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emo-batboy · 6 months

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Battinson Guest Starring on TV Shows

For someone who holds the title of Richest Man in the World, Bruce doesn’t do a lot of traveling.

Which is to say he does a LOT of traveling, but he always tries to find a way out of it.

(Are there bat-related reasons for this? Are there people-related reasons for this? Are there anxiety-related reasons for this? Who knows?)

But partners and sponsors aren’t always going to tolerate his hermit-like tendencies. So once every month or so, Alfred wrangles Bruce into a private jet and sends him off to who knows where so he can represent the company.

Usually, it’s somewhere close on the East Coast, maybe it’s across the pond, even Asia isn’t off the table, but the rarest place to spot Bruce Wayne is actually the West Coast of the US.

One day, it is announced that Bruce Wayne will be spending two (count ‘em, 2) consecutive weeks in California with his kids for some grand business convention.

The West Coast media goes feral with the news, ESPECIALLY interviewers. And because Bruce kicks up such a fuss this time, Alfred has the gall to sign him up for FOUR TV appearances.

Here are these appearances :)

RuPaul’s Drag Race

Drag Queens, especially Drag Race all-stars, contribute to a wide variety of charities

So on a new episode, the queens are challenged to design and shoot a promotional ad for their own charity

And who better to act as a guest judge for this episode than the show’s largest benefactor, CEO of the Wayne Foundation, Bruce Wayne?!

Physically? He’s older than half of the contestants. But spiritually? He screams Baby Gay.

Fifteen minutes into the episode, Bruce is welcomed into the werkroom where he gives them pointers on their campaign. He’s in his cute little three-piece suit (Alfred’s idea) with the intention of looking put-together and knowledgeable. But that’s not the only outcome.

They all flirt with him. Everyone, single or taken. The confessionals are so thirsty.

“He’s lucky the cameras are on. Otherwise, I’d eat him up faster than a bachelorette party in a buffet line.”

“My celebrity crush is talking to me, and all I can focus on are his gorgeous eyes. How am I supposed to know what he's saying?”

Of course, they shoot their shot, but most of it is joking since they don't know he's bi yet.

“Are you single, honey?” Bruce blushes. “It’s complicated.” “Well, I’ll make it simple for you.”

We all know this man can't handle being flirted with. We saw how he froze when Selina did it. It’s like he mentally bluescreens when someone calls him a pet name.

Only THEN do they learn he's bi

One of the queens jokingly asks him, “Ever been with a man before?” thinking it would be a firm no, but Bruce says, “Actually, yes.” “Oh shit, really?” And to Bruce’s embarrassment, the whole room hears him.

The flirting is thus taken up a notch.

On the main stage, Bruce has a lot of great constructive criticism. He talks about how to find the right audience, the importance of a good slogan, and even goes on a little rant about logo design.

(You cannot convince me that Bruce hasn’t hyperfixated on the business of charity work before. Or the science of marketing. They’re his favorite business topics.)

After about three minutes of him complimenting one contestant for their Drag Library pitch, he stops himself mid-sentence and says, “Oh sorry, am I talking too much?” “No, please! Keep talking, sweetheart.” Bruce covers his face to hide his blush. “Why is everyone flirting with me?” “Baby, have you seen yourself?”

While the judges deliberate, RuPaul mentions Charisma, Uniqueness, Nerve, and Talent. Bruce nods along for a while then suddenly just blurts out, “Wait, does it spell ****?”

The judges pause then burst out laughing. “Oh no, we’ve traumatized him!" Bruce is blushing up a storm. “I just never thought about it like that!” “Sweet, innocent Bruce. We’re so sorry.”

It’s later revealed that Bruce offered to help some of the queens launch their charity projects through the Wayne Foundation.

It’s v cute 🥰

Nailed It!

I love Nicole Byer.

She is Mother.

In all seriousness, she’s so fucking funny and she’s personable enough to pull Bruce out of his shell a bit.

The theme for this episode is Found Family. Three pairs of family members compete together—a gay father and his adopted son, an aunt who adopted her niece, and a stepfather and stepdaughter.

Because Bruce Wayne famously adopted two children, he is invited to guest judge.

So Nicole opens the episode with a zinger, the contestants are introduced, and Bruce is welcomed onto the judge’s panel beside Nicole and Jacques.

(Yes, Bruce does speak French. Yes, Nicole makes a joke about it being hot.)

Nicole: “We were surprised you accepted our invitation, Mr. Wayne. You’re notorious for staying on the East Coast. What brought you to the Nailed It! Studio?” Bruce: “My children love this show. They always tell me I should be on it since I’m so bad at baking.” Nicole: “Really? Maybe we should do a celebrity season of Nailed It! and have you compete.” Bruce: “No, you should not.”

Nicole: “So, Bruce, I know you have a butler at home who bakes for you. But what’s the grossest thing you’ve eaten? Escargot? Bad caviar?” Bruce: “I drank olive oil straight from the bottle once.” Nicole: “…What?”

The problem for Bruce is he can’t say anything bad. It just feels mean :(

(And he would rather jump into oncoming traffic than gamble with a social interaction)

For the first challenge, the contestants make cake pops. But when Bruce tries the first one, there is a sickening crunch. Bruce’s eyes widen for a second and he slowly chews.

Nicole: “What was that? Bruce, are you okay?” Bruce, clearly struggling: “It’s…good.”

“Bruce, you can spit it out. It’s okay.” “I already swallowed it.” “Oh, you poor thing.” Bruce chokes for a second, and Nicole pats his back. “Please don’t die. We can’t afford it.”

For the big challenge, production has a surprise in store for Bruce.

Dick (9) and Jason (7) run onto the set and smother Bruce with a hug.

It’s adorable. Bruce no longer cares about paying attention, okay? His kids are here :D

The two boys read from cue cards to announce the second challenge: a three-tiered Gotcha Day cake. And as per tradition, the winner of the first challenge gets a leg-up.

This time, it’s a Helping Hands Button. When they hit the button, Dick and Jason will run over and help them for three minutes. (While being supervised, of course.)

As the contestants bake, Nicole says hello to Dick and Jason, who are clambering all over Bruce like a jungle gym. They both shake her hand and talk about how they love the show.

Nicole looks pointedly at the two empty chairs beside Bruce. “You know, we brought these chairs for you two to sit in.” Dick, on Bruce’s shoulders: “We’re fine, Ms. Byer!” Nicole: “Ms. Byer? Oh, you’re a cutie, aren’t you?”

Just ten minutes before the challenge is over, the Helping Hands button is pressed, and Dick and Jason are given stools so they can help the aunt and niece stack their cake tiers.

Two minutes in, the aunt instructs them to let go of the cake. But the moment Jason pulls his hands away, the cake topples over and covers him in frosting. Jason, whispering: “Oh f*ck.” Bruce: “Jason!” Jason: “I didn’t say that! Dick did!” Nicole: *cackling as Bruce buried his face in his hands*

Jason gets cleaned up, and Dick helps them stack what can still be salvaged.

When Wes brings out the trophy, he’s dressed as Batman. Dick and Jason gets a kick out of that.

Celebrity Family Feud

Bruce was invited to the show after his SNL skit went viral a few months ago

This episode, the teams are split up by cities they grew up in. Gotham v. Star City. Naturally, his team is playing for the Wayne Foundation.

It’s a pretty odd cast of people, most of them having moved to LA or Hollywood. Bruce is the only one to still live in Gotham.

They have fun, though, despite their limited common ground. The audience has a few good laughs.

(Some at Bruce's expense)

Harvey: You're a very wealthy man, Mr. Wayne. What do you really do in that tower all day? Bruce: I, uh…business? Harvey: …You business. Bruce: ……Wait-

All in good fun. Bruce just vibes in his little corner until he needs to answer a question. It's pretty chill.

For exactly half of the episode.

Then it happens.

Steve Harvey takes two people from each team up to the buzzer and says, “We asked 100 people: Name something your parents always told you as a kid.”

What the production failed to consider is how this particular question might be a sensitive topic for some contestants.

Bruce’s team gets the question, and Steve saunters up to Bruce, completely oblivious.

“Alright, Bruce Wayne!” Bruce nods awkwardly. “Hi, Steve.” “Bruce, what’s wrong? You’re looking a bit uncomfortable.” “…I don’t like this question, Steve.” “Why not?” Bruce just gives him a desperate look, and it clicks. “Oh! Oh my gosh!”

Let’s be real. Bruce is awkward enough, but Steve Harvey cannot save an awkward moment for his life either.

But he tries his best anyway and asks, “Are you okay with answering this question, or would you like to pass?” Bruce nods frantically. “I can answer. ‘I love you.’” “I love you too, Mr. Wayne.” “No, uh, my answer is ‘I love you.’” “Oh! That’s a good one.”

Thankfully, the audience erupts in laughter. That little interaction cuts the tension, and Bruce’s answer ends up on the board.

And by god, the memes

“I love you too, Mr. Wayne” is the new “Enjoy your meal.” “You too.”

The audio clip of “I don’t like this question, Steve” goes viral on TikTok

Someone gets a pic of Bruce and Steve looking at each other with palpable fear in their eyes, and it makes its rounds all over Twitter

10/10 never again

Running Wild with Bear Grylls

Now this is the most challenging. Not because it’s difficult, of course. But because Bruce has to look stupid enough to maintain his Brucie Wayne persona but smart enough to keep himself safe.

For this episode, Bear takes Bruce to the California desert.

“How much do you know about survival, Bruce?” Bear asks. Bruce nods carefully. “I did some survival training once with a friend from boarding school.” “Oh really, how did you do?” “Fine, I think.”

This is, of course, his way of saying I trained with a league of assassins for years, but Bear can’t know that! And that’s how most of the episode goes.

Thank god Bruce's fear of being caught is mistaken for being scared of the physical challenge because every time Bear points out how well he’s doing, he breaks into a sweat.

Bear: For a businessman, you’re surprisingly fit. Bruce, sweating bullets: Oh, this is all just for show.

Bear: Wow, you’re a natural. Are you sure you’ve never set up a zip-line before? Bruce, gripping his equipment so tight he gets rope burn: I think it’s just the survival instincts.

Of course, he pretends to be out of breath a few times. The Drama.

Bruce, pretending to slip and fall: Ouch! Who knew the outdoors were so dangerous? Bear, you are crazy. Bruce, internally: How much longer are we doing this?

Bruce being a vegetarian is actually a point of contention. You see, Bear always makes their celebrity guests do something crazy for food like skin a snake or eat a mouse. Scavenging for berries just doesn’t grab the audience’s attention.

But do you know what is vegetarian?

Bear: Now, in extreme cases of survival, it’s not rare for humans to resort to drinking their own pee. That’s what we’ll be doing in a moment. Are you up for it? Bruce, visibly repulsed: I’ve had Gotham tap water. I’ll be fine.

How on God’s Green Earth did Alfred convince him to do this?

To get to the extraction point, Bear takes Bruce down a cliffside.

Bear shows Bruce the meticulous process of properly belaying from the top of a cliff, and Bruce, who has done this over 100 times is like, “Wow that’s so dangerous :( Will we be okay?”

He really tries to ramp up his acting skills this time.

(Little does he know that’s not necessary.)

Bruce goes down first as Bear belays with a cameraman filming from the top. Halfway down, Bruce hears a scuffle, and the cameraman yells, “F*ck!”

Bruce looks up, arms already out for protection, and he sees a small disk falling towards him. It’s the lens cap. He catches it on instinct.

For a second, he thinks, “Shit, was that too skilled? That’s not enough to make people think I’m Batman, right? I just caught it in midair while dangling from a cliff. That’s totally not weird and suspicious. Normal people do that—“

Then Bear yells, “Bruce, drop it!” Bruce looks up at Bear, confused. “Why?” “There's a scorpion!” That’s when Bruce looks at the lens cap and sees a black scorpion perched on top with its tail ready to strike.

They don’t have those in Gotham.

Bruce jumps in his harness and flings the cap at the rocky cliffside. He hears a crunch, and the scorpion and cap tumble to the ground. Bruce frowns. Can a scorpion survive that drop?

“You just killed a scorpion, mate!” Bear cries. Bruce looks up in horror. “I killed it?!” “Hell yeah!” Bruce’s face falls. “No!”

Because oh. shit.

Bruce just killed something. The sad, orphaned vegetarian just killed a scorpion.

Bruce has a meltdown.

He didn’t mean to kill it!!!! Oh no, he just killed an innocent little creature. Yeah, he punches people for fun sometimes, and he definitely put a few violent criminals in the hospital, but he’s never committed MURDER!!

This poor little scorpion died due to his own negligence, and he feels so so so bad about it.

Bruce is a mess as he climbs the rest of the way down.

Bruce, cradling the scorpion’s body: I don’t know how to perform CPR on a scorpion! Bear: Bruce, you took its head clean off. Bruce: *sad noises*

Legit inconsolable. To him, it’s like he just murdered a puppy

Once they're out, Bear is trying to cheer him up. Bless him.

Bear: We’ve conquered the wild! Haven’t we, Bruce? Bruce, head between his legs, still mourning the scorpion: I’m never going outside again.

Yeah, no one’s going to think he’s Batman after that.

And that's all four of Bruce's TV appearances from the West Coast :) Dick and Jason never let him live any of it down. Alfred is almost sorry. (He is not sorry.)

Let me know your thoughts! What other TV shows do you think Battinson would appear on as a guest?

Okie dokie :D Love y'all! Have a good day <3

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slytherinslut0 · 7 months

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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Three- Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Thèos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, PURE SMUT, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Oral Sex (M Rec), Throat Fucking, Toxic Behaviour, Blackmail, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Humiliation, Manipulation, Gagging, Spitting, DubCon, CNC.

**here’s: one, two, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen & twenty.

As you approached the door of the familiar private classroom, a subtle sense of unease gnawed at the edges of your confidence.

Admittedly you got lost in the depths of your homework after dinner, becoming absorbed in the swirls of ink on your parchment, diligently crafting your Astronomy essay due in a mere three weeks from now. The minutes seemingly slipped away, and you realized you were running late for today's tutoring session, the devastating consequence of your intense focus on your academic obligations.

However, considering Mattheo's habitual tardiness--one of which he has mastered as well as any given art form--you assumed your delay wouldn't be at all consequential, and would most likely even go unnoticed. So without really thinking twice about it, you gently pushed open the door, expecting the room to be empty, the usual silence welcoming you as you stepped inside.

But then, to your astonishment, the room was not vacant. There he was, Mattheo Riddle, perched on the chair with an air of casual authority. His long legs were stretched out before him, feet confidently resting on the desk's edge, displaying a newfound confidence that sent a shiver down your spine. His arms were folded, his posture exuding an almost predatory assurance. His eyes, dark as the night and twice as intense, followed your every move as you stepped inside. The atmosphere crackled with tension, the weight of his gaze pressing upon you.

You closed the door with a deliberate slowness, the soft click echoing through the room like a gunshot in the silence, and his eyes locked onto yours, silently challenging you.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up." He taunted, his voice laced with a poisonous charm. The room seemed to shrink in the wake of his suffocating arrogance. "Guess Ravenclaws little good girl isn't so perfect after all...who would have guessed."

You rolled your eyes, a flush of embarrassment staining your cheeks as you awkwardly dropped your gaze to the floor. The weight of being late for the first time in your life was almost palpable, but you made an effort to play it off, attempting to regain your composure despite the lingering discomfort.

"Save the mind games for someone who's willing to play, Riddle," you said, slowly making your way toward him. "You have no right to talk, you're late every single week."

"Yeah but I'm not the one who turns into a sobbing mess over a less-than-perfect grade," Mattheo sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "I don't have mental breakdowns just because I'm not the class's golden child in everything, and I'm definitely not the one who's about to graduate in merely a few months while still a fucking virgin-"

Your jaw dropped in astonishment at his audacity, a surge of indignation propelling you to slam your bag down on the desk in front of him. The force of your action knocked his feet off the desk, abruptly interrupting whatever sentence he had intended to finish, leaving him silenced in disbelief.

"At least I'm going to fucking graduate without needing someone to hold my hand like a child." You hissed, the words slipping past your teeth before you even had a chance to process them. "For someone who needs me so much, you sure don't act like you appreciate my help."

Mattheo's eyes darkened, a storm of arrogance and anger swirling in their depths, transforming his usual stoic demeanor into a deep scowl etched across his face. He rose from his seat, his tall frame looming over you, casting a shadow that seemed to stretch across the room.

"You think I need you, Raven?" He purred, wetting his lips. "You really think that?"

You steeled your jaw, strengthening your stance, ignoring the fact that your fingers were trembling like leaves in the autumn wind.

"Where would you be without me, Riddle?" You whispered, kinking your neck back to catch his dark, hungry eyes. "How many tutors did you have before me? How many other students tried to help you but couldn't stand your arrogant, no-fucks-given attitude, hm?"

Your words draped the air with a palpable gravity, silencing Mattheo completely--an unprecedented reaction, given his usual quick retorts. The revelation ignited a fierce ember within you, fueling your resolve and lending a sharp edge to your words, as if each syllable carried the weight of your determination.

"That's what I thought..." your voice was low, reverberating as a mere whisper in the air, something flickering behind Mattheo's eyes that made your lips curl into a devilish smirk. "You know that without me, you'd be here forever...maybe you've managed to manipulate me into being your little toy, but that doesn't change the truth about this whole thing...you need me, Riddle, you fucking need me..."

Mattheo blinked, the ensuing silence lingering for what felt like a painful fucking eternity--time seemed to come to a standstill, everything around you fading into insignificance, leaving just you and the cunning, arrogant boy with tousled hair in your presence.

When he finally spoke, You couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your stomach, understanding all too well that his words were laced with an arrogant twist, a prelude to something manipulative and cunning yet to unfold.

"You're right," he finally said, stepping closer. "I do need you,"

His voice dipped into a low, sinister register, and the corners of his lips curled into a sadistic smile, sending a chill down your spine.

"I need you to watch your fucking mouth," the touch of his fingers on your arm nearly made you jump, his hand grazing up and over your shoulder. "I need you on your knees begging for my forgiveness," the pads of his fingers grazed your collarbone, and before you could even comprehend it, his large hand clasped around your throat, the other finding the small of your back as he pushed you up against the desk. "And then, I need you swallowing my fucking cum like the good little whore I know you are."

Without wasting a single second of time his plush lips attacked yours, his tongue delving past your teeth with a passionate urgency. You were painfully aware of Mattheo's manipulative tactics, understanding that he was using your vulnerability to his advantage, and the rational part of your mind screamed warnings at you, reminding you of the toxicity in his actions.

Yet, beneath the surface; as his hands roamed your curves, his tongue explored your mouth; an unsettling, exhilarating feeling lingered, a strange sort of affection for the very dominance that should have repelled you.

The awareness of his exploitation only intensified the rush, a twisted form of affection blossoming amidst the wrongness of it all. It was as if the knowledge of being used had become entangled with your desires, forming a paradoxical bond that you couldn't sever. In the midst of the moral turmoil, a dark, irresistible thrill coursed through your veins, leaving you helplessly drawn to the very thing you should have despised.

"You've been a very naughty girl, Raven..." his lips fell to your jawline, hands groping your curves, bunching the fabric of your uniform within his battered fists. "You've been swearing far too much...you were late...and now you want to act like you have power over me?" When he sunk his teeth into your earlobe, you yelped, flinching as he tightened his grip on your hips. "Don't get it twisted, princess...I hold the fucking power here...look at what I do to you..."

Your entire body was tingling, your fingers latching onto the fabric of his white button up dress shirt for dear fucking life.

"Mattheo-"

His lips fell lower, rough hands gripping your hips and shoving your ass back onto the desk behind you, parting your legs on either side of his strong body as he pulled you against him.

"This is what I do to good girls like you...I turn them into naughty little whores..." he purred, licking a flat line up the side of your throat, your lids involuntary fluttering shut at the breathtaking sensation. "...naughty little whores who take my cock and swallow my fucking cum."

His hands slid up your sides, taking the fabric of your skirt along with them, and you gasped as you felt it hike dangerously high up your thighs, trembling fingers tugging it back down to keep yourself covered.

Mattheo huffed, releasing the fabric. "You're not used to being bad though, are you, princess?"

His teeth sank into your collarbone, creating a tantalizing blend of pleasure and pain that sent shivers down your spine. Strands of his tousled hair caressed your cheek, the faintest whisper of a touch sending tingles across your skin. Your lips parted involuntarily, releasing a soft whimper, while Mattheo's response echoed in a deep, guttural groan that reverberated through the air, intensifying the charged atmosphere between you.

One hand gripped your jaw as he pulled back, meeting your eyes. "Answer me when I ask you a question."

Your breath hitched, flames roaring in your veins. "No, Mattheo...I'm not..."

"Mm," he purred, wetting his lips as he stared. "Do you know what happens to bad girls, Raven?"

Your stomach twisted as he tugged you closer by the hold on your jaw, his eyes darkening with desire as they darted across your face, seemingly examining your features as though they were precarious and new.

Your voice trembled. "No..."

"They get fucking punished."

Before you could respond, Mattheo shifted his hand, shoving two rough fingers between your teeth, reaching for the back of your throat and forcing a gag. Your eyes watered, beads of salty fluid threatening to spill down your cheeks, but he was unyielding, gripping the back of your neck with his other hand to force himself further down your throat--holding you in place while he did.

Your entire body was in flames, your thighs begging, fucking screaming in a need so disgustingly dirty you'd never experienced anything remotely close to it before.

Mattheo groaned, low in his chest, his dark eyes watching every single ministration of your face as you gagged on his fingers. The hand behind your head relented as he brought it to his crotch, palming the insistent bulge in his trousers as he watched you; seemingly not having blinked once.

"Unbutton your shirt," his voice was a hoarse whisper, laced with primal desire. He pushed his fingers deeper, clearing his throat. "Seal those filthy lips around my fingers, and unbutton your fucking shirt, princess..."

You cursed the fact that his body was separating your legs because all you wanted, more than anything on the face of the planet, was to squeeze your fucking thighs together--to give your cunt any sort of friction possible. Every word from his lips was doing inexplicable things to your body, and the need between your thighs was growing so insistent it was almost painful.

Following his commands, you sealed your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue and bobbing your head painfully slowly as you teased him, trembling fingers moving to the buttons on your blouse and undoing them one by one until your chest was entirely exposed to him--your lungs stalled, pussy clenching as you watched his eyes darken with desire while they scanned your chest covered only by your navy laced bra, the hand on his crotch moving more insistently now.

"My fucking God, Raven," he breathed, jaw tensing so tight it looked painful. "I can't believe you've been keeping all of that hidden this whole time..."

You mewled involuntarily as he grazed your chest with his free hand, pushing his fingers deeper down your throat with enough intensity to make you cough as his demeanour switched and he palmed your breast with enough force to illicit an exasperated groan. He was possessed now, something swarming his pupils that made your entire body convulse with unfamiliar and unabashed need; you were almost certain there'd be a pool of your desire on the desk between your thighs at this point.

Without warning, he abruptly removed his hands from you. Your lips, parted in anticipation of a breath, yearned for air before his mouth enveloped yours once more. In a frenzy, his hands hurriedly reached for his belt, driven by an almost desperate urgency as you both inhaled sharply through your nostrils. Your lips meshed together in a way that seemed to consume each other, as if you could breathe in one another during the kiss.

Once he'd successfully freed himself, he pulled back, shoving his fingers back into your mouth and yanking you off the desk, his throbbing length pressing against your belly as he shoved himself against you; fingers forcing another gag from your chest, watching you with a primal fervour in his eyes so intense it was intoxicating.

Pulling his fingers from your mouth again, he cupped his hand out in front of you. "Spit."

Your brows furrowed in confusion, your brain buffering in attempt to process his words until his free hand shot into your hair, tilting your head until your lips were parallel to his palm.

"Spit, Raven," he repeated. "Spit into my fucking hand."

Your stomach contorted with a mix of disbelief and unfamiliar desire, your entire being thrown off balance. Each word that fell from his lips felt like a jolt, causing your heart to stutter in your chest. His eyes bored into you, searing your skin into flames, and without another moment's hesitation, you gathered the saliva he had coerced from you and spat it into his hand.

"Mm, that's it...good little whore..." He purred, bringing it down to his cock, rubbing it into his shaft as he stroked himself, eyes never once leaving yours. "Now, get on your knees for me, pretty girl."

Your breath caught in your throat. He, of all people, had just called you "pretty," and you were certain your ears were playing some sort of trick on you. It was a compliment you never expected from him, someone you had never imagined would see you in such a way. Pulling your lip between your teeth, you did as he said, squeezing your thighs together as you situated yourself in front of his feet.

Mattheo's hand remained in your hair, firmly gripping a fistful as he stroked himself. "Hands behind your back, Raven..." he muttered. "Let me see those delicious fucking tits of yours."

Your entire body shuddered, immediately clasping your hands together behind you without a second thought.

"That's it...fuck-" he was stroking himself faster, the veins in his hands tensing with every movement. You weren't sure who was enjoying this more, him or you. "You want this, princess? You want this cock in your dirty little mouth?"

Your throat was drier than the desert, each swallow a struggle against the arid emptiness within. Fingernails dug into your own flesh with a fierce intensity, the pressure threatening to break through the skin, mirroring the internal turmoil that gripped you. Holy fucking shit.

"Yes..." your voice was a pathetic whisper.

"Don't be so modest, Raven," he sneered, slowing his pace, twisting his wrist as he stroked his shaft, eyes never once leaving yours. "Beg for it."

Your stomach was in your throat. You'd never done anything like that before, you weren’t even really sure how. "I...um-please, Mattheo..."

His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest moment, a flicker of amusement dancing across his features before he locked eyes with you once more, his arrogance wrapping around the room like a suffocating cloak.

"Bloody hell, I said beg for it...does the prissy little princess not know how to fucking beg?" his voice was a hoarse growl, his vocal cords strained with lust. "Tell me how bad you want my cock, Raven, tell me how much you need it."

You couldn't believe your ears; the turn of events in your life felt utterly surreal. Never in your entire existence could you have imagined that this is where you'd find yourself right now--merely a few months away from graduation, on your knees for the most suffocatingly arrogant delinquent in the school who was making you beg to suck his fucking dick. A man who only last year wouldn't have paid you an ounce of mind, who probably didn’t even know you existed.

Your cheeks burned, but you fought through it, the arousal in your lungs fuelling your words. "Please, Mattheo...I want your cock so bad, I want you in my mouth, I want to choke on it, I want you to fuck my throat until you cum-"

His grip on your hair tightened, simultaneous with the grip on his cock as he cranked your head back, leaning down to meet your eyes; his lips hovering mere inches above yours.

"My God, you're a dirty fucking slut, aren't you?" He purred, smirking so wide it reached his eyes, his fingers bruising your scalp. "A dirty fucking slut whose sole purpose is to let me use her mouth whenever I want, yeah?"

You swallowed, wincing as he jerked your head back further, fucking into his fist faster, harder. "Yes, Mattheo..."

He sneered, clearly loving every fucking minute of this. "Imagine if anyone saw you like this...fuck-you're fucking filthy..." his voice was breathless, if you didn't know any better you'd think he was about to make himself cum before you had the chance to suck him off. "Apologize for being such a nasty little slut and I'll let you swallow my cum."

Your thighs clenched in need, your wetness seeping through your panties at this point. Gods, you wanted him so fucking bad you thought you were going to die.

"I'm sorry," you pleaded, eyes wide as you peered up at him, nearly-speechless. "I'm sorry for being a nasty little slut."

"That's right..." he purred, directing the head of his cock toward your mouth, groaning as your pressed your lips to it. "Good girl...fuck-so good for me..."

Your entire body was in flame, hands still clasped together behind your back as both of his thrust tightly through your hair, absentmindedly sealing your lips around his shaft, revelling in his skin's heat, dragging your tongue along the throbbing, pulsing underside. Riddle growled, bucking his hips, and you took him further into your mouth, gagging as his tip slammed the back of your throat.

"You take me so well, Raven..." he breathed, head falling back on his shoulders, eyes fluttering shut as his hands urged your head along his length. "Can't believe a mouth that annoying can feel this fucking good."

You groaned in assent, sucking hard at his cock as he slowly started to fuck your throat. You were both struggling to breathe, both losing control, both lost in an ocean of primal, urgent carnality. Pleasure was straining your seams, ready to explode inside of you, drool dribbling in globs from your chin, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you tried to hold the boundaries of your sanity together.

"Mm, fuck..." Riddle's grip was crushing your skull. "I changed my mind…I'm gonna' cum on those perfect tits, princess..."

Your bones almost liquefied at this--but you steadied your knees, gagging as he started fucking into your throat faster, thrusting deep, your eyes disappearing into the back of your head as you allowed him to use your mouth as a helpless hole for him to fuck--singlehandedly loving every fucking second of it.

"Shit-" he groaned, eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck."

Your thighs clenched, brain fogged by a hurricane of lust, but when he pulled out, abruptly, your cognition returned--your vision clearing to an image of Riddle, red-faced, fucking his fist. Snarling, he jerked your hair, and choked on his moan, the sound stuttering while he shot the hot loads of his cum onto your chest and neck. He sucked down air in long, heavy breaths, waiting until the end of his release had dissipated, and then dropped you, stepping back to marvel at his masterpiece. You swore steam was wafting off your skin.

"Beautiful," he murmured. He pieced himself back together, buckling his belt. "Tell me how I taste."

Every inch of you tingled, chest heaving, jaw slack in an open pant. Keeping his stare, you brought a trembling hand to your chest, swiping his sticky cum off your tits and trailing it past your lips, slowly sucking it off your first two fingers. The taste melding with the mere prospect of what was happening elicited a low moan from your chest, and you shuddered, trapped in his gaze until you were finished.

"Salty." You teased, smirking up at him.

"Salty, huh?” He huffed, a devious grin on his face as he helped you up to your feet, rough palm grasping your forearm. "Important mineral for a balanced meal, yeah?"

You chuckled, heat swarming your skin as you stammered up to your feet, meeting his darkened eyes as you began buttoning up your shirt, taking in his newly flushed features--curly brown hair slightly sticking to his forehead before he ran a battered hand through it, brushing it back.

“Smartass,” you grumbled, turning toward the desk. “Next week we have an exam, so there won’t be a tutor session, you know that right?”

He released a breath, throwing himself into the usual creaky wooden chair beside yours. “Guess that just means you’ll have to do that again before the nights’ over,” he said. “You know, to compensate for next week.”

You rolled your eyes, failing to hide your smirk. “In your dreams, Riddle.”

“Oh, definitely not, princess.” He breathed, glimpsing you briefly. “In my dreams you do a hell of a lot more than that.”

——————

Chapter four->

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sideprince · 4 months

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Eileen Prince

I'm relentlessly curious about how a witch from Slytherin, a house that values cunning and ambition on paper, and bloodlines/nobility in its culture, ended up living in a muggle slum.

Unfortunately for me, she's a barely mentioned character written by an author who consistently fails to portray female characters with depth or dimension. The women in Harry Potter are portrayed as either maternal or villains, or, in Ginny Weasley's case, as redeemed by their masculine traits (because Rowling's Thatcher era feminism dictates that equality for women = emulating patriarchal ideas of manhood). About as much as you can expect from an author who's as unable to acknowledge the personhood of trans women as she is to write women as actual people. This leaves a lot of room for interpreting or delving into what Eileen Prince's life may have looked like, and how that would have affected her son's development.

There are three direct mentions of Eileen in the text :

“The picture showed a skinny girl of around fifteen. She was not pretty; she looked simultaneously cross and sullen, with heavy brows and a long, pallid face. Underneath the photograph was the caption: Eileen Prince, Captain of the Hogwarts Gobstones Team.”

HBP Ch. 25

“I was going through the rest of the old Prophets and there was a tiny announcement about Eileen Prince marrying a man called Tobias Snape, and then later an announcement saying that she’d given birth to a" “ — murderer,” spat Harry.

HBP ch. 30

“Harry looked around: he was on platform nine and three-quarters, and Snape stood beside him, slightly hunched, next to a thin, sallow-faced, sour-looking woman who greatly resembled him.”

DH Ch. 33

(Shoutout to Harry James Potter, who didn't recognize Eileen's fifth year photo despite her resemblance to Snape, the teacher whose classroom he got his used Potions book from. Shoutout also to Harry James Potter who didn't connect the dots between the Prince's handwriting and Snape's, a teacher who regularly wrote instructions on the board. "I needed to make the plot work, ok?" - JK Rowling, probably.)

Other relevant excerpts:

“Snape staggered - his wand flew upwards, away from Harry - and suddenly Harry’s mind was teeming with memories that were not his: a hook-nosed man was shouting at a cowering woman, while a small dark-haired boy cried in a corner ”

OoTP Ch. 26

“Harry delved into his trunk and pulled out his copy of Advanced Potion-Making before getting into bed. There he turned its pages, searching, until he finally found, at the front of the book, the date that it had been published. It was nearly fifty years old.”

HBP Ch. 16

Supplemental material re: Gobstones from JK Rowling:

"...it remains a minority sport within the wizarding world, and does not enjoy a very ‘cool’ reputation, something its devotees tend to resent. Gobstones is most popular among very young wizards and witches, but they generally ‘grow out’ of the game, becoming more interested in Quidditch as they grow older. ... Gobstones enjoys limited popularity at Hogwarts, ranking low among recreational activities, way behind Quidditch and even Wizarding Chess." [There's an additional sentence on the Harry Potter wiki's Gobstones page: "...it is also known as 'the thinking wizard's Quidditch.'"]

A few conclusions can be drawn from what little information we're given about Eileen:

She's described as "cross and sullen" around the age of 15, and as "sallow-faced, sour-looking" when she's older.

She's captain of the Gobstones club around her fifth year, so she likely marched to the beat of her own drum - given that Gobstones isn't particularly popular - and owns it proudly enough to take, or even seek out, a leadership role.

The sport is described as "the thinking wizard's Quidditch" which would imply Eileen was more interested in intellectual challenges and was clever (and can be paralleled with a young Severus' comment about "if you'd rather be brawny than brainy" to James Potter when they first meet on the Hogwarts Express).

Her marriage and the birth of her son are both announced in the paper, which might mean the family she came from was of some importance or note, or perhaps something else... but we'll get to that.

If we assume that Severus' secondhand copy of Advanced Potion Making was originally Eileen's (reasonable, though there is no textual evidence) then its publication date is likely around the time she was a sixth year, given that this particular text was specific to students beginning to prep for N.E.W.T. exams. Harry begins his sixth year in 1996 when the book is "nearly fifty years old," so we can assume Eileen was 16 years old sometime not long after 1946. Severus was born in 1960, which would mean Eileen was in her mid-late 20s at the time.

Her marriage was dysfunctional at best, abusive at worst. As per a Pottermore post that is still up on WizardingWorld.com: "...the desperately lonely and unhappy childhood [Severus] had with a harsh father who didn’t hold back when it came to the whip." Based on this, we can assume Tobias was abusive, and given Eileen's cowering as he shouted at her, she presumably feared him.

From these bits of information emerges the image of a woman who either had a surly personality, or at the very least was guarded, though perhaps just formal. There isn't really any difference in how her face is set when she's in an everyday setting like King's Cross, or when she's having her picture taken for the Gobstones Club. It's possible she was a stern, unsmiling person, but it's also possible - given that her wedding and child were announced in the paper - that she came from a family of some standing and was raised to conduct herself with hallmarks of British class, such as dignity and unaffectedness. After all, there are several wizarding families - such as the Potters - who are wealthy purebloods with social standing but are not part of the Sacred 28. Additionally, the Gobstones Club portrait would have been taken around the mid-1940s, when portraits were formal and their subjects did not often smile, and given that we see only a snippet of Eileen, we don't have enough information that she was unhappy or sour. It's also important to remember that we see her portrait and Snape's memory of her through Harry's perspective and, like his perception of Snape himself, this may convey Harry's biases.

We also know from the text that Snape had a house in a deserted part of Cokeworth, a fictional Midlands town that presumably had a collapsed milling industry, at the end of a street called Spinner's End. There's a great thread that goes into details about the kind of 2 up 2 down house it would have been, and we can assume that this is Snape's family home given that we know he and Lily grew up in Cokeworth. For all intents and purposes, the conclusion we can draw from this being the Snape family's home in the 60s is that they were working class and cripplingly poor. Most estates like this had been cleared by the 60s, and no longer exist today.

This begs the question: how did a witch from a possibly well-off family end up in an abusive marriage in an irrelevant slum?

Buckle up kids, we're leaving the world of textual references and veering into deep meta territory now. I won't label any of this as head canon because I'm not set on these interpretations, and am just drawing conclusions from the text, but some of it may be a bit loose even for meta.

If Eileen was 16 years old not long after 1946, then she would have finished school in the late 40s, possibly even 1950. While some people (including past me) posit the theory that Tobias may have been injured in WWII and his injuries debilitated him, forcing him to go on the dole and affecting his mental health, I'm increasingly skeptical of this theory. It would make more sense if Eileen had known him before he was drafted/enlisted and had committed to a relationship with him, which would then have changed when he came back from the war and was altered. If we assume Eileen's age based on the idea that it was her own copy of Advanced Potion Making Severus used, then she would still have been at school during WWII (which makes an interesting parallel with Severus' own experience of spending the bulk of the first wizarding war against Voldemort as a student at school).

I do think, however, that there's merit in the theory that Tobias suffered some kind of altering injury and that he wasn't necessarily abusive before Eileen committed herself to him. It makes little sense for a Slytherin graduate who was confident and self-posessed enough to be the face of an unpopular club to be drawn to a partner so abusive his shouts caused her to cower and who whipped his child freely. If, however, he was a charming, happy man when they met who suffered a life-altering injury, the trauma of which left him a shell of his former self, then someone like Eileen might stick around for the sake of the parts of his old self she can still see in him.

It's interesting that she didn't seem to use her magic to protect herself or her son, or even to dress her son in clothing that fit, but we know from the text that depression can cause a wizard's powers to wane:

“...it is also possible that her unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped her of her powers; that can happen”

HBP Ch. 13 (Dumbledore talking about Merope Gaunt)

The fact that the Snapes retained the house in Spinner's End seems to indicate that they continued to live there even when the local industry dried up and the slum was cleared as workers were moved to other parts of the country where they were needed (presumably what happened given *gestures at British history*). The most likely explanation for this would be that Tobias wasn't able to work, and perhaps did suffer an injury, only it was at work, and not during the war. This would mean the family lived on the dole (ie. welfare) and also that he would have spent a lot more time at home. It would also explain his anger and frustration that led to abusive behavior (which isn't to say that disabled people are abusive by any means, but it would have been emasculating for a man who considered himself the breadwinner in the 60s, and chronic pain coupled with limited abilities would give anyone a short fuse).

Moreover, this living situation seems to indicate that there is no additional support coming from anywhere. Where is Eileen's family? Why were they not helping? There's no indication in the text that there is any connection with them at all. We can infer from Snape's memories that, as a child, he learned what he knew about the magical world from his mother. This implies that she talked to him about it a fair amount, and his conviction that he and Lily were going to Hogwarts well before they got their letters also implies that Eileen expected him to go there and was set on her son having a magical education, despite how little she seemed to use her own powers.

Severus knows a lot about the wizarding world as a child, including that prisoners are sent to Azkaban and that it's guarded by Dementors, Hogwarts' house structure and what to expect when he and Lily get there, and about the Statute of Secrecy and the laws around it. When Lily asks him if it makes a difference being Muggleborn, Severus hesitates before replying no, presumably because he's aware of pureblood bias being a part of wizarding culture.

Perhaps that's the reason Eileen's family doesn't seem to be in the picture. My own theory is that Eileen hadn't planned to commit herself to Tobias long-term, and Severus was an accidental outcome of an innocent tryst in which a young Eileen, an educated witch from a well to do pureblood family, was having fun slumming it with a working class muggle and ended up pregnant. While we don't know the wizarding world's attitude around pregnancy and abortion, we do know it's a conservative and classist society that parallels muggle British culture fairly closely, and that the late 50s/early 60s were a time when an out of wedlock baby would have been considered a disgrace.

Add to that the anti-muggle bias of a pureblood family and it sounds like Eileen was disowned her for her mistake (and don't @ me, but even though I know that not all Slytherins are purebloods, it does seem to be a persistent cultural value of the house reaching back to Salazar Slytherin himself, so Eileen's being sorted into it can reasonably be taken as an indication of her blood status). Perhaps the marriage and birth announcements in the Daily Prophet were put in by Eileen herself, if she was a woman from a family where this was customary. It may have been her way of letting her family know of the events, or even of asserting herself and even deliberately defying them, announcing to the whole wizarding world that a Prince married and had a child with a muggle. It makes sense that the girl who wasn't just in the Gobstones club, but became captain, would also say to herself, why shouldn't I have my marriage announced in the paper like everyone else in the family?

It's worth noting that mid-late 20s is pretty young to have a baby in the wizarding world, where the life expectancy and child bearing years are much longer than they are for a muggle. According to the Harry Potter wiki:

"Wizard life expectancy in Britain reached an average 137¾ years in the mid-1990s, according to the Ministry of Divine Health ... Wizards in general have a much longer life expectancy than Muggles, usually living two or three times as long as their non magical counterparts, some living even longer than that depending on circumstances. In addition, seeing as James Potter's parents had him "late in life,” witches likely have significantly longer childbearing years than Muggle women."

Although we see several characters in Severus' generation getting married and having kids not long after leaving school, there's a mention in the text that a lot of people were doing this during Voldemort's reign, as the fear he inspired made people more eager to get a move on with life since they thought they might die any day (I think Mrs. Weasley says this but I can't find the quote, @ me if you do). It's clear this wasn't the norm in the wizarding world. Eileen was a Slytherin, a house that values cunning, ambition, and strong wizarding heritage. Something must have gone very wrong in Eileen's life for her to end up having a child so young and living in a muggle slum.

And so it's possible Eileen Prince found herself pregnant and alone, having been disowned by her family to save face in light of her disgrace, and dependent on the only person she was still close to, the father of her child. It's the kind of storyline that Rowling would write, and it would parallel fairly closely the story of Voldemort's mother, thus adding another to the long list of similarities between Voldemort and Snape.

Lorrie Kim makes an interesting point when she talks about how Snape has a strong reaction to other people having a love life or romantic experiences (the context being Rowling's intention of his love for Lily being romantic and unrequited), but doesn't react particularly strongly to mothers sacrificing themselves for their children, whereas Voldemort does. Her insight, and I think it's a reasonable one, is that Severus accepts the idea of mothers making sacrifices for their children, whether it's Lily giving her life for Harry or Narcissa risking all she did to ask for his help in protecting Draco, because his own mother protected him from his father as much as she could.

There's a lot of room for interpretation on what Eileen's relationship with her son looked like, and what it says about her own state. She may have prioritized not angering Tobias to protect Severus, who as a child might have perceived her actions as a form of rejection. At the same time, she seems to have prepared him thoroughly for life in the magical world, perhaps in the hope that he would find his place in it and escape home. Perhaps she missed it and told him so much about it so she could live through her own memories.

The only time we see her argue with Tobias, in Severus' memory, she's cowering as he shouts. We know from JK Rowling that Tobias used corporal punishment liberally, which implies Eileen didn't stop him despite her magical abilities. We also see in the text, however, that while at school Severus stood up for himself against bullies and fought back, and that he was an exceptionally clever and powerful wizard. As an adult he was brave enough to face Dumbledore when he betrayed Voldemort, and later fought against Voldemort right under his nose (or lack thereof). So it stands to reason that at some point Severus began to stand up against Tobias too.

How much of that was Eileen's influence, or the result of Severus seeing her acceptance of her fate and rejecting it for himself, is hard to say. As for what happened to Tobias and Eileen that their house was Severus' by the mid-90s and they were nowhere in sight, I don't think there's enough information in the text to infer.

#meta #long post #eileen prince

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swanimagines · 2 months

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NEVER YOU | KAZ BREKKER

Summary: Kaz has hated you for no reason for a long time, but you were always ignoring him being mean. But one day, you actually do get hurt by his insult - and that eventually leads to something you didn't know would happen.

The Crow Club was unusually quiet that day. Only a few players were present, one at the bar counter downing his first pint and you knew only by the looks of him that he’d keep downing them until he’s kicked out. Another customer at the table was cheating, and you knew Jesper noticed it too.

You saw Kaz’s shadow coming down the stairs before you even heard the click of his cane. The shadow grew bigger, until Kaz was standing on your right and you smiled at him.

“Morning, boss,” you greeted him, only to be met with a glare before he turned away. You sighed, he had been like that for almost six months, it started a couple of months after you became a Crow - you hadn’t even done anything, at least nothing you could point out why Kaz hated you so much. Maybe he just hated kindness, being so ruthless himself.

You turned your attention back to your breakfast, munching away as you read the newspaper until all the customers were out, and you saw the Crows gathering together at the bar counter. You momentarily met eyes with Inej, and Kaz retorted something, making Inej look at him again. By the looks of it, you figured it’s a Crow thing, meaning you should be there too. So you stood up from the table, and saw them looking at a blueprint that was spread on the counter.

“Is that our next target?” you asked. “Hm, van Putten manor. I can already see–”

Kaz interrupted you before you could even finish your sentence. He didn’t even look at you when he spoke, his voice colder than it usually was. “You won’t be needed during this heist. You’d only be dead weight, slowing everyone down. You would ruin the whole thing.” He gave you a dismissive glance. “Get out of my sight.”

Usually his insults didn’t feel like much of anything, but this time his words really stung you somehow. Maybe it was a bad day for you, or maybe his continuous insults and degrading remarks had taken their toll on you. Or maybe you had hoped too hard that he and you would become friends eventually.

When he first met you, it had gone so well. He had wanted you to be part of Dregs, and soon he had made you a Crow. A few months after being a Crow, he had started to hate you, and you never knew what had you done. Every single thing, you existing, you making breakfast, you laughing, you appearing behind his door with intel - everything seemed to make him hate you even more. Others didn’t know anything about it either, everyone was just as puzzled as you were.

You weren’t exactly friends with the other five, never really attempting to get to know them. Instead, you had hit it off with Kaz so well, you had even thought you’d be the one to crack the cold steely walls Dirtyhands held up. You thought you’d grow close with him, even. But no, he was actively pushing you away, hating you for some reason.

You took a step back and without a word, left the Club and made your way to the Slat in pouring rain, biting back tears.

Kaz was surely happy about that.

—

You had a gnawing feeling. It told you that something was wrong - something with the heist. You had laid in bed, trying to read your book - but you just couldn’t shed the feeling no matter how much you tried.

So, after pacing around your room for a good fifteen minutes, you grabbed your coat, your knives and your gun before heading out, taking the fastest route you knew towards the van Putten manor.

You arrived at the garden, and immediately knew what was wrong. All six of your colleagues were detained, held in place, the chief guard looking them over.

“Dirtyhands himself,” the guard laughed, tilting his head. “I thought you and your little friends here would be an actually challenging bunch, but instead you basically offered yourselves to us.”

You frowned. Kaz almost never failed with his plans and if he did, he always had a way out. Was this part of his plan too? An unusually dangerous plan, not really fitting Kaz’s style.

You ducked under the fence when a flashlight almost hit you, quietly crawling forward so you could look at the scene from behind a bush.

“There’s quite a price for your heads,” the chief guard continued. “Merchants all around the city will be pleased to know their manors are safe, because the infamous Dirtyhands is finally dead.”

You heard a gun click, and that’s when you struck. You threw a knife on one guard, put a bullet into another’s head, kicked the third unconscious. Everything happened so fast, but it still felt like slow motion. A guard approached you from the right and you hit him right on the nose, blood spurted out as you heard a satisfying crack, feeling the nose shatter beneath your wrist. You turned around again, ready to take on another guard, when you suddenly collapsed on the ground and was unable to get up.

The pain wasn’t even there. Your leg just started feeling numb, and you fell on the ground, seeing how your trousers had started turning red. Your vision started to blur. You saw movement around you, heard muffled gunshots and shouts, and then you felt pressure around your calf, and groaned at the numb pain. Then, you were lifted off from the ground, and at that moment you went under.

—

Kaz had been pacing around for days, occasionally stopping by your door, being much more tense, not eating properly, sleeping even worse, his hair looking disheveled more. Inej had never seen Kaz like that. From her understanding, Kaz hated you, wanted you to be gone, out of sight, like you wouldn’t even exist. She had wondered why Kaz kept you within the Crows if he hated you so much, but Kaz had reasoned it with saving money, that letting you go would mean he’d have to give you payoff which would be more than your usual salary was. Which didn’t make sense because he’s losing more money by keeping you, but Inej hadn’t pushed it.

If she hadn't known better, she’d think Kaz cared about you. But she knew it would be unlikely, he was so cruel to you, basically bullying you - and sometimes it felt like he even enjoyed bullying you. Inej never saw even one hint of regret in his eyes when he had insulted you.

But, last time he had insulted you, you had actually gotten hurt. And Inej hadn’t looked at Kaz, she had looked after you disappearing from the door.

Would it be possible that the flicker of regret would have been in Kaz’s eyes then?

They were all worried, checking up on you occasionally, visiting you, sitting by your bed talking to you, apologising they had never even tried to get to know you better, but Kaz was by far the most worried, even if it didn’t seem like it. He never paid you a visit or asked how you are recovering from Nina, but they all saw how he acted during you being unconscious.

After a few days, Nina came downstairs, a soft smile on her face. “She’s awake.”

Kaz almost stood up the second Nina said that, Inej noted. It was silent for a moment before Kaz actually stood up, slowly starting to climb the stairs. Inej switched amused glances with Nina and Jesper, maybe there was something much more than hate to it after all.

—

You heard a knock on your door and sat up slightly, groaning as your leg protested. “Come in.” After your invite, the door slowly opened, revealing your visitor.

It was Kaz.

You frowned, definitely not expecting him. “Boss?”

He stared at you for a moment, before he made his way to the armchair two feet apart from your bed, and you heard his leather gloves creaking as he squeezed his cane. He had his eyes averted from you and was silent for a moment. Your lamp barely provided light, you couldn’t make up any expressions from his face, you pretty much only saw his silhouette.

“We need to talk,” he then mumbled, turning his head towards you but not looking at you.

His voice lacked the coldness it usually held, instead having something else you couldn’t place. You were quiet for a few seconds and then sat up a little more. “Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

He was quiet for a moment, before he took in a deep breath. “I’ve been… unnecessarily harsh to you. I never even gave you a chance to understand. I… apologise for that.”

You blinked. Kaz Brekker apologising? You stared at him silently for a good moment, before you found your voice again. “Could you explain why you hated me now? What did I do?”

“It was never about you,” he replied quickly, and swallowed, seemingly gathering his courage again. “It’s me. Your kindness, how you treated me like a human, how you always looked at me without a hint of fear from the start… it made me uneasy. It reminded me of… something I’ve tried to forget, something I’ve tried to think of as a weakness. So I pushed you away before you got too close and made sure you stayed at arm’s length by pretending I hate you.”

You were silent again for a moment, your brows furrowing. “So, just to clarify, you don’t actually hate me?”

Kaz sighed, finally meeting your eyes. “No, I don’t hate you. I never did.”

It was hard for him to admit, you could tell. He was there, vulnerable, raw even. Maybe for the last time you’d see him like that. He looked like he truly regretted how he treated you - not valuing you enough, thinking his affection for you was a weakness he should get rid of.

“I forgive you,” you then murmured, a soft smile gracing your lips. “It takes guts from you to come to me like this, stepping out from the castle you built around yourself. So, I forgive you.”

Kaz’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, and you let out a small giggle at it. Then, his lips twitched upwards. A smile. Barely there.

It made your heart skip a beat and you felt blood traveling up to your face.

You bit your lip, trying to compose yourself before Kaz noticed anything. “Um…I’m kind of hungry, could you maybe ask someone to bring me something? Nina said I shouldn’t walk with this leg unless I want a cane for life too.”

Kaz let out a puff of air through his nose, closest to laugh you had ever heard him go. Then, he stood up. “I’ll let them know.”

You shifted slightly, moving to rest your back against your headboard. “Kaz?”

He stopped and turned his head towards you. “Hm?”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

He stood still for a moment, and then made his way out, leaving you fiddling with a string of your nightgown, your face hot.

Maybe this would lead to something more.

---

Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone #sab #sab x reader #sab imagine #six of crows imagine #six of crows fanfic #six of crows #grishaverse #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse imagine #reader insert #female reader #my works

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navybrat817 · 1 year

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Heat Inducing

Pairing: Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Female Reader Summary: Steve gets what he wants by any means necessary. Word Count: Over 400 Warnings: Implied noncon, dark themes, a/b/o dynamics, implied forced bond, fighting, light choking, could be considered drugging, Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?) A/N: For @cockslutpadalecki 's Fifteen Sentence Challenge (prompt in bold) and can be considered a companion piece to Bucky's First and Last.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Header by yours truly. Banner by the lovely @sgt-seabass and divider by the wonderful @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

One day, you would come to accept that Steve Rogers was stronger, faster, and more determined than you would ever be, but it would only happen with you kicking and screaming along the way. You should’ve known the alpha only asked you into his office once most of the other agents left so he could get you alone, like he intended to from the moment he decided you would be his mate. You managed to get a lucky punch in before he knocked you to the floor and straddled you, shoving a shiny, red pill into your mouth before his massive hand covered it and forced you to swallow.

You didn’t know it yet, but it wouldn’t be the only thing forced down your throat today by the time he was done with you.

Unshed tears burned your eyes as he finally let you breathe, coughing and gulping in air as you wished you could throw up the offending, heat inducing capsule. Life wasn’t easy or kind to omegas and you weren’t foolish enough to think anyone would help you should yell for it. Because who would stand up to Captain America, the very hero who helps everyone?

Steve caught your fist when you thrashed beneath him, squeezing hard enough to remind you that he could turn your bones to dust if he wished. Instead of looking angry like most alphas would at the attempt to not submit and get away, he smirked.

You froze momentarily when he leaned down and whispered proudly, “Bucky’s omega was a fighter, too, but he got her in the end thanks to me."

You hissed and shouted an impressive string of obscenities as he tore your clothes away, your body growing warmer with each passing second and your will to fight slowly starting to fade. The hand suddenly around your throat cut off your next insult and you half expected the alpha to make a remark about your language or how he'd wash your mouth out.

But he surprised you by releasing you and stating with a smile, “I don’t care if it takes all night, you will submit."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips before you said, “I will never willingly submit to you, Steve Rogers.”

As he flipped you onto your stomach with a growl, you stared at the door just a few feet away and knew you would never taste freedom again.

So, that happened. Hehe. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #look ma i did it - fifteen sentences #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #alpha!steve rogers x omega!reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers au #a/b/o #a/b/o au #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you

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shadeysprings · 1 year

Text

House Arrest

—StepDad!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Your mom goes to attend a work conference for a couple of days, leaving you home alone with her husband.

Warnings: noncon, smut, stepcest, age gap (reader is over 18), threats, and angry Joel. This is a dark fic, heed the warnings and proceed with caution.

A/N: Another piece written for @cockslutpadalecki's Fifteen Sentence Challenge and happy to finally write Joel! Been a fan since the games were released and it was such a treat to dive into his character.

Your feedback is highly appreciated and reblogs would be amazing. Enjoy! ❤️

You whimper against your pillow with your hands clutching tightly onto the sheets as angry tears continue flowing down your face, Joel’s groans echoing off the walls, his chest pressed taut against your back while he thrusts his cock roughly into your cunt.

He didn’t wait until your mom left the driveway, his footsteps bounding up the stairs almost immediately. Your heart plummets to the pit of your belly when you hear your bedroom door open, his low voice cooing the pet name he’s given you as he stalks inside, fear gripping your senses in a vice while you lay still in bed, the mattress dipping and you feel his hand caress your waist through the blanket and a light kiss being placed on your shoulder.

“She’s gone—”

You wish desperately that your mom didn’t leave for the conference, or at the very least, wished you made plans to leave the same days with your friends just to avoid being stuck at home with Joel. But with every reason you gave her for you to agree with your made-up plans, Joel had an argument thrown right back.

“There are tons of creeps out there, hon, and we don’t want our little butterfly getting hurt, do we?”

Success shone in his eyes when his words rooted deeply into your mom’s head, having her agreeing in an instant that it was safer for you to stay home with him, her husband, the monster that’s been tormenting you since the day he set foot in your home.

“It’ll be so nice having the place all to ourselves, butterfly,” he mumbles against your ear, lust swimming in his words as he hooks your leg against his arm, keeping your legs apart and wide while his other hand snaked from beneath you, fingers grazing your breast before taking purchase of your neck, “No more sneaking around in the next few days.”

“Fuck you, old man!” You spit but soon gasp when his fingers tighten around your throat and dig into the side.

“You talkin’ smack now, baby?” Venom laces his voice when he scolds you but it doesn’t stop you from fighting back, thrashing violently against him but stopping all at once and crying in pain when his hand lands harshly against your swollen cunt. “You better shut that pretty little mouth of yours, baby, before I put it to work.”

“Fucking make me!” You cry before cocking your elbow and slamming it against his ribs, Joel choking and yelping in pain, his hold of you slackening and letting you go.

You roll off the bed and crawl on the floor as fast as you can, darting towards the door, but your body suddenly slams back to the ground when your ankle is yanked hard, the air escaping your lungs when Joel gets on top of you, crushing you against the carpeted floor when he splays his forearm down on your shoulders.

“You fucking bitch—!” He spits and you grunt in pain when he drops his weight on you. “You’re gonna regret doing that.” He threatens, hot breath fanning over your skin when he leans in closer, feeling him smirk when he presses a kiss on your cheek, the tears rolling down your face once again upon realizing that there is no escaping him.

“We have a couple of days to ourselves, my butterfly, and I’m going to make sure that every hole of yours is thoroughly used before your mom gets home,” Hauling you from the ground, he pulls you with him, forcing you down on your knees with a tight grip on your shoulder before settling himself on the edge of the bed, his cock, hard in his hand as he begins to stroke himself, “And we’re starting with that fucking mouth.”

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springlibrary and turn on notifications.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #look ma i did it - fifteen sentences #dark joel miller #dark!joel miller #the last of us #au #house arrest #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal imagine #dark fic #joel miller fanfiction #shadeysprings fics

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flordeamatista · 1 year

Text

𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴

pairing: beefy!bucky barnes x reader

concept: By the delicious things you could do to him, he is already driven mad with pleasure by the thought of feeling your touch.

word count: 600

warnings: bathroom setting, masturb─ation (m), soft b─j, dir─ty talk, tiny bit of plot but desire daydreams, mirror time, o─ral (male receiving)nickname ──(Doll, Angel)

a/n: written for @cockslutpadalecki Fifteen Sentence Challenge Congrats on 15k! Thank you for always being the sweest soul and writing our favorite mean characters. I used the prompt: "Are you holding back? Don't"

lovely beta:@lunarbuck

masterlist

By the delicious things you could do to him, he is already driven mad with pleasure by the thought of feeling your touch.

Soft lips pressed against his own, then kissing his jaw and neck as your calloused hands caressed his naked body, Bucky felt warmth spread through his body as he received your embrace; his breathing quickened as your lips moved lower, tracing a line of fire as they descended into his skin, he felt tingles of pleasure as you explored his body with your lips and hands, and he felt himself responding to your touch.

Bucky closed his eyes and let himself drift away in the moment, your lips tracing a tantalizing path, eliciting a low moan of pleasure as you make your way to his throbbing erection.

Inhaling it, your lips swallowed it until your nose was buried in the small hairs at his base, by pressing your head towards him and your mouth down on his thick throbbing cock, as his hands pumped faster, the unimaginable thoughts flooded his brain, his heart raced and his breath quickened as his body responded to the intensity of the situation; veins tingling.

When Bucky is lost in his thoughts, you watch him, he looks down at himself and sees how his cock responds to the thought of you, he can't help but feel aroused by your nearness; as his body responds to the tingle of anticipation.

Watching him start again with long strokes, you find it difficult to stand as you swallow what you want but only think of how he tastes, each movement feels deliberate and purposeful, and you can feel heat radiating from your core as you observe him.

As he strokes hard, you can see every beastly muscle in his shoulders and back as he gets up close to observe a reflection of the authentic one.

Watching him in the mirror, you can also see his thick veins running down his length.

He looks up at you in the mirror, and his eyes glisten with desire, "Doll, have you been watching me— Come over and help me out— My cock is waiting for your hands and mouth."

One person knows how to stroke him in places where it excites his soul, and that is only if you let out a deep sigh and kiss his manhood as his body relaxes.

"Open your pretty mouth, Doll," he darkly groans as he lines his cock around your lips, your throat gurgles as he slides his beefy dick down your throat, “Take it, Angel.”

"Are you holding back? Don't, he says as he grips your jaw, "It's all yours, Doll," the taste of him was heavenly, and you felt him go in and out, using you according to his wishes.

You let out a moan of pleasure, and the intensity of the sensation only seems to increase, the shadows from the lights to the reflection of your head are moving in Bucky sees you taking him all in from the reflection of the mirror, that's what angels like you do when you try to sneak up on him when he is trying pleasuring himself to your polarid; but you get to be the sole one doing it for him, against his skin, your hands move, and your lips welcome every inch of him.

I feel his pleasure as it radiates through me, and I know that I have given him a night to remember.

#look ma I did it - fifteen sentences #beefy!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x poc!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #beefy!bucky #bucky barnes x f!reader #sebastian stan characters #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x latina!reader #sebastian stan x reader

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foxyarchive · 1 month

Text

Your Guardian Angel(Or Devil) P2

You officially meet Adam for the first time. It involves a lot of screaming.

Cross Posted on AO3!

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, vomit, suggestive content..... Adam.

Words: ~5k

So good news! I now have a plot idea, but I don't want to whip it out yet. I need more Adam fun filler, but I'm running low on ideas. Please, lemme know what y'all wanna see Adam and the Reader get up to!!

P1 | P2 | P3

“Give me anotherrrr!” You cry out in enthusiasm, slamming the now empty shotglass on the bar counter. Your friends cheer you on, someone patting you on the back firmly enough to make you stumble forward. Thankfully, being right at the edge of the bar, you can brace yourself and stop from completely keeling over. Your friendly opponent smirks at you, sitting in the seat beside your own as he waves his hand to order another round.

“Didn’t take you as someone to be able to hold your liquor that well.” He comments, a small hiccup leaving him, and you just offer him a sharp grin.

“What? Jus’because imma WOMAN?” You scoff, swaying slightly in your seat.

“Yeah, put him in his place!”

“Show him you mean business!” Your friends cheer you on, and the stranger just laughs with an incredulous shake of his head.

“A whole entourage as well. Let’s see if you can keep up!” Another shot is brought to you both. Immediately, you grab for yours, and knock it back as fast as the other man. It’s sweet, and it goes down easy, but it roils as it settles in your stomach. So does the next one as you declare yourself capable of handling another. The room is almost spinning, now, and the stranger seems in better shape than you, but… Not by much.

“Think… Think I’ll… Get sick if I– I have another.” He hiccups mid sentence, trying to gurgle out the response, and you numbly nod your head in agreement. You offer him a hand, which he shakes, and the two of you stare for a moment before bursting into laughter at the absurdity. You reach out and hug him, and he reciprocates, and the hug is clumsy but it’s the thought that counts. Who knew your night would go down being challenged by a stranger in a bar? It was certainly fun, though.

For awhile, you thought you were the most fucked up, but it seems your friends were all rather wasted as well. Looks like getting a ride here was a good idea after all, even if it meant needing to pay for it… Twice, too, since you needed to get back to your house. It’s late, absurdly late. You’re too old to be staying out this late it feels like, but it’s the weekend, and you want to have fun, dammit. Against your better judgment, you have another drink– Something light, but still enough to give you more liquid courage to head up to the karaoke stage and belt out a song you don’t even remember with your friends.

2AM rolls around, and that’s when everyone is kicked out. Your mind is a horrible haze, and each step you take and the way you move your body is beginning to feel extremely purposeful. You’re trudging forward, leaning against your friends and giggling at literal nonsense. You open your phone as your friends do, all of you calling your own rides home. Everyone had arrived here together, and had decided to crash at your friend's place, but with it being this late and with how awful you’re beginning to feel, you just wanna go to your own home. Seems everyone else does, too. Looking down at your phone, you stare at it for a solid fifteen seconds as you try and decide what to do. What were you doing again?

Oh. Right. Getting a ride. Several others at the bar are as well. You open an app with shaky hands, trying to click your way to order something, but a sudden encroaching feeling washes over you. “G–Guysh, I … I needa piss, I’ll… Be back.” You slur to them, lightly dragging your hand down the hair of one of them.

“Okaaaay, be quiiiick!” Comes the hiccuped response, and you flash a thumbs up(more like a hand up) as you stumble your way back to the bar. You try to go in, but the door is locked already. You whine, pounding on the door, slumping your cheek against the side of it. It swings open, and you stumble forward, thumping into the chest of a burly doorhopper. You blink up at him, nearly falling backwards as he pushes you an arm’s length away.

“We’re closed, now.” He grunts.

“But I needa peeeeee!” You whine, shifting from foot to foot.

“Should’ve thought of that before we closed up.” Comes his brisk reply, and the door is slammed in your face. You let out a loud groan, tossing your head back, and turn around to look for your friends. You can’t see them anywhere, not with this many people, and you move forward to try and find them. Your steps are getting worse, and you’re hurting at this point trying to hold it in, and you’re unable to find them.

“UGH, whatever.” You grumble out, deciding to walk to a nearby gas station across the street. You slowly begin to stumble your way down the sidewalk, making it to the intersection. Another group of people are there, and you blink lazily, leaning against the poll. When they start to walk, so do you, following a decent distance behind just due to moving so slowly. Finally making it to the gas station, you walk in, shuffling to the bathroom door. Thankfully, it’s unlocked, and you finally get in and relieve yourself with a loud sigh.

After finishing up, you stumble out of the bathroom, and back into the cold of the night. With a shiver, you rub your arms, trying to figure out where your car is at. Nobody is around, now, but you see some cars across the street. That must be where yours is at… Or your driver. You ordered a ride, right? You begin to make your way back over, and with everything sounding so muted, you don’t hear the rumbling of cars in the distance. You head to the crosswalk, and you see a flash of green. Green means go, obviously.

You step out onto the street, beginning to walk across. White suddenly blasts in your vision. The loud roar of an engine catches up to you, and a shot of adrenaline suddenly flicks through your body as some of the haze clears. You realize what’s happening as a car zooms your way, along with two others in some street race. There is no way you can move out in time.

Oh, fuck. Are your last thoughts, before they collide with your body.

…Or, well, you assumed they did. Your body is suddenly sent flying, being jerked around, and you find yourself thumping against something solid as the wind whistles across your face. “Unf!” Is the only sound you make, and you blink open your eyes, seeing the cars whiz right past you. You’re on the sidewalk again. Oh. Maybe you had just imagined you’d walked into the street, and saw what happened if you had, and–

“Aren’t you little shits taught to look both ways before crossing or something?” A brash voice breaks you out of your thoughts, and you suddenly realize there’s a weight on your arms. Someone is holding you. Blearily, you blink, craning your neck to turn and look at who is. You have to crane your head to look up. And up. And up. He– It– Is… Huge. It towers over you, face black like it’s horns, golden mouth and eyes peering at you in what you can only define as stark irritation. Oh, God, it’s some kind of demon. You don’t even notice the little round thing floating above its head.

You scream in surprise, scrambling away from its grasp as you stumble back towards the street. “You fucking idiot, I just saved you from doing that, don’t do it again!” It snaps, wrenching forward to grab you by the front of your shirt, dragging you towards it.

“P-P-Please don’t k-kill meeee!” You cry out, feeling tears run down your cheeks. You can’t comprehend what’s happening. What the fuck is this thing? Why is it touching you? Are you tripping balls right now? Holy shit, what did you drink? It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not–

“Why the fuck would I kill you? I just saved your ass! Twice! You’re fucking welcome, by the way.” It turns you away from the street, pushing you further into the sidewalk with enough force to where you collapse to the ground. On your knees now, you sob, cowering as you cover your face and wonder what you could’ve done to deserve such a fate to be hunted down by a demon. “Oh my fu– Wahh wahh wahh, can you stop crying, bitch? I saved your fucking life!” It seethes from above you, ripping a hand away from your face. Its glaring at you, teeth bared in frustration, and you just shudder and try to pull away, your heart racing in a panic. This is the worst trip of your life. You’re never drinking again.

“Let go!” You cry out, too inebriated to wrench yourself free from its powerful grasp. “Don’t eat my sooooouuuulll, pleeeeaase.” You sob pitifully, turning your head back away, and it just groans out.

“If I let you go, you’re not gonna try to run, are you?” It snips, and you just shake your head, agreeing with it. It lets go of your arm, and the first thing you do is stumble to your feet. You try to run, to get away. Still being extremely terrified and uncoordinated, though, you don’t make it far before you trip and fall with another cry.

“I’m going to fucking kill Sera for sticking me with this shit.” You hear the demon hiss as it approaches you. You’re wrenched to your feet, and you feel its arms wrap around your body.

“No! Nononono, I’m sorry! I’msorryI’msorry, I p-p-promise I’ll behave!” You gasp out, kicking your legs as it lifts you off the ground. You hear the whoosh of something, and then suddenly, you’re lifting into the air. It’s a feeling that makes your stomach curdle as you’re now weightless, ascending higher and higher into the sky as the demon kidnaps you. You kick and thrash, and all you can do is scream, trying to escape despite knowing that if you did, you’d very likely fall to your death. Being wasted did not help any thought processes. “Heeeeellllppp!” You scream out to someone, anyone, but a hand is briskly slapped over your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up, you whiny cunt! I’m trying to help you!” It growls in your ear as you zoom through the air. You’re going to be sick. Or faint. Probably a combination of both. Your vision is growing dark and cloudy. You need to be put down, now. You try to talk, but nothing comes out. You try to bite at its fingers, but are unable to. You try licking instead. Its wearing gloves. “You’re so fucking gross, stop doing that before I give you something to lick.” You don’t know what the threat means, but it doesn’t matter anyways. You feel on the verge of unconsciousness, before your stomach does another flip as you’re swooped down with the demon.

It places you on the ground, and you can barely recognize that you’re in some random park through your hazy state. It turns you around to face it, and that’s when you recognize the sight of wings curling back up to its side. Then, there’s that ring above its head again. Oh, God, was it… Actually an angel? Why did it look so demonic? It doesn’t matter. This isn’t real… Right? Oh, but your stomach is curdling and your hair is windswept and you’re freezing and– “I’m going to take my hand off of your mouth, and you’re not going to scream. Got it?” It asks through gritted teeth. You blink, one eye at a time, giving a small nod of your head. Slowly, it removes its hand, squinting at you.

Sike. You open your mouth to cry for help once more, but in a flash its hand is back over your mouth. You lick it’s fingers again, trying to get it to stop, and it instead opts to push two fingers into your mouth now. A moan leaves your throat at the intrusion as you slump slightly, tongue naturally curling around the digits. The look of irritation is gone from its face, now. Instead, it watches you with intrigue as your tongue licks and sucks, head cocking slightly to the side. A small smirk places on its features as it leans closer. “This is a lot better…” It almost whispers, and you moan again against better judgment as it presses them in further.

Saliva pools at your lips and drips down your chin. A lot of it. An unnatural amount. Your throat constricts. Your stomach cramps. You know what's coming, and clearly the demon-angel does too. It wrenches its hand away, swiftly side-stepping as you hurl up the contents of your stomach. You fall to your knees, retching as everything you had drank and ate the past several hours comes back up and empties onto the grass. “Oooh… It buuuurnss…” You moan in pain, voice scratchy and warbly. There’s only a brief respite before you retch more, and you hear the thing beside you make a noise of disgust as it walks away.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally slump onto your side with a whimper, rolling away from your stomach juices. You shiver, feeling cold and exhausted as the adrenaline completely leaves your body. The haze in your head certainly doesn’t go away, though. You have no idea how you got to this park, as you realize that… Figment of your imagination was just that— A figment. It’s not here anymore.

“Fucking done yet?” A flat voice asks. Oh, shit, it is still here. It walks back over, arms crossed as it looks down at you, irritation on its face. You just whimper again, curling in on yourself.

“I… Want… Home…” Is all you can manage out, and it crouches beside you, wings flaring out.

“Where is ‘home’?” It asks, sounding none too pleased. You just groan out, feeling too tired to respond. Your eyelids are getting heavy. The world is growing dark. “Fine, just fucking– Stay there.” The thing is gone in a flicker of gold, and that’s the last thing you see before you pass out.

—---

Waking up was a mistake. You were sore as Hell. Your throat was burning, your mouth hurt, your head was throbbing, and your knees were aching. You try and flit through your memories to recognize why you feel so awful, besides the copious amount of drinking you surely did, but everything is just a blank right now. You smack your lips together, grimacing as you taste the sure sign of puke in your mouth. Well, that explains why your throat burns and your stomach is howling. With a heavy groan, you slowly get up, trying to shield your eyes from the light that pours into your room.

You slip inside the bathroom, shedding your clothes as you turn the shower on. You take something for your pain, popping into the shower with a gratifying sigh as you feel the warmth of the water relax your aching muscles. You wash your hair and body, spend longer than necessary in there, and finally decide to crawl out. After drying yourself off and putting on some comfortable clothes, you head into the kitchen, your cat letting out a loud meow. “Hi, mister meow. I know, I know, give me a moment and I’ll feed you.” You pet him as he rubs against your leg with a purr. You fix yourself a bowl of cereal, feed your cat, and settle on the beanbag with a relieved sigh as you flip on the television.

You’re still trying to remember last night’s details as you slowly eat, blinking lazily at the TV as you chew unceremoniously. You feel like a cow gnawing on cud with the way you’re chewing, but your body still feels to be moving in slow motion. Well, that is, until something pops up in front of you. “Huh. You didn’t kick it. Thank fuck, I wouldn’t have heard the end of it.” Your body jerks in surprise, and you nearly go flying off the beanbag as a scream of shock and terror rips from your sore throat. Some of your cereal spills, but it’s a Godsend that the whole bowl doesn’t go flying out of your hands. You look up at the… The thing towering over you, and suddenly, everything is starting to be pieced back together.

“Y-Y-You’re–” You try to stammer out, and he just scoffs, straightening up, previously being hunched over you.

“You’re– You’re– You’re–” He mocks you in a feminine voice as he flutters his wings and makes hand gestures. Despite still feeling an abundance of fear in your core, it’s lessened just a bit by this, and an ounce of irritation crawls up your spine. “Can you stop being such a fucking pansy for five minutes and let me talk? Sheesh…” He glowers at you, and you decidedly shut your mouth. His hand then shoots down, and he grabs the bowl of cereal from your hands abruptly. “And give me this. Making me hungry.” He scoffs, taking a bite of your cereal as you try to process what exactly is happening. Okay, so this definitely is happening, then. You blink owlishly, still trembling, on the verge of a panic attack.

The angel-demon chews loudly, looking down at you, unimpressed. “Chillax, ‘tits, I’m still not gonna hurt you. Remember what I said last night?” He drawls out as he chomps on your cereal, and you frown at his words, drawing your legs up to you.

“...Barely.” You mutter. You remember him, but not exactly what happened. You decide questions are the best thing to get started, here, because he does seem placated for now… “What–” You begin to ask, before stopping yourself. Well, he was clearly a… He. A person, and not some… Entity. He ate, after all, and talked like a person. Too much like a person, in your opinion… “Who are you?” You decide to ask.

“Adam.” He responds, and you blink. That’s… Such an ordinary name. You’ve met at least two Adams in your life. You were expecting something more inhuman, like… Zeretath. Or Angeclous, or something! “I see that look on your face, bitch. I’m not just any Adam. I’m the Adam.” You offer him a blank stare, and he looks back at you, scoffing. “You know. The original. First man, first dick. You descended from these fuckin’ nuts.” He smirks, pointing a finger down to where you assume his crotch is. Your face heats up at the implication, at first, before your eyes widen in shock once more.

“Wait– Like, Adam and Eve?” You can’t help but ask, and you figure that’s maybe the wrong thing to ask, because he immediately tenses and a scowl crosses his face.

“Don’t you fucking say that bitch’s name.” He hisses out at you, bending over to glare at you, and you shrink back with a squeak, trembling again. He squints at you, before straightening up. “But yeah. That.” He snorts, taking another bite of cereal. You don’t know what to say. You’re flabbergast right now. Part of you doesn’t believe him, or believe that… Any of this is real. You’re most certainly awake, though, you know that for sure. You also saw him just pop into existence right in front of you. What should you do? Was bowing appropriate here to the first human created? Should you call him something other than Adam? He seemed so… Casual. And he looked nothing like you thought he would. Wow, human evolution had really come a long way. The stories painted him nothing like you thought he’d be like.

‘Made in His image’. God looks a loooot different than people perceived him as, then. You thought about asking him about it, but was a bit afraid to spark his ire anymore. Instead, you decide to ask, “Why are you here? Right now and last night?” You’re still hesitant, legs drawn up to your chest, but your arms have loosened around them a bit.

“Guess ‘cause you’re one lucky sonofabitch. I’m your guardian angel.” He smirks, finished with your breakfast as he tosses the bowl and spoon carelessly aside. You expect to hear it shatter, but to your surprise you see it just float off and land with a small clang on your counter. You look back at Adam, eyes still round.

“Is that your… Role? In Heaven?” You ask, and he scoffs, flicking something off of his robes with his fingers.

“Fuck no. That shit is way below my paygrade.” He responds, and your confused look makes him clarify. “I guess it’s some shit every angel has to do at least once, aaaand it was my turn, or whatever. So. You’re my first.” He raises a brow, offering you a sly grin with the cross of his arms. “Congrats, you popped my guardian cherry, babes.” You can’t help but grimace at the comment, your legs sliding down now that you felt less… Intimidated.

“So basically you just… Save me from death?” You ask, trying to understand what exactly a guardian angel’s job was. You didn’t even know it was real. You’d heard the phrase ‘your guardian angel must have been looking out for you!’ before, but you, like everyone else, had always just thought that’s what it was. Some phrase that held no merit. “Am I immortal, now?” You blink in realization.

“Pfft. No.” He laughs at the thought, almost mockingly, sneering down at you. “You’re still gonna kick it. And whenever it happens it’ll probably fuckin’ suck. I’m just here to make sure you don’t kick it before your predetermined death time arises.” You tilt your head in curiosity at this comment.

“So you know when and… How I’m going to die?” You ask, hesitantly, a bit of a chill running own your spine. Could you have your very life laid out right before your eyes right now? Could you even… Cheat death if he gave you the answer?

“Yeeeep. I know everything. I’m fuckin’ Adam.” He emphasizes with a smirk, pointing to himself. His next response is one you’re partially expecting. “And, no. Don’t bother asking. I can’t tell you, and even if I could, I wouldn’t. I also can’t answer any other questions about the pearly gates, or other divine beings, yadda yadda, you get the idea.” He makes a talking motion with his hand, looking bored as he gives this spiel you assume he’s meant to give. You partially wonder if he actually is supposed to be talking to you. After all, you haven’t heard anything about guardian angels talking to the person they’re guarding… Then again, you have never heard of them actually being real.

“So do you just… Know when I’m going to be in trouble? Or can I like, call for you when a situation seems unfavorable for me?” You inquire, sitting up a little more as you look over him. Goddamn, he is massive… Easily over seven feet. Maybe about eight. It’s a little horrifying, truth be told. You’re still pensive about him, and you’re not going to try to poke the bear by any means. You’re certain that his hand could completely cover your face if he so wanted it to.

“I have this sorta sixth sense for when shit is gonna go bad for you. Allows me to just pop over whenever I need to.” He explains, hands on his hips now. His wings are tucked at his side. How interesting… A sudden thought crosses your mind.

“Wait– Have you been following me my whole life then?” You blink, and he takes this time to poke around your house nosily.

“Correct-a-mundo. Remember that time you almost drowned as a tot?” He’s looking through your cabinets now at various snacks and utensils you have stocked away. Cautiously, you stand, not approaching, but nervously moving about nearby.

“No.” You admit with a frown, trying to rack your brain.

“Fuckin’ course you don’t. You were like, three. Wandered into a pool like a dumbass and I gripped you out by your fat head so you didn’t drown.” He’s grabbing a bag of chips, opening it up as he tosses a few in his mouth. You don’t even know what to say. He’s been watching you your whole life and only now you know about it? You try to wrack your brain for any other near death moments you can think of.

“Oh! What about that one time when I was thirteen? I was at a park, and I tried to do a backflip off of a swing, and I could’ve sworn I was gonna land at an angle that would break my neck, but I somehow didn’t. Was that you?” Enthusiasm is thick in your voice as you pinpoint a possible moment it could’ve happened.

“Nah, don’t remember that.” He says through munching. “Oh, there was that time though when you were like… I’unno, ten? You were fuckin’ around with some friends, and one of them swung a metal bat and your head was like, right in the way.”

“Oh, shit, I remember that!” You gape. You still remember the thunk it had made against your head… Boy, you’d had a nasty goose egg and couldn’t sleep on the side that had gotten hit for awhile. “Wait, though. That hit my head. Are you… Telling me that would’ve killed me if you weren’t there?” You suddenly gape, a shiver running down your spine at the thought.

“Bingo. Would’ve caused enough internal bleeding to knock you the fuck out forever. Kids are fucking insane.” He grimaces, leaning against your counter as he eats. “Put my hand right between your thick skull and that bat. That other fucker swang so hard it bruised my hand, little bitch…” He utters the last part, a scowl overtaking his features as he chews more on his– Your– chips.

“How come I didn’t see you?” You blink in surprise, suddenly realizing you hadn’t noticed him at all. “Or anyone else for that matter.”

“Well, first off, only you can see me.” He explains, brushing some crumbs off of his robe and onto your tile. It’s your turn to scowl now. “Secondly, you’re not supposed to see us. Well, me. Y’know. Your guardian.” He snorts, chewing some more, and your scowl softens into just a frown now.

“Err… So, then, why are you letting me see you now? And talk to you?” You decide to ask, hesitantly, and he shrugs his shoulders as he tosses more chips into his mouth.

“Because this whole guardian bullshit is so fucking boring. I gotta keep loose tabs on your whole life? That’s like, a ninety year commitment.” He groans out, tilting his head back dramatically. His horns nearly knock a small succulent off of your counter.

“So I do live a long life?” You raise a brow, and his head snaps back up to you, squinting.

“I didn’t say that, bitch, I was giving an example.” He snips, and you just close your lips.

“You have an awfully filthy mouth for an angel.” You find yourself saying, eyes widening as you slap a hand over your mouth. Oh, fuck, you didn’t mean to say that outloud. Thankfully, Adam doesn’t seem to take offense. In fact, he actually grins, and lets out a bark of laughter.

“You think angels are these perfect, pure, holy beings? Because you’re fuckin’ wrong.” He chirps, straightening up with a flutter of his wings. It knocks off a piece of paper mache, and you frown at the action. “Okay, well, a lot of them are, but that’s just because they’re too pussy to say what they’re really thinkin’ because they don’t wanna become fallen or whatever. Not how it works, but those fuckers don’t know that, and it’s hilarious seeing the lengths some of them will go to scramble so that I don’t report them or whatever.” He laughs again, and you can’t help but to make a small face with how malicious that sounds like it is. It… Probably is, honestly. Adam finishes your chips and carelessly tosses the bag aside.

You shift from foot to foot, trying not to be intimidated as he walks towards you, pausing as he glances to the side. Your cat has walked back up to you with a purr, rubbing against your legs, and you pick him up for cuddles. “What does it mean to… Become fallen?” That sticks out in your mind, and you pause as you realize he probably can’t tell you. There seems to be this look that dawns on Adam’s face as well, as he seems to realize what he said.

“Oh, uh… Angel stuff. Can’t tell you.” He huffs, crossing his arms as he looks down at the cat in your arms, who’s purring contently. A squint is sent your feline’s way, and he sticks his tongue out it, and you can only watch with wide eyes. “Anyways. You’re alive, I’ve done my job, easy fuckin’ day. Glad you’re not as annoying as I thought you were initially, with how last night went. I gotta skedaddle now, though, got angel shit to do. Important shit. I mean, I’m kinda a big fuckin’ deal, so don’t you forget that, sugartits.” He grins down at you, and you scrunch your nose up at the nickname.

“I have a name, you know.” Comes your response, and he just waves a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, I know.” You deadpan.

“Okay. What is it, then?” You wait, and he hems and haws, briefly, wings flicking as he taps his chin in thought.

“Um… Al… Elm… J… Je…” He begins to utter out sounds that could possibly be your name. He can’t be serious. He’s been following you your entire life and he can’t even remember your name? You give him your name, your face and tone still deadpan, and he snaps his fingers, before he scoffs. “Obviously! I was just about to say that. You got no fuckin’ faith in me, ‘tits. Try to have a little more faith. I’ve saved your life three times now.” He hunches over you, and in reflex you set your cat down, afraid of this going south for whatever reason. You peer up at him with wide, significantly more anxious eyes, now. “If you were up top… You’d owe me. Big time.” He leans in closer, gripping your chin with a grin as he pulls you somewhat closer to his face. It looks… Off. Almost digital. You can’t describe it. Angels were so strange.

You swallow. Nervously. Something in you makes you retort, “...It’s your job.” He just sneers at your reply, letting you go and pushing you back slightly as he puts room between the two of you.

“Yeah. I know. And I’m fucking awesome at it, like everything else. You’re a lucky bitch.” He strums what you can only assume is air guitar, before flashing you the devil’s horns as he sticks out his tongue when he grins at you. “Later.” He’s gone, once again, in a puff of golden, smokey sparkles. You’re now left with crumbs to clean up, an empty bag, and a lot to think about.

#reader insert #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #adam x you #adam x reader #hazbin hotel #x reader #reader #you

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nekoannie-chan · 1 year

Text

Marcas

Pareja: Steve Rogers X Lectora Vengadora.

Palabras: 361 palabras.

Sinopsis: Steve y tú necesitaban un momento a solas.

Advertencias: Smut, PWP, mordidas.

N/A: Esta es mi entrada para Fifteen Sentece Challenge con la frase #12:

“Sé que dijiste no marcas... pero, ¿qué tal si las hago donde nadie puede verlas excepto yo?”

Si te gusto por favor vota, comenta y rebloguea.

No doy ningún permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) o el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), los cuales hice exclusivamente para mis fics, por favor respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Aquí en la plataforma hay personas que hacen separadores de texto para que cualquiera los pueda usar, los míos no son públicos, por favor busca los de dichas personas. La única excepción serían los regalos que he hecho ya que ahora pertenecen a alguien más. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma diferente y no es alguna de mis cuentas, por favor avísame. Los reblogs y comentarios están bien.

DISCLAIMER: Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), exceptuando por los personajes originales y la historia.

Anótate en mi taglist aquí.

Otros lugares donde publico: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @black23 @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @azulatodoryuga

Steve desabrochó tu blusa, ágilmente con una mano, dejando tus pechos expuestos, luego comenzó a acariciarlos, pellizcó levemente tus pezones, maldijiste mentalmente, él sabía cómo complacerte, aunque había un problema, cualquiera podría abrir la puerta y verlos.

—Steve… d-d-detente —rogaste, no querías que alguien los descubriera, no querías que nadie se enterara de lo que estaban haciendo.

—¿Estás segura que quieres que me detenga? —Steve te preguntó, bajando su mano por tu vientre.

Negaste con la cabeza, no, tú nunca te negarías a tener sexo con él, tal vez no importaba si lo veían.

¡Qué más daba si conocían el lado “oscuro” de Steve Rogers!

“I know you said no marks… But what if I put them where nobody except for me will see them?” te susurró al oído, gemiste como respuesta.

Sentiste sus labios y lengua recorrer tu espalda y seguir bajando hasta que llegó a tus muslos.

Él te hizo separar un poco las piernas y mordió ligeramente la piel de tus muslos, lo suficiente para dejar marcas, mas no para lastimarte.

Gemiste, intentaste cerrar un poco las piernas y alejarlo, él sabía cómo hacerte “sufrir y castigarte”, aunque en realidad lo disfrutabas.

—No te atrevas a cerrar las piernas, quiero castigar ese dulce coño —él ordenó.

Subió y sonrió cuando vio tu coño húmedo, pasó los dedos, volvió a sonreír cuando los sacó, húmedos, y pasó la lengua, sabías que pronto tus piernas no te iban a poder sostener, él también lo sabía, por lo que te sujetó para oblígate a quedarte parada.

Apretaste tu cuerpo contra él cuando llegaste a tu orgasmo. ¡Vaya que Steve Rogers sabía lo que hacía!

Él se levantó y se puso detrás de ti, no sin antes asegurarse de que tuvieras donde recargarte, te penetró y usó una mano tapándote la boca para evitar que hicieras ruido y alguien los encontrara.

—Yo sé que sí, pero te gusta, ¿verdad? —Steve te preguntó al oído y tú asentiste mientras sentías otro orgasmo y a la vez provocabas el de él.

Justo en el momento en el que se separaron y se acomodaron la ropa, se escuchó como alguien empezaba a abrir la puerta.

#look ma i did it - fifteen sentences #fifteen sentence challenge #steve rogers x lectora #steve rogers smut

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mostly-marvel-musings · 1 year

Note

I'm sorry but you briefly mentioned Tony's thigh in the last one shot and my brain immediately went into the gutters and oh boy his thighs... thicc... strong... oh but to ride them!

Thick

Pairing: Tony Stark x Fem! Reader

Warnings: SURPRISE SMUTT! Enjoy

Your patience grew thinner and thinner as you let out a whine while sitting on Tony’s lap for the last hour while he was busy talking shop on a call.

He gestured he would be done in five minutes, and that was fifteen long minutes ago. You’d had enough and decided to take things in your own hands.

Shifting just enough to slide your panties aside, you exposed your lower lips to Tony’s pant-clad thigh, immediately catching the billionaire’s attention. His sentence stopped midway before he cleared his throat and resumed, watching what you were up to now instead of the glaring monitor in front of him.

Slow at first, you began rocking your hips back and forth, gaining friction that sent shivers down your spine. Planting your arms on Tony’s taut shoulders, you positioned yourself better and increased your pace.

Soft mewls left your lips as you desperately chased your climax, giving Tony a challenging smirk as you continued; one of his arm gripping your ass firmly spurring you on.

A particular brush against your clit and the fabric had you moan out loud, Tony’s hand covering your mouth to keep you quiet as he smirked, his cock twitching excitably inside those pants.

“You are in so much trouble.” He mouthed, grunting against the phone as you gripped his hair in reply, making a terrible excuse to Ross who was on the other line.

Your arousal marked a wet spot on Tony’s thigh, his toned muscles providing just the right amount of pleasure for you to orgasm shortly. Your pussy fluttered around nothing as you came, burying your face in his neck as you let out a muffled cry.

“I think I will have to call you back, Ross. Turns out I do have urgent matters to deal with at hand.” He threw the phone on the table without a second glance, cradling your head before gently making you look up at him.

“Baby forgot her lessons on patience huh?” He murmured, his brown orbs now darkened with lust while his erection strained against his pants.

“That makes two of us..”

PS: It was long Uber ride home from work. Plus I’ve got my spiked lemonade guyssssss…

#tony stark smut #tony stark x female reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark fluff #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark drabble #tony stark oneshot #tony stark x you #marvel fanfiction #anon asks #tony stark feels

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withacapitalp · 1 year

Text

How to Rehabilitate a Jock Pt 5

Part One Part Four Ao3 link Part 6

Reminder I'm not accepting anyone new on my tag list! Sorry if you want updates follow me here or subscribe on ao3! Also some warnings for Steve having PTSD and dyslexia in this fic. These two are going to start coming up more often but they begin here. Storytime!!

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Typically, a character starts at 1st level and advances in level in the adventuring world, although he or she might have been a soldier or a pirate and done dangerous things before.

Steve blew all of his breath out in an irritated sigh, balancing his forehead against his left palm and leaning impossibly closer to the book in front of him, willing the words to make sense. He put his right index finger underneath the line he was trying to read, using the trick his Seventh Grade English teacher had shown him.

Tyqically, a character stars at 1st level and advantages in level by abvemturing and morbid, although he or she might have been a sober or a gyrate and done dangerous thinps before.

He squeezed his eyes shut, resisting the urge to just grab the book and throw it against the wall. The sentences were starting to float around the page like driftwood, the letters choosing to make whatever damn words they pleased, and Steve was left drowning in the ocean without a tether as per usual.

Why did it matter if the characters were sober or gyrating? Did every character swear to be virtuous or some shit? That seemed like the kind of thing a stupid nerd game would come up with.

No, he probably just had it wrong. Steve just needed to read it again, but the thought of looking at the same paragraph he had been struggling with for the last fifteen minutes made him want to throw up.

When Eddie had given him the book last week, Steve had just thanked him and put it in his bag with no intention of reading it. But, Hellfire was at the end of the week, and he had said he would have a character to show them. He was determined to do just that, show them that he was taking this all seriously, but he couldn’t make a character until he understood what the game was.

And, apparently, he had to read to do that. Eddie had said he wouldn’t just hand everything to Steve on a silver platter.

You have to earn it. That was what Eddie had said as he gave Steve the book. He was going to have to earn this. So he had tried. He had been trying for five days now, and he was only on page eight.

Eight. Eight of like three hundred.

Steve was starting to think that maybe Hellfire wasn’t worth all the headaches he was getting trying to read this stupid book.

“Hey, Steve!”

Steve slammed the book shut as soon as he heard Nancy’s voice from behind him, scrambling to hide it under his other textbooks and act nonchalant as she and Jonathan came around the corner of the table and stood opposite him.

“How’s uh- how’s it going?” Jonathan asked, looking everywhere but directly at him.

Jonathan’s hands were fidgeting at his sides, his fingers twitching like he kept wanting to take Nancy’s hand, but kept stopping himself just before he could. Nancy was staring directly at him with the firm sort of determination she always had, her shoulders back, her head high. Steve resisted the urge to sigh.

“I’m fine,” He said, keeping his voice low and casual, “How’re you guys?”

“Good,” Nancy said, answering for both of them. She took the seat opposite of Steve without asking, pulling out the chair next to her so Jonathan could sit as well. She was still looking right at Steve with fire burning in her eyes, daring him to say something.

Let it be known, Nancy Wheeler was never going to back down from a challenge. She was strong as a lioness, as stubborn as a mule, and probably the most amazing woman Steve had ever met. Joyce Byers, Max Mayfield, and El Hopper were all extremely close seconds.

But he couldn’t really picture any of them doing what Nancy was so set on doing.

Somewhere during that last god awful night, Nancy had decided that the three of them were going to be friends. There had been a Steve and Nancy, a Nancy and Jonathan, but never a Steve and Nancy and Jonathan, and she was hell bent on seeing it happen.

And to make it happen, she continued to insert both of them into Steve’s life whenever she could.

Walking to shared classes, forcing him to come upstairs to say hi and chat for awhile when he came to get the kids from her house, and, of course, random library meetups like this one. After so many of these little check-ins, so many stilted conversations with the former love of his life and the guy she had left him for, it really shouldn’t be too awkward anymore.

It was still awkward.

“You’re spending a lot of time with the kids,” Nancy finally said after she couldn’t stand another second of uncomfortable silence.

The kids were an easy topic. They were something all three of them had in common. Steve could talk about them.

“They’re spending a lot of time with me,” He amended, trying to give her a smile. He could try for Nancy. It was the least he could do, “They just show up at my house whenever they want to and hang around my car until I agree to drive them places.”

“Sounds like them,” Jonathan murmured, and Steve huffed out a soft chuckle. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, Jonathan could be pretty funny.

“If they’re getting annoying I can tell Mike to back off,” Nancy offered, missing the point.

“No! No it’s fine,” Steve said quickly, trying to ignore the way his heart was suddenly racing.

His mind flooded with a thousand and one things that could happen if he wasn’t around, all the possibilities, all the ways that his kids could get themselves into trouble. He knew that they were smart, and capable, and resourceful, but they were also twelve. Twelve year olds who had fought against hell. Twelve year olds that needed deserved to have someone to protect them for once.

And Steve needed the kids too if he could be painfully honest with himself.

“It’s nice, actually. Fills up the time, and better than them just being left alone to get into trouble,” Steve said with a nervous little laugh, forcing his face to stay easy and even. If he acted too weird about this, then Nancy would poke and prod until she found everything out, and Steve couldn’t deal with that right now.

It was hard enough to breathe as it was.

Nancy was giving him a searching look, pinning him down onto a corkboard and examining what she found there. He had already lost her, if he had ever had anything to actually lose, and now the thought of losing the kids because of her was making his stomach twist up in knots.

It wasn’t a fair thought, probably wasn’t even an accurate one, but Steve couldn’t make it go away.

“They are little trouble magnets,” Jonathan tacked on, clearly not understanding what was happening between the two of them, “But you seem to have them well handled.”

Something about what Jonathan said made Stvee’s breath come a little easier, and he forced his shoulders to relax. No one was taking the kids away from him. No one was doing anything.

Steve was just overreacting like he always seemed to do these days.

“Yeah,” Steve responded, just so the ball was out of his court again. He couldn’t stand needing to be the one to say the next thing to cut through the silence.

Unexpectedly, it wasn’t Nancy or Jonathan that took that next step.

It was Eddie.

“Yo, Harrington!”

Every head in the library shot up, except Steve’s. He cringed, ducking his head low and trying to avoid the stares that were starting to come towards him. Eddie, who never really seemed to care who was looking and who wasn’t, continued to wave at him with big over the top gestures, trying to coax Steve over to his table.

“Is that Eddie Munson?” Nancy asked, perplexed.

Steve very quickly saw the out that had been offered and grabbed it with both hands. He stood up and began to stuff his papers and books into his backpack.

“Yeah, that’s Eddie. I better go see what he wants, but I’ll see you guys around, yeah?” He said, sliding around the table and giving them a wave, rushing away before Nancy could ask any of the other questions starting to form.

Eddie settled down when he saw Steve coming his way. He was alone at his table, completely surrounded by scraps of paper and open books. He loomed over them all, trying valiantly to make a tiny space for Steve to put his bag as he took the only free seat.

“What’s up?” Steve asked, not exactly sure why Eddie wanted his company.

“Nothing,” Eddie immediately replied, waiting a second and clearly enjoying the look of confusion Steve gave him before continuing, “Just thought I’d save you from that,”

He looked past Steve, and when Steve turned around, Nancy and Jonathan were openly staring at the two of them. Well, half of the library was openly staring, but whatever. Steve couldn’t care anymore.

“My hero,” He said sarcastically, turning back in his seat and resting his chin on top of his backpack.

“Why were they bothering you?” Eddie asked, futzing with his papers.

“They weren’t, just sitting,” Steve said, not quite on the defensive yet, but still feeling that urge to protect starting to hum in the back of his mind.

He had heard some of the things people were saying about the whole situation, and he hated the thought of Nancy or Jonathan catching heat. They hadn’t done anything wrong, at least, nothing that bad. They shouldn't have to deal with defending themselves right at the start of their relationship. It wasn’t really their fault that it just happened to come at the death of Steve’s.

“That’s weird,” Eddie stated, unintentionally treading right into dangerous territory, “I mean, it’s not like you guys are friends,”

“We are,” Steve protested automatically. Eddie raised a brow, and he faltered, trying to find the right words, “Well- I mean…”

Were they?

They didn’t really have all that much in common, and every single time they spoke it was clear all three of them weren’t really ready to be close, but Steve still considered them friends.

At the very least, Nancy and Jonathan were incredibly important people in his life, even if they weren't necessarily his friends. There were a few things that permanently bonded people, and killing an actual real life demon was one of those things.

But he couldn’t tell Eddie any of that.

“It’s complicated,” Steve settled on, hating how cliche that sounded. Eddie’s brow furrowed and he rubbed his thumb across his lower lip as he thought about what he wanted to say next.

It was honestly kind of cute.

“Nancy cheated on you,” Eddie stated bluntly.

Less cute now.

Steve flinched back, unable to help his first reaction. Cheating was such a harsh word, burning and bloody. It evoked images of The Hawk, and spray paint staining his fingers for months on end. He had promised himself he would never accuse anyone of it ever again unless he absolutely 100% knew for sure that it had happened.

Except, in this case, he did. Jonathan had told him, clearly scared out of his mind, but he had still manned up and told him. They had slept together when they were at that dude’s house, the one who helped Nancy get justice for Barb. Steve had listened, put the information in a little box in his mind, and put the box on a shelf.

Because that’s what Steve did. He just pretended he was okay no matter what, because he didn’t know any other way to be. He pretended like the sight of his pool didn’t make him nauseous, and he pretended like they hadn’t all almost died, and he pretended like he didn’t wake up gasping for air at least twice a week.

Steve pretended, because he didn’t know how to live with everything that had happened. But Nancy did, and Jonathan did, and the issue here was obviously Steve, not them. He had pretended Nancy right into Jonathan’s arms, and he had no one to blame for that except himself.

So, was it really cheating when it was Steve’s fault that it happened?

Nancy was right. He was really just…bullshit.

And yet, all of that also fell into the category of ‘Things Steve Wasn’t Legally Allowed to Tell Eddie’. He just had to go for the bullshit pretending answer.

“Yeah. She cheated on me.”

“That doesn’t sound too complicated,” Eddie said with a shrug and Steve leaned back in his chair, staring down at his hands which were fisted up in his khakis.

“Well it is,” Steve replied moodily, “It’s really fucking complicated, and I really don’t want to talk about it,”

“But she hurt you,” Eddie said, still using that stupid statement voice.

“Yeah, she hurt me, but I love her so-” Steve cut himself off, biting his tongue harshly. Yeah, he still loved her, but admitting that was fucking pathetic.

And yet, Steve was pretty sure a part of him was going to love Nancy Wheeler for the rest of his life.

“So that makes it okay?” Eddie asked, and Steve sighed, exhausted with the conversation.

“It means I can forgive her,” He said softly, trying to will his heart to stop aching, “It means I still want her in my life. Jonathan too. We’ve gone through stuff together. It’d be weird if we didn’t become friends after everything that’s happened,”

That was still probably too much to say, but Steve almost felt like he owed Eddie that much. The guy had done nothing but try to help, try to be supportive; he wanted to give him some kind of explanation for why he was continuing to torture himself with the sight of his ex and Jonathan.

Eddie still seemed pretty confused, and Steve doubted he even half understood, but his eyes had softened up, looking at Steve in a way that made his stomach feel funny. Not in the same way it had before with Nancy, just…funny.

“You’re a strange creature, Steve Harrington,” Eddie finally said, giving Steve a slow sweet smile. Steve shook his head, shooting Eddie a wry grin.

“And you, Eddie Munson, are a nosy jackass,” He snarked. Eddie laughed, too loud for the quiet library. Everything about Eddie was too much, always. He stood out from the crowd- no he didn’t just stand out, he forced himself out. Everyone had to notice him, everyone had to see. Steve, who had always done everything he could to blend in, to become one of the popular crowd, it was thrilling.

“Too true my liege,” Eddie said, inclining his head ever so slightly, “How’s your character coming?”

Steve rolled his eyes, digging around in his bag to grab the offending enemy, waving it around his head.

“Well, if I could stop wanting to hurl this book into the Quarry, I think I would be making progress,”

“What did the player handbook ever do to you?” Eddie gasped in mock horror, reaching up to pluck the book from Steve’s grasp and hold it protectively against his chest. Steve, already used to Eddie’s theatrics from their few interactions, just scowled and crossed his arms.

“It’s long, overly complicated, and the letters keep jumping around,” He griped.

Eddie slid out of the persona he had created as quickly as he had come into it, cocking his head to the side and making those bambi eyes somehow even bigger.

“Jumping around?” Eddie questioned.

“Yeah, but that one is really kind of an every book situation. I’m not big on reading. School’s just not my thing. Give me a ball or a kid to wrangle, that’s where I shine,” Steve said in a joking tone, trying to steer the conversation to other places. If he could get Eddie on a rant about basketball, or teasing him for babysitting, then they wouldn’t have to talk about his difficulties with reading.

And Steve really did not want to talk about his difficulties with reading.

It wasn’t exactly like he was ashamed of not really being able to read, except he really fucking was. What kind of person got to their senior year of high school and still couldn’t manage to read more than a page without wanting to give up? What kind of person still couldn’t manage to spell a single full sentence correctly at almost eighteen?

An idiot. That’s who.

But, if Eddie hadn’t already realized how much of a numbskull Steve was, then he wasn’t all that anxious to show his new friend. Everyone in Eddie’s circle was just like his kids, wicked smart and unafraid to flaunt it. If Eddie figured out just how much Steve really didn’t belong with them, he might change his mind about having Steve around.

No, on the whole, it was just better to derail the conversation. But Eddie didn’t seem to want to be derailed.

“What page are you on?” He asked Steve, his face frustratingly neutral.

Steve bit the tip of his tongue, contemplating just how far he might get in a lie. Would fifty pages be too obvious? Maybe he could say twenty five, and try to get Eddie on a rambling tangent before he began quizzing Steve on statistics. But as Steve went to open his mouth to try and spin a story that might work, Eddie held up a hand, cutting him off.

“Hey, I don’t judge. I just failed an essay because apparently Star Wars isn’t ‘an appropriate choice for analyzing the Hero’s Journey’,” Eddie said in a mocking false voice, handing the essay over as evidence.

A big fat ‘F’ sat at the top of the paper, circled in red. Steve’s brow furrowed, and he put it down, grabbing his own essay out of his bag. He and Eddie weren’t in the same class, but they did have the same teacher.

She had given Steve a ‘C’, and Steve’s essay was only two pages to Eddie’s five.

“Wait, do you mean the big wheel thing?” Steve asked. Eddie nodded, his mouth screwed up into a frustrated pout. Steve picked up his notebook and flipped to a clean page, drawing out a circle.

“But it works perfectly, why would she tell you it didn’t?” Steve made a mark at the top of the circle, “Leia’s hologram is Luke’s call to action, the force is his supernatural thing, his inciting incident is his aunt and uncle being killed, Obi Wan is the mentor, the robots are the helpers, and then Han is too. And Chewie! Obi Wan dying is the abyss, and then Luke transforms at the death star, becomes a jedi, and saves the galaxy.”

Steve continued to make little doodles along the edges of the wheel, muttering to himself. It was a really good example actually, and he was kind of jealous. He had just used The Odyssey like their teacher had suggested, but Star Wars was a way cooler option.

Why had she failed Eddie? At the very least he should have gotten a ‘C’ like Steve did. Even if she didn’t like what he had written, he had put in way more effort than Steve had.

Then, he noticed how quiet the table had gotten. He looked up briefly, and Eddie was looking at him, his jaw dropped, eyes wide in a whole different way.

“What?” He asked, unsure of why exactly Eddie was just staring at him.

“Steve, how is it possible that you just perfectly outlined the hero’s journey, but school ‘isn’t’ your thing?”

He squirmed in his seat, instantly uncomfortable. His parents liked to say things like that- he was smart, but he was just lazy. If he tried, then he would get better grades.

Steve would be at a dinner or some other stupid social function that he was dragged to and say something that was apparently impressively insightful, which should have been the right thing to do.

It never was.

Instead of praising him, his parents would always shake their heads, look at their friends, and sigh that if Steve just applied himself, he would do better. That they had done their best, and clearly he had the ability, he just lacked work ethic.

It didn’t matter how many times Steve attempted to explain that he was trying, that he stayed up all night sometimes, just trying and trying and trying. They didn’t care.

Eddie didn’t seem to mean it the same way as they usually did, but it was close enough to make Steve want to curl up in a ball and disappear.

“This is a picture. Pictures don’t move,” Steve said, mentally praying for the bell to ring, but knowing it wasn’t going to. They still had at least a half hour left in the period. Plenty of time for Eddie to ‘try and help’ which would probably just end with Steve being even more humiliated than he already was.

“What if I read it out loud to you?” Eddie offered.

It was a genuine offer, Steve could tell that it was. It was sweet, and it was kind, and Steve could never accept it.

“You don’t have to,” Steve protested, ignoring the part of his mind that thought it might be nice to get to listen to Eddie talk. He was a gifted storyteller, and Steve was always greedy for stories, even though they were so inaccessible to him.

Still, he wasn’t some toddler sitting on his mother’s lap, and Eddie wasn’t holding a picture book.

“I just want to get what I need to make a character, that’s all,” Steve said. He just wanted to be able to do enough that he would get by fairly okay during the next Hellfire meeting. He just wanted to be able to prove that he did want to join them.

“Then, I’ll read the parts you need for that, and I’ll help you fill in whatever gaps,” Eddie amended, reaching out yet again. He even physically reached this time, leaning over the table and squeezing Steve’s wrist once before settling back.

Steve opened his mouth to agree, to just say yes, but his voice was failing him. The words were stuck in his throat, and no matter how hard he tried to force them out, they just wouldn’t budge.

“Sweetheart, I’m a super senior,” He pointed out with a little self-deprecating laugh, “I’m in no position to judge. And, even if I was, I wouldn’t.”

There it was again.

Sweetheart.

Eddie had called him that after Hellfire, and Steve had brushed it off, considering it a fluke or a slip of the tongue. Given the deer in headlights look he had given Steve the second he said it, that wasn’t a bad call.

This clearly was not the same. Eddie had meant to call him ‘Sweetheart’ this time, knowing that Steve wasn’t necessarily going to mind it. He chewed on his lip, worrying it between his teeth as he tried to figure out why exactly he didn’t mind Eddie calling him a pet name.

It was the kind of thing Steve usually used for girls he was trying to woo, the kind of thing a guy would say to a girl. He had never heard a guy call another guy ‘Sweetheart’ before, but no matter how hard he searched, Steve couldn’t find a single part of himself that minded. Sure, he was confused by it, but it wasn’t upsetting or anything.

Just weird.

Not even weird in a bad way, and wasn’t that a head trip?

Fuck it. He already had enough on his plate as it was. Steve didn’t have the time or the energy to try and figure that one out.

He got up from his chair and came around to the other side, sitting on Eddie’s left the way he had during the Hellfire meeting the week before. Eddie beamed, settling down and putting the book on the table between them both. Steve didn’t need to say yes, Eddie just knew, and for that he was grateful. He was already struggling enough as it was.

“What page?” Eddie asked again, dipping his voice low and letting it melt the icy walls that Steve always kept around him.

“Eight,” He said, pausing to gauge Eddie’s reaction.

There was none. No snort of derision, no sigh, no head shake. Eddie just nodded, flipping to the right page. Steve let out a soft breath, forcing his body to relax.

It was Eddie. He wouldn’t judge.

“I was on the part talking about levels,” Steve added, taking the risk to lean in and let their arms brush up against each other. Eddie stilled for all of two seconds before going back to totally nonchalant.

“Perfect. I could use a refresher anyway.” Eddie said, rolling his neck and shoulders to stretch quickly before clearing his throat in an over dramatic fashion, just to make Steve laugh.

There it was again. The weird feeling in his stomach.

Steve ignored it. He ignored their arms, ignored ‘Sweetheart’, ignored his ex and everything that came with her, and even ignored the very world around them. None of it mattered, not right now. He pushed all thoughts away, letting himself get lost in Eddie’s voice and the universe he created with it.

“Typically, a character starts at 1st level and advances in level by adventuring and gaining experience points (XP). A 1st-level character is inexperienced in the adventuring world, although he or she might have been a soldier or a pirate and done dangerous things before….”

Tag List: @paopaupaus @zerokrox-blog @surferboyzaza @whatever-is-a-good-name @minjintea @addelyin @5ammi90 @hagbaby420 @shinekocreator @bornonthesavage @starxlark @electrick-marionnett @resident-gay-bitch @ash-a-confused-enby @classicdinosaurdeathpose @valon-whomsttf @rotten-lil-goblin @thereindeerlady @love-ya-kash @kerlypride @sparkle-fiend @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @milf-harrington @sadcanadianwinter @gothbat99 @hotcocoaharrington @henderdads @lightwoodbanethings @colorful565 @h0n3y-dw @craterbbox @sourw0lfs @lesliiieeeee @bidisastersworld @tinynebula @ravnlinn @bonescaro @mexmatch @cottagecoredreams @joruni @hellykelly @maegan1116 @farewell-wanderlvst @desertfern @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @anythingforourmoonyedits @eerielake @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sidekick-hero

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grapenehifics · 2 months

Text

Prisoner 224

I really loved writing Out of Sync for @fulcrum843's @topwan-obikin fest prompt, but fully intended it to be a one-shot until @somethingsteff started feeding me ideas and, well, I'm limited on free time right now so this is still only a ficlet but I couldn't help myself.

If you don't know the fic, the Council finds out about Obi-Wan and Anakin's relationship and they quit the Order. Anakin punches Palpatine when he insults Obi-Wan and gets sent to jail, and Obi-Wan hurries to hit the Chancellor as well so they can stay together. This also fulfills @ficwip's Hey Sweetheart challenge!

Text under the cut:

“Where are we going?” Anakin demanded. His hands were bound at the wrists in front of him, which didn’t make him look very threatening, but he gave his best glare to the backs of the heads of the troopers escorting him down the hall anyway.

Neither the troopers ahead of him nor the two at his back answered him. Their little group just kept marching along.

“I demand to know where you’re taking me,” Anakin tried, not pausing in his forward march but flexing his fingertips in preparation. He didn’t want to use the Force against them – besides the fact that they were probably just acting on orders from someone higher up the prison management chain of command, he was also pretty sure even something mild like knocking four guards out for a few hours would get his sentence extended and that was the opposite of what he wanted considering Obi-Wan was already slated to get out weeks before he did – but he also was not planning on taking a move to another cell block without putting up some sort of a fight.

He and Obi-Wan were kept apart for most of the day – Anakin in his cell and Obi-Wan in his – but because they were part of the same cell block, they were allowed to take both their exercise hour and their meal break together, Anakin holding Obi-Wan’s hand clasped in his as they jogged around the exercise track in their prison-issued tracksuits and rubbing elbows as they sat side-by-side with their dinner trays (and this only because they’d been told off for trying to sit on each other’s laps instead). But it was still a far sight better than not getting to see him at all, and Anakin hadn’t even done anything wrong (lately) and so really didn’t deserve to be punished like this.

“I want to go back to my cell,” he said.

“One of my batchmates is serving under Commander Cody in the 212th,” the trooper behind Anakin on his right said through his helmet vocoder. “CT-3812.”

“Sure. Punch, right?” Anakin said easily. “Yeah, I know him. But what has that got to do with anything?”

“That’s him,” the trooper agreed. None of the prison guards had ever told Anakin their names, just their badge numbers, although not for lack of asking. This one was one of the supervisors. Some of the younger guys were so green they had five-digit designations. “He’s met General Kenobi a few times.”

“Cool. So have I,” Anakin nearly growled. “That’s who I’m trying to get back to. So if you could just put me back in my cell, that’d be great. Or at least tell me what I’ve done.”

“Punch tells me he’s a real stand-up guy,” the trooper continued, as if Anakin hadn’t spoken. “Always makes sure his men have enough to eat. Doesn’t take unnecessary risks. That sort of thing.”

They rounded a corner. Anakin was starting to get desperate. “Just tell me where we’re going,” he practically begged. “I can call in a couple of favors and get myself reassigned back to Obi-Wan’s floor”-

“Punch also said,” the trooper on Anakin’s right said, so loudly he was almost shouting in Anakin’s ear, “that one time you and your troops joined up with their battalion, you threw yourself in front of a blazer bomb. Saved the lives of fifteen men.”

Anakin had done that enough times that that didn’t really narrow it down for him. “Which campaign?” he asked, but the trooper ignored him yet again, which seemed rude, considering he’d started the conversation in the first place.

A commlink chirped – Anakin instinctively looked to his own belt before remembering he didn’t wear one anymore – and one of the troopers at the front of their procession answered it.

“We’re ready for you, Sergeant,” the voice on the other end said.

“Copy,” the man said, replacing the device on his belt.

“Well, I’m not ready,” Anakin said, and he stopped walking. The troopers at his back nearly ran into him. “I’m not going any further without an explanation. If you can’t give me that, then you can just put me back in my cell, because” –

“We do regular maintenance, on all the cells,” one of the troopers injected, talking over the tail end of Anakin’s sentence. “Routine cleaning, things like that. Check that the water pipes are functioning properly, do a little light dusting…”

“I don’t care if my cell is clean or not,” Anakin hissed. “You can skip mine for the next five months if you want. Or let me do it myself. Is that the problem? Just give me the tools and leave me alone. If you’re worried I’m going to break out, I promise I won’t. As long as you’ve got Obi-Wan here I’m, like, the opposite of a flight risk.”

“It might take, say, three hours to finish the whole floor, wouldn’t you say?” the trooper on Anakin’s left asked the trooper on Anakin’s right.

“Maybe as many as four,” he responded.

“And we do these sorts of rounds every other week,” the first one continued.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Anakin demanded.

“If you’d just wait right in here, Prisoner 224,” the trooper who was friends with Punch said, and nudged Anakin in the back with the butt of his rifle.

“I told you; I’m not going. And you’re bluffing. You won’t shoot me.”

“That’s true,” the trooper admitted. “I’m not. What I am going to do is count to thirty, and by the time I get to the end, you’re going to decide to go, all on your own.”

“Ha,” Anakin said. “Like hell I am. What on earth do you think would make me” –

“Here we are, sir,” another of the troopers said, and he punched the button to release the door guard in front of one of the cells. He was wearing a bucket, but he somehow seemed to be able to stare straight into Anakin’s eyes anyway. “Four hours, every other week,” he repeated slowly, enunciating very clearly.

“I don’t care how clean it is,” Anakin insisted, just as he was very unceremoniously shoved forward into the new cell he absolutely did not want to be in –

“Oh. Hello, sweetheart,” Obi-Wan said, sitting up from where he’d been lying on his back across his bunk, his arms crossed behind his head. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“What” – Anakin stammered as the door guard slammed down behind him, locking him in. Locking him into Obi-Wan’s cell. With Obi-Wan.

Anakin opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. The binders around his wrists unlocked and fell to the floor with a clatter. “Send Punch my regards,” he said, without turning his head. He and Obi-Wan hadn’t stopped staring into one another’s eyes from the moment they’d faced one another. Obi-Wan grinned. Anakin grinned back.

“Will do, sir,” his friend said jovially, but Anakin missed hearing him as he launched himself at Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan, laughing, caught him and lowered him down onto his bunk.

“Did I just hear you say something about four hours?” Obi-Wan asked mischievously, one eyebrow raising into a verbal question mark.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan did.

#hey sweetheart #out of sync #obikin

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