#I really do just keep finding new depths to sink to

[newtonsheffield]

I have cried in the office of my sworn nemesis today.

This is how low 2024 has brought me.

[awearywritersworld]

i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend

sukuna x reader summary: you persuade sukuna to play go fish. the two of you have a small disagreement (he really can't stay mad at you). he confides in you about his past as a sorcerer. w/c: 3.4k tags/warnings: the teeniest bit of angst. mostly fluff. banter. cursing. aged up!yuuji. slight yuuji x reader. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: the first section could be read as a brief(ish) stand alone. and for context, the world's shortest frankenstein synopsis: victor frankenstein brings a creature to life using dead body parts and thrusts him into a world he doesn't understand, then promptly abandons him and wishes him dead. alone and regarded as repulsive by every human he comes across, the creature begs frankenstein to create a wife for him too. when frankenstein refuses, the creature is further driven to hatred and violence. series masterlist // masterlist

"we should play a card game!" you exclaim as if you've just had the world's greatest idea.

"i'll pass."

sukuna sounds listless, like it's quite possibly the worst proposition he's ever heard.

"why's that? scared i'll beat you?"

"i'm opposed to mind numbing boredom, more like."

"you really need to expand your horizons," you suggest, making your way over to where you keep your playing cards. "all you do is read and brood."

"it's gotten me this far."

you don't respond, too busy rifling through your bookshelf. just as you spot your cards, a book catches your eye and you pull it from its place.

making your way back over to him, you drop it in his lap. "since you found jane eyre so insufferable, here's one you might actually like."

he surveys the cover, which reads: frankenstein or the modern prometheus

you take a seat across from him at the kotatsu table and shuffle the deck, while sukuna flips through the pages with new found intrigue.

"what's it about?"

"the dangers of playing god. should be right up your alley."

"your subtly never ceases to amaze."

"i'm just kidding." you laugh. "there's a lot more to it than that— revenge, loneliness, personal responsibility..."

he turns the book over. "it's written by a woman?"

you raise your eyebrows at him. "what, you don't think women have enough depth to write about those kinds of topics?"

"no, it was just an observation," he says off handedly. "you are evidence enough to the contrary."

he doesn't say it as a compliment, more so as a statement of fact. you hope your astonishment isn't written all over your face.

clearing your throat, you begin dealing while explaining the rules to him.

he takes up his cards and seems to understand the game after only a turn or two, but you're narrowing your eyes at him soon thereafter.

"go fish," he says for the fourth time in a row.

your gaze shifts down to his hands. there's just no way. "show me your cards."

"wouldn't that defeat the purpose of this stupid game?"

"not if you're cheating, now let me see."

"no."

you reach across the table, hoping to snatch them from his grasp, but he just holds them out of your reach.

swiftly rising to your feet, you launch yourself at him in a sad attempt to catch him off guard.

with only one arm extended, he easily fends off your attack. "do you actually think you have a chance here?"

you sink to your knees in defeat and sit with your legs folded beneath you. "not really, but i have to know if you'd stoop this low."

"that so? had you believed me to be above cheating?"

you gasp. "so you admit it?"

"i told you i didn't want to play," he deadpans.

"that doesn't mean you had to cheat! now we have to start over!"

he carelessly tosses the cards onto the table. "i don't think so."

"please?" you lean forward, jutting out your bottom lip.

he just stares at you with an air of disinterest.

sukuna can be so haughty sometimes, and frankly, it drives you a little crazy. you'd give anything to wipe that look from his face— to prove that he doesn't find this as miserable as he lets on.

leaning forward even further, your hands meet with the carpet to support your shifting weight. now he's watching intently as your face approaches his, your eyes flicking down to his lips.

unbeknownst to you, sukuna's breath catches in his throat once he sees your gaze shift, though his mind struggles to catch up. it happens so fast that he hardly registers the quick peck you place on his lips (though maybe it's not the speed of the occurrence, so much as his shock).

"please?" you repeat.

he looks off to the side and stays silent, though his demeanor is indicative of some heated internal debate.

sukuna can't let you win, not that easily. you'd be under the impression that you actually have power over him! and for what? some measly kiss?

no, he simply will not allow that. "i already told you—"

grabbing him by the chin, you cut off his words with another kiss, but this time it lasts a few beats longer. your lips don't move against his, they just linger there in a way that that makes him question whether all of the oxygen has vanished from the room.

when you pull away, you're looking at him expectantly with the same pout still playing on your lips.

"fine!" he barks, grumbling something afterwards that sounds a lot like "evil little minx."

"human earthworm two is definitely still the best."

you're walking home with yuuji after a late night showing of the newest movie in the series.

"no way," you contend. "this one was even better."

he gawks at you. "in no world is the seventh film in an anthology the best! you're crazy—"

sukuna's mouth appears, always eager for a chance to undermine his vessel. "she's right, brat."

yuuji can't believe his ears. "what?! you haven't even seen it!"

"i don't know," you interject slyly. "i'm willing to look past that. it really seems like he knows what he's talking about."

"you mean the guy who's existence predates cinema?" yuuji asks, his eyebrows furrowing as a thought occurs to him. "what'd you do all day anyway? watch plays?"

"..among other things, yes." sukuna answers.

"if you look at it logically," you reason, "we probably wouldn't have movies without theater, so we should definitely consider him an expert in this case."

"oh please, baby. when the topic is ancient civilization or being a homicidal maniac, i'll be sure to solicit his opinion then."

"i resent that," sukuna declares, his conviction forcing a giggle from your lips.

"why?" you question. "was it the part where he called you old as shit, or the part where he called you a murderous lunatic?"

yuuji brings a hand to his mouth to stifle a snort, but you're freely laughing now.

sukuna scoffs indignantly and bites back a comment about how partial you seem to be toward said lunatic. "and to think i defended your opinion."

his response has you clutching at your sides and struggling to see through teary eyes.

but perhaps karma is real, because not a moment later, you step off the curb in a way that sends a sharp sensation through your leg.

you gasp in pain and brace yourself for the impact of falling to the concrete, but it never comes. instead, you're left with fingers clamped tightly around your wrist and a strange sense of deja vu.

you turn your head just before the dark lines fade from yuuji's arm completely.

"tch, watch where you're going idiot," sukuna scolds, his mouth disappearing as soon as he finishes speaking.

"are you okay?" yuuji asks worriedly.

"absolutely," you claim, but when you try to put weight on your left foot, you let out a hiss.

yuuji's hands find your waist, hoping to keep you steady. before you know it, he's crouching in front of you with his back turned and beckoning you to wrap your arms around his neck.

once you do, he hooks his arms under your thighs and easily stands up. "this okay? you comfy?"

"yeah. i can't believe i just did that." you hide your face in the space where his neck meets his shoulder. "thanks, yu."

when you get home, yuuji sets you up on the couch with icepacks, heating pads, three different drinks, two different books, and the tv remote.

he still asks if you have everything you need several times, then kisses you sweetly before heading to bed.

around thirty minutes later, sukuna's leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed.

"hey," you greet. your eyes never leave the tv, as you're privy to the slight tension between the both of you.

he skips the evening's pleasantries. "i could heal it, you know."

you finally turn to face him. "really?"

"of course." he rolls his eyes. "some of us can actually use reverse cursed technique."

"and you've just let me hobble around the past hour anyway?"

he shrugs. "you pissed me off."

you blink at him a few times, rubbing at your temples. "well what about now?"

"i don't know," he begins, making his way over to you. he towers over where you're seated on the couch, so you have to crane your neck to look up at him. "just doesn't really seem like something a homicidal maniac would do, but maybe if he were to receive an apology..."

you cover your face with your hands and groan. "i didn't say that. this is really something you should take up with yuuji—"

"i don't make a habit of conversing with the brat, so if that's the way you're going to be..." he turns on his heel and starts for the bedroom, but you grab onto his sleeve just before he's out of reach.

"wait. please don't go."

just like that, your words have his resolve crumbling and any of his lingering irritation ebbs away. he urges himself to stay strong though, especially after the go fish debacle.

when he doesn't speak, you let out a breath.

"i'm sorry, sukuna." he can tell right away that you're being entirely sincere. "i would never purposefully hurt your feelings. i only meant to tease you, but i can see how i was being mean."

are those... are those tears swimming in your eyes? are you in that much pain, or did he just make you feel that badly? in any case, he endeavors to remedy it immediately.

moving around the couch until he's in front of you, sukuna kneels between your legs. he grabs your left foot gingerly, situating it on his thigh before hovering his hand over top of it.

he sighs. "i don't care if you tease me and you weren't being.. mean." the words sounds so juvenile to him.

you weren't necessarily wrong either, goes unsaid.

well, he'd like to consider himself a little more sophisticated than 'maniac' would imply, but that's beside the point.

"then why are you upset with me?"

his jaw flexes as he tries to find the right words. "i would prefer you do that when it's just.. us."

"oh." realization dawns on you, as does another heap of guilt. you know he despises being trapped in yuuji's body, and you completely failed to consider how ganging up on him might make him feel. "i'm... fuck. i'm really sorry, sukuna—"

"stop apologizing," he urges you in a low voice. it's partly because what he just said makes him feel pathetic, but more than that, it's because the look of self reproach you're wearing is akin to a thousand needles in his chest. "it's fine."

he can't believe you're sitting there with so much remorse over a man like him because you... what? wounded his pride?

he probably deserves it anyway.

why should you give a shit when he's done things a thousand times worse, a million different times?

oh, right. because you care about him.

you can't see the cursed energy at play, but you can tell it's working as your pain begins to dissipate.

once he's finished, he carefully moves your foot to the floor and looks up at you. it's not unlike the way a person might gaze at one of the wonders of the world, like they're lucky to be there in the first place.

with the intensity of his gaze, it feels like he can see right into your head— read your every thought and pick apart every emotion. has anyone ever looked at you like that before? you're having a hard time remembering. you're having a hard time thinking of anything at all, really.

so it goes without saying that you don't think about it when you lean forward and kiss him.

it's not at all like when you were trying to convince him to play cards. no, this isn't light hearted or frivolous.

and it's not like the other two kisses you've shared either. it isn't heated or desperate, nor does it leave you gasping for air.

it's tender. it's so fucking tender, in fact, that sukuna wonders whether he's going to crumble beneath your touch.

he grips the area just above your knees, as if needing something to tether himself to before he withers away completely.

his lips move with yours in a way that's slow and careful.

your hands are on either side of his face, ghosting over his skin as a testament to your hesitance— like you're not certain if this is something he would want.

he wonders how in the world you could ever second guess yourself.

when you pull back, you examine his face for a moment before a small, shy smile tugs at your lips and you murmur, "thanks 'kuna."

he just peers at you wordlessly and it makes you nervous, so you attempt to fill the silence. "it feels so much better. a-and i'm sorry again abo—"

his hand finds the back of your neck, pulling your lips against his for a moment longer. "don't mention it, angel."

ever since you gave sukuna your copy of frankenstein, he's spent a decent portion of your nights together reading, his brows drawn together in concentration.

upon finishing, he stares at the page after taking in the final line: "he was soon borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance."

he's deathly quiet and wearing some unreadable expression. his eyes seem far off.

you leave him be for a little while, as it's clear he's lost in thought, but eventually you grow a bit concerned. it's been nearly half an hour since he last moved.

"sukuna?"

he turns to you. "why did you think i would enjoy this particular book?"

you consider his question carefully, his mood evoking your own seriousness. "it's... elegant and tragic. i suppose i appreciate the moral grayness of it. why do you ask?"

"no reason."

"did you enjoy it?"

"yes."

"why?"

he ignores your question. "frankenstein— do you like his character?"

you can't help but feel like you're answering some sort of riddle. "i think he's foolish and arrogant, but i guess i pity him to some degree."

"and the creature?"

"i'm much more sympathetic toward him. he's very... complex and certainly less culpable for the events of the novel than his creator."

you're surprised when he laughs. "of course you would think that way."

and with that, he's flipping through the pages of the novel. you move to sit beside him and once he finds what he's looking for near the middle, he begins reading:

"remember, thou hast made me more powerful than thyself; my height is superior to thine, my joints more supple. but i will not be tempted to set myself in opposition to thee. i am thy creature, and i will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king if thou wilt also perform thy part, the which thou owest me. oh, frankenstein, be not equitable to every other and trample upon me alone, to whom thy justice, and even thy clemency and affection, is most due. remember that i am thy creature; i ought to be thy adam, but i am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. everywhere i see bliss, from which i alone am irrevocably excluded. i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. make me happy, and i shall again be virtuous.”

his voice is strangely even, almost bordering on robotic. you're struck with the notion that he's attempting (with rare difficulty) to mask his emotions.

you regard him quizzically and wait for him to speak. the last thing you expect to hear tumbles from his lips.

"you know they called me the disgraced one?" you nod. "do you know why?"

"i know the story that sorcerers have passed down."

he hums. leaning back into the couch, he looks fixedly at the ceiling before continuing. "i was just a boy when i was orphaned and no one knew anything about my heritage, including me. jujutsu society took me in and raised me as a sorcerer."

"and you didn't care for it?"

"oh, quite the opposite. i reveled in it. my strength was unprecedented, that much was clear from the start. i surpassed my teachers with ease, and eventually, i took to training alone— reading primitive texts and honing skills that they couldn't teach me."

your hand finds his thigh, hoping to offer him some consolation before beckoning him to continue. "then what happened?"

"the men who had been my teachers, who had been the only.. family i'd ever known.. they scorned me. deemed me reckless and dangerous to jujutsu society. plotted my demise."

your voice is small when you ask, "were they right?"

he wants to hate the question— wants to hate you for asking it— but he knows that it's warranted.

"no. i admit i was forward thinking and a bit.. unorthodox, but i wasn't..."

"what they thought you were?" you offer gently.

he nods. "not until they made me that way— not until they abandoned me and backed me into a corner like some animal."

you struggle to find the right thing to say, if any such thing even exists. you're amazed that he's confiding in you, and while it makes your heart swell, you really don't want to fuck it up.

he looks back down at the book, his eyes scanning the paragraph before repeating, "i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend."

he says it as if he's coming to terms with the circumstances of his life for the very first time.

"the creature was remorseful at the end of the novel," you recall somewhat bravely. "are you?"

sukuna thinks for a great deal of time before replying. you wait patiently for him.

"no," he answers decidedly.

looking over at you for the first time since he began his story, he's relieved to find your face is free of rebuke. instead, there's a warm willingness to understand him. a sadness because of the way he was alienated.

he's curious whether anyone would be able to read the sentiment on your face, or if he just knows you better than most.

is that a privilege he's worthy of? he doubts it.

"you didn't deserve what they did to you," you whisper, reaching up to rake your fingers through his hair, nails grazing his scalp before your palm rests against his temple.

his head leans almost imperceptibly into your hand, and any regret or unease he may have felt at relaying his past to you disappears. watching a single tear slip down your cheek, he wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.

he means to say "don't cry. not for me," but the words die in his throat.

for once, your tears are for him rather than because of him and it's utterly riveting. the fact that someone like you would cry on his behalf seems to contradict every horrible thing he's ever been told about himself.

he could sit here and bask in the feeling forever— he's always known himself to be selfish after all. and you know it too, don't you?

his eyes flicker between each of yours, studying your face. "do you want to know why i don't regret the things i've done?"

you tilt your head to the side. "why?"

"because even if it's made me into a monster..."

for a moment, he contemplates not saying anything more. he considers forcing himself to pull away from your touch, even if it's the only comfort he's been given his entire life. he might still be able to salvage whatever tiny, laughable pieces remain of his pride—

"all of my actions have led me to you."

your eyes soften before you're wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body to his. he returns the gesture after a few seconds pass.

you know he's awful. you know he's cruel. you know that what he's been through doesn't excuse his actions. but still— you want so desperately to take away his pain. to make up for all the things in his past. to wipe the blood from his hands.

as you embrace such an incredibly complicated man (one who is infamous for unrivaled wickedness, yet has his face buried in your hair), you ponder the creature's plea: "make me happy, and i shall again be virtuous."

a/n 2: if you're still w me, thanks for reading!! i'm not sure how i feel abt this part, so feedback is both welcome and appreciated!! also, how do we like sukuna using angel?? in my head he picked it up from the "my good angel" line in jane eyre, so i hope it doesn't seem too unnatural. alsoooo, highly recommend frankenstein. it's one of my favorite books!! mary shelley popped off and literally created the entire genre of science fiction at 21! anyway, thanks for all the love yall, it means the world<3

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @risuola @lirasmoon @disaster-rose @archivist-ghoul606 @creative1writings @sloppyzengarden @omismicrowave @cecesharktales @tanyeonn @hiqhkey @ruixrei @yellowsubiesdance @thefallofruins @anything-and-everything-here69 @emzalot @thepup356 @browneyedgirl22 @lantsovheiress // users in bold could not be tagged. if i forgot to tag anyone, my apologies!! just give me a heads up.

[jayflrt]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝟕𝟖𝟔 04. the world of the elite

THERE WERE ABOUT THREE THINGS GOING ON IN JAY PARK'S HEAD WHEN KIM SUNOO CAME TO PICK HIM UP.

The first was the chilling realization that he was actually going to a Yale party. He hadn't been to a party in over a year (save for Jungwon's birthday party where they had to call the fire department when Jake almost burned the kitchen down), so Jay wasn't expecting to end up at this scene again in his new, fake school. (Could he even call this fake if he was actually earning a degree while his tuition was paid for? He could hardly tell what was real and what was fabricated anymore.)

Secondly, was it really wise for him to get close to his target like this? He hadn't dealt with assignments where he had to follow people around, so this was all rather new to him. He realized, however, that he managed to befriend you, his mission could get a lot more complicated.

Third—he had no idea how to talk to rich people.

There were times when Jay had to entertain particularly wealthy guests when his parents brought coworkers home. But it was so excruciating even then because wow, how shallow could someone get? The depths of his conversations with all the rich people he had met were not promising at all, so he didn't have much hope for his social battery tonight.

But Jay was probably on par with some of them now, so he had to adjust to this new lifestyle. There was no way he could lie about his upbringing, though, so he framed a story of him having a rich aunt that was over-the-moon when he got into Yale.

Moreover, he was so confused as to why Shin Yuna approached him. It wasn't like he looked well-off with his clothes that he thrifted years ago. Jay couldn't tell if Yuna was just being nice, or if she had other intentions that he was supposed to be concerned about.

"Whoa, nice jacket," Sunoo complimented once he let his eyes sweep Jay's outfit. "You'll be lucky if Yuna lets you out of her sight."

His eyes grew wide. "Is she expecting me to be by her side the whole time?"

"Probably. You still have time to back out, if you want."

He was conflicted. This was the perfect opportunity for him to get close to the people around you and get some information out of whoever was the most drunk there; at the same time, if Yuna was going to keep her perfectly-manicured claws on his shoulders the whole time, this whole night would be counterproductive.

In the end, Jay decided to go. He figured that if worst came to worst, he would just find the right time to ask Yuna some questions about you.

"Is Heeseung's place close?" Jay asked. The truth was that he already looked up all possible routes to the location when Sunoo sent him the address earlier; he just needed to ask as a formality.

"Down the block here," Sunoo replied. "His dad bought him an entire penthouse. Isn't that sick?"

He fought down a bitter remark and said, "Man, that must be nice. What do his parents do? You said Sunghoon's dad owns Park Pharmaceuticals, right?"

"Yeah, and his older brother, Sungjin, is taking over the company. And Heeseung's dad is a hedge fund owner," Sunoo answered. "They only made it big recently, like four or five years ago. I remember Heeseung used to be way different back in freshman year. Now he's more... subdued. I guess he didn't know how to handle being rich back then."

Jay could see the flashing of blue and purple lights from the windows of the penthouse down the street. He carefully watched the two figures on the terrace talking by the railing. At first, it seemed as if they were just talking normally. As he got closer, though, Jay realized from the faint sounds he picked up that they were, in fact, arguing.

It was you.

Jay had been looking at pictures of you all week, but seeing you up on the terrace was different. It seemed to just sink in that what he was doing was real, and seeing you in the flesh was all he needed for cold reality to seep into his veins like poison.

The man next to you must have been Park Sunghoon. Even from how high up the two were, Jay could tell that the man next to you exuded an overwhelming presence.

But he wondered what they were arguing over.

"C'mon," Sunoo said grimly, clearly having taken notice of the commotion above, "it's just up these stairs."

Jay felt his stomach sink deeper and deeper with each step he took. When they reached Heeseung's door, there was a bouncer guarding the entrance—probably some freshman Heeseung paid to keep watch. Jay stopped in his tracks, wondering if he was even allowed in since he had never met Heeseung, but his friend simply opened the door and walked right in, as if his arrival was expected, and the bouncer paid no mind. (Perhaps it was expected? Jay was starting to believe all these people had history that he didn't even understand the extent of.)

"Jay!" came a shrill cry from across the room. Jay turned to see Shin Yuna all but tackle him, draping her arms across his shoulders. He could smell the alcohol on her breath already. "I'm glad you made it."

"Thanks for the invite," Jay replied, gently prying Yuna's hands off of him, which she allowed him to do but grabbed his hand again right after.

Jay sent Sunoo a help me sort of look, but his friend seemed to greatly misunderstand the message he was sending across. Sunoo gave him a sideways grin and a thumbs-up before signaling that he was going to catch up with some friends in the kitchen.

Great.

"Come on," Yuna slurred, dragging Jay over to a sectional couch in the corner. "I'll introduce you to my friends."

He recognized some of the faces while he was looking into you—Karina Yoo, whose mother owned a private jet company; Choi Yeonjun, who landed a few minor movie roles with the help of his Golden Globe award-winning mother; Giselle Uchinaga, whose father was an investment banker and mother owned a nightclub; Kim Chaewon, whose mother revolutionized stem cell research; and then there was Lee Heeseung in the corner, who had his arms folded across his chest as he sized Jay up.

From what he gathered, this was most (or all) of the people in your inner circle. Heeseung and Sunghoon appeared to be more than that to you, though; childhood friends had a bond more special than the rest, he supposed.

Jay then wondered how Heeseung felt about his two childhood friends dating and now arguing on the balcony.

"Guys," Yuna started with a grin, motioning to Jay with a dramatic flair of her hands, "this is Jay, the new transfer student."

"Hey." Jay waved to the group, his mouth suddenly feeling extremely dry.

His greeting was returned by a few tight smiles from the rest and a chorus of unenthusiastic words of acknowledgment that he didn't feel too great about. Maybe he had to give up on his chance of entering your circle.

"Don't mind them," Yuna whispered to him as she pulled him over to sit on the couch with her. They were seated exactly across from Heeseung, whose stare made Jay feel even more uncomfortable. "They're all in a bad mood 'cause Y/N and Sunghoon got in a fight before you came. God, why do they always kill the vibe?" She was talking awfully loud, causing Karina and Giselle to shoot her warning glares. Jay had a sinking feeling that she was making the situation worse if she kept opening her mouth. "Seriously, I mean, we're here to party!"

Not that Jay was particularly avoidant with physical touch, but being touched and fawned about in front of everyone was slightly unnerving, especially when he didn't know Yuna all that well. Nearly half her body weight was on top of him, and Jay was pretty sure she would end up sitting fully on his lap if she took another shot.

"Are you... drunk?" he asked her warily.

She gave him a strange look before giggling. "Uh, yeah? Did you want a drink, too?"

"No, just—"

"Hey, so you've really never seen me online before?" she asked, tilting her head in a way that Jay had to admit would've been rather cute if he wasn't so overwhelmed and put-off by everything else. "I'm, like, TikTok famous."

"Oh, that's nice," he replied, sort of distracted as he tried to catch a glimpse of you out on the terrace. He saw a flash of your glittering silver romper, but then your boyfriend stepped in front of you again.

"Transfer student," Heeseung called out. He had his elbows on his knees, but once Jay looked at him, he started to stand up. "Let's get you a drink since the rest of them are being miserable."

Jay assumed it was a joke, but only he (and probably Heeseung) seemed to think so. Karina let out a sound that sounded partly like a laugh and partly like a scoff.

"Way to make it awkward, Heeseung," she sneered.

"He's the one who probably feels so awkward with you all being so quiet," Heeseung said, patting Jay firmly on the shoulder to get him to stand up. Jay had to gently peel Yuna off of him before he got up to follow Heeseung. "We'll be back."

While Heeseung and him were making their way past groups of students packed together, Jay couldn't figure out what the hell to say to him. When he first walked in, the look in Heeseung's eyes made him think he was a piece of trash stuck to the bottom of his shoe, but now he was just lost.

"I haven't heard of you before," Heeseung said once they reached a long table with bottles of alcohol strewn about.

"I didn't expect you to. Today's my first day, anyway."

There was a bartender on the other side of the room, but Jay figured that Heeseung brought him here for a private conversation. Without even asking Jay about his preference, he let his hand glide over the handles before he picked out a bottle of tequila. Jay wasn't much of a drinker but he let Heeseung pour him a shot.

"What do your parents do?"

Jay couldn't stop himself from barking out a laugh, shaking his head fervently. "Oh, no, they're"—he shook his head again—"they're no one."

"They can't be 'no one' if they managed to get their son into Yale."

"They didn't get me into Yale."

"They still raised you, didn't they?" Heeseung raised a brow. "My mom's a preschool teacher, and my dad was unemployed up until my sophomore year of high school. Not the professions you expected, huh?"

Jay's brows raised in pleasant surprise. Here he thought that Heeseung was judging him, but maybe it was the exact opposite. He really didn't expect a sincere response from someone like him, but perhaps he just misjudged the junior.

"My mom's an office worker, and my dad used to be a firefighter before he got into an accident," Jay answered. "Now he has a corporate job."

"And you're..."

"I'm what?"

"What're you trying to be in the world?"

Jay took the plastic shot glass that Heeseung handed out to him. Before downing it in one go, he answered, "Someone."

Heeseung laughed. "At least you have more of a story than most of the people in this room." He shot one of the cluster of students a sideways glance and said, "Let's just say I wouldn't be surprised if most of the people here bought their way into Yale."

Jay swallowed hard. He couldn't say anything when he was technically one of those people, too. All his life, he slogged harder than anyone else for a place in the world. He worked at restaurants illegally since he was thirteen, studied tirelessly to get free rides to universities, and gave up a social life just to balance multiple jobs to get bills paid. It felt strange to be one of the people who didn't have to lift a finger for extraordinary opportunities.

For a moment, he wondered if he would get in if he tried applying on his own. There was no use in pondering, though; this was all simply for the assignment—nothing more, nothing less.

"You made it here on your own, didn't you?" Jay asked with a flickering, newfound respect for Lee Heeseung.

"I didn't even think I'd be able to pay for college when I was in high school," he answered. "Of course I needed to work hard. Getting a full ride into an Ivy League isn't something you get by fucking around. Even though Hoon and Y/N were set their whole lives... I couldn't just be the only one who didn't make it in."

Jay wondered why Heeseung was telling him, a total stranger, all of this. He didn't bring it up, though, in case the question sobered him up to the point of not revealing any further information.

But he had to ask, "So why'd you drag me out here for a drink?"

It was a fair question. There were bottles of alcohol on the table next to the sectional couch. If Heeseung really wanted to just pour him a drink, he could've done so then and there.

"Thought I'd save you from Yuna," he said. "She gets a little messy when she's drunk."

"Oh." Jay almost shuddered at the thought of what could've happened if he was still sitting on the couch.

"Sorry. Are you interested in her?"

Jay's eyes grew as wide as saucers as he shook his head firmly. "N-not at all. I just met her today."

The alcohol started coursing through his blood, making his limbs feel less like muscle and more like jelly. Yet, he strangely felt more comfortable in his body.

"Good." Heeseung leaned against the table and crossed his arms again. "I would've felt bad for you if you were actually into her. She definitely thinks this'll make me jealous somehow." He suddenly stiffened up. "Don't mention this to the others, though. I don't think Y/N would be happy if she found out."

He arched a brow at Heeseung. So you didn't know about your own friend's feelings toward your childhood friend? Even though you were in a relationship yourself? Interesting.

But even more interesting because Jay swore he saw pictures of Heeseung and Chaewon together on his Instagram. Pictures that seemed to imply that they were a couple. Their little inner circle seemed to be more convoluted than Jay initially thought.

"Haven't even met her," he told Heeseung. "I'm not the kind of person to spread people's secrets like that."

Unless I'm paid to do so, he thought bitterly.

Heeseung smiled slyly, and Jay wasn't sure if it was one of friendship or as if he had just heard an enticing business proposal. "I hope my feeling about you is right." After grabbing the handle of Clase Azul on the table, he added, "Let's go back before they accuse me of scaring you off."

Jay followed after him, wondering if he had just accidentally gotten himself in Heeseung's good graces, or if he just made a grave mistake.

Jay decided to ask, "Hey, by the way, do you know about the Order of Kryptos?"

Heeseung stopped in his tracks immediately, spinning around so fast that Jay nearly stumbled over his feet.

"What about it?"

"Well, I just—I don't know—I was thinking of, uh, joining."

"You can't just join. You have to be invited." Despite the shame that burned under Jay's skin for sounding like an idiot in front of the junior, Heeseung's eyes twinkled. "But... I know someone you could talk to if you wanna get your foot in the door."

"You do?"

"This isn't like a frat where you have to rush. See, all these people here just target members of the current class and suck up to them until they get tapped. For example, Hoon's practically guaranteed a tap since his brother's in the Order right now."

"Then do you think I even have a chance?"

Heeseung shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. There's only fifteen seats, so it all depends on how much you impress them." He grabbed Jay by the shoulder and pointed out one of the seniors laughing with a couple other boys in the kitchen. "That's Jeong Jaehyun. He's probably the chillest in the Order—doesn't really give a fuck about prestige and background, or whatever. I'd talk to him when you get the chance."

Jay, wildly amazed with how big of a help Heeseung was being, returned the gesture by patting him on the back firmly. "Thanks, man."

"No worries. You should work fast, though. They start giving up their seats next semester."

Next semester. Jay was certain he could get on someone's good side by then.

This whole thing was rather frustrating for him, though. All Jay wanted to do was lay low and carry out his assignment properly, but to do so he needed to get close to you and your friends somehow. Impressing you meant impressing a senior to get into the Order. There seemed to be far too many hurdles he needed to cross just to uncover some dirt on you.

When he and Heeseung returned to the sectional couch, everyone seemed a smidge more lively. Yeonjun waved Jay over to introduce himself properly, claiming that he couldn't say anything earlier because Yuna was hogging all the attention. Yuna, on the other hand, seemed to have already blacked out on the couch, but none of her friends were exactly paying much attention to her. Jay wondered if this was a frequent occurence with her.

While Jay was in the middle of telling Yeonjun and Giselle about the school he transferred from, you came out from the terrace with Sunghoon, but there was an icy distance between you two.

Jay had spent the past week looking at pictures of you every single night. Almost every picture you had on your Instagram was burned into his brain.

But seeing you up close in the flesh was almost earth-shattering. All the details your camera couldn't capture were like the missing pieces that made you glow even brighter. Jay was almost amazed that Park Sunghoon could even fight with you when you looked like this.

"Y/N?" Karina called, but you were crossing the room in the direction of the bathroom. She threw a nasty glare at Sunghoon, who sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh.

Giselle raised a brow. "You're gonna let your girlfriend walk away?"

"She needs space," Sunghoon answered curtly.

"Oh, I bet she gets plenty of that from you."

"Watch your mouth, Giselle."

Jay wasn't sure if Heeseung was making the right decision when he stood up and offered, "Hoon, chill. I'll go check on her."

Chaewon was quick to grab her boyfriend's hand, frowning as she said, "I think one of the girls should."

Heeseung pulled his hand away, and Jay noticed the crumbling look in Chaewon's eyes before he pretended to be more interested in a loose thread in the couch. He felt bad for her; she was practically being humiliated in front of everyone else.

"I'm the host," Heeseung replied. "I should check on her."

Karina shot Yeonjun and Giselle a withering look. "Our Uber's almost here. I don't think she wants to go home with"—she motioned to Sunghoon with a jut of her chin—"you know."

"I'll ask Ryujin to take her home, but we should probably tell her before we leave," Yeonjun said. He lowered his voice to add, "Yuna's wasted. You know Heeseung's gonna get pissed if she crashes here."

Giselle snorted. "That's probably what she wants."

Jay looked down at his lap. So everyone was aware of Yuna's semi-hidden feelings toward Heeseung except you? Why was it a secret from you, anyway? This friend group—if Jay could even call them that—was messier than he had anticipated.

Jay, who was seated in the middle of the trio, started to feel rather awkward. Surely, they must have known he could hear everything they were saying.

"Uh," he started because he was starting to feel like he was obligated to chime in, "I can call an Uber for your friend, if she needs one."

"Aw, Jay, you're too sweet," Giselle cooed, but then her face of adoration turned completely serious. "But you're a man. We don't trust you."

"That... that's fair."

"Oh, but he's Sunoo's friend," Yeonjun added. "Sunoo would get her home safely."

"Just ask Sunoo or Ryujin—whoever's still here," Giselle said.

Karina, who was on her phone for a majority of the conversation, spoke up to confirm, "Yeah, their locations are still here. I'll text them to make sure Y/N's taken care of." She stood up. "Let's just get going and check up on her later in the group chat."

"God, how are we gonna drag Yuna out of here?" Giselle whined. She gently maneuvered the unconscious girl to make it easier for them to lift her up. "Yeonjun, you get her other arm."

After much effort, they were finally able to get Yuna barely stumbling forward as her arms were around their shoudlers. They said their goodbyes to Jay and Chaewon, but Sunghoon only got one from Yeonjun.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes and moved to sit next to Jay. Chaewon was completely sidelined at this point as she picked at her nails and waited for Heeseung to come back.

"Sorry for that mess," Sunghoon said. "I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm Park Sunghoon."

"Jay," he greeted. "Nice to meet you. Heeseung told me a bit about you."

"Oh, really?" He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I hope it wasn't too awkward."

Jay grinned. "All good things. Don't worry."

"Great, uh..." He fumbled for a moment, reaching into his pockets and then handing Jay a pink iPhone. "Do you think you could hand this to my girlfriend? She should be somewhere in the house."

Although Jay took the phone from him, he grimaced. He didn't even know you, and he felt bad already. Your own boyfriend was sending a stranger to give you something when he could very well do it by himself?

And why did he have your phone in the first place? Jay wondered if Sunghoon had taken it from you during the argument, and the very idea made him feel cold.

"I really think you should give it to her."

His small smile stretched into an awkward grin. "I don't think she wants to see my face right now."

"Oh... sure—will do."

This time when Jay crossed the room and pushed through the packs of students, it felt slightly more intimidating. He felt like a lone fish amongst schools of them, and the few shots he took had definitely worn off by now. Not to mention the recent turn of events were incredibly sobering.

Heeseung's penthouse was nice. Nothing he could ever dream of affording before his anonymous client sent him more money than he would've ever made in his life.

When Jay stepped into the narrow hallway that led to the bathroom, he could hear Heeseung's gentle voice echoing.

"—talk to me, please," he pleaded. "I don't know what Sunghoon said to you, but—"

"Heeseung, just leave me alone." Your own faltering voice was treading on desperation. "You don't have to be here to comfort me. You're not my boyfriend."

And then it grew quiet. Jay was afraid that he was about to walk in on an uncomfortable situation.

Seconds later, the door opened and Heeseung was stony-faced, walking past Jay without even noticing he was there. You didn't even close the door after he left, so Jay inched closer to make sure nothing bad happened to you.

There you were, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and crying into your hands. There was an odd, disconnected feeling in Jay's chest. He had seen so many pictures and posts of you looking like you were having the time of your life, but the sight before him caused all of that to come crashing down, catching on fire.

Back outside, looking up at the terrace, you were so high above him, as if he would never reach you. Now, you were shattering to pieces before him, leaving broken shards scattered around you that Jay was hesitant to tread on.

Once you took notice of his presence, your head lifted up slowly, and Jay really felt bad for you now. Streaks of mascara were under your eyes and your red lipstick was smudged.

"Can I help you?" you asked flatly, sniffling every now and then even as you tried to act like you hadn't been caught crying.

Jay simply held your phone out, and you grabbed it from him once you recognized it was yours.

"How'd you—"

"Your boyfriend told me to bring it to you," he answered, and your eyes welled up with tears again. Jay sighed as you started breaking down in front of him, but he really wasn't all that annoyed as he sounded. He grabbed a tissue from the box on top of the toilet and ran it under water for a brief second. "Here."

Jay leaned down in front of you and blotted the tissue gently under your eyes, wiping off the residue of your mascara that stained your skin. You tried to resist his gesture at first, but when you realized what he was doing, you relaxed. If his eyes weren't tricking him, maybe you were even slightly embarrassed?

Then, he moved to your lips, using the other side of the tissue to carefully dab at where your lipstick was smudged. Jay tried especially hard not to stare at the curve of your lips, wondering what dark secret you could possibly be hiding behind the corners of your mouth. After he was done, he tossed the tissue aside and stood up.

"Thanks," you murmured.

"No problem," he said, backing up to the doorway. "You should probably keep the door closed if you need some alone time, by the way."

But one look at your expression, and he could tell that you were hoping that someone else would come looking for you.

"Y-yeah," you stammered out, standing up to close it yourself.

"Also," he continued, pressing his lips together in a thin line. Just walk away, Jay. This is none of your business. Just turn around and keep walking. "Your friends are worried about you, so..."

There's people out there who wouldn't make you cry like this.

He couldn't get the rest of the words out. Who was he to speak on a relationship he had only seen for a brief moment, anyway?

Before Jay could turn on his heel, you called out, "Wait! What was your name again?"

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "Jay Park. I just transferred here."

"Jay... oh, the transfer student." You said his name so gently that it was almost like you were handling glass. Then, he saw the first smile on your face tonight, and oh, he had never seen someone smile so bright. "I'm Y/N. See you around."

After you closed the door and Jay had headed back to where everyone else was, the loud, booming music grounding him back into reality, his heart sank with the realization that he had already been thrown into a world that he wasn't sure he liked very much.

prev | masterlist | next

SUMMARY ▸ private investigator jay park just wants to complete his mission quietly and move on with his life. you, his new assignment who keeps consuming his thoughts, don't make that very easy for him.

TAG LIST ▸ @zdgx1 @smouches @heesdazed @teawithbucky @leep0ems @peachpie4you @niniissus @kgneptun @jaeyunluvr @hooniesuniverse @zerasari @enhalov @sophiko22 @iselltulips @hoondiors @baekhyunstruly @jays-property @woninluv @heerinnie @fakeuwus @yizhoutv @en-happiness @theothernads @y4wnjunz @dammit-jjk @en-happiness @mari-oclock @enhypens-baby @soonyoungblr @jakeslvt @taetaenic @jebetwo @fairysungx @hsgwrld @shmooooo @ineedsomezzz @mrowwww @enha-stars @isawritesss @seongclb @lockburn-castle @alyssajavenss @enczen @calumsfringe @w3bqrl @luvyev @uhsakusa @luvnicho @wildflowermooon

[nocturnest]

Captivating

you keep staring at tangerine and he wants to know why.

author's note: who isn't captivated by this handsome brit who struts as he walks and has the mouth of a sailor?! 😩🤌🏻

Tangerine couldn't help but notice the way your eyes kept drifting in his direction as he sat across the aisle, deep in conversation with Lemon about the seriousness of the mission and who exactly the White Death was. Every time he glanced up, he'd catch you quickly averting his gaze, a faint blush creeping across your cheeks.

He couldn't deny the intrigue he felt - there was something about the way you carried yourself, the way your eyes would linger on him for just a moment too long, that had him curious. Sure, there were plenty of women who had stared at him before. It wasn't anything new, but they had never had such curiosity in their gaze, such longing.

When the chaos erupted over the missing briefcase, Tangerine knew he needed to find a moment to pull you aside and get to the bottom of this peculiar fascination. Especially if there was a chance that he wouldn't be getting off this train alive. As the train rumbled on, he waited patiently for his opportunity, until finally, he spotted you slipping into the bathroom.

Without hesitation, he followed, gently pushing the door open and stepping inside, closing it gently behind him. Your eyes went wide with surprise, your breath catching in your throat. It was one thing to observe this handsome man from afar, hiding behind your book, but up close? You couldn't help but observe the deep blues of his eyes, the way that his collar was open just enough that you could see his chest. His mere presence was sinful.

"H-Hello," you stammered, your fingers gripping the edge of the sink as you attempted to steady yourself. "I-um...I didn't expect you to-"

"Why do you keep looking at me, love?" he asked, his voice low and smooth as he moved closer, effectively trapping you against the wall.

You swallowed hard, your gaze darting everywhere but his face. "I... I don't know what you mean. I haven't been-"

Tangerine reached out, gently tilting your chin up so your eyes met. "Don't play coy with me, darlin'," he murmured, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "I've seen the way you look at me. What is it about me that has you so... captivated?"

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but there was something else there too - a spark of curiosity, of intrigue, that Tangerine couldn't help but find so endearing.

"I... I'm sorry, I don't mean to stare," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... well, you're so different from anyone I've ever seen. The way you carry yourself, the way you speak, it's all so... intoxicating."

Tangerine felt a slow grin spread across his face. "Intoxicating, eh?" he purred, leaning in closer until your noses were nearly brushing. "And what is it about me that you find so intoxicating, love?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. "I-I... I don't know, really. There's just something about you that draws me in. The way you seem so confident, so sure of yourself. It's... it's captivating."

Tangerine chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. "Well, well, aren't you just full of surprises," he murmured, his fingers trailing along the delicate curve of your neck. "And here I was, thinking I was the only one who was... intrigued."

Your eyes widened, your pulse quickening at his touch. "Y-you were... intrigued by me?"

Tangerine nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. "Oh, yes, darlin'. From the moment I saw you starin' at me, I've been dyin' to get you alone like this."

He leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "So tell me, love... what is it that you want from me?"

Your breath hitched, your mind racing with a thousand different thoughts. You knew you should be terrified, trapped in this small bathroom with a man you barely knew. But somehow, in the depths of those piercing blue eyes, you found herself utterly captivated, yearning for his touch.

"I... I want to know you," you whispered, your trembling fingers reaching up to caress the side of his face. "All of you."

Tangerine's lips curved into a predatory smile, and in one swift motion, he closed the distance between you both, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss that left you breathless.

@kpopgirlbtssvt @little-miss-dilf-lover @sebsbarnes @kiss-me-cill-me @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @j23r23 @spookyspecterino @liukangsgirl @azureseacloud hope you guys enjoy!

[chaosheadspace]

38) …because they’re running out of time.

Or 48) …out of habit.

If these haven't been asked yet? 🖤🖤🖤

This might not be what you've expected, but the combinations of prompts instantly plopped a library boys scene into my mind, so here you go.

Hob sits at the breakfast table in boxers and a t-shirt over a steaming cup of tea, reading the newspaper on the tablet. It's early Sunday morning, and with Orpheus at Calliope’s and Murphy still asleep, Hob shamelessly soaks up the peace and quiet of half past six. Murphy will get up in half an hour, he and his birding friends have planned a trip to the Walthamstow Wetlands, so Hob will have most of the day to himself. It's not that he's not getting enough alone time, rather that Hob loves the kind of quiet that early mornings bring; when the world seems less real and at the same time more true than it does other times.

The sun paints the shadows of the herbs they keep on the windowsill over the floor, a linocut of warm yellow and grey leaves and stalks and blades. Although the stalks in question are a bit droopy, Hob supposes. He lazily tasks himself to water them. Later. He's not really reading the paper, either, he's just existing, without hurry, and the idea of there being a paper to read is comforting, just like the warmth of the mug in his hands. Hob just doesn't want the actual reading of actual news disturbing him right now.

Into the middle of his peace echoes a faint, muffled thump and some indeterminate cursing, and Hob smiles. The doors of the bedroom and bathroom and bedroom again shut and open in rapid succession, underlined with the shuffle of clothes and the thumping of sleep-clumsy feet.

Then Murphy practically flies through the kitchen door, rummaging around the cupboards, finding his water bottle, filling it at the sink.

Hob leans back in his chair, watching him with a smile. “Good morning,” he greets Murphy, who still hasn't acknowledged him.

“No time,” Murphy says, “I am late, terribly late, Jessamy texted me that she has heard a bittern as she was observing the grey herons, I cannot miss—”

“Herons?” Hob asks. “Aren't those the ones who go ‘zoop’? You know, with the neck?” He knows that Murphy knows what he means. Hob shows him every bird video he finds while perusing the depths of the Internet, sometimes to his delight, sometimes to his exasperation.

Murphy shuts off the water. “No,” he says, “grey herons do not go zoop.” Definitely exasperation this time. “The bird you saw in the video was a green heron, which is very rare around here.” Murphy caps his bottle and swans back out of the kitchen. “I will see you tonight,” he shouts, reaching for his backpack on the coat rack.

“Have fun!” Hob shouts back.

Bang goes the front door, then a shuffle of hasty steps down the three stairs in front of it and then—

The sound of keys in the lock, the front door opening again, and then Murphy comes back into the kitchen, determinedly walking ‘round the table towards Hob.

“I forgot,” Murphy says, using two of his fingers to gently tip Hob's chin up and then kissing him, soft and earnest. Before Hob can properly kiss him back he's already withdrawn, placing another kiss on Hob's forehead.

“Bitterns also go zoop.” Murphy flashes Hob a grin. “In fact, bitterns are also herons.” And with another quick peck to Hob's nose, he's gone again.

Hob smiles and takes a sip of his tea, pulling the tablet closer again to look up videos of bitterns.

Video of Green heron going zoop

Video of a bittern (with call!)

Send me a kissy prompt or read the other ones here

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I'm not good at writing these but can we please see an interaction between Rollo and Trein and maybe Lucius? I really like the idea of Trein being a mentor figure to Rollo since Trein says he will keep an eye on him at the end of Glorious Masquerade. I don't know how the interaction would be structured but I'll leave that up to you if you choose to write this!

Yessss 😭 YOU GET IT, Trein could be a great mentor to Rollo…

For the last hour, Rollo had been nursing a growing migraine. The bumping music, the horde of guests, his inner voice counting off all the work still yet to be done. Each was another icy nail driven into his skull. Two glasses of grape juice were not enough to dull that buzz that clouded his mind.

Rollo had excused himself from making social rounds to fill up on refreshments—but he knew it wouldn't be long before someone came by to drag him back into the fray.

He slumped forward in his seat, catching his forehead with one hand. In his other hand, he clutched onto his third serving of grape juice. His only solace in these trying times.

Rollo exhaled deeply, squeezing his eyes shut. A silent prayer was at his lips.

Lord help me persevere. I am surrounded by idiots, beseeched to engage with them…!! Why must I endure this madness?!

A sudden softness came down on his nose.

“Mrow.”

Startled, Rollo immediately shot up. His grape juice nearly spilled, had a quick paw not catch the rim and keep it upright.

A plump cat had appeared on the table, staring at Rollo through sharp golden eyes. Its coat was a glossy black, the tip of its fluffy tail, chest, and muzzle a fine white. The cat meowed again, releasing its hold on the almost-fallen cup.

“Good day to you, Flamme.”

An older man appeared, scooping up the feline in his arms. His stern, bony face had been carved out with lines like the rings in a tree's core, his hair--streaked in shades of salt and pepper--slicked back from his forehead. He was dressed in a sharp suit and cravat, long maroon robes spilling over them.

“Mozus-sensei.” Rollo automatically straightened. “I was not aware that you were among those in attendance. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

"Quite a large number of students wished to leave campus for an important function. I am serving as the chaperone to them. Were it only one or two boys wishing to leave, I would not be needed to supervise." Trein gave a papery smile. "Ah, but it looks as though you have too many companions to keep them away."

Rollo attempted at a polite laugh behind his handkerchief. “Yes, it seems they feel the need to shower me with their attention.”

“I take it you do not favor these circumstances.”

“… Is it that easy to tell? I thought I was hiding it as best as I could.”

“You are sitting alone in a corner with nothing more than a drink in hand to keep you company,” Trein tactfully pointed out. “I understand. These events have the potential to wear one down. A moment of peace and quiet can be restorative.

"As for myself, I find that sitting down and stroking my dear Lucius helps after a long day. Would you like to give it a try? It just may soothe you as well."

Trein shifted, holding out Lucius to Rollo. The cat stared expectantly at the student, its tail swishing back and forth like a metronome.

Rollo's eyes widened. “What? No, I couldn't possibly...!"

Too late, Lucius had already been placed into his lap. The cat's body was almost liquid, pooling and settling into his new resting spot. Lucius was warm and soft, like the wings of an angel.

Rollo grimaced.

A familiar was on him, some mangy animal that had been mucking around who knows where before making contact.

"He likes to be scratched behind the ears and under the chin," Trein coaxed, demonstrating. "The head and back are safe too."

Rollo reluctantly followed Trein's instructions, his fingers sinking into the depths of Lucius's fur and awkwardly petting. Soon, the cat was purring contentedly.

“Aaah, Lucius. You’re so adorable and good with children," Trein cooed. "I think he likes you, Flamme."

"Does he?" Rollo looked doubtful--not that he had any particular interest in befriending a mage's familiar to begin with. Am I meant to feel flattered by that comment?

"Of course. I don't mind if you wish to stay a little longer and become better acquainted with Lucius." Trein motioned to the empty seat across from Rollo. "May I join you?"

He hesitated, considering. Between returning to the raging party and remaining in respite... Rollo warily glanced between his two options, and his answer immediately became clear.

"... I don't see why not," he said at last, relenting. Rollo had a fistful of Lucius's fur in his hand as he got the words out.

"Excellent. I've been meaning to catch up with you." Trein sank into the chair and folded his hands together. "Now then, how have you been? It's been a while."

The conversation that followed flowed like wine. Easily poured, and just as easily downed. It tasted clean and smooth upon his palate, clearing away the bitterness that had pervaded all day.

The glass of grape juice sat there, forgotten.

[sepublic]

Luz Noceda’s Resurrection

            Man isn’t it crazy how S3 is about… How Thanks to Them is Luz being depressed, to the point of bordering on a suicide metaphor, especially with her rant about how she should’ve never existed, her video diary being reminiscent of a suicide note? But then in For the Future, Luz talks to her mother, and she realizes what she really wants… And realizes, she DOES want to live!!! And at the beginning of Watching and Dreaming, we get a glimpse into the silly, joyous, Luz we know and love…

         And then she dies. Right after realizing, after a period of suicidal depression, that she wants to live. That Luz wants a future. As she’s sinking into the afterlife, Luz mournfully regrets when she realizes what final words she should’ve said, which hearkens, dare I say, to the suicide note allegory in Thanks to Them.

         But Luz decided she wanted to live, already; So when the Titan gives her the choice to keep going, Luz chooses. Not just to save the Boiling Isles and everyone she loves, not just to live her dream and become the fantasy she worked so hard for. But also to just simply live.

         Season 3 of The Owl House is a spiritual death and rebirth for Luz; The loss of her passion, her luster for life, her dreams and hope. The utter resignation and despair bordering on suicide ideation… Only to come back from that darkness stronger and brighter than ever! And so we’re given a literal death and rebirth to reflect this, how Luz’s re-instilled hope is what gives her the will to keep moving on! After falling into the darkest depths of depression and the in-between realm, Luz is saved by the support of a parental figure, and with their help can choose to live.

         Luz dying and coming back in the finale, that’s what it is; Among other purposes in the narrative, it’s a summation of Luz’s arc in the final stretch of the show. Her realizing she wants to live, in the literal and figurative definitions of the word. Coming back from her lowest point with the help of others, being rejuvenated with a new life, inspired to keep going after a father figure gives a last gift that sparks the joy in Luz once more.

         Luz sinking into the depths of the in-between could very well be a metaphor for her depression after losing her father Manny, only to be saved when he has one more thing to give; Just as the Titan does. And one can see the inspiration of Dana’s own experiences, losing her father as a child, only to receive one final gift from him, a copy of Pokemon Red.

        Manny inspires Luz to be the Good Witch Azura; Eda tells Luz she needs to be her own witch; Camila encourages Luz to do just that; And the Titan enables Luz to finally accomplish this, the beginning, middle, and end of this arc of hers. Manny, Eda, Camila, the Titan, they all rescued Luz from her spiritual and/or literal deaths. Because TOH is about so many things; It’s about the love of a parent. It’s a resurrection story. It’s about finding light in the darkness.

[thewisaaaaad]

Ok I know I swore to keep to one au, but like. i have a personal interest in this one, so I may actually write it later.

The au name: Narinders Locker. Its a pirate au.

The story starts like this:

Narinder and his family, with the powers of the crowns, are lords of the seas. Together, they defeat many gods, sending them to the depths that Narinder rules.

The depths are where all dead sailors go, and there is mostly sea. So everyone is a sailor, at one point or another.

Soon, there are no gods left to fight. All others have either died, or gone into hiding.

All except his own family. And Narinder loves a good fight. He knows there will be consequences, but hes not aiming to kill. He was bored! There was no one left to sink! He wasn't really gonna let the depths claim him. They'll forgive him eventually, right?

Except they never do. They chain him to mighty anchors and sink him, leaving him to rot in his own realm.

He... doesn't really hold it against them. He did get a BIT to rowdy and give them some injuries that might not heal for a very long time, so he'll probably get out when that happens.

Then he notices that ships keep being sunk into his realm. Far more than the average amount that would be caused by storms.

A pair of kittens, tied to anchors, are sent directly to Narinders prison. He can only grant them immortality with his blood, binding them to the bottom of the sea. He hopes that Shamura sinks the bastards that did this to innocent youth, as their eldest always had an affinity for justice, for all that they represented war.

One of the crew of an unfortunate vessel reaches Narinder before he drowns: a young bilge rat by the name of Ratau. The lord of the deep grants the poor sod the ability to breath water like himself with his crown, just so he can ask them what was happening upon the waves.

What he hears disturbs him. His siblings have completely abandoned the code they had sworn to when they became a family, the code that drove them to wage war on the gods who toyed with mortals lives. He no longer considers them family.

He sends the rat to build a new crew, one that will take down the people he once called his siblings, now no better than the ones they had replaced.

The rat cannot do it. They do not have the nerves for it, are too cowardly. Narinder cannot blame them.

He was just some random sailor who had the misfortune of reaching the depths alive. Ratau retires to an island, not far from where Narinder rests, and returns the red crown to the sea.

Then the purge begins.

Lambs across the sea are cut down like so much cattle. They are slaughtered before they reach the water, for fear of their waterlogged pelts dragging them down too fast, and granting The One Below an escape.

Refugee ships are sunk by the dozens. Narinder can only look on in horror and confusion as hundreds of ship carcasses sink to rest in the depths, fresh innocent corpses littering his prison.

Then only one ship remains. A party is held on board, those faithful to the Old Crew celebrate as they drink blood from headless carcasses.

A young lamb hides in the chain locker, holding their breath, hoping to not be noticed as their family and friends corpses are tossed into the ocean.

The party done, they rig the old tub with black powder, seeking to send it to Narinder as a last middle finger to fate.

The lamb, surviving the explosion, has the chain wrap around their leg as they hold their breath, hoping against hope for rescue.

Against all odds, they find it. In the skeletal hands of The One Who Waits Below.

[666writingcafe]

Trouble's Brewing

Michael

My heart's pounding as I walk up the steps of the mausoleum and approach the glowing white orb floating inches above the marble pedestal. By the time I kneel in front of it, I feel like I'm going to throw up.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have failed you. I will accept whatever punishment you see fit."

"Worry not, my child." His voice echos inside my head. "I should have known they would not come willingly. Were you at least able to gather information while you were down there?"

"I was. There are members of the House of Lords that are less than pleased with the prince's decisions regarding them."

"How many?"

"Roughly 25%, including those in the upper part of the House."

"That is excellent news. We only need two of them to activate the Rembandy Accord." A chill runs up my spine. That accord hasn't been used in millennia, and never in a situation like this one.

But it would be foolish of me to question Father, so I try to block out those doubts before He can sense them.

"May I ask who our representatives will be?" I ask.

"You will be one of them. I still have to decide on the second. Is it true that none of the other Seraphim helped you?"

"It is. I had to ask Simeon for assistance." He sighs.

"I imagine his loyalty is still divided. Sometimes I wonder if I have been too generous with him." My stomach sinks.

"Then again, based on your reports, he has been doing what he is told lately, even if he has reservations about it," He adds. "That is more than I can say about them."

"I believe he is trying to set a good example for Luke. Placing a young, impressionable angel under his care seems to have ensured his cooperation."

"How wonderful. Continue keeping an eye on him and reporting on his activities." He pauses. "Is there anything else you would like to inform me about?" I take a deep breath, attempting to calm my nerves.

"They have an attendant," I respond once I feel calm enough to speak. "Their name is Zephyr. I do not trust them. They appear unassuming, and yet whenever we were in the same room, I was on edge. I wanted to put as much distance between us as possible, but their presence was either requested or required by the prince beforehand, so I had to remain where I was as to not cause a scene."

"Are you able to articulate what about this particular demon made you feel this way?"

"They are hiding something. They know a lot more than they are letting on. I am not sure about the breadth or depth of their knowledge, but what I can tell you is that they saw through my illusion the moment they set eyes on me."

"How do you know?"

"They seem to possess the power of telepathy. When I shook their hand, I could hear their voice in my mind."

"What did they say?"

"You're not Raphael." He hums, clearly curious.

"Perhaps they have met him before."

"I thought that was the case, but it is not. Simeon and Luke are the first angels Zephyr has ever met. Plus, none of the other demons saw through the illusion, not even the prince. Any suspicions they might have had were directed towards the brothers being allowed to return here."

"You always have been good at blending in the shadows," He remarks. "That brings me to your next assignment."

"I am ready, Father."

"Good. I want you to return to the Devildom. Make sure your presence there is unknown, even to your brothers and sisters. Document everything you can about Zephyr and report your findings straight to me. They may pose a threat to us, so we must be prepared to take action against them if necessary."

"What about the Accord?"

"For now, leave that to me. I will let you know when I am ready for you to play your part in its execution. Just focus on gathering as much information on Zephyr as you can. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Father." He really is worried. He never refers to anyone by their name, let alone repeatedly. He even calls the most powerful demons and humans by their titles, whether it's "the prince's butler" or "the witty sorcerer".

So why the sudden change? What makes Zephyr stand out that much to Him?

I suppose I'll just have to find out for myself, won't I?

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @interconnectedmatrix

[metalmonki]

Objection! Part 3

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

1k word count

Summary All you wanted was to be a lawyer like your big brother Sonny. So what happens when you get a job working under the famous ADA Rafael Barba

slow-burn, colleague to friends to lovers

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Coffees and food in hand, I made my way back to the district attorney's office. As I walked through the door, I heard a familiar voice call out behind me.

"Y/N, Rafa is really putting you to work, isn’t he?" Olivia smiled as she caught up and fell into step with me.

"Lieutenant Benson, hardly. This is just a thank you for everything, and something to tide us over while we look over a case together," I smiled back at her.

"Oh, please, call me Liv," she laughed. "I hope my team didn’t scare you off."

"No, they're wonderful! If anything, I’m mad that Sonny didn’t introduce us all earlier."

"If it makes you feel any better, we all thought he only had one sister until Fin overheard him talking with Rafa about getting you a job. Then he tells us he has four sisters!" Olivia laughed, holding open Rafael's office door for me.

Rafael looked up from his desk, raising an eyebrow when he saw us all smiles and laughter.

"Getting along well, I see," Rafael remarked, keeping his face neutral.

"Yeah, just talking about Sonny," I smiled, placing a coffee and a sandwich in front of him. "This is a thank you for saving me at the courthouse earlier."

"Oh, no thanks needed. We all get lost there our first day," Rafael smiled. "Now, Liv, what can I help you with?" He turned his attention to her.

"The guy we arrested yesterday wants to make a deal. He’ll give us all the other guys he knows who are holding girls in exchange for a reduced sentence and protective custody," Olivia quickly switched to business mode.

"Tell him I’ll be in to discuss a deal first thing in the morning," Rafael sighed.

"Great, I’ll leave you two to whatever it is ADAs do," Olivia smiled, walking out of the office.

Rafael waved a hand at her as she left, then picked up a pile of papers from his desk and brought them over to a coffee table on the other side of the room. He motioned for me to sit down on the lounge next to the coffee table before retrieving his coffee and sandwich. He handed me some paperwork from the pile and directed me to read while he ate. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him trying to eat in manageable bites while fighting the urge to just devour the entire sandwich. It was clear this was his first meal of the day—or at least since breakfast. I felt a pang of guilt for not getting something more substantial. Mental note: find a good takeout place nearby to keep this man fed. Sonny would probably know a few spots.

I turned my attention back to the paperwork, my heart sinking as I read the case summary and saw who the defense attorney was.

"You're in for one hell of a fight here, Barba," I looked over at him.

"You got all that from just reading the case outline?" Rafael asked, taking the final bite of his sandwich.

"That, and the fact that the defense attorney is Buchanan. It's glaringly obvious from the outline what tactics he'll try to use," I sighed.

"So, you know about Buchanan?" Rafael smirked.

"And you, Cabot, Novak, Langan, Calhoun, Ellis... If they’ve worked in New York, I’ve likely studied them," I admitted, a little embarrassed.

"Know thine enemy," Rafael chuckled. "So walk me through it."

I nodded and began breaking down the case for Rafael. If Buchanan wasn’t the defense attorney, I’d say it was open and shut. But with the victim being a prostitute, it was a given that Buchanan would try to use that as a justification. Clearly, Rafael had already anticipated this, as there was an in-depth criminal record for the defendant and even evidence to make the victim look more like a saint. It was a strong case, and I told Rafael so—the real hurdle was Buchanan. We spent hours going over every piece of evidence, discussing everything, every possible defense, every argument that could be made. By the time we finished, the city outside was lit up with its nightlife. The clock on the wall read 9:30. Rafael had a massive smile on his face.

"You're every bit as good as Carisi said you would be," he smiled.

"I have to be," I replied with a small smile.

I could tell he wanted to press on my answer but held back, choosing to nod instead.

"So, you're happy to keep working for me?" Rafael asked.

"It would be my pleasure," I smiled.

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow at 8 at the 16th because, for every bit of good you are, you somehow managed to forget to pick up the files I asked for," Rafael smirked, my eyes widening in realization.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! I completely forgot! Sonny is still working; I can run over to the 16th now and grab the files," I rushed to grab my phone, but before Rafael could speak, it rang. "Speak of the devil. Sonny, I was just about to call you."

"Great minds think alike. You still burning the midnight oil with Barba?" he chuckled.

"Yeah, I’m here with Barba. Why?" I asked, glancing at Rafael.

"Great! We’re all taking a break for dinner and wanted to see if you wanted to join us at Forlini’s?"

"That actually sounds amazing! We were just wrapping up here, so we’ll meet you there. Also, Sonny, could you bring along any cases you need us to look over? Please? I completely forgot to pick them up earlier," I added, feeling sheepish.

"Uh oh, first-day foul," Sonny laughed. "But yes, I can be an awesome big brother and bring them with me."

"Thank you, I owe you one," I hung up the phone and turned back to Barba. "The team is headed to Forlini’s for dinner and asked us to join."

"Sounds great to me," Rafael smiled.

We began packing up all the paperwork, slotting it back into the various files they had come from. Once everything was returned to its place, Rafael placed the files into a cabinet by his desk, grabbed his jacket, and slid it on while holding the office door open for me. I walked out as Rafael grabbed his briefcase and fell into step beside me, chatting about how, if he hadn’t been asked out for dinner with the team, he likely would have gone home and crashed without eating. I had to laugh and agree that I would have done the same.

I’d never been to Forlini’s, but Sonny had brought me food from there a few times, so I was looking forward to actually eating there for once. Rafael waved down a cab and told the driver where to go. When we pulled up in front of Forlini’s, Rafael had his wallet out and paid for the cab before I could protest. He climbed out first, holding the door open for me. My heart raced—he really was a gentleman.

Forlini’s was crowded, and Rafael placed his hand on the small of my back to guide me through the crowd. He said something about knowing where to find the others, but I couldn’t hear him over the noise. We came to a stop in front of a group of tables in the far back corner where Sonny, Fin, Amanda, Nick, and Olivia were already sitting, drinks in hand, laughing away.

"Should you be drinking if you’re still working?" Rafael chuckled, taking a seat and motioning for me to sit next to him.

"The only one here still working is Water Boy over there," Fin smirked, pointing at Sonny.

"Yeah, someone’s been neglecting their paperwork," Amanda laughed.

Sonny gave them a "stuff off" look before turning to me.

“Come è andato il primo giorno?” Sonny asked, leaning back in his chair. (How did the first day go?)

“È stato fantastico, perché?” I replied with a smile. (it was great, why?)

“Volevo solo assicurarmi che Barba ci andasse piano con te,” he said, a hint of concern in his voice. (I just wanted to make sure Barba went easy on you.)

“Ti preoccupi troppo,” I giggled, reaching for a menu in the middle of the table. (You worry too much)

It was at that point I noticed the entire table had fallen silent. Everyone was looking at Sonny and me with wide eyes, and Rafael looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. Clearly, Sonny hadn’t mentioned to anyone that he knew Italian.

“You speak Italian too?” Rafael was the first to break the silence.

“Uh, yes. Sonny never told any of you he could speak Italian?” I asked, looking around the table.

“No, he didn’t,” Olivia said, turning to Sonny. “What does Rafael mean by ‘you speak Italian too’?”

“Oh, I also speak Spanish,” I shrugged casually.

“Wow, Carisi, your sister’s amazing,” Nick smiled. “Veo que nos vamos a llevar bien, señorita.” (I can see we’re going to get along well, missy.)

“Hey, Amaro, eyes off my sister, alright?” Sonny pointed a finger at him, half-joking.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the two of them, and the rest of the table joined in. Rafael, however, seemed to be glaring at Nick. I decided it would be best to wait until it was just Rafael and me before asking what his problem with Nick was. I joined the conversation at the table, and the whole team treated me like I’d been working with them for years. I felt at ease with them faster than I had with anyone else. For the first time, I felt like I’d found where I belonged.

When dinner was over, Sonny handed the files I had left behind to Rafael and excused himself to return to the office. The others wandered off to their various homes, and Rafael offered to see me home, even though it meant traveling further than his own place. He hailed us another cab and held the door open while I climbed in. I gave the driver my address before turning to Rafael.

“Okay, spill it,” I said, watching him.

“What?” Rafael looked at me, caught off guard.

“You don’t like Nick. Why?” I asked directly.

“He’s a playboy. Ever since his wife divorced him, he’s been running through women like he needs them to breathe,” Rafael said, looking out the cab window. “I just don’t want to see him do the same to you. He’s already slept with Amanda and half the female officers in the 16th, so I wouldn’t put it past him to target you next.”

“I can take care of myself, but thank you for your concern,” I smiled, appreciating his protective nature.

The cab came to a stop in front of mine and Sonny’s apartment building. I wished Rafael goodnight before making my way inside, desperate for sleep before I had to be at the 16th at 8 a.m.

[natrogersfics]

nat comes home to steve solving a really big problem. bonus points if he ain't doing too well.

Steve Rogers is highly intelligent.

This is a fact Natasha holds as gospel. And no, it’s not just because she’s married to the man. But even if that were the case, she knows that somewhere deep in the servers of one Nicholas J. Fury, she could find droves of IQ tests and reports that would only fortify the claim. She’s seen it in action, too – how quickly he had learned to pilot a modern jet just weeks out of the ice and how adept he had become at utilizing gear that Tony had just spun up in his workshop.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise then how naturally he’s taken to being a father. While it’s only been half a year since she and Sarah had come home, with how instantly he could alleviate whatever thought was burdening their daughter with his words or a single touch, one would never guess that this experience is still novel to him.

Of course, their little girl played a big role in that as well. Sarah is everything any parent could have hoped for in a child and more. Sweet, exceptionally smart, and above all else, caring. From experience, she knows that loving Sarah is as easy as breathing, and based on the way Steve’s eyes sparkle with adoration every single time he looks at her, she knows that he shares the sentiment.

Nevertheless, their daughter is still only three, and while her legion of aunts and uncles will swear up and down that she’s the most behaved child in the history of children, she also knows that Sarah can be just as curious and determined as three-year-olds come – something her father is just now becoming privy to. The hard way.

“Daddy,” Sarah whines from where she’s perched on their bathroom counter. “Can we go now?”

“Not yet, Princess,” Steve says, using that patient yet still gentle tone of his that he only ever uses with their daughter. “Daddy needs a little more time to wash off this…” – he takes the tube from Sarah’s grasp, reading the label – “full-coverage concealer.”

Steve’s voice falters with what can only be described as dread before he subsequently mutters a Christ under his breath, his hands coming to rest on his hips as he takes in the disaster zone that is their bathroom counter with the same intensity he would a schematic for their next mission. And as she leans against the doorframe watching all of this unfold, she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from chuckling.

Formulate a new plan on the fly while they were on the battlefield and had bullets raining down on them? He wasn’t coined the Man With a Plan for nothing. Take on multiple hostiles coming at him all by himself? He could do that all day. But knowing what to do when their daughter gets her hands on a stash of heavy-duty makeup? That, apparently, is the one time where Captain America, master tactician, finds himself completely out of his depth.

And boy, does their daughter sense it as she lets out an exasperated sigh. “Daddy-”

“Just a minute, love,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Daddy’s thinking…”

“But Daddy,” Sarah says, exaggerating every syllable. “Me and Uncle Bruce are having a tea party-”

“Oil,” Steve says, really more to himself than anyone else as he ignores Sarah’s plea. “Oil’s gotta get this off.” He turns to Sarah. “Stay here. I just have to grab something from the kitchen.”

She’s not sure if Sarah even truly understands the implication of her father’s words, but she certainly catches the uncertainty in them, and that’s enough to make the little girl’s eyes grow wide as saucers. “No!”

“But-”

“There’s a cleansing balm under the sink,” she interjects, finally making her presence known and causing both Steve and Sarah to look her way, and she certainly doesn’t miss the way relief washes over the pair of them.

“Mama, you’re home!” Sarah greets happily at the same time Steve makes a comment about her being back early.

“Mission wrapped up faster than expected,” she tells Steve as she pushes off the frame. He steps aside as she nears, letting her take his place in front of Sarah, only for her brows to lift in amusement when she finally sees the full extent of their daughter’s handiwork. Not only did Sarah smother her complexion in concealer, but she also decided that she needed to use what she’s sure is her liquid lipstick as blush and her mascara to do her brows while she was at it. She laughs softly. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“I put makeup on, mama,” Sarah announces proudly. “All by myself!”

“And it won’t come off,” Steve adds.

“I can see that,” she says, stealing a glance at Steve and smirking when his expression clearly shows he does not buy that she’s only just arrived. She attempts to appear more serious as she turns back to Sarah. “What did I say about playing with my makeup, Little Miss?”

“Not to do it,” Sarah mumbles, eyes downturned. “But I wanted to be pretty like you, mama.”

“Oh, Sarah,” she sighs, tucking a finger under the girl’s chin and lifting it gently so her eyes can meet hers. “You don’t need any of this stuff to be pretty.”

“Daddy always says you’re beautiful when you wear makeup,” Sarah explains, pouting.

“I think mama’s beautiful all the time,” Steve clarifies, stepping closer to them and crouching down until he’s eye-level with Sarah so she can see him smile. “I think both my girls are.”

Sarah’s lips lift in a smile that mirrors Steve’s before she lets her big, blue eyes flicker between her parents. “I’m sorry.”

She and Steve share a quick glance, silently affirming how hard, if not outright impossible, it is to be mad at their daughter. “It’s okay, baby,” she says, running a hand through Sarah’s curls. “Makeup’s not bad, it’s just not for you yet. When you’re a little older, okay?” Sarah nods in agreement, and she leans down to dust a kiss to the crown of her head. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

It takes a quarter of a bottle of Micellar water, a few heaping scoops of cleansing balm, and many gripes from Sarah about her shirt getting wet, but eventually, they successfully get every trace of makeup off her face. “All right,” she says, lifting Sarah off the counter and setting her on her feet. “Why don’t you go pick out some clothes so I can drop you off at Uncle Bruce’s floor for your tea party?”

Sarah takes off with a squeal at her question, prompting her to shake her head at her daughter’s retreating figure.

“You know, I would’ve figured it out.”

She turns just as Steve throws another bunch of cotton pads into the trash. “Oh yeah,” she says, moving to rest her hip against the counter. “And would that have been before or after you doused our daughter in olive oil?”

“Hey, in my defense, none of it was coming off!”

“So your solution was to marinade her?” she challenges, unable to keep from chuckling when he glares at her. “Oh, come on. I’m kidding!” She hooks her fingers into his belt loops, playfully pulling him towards her so she can wrap her arms around his neck. “She’s been trying to get her fingers on that kit for days. She was bound to get it at some point.”

His hands find her waist as he lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry she ruined all your makeup,” he says. “I only looked away for a second to load the dishwasher, I swear.”

“She’s the daughter of two former SHIELD agents, what did you expect?” she says, laughing when he only shakes his head in concession. “Honestly, I’m just glad that I got here when I did.” He lifts his brow up in question, and she points towards the lip gloss stain on his collar. “Saves me from asking you where this came from. Because if I found this in the laundry? Believe me, you’d be prone on the ground right now.”

He scoffs as though the thought of him stepping out on her is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, eliciting a laugh out of her. “Your mission go okay?”

“As okay as missions involving kids as hostages can go,” she says, shrugging. “We got them out and that’s all that matters.”

“And you kicked the crap out of the people who took them hostage, right?”

She rolls her eyes. “Naturally.”

He grins, and she swears she catches the pride that flashes in his eyes. “Well, we’re glad you’re home,” he says, pulling her in for a kiss. “Missed you.”

“Did you now?”

He hums in confirmation, and she can only grin as he leans down to capture her lips in his again before kissing a path down the side of her jaw. “I could tell you how much,” he says, his grip on her waist tightening as he pulls her even closer to whisper in her ear, “but I think you’d much prefer that I show you.”

“Actually…” she says, pulling away to show him the smirk that’s formed on her lips. “I’d much prefer to have a bathroom that’s not covered in makeup.” He throws his head back in a groan, and she chuckles as she pats his shoulder. “Get cleaning, soldier.”

He shakes his head as he watches her make her way out, a smug look practically plastered on her face. “Tease!”

Masterlist

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Jake/Steven) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Pet death, grief

A/N: Yeah I cried writing this btw. I love cats so much and like this shit hurted :'D

Taglist: @bad4amficideas @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @lokisremainingsanity @mundivagantsoul @furblrwurblr @zoleea-exultant @latenightcravingz @daygirl26 @thelastemzy @leahnicole1219 @marsmallow433 @crazyunsexycool

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Chapter 8:

Everybody Loves Cats!

It was a full day after Puck made her miraculous reappearance, and you were delighted for her sweet fluffy company. She was such a cuddly little bed partner, and whenever the stress of the day became too much, she knew exactly what you needed.

She would roll over and show her belly, stick her tongue out at you with her eyes as large as saucers, or do… that weird thing cats do where they’re chill one second and just hurl themselves off into who-knows-what and it never failed to make you smile and cheer you up. Puck was more than content to receive chin scratches and some of her chicken-flavored dreamies that she went nuts for.

Oh, and her mouse stuffed with catnip. She adored that little thing. She would carry it around and make little noises with it (when she wasn’t sitting in the windows chirping at birds) and bat it around like she was playing her own private sports-game. Ah, cats.

They always had a way of making you feel close to your parents; your dad in particular. He always had cats around, as long as you can remember. You remember seeing his eyes light up when he would bring home a fresh little stray after he brought them home.

Your father had a particular soft spot for elderly cats. As a little girl, you once asked him, “Daddy, why don’t you ever get kittens? They like to play! Old kitties just sleep.”

You remember him smiling as he pet one of the said elderly cats, Cleo, he named her. She was a large, fluffy monstrosity who seemed to eat up snuggles like you saw squirrels eat acorns.

He gave you a look that had infinite depths of patience for your little girl questions; and chuckled. “Well, honey. You have to think of it from their point of view.”

Cleo stretched her paws up to his shoulder and bumped her head against his jaw with a tone-deaf purr.

“A lot of people abandon their older pets in favor of new ones.” He held up a finger as he educated you. “For example, say one family wanted to gift their son or daughter a cat for Christmas, but they already had one. That cat was older, couldn’t keep up, and had no teeth and the child just didn’t engage with that cat as much as they used to. So… they take their old cat to a shelter and leave them so they can get a newer or younger cat. Just to do it again when the same situation arises… or worse.”

“What could be badder than that?” You asked, already feeling sad for the metaphorical cat your dad was speaking about.

“Some people are extra mean to their pets.” Your father sighed, stroking Cleo’s fur as she turned in his lap, rubbing her whole body against his belly as he twisted his desk chair to fully face you. “Some people, who are like that, will take their kitties and just… leave them somewhere. So they get lost and can’t find their way home.”

“That’s so mean!” You whined, already feeling tears of frustration at such a mean thought. Were people really that mean to their kitties? And their puppies?

Your dad nods with a soft hum, smiling softly as Cleo leans into your face, sniffing you. Her creamy orange fur begging to be touched, you give in and sink your short, pudgy fingers into her soft fur, giggling when she made a loud “mrrp” noise and leaned into your touch.

“Someone did the same thing to Cleo, y’know?” He says to you quietly. “They were mean. They taped her up in a box and just left her by a dumpster.”

You gasped, offended; because Cleo was a good kitty! Why would anyone do that to Cleo? Yeah she was silly and didn’t play very much, but she was nice! She liked kisses, and even stranger, she liked to hop in the shower with your dad! Kitties don’t normally like water!

“But why?” You ask, your tiny voice squeaking with emotion as Cleo happily cuddled into your awkward pets.

“I don’t know. Maybe they got a new cat and didn’t want her. Or maybe the partner of somebody didn’t want her around. Or… they’re just not a nice person, honey. We just don’t know.” He sighed deeply, looking down at you with a saddened expression. He hated having to explain others’ cruelty to you. You shouldn't be so exposed to these things, but… it was better than lying to you. And that hurt him worse.

“But. It worked out in Cleo’s favor.” He smiled again at you as you leaned into his lap, tipping your head forward with a giggle as Cleo headbutted you softly, rubbing her fluffy cheek on yours.

“She’s got us, she’s got a belly full of food, and a nice cuddly home.”

“Is that why we have Chester, too?” You asked him.

Your dad nodded, looking over at the black cat who slept soundly in the windowsill, his fur almost glowing orange as the sun’s rays hit him. He wasn’t as old as Cleo, but he was getting up there in kitty years. “Yeah. We especially love black cats, okay? They’re very special because people are mean to them, too.”

You frowned up at him. “But why?”

“Some people consider them bad luck, or evil. So people hurt them… or just abandon them, like Cleo. Somebody left Chester in his carrier outside the pound. They were…” His mouth twisted as he tried to think of a way to explain what was going to happen to one of his furry companions. You were so young, you shouldn’t have to grasp the concept of death, but he had to find a way to explain it.

“They were going to put him to sleep if nobody adopted him.”

“But why? He can sleep by himselfs.” You retort.

You dad rests his hand on the top of your head, a pained smile on his face at your innocence.

“Putting an animals to sleep means…” He sighed. “They go to sleep forever. They don’t get to wake up again.”

“But don’t they get hungry? Chester always wakes up when he’s hungry…”

“They don’t feel anything anymore. They just get sleepy, fall asleep… and don’t wake up.” Cleo hopped onto your father’s desk, casually batting his mouse off the pad so she could sit on it for whatever reason as your father scooped you up and pulled you into his lap.

“But why?” You ask again.

Oh, the endless who’s, what’s, and why’s of a learning mind. He loved talking to you, but it was hard to, on this subject.

“Do you remember when your grandma passed away? When we had to put her in the casket and in the ground?” He slowly asked.

“Yeah…” You frowned, clinging to his shirt. You barely remembered it. You were little when it happened. Sure, you weren’t that much older, now. You were a whole eight years old, now. Grandma passed away when you were four.

“You remember how I told you she couldn’t come back?”

“Yeah…”

“It’s like that. Only for pets. And it’s not… it’s not natural.”

“But why do they have to do it? Why can’t they find homes?” You ask, looking up at him with watery eyes.

That almost happened to Chester? Chester was your best friend, he snuggled you to sleep every night, gave you kisses with his scratchy tongue, would sit on the bathroom counter when you took a bath… and would sometimes help you sneak snacks when you weren’t supposed to.

“Some places can’t afford to take care of an animal for a long time. Or, if the animal is very sick and won’t get better, it’s the more humane option instead of just leaving them in a cage.” He says gently, rubbing your back. “Or… if they’re old. Like Chester and Cleo.”

“I don’t like that.” You say stubbornly.

“I know, baby.” He chuckles softly. “So, now do you understand? Why we love old kitties?”

“Yeah! Just cuz they don’t do the flippies that the kittens do doesn’t make ‘em boring.” You pout. “And they don’t bite.”

“Some of them do.” Your dad reminds you with a chuckle.

You watch as Cleo licks her paws, a rather happy and content look on her face as her fluffy tail flicks around. Suddenly, another question pops into your head.

“Daddy, why do you like kitties so much?” You ask, reaching out to scratch Cleo on her chin, earning a happy noise from her.

“Well, it’s just… in the family, kiddo. My mom always had cats, my grandma always had cats… your great auntie, Ellen, she has cats.” He chuckled. “I don’t know why so much as I just do. Always have. And now, I adopt older cats so they can live their old fluffy lives in peace.”

“Yeah… okay.” You say, satisfied with that answer.

“And remember what I said, Lil’ Bit?” Your father asked, pulling a book from the edge of his desk. On the cover of this book, there were pictures of a thing that looked like an alligator, there was a kitty, and pictures of different kinds of fish on it. You can make out a few words, "Myths and Beliefs".

He flipped the pages until it opened to a page with pictures of different kinds of cats, including…

“Daddy!” You gasp, pointing at the book. “That’s a kitty mummy!”

Your father chuckles. “Yeah, the ancient Egyptians believed cats to be protectors and good luck charms. They would even dress their cats in jewelry. The reason that cat was mummified was probably because their owner wanted their pet to come with them to the afterlife.” His finger scans the page to a highlighted passage.

“Some of them believed that their gods could inhabit cats and other animals to check in on humans.”

“That’s weird.” You pout stubbornly, not understanding.

Your father, ever the patient man, laughed softly as he kissed the crown of your head. “Maybe so. But I like to think that owners loved their pets so much, that their pets are probably happy and waiting for them to meet them in the afterlife later.”

“...So will I see Cleo one day?” You asked.

The moment the words left your mouth, your father felt his heart lurch in his chest. He certainly didn’t expect that question to come out of your mouth. The weight of it almost knocked him out of his chair, if it weren't for your weight grounding him, he would have. He couldn’t even fathom being in a world without you, he didn’t dare imagine what it would be like to lose you.

But… he couldn’t leave your question unanswered.

“Yeah. One day, in a very long time. I’m sure Cleo, when she’s there, will be waiting for more scratches. Chester too. So remember, even if they pass away… you’ll see them again. It’ll just take a while.”

“What are my two favorite scholars discussing today?” Your mother’s voice rang out as she kicked the snow off her boots and set them in front of the fireplace to dry.

You slid off your dad’s lap and ran to your mom as she put her coat on the peg by the door. She turned and caught you mid-leap and spun you around, planting ice-cold kisses all over your face, leaving her bright red lipstick marks in their wake.

“So! What were you two talking about?” She hummed, walking over to your dad as she balanced you on her hip.

Your father adjusted his glasses and set the book down, leaning up to give your mother a sweet kiss.

“Oh, you know. Just about cats and the afterlife.” He grinned.

“Oh, but of course!” Your mother snorted. “A totally normal and reasonable topic for a child to learn about at eight years old.”

“Mommy!” You say, tugging her sweater impatiently.

“Yes, my love?” Your mother smiled down at you, her smeared lipstick at the corner of her lips. The rest of it was currently on you and four father’s faces and lips.

“Did you know that ‘gyptians mummied kitties?” You say, bouncing as you explained. “Oh! And–and that they gave ‘em fancy necklaces?”

“Why, yes. I did know about that. But why don’t you give me a refresher course while your dad and I start making dinner?” She hummed.

“Okay!” You chirped, hopping back down onto the floor, stopping to pet Chester as he slowly sidled up next to you, his sleek black tail wrapping around your small leg as he looked up at you, giving you a very slow blink.

“And daddy said I can see Chester and Cleo one day in the aff–after–afterlife, too!” You stumble the words out innocently as Chester walks with you into the kitchen.

“Oh… did he, now.” Your mother said, squinting as she slowly turned her head to look at your father.

You didn’t hear the rough swallow he made, but he definitely flushed and tugged at his shirt collar awkwardly.

“Ah.. well… you see...”

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You sighed nostalgically as the memory finished playing out. You gently held the book in your hands as you remembered that day. It was the very same book your father had read to you that day. Newer, and less-used of course, but it was still the same one.

God, you remembered how sad you were when Cleo died. You were only ten years old when she passed. You’d come home from school to your dad, his eyes red and puffy, holding onto you tight as your mother spoke to you softly, telling you that Cleo had “left”. You knew what that meant. You remember telling your dad what he told you, about seeing them again one day, and that seemed to make him smile at last.

But when Chester died? Oh, how that broke your heart. You had just turned sixteen, three days after your birthday, to be precise. You were sitting in your bed, legs crossed as you read your textbooks and jotted down notes for your schoolwork.

You didn’t think twice when Chester curled up next to you, purring as he closed his eyes.

You were so engrossed in your work, that you didn’t notice when he stopped purring. You only realized something was amiss when you reached down to pet him, only to find him still. Deathly still... but still warm.

You panicked and tried to wake him up, before shouting for your parents. Nothing could have been done. Chester decided to spend his last breaths snuggling you in your bed, his favorite cuddle spot. He wanted you to know that he loved you that much.

You were beside yourself for months. Until one day, on your walk home, you found a little cat. Small, but not a kitten; she was very malnourished and flea-infested. Solid black, just like Chester.

She was snuggled up tight against an old mailbox, shivering and wet from the rain, meowing in such a heartbreaking tone. You scooped her up on instinct and whisked her home.

You’d named her Nibbles. On account that she liked to nibble on people’s shoelaces.

You had Nibbles for several more years, until she passed away from feline leukemia, just before you moved to London. You loved her well, and she was with you when you lost your parents, comforting you when you were at your lowest.

You swallowed the lump in your chest and sucked in a breath as you put the book back into place on the shelf. You didn’t even notice your eyes were filling with tears until your vision blurred, and when you blinked, fat tears rolled down your cheeks.

Puck sat at your feet, a paw on your shoe and meowed up at you questioningly.

You sniffed hard and scooped up the furry little critter, nuzzling into her fur as you tried to push the feelings of grief away.

Puck leaned up and licked your salty tears, her tongue scraping your skin in a comforting way as she purred unusually loudly.

It takes a few minutes and you finally smile, kissing Puck on her tiny furry forehead. “I needed that. Thanks, you fluffy little terrorist.”

Puck purred happily and hopped out of your arms, satisfied at her job well-done and scampered off to the front of the store as the front door’s bell rang.

You take a deep breath and make sure your face is clean of any evidence of your tears and headed up front to see a young man, looking around curiously.

“Hi! Welcome to Here Today Books!” You chirp, “What can I help you with, today?”

“Um…” He says awkwardly. “I’m looking for a book.”

You can’t help but chuckle, hands on your hips. “That checks out!” You joke playfully.

“Oh! I… right.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. Aw, was he blushing? “I’m… I’m studying and, uhm…”

“Well, I have plenty of textbooks on a myriad of subjects. You looking for anything in particular?” You ask him politely.

He nods twice, “Yeah, um. It’s… for a history course. My professor told us to pick a civilization to write an essay on. And, it’s kind of hard to find the books on the subject I need because of the topics…”

You smile politely and wait for him to finish. Something about this young man told you he was painfully shy, and didn’t like much social interaction. Not unlike Marc, but he carried himself with a few degrees more of anxiety and social awkwardness than Steven did.

“Er…” He floundered.

“Let me guess… it’s ancient Egypt, isn’t it?” You grin.

“H-How’d you know?” He said, blinking at you.

“I have a friend who’s obsessed with it. I know quite a bit about it, myself. Is there a specific topic in particular you want to start with?”

He nods eagerly, “Yeah! Uh, I wouldn’t mind stuff on their myths, legends, and religions, if you got them?”

“Sure! I’ll just be a minute. Go on ahead and wait up front by the counter, for me.” You hum, turning to disappear into the depths of your shop.

He didn’t go stand by the counter, he just awkwardly stared at Puck, who looked at him from her cozy sweater-nest, looking at him through slitted pupils as the tip of her tail thrashed.

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You came back to see the man looking through random clearance books and upon noticing you, he smiled widely.

“Are those it?” He asked, gesturing to the two books in your arms.

“Yep!” You chirp, walking behind the counter. “Will these work?”

He slowly walks up to the counter, eyeing Puck nervously. “Uh–yeah. Definitely.”

“Perfect… that’ll be… ten pounds.” You say, typing it all in on the register.

The young man fishes out the notes and all too quickly shoves them into your waiting hand. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off Puck, whose fur was beginning to bristle as she stared at the man.

“Okie dokie. Come back anytime. I got plenty of books like this just gathering dust.” You chuckle, putting his “new” books into a canvas bag and handing it over to him.

His sleeve rolled up and you noticed a mark on his forearm. It was strange, but not the strangest you’ve ever seen. It looked almost like a–

Your thoughts were interrupted when Puck lunged at him, hissing and spitting, swiping her paws at him with claws fully out and open, her tail puffed out and stiff.

You gasp in shock. “Puck! Bad girl!”

You panic; trying to reach for Puck as the man frantically pulls away, now sporting a red scratch to the back of his hand.

“I’m so sorry! She’s not normally… She never does this!” You apologize profusely, afraid of the ramifications a complaint could bring should he report this little “incident”. Sure, it was minor, but if he was the type to make a big something out of nothing…

“It–It’s okay.” He says quickly, stepping away. “Cats don’t normally l-like me, for some reason…”

Puck thrashed in your arms, leaving small welts in your arms as she growled lowly in her little chest, staring at the man, her usually sweet and docile eyes full of malice.

“Puck!” You wince, trying to calm her down. “Stop! What’s gotten into you?”

The man scurries out of your shop finally, and Puck starts to calm down in your arms.

It takes a few minutes until the black ball of rage begins to settle, and you set her back onto the counter.

Her ears pin back and her eyes get large as she looks up at you, seemingly full of guilt at what she’d unintentionally done to you.

Her little nose touches the scratches she left on your arms and you sigh; “They’re just scratches, Puck… I know you didn’t mean it.”

You rub her chin to help ease her poor feelings at scratching her human. “Okay, okay… I forgive you. But no dreamies for you tonight, missy!”

Puck leaps off the counter, slinking off into the shadows of your shop and you're left with throbbing injuries to tend to with your tiny first-aid kit. You just couldn’t figure out why Puck was so upset about that guy. He mentioned cats didn’t like him, but why? You’ve never met a cat that didn’t like you.

What was his deal?

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Elsewhere, in their flat, Marc winced and dropped his glass of water, the ceramic shattering on the floor, making Layla jump.

“Gah! Marc! What’s wrong?” She asked him, carefully avoiding the broken glass as she moved closer.

“My fucking…” He groaned, looking down at his arms. He was wearing a simple cotton t-shirt today, so it left his thick forearms fully visible. “My arms! I don’t know!”

And Layla certainly saw the thin red marks up and down his arms. She clamped her jaw shut.

Oh, she knew all right. He just wasn’t ready to know.

Not yet, as Taweret told her.

Not yet.

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Chapter 9: Link

[arealphrooblem]

Okay so if you’re doing requests and this looks enjoyable enough to do ( no pressure if you don’t want to I get it) a villain x hero where they’re fighting and hero gets pushed into the water and villian is about to leave but hero can’t swim. So villain is like there’s no way I’m gonna let them die as stupidly as drowning I need to kill them properly and saves them but with a lot of romantic? tension (I’m such a pathetic loser for hero x villian) hope this makes sense lmfao (perhaps hero has a fear of water and is shaking really badly and villian is like hugging and petting them because they feel bad cause they’ve never seen hero so distressed)

Not sure if this is exactly what you pictured but I had fun!

warnings: drowning, near death experience

"Well well well, if it isn't a little mouse caught in my trap."

He had waited before making his entrance, watching the hero struggle to stay upright, clinging to his own feet until his strength left him and he fell back upside down. 

His footsteps echoed in the chamber as he stepped further inside. The hero dangled on a rope over a deep pool of water, hands tied behind his back. Villain crouched down and sloshed the water a bit, as if rinsing something from his gloves. 

"Or perhaps a worm wriggling on a hook would be a more apt comparison."

The hero glared, though the feathery hair hanging over his face like a sheepdog rather killed the intimidation factor. 

"What do you want this time?" he said. "Are you planning some kind of heist? Is there some kind of council of evil-doers you don't want me to mess up?"

The Villain laughed. "You know I don't play well with others. No, I was excavating the cave system here and found, to my delight, an underground lake. It's very deep and very inspiring for a new trap. Which, naturally, you walked right into."

"So you're just using me as a guinea pig?" the hero asked flatly. 

Villain dipped another finger back in the water, swirling it around to watch the ripples skitter across the murky depths. "I was thinking of putting in piranhas. An anaconda perhaps? Catfish big enough to swallow you whole."

"You know that kind of thing only works in the movies, right?"

"I could make it work," said the Villain absently, mind already racing turning the logistics of it.

He faintly registered the sound of creaking rope as the Hero struggled, but was too lost in his own thoughts to pay it much attention. He only registered the scraping sound of boots against stone before the fist of the hero came swinging into view. 

Villain dodged just in time, the hero's woozy balance from his time spent upside down the only advantage Villain had.  

"Next time keep a better eye on your prisoner," the Hero said, cocky grin on his face.  

Villain rolled back up to his feet and kicked the hero square in the chest.

The hero fell back into the water, the splash washing up against the Villain's boots. 

And then he disappeared. Villain waited for a few seconds. 

"There's no point in trying to find an exit," he cried down to the water. "You'll drown before you find your way out."

Nothing. Then, abruptly, the Hero's face broke through the surface long enough to take a strangled gasp of air before sinking back down again. 

That was when it finally clicked for Villain -- the Hero was drowning. Right now. He wasted a few more precious seconds, gripped by horrified paralysis, before shucking off his cape and diving into the pool. 

For a horrible moment Villain became disoriented -- the same murky darkness was both above and below, the surface incomprehensible. This was a horrible idea -- this was a horrible, stupid idea and now Villain was going to drown right along side Hero and for what? For this irritating need for his attention? For the way he --

A flailing limb caught Villain in the ribs, knocking some much needed sense into him. He wrapped his arms around the Hero's body and began to kick his way upward. (Or what he would pray was upward -- if he was the praying type). 

Just as his lungs burned with the desperate need for air, they broke the surface. Villain coughed and spluttered as he dragged the two of them further up the ground. Hero stayed dangerously silent. 

"Hero?" 

Villain shook him, but the Hero remained unresponsive. He slapped the hero's cheek a few times and then leaned down close his mouth.

No breathing.

Icy dread coiled in the Villain's gut. The past kicked in, training that he hadn't used in years taking over his body. Villain started CPR, the steps carried out on autopilot.

Like riding a bicycle.

Eventually the hero gasped, deep and desperate. Water splattered on the stone as he turned and coughed. Relief made Villain dizzy, like a drug, like a hit of oxygen after asphyxiation.

And then the anger set in.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

The hero didn't answer. He leaned his forehead against the solid ground, breathing shakily.

"Can you not swim?"

How long had Villain left him suspended over that pool? And yet the hero had never flinched, never lost his cool, despite death only a few feet away. It only fueled Villain's anger. What if the rope had been faulty? What if the Hero had lost his balance when he escaped his bonds?

Villain shoved the hero on his back and straddled him, his fingers digging into the other man's soaked shirt.

"How the fuck do you not know how to swim?!" he snarled

The Hero shook his head, one hand clutching at the Villain's. Not to tear away, not to struggle out of the Villain's hold. Just clinging to it. His fingers shook.

In fact, the Villain could feel the Hero's entire body tremble beneath him. Of course -- the cave was cold, the underground lake even more so. But that didn't explain the labored breathing, the eyes squeezed tight, the fingers holding tightly to Villain's hand.

Villain knew fear when he saw it. He dealt in it, his favorite currency. Whatever bravado the Hero had earlier had left him entirely. All that remained was the pit deep terror that only a near-death experience or severe phobia could bring.

It looked wrong on Hero.

"Hey." Villain cleared his throat. "Look at me." He shook the Hero, more gently, until the other man cracked open his eyes. "You're alright. You're on solid ground again. You're safe --"

The hero snorted.

"Well  -- safe for now," the Villain amended.  He had so much more experience with creating fear than abolishing it. 

"Until you find some other way to try to murder me," the hero said. 

"You can't pin this one on me," the Villain argued. "I didn't know you were an idiot who couldn't swim."

The Hero's brow furrowed. "Why did you save me? You had the perfect opportunity to finally get rid of me."

"I don't want to get rid of you," Villain hissed before he could filter it. 

He froze at the unexpected confession and the Hero cocked his head to the side, eyes alight, fear forgotten. 

"Oh?" he said. 

"I want to -- destroy you," the Villain amended. "Publicly. So that no one could ever doubt my prowess over yours. There are no witnesses here."

The Hero had the audacity to smirk. "Is that why you kissed me?"

The Villain threw the Hero back down in disgust. "I didn't kiss you -- I performed CPR you absolute buffoon."

"To save my life. Like a Hero."

The triumph in Hero's face was unbearable. Villain stood up, brushing dirt from his clothes, trying to ignore the strange fluttering in his stomach. 

"Go home," he said. "We're done here. I trust you can find your own way out. You've done so enough times."

He headed towards the secret elevator, not daring to turn around and look at the Hero still laying on the ground for fear of revealing his red-tipped ears, the flush on his cheeks. 

Ridiculous. 

He only heard the hero call out once, just before the elevator doors closed.

"Maybe next time you should kiss me." Part 2 here

[this-loser]

Through the Motions

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Author's Notes: I deleted my last story. Main reason: I had no idea what I was doing and where I was going with it. I'm gonna rewrite it but it will take me some time. So I'll start this little chapter work instead. I'll be updating slow so please don't be upset. You can also read on my AO3 account! HERE is the second chapter!

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「WC: 1,464 」

「Summary: It took one mistake of going to a party and another with you being in an alley watching utter chaos unfold with a guy that's called, Red Hood.」

「Warnings: Cursing, some mentions of alcohol and drugs with slight mentions of an abuser. Nothing too in depth just minor mentions is all.」

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「Chapter 1: Two Mistakes」

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God, the music was loud. Too loud. Being able to feel the bass in your chest and body is not entirely fun, and the fact that you had only come to the party was because your best friend had guilt-tripped you into it. For now, one mistake has been made that was coming to this party.

Second mistake was about to happen in approximately 35 minutes.

Voices, men and women. Laughter and the stench of sweaty bodies close together, alcohol, and- Christ, that guy does not know how to keep his hands off that girl's ass. You bring your cup up to your mouth at the sight, mind now pulled from the depths of thought before you glance down at your drink, half tempted to chunk it at the guy and then leave. I’m going home… You thought. Quietly, you made your way past people. Sometimes, needing to push by them and given the occasional annoyed glare or scoff from someone.

It did not take long for you to make it to the kitchen, dumping your drink into the sink and then tossing the red plastic cup into the trash before rushing out of the kitchen as a woman walks in, her friend behind her, and she passes her a lighter. Really? You could hear the thought bouncing around in your head like a ball in a pinball machine, the little "ting ting" from it hitting the sides of the machine echoing in the depths of your mind.

The music started up again. Rock. Loud and causing more people to be hyped up.

Stupid Girl

The irony of the song lyrics that could be loud enough to make out. How that alone made you roll your eyes, moving past more people and unable to find your friend. Your ride for the night is now gone.

Annoyance had started to build along with a headache as you finally made it to the door of the room, grabbing the knob and twisting it open, then letting the door slam shut behind you. The loud music muffled along with all the people in that damn party. You spared a glance at the door once more before letting out an exasperated sigh then taking the stairs out of the building.

Best place to hold a party where cops or nosy people could not be found. Find a relatively quiet and isolated abandoned building in the worst part of Gotham City. No. Scratch that. Any city, but especially not Gotham.

This place was not that good. Too many wacked-out loons running around. Some dressed as clowns, a literal scarecrow, and that weird guy- Mad Hatter? Was that the name he went by? Who cares; stay away.

You shook your head as your feet hit the first floor. Somehow, you could still hear the bass from the new song playing; maybe those people needed a doctor to poke around their ears. Make sure that nobody's eardrums get busted. You crossed the room, footsteps echoing throughout the empty room before making it to the backdoor of the building, the same one you and an asshole of a friend came through.

There was practically no noise outside that could be annoying. The downtown streets busy with the nightlife of Gotham, while here in this more isolated area was the breeze and-

Your head turned to the left, eyes widening as a man was thrown, hard, against a wall. A loud cry left him as his back came in contact with said wall. He slid down the brick wall, grunting and breathing deeply, trying to regain balance.

“No, no, shitbag. You’re not passing out on me yet.” The voice carried throughout the alley before a guy took long strides to the other man. Dim lightening aside, you could at least make out his height, and this guy could easily punt you across the damn city.

Your stomach dropped, and you swallowed saliva, sweat gathering on the back of your neck. Yet your feet stayed planted on the ground. Keeping you there and forced to watch the whole scene play out.

He leaned down, grabbed the man's shirt collar, pulled him up, then slammed him against the wall. Compared to the last time, it was not as bad, but it did knock what air the man managed to catch out of him. “Keep those eyes peeled. Ears open too. I’m giving your worthless ass a chance to live,” He leans forward. The light from the street lamps made the red on his helmet noticeable. “If I ever see or hear that you can’t learn to keep your hands to yourself, then you're going to have to learn the hard way.” He reaches a hand to his side, out of your view, pulling out a pistol and pressing it against the side of the man’s head. "Ever hit your kid again, and I won’t be as merciful.”

The man struggles before going still as the gun is pressed to the side of his head. Any retort he had was gone as sweat started to roll down the side of his face before he nodded. “Okay! I-I swear! I won’t-” “Not a won’t. Make it never.” The guy interjected. “NEVER! I’ll never do it again!” The man blurts out without hesitating, voice shaky and filled with dread. “Good. Now,”

He doesn't waste another second, dragging the man off the wall then shoving him towards the alley exit. “Get your worthless ass out of my sight.” The man stumbled, nearly falling on his face but scrambling to his feet and rushing off.

You still stood there. Next to the backdoor. Eyes wide and mouth gaped open. Not only did you watch a man get the shit scared out of him, but the same guy who tossed said man now turned. He was standing straight, head facing in your direction.

You had made jokes before. A six-foot tall man is something you would swoon over, but this? Maybe under different circumstances and not in an alley while he’s still got his gun out. Well, it’s at his side but the point still stands.

There is a silence that fills the alley. And for a brief moment, you could have sworn he’s just hesitant now. Unsure of how to address the fact that you were just standing there, staring at him while he did the same. With a shake of his head, a clear sigh - what sounds like one with how scrambled his voice sounds in the helmet - as he puts the pistol back into the holster before turning his body completely to look at you. “How much…” He trails off, thinking before taking a single step forward. “Did you hear?” He took another step.

You watch. Forced to since your whole body is frozen and your feet feel like someone trapped you in cement. Your mouth moves, nothing coming out. In an instant, your body betrayed and abandoned you.

His body was tense, shoulders and upper body hunched slightly. It’s like he was getting ready to pounce at you. Whatever god was watching, if any, you were already praying to. Every fiber of your being torn between screaming at your body for being stupid and just standing there like a deer in headlights while the other was already making a last will.

“I’ll ask again,” His voice lowered. He wasn’t aiming to hurt, but simply figure out, yet that still was not comforting by any means as he took more steps to you. "I-I saw the guy fly against the wall!" You finally managed to get out, mind racing as the world was almost spinning. He stops. About less than half of the way to you and making the alley feel like it had shrunk around you and is forcing him to be closer.

It’s like he’s thinking about what to say or do next. Maybe he isn't that scary because he's just standing there. Then he straightens his stance, arms at his sides, looking at you. “What’s your name.” It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t asking.

Your brain short-circuited as you stare at him, bewildered.

It took you three minutes before you finally blurt out your name next. He simply stares at you before turning around, pulling out a smaller gun from the belt that hangs tightly around his waist, the ends of his jacket moving with his movements. “Go home. Last thing you need is getting into trouble.”

That’s all he said before aiming the gun at a rooftop, a hook, and line shooting from it while another line wrapped around his wrist, dragging him up from the ground floor and into the shadows of the buildings.

Second mistake of your night. Staying in the alley, then telling the guy, Red Hood, your name.

[fanfic-corner]

Kanej Fic Recs

I've been thoroughly sucked back into the Grishaverse fandom after Shadow and Bone S2, so here's some Kanej fics for you to enjoy! But don't worry - none of these fics have spoilers for the show.

not like this by rebel_hearts (865)

Inej has been kissed before, but not like this. Not as if she's everything somebody could ever want - and not just because of her body, or her talents, but because it's her.

Drowning by witteefool (1.2k)

The shock of cold sent any stray thought from his mind, his body sinking as his wool coat grew sodden and heavy.

Then they were back. His demons grabbed at him from the depths, their bloated, grisly bodies pulling him downwards to the reaper. His escape had only been temporary. Jordie was ready to take him back now.

Tantalus Skin Hunger by PestilenceandSunshine (1.6k)

Why should they keep our Secrets? Keep us Safe? The Demon in his mind spoke.

Because they love us. They're our Friends, our Family. The Child answered again. They love us.

Dirtyhands did not speak again. 

Or: Kaz Brekker platonically pines and yearns, but Recovery takes time and is not a linear process

a laugh I could recognise anywhere by onthelasttrain (1.7k)

“Jesper Llewellyn Fahey, domesticated at last.” He freezes, his breath trapped in his lungs. All those months looking at maps, wondering where she is, and now he doesn't have to wonder. She travelled farther than any merchant or sailor ever did, and then she came back to the Barrel.

(Back to him, he thinks selfishly).

two solitudes by sixappleseeds (2k)

“I was going to say,” Kaz remarked. “That memory is a tricky bastard. It takes cheap shots when you’re not looking. Cuts you up when you least expect it.”

we wear red so they don't see us bleed by A_7187 (2.9k)

jesper fahey: this really hurts. after everything i’ve done for you

kaz brekker: which is nothing?

jesper fahey: I LITERALLY KILLED SOMEONE FOR YOU. ARE WE JUST FORGETTING ABOUT THAT NOW???

inej ghafa: im sorry?

Kidnapped by Youknowit (2.9k)

Inej's parents and some of her caravan are kidnapped by slavers. It's up to Inej and Kaz to fight the encampment and free those who were stolen.

a foreigner called candor by kallliope (2.9k)

A new strain of parem is tampered with to make a truth serum, which Kaz unknowingly consumes.

the end of a movie i've seen before by downn_in_flames (3.3k)

And then, standing before her, in a sober black wool coat, ink-dark hair tossed about by the wind, a small rolling bag at his side, is the very same person who’s taken up permanent residence in her dreams.

She’s not entirely convinced she’s not dreaming now - though if she is, this one’s an entirely new creation of her imagination, with not an ounce of intertwined past memory to be found. She entertains the thought of pinching herself just to be sure.

Six Fifteen by orphan_account (3.5k)

Every morning at six fifteen, gymnastics instructor Inej Ghafa sings in the shower. Her apartment neighbor Kaz hears her through the connecting wall, and one morning accidentally joins in.

love is not love which alters when it alteration finds by cameliawrites (3.8k)

“I do look forward to meeting this husband of yours one day, Captain,” the deputy drawls sardonically at her back.

Inej finds herself dangerously tempted by the notion. She caresses the blade of Sankt Petyr at her side as she takes her leave, the metal smooth and sharp as her lover’s dark gaze. The thought draws her homeward, and she quickens her steps, a single utterance underneath her breath:

“No, you don’t.”

By the Book by marycontraire (4.2k)

“You look like a pirate,” Kaz says.

“I am a pirate,” Inej reminds him as they emerge into the dark storage room. 

Kaz holds his bonelight aloft to illuminate the rows and rows of garments.  “Not this morning,” he says. “This morning you’re the bride of a respectable gentleman farmer."

home by northyard (5.5k)

When the assassin spoke, his voice was gravelly and strange. "Smart." He mused. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dirtyhands. I've heard a lot about you." His hands drifted to the two knives strapped to his thighs. "And I'm sure it'll be a pleasure to kill you. Most of Ketterdam wants you dead, Brekker." He added, hands deft as he unsheathed his knives. Kaz didn't miss the bulge in the forearms of his sleeves (more knives) nor the two tipped daggers that emerged from the end of his boots.

Kaz lifted an eyebrow, waving his hand in a nonchalant manner. "Tell me something I don't know."

The assassin grinned. "You've underestimated me," he fired back, teeth bared like a wolf. "Any person who crosses me does not live to tell the tale."

Kaz shot back a wolfish grin of his own, tipping his hat to the assassin. "It's a good thing I'm not a person."

Can I Watch You? by aknosde (6.7k)

The older they get the more late nights working on his bed mean. And sometimes they let themselves become a little more vulnerable. And sometimes their friends are nosy and annoying.

farmer kaz by cafatonin (7k)

Kaz cleared his throat. “It reminds me of home.” Inej’s head popped up, her senses finely attuned to Kaz’s sharing voice. She looked to where he was lounging on the bale nearest the door, bad leg lazily draped over the side. He didn’t dare look back at her.

my pain shouldn't be yours by dregstrash (11k)

In a world where soulmates exist, what do you do when you feel the pain of someone else? Kaz Brekker and Inej Ghafa share that singular thread, and neither of them wants to acknowledge it. Kaz Brekker, the boy who never admits to weakness, and Inej Ghafa, the girl who has her own scars, must learn to navigate the dangerous streets of Ketterdam while trying to ignore the bond between them.

Dinner & Diatribes by Thesuncameout (12k)

There wasn’t supposed to be a storm.

Time spent creating this plan had taken up almost a month’s worth of days and nights. Neither of them had slept more than four bells, too caught up in perfecting the swindling. Even Jesper had lost a few nights helping them figure out the heist. They planned everything. The ins and outs, the what ifs and possible dooms, the plan A all the way to Z.

And yet, they hadn’t bothered to look above and see the rolling clouds and rumbling skies.

i wanna hold the hand inside you (i look to you to see the truth) by hyperspecificplaylists (12k)

It's 7:00 a.m. on the day before Valentine's Day when Kuwei's listicle comes out and promptly exposes everyone.

Wherein Nikolai sings love songs for the internet and pretends they're not for Zoya (except they totally are).

O Loving Hate by this_pendent_world (13k)

‘The Ravkan Roast’ is the top coffee shop on the doorstep of Ketterdam University - or at least, it was until ‘Tooth & Claw’ opened up right across the street.

While her friends insist that they are at war with the rival coffee shop, Nina Zenik believes that Matthias Helvar is too cute to be her sworn enemy.

If only they weren't on opposite sides of the brewing war, and the street.

Ace by KatyaMorrigan (15k)

Healing takes time and work, but Kaz and Inej have been putting in the hours. While once it seemed that they may always have to love each other at a distance, it now couldn't be further from the case. Although, Inej's thoughts have been wandering, and now she isn't sure what they are working towards. Even though the possibility that had once seemed so slim is now an option, is sex something she wants? Is it something Kaz wants?

And if the answer is no, what happens then?

A coming-out-to-herself fic in which Inej and Kaz explore intimacy and come to the conclusion that, for them, sex isn't a part of the equation.

all in good time by terribletruths (15k)

Inej needs a powerful man dead. Kaz, busy conducting 'renovations' across the West Stave and feuding with famous stage actors, is glad to have the opportunity to eliminate a threat.

False Hearts by QHQ (16k)

This was the weirdest fucking job Inej had ever taken.

Kaz and Inej go to marriage counseling. The only thing is, they’re not married. They don’t even know each other.

Killing Me To Love You by venus_in_retrograde (31k)

Inej comes down with a bizzare illness that has her weak and feverish and at the brink of death. As a result, she is forced to confront some truths about her heart she's spent the longest time avoiding.

Truths meaning her feelings about Kaz Brekker. Feelings which, knowing him, are most definitely unrequited, and will therefore only make her suffer more.

All in all, it's a pretty dire situation. Things are bound to get messy.

But her time is running out.

Dealing with Our Demons by ravenyenn19 (747k, in progress)

Inej's first letter back to Kaz after she leaves on her journey to hunt slavers, reunion ensues! Will they continue to learn how to battle their demons in order to get close to one another?

If you have any other Kanej fics that you recommend, please let me know! And in the meantime, thank you to all the fantastic authors who shared their work with us and happy reading :D

[daydream-cement]

Stately Sequoia Ch. 11

Of course, I can’t stop giving you smut! But I had to add a little more depth here between our characters :)

I hope you guys enjoy. As always, please leave comments and send me ideas of things I can add to this story. I want to add some conflict, but I haven’t come up with any ideas I’m in love with.

Also shout out to @regalbootie who is sick. I hope this chapter can help you feel better <3

Larissa waited in the greenhouse for Fern. Her hands behind her back as she shifted around the room, looking at the plants growing there. Principal Weems stopped in front of the sequoia that she and you had planted together. Had she not known it was a sequoia, she would have labeled it a Christmas tree and left it at that. She reached out a hand taking in the texture of the evergreen leaves. 

“She’s growing wonderfully.” You smile from the doorway as you watched Larissa interact with the plant. There was plastic bin of gardening tools settled on your hip.

“She?” Larissa didn’t turn to speak to you, rather kept her eyes focused on the scales of the leaves.

“Well its more genderless as it has male and female reproductive organs on the same plant… Monoecious…” You realized you were offering more of a horticultural lesson than Larissa probably wanted. Heaving the tools into the greenhouse sink, you turned on the water, allowing the sink to fill for a moment.

“Are many plants like that?” Larissa didn’t seem bothered by the lesson.

Once the tools were fully submerged, you left them to soak, wiping a hand on your jeans, “Most… Perhaps 90-95%, but that’s just an estimate.”

Stepping away from the tree, Larissa settled onto a stool, watching you clean up the greenhouse after a long day of classes. Pulling up your sleeves, you picked up the broom and began sweeping the walkways of debris and dirt from students working this afternoon.

“How was your day?” Larissa placed an elbow on the workbench and rested her chin in her hand. 

“Good. Busy. And you?” Typically, Larissa wasn’t the one for small talk so you were a little suspicious of the pleasantries.

“Meetings and calls.” She seemed preoccupied. You were a little too tired and a little too busy to provide her with the care that she may have desired. Simply, you would wait for her to mention what was consuming her thoughts. 

“Hmmm…” You nodded, keeping to your work. Once swept up into the dustpan, the dirt and plant matter was then dumped into the compost bucket. The dustpan and broom were hung back in their place. 

Next you set out to wash and sanitize the tools in the sink. The silence in the room wasn’t piercing, more so soothing. 

Larissa cleared her throat, and finally spoke up as you placed the last trowel onto a nearby towel for drying, “You know… I was thinking…”

“That’s dangerous…” You joke picking up a fresh towel to individually dry each tool and deposit them back to their place on the shelf nearby. 

“I was thinking perhaps we- I mean, I was wondering if you would-“ Larissa never stumbled over her own words, you stop what you were doing to stare at the older woman. You couldn’t hide your concern for your lover.

“Larissa…”

She paused. Finding the sentence before she began again, “Fern. I really like you. I wanted to see if you…” She took a deep breath, “I wanted to ask if you would want to make our relationship exclusive. Would you want to-“

You watched her flounder for the correct words. A sympathetic smile pulling at the corner of your mouth. Slowly you approach her, taking her hands in yours, “Yes, Larissa. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

———

The new title really changed nothing about your relationship with Larissa, only now, you spent the night more frequently with her.  Weems had even suggested you leave toiletries and casual clothes in her quarters. There was a level of domestic bliss that you loved about your relationship with Larissa. 

You would cook dinner together, go on walks, sit quietly as you both read, do laundry, and cleaned. Each day you were learning something new about each other as well. You had only heard of Larissa’s shapeshifting ability, but hadn’t experienced it until recently.

One day in particular, you brought Larissa dinner to her office, no intent to distract her from her work. When you knocked and entered without waiting for a response, you saw a man in the office rather than Larissa. 

“My apologies. I was just looking for Principal Weems.” You furrowed your brow, wondering why this light haired man would be in her office without her in sight. Rather than question him, assuming he was meeting with Larissa, you moved to exit.

“Fern!” To your surprise, you watch the man morph into your girlfriend. You had never watched a shapeshifter at work before. You remained by the door, hand gripping the handle. Truly you were still trying to comprehend what you just witnessed. Your mouth gaped open ever so slightly.

“Fern? Honey?” Larissa began to approach you and instinctively you took a step back, almost not trusting who was in front of you. You looked her up and down, hoping you could find something there that told you with 100% certainty that this was Larissa. 

A pained expression graced Larissa’s beautiful face at your backing away from her. You felt a pang of guilt that now you had the reassurance this was Larissa.

“Larissa?” You gingerly took a step forward reaching a hand out for her.

“Did you not think it was me? I didn’t mean to frighten you.” She tilted her head, almost in disbelief at your reaction to her powers

“I’ve never seen someone shape shift. I guess I was shocked more than anything. Your abilities are incredible.” When she didn’t take your hand, you took an extra step and took hers anyway. You gazed up at her in amazement, pondering the extent of her powers. 

“Is there anyone you want me to turn into?” Larissa looked disappointed as she gazed down at you. Overall, she seemed defeated almost like she had been waiting for this.

“No… Do you have someone you want to turn into?” You didn’t understand Larissa’s question, why would you have her shapeshifting into somebody different. 

That’s when Larissa broke down. You allowed her to talk as long as she needed. Through tears, she told you about transforming for former lovers and flings, especially after they learned of her abilities. The most painful of them was Morticia who asked her frequently to transform into her then boyfriend and now husband. You were the first serious relationship she had had that hadn’t taken the opportunity to ask her to transform. So much of her traumatic past relationships had left her wishing she was someone else at times.

———

Later that night, you were determined to show Larissa you only had eyes for her and her beautiful body. 

Once you had finished dinner together, you had taken the initiative to clean up, ushering Larissa into the living room to sit and read. With much protest she finally agreed. 

Once finished in the kitchen, you approached Larissa from behind, bending down to whisper in her ear, “Time to go to the bedroom, sweetheart. I have big plans for you.”

Larissa was the dominant one sexually, there was no denying that, but she knew when to admit that she loved having you take control every now and then. Snapping her book shut, Larissa followed your directions wordlessly. 

Once in the bedroom, you ordered her to strip down to her undergarments as you retrieved the restraints that Larissa had used on you multiple times since your sex-capade at the conference. She sat on the edge of the bed once she was done, waiting for your next order. 

With a smile, you approached the tall woman, her eyes now level with yours as she sat on the bed. Your hand reaches up to her face, taking her chin between your fingers. You allow your lips to brush over hers momentarily, “On the bed. Spread those legs so I can tie you up tight.”

Larissa pushed herself back on the bed, following suit of the position she typically had you in. First, you crawl over the top of her, tying her hands to the center post. Tying her legs was a new challenge you were up for, you followed the knotting style Larissa had walked you through. You took your time, pressing kisses to her legs as you worked. 

When you were done, her thighs were spread open nicely for you, displaying her beautiful lace covered pussy. The soft rope wrapped around her upper thigh and ankles, preventing her from moving.

You shifted off the bed to remove your clothing and pull the strap-on from the top drawer. You spoke to Larissa as you adjusted the strap to your body, “Do you know how incredible you are, honey? Every square inch of you is like a goddess from a storybook come to life.”

Larissa’s eyes pricked with tears. The discussion from earlier today left her emotionally raw and vulnerable. Her typical unwavering confidence was absent today. 

You crawled onto the bed, laying next to Larissa, knowing it was hard for her to look you in the eyes in her current position, “I’m going to show you, okay?”

Larissa could only nod. Her tears were more happy. This tenderness was completely new. 

You trace your fingers lightly across her arm nearest to you, “I am so impossibly in love with you. I am going to make you feel it.”

You shift your position to slowly begin working your way down her body, you kissed her neck, stopping near her collarbone to drag your teeth across her flesh, knowing it caused her to shiver. Continuing downwards you paid attention to her breasts, not feeling the need to leave hickies as she already had a few from the past couple of days. Rather you bite at her nipples, eliciting a long moan to come from Larissa.

After you felt satisfied with your ministrations, you finally moved on to your most anticipated part of the process. Dining on Larissa Weems truly was a treat. 

You run your hands along her legs and up her stomach. You allow them to wander up her sides and around her thighs. 

Finally, Larissa spoke up, “Please, Fern…”

You don’t ask her to beg. No. Dominance wasn’t the point of tonight, “Tell me you’re beautiful. Tell me you are worthy of all this love and adoration. Tell me how much you love yourself.”

You sit back on your feet, waiting for her response. You even gave a motivator of light touches against the fabric of her panties. 

“I- I am beautiful.” Larissa groaned. She felt ridiculous. 

“Say it like you mean it.” You urged once again, shifting your hands to gently stroke her inner thigh. 

“I am beautiful and I deserve your love and adoration…” 

“And?” You weren’t letting her get away with not following directions. You wouldn’t budge an inch without hearing the rest.

“I love myself.” Larissa felt so embarrassed to say it out loud, part of her was beginning to question why she let you do this to her. 

“Say it again.” You urge once more as you settle on your stomach between her legs, finally offering more pressure to your touch against Larissa’s covered sex.

“Fern…” Larissa whined, not wanting to be forced to repeat such embarrassing phrases.

You pull her panties to the side, offering her a lick of encouragement, before pulling away, “Say it.”

“I am beautiful, I deserve the love you give me, and I love myself.” 

You rewarded her by beginning to finger her slowly, “Keep saying it baby and I’ll give you what you want.”

Larissa continued to repeat the self affirmations to earn your touch and caress. You kept going until her words were replaced with moans she couldn’t control. You sucked and licked at her clit, one finger became two, and Larissa came again and again. 

“Fuck me, Fern..” Larissa begged.

You were just as wanting as she, so it wouldn’t take much convincing to change up your way of bringing her pleasure. Moving from your stomach, back to your knees, you pushed the head of the fake cock into her entrance, but stopped to ask a question, “You are so beautiful… Don’t you agree?” 

You were hoping to catch her off guard, but her response was automatic, “Yes… Yes I am.”

You smiled, receiving the answer you wanted, giving Larissa what she wanted in return. Slowly you slipped the cock deep inside her, pulling out slowly only once, eliciting a guttural groan from the beauty beneath you. You gripped the rope holding her legs open and began thrusting hard and fast. 

For Larissa, this fucking felt like it continued for many glorious hours. Larissa was becoming so sensitive one orgasm rolled into the next. You could feel the wetness pooling beneath her as you continued. Larissa’s eyes were squeezed shut, crying out your name. 

Finally, you felt her writhe beneath you and heard the words, “Stop. Please…” 

Immediately you followed her request, pulling out and unknotting her restraints, allowing her to stretch out. You began following in the aftercare process she had always provided you, cleaning her up and preparing her for bed.

Once you helped Larissa under the sheets, she stared up at you as you stood at her bedside. You stroked her cheek and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Can you understand why I find you so incredible? Even just a little bit?”

She nodded with a smile. After you cleaned yourself up, and snuggled into bed next to Larissa, her eyes half lidded, still awake, probably waiting for you to sleep as well. 

“Earlier you said, you were impossibly in love with me… Did you mean that?” Larissa’s voice was clear and there was no hesitation to her question.

You had to think back on it for a moment. Had you really admitted that to her and didn’t even notice? But you couldn’t lie to Larissa, you knew it was true.

“Yes. I love you.” In this moment, you knew it was best to be completely honest, but it was terrifying as you had no clue if she felt the same quite yet.

“I love you and I think you are showing me that I can love myself as well.” Larissa whispered, she seemed scared to admit this to you.

You had no words for her now. All you could do was pull her to you, wrapping the taller woman in your embrace. Offering her a safe place to sleep for the night within your loving arms.

Link to Chapter 12