hero and he sees himself in you. He knows what it feels like to be told that you can never become a hero. Midoriya would provide comfort and tell you that you were still a hero, you had saved him after all.

♤ You didn't want him to carry the burden all on his own. You missed being a hero because it was your childhood dream job and you were really devastated that you couldn’t continue the job you loved. But, you didn’t really need it. You had Midoriya, your loving boyfriend who always supported you and you didn’t want to lose him. You decided to confront him on one day, ensuring that he had it drilled into his mind — he wasn’t at fault. Baby boy would probably cry a river and cuddle you until he falls asleep.

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

☆ Bakugou would be terrified. It wasn’t supposed to happen. He had vowed to be strong enough to protect everyone, win against villains, and protect people. Was all that talk nothing but bark but no bite? It happened way too fast for him to register. He thought he had an advantage until the villain's subordinate — that Bakugou thought he had defeated — rose up to deal one last hit before passing out. At that very moment, he had his guard down and was extremely exhausted after the intense battle. You had taken the hit for him and instantly fell to the ground. Clearly, it was a blow that was meant to take him down since it was enough to knock you unconscious. 

☆ He felt his own breath stop, guilt instantly overtaking him. He had been so absorbed in his fight and gotten a bit too cocky. In addition, thanks to the adrenaline running through his veins, he was only focused on what's in front of him. His arms were trembling as he carried you in your arms. Your hero costume was drenched in blood, eyes closed, your whole body hanging like a doll from his arms. Bakugou felt nothing but pain as he handed you over to the paramedics.

☆ The entire time you were hospitalized, he always came by every day. When the news came, you were obviously depressed. You weren't able to continue being a hero and just from hearing that, you suffered some mental damage. Bakugou blames himself because if he was more careful, you wouldn't be like this. Once you're released from the hospital, you often spent time at home. Your friends always came to visit and cheer you up while Bakugou would be out working as usual. He has ridiculed Midoriya before and seeing you completely mourning over the fact you'll never become a hero again makes him sad.

☆ He feels super guilty and tries to distract himself by drowning himself with work. It will take you some time to get over this and a lot of encouragement from different people. When you're finally back on your feet, you would convince yourself that you can't get depressed over this and that you should be grateful that you're alive today. You would confront Bakugou first, after noticing how much he had distanced himself from you. You would comfort him as he apologizes to you, hold him close, and remind him that it wasn't his fault.

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

♡ You received a direct hit from the villain that caused your body to fall to the ground. Kirishima didn't realize his feet were moving and the next moment, he was already by your side. He picked you up and carried you out of the scene while barking at the other heroes that he needed backup while he recovers. He shook you lightly, calling out your name and hoped that you were fine. He frowned at the sight of you laying limp in his arms and quickly searched for a pulse. It was a relief to know that you were still alive but the sight of blood starting to seep from your head made him panic. He reassured himself that he would save you and made promises that you would be just fine. Boy was so afraid of losing you. He's always at the hospital, watching over you. Kirishima was reminded of how fragile a person's life was.

♡ Though he was relieved that your life wasn't really in danger or anything, he could see that you weren't the same as usual. It was natural, you were told that you were unable to continue your job as a Pro Hero. He wished so many times that it should've been him who had taken the hit. You had lost your dream, one that you had been chasing for as long as you could remember. Kirishima recalled the times your eyes sparkled whenever you were out on duty and the excitement in your eyes when you're out on missions. He knows that there's no use getting depressed himself. He had to be by your side and support you through your rehabilitation. 

♡ Kirishima tries to be happy for your sake and honestly, he does a good job at it. He knows how much you loved being a hero and he also knows that you were a strong person. It will take some time for you to get over the incident but Kirishima will be there with you as much as he can. Even after you've finally let reality sink in, you weren't the only one affected by this. Your boyfriend seemed to be blaming himself behind your back. You found out when he starts crying happy tears, knowing that you're finally feeling better. 

♡ The two of you had known each other for so long and you weren't going to let this incident break that strong bond you both developed over the years. Kirishima feels guilty but that's to be expected. You would tell him that he shouldn't be. When you decided to become a hero, you knew what you were signing up for. You never blamed him for anything and you would remind him over and over if you had to. Sometimes you'd be insecure because you'll be forever known as the hero who became quirkless. Kirishima will still love you the same and tell you that there are other jobs you could do.

Total: 1352 words Published: 08.08.2020

Thank you for requesting! ｡٩(ˊᗜˋ)و*｡ Got a bit too lengthy but.... Hope you liked it! ― author Lou

Thank you for requesting it! Was this supposed to be angsty? No right? But we hope you enjoyed this! ― author Natsuki

Requests are open! Matchups are closed!

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

[dayurno]

i had time and got inspired by most lovely @daystens post about andreil dynamics + kevin so here is a (short?) kandreil fic about (soft?)butcher!neil, kevin as his husband and andrew as kevin’s bodyguard.

tw for nothing that’s not excessive tenderness for no reason 

The casino is loud, overly pompous and way too bright for the money men that frequent it, though Andrew doesn’t mind it much. 

He is not allowed in the table where the money is exchanged from wrinkly hand to wrinkly hand, anyways —  safety measures, Neil says, it’s better if they don’t see your face. A proper enough excuse, Andrew supposes, but still an inevitably boring rule to follow.

If he were to be honest —  and he is, more often than not, even at the expense of his own job —  it’s not Andrew, exactly, who is not allowed: it’s Kevin that can’t be near them, and Andrew goes wherever Kevin goes, which means that he is banned from watching Neil’s business go down by assimilation. Kevin doesn’t seem to enjoy their stay either, sitting in perfect posture on the seat next to Andrew with a bored look to his features and a fidget to his long fingers, the picture of dissatisfaction. 

Andrew knows his every tell now, from the soft furrow of his eyebrows to the pursing of his lips, and it’s an odd feeling: one look at Kevin is all it takes for him to know that he is bored out of his mind and probably missing Neil, who is the reason why he is bored in the first place. Foolish, foolish Neil —  always pulling all the stops for Kevin’s safety, however extreme such measures can be, everything to assure that not a strand of Kevin’s pitch black hair will be touched. Andrew never thought he’d understand them, but he does know, if only because of how much time he spends in their presence, watching their married banter and the way Neil’s eyes soften ever so slightly when he thinks no one is paying attention.

A soft couple is what they are. Andrew knows how important his job is to Neil’s empire, and is paid accordingly. 

But being Kevin Day’s bodyguard is simultaneously the most boring and most interesting job Andrew could’ve had gotten himself: in one hand, Kevin is the brightest jewel in the Butcher of Baltimore’s royal crown, meaning that his safety (and, painstakingly, happiness) is above every other thing under Heaven —  in another, when Kevin is not receiving combat training from Renee, he is sitting around in his apartment with a face mask on and trying to convince Andrew that the best Golden Girl is Sophia when Andrew knows very well that it’s Dorothy. The life Neil leads and the life Kevin leads are very different, and Andrew is involved neck-deep in both. 

Andrew would think that a year would be enough time for him to learn how to live with America’s most jarring sweethearts, but the truth is that he still doesn’t quite know what to do with himself at their tenderest moments: more than once he’s seen Kevin drape himself over Neil during one of these casino events — the reason he was banned from staying in their table in the first place, since people started to ask questions and Neil’s one goal in life is to make sure none of his frenemies know about Kevin’s existence at all —, and Andrew never knew where to look or put his hands during those times. 

It was easier when Kevin leant against Andrew’s shoulder, because then Andrew knew what to do. Not many people from Neil’s empire were allowed to even touch Kevin —  a rule he later came to learn wasn’t made out of possessiveness from Neil’s part, but genuine discomfort from Kevin’s —, yet Andrew had been given clear green lights from the Butcher himself to engage in any sort of touch as long as it is consensual, a get-go Andrew refuses to think about on the principle that he does not want to know how far he is allowed to go with the Butcher of Baltimore’s lover, no matter how many times he finds himself wondering just how long his leash really is. 

And, anyways,  Kevin is… Odd. Andrew finds him odd, at least, on the accord that he is violently passionate about one too many things, hand-to-hand combat (As a sport! Kevin often corrects him, as a sport, Andrew!) being one of them. Not that Andrew would ever be allowed to fight him on a rink: no one but Renee Walker had that privilege, and Andrew suspects it’s because Neil trusts her to never raise a hand in Kevin’s direction that hadn’t been explicitly consented to. Either way, it was odd that Kevin even engaged in anything but living the lavish life at all —  not only did he have access to Neil’s unlimited protection, he also had the right to every dollar bill made out of his empire, which meant Kevin could not work a day in his life and still live luxuriously until the day he died. If Andrew were him, he’d given up on trying to lead a normal life long ago. 

So, yes: Odd. Pretty, but odd. So is Neil. They were both incredibly odd people whose quirks were only halfway justified by the lifestyle that they led, and whose life Andrew hadn’t meant to be so intertwined in. 

“Andrew,” Kevin calls in his whining tone, yet another complaint Andrew can’t do anything about. “Can’t we leave? Neil is not even paying attention to us. Why are we here?”

“To you,” Andrew corrects him, “he is not paying attention to you, as you are the one that is married to him, not I. And we are here because you wanted to go out tonight.”

Kevin slumps on his chair, pillowing his head with his crossed arms and focusing all of his attention on Andrew. “I wanted to do something fun. You know, fun? I’m sure you know. We have fun all the time.”

“Don’t be inappropriate.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Kevin accuses, squinting at Andrew through dark eyelashes. “Andrew, come on. This is so boring.”

Andrew rolls his eyes. “If you fall asleep, I am not carrying you to the car.”

“Yes, you are, as that is your job,” he replies easily, though with no bite to it. “And, anyways, you can’t: I’m a foot taller than you.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “And?”

“And you can’t carry me.”

“Neither can your husband.”

“And?” Kevin repeats. 

Andrew crosses his arms. “You are particularly annoying today. It can’t be that it is just because you miss him.”

Kevin muffles a scoff against the sleeve of his suit. “I’m tired and sore. Renee kept me up until the late night yesterday. You would know if you hadn’t fallen asleep.”

Ah, yes: Kevin is not only the bane of his existence, but extremely clingy. Andrew finds that he doesn’t really mind, but it’s still funny —  no amount of attention is enough for the Butcher’s husband, surely. “Have a nap, then,” Andrew replies, unmoved. “We will be here for a long time.”

He huffs. “Almost every single person in this room has a reason to kill me.”

“And yet,” Andrew points out, “they will not lay a single finger on you, as I will not let them.”

Kevin studies him for a second before eventually humming in agreement. He pulls himself up, raking a hand through his hair, before turning to Andrew. “Yes or no?” he asks, pointedly staring at Andrew’s shoulder.

Andrew rolls his eyes. “Yes.”

He shifts to lean his head against Andrew’s shoulder, a careful touch until Andrew presses an undemanding hand to the back of his head to get Kevin to relax. When he does, Andrew pulls his hand away and shifts on his seat to give him better access, crossing his arms as he scans the crowd. Taking care of Kevin is one thing, but taking care of a sleeping Kevin was another —  even Andrew could admit it flared up his protective senses, the ones that have less to do with the fact that this is his job and more to do with the way Kevin folds into his side gently, trusting that Andrew would keep his word of not allowing any harm to come to him. 

Andrew has to, anyways, if he doesn’t want his head as decoration for the Butcher’s lovely living room, but he doubts he’d let anything happen to Kevin even if the consequences were less extreme.

He briefly shifts his gaze to Kevin’s hands, resting on his own thighs. The wedding band is golden, but discreet —  Kevin and Neil weren’t very flamboyant people in spite of their intense lifestyles, and Andrew had been told (rather, gossiped to) by Nicky that their marriage ceremony had been small and deceivingly mundane. Andrew didn’t know them at the time: all he knows is that Neil locked it down just a month after he freed Kevin from the Moriyama family, and hasn’t let go ever since. The rest is history is how Neil refers to everything that came after their marriage; a funny way to avoid telling Andrew the entire scope of his attachment to Kevin. 

For a liar, Neil was very honest with Andrew. It was unnerving, and it once made Andrew think he’d be executed the exact moment he lost his job, a concern Neil had scoffed at and said If you think you’re not under the same protection that Kevin is, you’re really stupid in response. Andrew hates them —  the two of them, the very pair of husbands —  very much.

He was right: the night is long. Kevin is passed out on his shoulders for about an hour and a half until Neil returns to their table, his sharp smile softened at the very moment his eyes fall on his sleeping husband. Andrew used to pull away from whatever touch Kevin had asked of him when Neil came around —  rightful self-preservation, he’d argue —  but nowadays he knows there is no reason to. Another thing Neil and Kevin are very odd about.

“Did I make you wait too long?” Neil softly asks, his suit jacket discarded somewhere back into the table of the money men and his scarred hands falling just a breath’s distance from Kevin’s hair, as if slowing down to not startle him awake. Andrew doesn’t know the entire scope of what happened with Kevin and the Moriyamas, but he is sure that he doesn’t want to know if it’s what made Kevin develop the habit of waking up startled at the smallest of touches.

Andrew shakes his head. “He is just tired.”

Neil hums, carding his hands through Kevin’s hair delicately. “And you? Were you too bored?”

A weird question, given Andrew is just his husband’s bodyguard, but he shakes his head again. “I am used to it,” he replies. 

“Let’s go home,” Neil quietly says, though he lingers near them for a bit longer, petting Kevin’s head. Andrew watches as the stress slowly disappears from his frame, his shoulders relaxing with each breath, as if being near them —  near Kevin —  gave him back the energy he’d lost mingling with other mafia men. “I know for a fact neither of you had dinner yet.”

“Untrue,” Andrew protests, careful to not shift too much and wake Kevin straight into a panic attack, “we shared a sundae while you were negotiating.”

“And since when is that dinner?” Neil asks, quirking an eyebrow, his hands briefly stilling. “Since when does Kevin eat ice cream?”

He presses his lips into a tight line. “He has been getting better.”

Neil half-smiles; a tired little thing Andrew wishes he did not pay so much attention to. “Your influence, I’m sure. Aren’t you the best thing to happen to us in the last years?”

“So you say,” Andrew grumbles irritably. “Wake him up so we can leave.”

Andrew could do it himself (that is, has the permission to), but he is not as delicate about it as Neil is, and if he had to be honest, he would admit that he kind of enjoys watching it go down: Neil’s soft voice, warm and steady like a candle, his hands traveling from Kevin’s hair to his face gentler than Andrew has ever seen anyone be, and Kevin’s eyes blearily blinking open one, two, three times before he realizes who he is with and what is he doing there. He never wakes up startled when he’s near Neil —  as he never wakes up startled when he’s near Andrew. 

When asked about it, Kevin mumbled something about the way they smell. He doesn’t know why Kevin would pay so much attention to Andrew’s dollar store cologne, but he is not about to ask, either. 

It is like that, with them: Andrew and Kevin, Kevin and Neil, Andrew and Neil. Husbands and their… Bodyguard. 

Andrew doesn’t know which other term to use to describe his relationship with them. He’s often afraid he’ll never know.