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keravnous · 2 years

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it's a man's world ; jim moriarty/reader (smut, 18+)

part i | playlist:you're moriarty's favourite toy

Jim likes to show off his possessions. Especially, when all the the small flies in his web are present.

word count: 10,1k

warnings: kinda non-con, power play, gun kink, public, degradation, oral (male receiving), facial, grinding on the tip of his shoes/getting yourself off, corruption kink if you blink, name calling ; sebastian moran has a cameo bc I am still mad we didn't get to see hiddleston in that role, irene is also there (besties alert), death, blood, light misogyny if you blink/power imbalance, jim has his whole army of super-criminals around for an annual gathering so beware of the stereotypes , i googled bri-ish roadman slang for this so please forgive me

inspired by that one "hello james" spectre scene

v said moriarty strikes them as the "expressive type", sooo I'll blame this on you bestie

You look down on the thin fabric in your hands. This surely isn't all, there has to be more.

You carefully drop the dress onto your bed and scram through the box and its expensive wrapping paper once more to find it - empty. Nothing, except a matching pair of longsleeved gloves and a thong in the same soft nude colour.

The material is just as sheer as the dress is, a soft rose tone, interwoven by hundreds of small crystals. They sparkle in the dim light of your bedroom.

This is a joke. He's gotta be joking.

You pick up the dress - if one can even call it that - again and give it a closer look. You are very sure that this isn't supposed to be worn on a night out, this is a bedroom-exclusive. It's long and sleeveless, with a deep neckline and a halter-neck, closed with a string of what looks suspiciously like multiple diamonds dangling from it.

You walk over to the closed door, leaning against it. You can hear Mister Moran and his colleague chatting quietly on the other side. Should you ask?

The fabric is light and soft in your hand and you tilt it in the dimly lit room. It sparkles and you can see through nearly completely, your painted nails shining through. You definitely should ask.

"A-are you, uhm, Mister Moran are you there?", you lean your forehead against the cold wooden door, taking one or two deep breaths. The low murmur ebbs, your cat meows and then there's footsteps, followed only a second later by a soft knock on the door. It rings in your ears.

"Are you ready, Miss?"

"Yeah, uh, no. I have a question, I reckon."

Silence. "Alright, Miss."

You swallow.

"A-are you sure, that this is all? All h-he bought, I mean."

There's a slight chuckle. "I was reassured by Mister Moriarty that the package is complete, Miss. So yes, this might as well be it."

"Jesus", you huff.

"Please, do hurry up."

"I am not leaving the house like this", your mouth is quicker than your brain and you can hear Moran freezing behind the door.

"I fear, that will be non-negotiable."

"I will not-"

"Don't keep him waiting."

You burst out a dry laugh, one, that catches in your throat. "I am nearly naked in this."

The other side falls silent. Where there was shuffling and rustling before and someone talking to your cat, is now dead silence.

Moran clears his throat. "I have my orders, Miss. We are already running late."

You shake your head. "Call him, then. I am not-"

"You do not wanna do this", the tone of his voice now has you falling dead silent in a heartbeat, a sudden cold creeping up your spine, "We may offer you a coat. Now, please, do get ready."

You swallow. "Are you certain?", your voice is a lot more silent now, giving away your blooming surrender and anxiety.

"Yes, Miss. I am afraid I am."

You nod and let go of a shaky breath, hand slowly lowering on the door. Its wooden surface is cold beneath your touch.

You know a warning when you hear one.

Even though Mister Moran and his colleague (the one talking to your cat), just as the driver, had been very respectful and discreetly kept their gazes away from you, you can still feel your nervosity rising. Jim hadn't told you where you would be meeting him - actually, until roughly an hour ago you didn't know at all that you'd be leaving the house tonight.

You had come home from work and ordered some food from your favourite Indian restaurant, readying yourself for a cosy night in - as the doorbell rang. It hadn't been the delivery service, but three men in black suits, with concealed weapons and a beige, large gift box.

You take a look out of the window as the rainy city passes by. London is pretty when it's dark out, warm lights and people rushing by, as used to the rain as they are to breathing. The driver hammers down on the gas and the engine roars, as the lights switches from red to green.

"Where are we going?", you ask as you pass Hyde Park. Moran sits next to you, the middle seat between the two of you is empty except for your ridiculously small purse. His eyes are fixed on the road ahead, visible between the two front seats. The rain patters on the roof and runs down the thick window panes, while some female singer's sultry voice, most likely from the 50s, fills the warm air. You fumble with the expensive rings on your fingers. Moran had discreetly handed them over to you while you were doing your make-up. They are made of crisp and bright, huge rose diamonds and - you recognize one of them. Monique told you, months ago, that it was sold at Sotheby's for an eight-figure sum, showed you pictures and you joked about who could possibly be rich enough to own such a piece. Now it sits between multiple other diamond rings on your ring finger, gleams in the light.

"Brompton, Miss. We will arrive shortly."

You know the district more from the colourful front pages of the tabloids - spotting their lurid guise when hurrying by newspaper stands on your way to the tub - than seeing it in person. The area is significantly above your pay grade anyways.

"Brompton?", you echo only to then - desperately scrambling for any conversation to not fall into uncomfortable silence once more - add, "Must be difficult to get a table anywhere there, I reckon. How did he managed to get a reservation?"

"Reservation?", he turns his head around and looks at you, eyebrows raised in confusion. O-kay.

"Yes?", you blink at him, once twice, "I- I thought I'd meet him for dinner?"

"No", comes the curt answer.

Oh, that's - well, odd. Jim usually takes you out for dinner and fucks you senseless on the backseat of his Aston Martin. It has become kind of a routine the two of you have fallen into, fucking once or twice a week, making you feel less lonely and taking care of the ache between your legs.

You catch yourself still looking at Mister Moran, not knowing what to say next. So much for keeping up small talk.

"May I remind you, that today is the 15th, Miss", he suddenly says, looking straight ahead, expression pretty much unreadable.

You fall silent for a moment, your eyebrows drawn together in confusion - you have no clue what that's supposed to mean. "Yeah, and -", you startle, "Oh shit. It's not his birthday, or is it?"

Now it's his turn to be silent, visibly confused. You are certain that a minute passes by, before his gaze quickly drops to the passenger seat, where the other man in a black suit sits. His eyes meet Moran's in the rear-view mirror.

"She doesn't know", the man murmurs. It's the first time you hear him speak all night, except the muted words that passed through your closed bedroom door when he was talking to your cat.

"That she doesn't, indeed."

"Where are we going?", you can hear yourself ask again, sounding far away in your own ears, rising anxiety hardening your voice.

Mister Moran looks back at you. For a split second - you won't actually be certain later that you did not in fact imagine it - a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

"Mister Moriarty is hosting a very special party tonight, Miss. It is not his birthday, may I add. It's more like a - well, a gala of sorts."

Oh.

You already open your mouth to ask A gala, why? What for? as the car comes to a halt in front of a massive bronze gate. A hundred years ago or so it would've gleamed golden in the warm hue of the street lights but it has turned into a dirty green-ish since then. The driver rolls down the window and exchanges some hushed words with the porter, who quickly opens the gate. It rolls open lazily, giving way to a long gravelly path. The engine roars and the car rolls forward, as you take in the scenery passing by your window.

Behind the massive stone walls, a neatly trimmed park awaits, with large trees and lush, green grass. The leaves bend under the heavy rainfall and the grass shimmers in the old lamplights lining the path. The park is divided by grey gravel that crunches under the wheels of the armoured vehicle, as it makes its way through the avenue of linden trees and warm lights.

The house - mansion, more like - that comes up on a plaza after a few minutes looks like it may have been built in the 19th century, with its adorned sandstone walls and large balconies. You didn't know such places existed, resting carefully hidden away smack in the city.

"Is this his property?", you breathe out, all anxiety swallowed by awe, as the car takes a turn around the fountain in front of the entrance portal, the engine slowly dying down. Moran hums deeply in his throat and nods. You blink.

You remember the first time you met Jim at the museum. He had something about him, apart from the way he treated you, that screamed power with every movement, every word, every gaze. He looked like money, breathed money. It's still a mystery to you, what his profession is - just as it is a mystery to you, which profession could possibly make someone that wealthy. It's got to be old money but then again, Moriarty wasn't and still isn't a name that rings any bells in that regard.

You come to realize again that you still don't know much about him - you don't know what his job is (something important by the looks of it - government, finances?), you don't know what his favourite food is, you don't know what music he likes to listen to - jesus, you don't even know where he lives.

You take another look out of the window. Now might be your chance. You're grasping at straws but maybe Moran will be of help.

"Does he live here?"

"No, Miss."

You want to know more, Where then - Does he life alone - Am I just an affair - Is he here often, but someone opens the car's door on your side. Cool air sweeps into the vehicle and you are greeted by the friendly face of an elderly man. He wears a livrée and white gloves, reaches out with one hand to help you out of the car. There's another man in a livrée, a little younger, holding a large black umbrella.

"Good evening, Miss - Mister Moran, good to see you, as always", he has a strong Irish accent, "Mister Moriarty is awaiting your presence in the Grande Hall. May I show you the way, Miss?"

You nod, taken aback by the sight that opens up to you as soon as both your feet stand on the gravel. There are at least thirty men - armed men - alongside the massive stair case. They look like they are guarding the place - straightened back, guns at the ready. You don't know much about firearms but you do watch the news so it's not that difficult to spot an assault rifle when you see one.

"Oh, don't be bothered by them", the elderly man smiles and seemingly means it, "They are here for everyone's safety. No need to be nervous, Miss."

Your hands close in around your purse until your knuckles turn white, arms wrapping tightly around your own figure. You don't necessarily feel safer with a few dozen of heavily armed men sporting semi-automatic weapons.

A thought creeps up on you, a little voice whispering in the back of your head, growing louder with every second that you look at the armed security guards. This is not what a private gathering of an investment banker or finance mogul looks like - there's only really one possibility left and you'd really rather not think about it.

"Shall we?", the elderly man turns towards the entrance and you don't really feel like having much of a choice left. Thus, you nod and make your way over the gravel and up the stair case. The gravel crunches wetly underneath the heels of your shoes and Moran follows right behind you, carrying his own umbrella. The armed men lining the staircase don't look at you, fingers resting on the trigger of their guns, suits wetted by the rain. Your head swims a little and you feel your fight or flight kicking in. But there's nowhere to run, with thirty automatic guns surrounding you and Moran right behind you.

"Oh, but where are my manners!", the elderly man suddenly stops and rips you out of your thoughts, his smile tearing the dark clouds apart. He looks genuinely friendly and it calms your nerves the slightest. "My name is Charles, Miss. I am Mister Moriarty's butler - since Dublin, may I add", he sounds proud and you wonder why, since you have no clue what happened in Dublin - but Charles seems to think, that you're familiar with whatever happened back then. Luckily, Mister Moran also seems to be a psychic.

"He has served as Mister Moriarty's butler since he's been a little boy."

"Exactly", Charles nods and beams, "I was once responsible for the whole family. The master was still a child when his parents had this horrible accident."

Something tells you, that it maybe wasn't much of an accident.

"I was responsible for his brother as well, but he moved out early", he starts to climb the stairs again and you hurry to follow, trying not to be hit by the steady downpour of rain.

"It was right after that boy from his swimming class drowned, such a tragedy", the elderly man suppresses an exhausted groan as he reaches the top of the stairs and Moran is quick to pass by and hold open the door. You can't help but notice that they all - the driver, Moran, the colleague, the butler, the small militia - seem to work like a well-oiled machine. They could be blindfolded and still find their place on this large, strange chess board. You enter behind Charles and are greeted by a warmly lit entrance hall. The walls are high and covered by old tapestry, adorned by solid golden panelling. There are low hanging, gigantic chandeliers with sparkling stones and seating groups of Mies van der Rohe's design classics. The low glass tables are full of empty champagne glasses and opened bottles, a few cigars still gleaming.

There's no one here.

"The meeting is already in progress", Charles says - more to Moran than to you, "He will not be pleased that she's late. Not to mention your absence, Sebastian."

"Well, he didn't really give us much time to prepare accordingly, now did he?", Moran smiles and it looks charming but is so so cold that it runs a shiver down your spine. There's something very predatory about him, something you noticed earlier, too. It's in his movement, his voice, his stern gaze - he's like a bloodthirsty animal on a leash. It hits you like a train: the sudden realization that he's one thing and one thing only - dangerous.

"Well, of course", the elderly man bows a little and nods, turn around to you, "May I take your coat, Miss?"

Your hands are shaking, as Charles offers you a hand. You really rather wouldn't. The thick, dark wool was like a shield and you don't feel comfortable taking it away. Your gaze is caught by Moran.

"You're late", he simply says and you actually fear him and thus, you comply.

You take a deep breath, anxiety crawling up your spine as you slowly take the fabric off. Charles is very respectful, keeps his eyes on the ground and so does Moran.

You are certain, that they aren't only doing it for you, for your comfort. They are doing it for themselves as well, frightful and knowing of what would happen if you were to tell Jim, that his men can't keep their gazes to themselves.

"Thank you", you can hear yourself say through the thundering of your heart, power surging through your veins at the thought that somehow, only just a little, they are at your mercy, too. It makes your head spin, the strangeness of the thought mingling with the surge of adrenaline that comes with it.

"You're welcome, Miss", Charles takes your purse, too and you want to protest - Don't take it away, I need to hold onto something - but you don't, inner resistance already beaten to death, spitting blood and crawling on the floor of your brain, "Sebastian, why don't you bring her inside?"

Moran nods - "Over here, please" - and offers you his arm. You carefully place one hand in the crook of his elbow as he walks you over to the massive wooden doors that nearly reach the ceiling. There's this feeling again, that you felt at the museum all those months ago, as your colleagues straightened their backs, checked their clothes. Like it's a familiar automatism you do it now, too - shoulders rolling back, your free hand straightening the dress. The diamonds lightly bounce against your naked back, reminding you of how little of a garment you're actually wearing.

"Don't disappoint him", Moran says before he opens one wing of the massive doors. There's warm, dim light streaming out of the room and you can hear someone speaking. As you enter the room, Moran carefully lets go of your arm.

There are a few dozen people sitting around a huge oval mahogany table, its polished surface shining in the dim lights of the huge, low hanging chandeliers. It's mostly men, just two of them are women. A young man, wrapped in street clothes that probably cost more than your yearly rent, is currently leaning forward on the massive wooden table, box braids falling into his face at the sudden movement. He's the one you heard speaking, thick south-side accent swirling around his sentences.

"-wasteman, y'know like, from my ends, innit? I'll hook'em up wiv you, guv -"

The door behind you falls shut as Moran closes it. Their heads snap up at the sudden sound and around to you.

"Whew, shit", the man next to one who had been speaking - wrapped in expensive street wear as well and in even more expensive jewellery, shimmering in the light - leans forward, "Fuckin' peng ting."

There's someone clearing their throat, the sound echoing from the walls. You know the sound, by heart. The man's head snaps around.

"Shit, sorry Big G, she wiv you?", there's no further reaction coming from Jim and the man raises his hands in a defensive manner, voice breaking a little, "Aight, man, aight. Cool, imma back off, don't be vexed."

You don't know what to do, hands folded uselessly in front of you.

The room is larger than you would've ever imagined and your first guess is, that it had been a ball room once, a couple of hundred years ago. Now, there's only the large, oval table standing right in the middle of the room. The walls are high, with dark wooden panelling that only breaks to give to way to a long gallery, which has balconies reaching into the room. There are, what you guess are at least a few hundred people, standing up there, vanishing in the dark of the gallery. Their gazes burn on your skin.

You look back straight ahead. The table in front of you is a few dozen feet long and at the end, hidden partially by shadows, sits Moriarty. You don't have to see his face to recognize him, feel his gaze on your body.

"That won't be necessary", his voice cuts through the silence and you blink as you realize, that he isn't talking to you, "You" - he lazily points to another man sitting at the far end of the table, right infront of you and you can only see the back of his head - "Wasn't that supposed to be taken care of by your people?"

He's scrambling for words, obviously coming up with an excuse, but you don't bother to listen, gaze flickering over the people sitting at the table. One of the women is still looking at you and you catch her gaze.

She has a stern, cold look in her eyes - the one of a matriarch, with her dark hair pulled back neatly in an impressive updo, lips painted dark red. You can't help being transfixed by her as she slowly tilts her head and - smiles.

You blink. Is she -? She is, expression thawing a little as she looks at you with a mixture of pride and approval. Her gaze and its implication pools around your brain, seeps into it and sets a fresh wave of adrenaline free, that runs straiiight into your legs. She's encouraging you.

Your body takes over your brain as you start to move. The sound of your heels meeting the polished wooden floor echoes from the wall as you make your way over to Moriarty. Step by step you can feel yourself growing more and more confident, arms gracefully resting at your sides as you strut through the room. You can feel a couple of eyes following you and, as you pass the lady with the red lips, she nods.

It has pure, raw power pumping through your veins, erupting in your stomach and spreading between your shoulder blades, has your chin rising up a little. You come to realize, that he's brought you here for a reason and you're ready to meet - no, to exceed - his expectations.

As you come closer you can see what's on the table in front of him. A notepad and an expensive fountain pen, a glass with what looks like hard liquor and -

a gun.

There's a gun on the table, in an arm's reach.

If you'd be a little more familiar with firearms, you'd be able to classify it as a Glock. It is loaded, clip snugly pressed to the base. It's his gun. It's got to be.

You swallow. He has a gun. The next thought makes you go dizzy, knees going a little weak: he most likely knows how to use it, too.

Moriarty doesn't look at you as you approach him, eyes still fixed on the man at the end of the table. The man, who had been stumbling over words and rushed excuses, falls silent as you make your last few steps over to Moriarty.

"Go on", Jim says to him, hand gesturing lazily and he already sounds bored.

You know that a bored Jim, is a dangerous Jim. They all look at him, frightened, tense. There's only one person not transfixed by Moriarty.

It's the lady with the red lipstick. She's still smiling, eyes roaming over your face. And then her lips move, mouthing something, passing on Jim's words to you - go on.

There's this feeling surging through your veins like electricity again - power. And like a puppet on her strings, you straighten your back, leaning down towards Moriarty, one hand resting on his shoulder, arm flat on his back. He's warm beneath your touch, breathing slowly. The gloves on your hands and their little crystals shimmer in the dim light, like a nebula against his dark blue suit, the diamond rings its little planets.

"Honey", you rasp, tongue taking over brain, "I'm here." Your lips dance over his cheek as you speak and his slight stubble prickles on your lips. You press them down, the sound of a soft, short kiss filling the quiet room. His scent wraps you around like a thick cloud and you close your eyes, take it in. It's your favourite cologne of his- warm and rich, vanilla, musk and herbs. It makes your stomach tingle and has raw, utter want pooling in your lower body.

There's a warm hand sneaking up your hips and waist, that rubs along your curves and then forcefully grabbing your figure and pushing you back. A small surprised noise escapes your throat and then he's looking at you - finally.

Moriarty's eyes roam over your body, thumb caressing your ribs, right below your breast. He hums deep in his throat and then presses his thumb against your left tit, lets it bounce a little. The material of the dress rubs over your slightly hardened nipples and the sensation pulls at your strings, sends shivers down down down your spine to your loins. Jim hums once more and your blood sings with it: sings with the unspoken praise, with his unspoken approval.

You hold his gaze, cheeks growing a little warm with his attention, as he suddenly speaks up.

"You, I said go on", Jim snaps the fingers of his free hand in the direction of the man on the other side of the table. His other hand is roaming over your tit, coming to a rest on your shoulder and then presses down.

"Kneel", his voice is deep and you blink, transfixed by his gaze. He looks cold, colder than usual, his face hardened and unmoving, gaze distanced and demanding. You swallow, ears ringing.

"Kneel", he says again, a lot more forceful this time and you obey, slowly but surely - like your body isn't yours anymore - sinking down on your knees right beside him, facing his side. The diamonds dangling at your back clink as they are being thrown against each other by the sudden movement.

Jim's eyes hold your gaze on the whole way down and for a short moment, they gleam. Boredom torn at the edges with excitement.

His hand crawls up your cheek, warm but it makes goosebumps spread across your body like his touch is freezing cold, patting you a little. And then he smiles, before looking away and at the stranger, again.

Your heart is racing as you follow his gaze and notice that they all stare at you. Not just them, the people on the gallery as well. The lady with the red lips still smiles, lowering her head a little in approval.

"I told you to go on, didn't I?", Jim sounds cold and one of your hands, obediently resting in your lap, darts out, stretches itself out on his left thigh.

His gaze momentarily drops down and to your hand, adorned by crystals and diamonds and then towards you. The look in Moriarty's eyes and the fact that he doesn't swat your hand away makes your stomach flutter. He looks away again and you take the chance, let your eyes roam over the sharp profile of his face, across his cheeks as they take in his slight stubble, dark lashes and the one loose strand of hair that falls into his face.

"I-", the man clears his throat, "We are certain that within the next month - that there will be a solution to the issue, w-within in the next month."

Jim leans back in his chair, spreading his legs a little. He's silent for a long moment.

"The next month?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And d'you think, that will do?"

Silence. And then: "N-no, Sir."

"Good. Then why exactly aren't you doing something about it?"

"There's nothing I could-"

Moriarty's expression shuts him up. He falls silent and so does the room.

"This keeps happening", Jim sighs dramatically and then lets his gaze roam over the gallery, where a hundred or so men and women stand, looking down at him in obedience, "Look at them. They would kill to sit where you are. And yet, you disappoint me."

Moriarty tilts his head and looks at the man on the other side of the table.

"I think, I'll do them a favour", he sing-songs and then suddenly, with a speed you didn't expect, grabs his gun. It clicks and then the gunshot rips through the silence, bullet tearing through the man's forehead with military precision.

You jump at the sound and can barely contain a sharp scream escaping your lips, starring down the hall at the now dead body.

The man slumps in his chair and then sacks forward, his upper body falling onto the table with a loud thud.

No one flinches at the sound. You're the only one.

He killed a man.

Shot him.

In cold blood.

Didn't even think about it.

You want to scream, to run, to -

There's a little noise on the gallery. "Come down", Jim sighs, "And do better. I hate wasting bullets." There's a slight rustle upstairs, like they're fighting, but you can't really hear anything else over your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

You want to throw up. Your hands start to shake, palms growing wet with cold sweat.

"Oh poppet, are you afraid?", he sing-songs, pouts at you playfully, "Don't be" - there's someone screaming upstairs, right after what sounded like a knife being drawn - "Daddy would never hurt you", Jim's hand darts out, fingers spreading over your scalp and slowly caressing your hair and the skin beneath, rubbing his hand in a soothing, circular motion. It messes up your hair but it feels - good.

"Are you quite done up there?", he raises his voice - bored bored bored -, "I've got better things to do."

His hand drops to you neck, rubs over it, thumb carefully pressing against the nape of it. It does calm you down, surprisingly so.

You turn into puddy under his soft touch, head spinning and breath slowing down, the thundering of your heart turning into a slow rumble.

"Good girl", he whispers, "I'd never hurt you."

And with the way his voice rings in your head, like it's slooowly starting to creep its way into the curves and alleyways of your brain, you start to believe him.

You hum - safe with him safe with him safe with him - and lean into his touch. The sound of a pair of sharp footsteps echoes from the tall walls and as you look up, a man hoists the slumped body up - blood drips down the dead man's forehead and it squeaks as he lifts him from the red puddle on the dark mahogany - like he weighs nothing, throws him out of the chair and onto the ground. The body falls to the floor like a heavy pillow. This time you don't flinch.

"Here I am, Sir", he has a French accent.

"I can see that", Jim sighs and the gun clicks again as a bullet snaps into the barrel. The gun dangles from his hand as he gestures with it.

He doesn't need to say more, the French man understanding immediately what is asked of him. "I can assure you, that we have the most secure routes from Mexico to Marseille. That means roughly - uh, how do you say - cent-soixante tonnes de poids a month."

"160 tons a month, Sir", the other woman says and you can hear papers rustling, "We had 70 tons coming in over Felixstowe last month."

"Any contesters to that?", Moriarty sing-songs and looks around the room, slowly lets his gaze wander over the balconies. There's only silence.

He seems content. "Sit", he gestures with his gun and you hear the screeching of a chair on the other end of the room, "Looks like we won't need this anymore." You watch the stranger sitting down, a servant rushing over to clean the table. The cloth quickly soaks up the blood, white linen replaced by red red red. "Merci", the man says and the servant bows, before hastily returning to the shadows of the room.

Moriarty's head turns towards you, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Would you mind to open up f'me, sweetheart?"

You look at him, blinking - once, twice. Your eyes dart over to the gun he's still holding. You know what he wants. His gaze bores into you.

Your head's a little dizzy, like your brain is wrapped in hot cotton candy that slowly but steadily seeps into every single remaining pore of your body. Your stomach flutters a little at the thought, the implied danger has your breath hitching in your throat.

You know what he wants. And - as you come to realize - you start to want it, too.

And thus, you nod - "As you wish, Sir" - and part your lips, tongue darting out willingly, as he smiles and pushes the barrel of the gun into your mouth - safety still off, his finger on the trigger. The metal is still warm by the fired shot and heavy on your tongue, the taste of it spreading in your mouth.

Moriarty presses it in deep, the movement forcing you to lay your head back, until you can feel it hit your palate and you suck in a sharp breath through your nose. It gets you hot all over and you know, you should be afraid since he just bloody shot someone but you can't bring yourself to care. Your blood sings with being at his mercy, with the way he looks down and at you - all glory and gore, a king with no crown.

They all stare at you, but you only have eyes for Jim - looking up at him through your lashes, gun resting between your lips.

He hums deep in his throat, clicks his tongue. "Mhm", he rasps, "Atta girl."

You beam. "Keep it warm f'me, yes?", Jim tilts his head a little and you nod as best as you can.

His left arm rests calmly on the arm of the chair, slightly bend with the gun resting in your mouth, trigger pressed against your chin. Your heart races in your chest, gaze set on him, who orders the next henchman to report on his business.

There's something about him, how leisurely he lounges in his chair, how casually he handled that gun, how he shoved it into your mouth that makes your loins grow hot. Jesus, you're fucked.

"Edith."

"Yes, Sir", it's the woman again, "Next on the agenda is the usage of the Aquarius Software since we took over the NEA company last march. Since then, we've gained access to at least ten different governments, their respective leaders and a handful of influential politicians - just in the past two months. But maybe we should hear Mister Sharev about this, if you wouldn't mind, Sir?"

"No, no. Go ahead", Moriarty's hand tilts the gun and shoves it even deeper in your mouth and you gag around the barrel, saliva gathering around it and dripping down your chin. Your eyelids flutter and you relax your chin, taking a few deep breaths through your nose. Your hand, still covered by the thin glove, slightly presses into his thigh, desperate for leverage.

It's like someone put a spell on you, with the way you look at him, watching how he tilts his head as the CEO starts to announce his company's goals and aims to furthermore undermine the world's leading governments. His thigh is still warm beneath your touch and you can feel his muscles clench a little beneath the thick, expensive fabric of his slacks. Odd. Your gaze drops down to your hand and - he's hard. His dick is hard, pressing against the dark blue of his pants.

You wish you could move your head, just to look at it . The palm of your hand starts to tingle, as a familiar pulling sensation pools in your lower stomach and travels further down, right between your legs.

Long forgotten is the dead man lying on the floor and bleeding out, shot with the gun you got between your lips - all you can think about is feeling him. Jim's leg is unbearably hot beneath your fingers and you experimentally let them wander up his thigh a little.

Jim doesn't react and thus, you feel tempted to try further, fingers dancing over his thigh where the flesh grows warmer, on its way up to his crotch. Your fingers dart out and you find what they seek, digits dancing over his hard dick, pressing firmly against the dark blue fabric and straining it. You wish you could really look at it.

Your eyes flash up to Moriarty's face and you can see him grin and it sets a wave free, hot shivers running from your scalp down down down over your back to your loins until they're ignited in your crotch and erupt in wetness between your legs.

Your fingers close around the bulge, his cock hot and thick and long, pulsating underneath your hand and your eyelids flutter. You can feel saliva gathering on your tongue as you come to realize that you miss its taste. The gun still presses against your tongue and your brain surrenders itself to the wetness pooling between your legs and the steadily growing want crawling in your stomach, clawing at your skin. It's better than nothing and your brain willingly conjurs up the illusion.

Your tongue rubs alongside the rough surface of the gun's barrel, metallic taste slowly being replaced by your brain with Jim's usual musky and salty taste. You whine, thighs clenching a little, as you suck the barrel deeper into your mouth. Your tongue finds the muzzle and rubs over it, imagines it to be smaller and warmer, giving away first drops of cum, not thin air.

The man is still talking but you can't be bothered to listen to him. The thought of Jim's dick makes you wet, aching for him to just touch you, fingers running over his clothed dick, thumb rubbing over its bottom. You can feel it twitch beneath the expensive fabric.

Your head starts to move, back and forth on the gun barrel like it's Moriarty cock and you feel him up as you do, hand closing in again, massaging him through his pants until -

"Shut up for a second", and Sharev does, clasps his hands in front of him, "Someone's down here has been a bad bad girl." He turn his head around and pouts at you playfully and leaning in closer.

"You want the real thing, don'tcha?", he murmurs and slooowly pulls the gun out of your mouth. There's a string of saliva connecting it to your lower lip that eventually riiips and dribbles down your chin. His dick is hot and pulses against your palm, underneath your thin gloves. Your jaw already hurts a little, a bit sore with keeping your mouth open but you nod, a small whine escaping your throat. There's nothing else left on your mind but his dick, feeling him, tasting him, making him feel good and being rewarded with bitter-sweet praise.

"Look at you, little dumb whore - can't even listen to the grown-ups talking for half an hour."

His thumb strokes over your swollen lip, corner of his mouth tilting up a little, while it wanders up up up, over your cheek and into your hair where he grabs a fistful of it and pulls. It stings, as he roughly manoeuvres you in front of him and you scramble on your knees, hands darting over his legs and the chair for any sort of leverage.

"Off you go then, sweetheart", he hums as you're finally kneeling in front of him.

It feels like someone pulled the plug to your brain as you dash forward - ready to please please please. There are a few hundred pairs of eyes set on you - on your body, visible and exposed in the sparkling dress, eyes hungry and hair a mess - but you don't care, can't bring yourself to. What are they going to do? Tell someone? He'll have them executed. The certainty of the thought makes your blood sing, your thoughts swim and you look up at him.

Moriarty's expression is unreadable, masked by his usual coldness, corners of his mouth tilted like he's bored.

Don't be boring don't be boring don't be boring his sing-song echoes in your skull and as your hands make haste with the fly of his slacks you come to realize: you turned into his private version of a pavlovian dog. Drooling, panting, desperate for attention and praise.

You don't even flinch as the damp barrel of the gun suddenly presses down - riiight onto the middle of your forehead. He could blast your lights out right now, execute you on the spot. It should terrify you, grab you by the throat and pull you out of that fucking trance he's lured you into but it just - doesn't.

Instead, you moan.

The sound echoes off of the walls and Jim chuckles, low and deep in his throat.

"Oh, ain't you just pretty", he grins and it gets you going, spurs you on and makes your cheeks turn red as your blood sings with the only thought your mind's able to conjure up - worship him worship him worship him.

One of your hands, still wrapped in the expensive gloves, darts out and takes his hard dick out of his pants, his boxers. It's hot and heavy in your palm, tip glistening with precum.

A thought creeps up on you. He let's you do this, he let's you suck his cock in public, puts on you in the spotlight. He could've picked someone else; you're convinced he could've - but he didn't.

He chose you.

Your eyelids flutter as you become aware once more of all the eyes boring into your back and it turns you on, knowing that he's showing you off, publicly marking you as his.

Moriarty hisses as the soft material of your gloves starts to stroke him, lips curling up in a smile, all teeth and gleaming eyes. He's looking down at you, brown eyes so so dark and you feel like falling into the void, barrel of the gun pressing down harder on your forehead.

Oddly enough, you trust him.

"Atta girl, suck Daddy's cock real good", he sing-songs, mischievous grin tugging at his lips and you obey to him, saliva pooling around your tongue as you lean in, licking a fat stripe from the base of his dick to the top.

"Sooo", he nearly sighs as he watches you taking the tip of his dick into your mouth, before he looks back up at Mister Sharev, "My secretary was so nice to inform me about the status of the current project. All still in order?"

"Yes, Sir. We are currently-", you can't bring yourself to listen, with the taste of his dick fogging up your mind in rapid speed. You swirl your tongue around its tip, lips wrapping around the warm flesh before they wander lower, peppering his dick with wet, open-mouthed kisses, tongue darting out and licking along the thick vein on the bottom.

The gun at your head shifts, leaves your forehead and presses against the side of your skull instead, has you groaning against Jim's cock. The present danger has your blood singing and the desire to please - be good, be good, be good - blooming in your chest, as pleasure shoots riiight between your legs.

Your lips move further down, hand darting out and pulling his boxers lower which has him chuckling deep in his chest, a low rumble that barely reaches you through the haze. The barrel of the gun presses down more firmly, has dull pain shooting through your skull and Moriarty spreads his legs a little further, giving you more space. He's enjoying this and it makes your head swim, heart missing a beat or two, spurring you on. Your tongue follows the newly revealed trail, dancing over his balls, before you wrap your lips around them, sucking on them. His neatly trimmed pubic hair prickles on your cheek and you moan quietly, as his scent wraps around you, a musky, salty taste filling your mouth pulling you down down down into his lair.

One of your hands holds Moriarty's dick, thumb gently rubbing slow circles over its tip, precum wetting the soft, sheer material of the glove. You suck one of his balls into your mouth, heavy and warm on your tongue, hand stroking his cock. He's still talking, voice steady and cold like you aren't kneeling between his legs, sucking him off and it makes you hot all over. You lick a fat stripe over his balls, growing wetter at the sudden twitch of his dick, the way the thick vein pulses against your palm. Your lips wander back up, tongue spreading your saliva on his hard dick as you realize that you need more.

The thought has you whining, gloved hand giving Jim's dick one last stroke before you dive in, tongue resting on your lower lip, welcoming his cock home. You take him in deep, lips wrapping around him, saliva pooling on your tongue. You move your head around him, moaning against his cock as you suck him off, feeling his vein pulsing and dick twitching on your tongue. Suddenly, like you're momentarily snapping out of it, his voice reaches your ears.

"And 221B?"

"We're at it, Sir. The doctor's security system is rather underwhelming, even for government standards." You have no bloody clue of where or what 221B is, even though it rings a tiny little bell waaay back in your mind, but gets Jim fucking going.

"Good", his voice is deep and coarse and his dick hits the back of your throat as he rolls his hips once, twice, has you sputtering around his cock.

"Hold still or I'll shoot you", Moriarty says plainly, barrel of the gun painfully pressing against the side of your skull, as his slim fingers press onto your neck, holding you in place. Your nose is buried deep in his trimmed pubic hair and his musky scent wraps around you, as you try to breathe through your nose. His cock hits the back of your throat once more and you gag, tears filling your eyes at the sudden lack of oxygen.

You try your best to relax your jaw but he doesn't give you a break, rolls his hips, ruthlessly fucks into your mouth. You can feel saliva pooling at the corners of your mouth, obscene and wet squelching sounds filling the air as he pushes himself deeper faster and faster. Your hands press into Jim's thigh in a desperate attempt to hold onto anything, fingers digging deep into the muscular flesh beneath the dark blue, until their knuckles turn white. It has his hips bucking and a growl rumbling in his chest, his throat. It momentarily takes your breath away and one of your feet kicks a little, as your slowly but surely are running more and more out of breath - dress rustling and diamonds on your back clinking. The rising anxiety of hypoxia, mixing together with his scent and the feeling of his dick fucking your mouth raw, using you has you spiralling deeper and deeper into cloudy subspace, hazy lust taking over your brain. It has your body going a little limp, your throat relaxing and wet pussy clenching around nothing.

Be good be good be good - and you are, fingers relaxing and instead of clawing into them, now moving along Moriarty's thighs and up up up, over his lower abdomen. You know you're making a mess of his shirt but you also know that he likes it, likes your hands roaming over his body whenever you suck his dick or ride him. He likes it when you worship him. And thus, you feel him up, feeling his muscular stomach contracting with each thrust into your throat.

The hand on your neck fists into your hair, pulling you away from him.

You're panting, chin wet with your spit dripping down your chin, lipstick smeared as you look up at him with teary eyes, mascara blotchy around the edges. His cheeks have the faintest of a flush of redness and there's a little sweat on his forehead as he presses the gun against your temple.

Moriarty gives himself one, two firm strokes and your eyelids flutter as thick, hot ropes of white hit your face, a few drops going into your eye. He groans as he comes on your face, intense gaze boring into your eyes, tip of his dick resting a few inches away from your eye. Small tears run down your right cheek as you blink the cum away. They mingle with it and run down your soft skin, dripping down on the dress.

"Ain't you m'pretty little slut?", he asks, gives your clean cheek a little slap and you nod, while he takes his flattening dick in the other hand and rubs it along your cheek, smears his cum across your face and lips. "What d'you say, hm?"

"Thank you, Sir", you croon, hands roaming over his knees and thighs, looking up at Jim, beaming with his praise. You're still wet, pussy aching and pulsing between your legs.

"Be a good girl and put it away", your hands move to his pants, carefully pulling his boxers up, straightening his shirt and closing the fly of his pants, while he shoves one foot between your knees instead, gun still pressing against your skull, "C'mon, take what y'need."

The tip of his shoe is pressing against your wet thong, material coolly pressing against your hot skin, right beneath your clit. You don't have to think twice, brain lost to the hazy fog of pleasure and you roll your hips back a little. The hard, polished leather rubs over your clit and you gasp, hips stuttering a little. One of your hands darts out, grabbing his knee. The pain of the hard surface, mixed together with your absolute need for stimulation has your abdomen clenching.

You bite your lip as you experimentally roll your hips forward, clit brushing over the leather and you can fell your pleasure crawling up up up, spreading in your chest, making your skin tingle with want. It's not enough, the lack of touch and the way you just need more and thus, your free hand wanders up your thigh, cold rings tingling your skin through the thin fabric as you run them up your leg and higher higher higher, over your stomach up to your tits. You grab one of them and feel yourself up, kneading it while you grind down on Moriarty's shoe. You eyelids flutter and you pant with the way it feels, hard and cold and degrading, but also so so good, has fresh wetness pooling between your thighs. Your pussy's swollen and hot and aching, sensitive the the smallest touch and the sudden stimulation has you moaning, breath speeding up.

Jim tilts his head a little, looking down at you. He seems amused, one hand lazily dangling from his armrest, as he watches you getting yourself off on his expensive leather shoes.

"Such a pretty show for our guests, hm?", he chuckles at the sight and you blush, redness and warmth spreading on your cheeks and your chest at the thought that they all still watch you but you can't bring yourself to care. You just don't, with pleasure spiking high and Jim - his words, his demeanour, the gun - fogging up your brain.

It's an intoxicating combination that has your pick up a faster rhythm, grinding down faster on the leather. At first, it stings a little but has pleasure rolling over your body nonetheless and you gasp, as lust floods your system once more.

You throw your head back in pleasure, missing the table by mere inches, a high pitched and needy whine escaping your lips as you rut down onto his dressing shoe.

The gun vanishes from your skull, only to press against the bottom of your chin a second later, keeping your head laid back. Your eyes roll up up up and your hands dart out, fingers spread wide on the polished floorboards behind you, as their tips hold your bodyweight. Your back's delightfully stretched and your upper body is on full display to him, chest heaving with every breath you suck in as you roll your hips on his shoes, hard nipples pressing against the sheer gown.

His other foot rises up and presses down onto your chest with quite some weight, has you deepen the stretch and a high pitched whine erupting from your throat, born out of lust and pleasure and the slight pain that ignites your back. It's delicious and shoots down down down right between your legs, has fresh wetness pooling in your thong, dripping down onto the black leather of his shoe. You know exactly what you look like: draped in an expensive dress and millions worth of diamonds like a billionaire's wife, but rutting against him like a cheap whore, a bitch in heat instead. You know it gets him going as much as it has you squirming, squirting on his shoes. The gun's still pointing at you and if he were to shoot you now - bored, bored, bored - he'd paint the floorboards and the table red.

Your hips stutter as you wet the expensive material at the thought - at the utter power Moriarty has over you - has fresh wetness running down the leather and your thighs as well, and you gasp, eyes falling shut. You keep grinding on his shoe, high pitched moans falling from your lips every time your clit brushes over its surface. He adds more pressure to the foot resting on your chest and you gasp, pain and slight asphyxiation making you dizzy, speeding up the rhythm of your hips. It's not enough, you need to feel him inside of you but it's also way too much, with the endings of your nerves on fire and

You can feel your thighs and abdomen contracting and your hole clenching around nothing and-

"P-please", you whimper.

Moriarty's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Oh, did I teach you that well, poppet?", his accent swirls around his tongue and it has you nearly going wild, "Of course you may come."

And you do, body reacting to him like he just has to press a single button, release washing over you as your orgasm rips another loud moan out of you, followed by heavy gasping as your pussy releases more fluid, which drips down his shoe and onto the wooden floor. Your hips buck and you moan, chest heaving with the sudden breaths you're sucking in, pressing against the shoe that's still resting on your chest.

"'S good, very good", Moriarty sounds satisfied and you can feel his foot lifting from your chest, giving your ribcage free. Your legs shake from your orgasm as you desperately suck in a few deep breaths, sacking forward. You feel the need to rest with the ache of your muscles but there's also something else. It's like your blood sings with it, like it lays on your body thick and heavily and sinks down on your brain like a blanket: you need him.

You crawl towards Jim and sink between his spread legs, left cheek falling lazily onto one thigh, right hand spreading out on the other. Your other arm softly wraps itself around his lower leg as you press yourself against him. You can feel his cum on your face, your own juices between your thighs. Your eyelids flutter, chest still heaving from ragged breaths and post orgasmic bliss, as you feel his warmth radiating beneath your skin once more.

"Obedient, little whore", he hums and you can hear his gun clicking quietly, as he takes it away, leaves it dangling lazily in his hand over the armrest. You're exhausted, your whole body hurts while your limbs are growing heavy and thus, you sink against him like ragdoll.

The silence in the room is deafening now that you're coming down from your high but it won't stop your blood from singing with Jim's praise and the utter power that seeps through every single pore of your body. Only you can make him come, only you can please him like that - only you only you.

It is much later, after they all left, when Jim bends down to you, tilts your head up and presses his lips onto yours - soft and warm and for a long, lingering moment - his hand gently stroking your cheek and his fingers brushing through his own, sticky cum, spreading it across your cheek. It's the first time he kisses you, in all the weeks you've known him. You know that you've earned it. His eyes are dark dark dark, swirls of green barely visible as he looks at you, visible affection flickering through his gaze.

"You are mine", he rasps against your lips and you nod nod nod, his stubble gently poking your soft skin, "I own you."

And, much to your own disbelief about your lack of mental resistance, you realize: he does.

"So, how was your weekend?", Monique and you are rushing through the city, hot take-away cups warming your hands. It stopped pissing Sunday evening and London decided it was time to start with the freezing temperatures. It's your lunch break and the two of you went out for coffee, now hurrying back to the museum's office floors.

You open your mouth, but the words get stuck in your throat. You have no idea how to answer that without landing at Scotland Yard for questioning within half an hour.

She looks at you. "You saw him again, didn't you?", she looks so enthusiastic. You'd hate to break the news to her - Yeah uhm, about that, well, he's criminal and he's using the museum to launder some money, charming, innit? - that's absolutely off the table.

Oh, and don't forget the classic: Yeah, and he shot someone, mind you.

But there's also no hiding from her and thus -

"I did", you can't fight your lips tilting up, remembering the way he manhandled you, shoved his dick into your mouth and showed you off.

Monique, of course, has (for 48 hours at this point) lived in a different world than you. Of course, her trees are still as green as yours and she reads the same newspapers as you do, but she hasn't witnessed a secret organisation discussing organized crime, nor has someone been killed in front of her eyes, wasting away in a puddle of his own blood - and thus, she squeaks with joy. Some snobby banker rushing by turns around in surprise at the sudden sound and curls his lip. You throw him a look. You might be seeing things differently than you did just last Friday night but you still know a wanker when you see one. You can't fight the thought of I know someone who can shut you up for good, boy creeping up on you. You must wear the thought on your face, because he hurries to get going. You take another sip from your coffee. You feel oddly good.

"How was it? Did he take you out?"

You sputter, pressing a hand onto your mouth, trying not to spill any of the hot coffee. "Oh jesus, oh Monique", you cough, half laughing-half fighting for air. It shouldn't be funny, it really shouldn't. You're a little tempted to hit her back with an: Oh, not me.

But you don't, because you're - again - not really keen on paying Scotland Yard a visit. So, you just put on your most innocent smile, trying real hard to imagine a peaceful, normal dinner to successfully sell her the story.

"He did, it was very", you can feel your cheeks reddening suddenly as his voice starts to echo in your skull -

I own you I own you I own you

- ,"Romantic."

#jim moriarty #james moriarty #james moriarty x reader #jim moriarty x reader #smut #jim moriarty smut #james moriarty smut #bbc sherlock #sherlock #bbc sherlock smut #my writing

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panicatthediaz · 1 year

Text

Holy shit I am alive! Well, I'm just on Tumblr less, but I'm around. And I'm still writing!! If you couldn't guess by the not actual Sunday posting, I'm not ready to go back to regular posting. On top of on-a-whim WIPs I have at least one work project a week, and this week is my last week before finals for the semester :) somebody save me But I wanted to give y'all something, so this is it.

[Part 1] – [Part 10] – [Part 12]

@madaboutmunson @lamburrito @benjaminrussell @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dijkstraspath @queerbuckleys @spectrum-spectre @epiclazershark @redheadchimechild @steddie-there @gayngerthings @manda-panda-monium (I... hope no one else changed their URLs for pride month 😂)

Pin a String to My Chest – 11

A song

When he started high school months ago, Eddie hadn't expected to find people that shared his interests for a while; he wasn't the oldest guy in the band, but the rest of Corroded Coffin still had to finish middle school, so he wasn't sure what to expect.

In the end, Ollie, their drummer, decided to drag him to a D&D session, and the rest was history. It had been some of the best fun he had, and he was sure the others would like it too.

It had also become a small problem.

Eddie dropped himself on the couch next to Wayne as soon as he got home. Hellfire had run a little bit later than expected, but it was the last session before winter break, it couldn't be helped.

No, the problem wasn't the sessions running late. Wayne was usually at work by the time they were done, and on the off chance he had a Friday off, he was always warned of where he was.

(Eddie would not make that mistake, ever, where Wayne was concerned.)

Wayne glanced at him but kept his attention on the crossword he was working on as Eddie fidgeted with his ring. The radio played softly somewhere close to them.

Okay, calling it a problem was a little dramatic even for him. It wasn't a problem. It wasn't. But it was a little unexpected, he'd never even thought it was a possibility.

"Alright, kid." Wayne put the newspaper down, turning slightly to look at him. "What's goin' on with you?"

"Uh," he stalled like an idiot. If something would make Wayne assume something was wrong, hesitating would be it. "I don't… It's not bad."

"But it is something," Wayne guessed. "What kind of something?"

"You ever figure something out that you thought you knew about yourself?" Eddie asked, but made a face immediately after, twisting in his seat to look at Wayne as well. "Like… You thought something, but it turns out that the truth is something else?" He chanced a look at Wayne's face and saw a flicker of understanding. "It's nothing bad! I promise it's nothing bad."

Wayne nodded. "You said that, Eddie, and I believe you." His eyes unfocused for a moment, in a way Eddie knew meant his uncle was looking for words. "Well, there was that one time I learned I'm allergic to grapes, remember?"

Eddie nodded. That had happened years ago when his Ma was still alive, and it had freaked him out as a kid. It had been a surprise to Wayne as well.

"Now, I'm guessin' this isn't about food, or even music," he prompted. Eddie nodded, looking down at his hands and spinning the ring on his finger. "You know whatever's in your head is safe here, Eddie."

"I know," he groaned. "It's just… not something I expected?" Eddie shrugged. "I told you about Dylan, right?"

"Yeah?" Wayne nodded, looking a little confused. "First kid from your club to actually try and teach you that game of yours? You made 'im kinda hard to forget, Eddie." The smirk was both on Wayne's face and voice. Eddie flopped onto his back, almost hitting his head on the arm of the couch and causing Wayne to huff a laugh. "What about him?"

"Ollie said he was flirting. With me," he clarified while looking at the trailer ceiling. There was a stain up there that they should probably look into at some point.

"And that's not bad."

Eddie hummed his negative, spinning the ring that used to be his mother's.

"I mean, I didn't notice but Ollie swears he was." His hands started moving above his body. "And while Kant was driving us all home, I realized that I didn't really mind if he was, it's—it's kinda nice, and I wouldn't mind!" He raised his head a little to look at Wayne. "I mean, I know there's nothing wrong with liking another boy," he said in a low voice. At this time, there wasn't anyone to overhear their conversation. It just seemed like the softness was needed. "I just never stopped to think about it."

Wayne hummed thoughtfully, and Eddie stretched out on the couch, unceremoniously dropping his feet on Wayne's lap.

"Pretty sure this is a good age to be thinking about this stuff, Eddie." Wayne patted his leg, ignoring the noise he'd just made. "I was about 20 when I thought, hell, maybe I'm better off just by myself."

"I spent all that time telling Dick that I wasn't interested in boys like that," Eddie mused, the nickname he bestowed upon his father making him smile. Wayne shook his head with a smile of his own. "Might have saved some time if I'd just—"

"Don't even go there, kid," he interrupted. "Your old man was a piece of work who couldn't handle not being in control."

Eddie sighed, nodding slowly. "So, what do I do?"

"About what?"

"Wayne!" Eddie shot up from the couch, standing in front of his uncle with his arms crossed.

"Alright, alright," Wayne conceded with a chuckle. "Do you like him?"

"I…" Eddie frowned, thinking it over. "Think so?" Wayne raised an eyebrow at him, waiting. "He's a good person! He listens, y'know, and he's nice to be around."

"That ain't quite enough, kid," Wayne said softly. "You need to know for sure because people have their expectations in a relationship, and you need to know whether you two can find a middle ground."

"Expectations like…" His frown deepened, trying to think of something. "What?"

"All sorts of things," Wayne shrugged. "Sex, for one."

Eddie groaned, sitting down on the little coffee table that was behind him. It creaked ominously for a moment but settled down again. Wayne chuckled and continued talking. Eddie only half listened, as he was prone to when he wasn't interested in the topic, while Wayne kept going about how people — most of them, anyway — eventually wanted more "physical action" out of the relationship. Some sooner than others.

Those were Wayne's words. He wasn't sure how his uncle knew any of it, Eddie had never heard about the man being in any sort of relationship, ever, but the fact was that Eddie would much rather just… not do what he was very obviously implying.

Did people really have nothing better to do? This was starting to feel a little bit like some of the conversations he'd overheard over the halls in high school…

It was kind of ridiculous.

"Okay!" Eddie exclaimed, raising his arms to stop Wayne before he could go into any type of detail. "How the hell do you even know any of this?!"

Wayne shrugged, smiling in a way that made Eddie narrow his eyes. He did not want to know.

"Either way," Wayne continued softly. "Make sure to respect them and that they respect you, kid." He stood up, patting his shoulder. "Just want you to stay safe."

Eddie watched him move to the kitchen for a moment before standing up himself. He turned the radio up a little, just enough to be heard from his room. He didn't think Wayne had anything to worry about; if what he'd just said was true, Eddie was probably better off on his own just as Wayne was.

He lay down on his bed, listening to Woody Guthrie's voice in the background. He wasn't sure which song it was, but he had the impression of it being one of Wayne's favorites. He was sure he'd listened to it a lot since he came live with him.

It wasn't long before he fell asleep to the music.

At some point, Eddie was aware he was on his back. He usually moved around in bed more, but he felt tired. Still tired. He was supposed to feel better rested, he'd been asleep just now.

He could still hear the music on the radio, lowered and muffled somewhere to his right.

Do not think 'bout tomorrow; let tomorrow come and go…

Right, that was Wayne's favorite song, one of the first he'd taught Eddie on the acoustic guitar. Without opening his eyes, he tapped his finger on the bed to the rhythm of it. It wasn't his usual type of music but it was… pleasant.

Something wrapped around his wrist, stilling the movement of his hand. He tensed. The last time something held him— He tried holding onto his sheets, but the thin, scratchy material felt wrong and—

"Eddie," a soft voice called to him. He didn't know it, he didn't like it. Whoever they were, moved their hand so they were holding his hand instead. "Can you squeeze my hand?"

He didn't want to listen to them, but he could tell it was important. It took more effort than he'd expected to put any type of pressure on the hand holding his. He couldn't think of it as a squeeze of any kind.

"That's great, Eddie, that's great." They sounded happy for some reason. "Think you can open your eyes, now?"

Eddie made a noise that might have been a no if he had any more energy. The stranger — a woman, he realized — chuckled.

"I know it's unpleasant, but we really need you to open your eyes."

He wanted to go back to sleep. He was still tired, his body was aching all over, head to toe. But he was pretty sure she wouldn't let him sleep again.

If squeezing her hand took effort, opening his eyes was like… something worse. There was a golden-ish glow to the room he was in, but not much in the way of furniture of any kind. It was him and this lady.

Listen to the steel rails hummin', that's the hobo's lullaby.

"Wayne…?"

#asexual Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Stranger Things fic #Steddie fic #Eddie Munson fic #ace!Eddie Munson #asexuality #Wayne Munson #Steve Harrington #Dustin Henderson #wereswriting #These are my permanent tags. Who this story is *about*. So they stay even if the characters are not in the part posted.#Happy Pride month y'all :)

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wiypt-writes · 2 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

One Shot: Title Of Your Sex Tape

KINKTOBER DAY 13: Porn

Cowritten with @spectre-posts

Summary: An innocent joke leads to something a little less innocent as Katie introduces Steve to the world of modern Porn…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language words, smut (NSFW), no under 18s. Porn. Stupid jokes…yeah…

A/N: They’re back!! God, I missed these two idiots so much. Thanks to my cowriter and collaborator for Kinktober for allowing this indulgence. This slots into the SSB timeline after the one shot Ask Questions, Throw Shield Later whilst the team are in the middle of looking for Bucky and the rest of Hydra. If you haven’t read any of the Stark Spangled Universe fics, you might not get this but you can appreciate the smut and humour in itself. And please feel free to check it all out and chat to me with comments and reviews.. Stark Spangled Man is the first starting point…it’s my absolute favourite epic I’ve written. Its’ long as hell but…my total guilty pleasure. I love these babies!

W/C: 4.5k

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Kinktober Masterlist

It started off as an innocent joke.

Katie was lounging in one of the chairs by the desk, watching as Steve and Tony were arguing over some new compact weapons system for the jet when Steve blurted out, “that’s not gonna fit in there.”

Both the Stark siblings, at the same time replied, “title of your sex tape,” before they burst out laughing.

Steve groaned and rolled his eyes. "Children."

Katie looked at him, then snorted. “You love Brooklyn 99, so don’t gimme that!”

"Not when we’re discussing where deadly force weapons fit into a Quinn Jet." He deadpanned

Ignoring him, Tony grinned and turned to his sister . “You know, now you mention it…I can kinda see the similarities.”

“Between him and Perralta?” Katie frowned.

“No, don’t be ridiculous, Kiddo. Between him and Boyle.”

The youngest Stark burst out laughing once more, her head tipping back as she chuckled.

Steve tossed his notes into the air dramatically and scooted back from the table. The wheels of his desk chair skidding over the floor as he stood. "I'm taking a break."

“Oh, Steve… don’t be…” Katie watched him go, before she finished, “…such a baby.”

“Little touchy.” Tony sniffed.

“And he calls me a brat.” Katie scoffed.

“Maybe he’s embarrassed he doesn’t know what a sex tape is.” Tony mused, picking up the notes.

“Course he knows what a sex tape is. They had dirty flicks and stuff back then. And besides, how do you know we ain’t watched porn together?” Katie smirked. “Maybe we have a nasty, dirty video of our own.”

At that Tony first went blank, then white and thereafter a little green.“That is disgusting and I don’t ever wanna hear that ever again, young lady.”

Katie simply popped a shoulder with a big smirk. "I'm going to top off and find Steve. I'll be right back."

Tony simply waved her away as she stood up.

She found him in the main kitchen for the Avengers floor. He too was searching for something and Katie sighed softly as she set her mug down on the counter. Her hip jutted out as she leaned into the granite. "You know, if you weren't so serious in these meetings all the time, you'd at least appreciate a good joke."

“And maybe if you and your brother took the meetings a little more seriously we might be making a more headway into rounding up the remnants of Hydra.”

And finding Buck...

Katie tilted her head to one side and dropped her since folded arms from across her chest. She stepped forward towards Steve and moved into his space. "Alright Soldier, what's really on your mind." Her left arm slid up his chest to around his neck, her engagement ring catching the light. Her right hand stuck to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his tee.

“Nothin….just…damnit I feel like we’re getting nowhere.” He sighed, “we’ve had nothing since that last raid, Sam’s trail on Buck has gone cold. Nat and Clint have found nothing on any of their recon and…who knows where Thor is…add that to the fact your brother and Banner seem to be more focused on building robots that invade our damned apartment in the middle of the night than doing anything of use…”

“I thought you liked the idea of the Iron Legion…god that is still an awful name.” She shook her head.

“I do, I just don’t think it’s the best use of our time.”

"You sound like you need a day off," she scratched at the back of his neck. "Why don't we finish this arms meeting and we take the rest to ourselves?"

Steve took a deep breath. “Maybe.”

"Alright," Katie dropped her arms, knowing not to push it any further. "I'll refill this mug and meet you back in the conference room."

She moved to grab the coffee and poured herself one before she turned back to face Steve.

“Tony is taking this seriously, as we all are. The reason he’s filling his time with this seemingly pointless technology development is because we have no leads and he needs to keep busy. Same reason I’m still working full time on the publishing company.”

Steve only managed a nod, not in a curt way nor any way really.

"Alright then," Katie stated, "back to business."

She brushed past him, not looking back and left the room, almost colliding with Clint on the way.

"Whoa there," he joked.

“Wouldn’t go in there if I was you.” She said with an airy tone as she continued towards the labs. “Captain Cranky is out in full force.”

“I heard that!” Came Steve’s loud voice from the kitchen.

“You were meant to!” She shot back over her shoulder.

Clint watched her go before he walked into the kitchen to find Steve running a large hand over his face.

“Okay…explain.” Clint arched a brow as he reached up into the cupboard for the popcorn.

"Tony being Tony and this whole team has lost focus on the reality of the situation we're in.“

“The whole team hasn’t lost focus, Cap.” Clint shook his head, his tone easy. “What do you think Nat and I have been doing for the past three weeks? Bunking on floors and in dirty motels ain’t exactly been a barrel of laughs.”

Steve sighed. He was just frustrated. There were things not marked off on his list of concerns, most important the last cells of HYDRA and in equal measure, finding Bucky. "I know. I'm sorry." He too filled his mug now and took a last look at the skilled archer, "you're in for a treat in there. Tony wants to fit a new live laser system in the vertical stabilizers.”

Clint frowned, "but it won't fit there."

"That's what I said," Steve scoffed.

Clint looked blank for a moment, “and…so what did Stark say?”

“Both of them simply said that was the title of my…my sex tape, then started laughing.”

"Brooklyn 99, nice," Clint smirked. "A Nova favorite."

Steve exhaled, and then watched as Clint tossed the microwave sack of popcorn into the machine and hit the button.

“You’re not gonna lace that with cayenne pepper again, are you?” He asked as he picked up his refilled mug.

"No...maybe."

Steve simply snorted as he took a sip of his coffee. “I’ll catch you later, better go try and make Tony see sense.”

Clint snorted as Steve left the room. He simply shook his head at and waited for the popcorn to pop.

*****

“Stevie?” Katie called from the kitchen of their apartment. “You wanna beer?”

"Suppose." Steve sat on the couch looking over something on the glass tablet which gave him access to the Stark System files.

"You're supposed to be taking the rest of the day," she shouted again.

“I never technically said that, you did.”

He smirked to himself as he heard Katie’s exasperated groan.

“You’re a pain in my ass…” she grumbled, grabbing two bottles before she headed back into the lounge. She handed him one and quickly snatched the device from his other hand as the exchange happened.

“Hey…”

“Oooh reflexes a little slow there, old man.” She grinned, “didn’t see that comin’, did ya?”

Her soldier frowned then smirked. Very quickly her beer was out of her hand and she was on her back on the couch. "Who you calling old and slow doll?"

She chuckled, her hand reaching up and brushing through his hair. “You…if the cap fits…”

He groaned, “that joke is almost as bad as the sex tape one.”

She grinned again, her green eyes sparkling. “I though it was funny.”

“Hilarious….” He deadpanned before he gave her lips a quick peck.

“Speaking of hilarious, know what really made me wanna laugh when you left for the kitchen?” Her hands smoothed up his biceps to his shoulders as he shifted above her a little, his weight on his knees.

“What?”

“Tony now thinks we made a sex tape."

“What?” Steve blinked. "Why...why would he think that?"

"Because I might have suggested we made one."

Steve groaned, the noise turning into a begrudging chuckle. “What did you do that for?”

“Because he insinuated you didn't know what one was. And I knew it would freak him out, which it did. Why do you think he wouldn’t look at you for the rest of the morning?”

Steve cocked his head to the left and popped a shoulder, "that explains it."

“It amused me, I like fucking with his head.”

"Have you?" Steve quirked a brow.

"Have I what?" Katie sought clarification.

"Made a sex tape." Steve said it with curiosity but his face held a slight cringe. "Like with Ward or...."

“Why did you have to mention that fucker?” Katie rolled her eyes. “No, no I haven’t.”

"No offense meant, doll." Steve sighed. "Just curious."

“If I’d have made a sex tape you would have seen it by now.” Katie took a deep breath, “along with the rest of the world. It would have no doubt been leaked or sold to the press or ransomed back to me or some dumb crap like that. You never heard of Pam and Tommy?”

"Um...."

“I’ll take that as a no.” She snorted, “Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee, famous people, very famous back in 90s…they made a dirty porno for their own use but it was stolen by some guy doing work on their house. He turned it into a video and it basically got sold to the public, ended up on the internet.”

"That's...grim." Steve wrinkled its nose.

"Yeah, some people still find it funny but it blew up all over the world and wreaked havoc on their lives and marriage. In good ways and bad ways." Katie popped a shoulder.

"You know, back in the day Dirty flicks used to be held in dark rooms for men only and cost a good penny." Steve mused. "Buck and I snuck into one once. We were sixteen and he managed to pop the back door to a showroom open.

“Oh get you, you dirty dog.” She grinned before she suddenly cocked an eyebrow up. “You seen any porn since defrosting?”

Steve shook his head, "nope." He popped the 'p'.

“D’ya wanna?”

He immediately flushed a bit.

Katie held his gaze before she leaned up to kiss him again, “I love how I can still make you blush.”

He kissed her lip softly. "Say we do, whatcha got in mind?"

“Do what? Watch porn?” She smirked, “I really have created a monster, huh?”

"Well," Steve sat back from caging her in on the sofa. "Call it curiosity or comparison for science."

“Science, huh. Tony would be proud.” She stayed where she was and reached for the tv remote. “But to answer your question there’s all sorts available…I can’t say I’m really intrigued by some of the hardcore stuff but…” she then nodded to the screen and Steve looked round to see the image was some form of menu from a porn site.

His eyes flicked down, reading the various types available and he felt himself grimacing.

“Okay, what the…big cock? Blowjob? School girl? No…just…”

“It’s all different fetishes, or kinks, not actual school girls…hang on…” Katie laughed, “here, couple, female friendly…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it says. They’re designed to be a little less…well, more about the actual romance of the sex itself and not just the kink. They’re called that as they’re videos that people in relationships might wanna watch to have a little fun, get aroused. Or maybe women on their own if they’re feeling that way inclined. Think of them as being the real dirty parts a romance film leaves out or doesn’t quite show you in explicit detail.”

"Hmmmm…" he hummed, looking over the thumbnail images of the videos. "Alright, so we just...pick one?"

"Yeah," Katie nodded. "Only if you want."

He nodded, he could do this…in fact, he kinda wanted to. Contrary to what people may think, Steve classes himself as fairly open minded when it came to sex. Whilst people no doubt assumed Captain America’s bedroom appetites to be either non existent or “vanilla” it wasn’t. Katie had brought out a side to him he’d never indulged before, one that might have been called deviant back in ‘his’ time. But, well, everyone told him he needed to move with the times, didn’t they?

And this was one area that he was more than happy to embrace the modern side of. He was comfortable enough now to share his sexual appetites and links with his fiancée. Just how he should be.

Sure, he could watch a dirty flick with his gal...no shame in that.

"Alright, doll. You pick, I ain’t got a clue."

Katie looked at him then turned her attention to the television. She scroll down a little more then hovered over one particular video. "This looks like it could be okay." Steve examine the title. Husband surprise his wife with sexy night in bedroom. He snorted and looked at her.

She merely smirked and shrugged. "Soon enough," she pressed play.

“That’s not…okay, that wasn’t what I was thinking but it is now.” He chuckled, “no I was gonna say as far as sex tapes go that’s a really shit title.”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” she grinned, “or in this case a porno by its title.”

Steve chuckled and turned his attention back to the screen, his warming beer in hand.

Katie shifted besides him as the video began to play, sitting up and tucking her legs up onto the couch so that her head was leaning onto Steve’s shoulder.

The set up was awful and so contrived. The wife had come home for a stressful day at the office. Her husband had come home earlier than she to set up his romantic night at home. Candle lit dinner and soft music with what was no doubt grape juice over wine as they sat together gazing at one another.

Steve scoffed and snorted as Katie giggled and at one point the two were in a fit of giggles as the actors on screen ridiculously flirted in the most unconvincing way about their attraction to one another.

“Well this ain’t winning any Oscars any time soon.” Katie snorted, and then downright howled as the husband told his wife he was going to take her to heaven and back, “oh Jesus!”

Steve chuckled, "well, doll, have I taken you to heaven yet?"

Katie looked at him, and then burst out laughing, “Steve…oh my…stop!”

“You ain’t answered the question!” He started to laugh as Katie shook her head.

“You take me to heaven every single time , baby…” she fluttered her eyelashes.

He chuckled deeper at her silly flutter, his eyes flicking to the screen, "Looks like it's finally getting to the actual deed."

“Bout fucking time, pardon the pun.”

As most softer porn flicks, the couple started with very romantic kissing and heavy petting.

Steve watched, tilting his head a little bit as the camera focused on the expression on the blonde woman’s face. Then it flicked to the ‘husband’s’ hand as it started to knead at a sheer lace covered breast.

“You know what else is unrealistic?” Katie mumbled.

"Hmmm," Steve hummed, as his fingers trailed up and down Katie's exposed arm. She'd since led her head in his lap, facing the television.

“No one would ever wear that underwear to work.”

"You wouldn't?" He kept watch.

“That would be uncomfortable as fuck.” She let out a breath. “My fancy underwear is reserved for date nights only.”

"I like your fancy underwear."

“I know you do. Especially the blue and white set.”

Steve gave a little grunt in appreciation at the favorite bra and panty set which he damn near wanted to rip off her any time she wore it.

She fell silent again as they both concentrated on the screen. It was getting a little steamy, now. The woman's bra had been removed and now the ‘husband’ was paying a lot of attention to his ‘wife’s’ breasts and nipples.

Steve sensed the rhythm of Katie's heart uptick and her body language had subtly changed. He knew exactly why. This was one of her kinks. Nothing got his future bride as heated up or as turned on as when he played with her tits. In fact, he could distinctly recall a few times he’d got her off from doing that alone.

So he did what he thought would be alright by her and moved his hand from her arm and down the collar of her tank she'd changed into after calling the work day over. Thick and long fingers dipped between her skin and bra, circling around her areola first, then her nipple. He'd acted as though it was absent minded, but there was nothing absent about his actions.

He felt her chest hitch, but he didn’t look down. He kept his eyes fixed on the screen as he felt Katie starting to twitch a little as she lay on her side, cheek to his thigh.

Steve's free hand twitched itself, just a little, imperceptibly even, as he set to controlling himself. He, too, was getting a little warm as the video continued on. The sounds, sighs and moans, combined with Katie's own reactions were making the space in the gusset of his pants a little tight.

And he knew from Katie’s proximity to said crotch area, there was no way she wouldn’t have noticed.

The action switched from the attention on the wife's breasts to now lips over her tight and taught abs, mouthing over a covered mound and sucking her clit through the fabric.

He felt Katie shift a little more obviously this time, and for the first time he glanced down to see she’d squeezed her thighs together. That made Steve want to groan out loud at the thought of how wet she’d likely be inside those damned denim shorts she was wearing, the ones she always liked to lounge around their penthouse in.

For a man who had a great amount of self-control, his brunette haired little vixen seemed to make it snap quite quickly. His eyes flicked back to the action at hand and now the husband had pulled himself from his slacks, fisting his shaft as he ate his wife out.

And that was the point a noise slipped from his lips, an almost imperceptible little grunt. But not so imperceptible his girl didn't notice.

Katie rolled to her back, those stunning eyes looking up at her fiancé. His hand was still down her shirt, and with the twist of her body, he'd managed a full handful now of her breast.

He blinked down at her, as she flicked a brow up, a silently question as to why his hand had stopped its movements.

"C'mere…"

She sat up, immediately, and obediently moved to straddle his strong thighs with her own.

Very quickly, Steve's lips crashed into hers as his strong hands held her face in his palms. The kiss was heavy, lustful. Fingers trailed down her neck and over her breasts, lowering to the hemline of her tank top. In a flash it was over her head and on the floor at his feet.

Her nails raked at his flat, strong abs as she reciprocated, yanking his tee off and tossing it over her shoulder. There was a clink as it collided with and knocked their beer bottles over on the coffee table, but neither of them gave a shit.

Katie's breasts were exposed the second Steve's hands were free, easily undoing the back clasp as he'd expertly learned to do. He cupped them both, pushing them together and buried his face between them. His nose slid between the valley of her breasts as he kissed the edges. Thumbs rolled her nipples between his forefingers as his hips tilted his erection toward her clit.

“Fuck…” the first word either of them had spoken in a while fell from her plump lips as her head tilted back, nails digging into his shoulders.

Steve hummed along her skin, his warm and inviting open mouth covering the nipple on her right side. His tongue swirled around the erect skin before teeth pulled at it in a gentle fashion before lips enclosed around it to make up for the harsh contrast of his nip.

Katie moaned loudly, drowning out the noise of the long forgotten porno on the television. It was a noise that went straight to his already rock hard dick, as he ground his hips upwards again.

Steve moved them to the cushions of the couch with a lightning speed. With Katie's back now against the black butter like leather, he kissed her lips first, then her jaw, her neck and down her sternum with short pecks before finishing his assault on her left nipple, which he hadn't forgotten about.

She was putty in his hands. Her fingers were in his dark blond hair, nails raking at his scalp before they dug into his shoulders, just below the junction with his neck.

The super soldier growled at the tingle of pain before pulling back and immediately fiddling with the button on Katie's shorts. There was absolutely no slow movements to his task. He was rock hard and desperate to bury himself between her thighs. After, of course, a little snack.

Said shorts joined the haphazard pile of clothes strewn around the floor and room, as did her black panties.

"Thought you didn't wear those to work..."

“Those ain’t fancy…” she swallowed as she took a deep breath.

Steve was belly to leather as she spoke. His left hand pushing Katie's bent knee into the back cushion while his right hand pressed the inside of her left thigh to open her wide for him. His lips met the apex of her inner thigh before he immediately puckered his soft lips around her clit.

Katie's back arched off the couch, her hands flying to her own chest to further give attention to her nipples as he sucked hard before laving his tongue over her weeping slit.

"Fuck, doll, you're soaked." Steve rasped against her folds. "And you taste so good."

“Stop, talking…” her hand pushed his head further into her.

With a growl, he kept at her. Tongue poking and licking, lips covering that sensitive bud before he managed to probe two fingers deep inside her. He fucked her with precision, his palm down, coiling her tighter. It was when he moved palm up and hooked his knuckles just a little that she cried out with two flicks of her spongy upper wall.

Her hands back at her breasts, her hips bucked violently as she trembled, her breathing now rapid, a sure sign she was teetering on that edge.

"C'mon, doll. Cum for me, baby."

“Stevie…Stevie…I’m…” her voice trailed off into a low, broken moan as her back arched and her hands flew to the cushions of the couch.

"Oh fuck," Steve spat quickly as his mouth covered her again, his tongue and fingers working her over as she came.

Her hand was soon pushing him away, those smooth, shapely legs trembling as he moved away and sat up, hastily undoing the front of his jeans.

Like the 'husband' from the video, Steve pushed his pants and boxers to his thighs and stroked himself before immediately lining up and sliding right inside his bride to be.

A satisfied noise came from her throat as he bottomed out, his weight held on his forearms as his forehead pressed to hers.

"Jesus, sweetheart," his breath fanned her face. Steve snapped his hips; once, twice and on the third go, he gave a grind against her overly sensitive clit.

“Stevie, don’t…” she stopped dead to let out a little grunt, her nails raking up his back. “Just…just fuck me, soldier.”

"Yes, ma'am," Steve grunted as he snapped his hips and picked up speed. He kept his balance over her and his weight still in his arms as his lower body did the work.

Katie’s eyes locked onto his, her pupils blown as the motion of his thrusts moved her back up and down the sofa cushion beneath her. Her hands moved, and she cupped his face and pulled him down for a filthy kiss.

Her teeth pulled at his bottom lip, causing Steve to press his fingertips into the leather near her head. He was close and he'd hoped to fucking whomever that she was too because damn it did this rush feel good.

Her hands kept his face there, mouth open against his, noses pressed together as she panted and moaned at his movements. She could feel him twitching inside her, and knew he was close. And so was she. The heat was beginning to build between her legs and in the pit of her stomach once more, and fast.

"Harder." She stated into his mouth.

“Fuck, Doll…” he pushed his hips forward as hard as he dare, snapping them back and then forward again with a ferocious force.

That did it just enough and Katie was yanking at the longer hair atop his head as she cried out.

As soon as he felt her go, Steve allowed himself to give in with a surge that seemed of rise from his toes upwards. Single handedly, he balanced on one arm as he pulled Katie's head so their lips could meet in the same instance he came, crushing her into his face.

The kiss was stilted, but passionate none the less, flickering out into soft, lingering pecks as he sighed, his chest heaving.

His nose eventually bumped hers and she hummed in tired delight.

“I love you,” she whispered, her eyes opening slowly.

"Oh, doll, do I love you." He said with a soft baritone and he lowered his lips again. "I'm gonna love you forever."

Katie smiled, dumb fucked and satiated, "So, about that sex tape of our own...…"

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but never got the chance.

“Fuck me in the ass.”

The pair of them stilled, and then in identical, slow movements both turned their heads to the long forgotten porno that was still playing.

Both sputtered and fell back into loud, belly laughter.

“Call me old fashioned, doll…” Steve pecked her lips, “but I think I prefer it off screen so to speak.”

"So that's a no to porn?"

“Not a hard no…I mean, I’m…no…don’t make that into an innuendo!”

Katie cackled as Steve snorted, his forehead resting on her collar bone.

“Would you wear the underwear?” He mumbled into her skin.

"Oh most definitely."

“Then… I’m in.”

Steve felt Katie start to chuckle again, and he knew what she was gonna say before she said it but still he let out a low groan as she blurted the same childish line that had started this whole damned thing.

“Title of your sex tape!”

#kinktober 2022 #kinktober #stark spangled banner #stark spangled #Steve Rogers x Katie stark #Steve Rogers x ofc #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans characters

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ask-the-royal-absol · 2 years

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Felix: I should probably head off. As much as I’ve had fun, I need to head back. There’s a certain spectre I need to deal with.

Destino: Sure. It’s been fun. Oh wait, what was that other thing you were gonna say?

Felix: Hm? Oh right, I had a look at that book ya gave me about the communicator and turns out the thing works in reverse too.

Destino: Reverse?

Felix: Yeah, turns out you can talk to others in other universes. All you gotta do is think real hard about what you wanna say. The communicator should pick it up and beam a copy of yourself out. Of course, you’ll have to stay in range of that thing but it should work. It won’t break the barrier in our world however.

Destino: I was wondering when I’d get to grace everyone with my presence. They’ll probably be too amazed by me. Too bad about the barrier thing. I’d like to pay the surface world a visit. Mess with a few fairy types.

Felix: Hahaha, sure pal. Anyways, I’m outta here. Have fun with trying it out. Let me know if it actually works. That technology is old as f*ck so might be kinda dodgy. (Felix proceeds to phase out of the room)

Destino: Well, looks like I’ll have to pay my lovely guests a visit to their worlds. See what’s going on. Find some answers. Make them all aware of the most attractive Pokémon ever! Hey Roy? Remember, not a word of this to my folks, alright? (Destino makes a shushing motion and flashes a devious grin).

Roy: …

Destino: Glad we’re on the same page.

Felix is unavailable for asks. Destino is available to send asks to other Pokémon.

#pokemon ask blog #destino the absol #absol #pokeask #pokemon absol #ask #fakemon #pokemon #pokemon askblog #pokemon oc #ask blog #ask the royal absol #chapter 1: introduction #felix the gengar #gengar #ask-the-royal-absol

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number-1-kuaidul-fanboy · 2 years

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Me about Spectre lately

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cearamorran · 5 years

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The Batkids as Rogues

And now, an extended list of headcanons:

Dick / Stray This one’s simple: instead of Bruce, it was Selina who took him in after the death of his parents, then tought him the art of thievery and smooth talking.

Barbara / The Spider

Criminal mastermind, she’s build her empire from her room using only her brains and keyboard. She’s called Spider because her web ((get it???? WEB)) seems to cover virtually all of Gotham, and she seems to know everything. No one has ever seen her and everyone’s kinda scared. I had originally called her “Daedalus” and wanted her to be similar to Nigma, but then realized I liked the name Spider better and changed ideas (but didn’t change the drawing, notice the very subtle question mark on the screen).

Jason / Hemlock If you're familiar with my Ivy AU you know what I'm about. Slightly different this time; Jason was never Robin. He still died, but let’s say Ivy resurrected him using her powers and he came back a meta with powers similar to hers (because in this AU she can resurrect people if she really tries, alright? I do what I want). Now, he’s kind of her sidekick/partner and known as Hemlock by the people of Gotham.

Damian / Spectre

I don’t have a precise idea on how, but let’s say that by a turn of events he ended up being trained by Slade and now works with him on some contracts as a final-test-before-you’re-ready-to-fly-on-your-own kinda thing.

Duke / Riot

Basically Anarky, I won’t lie. He got pissed at the world seeing everything going down and decided to start a riot.

Cass / Silence

This one I have nothing to say for myself. The Black Bat suit is scary and just made me think of Scarecrow, so here we are. Maybe she works as an assistant to Crane? Everyone in Gotham’s terrified of her, that’s for sure.

Tim / The Lawyer

The Lawyer is known for coming out of nowhere every time a crime lord is in trouble with the law and getting them out of it quickly and efficiently. Rumor has it he’s never lost a case.

I originally started this with each batkid being one of Batman’s rogues, and Tim was going to be the equivalent of Black Mask, but that didn’t leave me with much for his design, then the idea of him as like the go-to lawyer of every big baddie in Gotham came to me, and yeah this is one of my favorites now.

Steph / The Brat

Also a fave of mine; one of those crime bosses I was talking about. She was originally working with her father, leading a small gang of Gotham, but soon became way better than him at managing the business and took over, expanding and becoming one of the most feared gang leaders of the city. Every time she gets in trouble - which happens quite a lot, as she’s deserved her nickname - she can count on Tim to save her ass. They’ve become friends, being the same age and having to work together so often.

#no one asked for this but i do what i want #my IvyAU has gone too far #art #my art #AU #batkids #batfam #dc #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #barbara gordon #damian wayne #duke thomas #rogueau

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leopardmask-ao3 · 3 years

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NHH Fictober Day 14: Witches (Do You Even Know Who I Am?)

Day 14 of the NHH Fictober challenge. A particularly enterprising witch thought that the strange blue slime in their swamp would be a fascinating creature to experiment with. Jevin disagrees. Characters: Jevin Words: 927

Jevin touched down lightly for a rest, barely making a dent in the boggy, muddy ground. It was getting late, and he had been flying for a while, looking for some rare biomes that the others hadn't claimed or started farming yet.

Hearing a curious "hrmm?", Jevin turned to see a witch staring intently at him.

"What are you looking at?" Jevin chuckled. "I mean, I guess you probably haven't seen something like me before- hey!"

As Jevin was talking, the witch poked him with a stick. Jevin batted it away. "Stop that. I will get my sword out."

The witch hrmmphed at him again. Before Jevin could threaten anymore, the witch swung their stick - their wand, Jevin was realizing too late - down, through a pool of water, and then toward him, pulling a stream of water with it. The small bit of water splashed onto his clothes, but traveled quickly through his clothes and was absorbed into his body.

It was strange behavior for water, and Jevin soon found out why. Suddenly, he started feeling heavy, as if he'd been soaking in a river for hours. His neural connections were diluting, making it hard to think. His legs wobbled, losing the structure to hold himself up. He raised his hands in front of his face, watching dumbly as they slowly lost their shape and started dripping.

Something shoved at the back of his legs. Unable to resist, Jevin tipped backward. Upon impact with the bottom of the cauldron that the witch had placed, there was a slight feeling of a pop, almost like a water balloon, and then Jevin had lost all form, succumbing to the liquifying spell. The witch chortled and started to carry the cauldron of blue slime away.

He never truly lost consciousness in the cauldron, but he did lose all track of time. He knew he was being taken somewhere, and then... nothing, for a while. Once or twice, Jevin felt the witch dip a bottle into him, taking some liquid slime away. What was the witch doing?

Eventually, he figured out how to move, a little. He couldn't hold a shape for long, but his eyes were still intact, and he managed to push one upward in a bump above the edge of the cauldron to watch what the witch was doing.

When the witch turned around and saw that he had moved, they scolded him in their language and smacked him until he sank back down below the rim. I've had about enough of this, Jevin grumbled to himself.

The scolding stopped. The witch halted what they were doing. They asked a question, sounding suddenly nervous.

They heard that, Jevin realized. Witches had connections with illagers, of course... and apparently that included the type of magic that corrupted them. Jevin tried letting his innate magic bubble to the surface - somewhat literally. In his limited range of vision, he saw the witch flinch backward at the sight of the icy blue glow. Oh yeah. They recognized Vex magic alright. Jevin would have grinned, if he were able. Time to do some posturing.

Yeah, you know m- us, don't... ye? Jevin taunted, trying to affect the speech patterns of a Vex. I- We're kinda like your boss, you could say.

The witch stammered something in Villager. Jevin kind of wished he understood Villager, but he was pretty sure he got the gist.

He also had noticed that the chill of his magic was somewhat counteracting the spell the witch had cast - not magically, but physically bringing him a little closer to a solid state. Jevin flared his magic brighter, colder, starting to actually freeze himself into shape. He held back a pained reaction as growing ice crystals started stabbing at what little substance he still had keeping him alive.

Slowly, he rose from the cauldron, floating into the air, not bothering with individual limbs so much as overall shape, an icy spectre bearing some resemblance to his magical forebears. Have you ever seen a True Vex? he asked the witch, who was now cowering in a corner. The witch tried to sound confident in their answer, but was clearly scared out of their mind with the knowledge that they may have picked the worst entity they possibly could to study.

Jevin bobbed in midair. He could tell he was dripping again, now less from the spell and more from "bleeding" around the ice wounds. Now you have. I-We're going to leave now.

He had made it to the door before he realized he wouldn't make it much farther. Thinking surprisingly quickly for his condition, Jevin turned back to the witch. We are... giving ye one last test, he decided. If y-ye pass, I let you live. If ye fail, ye die.

The witch nodded.

I will leave behind valuable treasures, Jevin declared. Don't touch them! I'll come back in a few minutes to see if you- ye passed. If any of them are missing-

He let out an involuntary, psychic cry. His injuries overtook him, and Jevin crashed to the ground in what must have been a dramatic display of cracking ice, splashing slime, and respawn code. The witch stared at the pile of items left behind... then chose to close the door and hide in their house.

Later that day, as promised, Jevin came flying in to find all his dropped equipment and items lying just outside the door. Nothing was missing, it seemed. Spotting the witch watching through a window, Jevin nodded, gave them a thumbs-up, and flew away again.

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fic #iJevin #humanoid slime body horror #vex jevin #this is some time outside of season 8 #doesn't matter exactly when otherwise

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alwaysahiccupandastrid · 4 years

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His Dark Materials S2 Ep 6 - Rambling/Thoughts

I really cannot believe that we’re at the penultimate episode already, oh my gosh. It’s gone by so fast??

Again, because I’ve reread TSK in the last couple of weeks, the book is fresh in my mind but I’ve probably still missed stuff

Also last week was so intense and seeing the “previously on” section made me remember just how intense that was, so it’s a hard job to top that!

ANGELS AHH RIGHT AWAY IM GEEKING OUT

“The last time they were seen was to make war” - IT’S HAPPENING ASDFGHJKL

Ruta going off to see Asriel and me just remembering what exactly went down between them while she was there with him... heh

So Will’s hand looks AWFUL oh my god poor Will 😭

Pan is REALLY into his Red PAN-da form oh my goodness

So the other kids out for revenge terrified the living SHIT out of me, dear god I don’t think it could be any creepier than dozens of them appearing out of the shadows like that, like it’s genuinely terrifying

Serafina just dropped right in to rescue them and I was both relieved and a little disappointed? Because in the book the whole chase sequence is so much longer and more important, like it takes up most of an entire chapter I think, and here it’s like two minutes?

Serafina: What does this edge cut? // Lyra: Everything (Will at the same time: Nothing.) - 😂

I missed Lee and Jopari tbh so yay to seeing them once more! And they’ve crossed into the next world!

Oh hi again Mary!

^ I wasn’t expecting to see Mary again this series because in TSK book, her last appearance is going through the window (which was last episode), so I’m a little curious as to whether we’re going to get a TINY little peek into The Amber Spyglass here (it’s been years since I reread it, I apologize). Because last series they did a bit of TSK (namely introducing Will + him crossing into Cittagazze), so it would be interesting!

“Good, something I can understand for a change” - LOL Same

Serafina wants to take Lyra back to her world?? Really??

Not gonna lie, the two girls spying on Mary was kind of low-key creepy

Lyra mentioning that she crossed worlds to find out about Dust and mentioning Roger 😭

Also I’m so emotional over just how much she wants Will to be safe, like she would really do anything to keep him safe and I love it

Lyra asking the Alethiometer where Will’s dad is and “he’s in this world” - ahhh it’s going to happen!

Also I really hope that the BBC/whoever decides to sell replica Alethiometers because the design is so beautiful?! I would fork out serious dough for one, and it would go nicely with the one I have from the film

No but seriously, words don’t describe just how badly I want a replica

“I wanted to fly so I summoned you here, now I’m flying” - LOL OKAY THEN JOHN

Ooh damn, that outfit Marisa is wearing is FINE. I’m slightly gayer than I was before, ngl

I was like “nooo Mary don’t be nice to these kids, they’re awful”

But it’s very sweet that she offers them food?? Like she pulls a chocolate bar out and is like “it’s no good for you, it’s full of sugar”... I love her

The way that Mary was so happy and excited when they mentioned Lyra, only to tell the girls off for trying to kill her - more of a mum than Mrs Coulter tbh

“Miss, can I have a hug?” - AWWW OMG WHY AM I SAD

They asked Mary to stay and look after them omg 😭😭😭

“Come with me, I’ll bring you to your adults” - ooh okay this could go any number of ways... Either she actually reunites them with their families and all’s well, or she takes them up there and their parents/adults are all dead (for lack of a better word)? Or the Spectres attack after Mary leaves them with the adults??

Jopari talking about meeting his dæmon and also a little bit about trying to get back to his family :(

“Can you magic us up a fire?” “One moment” *presents a box of matches” - LMFAO

Wait did Serafina seriously just imply that she thought Will might hurt Lyra?!?

Serafina saying that if protecting Lyra means protecting Will as well... Yes, protect Will please! Protect BOTH of these children, I literally BEG you, they’ve gone through far too much

Ooh okay so the witch ritual/spell was kind of cool to see!

Lyra saying “please tell me he’ll be alright” 😭♥️

The fact that Lyra curled up close to Will and then Pan (in ermine form) curled up CLOSER to Will is so cute, they both love Will so much

Pan: “We feel safe her... don’t we?” / OOF OKAY THIS IS F I N E

I already know what Lyra’s “other name” is because I read the book but the hints are anything BUT subtle tbh. “Mother of us all, cause of all sin, tempted by the serpent”... I’m not even that religious but I think it’s pretty obvious.

Also, if Mary is playing the part of the “serpent” within Lyra’s destiny, does that mean that Mary has tempted Lyra? Or that she will?

Boreal being nervous about being in the city and Marisa is just so unimpressed by him... Mood

That smirk she had when going up to that Spectre victim was so chilling, we have to stan Ruth Wilson and her incredible acting

Also, fun fact, Ruth Wilson went to my sixth form college and is from Surrey (like me), and she grew up in Shepperton, which is where my Nan used to live when she was alive (my uncle and aunt live there still), so that’s super exciting!

“We could learn from this” - PLEASE DO NOT MA’AM

God I hate the Magisterium so fucking much, the patriarchy is so strong with them

Oh great, now they’re gunning to kill Lyra :/

Also, off topic, I’ve only just connected that Will Keen, who plays Father MacPhail, is Dafne Keen’s dad?!?

“She’s lost a lot for one so young” - AND SHE’S STILL GOING TO LOSE PEOPLE, WHY IS THIS FAIR PHILIP PULLMAN 😭

“She must be protected” - AGAIN, they BOTH need protecting PLEASE

The Spectre noises reminded me of the noises of the Smoke Monster from LOST, so that’s definitely trippy for me

Thanks, I hate it

I nearly shouted “WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE DOING” out loud in front of both my parents, I seriously thought she had a damn death wish

I have never been so damn tense in my entire life as I am watching this show - and I KNOW what happens

HOW DID SHE DO THAT WITH THE SPECTRES SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN

Lee’s so worried about Lyra - 11/10, Father of the Year

The Magisterium airships... NO. FUCK. WE’RE AT THAT POINT ALREADY AND IM NOT OKAY BECAUSE I KNOW HOW AND WHERE THIS ENDS AND I HATE IT

I deadass thought Marisa and Carlo were about to kiss when he ran up to her and I actually said out loud “NO please don’t”

Look I must just be so dirty minded but when she said “let’s celebrate”, my immediate reaction was “NO NO NO NO EW EW EW NO” and “I hope she just means having a drink and not doing the frickety-frack”

I was so close to tearing up as Will was talking about his mum, her illness, and the boys who were mean to her because of it. His love for his mum is so beautifully written and the way Amir Wilson is playing Will is so wonderful

I was also close to tears when he was talking about his dad and how he used to imagine about his dad, so maybe I’m just emotional anyway

“Could go to school... have friends” - okay yeah no I’m definitely crying 😭

“I couldn’t trust anyone.” “Until you met me.” “Yeah.” - EXCUSE ME ♥️😭 my HEART

I love one (1) soft boy, and one (1) feral girl and her dæmon

The relief I felt when I saw Marisa and Carlo were literally just having drinks 😅

“They consume what makes us human, so I just suppressed that and hid it” + *cut to the monkey looking kinda sad/uncomfortable* - Umm fUCK OKAY THEN

Why am I feeling sorry for the monkey?!?

“You think we’re equal?” - LMFAO RIGHT

EWW THEY KISSED. No, just... nO

When I saw his snake dæmon moving towards her monkey, I thought one of two things was about to happen: 1) the monkey was going to pet and paw and the snake as Marisa seduced Boreal, or 3) the monkey was going to strange the snake and kill Boreal

OKAY THIS TOOK A SHARP BUT NOT UNWELCOMED TURN

“You’ve NEVER been my equal.” “You’d only hold me back.” - OH MY GOD YES THE SHADE

She’s not wrong though let’s be honest here

So she poisoned him I’m assuming? She poisoned his drink because the monkey didn’t actually touch the snake... damn.

Her just sitting there and continuing to drink with his dead body there is... damn.

“Into that valley” NO NO, please no

Jopari really just summoned a whole damn storm huh

Also the fact he fully trusts in Lee’s abilities to land them safely :3

Lee: “Can we trust him?” // Hester: “Do we have another choice?!!” - LMFAO I love them so much

THE WAY I NEARLY SCREAMED WHEN THAT WITCH GOT ATTACKED BY A SPECTRE OMFG AT LEAST WILL WAS THERE TO SAVE HER

Okay but did Marisa REALLY sit there for HOURS with Boreal’s corpse sitting opposite her?!?

Her burning her hand on the flame in front of the monkey, and the monkey clearly whimpering and in pain was so agonizing to watch, I can’t take this show

Also, you have to wonder just how many times she’s harmed herself (and him) for her to keep doing it with next to no problems (like separating from each other all the time)

I was so excited to see the birds attacking the zeppelins, like it was one of my favourite details in the book, and I worried that they wouldn’t have the budget for it but yay!

I do kind of wish that we’d had Sayan Kötor as the “eagle Queen” leading them though - she probably was but I wish we’d actually seen it or heard Jopari say it or whatever

THEY SHOT THE GAS CANNISTER OH SHIT THEY’RE GOING DOWN HARD AND FAST IN THAT BALLOON

HOLD ON BBC YOU CANNOT END THIS THERE?!? EXCUSE ME?!

The last episode is next week and on an hour earlier, so that’s exciting! I have no idea what I’ll do once this series ends, or when we’ll even get the third and final series because of COVID and filming delays, but I’m excited for it nonetheless and hoping it’s next November/December or something!

#his dark materials #hdm #lyra belacqua #lyra silvertongue #marisa coulter #mrs coulter #will parry #serafina pekkala #ruth wilson #dafne keen #amir wilson #pantalaimon #john parry #lee scoresby #hester

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charliesradiodemon · 4 years

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Say My Name Charlastor Guardian Demon AU rewrite)

AU by @eltiolimon ! This song rewrite is inspired by Tio’s Guardian Demon AU where Charlie, Vaggie and Angel Dust accidentally summon Alastor the demon. This song takes place after Charlie wakes up after passing out and calms down haha

Song: Say https://youtu.be/nHKNP3sN_P4

You’ll see where it ends in the song

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(This AU is not mine and I’m just having a bit of fun ^.^)

A: Alastor

C: Charlie

V: Vaggie

An: Angel Dust

A: You could use a buddy Don't you want a pal? (Yes I do! Yes I do!) My dear, the way I see it You need some excitement And I should stick around (To haunt you!)

C: What?

A: Nothing! So, Charlie, don't waste away And become my mate Think of the fun we could have! Together we’ll eviscerate, annihilate!

C: No!

A: The finer points can wait But first you gotta say my name! Go ahead and live without inspiration Here I offer rousing conversation I can give your life much jubilation All you need to do is say my name Dear, just say it three times in a row Then you won't believe how far I'll go I'm in the wings, but sweetheart Just put me in the play All you need to do is say my name

C: I don't know your whole name.

A: Well, I can't say the rest of it!

C: How about a game of charades?

A: Yes, let's play it!

C: Two words

A: Right

C: Second word

A: Yes

C: Horns?

A: No

C: Monster?

A: No

C: Devil?

A: No

C: Demon?

A: Yes!

C: Okay. First word

A: Yes

C: Music?

A: No

C: Speaker?

A: Close, but no

C: Radio?

A: Yes!

C: Alastor the Radio Demon?

A: Well color me impressed! And all you need to do is say my name three times Three times in a row it must be spoken Unbroken Ready?

C: Yeah

A: Very good, go

C: Radio Demon

A: Yes

C: Radio Demon

A: Yes

C: Raaaaaaaaaaa-

A: Yes my dear!

C: -ndom thought here.

A: Excuse me?

C: You're so smart A stand-up guy I'll think about your offer Let you know But I prefer my chances on my own! Radio Demon

A: Yes!

C: Radio Demon

A: Yes!

C: R-eally you thought I’d be so dumb and sign my soul away to you? It sounds way too good to be true! Yes life sucks but not that much! Okay, Radio Demon Radio Demon Really you gonna have to try better!

A: I’m offering you a full time spectre

C: But can I trust you?

A: you bet’cha, trust me dear!

C: But I just met ya. Really it’s a flattering offer

A: Don’t you want to see what I can barter?

C: I think I’d rather go home.

A: Wait!

C: I may be in denial, but Alastor it’s not as if I’ve lost my mind!

A: So! Not going easy on me are you sweetheart? Quite impressive!

C: I just wanna make sure I know who I’m working with. Got any references?

V: Charlie, there you are!

An: Are you alright?

A: You must be Vaggie and Angel, Charlie’s pals!

V: Get away from her! Charlie, this is a dangerous demon!

An: Alastor is sexy!

V: Alstor is smart!

Both: Alastor is a hoot to be around! He’s so fun, you don’t need to run! Our troubles all ended on the day that we summoned him! Every word is the truth! Radio Demon Radio Demon Radio Demon!

An: What the hell was that?

V: So violating!

A: Well there you have it! Just a few glistening reviews!

C: What was that?

A: That was possession, a petty little lesson. A demon such as I have much more in possession.

C: In possession?

A: Yes dear, I have much more in store.

C: Really? I kinda wanna see some more

A: Well, well, well, well, well! Come now, come now dear, shake my hand! I will be the demon chum at your command! I know we’ll get along oh so swell! We’ll be amazing best of friends forever!

#sorry it's so long haha #i hope yall like it!#charlastor #also it’s a bit hard to follow trust me i had to sing this several times to make sure it fit lol

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imagine-loki · 4 years

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Toxic

TITLE: Toxic

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: One-shot

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki loves telling everyone that he fears nothing and no one. Tony asks him to check in on Character, who has been in a pissy mood all week. Loki chuckles. “Oh, I fear no one, but I’m not suicidal.”

The first sign that Loki was a soft boy wasn’t anything big or particularly mushy. He stopped on the street and got down on one knee to help a boy whose laces had come undone and was struggling to do them up himself.

RATING: T

NOTES/WARNINGS: I entirely forgot about this one-shot in my drafts. I kinda lost steam with it and I decided to post it kind of unedited, so there should be errors and boring valleys galore! Language! Reference to suicide.

SUMMARY: Lily is usually a sweetheart, but there’s a bit of poison flowing through her veins, right now. Meanwhile, Loki has a short bout of good conscience.

“Where are you going?”

Lily jumped, startled, immediately grimacing as her left shoulder smarted. Her arm was in a sling, having crash-landed onto it during a mission last week. The medic had said that she had likely torn one of the tendons in her rotator cuff, but that they would not be able to do anything about it until the swelling came down. Now, her whole arm lay useless in its cloth cradle while the other side bore the weight of bags and baskets.

“Um…,” she hesitated in her place, unsure as to why she was feeling a little like a schoolgirl caught out doing something she wasn’t supposed to. Well, maybe it was the fact that Stark had told her I don’t want you doing anything for the next month… “I was just going to the bodega. I’m out of snacks.”

“No.”

For a second, they stood in silence, staring each other down while she waited to see if there was going to be anything added to his sentiment. “That’s it?” He nodded, looking bored. “Yeah, I’m not a child. I’m going to the bodega.”

Loki groaned. “Lilian…”

“Not my name, dude.” She made the mistake of bumping into his shoulder with her injured side. On any other occasion, with any other human, it would have been no issue. Loki, however, seemed to be as dense as the center of a collapsing star, and though he barely swayed from his spot, she let out a sharp hiss and gritted her teeth painfully.

“You humans are so pathetically feeble, I swear,” he remarked, bending at the knees to gently prod at her shoulder. “Give me the list, I’ll collect your supplies.”

“No,” she replied, instantly, imitating his haughty tone, perfectly.

“Don’t be a child. I can go there and back faster than you can.”

Baby blues shot up and hardened at him. “What do you need? What leverage are you trying to get?” Loki frowned, tilting his head minutely to explore her incensed semblance. “You know what? I don’t care. I don’t need to be coddled. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“I didn't–”

“Leave me alone!” With the last shouted syllable, her veins glowed bright green and thorns seemed to sprout from every bit of her skin. Loki held his hands up in surrender, and took a step back for good measure.

With one last withering look, she skirted past his imposing form, and pressed the elevator call button. The doors opened almost instantly, and she slipped in, pressing the button for the ground floor. She did not expect, however, for the elevator to dip slightly under the weight of another person. Despite the fact that she had not seen Loki follow her to the hallway, he was standing there, silently, a few feet between them as they rode the elevator down in silence.

At the lobby, he waited for her to exit the car first, following like a spectre right after. They had made it half a block before Lily could no longer resist the urge to scream, and she turned on her heel to face a calm Loki.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Loki fought the smile creeping onto his lips for a bare minute. “Accompanying you. I thought that much was obvious.”

“I don’t. Need. A babysitter.”

“Never said you did, flower,” he riposted, off-handedly before he gestured her ahead.

Letting out a barely restrained groan, she stomped her way back down the street towards the bodega. Loki, for the most part, followed silently, gently fetching things from the top shelf that he knew she was trying to get to, crowding her side when other people got a little too close, generally treating her like she was a porcelain doll about to shatter.

It was annoying the shit out of her.

The bodega owner had barely reacted when she slammed her basket down and unpacked her groceries to pay for them. Her usually charming, chummy demeanor was extinct and replaced by a surly, snarled lip. Why would he be doing this? Was it just to drive home the point that he thought she was incompetent? Weak? Whatever it was, it was gnawing at her very soul and all she wanted to do was to go back to the tower and hide in her room until her shoulder had recovered.

Snatching her receipt from the bodega owner, she turned away from the counter. “Let’s get moving, Snakeb… Loki?” She glanced left and right, not finding him there, nor could she feel the heaviness of his presence anywhere around her. She glanced out the glass doors and found her missing demigod on the sidewalk. A child of about five or six, who was clearly waiting for his mother to get through with her transaction at the bodega, stood still with a gentle smile. Loki was down on one knee, equally easy grin on his face with a shoelace in either hand.

“I’ll show you again. Pay close attention, alright?” He pulled the strings up taut and made two loops. “Around the trunk of Yggdrasil, the little rabbits go, they twine around the knitted roots and sink deep down below. After they have had their fun they jump up to spring free, but every part of their spirit’s tied to the Great Tree,” he singsonged, knotting the laces easily. “Got that?”

The child nodded, giggling before going off with his mother who was looking at Loki a little too hard to be comfortable.

Loki glanced up, sensing Lily staring and offered her a smile she didn’t return. “Are you ready?”

“You taught him how to tie his shoes.”

He brushed aside her prickly tone, unbothered. “Yes… is that a crime, now?”

“Why?”

“He didn’t know how.” He shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I thought you didn’t like weak things.”

“You know, at some point you’re going to have to tell me why you’re so cross at me.” He snapped, finally, though he didn’t look angry. Disappointed, maybe? Sometimes it was damn near impossible to place any emotion on his face that wasn’t blind rage.

“I heard you talking to Tony, OK? When I was taken to the medbay, she snapped back with double the fervor.

Loki sighed, counting backwards from ten. He was fond of the mutant and he didn’t want to frighten her by barking at her, as he would anyone else. "Despite what you might think, that doesn’t help explain anything.”

“You told Tony I was weak and didn’t belong in the field!” She shrieked, pushing her index finger into his chest. It hurt her more than it did him, but it was a matter of principle.

“No. I told him it was stupid to send you out to the field to somewhere you’d become weak. Foot-thick steel walls zap your energy and I warned him repeatedly about the repercussions. You got hurt because of it.”

Her anger sputtered and idled at the clarification. “You were looking out for me…?”

Loki laughed, a little mirthlessly. “Imagine that,” he replied, sarcastically. He reached out for her basket, carrying the snack-laden vessel himself to give his hands something to do as he marched stoically down the street. People seemed to sense his mood, as they all parted like the Red Sea for him, though they barely allowed her enough space to squeeze through. Glancing backwards, he caught her eye, slowing his pace considerably to allow her to catch up.

“But… you hate me.”

A little notch formed between his brows as he considered her closely. “When have I ever said that? You’re my friend. I don’t make friends with people I hate… Or people… Or make friends, in general, so you should count yourself very bloody lucky.”

Lily shuffled uncomfortably where she stood, and Loki could have sworn there was a flash of a shadow over features, but it was gone a moment after.

“Can we go back or are you going to stand here and glare at me some more?” He joked easily, gesturing down the street with his chin. The mood seemed to lighten, instantly. He didn’t pay her transient anger any mind.

Perhaps he should have.

The Tower was tense, to put it simply. Laughter, which was commonplace whenever the team was home, was nothing more than a distant memory. It seemed like every little noise and movement set off a chain reaction of unpleasantness from what was usually their most pleasant resident. No one had really expected this side effect. After all, when the mutant decided to tell Tony her secret after having worked for him for five years, she assured that she had it well under control. And it was. Her abilities were second nature at this point. Of course, the pressures of battle are something else, entirely, and little quirks popped up just as little quirks are wont to do.

And pop up, they did.

The first time it happened, the team had come back from mission somewhere in the South Pacific. They were all tired and sun-baked enough that if they never saw the great wide ocean ever again, it would be too soon. Heroes all piled into the kitchen with far too many containers of Chinese food, chatting in quiet hushed tones to give their raw throats and over-sensitive ears a chance to rest.

In the far end of the kitchen, Lily stood on her tip toes. Her small frame strained to reach a mug at the very top of the cabinet so she could make herself some tea. Steve, helpful and gentlemanly as ever, rested a hand on the small of her back to signal her that he was there. Reaching above her, he easily grasped the mug, offering her the handle with a dazzling smile.

Usually, she would beam up at the soldier and give his hand a squeeze. Today, her eyes narrowed dangerously. “What, do you think I can’t fucking get a mug now, Rogers?” She snapped, and the soft murmur of the room cut out immediately.

As if in slow motion, they whole team craned their necks over to where the pair stood. Steve had frozen in well-placed shock, mouth opening and closing to grasp for an appropriate apology that he couldn’t understand why he owed. Guilt flashed for but a second across Lily’s features before she cracked her neck awkwardly. Her veins, which would glow a bright green only when using her abilities, pulsed a sludgy brown. She had barely mumbled an apology before going off to hide in her bedroom.

That first encounter had been the mildest, by far.

No one had any idea how to remedy the situation. After all, Lily was usually such a bundle of bright, brilliant energy. She was the one who would always wake up to make breakfast for the group, leave them flowers, bake cookies when one of them seemed sad–she was not a dark, angry entity that yelled at her fellow teammates. Or snarled at anyone for entirely arbitrary reasons (that was Loki’s job, after all). The attitude usually waned after a few days and she’d be back to her bubbly self, which was all the more terrifying.

Right now, however, they were in a dark period.

“Are you truly using a children’s game as a selection tool for whom has to go disturb the plant witch from her self-imposed exile?” Loki asked, a little smugly as he happened upon Natasha and Tony playing Rock, Paper, Scissors to take Lily her new uniform. “You’re pathetic.”

“Don’t act like the sudden goth girl phase isn’t weird. I can tell she scares you,” Nat quipped, rolling her eyes.

Loki gave her a withering stare, looking smug as he circled her in a predatory manner that annoyed the hell out of her. “I fear no one and nothing, Miss Romanov.”

Tony snorted, before a glimmer in his eye sparked and left Loki looking weary. “OK, great. How about you go take this to her, then?” Tony held the bundle for Loki to take.

Loki chuckled, knowing full well the terror that the woman could inflict if provoked. “I said I feared nothing. I didn’t say I was suicidal.” He considered a little longer. “Well, not anymore, anyway.” Tony frowned, making a mental note to follow up at a later date.

“Come on! You two seem to be all buddy-buddy the rest of the time, anyway. Why don’t you just look in on her?”

The god rolled his eyes. “Has it ever occurred to you idiots that perhaps she’s protecting us and not herself when she locks herself away?”

“You are absolutely no help. Fine, Nat–” Tony turned around, sweeping his gaze left and right. “Nat? Where the hell did Nat go?” Frowning, he turned back around to glance at Loki and, instead, found himself alone. “Yeah! Great! Let's… er… regroup later! Good… talk…”

Loki sat at the kitchen table, poking at the, frankly disgusting, plate of eggs and bacon that Bruce had genuinely put all his effort into making for the crew. Glancing around the table, he found a sea of faces with the same sad expression. They all definitely longed for Lily’s pancakes and bacon breakfasts right about then. Loki was the only one who wasn’t even making an effort to be polite and put down some of the meal down his gullet. He had eaten some pretty grim things in his life, but he was not about to make that conscious decision when he wasn’t under any type of duress.

“It’s been two weeks, Tony,” Clint quipped, oddly undisturbed by the state of breakfast and munching full speed ahead. “She’s never been dark for this long.”

“I know. Is this you volunteering?”

“Last time I volunteered, I nearly got impaled on barbed thorns the size of my arm. I barely made it out without looking like Swiss cheese.”

“Barbs?” Loki asked, tilting his head curiously.

Clint nodded, eyes widening. “Yep. Big ones.”

Tony caught the whiff of an idea brewing in Loki’s mind. “Why? What are you thinking, Reindeer Games?”

Loki frowned, waving off the interest. “Nothing. Making a rather satisfying image in my head,” he replied, earning him a dark look from Clint and an annoyed sigh from the rest of the table. It wouldn’t do well to get their hopes up, after all.

After breakfast, Loki found himself pacing the corridor of their living quarters. Lily was only a few doors down and had not seen much of anyone in the whole two weeks since they had gotten back from mission. His brain continually told him that there was nothing he could do, no way for him to remedy this situation. That whatever this state of being was, he would only make it worse. It was better if he just went back to his room and waited for her to seek him out.

And yet, there was a small little voice in the back of his mind, his conscience, he would begrudgingly admit, that urged him to knock on her door.

She would go to the ends of the earth for you, if you needed it, it soothed.

The thought sparked images of the annoyingly sweet woman keeping his handful of secrets and being genuinely interested in his life. He could admit that his conscience was speaking the truth, but only because he knew the imp had little in the way of common sense and self-preservation. This was not the creature hissing at them all from across the threshold, though. And, why would he willingly put himself in the line of fire?

Out of the corner of his eye, a figure caught his attention. A vase of flowers on the windowsill, one of her creations. They were no longer the fresh white daisies they had been when they were placed there. Now they looked like some sort of Nightshade and he was certain they were not the nice kind.

“Oh, you fucking bleeding heart,” he ground out with a groan just as his conscience won out. Without allowing himself time to think or change his mind, he pounded his fist on her door. “Open up or I’ll break it down, Lilian.”

“Fuck off, popsicle!” Her voice was rough and shuddering, like she was trying very hard to keep everything out–or herself in.

Loki swallowed at the venomous retort that brewed at the tip of his tongue on its own accord. Being the bigger person was never quite his forte (nor did it ever get him good results), but he was able to reign himself back in. Rolling his eyes, Loki placed his hand on the door, letting the golden glow of magic envelop it before a satisfactory click let him know that it was open. He had barely crossed the threshold when he jumped back with a yelp.

On the floor, where flowers usually formed a dense, soft carpet, were twisting brambles and thorns. Flytraps and pitcher plants lined the walls, all too large to be considered just houseplants, and blooms burst open, letting out plumes of pollen that Loki dared not to breathe.

This was definitely worse than what he was expecting.

His eyes tore away from the dark forest with a little effort. “Lily,” he tutted softly, watching the woman tucked into a tight ball, tears leaking from her tightly lidded eyes.

It should have been obvious to him. Every living creature had a defense mechanism. Predators had their teeth, prey had their speed, and plants had adapted in similar fashion. Thorns, barbs, poison, giant vats of acid–they had made sure that their lineages survived. It stood to reason that Lily’s mutation, tired of the fighting and the constant worry of missions would also develop some dark effect. Since she wasn’t allowing herself to be dry and acerbic to her friends, her biology had found an alternate solution.

He should have thought of it before.

“Gods, how much pain are you in?” He asked, kneeling beside her on the bed. He ignored the spines digging into his trousers from where he walked through some cacti. There was no response, but rather a whimper and a sigh. “Flower, look at me.”

“Leave me alone, you self-aggrandizing asshole,” she growled, not bothering to open her eyes.

The corner of his mouth twitched, even as he pushed her hair out of her scowling face. It had gone from a bright silver to a dark, smoky grey. “You forgot self-serving and maddeningly good looking.”

“You’re not funny.”

“Agree to disagree.” At his touch her skin erupted in prickers as though they were goosebumps. He swallowed the hiss at getting his fingers skewered, blood pooling at the tips.

Lily’s fists flew in his direction, though he easily caught them in one hand. This time the groan of pain wasn’t silent and blood trickled down his wrists from his palms. “Stop it! Don’t touch me! FRIDAY, he’s hurting me!”

“Disregard that, FRIDAY. Lily, I swear–” She struggled in his grasp, eyes opening and flashing pitch black at him. He was shocked enough that he released her wrists. Her nails grew into sharp wooden talons and just as she reared back to swipe at him, Loki had enough sense to lay his hand on her temple and command, “Sleep.” Her body stiffened and slumped down a second later. “That bloody stings,” he complained, letting her rest back on the bed and bringing the covers over her oddly cool skin.

Loki couldn’t help but compulsively stroke his fingers through her hair, eyebrows pulled together in concern. For all his knowledge of magic and aliens and different realms, he could not figure out for the life of him how to soothe the poison threatening to consume her. In her slumber, she whimpered, shuffling closer to the gentle heat that radiated off of him in waves. Loki convinced himself that he was allowed to dote on her, so long as she wasn’t conscious to remember it. The sludgy brown lines going up and down her exposed skin lightened somewhat under his careful evaluation. Enough that he did not feel threatened when he tapped at her temple and took the sleeping spell off.

He offered a small smile when her eyes blinked up at him in confusion. They were back to their normal baby blue, though her hair still resembled plumes of smoke. “Easy,” he whispered as she jerked away from his touch, all at once. Instead of a hiss or an insult, she frowned, settling back to rest against the pillows, body barely brushing against his. “You’re safe.”

Lily nodded, breathing deeply. This time she didn’t hesitate when he brushed his fingers over her hair. “What are you doing?”

“Tending the garden.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “I’m not a garden.”

“Yeah, you are. A few brambles and prickles here and there. Nothing a good prune and a hug won’t fix.” He used his index finger to lift her chin, having essentially buried herself into one of her pillows, cheeks burning. “You don’t have to keep us safe, flower. Sometimes, you’ll need to vent all that ill will and it is not up to you to avoid that.”

“Says the frost giant masquerading as an Asgardian.”

Loki let out a bark of laughter. “I think I liked you more unconscious.” Sadness flashed through her features, eyes downcast. “I was joking. You know I was.”

Lily nodded and the two fell into a tense silence for a long while. The mutant had sat up, fidgeting with her hands on her lap while Loki watched her, expectantly. He wouldn’t press her, of course, but he could tell that there was something on her mind that she wanted to get out in the open. When she didn’t say anything, he simply placed his hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m scared,” she blurted out.

“Well, you’re very scary so that makes sense.” The look she gave him told him that was not the answer she wanted and before she could look even more dejected, he added. “And that’s good. You’re powerful. You should be scary. Scary keeps you safe. Fear is a great motivator.”

Loki was starting to panic. It didn’t seem like any of what he was saying was helping her, though it was possibly the most honest and candid he had ever been. If anything, the quickly gathering tears in her eyes told him that he was making it leaps and bounds worse. Shouldn’t she be ecstatic that she could make anyone bend to their will by looking a little ominous? She certainly had the whole of the Avengers acting like she was some sort of displeased deity.

Except she wasn’t. She was gentle and giving and cared. It was becoming very apparent that this was her own personal hell.

“I don’t fear you,” he muttered, brushing hair away from her face. This time there were no barbs to prick him. “And honestly, the rest of these idiots don’t, either. They’re just worried for you.”

“I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Maybe because there’s nothing to fix. I’m guessing that with a little training you can learn to use… whatever the hell this is to your advantage.” His mouth twitched in a small smile. “Sometimes you must learn to embrace the darkness, dear.”

Lily was quiet for another long while, picking at her nails while she thought hard. “Loki?”

“Yes, pet?”

“Can I have a hug if I promise not to tell anyone?”

Loki barked out a laugh, pulling Lily into his arms and squeezing her tightly. “I don’t give a shit if you tell anyone. They probably won’t believe you, anyway,” he murmured into her hair, noting the soot-like material that clung to his fingers as he stroked her hair, turning it back to silver. “Don’t suppose you know if this is dangerous or not?” Lily shook her head against his chest. “Of course you don’t. Why would you?” The mutant giggled against him when he squeezed her a little tighter.

“Loki?” The Prince hummed his recognition against her crown. “Thank you for being a good friend.”

It took Loki supreme effort to blink away the tears that for some reason had sparked to his eyes, unbidden, at the sentiment. “It is my distinct honor, flower.” Comfortable silence filled the room for a moment longer. “I also couldn’t take Bruce’s cooking for another day.”

Lily scoffed, pushing away from his chest with a glare. “Why? Why do you ruin it?”

“Have you met me? Come on!”

“I hate you. Next time I’m poisoning you,” she whined, pulling Loki after her.

“Where are we going?”

“I can tell you haven’t eaten because you’re a child. We’re going to the kitchen.”

Loki grinned, following dutifully after her, as if the imp had any physical means to drag him anywhere. “Do I get pancakes?”

“No!”

“Please?”

“…fine.”

#Loki #Angst #Others #Submitted one shot #submission #Toxic #Fanfictrashdump

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wu-sisyphus-gang · 3 years

Text

Motion Sickness Chapter 42

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I tapped the ash of my pipe in an alley. The glass made a soft tong sound as I tapped it against the brick. Then I stepped out with a boot and quashed the still-burning greens.

I already felt like a pro with it.

My head clear of distractions like bugs or the sound of Mother's voice I could finally get to work. The slight spinning the greens caused was not unlike alcohol but it was minor. I felt like I could focus through it. I even felt like I could drive, or ride as the case may be.

Gods it was good to be off that stuffy train. There were 'no smoking' signs everywhere and fire alarms in every bathroom. I'd maybe checked a couple.

"Well Neo, let's buy some horses."

She held up one finger.

"One? One horse? For the both of us?"

She nodded.

"So what? You'll just ride bitch on mine?"

She frowned at my phrasing but still nodded again.

"Huh. And feminism marches on."

She kicked me in the shin. I deserved it too so I managed a muted, "ow. Alright. Alright. Fair cop."

I rubbed at one of my piercings, fondling the earlobe around the metallic diamond stud.

"You know I could probably teach you how to ride. It's easy enough for someone like me to figure out so you could probably do it."

She shook her head. Probably thinking something like 'why would I do that when I have you to ride me around?' To which I'd say, 'yeah, fair enough.'

I found a merchant and paid him. It came out to a few thousand Lien but it was no skin off my back. Just one aura-driven horse and we were good to go.

I saddled up. Putting my bag of loose possessions over the horse's back (spare clothes, toiletries, the bare necessities) along with Neo's own duffle. Then I mounted. The horse grunted slightly under the suddenly added weight of all my weapons and armor and me. I was something like two-hundred and thirty pounds by myself. Probably a little more.

I reached down to Neo. She looked away as I easily swung her onto the horse's back. The horse hardly stirred under the addition, she was smaller than Ruby or Weiss. Neo popped her pink parasol to shield us both from the Anima sun.

She rode side-saddle. And managed to look ever so lady-like on the horse's back but I knew the truth. I turned my head back to face forward. This thing was no lady. She was as much a beast as the horse we rode on.

Like that we were off, hooves beating a steady rhythmic clip-clop down a beaten trail. It had the marks of being a real road for cars with four wheels.

"You don't do tactile stuff do you? Just auditory and visual illusions right?"

I felt her nod her head against my back.

"And you haven't been hazing me, have you?" It would be convenient if all my hallucinations were caused by Neo messing with me. Convenient. Not likely or comforting or anything like that.

She shook her head.

"Then I think I'm a little fucked up."

She snorted a little, still managing to be lady-like still. It reminded me a little of Weiss.

"I didn't use to be like this. Mother got to me. Salem, that is. She haunts me like an evil spectre from the end of time. I'm not sure if you believe me about her but she's bad news. Has all kinds of magic besides being old as hell and probably basically unkillable."

She snorted again. I felt her wipe her pink and brown hair back. It brushed against my sleeveless arm. It tingled against my free skin there.

"That's what I'm saying. She's fucking bullshit. I didn't really believe it myself until I ran into her, or her shadow at least. It was almost enough to unmake me, that alone. She made me kill two of my friends. Made me. Like I was a puppet."

She just listened that time. She put an arm around me to hold on as we rode out of Shumi and on to Wutai. It was the first real touch another person had given me since everything went down.

Since I'd killed Ren and Nora.

Since I'd tried to kill myself.

It was oddly reassuring even if it was light and meaningless. Gentle against my arm. Just enough to hold on from where she sat in our double saddle.

I was choking something back as she did and got settled in a little more. I could feel her aura. The cruel cold was a mellow comfort to my own heat. Like I was burning up and hadn't noticed it. Like I had a fever and didn't know.

"That's why I have to go and find Merlot. Salem could make me kill you too, I'm not sure what will make me snap next. That would be bad, for both of us."

She tensed up a little at that. I wasn't sure she took it as a threat but it kinda was. Salem's reach was long and I wasn't sure what we'd find at the laboratory.

"Not right now. Captain of my own ship at the moment. Just… be careful around me. Be ready once we get to the lab. The report was all about modified Grimm. Not like me, maybe, depending on what the fuck I am. Salem mentioned that I do indeed have sisters. How could I forget that? Oh my gods she has my fucking sisters."

I stewed in that. Listening to the rhythmic beat of the horse.

"Depending on how false my memories are. Most of them are fake. Inconsistent when I really look at them. I have to save them, though. And myself of course. I won't get anywhere as her puppet. All the more reason to get to the lab and find Merlot."

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I set up the tent and tied the horse to a tree. Setting out the horse the graze. That was what was great about horses. It was a grass fed engine. They could go anywhere there was grass with excellent mobility. That was why they were a staple of mankind.

I didn't ask Neo for anything as I set up the camp. Which was fine. She sat on a fence looking at the road forlornly. Like she'd made a deal she wished she could go back on.

My legs were cramped from riding and I was sure hers were stiff, too.

"Let's fight." I said, standing up straight from the tent. I took a hit off my pipe at the same time and exhaled.

She gave me an odd look.

"What? Cinder is stronger than both of us. You think you'll reach her level by not sparring? By not practicing?"

She hopped off the fence and stalked towards me. She rubbed her chest as she looked at me.

"I'll take it easier on you than before but we really can't afford to get out of practice. We'll be out here for a week or so. That's two, back and forth to really get to know each other. Plus if we'll be working together it will help if we know the others' style."

She pulled her dolon on me and pranced closer with that otherworldly grace people who'd had their aura unlocked for a long time possessed.

"What's your weapon's name, by the way?"

She made a shushing gesture, a finger to her pink lips. A confident grin on her face.

"Uh, okay then."

She shook her head and pointed at her weapon.

"Oh the weapon's name is Shush."

She shook her head.

"Quiet? Silence?"

She pulled out her scroll and typed like she did when I was having trouble guessing. She didn't seem to use any real sign language and sometimes it was nearly impossible to determine what she meant. It was 'Hush' typed on the screen on a note word processor.

"So close! Well then it certainly suits you, Hush."

She rolled her eyes, exasperated that she'd had to pull her scroll.

I tapped out the ash from my pipe on a tree and squashed it. I put the pipe away in a bouch on my belt beside the relic. I wasn't sure how the damn thing worked and I hadn't really messed with it. I was willing to bet if I took the top off the lamp it would do something but I wasn't sure what it would do or even what for.

Sure something related to knowledge but that wasn't exactly a narrow topic. All of knowledge that is.

I still felt like my head was clear enough to fight despite the greens. I drew the longsword from my back. I held it with both hands on the long handle.

I rested my left beneath the right and breathed in. I activated my semblance with a little sigh. I felt good. I felt right.

Neo approached me and poked at the rising wisps of light.

"My semblance? It's called Limit Breaker. It makes me stronger and faster and there's a charge I can spend on an attack or movement."

She counted down with her fingers at a steady pace.

"How long does it last?"

Neo nodded.

"I'm not really sure. It used to only be fifteen seconds or so. Fifteen seconds to spend it or use the mobility and strength buffs. Now I can hold onto the charge for longer. Minutes, maybe." Fifteen seconds was short as fuck but minutes were long as Hell in a real fight.

It used to be a lot of pressure but now I had time to think and to trap my opponents with the superior speed and resilience.

"You ready?" I asked.

She shook her head, hiding a smile and I realized she was waiting for my semblance to evaporate away.

"Hey," I protested. "If you wanted to go without it you could have just said something."

She frowned at me. I threw the Limit away in the form of a blade-beam against a tree. It blended away against the bark, throwing out chips of wood and with a groan the tree fell.

"Fine. Alright? You ready?"

She grinned and vanished.

I stood still and listened. I watched carefully but couldn't see any indication of her movement. She reappeared on top of me. Bringing the sword-stick down on me, trying to breach my collar bone in what I was figuring was a favorite move of hers.

I had to raise Crocea Mors upwards to deflect the blow to the side. I tried to riposte but by the time I brought the weapon around and down in a counter attack she disappeared.

She reappeared behind me and kicked my right leg in the back of the knee. Now I don't care how strong you are and firm your balance is. You get kicked like that, you're dropping to at least one knee.

I did. I swept the sword around my body to ward her off and get back to my feet. As I tried to rise she came at me from the left and I struggled to bring the blade around in time to block the smaller, more lithe cane sword. I leaned on my blade like a knight as I rose to my feet.

I swiped at her and nicked her and sent her tumbling. She growled at me. She cartwheeled back to her feet and vanished.

She stabbed me in the chest, tearing out chunks of my aura as she did. I reached out with my left hand and grabbed her. Her eyes widened in surprise before I bounced her off the ground and tried to reach her by dancing my blade down in a large forward swipe.

I caught her and comboed her forward in four more strikes.

Once she was out of tumble she vanished and kicked me in the chest with both heels. I reeled backwards. She stabbed me from the right. Then reappeared on the left, further away from my sword.

I was sort of intentionally handicapping myself without the shield. I traded mobility for defense and I stepped back with her and tried to block, both hands on my long red hilt.

I caught her across the stomach with a touche and pushed her back with a tiny grimace from her. It activated my charge and I flew towards her. I jumped and brought the sword vertically around my body to deliver a punishing falling upwards swinging aerieal that launched her up in the air at a perfect middle height.

She broke the combo by teleporting in front of me. She jabbed at me with the umbrella and expanded it right in my face, pushing my sword to the side as a matter of course. She then flickered towards my throat with the thin blade. It caught me and I tried to grab her but my grab was slow and she twisted back away with a side flip.

I flew at her, holding my semblance, still. She dodged in place, leaning to the side. She jabbed at my face with her blade and it caught my aura and left a shallow cut on my cheek.

I grunted and in a flash spent my semblance I climbed her up in a massive upwards swing. The Limit Break attack made her aura flash and flicker in a tide of bright pink.

She rolled away from me. She slammed one arm in the dirt and vanished again. She reappeared with her legs around my head and used the momentum to try and slam me into a tree.

I jumped then backflipped off the tree instead of being rammed into it.

She still managed to bring me to the ground and tried to put me in an arm bar at the same time she stabbed down with her cane-sword. I dropped my blade and with pure main strength peeled her off of my arm and tossed her.

She landed neatly on her feet. Her eyes switched colors as she blinked at me.

She reappeared before me and stomped on my foot. I leaned forward unconsciously and she hooked me with her umbrella and used my momentum to throw me to the ground. I frontflipped in place to counter and whipped my sword around and knocked her off her feet.

She attacked me with an illusion. Making me see a flash of white before she went low and stabbed at me. I blindly swung downwards and she slid on her knees beneath the cut and stabbed up at my thigh. She pierced my aura and when I swung at her she vanished and shattered like a glass pane.

Our weapons clashed as I chased after her and she backed up. Three times they met with solid clanging noises as we did. Her blade was fast and it whipped through the air as I chased her.

I kicked out and our legs met. She rolled over it and kneed me in the face. I tried to grab her but she vanished.

I took a guess at where she would reappear and Cross-Slashed her. It was less serious without the broadsword. Even still, I tried to be light about it but she bounced off the ground and lay still.

"How you holding up?"

She frowned and tried to vanish but collapsed.

"Don't push yourself too hard, now. It's just training. To get better."

She glowered at me.

"Why don't we call it there. No reason to over extend until one of us is without aura. How does dinner sound, besides?"

My heart was racing and I could feel the high from my greens up top, really in my head.

She gave me a suspicious look.

"Don't worry. I'll cook."

She giggled a little. I walked over and pulled her to her feet. I rested my sword against my shoulder before I sheathed it.

"Hey I can cook."

She snorted as though to say 'sure you can.'

"I can. You just watch. I'll whip something up. I mean it won't be five stars but it'll be edible." Eggs and rice? Eggs and rice.

I pulled out my pipe. "You want some?"

She sat and shook her head. She was giving me a hard to read, soft smile.

"Suit yourself. I'll get us a fire going and everything will be fine. It'll even be delicious, you'll see."

I wasn't Ren but I could put something together. Ren… nope bad thought. Didn't like that. I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to eat a breakfast burrito ever again.

He'd forgive you, Jaune. He would.

I reminded myself.

It was Salem. It was all her.

In the end, we sat back and ate in companionable silence.

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-WG

#jaune arc #cloud strife #rwby #ff7 #ffvii #motion sickness #war of the roses #ruby rose x jaune arc x weiss schnee #neo #neapolitan #whiterose #white rose #white knight #whiteknight #lancaster

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sentientpaperbag · 4 years

Text

So something I never mentioned (but something a couple of people picked up on) is that Spectre’s quirk makes her very, very cold after a while. :)

so here’s something kinda soft :)

“Why are you shaking so bad?” Dabi muttered.

Trembling, Spectre frowned at him, “I just overused my quirk, idiot. I’m fr-fre…freezing!” She said through chattering teeth.

Dabi tilted his head. He hadn’t seen her like this before. Usually everyone knew their limits with their quirks, but apparently Spectre had gone a little overboard.

“P-possessing that f-f-frog girl fai-failed so bad,” she muttered, “I had no i-idea these kids were so strong-willed!” She shouted the last word, falling to the ground as her shaking grew worse.

“Geez you’re really cold, huh?” Dabi placed a hand on her shoulder. Instantly, there was slight warmth radiating from his hand. She looked up in confusion.

“You want me to use my quirk to warm you up?”

“Yes b-because I t-t-totally want to be set on f-fire,” she sneered, her teeth still chattering.

Helping her stand, he cautiously wrapped his arms around her, “Here,” he guided her hands so she was holding him as well, “Covers more ground that way.”

Spectre tried to ignore his hands on her back, one hand moving up slowly as he used his quirk at its lowest possible percentage. She finally started feeling warm after a couple minutes.

Sighing, she rested her head against his chest for a moment, before realizing what she was doing and leaning her head away from him, “This doesn’t change anything, you know?” She said quickly. He snickered but didn’t say anything, his hand moving further upward until it was tangling in her blonde hair.

“Um… What are you doing?” Spectre asked.

“Warming you up, obviously,” he muttered, his fingers gently combing through her hair. She had to admit, it felt… nice. It kind of reminded her of when she was little and her mother would brush her hair. She felt her eyes shut as she pressed her face to his chest, rough skin and cool staples feeling oddly comforting against her cheek.

Dabi froze for a moment, wondering if she could feel his heart beating quickly. This girl, he thought, I can’t figure out why she’s getting so close…

“You alright Dabi..?” Her voice was soft, she didn’t even sound like herself. It was strange how vulnerable the two of them were currently. He almost wondered what would happen if he tried something, but decided against it last minute.

After a few minutes, he smirked and said, “You warm yet?”

“Shut up,” she muttered, “But yeah I’m a little warmer…”

He noticed her cheeks were pink, noticed the soft tone in her voice. He was beginning to wonder if she tolerated him more than she’d initially let on.

The arm still wrapped around her waist tightened for a moment, pushing her a little closer to him. His turquoise eyes bored into her white ones, and she felt her heart beat faster than she’d ever thought possible. What the hell was happening? Was he…?

He let her go, the strangely comforting warmth leaving with him, “You should be warmed up now,” his eyes were hidden by his hair as he turned away, “You think you can possess that little grape looking kid?”

“Ugh… the perverted one? Yeah, ok, I think I should be good now,” she sat on the floor, leaning against the wall and looking up at him, “You’ll stay here, right?”

“…Of course.”

She grinned, “Great. Be back in a bit,” her body contorted slightly, before going limp. He fixed her body so it was back in a more comfortable position, just like he did the first time.

#mha oc #fic #bnha oc #dabi bnha #mha #bnha #ship: Flaming Wisp

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hazel-writes · 4 years

Text

Summary: A nightmare, a new friend, and an old enemy — your first official day of work gets off to an interesting start.

Notes: This is a dialogue-heavy chapter, sorry!

Word Count: 2,200

Warnings: minor canon-typical violence

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

For when your troubles start multiplyin',

And they just might,

It's easy to forget them without tryin'

With just a pocketful of starlight

• Catch a Falling Star - Perry Como •

Panic. Complete and utter panic. You are searching for something, but you can’t seem to find it. You need this thing to survive. Where the kriff is it?!!

A bang. Heavy footsteps. A scream; your scream. You are being dragged away, helpless, no one around to save you.

Eventually you feel your bare feet hit freezing cold ground, but it’s a sinister voice that sounds from above you that chills you to the bone.

You sit up with a start, panting heavily. You hadn’t had a dream like that in a while. This one was scary, but what really terrified you was how strangely familiar it felt. It’s probably just the stress, you thought.

You looked at the clock across the room: 5:13. You were too anxious to go back to sleep and you had to get up in an hour anyways, so you decided to get ready for the day.

You showered, brushed your teeth, and inspected your closet for something to wear. You chose a dark grey tunic with a matching grey skirt that went just below your knees. In typical First Order fashion, you pulled your hair into a tight bun. Looking in the mirror, you barely recognized yourself.

No, this wouldn’t do.

Still feeling a bit rebellious from yesterday's encounter with the injured stormtrooper and General Hux, you decided to leave your hair down like you did on Lothal, two loose braids winding around the sides of your head, the rest of it gently cascading over your shoulders.

Better.

Content with your appearance, you headed straight for the cafeteria. You didn’t recognize most of the food — It all looked like gray mush compared to the vibrant, fresh foods your parents cooked back home.

Lothal was known for its large farm-based economy and culture, something you took immense pride in. Lothalians had fought hard to preserve their land, as it was often victim to exploitation by those with galactic authority. Many times the planet was under imperialist occupation, namely the former Galactic Empire. During those times, the planet was essentially destroyed, its sacred habitats burnt to a crisp. Natural resources were depleted, pollution enveloped the air, and Lothalians were either forced into a life of servitude or were killed. A small group of rebels, called the Spectres, led a resistance effort against the Imperial occupiers, eventually succeeding in driving them out. Since then, relations between Lothal and the First Order were tense, which explained some of General Hux’s disdain towards you. Lothal, however, managed to restore its previous prosperity and you had been lucky enough to grow up in relative peace.

Right now, all you longed for was your favorite fruit, jogan, but it didn’t look like you were going to find it here anytime soon. With a sigh, you settled for the indistinct mush and sat down at a table in the corner.

Since you woke up so early, you were the only one in the cafeteria, but you didn’t mind. You were actually thankful — this meant no more run-ins with stormtroopers, generals, or ridiculously tall men in capes.

After forcing down the last of the mush, you strolled the hallways, attempting to somewhat gain your bearings before your first official day of work. You pulled out the map you had been provided and followed its twists and turns to the yellow dot labeled: Office of Imperial Promotion, Galactic Truth, and Fact Correction.

As you rounded the last corner, you saw a door a dozen feet away which appeared to be guarded by a stormtrooper. This must be it, you thought.

You apprehensively approached the door, willing your feet to move forward with more confidence than they were. As you reached for the handle, you did your best to avoid the trooper’s gaze. Suddenly, he reached his arm out towards you.

Terrified, you stumbled backwards, hitting your head on the wall behind you. The trooper advanced, both arms now outstretched.

You protectively put up your arms as well, attempting to shield your head from any incoming injury — but it never came.

“Hey, hey, whoa.” You heard the trooper say, his hands now raised in surrender. “I’m not gonna hurt you, it’s me!”

Your hands were shaking as you lowered your arms slightly. You tried to think of any stormtroopers you knew. Not any on the Finalizer, you thought.

“I- I’m sorry. Who are you?” You stuttered.

“Oh, right!” He gestured lazily to his mask. “This ol’ thing.” He sighed and shook his head.

He spoke unlike you’d ever heard a trooper speak before. He sounded kind, normal even! Normal… Something clicked and you started to put the pieces together.

“You - you were the one I found in the hallway!”

You were shocked; you thought for sure you had left him to die. A stab of guilt pierced your heart.

“Yeah, that’s me, good ol' Mr. Concussion!”

“I thought you were... Well, I thought you were going to be-” you started.

“Trust me, I’ve been through much worse.” He shrugged nonchalantly. You paused, looking him over in astonishment and thoughts running wild. What piece of space junk sent him back to work the day after receiving a head injury?

“You should be lying down, or resting, or getting treatment in the med bay, or-”

“Wow," he said. "You sure worry a lot about other people for someone who doesn’t worry enough about themselves.”

“Why do you say that?” you questioned sceptically.

“Well, going through with that stunt yesterday, you not only risked your career for me, a stranger, but you risked your life as well.”

When you didn’t respond, he paused for a second, reaching behind him to reveal the large First Order coat you had used to stop his bleeding the day before. Hux’s coat.

“I take it this isn’t yours?” He asked, knowingly. You imagined a small smirk forming under his helmet.

You responded with a breathy laugh. “No, it most definitely is not. That used to belong to General Hux, but now it’s yours, I suppose.”

His eyes widened in a mix of shock, fear, and a hint of admiration.

“Son of a blaster, how’d you manage that?” He replied.

“Well, I uhh- I just kinda took it from him?”

“You just kinda took it from him?” he repeated, stunned.

“Without his permission…” you continued, quieter this time.

The trooper just stared at you in shock, and you started to feel uncomfortable. Maybe he thought you were crazy. Maybe he would turn you in. Maybe he would bring you to Kylo R-

A laugh bellowed from behind his mask, slightly distorted.

“You!” A laugh. “And Hux, how-” More laughter. “Without his permission-” He could barely get his words out between laughs.

This was the first time you’d heard laughter since arriving on the Finalizer, and you couldn’t help but smile in return. As his laughter mellowed, he sighed and stuck out his hand for you to shake.

“I’m FN-2187.”

FN-2187, you thought. “That’s hardly a name…”

He shrugged. “It’s the one I was given.”

You thought for a second. “Mind if I give you a new one, to be used privately of course,” you clarified.

He looked taken aback, even through the helmet. “Yeah, that would be… okay.”

You paused, thinking. “How about I call you Finn?”

“Finn… Yeah, I like that,” he said. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. My friends back home call me Wren, but it’s probably better you call me by my real name here,” you said, referencing the Finalizer.

He nods, and after telling him your name, you drop his hand. He looks around the hallway before moving a step closer to you.

“In all seriousness, thank you. No one has ever asked for more than my trooper code, and no one ever stops when… you know...,” He trailed off, lowering his gaze, that sadness you sensed from him yesterday having returned.

“Hey,” you reached out and placed a gentle hand on his armored shoulder. “We got each other’s backs now, right? We’ll make it outta here in one piece. Maybe we can steal Hux’s toupee next time.” You winked at him, making him chuckle.

“Ha, yeah, that’d be great,” he replied.

At that moment, the Ginger General himself rounded the corner of the hallway, followed by two obedient stormtroopers.

You started to feel the panic building again. Had he heard what I said? Is he coming to fulfil his promise of my death by trash compactor?

“It’s alright,” Finn reassured. “Follow my lead.”

Kicking Hux’s bloodied jacket behind the door, Finn moved to stand in front of you a few feet. You started to follow him, but he held his arm back, keeping you in place. Finn stood at attention as Hux neared, and you attempted to make yourself as small as possible. You noticed that his coat seemed a few sizes too big, and you chuckled internally, knowing that you were the reason for that.

“Ah, I see you have yet again managed to involve yourself in the business of pathetic stormtroopers,” he spat.

You glanced down to Finn’s fists, which were clenched in anger.

“No, General. I was just asking for directions” you replied.

Hux’s eyes slowly trailed over your body, like a predator stalking his prey. Finn subtly shifted his balance back and forth, continuing to clench and unclench his fists. The General’s eyes came to land on your hair, which he scowled at disapprovingly. He began to approach you, and as he did, you noticed Finn start to move towards you. You made a small gesture with your hand, pleading with him to stay back. He listened, reluctantly.

Hux grabbed a chunk of your hair. “This is not within protocol,” he seethed.

“Neither is that coat, General,” you replied, gesturing to his oversized garb.

You had no idea where the sudden burst of confidence had come from, but you immediately regretted your comment as Hux pulled harder, causing you to wince in pain. He pulled his face to your ear.

“Strike two,” he whispered threateningly, before shoving you back into the wall and turning around, almost knocking into Finn.

Expecting Finn to move out of the way, Hux waited, but neither of them stirred. The two were locked in a stalemate for what seemed like eons. Finn eventually sidestepped, letting him pass, and with a final glare, Hux and the troopers continued walking down the hallway.

You leaned against the wall, rubbing your now-sore head. As soon as Hux and the troopers were out of sight, Finn rushed over to you.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, concerned. His armored hand helped you smooth down your disheveled hair.

“Yeah,” you replied shakily.

“I could’ve helped,” he stated dejectedly, a hint of frustration laced in his tone.

“I know… I just didn’t want to see you get hurt — again,” you responded stubbornly, giving him a small tap on the side of his helmet.

“Hey, this whole saving each other’s lives thing only works if it goes both ways,” he argued.

“Save your saving for another time. I’m sure I’ll need it soon enough.”

He sighed. “I really hope that isn’t true.”

Silence filled the hallway before you had a sudden realization.

“Hey, how did you know who I was when I first walked up? You were unconscious when I found you yesterday…,” you asked, perplexed.

“When I woke up in the med bay, I asked the nurses how I got there. They told me I arrived with the help of a girl from this sector of the ship. So I came here and waited. I don’t know how, but I just knew when I saw you — you were the one who had saved me.”

“Oh,” you replied, still puzzled.

“Yeah, pretty weird, huh?” He paused. “Anyways, I should let you get to work — wouldn’t want you to be late.”

“Right,” you replied. “I guess I’ll see you around then Finn.”

“I hope so, coat thief,” he said with a smirk, placing a large hand on your shoulder. “Stay safe out there.”

“I’ll try my best, Mr. Concussion,” you replied, making your way to the door of your new workplace before directing a final wave back at Finn. You watched as he walked down the hallway, stopping at the very end to turn and salute you. You chuckled. At least I made one friend today, you thought.

You pondered over your father’s words of wisdom: nothing bad can ever come from helping those in need. So yeah, maybe that wasn’t completely true. But you could amend the advice a bit, taking today’s events into account: something good will always come from helping those in need. So far, despite everything you had gone through, that seemed to remain true.

With a new spring in your step, you smoothed your uniform, fixed your hair, and held your head high as you walked into your first official workspace, feeling prepared for whatever else you would have to face throughout the day.

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