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myfictionaldreams · 9 months ago

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Talk To Me // James Potter x Fem!Reader

Part 1 // Part 2

Summary: It had been three weeks since you'd spoken to James. Three long weeks since emotions were subtly revealed, you weren't sure how long you could go without seeing him. However, will a Quidditch accident draw you both back together or push each other apart?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, ANGST (!), depression, arguing, injury/blood, ex-friends w/benefits to lovers, kinda love triangle, mutual pining, kissing, confrontation, fingering, praise kink, happy ending

Words: 5.3k

Tagslist: @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo, @kezibear, @liv2post, @imdoingbetternow, @omwtohellttyl, @sheblogs, @keemsweems, @mora-miserium, @marmie-noir

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During your second year at Hogwarts, James had accidentally dyed your hair bright green, and you'd given him the silent treatment for a shocking 6 hours before he found you in the corridor, his hair a matching shade of green. The two of you laughed about it until tears were streaming down your cheeks. The had been the longest the two of you had ever gone without talking or being mad at the other.

Until now.

Three weeks ago, you and James had a potentially friendship-ending argument. It all started weeks before; James had finally secured a date with his long-term crush, Lily, but, in his haste to make sure he was perfect for the date, he admitted to you that he'd never kissed another person. Being the good friend that you were, you offered to teach him.

This was your first mistake. Blurring the lines between friendship and physical relief broke down the barriers around your heart, and as the lessons continued, you found James on your mind, filling your stomach with butterflies. It all came to an end, however, after you both admitted feeling jealous of the other but couldn't take that step to secure any form of relationship other than friendship due to Lily, so after an emotional quickie in the spare room at the Hog's Head, you decided to walk away altogether.

Three weeks didn't seem like much time at all in the grand scheme of things. But to you, it felt like a lifetime. A lifetime of faking smiles to your other friends, ignoring questioning stares and conversations about why you and James weren't talking to one another. Pretending that everything was okay was slowly and intricately destroying your soul. You were slowly running out of shadows and quiet corners to cry when the others weren't looking.

It had been so long now that there was even a silent routine between you and James. He'd rush to breakfast in the morning, eat and leave before you slowly trudged your way there. During classes, you'd be at the front and he at the back, running away before you had even collected your bag to leave. Then there was the downtime, usually the Shrieking Shack or the Common Room, where you'd relax and unwind, but now the library had a special place in your heart or your bed.

Many whispers had spread about why the two of you had suddenly stopped being the inseparable force you once were. Even teachers had questioned you as to why you were distancing yourself from Potter. Every time it was discussed, a shrug of your shoulders and an 'it's none of your business later', the conversations were dropped.

Every second of every day, you would plaster a fake smile onto your face and pretend everything was okay, but in reality, you were cursing yourself for ever letting your emotions dictate your friendship. You missed James so much that it felt like you'd lost your shadow, like something you had become so used to being at your side that the moment it wasn't there anymore, you never realised how lonely life could be.

Then, of course, there was Lily, who tried her utmost to support you and vigorously questioned James at every opportunity about why he had hurt you. Even after insisting that it wasn't the case (it was, but she didn't need to know the specifics), she still couldn't comprehend why the two of you had suddenly stopped talking.

You were worried that it was beginning to affect the relationship that had been building between James and Lily, which also was why the breakdown between you and James had occurred. However, Lily insisted that everything was fine between the two of them.

You'd never been in love before; you were pretty damn sure that what you were feeling was close to it because you were just about ready to give it all up and apologise to James just to have him back in your life. Even if that meant having to watch his relationship with Lily blossom into more, you just wanted him back in your life. However, you still need to work up the courage to do this.

They say that time is the greatest healer, but right now, time is kicking your ass and making everything feel worse. Precisely as the weekends rolled around. Where did you go? Where could you hide?

"Why don't you come along to the match later?" Lily urged from where she had perched at the edge of her bed opposite yours.

You were facing her from where you lay on your bed, spooning your pillow and ignoring the rest of the world outside of the dormitory doors. "Who's playing?" you asked in a thickly croaky voice from its lack of use.

Lily paused for a second, knowing the answer probably wasn't what you wanted to hear as she confirmed, "Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff".

"No thanks", you say tiredly, closing your eyes and deciding that you could sleep all weekend instead.

Lily's bed creaked as she moved to sit beside you instead, pulling the pillow from your grip and gently pushing against your shoulder so you shuffled backwards, making room for her to lie beside you.

"Well, if you aren't coming because of a certain Marauder, maybe it's better that he'll be playing. At least you won't have to talk to him or stand in the crowd with him during the match and after, he'll be celebrating with the others anyway".

Thinking it over, you already knew from the determination in Lily's forest green eyes that she wasn't going to back down from this conversation until you had opted to go, so with a lazy shrug of your shoulders, you agreed to join, "But only if I can skip the after party".

Lily sighs, already springing out of bed, "Thank Merlin for that. I was worried I'd have to jinx you to get you out of this bed. No offence, love, but moping around and feeling sorry for yourself doesn't suit you. I want my bad bitch friend back, the one who doesn't care what others think as long as she's having a good time. That's all that matters".

Her encouraging words bring a smile to your face as you sit up with a bit more enthusiasm. "You're right; we can still have fun, can't we?"

"That's the spirit!" Lily cheers as she begins to layer her body for the crisp, cool weather outside. However, as she wrapped the red scarf around her neck, she paused and looked at you sceptically. "I don't support. Can I convince you to talk to me about what's going on? I've hardly seen James in weeks, so I can't get any information from him. I've even tried to get the information from Sirius, but he's just as confused as everyone else. It seems out of nowhere for you both to be giving each other the silent treatment."

Attempting to keep your face neutral at hearing that Lily and James' potential relationship was being affected was more complicated than you'd thought. Guilt panged in your stomach, filling it with an unnatural heaviness as you realised that a speck of hope had filled your heart at this news. However, it all diminished as you realised that if anything had happened between you and James, it would have done so much by now. He had made no effort to talk to you, and the same depressive cycle was still rotating around.

Lily sighs, having watched the emotions spiral across your face. Reaching over to warmly hold your hand, she insisted, "Listen, you don't have to tell me what's happened, but I need you to know that whatever it is, you know I'm always going to be your friend, and I don't want you to feel alone either so whenever you're ready. I'm here for you".

Even though her words were comforting, they only made you feel worse and reminded you of just how bad of a friend you were. There was no way you could tell her you'd been seeing James, even if it had been disguised as teaching and that he and Lily weren't officially dating yet; it still felt like a betrayal.

Squeezing her hand back and not being able to find the words to say, Lily filled the silence with her sarcastic words. "Right anyway, up you get and go and shower. You're starting to smell as bad as the boys, and we'll head to the pitch".

You tearfully laugh at her words and clamber out of bed.

With your arm linked with hers, it was refreshing to be outside for once, but the nerves remained regardless, even if you had plastered a fake smile onto your face and began to cheer with the rest of the crowd without a care in the world. It was simple to watch Quidditch whilst trying not to look for James; you'd resorted to starting at the goals on either end and waiting for the points to add up.

About half an hour into the game, a boisterous shout came from Frank Longbottom behind you as he bellowed, "Come on, Potter, what's taking you so long!"

Only then did you notice he'd flown so close to the crowd that you looked to your right and saw James hovering on his broom only a few meters away, his brows furrowed in concentration as he searched from the golden snitch.

Without missing a beat, he lifted his middle finger and pointed it toward Frank, a smile spreading across his handsome face that soon faltered as he followed the direction of the finger, and his eyes solemnly turned to you, noticing your presence for the first time.

The hand lowered as you both seemed to be caught in a breathless staring content, not wanting to look after. It had been the closest you'd been to one another in three weeks. The want, the need, the ache of missing him returned full force, and even though you wanted to look away, you couldn't. It was like an elastic band was tied between the two of you, not allowing the other to tug or stretch away.

It was only as a blur of darkness appeared over James' shoulder that a different sort of urgency overcame you as you screamed his name in warning. "JAMES!" however, there was no time to warn him adequately as the impending bludger collided with the side of his head, knocking him unconscious, and his body slipped from the broom, hitting the sides of the stands before tumbling to the ground.

You moved on instinct, pushing past the bodies surrounding you at the moment of collision, not even waiting to see if his fall was a cushion or caring that students couldn't go onto the pitch mid-game. You frantically sprinted down the stairs, ignoring the pain flaring in your lungs and calves from the sudden exhaustive exercise and then you were on the grass.

It felt as if your heart was going to stop beating when you saw James lying unmoving on the pitch; you weren't even aware that you were screaming and pleading his name as you ran to his side just as Sirius ungracefully landed on James' opposite side.

The two of you rolled him onto his face, and as you released an almighty sob, Sirius mumbled, "Holy Shit", as he pried the smashed glasses from his face, carefully trying to make sure no further glass had embedded into his face.

There was so much red on his head and face, but also down his arm and side where he'd collided with the stand, ripping the clothes and scraping the skin beneath.

Without thinking, you pressed your hand to the side of his face, ignoring the warm wetness that flowed from his injuries, staining your fingers as you pleaded, "James, please wake up. Can you hear me?"

"There's so much blood", Sirius whispered in shock as he began to try and wave his wand over the injuries to try and stem the bleeding.

"James, I really need you to wake up! Please, it's me, I'm here – I'm sorry," it was your turn to whisper as you leaned over his body, your face now over his, the tears dripping down your cheeks falling down onto his, causing little rivering paths in the blood on his face.

Thankfully, hope came in the sign of a deep groan from the man beneath you, his eyelids fluttering as they fought to open. "James, can you hear me? Please open your eyes, I need to know you're okay".

James opened his eyes, the hazel having never appeared so bright before even if they were unfocused, and he blinked in confusion. "You're here?" he asked, trying to raise his injured arm, but all it did was twitch awkwardly beside Sirius, so you quickly grabbed the other hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

"Yes, I'm here, it's me. Try not to talk; I need you to save your energy and stay awake. Everything will be okay".

"You're really here? With me?" James asked, still staring but not really seeing anything.

"Yes, I'm here. So is Sirius; you scared us, you know that, right?" you tried to joke, but it just came out sounding desperate.

"I missed you", he drawled tiredly, his words becoming slurred as his eyes dropped, so you gently patted his wet cheek.

"Hey, please don't fall asleep; you've had a big knock to your head. I need you to stay awake. I need you to listen when I say I've missed you too".

James smiles as his eyes look like they're searching over your face, but you know it is probably a blur without his glasses. "Love…" then his eyes closed and didn't open again.

You and Sirius stayed in silence for a breath. You weren't sure of his following words, whether it was just a pet name or something more, but as Lily and the other Gryffindors, as well as the teachers, finally arrived to help, you tried not to overthink it as you took plenty of steps back to allow him the help he needed.

However, a firm hand around your upper arm had you pulled away out of earshot of the others as Sirius furiously looked down at you, "What the fuck happened between you two?"

You couldn't think straight, only answering him with a shake of your head as you stared at the redness beginning to dry on your hands. Sirius took a deep breath, trying to calm his manner before speaking again. "Whatever it is, it shouldn't have taken him to look like this for you to talk to him or him to talk to you. I hate seeing my friends like this; the world is dark, and you can't let these emotions get in the way. Whatever the emotions are. I need you both to be okay".

James was carried to the hospital wing just as Hufflepuff caught the snitch and won the game. You'd remained a step behind the rest of the group of teammates and friends, feeling numb and broken as everyone kept talking about the brutal fall James had experienced. Once in the hospital wing, everyone was escorted away by Madam Ppomfrey, who declared that she couldn't tend to her patient with the entirety of Gryffindor watching over her shoulder, which gave you ample opportunity to go to the dormitory and sit in the shower until your fingers had pruned from the amount of time spent in the water.

Gryffindor Tower was remarkably quiet that evening, most deciding to have an early night in. You, on the other hand, were wide awake, stuck between whether you should visit him or not, but in the end, as the sun had set, you realised there was no way you could sleep without making sure he was okay first.

Playing with the edges of your sleeve as you approached his bed, you halted as you heard a soft feminine voice, then noticed that Lily was next to James, holding his hand, and you cursed yourself. Of course, she would be here; why wouldn't she?

Lily had heard your footsteps and turned her head, standing when she saw you'd joined before looking down at James, who hadn't blinked once since he saw you enter the room; he now had glasses on and bandages crossed over his right arm and bare chest. A bandage also wrapped around his head, half covering his hair, but the scratches and cuts still peaked from beneath and travelled down his cheek from where his glasses had cut his skin.

As you stepped further into the room, you could sense something in the atmosphere but couldn't quite name the feeling. Lily glanced at James, who finally looked away from you to her. They shared a smile that had you turning away.

"I hope you're feeling better soon, Potter. And don't forget about next week", she reminded lightheartedly, and your chest tightened. "I'll leave you two to talk".

Finally looking away from the crack on the floor, you saw that Lily was giving you a bright smile, her eyes twinkling as she stopped next to you, her fingers gripping onto yours as she leaned close to whisper, "We have lots to talk about, but you're still my best, don't forget that".

Confused by her words, you watched her leave before turning back to James. There had never been a moment you had ever felt awkward whilst in the presence of James, but as you stood there playing with the edges of your sleeves, you were at a complete loss for words.

"Madam Pomfrey said there was nothing she could do; I'm stuck like this" James finally broke the tension with an awkward shrug of his shoulders, his eyes wide and full of disdain.

Your breath caught in your throat, "Nothing she could do? Wha-What for? Is it your head? Your arm?" you ask whilst taking an unsteady step towards him, your heart pounding so loudly in your chest you were sure he could hear.

James shook his head, a glimpse of a smile beginning to turn at the corner of his lips, "She said there was nothing she could do for my handsomeness, that I was going to be stuck with this pretty face for the rest of my life. She's just as gutted as I am", he finished with a shit-eating grin, showing his straight teeth.

Breathing heavily out of your nose, you drop your head to hide your smile, "You're such an idiot", you say lightheartedly.

"I know", he responded in a more serious tone. "A big fucking stupid idiot who misses his best friend".

"I've missed you too", you say, rushing to his side, sitting close to his bandaged arm, taking his hand delicately and relaxing as his thumb brushed against the back of your knuckles.

"I'm sorry", you both speak simultaneously and then lightly chuckle. You admire your joined hands, hating the way that your heart feels that it looks so right to be holding his hand. When had you become so infatuated with him?

"This entire situation had become such a mess", you admitted, still not looking him in the eyes.

"I know," he agreed solemnly, still squeezing your hand. Finally, your eyes flick up to his, and you release a slow breath, seeing his eyes are focused and entirely on you, the caramel flecks in his eyes shining brighter than ever. James tried to sit up further in the bed, attempting to hide a wince that you noticed immediately before collapsing back into the pillow and looking at you sadly. "Tell me how to fix things between us", he implored. "I can't keep going without you there every day".

"I don't know", you admit whilst watching his glasses slip down the bridge of his nose and without thinking, you reach forward to push them back to normal; however, your fingers linger in the air before settling on cupping his cheek, brushing against the side that wasn't injured.

James sighed, closing his eyes to lean into the touch, but then his following words had dread stiffening your spine, the sensation of ice being poured over you as he admitted, "I told Lily everything".

You're standing and moving away before you can even gasp the word, "What?!"

James looked at you in alarm, trying to sit up again and failing, swearing up his breath as he grabbed his side. Seeing him in pain, you rush back to his side, gently push him back into the bed and tell him to stop moving. Only when he finally stopped breathing hard and had drank the green potion that was on his bedside table for pain relief did you confirm with him, "When you say you told her, how much exactly?"

"Everything. I had to. It was eating me up and getting between us; I couldn't let it keep going on; I thought I was going insane with guilt".

"What did she say?" you asked tentatively.

"Honestly? She suspected something was going on, but not quite what was actually happening. Well, to be truthful, she found it funny that you'd been teaching me all these sex things to potentially use on her and couldn't comprehend that the popular James Potter hadn't kissed anyone before, let alone anything else" You rolled your eyes at his words but remained silent, waiting to hear more. "I've been pushing her away since that first date, especially over the last three weeks. This gave her something to be suspicious of, I'd been after her for years, and the moment there was a chance, I could hardly talk to her. I think my mind and heart was preoccupied".

The sincerity in his eyes had you leaning closer, taking his hand once more. "What happens now, then? Does she hate us?"

"No, I don't think so. Evans is such a bloody good friend. She congratulated me on admitting how I felt for you before slapping me on my good arm for being an idiot and letting this silent treatment go on for so long".

You couldn't help but giggle at your friend's fiery reaction, but then his words dawned on you. "And how do you feel?"

His gaze softened as his eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips. "I need to tell you something", he finally admitted, and your first thoughts were the one word he mumbled whilst half unconscious on the quidditch pitch.

"Don't say something you're going to regret, Potter".

"I'd never regret it. I've never done anything like this before, but I know I can't ever not have you in my life. These last three weeks have been, frankly, fucking shit. I haven't been able to sleep, I can't concentrate in class or during quidditch practice, I feel like I'm missing a part of me".

"That's how I've felt too", you admitted hopefully, leaning closer. James released a slow breath, hearing that you felt similar to how he had.

"I want you to be mine", he desperately asked before closing his eyes and shaking his head like he hadn't meant to say that but couldn't help himself. "It's just that it's probably too soon, I mean, obviously, with Lily, people might get confused- I don't want- I mean, I do want, I-".

You'd never before seen James stumble over his words. There was one thing that he was and that was confident and somewhat arrogant so to see him struggling to form the correct sentence had the anxiety melting away and your face leaning forwards until your lips softly pressed together. His mumbling stopped instantly as he relaxed into the kiss, taking a second to simply close his eyes and be in the moment.

The restraint he held smashed into a thousand pieces, however, as his hand came up to cradle your cheek, pulling you even closer, his lips pressing with more urgency and needy as you whimpered into the caress. Your hands raised to wrap around his neck, being careful of his bandages as you moved.

As you both kissed, you couldn't help but think back to all those weeks ago when James was experiencing his first kiss with you, and now you were the one clinging to him, breathless and dizzy with need.

His soft lips moved and opened, deepening the kiss further but then pulled back an inch so that he could finally say against your mouth, "I'm so fucking in love with you". You pressed your body and lips firmly against his, burning with emotion and desire as you desperately pleaded the words back to him in between kisses.

You needed him, body, mind and soul. You were gripping onto the patch of unbandaged hair like it was your lifeline, just as he was doing to your face with his left hand. Then it all came crashing down as a stern cough came from the bottom of the bed.

You both pulled away from one another so swiftly that you tripped over your own feet and nearly caused his bedside table to crash over. Still, you quickly rectified your mistake just as James covered his lap with the pillow behind his head, hiding the apparent bulge that had hardened as Madam Pomfrey looked between the two of you with her lips pursed.

"Well, it seems you're recovering quite well, doesn't it, Mr Potter?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

James coughed awkwardly and then grinned cheekily, shrugging his good shoulder, "Well, I didn't injure my mouth now, did I?"

You glared at his cocky reaction, mortified that you'd just been caught making out by a teacher. "Sorry, Madam Pomfrey, I was just leaving", you answered whilst still staring daggers at James, who frowned at your words.

"No, you weren't. Actually, she's here to help me apply that salve you gave me for the cuts" he nodded toward the clear tub next to his bed. "I'm sure there are plenty of other things you'd rather be doing than rubbing my back, Madam Pomfrey".

You could have screamed at James' blatant sass. The Matron looked towards the ceiling of the hospital wing and sighed, "I don't get paid enough to deal with your sass, Mr Potter. You both have 15 minutes and then the hospital wing is closed to all visitors. Do I make myself understood?" When you both nodded eagerly, she finally began to move away. She stopped, looking pointedly at James, who looked at her with big, innocent eyes. "Might I remind you, Mr Potter, that any extracurricular activities will tear open the wounds I have just closed, and I have an excellent hearing".

Your face burned with embarrassment, but James took it in his stride, pretending to look innocent, "I don't know what you mean, Madam Pomfrey? I'm sure I won't tear any stitches with hand holding".

The Matron rolled her eyes before walking off to her office at the door at the end of the room. Once alone again, you couldn't help but curse at James, who laughed with his head tipped back, removing the pillow to see the bulge still evidently there. "James, you bloody idiot! That was mortifying!"

Sitting on the side of the bed, you held his uninjured hand in one of yours and then reached for the clear tub of salve in the other. "So how do I apply this? Does it need to go everywhere?" you asked curiously.

However, James didn't answer and removed his hand from yours. Instead, he moved it to the waistband of your jeans, especially to the button, and quickly undid it with a simple flick of his fingers. You gripped said fingers tightly, nearly dropping the tub and looking at him sharply. "James, what the fuck are you doing? Did you not just hear her? Your wounds could open again, and might I remind you that she's just at the end of the fucking hall!" you whispered at the end of the sentence harshly as he continued to look at you nonchalantly.

"You'll just have to be quiet then," he shrugged, trying to return his fingers to the zipper of your jeans, but you halted his movements again.

"James, no! I'm not having you become more injured!" you insisted.

James rolled his eyes. "This hand isn't injured, is it? All you need to do is sit on my fingers; it's not exertive, right?"

Heat flushed through your entire body at his words as you bit your lip, subtly attempting to cross your legs to squeeze your thighs together. "We- We still can't!"

"Why not?" he asked, and you couldn't quite answer as all you could think about was his fingers inside of you. When you didn't say anything, he continued with his voice lowered, "I've been craving to touch your body for three long weeks; I thought I'd lost you forever. I've finally got you back, and I know we have lots to talk about, but right now, all I can think about is your beautiful cunt and my fingers getting to touch it. My team lost their first game of Quidditch since I joined, I'm sore and fragile, are you really going to say no right now?" he blinked rapidly in a pleading manner with his best puppy dog eyes impression.

You giggled under your breath before releasing a slow breath, looking him deeply in the eyes before moving a little closer, uncrossing your legs and letting go of his hand.

"Thank Merlin", he pleaded thankfully as his finger moved back to the waistband of your jeans. "Remember to stay nice and quiet for me, Sweetheart, okay? Once I'm out of here, we can talk properly, but in the meantime, I just need to touch you".

You couldn't talk anyway as your thoughts were wholly overtaken with lust as you felt and watched his fingers touch the bare skin of your tummy as he pushed his left hand further beneath your jeans and then into your underwear. Your breath hitched as you unconsciously spread your legs whilst holding onto his forearm as the tips of his fingers grazed your labia.

Teasing beneath, he sucked in his own breath before muttering, "Already so wet for me. Has she missed me?"

"Yes", you whispered, looking up into his face, noticing a natural blush now coloured his cheeks as he licked his lips. Biting the inside of your cheek to remain quiet, your hips rocked forward as his middle finger finally stroked your clit, causing it to throb and your pussy to clench with need. Circling it slowly, he spread your juices over the sensitive nub before lowering two fingers to ease into your eagerly awaiting hole.

Your eyebrows furrowed from the subtle stretch of taking his two fingers past the first and second knuckle before stopping and allowing your body to accustom to the sensation. "I've missed this", he admitted as he began to rock his fingers in and out, hardly even blinking with how he watched your emotions flicker across your face.

You were concentrating so hard on trying not to make a noise that you hadn't realised how firmly you were holding onto James' forearm, but he never complained.

In and out, the fingers moved, slowly inching deeper until nearly the entire digits were consumed in your cunt, and the heel of his palm was pressed firmly against your swollen clit. "There she is", James praised as he began to curl his fingers whilst rubbing his palm against your bundle of nerves, causing your eyes to widen and mouth to drop open in silent pleasure.

Quickly covering your mouth with your hand, you tried to cover your soft gasps as you continued to look into James' hungry eyes. The only noise that could be heard was the squelch of your wetness and the rapid breathing from James.

A noise at the end of the hall had you both pausing as a candle flicked from movement outside of the hospital wing. The door was right there; anyone could walk in, including Madam Pomfrey and yet James didn't stop; he was a feral man in need of feeling you cum; he wasn't even sure he'd stop if you were both caught.

Your body was beginning to tremble with how good his hand felt, and you wished you could repay the favour, even glancing over to the noticeably throbbing bulge beneath the thing sheet, but then he shook his head.

"Not tonight. Let me just feel you. Come on, Sweetheart, I know you're holding back. I want you to cum on my fingers; you can do it", he pleaded, his digits continuing to curl right into that beautiful spot that had the tightness in your abdomen coiling until you were on the very edge of bliss.

Your thighs clamped around his hand as you held your breath, dropping your hand to grip the blanket across his lap, leaning your forehead against his as you sweetly moaned, "James", ever so quietly under your breath.

"Fuck yes, Sweetheart, that's a good girl, taking my fingers so well", James praised as you came all over his fingers, soaking his hand and your panties further. He didn't stop the press of his palm or the curl of his fingers until you were sated, half slumped against his chest, completely relaxed.

Carefully he pulled his hand from your underwear and began to greedily suck the juices that soaked his hand. Watching him obscenely roll his eyes back and moan at the taste, you couldn't deny the intense arousal that pulsed in your cunt once more, but instead o acting on these emotions, you hastily had to button up your jeans as Madam Pomfrey's office door opened.

Standing on unsteady legs, you tried to ignore the MAtron as she approached. Leaning forward, you kissed James quickly on the lips. "I'll come and visit you in the morning", you say in a rush, not being able to look Madam Pomfrey in the eye as you pass her, trying to walk as normally as possible.

"I'll be counting down the seconds until you're here", James shouted after you with a deep chuckle. Just as you exited the hospital wing, you could hear James ask the healer, "Looks like I do need your help after all with the salve. Unfortunately, we both got so lost in each other's eyes we simply forgot".

You tried not to release the laugh until, further down the corridor yo,u heard the heavy sigh of Pomfrey in response.

Things were sure to be stranger for a while, and now alone once more, you realised that you needed to go and speak to Lily about everything. At least you had James back and hoped that what he had said was true and that Lily would understand.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter fic #james potter smut #hp smut #hp fic #hp #harry potter #mine*

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dollerinna · 7 months ago

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୨ৎ c.ai filter breaking w/ my Black Noir bot

(black noir x vought exec’s daughter!user)

My first ever Noir bot! I made sure to write him as stoic, but with a hint of sensitivity and compassion locked away somewhere :3. Also wrote his backstory n everything important into the settings.

In the example messages, he communicates by writing in a notepad, or just… typical noir silence lol. If he ends up speaking verbally for whatever reason, then that’s on the ai, not me! I already did my part y’all so no need to tell me 👍

The greeting message:

HERE ARE THE FILTER BREAKS + TUTORIAL 😳😳:

I’m ESPECIALLY losing my mind over the first screenshot. Like yes Noir, WHATEVER YOU SAYYYYY 😩😩

I know someone gonna ask how 😂, so I linked the tutorial: pt.1 , pt.2 from my old blog <3

♡ divider credits: @/dollywons

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anim-ttrpgs · 8 months ago

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Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy by A.N.I.M.

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Allow us to introduce ourselves, we are The Agency of Narrative Intrigue and Mystery, or “A.N.I.M.”, a very small TTRPG studio based out of the southern U.S. but ultimately made up of people from many different walks of life.

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, our debut TTRPG, is a neo-noir investigation-focused RPG with (as you can probably guess from the title) a supernatural twist, that is currently in production after an extremely successful crowdfunding campaign on Kickstarter.

How far would you go to learn the truth?

Play amateur detectives caught up in things they barely understand, and explore how the lives of your characters unravel as they push themselves to dig deeper into the unknown!

Eureka innovates on and revolutionizes investigative gameplay, TTRPG combat, and what it means to play as a monster as a character in a TTRPG, filling several voids we have noticed in the TTRPG space. Eureka supports investigation to a degree never before seen, ensuring that searching for clues is a granular and player-driven process, but also ensuring that the whole story doesn’t grind to a halt after one single failed investigation check.

Character-driven gameplay!

Stats and abilities are based on who your character is as a person. Freeform character creation allows you to build a totally unique little guy, and have a totally unique gameplay experience with him! This is supported by the backbone of the Composure mechanic. Stress, fear, fatigue, and hunger will wear your investigators down as they trudge deeper into the unknown. Food, sleep, and connections with their fellow investigators are the only way to keep them going!

Secrets inside and out!

Any investigator could be a monster, helping their friends while trying not to reveal their true natures. The party will learn to trust and rely on each other, or explode into a tangled net of drama!

Though most PCs will be mundane humans—or perhaps because most PCs will be mundane humans—Eureka also supports playing monstrous PCs, such as a vampire, in a way never seen before. This isn’t just a watered-down stat bonus, it’s like playing an almost entirely different game, with all the monster’s strengths and weaknesses to account for while solving the mystery, plus the added incentive to keep it a secret from the other PCs as well as their players.

(You can also play as something like The Thing from John Carpenter's The Thing!)

If you like or are interested in Call of Cthulhu, Monster of the Week, Dresden Files, X-Files, Kolchak: The Night Stalker, Apocalypse Keys, World of Darkness, or Gumshoe, you’ll probably find something in Eureka to really enjoy.

Intense, tactical combat!

Hits are devastating, and misses are unpredictable–firing a gun will always change the situation somehow, for better or for worse!

Now in Technicolor!

Evocative artwork from talented femme-fatales @chaospyromancy and @qsycomplainsalot and the mysterious @theblackwarden paint a gorgeously-realized portrait of a world with shadows lurking in every corner.

Elegantly designed and thoroughly playtested, Eureka represents the culmination of three years of near-daily work from our team, as well as a lot of our own money. If you’re just now reading this and learning about Eureka for the first time, you missed the crowdfunding window unfortunately, but you can still check out the public beta on itch.io to learn more about what Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy actually is, as that is where we have all the fancy art assets, the animated trailer, links to video reviews by podcasts and youtubers, etc.!

You can also follow updates on our Kickstarter page where we post regular updates on the status of our progress finishing the game and getting it ready for final release.

Beta Copies through the Patreon

If you want more, you can download regularly updated playable beta versions of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy earlier, plus extra content such as adventure modules by subscribing to our Patreon at the $5 tier or higher. Subscribing to our patreon also grants you access to our patreon discord server where you can talk to us directly and offer valuable feedback on our progress and projects.

The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club

If you would like to meet the A.N.I.M. team and even have a chance to play Eureka with us, you can join the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club discord server. It’s also just a great place to talk and discuss TTRPGs, so there is no schedule obligation, but the main purpose of it is to nominate, vote on, then read, discuss, and play different indie TTRPGs. We put playgroups together based on scheduling compatibility, so it’s all extremely flexible. This is a free discord server, separate from our patreon exclusive one. https://discord.gg/7jdP8FBPes

Other Stuff

We also have a ko-fi and merchandise if you just wanna give us more money for any reason.

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

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circeyoru · 9 months ago

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Collection of Overlords _ Part 7 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 (here)

Song Used: "They're Only Human" ; in Death Note: The Musical (I've attached a link here, but there's also a video format later on when that part comes)

You hummed a tune while reading through a book and laying on your black cloud platform like a beach chair. Your little moment only cut short when your book was suddenly snatched away. You tilted your head up and saw a pair of silver wings with golden highlights before you saw your book burst into flames in the robber’s hand

“You sure took your time.” You teased as you got up from your comfortable position, opting to sit on your platform. “Trick.”

“Come on! Like you don’t know why!” The being exclaimed enraged with their wings getting puffed up, they took a deep breath and sighed deeply. “Your little Hell made too much of a commotion, Sil. And I told you to call me Noir!”

You shrugged, “That’s not fitting for a character such as yourself, Trick sounds better anyways.”

Trick was similar to you. Actually, he was your opposite. You being the true ruler of Hell makes them the true ruler of Heaven. Of course, unlike how you keep your identity in the shadows, theirs was more well known. Trick was the God that everyone made a big deal around

If one were to see you two together, they’s say the two of you were night and day, good and evil, yin and yang. Not in terms of element, but in appearance as well

While Trick has a pair of lovely giant wings, you had none and would use a black cloud platform to ‘fly’ in some sense. While Trick has hair above the shoulder, you had hair below it. Trick’s eyes remain opened while yours are closed. Trick dons a causal and chill look while you had a more formal and elegant look

Still, whatever you two may appear, those weren’t important as the personalities you two had. If Trick’s name wasn’t an obvious indicator, they are not the holy entity the humans and angels painted them to be

Like you, Trick is absent from a direct presence in your respective realms. However, they love playing around with ‘divine interventions’ or ‘sacred messages’ from the God of this world. Truly, no one was aware of a balance. Even there’s Heaven and Hell, and God is in Heaven overseeing ‘his children’, what of hell?

Yes. You are the ‘God’ of Hell. Though either of you like that title. Since Trick was the one more in the open, you love teasing them about it every time you meet. To you, it’s truly entertaining to see them groan and whine over it

“So~ How was the sleep? Good?” Trick leaned over as their wings flapped from time to time to keep them hovering in the air.

“Like Hell it was, you put me out of commission for no reason and with no warning! I have souls to watch over unlike your lazy holiness.” You snapped with your eyebrows furrowed.

Trick raised his hands in ressurender, “Hey, I was out of commission as well! It’s not a one-side thing.”

Your eyes squeezed even tighter as if you’re glaring at the jerk of a partner. “You started it!”

The two of you were Supreme Beings of your realm and entities as holy and cursed element. You can’t have one without the other. While it’s true that you were weak to holy powers, Trick was weak to cursed powers. You two were each other’s weakness no matter the situation

And the two of you aren’t as immortal as people would think. The two of you can be killed and healed by each other. Killing involves falling into a deep sleep when one side dies and healing involves transfering the other’s wounds onto themselves to heal more naturally as wounds can only be done by the opposite element

If one asks how to describe the two of you. You both were inseparable, can’t have one without the other. The concept of yin and yang comes to play

You are yin, in darkness there’s kindness. You are the unknown, you are negativity, you are darkness. You collect and control the souls marked for Hell without letting them go so long as they worth something to you. Even when you do it wasn’t for mercy and you’ll cage them into a torture unlike any other

Though, you were kind. You offer advice to those that deserve it and give opportunities for people to change. Why else would you let a soul be redeemed and let it leave Hell to go to Heaven? Why else would you allow Alastor to remind at the hotel even after your presence is back? Why else would you give Husk that little hope at a better future?

Trick was yang, in light there’s evil. They are the known, they are positivity, they are light. Trick judges and provides the souls marked for Heaven without letting them feel any negativity and only joy and happiness. Giving those worthy souls that lived life accordingly to enter a paradise fitting of Winners

Though, they were wicked and twisted. They enjoy a good trickery here and there, opting to let their high ranking angels deal with everything rather than rule as the ‘God’ they were named. They cared for none but their own interest and entertainment. If anything, Trick doesn’t see souls to be worth anything. To them, souls were nothing but actors on a stage to perform a good show for beings that was you and them to enjoy watching

“Fine, fine. I won’t do that again, unless you want a little rest.” Trick smirked as he looked your way. “So how’s your collection?”

“Hm… There will be some changes with what I have now. It’s a work in progress.” You told as you thought it over, “How’s your Emily?”

Trick’s smile widened, “Oh, miserable. But admirable. The sweet thing. She found out about the exterminations and sided with that Hell Princess during court! I told you she’s worth paying attention to.”

You hummed, “That’s what you said about Lucifer and he ended up falling to Hell. I wonder if Emily will be casted out as well.” You sensed the dark aura around your dear long-time friend spike and you turned your head over, “Don’t worry, I know not to accept her into Hell. She’s your prized one. Even if she’s casted out, I’ll push her back into Heaven.”

Trick huffed, clenching and unclenching his fists, “Good. Cause I will so remove those stupid higher angels if they did that to the only worthy angel in Heaven.” He looked over to you as well, “Don’t worry, it’s the same for your collections, I won’t let them into Heaven unless you want them do.”

Your smile widened, “Oh, I’ll never let them go~ But thanks for that safety net.”

You both picked your focus. While yours was on a hand-picked group, Trick focused on that one. Your little soul owning had one amazing benefit that none knew. It was the protection against angelic weapons

Back then when Alastor was hit by Adam’s attack in the chest, the slash should have eaten away at his body and soul. The angelic weapons or steel was created to aim directly at the soul of a being, that’s why it could kill both demons and angels. There was nothing angelic to it, merely a combine of yours and Trick’s power to create something that kills the soul

Now, your protection that to limit the effect of the wound till they can reach you for healing. But the best part was that your Overlords have no soul within their bodies so they wouldn’t be killed! Even if their head was chopped off by an angelic spear, it will just take time to grow back

You’ll never tell them that benefit nor do you plan to let them know about it. That’s why you made your appearance at the hotel. It was the sole reason of healing Alastor on your own terms. You thought of leaving soon later but you just couldn’t leave the poor deer when he was that desperate for your presence

The thing you can’t understand was why Trick only picks the one being to care for. Emily was what their supposed to be honestly. If someone met Trick and it was revealed that they were the God, no one would believe it. There was so much chaos and twisted nature in them that it was impossible that they were God

Yet you as the one by their time since the beginning of time knew the change was because of time. Time changed their view on the world and humans. So many time, they were disappointed that they just gave up and decided to laugh at all the misery. Maybe, you and Trick could switch places

But Trick will never agree because they never liked what you have set up in Hell already, plus there wouldn’t be an ‘Emily’ there. It was proposed once, and Trick shot it down without a thought. So to cure their boredom, there are meet-ups like this

Of course, the two of you end up going to Earth to see what the humans were up to while marking souls on whether they go to Heaven or Hell when they die

youtube

Trick smirked and flapped his wings to fly over, and gestures to the humans minding their own business in the city, ♫ Look at how they crawl around, upon the ground, like little ants ♫

♫ Yes, but how they fascinate, ♫ You floated over with your smokey platform, slapping away his hand to touch a mortal, ♫ Confusing fate, With what is merely chance ♫

♫ Isn’t it a laugh? ♫ Trick nudged you.

You pushed him away, ♫ Isn’t it a shame? ♫

♫ Thinking there is someone in Heaven to blame ♫ Trick pointed at themselves.

You rolled your eyes, ♫ Yes, but even while blaming fate for the lives that they lead. They hope for the lives that they need ♫

Trick snapped their fingers, both of them appearing in a cemetery with a heavy mood in the air. They carried a white umbrella while you carried a black one, staying at the back of the group that was grieving while a coffin was lowered, ♫ Living every day ‘til the day they die. Never getting answers ♫

♫ Yet still asking why ♫ You snapped your fingers and appeared on the roof of a building that oversaw a group of religious individuals praying, ♫ Going through the motions as if there will be a reward ♫

♫ While we stay, ♫ Trick made a bored and disgusted face at the scene, grabbing your hand so the two of you fall, ♫ Eternally bored! ♫

♫ They’re only human. They don’t see ♫ The two of you sang, Trick with their signature smirk and you with a bored look. ♫ Who they are is who they’ll always be. Only human, after all ♫

Trick brought you to a scene in front of a murder scene, ♫ So they push and they shove ♫

You showed Trick a scene with a romantic couple on a date, ♫ With this thing they call love ♫

♫ ‘Til they fall! ♫ You both watched as soldiers fall and their souls going to where they were picked to.

♫ Isn’t it a farce? ♫ Trick shrugged while the scene changed to that of a hospital room with a weak man on the bed.

♫ Isn’t it a waste? ♫ You eyed the crying humans around the man, listening as the monitor beep softer and longer with each pause.

♫ Struggling to Face what can never be faced ♫ Trick leaned against the wall with crossed arms.

♫ Yes, but maybe Death can release something more than we share ♫ You blinked at the man as he tried his best to hold the closest family member of his.

♫ I really don’t know ♫ Trick came over, their wing slapped at the man over the face and the lifeline fell flat, ♫ and don’t care ♫

You shook your head while the room bursted in tears and doctors and nurses rushed in, Trick was as indifferent as already with his grin on his face, ♫ They’re only Human. Standing still. Doomed to live pushing boulders uphill. Only Human, after all ♫

With a snap of Trick’s finger, the two of you arrived at a temple with a number of offerings, Trick picked up one and threw it to you then took one for themselves, ♫ So they give and we take ♫

You caught it with one hand and eyed it, then to the elderly women that was bowing to statue, ♫ Hoping someone will help break their fall ♫

Trick brought you to a gang meeting of sorts, the topic seemingly deciding on someone’s death, ♫ They will pray, curse, live, die. Never knowing their Truth is another Man’s Lie ♫

♫ Eat, sleep, love, hate ♫ You changed the scene to one where a group of friends were enjoying themselves in a forest, ♫ Like a Leaf blowing in the Wind ♫

Trick switched to a scene where students are forced to pick a career for the future, gesturing to all the troubled humans for you. ♫ Watch them all vacillate! ♫

The both of you sang, ♫ They’re only human. They can’t see ♫

♫ All the fun they could give you and me ♫ Trick laughed darkly while you smiled at his amusement.

♫ Only human, after all ♫ You both continued as you two picked out a wave of souls destined for Hell without another thought while Trick only picked a small group of them.

♫ So they give and we take ♫ You had your palms opened at the vast souls that would be doomed for Hell under your thoughtless choosing.

Trick nodded approvingly over your future collection, a twisted smile forming, ♫ ‘Til their silly hearts break ♫

♫ Looking down from above. I’m intrigued by their love ♫ An equally dark smile appeared on your face as you took Trick’s offered hand for a short sway.

Trick suggested while taking you into their arms. ♫ So let’s play! ♫

You nodded along, ♫ Let’s play! ♫

Trick chuckled while dipping you down, “Hmm, let’s enjoy ourselves with these foolish souls.”

Since the beginning of time, there were two beings. A being that symbolizes light and a being that symbolizes dark. They were two sides of the same coin and co-exist together contary to what humans would theorize or write in their little works of art

“So I’ll assume you want me to put Heaven’s little business on hold? Not that they can do much with a redeemed soul in their ranks.” Trick smirked at you, their wings flapping at their little jab at their realm’s higher ranked angels. “So Hell gets some peace for the moment.”

Your smiled back, eyes peeking open to that revealed a cosmos from within, “Yes, that is much appreciated. There’s gonna be some interesting change in my collection.”

“Love it when your eyes does that.” Trick’s wings opened up to show the view of a night sky.

“Yours is not too bad. Quite the sight.”

“Only a sight for the two of us though. None is more worthy of it.”

“I’ll agree.”

Everything happening on these two beings’ whims and wants, nothing’s done with clear purpose, and anything’s fair game. As divine and just as the humans painted them to be, they are nothing like the holy one that cares for all’s interest from above. As cruel and evil as the humans painted you to be, you are anything but the cold and heartless tormentor of prisoners of Hell

Note: New character!! I'll get to the request that were about this concept in a bit. First! The character design for Trick and you will be out in a moment~

Now then~ You guys feeling op yet?

Oh yeah!! I'm more interested with the song format too!! First time trying this, what you guys think???

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @plutobots @ray-rook @thealienartist @serenity-songbird @galaxydreamer468 @raynerrold @wen01203@hikari-michiko @colecreo @myromanempiree @xsamkuro @yourdoorisunlocked @clavelina @jono723 @cursedcattalastor @an-idyllic-novelist @flamiohotman2024 @rea-grace @myromanempiree @veroneverleft @lousypotatoes @crazysuityouth @jellyedkazoo @wat4r @kiraisastay @thealienartist @chefysawesomeideas @wtvbabes @patronizingbitch @koshi-kazu @craftyperfectiontragedy @scr4luv @chrollobb @mysterypotatoink @callmefe

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blackstarchanx3new · 3 months ago

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Schatten link is up there next to "shyadou rinku" (yes, that's his name in Japanese) in being the funniest sounding name for Shadow out of all the versions I've seen.

Oscruro link just makes me sad because we could have gotten Sombra Link instead... 😞

I think he's just Noir link in French if I remember right (I don't have that book handy GF does tho XD)

#fs #four swords #four swords adventures #four swords manga

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rabidbatboy · 1 year ago

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♱ MURDEROUS VICTORIAN GENTLEMAN ID PACK . . .

NAMES ; charles , hyde , clarence , edward , benedict , amos , henry , ripper , silas , elias , oliver , theodore , vincent , ambrose , victor , adrian , virgil , sebastian , lukas , cassius

PRONOUNS ; fog / fogs , dark / darks , kill / kills , blood / bloods , stab / stabs , die / dies , night / nights , stalk / stalks , hunt / hunts , mist / mists , shadow / shadows , noir / noirs , charm / charms , death / deaths , fear / fears

TiTLES ; the ripper , the elegant murderer , the gentleman killer , the stalker in the shadows , [x] elegant murder , [x] who kills in the night , [x] who kills most elegantly , the charming killer , the gentleman of death , [x] deathly charm

iDENTiTiES ; victoriagothic , stalkerprettyboy , villaigender , weaponmurdic , bloodyweaponic , fantasmagore , dymalic , victorianboygender , fogcloudic , antagogender , bloformesimora , bloodcovic , elegantlaceskullic

🦇 ——— REQUESTED BY ; anon

[ PT: murderous victorian gentleman id pack

names;

prns;

titles;

identities; (links)

requested by; anon / END PT]

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hotvintagepoll · 9 months ago

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Propaganda

Diahann Carroll (Paris Blues, Carmen Jones, Porgy and Bess)— Face of an angel. She had the range. She brought chemistry with every romance she portrayed. She also had a great fashion sense, and was so pretty Mattel made a doll based off of her.

Fay Wray (King Kong)— the original scream queen!! she started acting in silent comedies as a teenager and got her first big break when erich von stroheim cast her as the lead in the wedding march. her career started to take off starring in silent movies at paramount, and she survived the transition to sound smoothly - josef von sternberg’s weird proto-noir thunderbolt was one of her first sound films. she began to make horror movies in the early 1930s, such as doctor x and mystery of the wax museum, both filmed in beautiful two-strip technicolor (which looked like this if you're curious. i just think it's neat!), as well as the vampire bat, the most dangerous game, and of course the boy himself, king kong. a little on how she worked with her most famous costar: “Although Kong appeared huge, the full figure was a model covered with rabbit hair, standing only 18 inches tall, that was filmed one frame at a time by stop-motion photography artist Willis O'Brien and his crew. The 5ft 3in Wray only knew one part of the ape's body when she was grasped in an articulated 8ft long hand. Hence the title of her 1989 autobiography, On The Other Hand. ‘I would stand on the floor,’ she recalled, ‘and they would bring this arm down and cinch it around my waist, then pull me up in the air. Every time I moved, one of the fingers would loosen, so it would look like I was trying to get away. Actually, I was trying not to slip through his hand.’” (link)

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Diahann Carroll:

Another groundbreaking black actress, although she might be better remembered for her television roles. She was also an activist and worked with charities to support women in need.

here she is hanging out with shadow prince anthony perkins :3

Fay Wray:

Actress prominently known for starring in horror, she was one of cinema's original "scream queens". She knocks it out of the park whenever she's with the horror genre, bringing a depth and likability to characters that would other be flat and boring characters.

An early scream queen, name me another woman who could look so beautiful while so disheveled and scared for her life

She was name-dropped not once but TWICE in the Rocky Horror Picture Show. She's arguably the original Scream Queen.

#diahann carroll #fay wray #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 3

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amethystarachnid · 2 months ago

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THE SERAPHIM

⤷ KURT WAGNER

ᯓ★ Pairing: Kurt Wagner x male!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: thriller, tiny bit of romance, mostly action

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6k

ᯓ★ Summary: In the dim-lit alleys of a city that doesn’t sleep, Detective Kurt Wagner and a private investigator find themselves unwilling partners in a case that goes deeper than either of them expect. But once the case is solved y/n understands that he wants to see Kurt again.

ᯓ★ TW(s): kidnapping, mentions of human trafficking and experimenting on humans, violence and emotional distress

ᯓ★ AU: noir detective

ᯓ★ Request: Noir detective au with Nightcrawler perchance? I never get enough of that sorta au :333 especially with a male or ftm reader I think it would be so cute and silly to see Kurt as a detective solving your case X3 (@scrimpswrites )

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The smell of rain-soaked asphalt greets you as you walk down the narrow alley, your coat pulled tight against the chill of the night. The city’s constant drizzle clings to you like the fog in your head, clouding your thoughts as you scan the dimly lit street. Another job, another night on your feet with only the city’s twisted arteries for company. But then, that’s what you signed up for the day you decided to call yourself a private investigator.

Tonight, you’re tailing a lead on a case that’s twisted its way into the darkest corners of the city—a string of disappearances, all connected to one seemingly harmless nightclub, The Seraphim. Rumor has it that people enter with money in their pockets and hope in their eyes, only to vanish as if the city’s belly swallowed them whole.

Just as you turn the corner, you see him. You’ve been hearing rumors about Detective Kurt Wagner for months now—blue-skinned, yellow-eyed, and sharper than a snake’s tooth. You’re not sure if you believed all the talk about his “demonic” look until this very moment, when he steps into the glow of the streetlight. He’s impossible to miss, standing there in a trench coat with the collar popped up.

Kurt’s face is cast in shadow, but there’s no missing the flicker of his amber eyes as he catches sight of you. His eyes narrow, and it’s clear he’s not thrilled to see you. The feeling is mutual.

“You,” he says, his voice thick with a German accent. It’s soft, but there’s an edge to it that tells you he’s not interested in small talk.

“Wagner,” you reply, letting his name roll off your tongue in a way that makes it clear you’re not impressed. You’ve had too many brushes with cops like him—the kind who think they’re the only ones who get to solve the city’s mysteries.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, crossing his arms. The movement makes his trench coat pull tighter around him, emphasizing his lean, wiry frame. His skin catches the glow of the streetlight in a way that’s almost surreal, like he’s cut from the night itself.

“Same thing as you, I imagine,” you reply, giving him a pointed look. “Following a lead on those disappearances. I’d say it’s none of your business, but we both know you’re gonna make it your business.”

Kurt’s lips twitch, not quite a smirk. “Is that so? And you think you’re equipped for something like this?” He takes a step forward, the heel of his boots clacking softly against the pavement.

“I’ve managed just fine so far,” you say, standing your ground. You know his type—cocky, confident, and probably a little too sure of his own abilities. You can see why he might be suspicious of a PI like you nosing around his case. But if he thinks he’s going to scare you off, he’s got another thing coming.

“So far,” he repeats, his tone dripping with condescension. “But so far only gets you so close to the truth in this city, mein Freund.”

Your jaw clenches at the familiar, almost mocking endearment. “Look, Wagner, I’m not here to get in your way. Just doing my job.”

“That makes two of us.” He tips his hat, casting his face in shadow again, a knowing look in his eyes. He glances toward the end of the alleyway, where The Seraphim’s faint neon glow pulses like a heartbeat.

The Seraphim. You both know it’s your next stop, whether you like it or not.

“Seems we’re headed in the same direction,” he says with an exaggerated sigh, like it’s the worst thing that could happen to him.

“Seems so,” you reply. There’s a mutual pause as you size each other up, two predators circling the same prey. Kurt’s gaze doesn’t waver; his tail flicks behind him with restless, measured sways.

When he starts walking, you fall into step beside him. Silence stretches between you like a taut wire, each step a begrudging rhythm in the rain. The tension between you is palpable, a static hum that thrums beneath the night’s cold veneer.

“What’s your take on the club?” you ask, breaking the silence. “Think it’s more than just a front?”

His eyes dart toward you, a flicker of curiosity and skepticism mingling. “A man with your reputation should already know the answer to that.”

You bite back a retort, realizing he’s baiting you. “My ‘reputation,’ huh? Funny, I heard you’ve got one too. Rumors about a cop who doesn’t quite… fit the mold.”

You expect him to get defensive, maybe give you a piece of his mind, but he just shrugs. “Ah, so you’ve been doing your homework on me?”

A grudging respect begins to form, though you hate to admit it. Kurt Wagner is sharper than he lets on, and his reputation—earned or not—might not tell the whole story. But there’s still something about him that sets your teeth on edge.

When you reach the club’s entrance, Kurt pushes the door open without a word, casting a casual look over his shoulder as if to say, After you, if you dare. You follow, straightening your collar as you walk into the heavy bass and strobe lights that bathe the smoky room.

The Seraphim’s interior is all red velvet and shadow, a perfect hunting ground for whoever’s been making people disappear. You can feel Kurt’s eyes on you as you scan the room, looking for any faces that stand out.

“See anything?” he murmurs, leaning closer than he needs to. His voice is low, and you catch a hint of something under the sharpness of his tone—a sort of challenge, as if he’s daring you to prove yourself here.

You smirk, stepping forward and catching sight of a man near the bar with shifty eyes and a nervous tic. “That guy. Looks like he’s one bad poker hand away from giving something up.”

Kurt glances at the man, his lips curling in approval. “Not bad, Liebling,” he says, the word slipping out smooth and teasing.

You tense, hating the way the endearment sounds almost affectionate in his mouth. You shoot him a glare. “Keep your pet names to yourself, Wagner.”

Kurt raises his hands in mock surrender, a devilish grin playing at his lips. “Apologies. You seemed like you could use a little levity.”

He sidles up to the bar, his manner shifting seamlessly from abrasive detective to casual patron. You stay close enough to hear his conversation with the bartender, noting the way he plays his part with smooth ease.

“Whiskey, neat,” he says, sliding a bill across the counter. He nods toward the nervous man you pointed out. “My friend here—looks like he needs a drink on me.”

The bartender raises an eyebrow but doesn’t question it, pouring two drinks and sliding them over. Kurt waits until the man takes a sip before leaning in, voice barely audible over the music. “Rough night?”

The man’s gaze shifts, landing on Kurt with a wary look. “That obvious, huh?”

Kurt shrugs, taking a casual sip of his whiskey. “Could say I’ve been there a few times myself. This city… it wears on you.”

You stay close, letting Kurt work his angle. The man’s shoulders relax just a fraction, and he nods, sipping his drink as his eyes scan the room nervously.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he mutters, almost to himself. “This place—thought I’d make a little money, but all I got was nightmares.”

“What kind of nightmares?” Kurt asks, his tone shifting slightly, a subtle edge creeping in.

The man blinks, suddenly aware of the interest in Kurt’s tone, but he’s too far gone to stop himself. He leans closer, voice dropping even lower. “People… they go back there, to the back rooms. They don’t come back out.”

Kurt shoots you a glance, his eyes sharp with the thrill of discovery, even as he keeps his expression cool and detached. “That so?”

The man nods, hands shaking around his glass. “I don’t know what goes on back there, but they don’t come out right, if they come out at all.”

Kurt’s attention is rapt, the intensity of his gaze pinning the man in place. You can see why people talk about his reputation—not just for his looks, but for the way he can bore straight to the truth.

But as he continues to question the man, you can’t help but feel a flicker of something else, something you don’t want to acknowledge. Admiration. Despite the chip on your shoulder and his infuriating smugness, he’s good at this—better than you expected.

As the man trails off, muttering about his regrets, Kurt leans back, his expression unreadable. He catches your gaze, his eyes gleaming with something that’s not quite arrogance, but close enough to make you grit your teeth.

“Well, looks like we have a little investigating to do, mein Freund,” he says, his tone full of challenge. “Think you can keep up?”

It’s a question, but not one you intend to dignify with a response. Instead, you move ahead of him, cutting through the club’s patrons toward the back rooms the man mentioned. You don’t need him to tell you what to do, and you’re going to make damn sure he knows it.

But as you stalk down the narrow hallway, you’re acutely aware of him at your side—close enough that the scent of leather and some faint cologne lingers between you, filling the tight space with a tension that’s both frustrating and electric. You don’t like the way it makes your pulse jump, and you like it even less that he’s probably noticed.

He keeps glancing at you, like he’s trying to read your thoughts, figure out what makes you tick. And maybe that’s the worst part of all—that for all your bravado, part of you wants him to look at you, to see you for more than just another rival on his case.

The back room is ahead, the door marked by a single, faded sticker in the shape of a devil’s tail. Kurt reaches for the handle, pausing to glance at you with a smirk that’s as infuriating as it is enticing.

“After you,” he says, with just a hint of mockery.

You bite back a retort, stepping through the doorway and into the darkness beyond, your senses on high alert. But as you enter, you can’t shake the feeling that maybe this partnership of yours is about to get a whole lot more complicated than you bargained for.

The room is dimly lit, a small, bare bulb dangling from the ceiling casting a sickly yellow light over cracked tiles and crumbling plaster. It smells damp, like mildew and something metallic. You scan the space quickly, eyes adjusting to the shadows, and feel Kurt’s presence beside you, close enough that you can almost hear the steady rhythm of his breathing.

There’s nothing here at first glance, just another dingy storage room that probably sees more rats than people. But there’s something off about it, a kind of stillness that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

“You feel that?” you murmur, almost forgetting yourself. You’re used to working alone, not bouncing thoughts off a partner. Still, Kurt’s intuition seems to have led him to the same conclusion as you—there’s something here worth finding.

He nods, his gaze flicking to the floor and back to you. “It’s too clean in here,” he whispers, his yellow eyes gleaming. He glances at a portion of the wall, fingers brushing over it as he looks for something specific.

“You’d be surprised what I can see,” he adds, almost to himself.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. You’re tempted to ask what he means, but before you can, his gaze sharpens, and he points to the corner, just where the wall meets the floor. A thin trail of something dark winds along the cracked tile—a faded stain, the color of dried blood.

Kurt gives you a meaningful look. “Think someone just cut themselves and forgot to wipe it up?”

“Not a chance,” you mutter, feeling your stomach tighten. Whoever owns this place clearly has something to hide. “This… doesn’t look fresh. It’s dried, but they didn’t try to clean it. Like they didn’t think anyone would come snooping around back here.”

Kurt nods, his gaze intense. “People come and go, but someone’s making sure they don’t leave traces.” He hesitates, frowning as he examines the walls more closely, his fingertips tracing a barely visible seam along the wall’s edge.

You follow his line of sight, piecing together what he’s looking for. “A false wall?”

A look of approval flickers in his eyes, but it’s gone almost as soon as it appears, replaced by that same mask of calm control. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” he says quietly, pressing along the seam until he finds a spot that gives way under his fingers. There’s a soft click, and the section of wall pops open to reveal a narrow passageway, leading deeper into the building.

The air from inside the passage is colder, heavier somehow, and it’s clear that whatever secrets The Seraphim is hiding, they lie down that corridor.

You shoot him a glance. “What’s the play here? We go in quiet, or you wanna kick the door down and announce ourselves?”

His tail flicks thoughtfully behind him as he considers. “Normally, I’d say quiet is best. But with you around… maybe making a little noise wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

“Careful, Wagner,” you say, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Don’t let my charm distract you.”

He snorts softly, but you catch the glimmer of something amused—something almost warm—in his eyes. “Trust me, charm isn’t the word I’d use.”

The space is tight, forcing you to walk shoulder-to-shoulder down the narrow corridor, and it doesn’t take long before you reach another door. This one is thick, reinforced with heavy steel, clearly meant to keep intruders—or maybe victims—out.

You look at Kurt. He just raises an eyebrow, as if to say, After you, fearless leader. You roll your eyes and press your ear against the door, listening for any sounds on the other side. There’s nothing but a faint, rhythmic hum, like machinery.

Without waiting for his input, you reach for the door’s handle, glancing over to see him tensing beside you, muscles coiled like he’s ready to spring. He’s watching you, his face set in a look of focused determination that sends a shiver down your spine. For a moment, you forget the tension between you, forget the hostility that marked your first encounter. Here, in this cold, empty corridor, you’re just two men, working together to find the truth.

With a quick nod, you turn the handle, and the door creaks open. The room beyond is larger than you expected, filled with strange, humming machines that emit a dull, greenish glow. And then, in the far corner, you see something that makes your blood run cold.

It’s a row of chairs, all bolted to the floor, each one equipped with heavy leather straps. The leather is worn and stained dark, and there’s no mistaking the purpose of those restraints. This isn’t just a club; it’s some kind of holding area, a place where people have been brought against their will.

Kurt’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenched tightly as he takes in the room. His tail lashes behind him in agitation, and you can tell he’s holding back a storm of anger. “They’ve been… keeping people here.”

You nod, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. The case has just taken a darker turn, and you can see it in Kurt’s expression. This isn’t just another assignment for him—he takes it personally, with a kind of righteous fury that resonates with you.

“We need to get out of here,” you say quietly. “Take what we know to someone who can help us shut this place down for good.”

Kurt nods, but he doesn’t move, his gaze fixed on the restraints. “If we leave, we might not get another chance. Whoever’s behind this could disappear, just like these poor souls…”

He’s right, but there’s something else in his tone, something that makes you pause. It’s a vulnerability, an unspoken understanding that resonates between you. For the first time, you see past the sharp edges and cold stares. You realize that Kurt isn’t just driven by duty—he cares, deeply, more than he’d ever let on.

You put a hand on his shoulder, surprising even yourself. “We’ll find them. All of them.” The words sound hollow, but you mean them, and Kurt seems to sense that. His gaze softens, just a fraction, and he nods.

Together, you make your way out of the room, retracing your steps down the narrow passageway. The club is still pulsing with music when you reemerge, the oblivious patrons drinking and laughing, unaware of the horror hidden just beneath their feet. Kurt glances around, his shoulders tense as he scans the crowd, like he’s memorizing faces, looking for someone who doesn’t belong.

Standing here, side by side in the heart of the city’s darkness, you realize that maybe there’s more to Kurt Wagner than you ever would have guessed.

As you turn to leave, Kurt places a hand on your arm, stopping you. You look up, meeting his intense, amber gaze. “If we’re going to work together,” he says quietly, his voice barely audible over the music, “then maybe it’s time we started trusting each other.”

The words hang between you, a silent challenge, an invitation. And in that moment, you know you’re both thinking the same thing: This partnership—this strange, uneasy alliance—is about to get a whole lot more complicated.

“Trust, huh?” you reply, smirking. “I think you’ll have to earn it, Wagner.”

Kurt’s lips curl into a slow, knowing smile, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The case twists around both of you like a snake, its secrets tightening with each revelation. As you and Kurt dig deeper into The Seraphim’s hidden horrors, the animosity between you shifts, replaced by something strange and unexpected: respect, maybe, or something that sits heavy in your chest, a feeling that lingers long after you part ways each night.

Days pass with late nights and long hours, as the two of you comb through leads, chasing down every dead end and half-truth until your leads point back to the club’s enigmatic owner, a man by the name of Isaiah Blackwood. Blackwood is as elusive as he is dangerous, with connections snaking through the city’s underworld like arteries to a rotten heart. Every question you ask about him leads to silence or threats.

It’s another long, damp night when you and Kurt find yourselves at the dockside warehouse Blackwood supposedly owns. The place is vast and empty, abandoned but for the scent of salt and mold, and the muffled thud of waves against the pier. Your breath mists in the cool air as you scan the room, senses on high alert. The place is silent, save for the creaks and groans of the old building, and the steady beat of Kurt’s footsteps as he follows you into the shadowed space.

“According to the records, Blackwood rented this place months ago,” Kurt says, his voice low but carrying across the silence. “Supposedly for storage. But the man’s too paranoid to store anything in plain sight. He’s hiding something here.”

You give him a sidelong glance. “You don’t say. Glad to know you’re not just a pretty face, Wagner.”

He snorts, amused. “I’ll remember that next time you accuse me of slowing you down.”

“Never said you were slow,” you mutter, and you don’t mean for your voice to soften, but it does. Kurt catches it, looking at you with a glint of something you can’t quite place.

The two of you move further into the warehouse, picking your way through abandoned crates and rusted machinery. The air grows thicker, charged, and the weight of what you’re here to find hangs between you like an unspoken promise. There’s a tension in the way he walks beside you, his movements measured and careful, and it hits you that somewhere between all the late nights and close calls, he’s stopped being just your competition.

When he pulls a flashlight from his pocket, casting a thin beam over the walls, you catch a glimpse of his profile in the dim light. The angle of his jaw, the concentration furrowing his brow. You don’t know when you started noticing these things about him, but it’s too late to deny it now.

He pauses, studying something on the ground—a faint set of footprints leading to the back of the warehouse. He looks up, catching your eye, and gestures for you to follow him down a narrow staircase that winds into darkness. As you descend, the walls grow damp, the smell of salt heavier as the narrow stairwell opens up into a series of underground rooms.

You scan the walls, thick and covered with peeling paint, and hear Kurt murmur under his breath, “This city has too many secrets buried beneath it.”

“Just the ones men like Blackwood want kept quiet,” you reply, your voice low.

Kurt’s eyes flick to yours, his expression softened, just for a moment. “And men like us are the ones who dig them up.”

In the silence that follows, you realize he’s not just talking about the case. He’s talking about you, about the unspoken understanding that’s settled between you, the way each of you can anticipate the other’s movements, read each other’s thoughts with nothing but a glance. It’s a partnership, but it’s something else too—something you’re not ready to name.

You both move forward, passing through another room with an odd metallic table in the center. There’s a file on it, filled with photographs—gruesome shots of the missing people, bound to the very chairs you’d seen in the club. Kurt’s jaw tightens as he scans them, and his fingers graze the photos, lingering over each one as if he’s taking in every detail, memorizing their faces. He doesn’t say a word, but his anger is palpable, a barely contained storm that hangs around him like the scent of ozone before lightning strikes.

“Blackwood’s not just making them disappear,” Kurt mutters, voice low and fierce. “He’s…” He swallows, his anger clear. “It’s not enough to kill them. He wants to make them suffer.”

You nod, your voice a whisper. “He’s a monster, Kurt.”

Kurt meets your gaze, and for a moment, the anger fades, replaced by something raw and painful. “That’s why we can’t stop until he’s caught.” His voice is tight with determination, his gaze hard. “I won’t let him slip through my fingers.”

You find yourself stepping closer, reaching out without thinking. Your hand lands on his shoulder, and you feel the tension coiled in his muscles. You give him a reassuring squeeze. “We won’t let him get away with it, Wagner. Not this time.”

Kurt’s gaze softens, the fury easing as he looks at you, and a faint, reluctant smile tugs at his lips. “I don’t know how you manage to make sense half the time,” he says, his voice gentler than usual, and it catches you off guard. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

The words hit you harder than they should. You let your hand drop, a sudden warmth spreading in your chest, and turn your attention back to the task at hand, reminding yourself that there’s still work to do.

Together, you press on, passing through the labyrinth of rooms until you reach the last door. It’s heavy and marked with a familiar symbol, the same devil’s tail you saw at The Seraphim. Kurt hesitates, a flicker of unease crossing his face, and you know he’s thinking the same thing you are—that whatever’s behind this door, it’s likely the heart of Blackwood’s operation.

With a single glance, you both know it’s time.

You reach out, grabbing the handle, and Kurt moves to your side, close enough that his shoulder brushes yours. You exchange a nod, a silent vow that whatever you find in there, you’ll face it together. Then you push open the door, stepping into the room beyond.

The sight that greets you is as dark as you expected—rows of folders, files, photographs, the faces of missing people staring back at you in faded snapshots pinned to a corkboard on the wall. In the center of the room stands a massive, mahogany desk, littered with papers and what looks like medical instruments, glinting coldly under the dim light.

A slow anger burns in your gut as you take it all in, the twisted evidence of Blackwood’s crimes laid out before you like a grotesque trophy display.

Kurt swallows, his face taut with barely contained rage. “This… this is more than a club,” he whispers. “He’s been experimenting on them. Treating them like…” He chokes on the words, and you see the strain on his face, the pain in his eyes.

Without thinking, you step forward, placing a hand on his arm. “Hey. We’re putting an end to this. Together.”

He meets your gaze, a flicker of relief passing over his face. And in that moment, standing together in the midst of Blackwood’s horrors, you feel a connection between you, something forged in shared purpose and understanding.

“We’ve got him,” you say, your voice steady. “He can’t hide from this.”

Kurt nods, a fire in his eyes. “No. He won’t.”

And when the night finally ends, when Blackwood is in custody and the survivors found, when the precinct is silent and Kurt stands with you on the station’s steps, the city sprawled before you like some dark and endless dream, he looks at you with a new kind of warmth.

“Danke,” he murmurs, the German word slipping out, soft and heartfelt. “For having my back.”

You give him a small, exhausted smile, one that feels more real than any you’ve given in years. “Anytime, Wagner.”

And as he lingers there, his fingers brushing yours in a way that speaks of possibility, you realize that somewhere in the shadowed maze of this case, you found something else—a partnership you never thought you’d want, and the beginnings of something even deeper.

The satisfaction of solving the case lingers like the final chord of a song, resonating through you as Kurt steps forward, handcuffs glinting in his hand, to arrest Isaiah Blackwood. You watch Kurt, a silent intensity radiating from his every movement, his gaze locked on the man who has haunted your investigation since the beginning. Blackwood’s hands are trembling as he backs away, cornered, stripped of his power and facade.

“Isaiah Blackwood, you’re under arrest for kidnapping, human trafficking, and conspiracy,” Kurt says, his voice steady, each word dropping like the final nails in a coffin. He approaches Blackwood with calm, controlled steps, his amber eyes hard and unyielding, as if any shred of mercy he might once have felt has been burnt away by the horrors he’s uncovered.

Blackwood’s face contorts with fury and fear, his eyes darting around the room for a way out that doesn’t exist. “This isn’t over!” he spits, venom in every syllable. “People like me don’t just go away! You think you’re safe, that anyone is safe? I’ll—”

Kurt snaps the cuffs onto Blackwood’s wrists, cutting off his rant. “You’ll rot in a cell,” he says, voice low and final. “Where you belong.”

You step up beside him, arms crossed, adding a level gaze of your own. Blackwood’s protests fade, the finality settling over him as two uniformed officers enter the room to take him into custody. As the officers escort him out, you feel the tension in your shoulders loosen, a quiet relief unfurling as you finally let yourself breathe.

In the silence that follows, Kurt stands beside you, shoulders squared, eyes cast down as if in silent thought. You realize he hasn’t moved, and the handcuffs dangle from his fingers, a faint reminder of what you both had to endure to get to this point.

“You all right?” you ask, nudging him gently with your elbow.

Kurt looks up at you, his face softened, though his voice is still strained. “Yes,” he murmurs, nodding. “It’s… strange. Cases like this, they take a part of you. I’m just glad it’s over.”

“Me too,” you reply quietly, the words carrying more meaning than you intend. For a moment, you simply stand there, side by side in the dim room, the weight of everything you’ve been through resting between you like an invisible tether. You think about the moments when your lives might’ve ended down here, in these rooms, when a slip or a wrong turn could’ve meant never walking out of that warehouse. You can’t shake the feeling that it’s time to take another risk—one that has nothing to do with the case and everything to do with what’s been building between you.

A warmth rises in your chest, and you look over at Kurt, your pulse quickening. The soft light from the flickering overhead bulbs highlights the planes of his face, making his amber eyes appear almost golden, softer, brighter. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you—tentative, almost uncertain—that makes you want to say what’s been on your mind. But as you open your mouth, the words catch, and you feel a new kind of tension settle over you.

“So…” you begin, forcing a casual tone that feels out of place even as it leaves your mouth. “We did good, huh?”

Kurt blinks, surprised, but then a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “We did.” There’s a warmth to his voice that wasn’t there before, something closer, something unguarded. “Turns out I might have underestimated you after all.”

“Oh, so that’s what this was? You underestimated me?” You smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Guess I’ll have to prove you wrong again sometime.”

He laughs, soft and real, and the sound sends a flutter through your chest. His eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, the space between you seems to disappear, everything else fading away. The officers’ footsteps echo down the corridor, fading as they take Blackwood away, and you realize that you’re alone with him for the first time in days.

It would be so easy to ask him now, to invite him out, to see if whatever this is between you might mean something. But as you meet his gaze, a flicker of doubt catches you off guard. You don’t know if Kurt… well, if he’s interested in men, in you, in any of this. The thought sends an unexpected wave of anxiety through you, one that settles uncomfortably in your chest, and you’re not sure how to begin.

“So… what now?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady. “Now that this case is over?”

He hesitates, his fingers brushing over the worn cuffs in his hands. “We go home,” he says softly. “And wait for the next storm to roll in, I suppose.”

Something in his voice stops you—something that sounds less like duty and more like loneliness, like the weight of this case and cases before it have been more than he’s willing to admit. It takes you by surprise, and for a moment, you wonder if he feels the same about you, if he might want more than this—than just cases and cold nights spent alone.

“Kurt,” you say, barely aware of how your voice trembles. You clear your throat. “I, uh… I was thinking. Maybe once we’ve wrapped all this up, you’d like to… grab a drink or something?”

His eyes widen, and he stares at you, caught off guard. You can see the faint blush spreading along his cheekbones, a rare hint of vulnerability. “With me?” he asks, almost like he can’t quite believe it.

You give him a small, reassuring smile, even though your heart’s pounding in your chest. “Yeah, with you. I figured we’ve been through a lot together. Thought maybe you’d like to unwind. With company.”

Kurt’s tail flicks slightly, an unconscious twitch that betrays his nerves, and he looks down, biting his lip. “I—well,” he stammers, his voice softening as he hesitates. “I… I’d like that. It’s just…” He swallows, his voice lowering, suddenly shy. “I don’t… I mean, I’m not sure…”

You realize then what’s holding him back. He’s unsure, not just because of you, but because he doesn’t know if the world you’re inviting him into is one he’s allowed to be part of, one where he can be himself.

The anxiety in your chest gives way to something warmer, something braver. You step closer, close enough that the faint warmth of his skin reaches you. “Kurt, I’m asking because I want you to be there with me. Just you. No one else.”

His gaze meets yours, and you see a flash of something vulnerable in his eyes, something raw and uncertain. For a moment, he’s silent, as if he’s processing your words, trying to believe them. Then, his shoulders relax, and he nods, a faint, grateful smile breaking through the hesitation.

“I’d… I’d like that very much,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than you know.”

The warmth in his eyes is answer enough, and your heart feels light as he holds your gaze. You realize, standing there with him, that the case may be over, but something new is beginning—something that feels more certain, more real, than any case or victory you’ve ever known.

The night of the date, you find yourself outside a cozy, dimly lit bar on the city’s edge, nerves swirling as you wait for Kurt. When he arrives, his usually sharp look softened by a rare, hesitant smile, you can’t help but smile back.

The evening is easy, surprisingly so. You talk about the case, laugh about the close calls, and somewhere between the drinks and the shared glances, the air shifts. Kurt’s warmth, his quiet laugh, the way his eyes catch the light—it’s all familiar but new, something you can’t help but want more of.

As the night stretches on, the conversation drifts from cases and work to lives and memories. He tells you about his childhood, his love for travel, his complicated past. In return, you share stories of your own, finding a strange comfort in the openness between you.

Eventually, the bar grows quiet, the night wrapping around you both like a blanket as you step outside together. The streetlights cast a soft glow over the pavement, illuminating the quiet look on Kurt’s face as he turns to you, his expression open, vulnerable.

“You know,” he says quietly, his voice steady, “I never thought… well, I never thought I’d be doing something like this.”

You smile, your hand finding his in a way that feels almost instinctual, and his fingers tighten around yours. “Neither did I. But I’m glad you’re here.”

He hesitates, but his eyes are soft, warm as he looks at you. And then, in a quiet, tentative movement, he steps closer, closing the space between you until he’s so near you can feel the warmth of his breath. He looks at you, searching, waiting for a sign that this is okay—that he’s allowed to want this.

And so you give it to him, leaning in until your lips meet his in a gentle, unhurried kiss, one that feels like a promise and an invitation, something real that neither of you can deny. His hand slips to your shoulder, pulling you closer as his lips press to yours, a soft, careful exploration that grows more certain with every second.

When you finally pull away, his face is flushed, his eyes shining with a happiness you hadn’t dared to hope for. He doesn’t say anything, but his smile speaks volumes, and in the quiet that follows, you realize that whatever happens, whatever cases or storms might come, this—this is the beginning of something worth holding onto.

kurt my baby <3 if you liked the story drop a like a reblog and a follow if you want to read more!

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