#just i had a higher tolerance for how far i could get before i started to lose enjoyment

[oflgtfol]

i will always love astro but a part of me kinda regrets this and is like maybe i would have faired better in geology. like i do wish i had taken more geology classes i only took that one and i didnt pay more than 5 minutes attention to it

[cleo-fox]

Close Quarters

Part 1 of 2

Summary: “You don’t have to like it,” says Fury, “you just have to do your job.”

Your job, as it turns out, is to go undercover at a luxury resort.

The only problem? Your fake husband is Loki Laufeyson—the infuriatingly handsome Norse god turned Avenger who delights in making you flustered. What could go wrong?

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (Minors DNI), dirty talk, praise kink, fingering, elevator sex, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, a hint of dom/sub, Dom Loki.

A/N: there will be a part 2. Also have a handful of related one shot ideas, so if people like this, I may post those. This is also posted on AO3.

Your self-sufficiency has always been a point of pride for you, both personally and professionally. The highlight of your career was overhearing Nick Fury say that he didn’t need to send in a team of people for a mission so long as he had you on the payroll. You are calm, competent, and ruthlessly efficient; you are used to relying only on yourself.

So it comes as something of a surprise when Fury informs you that Loki Laufeyson will not only be accompanying you on this undercover mission, but will also be taking the lead.

It takes a lot to render you speechless these days, but this does it. You gape at Fury for a moment before you’re able to speak.

“You never send me in with anyone,” you say.

“This mission requires a unique skillset.”

You scoff. “He can’t do anything that I can’t.”

Fury raises an eyebrow and folds his arms across his chest. “Really? How’s your conversational Sokovian?”

There’s, of course, no argument to be made with this. Your lips press into a thin, hard line. “I still don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it,” says Fury, “you just have to do your job.”

*

Your job, as it turns out, is to play the part of Nina Pine.

Nina Pine is bubbly and vivacious, the sort of person you’d see in the society pages. She wears designer clothes and owns jewelry that is so ostentatious and expensive that it looks like it must be fake. She is not particularly bright or talented; she is the product of good luck and generational wealth.

Three weeks ago, Nina married Jonathan Pine, who she met six months ago at the home of a mutual friend. Jonathan does something in finance that sounds like it’s just a tarted up version of gambling, but with more complicated rules and less oversight. It is Jonathan’s higher tolerance for risk (and healthy trust fund assets) that has him considering an investment in KorolCo, a company owned by Ivan Litvinchuk. Litvinchuk uses KorolCo as a front to launder money from illegal arms deals.

Loki would be going undercover as Jonathan. Your new husband.

You are not particularly happy about this little detail (a detail that Fury mysteriously failed to mention when you met with him), in no small part because Loki has already started leveraging it to annoy the shit out of you.

“How are you already this annoying when we’re still in prep?” you say after a particularly exasperating meeting.

“I’m simply overcome by my love for you,” says Loki with a cloying faux sincerity that makes you yearn for the sweet release of death.

Fury, you note, is suspiciously unavailable during all of this. After ignoring three of your (admittedly lengthy) emails on the subject, he sends you a frustratingly short reply:

Do your job, Agent.

Maybe you’ll take up meditation.

If there’s a bright side to what appears to be a massive clusterfuck in the making, it’s that you’ll at least get a free vacation of sorts

The mission will be taking place at The Indigo, an absurdly expensive and exclusive hotel on a private beach not far from La Jolla Cove. The Indigo is the sort of place that you’d only read about—the kind of hyper exclusive resort that is only ever mentioned in damning Pro Publica reports about the questionable actions of high ranking public officials. Rooms start at fifty thousand a night and you are staying in one of the suites, which likely costs more. Your room information was included in your briefing materials and it all sounds too good to be true: a soaking tub and waterfall shower. Private terrace with an infinity pool. Private bar. In-suite chef and spa services by appointment. Ocean view.

One Norse god who delights in irritating you (non-negotiable).

You suppose you’ll try and make the best of it.

*

The first problem is your sleeping arrangements: there’s only one bed. Granted, it’s a big bed, but still—it suggests a level of intimacy that you had not thought about and are not at all prepared for.

“Well, Agent, this isn’t how I envisioned taking you to my bed, but I suppose it’ll have to do,” says Loki on your first evening there.

You chuck a pillow at him, which he easily dodges.

“Keep it up and you can magic yourself a pillow and sleeping bag and sleep in the hall,” you say.

“Even if that were an appropriate accommodation for someone of my rank and title, I rather think it would do some damage to our cover.”

He has a point and you don’t like it. You decide to ignore him and start getting ready for bed.

The pajamas that had been packed for you are a little fancier than what you’re used to—satin and lace instead of cotton tees and shorts. Normally, you’d relish the opportunity to feel a little fancy—it’s an unexpected indulgence, a splurge on the company dime.

But with Loki now thrown into the equation, you are suddenly hyper aware of the fact that the fabric will likely cling to your curves, that the hem of the skirt is just a little too high. You choose the most demure one of the lot—a pale rose colored thing hemmed with lace—and head to the bathroom to change.

Even with the matching robe, you still feel a little awkward and oddly nervous. You avoid looking at Loki—if his gaze is lingering on your legs or your hips, you don’t want to know about it right before you hop into bed with him—and go about your normal routine. You manage to have a relatively normal conversation about your plan for tomorrow and you read a couple chapters of your book before you start to drift off.

It’s a king sized bed with plenty of room, but somehow you wake up perched near the edge of the bed with Loki pressed up against your back.

He’s got one arm wrapped around your waist so that you’re pinned against him and the deep, even breaths brushing against the back of your neck tell you he’s still asleep. You’re pretty sure this must have been unintentional on his part: Loki doesn’t seem like the sort to willingly allow himself to be seen seeking out human contact. It’s too vulnerable, too soft for the sharp and sarcastic veneer he presents to the world.

He shifts slightly in his sleep, his grip on you tightening. Something hard pokes against the curve of your ass.

You can’t help the responding ache between your legs. You should feel embarrassed—and you do, just a little—but there’s a competing feeling of warm curiosity that makes you press your thighs together. It’s been a while and you miss being held like this. The silk of your nightgown is cool and slippery against your skin, and you feel oddly restless and alert despite the early hour.

You should put a stop to this—that is the professional and sensible thing to do. So you carefully lift his arm from your waist and gently extricate yourself from his embrace. You pad to the bathroom, leaving the light off to spare your eyes.

In the bathroom, you run the tap as cold as it will go. You cup your hands and drink before splashing some water on your face in an effort to quell the restless heat building between your thighs.

It doesn’t really work. You’re not entirely surprised—if you were by yourself, you would simply take care of it, but that’s obviously not an option now. Out of curiosity, you slip your fingers between your thighs to assess the state of things and you immediately regret it: you’re soaked and just the feeling of your index finger glancing against your clit is enough to undo the admittedly minimal effect of the cold water.

You splash your face again and shut off the tap, taking a few deep breaths and smoothing your hands against your hair.

You exit the bathroom and slide back into bed. Loki reaches for you in his sleep and you are only half surprised when you let him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to him. The throbbing ache between your thighs intensifies and before you can think about it, your back is arching and your breath is hitching.

He pulls you closer and suddenly his breath is warm on your ear. “You know, if you wanted me, all you had to do was ask,” he says, his voice deep and smooth, only a little husky with sleep.

“This is a bad idea,” you say, even as your back arches again and you press yourself against him.

Lips press against where your neck and shoulder meet. “But you want it.” His fingers toy with the hem of your nightgown. “Yes?” he asks, his voice husky against your ear.

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Agent.”

“Yes. Please.”

“Agent.”

Your eyes flutter open. Loki is standing at the foot of the bed, hair wet, and wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“It’s eight o’clock,” he says. “You need to shower and dress if we’re to make it to breakfast on time.”

It takes you a moment to process this information. Partly because he just woke you up from a sex dream about him and partly because wearing only a towel should be fucking illegal when you look like that. You try to keep your eyes trained on his and not let them drift to his flat stomach where you can see a faint smattering of chest hair that gathers in a line that trails directly to his cock. And definitely not to any of the muscles that are on tantalizing display and dotted by drops of water that are begging to be licked away. Nope. Not looking at any of that. Just at his devastatingly handsome face. 

Fuck.

“Agent?”

You shake your head. “Sorry. Bit groggy this morning. Finish up what you were doing and I’ll go jump in the shower.”

He gives you a bit of an odd look, but mercifully walks away without further comment. 

This gives you an opportunity to stare at his broad back as he walks away. Goddammit, even his ass looks good in that towel.

Fuck.

You have a feeling this is going to be a long week.

*

It’s only day one and it’s becoming clear to you that you are not really prepared for some of the practicalities of being Loki’s wife.

Specifically: being the primary focus of his flirtations and little gestures of affection. His hand on the small of your back, his fingers lacing with yours, the brush of his lips against the back of your hand or the shell of your ear—it’s all a little overwhelming in a way you don’t expect. It was one thing when he was razzing you in your prep meetings—he was quite clearly doing it to be irritating. But at The Indigo, he has to appear sincere for your cover and that particular detail makes it a different beast entirely. 

The fact that both his regular appearance and the blond-haired, blue-eyed glamor he’s adopted for the mission are both devastatingly handsome certainly doesn’t help. Nor does the additional baggage of your sex dream this morning.

Unfortunately for you, Loki quickly ascertains that he now has a great and novel way to fluster you. Equally unfortunate is the fact that he seems to find this as hilarious as he did back in prep meetings, which prompts him to be only more outlandish.

“Are you trying to sabotage this?” It’s later that afternoon and you’ve gone down to the pool with the plan of schmoozing with Litvinchuk and his associates. Loki has clearly decided that this needs to be more difficult than it is and has fully committed to the bit, as they say.

(You’ve also gotten very good at whispering threats under your breath and making it look like you’re flirting; the timing of this is not a coincidence).

“I don’t know why you’re so distraught about sunscreen,” says Loki, rubbing a generous amount between his palms.

“It’s not the sunscreen, it’s that you’re going to find some way to be inappropriate about it.”

“I’d never.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“You wound me.” He places his hands on your shoulders and begins rubbing in the sunscreen, going much slower than you think is strictly necessary. “Perhaps this trip is merely bringing out our natural chemistry.”

“You wish.”

“Is it the hair that does it for you, Mrs. Pine? Do you have a particular fondness for blonds?”

“Do you have a fondness for being murdered in broad daylight? Because that’s the fate you’re headed towards, buster.”

He tuts at you as his hands slide to the small of your back. “Temper, temper. You really need to work on that.”

“Have you considered working on not annoying the ever-loving shit out of me?”

His breath is suddenly warm against your ear. “Now where’s the fun in that? And before you answer, be advised that Tarasevich is looking right at us.”

Fuck. Tarasevich is the most suspicious and paranoid of the lot—years in the Sokovian mafia paired with recreational drug use will do that to a guy. You turn so that you’re facing Loki. He looks at you fondly, looking for all the world like a loved up newlywed just smitten with his new wife.

“One of these days, I’m going to drop kick you into the motherfucking sun,” you say in the sweetest voice that you can muster.

“Now, now, Mrs. Pine, let’s keep the foreplay in the bedroom.” He rests his forehead against yours, reaching up to stroke your cheek. “There’s such a thing as public indecency laws, you know.”

You sigh heavily. “Why are you like this?”

“Oh, because it’s so much fun.”

“Is he still looking?”

“Yes and I’m going to kiss you to put him off, so do try to contain yourself.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage.”

You catch a flicker of a smile before he leans in and brushes his lips against yours. You intend for this to be brief, but his mouth is so warm and inviting and before you know it, he’s gently coaxing your lips open and leading your tongue in a slow and seductive caress that has your mind drifting straight to the gutter.

His hand slides to your thigh and you can’t bring yourself to be mad about it.

“Ah, Pine. Mixing business and pleasure, I see.”

You pull back from Loki to find Ivan Litvinchuk standing in front of you, wearing the smug, congratulatory smirk that you often see men like him trading with one another when they think they’re getting somewhere with a woman.

“Normally I try not to, but I’ve found it rather impossible these last three weeks, haven’t I, darling?” Loki takes the opportunity to loop his arms around your waist and pull you into his lap, nuzzling your neck.

You give a good natured laugh. “You’re insatiable.”

“Oh, I don’t think anyone would fault me when I have such a tempting little wife.”

This, paired with the squeeze of his hand on your thigh, sends an unexpected rush of heat to your cunt. Fortunately, the effects of this are quickly tempered when you notice that Litvinchuk is eyeing you rather appreciatively. The wardrobe team has really outdone themselves with your clothes, but the swimsuits they’ve sent are definitely more revealing than you are used to—today’s choice is a bikini with a split sweetheart neckline that dips a lot lower than you’d like and a fucking underwire in the top. Underwire! The bottom is no better—it’s both low rise and high cut, the perfect way to ensure that half of your ass is exposed at any given time. Even in the matching translucent cover up—which of course you’ve left on the chair that Litvinchuk is standing in front of—you feel a little more bare than you’d like, a fact that Litvinchuk seems to be appreciating, if the path of his gaze is any indication.

“You’re a lucky man, Mr. Pine,” he says, his eyes flicking briefly to your cleavage.

You expertly tamp down your disgust and smile at Litvinchuk before turning around to bat your eyes at Loki.

“You are, aren’t you?” you say, twining your arms around his neck and planting a brief, chaste kiss on his lips.

He gives you a dazzling smile that’s so sincere it makes your stomach flip. “Very much so.”

Another squeeze of your thigh, more heat to your cunt. Fuck.

“Well, Pine, when you are ready to discuss more business—” Here he switches to Sokovian.

This is the part you dislike the most about this particular mission: whenever anything of substance comes up, Litvinchuk and his cronies immediately switch to Sokovian, leaving you in the dark.

To add insult to injury, Litvinchuk still seems infatuated by your cleavage.

Litvinchuk says goodbye a few minutes later and you manage to bite your tongue until he’s out of earshot.

“I really don’t love the fact that he spent half of that conversation sneaking looks at my boobs,” you say quietly.

“Well, to be fair, they do look spectacular,” says Loki. “I’ll have to send a thank you note to the wardrobe team for that.”

Heat stirs hopefully and unhelpfully in your hips at that comment.

“This is what I meant by being inappropriate, you know. Did he have anything interesting to say?”

“He’s invited me to a game of cards this afternoon.”

“Do you need me for that? I could go try and talk to the wives, see what I can find out.”

“Originally, I’d thought no, but since dear Ivan seems so enamored of your assets, it might not be a bad idea to have you come along.”

You sigh. “How am I now at the point in my life where letting an illegal arms dealer stare at my tits is a fucking mission objective?”

Loki laughs quietly. “We’ll keep that out of the final report.”

*

The card game ends up being a lot worse than you thought it would be. And not because of Litvinchuk’s wandering eyes.

They’ve set up the game on the pool deck tables and chairs. As best as you can tell, it’s a Sokovian twist on a combination of rummy and poker. You’re not the only woman at the table: a few of the other men have their girlfriends or mistresses draped over them like strange human scarves, though their roles seem to be largely decorative.

Loki makes a big show of pulling you into his lap, saying how he just can’t bear to be apart from his new wife for terribly long.

“Ah, young love,” says Mikhnevich. “I remember when my Irina and I were like this.”

“Now she begs for him to leave the house!” says Litvinchuk. There’s a hearty round of laughter—it’s not a particularly funny joke, but you suppose that’s one of the benefits of moving up in the world of crime: people will laugh at your jokes because they’re afraid you’ll kidnap their families or something. It’s all very dysfunctional.

Loki makes an effort to teach you the game, but Nina is not the sort who pays very close attention to that kind of thing, so you find yourself giggling and letting him steal kisses or whisper in your ear as he explains some strategy or another.

There are several problems with this arrangement. The first is that you are positioned on his lap in such a way that you can feel his cock nudging your ass or your thigh, depending on how he’s sitting. And it’s close enough proximity for you to ascertain that he is long, thick, and semi-erect.

The second problem is his thigh; specifically, how it presses against your cunt, how every time Loki leans forward to draw a card, he inadvertently rocks you against the firm muscle. Each time, it feels better than the last; each time, you clench and ache and talk yourself out of riding his thigh until you have a screaming orgasm right on the pool deck. Each time, the idea becomes more and more tempting.

The third problem is his hands. Specifically, where and how they are wandering. He plays it off like it’s unintentional, like he’s just absently fidgeting with the part of your suit that lays against your hip or idly drawing lazy circles on your thigh. You can’t help but think that it must be calculated. He’s spent the last twenty-four hours intentionally trying to drive you crazy–there’s no way that he would pass up an opportunity to play his little games without you scolding him or rolling your eyes.

The fourth problem is that the first three problems are turning you on a lot.

Your clit seems to swell with every pass of his fingertips on your bare skin, no matter how casual. It drags against the slick material of your swimsuit every time you shift on Loki’s muscular thigh. You can feel yourself growing slicker and slicker with every moment. Eventually, it becomes too much and you try to shift in his lap, crossing your legs to give yourself a little relief.

This does exactly nothing useful. Instead, your movement causes his cock to twitch against you, which only escalates your growing arousal. He hooks the elastic of your suit at your hip onto his thumb and pulls, letting it snap back against your skin. His expression is playful when you look up at him, but there’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

You are throbbing, your cunt practically weeping with slickness. And you’re pretty sure he knows.

And you’re pretty sure you don’t mind.

You lick your lips.

He hooks his thumb back into your suit at the hip, and this time he leaves it there, his fingers splayed along the curve of your hip. It’s casually possessive and ridiculously hot and the polar opposite of helpful.

He definitely knows.

Your heart is pounding. Can you go into cardiac arrest from being too turned on? You wish you could use Google. At a minimum, some sort of visual equivalent of a cold shower would be helpful. Pictures of Henry Kissinger or something. Budget reports. Taxes. Anything to get your mind off your aching cunt and the mess that you’re making in your swimsuit.

“I think you could do with a bit of a lie down, Mrs. Pine.” Loki's voice is low in your ear. “You seem…warm.”

You would have thought that Loki knowing about your current state of arousal would be cause for humiliation, if not irritation. Instead, it only seems to add fuel to the fire, especially with the way he’s talking to you. You’re not sure how he’s doing this, but it feels like his fucking voice is vibrating in the cradle of your hips, sending a fresh wave of slick arousal to your dripping cunt.

“Yeah,” you say. “Very warm.”

It’s perhaps a testament to your current state of mind that you can only manage this sentence and not some smart remark.

“Would you like my help with that, darling?” he asks. The phrasing is innocent, but the question is loaded. And sincere. You take in a shaky breath. You know all the reasons why this is a bad idea, but you also can’t bring yourself to say no. He may be wildly irritating, but you suspect he’s likely a good fuck…and you really need to be fucked.

You nod. “Yeah…I’d like that.”

“We’ll go up to the room after this game ends,” he says. “And then I’ll take very good care of you.”

It takes everything in you not to whine. Fuck. You didn’t think it was possible to be this wet, this turned on. 

Loki shifts slightly, pulling you close against him, his cock now fully erect and pressing hard and thick against your ass. 

“Do you feel me?” he asks, his lips grazing your ear. “Do you feel what you’ve done?”

You nod and wiggle your hips slightly, partly to situate yourself and partly because you want a little bit of payback. His grip on your hip tightens.

“I’d advise you not to play games, little wife,” he rasps in your ear.

More heat builds in your hips. You can’t remember the last time you were this turned on. Maybe never. You throw a look at Loki over your shoulder. “It’s not a game,” you say. “I’m just very warm.”

His eyes are dark. “Burning up, I suspect.”

“You have no idea.” You lean back against him, turning so you can nuzzle your face against his neck. God, he smelled good. “Please,” You say it so quietly that only he can hear, “I’m aching.”

He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and you feel his cock throb. He clears his throat. “Gentlemen, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take my leave a little early—Mrs. Pine is feeling quite unwell.”

Fuck yes.

If Litvinchuk and his men suspect there’s anything untoward about your departure, they don’t say so—and you imagine you must look a little unsteady anyway. Loki slides an arm around your waist as you leave.

“Now Mrs. Pine,” he says once you’re out of earshot, “tell me exactly what ails you.”

You let out a shaky sigh. “Are you seriously going to do this?”

“I only want to ensure that we are on the same page,” he says with a smirk.

“Like hell you do. I already told you, you just want to hear—” You cut yourself off, realizing that you’re playing right into his hands.

He smiles like a cat with a bowl full of cream. “What do I want to hear, darling?”

You press your lips together. This is infuriating.

“I’m waiting…”

You blow out a shaky breath. Fuck it. “You just want to hear me say that I’m fucking soaked because you’ve been rubbing me against your thighs and touching me for the last two hours and if I don’t come soon, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.”

He smirks as you approach the hotel lobby. “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting to hear you say all that.”

“You absolutely were.”

The air conditioned air in the hotel lobby feels extra icy against your sunwarmed skin and your sandals seem to clack particularly loudly against the marble floors.

“You have a smart mouth, do you know that?”

“You like it,” you say as you approach the bank of elevators. “That’s the reason why you pull half of this shit with me.”

“Perhaps.” He gives you a smile that feels a little dangerous and sends even more heat to your aching cunt. “But do you know what my favorite part of your smart mouth is, Mrs. Pine?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

The elevator door opens. It’s empty and your cunt clenches at the possibilities this presents.

“My favorite part about your smart mouth,” says Loki in a low voice as you step into the elevator, “is that it will sound that much sweeter when I make you beg for me.”

The elevator door slides closed and you barely have a chance to react before he’s backing you up against the wall and pressing his thigh between your legs.

“You’re a disobedient, wicked tease, Mrs. Pine,” he growls, sending a thrill through you. “I think you could benefit from a firm hand.”

“You like it,” you breathe, rocking your hips against his thigh, trying to capture some of the same friction that was driving you wild earlier.

“Rutting yourself against my thigh in public like a common slut,” he purrs. “You must be desperate.” He slides a hand between your legs, slipping his fingers under your bathing suit. His expression changes the moment his fingers dip past the fabric—almost like he expected you to be wet, but not this wet.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purrs as you keen. “You’ve made a mess of yourself, haven’t you?”

“I need to come so bad,” you gasp.

“I know you do.” He reaches over and slams the emergency stop button and the elevator shudders to a halt. “And you’re going to. Right now.”

“I can wait until we get to the ro—”

He spins you around and pulls you to him so your back is pressed against his chest.

“No, you can’t.” He curls his big frame over yours, sliding his hand back into your bathing suit and stroking the full length of your sex and making you cry out again. “You need it too badly.” He starts rubbing your clit with his middle and index fingers. “And I don’t think it’s going to take all that long, darling,” he growls, sucking your earlobe into his mouth, “because you’re already so fucking wet.”

There’s a small, distant part of you that resents the fact that he’s right about anything, let alone anything pertaining to your orgasms.

The larger part of you is focused on the fact that he’s right: you’re going to come and you’re going to come hard.

Your legs are shaking and you brace your arms against the elevator wall to hold yourself up. You moan loudly and arch your back as the feeling starts building in your hips.

“You need this so badly, don’t you?” He nips hard at your earlobe. “You’re desperate for it. I felt you tense up every time your sopping cunt rubbed against my thigh, every time I touched you just right.”

You whimper, pressure rising in your hips as you rock with his hands.

“You’re so close,” Loki purrs in your ear. His hips are thrusting mindlessly against your ass, like he can’t wait to be inside you.

“Fuck, I need to come,” you whimper.

“Oh, I’m going to make you come, darling, but I think what you really need is to be fucked.”

You moan as your orgasm starts to crest.

“You need to be fucked properly and hard,” he murmurs. “You need me to take care of your sopping wet, needy little cunt. You need to be filled to the brim with my cock and my come like the good girl that you are. You need to come over and over on my cock until you can’t take it anymore.”

This is what pushes you over the edge. The muscles of your cunt clench and then pleasure is blooming in your belly as the tension of the last two hours comes to a peak and you come hard. You cry out, your hips rocking against Loki’s hand, chasing the shimmery aftershocks.

“There she is, that’s my good girl,” he purrs. He holds you as you shudder and shake, his fingers still moving, still coaxing out those final waves of pleasure. But just when you think he’s about to pull his hand away, he starts massaging your clit again, one long finger slipping inside you.

“You don’t think you’re going to be satisfied with just one, do you?” he growls in your ear. “Not a needy girl like you, not when you’ve been dripping for hours. You need more, don’t you?”

“Oh fuck—” You can feel that pressure growing again and you know it’s going to be different this time.

“You’re going to come for me again, pretty girl,” he purrs. “And this time, I want to hear you scream.”

Everything is coiling up so tight and tense and suddenly two of his fingers are inside of you and they’re curling just right and the edges of your vision go white as everything inside you fizzes and releases and a sharp cry falls from your lips as you come.

“Good girl,” his voice rumbles low over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

His hand finally stills once the final aftershocks roll through you. Your legs are shaking, but his grip on you is still firm. Boneless, you turn to him and he presses his slick fingers past your lips. You suck and lick his fingers clean and then he’s kissing you, sucking your own essence from your lips and tongue.

“Fuck,” you breathe as the elevator shudders to life. “Fuck, that was so good.”

Loki laughs quietly and scoops you up into his arms as the elevator arrives at your floor.

“Oh, we’re nowhere near done, darling.”

Continued in Part 2

[thevoidstaredback]

Every man has his breaking point. Danny's is just a bit higher than everyone else's because he's a king and has a high tolerance for absolute bull shit. No matter how strong that bar is, though, one can only bend so far before snapping.

Unfortunately for everyone around him, Danny has reached his breaking point.

"I wish I could get drunk," he stared into his drink longingly, "Or high. But mostly drunk."

"Why do ya say that?" Billy asked, tilting his head curiously to the left.

Danny sighed, "It's a long story."

"I've got time." he shrugged.

"Are ya sure?" Danny raised an eyebrow. "You don't think any emergencies are gonna crop up? Nothing you'll need to go take care of?"

Billy backed off a little, folding into his seat. "What're you talking about? I'm just some kid on the street. I ain't going anywhere."

Danny rolled his head from side to side. "Mostly, I'm talking about the JL meeting the both of us are gonna skip out on tonight."

"What-?"

"C'mon, Captain, it won't do to talk here," he stood, picking up his coffee and waiting for Billy to do the same.

Billy's eyes narrowed as he looked Danny up and down. "I don't recognise you," he whispered, "Who are you."

Danny produced another calling card from his sleeve as he sipped his drink, holding it in front of himself but not handing it over. When Billy was looking at it, he flipped it over. The white background turned matte black, all the runes in the Ouroboros turning so white that they glowed. The DP in the very middle tinted blue, pulsing with toxic green energy, slightly cold to the touch. The edges started to frost over.

Quickly, Billy pulled the card Danny had given him before from the inner pocket of his jacket. It, too, had changed to match the one Danny held, though there was no longer a DP in the middle. Instead, it said 'Phantom' in fancy calligraphy.

"No way," the kid muttered, his expression awestruck, "Phantom? That's you? No shit?"

Danny chuckled, tucking the card away again, "No shit, kid. Don't tell anyone, though. You're the only one who knows."

"Really?" he squeaked.

"Really."

***

Having someone know his whole story was refreshing, just as he's sure Billy felt good to have someone know his, too. That didn't stop him from feeling bad about dumping it all on the poor kid.

"I still wish I could get drunk," Phantom lamented."

Constantine looked up from the book he was reading. "You can't get drunk?"

"Nope."

"How'd ya figure that one out, kid?"

"Please don't call me a kid."

That's not good. The blond marked the page before setting the book to the side. Phantom had never actually asked him to stop calling him a kid. "What's wrong?" He didn't normally do the whole 'feelings' things, but the was an exception.

Phantom sighed long and sad. He didn't look up from the carpet. "I told you they were going to ask invasive questions."

"Who was it?" It was more of a demand then a question.

"Red Robin,"

"Red- I thought you would've skipped town when we were done there? I sure as hell did."

"I know you did, but I decided to stick around for a bit. Wander, y'know? Red Robin caught up to me and would leave me alone."

Oh, oh no. Those were tears. Were they? Yeah, shit, they are! John is not equipped to handle this!

Phantom sniffled. "He asked me how I died."

Fuck.

John Constantine is not easy to anger. Sure, he gets tired, and irritated, and a whole slew of emotions, but he is very slow to anger.

Phantom, he knows, is not a child. The ghost can very much take care of himself in basically every way one could think of. He saved the world on his own, several times, when he was fourteen. He became a King and Protector when he was fourteen. He died when he was fourteen.

Right now, all he could see was the child who hadn't ever been properly laid to rest. It was hard not to call Phantom a child when he seemed so small, seeking comfort from anyone. Phantom was crying. He'd retreated to the House and locked himself in Constantine's room, only talking when he was ready to, but he'd waited to cry.

Phantom didn't like crying. Every person in the JLD knew this.

No. John Constantine is not quick to anger, but he is scary when he reaches that point. Batman might be the night and vengeance and all that shit, but John Constantine was wrathful.

He sat beside Phantom and let the ghost lean into him and cry. He didn't like dealing with feelings, but this was a child in need of comfort and he was the only one around to offer it. "Do you really want me to stop calling you 'kid'?"

A sniffle and a small head shake. "No."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"...sure."

"How old are you really? As a ghost, not as a human or a halfa. How old are you?"

"Fourteen." he mumbled, "I'll never be any older than fourteen, John," he was getting a bit hysterical now, "I'll never be any older than fourteen! I-I died and-and now I have to rule and-and people keep asking and no one believes me and-!" A sob cut him off, heavy with grief and wet with tears. He cried for hours, giving up on trying to form words. Constantine let him, ignoring the wet patches on his shirt. Eventually, Phantom's sobs died down into hiccups. "I didn't...I'm- I'm sorry."

"It's alright, mate," he meant it, really and truly.

Phantom rubbed his eyes, "I'm gonna go hide somewhere."

"Not gonna share where?"

"No, I want to be alone for a while." He paused at the door, "Whatever you're gonna do, will you leave Captain Marvel out of it?"

Odd request, but, "Alright," he nodded, "I'll talk to the others." And by 'talk', he means lecture. There are boundaries that one shouldn't cross, and not asking the dead how they died should've been obvious! With his League issued communicator, John called an emergency meeting in one hour, required attendance, barring Captain Marvel. First things first, though, he needed to talk to Deadman.

Part 7 Storyboard

Tag List:

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[coralinnii]

❋ If you are a villain, then let me be your accomplice ❋ feat: Jamil genre: mild hurt/comfort, budding romance note: sequel to reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy AU Jamil ver, not gender specific reader, no pronouns used, villainess!reader gets sulky, 1.7k word count 

I liivvveee! For now, anyway. I still have my job projects and midterms are upon me but I finally found some time to myself so I hope you enjoy another addition to the Villain/ess!series. Jamil is such an intriguing character with such complex emotions.

series index

Be it luck or the universe finally giving you a break but you noticed that Jamil is starting to like you…or at least tolerates you a bit more than before. 

Since that fateful incident, the competent boy was more willing to be on your side and a lot more comfortable with you, even if it’s mostly reprimanding you. 

“You shouldn’t run in the hallways, you could trip and get hurt!” “Don’t touch those flowers, they have thorns! If you wanted some, just ask me” 

Jamil’s tone was harsh, but he always offered his hand to you to help you walk with your heavy garbs on and would give you the most beautiful bouquet of flowers that you keep in your personal guest room, one that the Asim family provided considering how often you come over. 

Because of your frequent visits, you have the blessing to see the hidden sides of Jamil that you never considered even with your knowledge of this fictional world. 

Like how his voice gets higher when he gets frustrated or surprised, or how animated he gets with his arms whenever Kalim does something spontaneous (which is pretty much all of the time). You especially like how he tries to hide his face whenever he gets embarrassed, especially after finding out how weak he actually was to sincere compliments. 

“Will you teach me to dance, Jamil? You look so cool when I see you” 

“I’m sure you can find someone much more capable than me” 

“Please? You’re so beautiful when you do it” 

“…If I have the time, then” 

“Yay!~”

In your bliss, you’ve forgotten all about your previous plans to leave this kingdom if not for your father asking you about your thoughts on some academies that were recommended to him by the Asim head. 

You wondered about that now. You wanted to leave this land in hopes of avoiding your bad ending with Jamil but with your growing friendship with both Jamil and Kalim, you feel more reluctant to leave them. You asked your father to give you some time and postpone your applications, just so you can rearrange your thoughts. 

Despite your predestined future, you were reincarnated into a luxurious life. Being a second-born in an established and rich family, you were not bound by responsibilities or expectations aside from noble standards. Your only job was apparently to marry well which could be stifling to some but you choose to ignore that in favor of enjoying your youth. Marriage talk is still far for you to consider and you have better things to worry about. 

Like wondering why Jamil is avoiding you again!

“Kalim, tell me the truth. Does Jamil hate me?” You asked your fair-haired friend who had a sudden feeling of deja vu. 

“There’s no way! Jamil really cares about you, I can tell” Kalim reassured you, pressing a fist to his chest in honesty. He had seen how much you matter to his dear friend. 

Kalim saw how meticulous Jamil was when arranging the bouquet with your favorite flowers, just because you wanted a singular one from the garden, and he was there when Jamil was trying to hide his smile when you were adamant to learn how to dance from him because you love how he looked when he danced. 

Jamil hating you? That’s crazy. 

“He won’t even be in the same room as me anymore” you rebutted, pouting as you were sure Jamil didn’t want it to be obvious that he was avoiding you, but you definitely noticed with how much you miss his company. 

“Then we’ll just make sure he will be!” Kalim yelled out, his expression screaming ‘I have a great idea!’. This worries you. 

Jamil was huffing, running through the hallways with as much caution as he could. A servant told him that Kalim requested him to come over to his room as soon as he could. Even if he knew the Kalim wouldn’t care if he was a little slow, as a servant of the esteemed Asim family he can’t ignore the supposed urgency for his assistance. 

Finally reaching Kalim’s room, Jamil took a few seconds to adjust his appearance before knocking on the door, announcing his presence. But Kalim did not respond from the other side of the door. 

“Young master Kalim, it’s Jamil” Jamil announced his presence again. Still no answer. 

Jamil let out a small sigh. Kalim must have fallen asleep while waiting, he assumed. Used to this situation, Jamil slowly opened the door and inspected the room. The room was quiet with no sign of the Asim heir. He looked over to the large bed that had its canopy curtains loose, covering the bed. 

“So I was right, Kalim did fall asleep” Jamil suppressed his exasperation as he walked towards the bed, pulling the curtains aside. 

“Young master Kalim, what did you need from me that was-“ 

To Jamil’s surprise, it was not Kalim but you sitting on his master’s bed, looking somewhat angry. The dark-haired servant started looking around the room presumably in search of Kalim and for him to explain this situation. But since he wasn’t here, you volunteer to explain yourself. 

“Kalim is currently in the village partaking in the weekly market,” you raised your hand when you saw the look of panic on Jamil’s face “He didn’t go alone, he has someone with him. That newly assigned tutor of his, I believe” 

Jamil looked visibly calmer but you could tell that he still had some questions swirling in his head. It’s strange but you don’t feel surprised by how much you could tell about Jamil, that’s just how close you felt to him. But apparently, that isn’t mutual. 

“I asked Kalim to call you on my behalf since you seem to be avoiding me.” 

“I assure you, I could never be so rude as to avoid you-“ 

“But it feels like it! You don’t talk to me anymore, and I haven’t been able to see you as often as we used to” you knew that you sounded very childish, in fact this whole conversation is childish but you didn’t want whatever was going on between you and Jamil to continue and maybe even someday break apart this new bond. 

“I just don’t want to drift apart from you” you whispered to yourself but Jamil with how keen he was, overheard your thoughts. 

The truth was, he was avoiding you. Some time ago, he overheard the conversation between your father and Kalim’s father about recommendations for oversea studies and found out that you wanted to leave this kingdom. Jamil felt a pain in his chest he didn’t expect. To his surprise, he found himself feeling sad over the idea that he may not see you again for a long time, maybe even forever. Unlike him, you were free to travel with nobody to chain you down or obligations to come back. You could walk out of his life and never return. 

Jamil didn’t like that feeling, so he decided he should nip this new friendship in the bud before it hurts even more. 

But there he was, second-guessing his choice as he watches the look of sadness on your face, confessing that the mere few days without him left you upset. But still, he crushed that doubt (and hidden glee in the shared sadness) and chose to put on a face of professional indifference. 

“I apologize for upsetting you but I’m sure there are more capable companions than I for you” Jamil spoke to you so formally, just like the days of your first meeting. “When you start your oversea studies, there will be a great diversity of people that will be worthy of your time” 

“Wait, when did you hear about my plans to go overseas?” 

Jamil's face paled as he realized his mistake. That was apparently not common knowledge amongst the servants and he just admitted that he knows because he heard something he had no right to as a worker of the esteemed Asim family. 

Quickly, Jamil fell to his knees and dropped his gaze to the floor. This shocked you and quickly rushed to the floor to pull Jamil to his feet when he spoke again. 

“I committed a crime. I overheard something that was not meant for my ears, therefore I will accept any punishment.” Jamil's tone was unwavering which scared you. A young teen like him speaking about punishment over a mere accident was a terrifying sight. What's more, he treated you less like a friend and more like an authoritative figure of his, which broke your heart.

“Jamil, I’m not going to punish you. And I never will!” You assured your friend, glancing to the door to make sure no one heard the two of you. “And Jamil, I haven’t decided if I want to study overseas” 

You just kept on surprising Jamil. 

“I thought about traveling to study but now…I don’t think I want to travel when I’m just going to miss you too much” you confessed your reasons before panicking slightly “and Kalim, of course! And my family!” 

To anyone else, they’d think you were being foolish. Who wouldn’t want to travel and experience the world? Even Jamil dreamt about it, where he wasn’t bound by his obligations and was free to go wherever he pleases, maybe make a name for himself rather than simply Kalim’s shadow. If he was honest, he envied you for being someone unbounded or shadowed by anything or anyone. 

Even with your embarrassing confession, you can tell that Jamil was unconvinced which left you exasperated before continuing on. “You and I finally got closer and I didn’t want to just suddenly leave like that. I know I’m being childish but that’s how I feel.” 

You were being childish, Jamil thought. There you go again being foolish and nonsensical as Kalim with your emotions controlling your thoughts instead of being level-headed. To refuse a chance to see the world just to keep a superficial friendship with a mere servant like him is crazy, ridiculous, absolutely stupid…

But why does he feel so warm inside? This bubbly feeling of happiness growing in his chest? 

“How irrational can you be? To forgo an opportunity like this for a mere servant like me…” 

“But you’re not some ‘mere servant’,” you puff out your cheeks over that self-deprecating comment, grabbing your friend’s hands and encasing them tightly in yours. “You are the one and only Jamil Viper, someone very important to me.” 

Without any way to hide his face, you got a glimpse of something rare. An embarrassed Jamil.

Bonus

"Hey Jamil..."

"Yes?"

"If I do think about traveling, would you like to come with me?"

"What would you need me for?"

"Just be there with me, enjoy the world together with me...like equals"

"...If I have the time, then...I would like that"

"Yay!~"

[janeyseymour]

At Arm's Length

One thing about Melissa Schemmenti is: she holds any newbie at arm's length- until that person proves themselves.

WC: ~4.8k

*not edited at all because it's late and I have to teach first grade tomorrow...*

One thing about Melissa Schemmenti is that she would hold anybody she first meets at arm’s length distance. Whether she liked someone perfectly fine, could tolerate them, or couldn’t stand them was unknown to any newcomer at Abbott Elementary. She did it with Jacob and Janine. She made it a point to not memorize Gregory’s name until the second month he had been working there. Hell, she had done it to Barbara- not that any of the newer employees at the school would know. But once you’re in with her, you’re stuck with her.

The “work wives”, as they called themselves, like to joke about it often- how Melissa would come in with a scowl on her face that would just barely lighten up as one of the older teachers their first few years would turn on the news, and Jim Gardner’s face would always be there to greet them as they practically inhaled their first cup of coffee.

But you didn’t know any of that. You came into the school bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, not a single hair out of place, ready for whatever this school was going to throw at you. Whether it be the students, the parents, even the other teachers- you knew you were ready for it. You had student taught in one of the neighboring districts, and even as you started filling out applications, people had warned you about Abbott. They warned you that the students had it hard and could often be “troublesome” (you didn't worry- you had been put on a student’s hitlist during student teaching, and that student bawled her eyes out when you left to graduate), that the administration was beyond questionable, the parents were a handful in itself, and you had been warned that the teachers were beyond cliquey. You had been told that their turnover rate was higher than any school in the surrounding area.

You walk into the school for the third student day, a fresh mug of coffee (your first of many) in hand and a smile on your face as you greet the women at the front desk. Of course they reply nicely, only to give each other looks as you turn your back to enter the hallways. They had seen far too many teachers enter just like you and leave in a puddle of tears.

You head into the staff room to put your lunch in the refrigerator when Janine quickly makes your presence known to the rest of the group.

“Hey! You’re-”

“Janine, will ya shut it?” Melissa asked in her low voice, Philly accent strong. “‘M trying to watch the damn news!”

Janine shrivels slightly and chooses to give you a small wave instead before turning back to her friends. “Sorry,” she mumbles as she takes a seat at a table away from the two veteran teachers.

You open the refrigerator, trying to find a spot to place your neatly packed salad. Keeping your head down, clearly not wanting to agitate Melissa any further, you stay silent as you bite your lip. You really don’t want to have to move anyone’s belongings in the fridge to make room for your own, but you just might have to.

“Oh Melissa,” Barb’s soothing voice cuts the tension. “She was just greeting our new teacher.”

“There’s been plenty of ‘em,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “Now let me watch.”

“Sweetheart, why don’t you take a seat with us?” Barb asks kindly. “Watch that handsome Jim Gardner with us.”

“Barb!” Melissa’s voice nearly booms, and it startles you. You had never seen, or rather heard, someone get so annoyed because someone was talking over the morning news. As you jump, head still in the refrigerator, you smack your head on the edge.

You hiss quietly, just enough to gather the attention from the others in the breakroom.

“Grab some ice from the nurse,” Jacob puts in, eyes half on you, half on the small screen in the corner. “I’ve done it plenty of-”

“For the love of Go-” Melissa takes a breath, huffing as she stands from her chair. “If anyone needs me, and youse better not, I’ll be in my classroom- watching Gardner in peace!”

As she’s making her dramatic exit based on anger, you just barely pull your head out of the kitchen appliance, rubbing at your head. You don't even mean to make eye contact with her- it just happens.

“Thanks a lot, newbie,” the fiery redhead nearly spits out at you. 

You wish you hadn’t pulled your head out of the fridge if it meant not seeing those green eyes full of hatred.

That was your first encounter with Melissa, and you certainly hadn’t made a good impression. Your head was swirling as Janine guided you down towards the nurse, chatting your ear off the entire way. You didn’t know which was worse- Melissa’s anger or Janine’s incessant flow of consciousness. 

It’s safe to say that’s the last time you enter the breakroom before classes start- or more accurately: it’s safe to say that’s the last time you enter the breakroom before classes start when Melissa Schemmenti is in there. Sometimes your salad pays for it, but you would rather have somewhat wilted spinach as opposed to the harsh green eyes you had seen from the redheaded second grade teacher.

---

You avoid her like the plague for the next few weeks, and you’re relatively successful. She’s only made a few snarky comments your way as you pass by in the halls. You hate it. You don’t know why she hates you, but she’s making it very apparent that your mere presence within the school is like the bane of her existence. 

But today is dragging, the month of September in full swing, and your third graders are starting to get comfortable with you. They’re starting to learn your quirks, you’re starting to learn theirs, and you’re no longer the coolest person in the world. They’re starting to get into the grit of the lessons, try as you might to make it fun. It’s becoming a chore for them to sit at their desks for hours at a time, no matter how many brain breaks you do- no matter how much you beg the gym teacher to “just have them run around to burn some energy”.

You know Thursdays are the days where Melissa usually has to suffer through recess duty. You usually see her storm her way out of the breakroom and down the hall on those days as you line your little cherubs up for lunch. You glance out the door as you wait for one particular student to get quiet, but you don’t hear the clanking of her boots, and you don’t see her make her way down the hall. 

You sigh quietly in relief- you had probably been tying Nazir’s shoes for him when she made her way out. You would be lying to yourself and anybody else if you said that woman didn’t scare the living daylights out of you with her intense glare and the aggressive way she tended to walk.

“Jordan!” One of the girls whines and points in your direction. “She’s waiting on you!”

Almost immediately, the boy hushes himself and stands quietly in line. The kids are quiet as they travel through the halls, knowing talking in the hallway was a quick way to get you to stop in your tracks and wait for them to get quiet again. You run a tight ship- a far tighter one than they had expected when they realized how young you were. You get a few smiles and a few “Enjoy your lunch!” from the kiddos as they pass you to get to their own lunch period. 

With a sigh, you turn on your heel and head for the breakroom straight from dropping them off. You usually would wait a good ten minutes into your lunch before heading down to grab your food, but today you were in the clear. Or so you thought. 

Your head down, simply just going in to grab your lunch and maybe brew a quick coffee before heading back to your own classroom, you push the staff room door open. And sitting at her table, lazily stabbing at her own salad is the woman you’ve been trying to avoid- Melissa Schemmenti.

“Oh, hey!” Janine grins at you.

“H-hey,” you say quietly, not wanting to intrude on their clique’s lunchtime. 

Only then does Melissa glance up, that same stony look behind her eyes. “Where the hell ya been?” she asks with a roll of her eyes. You just barely manage to look at her before reverting your eyes. “Busy fixing your damn makeup?”

“Melissa,” Barb warns in a maternal tone- she kind of sounded like your own mother.

“What?” The redhead turns slightly to look at her friend. “What time do you wake up to look like that anyway?” She looks you up and down from her spot.

“Melissa,” the kindergarten teacher says again.

“What?!” Melissa looks at her again, just slightly incredulously. “It’s a fair question!”

“I think she looks nice,” Jacob stands up for you, both physically and metaphorically.

“I do too,” Janine states. “What do you think, Gregory?”

As the man fumbles for an answer, you just barely remember why you went in there in the first place: to grab your lunch, brew a coffee, and head back to your classroom to hopefully let the caffeine kick in, and- you don’t think you can make your coffee anymore. Not with Melissa’s judgemental glare.

“Listen, there’s no doubt she’s cute or whatever, a Philly ten even.” You blush. “All I’m sayin’ is: we’ve seen enough young teachers come in here all dolled up for the first few weeks of school, and then they leave here with their caked on makeup, dripping down their faces, and looking like a clown,” the redhead grumbles as she puts a forkful in her mouth. “Stop wearing makeup, kid. You’ll never be as hot as me anyway.”

“Melissa!” Barbara admonishes. Only then does the redhead bite her tongue. And even then, only for a few seconds as you grab your salad from the fridge.

In an out of character move, you nearly slam the fridge shut and turn on your heel to head back out. As the door closes, you sigh. You forgot to even get your salad. You had been so wrapped up in what the second grade teacher had to say about you. Ignoring the pang of hunger that had settled into your stomach, you walk back to your classroom with your head held high- you suppose a granola bar from your purse will have to do for today. You rummage around in your bag for a few seconds before you hear a gentle knock on your door. 

“Hey,” Janine says quietly, almost unsure of herself. You had never seen her unsure before. Even just passing her in the halls or in the bathroom, she was always upbeat with a smile on her face. “I hope you don’t mind, but I -”

You turn, and the short teacher is holding your salad out. “You forgot this.”

“Thanks,” you give her a sad smile. “I ‘preciate it. You can just set it on the-”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s not the first time someone has said something about my looks as a teacher,” you state as confidently as you can, although your ears are burning with embarrassment. “And I don’t mean to be causing any disturbances to your group. I really just meant to grab my food. You can go back to them, I’ll be fine. I have to reply to a few emails anyway.”

“Barb’s giving her an earful right now,” Janine chuckles awkwardly. “You’re giving me a reason to not be in there right now.”

“She’s-” you gasp softly. “She doesn’t have to do that. I know the two of them are close.”

“We’ve all noticed the way you avoid the breakroom if Melissa is in there. Gregory sees you every morning when you peek in before either coming in or turning away,” Janine tells you. “We’ve been trying to tell her to lighten up, but-”

“Is she always like this to newcomers?” You actually do roll your eyes this time.

The second grade teacher nods as she steps further into the room, offering you your lunch and a fork. “She couldn’t stand me for the first year we worked together, and she liked Jacob even less. She called Gregory by any name but his actual one until the second month in, convinced he was going to leave- of course, he was just hired as a sub at that point, but then we all knew he was going to-”

“Thanks, Janine,” you cut her off gently, taking the tupperware and fork.

“And now she’d fight a parent that says a single thing bad about the three of us.”

“Why was she even there today? I thought she usually has recess duty on Thursdays.”

“That I don’t know,” Janine says honestly. “But I’ve learned not to ask because I either get an earful, or I get the lecture that it’s ‘none ya business’ or ‘who’s askin’ or ‘say one more word, and I’ll get my uncle Tony to-’ and then Barb normally cuts her off with her-”

“You know, you ramble a lot,” you note quietly with a playful smirk on your face.

“Melissa makes sure I know,” the second grade teacher chuckles quietly before glancing at the clock. “I should probably start heading out to make sure the work moms don't get into a fight, but hey... you should come with us to BoneTown tomorrow. Gregory and I are going, and we wouldn’t mind you-” she cuts herself off with the horrified look on your face. “The restaurant!”

Not that you know it, but as you and Janine are quietly talking in your classroom down the hall, Barbara is chewing out Melissa for her behavior. 

“She has been nothing but kind to us, and she even lets you be!” Barb scolds her friend. “You have no reason to be acting so harshly towards her- even going as far as commenting on her looks!”

“I told her she was a Philly ten!” the second grade teacher practically growls out.

“And then you told her she wasn’t ever going to be as hot as you!” Barb fires back. “It’s no wonder Y/N has been avoiding you!”

Melissa, entirely ignoring the point of this lecture, makes a confused face. “That’s her name? I thought it was Alana.”

“Melissa,” Barb’s voice gets scarily low. “Everybody here knows her name. Everybody here knows that girl doesn’t even wear makeup! Everybody here knows that she actively avoids you because when she does run into you, all you do is haze her! You tell her she’ll never make it out of here alive, and that her bulletin boards look... I won’t use that word, but I thought you were better than this!”

Only then does the fiery redhead let her tough act go, even just slightly.

“You weren’t even that tough on my girl Janine,” Jacob pipes up with his eyebrows knit in confusion. “And we all know how you felt about her when we first started here.”

“The kid grew on me; what do ya want me to say?” Melissa rolled her eyes.

“All I’m saying is-”

“Melissa, the last three new teachers to start here were Janine, Jacob, and Gregory, and they’re practically our work children at this point,” Barbara steps in before the history teacher can dig himself into a hole.

“I wouldn’t go that far. Sure, I care for youse, but I’ll still only kill for you, Barb.”

“I’m just telling you, give her a chance. She’s a good kid with a good head on her shoulders. She’s polite, she gets the kids to walk down the halls quietly- even the ones you couldn’t get to,” the kindergarten teacher says pointedly.

Melissa sighs. “If I say I’ll try to be nicer, can we finish our lunch in peace?”

“I want you to promise me you’ll actually try though,” Barb requests seriously.

“Okay, okay!” The redhead puts her hands up in surrender. “I’ll talk to the newbie, and I’ll try to be nicer or whatever.”

“That’s all I ask, dear,” Barb lightly taps her friend’s arm and resumes her lunch. 

---

You quite literally do everything you can to avoid Melissa for the next week. You let your salads wilt, you make sure you have two coffees ready in the morning so you don’t have to enter the staff room, you redecorate your bulletin board when you know she has recess duty, and you listen for her walking through the halls before you even dare to leave your classroom for the day. You don’t know how you’ve managed it considering your room is only a few doors down from hers.

You won’t admit it, but you had heard Melissa tell Barb as they were leaving for the day that your bulletin board ‘isn’t the worst thing in the world’. Worse yet, you hated that you liked her semi-approval. 

It all comes to a head that Friday. As you’re walking in, you trip on the curb and drop both of your coffees, soaking your shirt and the top of your pants. You can’t help but squeal as the hot liquid trickles down your front. 

“Happy October to me,” you grumble as you glance down. There’s no saving your shirt. You’ll just have to keep the cardigan you keep on the back of your chair wrapped closely to your body today.

With a huff, you practically storm your way into the staffroom, not even caring that the usual crew is sitting in there getting ready to watch the news. You make a straight away for the coffee maker. Melissa’s eyes widen slightly- she hasn’t seen, or rather heard, you in here since the incident last week. And the last time she saw you in the break room in the morning was... the first week of school.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jacob waves at you as he reaches for the remote to turn on the television. 

“Hi,” you grit out, chest still burning from the scalding hot coffee.

Even Jacob recognizes the tension in your voice as you angrily start brewing a cup of coffee. 

“Oh, what happened, sweetheart?” Barbara asks as she gently wraps her fingers around Jacob’s wrist, effectively making him pause before turning on the television. 

“I dropped my coffee,” you grumble as you pour the coffee grinds into the filter. “But I’m fine.”

Melissa bites her lip, glancing down at the coffee she had just brewed for herself. She hasn’t taken a sip from it yet.

“Here kid,” she offers you the cup. Only then does she get a look at you, dark brown coffee stained on your white shirt.

“No thanks,” you bite out.

“Hey,” the redhead says, and she says it softly. “C’mon. Take it. I’ll make myself another, and you seem like you need it way more than I do right now.”

“I said I don’t want it,” you state again, scarily calm as you try to pull your shirt away from your chest. At this rate, your skin will be blistering by lunch.

“I have an extra shirt in my closet,” Melissa tells you quietly. “C’mon. Take the coffee and drink it while I grab you my extra shirt.”

“Just turn on your news and hate me like always,” you practically spit.

You storm out of the room before she can say another word to you. You don’t want the redhead’s pity, and you certainly don't want to get in the way of her news. Coffee be damned, you need to get out of that room. You run down to your classroom as you hold your shirt away from your chest and stomach. The cool air seems to be soothing your burns a bit, and you can’t quite help the way tears spring to your eyes.

Only about a minute passes before you hear a gentle knock on your doorframe. You turn, expecting to see Janine, or maybe even Barbara. But it’s Melissa with an Eagles sweatshirt in one hand and a coffee in the other. She tosses it at you, only for it to fall on the floor. You don’t want to let the soaking wet shirt touch you again just yet.

“Y/N,” Melissa says your name for the first time. “Just take it. C’mon. I can practically see your skin sizzling from here.”

“I don’t need your help,” you hiss out as you slowly let go of your shirt.

“I don’t hate you, you know,” the second grade teacher sighs as she steps towards you to pick up the pullover. 

“You do, and I don’t care,” you bite out as a tear escapes your right eye. 

“Ow!” you finally yell, pulling away your shirt again. You wipe the tear away before laughing bitterly. “Only a few more seconds before I run out of here, makeup dripping down my face, right?”

“Hey,” she says. There it is again. That soft tone. She bites her lip and contemplates saying something nice before trying to joke instead. “Barb told me you don’t even wear makeup, so there’s no chance of that happening, I guess.”

“Yeah,” you huff. “Unfortunately for you.”

“I really don’t hate you,” Melissa says again. She almost sounds genuine.

“You already said that, and I already told you: I don't believe you.” You turn away as a few more tears fall.

“I tried,” she sighs, and you hear her footsteps stop a few seconds later. You don’t even bother turning around. Unbeknownst to you, she had snagged your lunch from your bag to put in the refrigerator for you.

When you hear your door close softly, you finally turn back around. She’s gone, but the coffee and the Eagles sweatshirt are sitting on your desk.

With a huff and a silent curse, you peel off your shirt and change into the sweatshirt. Finally, you let a quiet curse slip. “Damn you, Melissa Schemmenti.”

Despite your sour mood, as the kiddos start to trickle in, you stand at the door with a plastered smile on your face and the coffee cup in hand. You don’t know it, but Melissa is smiling to herself- she’s glad you changed into her shirt and took the coffee. She wasn’t lying when she said she could practically hear your skin burning from where she stood.

Come lunchtime, you walk your kids to the cafeteria before sighing as you enter your classroom again. You grab your bag, ready to at least attempt to stomach some food, when you realize it isn’t there. You could’ve sworn you brought your lunch today.

“When it rains it pours,” you grumble to yourself as you grab a few dollars from your wallet. A bag of chips from the vending machine would have to hold you over until you could go home and wallow in your self-pity with a glass of wine in hand.

You don’t even look at the group as you walk in. You make a beeline straight for the vending machine. 

“Y/N,” Barb says before you can feed your first dollar into the machine. “Your lunch is over here.”

You whip around at that. “How the hell did it get in here? I didn’t-”

“I did,” Melissa fights the urge to roll her eyes as she eats her pasta. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“Th-thanks,” you sigh as you walk over to the table to take it. You start to make your way back out when you hear that low voice again. “Just eat it here, kid. C’mon. It’s fine- you’re already wearing my shirt and had my coffee.”

You blush violently, but Janine scoffs. “You let her wear your precious Eagles sweatshirt?! You wouldn’t even let me wear it when Jamal got to second base with me with paint last year!”

“Your skin wasn’t blistering,” the second grade teacher snorts out. She turns back to you before kicking out the seat next to her. “Sit.”

Silently, you obey. You eat quietly, taking in all of the conversation around you. Lunchtime is over all too soon, and today you have recess duty. With a sigh, you stand and push in your chair.

“Thanks,” you say quietly before you exit. 

At the end of the day you change back into your coffee stained shirt and head down to Melissa’s room to return it to her.

She’s standing outside of her classroom, hands on her hips as she stares at her own bulletin board in frustration. 

“Hey,” you say quietly, trying not to sneak up on her. 

“Hey hon,” she sighs.

“Thanks for letting me borrow your shirt,” you say shyly as you offer it to her.

“Don’t mention it,” she says offhandedly. She then glances over at you. “Seriously: don’t mention it. If my uncle finds out I let someone else wear it, he’ll have my-”

“I won’t,” you laugh nervously. You weren’t sure if she was kidding or not. Then you look at what she was just looking at.

“It looks nice,” you compliment quietly.

“Not as nice as yours,” she huffs. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what? The bulletin board? I can help you with-”

“No. I don’t know how you come in here everyday looking so damn nice, and without makeup. I don’t know how you get those little gremlins to stand quietly in line and walk through the halls without a sound- Barb couldn’t do it, hell I couldn’t do it! I don’t know how you make it look so effortless to work at this shitshow. I really don’t know how you handled today the way you did- I saw you standing outside your room ten minutes after that hot coffee was all down your front with a smile on your face for the kiddos- my kids would’ve known I had a shit morning. And I ‘specially don’t know how you can stand to eat that boring, bland ass salad you do everyday. Seriously: has no one taught you what a good meal is?” She huffs again at the end of her rant, looking at you curiously. 

“I-” you really don’t know what to say.

“Y’know what?” she sighs as she sets her stapler down on the vent. She mumbles to herself for a second before, “Come over tonight, and I’ll teach you what a good meal is. And in return, you can teach me how to do this fuckin’ bulletin board.”

“Oh, I uh-” You were kind of looking forward to sitting at home with a bag of chips and a glass of wine in your sweatpants.

Melissa looks away. “Nevermind. Forget I asked.”

“N-no,” You say, maybe too quickly. “I’ll be there. Give me your address, and I’ll- I just have to go home and change.”

“Alright, kid,” the redhead rolls her eyes. She rattles off her address, and you commit it to memory. You actually know around her area of town- one of your best friends grew up on that street. “‘N bring a bottle of wine.”

You nod, a blush on your face.

“And don’t tell Janine or Jacob. It’s too early in the year for them to be over at my place.”

You laugh. “I won’t. I promise. I’ll be over by six, if that’s okay?”

“Sounds great, hon.”

With a smile and a nod, you make your way out of the building. You quickly run home and change into a nicer top- not one covered in coffee- before heading down to the liquor store.

A bottle in hand, you stand at her door nervously. What if you picked up the wrong bottle? Would this be the end of somehow getting onto the veteran teacher’s good side?

Before you can contemplate your choice any longer, the door whips open. She’s in a green tank top and a denim overshirt, and you can’t help but laugh. You’re pretty much wearing the same thing, except for your top is black. 

“C’mon. Otherwise my sauce is going to simmer for too long, and the last time someone simmered the sauce for too long... Well, Kristin Marie still hasn’t heard the end of it.” She saunters into her kitchen, and it smells great. She tends to the pasta sauce- clearly homemade, before reaching up for a couple wine glasses.

“I hope you brought somethin’ good,” she says jokingly. You hold up the bottle to show her. “Well shit, kid. That’s my favorite. How’d you know?”

You may have panic texted Barbara to ask what kind of wine to bring, but she didn’t have to know that. Instead, you just give a bashful shrug. 

“I think we’re going to get along just fine,” she smiles, her first real smile at you since you started at Abbott.

And the rest is history. She doesn’t hold you at arm’s length anymore. 

Next

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

I Cherish You, Halcyon Days: iv.

“You’re gonna die, kid. In the worst way possible.”

tags: afab!reader (she/her), angst, slow burn

pairing: gojou x reader + onesided!getou x reader

summary: You’re 15 years old when you’re told you’re going to die. You’re 17 years old when you realize who your killer will be. And you’re 17 years old when you make peace with the fact you wouldn’t want it any other way.

index | previous chapter | next chapter

You hum in pleasant surprise when the taste of green apples and mango hit your tongue. This really could have been hit or miss, you sip again. Still as good as the first sip. Just because you like experimenting with food and drink, it doesn't necessarily mean there will be a good payoff. Fruit teas from random shops are always either too sweet or just right for you, never something tolerable in between.

Thankfully, this place understood that the sugar is only supposed to enhance the drink, not drown it. You look over at the tall and lanky boy a few short steps away. Tea isn't Gojou's thing, hence why he is the only member of the group who hadn't ordered anything, but you think this one will be right up his alley. "You've gotta try this," you angle the cup slightly above your shoulder. "It's this green apple mango flavor they're promoting."

Without taking the cup from your hand, Gojou simply leans down to take a drink. "It's alright," Gojou shrugs before sipping again with vigor. "Needs more sugar."

You snort and lean away, bringing your beverage with you, "well if it's only alright, stop drinking it then."

"You know," Gojou sighs and you already know it's going to be some bullshit spewed out of his mouth coated in false philosophy and maturity. "Here in Japan we have a saying that food tastes better when you share it."

You roll your eyes but grin at the fact you called it, "well we just shared it and it still tastes exactly the same so," when Gojou attempts to take your cup, you turn immediately. "You better follow your best friend's example and get inside that tea house and order yourself a drink!"

Gojou slumps over your back with a whine, "what if yours tastes better than mine for some reason and they give me a bad one?"

You're giggling but no dice, "no!" You shove your straw back into your mouth and lean over your drink protectively. Get your own drink, you point at the tea shop once again with a mumble. "You have pretty privilege, there is no way they'll fuck yours up!"

"Stingy," Gojou clicks his tongue but he drags himself across the street where Suguru is standing in line anyway.

Crisis avoided.

"... What was that?" Utahime's eyes widen while her brow furrows.

It's a chilly April day in Moriya and the lot of you are enjoying the last bits of spring vacation. School holidays work differently when you go to a jujutsu school, you learned quickly. As far as the higher ups were concerned, vacation just meant more free time to send students on missions. Sure you're in a completely different part of Japan doing a lot more traveling than you'd ever do in your typical high school experience.

But in reality, this trip to a ryokan in Ibaraki Prefecture is nothing more than a glorified work trip with sightseeing sprinkled in. They could have at least sent us to a coastal town if they were sending us to Ibaraki. You shouldn't expect much from an institute that still does school on Saturday when the rest of the country stopped doing it in 2002. At the very least, the mission had been wrapped up and this final week of spring break before the new school year started, you get to enjoy yourself.

Next week, I become a second year student, you did it. You managed to survive your very first year at Jujutsu Tech. You'll miss having Fujioka-sensei as a teacher, she was kind and had lots of fun anecdotes. But you can't stew in awe and nostalgia with how Utahime is staring at you like you've lost your mind.

"What was what? It's green apple mango fruit tea," you cock your head before sliding your cup to the traditionally-clothed girl's side of the table. "Wanna try it too?"

Utahime promptly slides it back in disgust. "After he put his mouth on it? No thanks," you only shrug in return before sipping at the fruity goodness all over again. That's more for me then. Your nonchalance drives your upperclassman into mania. She looks at Shoko like she's the only other sane person at the table. 'What the heck is going on?!' her lips move silently. "Why am I the only one freaking out about this!?"

The brunette holds up a hand in the most laidback display of defensiveness you've ever seen, "they've been like that for a while now, everyone just got used to it." Shoko's words only make Utahime's more aghast.

Oh right.

That.

You smack your lips together with a weak laugh, avoiding your friend's accusatory gaze.

Something shifted in the cosmos after December 8th, 2005 without your meaning to. You aren't exactly sure how long it took after your birthday for sharing food with Gojou to become habit, but it did.

Something is too sweet or too spicy? You swap plates.

You get an assorted bag of snacks and sweet treats from helping a random grandma cross the street? There isn't really a point of keeping any of the stuff you know Gojou will like.

But you never realized how ingrained into normalcy it became until one particular day you leaned over to eat a chip Gojou held in his fingers. "Does this taste kinda soapy to you or is it just me?" He asked, shaking the bag it came from. They were roasted cumin lamb skewer flavored chips imported from China.

"Yeah, I think it's just- wait, give me another one?" You chewed more slowly that time around, really feeling at the flavor. "No, I'm getting it too."

Suguru and Shoko made faces that looked exactly like the one Utahime is wearing right now. "[First]!"

"Look it isn't like we're friends or anything," you tell the soon to be fourth-year. "When there is food involved, the We Hate Gojou Alliance calls forth a truce," you explain seriously, folding your hands and resting your chin on them as if you are Ikari Gendo. "For how can we hate if we are not properly nourished?"

At the bullshit you spew, Utahime's expression shifts into one that is purely unamused as her brow furrows and she purses her lips. It takes a lot out of you to not laugh then and there. "And since when was that an addendum we agreed on?"

"It's one I made out of personal interest," you close your eyes, nodding at the memories. Food comes before any quarrel you have with an annoying classmate. If it came down to it, you'd become Gojou's best friend for a sandwich. "When food is involved, Gojou Satoru isn't that bad."

"You're full of it," Utahime fights the twitches of her lips trying to curl upward. "Very, very full of it." The upperclassman relents with a sigh a beat later, knowing her arguments are futile. "You're a traitor. I hope you know that you're a traitor to our cause, [First]," you bite your lip to prevent yourself from laughing again. You're failing the longer she goes on. Shoko is your mission partner, but you think it is arguably fair to say Utahime is who you're closest to besides her. When you transferred to Jujutsu Tech, it was Utahime who gave you a tour around the facility when the teachers were suddenly too busy. She was a kind and beautiful upperclassman who came with a lot less monetary baggage than Mei Mei. "First Getou and Shoko, now you," she sips her matcha with a pointed glare in the direction of the tea house windows. Whatever Gojou does, it makes Utahime's amused scowl turn into an annoyed glare.

"I was technically never part of any alliance to hate on Gojou, I'm only an affiliated acquaintance," Shoko laughs lightly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "Utahime-senpai, you just have to accept this as part of the new reality. [First] and Gojou have become friends," your mission partner rolls her eyes when you shoot her a pointed look. "Apologies, food-based acquaintances."

Satisfied with her correction, you nod.

It's then Suguru finally reappears, a beverage in hand. Gojou is still waiting by the window for his own order to finish. "What are you guys talking about now?"

"I was telling them about this convenience store by my old high school everyone went to to have mental breakdowns," it's always a pleasure when Suguru looks at you like you've grown a second head. Laughter slips from your lips as easily as breathing. "It's called Adachi's ー that's the owner ー but the joke was to call it Adachi 7-11 because it rips off the 7-11 color scheme. He's a sweet guy though," you quickly add before continuing your spontaneous tale of the incredible 7-11 knock off store.

You eloquently tell your friend that Adachi is the kind of grownup who understand kids have it rough. That it's unknown who it was from Tsubame High that started the tradition of finding aisle to just sit and cry and snack in, but eventually it just became the spot to have freak outs. If you stayed to eat while you freaked, you simply paid for what you ate or drank when you were ready to leave.

Respect someone else's crying space. If you couldn't avoid going into their aisle for something, just politely pretend they don't exist.

If you really needed a cry, Adachi's office is free for someone having a particular trying time.

And last but not least, Adachi's was a judgement free zone.

It was like having a bartender for teenagers. Except in this instance, the only services the bartender offered were snack food, cheap wagashi and a select variety of beverages.

"First, I promise people don't go there to cry as often it I made it sound. Second, I know it sounds weird but it actually was kinda cool," you chuckle as the cursed user shakes his head the longer you go on. "Exam week? We're all basically in there studying and freaking out while eating a bunch of snacks." It really built up a surprising amount of comradery among your classmates you make sure to tack on before taking a break to finish the rest of your tea. "Before you ask, if I'm gonna have a mental breakdown, I prefer having it in the privacy of my own room," or in front of a beluga whale, but that explanation will take forever and a half. "And that... is the story behind Adachi 7-11," you conclude dramatically.

Suguru shakes his head but his expression is playful, "I give you points for the improv, but I'm taking away points for how long your story was."

You click your tongue in mock annoyance, "everybody's a critic. I just wanted to cover all the bases in case you felt so intrigued you wanted to know more about your mysterious classmate."

"You don't have a mysterious bone in your body," Shoko chirps and when you lightly kick her ankle under the table, she kicks back. "Utahime-senpai just feels betrayed that [First] is getting along better with Gojou." At the reminder, Utahime squints in your direction again. 'And after all I've done for you. I should have gone to Kyoto Tech', Utahime sighs into her warm cup. "The We Hate Gojou Alliance is turning into the I Alone Hate Gojou Alliance."

This is when Gojou finally saunters over, drink in hand, "that's because I'm cool and charming."

"You know, if you have to say it, you're probably not as charming as you think you are," Suguru advises with a grin. Gojou promptly ignores it as if he never said anything at all.

"Sucks to be you, Utahime," Gojou sticks out his tongue at the songstress. "[First] and I are practically best friends. Right, [First]?"

The more you deny it, the less convincing you know you sound so you stop with a heavy breath. "Anyway," you pivot the conversation to something other than your food-based truce. "Does anyone know if there are going to be any new 1st years? Or is it gonna be a while before we start seeing some new faces?"

Suguru nods, "I heard from Fujioka-sensei that there are two first years coming enrolling," you perk up at this information. It's a small jujutsu world, so small you didn't even know if you'd be getting any underclassmen. Two 1st years coming in still just seem so small though. From what you've learned though, 2-3 students per grade is average and the school lucked out with your 1st year class having four kids. Suguru points a finger back and forth between you, "she didn't tell me much about them but they're recruits from non-sorcerer families, like us."

Sometimes, life decides to grant you little miracles. "Finally, we're growing in our ranks," you cheer, bumping your cup against Suguru's. "That's less clan politics to hear about!"

The closest you've ever gotten to clan politics in Japan were from anime and dramas and the occasional snippets you learned about the imperial family on the news. That changed when you became a sorcerer. It's a small jujutsu world, you learn things here and there whether you want to or not. Interesting as the stories can be, however, you're glad your family is normal. Everyone at your school from a sorcerer family makes clan politics sound annoying at best and harrowing at worst and that's just from the things you learned from Utahime, Shoko and Mei Mei.

Your other peers aren't so keen on sharing what goes on in their families.

Yamada isn't the friendliest of your upperclassmen.

As for Gojou ー the only one of your classmates from a family apparently worth mentioning ー he doesn't care about clan politics in the slightest and opts to ignore it.

Thus, the Big Three Families still are a mystery to you even with Gojou's close proximity to your person. Nor are there any students at your school that came from either the Zenin or Kamo Clans. There are a couple enrolled at the jujutsu school in Kyoto apparently but you haven't had a chance to meet them. You only had three summaries to go off of when it came to the big name families in jujutsu, all courtesy of Gojou back in May of last year since you couldn't participate in the Sister School Exchange Event in Kyoto.

(Apparently having two special-grade sorcerers for students gave Tokyo Tech the biggest advantage so only Gojou and Suguru got to go. Jerks. Utahime threw a big fit over it too, but at the very least Tokyo won last year.)

"Do you like having rights as a woman?"

"Um, yes?"

"Then you won't like the Zenin Clan.  You know Carnage from the Venom comics in the States?"

"Yeah, my mom reads those."

"That's the Kamo Clan."

"Okay, well what about your family? What's their deal?"

"They have me."

Vague, but clear enough descriptions to paint the necessary pictures ー the Amazing Sexists, the Bloods and the Jujutsu Jesus Havers Club.

Considering that this year the Sister School Exchange event will be taking place in Tokyo, you wonder if this will give you a chance to meet these fancy jujutsu folk. You tell your group as much, sighing in wonder. "It's a good thing you and Gojou won the exchange event, I wanna meet the kids from the other school." That was what you'd been most excited about before Fujioka-sensei dashed all your hopes and dreams. You wanted to see the differences in the campuses and what sort of crazy the teachers had going on. C'est la vie. "What were they like when you went there? Were the big clan kids more refined than Gojou over here?"

You barely dodge the definitely cold hand that was about to touch back of your neck in retaliation while Suguru chuckles out an explanation, "They have a couple folk from the Kamo Clan. They were... nice."

"You hesitated before you said nice," Shoko deadpans.

"They were polite," Suguru pivots his next selection of words in his attempt to remain neutral.

Gojou sticks out his tongue, unimpressed by his best friend's attempts to be cordial, "they were whatever. We didn't really talk to them."

"Boo, you're boring," you shake your head in heavy but mocking disappointment. "Should have just asked Utahime, she's seen them more." Your gazes turn to the oldest person at the table.

Utahime shoulders square off in satisfaction at being deferred to. "There are a couple of Kamo Clan kids at Kyoto Tech, one of them won't be coming because he'll be a fourth year student like me," her spirit drops for a moment and you offer a small smile of reassurance. Fourth year students don't get to participate in Sister School Exchange Event. Hence why she'd been so upset that she'd been unable to participate in it. There's not much you can do to comfort your friend, nor is there anything either of you can do about the past. At the very least, Utahime is nothing if not an optimist. She'll just kick ass in a different category. "As for the younger Kamo, Ririka, she's actually pretty nice when you talk to her but she can be a bit intimidating at times. She'll be a third-year student once school starts."

You make a noise of pleasant surprise, "Kamo Ririka, I'll keep an eye out for her." There's nothing better than a nice but intimidating woman, in your opinion.

"As for everyone else, they're all definitely a lot more tolerable than Gojou, it's not even a competition," Utahime glared at the sunglasses-wearing boy pointedly. He shrugged back without a care in the world, unperturbed as ever. "But while I was visiting home, my mother told me that Zenin Naoya is enrolling in Kyoto Tech so we'll be seeing him in a few months as a first year."

Whoever Zenin Naoya is, just mentioning him immediately makes Gojou groan in annoyance. "I was hoping that brat was gonna get homeschooled," he chews on his straw. You aren't sure how irritated he actually is but you do note how white brows curl in displeasure.

Gojou makes a face, "Zenin Naoya. I can't stand that guy."

You nudge him, lips curling into a light smirk, "I'm sure your fancy rich kid beef isn't that serious."

"No, Gojou actually isn't being hyperbolic this time," you glance over at Shoko. She and Utahime are sporting matching grimaces, brown eyes glancing at one another in understanding. "Zenins are bad but Zenin Naoya is the worst."

Well god damn. You share a look with Suguru who shrugs back, just as lost. That's the problem with not being born into the world of jujutsu, you're behind on all the history and beef going on behind the scenes. You have to learn little by little whether that be through being told or stumbling your way into procuring the knowledge on your own.

Zenin Naoya ー a member of the Amazing Sexists. You glance back at Gojou who has gone back to drinking away at his cup of tea. His partially obscured face doesn't make it any easier to read how he may be feeling underneath the surface.

Either way, you'll form your own opinion on this Naoya person when the sister schools converge in Tokyo.

Second year is definitely going to be something.

index | previous chapter | next chapter

Extra:

Fun fact for my fellow Americans and anyone else whose school holidays work differently, while here in the states, the end of summer vacation is when we go up a grade, students go up a grade at the end of spring break in Japan.

Summer vacation in Japan is about 30-40 days long depending on the prefecture from the end of July to the end of August. In Tokyo, I think it's from about July 21st to to August 24th. You come back and you're still in the same class. Winter break is from about December 26 to January 7th. And Spring break is about March 26th to April 5th. Like I said it can change prefecture to prefecture, but the mentioned dates are the standard for Tokyo give or take a few days or two depending on the ward.

Just wanted that knowledge to be shared, if you were curious as to why the reader is going up a grade after spring break. In Japan, the school year starts in April.

I really wanted to work on Reader's initial dynamic with her peers and her personal philosophies in these first few chapters before kicking off into the heavier stuff that comes in 2nd year. Considering how in canon, shit pretty much was smooth sailing for Gojou and co. during their 1st year until the 'Toji really beat the breaks out of 2 teenagers' mission, I wanted to reflect that in these initial chapters. Hopefully you guys have been enjoying it as much as I have. The Sister School Exchange Event is around the corner and those folks are coming to Tokyo, I wonder how that's gonna go >:3c (not that you can participate but there's plot, I assure you).

[morverenmaybewrites]

I’m not saying JT would be compatible with a masochist PG at all.. but if PG had a higher pain tolerance and more morbid curiosity than the usual person, just how far could she take it before his worry turns to legitimate discomfort or even anger? And how would it manifest?

Would he distance himself and become cold? Would he be aggressive and argumentative?

JT is very upset at her because the self experimentation is going too far in his opinion. She’s becoming sneaky by ripping off her toenails or scratching/cutting her scalp so scars aren’t visible or hardly show up. PG isn’t trying to intentionally trigger or lie to Jason, she just wants to shield him, but… yknow.. year long torment, unresolved trauma and all that jazz✨PG backs down and stops this tomfoolery but only after a more firm reaction/confrontation.

Just curious of what that looks like from ur pov

This is such an interesting question, I love it! I actually think that Jason would be surprisingly okay with PG experimenting with her powers. He lives in Gotham City, after all, and he's well accustomed to strangeness. On top of that, he also has a brutal sense of pragmatism. After all, experimenting with her powers means that PG will get better at keeping herself alive, and he's willing to put up with a lot to achieve that end goal. But the sneaking around? The hiding things from him? Lying straight to his face about it? Oh, that would make him sick. The way information is given on a need to know basis, as if he's not worthy of the truth, as if he's a child who'll inevitably fuck up carefully laid out plans? It's like being Robin again, in the worst way possible. And one has to remember that the Joker lied to him, too. A lot. With every other breath, maybe--Jason is still trying, years after the man is dead, to pick apart the truth from the make-believe.

When someone he loves starts lying to him? When he relies so much on them to keep him steady on his worst days? I don't think he'll last long, after that. I think it's the lies that will stop him cold.

[joshsindigostreak]

I See Hell in Your Eyes

Chapter Four

“I’m just a bright eyed bitch with her heart in a cage.”

Josh Kiszka x Vampire!Reader

Authors Note: WHEW this was another chapter that kind of got away from me, but I do hope you love it as much as I do! Thank y'all so much for going on this ride with me. There's so much more to come!

Word Count: 10,061

Warnings: Detailed depictions of blood, swearing, sexual content.

Your head and arms were covered, your face shielded by the shadow his jacket cast on your face, but your legs, your poor legs and feet were going in and out of the shadow as you trekked down the sidewalk. It was Sisyphean in how the lower half of your legs would burn and then try to heal themselves with each stride. The morning was still young, with barely any people out and about in the freshly risen sun, and so far there were few places for you to find any cover for a break from its light. 

Beside you, or behind you depending on the direction of the aggressive sun beams, Josh was a wreck listening to how your skin was sizzling and burning. The sound rang in his ears and it was all he could focus on, along with your constant winces and gasps. He was familiar with it, after killing several Vampires in a similar fashion. It was a trademark of his twin. Jake loved dragging Vampires out into the sunlight and lighting them up, watching them fry and turn to ash. For him, staking them wasn’t enough. It was too quick of a death, he didn’t believe they felt the gravity of their Damned existence without real pain. This strategy was something Josh never questioned until now. Now that someone he…someone he knew was going through it. 

You tried to crack a few jokes every few minutes, promising him you had a much higher pain tolerance than the current situation would suggest, but he’d shush you each time, hoping that you would focus more on walking as fast as you could instead of banter. He looked down at your feet, your poor feet, while you hobbled around in your heels. You couldn’t take them off because that would expose your skin even more, and seering your skin on the hot sidewalk was out of the question. 

On the next block, Josh spotted a covered bus stop, and nearly dragged you across the street to get you under the shelter. You collapsed onto the bench in a soft whimper, the sound made Josh’s chest feel tight. He thanked every being in the universe that no one else had been inside the bus stop, but that feeling of positivity was quickly shattered when you pulled his jacket down to drape over your shoulders and he saw just how much your mascara had run down your face from your tears. 

You could see it all over his face that he was not only worried, but turning a bit green while looking over your slowly healing wounds. 

“I’ve looked worse, I promise,” you said with a weak smile.

Josh shook his head, not only because he didn’t believe you, he also didn’t want to imagine how much worse you could possibly look, or any kind of scenario that would put you in such a state, “we’re only a few blocks away, ten minutes, tops.” 

You nodded, feeling very weak despite the skin stitching itself together on your shins and ankles. Closing your eyes for a few minutes wouldn’t hurt, you reasoned with yourself, and you started to lay down on the bench. Josh, who had been standing in front of you as another barrier between you and the outside world, did not want you to fully lay down on the disgusting bench, and quickly sat next to you before you could fully collapse, his shoulder breaking the fall of your cheek. A sigh left your lips as your eyes fluttered shut, and Josh took this time to just…look at you. By far this was the quietest he had ever seen you, and it unsettled him. 

He looked down the street in the direction of his apartment building, once again mentally calculating just how far you had left. He wasn’t used to this, feeling empathy for anyone of your species, but it was getting hard to ignore the warmth that spread through his chest when he would catch you looking at him. He couldn’t journal these thoughts down, putting them on paper made them real. It was against everything he had been taught. All the lessons his father had drilled into his head. He could practically hear the lecture about no matter how tempting it was, at the end of the day humans were a food source to them. Nothing more, nothing less. A juicebox with legs. Humans were prey and Vampires the predators, but it was a hunters job to take that power back, to maintain the status quo of the ecosystem. 

Josh cast his eyes up at the sky, which was only getting brighter by the second, and unfortunately it appeared to be a sunny day with not a single cloud on the horizon. He looked down at you, eyes closed and breathing slowly through your nose. You were still slumped against his shoulder, nearly assuming the fetal position to keep as much of your body under his jacket as possible. Your brows were knitted together in pain, and he hated the fact that you’d have to move soon, before the sun got any worse. Your legs had finally started looking normal, and his stomach lurched at the mental image of burns blistering their way through your skin again. He leaned his head down, and tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear. 

Your name left his lips in a whisper, “I know you don’t want to get up, but we have three blocks to go and then we’ll be safe.” 

You groaned in response, keeping your eyes closed. Three blocks. You could do it. Three blocks was nothing. You’re celebrating the big 3-5-0 this year, you got this. Slowly, you swung your legs off the bench, and winced as gravity put pressure on your feet in your heels. Josh stood up and got in front of you, letting you use his arms to help yourself stand up. Step one was done, and it wasn’t too bad! He pulled his jacket back over your head, and you looked up at him briefly, and saw the concern written all over his face. 

“Three blocks?” 

“Three blocks,” he confirmed. 

With one foot in front of the other, you stepped out from under the bus stop, the light immediately made contact with your skin, and the sound was audible as you burned. You tried to make a few steps further, and stumbled over your own feet again. Before you could fall, Josh caught you in his arms. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He needed to get you to his apartment and in the dark, now. 

Before he realized what he said, a soft, “c’mon sweetheart,” left his lips. The last time he called you that was in a sneer, taunting you while he bound your wrists in those blasted cuffs. He didn’t have time to analyze why he said it again, and with autopilot taking over he scooped you up into his arms and started to carry you down the street. Your legs were still exposed to the sun, but he could make better time on his own instead of helping you hobble your way there. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best he could do. 

He crossed the street to the next block, not caring if the light was green or not. Two blocks now. Josh wanted to break out in a full run, but he didn’t want to draw too much attention to the two of you. The last thing he needed was someone stopping him to question what was wrong. He kept his brisk pace as he stole a glance down at you. You hadn’t even protested when he picked you up, and the fact that you didn’t have the energy to make a sarcastic comment, or even call him a name, made his anxiety so much worse. 

One block to go. He could see the front door to his apartment building. He neglected to tell you that he also lived on the fourth floor, in an attic bedroom that was converted into a studio apartment, but he’d cross that bridge when he got you inside. 



A car blared its horn as he walked out in front of it, but Josh paid it no mind as he darted across the street to his block. When he first moved in, he hated the ugly blue awning that was added years ago by someone with no taste, but he was thanking his stars as he ran up the steps and got you securely under it. He wouldn’t relax until he got you all the way upstairs, but the worst was over. He plunged his hand into his pocket for his keys, and nearly got them into the lock when they slipped out of his hands due to how hard they were shaking from adrenaline. 

“God-fucking-damnit…” he cursed as he bent down to pick them up and try again, this time successfully and he wrenched the door open as fast as he could. He guided you inside and made sure to shut the door behind him. The house was old, probably Victorian, and there wasn’t a lot of natural light in the front entryway. The stairs leading up to the upper floors were almost as dark, and he was once again changing his mind over how much he hated the gloomy aesthetic at first. 

Josh gave you a few minutes to collect yourself against the front door, before slowly pulling the jacket down so it just rested on your shoulders. Your makeup was completely ruined, mascara streaks were down both cheeks, your lipstick gone from your activities the night before, but your eyes…your eyes still had that spark in them. You made eye contact with him, and while your fatigue refused to let you fully smile, your eyes said everything they needed to. 

Josh stood there, staring into your eyes with his hands in his pockets. This was probably the quietest the two of you had been around each other, but he didn’t mind it. Silence like this was nice, one could even describe it as warm. 

The dimple in his left cheek started to form as he said, “only four flights of stairs to go…”

The smile in your eyes immediately disappeared and annoyance dripped from your voice, “four flights? You live in a fourth floor walk up?” 

“I mean…it's technically the attic, but it's home for now.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes, “fine I guess.” 

Now it was his turn to be annoyed, “Well I’m sorry princess, would you like me to carry you up there so it's not too much trouble?”

You pushed off the door and started for the stairs, “no, I’m fine.” 

The stairs creaked as you started your ascent, grumbling the whole time while Josh trailed behind you. He kept his ear out for any of the other tenants as you made your way through the different floors. The walls in the building were obnoxiously thin, even all the way up in the attic where he stayed. 

The main staircase ended on the third floor, and you turned to look at him for where to go next. Josh led you down the hall, where a set of steep and narrow stairs were positioned in the corner, twisting up into the wall and out of sight. You knew stairs like this very well, as they were once used for servants whenever this house was first built. You had a brief flashback of similar stairs from your life before you were turned. There was no such thing as building codes back then, and architects didn’t care about servants' safety so the stairs to their quarters were often steep, uneven, and treacherous. Sighing, you started to trudge up the stairs, one heel stomp at a time. In any other circumstance, Josh would have rolled his eyes at your dramatics, but after what he saw on the street, he knew you weren’t faking your discomfort. 

The landing at the top of the stairs was so small that the two of you were invading each other's personal space. Neither one of you acknowledged how your shoulders were touching, or how the back of your hands brushed against each other. The door to his apartment was angled with how it fit into the roof of the building, and Josh unlocked it quickly and stepped inside. When he didn’t hear your heels click clack on the wooden floor behind him, he turned around in confusion. You were standing in the doorway, hands against the frame with an expectant look on your face. Ah shit, he remembered, you had to be invited in. 

He stepped back in front of you, dramatically bowed and said, “would you like to come in?”

“Why yes, I would,” you played along before stepping into his residence. Apartment buildings were a weird supernatural gray area for Vampires. In some buildings you couldn’t enter the front door without being invited in, and in others like this one you could freely move around the building but needed an invite into individual apartments. It was annoying as fuck but it was just something you had to live with. 

It wasn’t a palace by any means, but you saw the potential in the apartment as you walked around. It was truly the definition of a studio apartment, with everything being in one whole room. The walls were painted a muted color, the floors were wooden and most likely original to the house. Josh hadn’t put much effort into decorating, mainly because he didn’t feel the need to spruce up what was essentially a crash pad. The kitchenette was to the left, a singular bowl and spoon sat in the sink, a box of cereal on the counter. There was a small, basic table between the kitchenette and the “living room” that consisted of a sofa and coffee table. Beyond that was a door to what you assumed was the bathroom, and the “bedroom” in the back. You were pleasantly surprised Josh had a real bed frame, and wasn’t a “mattress on the floor” kind of guy. 

As you stood there checking the place out, Josh was flitting about the apartment shutting the blinds to all three windows his place had. There was just enough light coming through to keep it pleasant during the day but not enough to hurt you. He started to make a mental note to get some true black out curtains, but then shook his head because it wasn’t like you were going to be coming around all the time. This was a one time thing, out of convenience. 

You walked over to the sofa, and collapsed down on it with a sigh. Josh sat next to you, grateful for the old dusty thing himself. Leaning forward, you attempted to unstrap your heels and finally free your feet of the wretched things, but the strap was being stubborn in the buckle and you almost ripped it off before you felt hands lifting your feet off the ground and onto the sofa between you and Josh. You looked up at him confused until you saw him work the buckle himself, freeing the strap and slowly sliding your shoe off your foot. Before you could protest he repeated the process with your other foot and gently placed your heels on the floor. You stared at him as he leaned back and relaxed on his end of the sofa. 

“You didn’t have-”

“Don’t worry about it.” 

You opened your mouth to argue, but out of the corner of your eye you noticed what was sprawled all over the coffee table. An unloaded black crossbow was resting on the surface, with a bunch of silver-tipped stakes strewn next to it. It was like a bucket of cold water was dumped on you. Reality set in. At the end of the day, Josh was a hunter, and not only that but he came from an entire line of hunters. And you? You were of the species his family had set out to eradicate. 

“How many Vampires have you killed?” Josh jumped at your words, not expecting that question. 

“Alone or…with my brothers?”

“Total.” 

Josh scratched under his chin, quickly adding up numbers, “Over one hundred, give or take.” 

You straightened up against the sofa, inching away from him slightly. Hearing an actual number sobered you up even more. 

“Now, it's only fair that I ask you how many humans you’ve killed.”

It was your turn to jump at his question. The first five, or even ten years of your life as a Vampire were blurry, genuinely. The Vampire that made you wasn’t very concerned about your wellbeing, and essentially turned you and set you loose onto the world with very little guidance. It took a shit ton of conscious effort on your part to hone your hunting habits, to learn from your mistakes and find as much of a peaceful existence as you could. 

“Dozens…if I had to guess.” 

He turned and looked at you, “if you had to guess?” 

“I don’t exactly write these things down. Have you ever counted how much livestock you’ve eaten?”

“That's entirely different and you know it.”

“Is it? I’m sorry we’re such imperfect creatures. I can’t go back and change any of it.” 

Josh held back a scoff, physically too exhausted to argue with you now. He sighed and let the subject drop. His eyes looked at your disheveled form once more, and realized you probably wanted to shower and change. Without a word he lifted himself off the sofa, retreating into the bedroom portion of his apartment to find you something to wear. He went through a few drawers to settle on a pair of red boxers and an old gray t-shirt, it was at least something. Walking over, he crossed in between the coffee table and the sofa, blocking your view of the crossbow and stakes. 

“Look, I don’t want to fight with you right now,” he said, holding the bundles of clothes out to you, as a small peace offering. 

You eyed the t-shirt and boxers, “I’m glad to know you’re not a tighty-whities guy.” Josh gave you a look, sarcasm was at least better than outright refusing his help. “Ok…lead me to the shower, Boy Scout.” 

For once, Josh was grateful to hear the nickname. He reached out and helped you off the sofa, as you were still a little wobbly on your feet. The door to the one bathroom he had was barely ten feet away, but he led you all the way there, opening the door and flicking on the light. The shower stall was tiny, even for him, but the water pressure was decent so he couldn’t complain too much. 

“What, no clawfoot tub?” You feigned offense, laughing a little before walking in. Before you shut the door, you gave him a serious look, “...thanks again.” He gave you a soft smile and nodded, turning away as you shut the door completely.

 When you heard his footsteps retreat away from the door, you turned around to really give the bathroom an inspection. You could tell so much about a person by their bathroom alone, and you had questions about the hunter who lived here. The first thing you checked was the shower. Pulling back the tiny curtain your eyes swept over the shower caddy that was hanging behind the showerhead. Oh thank fuck he had separate shampoo and conditioner, you thought. He even had a separate body wash, another green flag! The bar might be in hell, but at least this man kept himself actually clean. 

You twisted the shower knobs to get the ideal temperature, and as the water was heating up you turned and looked at the tiny pedestal sink on the opposite wall. It was pretty decluttered except for a toothbrush and a cup on the back of the sink. There was a free-standing basket organizer next to the sink, which seemed to be a dumping ground for a bunch of hair styling tools. Most notably was the full size hair dryer and clippers that were plugged into the wall charging. The mental image of Josh standing in front of the mirror trimming back the sides of his head flashed in your mind and you focused on it for longer than you should have. You recalled how fresh it looked when you met up in the park, and had to shake your head to focus again. Turning around you reached your hand out to test the water, thankful the temp was just right before stripping down and stepping in. 

Outside in the main living area of the apartment, Josh was zooming around the room cleaning up anything and everything. His first line of business was putting away the crossbow and stakes, throwing them in the back of his small, barely-there closet. He peeked outside one of the windows to gauge how high the sun was, and he was dismayed to find that it was still just as bright as it was before, with zero clouds in the sky. He triple checked the rest of the windows to make sure they were firmly shut and the blinds secure, so that no light would filter in accidentally. He didn’t have many lamps, but the few he did have he flicked them all on so that it didn’t look as dreary as it could. After he got done scrubbing the dishes in the sink he sat back on the sofa and took his phone out. He huffed when he saw a missed call from his brother Sam, and a bunch of texts from Jake. The voicemail Sam had left wasn’t urgent at all, just that he was pissed Josh had taken off with a bunch of the files he had put together without asking. Whatever, he’d get over it, Josh thought. But it was the texts from Jake that made him pause. 

Jake: I should be there in a few days, maybe less if I make good time. 

Shit shit shit shit shit, Josh panicked, it had completely slipped his mind that Jake was due for a visit. Well, he reasoned to himself, she won’t be here after today, so it shouldn’t be an issue. He just hoped that Jake didn’t decide to take any shortcuts while traveling. Jake wasn’t a flier, he rarely took planes unless absolutely necessary. He loved driving on the open road across the states. “You never know when you’d run into one of the Undead,” he’d always say. He didn’t mind side quests to pick off a few more Vampires as long as it didn’t interfere with his main plans. 

As he tossed his phone to the side, he heard the water shut off in the shower. The tips of his ears tinged pink when he realized just how fast he whipped his head in the direction of the bathroom door. He turned back to look down at his hands when the door opened, not wanting to be caught staring in your direction. But he couldn’t help himself, and slowly turned his head towards you as your footsteps made the old floor creak. 

He was frozen in his spot on the sofa, seeing you walk out in his boxers and t-shirt, hair still wet from the shower and pulled to the side, all of your makeup from the night before gone. He clenched his jaw to keep himself from saying, “wow” out loud. 

When you saw him look up from the sofa, you almost tripped over thin air. Those big brown eyes looked even wider, and was that a hint of red on his cheeks? His jaw was clenched tightly, but his adams apple was bobbing. Did he forget you could hear how fast his heart was beating? Did he realize you could hear it hammering in your head? Most of the time you tuned out human heartbeats. It was second nature to you. But his was too loud to ignore. Was he aware of how it stuttered when you made eye contact with him? Did he know that you could hear it thumping harder and harder as you walked closer to him? 

You stopped a couple feet away from him, shifting your weight from foot-to-foot as you looked down at him on the sofa. You felt like a silly little girl. This was just Josh.  The same man who had you up against a tree with a knife to your throat not even two nights ago. The same man who pledged his life to hunt your kind down.

Boy Scout. 

Instead, you felt your own cheeks heat up at the way he was staring at you. Why wasn’t he blinking? Why was his stare so intense? Why the fuck couldn’t you even speak? You were just standing there, still damp from the shower, wearing his old clothes. This wasn’t…this wasn’t a big deal. He was still sitting there, still in his attire from the Den, though his shoes were off and his shirt was unbuttoned a few buttons. 

But all you could lamely say was, “if you umm…if you need the shower its open…” 

You wanted to fall through the floor and never be seen again. 

At your words, he finally blinks at you and nods, “right.” 

You take turns taking airy breaths through your noses as he stands up and awkwardly side steps you on his way to the bathroom. You didn’t dare turn around as you heard him rummaging through his drawers for new clothes. It was too domestic. That's not what this was supposed to be. You were just crashing here while the sun was out. The minute it disappeared beneath the horizon you were out of there. 

At last, you heard the door to the bathroom shut. But you didn’t let your shoulders fully relax until you heard the shower start. Desperate to distract yourself, you took a glance around the apartment once more. The first thing you noticed was how the crossbow and stakes were nowhere to be found. You didn’t fight the way the corners of your mouth twitched at the observation. 

Once again you were alone, and you were taking advantage of it to be nosy. For someone who hadn’t been living there very long, Josh sure loved his knick knacks. His apartment looked so…lived in. You could tell he had tidied up while you were busy in the shower, which wasn’t helping your previous thought spiral. There was a classic ship-in-a-bottle sitting on the end table under the lamp, and you wondered where he got it from or what the significance was. The ship was specifically a pirate ship as well, which was an interesting observation to you. You’d have to ask him about-

What the fuck…

As you entered the bedroom portion of the apartment once again, you turned to the far wall that you hadn’t really paid attention to earlier. Before you was dozens of papers and photos tacked onto the wall, with an almost comical amount of red string zigzagging around from paper to paper. On the floor in front of the display were a few folders. He really wasn’t kidding, he genuinely had files on us, you thought. You got closer to the wall to inspect his handiwork. There were post-it notes slapped onto every photo, with what you realized was Josh’s chicken scratch filling up each yellow square. A lot of the photos were street views of the city, with at least 6 photos of dead humans in the corner. The bodies that had been found. You weren’t sure how to react when you recognized one of the street views. In fact it wasn’t even a street at all, but an alley. The alley that Josh had almost captured you in. A post-it was peeling off of the top corner labeled, “First Encounter.” 

You stood there, motionless while trying to decipher his evidence board. His thought process was all over the place, that much was obvious. As if he was trying every theory he could come up with and seeing what stuck. It was cute how he had papers with information about Vampires scattered amongst the “evidence”. Some of it was right…but a lot of it was blatantly wrong. Most of the papers seemed to be pages torn out of books, and you wondered what the hell kind of books he was getting these out of. There were a few “famous” books written by hunters for other hunters to give them tips on how to properly destroy the Undead. But the joke was on them, for Vampires had been spreading misinformation about their kind for centuries just to throw off hunters. The rumor that Vampires didn’t have a reflection was started by a Vampire Persuading a hunter into spreading that as fact, and even now in the present you’d still hear humans mentioning it as a “foolproof” way to spot a Vampire. 

Looking back down at the floor where the files were, you slowly sat down in front of them to start reading. Unsurprisingly, a file with your name on it was sitting on top. The first page to greet you after you opened it was a basic summary page of you. Standard stats like your name, hair color, eye color, height, age, presumed birth place, etc. The rest of the file consisted of multiple stories about you from over the centuries you lived. Places you had settled in, Nests you had been a part of, but most of it was…inaccurate at best. Or at least, whoever had gathered this information had the right idea, but most of the details were wrong. This didn’t bother you, because they didn’t need to know your real business anyway, but it was so funny to you how they tried their best and still came up short. 

One detail did catch your eye when you flipped back to the first page, at the bottom of the paper in the same scribble from the post-its were the words:

Favorite color: Purple. 

You were so engrossed in reading “about” yourself that you didn’t even hear the water shut off, or the bathroom door open. You didn’t hear the skipping heartbeat behind you, or the slow footsteps making their way over. But when you felt the floor creak next to you, and a gentle thump as your hunter sat down, that's when you looked up and turned your head towards him. His knee was so close to yours that you could feel the heat coming off of his damp skin, his leg hair gently brushing against your own knee. He was dressed similarly to you, boxers and a t-shirt. His curls were still damp and not as poofy. Once again he looked so…normal. There was worry written all over his features, as if he was bracing himself for your reaction. 

“You actually wrote that my favorite color was purple?” The way his shoulders visibly relaxed when he realized you weren’t upset at it was adorable. 

“Could be useful information, you never know.” 

“It would suck if I had just been fucking with you and it wasn’t actually purple.”

Joshs eyes went wide and he started to reach for the file, which you snatched away from him and held it above you, “is it not…?”

You laughed at him, “no Boy Scout, it is, but my age is wrong.” 

“It is?”

“Yep. I turn exactly 350 this year. Well, 325 if you don’t count my human years.”

His brows furrowed inquisitively, “You were 25 when you were turned?”

“A full quarter century of living in the sun, yes.” 

“Do you miss it?”

You hummed at him, “miss what?”

“The sun?”

“I miss when it wasn’t trying to burn me alive, but sunny days themselves? No. It took awhile to adjust to being completely nocturnal but it is what it is.” You shrugged and looked over the file again, “who put this together anyway? Did you?”

Josh shook his head, “no, my little brother Sam gets all the credit for these,” he waved his hand at the rest of the files. “He handles the bulk of our intelligence. The kid always has his nose in a book or on the internet researching things. It was his idea to start a file system. He was tired of flipping through journals and books and wanted a centralized system that he spent a week locked in the basement consolidating information not only in physical files but he digitized it as well.”

You held back a snicker, “well…no offense to Sam…but most of this is wrong. But I’m ok with that. The less your family knows about my history, the better.” 

He smiled and leaned closer to you, letting your shoulders touch, smiling, “he didn’t even know I took these…he left me a pissy voicemail earlier when he realized he had files missing.”

You laughed softly, “Whoops.” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed black markings on his right thigh, peeking out from under his boxers. “Is that a tattoo?”

Josh looked down at his leg and back up at you, before pulling up the leg of his boxers far enough to show you the mark in question. It was a triangle with a circle in the center, criss crossed with different lines. It wasn’t a small mark by any means, it took up a substantial amount of space on the top of his thigh. “Sort of…”

“What do you mean?”

Josh took a breath and answered, “it's a sigil…to prevent Vampires from using their Persuasion on me.”

Goddamnit, Les was right again. 

“How the fuck did you get a Witch to give you that?”

“My brother Jake has this Witch friend. She’s been a friend of the family for a couple years now and after a while she came to him with these to help us out.” Josh explained it so matter of fact, but your eyebrows raised nearly to your hairline at this information. 

Witches and Vampires weren’t exactly friends…but there was typically a mutual respect between supernatural creatures. Generally, Witches trusted humans about as much as Vampires did, and while friendships weren’t unheard of, a Witch going out of her way to help out a hunter? That was…that was a betrayal. You started to spiral at how wrong that was, until you looked up Josh, and remembered you’re wearing a hunters clothes, sitting in a hunters apartment, after using said hunters shower. It wasn’t the same…but it wasn’t that much different either. You did question what it was about Jake that made the Witch essentially betray her own kind to help him. 

Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and gently traced some of the lines of the sigil. The silence was deafening, and his eyes never left your hand. The muscles in his thigh felt firm, especially when they tensed under your touch. It looked like a regular tattoo, but there was a heat in the ink. You had seen sigils a few times over the years, mainly on Witches themselves, but you had never touched one. Not like this. You didn’t realize the marks felt…alive almost, as if they were living in the skin of their hosts. 

“Do you feel that all the time?”

Joshs skin felt like it was on fire, but for an entirely different reason. He wanted to answer your question, but words were escaping him. He could only focus on steadying his breathing while your fingers lightly traced his skin. 

You heard it again, his heart hammering in his chest, and it spurred you on to trail your fingers up to the top of the triangle. He was so easy to mess with. His skin was so soft? 

Goddamnit, focus.

You snatched your hand away from his thigh and turned your attention back to the files, sifting through the others. 

Josh was a mess of conflicting emotions, still watching you like a hawk while he barely moved. But finally he spoke, “to answer your question…yeah…I feel it all the time.” 

You wanted to look over, look at him again, but you didn’t allow yourself to do so. Silence filled the room once more. You needed to change the subject. 

“Dimitri is super picky about humans being turned, Monica probably didn’t want him to see how Ethan was acting last night.” 

Right, back to business, Josh thought. “He’s a walking liability. I don’t think she was telling the truth at all about how long it had been since their last “incident. But does Dimitri have any actual say over who gets turned and who doesn’t?”

“It's not like…an actual rule, but he is the oldest Vampire in this area. It's more of an unsaid agreement out of respect. He rarely turns people himself, but he’ll string along humans for years on the promise of it, before setting them loose with no memory of him at all,” you explained. 

“If that’s the case then it was pretty stupid of your friend to bring him around, especially to the Den of all places,” Josh countered.

You nodded in agreement, “definitely but I think Monica was trying to be…normal. I’ve known her for a long time and she’s always been pretty lonely.”

“Lonely enough to turn the first human to look at her twice?”

You turned to look at him, “it happens.” Josh opened his mouth to ask another question but you cut him off, “...no I have not considered doing the same.” 

Another beat of silence.

Josh reached over to grab the post-it notepad on the floor and a pen. He scribbled Monica and Ethans names and slapped the post-it on an empty spot on the wall.

“Do you think she’d be du-...naive enough to bring him back to the Den any time soon?”

“You want to go back?” You were surprised at the suggestion.

“It's not like I want to go back…but I do want to hear more about these “incidents” she mentioned, and they ran off before we could ask any real questions.” 

You chewed on your lip, “knowing her, she’d go back.”

“Tonight?”

“You want to go back tonight?”

Josh shrugged, “the faster we get more information, the faster we can figure this out,” his hand waved at the wall. Truthfully, he just wanted to get this out of the way before his brother showed up and threw a wrench into his plans. 

You blinked and considered it. “Fine, but as soon as the sun sets I’m out of here to go get ready at my place. Can’t show up wearing the same thing as last night, can I?”

Josh nodded in agreement, “deal.”

The yawn you had been fighting finally escaped you. You needed sleep, especially if you had a long night ahead of you. 

Josh jumped up and immediately went over to his bed, “if you umm…need to sleep, you can sleep here. I can take the couch.” 

You stood up and walked over and looked at the bed. Of course he’d have the standard navy blue plaid bedding. But it looked…comfortable. The mere existence of a real bed frame was a plus. “Ok…but you don’t have to sleep on that rickety couch. The bed is big enough to share.”

He donned the most skeptical look you’ve ever seen him make, “the couch is fine.”

“That couch is held together by duct tape and a wish. I know how fragile human backs are. I don’t need you hobbling around the Den because you slept funky.” 

“Fine.”

“Fine.” 

Without another word, you slipped into his bed. Josh wanted to point out that you were technically on his side, but he decided against it. It was just one night, or day? It would be fine. He climbed in on the other side, staring at the ceiling and trying to ignore how close you were. You also were looking at the ceiling, refusing to look over at him. All you needed was a nap before you began your night. No big deal. 

“Good night.”

“Night,” you rolled over and clicked off the lamp, throwing that end of the apartment into darkness. Well, as dark as it could be in the middle of the day with the blinds shut. 

Sleep came for both of you pretty quickly, the exhaustion of the previous night and the walk to his apartment this morning taking its toll. 

~!~

You weren’t sure how long you slept, but the next time you opened your eyes the apartment was substantially darker than when you had fallen asleep. The second thing you noticed was an arm firmly wrapped around your waist. Josh. Shit. You started to reach down to peel his arm off of you when the arm in question suddenly tightened up and nearly yanked you backwards. What the hell? The next thing you heard was Josh mumbling in his sleep. You couldn’t understand what he was saying, but he sounded pissed. Carefully, you rolled over to face him. His eyes were screwed shut, brows deeply furrowed. His grip around your waist tightened further, and his legs started to kick. Was he having a nightmare? Oh no. The mumbling continued, and you still couldn’t understand what he was saying. 

“Get the fuck-,” was clear as day coming from his lips. 

Using your strength, You pushed him on his back and hovered over his face. He had your t-shirt balled up in his fist against your back. Softly, you reached up and gently touched his cheek, his jaw twitching under your touch. 

“Josh…Josh, wake up.” That didn’t work, and he continued to squirm underneath you. “Come on Josh, you gotta wake up. You’re having a nightmare…,” you tapped his face a little harder. “Boy Scout…wake up.” The sweat was beading up on his forehead, his breath coming out in harsh puffs. You hated seeing him like this. Reaching for his shoulders this time, you began to lightly shake him, gradually increasing the force as you did so. 

After what seemed like an eternity, his eyes shot open. Immediately, he seemed confused, as if he wasn’t sure where he was. He looked up at you, and the hand that was gripping your t-shirt flexed against your back. 

“Hey…it's ok…it's me,” you shushed him quietly. 

He sprang away from you, sitting up against his head board, still trying to get his bearings. You used this as an opportunity to flick on the light, returning to face him. 

His eyes still seemed a little lost, as if he was still trying to wake himself up and plant himself in reality. “What…what time is it?”

You looked over your shoulder at the clock on the nightstand, 7:38 PM flashed in red letters. “About twenty-to-eight. Nighttime.” 

He nodded slowly while running his hands over his face. “You should umm…you should probably head home then. To get ready.” 

“Are you ok? Do you want to talk-”

“I’m fine. It was just a nightmare.” His voice was stiff and cold. He didn’t want to talk about it, or acknowledge his bad dream at all. They were common for him, nothing to worry about. 

“You don’t seem fine,” your voice was laced with concern.

“I’m fine,” he snapped. He hadn’t used that tone with you since the other night in the park. 

Nodding, you got out of bed and began to gather your things. You peeked outside one of the windows. It wasn’t super dark yet, but it was dark enough that you could make it home without any problems. 

Josh hadn’t moved from his spot in his bed, but he was watching you move around his apartment gathering your things. You were leaving, but he would see you later tonight. He just…he needed to be alone right now. Your dress was draped over your arm, your heels in your hand and you were almost to the door before he sprung out of his bed. He wasn’t a complete douche, he’d get the door for you. As he reached for the doorknob he looked down and saw you didn’t have any real shoes to walk home in. 

“You can’t just-” he grumbled to himself before turning around and marching back to his bedroom and scooping up a well-worn pair of Birkenstocks and a zip-up hoodie. He almost let you leave without shoes. He felt even worse now. 

“Here, I think your feet have been messed up enough for one day,” he said as he met you back at the door and gently set the Birks in front of you to step in. It was the least he could do, but the thoughtful gesture struck you anyway. You eyed him for a second before slipping your feet into them and surprisingly, the size wasn’t too far off from your own. When your feet were secured he handed the jacket to you. You started to protest but he cut you off, “I don’t care if Vampires can’t get cold, you’re taking it.” 

You smiled softly at your hunter. You were just as worried about him. Did he have nightmares that bad all the time? How often? What were they about? You hated that he wouldn’t let you truly help, but you understood it. It's not easy to open up about something as personal as dreams. Your hand gently brushed his as he handed the jacket to you, and you slipped it on silently as you continued to look at him.

“Thanks Josh…,” the sheepishness in your voice was foreign to you, but you didn’t mind it. 

  “I’ll uhh…I’ll see you tonight. Same time?”

“Same tree?”

Josh nodded, “same tree.” 

“See you soon, Boy Scout.” 

With that you turned and started going down the winding stairs, a little sad when you heard the door shut behind you. But that was ok, you had a few hours before you’d see him again. As you landed on the third floor, you caught the eye of one of Josh’s neighbors in the hallway. The old man looked you up and down, noticing your attire, before glancing up at the stairs behind you. He turned to open his own door, muttering, “good for him…,” before disappearing into his apartment. 

Oh god, you rolled your eyes and beelined out of the building, needing to get home to get ready for your next exciting evening at Dimitri’s Blood Den.

~!~

This time when the two of you descended the stairs into the Den, you were ready. The game plan was more solid this time, as Josh knew what to expect. Instead of going towards the booths, you opted for one of the antique couches in the middle of the room, where you could have an even better vantage point. 

You sat next to your hunter, about to get up and go to the bar for a drink when he turned to you and said, “A-Negative Manhattan, right?” 

His assertiveness caught you off guard, but you liked seeing him more settled into your world. You nearly beamed at him and said, “of course, thank you.” He nodded before getting up and going up to the bar to order your drink. 

When you had met up in the park earlier, he hadn’t spoken that much. He seemed fine, but you could tell something was bothering him. You decided against asking him if he wanted to talk about the nightmare, or how he had tangled himself up with you in the process, in favor of keeping it light and “work” related. 

Josh was still at the bar waiting for your drink when you spotted Monica and Ethan come down the stairs. Relief flooded through you that they had showed up so quickly, and you made a big show of waving them over to sit on the couch opposite of yours. It was when they sat down that you noticed they had a human girl with them tonight.

“Who is this?” you feigned interest in their new companion. 

“Oh this is Rachael! We found her earlier tonight,” Monica replied brightly. Rachael had a dreamy expression on her face. She had definitely been Persuaded to be there. Tale as old as time. Ethan was seated between Rachael and Monica, and it made you nervous. 

You were snapped out of your reverie when a familiar cocktail was held in front of you. You took it eagerly and looked up at Josh while he sat down beside you. For the briefest of moments, the gesture felt so…normal. You were afraid of even thinking of the word domestic, but it was right there, begging to be dreamed about. 

“Oh my god you did end up keeping this one!” Monica squawked from her couch. 

“What can I say? He was too pretty to let go,” you mused, playing your part. At least you thought you were just playing long. You reached up and gave a playful pinch to his chin, which earned you a look from Josh, but you could see him fighting a smile. 

At the sight of Josh, Ethan snapped his attention from Rachael and zeroed in on the hunter. What was it about Josh that Ethan was so fascinated by? A thought occurred to you, that typically new vampires' sense of smell was especially heightened as they got used to their existence. Being able to suddenly smell blood was an indescribable experience. It was too complex to be merely described as a new type of food. The first feed one has after they’re turned is a complete out of body experience. Human psychedelics don’t even come close to how your brain warps and rewires itself in real time. In that regard, you almost pitied Ethan in his clear lack of control. It's often said that not every human is meant to be turned. It isn’t cut out for everyone. The same could be said for other supernatural creatures who have the ability to turn humans into their own kind. Someone could be a complete disaster of a Vampire, but an incredible Werewolf. But no one ever knows for sure until it happens. Until their precious human lives are completely dismantled and changed. Until their very DNA is unrecognizable. 

You wondered if Ethan was literally smelling Josh, and that's why he was acting the way he was. It was a thought you had refused to allow yourself to have. Any thought of tasting him died when you learned he was a hunter. Even when Dimitri had his teeth in him, you were more worried about his well being than what kind of snack he’d be. But what was it Dimitri said? That his blood tasted…spicy? Was he being literal? Was he just fucking with him? 

“I want him.” Ethan blurted out. 

Monica leaned over and shushed him, “no Ethan, he’s her Human Companion tonight…you have Rachael.” 

“She can share,” he gritted out. You felt Josh stiffen next to you. No. You weren’t allowing this to happen again. You took a long sip of your Manhattan, giving Monica a warning look. One hand gripped your glass, the other reached across Josh’s lap and planted itself on his right thigh. You could feel the subtle heat of the sigil through the fabric of his pants. 

Ethan grew restless in his seat, completely abandoning Rachael and turning his full attention to Josh. Monica threw you a pleading look, as if she was hoping you’d relent and let him have a taste, but you refused. Dimitri might have not given a shit about pleasantries, but he was older than you, and had more authority, and honestly intimidated the hell out of you. Monica? Not so much. She was younger than you by nearly 200 years. She was a toddler in comparison. 

Setting your drink down on the coffee table between the couches, you kept your glare steady on Ethan. Your hand moved from Josh’s thigh to his wrist, you gently rubbed your thumb over the veins and tendons. A visual reminder that if anyone was feeding from him, it was going to be you. 

Monica looked visibly panicked, “if you just let him have a taste he’ll be fine I promise…” 

“No. He’s mine.”

Josh turned to you, trying to silently give you a signal. He didn’t want to whisper to you and risk Monica, or worse, Ethan overhearing what he was saying. In the last two days, he had come to realize he had known far less about Vampires than he previously thought, but he could see a struggle for dominance when he saw one. He didn’t want a repeat of last night just as much as you did, and at this point, there was only one way to make sure that didn’t happen. 

Making eye contact with you, he slowly turned his neck to the side, offering it to you. If he was going to get fed on, by you especially, he wanted the real deal. He didn’t want his wrist used as a straw. If you were going to feed on him, you were going to feed on him. 

You saw what he was offering, and your eyes locked with his, making sure you understood him correctly. With the slightest nod, you got your answer. You threw a side eye to Monica and Ethan, it was your time to shine. At this, you took a deep breath and allowed yourself to truly inhale Josh’s scent. God, you thought. You had caught a faint whiff of him in the alley, when he was distracting you with that kiss, but this was so different. There was something bright about his scent, citrusy, clean, a hint of vanilla? It was delicious, and it was about to be yours. 

With a steady hand, you tilted his jaw to the side a little more, giving yourself better access. Nearly raising yourself to your knees on the couch, you leaned in close to his neck. Your breath fanned over his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. The one good thing about Dimitri feeding on him the night before was that he had more of a clue as to what he was in for. He thought he did, at least. He cast his eyes down towards you, your fangs descended from your upper jaw, and he realized just how well they suited you. Like they were made to be part of you, as if you were born for this. 

You gave him one last look of reassurance, before lowering your teeth to his skin. You huffed out a final breath against his neck, before your fangs finally began piercing his skin. It was quick, and the familiar burn started at the puncture wounds. But that wasn’t the best part. No…when your lips sealed themselves against his skin around the punctures, and you took that first true pull of his blood? His eyes instantly rolled back. Whatever your technique, if you could call it a technique, you used was so drastically different than Dimitri. This time, being fed on didn’t feel “weird”, it felt…good. This time, the way his blood went backwards against its natural current, it was invigorating. He felt his veins come alive. With each subsequent pull from you, he felt like he was floating higher and higher. Your hand shifted from his jaw to the other side of his neck, pulling him even closer. 

As for you, the second his blood hit your tongue you were moaning against his neck. You were right, the citrus notes, the undercurrent of vanilla, but the aftertaste was strong, and oh so Josh. You needed more of him. It felt like a privilege to feed on him, you would forever rue the day that Demitri got to be the first Vampire to taste him. He didn’t deserve that honor. But something in the back of your mind wanted to make sure you were the last Vampire to ever feed on him. There was no one else in the room in your mind other than Josh. You were so focused on his taste that you almost didn’t notice his arm snaking around your waist, pulling you to straddle his lap. Immediately you complied and settled yourself onto his thighs, your arms wrapping themselves around his neck. The growing bulge underneath you almost made you pause your feeding. It made you smile against his skin when you realized he was enjoying himself. Instinctively you grinded down against him, delighting in the moan that rattled his throat against your teeth. His hands moved to your hips and pulled them down even harder against him, gripping your hips so hard that would’ve left bruises on a human woman. But you weren’t fragile like that, you could take it, whatever he had to offer, you would take it no questions asked. 

You had been latched onto him for a while at this point, and you still had enough wits about you to listen to his heart rate. It was beginning to slow down, which was your cue that his body had enough. For now. With the slightest reluctance, you withdrew your fangs from his neck. You couldn’t resist going back, licking the excess blood around the puncture wounds, cleaning up your mess. With a flurry, you pricked your finger with your teeth to draw enough blood to heal the wounds. When they started to close up, you raised your head to look him in the eyes. Those big brown eyes, nearly black now with blown out pupils. He looked completely blissed out, and it was all because of you. 

You felt his blood dripping from the corners of your mouth, and you could feel it smeared all over your chin. Before you could push any excess back into your mouth, Josh’s hands reached up and pulled your face to crash against his. Oh god, you thought once again. The feeling of his lips against yours made you grind down on him again, and he moaned into your mouth, which gave you access to slide your tongue against his. You still had blood in your mouth, and even if he was human and not getting the full scope of how good it was, he was getting a taste of not only you, but himself. One of his hands was tangled in your hair, the other slid down to grip your ass underneath your skirt. You were vaguely aware you were causing a scene, even if enthusiastic feedings were considered the norm, the private rooms existed for a reason, and you were quickly approaching the territory of needing one. 

With the both of you wrapped up in each other, you weren’t aware of how the music changed, how the live pianist took their post at the piano bench, playing a familiar melody. You didn’t see Dimitri and Yvonne enter the room. You didn’t see how Dimitri was watching you both, an unreadable smile on his face. You especially didn’t see Yvonne’s hard stare, wheels turning in her head.

You pulled off to let Josh breathe, and you opened your eyes to stare down at him. His blood was all over his face, all in his goatee, his mustache, even dipped in his cheek scar. He looked so fucking beautiful that way, with his hooded, blissed out eyes. You wanted, no you needed all of him.

“Do you want to get out of here?” 

“My place is closer,” he breathed out. Of course, and this time you didn’t have to fight the sun to get there. The night was still young. 

You smiled and slid off of him reluctantly, reaching out to help him off the couch. As he rose to his full height, he intertwined his fingers with yours.

 Leaning in to whisper in his ear, “lead the way, Boy Scout…”

He smirked at you before leading you through the various groups of people, through an empty private room, and up the stairs to the street. This time only moonlight greeted you at the second landing, the chilly night air washing over the both of you as you went back to that cozy attic apartment you hadn’t wanted to leave hours prior. 

Maybe it was the blood talking, but you didn’t want this high to ever end. 

To be continued…

Tag List: @lightmylove-gvf , @dannyandthekiszkas , @gretasmokerising , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema , @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake ,

[rae-raewrites]

Sorry. I meant to say pegging all four Arkham Riddlers. Origins, Assault on Arkham, Arkham City, and Arkham Knight. 😅

Hcs? For absolutely having fun with the best boys? Nsfw? Oh my tell me more~

Arkham riddler pegging hc’s

Warning:minors DNI 🔞 includes pegging,begging,just a bit of humiliation,dirty talk,it’s Eddie so praise

Origins

Initially thinks your joking

You reiterate your not,he’s a little internally panicked

So their you had him,all needy on HIS bed,hard and blushing. Perfect

Lubing him up down their gives you a taste of how shy he is about this

He tries to to not whine that first initial thrust in to him but he simply can’t help himself.

Apart if him is telling him this is demeaning

Another is telling him this is wonderful and he should enjoy every minute of it

His much smaller ego finally gives in when you’re whispering in his ear what a good boy he is

“You’re my good boy aren’t you Ed?” “Mhm”

Just watching him grip the sheets for a little bit of anchoring makes you go in for deeper thrusts each time

His release absolutely was worth it.

He starts absolutely demanding it when he needs to get work done at home. Something to make his boring work more exciting.

Bending him over his desk at home is 100% recommend

AOA

It was idea that hit you at least a week ago when you two were indulging in each other.

So when you started to get into it again you brought it up and genuinely he seems a little surprised such a thing was something you’d be up for.

But then you get him all vulnerable and leaning on his desk

And the gasp he lets out would make anyone purr

One of genuine pleasure as he starts leaking pre from how enjoyable it is

He practically starts demanding you go rough with him

Swore you can see little tears as your more patient thrusts happen

“D-don’t stop! Please?”

Practically starts begging for it all the time. And here you thought you’re the one supposed to begging for him.

Arkham city

Initially he’s fully against,saying how he’s a top dog in gotham blah blah

But when you start teasing him down there the idea doesn’t seem so bad……..

Of course pain makes him apprehensive at first

But then you start finding where he REALLY likes it and all of suddenly he’s a little submissive brat begging for more

Loves when you make him anticipate that next thrust

Of course he’ll still want to be the more active player in both your pleasure romps but he’s willing to let you take the steering wheel sometimes……if you deserve it of course

“Fine I like it you naughty minx,what do want? An award? You’ll get no participation trophy from me! Oh-!”

Only for you to shut him him up all over again

Arkham knight

Months of working on race tracks and electric pressure plates left the poor man stiff and sore all over.So when you suggest taking the reins for an evening he’s apprehensive.

So used to being the dominant one for months on end and yet you suddenly thought you had the ability to do something better than him. Made him laugh out loud at first

But then you remind him how a genius should be praised in every way~

Turns out washing the bed,getting him into and nice warm bath and praising him to the moon and back is the best way to get him up for the idea

Of course dealing with getting bruised and scratched leads him to have a much higher tolerance for that first initial thrust than he thought

But then he starts keeping those eyes closed as he becomes a moaning little mess.

“Ah ah. No looking away baby, I know you have that photographic memory. It’s always done so good for you before~”

“Oh please my superior processese could be better spent doing something far more-“

Only for him to let out another desperate moan

After that evening he made it a point of it possibly occurring again if you really behave and actually help him get his conundrums ready.

He’d never openly admit it but it’s nice to be taken care of sometimes~

[harrys-tetas]

Take Me Home Tonight pt 2

Word Count: 7992

Warnings: smut (piv intercourse, making out, fem receiving oral), fem!reder, cursing

Minors DNI

read pt 1 here

The car ride was pleasant. Neither of you were speaking but the sound of the radio on low was filling the silence. You looked out the window, fingers dancing in the wind like they had on the way to lover’s quarry. His hand was on your leg again, only this time on your thigh, pushing the skirt of your dress out of the way for his fingers to reach higher than they ever had before.

You notice that he continues straight on one road, instead of turning right that would lead you to his street. He really was taking you home. Your home. Not his. If he could, he would spend all of his time at your home. It always had someone over and he thought that it was filled with so much chaos and love, the complete opposite from his own. He would take every second he could away from his house. The only time he tolerated it was when you were there, though how were you supposed to know?

When he pulled up in front of your house, you noticed that both of your parents’ cars were still in the driveway.

“I thought they were supposed to be gone by now,” you muttered unbuckling your seatbelt. “You don’t have to come inside if you don’t want to. I know this isn’t what you’d probably planned would happen. I really didn’t think that they would still be here,” you begin to ramble.

“Nonsense,” he says and cuts the engine before getting out of the car himself. He must have unbuckled while you were paying more attention to the cars in the driveway. “I always love an excuse to see Jeff and Sandy,” he says with a smile and opens your door for you.

You both walk up your driveway, though you don’t get far away from him. His hand finds the small of your back, leading you to your own front door. Before you can even get your key to unlock it, the door flies open and your mom stands there looking stressed.

“Darling, I need your help. We needed to leave 20 minutes ago and I just can’t figure out what to wear,” your mom says and grabs your wrist, yanking you inside and out of his touch.

You look behind you and see him letting himself inside, taking his shoes off and setting them on by the door before he shuts and locks the door behind him. You give him a guilty smile as you’re being dragged up the stairs and he gives you an easy one back before he goes to find your dad in the kitchen.

“Steven,” you hear your dad call out and you let out a deep breath that you didn’t know you were holding in.

Your mom holds up a few dresses that are options for the night and you see other articles of clothing scattered around the room that she’d clearly tried on and hated.

“What happened to the dress that we’d picked out last night?” you ask, looking on the floor for the gold dress that she’d tried on for you the night prior.

“Your father decided to tell me about 2 hours ago that there was a dress code for the theater tonight and it’s black tie,” she says, rubbing her temples. “The amount of details that he forgets to share sometimes is alarming.”

“How about the dark blue one? The one that reaches the floor and has flowy sleeves?” you ask, pointing to it still hanging in her closet still.

“Is that black tie appropriate?” she asks and you shake your head yes. Most of her dresses are appropriate but you also know that she likes to be dramatic. Hell, the event didn’t start for another 3 hours. Your dad knew that this was probably going to happen and gave her the wrong time on purpose.

“I’ll tell you what, you get dressed and I’ll go get you a cup of water to help calm your nerves,” you say and leave the room shutting the door but not before you hear her yell something about needing something stronger than water.

You laugh and shake your head lightly and make your way down the hallway to the stairs so you can grab water. Before you make it to the stairs, and I mean they are in eyesight you are so close, someone grabs your hips and pulls you up against them in the hallway.

“What the h-” you’re cut off by a pair of soft lips capturing your own.

Your hands fly up into his hair on their own, you aren’t even controlling them at this point. You know that you should be careful about your parents but how could you even think about them when Steve Harrington’s got you wrapped up in his hold, kissing you so good you can’t even remember your own name.

Your arms wrap around his neck and he deepens the kiss, swiping his tongue into your mouth to touch yours, before breaking apart from you just as fast. His cheeks have a rosy tint to them and you’re sure yours mirror them.

“What was that for?” you whisper, suddenly shy from the way he’s looking at you.

“Your dad told me to come up and check on you guys,” he whispers back.

“That makes sense,” you nod at him and remove yourself from his arms, much to your own dismay. “I need to go get her some water, do you want anything?”

“I’ll just keep you company,” he says and swings an arm over your shoulder while you go down the steps.

It’s awkward to go down side by side considering your strides are different lengths but he makes no effort to let you move away from him. Going into the kitchen, his arm leaves your shoulders and his hand finds your back again, like in the driveway.

You move around silently, grabbing a glass from the cabinet, filling it halfway with ice, and then filling it the rest of the way with water. Neither of you speaks but you do take notice of the fact that he hasn’t stopped touching you. Eventually his hand left your back, but he’d pushed a piece of hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear when you bent down to get ice. His hands found your waist, chin finding your shoulder to rest on, when you were filling the cup with water. Even after the cup was full and you’d turned off the water, he still stayed like that. Neither of you moving.

“Has your mother picked out a dress yet?” you hear your dad call from the living room. His footsteps indicate he’s coming closer.

You attempt to move away from Steve but he keeps you in the same position, just moves you so you are facing the island in the middle of the room instead of towards the sink. You crane your neck in an attempt to give him a strange look but he keeps his eyes locked on your dad who just entered the room and makes conversation like this is totally normal and he isn’t acting weird.

“When I found her she was getting water for Sandy. I hadn’t heard an update on her getting ready process,” he says, shaking his head apologetically.

Yeah, because you were too busy with your tongue down my throat to ask me, dumbass, you think but feel Steve’s hands dig into your sides to get your attention. When you look at your dad you can see that he’s got an expecting look on his face which means he asked you a question, and one look at Steve’s face shows that he knows exactly what you were thinking about because his smirk is  attempting to hide the shit eating grin that would be on his face if your dad wasn’t standing there.

“I think I convinced her to wear the dress I told her about this morning,” you take a wild guess on what he was asking, and his face moves into a pleased expression indicating you guessed right. “I’m going to give this to her and hopefully convince her to come downstairs,” you say, wiggling out of Steve’s grasp and making your way back upstairs.

“So Steven,” your dad begins and you feel your neck start to flush because you can already guess that he’s going to ask about the weird ass behavior that he walked in on. “Do tell, have you heard any more of the neighborhood gossip? You have got to finish telling me about Kate Welmore and her new boyfriend.”

You hear Steve let out a breath of air, probably because he was assuming it was going to be about the same thing as you. He doesn't let his nerves show though, stepping into an easy story about your neighbor’s new boyfriend that he’d learned about when eavesdropping at Family Video. It was the only way to guarantee that he wouldn’t fall asleep while working behind the counter. You’ve already heard this story a few times before, never having the heart to tell Steve that he told you three days in a row when you went in to visit him.

When you let yourself into your mom’s room, you find her sitting at her vanity. She’s dressed in the dark blue gown that you’d originally suggested. She doesn't hear you come in, still humming to herself, a trait that you’d picked up. She’s fixing her makeup but looks effortlessly beautiful. You hope to look as beautiful as her when you’re older. She makes eye contact with you in the mirror when she sees you walking up behind her and she smiles at you.

“Ah, darling,” she says and swivels around on her stool to face you. “Did you bring me some water?”

“Of course mom,” you place the water on her vanity and grab her brush to help her fix her hair.

You brush out her hair, smoothing it to better help you put it in an updo. The amount of bobby pins scattered over the desk is hilarious but you don’t say anything, just continue to listen to her humming that started again. You end up doing a bun on the middle of her head, her bangs in the front still on her forehead smoothed down instead of the usual mess that they are. She looks stunning, with her striking blue eyes outlined in charcoal.

“You look beautiful mom,” you say sincerely and step out of the way to grab her shoes.

“Thank you, love bug. What you did to my hair looks incredible, you’ll have to teach,” she says and you agree. 

Looking at yourself in the mirror, your wavy brown hair looks like how your mom’s usually does. Accept that your bangs aren’t as dramatic. Your dad says that you both always look like artists with messy hair and paint on your hands at all times. Seeing your mom all dressed up is different, but she looks beautiful all the time.

“Can you escort me to the door?” she asks and holds out her hand. You take it and notice that it’s missing all of the usual chunky rings that she wears everyday. This time all that’s there is her wedding and engagement ring, a stunning gold band with an emerald in the center instead of a diamond.

When you make it down the stairs, you see your dad and Steve still standing in the kitchen. Steve is laughing at something, bringing a can of Coke to his lips to take a sip. Your dad hears you two coming down the stairs and turns around and he looks stunned. His mouth forms a small “o” and his eyes get wide. Your mom takes notice of this and a small flush goes to her cheeks.

“You look gorgeous, my dear,” my dad says and walks over to kiss you mom on the cheek.

“Thank you, love,” she says and grabs her purse from the table. “You better enjoy it for the night, though. Your messy artist wife that you married is coming back tomorrow,” she teases and grabs your dad’s hand to leave.

“Have a good time,” you say and kiss them each on the cheek, walking to lock the door behind them.

“Don’t wait up for us,” your dad calls behind him and your mom giggles beside him. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

You wave one more time before shutting and locking the door. When you turn around, you find Steve standing in the same spot. Only his eyes no longer look friendly like they had when he was talking with your parents, they looked hungry almost. You’d never seen them like this

You make your way over to him, stopping right in front of where he’s standing. He peers down at you, taking you all in and the way his eyes are looking at you makes your thighs clench.

“Where were they going?” he asks quietly, bringing both hands to rest on your hips.

“I think my dad had tickets to go to the theater in Indianapolis this evening,” you reply and his hands release your hips, find your wrists and wrap your arms around his neck, and then places his hands back on your hips.

“Yeah? What are they going to see?” he leans down, lips ghosting over your own before traveling down and kissing ever so lightly on your jaw.

“I have no idea. It was a new play I think,” you say breathlessly while trying to think about the stupid play instead of his lips kissing their way down your jaw to your neck. “It traveled from Chicago so I think it’s a big deal for my dad to be covering it.”

“You didn’t want to go?” he murmurs against your neck.

“Wha- why are you asking me this?” my fingers tangle in his hair by the nape of his neck.

“What do you mean? We’re just having a friendly conversation,” he says and you can feel his smirk against your throat before he sucks harshly, making you gasp.

“Oh just shut up,” you say and grip his hair harshly to bring his lips to your own.

He stops himself before your lips touch, causing your lips to fall open into a pout. He leans his head back ever so slightly and a smirk slowly forms on his face.

“What’s wrong, doll?” he whispers. “Do you want something?”

“Kiss me,” you whisper back. “Please.”

His smirk falls into a satisfied grin before he crashes his lips with yours. Your lips move together seamlessly, fitting together like they were made to. His hands pull your hips against his, nudging his knee in between your legs and your hips move ever so slowly on his thigh. Your arms tighten around his neck, making him lean over to reach your lips so you don’t have to stand on your tiptoes.

Before you know it you’re spun around so your back is touching the island instead of his. He stands up straighter, and you have to stand up on your toes to keep your lips connected.

“Jump,” he mumbles against your lips, and you do it with no hesitation.

His strong hands grip your thighs and you wrap them around his waist. He sets you down on the countertop and easily steps in between your legs, never once disconnecting your lips. He deepens it, taking advantage of your lips parting further in a gasp when one hand inches higher on your thigh, and his tongue slips in your mouth.

He tastes sweet, like the coke he was sipping on earlier. His tongue easily overpowers your own, casting you to giggle into his mouth making his own lips turn up into a smile against your own.

“Lay back for me, doll,” he whispers, leaning away from you when you first start to chase after his lips.

You look up at him in confusion, swollen lips parted in yet another pout and he leans in to kiss it off your face before whispering “Come on, lay back for me,” before you finally understand and comply.

The island is clean enough that you don’t bump into anything when you lay down. Looking over to your right you see the can of coke Steve was drinking out of earlier and the salt and pepper grinders that typically sit there. You barely have time to register anything else before you feel Steve’s hands slide up your thighs, bunching your dress up along the way.

One hand moves from your hip and inches slowly towards your center. You can feel the pool in your underwear and for once you aren’t shy- you need something done about it. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch what he’s doing, only he’s not making eye contact. He’s looking at your underwear in disbelief, but his eyes dart back up to yours and his nerves are replaced with confidence so fast you don’t even register it.

“Can I make you feel good?” he asks and stops his hand from moving any further.

You nod your head but he sharpens his eye, so you open your mouth and say yes, quickly.

“Good job,” he says and his pointer and middle finger slide up your slit over top of your underwear. “Goddamn, you’re soaked. What’s all this from?”

“You,” you gasp, feeling his fingers swipe into your underwear and touch you without the barrier, but they slip out just as fast. “It’s always from you.”

“Yeah?” you can hear the smirk even though he ducks his head to watch himself peel your underwear off your lower body, pocketing them when he finally takes them off your feet. “Well, then let me take care of you.”

His two fingers swipe again, collecting arousal, before moving up to the bundle of nerves at the top. They make wide, slow circles that have you a whimpering mess beneath him. His upper body leans over you, one hand near your shoulder on the island so you’re caged in. His mouth is near your own but it’s like the car all over again where you’re just moaning into his mouth.

The more he circles his fingers, the more aroused you get so the slicker you feel. His finger moves around easily, building up the burning feeling in your lower stomach. His face moves away from your own, after stealing a chaste kiss. He kisses down your neck, across your collarbones, and then down your abdomen over top of your dress.

He then works his way down your side, kissing your hip that is exposed from your dress being pushed up. Then kisses down your thigh to your knee, and moves inward causing your breath to hitch. His eyes shoot up to your own, silently questioning if he can continue, and you nod your head to show that you want him to do whatever he wants to. He can have you in any way he wants.

In a split second, his mouth is on your center. He hisses your clit softly, causing you to let out a squeak in surprise which then causes him to chuckle into you. The vibrations go straight through you and one hand leaves your side to grip his hair, holding his face right where it is. His tongue dives between your folds, tasting you for the first time tonight and his own eyes roll to the back of his head, moaning into your center again. The vibrations feel even better this time, causing you to moan out loud.

The sounds of him eating you out are the only thing that you can hear, aside from your own pants and moans. You can feel the heat in your stomach building, each occasional flick of his tongue across your clit pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Steve rotates between sucking at your clit and fucking you with his tongue. Both feel heavenly and have you gasping for air. He begins to spend more time plunging his strong tongue muscle into your hole, occasionally stopping to lap up all the juices that you are giving to him. He’s acting like a starved man, this being his first meal in days. 

You can feel your butt start to slip from your position, even though his hands are holding onto your thighs. So, you swivel your hips up to readjust your potion, your clit catching on his nose and you let out the most obscene moan of the night. In turn, Steve groans into you, the vibrations causing you to see the tip of your orgasm. It’s nearly in reach, so close but also so far. The only thing that you can think of to do is grind your hips up one again, to get your clit on his nose to help in getting you to the edge. You can hear him mumble things into your pussy but you can’t make anything out, panting and moaning while continuing to grind on his face while he eats you out.

Suddenly you feel your body tense, and then a burst of white hot ecstacy courses through your veins. You stop grinding, letting his tongue work you through your orgasm. You can’t see anything, hear anything, the only thing that you can feel is his tongue licking up everything you have to offer. He slows his movements after you attempt to push his head away weakly, loosening the death grip that you had on his hair and he moves away.

Your eyes are closed, feeling in complete bliss and you feel Steve’s lips kiss softly across on each thigh and back up your abdomen. He kisses your collarbones again, up your neck and jaw, then very softly pressing kisses to your own lips until you smile and open one eye to look at him.

“Hi there, pretty,” he coos and your nose wrinkles. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum, reaching your arms up behind you to stretch. When you can finally think straight you finally remember that tonight has been all about you, Steve not getting any help from you whatsoever. “Wait, what about you?” you pout up at him in confusion.

“What about me?” he squints back at you, confused about what you mean.

“You’ve been doing stuff for me all night,” you say and his eyes widen ever so slightly at the realization at what you mean. “I want to help you.”

“No, doll, it’s okay. Really,” he says and reaches up to cup your cheek.

“But Stevie,” you say and look up at him from your lashes. “I want to help you.”

Even though you think you just had an out of body experience, the thought of finally having Steve inside you is enough to get you squirming on the table. He notices and looks down at your fidgeting, looking back up to meet your eyes with a look of disbelief.

“Y/N, really, it’s okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he looks down, but when you cross your ankles around his waist to keep him still he glances down again before looking back up to your eyes. “Y/N…”

You interrupt him with a kiss. It starts out soft, just like all of your other ones, and you let him choose the speed at which it picks up. He keeps the kisses slow at first, not even moving his tongue for what feels like an eternity but you know it has only been a few minutes. Finally, he pushes his tongue into your mouth gently. He doesn’t fight for dominance in the same way that you two were earlier, instead he seems to just be savoring every second that you two are connected like this, like he hadn’t been eating you out only minutes prior.

Your hand that had been helping you stay balanced pushes you forward slightly so you now hold onto his shoulders tighter with your other hand, the one that was on the counter top trails from his shoulder, down his abdomen, and reaches his hard length causing him to groan into your mouth.

“Is this okay?” you disconnect your lips to ask, placing your foreheads together instead.

He nods his head quickly against your own, gasping when you grip his length tighter before palming it. Instead of sitting there moaning into the air, Steve connects your lips again, panting every so often because of the pace you set, but moans directly into your mouth instead of out in the open air.

The noises that you’re hearing, and the kissing itself, is making you incredibly aroused. You can feel your slick coating your thighs, though you don’t want to ruin this moment when he’s in complete bliss for the first time tonight. Your grip gets tighter and he lets out the loudest moan he has yet, completely disconnecting your lips and leans away from you.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” he pants and you stop your movement right away, taking your hand away from where it was.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, eyes growing wide that you did something to make him uncomfortable.

“Nothing, sweets,” he chuckles at your reaction. “I was just about to cream my pants if you kept touching me like that.”

“Well yeah, that was kind of the po-” you begin.

“Y/N,” the way he says your name makes you shut your mouth, while also making you feel like you need to shut your legs. “If you don’t want to go further it’s completely fine, I’m just bringing it up because I thought about it and-”

Now it’s your turn to shut him up with yet another kiss. You only kiss for about 30 seconds when you mumble against his lips “Steve, please fuck me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice and nodes, scooping you off the counter and blindly finds his way up your stairs and to your room. He tosses you onto the bed, causing you to bounce and it makes you giggle. You landed on your back, hair a mess around you on the pillows, but you lean up onto your elbows and look at him standing near the end of your bed. You tilt your head to the side, quizzical, and he just softly smiles at you in return.

He grabs your ankles and pulls you down towards where he’s standing and sits you up. Silently, he grabs the hem of your dress and slowly pulls it up, you help and bring your arms over your head. Because you weren’t wearing a bra underneath, you’re now completely nude in front of your best friend for the first time ever (well, purposefully nude. You’ve accidentally walked in on each other changing over the years).

“You’re so beautiful,” he says and kisses you like it’ll be your last time ever. 

He kisses you with a fervor that he hadn’t shown you yet tonight, only separating when you pulled his shirt over his head so he wasn’t fully clothed anymore. You throw the stupid polo somewhere else in the room, knowing it probably landed on a piece of furniture that’ll make you laugh later when you find it. Your hands reach forward and blindly try to undo his belt buckle. It only took you a few seconds, struggling in the beginning but got the hang of it pretty quickly.

“That didn’t take you too long,” he mutters against your lips. “Get a lot of practice?”

“Oh shut up,” you say, kissing him harder.

You shove his pants down, and he has to do the awkward step out of the leg holes, but he’s back to focusing on you in no time. You go to push his underwear down but his hands stop you and your lips disconnect.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, and you look at him questioningly. “You don’t happen to have condoms do you? I don’t tend to carry them around with me anymore.”

You giggle in response, and instead of giving him a sarcastic answer, you tell him that you have some in the bottom drawer of your desk, under your paints. He goes over to your desk, grabs one, and then is back over to you in merely seconds. He tears the wrapper open with his teeth, while you push his boxers down, and his length smacks his stomach.

You knew that he was big. Girls talk in high school about everything, Steve Harrington’s dick was actually a popular subject of conversation in the locker room before gym class. All of the girls had asked you at least twice if you two had ever done anything since you were so close, and they were always so shocked when you’d said no. So, they told you all the details of their nights with him, not realizing that you were seething on the inside but would never say anything out loud about it.

You’re broken out of your trance by him rolling the condom down his length, and pumping himself a few times, hissing when he brings his thumb over his tip.

“How do you want to do this?” he asks. “Do you have a preference?”

You think for a second, and then look back at the size. You think it would be the easiest for you to sit on first to get adjusted and then he could do whatever he wanted with you the rest of the night, break you in two for all you care.

“Could you lay down first?” you ask and point to the bed. “Just so I can adjust to your um size?”

He nods, and doesn’t make a snarky comment like you thought he would just at the sheer size of him. He lays down and you hold on to his shoulders, swinging one leg over his lap to straddle him.

“Never thought this would happen,” he whispers, looking up at you.

Your hair falls in your face and one of his hands reaches up to tuck some of it behind your ear. Instead of responding, you grind your hips against his length and you both moan out. You grind just a few more times to lube up his length with your own slick before stopping and lifting your hips up. You grab hold of his length in one hand, positioning it underneath you to help guide it straight in, and you sink down ever so slowly, inch by inch, gasping when you feel him nearly tear your walls apart.

“Holy mother of god,” he moans into the air, hands gripping your hips for dear life.

“Oh my fucking god,” you moan in response.

Finally, you sink all the way down. Your pelvises are touching. You have to pause and breathe, never having been this full in your entire life. You didn’t even know this was possible to feel this full, but here you are. Pussy full from Steve Harrington’s massive dick.

Once you’ve regained your breathing, you anchor yourself with one hand on his shoulder and the other on his chest. 

“I’m gonna move, is that okay?” you ask, eyes opening slightly into a squint and you see Steve’s eyes staring at where you’re connected.

“Mhm,” he groans, sounding pained but his face looks like he’s in bliss.

You slowly grind your hips in a circle, not moving up and down just yet. You both moan out at the movement, his hands finding your ass cheeks to help guide you in whatever rhythm you choose. He tosses his head back, exposing his throat while a moan rips through him.

You lean down, one hand moves to his stomach to still help stabilize you while the other one moves to his hair, and your lips attach to his now exposed neck. Your lips kiss soft kisses all over his throat, occasionally sucking small bruises into the skin. He’s a moaning mess beneath you, especially when you find his own sweet spot right on the corner of his throat. You suck harshly and his own hips buck up in response.

You sit back, making eye contact with him and you see him gulp. Eyes half lidded, he looks royally fucked out, giving you the biggest ego rush of your life knowing that you were the person that made Steve Harrington like this. Now that you’re finally used to his sheer size, you know that you can move in other ways.

You plant your knees, and slowly lift yourself up and down, in addition to the grinding, the rhythm never once faltering. Steve’s reaction is just to let out yet another obscene moan that rips out of his throat, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“You like that?” you ask, not sure where this confidence came from considering you’re barely ever talkative during sex.

He nods at you, trying to maintain eye contact but you’re fucking him so good that he can’t even remember his own name. Even though you know he feels good, some power trip comes over you and you want him to answer you verbally. Your hand that was on his chest creeps up slowly towards his neck and you pause before touching it. His eyes get wide when he realizes what you want to do and you can feel his dick twitch inside of you.

“Is this okay?” you check in and you swear he laughs before saying yes, so you continue.

Your hand goes to his thick throat, not being able to wrap around fully, but enough that it looks like a pretty little necklace. You squeeze just a little, and his eyes flutter.

“I ask you a question,” you say, keeping the light pressure around his neck, never once cutting off airflow. “Do you like this?”

When he doesn’t answer as fast as you would like him to, you squeeze a little tighter and he finally nods his head yes, nearly screaming in response.

“Yes, yes y/n,” he moans out. “Holy mother of fuck, yeah I do.”

You can feel the fire in your lower belly growing. You aren’t one to typically get off on only vaginal intercourse but the grinding is giving your clit some stimulation. It feels amazing, but soon you’re going to have to take matters into your own hands.

Your legs finally start to get tired, but you don’t want to finish just yet so you try to position your hands better to hold more weight on them. You don’t know that Steve can tell that you’re getting tired, but he’s going to let you go for as long as you want to.

Finally, you reach behind you and place your hands on his thighs. This gives you enough momentum to bounce without your legs giving out just yet. Steve’s hands remove themselves from your ass and when you look down you can see that he’s transfixed on your boobs bouncing with each movement you make. His hands finally cup your boobs, and this time it’s your turn to moan out into the air. He kneads them, not letting either one feel left out.

“Oh my fuck,” you moan out when he pinches your left pebbled nipple.

“Yeah?” you can hear a hint of cockiness come back into his voice after having been a whimpering mess for the past however long you’ve been fucking him stupid. “You like that?”

“Yes, oh my god,” you nearly shriek when one of his fingers finds you clit.

“Have you had your fun?” he asks and before you’re even able to question him he says “Because it’s my turn now,” and flips you over.

Before you know it, you’re laying on your back and Steve is above you wrapping your legs around his waist. He wastes no time at all to pound into you, and your moans are music to his ears. He has a death grip on your thighs, keeping them open for him and you know that you’ll have bruises there tomorrow but you couldn’t care less.

“I believe I asked you a question, doll,” he says and you can feel one hand leave your hip and trail up your abdomen, over your chest, and stop just below your own throat. His eyes go to your own asking for permission and your head nods so quickly you would be embarrassed under different circumstances.

He bends now, never slowing down his thrusts, and you think he’s about to kiss you. Instead, he kisses your throat so softly you thought you’d imagined it at first before his hand moves up and wraps around your throat. The difference in your hand sizes is comical. His one hand covers your throat, and while you’re 100% sure that it makes a wonderful necklace too, this one would be more of a statement piece than your small one.

 “The question was, did you have fun?” he says and squeezes his hand right at the end causing a rush of euphoria to flow to your brain. “Come on, use your words. I know you know how to.”

You gain partial sense of your brain back, finally understanding what he’s saying and you open your mouth.

“Mhmmm,” you moan, barely able to form a coherent thought. “I d-did.”

“Well I’m glad,” he says and squeezes a little tighter, causing your walls to clench around his length and his groans in response. “But it’s time for me to have my fun. Can I have fun with you?”

You nod your head again, but the look he gives you makes you think twice and instead you choose to speak.

“Yes, yes please have your fun, Stevie,” you practically slur and you can feel his dick twitch again at the nickname falling from your lips. “Use me to have your fun.”

“Oh fucking christ,” he mutters and removes one leg from around his waist, hauling it up over his shoulder so that with each thrust his mushroom head is beating into your cervix.

“Oh my god,” you scream and your hands find his shoulders to keep you grounded.

“You feel so good for me, doll. So so good,” he grunts into the air.

All of a sudden you can feel your orgasm approaching, with barely any warning. You can practically see it, about to ram into you like a freight train.

“Steve, Steve, Steve,” you attempt to get his attention to warn him but he’s already one step ahead of you, feeling your walls nearly trap him, and he snakes one hand down in between the two of you to rub your clit in tight, fast circles. “Holy fucking shit!” you scream, letting your orgasm wash over you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and back arches off the bed.

Little did you know Steve had been holding off his orgasm for a very long time (ever since he kissed you in the car he’d been trying not to cream his pants). While he works you through your orgasm, he finally gives in and lets himself go. Your walls milk him completely dry and his arms give out, causing him to fall on top of you. He was able to move at the last second so he didn’t crush your face, but he’s still a blanket on top of you.

You both lay there, panting. You feel him grow soft inside of you, though you’re on a different planet so you honestly have no idea what’s even going on. Steve finally leans up to look at you, the blissed out expression on your face and eyes closed. He knows you aren’t asleep but needs to get you ready in case you do fall asleep on him.

Slowly, he sits him and pulls himself out, hissing at the feeling. You squirm and it makes him feel bad, though he does get very distracted by the way your abused pussy looks all swollen from your multiple activities tonight.

You’re slowly gaining your consciousness back, finally coming too when you feel something scratchy wipe at your thighs. You try to squirm out of the way but Steve holds you still with his strong hands, continuing to clean you up.

Finally you open your eyes and Steve can sense you looking at him. His eyes dart up to you, a relieved smile gracing his lips, and he stands up quickly to give you a quick kiss on the lips before he crouches down again.

“Welcome back,” he says and you give him a tired smile in response. “Here, sit up for me.”

He grabs your hands to help you sit up on the bed, only leaving you for a second to grab the tshirt that was laid out next to you to help you put it on. He has already put on his boxers and sweats that he leaves here for the times he spends the nights unplanned, which happen more often than not.

“Come on, you need to get ready for bed,” he says and scoops you up effortlessly in his arms. 

You’re glad because you know your legs wouldn’t have worked even if you begged them to, so you just let him carry you. He sits you on the toilet so you pee, then helps you move around so you can brush your teeth and wash your face. It’s like he knows your own nighttime routine like the back of his hand. When you make it back to your room, you launch yourself face first onto your bed, ready to let sleep wave over you. You don’t even feel Steve get in after you, or hear him turn off the light. You just feel his strong arms wrap around you and pull you closer to him.

When you wake up, the bed is empty. The first thing that you think is that you had an insanely wet dream about your best friend that you need to forget about. But then you see his polo hanging off the top of your bookshelf and his jeans on the floor by your desk chair. All the memories of last night come flooding back to you and your cheeks heat up.

Instead of sitting in your room, stressing out over what happened, you decide to pee and then eat something so you can think everything through level headed. Only when you go to stand up, your legs nearly give out. You curse under your breath because you don’t know if your parents are awake and while you know they won’t care, you’d rather not have them think you’re grown up just yet.

You slowly make your way to the bathroom, peeing and then brushing your teeth. You look in the mirror and your hair is a mess with a mix of bedhead and everything that went on last night. You attempt to smooth down the friz but you did get your mother’s hair in the sense that it always looks messy so you give up. You tie it up just to wash your face and you’re shocked by no hickies. You swore Steve went to town marking up your neck last night but you don’t see any so you wash your face quickly, let your hair back down, and head downstairs.

Before you get to the kitchen you can already smell breakfast. You think it’s probably your dad cooking for you and your mom but when you get around the corner you see Steve turned away from you, cooking something on the stove. He’s shirtless, just wearing his sweats with a hint of his blue boxers peeking out from the top. You walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist to hug him, and you press a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“Morning,” you whisper, nuzzling your head into his back.

“Morning, doll,” he says and turns around in your hold to give you a quick peck. You aren’t fully enough to comprehend the kiss but it makes you smile nonetheless. “How’d you sleep?” 

“Okay, my legs are sore though,” you say and he gets a shit eating grin on his stupid face.

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh shut up, Harrington,” you say and turn around to get a drink.

Before he says something else, you can hear your dad whistle before he walks into the kitchen.

“Smells good in here,” he says and goes over to the coffee pot to pour two cups. “Whatcha making there, Steven?”

“Morning Jeff,” Steve says and motions to the stove. “I made bacon, some eggs, and I made pancake batter but I didn’t know what everyone liked for toppings so I was waiting.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you, Steven,” your dad says and claps him on the shoulder before taking a mug upstairs. “I’m going to attempt to wake the missus with the promise of breakfast. You two go ahead and eat, I’m sure we’ll be a minute,” he winks walking up the stairs.

“God I wonder how much she drank,” you say and pour two glasses of orange juice.

“I didn’t hear them come inside last night so they must have stayed out late,” Steve replies and slides a plate in front of you.

You look down and there are two blueberry pancakes, some scrambled eggs, and then a few pieces of bacon. Then another plate slides over next to yours only with two plain pancakes instead. 

“What is it with you and not eating flavored things?” you ask, grabbing your plate and sitting down at a stool.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he says and wipes, what you’re assuming is orange juice, off the side of your mouth with his thumb before bringing it to his mouth to clean off. You nearly fall off your chair right then and there. “I had my favorite thing to eat last night. It had a nice sweet flavor, a little silky, and oh so moist.”

Your mouth falls open at what he says and he just smirks in response before sitting down next to you.

You both eat in comfortable silence, and after you finish your pancakes you lean your head on his shoulder because you’re tired and also just want to touch him. You can finally hear some movement coming from upstairs so you know your dad got your mom out of bed.

“Good morning,” your dad calls from the stairs again and you can hear your mom tell him to shut up, her head feels like there is a drum set in there pounding.

You look behind you when you hear your parents come into the room. Your mom walks over to you, more like shuffles over, to give you a kiss on the cheek and then she collapses on the stool next to you while your dad makes her a plate of bacon and eggs to eat while he makes her a pancake.

Steve stands up to refill her coffee mug and before your mom can say thank you, something catches her eye.

“Steve, what on earth happened to your back?” she gasps and you look over at his back as well.

There are scratch marks covering the top part, and small bruises where your fingertips were gripping onto him for dear life. You nearly choke on your orange juice, coughing because you inhaled it and also because you’re so uncomfortable.

“That would’ve been Dustin Henderson,” Steve says and looks at you like you’re crazy for nearly dying due to orange juice. “We went to the pool and he thought it would be fun to play chicken. I didn’t realize he would try to water board me at the same time.”

You parents laugh at that, then your dad tells Steve to get Dustin back the next time he tries to kill him in the pool.

“Oh don’t worry sir, I’ll make sure to let him pay for what he did to my back,” Steve says and gives you a wink.

[farfromstrange]

Cavities | Matt Murdock x Reader

masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x gender neutral!Reader

Summary: based on this request by a lovely anon. You need to have your cavities taken care of. Matt offers to stay by your side.

Warnings: none (not proof read)

A/n: I hope you like it! I’ve never had any cavities and the last big procedure I had was my wisdom teeth removal, so I tried my best to write something that’s comforting enough. It’s pretty short, I think you can count it as a Drabble. I wish you all the best of luck, anon, and that everything works out!

If you take a look at the doctor profession, there are some doctors we are naturally programmed to fear. One of those being the dentist. Don’t get me wrong, you go to your mandatory appointments — albeit hesitant — get your teeth checked like any other adult and then go on your way. You’ve always been a little queasy, but it’s been tolerable so far. Until your doctor walked into the room the other day and revealed that your perfect teeth, that you have claimed to be perfectly healthy, are actually quite a little damaged.

When he came in to tell you that you had eight cavities, you almost instantly lost your mind. It would mean you’d have to get it fixed because cavities and crowns are not something you want to wait with. But it’s one of those procedures that make you want to rather die than sit in that godforsaken chair and let them drill into your mouth.

You have already searched for your passport and found your travel-sized bag in the closet of you and your boyfriend’s shared apartment. If you left the country, it surely wouldn’t kill you, right? You can’t say it hasn’t actively crossed your mind. You hate going to the dentist, especially when higher things need to be done than just the occasional check-up. Your past experiences have not left you with a good memory. And even though your dentist is the kindest doctor you can think of, you can’t bring yourself up to relax. All you can think about is how you don’t want this and you’d rather die than let your mouth be poked open and drilled into. The sounds, the feeling, everything that you connect with the experience already drives you crazy long before you’re set for your appointment.

But unlike all the times before, you’re not alone this time.

“Eight cavities,” you whine as you roll over in bed, the piece of paper that signed your demise on the living room table. “Eight cavities, Matt!” you say louder and he flinches at your voice so close and loud to his sensitive ear.

“And they want to fill four. Four, Matt! At once.”

Matt chuckles. He's already dressed in his work attire while you’re left in your pyjamas. “You’ve said that about a million times, sweetheart,” he says.

“Because it’s not fair! What did I ever do to deserve this?”

“It’s a standard procedure. It happens. Most of us will get cavities at least once in our lives. There is literally nothing to be ashamed or worry about.”

You give a dramatic sigh. “God hates me.”

“He doesn’t.” He kisses your forehead gently from where he bows over you. “I strongly believe God loves you more than anything. You’re gonna be fine. I’ll be there and hold your hand all the way through, okay? I promise you. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

“The drill is gonna hurt me,” you retort.

When you weakly told your boyfriend about the whole Dilemma, he didn’t laugh at you, although it seemed like he wanted to. Instead, he understood and he offered his help. You were more than surprised to find him so willing to hold your hand, but you agreed. You wouldn’t say no to his everlasting support. Though the closer the date comes, the more nervous you’re starting to feel, and suddenly his support seems a little less important because it still feels like they are going to kill you in that stupid dentist’s office.

You haven’t properly slept since you got the news, he knows that, but he also knows he can’t take away your fear entirely, no matter how much he wishes he could.

“They’ll numb the area,” Matt explains. “You won’t feel a thing. The pressure, maybe, but that’s normal. It’s not gonna hurt you. You’ll see, you’re gonna feel so much better after. There is nothing you can’t do, okay? You’re one of the strongest people I know.” This time, he plants his lips on yours in a living kiss that screams in his supportive nature.

You ease into his touch, allowing yourself to relax a little.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he says.

You sigh. “I love you too.”

“Good. Can I leave you alone now or are you gonna start tearing the walls down?”

“I’m okay.”

“Alright. I gotta get work, get a head start so my missing tomorrow won’t be as bad. You know, new client and all that.”

His steps disappear out of the bedroom and into the living room. As soon as he’s even just an inch from you, your mind begins to reel again.

“What if they take my teeth?”

Matt groans. “They will not take your teeth!”

“They might,” you say. “And you can’t tell if they are because you can’t see them. You’d just be like, what are they doing? Sounds weird, but I’ll allow it. And in the end I’ll wake up without my teeth.”

“They won’t take your teeth. What would they want with a whole set of teeth anyway?”

“I don’t know, sell them? Use them as prosthesis for other people without teeth?”

“Okay,” he laughs, “No one’s gonna sell your teeth. They’re important, you still need them. Dentists are not teeth thieves. And even if they were, your boyfriend’s a lawyer. I can sue them.”

“You would do that?” you say.

He pokes his head around the corner of the bedroom. “Of course, I would. You’re the love of my life. Now stop overthinking or I’ll take you with me and tie you to Foggy’s desk.”

You don’t stop overthinking, not until you walk into your dentist’s Office the Next day and the sterile smell as well as the sight of all the instruments before you almost give you a heart attack.

You turn around. “Nope, not gonna happen.” But Matt has already grabbed your shoulders and forced you to stay.

“Sit,” he instructs.

“No.”

“Sweetheart, I know it’s scary, but you’re not alone. This is not a torture chamber and you are not on death row. So sit down!” He pushes you into the chair.

You groan. “Matt, please, let’s just fake my death. I… I don’t want to do this.” Your lip quivers and your voice starts to shake. The stress is tearing away at your bones and you’re this close to getting your passport and feeling.

This close.

Matt catches the frustrated tear that slips your eye with his finger. Your arms are crossed over your chest, and your head is turned away from him and all the torturous Instruments before you.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby. After this, I promise I’m gonna cuddle you for as long as you want,” he says oh-so-sweetly. “And when you’re allowed to have ice cream again, I’ll get all your favorite flavors. We’ll have an ice cream party.”

“Even chocolate?” you ask.

“Even chocolate,” he says.

“But you hate chocolate.”

“I’d do it for you. I’d do anything for you.”

You look at the hand he is offering you, then his soft smile and the white light reflected in his red glasses. And though your limbs are shaking violently, you take his hand and he instantly pulls you close. He holds your hand with an intensity that gives you strength. The look on his face and his hand are enough to ease some of the anxiety.

The nurse compliments you at some point, “What a great boyfriend you have!” she says. You smile and nod, but it doesn’t hit the mark.

You’re still shaking by the the time they pull out the sedative.

“I don’t like this,” you murmur. “Can’t we just go?”

“It’s that or the pain,” says the nurse.

“I don’t like to be numb.”

Matt squeezes your hand. “The pain is only gonna be worse if you don’t take it,” he says. “I’m here, okay?”

You think about it, but eventually nod to give the go-ahead. Your nails dig into his skin and it must hurt, but he doesn’t say anything.

As soon as the sedative has set and you can barely feel your mouth anymore, the rest of the procedure goes smoothly. There is no doubt in your mind that without Matt, you would have gotten a heart attack.

“Bad experience with dentists?” the doctor asks halfway through the procedure when he catches sight of how tightly you’re holding your boyfriend’s hand.

You glare at him. With his pesky little fingers in your mouth, you can’t speak.

Matt jumps to your defense. “Bad is an understatement,” he says.

“Well, we’re almost done.”

You thank whatever God he believes in once the ordeal is finally over and you allow yourself to breathe again. Your tongue is flapping around funnily in your mouth and you can't feel anything, but it’s better than the pain.

“Good job,” Matt cooes into your ear. “I knew you could do it.”

You huff. “Jus’ ‘ake me home.”

“You sound even funnier than when you’re drunk.” His eyes crinkle and he giggles when he senses the murderous look in your eyes.

“‘M gonna shove my foot s’ far up your ass…”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. You’d have to reach that far first.”

You land on the bed exhausted, drained and numb. When Matt tries to leave, you grab his hand, afraid he might leave you miserable like this.

He shushes your pleas. “I’m just getting some comfortable clothes and some water for you. I’ll be right back and then I’ll cuddle you, okay?” he says. “I promised to take care of you. I’m not gonna leave you.”

And he does. He comes back with a pair of sweatpants and a shirt. He gets you dressed, fluffs your pillows and gets an extra blanket. There’s water and some snacks once you can eat again on the nightstand and his arms land around you, finally, after what feels like an eternity.

Until you’ve found a comfortable position it takes a while, but once you do and his heartbeat sounds strong in your ear, you can’t help but sigh and let the exhaustion fall off of you.

“And,” he muses, “was is it really that bad?”

“The worst,” you slur.

He chuckles, rubbing your back with his large hand. “It’s alright. Dentists are scary. But you’re okay now. You did it and you didn’t kill anyone in the process.”

You snort.

“Kidding! You really did good. I’m proud of you. And now it’s over and you don’t have to worry anymore. There is nothing you can’t conquer,” he says, “and you prove it every day, sweetheart.”

Another tear slides down your cheek and onto his shirt. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for telling the truth. I love you, sweetie.”

“Love you too, Matty.”

“C’mon, get some rest. I’ll be right here with you. And tomorrow, ice cream.”

You snuggle into his warm arms, completely disappearing as you melt like an ice cube.

“Ice cream,” you sigh in approval.

You couldn’t have asked for a better companion, let alone a better boyfriend. There is no one than can match up to Matt Murdock and the dedication he gives to the people he loves — the dedication he gives to you. And with him by your side, getting a few cavities filled feels just a little worse than it actually is.

[themattress]

I just felt like making an official "mea culpa" post for Kazushige Nojima.

For years, I have been on this man's case for the way that KH2's Scenario turned out: a good story that got placed in the creakiest, wobbliest frame imaginable, which is in stark contrast to how solidly KH1 and CoM's scenarios held together. And let's make this clear: he is not in any way blameless for the flaws in KH2's Scenario; this fact still holds true. But with that said....

He is absolutely the least at fault between him, Masaru Oka and Tetsuya Nomura.

Did he not represent Nomura's Base Story and concept the best he could have, and frequently mischaracterize Sora, Riku and Kairi? Yes. But the bigger fault here lies with Nomura being terrible at communication, something that is consistent whether it be with his own employees, his higher-ups, interviewers, and even the audience. Hell, he's admitted that even he can't keep his own shit straight in his own head! So how could Nojima realistically be expected to turn out a flawless Scenario according to Nomura's desires when Nomura's desires are so convoluted yet vaguely expressed that Nojima reasonably has no idea what the Hell he's even talking about? As I recall once bringing up before, Nomura couldn't even convey how the central threat of Xemnas manifesting Kingdom Hearts worked, so having it be a large moon in the sky ala KH1's cover art was Nojima's idea of how to make it work. Similarly, as an artist by trade who cares the most about aesthetics, Nomura doubtlessly only had Sora, Riku and Kairi described in the most basic of ways with their most surface level traits, leading Nojima to default on writing them like previous characters he's written that share those traits (Tidus, Cloud and Rinoa respectively) rather than as fully organic continuations as to who they were in KH1. And hey, at least they still felt mostly like themselves anyway due to Daisuke Watanabe being on hand to help in the Scenario construction (the part before dialogue is scripted). So I can excuse Nojima on all this.

Then there's the Disney worlds. I'm disappointed Nojima couldn't find a way to link all of the world visits' stories closer to the main plot, but the onus for this still largely lies with Oka, as he could have made all of the world visits' stories linked to the main plot to start with and he didn't. Furthermore, Nojima honestly did the best he could with the several lackluster revisits. His dialogue, character writing and battle staging honestly helped them be far more tolerable than they would have been otherwise based solely on Oka's plotting. There are some great moments in these revisits that only exist thanks to Nojima, and he deserves credit for that.

Even Nojima's three biggest blunders aren't wholly his fault. Yeah, his Cloud/Sephiroth/Tifa story arc sucked and always would have since he was just writing it to promote Advent Children than advance anything in the KH universe, but it might have been better had Nomura not edited it into being vaguer and having less input from Sora, Donald and Goofy.

Yeah, him neglecting to provide a proper reason why the world revisits happen instead of just rushing to Twilight Town to follow up on the clues Riku left behind is stupid, but Nomura clearly caught this error and instead of having it corrected through gameplay in the most obvious way - the Dreadnought fleet blocking Twilight Town off right away with no way to engage it until the Space Paranoids revisit - he put in these dumb sequences of Chip and Dale claiming Sora going around helping people in revisits makes a scan reading of the Organization's base and its connection to Twilight Town more visible even when once the main story resumes this never gets brought up and the heroes act like they're here due to Riku's clues. Nomura is the game's director, so the buck ultimately stops with him here.

And yeah, him giving so many "Telling, Not Showing" scenes, particularly at the midpoint of the game and in a way that shafts certain character arcs like Ansem the Wise's, is bad, but not only could Oka have tried to make these scenes more engaging through his event direction and he simply didn't (a problem he will continue to have across the whole series), but remember that Daisuke Watanabe and Harunori Sakemi were helping construct the rough draft of the Scenario before it became a full-on script. Why couldn't they have done something about it? So then why couldn't they have given Ansem the Wise more scenes where we get to see his change transpire? And again, Nomura is the director. He edited out a lot in the Cloud/Sephiroth/Tifa story arc. Why didn't he make the requisite edits to all the clunkily written expository scenes? Nojima screwed up because everyone allowed him to!

Lastly, the net positives he provided outweigh the negatives. The character dialogue and interactions; the intentional humor, heart and dramatic weight; the game's universe feeling like a cohesive whole; the superbly staged boss battles; and all sorts of little things like the thematic connections he weaves between all the worlds even if they aren't plot-relevant, the small moments that say so much without saying much at all like the scenes with Roxas and Sora involving the Twilight Town train, and the incredibly precise choice of words that will hit hard emotionally like "You're home" being what we close on before the credits....it's fantastic.

Thank you, Nojima-san. You were never the best...but you were never the worst, either.

[chrystalwynd]

Everybody Comes to the Black Hole

I don’t write a lot of sci-fi (or any, really. This is my first), but I like this setting and may use it again in the future. Sci-fi readers’ opinions appreciated here.

Everybody Comes to the Black Hole

words: 2700

mc mf ff md fd sci-fi

                “Mmmmmm, look at you. Why don’t you come inside for a drink?”

                She was a six-and-a-half-foot blue-haired beauty, with fingernails and toenails to match. Her breasts made all kinds of threats about bursting out of the leather corset that was straining to contain them, while the rounded cheeks of her ass moved like two bubble hovers trying to pass each other in a tight race. Her lips made promises her eyes had no intention of keeping, but her hips made promises that made the risk worth it. She was a three-dimensional wet dream.

                “Don’t go away,” pouted the blue hair bird. “I’ll miss you.”

                “I’m sure you’ll find a way to work through the pain,” I said, pulling out a vita-cig and lighting it. I blew a stream of smoke through the hologram.

                A figure moved next to me, setting off Blue Hair’s automated offer of a drink. A skinny berk stood there, looking like a rodent on the back nine of a bender. I’d known he was there even before Blue Hair told me, but he didn’t need to know that. Being a mindwire was my own business and none of his.

                “Waller,” I said. “What’s the chant?”

                “’Ello, Gar,” said the rodent, without moving his lips. A neat trick. “Tonight at the Black Hole. 2200 digital. Bring cash.”

                “Bring what?”

                “Cash, guv. Old Earth slang for money.”

                “I see. You’re a man of the stars, Waller.”

                “Shite, cutter. Just a berk trying to make enough shiny to get off this hunk of metal, savvy? Now how ‘bout providin’ some bounty, yeah?”

                “Don’t be a tentacle’s ass, Waller. Half now, half if the meetin’ goes well.”

                “I can’t be held vertical for a meeting that goes horizontal, Gar.”

                “Relax, Waller. Just blowing your airlock. Mostly, anyway. Half now, half after they show.”

                “It’s a fair pop.”

                I worked my wrist tech-band for a few seconds. Waller’s band beeped in reply.

                “There you go, Waller. Stay off the meteor dust and you’ll be off Port Kepler in no time.”

                “Shite, cutter. Dust the only t’ing makes this rig bearable.”

                I had nothing to say to that, so I nodded and Waller went on his way.

                I started up the strip of shops and services that made up Port Kepler. The creaky space port had been circling Kepler B for so long, few people even knew it’s launch year. Everybody could, however, tell you to the day how long they’d been stuck here. There were far more berks than jobs and saving money to get that off-port ticket was every port resident’s dream.

                But that was irrelevant at this moment. Tonight I was going to get something that would make my stay a little more tolerable as well.

*****

                At 2100 digital I walked into the Black Hole.

                The décor wasn’t, strictly speaking, a reflection of its name. While some sections were certainly darker than others- intentionally so- a colorfully bland motif was vaguely evident. But the effect was pale and the effort fell flat, and everybody knew the decorations were secondary to function.

                Drinks and business. Anything else was comet-tail. A wretched hive of scum and villainy, to be sure, but whatever you needed could be found here. For a price.

                I glanced around, doing a whom’s-who, then moved toward a table of figures donning brown hooded robes. The typical cutter couldn’t tell which was who, but I wasn’t a conventional.

                A hood turned in my direction. “Bright night to you, neighbor. Do you seek a higher plane?”

                “Bright night to you, brother abbot,” I said politely. The sensate monks were no one to screw with. “I seek a verbal with Brother Ivan about a previously placed order.”

                The monk stared for a moment as I waited. Sensate monks were the source of the best narcotic chems on the station, but they were so formal and conservative that they barely believed in starlight. Getting saucy with ‘em didn’t score credits, either.

                One of the monks stood, ending the suspense. I’d already known Ivan was there, but the abbot at the table didn’t need to know that.

                Ivan and I wandered away from the table, moving into one of the darker corners of the bar.

                “Bright night to you, Gar,” said Ivan. “Did my last delivery meet expectations?”

                “As advertised, my friend,” I said. “It kept me awake for 2 cycles, as you promised. I needed every minute.”

                “Marwake is a potent stimulant, neighbor, and it does so with few side effects.”

                “What side effects? I didn’t notice any.”

                “That’s because you used it as instructed,” said Ivan. “There are those who use it to stay away a week or longer. That never goes well.”

                “Oh?”

                “Hallucinations are the typical result,” he said, “typically followed by a further breakdown of faculties. For the first week, anyway. After that-“

                I held up my hand. “Apologies, brother, but I have no digital for this. My clock is short tonight.”

                “As you will, neighbor. How may I serve?”

                “Street chant suggests you have a new product I might be interested in.”

                Since he was wearing a hood, I couldn’t see his expression, but he somehow managed to convey surprise.

*****

                That business concluded, I moved further inside the Black Hole. I soon came to a table with an attractive redhead. She wore loose-fitting leather pants and a sleeveless top that showed off her muscular shoulders and arms. Attractive women sitting by themselves in the Black Hole were usually automatic targets, but not this one. Everybody knew better than to test their luck with Vette. She was a merc and believed it was better to be good than lucky. The ones trying to get lucky with Vette usually found themselves at the med-unit.

                I gave her a nod. “Evenin’, Vette. What’s the chant?”

                She lifted a glass at me. “Hey, Gar. Just walkin’ and talkin’.”

                She hadn’t thrown anything at me or suggested I self-procreate. Professional courtesy.

                Vette used her glass to indicate the empty chair at her table. I sat down.

                “I think,” she said, “that I’m going to get me some of Catamon’s thrall tonight.”

                “The new one?” I said, suddenly interested but speaking casual.

                Vette took a swallow of her drink. “Yep. No one’s tapped that yet. She’s good and Catamon’s getting cocky. Think I’m gonna get a piece of that and a stack of credits as well.”

                “Be careful,” I said. “Street chant says this one likes to leave her mark on conquests. She doesn’t just win, she embarrasses her conquests.”

                “Aww, your concern is touching. You jealous?”

                “Sure,” I said. “I’ve been there.”

                “Watch it, gonk,” she said, though without real heat. “You just got lucky with that royal flush. I’ll admit you weren’t bad, though. For a man.”

                I felt like I was tiptoeing through a minefield. “Props to you for honoring the marker. Figured you to tell me to self-procreate.”

                She took a swallow, then grinned. “Thought crossed my mind. But I ain’t javascripted that way. Word’s gotta count for something. Don’t get over yourself, though. You were good, but nothin’ to drop the ladies for.”

                Vette finished her drink, then slammed both hands on the table and stood. “All right, time to delta. Gonna bang me some thrall.”

*****

                Catamon smiled as Vette approached his table.

                He was a large man, well over six feet, with green skin so dark it was bordered on emerald. Dressed in gold and silver robes, his presence radiated beyond the table. He was covered in gold and jewels. That wasn’t what made his wealth obvious, however. The true sign of his position was the woman sitting next to him.

                Catamon was a Taur from Tau Ceti-D. An ability specific to Taurs was being able to claim and bond with Taurettes. This bond turned the Taurette into a thrall completely under the control of the Taur. By all accounts it was a very intimate, powerful, erotic state. The Taur could claim only one thrall and it wasn’t always voluntary. The Taur controlled all aspects of the thrall at that point. But the bond between them was powerful and they could amplify each other in ways that were still unknown to non-Taurs.

                Catamon looked up as Vette approached. A large bowl sat in front of him, with piles of credits stacked within. When he spoke, his voice was a deep baritone.

                “You bring honor to my table, Vette,” said Catamon, “and a certain level of erotic ability. Your last visit left my poor Wenni exhausted. She was days recovering from servicing you.”

                Vette smiled. “What can I say? I work hard, I play hard. Now how ‘bout you screamsheet the stats on your new joytoy?”

                Catamon smiled. “Were we on my world, Vette, referencing my vassal in such a matter would result in a challenge that would leave you with a collar on your neck, a true joytoy on my chain, servicing me as I wish.”

                Vette shrugged. “You mean you’d try to put a collar on me. But that’s no bones here, ‘cuz we’re not on your world. Just give me the figure so I can get busy putting your girl to work.”

                Catamon nodded. “Very well. Xarissa, stand.”

                At his words, the woman next to him stood. Thralls from Tau Ceti were typically blue or green skinned. On rare occasions, red or orange skinned vassals might be seen. On extremely rare occasions, a white albino skinned thrall might be seen, although it had been years since one was seen here on Port Kepler. In this case, however, Xarissa was a black skinned thrall.

Not just black-skinned, actually. Her skin was so black that it verged on ebony. Her stark white hair was long and hung down to her exotically rounded ebony bottom. Her impossible curves were so erotically charged that her sensuality radiated beyond the table to the surrounding patrons.

Vette took out a number of credits and dropped them in the bowl. Catamon nodded and then spoke again in that deep baritone.

“For the benefit of all observers,” he said, “what is happening is that this young lady Vette has just made a wager on her ability to overwhelm my thrall Xarissa. What will happen is this. I will open a psionic connection between them. They will then psionically battle each other. Whichever one is victorious will then have control of the loser for approximately three hours. And should Vette win, she will also receive back her bet and an equal amount from me. Meaning that if Vette is victor, she will win both money and have the use of my thrall for the next three hours. Should she lose, however, Xarissa will have control of her for the next three hours.”

Catamon turned to Vette then. “I wish you no ill, of course, but that will prove most interesting. Most recently my Xarissa has taken to piercing the nipples of her female conquests with Taurian steel.”

Ouch. Taurian steel was the diamond of metals. There was no known way of cutting through it without travelling to Tau Ceti. It was essentially a permanent piercing.

Vette nodded her understanding. Her confidence was impressive.

They faced each other across the table. Catamon said, “I’m opening the connection…

…now.”

A small crowd had gathered now. That happened often here at the Black Hole and it was usually due to games of chance. This was no different.

For long seconds, nothing seemed to happen. Vette and Xarissa stared at each other, neither blinking. Vette right eyelid flickered and there was a murmur amongst the crowd. One of Xarissa’s bare shoulders moved then, jerking up.

Sweat was breaking out on Vette’s forehead now, but she showed almost no other sign of difficulty. Xarissa appeared to be almost relaxed.

I pulled my glance away from the tension of the table and took a viddy at Catamon. Suddenly I knew what he was doing.

Vette’s face still remained calm. Too calm. And then I knew why. She had lost.

Xarissa smiled and crooked her finger at Vette. Vette walked around the table and stood in front of the collared Xarissa.

“Be a good girl,” said Xarissa in a throaty voice, “and take off your top.”

And just like that, Vette was topless at the Black Hole.

Xarissa began kissing Vette then, running her hands over Vette’s body as if she owned it. And she did. And when she pushed Vette to her knees and told the redhead to lick her pussy, the crowd cheered.

I could have intervened sooner, most like, but I opted not to. I wanted Xarissa hot for the next act, so I chose to let the scene play out. Besides, while Vette may have preferred the top position, being the down for an exotic beauty like Xarissa wasn’t the worst thing.

The crowd had cheered itself hoarse by the time Xarissa lifted the enthralled Vette to her feet, using only her finger under the redhead’s chin. Vette’s nipples were rigid at this point and I suddenly intuited what was about to happen. The thrall was about to pierce Vette’s nipples.

“Before you go that route,” I said, “perhaps we could have a bit of verbal?”

Catamon rumbled. “You’ll verbal with me, Gar, and none other.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “This is such a fine digital that I’m inspired to throw my helmet in the quad. Before you let your joytoy javascript Vette’s nipples for perm, perhaps we could match first? I’ll put up double the funds with the conditional that if I win, Vette will be spliced to me as well for the remainder of her clock. Savvy?”

Catamon bristled at my use of ‘joytoy’, as I’d hoped. He should have known better.

“So if you’re victorious over Xarissa, you will have both she and Vette?”

“Affirmative,” I nodded.

“And if Xarissa wins, she will have both you and Vette simultaneously?”

“Also affirmative.”

“Very well,” said Catamon. “I agree to your wager. Place the credits in the bowl.”

I did so, then turned around to face Xarissa. To my surprise, her eyes were already locked on mine.

“When I defeat you, Gar, I want you to know one thing,” she said. “I will continue to use Vette’s body for my pleasure. You, on the other hand, will be pleasing Catamon. You will be pleasing him in every way you can. And after marking Vette as my conquest, you too will be marked.”

I smiled. “I guess that gives me something to look forward to, doesn’t it? Shall we begin?”

Catamon didn’t even give me a chance to get ready. He immediately opened the psi-link between us.

I nearly blinked. The sudden intensity of Xarissa’s psionic pressure against my mind caught me by surprise. Had this been a typical match, I might have lost it right then.

The problem for Catamon and Xarissa, however, was that this wasn’t a typical match and I wasn’t strictly playing by the rules. But I was fine with that, because neither were they.

I had realized that Catamon was using his psychic connection with Xarissa to boost his thrall whenever she got in trouble. So Vette hadn’t been just battling Xarissa. She’d been battling Catamon as well. And it’d worked for them, which was why Vette was standing there, her eyes glazed, Xarissa’s juices on her cheeks and chin.

Vette wasn’t javascripted to cheat. I, on the other hand, had no such reservations, as the willpower chem in my system- the one I’d acquired from Brother Ivan earlier- attested. And with my psionic willpower boosted, not only was I able to circumvent Xarissa’s defenses instantly, I was able to follow the psionic link from Xarissa’s brainpan to Catamon’s, catching them both almost simultaneously.

Catamon and Xarissa were finding out what happens when one attempts to take on a jacked-up mindwire in a psionic knife fight.

So was Vette, but I was pretty sure she wouldn’t mind.

The crowd around Catamon’s table was murmuring now, beginning to realize what had just happened. My street cred had amplified without losing clock. A profitable night. And looking at Xarissa and Vette, a fun night. At least for the next three hours.

A fun night for me. A typical night for the Black Hole.

END

[imagineanime2022]

Spiders

Chuya Nakahara X Fem!Reader Osamu Dazai X Platonic!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2045

Request: Anon

Request: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Dazai had asked you to come along with him and Chuya on a mission, you had a higher tolerance for pain and poison which would come in handy with the target who could use spiders to do whatever she wanted. Dazai had informed you that he had managed to trick her into going to harbour to meet him but he hadn’t told her that you or Chuya would be there.

Warning: Injury, Violence

You all walked towards the meeting place, you could see that she was already there. “This was a trick?” The target asked as you looked at all three of you.

“Look, just come with us and answer some questions and then you can go, that’s all we need from you.” Dazai explained and you looked at her and waited for her to make her next move. “Come on, there's three of us and one of you, there’s no way you can win this fight.” Chuya said and he she looked at you before surrendering. “Fine.” She lifted her hands and you walked over grabbing her, you were in the process of putting cable ties around her wrist when Chuya spoke up. “Dazai there is a spider on your cheek.” He said, Dazai lifted his hand smacking away the spider at the same time that you felt a stinging pain in your hand, you snatched your hand away from the target seeing the spider and smacking it off of you as you stumbled back towards Dazai and Chuya noticing the spiders starting to surround you. “You’ll make good food for my children.” She smirked and cut off the cable tie that you had put on one of her wrists. “Well if you could leave the more painful death for her that wou;d satisfy both our needs.” Dazai said as you nodded along with his sentence. “This is no time for messing around.” Chuya scolded both of you. You and Dazai created a barrier between Chuya and the spiders as he pulled out his lighter and started burning the spiders that got too close, you used ability to create an even tougher shield as you used your own lighter to help get rid of the spiders, your attention drawn to the target as she screamed in anger. “How dare you hurt my children!?” She asked as you looked at her, you grabbed Dazai before he could get too far away from you and ran straight towards her. “(Y/N) stop, she looks like she has another ability.” Dazai said and it was then that you realised that she had turned herself into a spider, an army of smaller ones around her, your mouth fell open in shock as you stepped back, you heard a noise of surprise from Chuya. “Run!” You turned back to Chuya, ran over grabbing him and getting as far away as you could.

You found a small alleyway to hide in for a moment to catch your breath “Are you two okay?” Chuya asked. “Yeah I’m fine.” Dazai answered. “I’ll be fine, just a little bite.” You answered as Dazai handed each of you an anti venom gesturing for both of you to drink. “You two should get out of here, this is far more dangerous than I first thought.” Dazai said. “Does she know that we are from the port mafia?” Chuya asked. “She does.” Dazai answered with a nod. “So if we leave now, she’ll just attack the base?” Chuya asked. “Likely.” Dazai nodded. “So how do we fix this?” Chuya asked. “We don’t.” Dazai answered. “Dazai.” Chuya glared at him “we have to stop her, there’s no point in going back if she is just going to follow us.” “She’s powerful so if you want to beat her we’ll have to use something just as powerful.” He explained and you looked at him and then at Dazai, you knew what he was talking about and you weren’t sure that you wanted that. “Do you want to use corruption? You know when you use it that you have no control.” “Protect the idiot.” Chuya said to you as he stood up pulling his gloves off the red marks spreading across his arms “Oh, Grantors of Dark Disgrace, Do Not Wake me again.” You stepped in front of the Dazai shielding him as you watching Chuya moved quickly, the target ordered her smaller spiders to attack, Chuya easily crushed them pulling a rock and some iron rods from a construction site nearby to attack her, she cut them in half and he landed on one of them, crouching as he watched her, she shot a web at him he dodged him easily moving out of the way landing on another roc ,she used poison next and the scream that ripped from Chuya would have scared you if you were fighting hi , he wasted no time in using a black hold to tear the woman apart, the next thing that you heard was the laughter from Chuya. “The others will be here in 4 hours.” Dazai said as you looked at him and nodded. “Will you both be okay?” You asked. “I’ll be fine but Chuya’s body might not hold up that long.” Dazai answered. “I should have protected both of you.” You said but before you could get too far down that train of thought there was a loud sound of Dazai’s hand connecting with your cheek. “You’ve done the best that you could, now we have to do our best to help him.” Dazai explained and you nodded, as you saw a web connect with Chuya’s leg and he was thrown into the water, he flew back up and the target webbed him to the floor and called her spiders to attack him, he used his black holes to kill them all and she screamed again this time throwing poison at him, he dodged it easily and started throwing rocks one of them almost hitting Dazai, you activated your ability to shield Dazai from the falling rocks. “We have to get behind him otherwise we’re going to get caught in his attacks.” Chuya flung the target into the air adding pressure as she tried to push back the webs protecting her from the attack but Chuys used some canisters from the floor crushing her completely and killing her. Chuya continued to laugh and through attacks at random, you were both close to him and he looked over at you before turning his attacks on you, you protected Dazai who you vaguely heard ordering you to move, you didn’t listen instead dodging attacks and shielding others. Chuya’s attention turned to you as Dazai moved behind him, he reached out to touch him but he didn’t actually make contact, Chuya dodged away from him before throwing the iron at you, you groaned as you sat up feeling the blood run down your head. “I have a plan. You have to fight him, I’ll circle around and nullify him. Can you do that?” “Yeah.” You nodded standing and activating your ability, Chuya’s eyes were drawn to you as he threw black holes and gravity spheres in your direction, you jumped to try and get yourself level with Chuya who threw you away, he used his ability to push your body to the ground the pressure on your arm causing one of them to break, you tense at the pain that coursed through you, the pressure on your body caused you to cough up blood. You rolled over as he let up a little, you threw a smoke bomb, he let out a confused grunt and you shot forward, he grabbed your around the neck easily his tight grip causing you to struggle to get a breath in he lifted you throwing you towards the half constructed building behind you, you activated your ability as you it fell around you.

Dazai snuck up behind Chuya reaching out and nullifying his ability, he caught his body slipping the gloves on as Chuya came back around “are you hurt?” Chuya asked as he noticed the blood on Dazai’s head. “I’m fine.” He answered as he tried to keep his gaze away from you on the floor. “Where is (Y/N)?” He asked as he looked around eyes landing on you, you were on the floor blood pooling in your mouth arm broken and body battered, he started to panic as he made his way over to you, Chuya moved over to you and gently turned your face so that the blood pooling in your mouth could flow freely out and stop you from choking “(Y/N) can you hear me?” There was no answer. “This is my fault I shouldn’t have hurt you.” “You two are so similar, you both blame yourself when the people you care about get hurt.” Dazai explained. “You should get some rest before we have to go back.” Chuya wanted to argue but he passed out before he could, Dazai was left to carry you both back, handing you off to your respective executive and explaining everything that had happened before handing the venom to Mori and leaving. “Can I see her once she’s treated?” Dazai asked. “Unlikely.” Mori answered, Dazai left without saying another word.

2 months later Chuya found himself in a bed next to you, you still seemed to be unconscious but you had been patched up, casts and bandages covered your body. Now that he was on his own he had time to be angry at himself for hurting you, he was supposed to love you and care for you but he was the one who had put you there. He wanted to say something but Koyo walked in. “You're awake.” She smiled. “How is she?” Chuya asked. “She's comfortable, they’ve given her some strong medication, they’ve been keeping a close eye on her but her concussion hasn’t gotten any worse and her bones are stabilised now, she just needs time to heal.” Koyo explained. “You know she’ll be just fine, and she’d do it again without even thinking about it because it saved you. You just have to be here when she wakes up” “Right.” He nodded. Chuya spent the rest of his time laying with you holding your hand and talking to you, he wanted you to know that he was there and waiting for you to come back, he fell asleep again only waking when he felt you move you hand against his, he called the nurse that walked past to check on you. By the time that she had walked in you had opened your eyes, there were a number of checks that were carried out to check your cognitive function before you were given the all clear and told to be careful with you moving due to the broken bones that you still had. “I’m sorry that I hurt you, I’m a monster, you shouldn’t be with me.” “You're not a monster, you know the fact that you are even sorry for what happened is enough to make you as human as anyone else.” You explained “I should have been the one protecting you and Dazai I’m weak.” “You are nowhere near weak, you are the strongest person that I’ve ever met, after everything that you’ve been through where most would have given up your still here.” He reminded you he leaned over pressing a kiss to your forehead as the door slammed open loudly and he groaned. Dazai, Oda and Ango stood at the door, it seemed as if they were coming over to visit. “I’m here to rescue you from this boring room!” Dazai said dramatically. “She can’t move her body yet!” Chuya scolded him and Dazai smirked as he wheeled over the wheelchair. “That’s what this is for.” He cheered. “Maybe you should rest more before you do this.” Ango tried to escalate the situation but you had already haphazardly placed yourself in the chair. “To adventure!” Dazai yelled as Oda turned to follow them, Ango and Chuya calling out objections but everything stopped as the nurse appeared at the door scolding all of you for being too loud and ordering all of you to stop. Chuya and Ango mumbling out apologies while you and Dazai giggled to yourselves.

Request Here!!

[the-heaminator]

22 for the Isa prompt- canukr with Alfred interrupting them? 🤭

A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party

Alfred bro let your brother vibe pls, just bc you cant get laid easily due to your bf being more repressed than thou dont mean you have to interrupt him. Quite short but I think I got the point across

The party was like how all parties between them went, many were drunk, and a good proportion was high, where these illicit substances had come from could be a few culprits, all of which were in either a different dimension or a different room to ah, protect their privacy if you would, not that most of them would mind doing it out in the open, more to save the eyes of anyone not blacked out enough to forget it.

There was a lot of food, a lot of terribly off-key singing, and sloppy dancing ranging from misstepped waltzes to what really just looked like slow dancing as they hugged (this was with Spain and Austria by the way should you wish to question it) and whatever the fuck the Kirkland brothers were doing before them and a few others were told to get a room or multiple rooms, looked a bit like a foxtrot though it could've conceivably been anything at this point.

Anyways, Matthew was a lil tipsy, and that was not an overstatement, he had managed to successfully pace himself so right about now he was unlikely to do much stupid, Katya, Yekaterina his beautiful girlfriend, was currently doing shots, and she was doing it well, she had managed to drink Jack under the table, not all that difficult to be fair, but she could still easily co-ordinate herself, and so she went onto Czechia, this would be far far harder, in his experience old-timey Europeans had absurdly high alcohol tolerance, which only got higher as you entered the east, but she managed to win too, all in a good game, they were both incredibly tipsy, and Czchia forfeited only at the concerned and vaguely motherly prodding of Slovakia who really did not want to carry his ex-wife home with her face in a bucket again, they had a wobbly arm wrestle to finish, which understandably Ukraine won, though Czechia put up far more of a fight than anyone else usually does, she got beat, but god naturedly, and wobled off leaning heavily on Slovakia, not like she would say that but like, everyone knew despite being legally divorced they were still very much a couple.

Katya was drunk, she could still stand of course, but was certainly a lot less stable than she normally was, and ended up leaning on Matthew for quite a whole, before he was eventually coaxed into the kitchen for some water, to hydrate her and help her sober up, not really an option anymore but I appreciate the attempt Matthew, when tipsy he was a tad less repressed, as all his family was.

Well Katya was certainly feeling loving right now, and as the two were alone in the kitchen she had an idea, or more so she had the idea for a rather long time beforehand, just now was the perfect time to execute it.

It may not look it to first glance but Katya was strong, quite strong, and strong enough to pin Matthew to one of the cabinets quite resolutely, he squeaked like a dog toy before he was silenced by a kiss planted firmly on his lips, a rather interesting sound came from the both of them, and since Matthew was leaning back now, and Katya was pretty tall meaning that she barely had to stretch either, ok that was a lie, Matthew was a bit too tall for that, but it certainly wasn't as much as usual, and she was wearing heels, well she was, where they went was a bit of a mystery, they'd turn up in the morning, but right now all Matthew's and indeed Katya's brain was fixated upon was each other, she had started to glide her hands over Matthew's soft body, he had his long fingers on her shoulders as she squished into him more, they were both in heaven, an alcohol gazed heaven but one nonetheless.

That being said they werent far gone enough yet to not hear the door open, Alfred went to go check on them, they'd been in there a while, and Zee had come along, to get bread for Jack who was getting incredibly close to the type of drunk that gets him stuck up a tree mostly naked with a goat a snake and half a potato (raw), bread usually helped sober him up just a bit, the door opened and their modesty compromised, Alfred gasped like a religious aunt finding one of the nephews seeing meat before marriage, Zee wolf whistled, she was also a little tipsy and I mean everyone knew that Matt was a hoe, this shouldn't have been a big deal, Alfred was just being weird about it.

Katya close enough to snarled and grabbed Matthew hard and glared at the two in the doorway, Alfred hightailed ot outta there while Zee, who did know how to deal with drunk old-worlders pretty well, raised both her hands, where she could see them, got the bread, and left, Matthew's face was absolutely covered in smooch marks and he looked absolutely flustered that what he could consider an adoptive sister was seeing him, ah, getting it down, and worse being that she was incredibly chill about it, left with her bread, and told them to get a room, before leaving and closing the door like nothing had happened.

Ahem, lets just say that it escalated quite a bit, no one else interrupted them, and Matthew came out of that kitchen a different man than he went in, they did indeed get a room after they were done, but to do nothing else but sleep, cuddled up to each other, that counter had to be cleaned thoroughly numerous times by Alfred before he ever put food on it again, that image would not leave his mind. As for Zee's endeavours, Jack still got stuck up a tree with a goat but he was mostly clothed and neither the snake nor half the potato was up there, so a bit of an improvement if anything.

[jjamjamm]

Confessions

Masterlist

Wordcount: 1995

Summary: "Fili w/ quotes: 30. “It sounds plausible enough tonight, but wait until tomorrow. Wait for the common sense of the morning.” - H.G. Wells, The Time Machine 39. “After all, tomorrow is another day!” - Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind 49. “I can’t go back to yesterday because I was a different person then.” - Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland Feat. Miscommunication, confessions, nearly missed chances (and more than a little bit of wine)" I want to say this was from a Fizzy writing event.

The mountain was filled with roaring laughter, off-tune song, and slurred story telling as the night wore on. To celebrate the new treaty between the elves and the dwarves, Thranduil had sent enough wine to quench the thirst of the entire mountain, for quite some time. Or, so he had thought. What he had anticipated to last a good few months, would surely be gone before the week was up. At least, with the way everyone was putting it back.

You had hardly anticipated the wine to be so potent, and at the end of the night, though you felt alright sitting, you were a bit wobbly on your feet.

You braced yourself against the bar for a moment, trying to get your bearings, before one of your close friends approached you.

“Need a hand?” He offered, the wine had had a gentler affect on him, with his higher tolerance- dwarrow were far more impressive in regards to what they could stomach, and Fili was no exception.

After a moment, you accepted his help, and he told the others he’d be bringing you back to your room.

“Good on you lad,” Bofur slurred, well further into the stash than some of the others, “‘s about time you two got together.”

He got elbowed in the ribs to quiet him down, and your escort shook his head before bringing you to the hall.

You noticed he was a bit unsteady on his feet as well, but what amazed you the most was how level headed you still felt. Normally, you hadn’t the ability to keep your mouth shut, but tonight, you were doing marvelously.

You might have been a bit overconfident in your ability to keep your thoughts to yourself, as you let your mind wander to the blond beside you. He really was handsome, you had noticed that straightaway- but why did he look so amused?

“A couple glasses of wine really loosens that tongue of yours, eh?” He asked, teasing you just a bit, “Can’t say I’m not flattered.”

“You heard that?” You asked, realizing you may not have kept your thoughts completely to yourself after all. Oh boy.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He beamed as he assured you, “In fact, you can continue, if you’d like. I certainly don’t mind hearing it.”

You shook your head, trying to maintain some level of reason, “If I start talking, I’ll start telling you things you don’t need to know.”

“You can tell me things.” He promised, keeping an eye on you as the two of you started up the stairs, “Here, watch your step now.”

“Oh no you don’t.” You told him, focusing on the stairs, “You just want to see me make an ass of myself.”

He laughed at that, though assured you it wasn’t true, “I’ve just missed you, there’s been so much to get done.”

Your heart fluttered at his confession, “I’ve missed you too.”

By then, you had reached the top of the staircase, and continued along, in silence for a moment.

“You know, railings might be a good investment.” You pointed out, “Tell your uncle that could be his next big project.”

“I will.” He said, before switching the topic, “How have you been? I don’t think I’ve seen you for… What? Nearly two weeks now?”

“Twelve days.” You corrected, having made note of the time. You had stayed in the mountain for a chance to get even closer with him, but now you hardly ever saw him.

“What was that?” He asked, and you realized you must have said more aloud than you had intended.

“Twelve days.” You repeated, feeling your face heat up, and hoping you could blame it on the drink.

“It felt like longer.” He admitted. Had you been more levelheaded, you would’ve made note of his tone- he must’ve heard your earlier comment, but you didn’t pick up on it in your current state.

When you made it back to your room, you almost wished the walk was longer. Soon enough he’d be gone for another two weeks, leaving you to reconsider your choice to stay.

He brought you inside, and you took a seat on the edge of your bed, before looking up at him. What you would do for a chance to let him know how you felt. Now was hardly the right time, you’d be so much less eloquent than you wanted to be. You didn’t want him thinking the wine was the reason you cared so much for him.

He smiled your way, and took your coat, hanging it over the edge of the bed as you kicked your shoes off.

“I’ve really missed you Y/N.” He repeated, brushing your hair behind your ear. You had missed the significance of the action in your current state, and didn’t realize that you had rested your cheek against his hand, before he removed it and sat beside you.

You had fallen head over heels for Fili, and now he was being so considerate and helpful, it really wasn’t helping your case. If you were courting, or even married, then you could’ve leaned over and kissed the living daylights out of him. He was sitting within reach after all…

“We should get married.” You recognized your voice, but wondered where the hell that had come from. Who had authorized you to say such a bold thing, and to a prince of all people? Thanks to the wine, you thought little of it, and just waited for a reaction from him.

He rested his hand on yours for a moment, before patting it gently. He was avoiding your gaze, and you couldn’t quite read his expression, “You don’t really mean that. Let’s get you to bed.”

“I do.” You swore, “I should’ve told you a long time ago, but I never had the guts.”

He locked eyes with you for a moment, looking hopeful that there was a chance for you both. Instead, he just shook his head, moving to busy himself by turning down the sheets for you, “It seems plausible tonight, but wait until tomorrow. Wait for the common sense of the morning.”

You felt a surge of hope when he had begun, but realized quickly that he was turning you down.

“After all, tomorrow’s another day.” He said, forcing a smile as he looked your way, “Come on now, get some rest.”

Oh, couldn’t help but feel that you had undoubtedly made a terrible fool of yourself, “Fili, I-”

He silenced you as he kissed the top of your head, “When the wine has run its course, we’ll talk again.”

You felt completely and utterly rejected as he left. You climbed into bed, and tried not to feel devastated, but the one who you cared the most for had just declined your affections. All you could hope for, was that you wouldn’t remember come morning.

Fili never returned to the others, instead going off to his own room as well. He was kicking himself for how he handled the situation, he had wanted to let you know how much he cared for you for some time now, but you had built up the courage before him. The worst part was, he hadn’t known how to react to it, and made a mess out of what should’ve been a wonderful night.

He tried to fall asleep, but kept revisiting the conversation, and how your face had fallen when he tried to talk some sense into you. He should’ve handled it better.

After a particularly restless night for the two of you, the wine had left you with a pounding headache. It took most of the morning to clear out, and partway into the afternoon you were finally able to leave your room and get some food.

As you made your way through the halls, you recalled the night before, and suddenly found yourself without an appetite.

“Y/N.” Kili called, catching your attention. His demeanor changed when he saw your expression, “What happened? You looked so happy last night.”

“I can’t go back to yesterday because I was a different person then.” You told him. Now that you knew Fili didn’t feel the same, you had no reason to stay in Erebor, you had to go start packing. Though, if Kili was already here, you may as well say your goodbyes, “I’m going to miss you.”

He rose an eyebrow, and as you pulled him into a hug, he patted your back a couple of times, “Why? Are you going somewhere?”

“I’ll probably go to Dale first, figure the rest out from there.” You admitted, pulling back from him, “Maybe I’ll go visit Bilbo.”

“Bilbo? What did Fili do last night?” Kili asked, sounding genuinely worried, “He said something stupid didn’t he?”

“No, Kili, we just want different things.” You said, before admitting, “He doesn’t care for me the same way I do for him.”

Kili was at a loss for words, his brother had droned on and on about his feelings towards you, how he could’ve messed it all up in one night was beyond comprehension.

He tried to convince you to stay, but you wouldn’t listen, and went back to your room. Kili, on the other hand, broke into a sprint to try and catch his brother.

When you were back in your room, you realized you didn’t need very long at all to pack, and decided to wash up first. After you scrubbed yourself clean of any nonsense, you dressed and put your pack together.

You jumped as your door suddenly burst open, to reveal a breathless Fili.

“What are you doing-?” You began to ask, releasing the buckle you were about to clasp shut as he interrupted you.

“You can’t go.” He pleaded, “I’ve be an ass, I know, but please, don’t go.”

You shook your head, not even a little bit sure about the mixed messages he was giving you, “We’re obviously on very different pages here. If you can’t see a future with me, then I have nothing keeping me here.”

“You’re the only one I see a future with.” He said, stepping up to you, “I apologize if I made you think otherwise, but Y/N, I love you.”

You had wanted to hear him say that for so long, but in the back of your mind, you were still worried, “It didn’t seem that way last night.”

“Last night I was a fool.” He said, taking your hand in his, “I was afraid that it was only the wine speaking, and you didn’t truly feel the same. I thought if you still loved me today, then I could tell you.”

“I’ve loved you for months now.” You told him, “If that’s not enough…”

“It is, you are.” He swore, “I was just too blind to see.”

You were skeptical of his sudden change of heart, but decided to give him a chance to defend himself, “You really think I should stay?”

“Yes! Absolutely.” He said, “Y/N please, you mean too much to me for me to just let you leave.”

“If I did stay,” you said hesitantly, not wanting to get your hopes up just yet, “What would we be? I’m not going to stay and be a friend, just to watch you marry some other girl.”

“Never.” He promised, as he cupped your face in his hands. He moved without hesitation, no longer afraid that you may not feel the same, as he pressed his lips to yours. You moved just as quickly, gripping the fabric of his tunic as you savored the moment you had been waiting so long for.

He pulled back for a split second, before pressing short quick kisses to your lips, “I am such a fool.”

“You can be, it’s alright though.” You teased him, “We could’ve been together months ago.”

“The greatest mistake I’ve ever made.” He swore, moving one hand to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss.