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athenaistired · 5 months

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YOU GOT ME ABSOLUTELY HOOKED ON YOUR CHEATFIC WITH DILUC!

I need more of it :00

Will you be making a part two??

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂❞

— 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐭.𝟐 //

plot: ᴅᴏɴɴᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅɪʟᴜᴄ ꜱᴛᴀʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴜᴇꜱᴛ ʙᴇᴅʀᴏᴏᴍ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ʟᴏɴɢ. ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴅ ᴘʟᴀɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʀɪᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴅ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴇᴛʜᴏᴅꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ꜱᴏ.

art credit & word count: 4614

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ, ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴘᴏɪꜱᴏɴɪɴɢ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅɪᴠᴏʀᴄᴇ

— 𝑴𝒀 𝑳𝑼𝑺𝑻𝑭𝑼𝑳 𝑯𝑼𝑺𝑩𝑨𝑵𝑫 !2!

“Y/N, we need to talk.” Diluc’s voice was stern. You hated that tone. That man dared to step back into your home, claim what’s right and what’s wrong, and now he thinks of assuming you’d reason with his fantasies. You waited for this sweet revenge for years. He deserved every bit of it. You were patient and cautious. Most importantly, fueled with malice.

“It’s Master Y/N to you starting from today, Diluc.” You couldn’t hold back a smirk from spreading across your face. The offended expression was just beyond amusing.

“Are you having fun humiliating me in any way you can? Did you think that stunt you pulled during breakfast was appropriate?” His voice sounded like it was about to crack from the pent-up pressure. You fake coughed into your fist and forced on a perfect smile.

“Oh? We are talking of what’s appropriate and what isn’t, Master Ragnvindr?” Diluc’s eye twitched, and he seemed to be ready to fight over this until twilight, but you had no time nor desire to spare, “Alright then, pyro-boy,” You walked up to a mirror in the hallway before the exit to fix your hair, “You see.. I’ve got errands to run, my dearest. I’ve got no time for useless chit-chat.”

And before anything else could be exchanged, you were already by the door running out of the mansion. Diluc could only burn stares into your back with a tightened fist.

“Master Y/N..”

Marie had no clue how to approach you with the information that she had found out. You’ve sent out so many search parties, volunteers, guards, knights, and even commissioners that have almost drained your wallet to the last coin of mora. You were about to go endlessly broke. Each day you’ve begged people to lend you a loan, however, no one could as they didn’t trust that you’d return it. Even so, none of that mattered when the love of your life was missing.

You had to find Diluc.

You knew he was not in the right mindset ever since his father had passed away. The redhead began to completely ignore you, wouldn’t speak a word in your direction, and locked himself away in one of the guest bedrooms. You gave him time. You tried staying positive, be patient, talk from the other side. You left food trays by his door, and you slid letters under the creak, in hopes that one day you’ll get at least something back.

But then, Diluc had vanished into the night.

And you fell apart.

“What is it, Marie?! Did you find him?” The desperation in your voice was painful. You have been so worried, that you’ve become ill. Your stomach was twisting in knots, your throat was sore, and you could never catch longer than an hour of sleep. Everyone watched you crumble down, but none of them could do anything.

There was no cure for a broken heart.

“No, Master Ragnvindr. But we do know where he left.”

“Then why are we still talking?! We must chase after him—!”

“He’s left to Snezhnaya. Rumors say that Master Diluc has no intentions of coming back. He had left, to take lives and execute revenge. It is impossible to go that far in Teyvat. People will die in search of him.”

Something cracked inside you. All you could do was sit back down on your chair, hunch over your back, and put both of your hands against the sides of your head. You just wanted to disappear. You couldn’t recall the last time you were this alone.

An agonic moan (or was it a painful cry?) had ripped itself from between your sealed lips. You were sobbing from inner pain; your chest felt torn apart. You’ve been humiliated, abandoned, and tossed aside like nothing. Did all those memories and promises never matter to Diluc? Was this marriage really just a contract to him enforced by his father? You were convinced that at least the two of you were friends. Turns out, it was all nothing in the end.

If he ever comes back — he will regret it.

The sunlight shined brighter through the colorful windows of your office. You had quite a lot of paperwork to do. Usually, you would do it at home, but with the “guests” around to make your life miserable, you preferred the office for today. You thought of getting them a separate house, or an apartment for yourself in the center of Mondstat. Maybe even moving all the way back to your motherland — Fontaine. You could finalize the divorce and rob Diluc of his last Mora, but you also were not quite satisfied. He had to feel more pain, more misery, more agony — like you did.

You wanted to ruin his life.

Not his status, health, or wealth.

Life.

You wanted to toy with his feelings, make him question his very own reasons and intentions, strip him of any power and confidence, and most importantly — break his heart into pieces, so that he’ll never recover. Same way you never could.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a gentle knock and a distant voice behind the main door. One of the guards walked in and bowed, and after your nod, he straightened up his back and proceeded to report the situation.

“The Honorary Knight and Master Jean request an audience, Master Y/N.” You blinked at the pleasant surprise. You haven’t seen Lumine for months now, and you weren’t expecting for her to come back this soon into town.

“Oh? Do let them in, of course.” The guard bowed once more before opening the front door fully to let the guests in, “My, am I dreaming, or are the two of my favorite people are in the same room as me?” You stood up with a happy smile and quickly gave the two women gentle hugs. Lumine blushed, Paimon puffed at not being mentioned, and Jean knowingly smiled, “What brings you two here?”

Lumine walked up closer to you with her sword atop her palms; there was a crack in the middle. It wasn’t broken fully yet, but with a single elemental blow, it would shatter.

“I see..” You mumbled, and picked up the sword from her, “What kind of monster have you fought to have broken blade made by my blacksmiths?” You jokingly asked.

“The Raiden Shogun..” Paimon mumbled, and your eyes widened.

“Huh—?” Before you could ask further, Lumine quietly cursed at Paimon, and then looked back at you.

“It is a very long story, but no, relations between me and Inazuma’s government are okay now.” The blonde girl reassured you as she waved her hands in defense.

“It better be, as I do not condone criminals, Honorary Knight.” Although you were being sarcastic, your tone still made the Traveler tense up, “Nevertheless, I shall have this fixed up within a week. I’ll make some changes with a few clients’ deadlines to have this as a special priority.”

“You’re the best, Master Y/N.” Jean sincerely smiled; you could see the gratitude swimming in her eyes, “I was so scared that you wouldn’t be here..”

“My dear husband came back home, so I will probably start showing up here on a daily basis from now on.” You said before you could think through your words. Well, not like this was a secret to many. After all, Donna had spoken so much about her successful affair with a married man that the news spread faster than the winds of Mondstat.

“Master Y/N has a husband?!” Paimon’s jaw almost touched the floor from shock, “No. Way?!”

“Sadly, that I do.” You groaned; already feeling a migraine building up.

“Master Y/N is married to Master Diluc.” Jean decided to speak in your stead, but you weren’t sure if the information was for the better or the worse.

“Diluc has a spouse?! But I thought that he was with Donna..” Paimon’s last sentence made everyone go quiet. Lumine lightly slapped her flying companion on the back of her head for messing up, meanwhile, the Acting Grand Master sensed that this was their queue to leave.

“A-anyway.. Thank you, Master Y/N. We will be seeing you later.” Jean forced on a smile, and soon they were all out the door.

You couldn’t help but replay the words over and over in your head. Without realizing it, you felt something warm and wet streaming down your palm. Looking down you discovered that you dug your fingernails so deep in your flesh that they broke the skin and made you bleed. You couldn’t even feel it. Almost as if you were somewhere else entirely.

“This is really bad! We should tell Master Y/N that Master Diluc is cheating!” Was the first thing Paimon said once Lumine and Jean were outside of the building. Both blondes had conflicted expressions on their faces, “How could he even do such a thing? Master Y/N is so nice and talented.. Ah.. This is wrong, so wrong..”

“Ahem.” Jean cleared her throat, “I guess it is only fair for me to tell the two of you a story about Master Diluc and Master Y/N.”

“There’s more to this?” Lumine raised her brows in curiosity.

“Yes.” The woman sighed, “The two of them had known each other since childhood, and got engaged at the ages of 16 for political and financial reasons. I do assume that they had young love in the beginning, but it quickly fell apart after Master Diluc’s father had passed away..” Lumine and Paimon exchanged a look of surprise.

“W-what happened?” The floating companion questioned further.

“Not many know this, but Master Y/N fell ill from a broken heart. They’ve searched and searched for Diluc in no vain.” Jean couldn’t hold back the frown that was forming. She remember those days like they were yesterday. Back then everything was different. Master Y/N had compassion, love, and care. Their heart had passion and kindness to give, but those dark times have stolen purity and light away from Y/N's mind — never giving it back.

Sometimes, Jean would see small glimpses of Master Y/N from the past, but they were barely there. Only an echo of the past. Nothing more, nothing less.

“They got better eventually, right..?” Lumine asked, and Jean nodded.

“Yes, as you can see. One day, Master Y/N left on a trip. All that I know is that at first, they visited a good doctor in Sumeru. That man aided them in quick recovery. After that, they went off to Fontaine in search of the best lawyers in case Diluc does come back. The rest is only known to Master Y/N, but even what I said just now is merely my personal speculation. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have been plotting a divorce for all these years in case their love had truly withered away.”

“And after all of that, Master Diluc came back and decided to cheat?!” Paimon could barely contain her anger at this point, as she waved her arms around and kicked her feet, “No, you know what?! Screw him! I’ll come up with an ugly nickname for him.. How about.. Hm.. Maybe.. No, that won’t do..” Jean and Lumine both sighed and left the floating fairy to her thoughts.

“Well.. I am not sure what Master Diluc is thinking.. But he is also not being his usual self.” Jean admitted with a sorrowful look in her eyes, “They both changed a lot, so.. I wouldn’t exactly jump to conclusions. Perhaps.. There is no black and white, but plainly grey.” Lumine raised a brow at the knight, but having caught a whiff of the feeling that she had said too much, the taller woman straightened her back and quickly looked away, “Well then, I must go.” She glanced up at the sky in surprise, “We’ve chatted all the way ‘till afternoon.”

“That we did..” Lumine whispered back in thought.

It was deep in the night when you finally decided to come back. As much as you would rather to avoid the two idiots resting under your roof, you didn’t want it to seem like you were running away. You had to come out as the winner in this situation no matter what, and you wouldn’t let some cheating bastard control where you rest, eat, and work.

“Master Y/N, welcome back.” Sometimes you wondered whether Marie ever slept. The woman waited for you by the doorstep; helping you take off your long beige coat.

“Thank you, Marie. I will not be having dinner tonight, but a snack would be appreciated.” You smiled at her, but her serious look never swayed.

“What would you like?” She asked, and a moment later you noticed a figure standing by the stairs waiting for you to finish your conversation. Suddenly, you were in a terrible mood all over again.

“A slice of shortbread with some tea, please.” You didn’t let your tone change even in the slightest.

“I will proceed immediately, Master Y/N.” Marie nodded and headed out to the kitchen area.

You decided to ignore the obvious presence for as long as possible. You took your time taking off your shoes, polishing them, and leaving a neutral essence inside so they stay fresh for the next morning. Then, you took out a roller hidden behind the shoe shelves and began picking off the dust and dirt off your coat. Of course, your maids would do this for you every evening, but you just wanted to see how long would the other person last until their patience would crack.

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” Diluc gritted out between his teeth.

“My! Who’s there? Almost scared me to death!” You dramatically gasped and then turned around to face him with a sarcastic look.

“Stop with your fucking games.” You saw Diluc clench his fist, but that got no reaction out of you. He didn’t scare you, and never will. Even if he were to raise a knife or his claymore — you’ll never be afraid of a coward.

“What a foul language from a foul man.” You whispered under your breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

“Where have you been?” He asked and you raised a brow.

“I have no need to report to you.” You shrugged him off and began walking away down the hallway, but he quickly followed you. You stopped abruptly; almost making him smash into your frame, “But I guess I’ll indulge you. I was at work. Happy?”

“Delighted.”

“Now, what do you really want, Diluc?” You turned around to face him, and both of you stared at each other with hatred. Your rage was silent and hidden away, his was loud and clear.

“I want a divorce. You’re humiliating me. People speak about me in a bad light every single time I pass by a crowd. I’m losing respect and friends.” You could barely hold back a laugh.

“Divorce, you say..” You gestured with your finger for him to follow you. He was confused but did as you said. The two of you ended up in your personal study which you had built when Diluc was away. Silently, you walked up to your desk and took out a single document. You’ve treasured and kept this piece of paper in the safest place you could think of.

“What is this?”

“This — is the divorce that you so desire.” You refused to let go off it in case Diluc would rip it apart or set it on fire, “However, I’d advise for you to read it before agreeing. You know, there might be some elements which will make you reconsider.”

Diluc scanned the document quickly with his eyes, and the more he read, the paler and angrier he got. It stated here that the house, the business, the contracts, and everything will go to you. As someone who had been paying for everything over the past years, everything that used to be his — had become yours. Plus, with Diluc’s rage history and criminal record, he wasn’t considered to be mentally stable according to the laws of Fontaine. Thus, you were the one to stay responsible for the crucial deals.

“Criminal record..? Clinically insane..? What the fuck have you done?!”

“You amuse me, honey! You’ve done all of this yourself!” This time you laughed straight into his face. You laughed so hard that your stomach began hurting. Yes, you loved that expression on his face. The confusion, realization, panic, and finally — agony. He was feeling what you’ve been feeling for years and years at the time! He deserved it all!

“After you ran away for 3 years, I searched for you a long time. Eventually, I gave up and went to my good friend in Fontaine. That friend happens to be a divorce lawyer. We set up a defense statement, gathered evidence, questioned people for witness reports, and created a contract in advance. You were called to attend the court hearing many times, but since no one could get a hold of you, the court date was at first changed many times, until eventually the case was put on hold until I would be able to find you. Then, when you did come back, I hired a private investigator to uncover everything about where you have been and what you’ve done in the past three years. I’ve gathered further evidence and went back to court. You can probably guess how that went, but in case you haven’t figured it out — you are a wanted criminal everywhere except Mondstat, deemed irrational and insane, and you are suspected to be guilty of countless deaths.”

“You were prepared for the divorce.. All this time..?” Diluc couldn’t believe his own ears, “No.. Not even that.. You prepared everything to completely ruin my life..” He grinned and couldn’t hold back a nervous laugh. He stated at you in shock, disbelief, but most importantly — betrayal. It was written all over his face, and you loved every second of it. You wanted to see him in pain, you wanted to watch him regret his choices, you wanted him to suffer, and all because he left you. None of this would have happened had he made the right decision.

“Yes. I just wanted to see how low you would go before settling things once and for all. How many more disgusting lies and tales you would tell me.” You felt your voice increase in volume, so you fell silent for a moment, before continuing further, “The only reason I’ve endured everything thus far was because I knew that I had won even before you stepped back into this house. I knew that I would ruin your life no matter if you came back or not. I knew it, but seeing it play out like this?” You didn’t even realize that you were smiling. Your heart was blooming with joy.

“This might be the happiest day of my life.”

“You’re fucking crazy..” The man whispered in disbelief. All of this was beyond belief. For such fucked up case to go through, to be hidden away from him, and for everyone to be kept in the dark? There had to be uncountable amounts of bribery involved. And not just that; you’ve told lies, you acted your way through like an abused and damaged spouse. You had everyone fooled. Absolutely everyone, “You’re a psychopath. Y-You’re an actual psychopath.”

“You feed my ego more and more with each passing day.” You couldn’t help but take all of his ‘insults’ as compliments, “The paper that you’re looking at is confirmation of everything that had transpired. Once you sign this — the case will be officially closed. You can bring me to court if you so desire, but your chances of winning against me are estimated to be 0.05%.”

You were right. He had no chance against you, and even though admitting defeat this fast made a sour feeling creep up his back — he had already bit off more than he could chew. Before marrying you, he was warned about your family. That they were all crazy. Out of this world. But with your pure nature in childhood, he was certain you’d turn out differently — more weak and stupid. Maybe like Donna.

He was wrong.

You were a spitting image of your parents. Just as calculating and cold. He looked down at the paper in your hand, and then back at your smiling face. You had ruined a life to no repair, but there was no hesitation, no regret, no sadness. Only happiness. You were overjoyed. You seemed to be at the 9th cloud.

“What happens if we stay married?” He wasn’t sure what prompted him to ask this question.

“You get to keep your bar, your girlfriend, your friends. You will also get to stay in the guest bedroom of this house. You’ll be provided with food, water, and clothes. Your healthcare will be taken care of by me.”

“What happens if I leave?”

“You lose it all, and you flee in shame. You can never come back or start over. Any job would know of your criminal deeds and not hire you. You’ll become the man who cheated and divorced Master Y/N, and then ran away with a tail between his legs. You will also be known as a madman who in grief slaughtered innocents with the use of a delusion.” His eyes widened at the last sentence. It was shocking to him just how much you knew.

“I have no choice then.”

“You do. There’s always a choice.” You reminded him, and he could only glare at you with disgust, “I think this is a great way to put to the test how much Donna loves you!” You suddenly exclaimed, and Diluc’s eyes widened in horror at what you were suggesting, “Would she stay with a man who had lost his career, money, and status?” You got closer, and closer to him with each word, “Would she stay with him when everyone will know that she was the one to break apart a family?” You filled his brain with poisonous thoughts that he couldn’t shake off, “Would she stay knowing that you could kill when angry?“ Your hand trailed across his back towards his shoulder, as you leaned closer to his face, “You seem to love her oh so much, mustn’t you have faith in her feelings?” You whispered, and Diluc felt a nauseous wave swim across his gut.

“I’ve never met someone as sadistic as you.” He gritted out, and you bursted out laughing.

“You know, Diluc.. I am a good person to have on your side, rather than against you.” You shrugged, “You just made the wrong choice.”

Those were your last words as you finally began heading upstairs with Marie trailing behind you like a loyal puppy. Diluc was stuck downstairs with a storm of thoughts and a tonne weighting at his heart.

He had no clue what to do now.

Donna was getting worried about Diluc. The man began to eat less, stopped leaving their guest bedroom for weeks, and completely buried himself in books about the laws of Fontaine. He made a mind map of sorts using ripped out pages and liters of ink, but no matter how much she tried to understand what was written, she felt like she was going inside alongside him. Whenever she would attempt to communicate with him as to what was happening, he would either brush her off or ignore her altogether. She might have not been the smartest one around, but she wasn’t a complete idiot either. Sadly, all of her attempts with her lover were pointless, so that left her with a single plausible option.

“Master Y/N, Mistress Donna wishes to speak with you.” Marie knocked on your door, and you quietly murmured back a reply that Donna didn’t catch.

“You don’t have to call me a Mistress..” The brunette complained, but her voice was ignored by the maid who only gave her a small smile after opening the door.

“Donna, what an unexpected visit. Please, do take a seat.” You gestured at the chair in front of your work desk, and with hesitation, the woman took a seat, “Apologies, but you’ll have to wait until I am done. However, feel welcome to pour yourself a cup of tea.” Any other day, Donna would have insisted on their conversation being urgent, but over the past weeks she had learned that going against your word in this house was close to a sin.

The two of you sat in silence. She held her back straight but didn’t dare to touch the ceramic cup or the teapot. Her gaze got lost staring outside the window onto the endless fields, trees, and flowers. Ever since she and Diluc ended up here, it felt like all light was getting sucked out of her bit by bit. This mansion always had its curtains closed, with only a bit of sunlight peeking through. It made Donna feel suffocated like she was about to be swallowed by the four walls of this house — never able to escape.

“I’m done.” Your voice snapped her out of her thoughts, “What did you wish to speak about?”

For a second, she was silent. You could see her emotions and thoughts right through her eyes as if she was as transparent as glass. Donna was ridiculously easy to read. She seemed to be getting tired. There was an aura of defeat surrounding her.

“Do you love Diluc?” She asked. You didn’t expect that question, but it didn’t surprise you.

“I resent him. More than anything, Donna.” You reassured her, and she weakly nodded at that.

“Thought so..” She whispered, and sighed, “Is it possible for him to earn your forgiveness?”

You chuckled at her words and poured both of you some tea. With hesitation, she accepted and pressed the cup against her lips to take a sip whilst you were still stirring the hot drink with a golden teaspoon.

“When Diluc left me.. This house started to suffocate me. It felt like the sun would burn away at my skin, but the darkness would chew at what remained of my soul. I fell very ill, Donna. I was only 18, just recently married, and still so green and naive for this world. My parents died when I was only 10, he was the only one I had left — but he betrayed me. It taught me a few crucial lessons that I will never forget—“ You were finally done stirring the tea, and gently put the cutlery away.

“To only trust myself. To never forgive. To never forget. And to never let anyone think you are weak.”

Just as you were done, Donna realized that her stomach was hurting more than usual and she had an intense burning sensation creeping up her esophagus. Before she could drop the cup, you swiftly caught it and poured its contents back into the teapot. The brunette woman couldn’t stop coughing and gasping for breath as she watched you pour out the tea outside the window — erasing the evidence.

“Marie, the homewrecker seems to be feeling unwell.” Donna didn’t even notice the maid inside the room, already grabbing at her half-paralyzed body as if she were a bag of stones, “Could you have Sebastian keep an eye on her?”

“Of course, Master Y/N.”

Donna’s eyes wouldn’t stop streaming endless tears. Her nose became stuffed deep inside, but runny at the same time. She felt like from a collected woman, she was brought down to a complete mess all because she chose to trust you. She should have known better. You were full of rage, hostility, and madness. For some reason, Donna had the impression that even if you’d do something of such sort, there would at least be a warning — a built-up — but the incident just shocked her to the bone.

“Sebastian, Master Y/N requested for you to ensure Mistress Dona doesn’t die.”

Donna’s face and throat were starting to swallow up. She felt like a bloated balloon of liquids, and the more she struggled, the more it was getting harder to breathe. She felt adrenaline rush through, her heart rate picking up, and now the tears falling down her cheeks were not just from the tea.

Before she knew it, her whole world went black.

NEXT CHAPTER!

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silkjade · 1 year

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Ayato brainrot? Ayato brainrot. XD

What's your Ayato brainrot?

For me, since I read part 2 of your Mermaid Reader and Alhaitham fic, I have brain rot of Ayato coming across a mermaid reader in the misty fog of Tsurumi island.

-----

Ayato found himself ensnared by a haunting tune, equal parts sweet and lonely. On the beach, he spots a shadow in the distance. On instinct, his fingers curl around his blade, and a watery illusion appears in the original spot. While you gets closer, Ayato is making his move. As you get closer to him, he gets closer to you. When you're close enough to his watery illusion, it pops, and his blade is right underneath your chin.

"Are you the one who nearly drowned my housekeeper?"

That Yashiro Commissioner's voice is firm, resolute. Yet, even as he stood behind you, the call of your siren song affects him more than he'd like to admit. As a hydro user, his threats feel out of sync compared to how he's feeling internally. He can feel the internal muscles in his body relax, and the urge to touch you. But Ayato is a patient man, though internally his mental restraints are nearly tearing at the seams.

omg nonnie I love this concept and I love that you set it on tsurumi island because it's already quite a creepy island and then with a siren song echoing through the mists? 1000x more haunting

You can already see him struggle against the mesmerizing call of your song, and honestly, you have no idea who he's talking about. Sure a few have escaped, but you tend not to keep track, especially when the number of those who drown, far outweigh that of those of don't. You do enjoy toying with your prey though.

Your finger gingerly pushes his blade away from your neck. In the span of your long life, you've come across enough vision holders to know that his little hydro tricks cannot hurt you.

"So what if I am?"

But this human is different. Despite your sweet voice, your words seem to wake him from his trance. Ayato's body stiffens again as the haze in his mind dissipates and he threatens his blade against your neck again, this time with enough pressure to break skin. His indigo eyes are cold as you sink back into your watery escape. You'll be sure to keep a close eye on him as he's definitely peaked your interest. Now, should he ever fail to remain vigilante by the water...

and then when he's forced to jump into the water (injured) to get away from the tsurumi island rifthounds, you save him because if he's gonna drown, it should be by you and you only !! enemies to lovers

#— 𝓪𝓼𝓴𝓼 #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #𓇼 — 𝓼𝓲𝓵𝓴𝓳𝓪𝓭𝓮'𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓭 𝓪𝓾

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suiyuun-archive · 1 year

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@dawnswine: some new year smut for my sweet ray

silence blankets the winery in the wake of freshly fallen snow, flakes tumbling from the sky in slow, lazy drifts. the world is iced over outside, mondstadt caught tight in the thick of winter and many of it's residents bundled tight in their homes in the wake of the bad weather. a chill normal to this climate is one ayato is not used to, even with the roaring fire, even with the coals beneath the bed in his room. it's the excuse he uses, when he drifts into the owner's office like a white robed phantom, and the excuse he uses again when he slips his lithe frame into a warm lap, and the excuse he uses yet again when lips find lips... ayato ran cold, after all, and the warmth that burned from diluc's pyro vision was enough to beckon him in - a moth to a flame, a noble into his lap.

ayato has been there for some time now, svelte fingertips having dismantled a messy ponytail, and lips having religiously assaulted the winery owner's own. the commissioner's robe has long since been half shed, revealing the milky pallor of his shoulders (one tattooed, one not), and the column of a bare throat, ripe for the taking. but he's having far too much fun - intrepid in his touches and pulling forth concrete ardor in the wake of all that is unholy about the man in the chair beneath him. marks have been laid upon a warm throat, along the slope of his jaw, over his ear, ayato drinking in this strange, magnetic man as if he were the finest of sampled wines this place had to offer him. delicious. heady. like wood smoke, cedar, and cinnamon. ayato wanted more. needed more.

he'd like to watch diluc come apart, he thinks - he wants to see those sad eyes light again with fire or to feel bruises on his hip bones once more. but ayato is patient, for now. he's almost gentle, as he has been this whole time. their hips have met repeatedly with subsequent roughness, the commissioner himself controlling the way with which he rolls himself forward and down, chasing slow and measured friction between them with careful, calculated pants upon diluc's ear. again, he wants to see him come apart, but the man has more patience than he gives him credit for, and it's enough to annoy the swordsmen to no end.

still, ayato does not give in, continuing the careful slide of hips as their lips meet again, and again, and again... it's rough in a way that is gentle, and the encounter entirely too lewd and sensuous. tongues twine together to capable breathlessness, ayato nipping at his companion's lips until he pulls away for breath, connected only by a slim bit of silver between them (the evidence, of a kiss too debauched). " mm. " a quiet noise of pleasure, of want, the elder quivering above him. " what are you- " their foreheads are together now, ayato arching forward to roll his hips down especially hard - ensuring their cocks slide together just right. " holding back for? isn't it - ah- rude, to keep your guests waiting? "

a breathless sigh leaves him, and a lesser man might have even considered it a bit of a pout - though ayato was far too refined for that, even as disheveled as he was now. voice tipping an octave, he looks at him through icy lashes, the strange hue of his eyes nearly glowing in the dim lit of the room. " i'm all ready for you. i've been wanting for this all day, and got eager in the bath - so stop making me wait, if you please. " demanding and polite in the same breath, so like ayato when in the arms of a lover such as diluc.

#dawnswine #━━ ˟ ⊰ ᴅᴀɴᴄɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ // * thread.#━━ ˟ ⊰ ᴋᴀᴍɪꜱᴀᴛᴏ ᴀʀᴛꜱ // * verse i.#OKAY THIS ISN'T AS GOOD AS THE ORIGINAL ONE THAT TUMBLR ATE BUT #alskdfjaslkdjflk #a wittle... smut.... as a treat

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babybluebex · 3 years

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good doctor kreizler ch.3: o come, all ye faithful

summary ↠ part 3 of good doctor kreizler // on christmas eve, as you and your new husband prepare to host your friends, there's a drastic change in plans, and the sudden need for an extra place setting. pairing ↠ laszlo kreizler x fem!reader (y/n) word count ↠ 5.6k warnings ↠ explicit language, smut, oral (f!receiving), sexual content involving a pregnant woman, explicit descriptions of childbirth (and everything that goes along with that), mentions of medical procedures, abduction a/n ↠ finally here it is! masterlist/taglist in bio!

The rustling of the bedsheets was a comfort to hear. Laszlo often woke up earlier than you did in order to prepare for his day at the Institute, and he tried his best not to wake you up. Your doctor had advised that you rest as much as possible, especially in the coming few weeks; as you learned, you seemed to have inherited your mother’s “weak womanly constitution”, as the doctor called it. You had to scale back your help during the investigation because of your weak stomach and over-eager emotions. It broke your heart into pieces when Laszlo finally told you that you were off the case entirely, but you understood his hesitations. At least, you considered, your husband knew better than you.

Not a day went by that you didn’t revel in your new title. The ceremony was a quiet affair, hardly even reported in the society papers, and you had just the most important family there. Sara served as your maid of honor, John as Laszlo’s best man, Marcus and Lucius as the legal witnesses. Laszlo had managed to secure a ring for you, and it glittered on your left hand every single day. The wedding, if you could call it that, had happened on a Saturday morning, and, when you went into work on Monday and had to alert Commissioner Roosevelt to your name change, Teddy had given you a warm smile that secured in you the thought that you would never truly be alone ever again. And you liked it.

You gave a soft moan and threw your arm behind you to capture your husband before he rose from bed. “Las,” you mumbled. In an instant, your hand was filled by his, and Laszlo was pressing his mouth to your cheek. “It’s still dark out.”

“Yes, my beloved, I know,” Laszlo said softly. “But I need to get an early start today.”

“Do you need to?” you groaned. “It’s awfully cold, sweetheart, I’ll freeze up if you leave.”

Laszlo gave a soft coo and kissed your cheek again, and he whispered, “I must get the house ready for dinner tonight.”

“For… What?” you mumbled.

“We’re hosting dinner tonight,” Laszlo explained slowly. The old wife’s tale of pregnancy brain seemed to be a certifiable malady in your case; you were constantly forgetting dates and appointments and misplacing things that you had in your hand. There had been more than one occasion where you had torn apart a room looking for the eyeglasses that you had perched on your nose. Laszlo, in his never-ending loveliness, was patient with you, and he would repeat things as many times as needed for them to stick. “Sara, John, Marcus, and Lucius are joining us.”

“Oh, God,” you huffed. “What’s the occasion?”

“Christmas dinner,” Laszlo said. His hand rested gently on your hip, his thumb making soft circles on your skin, and he nuzzled his beard into your neck. “I suppose, for Marcus and Lucius, it’s just dinner.”

“Oh, damn!” you murmured. “I forgot! How could I forget about Christmas?”

“You’ve had quite a lot on your mind lately,” Laszlo chuckled. “Please, my love, go back to sleep. You can’t help me with this anyway.”

“Why not?” you asked. You struggled to sit up, and Laszlo put his hand on your back and aided you upright. By you and your husband’s calculations, you were about eight months along, and you could feel every moment of it. Your back was constantly aching, and you had headaches that were so awful that you could feel your brain pulsing inside your skull (migraines, Laszlo called them, but you didn’t give a damn what they were called). All of the aches and pains meant nothing, though, when you felt your son kick up into you. Yes, Baby Kreizler was an active one, and, more often than not, you found yourself being woken up in the morning by his movements and kicks.

Laszlo placed his hand gently on your swollen belly, and his palm was met with a nudge. “It involves your Christmas present,” Laszlo told you. “And I can’t very well have you spoil your own present.”

“You—!” you began. “I thought we said we weren’t doing presents! Oh, Las, I have nothing to give you!”

“You must be joking,” Laszlo said. The room was dim, only the dull flame of a gas lamp lighting the bedroom, but you could see your husband’s glittering dark eyes as easily as if it were in the daytime. “You are giving me the best present that I could ever ask for. I could never ask you for anything more.”

You pouted, but drew Laszlo into a kiss. You often forget about your husband’s stubbornness, and, while it had made him the successful man he was, it was rather difficult to try to surprise him with anything. You had told a little fib when you said that you hadn’t gotten him a Christmas gift. The small leather-bound book was stashed in a drawer under your stockings, a neat ribbon around it, the front page reading a personal inscription from the author itself. Laszlo had a habit of reading literature that made you sick to even think about, and he had grown fond of an author that was published in a Boston newspaper, a man named Poe. You had acquired a collection of Poe’s stories and sent him a letter, explaining your situation, and he had sent it back with haste. You had peeked at the inscription, and you smiled just a bit at the words “you and your work are an inspiration, Doctor Kreizler”. Laszlo would like that, you were sure of it.

Laszlo moved his hand from your belly to your cheek, and he held your face as he deepened the kiss. You gave a soft laugh at his boldness (you supposed, though, that a husband’s need for his wife was hardly bold), and you lifted your arms to wrap around his neck. In an instant, Laszlo abandoned his need for being early, and he pressed a line of fluttering kisses down your jaw and neck. You let your fingers run through his hair, still mussed from sleep, and Laszlo pressed a sweet, open-mouthed kiss to your breast. That was another surprise of pregnancy; not that your breasts would grow as your milk came in, but that Laszlo would form an odd attachment to them. If it were anybody else, Laszlo would have looked at the behavior as codependent and perhaps leaning towards neglect from one’s mother, but, since it was him, you knew that he didn’t think about it. The moment your beautiful and eloquent doctor had one of your breasts in his mouth, he turned simple-minded.

So simple-minded, in fact, that he hardly seemed to notice the way his hand slid and crept up your thigh. Or perhaps he was aware of it, and was being coy for your sake. Either way, you keened up into his hand, whimpering just a bit, silently pleading for him. You two had become experts at reading each other, and Laszlo knew what you wanted without you having to utter a word. You didn’t want his hand, he knew that. He gave one last kiss to your hard nipple, then continued to trail feather-light kisses down your body. His hand tangled in your nightgown and rucked it up past your hips, and he gave an open-mouthed kiss to your hip. Your hands clawed at your nightgown, pulling it up and over your head to free your body completely, and Laszlo took a departure from your hip to lavish your belly in kisses. The skin had been permeated with light marks where your skin had stretched to accommodate the baby, and, while you didn’t quite care for the look of them and worried if they would persist, Laszlo never stopped for one second to consider them anything but beautiful.

“Laszlo,” you whimpered out. “Please, my love.”

Laszlo kissed down your hips to your thighs, and he pressed your legs open and pulled them over his shoulders. Then, finally, mercifully, he pressed his mouth to your cunt. He wasted no time, placing open-mouth kisses all over your sensitive skin, and your fingers closed in his hair. You tugged a bit, telling him to go further, and Laszlo licked a stripe up your waiting cunt. You gave him a satisfied little moan and your hips jerked a bit when he gave a harsh suck to your clit. “Las!” you squealed, and you felt him smile against you. “Fuck, more.”

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Laszlo mumbled, looking up at you through his eyelashes as he pressed his mouth against you again. The sight of it had you whimpering, and you felt your release close at hand. That was how it seemed to go, as of late; Laszlo hardly had to stimulate you, and you were a wet, spent mess within minutes. He said it was the baby, and you didn’t know enough to dispute him. Laszlo detached his mouth from your cunt and lifted his hand to stroke your throbbing clit with the rough pad of his thumb. “Taste so good… How could I ever have lived before you?”

You hardly had the brain to wax lyrical at the moment, but, if you did, you would have said that perhaps he wasn’t truly living before you, just as you hadn’t before him. The world had changed with him, and you could never want anything else except him for the rest of time. “Las,” you gasped, the pleasure he gave you making your legs shake. While his hand worked, his mouth went to your thigh, and he placed wet kisses all over the skin. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you writhed under him, and you moaned and keened at him. “Las—” you gasped. “I-I’m gonna—”

The wonderful and heady relief washed over you before you could even finish your sentence, and you basked in it for a long while. Your chest heaved as you smoothed down Laszlo’s hair, and he stood up with a soft grunt. “Gosh, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” you mumbled, sitting up on your elbows; you hadn't meant for him to kneel down on the hard floor, but he didn't seem to mind it much. His robe had come undone during the act to show his chest and stomach, and you worked yourself fully upright so that you could wrap your arms around him. Your head landed on his chest and you kissed over his heart, and Laszlo gave a quiet little sigh. “You grow lovelier every day,” he whispered, and he landed a kiss in your hair.

You smiled into his chest. But you felt as if something was off. Yes, your muscles and fibers had relaxed with the orgasm, but there was still an odd tightness in your core. It felt almost like the cramps you had to endure monthly, or, at least, the onset of one. “Oh, no,” you mumbled. You knew what that feeling was.

“What is it?” Laszlo asked.

The contraction finally landed and settled fully in your core, and it nearly knocked the breath out of you. “God!” you yelped, drawing your husband closer to you. “Las— I’m in labor.”

Laszlo didn’t seem to fully process your words, because he looked down at you with a sort of bleary-eyed confusion. “Labor?” he repeated. “As in…?”

“As in labor, Laszlo!” you cried. “As in I will give birth sometime in the next few days and it’ll be your head on a pike if you don’t get the doctor here now.”

Laszlo stepped away from you and looked around the bedroom, a little frantic. Finally, he clenched his jaw and tied up his robe, and he went to the door of the bedroom and threw it open. “Cyrus!” he yelled. “Cyrus! Ring the doctor! Y/N’s gone into labor!”

You heard Cyrus respond to Laszlo, and suddenly his hands were on you again. The pain, while not awful, was certainly unpleasant, and you moved slowly as Laszlo helped you back into your nightgown. His hand was shaking almost as badly as yours were, and you grabbed his hand and drew it to your mouth for a firm kiss. “I love you,” you whispered. Your eyes watered, and you tried to pretend that you didn’t see Laszlo’s eyes wetting as well.

“I love you too, my beloved,” Laszlo said softly, laying you back amongst the pillows. “The doctor will be here soon. Can I get you anything in the meantime?”

You bit your lip at an onslaught of pain that rocketed down your spine. “Get me Sara,” you said.

“S-Sara Howard?” Laszlo asked.

“She’s practically my sister,” you said. “Please, Las, I need her.”

“Of course, of course,” Laszlo said quickly. “Can I get you anything else?”

You gave a shuddering sigh as the pain died down, and you mumbled, “A glass of water?”

John took the steps into the house two at a time. He had just been sitting down for breakfast with his grandmother when their telephone had sounded. While his grandmother raged at the thing, he answered it and had the briefest of conversations with Laszlo that went something like this: “She’s in labor. Come quick.” “... Now?” “Childbirth waits for no man, John, and I intend for my child to meet his uncle as soon as possible.”

The energy inside the house was an odd one. The place was done up with garlands of holly, obviously having been prepared by the little motley family of Laszlo, Y/N, Cyrus, and Stevie, to stand as a lovely locale for Christmas dinner. It should have been so cheerful— chattering and laughing— but there was just silence. “Laszlo?” John called, looking upwards from the base of the stairs.

“Top floor!” He heard Laszlo call back after a moment. Usually, the doctor would have greeted him at the door, and now he wasn’t even coming down to debrief the situation. John steeled himself and prepared for the worst.

Thankfully, the top floor wasn’t a tragedy zone. Laszlo stood in the hallway, pacing restlessly, mumbling to himself in every language he spoke. “John, Mein Gott,” he sighed. “Thank you for coming quickly.”

“Is she really in labor?” John asked.

“Yes,” Laszlo replied. “We woke up only a few hours ago and… Her water broke. The contractions have been ebbing and flowing ever since, but she is insistent that a doctor get here.” After a moment, and noticing John’s trepidation, added, “A real doctor, she said. Someone who has experience with delivering children.”

“That’s probably a good call,” John said. “Is she in there?” He gestured at the closed door that he could only assume was Laszlo and Y/N’s bedroom, and Laszlo nodded.

“Sara’s in there as well,” Laszlo said. “Comforting her.”

“Why are you not in there?” John asked quickly. “I mean, my God, Laszlo, this is your wife and son!”

“I know,” Laszlo snapped. “I wish I could be, but… I can’t bring myself to. The numbers of women who die in childbirth… And most of the time, there’s nothing to be done to stop it… I-I would only blame myself. If I were in that room, with my knowledge, and she died, and I couldn’t help, I would blame myself.”

There was a sharp yelp from inside the room, like a hurt animal, followed by muffled shushing; the mother and Sara, John supposed. “Where’s the doctor?” John asked.

“The one we chose to schedule when we would go to wellness checks was booked until this afternoon,” Laszlo said. “He’ll get here when he can. Until then, we… Wait. I will allow myself to go in every so often and check dilation, but it’s getting to the point where… The sight of it makes me ill.”

John didn’t know much about childbirth, but the word dilation helped him figure up enough of an image to make him a little ill as well. “Can I get her anything?” John asked. “Something from the shop on the corner?”

“She says no,” Laszlo said. “She’s only asked for water. A kiss, every so often, but I feel that’s less vital and more encouragement.”

John nodded in agreement, and he pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his pants. “How long do we wait?” he asked.

“However long it takes,” Laszlo said with a shrug. “For some women, it’s mere hours; others, days.”

John sighed and took up a place leaning against the wall, and he mumbled, “I guess dinner’s off, isn’t it?”

Laszlo finally cracked a gentle smile, and he leaned next to John. He wore the beginnings of an acceptable outfit, pants and a buttoned shirt with his suspenders, but no vest, no cravat, no jacket. This was a worried man, an expectant father, a ready doctor. “I’m sure we can find a way to have dinner,” he said. “Perhaps, if the timing’s right, we’ll have to put out an extra place-setting.”

John still could hardly believe that, out of their entire group, Laszlo was the first to have a baby. Just meters away, behind the door, Laszlo’s wife was in the beginning stages of bringing new life. On Christmas Eve, no less. “Did you ever think you’d have this?” John whispered.

“No,” Laszlo replied after a moment. He looked down at his boots and wrapped his arm around himself, and he chewed on his thoughts for a moment. “Even just last night, as we were going to bed… I watched her enter the room, and the lamp lit her up… Her body was silhouetted against the lamp through her nightgown. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I’ll never forget the sight. If I had any artistic inclination, I would have captured it. The memory might be greater than any piece of art, though.” He took a moment to savor the image, and he gave a short sigh. “But I have done my share of worrying. Every day, every moment, I was terrified. I have never known greater fear, truly. When she was at work and the Institute would get a phone call, I felt physically ill until I could answer it. Every day, I woke up and asked myself… ‘Is this the day where we lose him?’. It’s not a good way to live, John. But every night, after another successful day, when I would get her in my arms, it was the most perfect thing. It is unbelievable. Me, a father?” He scoffed. “I just hope he looks like her.”

“Why?” John asked.

“I don’t want him to be plagued with my visage,” Laszlo said. “If he resembles me, people will know he’s mine, and he won’t ever escape my reputation. I know the name Kreizler is an unusual one, but he can deny relation. If he has my name and face… There’s no denying it.”

“And you’re ashamed of that?” John asked. “Laszlo, there is nothing but pride to be had in your name. Kreizler is… You’re a man of science, a world-renowned alienist. You are intelligent, smart as a whip! You are dedicated to your work and your family, and you treat people with the utmost respect… Well, you treat your patients with the utmost respect.” John paused to dig his elbow playfully into Laszlo’s ribs, and Laszlo gave a little huffing laugh that held no true humor in it. “And you’re kind. You’d give your life for the people you love. A man can only ask for a friend as loyal as you. And you’re quite handsome, Laszlo. A child with any resemblance to you is a blessed one.”

“Alright—” Laszlo started plaintively.

“No, truly,” John said. He cast a glance at the door, then added, “May I confess something?”

Laszlo gave John a sideways glance, then nodded, and John took a deep breath. “I promised the good Mrs. Kreizler to keep this secret, but I feel it’s past time to tell you. The day you two met, when Sara brought her from the police station to the Institute, I heard her and Sara speaking as they left. I heard her say ‘That Kreizler fellow is quite handsome’. I confronted her on the basis of light teasing a few days later, and she implored me to not tell you. Got quite emotional about it, in fact. She said that she… She wanted to prove her place in the job. She said she didn’t want to be one of those women who joined a man’s work and fell in love and become some subservient housewife. She wanted to be a detective. But, before your wedding, she admitted to me that she was glad that what had happened had happened. She told me she couldn’t see any other life that didn’t have you in it. She told me that she had even considered naming your son after you, but she knew that you would fight her tooth and nail about that. She loves you, Laszlo, and she’ll make sure that your son does too. Hell, he’ll be proud to carry the name Kreizler. All the more so if he looks like you. Don’t be ashamed of who you are or your past. The future has yet to come and, from what I can tell, it’ll be a good future. Don’t waste it by worrying about if your son is proud of you or himself, because, frankly, that’s a fucking ridiculous thing to worry abut. He’s your son, Laszlo; the part you should worry about is how to shrink that ego that he’ll have.”

Laszlo smiled once more, and he drew John into a tight hug. The men were quiet, and John gave Laszlo a few firm pats on his back. “Thank you, John,” Laszlo said softly. “Those are kind words.”

John shrugged. “It’s the least I can do,” he said. “I suspect that you’ll wear divots on the floor if you keep pacing, though.”

“Can you blame me?” Laszlo asked. “Just beyond that door… It kills me.”

Just then, there was another cry of pain, and John heard you cry out: “Laszlo! I need you!”

Laszlo couldn’t have moved faster if he were shocked by electricity. He flew from his place on the wall and opened the door, and he was instantly by your side. John hesitated for a moment, seeing your nakedness and open legs, but Laslzo beckoned him in. John entered slowly, taking in the smell of sweat and blood, and then he really examined you. The bedsheets around you were dark with birthing fluid, your nightgown discarded on the floor. Sara sat next to you, undressed down to her underskirt, with her sleeves rolled to her elbow, holding your hand and giving you soft encouragement. Your skin was shining with strained perspiration, your hair matted to your forehead. Your bottom lip was nearly bitten raw, and your hand clambered out for Laszlo’s. Your chest heaved as you tried to breathe slowly, and Laszlo pushed your damp hair from your face. “You’re doing great,” he whispered and planted a kiss on your temple. “John, come here. Hold her hand while I check her dilation.”

The two men switched places, and you gave John Schuyler Moore a smile. “Glad you could make it, John,” you said, reaching for his face and drawing him in to put a kiss on his cheek. “Oh, Christ, it hurts.”

“I know it does,” John said gently. “But you’re being so strong. I’m proud of you.”

John looked expectantly down to Laszlo, examining you, and, when he looked at you, his eyes were tearing up. “It’s time, my beloved,” he said, and you gasped. “You need to push.”

“What? No!” you cried. Fear radiated through your body, and you sobbed. “No, it’s too early! The doctor isn’t here yet!”

“There’s no choice,” Laszlo said. He was firm, his jaw set, but you could see the emotions welling behind his eyes. He was scared too. He was as unprepared as you were. Sure, he was a doctor, but he hardly knew how to deliver a baby. “He’s coming now. Sara, run to the kitchen and get water, a clean rag, a large empty bowl, and a pair of scissors; a sharp knife would be sufficient.”

Sara nodded and, before she left, she gave you a quick kiss on your forehead. “You can do this,” she said. “I believe in you.”

You could hardly focus on your husband’s words, telling you to relax as much as possible and push when he said. The sensation of pushing was an odd one, your middle cramping with the force of it, and a whimper fell from you. You held John’s hand tightly, so tightly that your brief moments of levity from pushing had you apologizing for it, but the contraction would return, and you had to push again. Sara returned after the second bout of pushing, bearing all the tools required, and Laszlo quickly dipped his hands in the water to cleanse them. For the moment, he was bearing the dual responsibility of father and doctor, and he wore both roles on opposite sides of his face. His eyes were steadied and focused, using his Harvard-granted education, but his mouth was screwed up in concern. His forehead shined with sweat, and he paused in-between the fifth and sixth round to roll up his sleeves. Sara and John picked up the familial slack, encouraging you and helping you where they could.

Your vision grew spotty after ten rounds of intense and strenuous pushing, and you gasped out, “Las, I-I can’t do it anymore, I can’t—”

You wished that you hadn’t looked down. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have seen Laszlo’s white shirt spotted with blood, the stuff caked under his fingernails. The sight of it made you sniffle and hold back a gag. The wrinkles in your husband’s forehead were deep, but they dissipated when he looked at you. “Yes, you can,” Laszlo said firmly. “You’re too far along, there’s no stopping now, my love.”

“Laszlo, I can’t,” you croaked. “I can’t, I— I can hardly breathe or see, I-I cannot do it anymore!”

Laszlo paused, studying your face for a moment, and he stood up from the floor in front of bed and leaned forward to capture your chin in his hand. “You have to,” he said firmly, pressing his forehead against yours. “He’s nearly halfway out, coming feet-first. You need to finish what you’ve started, my dear. Goddamn it, finish this, for me, for you, and for him. Do you hear me? Fucking finish this.”

You nodded, gritting your teeth. Under any other circumstances, you would have slapped him outright for being so harsh with you, but you needed to hear it. You had no idea that you were that far along, and the thought that perhaps you were a few minutes away from holding your son gave you the strength you needed. You took a deep breath and readjusted your grips on Sara and John’s hands, and you waited for Laszlo to tell you to push. And you did. You felt a popping in your ears and a fierce snap in your hips, and the culmination of what felt like eons of work made you give one, hoarse, exhausted, gut-wrenching scream.

And then… There was another. But not your screams. They weren’t coming from your mouth, tearing up your throat what felt like beyond repair. No, no, they were coming from—

The soft snip of scissors interrupted the air of high shrieks, and then the weight of an even six pounds was settled on your chest. You looked down through spotted and tearful eyes, and you found a small being laying on your chest, wailing his little lungs out. All pink and wrinkled, still covered in little flecks of blood and other such stuff. He had a small swirl of dark hair atop his little head, and his mouth was like a rosebud. He had a tiny nose and, when you looked at Laszlo, you saw the same one. “Oh my God,” you gasped, instantly putting your hands on your baby’s back. “Oh my God! Hello there, baby. Oh my God, Laszlo—”

Laszlo took up John’s place at your head, and you looked to see his shirt splotched with your blood, tear tracks shining bright on his face. You had never seen him smile so big. He placed a gentle hand on his son’s back, touching him as if he would disappear the moment contact was made, and he swallowed thickly. “Welcome to the world,” he said softly, and he leaned down and settled a kiss on his son’s head. Almost instantly, he stopped his crying, devolving into quiet coos and whimpers, and you laughed.

“God, of course he loves you more,” you laughed. “Oh, Las… Oh, he’s here.”

“What’s his name?” Laszlo asked.

You didn’t have to think. You had been pondering ever since you found out you were pregnant, and you had come up with the perfect name. “Friedrich Wolfgang Kreizler,” you said.

“Nietzche, Mozart…” Laszlo mumbled, stroking his beard in wonderment. “Yes, that’ll do quite nicely, I think.”

Laszlo settled down on the bed next to you, and you carefully passed Friedrich to him. He held him in the crook of his left arm, and his heart nearly stopped when his son looked at him. Dark brown eyes, with a small dark birthmark just at the top of his left cheek. Just like Papa. “A spitting image, eh?” Laszlo chuckled lightly.

“Chip off the old block,” John chuckled. Sara moved to pull the blankets up over your body, and you captured her and pulled her into a tight hug. You whispered a “Thank you” to her, and she smiled. Sara was always so supportive in her own way, and the smile meant the world to you. “Congratulations are in order, Kreizlers.”

Kreizlers. Plural. There were three of you now, a full family. Mama, Papa, and baby. “Thank you for your help,” you told John. “I truly couldn’t have managed it without you.”

You let your head fall back on your pillow, and you glanced at the window. The sky outside was painted with ink, the smallest pinpricks of silver coming through; it had taken all day and into the night. “Is it past midnight?” you asked, and John quickly looked at his watch.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s Christmas Day.”

You laughed, and looked at Laszlo. “You did say he was the best present you’d ever gotten,” you told him.

“I did say that,” Laszlo agreed. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of Friedrich since you had given him to him. You could hardly place the emotion he had in his eyes, but you knew that it was some form of love. “I meant it then, and I mean it now.”

“I love you,” you told him.

Laszlo finally looked at you, and he saw an entirely new woman. He thought that the whole spiel about a “mother’s glow” was a myth, a way to make women feel beautiful after the strain of giving birth, but he saw it more clearly than anything. You were radiant. Your skin was sparkling and your eyes were bright, and your smile could have lit up a thousand street lamps. Motherhood suited you. “I love you too,” he said. He leaned over to kiss you, and even that felt new.

Finally, Laszlo broke the kiss, and he said, “Let me take him to get clean. You rest up, my beloved; I’ll have Cyrus bring you something to eat.”

You nodded. You had no qualms about Laszlo taking Friedrich. He was his father, after all, and you knew that Laszlo would sooner burn his library than hurt his son. “Can I have a moment alone?” you asked.

“Of course,” Sara offered. “I’m proud of you.”

“You should go hold your nephew,” you said. “That is, if Papa Bear will release him for long enough.”

The four of you laughed, and Laszlo stood up from the bed. “Get some sleep,” he said. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Laszlo could only gaze down at Friedrich as he carried him into his nursery. The place was decorated with images of animals, per your request, and John had managed to paint a collection of birds that lined the top of the walls. He took special care to wipe Friedrich clean, tilting his head as he listened to his little man’s curious vocalizations, and he chose a blanket that Lucius Isaacson had knitted to swaddle him in. Laszlo had done the stereotypical practice, tormenting the small bags of flour that sat in the kitchen, and he had gotten quite good at doing it with his one arm. He slowed to a stop, though, and he looked at his right arm for a moment. He looked back at Friedrich, seemingly asleep in his warm wool swaddle, and he took his arm by the wrist and guided it to his son. Carefully, he pressed his cheek into his palm, and his heart swooned at the feeling of his warm, soft skin against his fingers. He nearly felt like he would pass out. He loved you, yes, but he could never love anything more than the boy in front of him.

The moment was shattered, though, when, down the hall, Laszlo heard you give a clipped shout of his name. “Las—!”

“John!” Laszlo called, and John took his place with Friedrich as he raced to the bedroom. When he opened the door, he expected the worst. He expected pools of blood, perhaps a corpse, his wife and the mother of his son to have succumbed to an unknown complication in the time it took him to clean Friedrich.

He didn’t expect an empty bed and an open window, the thin curtain rustling with the breeze. He didn’t expect a small slip of paper amongst the stained sheets. He didn’t expect to read the page and grow so angry that he let out a howl of anguish: Mother Mary has delivered. She must repent. Happy Christmas, Doctor.

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the-silentium · 4 years

Text

In Emergency Only

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Words: 2120 words

Warnings: TUA season 1 and 2 spoilers, violence, blood, sexual innuendos.

Requested by: Anon!

Your last fic about Five was so good!! Loved your unique twist you added and the interactions were so believable. Definitely one of my fav fics! If requests are open, could you do one of the same reader reacting to Five fighting and kicking ass, would they fight too or just hang out in the back and wait? Big fan and I love your work

A/N: Still 30 years old Five here! Same Reader and Five as in Doppelganger! Sorry for the title, I really had no idea. Oups.

The music playing in the background brought a smile to your face. You loved to learn more about different cultures and their different people dancing the Polka almost made you regret the reason of your little visit. You swore that this woman, the Handler, had Five in the middle of her palm, enraging your boyfriend to no end, but he sucked up his ego and accepted her deal to save his family.

You followed Five through the enormous cabin. The architecture was truly beautiful, catching your eyes quite easily. You were occupied by admiring an intriguing animal carved into the wood that you didn’t see Five stopping in front of a vending machine and slammed into his side. He was quick to get a hold of your arms before you fell to the ground and hurt your behind, pulling you into his chest with a seductive smile on his kissable lips.

“Distracted?”

You rolled your eyes at him before pecking his lips. “I just like slamming into you.” Five’s groan made you chuckle before you turned your attention to the assortment of snacks displayed behind the glass.

“See something you want?” Five buried his face into your neck, tickling you with his warm breath. Giggling, you pushed him away and pointed to a chocolate bar in the middle of the display. It has been a while since you last ate some, so you figured why not? You knew that you were sitting this one out, so eating would not be a problem.

“Please?” You offered him your best puppy eyes, although you knew that it wasn't necessary. He asked you first after all.

“Sure.” He pecked your lips one last time, turned to the machine while digging some money in his pocket and inserted the coins into the slot. He pressed the letter and number assigned to the candy and karma decided to hit you by stopping the spiral metal thing before the sweet could fall down.

Frustrated, Five tried typing in the code again, without success. You knew that at this point in time, Five was getting pretty impatient. The last days haven’t been easy on him, especially when you almost got shot by one of the Swedes and every one of his siblings was scattered around town and not listening to him, causing Five to get irritated pretty easily.

You grabbed his arm to calm him down when he started to push the machine and pulled him along with you to the cake further down the hallway. The only way to calm down Five was to allow him to successfully grant your wishes of eating something and the cake would do just fine.

You quickly dipped your pointer finger into the icing, turned to him and when he opened his mouth to voice his anger you shut him up by putting your finger into his mouth. His pissed-off expression soon morphed into a cocky one when he noticed the red coloring your cheeks, proceeding to see if the color could reach your neck by sucking harder on your finger. Embarrassed by his antics, you retrieved your hand and hid your face in his chest.

“This icing is heavenly.” He chuckled before reaching for something behind your back. “Look up.” You reluctantly did as told, dreading what you would find. Instead of being hit square in the face by a hand full of icing like you feared, a single maraschino cherry dangled between Five’s fingers, two inches away from your mouth. Instantly, your mouth started to water, the sweet ingredient had always been your favorite part of a dessert. “Open up.”

You would have blushed if it wasn’t for your excitement of eating the prized cherry. You didn’t hesitate to tilt your head and open your mouth to the incoming sweet, a delighted moan filled Five’s ears when you grabbed the fruit between your teeth and chewed.

“Now that’s a sound I like to hear.” The bliss of the cherry moment now over, your blush came back full force at his innuendo. You weren’t used to his flirty attitude, he was gone for 17 years and as young teenagers, your relationship wasn’t really oriented in that direction. You had to remind yourself that he was, in fact, 58 years old regardless of his physical appearance.

A kiss fell on your cheek and Five let go of you to make his way to the fire axe on the opposite wall.

“Do you think preventing the end of the world is enough of an emergency?”

You smiled at his question and nodded once in approbation. “Definitely.”

He winked at you before grabbing the axe with both hands and walked into the room. He passed in front of you and you took care of closing the door after yourself, this time your job was to keep watch and stop anyone from entering the room. Because it was the Commission’s board that was targeted, Five had thought it wise to take the matter into his own hands and keep you out of it.

You weren’t against it, the memory of the barrel of an automatic rifle pressed at the back of your head was still pretty vivid and every time you thought about it you had goosebumps. In other circumstances, you were sure that you would have participated in some kind of way. Maybe with a knife or something, the fire axe was definitely out of your mental capacity.

You had helped Five in some of his fights before. Not every fight, but some of them. You were impressed by the amount of bloody fighting your boyfriend could be engaged in and were truly amazed that every time he would get out almost without a scratch.

Back at Griddy’s, you had to hide behind the counter where Five teleported you and wait until he had neutralized every armed guy in the room. You knew how to defend yourself, having followed some training with the Hargreeves when you were kids, but your skills were useless when guns were involved. This was the very first time you had seen the extent of Five’s ability. Never would you have thought that his space-jumping would be that effective.

Then there was the fight with the Swedes in the Mexican consulate. The absence of guns gave you the opportunity to land some punch to the tough Swedes hitting the shit out of your boyfriend, the perfect distraction for him to throw the white-haired out the window. You hissed out of empathy for the guy before fist-bumping with Five and space-jump outside.

Screams erupted from the room Five recently entered. Curiously, you made your way to the open doors to assess what you were sure was a gory scene. In the 2 seconds it took you to reach the doors, Five had already neutralized 4 of the board members and was quickly axing his way further into the room. You’ve never feared blood, your uncle had a butcher shop and you helped sometimes to put the meat into packages, nothing too dangerous, and while you helped you had seen the carcass of different animals being emptied from their organs so you were certain that you could handle whatever was happening in the next room.

A blue spot flashed before your eyes and Five appeared at the same time a man hit a wall and fell down with a lamp. You rolled your eyes when Five took the time to take a sip from a glass, the next thing you knew a guy was hanging from the ceiling and three more board members were dead in a pool of blood. As much as you hated the view of dismembered bodies, you had to admit that Five was pretty efficient in his work. You managed to make eye contact with your boyfriend when he stopped for a second behind the last Commissioner, Five shooed you with one hand so you obeyed. If he thought that you couldn’t handle it, then you couldn’t. End of story. You had to admit that the sound of the axe hitting the bones was pretty disturbing, the sound occasionally made you shiver in disgust.

You had your back pressed to the closed doors separating the bloody scene worthy of a horror movie and the welcoming Polka party, patiently waiting for your boyfriend to return victorious when a man with a fish tank as head stopped running when he saw you. If possible, you were as stunned as he was. You weren’t prepared to face a non-human person and he clearly wasn't prepared to see someone guarding the exit.

However, he was faster than you to regain his senses and try to push past you. His sudden movements made you jump, his hands were almost on your arm when Five appeared in front of you and pushed the weird robot-man-fish away from you.

“Surely we can come to some form of agreement that benefits both parties.” Your eyes widen at the voice, not expecting the fish to be able to talk. You tilted your head to the side so that you were able to see over Five’s shoulder and take a second look at the panicking talking goldfish. “Quid pro quo? What do you say?” Oh. His hope was cute.

“Why not? Here’s your quid.” Five hit the human body’s leg with what you noted wasn’t the fire axe but something that looked like a cricket bat. “Here’s your pro.” He hit him again on the opposite leg. “Here’s your quo.” Five charged his hit as much as he could without hitting you with the bat, the fish’s pleas reaching your ears, then Five smashed the tank as hard as he could. The glass exploded, water got everywhere, the body fell to the ground in a thud and the goldfish dropped to the ground.

As Five took a deep breath, you carefully stroked his back in a soothing manner before crouching to retrieve the gasping fish. You already had a bag ready for it, looking around you found a vase proudly showing off its beautiful purple flowers. You disposed of the flowers and poured the vase’s water into your plastic bag. Turning around you met your boyfriend with the fish’s tail trapped between his fingers, its head facing the ground. Hurriedly, you made your way toward them as you felt bad for the little thing convulsing out of the water.

“Poor little fishy! Put it quickly in the water!” You couldn’t help yourself and enveloped Five’s hand with the bag so the fish could be in his appropriate environment.

“It’s far from being a ‘poor little fishy’ you know? It planned for the apocalypse to happen and ordered hundreds of people’s death.” He said letting go of the fish’s tail.

You closed the bag so it wouldn’t escape and smiled sheepishly. “I guess I still can’t accept that a fish can talk. Or be at the head of an organization of killers.” You brought the bag at eye level to analyze the goldfish closer and sure enough, the fish was staring right at you. “I guess it does seem intelligent-” You paused as the fish nodded at your words. You controlled your surprise and smiled sweetly at him. “Can we name him sushi?”

The fish started to swim in circles, hitting the bag from time to time making you laugh at his apparent anger. A hand got a hold of the bag, taking the little burden out of your hands. At this moment you noticed that Five’s eyes were dull, their bright spark gone with every life he took. Worry etched your features, you reached for his empty hand and squeezed lightly hoping to give him some sort of comfort. He shot a small smile your way despite his eyes still being emotionless.

Your heart broke for him, all this time he was forced to kill against his will and it ate at his soul. Oh how you wished you had a special ability like him and had the capacity to remove all of the darkness hurting his mind. Without warning, Five pulled you to his chest and jumped to an alley. The unexpected spacial-travel made you dizzy for a few seconds. You had done it enough time before to be used to it and be spared of the once usual wave of nausea following a jump.

You knew that the Handler would come here sooner than later, so you engulfed your boyfriend in a hug regardless of the blood covering his clothes. Deposing a light kiss on his less stained cheek, you smiled lovingly at him.

“It’s almost over. Then we’ll be only the two of us.”

His forehead met yours and a sincere smile stretched his lips. “I can’t wait.”

#five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves #tua s1 #tua s2 #the umbrella academy #number five #the boy #number five x reader #five hargreeves imagine #number five imagine

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letstalkaboutsebbaby · 3 years

Text

Related Activities

The district has a new attorney and Marshall is going to learn the hard way that he should have acted sooner in pursuing his passion for Caroline.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x OFC (Caroline Kline) / Andy Barber x OFC (Caroline Kline)

Author: Deb @letstalkaboutsebbaby / @letswriteaboutsebbaby

Rating: Mature

Warnings: crime talk, kidnapping

A/N: I do have a lovely beta, but she’s dealing with a lot at the moment so for this fic I’m on my own. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get things right. (If you’re free and patient, I would love some help).

Feel free to comment or chat with me about anything. Really. :)

Chapter 1

“I might not be a profiler but I do know how to interview suspects, Marshall, I don’t need you on my back”. Caroline says closing the door of his SUV. He sighs deeply behind the wheel before turning to look at her. She’s acting bothered and annoyed since someone at the station told her about Rachel - his ex, the profiler. The problem, in his opinion, is that he always told her they couldn’t hang out cause he doesn’t like mixing work with his personal life.

“I know you do. I was trying to intimidate him not to…” he tries to reason before she interrupts.

“What?! Do you know what should intimidate the suspect? The fact that he’s sitting at the police station answering questions from a total capable officer, not the size of your fucking arms!” Note that she does love the size of his arms, as well as his big chest and handsome face. The only thing she doesn’t like about him is how closed he is. She respects it, but they’re working together for 5 months and she’s so impressed by him and his skills that all she wanted was to be friends - ok, maybe not all she wants, but it would be a great start. Instead, they only talk about work-related stuff or stupid daily things, like how he rather drink tea, no sugar, while making fun of her milkshake-like beverage.

They get along great so it’s hard for her to end the shift and ignore everything, all the questions running around her head, the many things she wants to know about him. Isn’t it enough that she has to ignore the want, the desire? Can’t Marshall give her a little bit of him? Some smiles and company for dinner would be good. She feels so alone in this city and sometimes she questions her decision of moving up here, even more after Caroline learned from colleagues that Marshall used to date this Rachel woman.

After moments of dealing with her fantasies, looking outside the window, she hears someone tapping on the driver’s side. “Someone’s been kidnapped, let’s go”. The new case takes its rightful place in her mind and all her drama is forgotten.

Getting back from the victim's house to the station, Caroline fails to notice how Marshall keeps stealing glances at her, admiring the way she concentrates and fills her notebook with questions, arguments, and considerations. Every passing day his wish to share more of himself with her grows but his experiences yell at him to remember it never works.

Five months ago that talkative sweet woman entered the station in all smiles only to win a place in his cold hard heart - and he’s trying daily, strongly, not to let his guards down. She’s a great detective, better than him at teamwork, incredibly sensitive but dangerously bold, making him feel protective in a way he tries to pretend is mere as a partner. Then she sulks and he wants to hug her.

Sitting in the Commissioner room with the whole team examining evidence and witnesses testimonies for hours feels way more like his natural habitat than his house, and he secretly hopes to stay a little bit more, hearing her suppositions, watching her scribble away while he hangs things at the board….he’s fucked.

“You look tired...dinner?” Marshall asks, leaning closer to her chair.

“What?” She asked, surprised.

“I know a nice place 5 minutes from here...this looks like it’s gonna take a while, we can go pick some burgers for everyone and try to refresh our minds, what do you say?”

“Sure” she quickly agrees, standing up before he can change his mind.

With a discreet smile, he goes after her, briefing Harper that they’ll be back soon with food.

Waiting for their order outside of the diner, he leans against the car while Caroline reclines over a railing “What’s on your mind?”

“The victim...there’s something wrong with it all. The family has no money or properties, in her fifties, housewife, we have footage of the husband at the airport, the kids living in New Jersey...we need to be missing something”

“Maybe it’s not a kidnap. Run over? The driver tries to cover it by sending the ransom text from her phone” he says leaning against the car.

“Why would she take that road walking in the first place?” She shivers, grumbling with herself for the lack of a second coat.

“Come wait inside, it’s too cold. I’ll get it” he offers, a hand reaches to pull her closer as he opens the door for her to climb back inside the SUV. Inside, Caroline can only think about his big hand holding hers, the fresh scent of him lingering in the car not helping at all. She really needs to try harder if the plan is to forget these fantasies with Walter Marshall - the guy thinking about her cold soft hand and how it would feel if he took it up to his chest, under his sweater, feeling his heartbeat going crazy.

In time, the partners get back to the office with burgers to everyone, jumping back into work as soon as they sit at the big round table, yearning to bury themselves into the clues instead of dealing with their obvious attraction. No one is going to leave before they have something - a note, a call, some proof, anything.

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plasticnightmaredoll · 3 years

Photo

Oh my lord...I am so sorry that the NSFW Alphabet for Enigma/Origins Riddler is taking forever but work has been beating my ass. 5 days of 11 hour shifts per week is fucking brutal, and I have barely had time for anything save for sleeping, eating (barely even doing that), and showering.

Once Christmas hits, though, I’ll go back to 4 days of 10 hour shifts per week, which will be much more manageable and I’ll actually be able to get shit done FFS. Like, really, I’m not happy but I can’t do anything about it right now so I’m just.........enduring.

To tide you all over, I am going to present what I have completed for the NSFW Alphabet for Enigma/Edward Nashton, our favorite sassy, sexy IT guy who loves to troll us like the little shit he is. I have letters A through N and X done, so that’s quite a lot.

I won’t lie, though...I’m not sure how happy I am with this one. I think I did better with the ones for Arkham Knight Riddler and Telltale Riddler, and I have so many mixed feelings about my work for Enigma....I don’t know. I feel like maybe I dropped the ball here? 😞 So I apologize if it’s not too great.

Feedback is definitely welcome because if I can make this better, than I would LOVE to make it better 😫😫😫😫

Anyway, NSFT content below the cut.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Eddie is very doting even in his GCPD/sane/far-less-depressed days. His insecurities still play a part like for his Arkham Knight self, but it’s much less intense. He wants to be the best boyfriend you could ever have so you don’t dump him for being “inferior,” but he’s not as internally stressed out about it. It’s more like he is a bit nervous at first as he gets used to things, being intimate and what you like after. However, once he gets comfortable, he’s pretty calm and confident for the most part.

As for aftercare for him, again, some similarities to his Arkham Knight self but it’s not as extreme. He does like to cuddle after but it’s less because he’s clingy and desperate for affection and more because he is truly happy to have you in his life. Otherwise, he doesn’t ask for too much. Maybe a snack or a drink now and again.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Again, like with any Riddler, Enigma/Nashton definitely thinks his mind is the best part of himself. As Enigma, yes, he still wants to show off his incredible intellect to you as a means of charming you, but he doesn’t go overboard like his Arkham Knight self. Enigma is a smug little shit but his narcissism is more in check, and he doesn’t get over-the-top with his words like his Arkham Knight self.

As for an actual body part, again, it would be his hands since he is great at building things, is a fast typer (obviously helps with programming/hacking), plays chess like a pro (really, he’s good), and is capable of some very impressive handwriting.

For you, I think it would be your hands. Arkhamverse Eddie is very touch-starved, and while as Enigma, it’s not quite as bad, he still does want some sort of physical affection. To him, your hands are lovely, and your touch is soothing, grounding him to reality sometimes. The fact you actually want to use your hands to pleasure him and not punch, slap or choke him is truly a relief. Deep down, he is lonely and never expected to find any sort of connection with anyone, growing used to being ignored, insulted, and bullied by others. So receiving a loving touch gives him some comfort as he has someone who not only appreciates him but loves him.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Enigma is much more of a neat freak than his Arkham Knight self, but he’s not going to complain of making a mess of you. He loves to cum on your face, in your mouth, and inside you because it’s not only a way for him to “claim” you as his, it’s also a sign of how comfortable you are being so vulnerable with him.

This version of Eddie, though, is very much into fucking your mouth and cumming down your throat. He loves to have your eyes on him as you suck him off, and he loves to hear you swallow his cum. Again, it fuels his ego to see you willingly submit to him like this, and it gives him the thrill of being in control.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

You know that Eddie would absolutely love to have you blow him under his desk while working at the GCPD. Granted, he’s not terribly fond of the being caught but it’s such a thrilling idea that he can’t deny its appeal. Nearly everyone at work thinks he’s some sort of sex-starved bore, so imagine how they’d feel knowing that yes, he can have fun, too, and no, it doesn’t involve cheating on his s/o with strippers at the local night clubs. (You know some of them cops be cheating on their wives, let’s be real, and Eddie thinks it’s gross).

Plus, having you keep him company at work would make his days at the GCPD dealing with corrupt cops and an absolute idiot of a commissioner (this is before Gordon is in charge, remember) more tolerable.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Not a lot of experience. He’s had very few partners in his life, and while he may boast he’s got moves, he’s really just too nervous to admit otherwise. It kind of shows, though, with how shy he is when the two of you first become intimate, but just be patient and kind to him. He’s got a great memory and takes direction very well, and he does actually want you to enjoy going to bed with him so he’s going to work hard to keep you satisfied.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Eddie enjoys being on top because he loves watching you come undone beneath him and he enjoys holding your wrists down (when you two are in the mood for it).

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Not goofy or silly. I mean, yes, he’s a damn tease and sarcastic af, but not childish. Ok, well, maybe sometimes he’s a bit of a man-child but, at this point in his life, it’s much more subdued. He’s far more playful than anything, and thinks being silly has no place in the bedroom -- or anywhere really. Not that he can’t ever laugh at himself. It just takes some effort since he’s not comfortable making mistakes.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Completely the opposite of his Arkham Knight self, Enigma is very well-groomed. Not excessively so, but he actually showers everyday, keeps his hair neatly trimmed, and shaves regularly. Before meeting you, he’s not terribly fussed about being tidy “downstairs” but once you two become serious about your relationship, he definitely makes an effort to keep that part of him as presentable as possible.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

At first, Eddie is extremely nervous as he’s not used to being vulnerable with anyone, but he’ll ramble on like he is experienced and comfortable. You see right through it, though, but don’t call him out on it in a mocking way; you’ll turn him off of you faster than you can say, “enigma.” Just be understanding and patient with him, guide him along without being condescending, and he’ll eventually relax enough to enjoy being intimate with you.

At this point in his life, Eddie can become comfortable letting his guard down more quickly with the right person as he hasn’t gone down that dark, depressing path of being repeatedly defeated by Batman and losing his sanity. When you have Eddie’s affection, he’s very romantic, often spoiling you with gifts and sweet compliments. He’s also secretly a cuddler, and likes to hold you for a while even if he knows he has somewhere else to be. It’s rare -- if at all -- that anyone likes him and even rarer that he likes anyone, so he’s going to be very affectionate with you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He’s a little embarrassed to admit it but he does resort to jerking off since it’s not like he has dates lined up outside his door, you know? He’s also more in touch with his “urges” even if he feels a little ashamed about them, and he has pleasured himself on more than one occasion before meeting you. He’s young and rather energetic in his GCPD days since he hasn’t wasted a bunch of time and energy on Batman, so he’s more likely to get, well, horny.

When he gets to liking you, he jerks off more often than he would care to admit, and it takes time for him to confess this to you. He just couldn’t help himself usually because he found you to be so stunning and pleasant to be around, and you treated him better than anyone else ever had so he kind of let his emotions run crazy in his alone time.

When you confess to him that you also were pleasuring yourself while fantasizing about him on multiple occasions, he’ll feel more at ease with what he did but also kind of...flattered. He hasn’t heard anyone admit to “getting off” because of him, and since he is attracted to you, it’s, well..it’s pretty damn awesome to hear you tell him this.

Eddie also may enjoy mutual masturbation with you. I mean, he’s curious as to what exactly you did to please yourself when you were alone thinking about him. How long did it take for you to orgasm each time? Did you like edging yourself? Did you use any toys? What did you imagine him saying, doing? He has a lot of questions because he has a curious mind, you know...and he’s, well, horny for you.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Like his Arkham Knight counterpart, he loves it if you address him “formally” while doing the do: Mr. Nashton, Mr. Nashton Sir, or even just Sir. His ego hasn’t taken a bashing like his AK self, though, so he doesn’t need this kink as a means of feeling better about himself, but rather, he loves the power play. Edward likes to be in charge, even in the bedroom, but he likes to have fun, too -- wants you to have fun. So the formal names are more or less major kinks for him than anything.

He loves it when you send him sexy pics or texts while he’s at work because it’s like a challenge for him. Can he keep his cool while you’re teasing him like this? Or will he cave and have to “take care of himself?” Either way, he will use it later to “punish you” for being so unfair.

This Eddie, since his self-esteem isn’t in the dumps, is much more comfortable with you dominating him from time to time. He’ll even admit it, although, in his own way (he has some trouble admitting he gets off on being dominated). If you tie him down and tease him, ride him, but don’t let him cum until you feel he’s “earned it,” he’ll be in heaven. He lives to be a “good boy” for you.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Not fussed about where you guys do it, although, anything in public is kind of off limits as he’s too shy to risk getting caught. But any type of furniture or any wall or the shower...Eddie is very keen to try new spots. It’s, per usual, a challenge for him to see how you two handle it, and he likes variety.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Calling him, “Mr. Nashton,” or even just “Sir.” Complimenting him on his intelligence, his looks -- but most certainly his intelligence. Being touchy-feely with him. Touching his thigh. Kissing him by surprise. Flat-out telling him you need him. Wearing something green that’s also very sexy and looks amazing on you.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He won’t do anything that could actually hurt you. Some consensual rough play is fine, but he won’t do anything that is downright painful. He also won’t try anything new without your permission.

He’s not into derogatory language, so he’s not going to call you “bitch” or “whore.” He thinks it’s vulgar and doesn’t see the appeal in calling his lover such things.

Now, this Eddie is actually ok with some humiliation kink since, again, he hasn’t taken a severe beating to his self-esteem. If you’re into it, he’ll indulge you, and, once he’s comfortable with you, he’ll let you do it to him. He kind of gets off on it -- but DON’T go overboard. Keep it light and fun, more like teasing. If you push it too far, he’ll get upset and will need to be alone, and you’ll also have to rebuild your trust with him.

He’s not into being called, “Daddy.” He thinks it’s weird, gross, and downright humiliating. Plus, it reminds him of his dad and he hates his dad.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s a bit above average, like 7-7.5 inches but unlike his Arkham Knight self, he’s a bit more comfortable with it, not as concerned with being “not big enough” for you.

#edward nashton #edward nigma #riddler #enigma #arkham origins riddler #the riddler #edward nygma #nsft #sexy IT guy #am i right?

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bowieandqueen11 · 4 years

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Snared With A Glance / Ed Nygma Imagine

Request: Hey yo! 🥰 Can you please write something about Ed Nygma of Gotham? Maybe how he uses his fantastic memory torememberr everything about what the reader likes (Favourites things, foods, how kiss them to makes them melt) ☺️

Sorry if this is short, I’m stressed and I haven’t watched Gotham in a while XD <3

Comments are much appreciated!

Edward Nygma couldn’t keep still.

Standing by the Commissioner of the GCPD’s office, he hung like a stray cat around the closed blinds, just staring at the door. The rest of the officers bustled around him, some nudging him out the way, but he just ignored them. Today, he didn’t even notice the suspect glare of Detective Bullock from where he sat reading the day’s newspaper, feet up on his desk and glasses warily trained on the forensic scientist.

He stood by the door, his lab coat slightly askew, yet glasses framed perfectly on his nose as he hopped from foot to foot, not ashamed one little bit. He was deliriously happy, giddy even. Every few seconds he checked his wrist watch, another of his restored antiques, each time disappointed that it had barely changed since the last glance. It was nearing the end of lunch time, and in approximately three minutes you would make your appearance as you do every day. Ed didn’t want to mince his words, but it was his favourite part of the day.

His eyes nearly pop out of his head as you walk through the door, but a frown graces his face as he races down the steps, trying to stop Jim Gordon from stealing a second of your time together. He’s not fast enough however, and before you know it the detective is standing in front of you.

‘Don’t you ever get bored of coming into this precinct, especially to see that boyfriend of yours? He’s been itching around all day, you know, and Bullock’s starting to bug even me about it.’

Though he speaks with the tone of an officer, there is a softness, a sparkle of humour to his voice as he places his hands on his hips, not noticing the tall, lanky figure of Ed Nygma approach from behind him.

‘Speaking of the devil’, you murmur as Ed taps a bewildered Jim on the back.

‘It was nice seeing you, as always Y/n.’

‘You too, Jim. I’ll see what I can do to get Bullock off your back.’

He only chuckles, turning around and placing a reassuring pat on Ed’s shoulder as he wrings his hands.

‘Hello, Y/n. I prepared you a new riddle today.’

‘And what would that be, Ed?’

He smiles as he continues, ‘Brothers, all pair up. Bodies firm and tall. You only care to eat the solid food, amd don’t care to eat the soup. What am I.’

You pause for a moment as Ed waits patiently, starting to bounce on the balls of his feet before you blurt out ‘chopsticks! The answer’s chopsticks!’

‘Ding ding ding, correct! I’m going to pick up Chinese on the way home.’

‘You always do remember my favourites.’

He leans down, fingers clenching into your hair as the palms of his hands lie flat against your cheeks. Pressing a warm kiss against your forehead, you stifle a laugh as his glasses bonk against the top of your hair.

‘Until tonight then.’

The day had ebbed by slower than old treacle. Ed’s usual slouch had been replaced by a stiff mannequin pose. He was distracted, more than usual. His mind kept on replaying memories of you, imagining touching your hair as he kissed you, told you a funny joke as he watched your lips curve upwards with his words: it was always like magic, the most uncrackable riddle he could think of. He'd been slacking at work, which wasn’t like him, Jim had to tell him everything three times and he had gotten half his usual volume done. At home, he’d spent the last half an hour before you arrived picking the onions out of your Chinese order, remembering just how you liked it. You never had to say, Ed always just knew.

The doorbell snapped him out of his stupor, and he jumped as he dropped his tweezers onto the counter and smoothed down the slight creases on the front of his trousers. He couldn’t keep his fingers still as he opened his door and came to face with you. Gazing past him, you almost laughed at the enormous platter of food that lay on his coffee table, the large air conditioning fan in the sidewall of his apartment wafting the rich aroma down to you and beckoned you in.

‘Ed, you really didn’t have to do all this.’

‘I know, but I wanted to. I can start a war or end one. I can give you the strength of heroes or leave you powerless. I'm snared with a glance but no force can compel me to stay. What am I?’

‘I- I’m not sure. I haven’t heard that one before.’

‘Love. It’s love. I did all this, because I love you.’

And then he gives you a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through you, and before you know it you’ve slammed the door and pushed him back inside.

‘Y/n, I-’

Grabbing his collar, you reach up to place two fingers against his lips, and the look of absolute awe he gives you sends a shiver down your spine. His lips are warm and soft, and they brush familiarly against your skin as he grins at you, using his thumbs and pointer fingers to reach up and remove his glasses.

‘I love you too, Ed.’

Finally, your lips touched his. Sparks flew in every direction, and the world was slowly disappearing around the two of you, so intimate and electrifying. His lips were moving in perfect sync against yours, his hands feeling your waist in the way that always makes you gasp as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss, becoming more passionate. His mouth tasted like peppermint candy, cool and warm at the same time. A smile grew on your face as it started to tickle, finally pulling apart.

He rests his forehead against yours as he murmurs, ‘you’re definitely the best answer I’ve ever found.’

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ultrahpfan5blog · 3 years

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Brooklyn Nine-Nine: Season 6 Retrospective

After the euphoria of everything that happened with B99 being cancelled and then revived, B99 returning for a season 6 felt like a gift. Basically a bonus in a way. It was a quasi relaunch of the show in NBC and I have to say that NBC promoted it a lot more than I remember Fox promoting it. Having finished season 6, it is a mixed bag. The season has a lot of really great episodes, a few mediocre ones, and one that I despise with every fiber of my being. And because of those handful of episodes that don't live up to the mark, season 6 ranks as my least favorite season. However, B99 even at its worst is considerably better than almost everything else on tv so its not a very heavy criticism of the season as a whole.

The previous season left the question of Holt becoming Commissioner unanswered. And while it would have been interesting to see B99 tackle Holt becoming Commissioner, it would have fundamentally been impossible to continue it as a singular workplace comedy if Holt and maybe Gina were working elsewhere permanently. So it was obvious he was not going to become Commissioner. The premiere is a delight. Its a honeymoon episode for Jake and Amy with a depressed Holt right in the middle of it. This episode is has plenty of great moments for Holt's variety of novelty t-shirts, to Jake and Amy's Die Hard roleplay, to Amy standing up for Jake and going off on Holt, to the hilarious 'this B needs a C in her A' moment which was clearly the writers having a lot of fun with having lesser language restrictions. The B and C stories are ok, but the A story is a delight. The next episode is a Hitchcock and Scully episode which is nice because we get to see them as studs in the 80's. There is a problem that it does not match up to flashbacks they have done in the past but I kind of ignore that. The next two episodes are dealing with Chelsea Peretti's departure from the show. Tbh, when Chelsea was on maternity leave for the first half of season 5, I didn't really feel her absence. Plus, it did start to feel at times that the writers weren't sure how to include her organically. The Tattler is a cute episode. I love the 90's look of the episode. Melissa Fumero looked adorable. Its probably one of the best Jake and Gina episodes, a dynamic which was strangely underserevd over the course of the show given Andy and Chelsea are childhood friends. But this episode and also their stuff in 'Four Movements' bring up the best in their dynamic. 'Four Movements' is a sweet goodbye although i wish Terry and Boyle had gotten a personal goodbye like Holt, Jake, Amy, and Rosa got.

The season's main storyline is Holt's fight with John Kelly, the new Commissioner. I thought Phil Reeves was pretty damn great as John Kelly. He was just slimy enough to know why he got on Holt's nerves and still charming enough so you could see why other people might like him if they didn't know him. The show continues to do some strong experiments. I love 'The Crime Scene', which is very much centered on Jake and Rosa. The episode doesn't have any B plots and just lets Any and Stephanie carry the episode with a fun appearance from Michael Mosley. It also effectively resolved the pending story from season 5 regarding the issues between Rosa and her mom since she came out as Bi. In terms of platonic friendships between a guy and girl, I feel Jake and Rosa is one of the most well created friendships I have seen on tv. There is also a real time episode in 'Ticking Clocks' guest starring Sean Astin, who was one of the celebrities who championed B99 when it was cancelled. I enjoyed that episode quite a bit because it got the whole ensemble involved. My only issue with it is that it made me dislike Jocelyn. I didn't like the way she broke up with Rosa on her way to the airport and put Rosa under the pump when she saw that they were in a high pressure situation. Holt was pretty right to be mad at the end of the episode. the show also tackled sexual assault with 'He Said, She Said' which is a home run in terms of acting performance for Melissa Fumero. Definitely some of her best dramatic work on the show. She's very ably backed up by Andy Samberg and Stephanie Beatriz who also directed the episode. The episode isn't a complete home run because there is a tonal inconsistency. Its a tough subject to be funny about. There is B plot that is completely unrelated connected to Holt's pursuit of the Yo Yo strangler and its a hoot. But it clashes in tone with the A plot which is pretty serious for the most part. Whereas an episode like Moo Moo managed to connect both the A and B stories with the single topic with Jake and Amy having to explain to Terry's kids about Racism. But honestly, this was about as well an episode on this topic that I can imagine.

The middle of the season is when the show hit a bit of rough patch, starting with Gintars. I like what the episode says about adoption and it was refreshing to see Charles be more assertive to Jake, but the whole deportation angle left a bit of a sour taste in the mouth. The B plot also has Holt and Amy being uncharacteristically mean spirited and while they apologize to Rosa at the end, the episode didn't make it feel they actually learned their lesson. The Therapist is kind of meh. Its another Jake going behind Charles' back episode. While the episode comes around at the end by giving a reason why Jake doesn't like therapy and Jake admitting that he needs to got to therapy, the rest of the episode involves a lot of jokes at patients and therapists which just isn't all that funny. Casecation is my least favorite episode on the show. Its an episode that is so tone deaf and inconsistent in characterization that it just irritates me. The rewatch is only the 2nd time I have watched the episode. I tend to skip it during the rewatches. Its bizarre how badly OOC almost every character is. I think Terry and Charles are the only ones who aren't OOC. While Jake's fears about parenthood are grounded in realistic concerns, we have had several moments where Jake has talked about having kids in the future. So the fact that he comes off as not wanting kids is inconsistent with what we know of him. I was not surprised with Amy being pro family, coming from a big family herself, but the fact that an organized person like her didn't outright have this conversation with Jake before marriage is not believable at all. The episode is also really mean spirited. The structured debate part has Amy, Holt, Kevin etc... all making fun of Jake's fears, Amy being emotionally manipulative and issuing ultimatums, Rosa offering to bully Jake into agreeing with Amy. In general, this maybe the only episode where I disliked Amy, whom I otherwise adore. I understand her perspective, but the way she handles it is unkind. I could honestly go on a long diatribe about why the episode is terrible. In the end, the mean spirited nature of the episode is what turns me off because the thing I love about B99 as a whole is the optimistic and idealistic nature of the show. Gina's return in 'Return of the King' is also not a favorite. Again, the episode just makes Gina look like a bad friend for blowing off Jake and Terry without explanation for so long.

However, thankfully, these 4 episodes are just a blip on the radar. The rest of the episodes are filled with a lot of hilarity. The Bimbo is one of my favorite Holt episodes. Jake and Holt is a dynamic that can never go wrong. Add Kevin to the mix and you have solid gold. Holt as "the bimbo" is a damn funny idea and its executed brilliantly. Cinco de Mayo is the first heist episode not on Halloween and its my third favorite. Mainly because I always root for terry since he always gets underestimated or made fun of during the heists. The Golden Child brings Lin-Manuel Miranda, another B99 celebrity fan, in as Amy's brother and its a lot of fun to watch Jake play the straight man whereas we see Amy being the crazy competitive one with Lin being up to the challenge as well. Craig Robinson makes a welcome return as Doug Judy, and The Honeypot is another hilarious Jake and Holt episode. The season ends really strong with Sicko and The Suicide Squad, bringing back Caleb the cannibal, Wuntch, The Vulture, and CJ. CJ is still a bit much but the others are all a hoot. It was nice to see Wuntch on the right side of things for once and we yet again see why Jake is considered the best and brightest of the 99 with his plan to take down John Kelly. The season doesn't have a cliffhanger, more a rejigging of the 99 dynamic with Holt being demoted to patrol officer temporarily.

Overall, it still a fun season. But the four episodes that didn't work bring the grade down a bit. Its a 7.5/10 overall. Now, onto season 7 with just days left before season 8 begins.

#b99 #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #raymond holt #jake peralta #terry jeffords #amy santiago #rosa diaz #charles boyle #gina linetti #andre braugher #andy samberg #melissa fumero #terry crews #stephanie beatriz #joe lo truglio #chelsea peretti #peraltiago

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mulderist · 4 years

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Wicked Game

Chapter 1 // read on AO3 // @today-in-fic

Washington, D.C - 1948. Fox Mulder is a detective on the top vice unit; scandal, corruption, and lies come with the territory. He is forced to investigate a fellow officer and finds the lies go much deeper than the truth.

CHAPTER 2

U Street NW 3rd District 11:00am

I tried to tell myself I was rested, but that was a lie. Insomnia is a bitch and she makes a hell of a bedfellow. I couldn’t be bothered with the percolator in my apartment, though day old coffee hadn’t stopped me before. I didn't bother shaving, instead deciding to give my five o’clock shadow an extra half hour. My dress shirt lightly concealed the white bandage on my shoulder and I found a set of grey pants and matching suit jacket. I remembered my raw brimmed fedora and locked the door behind me. I debated whether or not to take the car but I didn’t want to deal with public transit this afternoon. The starter on the Pontiac needed a wake up call and after some persuading I made my way out of Alexandria.

I drove across the bridge and further into the district, stopping about a block away from the precinct so I could hop into the corner diner. I needed a decent cup of joe and some bacon and eggs. Sure it was almost lunch but I hadn’t eaten breakfast yet.

When I arrived at headquarters the bullpen was buzzing like a hornet’s nest. I removed my hat and took a seat at my desk. My shoulder burned and I felt the stitches pull slightly as I reached down to unearth a group of files from a bottom drawer. I winced as I placed everything I had on Vincenti atop my desk. From behind the stack of papers I watched a parade of suits and uniforms flow in and out of the captain’s office. A cloud of Morley cigarette smoke signaled each time the door opened or closed; it reminded me of how they choose the Pope in the Vatican. I was waiting for that smoke to turn black when I saw Skinner in the doorway. His eyes narrowed and he flicked two fingers like an impatient father. I gathered the assortment of files I was reviewing and brushed past the remaining uniforms that were heading back downstairs.

“Nice of you to join the party, Mulder.”

“Well after my patch job I decided to take a powder and take my phone off the hook. My shoulder is fine by the way.” Skinner took a seat behind his desk and asked me to close the door.

“Funeral arrangements have been made at Arlington. We’re still waiting to receive the final report from the coroner. This of course will tell me how he died but I want to know why. I know you and Detective Spender had been working for some time on the Vincenti ring.”

“Well you did make it a top priority for vice if I’m not mistaken. At the request of the mayor?” I questioned as I glanced at a crowded ashtray then lowered into one of Skinner’s leather chairs.

“Last year, the mayor asked the commissioner for help decreasing drug related crime in the district. And this precinct’s vice squad had a no-nonsense reputation which the commissioner spoke so highly of.” Skinner stated as he pressed back in his chair. “I assume those files you have are related to the case?”

I handed him the papers.

“Since you gave us this assignment, Spender and I discovered Vincenti likes to run operations out of the Navy Yard. Spender wanted to find an informant, or at least pressure someone into being an informant. We staked out a flophouse near the old factory and watched for any dealings. Saw a street-savvy kid who looked like an easy mark and followed him. I remember Spender turning on the bad cop routine and pinned the kid to the wall. We told him he could stay anonymous but he gave us a name; Dimitri Kristoff.”

“A Russian?” Skinner questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“A Russian alias. He gave us that and a phone number,” I replied with a shrug, “At the time, the less we knew the better. Spender may have contacted him and pushed for more info. Eventually we were able to build a file on our friend Dimitri.”

“That might give a little more motive for Spender’s murder,” Skinner stated as he leafed through the file, “Do you think Spender was sold a bad tip or do you suspect the kid?”

“If Spender was dealt a bad hand he must have kept it pretty close to his chest. We were partners but I personally wasn’t very close to him. I kept Dimitri at arm’s length and I don’t think he’d squeal. You could stake my no-nonsense reputation on it.” I replied as I shifted in my seat, “Frankly if the kid knows what’s good for him he would get out of the game all together.”

“Admirable,” Skinner said while he closed the file and placed it back on top of the stack. I could see the wheels in his head turning, grinding as he tried to rearrange the puzzle pieces. He removed his wire-frame glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. There was something itching at the back of my head.

“Sir. Can I speak off the record?”

“What is it?”

“I think Spender might have gotten in too deep with Vincenti.”

“Do you think he was working for him?”

“Not directly but he might have been pulling a side job. Thinking he could take a little off the top and offer the precinct’s blind eye as collateral.”

“He wouldn’t have been that stupid, Mulder. He wasn’t a green recruit fresh out of the academy. He had several years climbing the ranks before getting in with the vice unit. Not to mention his military history.”

“Absolute power corrupts absolutely, sir. He also has connections to The Hill and those connections have mob ties.”

Skinner leaned forward on his desk and put his glasses back on. I could see the wheels turning again.

“Surveillance can post-up in one of the abandoned warehouses at the Navy Yard and gather more intel, see if Vincenti makes an appearance. They’ll be coming out of the woodwork once this hits the papers. In the meantime I want you to find your junior informant and bring him in for questioning.”

I rose from my seat and reached for my files with a wince and headed towards the door.

“And Mulder,” Skinner began before I had a chance to leave, “it will be military dress blues for Arlington. Regardless of your opinion, the precinct lost a man with high honors.”

I nodded in response and headed back into the fray, closing the door behind me. I weaved back to my desk, dropped the files, and searched in my drawer for a memo with Dimitri’s phone number.

I listened to the phone ring on a seemingly endless loop, the long shrill sound reverberated in my left ear and I could feel my eyelids get heavy. The ring evolved into white noise and I was one dim chime away from disconnecting the call when I heard the receiver click on the other end.

“You’re lucky I’m a patient man, Dimitri,” I started as I tried to stifle a yawn, “we need to arrange a meeting.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” he responded.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, detective, I’m no good to you. My sources are as dry as the Sahara.”

“Is that so?” I questioned as I switched the phone to my opposite ear. “Well how about we just meet for a coffee.”

“That’s sweet detective but lunch dates aren’t really my style. I like something with a bit more spirit if you catch my meaning.”

“Fine. I can meet you in the nearest alley and serve up my fist to your goddamn nose. That spirited enough for you?” I heard him laugh through the phone, my fingers tightened on the receiver. “Georgetown University library. I’m giving you three hours.”

“You gonna have a carnation on your lapel so I know it’s you?”

“Try a grey fedora and a pissed off look on my face.”

And I ended the conversation then left the office to get something to eat.

------

3:35pm

Georgetown’s gothic spires, stonework, and green fields reminded me of my stint at Oxford. My professors felt that I could use more than a State-side education and my father agreed. He shipped me off to England hoping I would return top of my class. I studied psychology, took in the local pubs, local women, and managed a little bit of travel. After completing my academics I knew I wanted to return to Europe. However, in 1941 I was shipped off to the Pacific in a crisp Marine Corps uniform. Never got to see the Old World before things changed.

I found a bench near the library at the edge of campus and checked my watch. Some students took their studies outside due to the favorable weather.

Springtime in the city.

I surveyed the quad: A male student was more focused on a small group of chatty sweater girls than his textbooks, a professor struggled with a satchel as he hurried into a nearby building. I clocked a young man in a pork pie hat headed my direction but he stopped suddenly to retrieve a gauzy scarf that was snatched by the breeze. He caught up with the shapely owner and said something to make her smile. The man adjusted his hat and continued towards me.

“Nice weather isn’t it?” he began, “Spring is truly in the air and the winds of change are a-blowin’.”

“Dimitri?”

“One in the same, detective.”

“I take it you’ve heard?”

“It hasn’t made the papers, but yes,” he replied as he took a seat on the far end of the bench. I fixed the brim of my fedora as another breeze rolled across the quad.

“I need some answers from you.”

“Well it depends on what you’re asking,” Dimitri said as he took a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and tapped them against his palm.

“Do you know who bumped off Spender?”

“That’s a tall order.”

“Did you set him up last night?”

Dimitri took a drag off the cigarette then exhaled a short plume of smoke.

“I got an alibi if you’re interested,” he said confidently as he flicked away fresh ash.

“Let me guess; you were home all night, listened to the radio, brushed your teeth then went to bed like a good boy,” I replied as I shifted positions.

“Nah, I’m not the homebody type. Never was good company.”

“I can see why. I honestly hate being around you at the moment.”

He laughed and placed the cigarette between his lips. His glance followed a co-Ed as she walked down the path towards the library.

“Instead I was out following a tip.”

“A tip? Related to your boss Vincentti?” I questioned.

“You could say that,” he replied, letting the statement hang in the air. It appeared I wasn’t going to get a simple answer.

“Let’s go for a ride,” I said as I leaned forward and rose to my feet. The kid chuckled.

“Are you arresting me?”

“Not yet, I just want a change of scenery. My car’s this way.”

Dimitri pulled out another cigarette as we walked, waiting until he got in my car to light it. I turned on the radio so I wouldn’t have to talk with him on the drive to the precinct. We would have plenty to talk about once we got there.

Upon arriving, I got the attention of the older uniform at the desk who led us to a vacant interrogation room. I handcuffed the kid to the table and told him to stay put as I left to find the captain.

Skinner tucked a thick file under his arm as we entered the room. I closed the door and took a seat across the table. Skinner handed me the folder.

“Dimitri Kristoff. Or should I say Alex Krycek,” I began as I turned the page, “you’ve got a record colorful enough to hang in a gallery.” I thumbed through a series of reports. “Petty theft, bribery, breaking and entering, minor assault, and this last one - public indecency? Don’t see that too often.” I watched him shift uncomfortably in his chair. His eyes found the corner of the room and carved a path back to focus on his hands.

“A guy’s gotta make a living,” Krycek said flatly.

“Well Alex, you must have been deep up shit creek,” I said reaching the end of his file. “I want to know a few things.”

“You’ve got it all there in front of you, detective.” He gestured with a cuffed hand. “Besides I already told you everything I know.”

“Actually you haven’t. I want to know set us up that night? What was your gain in all of this?” I questioned as Skinner rounded the edge of the table. I let Krycek idle for a moment and think. He looked towards the ceiling.

“Can I get a smoke? I got a pack in my pocket.”

I shot Skinner a look then leaned over to uncuff one of Krycek’s hands. He cleared his throat as he reached in his shirt pocket for cigarettes and a matchbook.

“I was in a bad way when I came home from the Pacific. Better off than the boys who didn’t of course, but I was still living alone, scraping by. Did you serve Detective?”

“Marines,” I said curtly.

“Ah. Semper Fi,” he said with a quick salute, “ I was in the Army myself. I couldn’t find a decent job when I got back to the States so I got involved with a fair amount of indecent work. I tended bar at one of Vincenti’s haunts. After a conversation one night I was asked to drive them to a job they were pulling. I had driven a troop transport while I was overseas, so I figured how hard could it be? I signed on with no questions asked.” Krycek flicked a match and lit his waiting cigarette. “I put my lead foot to good use and the more jobs I ran, the more green I had for my pockets. Shakedowns and bank jobs were fine but when the heroin came into the picture I knew I needed to find a way out. I had seen enough of that when I was over there, lost a few friends to it when we got home.”

“So that’s when your moral compass pointed north?” Skinner asked.

“I got involved with a dame. She was a honey of a blonde named Marita who was in deeper with Vincentti than I realized. She worked at a nice club the crew would frequent. I chatted her up one night and she said I was different than the others. Well, she played me for a fool. She had a strong addiction that I helped fuel and it got her killed.” Krycek let the cigarette hang on his lower lip. “Hell of a dame.”

“Okay. So the motive was revenge,” I said as I rose from my chair. “Sounds simple enough. Thought you could single-handedly take down a mob boss because of a woman. Change of heart, realized the error of your ways, and all that.”

“Why get two of my best detectives involved in the first place Krycek if you wanted to handle this yourself,” said Skinner from his corner.

“The top vice unit would have easily wrapped this up with a ribbon,” Krycek responded as he twisted the butt of the cigarette into the ashtray. “Apparently Detective Spender didn’t play by the rules. But that wasn’t my department.”

I was growing impatient and paced the far side of the room.

“Son, you better elaborate,” Skinner said with arms folded tightly.

“I’m stating that the detective might have had another agenda at that meeting. He might have been linked up with them longer than you realized. Maybe he was working as a mole all along. Or, perhaps the goon didn’t want Johnny Law getting an extra cut from the drop so he cut him out of the picture.” Krycek mimed two shots with a finger gun. He sat there grinning like a dirty rat. I ran a hand over my face and let my palm rest on the side of my jaw, feeling the muscles tighten. My eyes darted in Skinner’s direction then back at Krycek.

CRACK

I felt my new scar tissue stretch and tear as I swung a right cross that plowed into his cheekbone. The impact knocked him sideways but not entirely to the floor thanks to the thin chain keeping him tethered to the table. I rubbed my knuckles and backed away, waiting for a retaliation.

“Mulder!” shouted Skinner as he stepped in between, “You’re dismissed.”

I rolled my wrist and watched Krycek adjust his jaw then situate himself in the chair. No blood yet but mine coursed through my veins like a superhighway. The fact I hadn’t left the room caused Skinner to approach me.

“Leave. Now Detective,” he said with a deep tone to his voice. I exhaled and obeyed with a heated walk to the bullpen.

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #historical au #mulder pov #noir fiction #my fic #wip

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lowritesthings · 4 years

Text

Resonance

Part 8 of ?? (Part One) << Previous

You’re helping to serve everyone dinner when Biggs appears downstairs for the first time, pale and groaning in pain but trying to smile through it for the kids. He’s wearing nothing but his shorts and bandages, and he’s gripping his battered ribs.

“What are you doing out of bed?” you ask, scrambling to his side to help take the weight off of his injured leg.

“Can’t lay around up there all day like a slob,” he quips, though his jaw is tight with pain and there’s still a raw look in his eyes that worries you. He must see your concern because he tries to give you a reassuring little squeeze. You help him to a chair and grab him some food.

All through the meal, he talks with the kids. He comforts the ones from Seven that have lost their homes, and he tries to lift the spirits of them all, knowing that the orphans from Five are scared too, even if they haven’t lost as much as the kids from Seven. You and Folia have to remind the younger children more than once to be gentle or else they’d all be trying to hug him. He’s patient with it all, even when they jostle his hurt ribs or get loud while his head no doubt still aches.

When the meal is over he grabs you before you can disappear back into the kitchen to wash the dishes.

“Is there any...any news? About Wedge or Jessie?” he asks quietly.

“No, I’m sorry. The search and rescue crews are still combing through the debris and the news is all about President Shinra’s death and what happens next for the company.”

Biggs clenches his jaw but nods. “In that case, what can I do to help around here?”

Your lips quirk into a half-smile and you shake your head. “Rest and heal.” He opens his mouth to protest but you cut him off with a wave of your hand. “Whatever comes next, you’ll want to be as close to full strength as possible. The staff can handle the kids. You focus on regaining some strength.”

“I don’t want to be in the way,” he says. You can see how frustrated he feels to be injured and trapped while the fates of his loved ones are unknown.

“You won’t be. Especially if you rest up at my place,” you tell him.

“But what about—?”

“I’ll be here most of the time anyway, so you’d be doing me a favor keeping an eye on the place. I’ll take you over there tonight once I’ve helped clean up a bit.”

He hesitates, then he nods and retreats to his chair, groaning again as he sinks down onto it. You head into the kitchen to finish working.

It takes a while to wrap up all your duties at the Leaf House, but at last you’re free to go. Biggs is half asleep when you return to his side, so you give his good shoulder a gentle shake. His eyes snap open and focus on you, instantly softening at the sight of your face.

“Let’s get you home,” you say, helping him to his feet. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and your arm slips around his waist to help support his weight, careful not to put any pressure around his midsection that might make his ribs hurt worse. Once you’ve positioned yourselves, you set out. He’s definitely not comfortable, but he doesn’t complain as you begin the short but slow trek to your flat.

“Do you think Jessie’s alive?” he asks.

“I don’t know. She’s incredibly tough and she’d never give up her will to live, so if anyone survived it would be her,” you say.

“But?”

“But...I watched skyscrapers fall on top of a shanty town made out of scrap metal. It’s hard to imagine many people walking away from that.”

“I did,” he reminds you.

“You did,” you agree, “and I’m grateful for that, more than you know. I can only hope she has some of your luck.”

“And Wedge?”

“Disappeared when he realized that Tifa, Cloud and Barret had gone topside. No one’s heard anything since.”

Biggs lets out a long sigh. “I don’t suppose those three are coming back any time soon?”

“I don’t know. If they had a hand in President Shinra’s death, I don’t think they could come back even if they wanted to. I’m sure the Turks are already after them.” You glance at him. His face is drawn with pain but still so handsome in the low light. Suddenly you wonder if he’ll disappear too, off searching for everyone else. The thought is painful enough to bring the sting of tears to your eyes, but you blink them away before he can see.

At last you reach your front door. Your heart starts to pound as you let him inside. For a moment you picture swinging him around, pressing him against the door and kissing him senseless. You have to clench your hands into fists and remind yourself he’s hurt in order to control the urge. Still, you can feel your cheeks heat as you try to get the image out of your mind.

“I’ll take the couch,” he says, and you roll your eyes.

“That’s very gallant but your ribs and shoulder aren’t up for it. The bed is yours; I’ll be sleeping on the couch,” you reply.

You gesture for him to follow you down the hall and he gives you an exasperated look. “Is arguing with you gonna work?” he asks.

“Not in the slightest,” you reply with a sweet smile, and he smirks a bit and shakes his head before following you back into the bedroom.

The room is dominated by your bed, though there’s a night table and a dresser in there as well. Your favorite items are neatly arranged around the room and your bed is covered in soft sheets and a fluffy comforter. You’d splurged on your bedding since you’re so busy that most of your time at home is spent sleeping.

“Well that looks comfortable,” Biggs comments when he sees it.

“I...may have spoiled myself a bit. But now you get to reap the benefits,” you tell him. You turn down the covers and then help him lower himself onto the bed. He’s watching your face as you make sure he’s not positioned in a way that will make his injuries worse or cause him more pain than necessary.

“Do you need anything?” you ask once he’s situated.

“Just one thing,” he replies—and then he catches your wrist and tugs you down onto the bed next to him.

Carefully, you tuck yourself against his left side and rest your head on his chest. The steady thump of his heart is reassuring even though you’re listening to it through bandages. You feel the gentle pressure of his chin on the top of your head and close your eyes, trying to memorize every sensation.

“What will you do?” you ask.

“I want to find Wedge and Jessie.” You feel his throat work a little as the full tragedy of the situation hits him again. “Then I guess it will be time to find a new home.”

Considering the fact that his home is buried under the remains of a city block, that’s a completely logical answer. But you feel a pang at the thought of being separated again after you’ve just gotten him back from the dead.

“You know you're always welcome here,” you tell him. You feel his fingers toy with your hair.

“Thank you,” he says after a moment. You can hear the deep gratitude in his voice and it makes you burn to say more, to confess your feelings for him. But that would be selfish in the wake of all he’s lost, especially if he doesn’t feel the same.

There will be time, you think. He needs to heal a little first. I’ll get my chance.

Eventually he falls asleep and you pull away from him to make yourself a bed on the couch. But you can’t resist kissing the corner of his lips before you leave him for the night.

——

A couple days later and you’re starting to find your new routine. Biggs is still too hurt to spend much time up and about, but you can tell that he’s only going to tolerate bed rest for another day or two. The Leaf House is beginning to gather enough supplies to care for all of its latest additions. Life is quietening down again, even if it will never be the same.

That’s when you spot the phalanx of Shinra guards moving through the street. In the center of the formation, one tall man with eyes like granite is taking in the slums, studying everything he walks past. You exchange a look with Folia—what does this mean?

It isn’t long before you (and everyone in this corner of Sector Five) find out: the tall man is named Julian Pierce, and he is the new high commissioner of the undercity. All the slums are now under his direct command.

“What’s a high commissioner?” one of the little girls whispers to you as he stops to introduce himself to the House Mother.

“He’s...kind of like a president,” you reply quietly. “He’s the one in charge of all of us.”

“No one’s in charge of me!” the girl insists, but you shush her gently and watch High Commissioner Pierce speak with your boss. He seems calm, polite, even cordial—but his eyes are glacier-cold as they sweep over the old brick building and all the orphaned children in the yard.

“You will be provided with what you need to care for these children. Furthermore, I will appoint a proctor to assist you with their education. My office will contact you with further information,” he says to the House Mother. Then he continues on, moving through the streets with his guards and leaving a chill in his wake.

Rufus Shinra is clearly consolidating his hold on the city and sealing off the power vacuum left behind by his father—and he’s starting off by closing his fist around the slums. Something sinks into the pit of your stomach.

This can’t be good news.

#biggs x reader #ff7 biggs #ffvii biggs #ff7r #fic: resonance #lo writes things

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longlivelindanny · 3 years

Text

You’re Alive, You’re Alive

Paring: Danny & Linda Reagan

Rating: M

Genre: romance, smut

She didn't know exactly where she was- somewhere in Manhattan, but she had no idea where. She had a feeling, a weird, strong feeling she needed to find someone- a man. She had no idea if she knew the man, but her gut and heart were screaming "find him!" She tried, asking around for him and getting now where since she couldn't produce a name or face or any sort of defining feature or characteristic. Feeling almost defeated, she went into one more bar.

She stood at the bar, talking to the bartender. "Excuse me. I know this is going to sound weird, but I'm looking for a man. I don't know his name or where he lives or what he does, but I need to find him."

"How can you be lookin' for someone you know nothin' about?"

"I don't know." She sighed and looked up at the tv. There on the screen, was a handsome man talking to the press. "Hey! That's him!"

The bartender looked up, "that's the commissioner's son- Danny Reagan's his name."

"Danny Reagan. Do you know where he works, where he lives?"

"Where he works, yeah. Over at the 5-4."

"The five-four? What's that?"

"Have you been livin' under a rock? It's a police station."

"Could you tell me where it is?"

She listened closely to the directions, nodding along, everything sounding vaguely familiar. "Thank you."

She set out on her journey, not knowing at all what to expect. What if this Danny character was married? What if he had kids? Or what if he was sleeping with that pretty Latina standing next to him on the tv screen? The woman had so many questions, questions she craved answers for: the most important one being "who the hell am I?"

**********

"There has to be something we missed," Danny was standing at his desk, shifting through papers strewn haphazardly across the surface.

"We just told the press everything's fine." His partner, Maria Baez, lifted her hand in a shrug.

"We have to lie to the press to keep them at bay. This doesn't seem like a normal murder. It's all too... neat."

"I can head over to the neighbor's again, see if they actually have more to tell us."

"Good idea."

"I'll keep you posted." Baez grabbed her coat and left the building.

"Um, excuse me."

There was a tap on Danny's shoulder and he turned around to face the woman. His heart immediately started pounding for reasons unknown.

"You don't know me, and I don't know you, but... something is telling me to look you up. I think- what's the matter?" She stopped her talking, a look of concern crossing her face. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"What's your name?"

"I don't know."

"Where'd you come from?"

"Somewhere dark and dingy and scary. Jersey, I think."

"How'd you get here?"

"Hitched rides until I came to Manhattan. Asked around about you, and when I got an answer, I came here. Why? Is something the matter?"

"This is going to sound weird, but do you have a tattoo on your ankle? Two Chinese symbols?"

"Those are Chinese?" She plopped her foot on his chair, the skirt she was wearing riding higher up her thigh. "What do they mean?"

"Peace and mind, love and happiness."

"Oh! Those are good things to have."

Danny licked his lips, swallowing hard. He was freaking out, and he was sure it was due to the stress of the case. "This will sound weird again, but... do you have a tattoo, right above your ass? Left side. A puzzle heart, one side blue, the other side purple? The blue has 'Danny' and the purple has 'Linda'?"

"Uh... I don't know."

"Can I check?"

"Here? In front of all these people?"

Why wasn't she protesting him looking in the first place? If she was who he thought she was, she'd protest immediately. "No, back here."

She let him take her hand, and her stomach fluttered. She followed him as they weaves through the detectives and into a back room.

"May I see now?"

"Okay." She turned around and pulled her skirt past her ass, letting rest at her thighs.

There he saw the tattoo, and the scar on her back from the bullet. He backed up until he sat on one of the cots.

She looked behind her, and pulled up her skirt. She walked over to him, "what's wrong? Are you sick?"

"I know who you are."

"Really? Who?"

"You're Linda.... my wife."

"Your wife?" She smiled widely, "alright! My name's Linda?" When he nodded, she continued, "Linda what?"

"Linda Rose O'Shea Reagan. We have two kids: Jack and Sean. Jack's in college, and Sean will graduate high school this year."

"They're so big!"

"Gentleman, too. Like you taught them."

"Danny, if I'm your wife, then why aren't I with you and our boys? Why was I-"

"In New Jersey somewhere?"

Linda nodded, sitting next to him on the cot. A warm feeling filled her chest; it was familiar and comforting, and something she hadn't felt in three years.

"You were airlifting a patient-"

"Nurses don't do that." She interrupted, "how did I know that?"

"They don't, which means the crash and everything was staged. Meaning you were kidnapped for three years, and are now back. But you've got amnesia."

"Amnesia? Is that why I can't remember anything?"

"Yes."

"Where do we live? Will you take me there? How did you know that I'm your wife?"

Danny answered the last question first. "You look exactly like my wife. Only her hair was dyed blonde, and she had cut it a little past her chin." He pushed her long brown hair behind her ear. "And the tattoos. Linda had- you have tattoos like the ones I described, and are on you. You've got a-"

"A what?"

Should he tell her about the bullet in her back? About how she was shot twice? "A scar on your back, sorta near your spine. I'd know those tattoos and scar anywhere. It was your eyes, too. My wife has the most electrifying blue eyes I have ever seen."

She looked into his eyes, again feeling the warmth in her chest, and somewhere decidedly lower. "Are you going to kiss me?"

"Oh, hell yeah." He cupped her cheek with his palm, bringing her lips to his. A sense of relief and euphoria washed over him as she kissed him back; if he had any doubt she wasn't his wife, it was gone now. No one in the world kissed him like Linda kissed him.

Linda didn't want the kiss to end; she hadn't been kissed for three years, and she didn't even remember being kissed before she was taken away from her husband. Her breathing became heavier as the kiss intensified. Reluctantly, they both pulled back for air.

"Danny, you said I was a nurse. I was wearing scrubs before I was able to shower and get a new pair of clothes."

"You were the best nurse... can I take you home?"

"Will you?"

"Yes." He left work with her, leaving no explanation with anybody as to where he had gone off to this time. The drive to the house was a little awkward- what does one say to their dead wife who's actually alive but has no memory of anything?

“Is this it?” Linda looked at the cute home when they pulled up to the driveway.

"Not much, but it's home."

"No, it's cute. Did I live here?"

He swallowed again, "no."

"How come?"

"I'll tell you later." He walked over to her, reaching for her hand.

She wouldn't let him, "tell me now."

"Our old house- there was a fire, and we lived with my Dad for a bunch of months. You died- were kidnapped May 28th. I got this place in August."

"Oh."

"C'mon," he held his hand out again, and this time she took it. "I'll show you around."

Linda listened carefully as he told the story behind the pictures to her. She was filled with love and melancholy, realizing she didn't remember the life she had.

"It looks like a nice life. I wish I could remember it."

"You will. It'll come back to you." Danny frowned when she started to cry. "Don't- don't cry. It'll be alright." He hugged her tightly, rocking her back and forth.

When her tears stopped, she quietly asked, "will you take me to the bedroom?"

Danny was surprised to hear that, even though that had been what he wanted to do ever since he discovered that Linda was alive. He led her to the bedroom without a word, and closed the door behind them out of habit. "It's lovely in here, without you."

She smiled at that, "I've missed you. I didn't even know who or what I was missing, when I was gone. But I now I know. It was you.... you protect me, don't you?"

"I didn't protect you from being taken." It was out of his mouth before he could keep it in.

"That wasn't your fault." She had no idea if that was true, but her husband needed reassurance. She stepped up to him, pressing her lips against his in a sweet kiss. She slipped her hand to the back of his head, the other one resting on his chest. The warmth inside her spread much like her husband's warm tongue in her mouth. She knew she missed this, even if she didn't remember it.

Linda moved her hands beneath his jacket, resting them on his shoulders. She took the jacket it off, and it landed on the floor in a crumpled heap. She moaned when Danny took off her cardigan, her hair getting frizzy from the dry air and static electricity.

"I was a blonde?" She nearly whispered, focusing on popping the little white buttons to his powder blue Oxford shirt.

"And a brunette some of the time. But mostly blonde." His shirt joined his jacket on the floor.

"Semper fi," she traced the inking on his chest, above his heart.

"Code of the Marines. Always faithful."

"You're a marine and a cop?"

"Ex-marine."

"Were you honorably discharged?"

Danny thought about his answer- he really wasn't. He could'nt be 'honorably discharged' if he was the only one who made it home. But he didn't want to upset his wife, so he answered, "yeah."

She traced his other tattoo, the Orange one on his right shoulder. "Linda Rose, with a rose."

"That's you." He took her blouse off, then her bra, and they were both half naked, standing in the bedroom.

As sexy as he was, standing there in no shirt and his tie still around his neck, Linda slowly started to remove the tie. "Were we kinky? Did we ever use this tie?"

He thought about being literal, telling her it wasn't that exact tie, but he decided against it. "We were fairly kinky. You liked being constrained."

"Really?"

"Mhmm."

"Interesting..." she pressed against him, sloppily undoing his belt. "Your pants sit low on your hips." With the belt discarded, she dipped her fingers into the waistband. "I like it."

Danny moaned when her hand sunk into his underwear. How he missed this, missed her! He missed everything about her, and was thoroughly convinced all this was a very vivid dream. There was no way he was this lucky, getting his supposedly dead wife back in his arms again.

Linda kissed his neck, nipping at the flesh as she unbuttoned his pants and slid the zipper down. Together they kicked their shoes off, with as much ease as they had had before she went away. If they had been sitting, drinking coffee, Danny would have to come up with the impossible task of telling the family all of it was fake. He didn't even know it was fake until an hour ago, and dare he say he was happier than the day he married the Angel?

"Linda," her name escaped his lips as her own found that spot on his neck. He felt his pants slip down to his ankles, and he stepped out of them while tugging Linda's skirt down. He picked her up slightly, away from the skirt, and sat on the bed. She straddled him, both of them in only underwear.

"Is this a rule?" She whispered nearly breathily, sending more heat through her husband's body.

"What?" He started kissing her jaw, palming her breasts with his hands. He smirked at the moan that came from her when he tugged on a pert nipple.

"The... the mutual taking off of- ah!- of clothes?" She barely got the question out, mostly focused on how she was pressed against him.

"Unwritten rule."

Her "Oh" turned into a low, dirty groan in the back of her throat as Danny's fingers tapped the front of her underwear. He dragged his finger across the dampening fabric, nipping at her collarbone. "Danny..."

"What is it? What do you want?" How easily he fell back into one of her favorite bedroom games.

"Touch me." She moved her hips, her core rubbing against his fingers. "More."

Danny obliged, feeling his underwear tighten further as he felt Linda's now wet undies. He scratched at them, pleased her eyes closed and her mouth dropped open. "Your wearing too many clothes."

As he hooked his fingers in the band of her underwear, she answered, "you too."

Clumsily, they rid of their underwear, and soon she was sitting on his lap again, fabric barriers gone. A curse fell from her lips when she felt him against her. It had been years since she was this happy, this pleasure stricken. It felt fantastic and very, very new all at the same time.

Danny's fingers found her entrance, and he teased her by doing the 'come here' gesture. She rolled her hips, signaling she wanted more. He slipped one finger inside her, then quickly added another, her choppy breaths hot against his ear. Only for a moment or two did Danny stop the movements. He faltered slightly when Linda's hand wrapped around his aching length. He moaned her name, and she kissed that spot beneath his ear, moving her hand up and down.

He had had about thirty seconds to think on how this would go. He was pleased how easily it was going, as if Linda hadn't been taken away from him at all. It had the feeling of a normal nooner. He pulled his fingers out, picking her up and laying her on the bed.

Linda attached her lips to his, her hand still pumping his length. He moaned in her throat, and she knew she was so close. Her toes curled as he started kissing his way down her body; a filthy sound came from her mouth when he pressed his lips against her heat. She was breathing through her mouth as shocks or pleasure pealed through her body, "Danny."

He lifted his head slightly, "yes?"

"I want you... inside me."

He complied, pressing himself into her until she whimpered. He stopped quickly, knowing that whimper wasn't one of pleasure. "Linda?" He swept her hair from her face.

"I... it's been a bit."

He felt stupid for not thinking about that. He found her hand, lacing their fingers together. "Tell me if it's too much?"

She nodded, squeezing his hand. They locked eyes as he slid fully into her, and for a few moments, the sting was enough to make her cry. Then she got used to it, and kissed him, murmuring into his mouth to continue.

She found her high first, screaming out his name. He followed her, the old habit of making sure she was happy first, still with him. After another round in the shower, they laid together beneath the covers.

Linda traced nonsense patterns on his chest, her eyelids getting heavy. "That was fabulous."

Danny chuckled and kissed her head. "I'm so glad you're back. You have no idea- I was..." he had wondered when the tears of joy would hit him.

Linda lifted her head, "you're sad?"

"No, I'm so happy." He crushed her against him, hugging her tightly. "You're alive, you're alive. And it's real."

#lindanny #Linda Reagan #Danny Reagan #lindanny smut #how the show should end

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the-faequeen · 5 years

Photo

A picture of Neeko for your attention? :3

Hello everyone! I wanted to do some important updates here so I'll type it down in with titles so whichever you might be interested in, You'll see :)

1. For my commissioners:

Hi everyone, YES i am still workin and sketching them as much as I can but work has been quite busy lately! I hope you all understand and thank you so much for being so so patient! I'll be continuing work this weekend. For this week, I haven't done any progress since it's a busy work week :) I'll be messaging and replying to everyone ONCE i'm good with my day job. Expect this weekend most likely. For those who want to commission me, i'm so sorry but I won't be opening my commissions for a while EXCEPT when there's an emergency. I'll be posting if I do open commissions again but for now, it's closed till further notice. For the ones who inquired and I have answered a yes, consider your commission to be noted :) I'm so sorry though if i'm not replying just yet -- I have so much to finish before I can compose myself.

2. For my online orders:

To those who ordered May 1- june 12 I have gotten the new batch! huzzah! I will be shipping them on the weekend :) Anyone who have placed an order past 12,consider yours to be included on the next shipment next month!

3. For people who wants to buy my Merch (ESPECIALLY THE MIRACULOUS LADY BUG FLOWERS -- wow you guys)

The question of my MLB merch -- I will be posting it on my Storenvy --- But i'm also fixing my shop. There is gonna be a big chance that I can lower the shipping fee -- and a lot of other stuff. I want my items to be affordable for all you guys so I'm working on my new shop (apart from storenvy) and yes there will be new merch too. Fans of Boku No Hero, Persona 5 (HELL YES OMG) and ofc, My league people will be in for a treat :3 i'm updating my merch list for it to have more varied items <3 Hopefully -- Y'all will liek it. I'll be posting a catalog for my online store as well as links to it WHEN i finally have it finished. It's one of my major priorities this month.

4. Any of you wondering about my conventions

Well as you, my sweet Filipino Mutuals may have recently heard, APCC is cancelled. It was my supposed Con that i'm working my back and neck to prepare for. That being said, I now have more free time (lol expect zoyn comics on the weekend hue) and I can now work on other stuff. That being said, for the rest of the year -- here's my Target cons, some I have already gotten a slot for:- Cosmania, ESGS, Komiket 2019 - and if I'm really lucky.. I may see you guys at AFA in Singapore this November!

5. The Misadventures of Zoe and Kayn

Im gonna be completely honest i HAVE NOT worked on anything for this chapter and i am so so so sorry. Frankly in the midst of APCC, my aun't wedding and work as well as commissions, I've been so burtn out? I didnt have time. Simply put. But now that my schedule's gonna get a. bit more cleared up cos of APCC's cancellation, I'm planning on just finishing my commissions and I'll Stop everything and focus on the new chapter. It's gonna be exciting, I swear guys.

Also i have some mini stories of other champions I've drafted through out this period -- maybe i'll go ahead and continue that too. Who knows. that be all the updates I can give guys. thank you for being patient with me!

- Fi

#fae talks

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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 years

Text

#5yrsago Big Data should not be a faith-based initiative

Cory Doctorow summarizes the problem with the idea that sensitive personal information can be removed responsibly from big data: computer scientists are pretty sure that's impossible.

The debate is a hot one, and a lot of non-technical privacy regulators have been led on by sweet promises from the companies that they regulate about the possibility of creating booming markets in highly sensitive personal data that is somehow neutralized through a magic "de-identification" process that lets information about, say, the personal lives of cancer patients be bought and sold without compromising the patients' privacy.

The most recent example of this is a report by former Ontario privacy commissioner Ann Cavoukian and Daniel Castro from the pro-market thinktank the Information Technology and Innovation Foundation. The authors argue that the risk of "re-identification" has been grossly exaggerated and that it is indeed possible to produce meaningful, valuable datasets that are effectively "de-identified."

Princeton's Arvind Narayanan and Ed Felten have published a stinging rebuttal, pointing out the massive holes in Cavoukian and Castro's arguments -- cherry picking studies, improperly generalizing, ignoring the existence of multiple re-identification techniques, and so on.

As Narayanan and Felten demonstrate, the Cavoukian/Castro position is grounded in a lack of understanding of both computer science and security research. The "penetrate-and-patch" method they recommend -- where systems are fielded with live data, broken through challenges, and then revised -- has been hugely ineffective in both traditional information security development and in de-identification efforts. And as Narayanan and Felten point out, there is no shortage of computer science experts who could have helped them with this.

Cavoukian and Castro are rightly excited by Big Data and the new ways that scientists are discovering to make use of data collected for one purpose in the service of another. But they do not admit that the same theoretical advances that unlock new meaning in big datasets also unlock new ways of re-identifying the people whose data is collected in the set.

Re-identification is part of the Big Data revolution: among the new meanings we are learning to extract from huge corpuses of data is the identity of the people in that dataset. And since we're commodifying and sharing these huge datasets, they will still be around in ten, twenty and fifty years, when those same Big Data advancements open up new ways of re-identifying -- and harming -- their subjects.

Narayanan and Felten would like to have a "best of both worlds" solution that lets the world reap the benefits of Big Data without compromising the privacy of the subjects of the datasets. But if there is such a solution, it is to be found through rigorous technical examinations, not through hand-waving, wishful thinking, and bad stats.

The faith-based belief in de-identification is at the root of the worst privacy laws in recent memory. In the EU, the General Data Protection Regulation -- the most-lobbied regulatory effort in EU history -- decided to divide data protection into two categories: identifiable data and "de-identified" data, with practically no limits on how the latter could be bought and sold. The mirrors the existing UK approach, which allows companies to unilaterally declare that the data they hold has been "de-identified" and then treat it as a commodity. In both cases, it's a disaster, as I wrote in the Guardian last year. You can't make good technical regulations by ignoring technical experts, even if the thing those technical experts are telling you is that your cherished plans are impossible.

I recommend you read both Narayanan and Felten's paper, and Cavoukian and Castro's. But in the meantime, Narayanan has helpfully summarized the debate:

Specifically, we argue that:

1. There is no known effective method to anonymize location data, and no evidence that it’s meaningfully achievable.

2. Computing re-identification probabilities based on proof-of-concept demonstrations is silly.

3. Cavoukian and Castro ignore many realistic threats by focusing narrowly on a particular model of re-identification.

4. Cavoukian and Castro concede that de-identification is inadequate for high-dimensional data. But nowadays most interesting datasets are high-dimensional.

5. Penetrate-and-patch is not an option.

6. Computer science knowledge is relevant and highly available.

7. Cavoukian and Castro apply different standards to big data and re-identification techniques.

8. Quantification of re-identification probabilities, which permeates Cavoukian and Castro’s arguments, is a fundamentally meaningless exercise.

-Cory Doctorow

https://boingboing.net/2014/07/09/big-data-should-not-be-a-faith.html

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dcarevu · 5 years

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Batman TAS: Heart of Steel (Part 1)

“I do wish you wouldn’t be so rough with your toys, Master Bruce.”

Episode: 38 Robin: No Writers: Brynne Stephens (Brynne Chandler) Director: Kevin Altieri Animator: Sunrise Airdate: November 16, 1992 Grade: A

Mixing the world of Batman TAS with heavy science fiction elements, particularly those related to computers, could have equated a heavily dated disaster. Even Batman’s bat-computer rubs me the wrong way sometimes, it sometimes seems out of place. I don’t think the decade helped much. I am not nostalgic at all for the computers of the 90’s and early 2000’s. They were a pain in the ass and they were ugly. Batman’s computer may be super advanced, but it was still a 90’s vision. Compare this to the futuristic world of The Jetsons. The Jetsons certainly had advanced technology, but it was also contained to what we already understood about technology. Because of that, it has not aged unnoticeably despite some aspects of that future still being a ways off from today. In many cases, we simply found different ways to advance, and things like the smart phone or the tablet were hugely instrumental in determining the way our technology would wander come the late-2000’s.

Heart of Steel isn’t set in the future, though, and this helps. Sure, the show was meant to be as timeless as possible, and therefore should somewhat translate to our modern times… Right? Ehh… I don’t think that “timeless” necessarily needs to mean that. The purposely dated aspects of the show (such as black and white TV’s) are now not much more retro than some of the technology and ideas featured in this episode. Eventually we will be at a place where the space between black and white TV’s and the Internet will be significantly smaller than the space between the Internet and present-day. Because of this technology in this episode seems less 90’s, and more like it fits in with the show’s atmosphere, blending together elements of the past and present. What do you get when you put together archaic technology with present-day technology? Something kinda in the middle. So we have weird, hybrid-era computers, black and white TV’s, and many other things that mostly existed decades apart, and it works. It’s all like a stew. A good story aids as well, and what Heart of Steel delivers is pretty interesting, incredibly creepy, and cunningly suspenseful.

When the episode starts, right off the bat, we can see that it’s unusually dirty-looking. The Blu Ray release features no such quirk, but goodness gracious, how did this much film-dirt pollute so many of the frames? Char thought it only added to the look, and I definitely won’t argue that. But a little film dirt goes a long way for me. When it’s looking this grubby, to the point where it could be god damn snowing, I see it as a little bit of a problem. Nothing I can’t look past, though. While we’re on the topic of animation, Sunrise is back, a lesser-used studio who, so far, as done a sufficient job, but not much beyond that. They have a style that I don’t recognize until I know it’s them. Hindsight bias? Maybe. But they’re kinda in between Dong Yang’s best work and Akom’s standard-to-best. They typically have some really weird shots every episode, and we get one here that is displayed down below in the section for screengrabs. They did a damn fine job at animating the suitcase robot, which was certainly not something you have to practice drawing every day, and the more dramatic scenes that popped up near the end. They were also able to give us an absolutely gorgeous Barbara and Randa. I have to call special attention to Randa’s design. Apparently she was modeled after Marilyn Monroe, and it shows. Char and I both briefly discussed how attractive she is. Too bad she’s a big ol’ bitch, right? At least Barbara is adorable inside and out.

So we start at Wayne Enterprises, and this mysterious blonde woman (who turns out to be Randa) leaves a suitcase inside, leaving immediately afterward. A guard picks it up and starts messing with it, which seems a little stupid. I mean, god, that scenario has “bomb” written all over it. The guard gets the suitcase open, and it seems ordinary, so he leaves it for the night in case anyone decides to come back for it the next day. Big mistake, because once the suitcase is alone, it grows metallic limbs, a robotic eyeball, and starts scurrying around the building, making its way up to a vault containing some microchips. The microchips are one piece to the puzzle of free-thinking AI, so obviously they are incredibly valuable. The guard and Bruce Wayne take notice on their way out, and after an action sequence between security and the spindly, little robot, Batman follows it to a car being driven by the blonde lady we saw earlier. Unfortunately she is able to stop Batman from following, ending the action for the night.

After talking to Lucius Fox and Commissioner Gordon (who has Barbara with him, her first appearance), Bruce visits a place called Cybertron Industries. Optimus Prime is nowhere to be seen, but a guy named Karl Rossum is running the company, and has a sweet, delicious southern accent. Seriously, this guy’s voice is really good. Like many of the mainstays, it exudes so much character and sounds incredibly natural at the same time. Rossum shows Bruce around, introducing him to some of his mechanical inventions, and then shows him his masterpiece, a giant computer named HARDAC (Holographic, Analytical, Reciprocating, Digital Computer). Oh, and his assistant, who has her hair covered up so that the audience doesn’t recognize her as the same woman who left the suitcase. It is pretty obvious that this is her, though, and when Rossum refuses to reveal the purpose of HARDAC, this whole operation gets even fishier. Hell, when Commissioner Gordon earlier mentioned that the only team (that’s not Wayne Enterprises) researching this type of AI was Cybertron, we might as well have taken it as, “So Karl Rossum is the villain.” I don’t actually remember if he is the villain or not, it’s been too long since I’ve seen the episode, but I’m going to remain suspicious. I do remember another big detail, though, and I’m going to avoid mentioning it for the sake of spoilers. You’re welcome.

Bruce Wayne convinces Rossum’s assistant (Randa) to go on a date with him in order to squeeze information out of her. “Well… Squeeze might not be the best word.” as Bruce put it. I couldn’t even believe I heard that. Huge innuendo! But after leaving, Randa makes her way to a section in Rossum’s lab where she begins an incriminating conversation with HARDAC, and a machine spits out a copy of Commissioner Gordon, naked as a jaybird. This copy makes its way to his house, along with Randa, and takes his place, unbeknownst to Barbara. She can tell something is different with him, though, as he won’t talk to her like he normally does, he stops calling her “Princess”, and he nastily swats her stuffed bear onto the floor, despite the real Gordon seemingly being more attached to it than Barbara is. It’s a very startling moment, actually, and it jumped Char. It made me audibly gasp, and it also made me a little sad. You don’t mistreat stuffed animals like that, you monster!

At the same time, Randa and Bruce are on their date at Wayne Manor. Bruce has to leave for a little while in the middle of it, due to an information theft at Wayne Industries, and while he’s gone, Randa communicates with HARDAC again, seemingly with the aid of an earpiece. Because the information stolen was actually decoy information, HARDAC instructs her to search the house, and she happens to stumble across the Batcave in the search. This makes for the first major time anyone has figured out that Bruce and Batman are the same exact person (Hugo Strange’s efforts didn’t amount to anything), and it ends up being much more dramatic. During the search, Alfred is put unconscious, and when Bruce finally gets back, things are quiet. Randa is nowhere to be seen, and Alfred doesn’t seem to recall what happened. Is this the real Alfred? I can’t recall. He seems to act pretty normal, but he also has no idea what is going on. He could have hit his head, but it leaves me concerned. Another element to the story that I cannot remember from several years back. Batman heads down to the Batcave to investigate, but his computer starts going absolutely haywire. Some mechanical arms from above grab him, and drag him up, ending the episode. The techno-freak-out is just as frightening as the bear-swat from earlier with “Gordon”, and it makes for a great end to the episode. In general, the episode picks up as we get closer and closer to the end. The beginning is B-material, and the end is A-material easily. Because of this, I eventually went with an A, succumbing to the peer pressure supplied by Char (that’s a joke). We’ll look at Part 2 soon (the post for Perchance to Dream may be up first), where we’ll hopefully get a thrilling conclusion. So far, the second parts of the two-parters have been inferior, with the hard exception being Feat of Clay.

Some various moments of the suitcase robot. The eyeball is the one thing that adds a little bit of camp, so they could have done without that. Wouldn’t a little seeing sensor work a bit better?

The guard fiddling with the key while Bruce patiently waits. Clearly this is here to show the imperfect qualities of man when compared to machine (being totally serious here, without any sarcasm).

And here’s our Sunrise weirdness of the episode. What the hell am I looking at?

Batman is looking a little husky, but overall it’s a good drawing. Better than that scary monstrosity above it.

Also a decent looking fire. The key is to avoid too many (if any) black lines if you don’t have the chops to really make them look awesome.

Batman whips out his binoculars for a second to get a better look at the rocket (filled with the microchips) that leaves the suitcase. It’s quick.

Being a Wayne-owned building, Batman has a few secrets hidden around.

Actually, here’s another one I forgot to add earlier. Clever!

No one pours anything into a bag like this, the shit will spill all over the place.

Okay, I need one of these in my trunk for tail-gaters.

More Sunrise weirdness. We can see through the wave, and there’s no Batman. When the wave comes back down, he’s there again.

Nice water running over Batman’s costume.

Followed by a gross face that we hold on for a few frames.

Here we see Alfred dusting Batman’s computer system, but Char at first thought that he was playing with a ball. I thought that was so amusing I had to include it.

As Batman and Alfred discuss AI, we get this detailed shot of Alfred’s mop. I don’t get it.

BARBARA!!!

I love Jim and this bear. He takes it to the airport every time he picks up Barbara. “Well, he knows the way better than I.” That’s adorable.

As Jim leaves, he realizes that Bruce is still holding onto it. He then says, “Barbara forgot her bear.”

Barbara’s first appearance is a strong one, since we have already gotten to know Gordon. She feels like an extension of him.

A little bit Jetsons, and that’s not the color I would have chosen, but a cute robot.

This one is my favorite. It makes music (that sounded like some sort of brass instrument).

This big red button is for making cappuccinos. Brilliant.

I’m sorry, but this looked like the worst foot-rub ever.

This is HARDCAC. Jesus, how much did that run you, buddy? I’d spend more than double what’s in my bank account for a Macintosh laptop.

Seeing the construction of the Gordonbot was eerie. Before we see the face, we have no idea who it’s supposed to look like, so it leaves us in a bit of suspense. Also, HARDAC refers to this as the next duplicate. That has to mean there are others already out there.

Total 2001 vibes. HARDAC has a great voice.

Isn’t she beautiful? I can see the Monroe-influence. I wonder why, though?

Really disturbing as Gordon answers the door, seeing himself cloaked in shadow. The stuff of nightmares. Basically a futuristic version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

The sound it makes too is so violent when you’re not expecting it.

I feel like this scene represents that space that is suddenly between them. There is one point where the Gordonbot says, “I said I’m fine.” in a really aggressive tone that gives me the willies. Replacements/copies of humans are such a scary concept.

A really well-composed screengrab. Could be an album cover.

So is the Batcave entrance behind the clock, or behind this bookshelf..? Not both, there’s only one staircase. Inconsistencies!

Oddly-proportioned Batman.

So, why exactly does Batman keep his work files on his Batcave computer? Although I suppose this files this secretive, it’s not a bad plan. Until we run into situations like this, anyway!

Char’s grade: A Next time: Heart of Steel (Part 2)

Full episode list here!

#heart of steel #dcau #dc animated universe #batman tas #btas #batman the animated series #hardac

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