#he looks...... Like he did before when he comes back to earth

[rizzanon]

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“Cassandra.”

Her name barely carried through the still air, but she didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t acknowledge the voice.

She sat there, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, her entire body curled inward like she could somehow shield herself from reality.

From this.

From your name carved into stone.

The graveyard was too peaceful.

The world around her was too bright.

The sky was impossibly blue, the kind of endless, cloudless stretch that belonged to better days. The sun hung high, warm and golden, spilling light over everything as if this were just any other afternoon. A soft breeze rustled the leaves in the trees, and the grass beneath her was still damp with morning dew. The air smelled fresh—too fresh.

It was a beautiful day.

And Cassandra hated it.

It wasn’t right.

Why wasn’t the sky dark? Why weren’t the clouds swollen with grief, heavy and suffocating? Why wasn’t there a storm, wind tearing through the city, rain drenching the ground, filling the cracks in the pavement, turning the earth around your grave to mud?

Why wasn’t the world mourning with her?

It should be.

Because this—this wasn’t just another day.

This was the day Cassandra Cain sat in front of your grave, alone in the silence, mourning the loss of you.

You.

The person who was supposed to be her younger sister.

The person who shouldn’t be here—not like this. Not beneath the ground.

A shadow passed over her. She barely acknowledged it.

Duke.

He stood for a moment, just watching her.

Duke hesitated before he stepped closer.

His movements were slow, careful, like approaching a wounded animal.

And maybe that’s what Cassandra was.

He placed a hand on her shoulder.

“You can’t stay here forever,” he murmured, his voice quiet, gentle.

Cassandra didn’t respond. She just nudged his hand away, still staring at your name carved into the stone.

Duke exhaled, long and slow, before lowering himself to the ground beside her.

They sat in silence.

Neither of them wanted to be here.

But neither of them could leave.

Not when this grave was here. Not when it held you.

And it still didn’t feel real.

Duke ran a hand over his face, his fingers pressing into his eyes. He didn’t blame Cassandra for shutting down like this.

Because he was still trying to understand it too.

Duke stared at your name, carved into stone, like if he just looked at it long enough, it would make sense.

But it didn’t.

It wouldn’t.

Your death—

God.

It wasn’t just tragic. It wasn’t just painful.

It was sudden.

It didn’t feel possible.

One day, you were here. And then you weren’t.

And Duke didn’t know how to process that.

He kept thinking—kept replaying everything in his head. The details. The reports. The last time he saw you.

And the same question kept coming back to him, again and again and again.

Why didn’t you call him?

You knew he would have helped you. You knew that.

Right?

You knew he wouldn’t have thought twice.

Right?

Would he have thought twice…?

No, surely not.

Right?

You should have known that.

So why didn’t you?

Why didn’t you tell him what you were doing? Why didn’t you let him back you up? Why did you go after that drug ring alone?

You should have called.

You should have known he wouldn’t hesitate. That he wouldn’t have even thought before coming to help you.

You should have been standing here with him.

Not lying six feet underground.

Duke let out a slow, shuddering breath, staring at the gravestone, his chest tightening like something inside him was caving in.

It wasn’t fair.

None of this was fair.

And the worst part? The part that made him feel sick?

Losing people—he knew what that was like.

He lost his parents.

And now—

Now he had lost you.

And you weren’t just anyone.

You were—

God, you were you.

You weren’t perfect, but you were alive in a way that few people ever truly were.

You had this way of making things feel easier. Not because life actually was easier, but because you had a way of making it manageable. Making it bearable.

And you were stubborn.

God, you were so stubborn.

You never backed down, never walked away, never let things go when they mattered. You fought for people. You fought for him. Fought for yourself.

You weren’t his sister by blood, but blood had never mattered in this family. Not really.

You had been his friend before you were his family.

And now you were gone.

And he was just supposed to accept that you were gone?

That he was supposed to sit here, staring at a piece of stone with your name on it, instead of looking you in the eye and telling you you were a dumbass for going in alone?

No.

No, that didn’t make sense.

It didn’t make sense that you—the person who had somehow become his sister—was just gone.

And he—

He hated this.

He hated this so much.

“What…. do you think her last words were…?”

Cassandra’s voice broke through the silence, small but steady.

Duke’s throat tightened. He barely held back a flinch.

“I… don’t know,” he admitted.

And he didn’t want to know.

Because the moment he let himself think about it.

The moment he let himself wonder what your last moments were like—

He wouldn’t be able to take it.

Had you been waiting for someone to save you?

Had you been hoping for some kind of miracle?

Or had you known?

Had you known you weren’t going to make it?

Had you realized that help wasn’t coming?

Had you been scared?

Duke clenched his jaw and swallowed hard.

He didn’t want to think about that.

He couldn’t—

He couldn’t think about that.

Cassandra didn’t look at him, but she was still staring at your grave, her expression unreadable.

But he knew what she was thinking.

She was blaming herself.

And she shouldn’t.

She wasn’t even in Gotham when it happened. There was nothing she could have done.

But logic didn’t matter.

Because you were dead.

And she hadn’t been there.

Neither had he.

And he was always going to carry that with him.

Cassandra had learned you quickly.

How you liked your coffee, how you always leaned against walls instead of standing straight, how you tapped your fingers against your thigh when you were thinking.

How you always waited a second longer than necessary before answering a question—like you were testing the weight of your words before letting them go.

You had been sharp, but soft.

Blunt, but kind.

The kindest of them all.

You had been quiet, but so damn loud in the way you existed.

And now—

Now you were gone.

And Cassandra was still here.

And she didn’t know how.

Cassandra didn’t know how to fight that.

Didn’t know how to fight the weight pressing against her chest, the grief that curled around her like a vice. It was strange. Loss was something she should’ve been used to. Death was something she had faced time and time again. It was part of this life. It was part of the job.

So why did this feel so different?

Why did it feel like something was clawing at the edges of her ribs, carving out a hollow space where you used to be?

She had died before. Her heart had stopped beating, her body had given out. But she had been revived, dragged back to life before the darkness could fully claim her. She had cheated death, walked away with a heartbeat that wasn’t supposed to be there anymore.

So why hadn’t that been you?

Why had she gotten to wake up, gasping, with another chance at life—while you had been left to rot in the ground? Why had she been spared while you had been taken?

Cassandra’s hands curled into fists on her lap, her nails biting into her palms as she forced herself to breathe.

It didn’t help.

Her eyes flickered to your name on the gravestone. The letters carved into the stone were so sharp, so permanent. You weren’t coming back. No second chances, no miracles. Just a name, a date, and the suffocating silence of your absence.

She swallowed thickly and let her gaze drop lower.

No flowers.

Cassandra stared at the empty space in front of your grave, and something in her chest twisted. No matter how hard she searched her mind, she couldn’t remember what kind of flowers you liked.

What flowers did you like?

Did you like lilies—soft, gentle, but heavy with the scent of mourning?

Did you like daisies—bright and stubborn, growing even in the cracks of concrete?

Did you like marigolds—bold, striking, impossible to ignore?

She hated that she didn’t know. Hated that she had spent years at your side and still, she didn’t know what flowers to bring you.

It was ridiculous, how something so small—so insignificant in the grand scheme of things—felt like another knife to the ribs.

Cassandra had always been good at reading people. She had always been good at reading you.

And yet—she didn’t know this.

Didn’t know something so simple.

The realization made her stomach twist.

She had memorized the way you carried yourself, the way your fingers twitched when you thought too hard about something, the way you always paused before speaking, like you were testing your words before letting them go.

She knew how you fought, how you moved, how you breathed.

And yet—she didn’t know this.

This was all she knew.

What did you actually like to do?

What did you like to eat?

What was your go-to drink?

Did you drink coffee out of necessity, or was it your favorite?

What music did you listen to when no one was around?

What did you hum under your breath when you thought no one was paying attention?

Did you like the sun or the moon better?

Did you ever have a favorite book? A favorite movie?

Have you ever fallen in love? Fancied a guy or girl from afar?

Everything that a sister should know—she didn’t.

And now, she never would.

Cassandra squeezed her eyes shut, hands pressing against her thighs, fingers digging into the fabric of her pants.

To think—to think—of all the times you had tried to stay by her side.

Of all the times you had tried—tried to connect with her, tried to understand her, tried to make her feel like she belonged in this family—and she hadn’t let you.

She had been distant. Subconsciously pushing you aside. Not because she hated you—no, never because of that.

But because you two were so vastly different.

Because she saw you and thought—you weren’t built for this life.

Because she looked at you and thought—you shouldn’t be here.

You weren’t a killer. You weren’t a soldier. You weren’t someone who should have had to claw and scrape your way through the darkness of Gotham.

You should have had a normal life.

You could have had a normal life.

And maybe, maybe—if she had pushed harder, if she had done more, if she had made you see what she saw—maybe you would have left this life.

Maybe if she had pushed harder, you wouldn’t have ended up like this.

You wouldn’t be here, six feet under, with a name carved into stone and a body lost to the dirt.

Maybe she could have been there.

Maybe she could have saved you.

Cassandra clenched her jaw, her fists tightening further.

No.

That wasn’t even it.

That wasn’t even the truth.

It wasn’t about whether you should have been a vigilante. It wasn’t about whether or not you belonged in this life.

It was about her.

It was about the choices she had made.

If she hadn’t thought she knew what was best for you—if she hadn’t dismissed you before even giving you a chance—maybe things would have been different.

If she had helped you instead of discouraging you—if she had guided you instead of pushing you away—maybe you wouldn’t have felt so alone in this.

Maybe you wouldn’t have felt like you had to prove yourself at every turn.

Maybe you wouldn’t have pushed yourself so far—so recklessly, so relentlessly—that your body had begged you to stop, had screamed at you to rest, and yet, you had ignored it anyway.

Because you had something to prove.

To yourself.

To everyone else.

To her.

And why?

Because she had made you feel like you weren’t enough.

Like you weren’t competent enough, weren’t worthy enough, to stand beside them.

Like you had to earn your place in a way that no one else had to.

And that—

That was what crushed her.

That was what made her stomach churn and her chest tighten, what made her fingers twitch at her sides and her jaw clench until it ached.

Because she had done that.

She had made you feel that way.

And it had cost you your life.

If she had just been there—if she had helped you, taught you, stayed by your side as a sister should, instead of leaving you to figure everything out on your own—maybe you wouldn’t have needed to push yourself to the brink just to keep up.

Maybe you wouldn’t have felt like you had to bleed just to prove you deserved to be by their side. By her side.

Maybe—just maybe—

You would still be here.

She didn’t know where the thought came from, only that it settled deep inside her, heavier than stone.

She should be used to loss. It was part of the job, part of the life they all lived. People died. People left. That was just how things were.

But Cassandra Cain didn’t know how to exist in a world that didn’t have you in it.

Why?

Because your presence had been undeniable.

Not in the way that others were loud—not in the way Dick filled a room with laughter, or in the way Jason made his presence known with his sharp words and sharper gaze, or in the way Tim existed like a shadow, quiet but calculating.

No.

You were present in the littlest ways. The kind of ways that most people overlooked.

But she noticed.

She always noticed.

The way you drummed your fingers against your thigh when you were thinking—not impatient, not absentminded, just… rhythmic, like you were keeping time to a song only you could hear.

The way you always lingered in a doorway before stepping inside, as if you were gauging the room, the people, the atmosphere—like you needed to prepare yourself before crossing the threshold.

The way your shoulders stiffened whenever someone called your name unexpectedly, like you were always bracing for something, like you had learned a long time ago that being noticed wasn’t always a good thing.

The way your eyes softened, just barely, whenever you looked at her.

The way you tilted your head when you were confused, the way you bit the inside of your cheek when you were frustrated, the way your fingers twitched whenever you held back from saying something.

The way you carried yourself—quiet, but never unnoticed. Soft, but never weak.

You had been everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

In the way the floorboards creaked in a rhythm only you walked in. In the faint scent of your shampoo that lingered in the halls long after you passed through them. In the way the air felt just a little different when you were around—charged, like something unspoken was always hanging in the space between you and everyone else.

And now—

Now you were gone.

And the world felt wrong.

Her nails bit into her palms as she exhaled sharply.

The weight in her chest grew heavier, suffocating, pressing against her ribs until she could barely breathe.

She wanted to say sorry.

For not being there when it mattered.

For not being the sister you had wanted her to be.

For all the times you had reached for her and she had turned away.

But apologies were meaningless now.

There was no use in apologizing to a grave.

The dead could not hear the apologies of the living.

And she hated—hated—how it seemed like she just wanted to get rid of the guilt, like this was just another weight on her shoulders that she was desperate to shake off.

It wasn’t that.

It wasn’t about making herself feel better.

But to anyone else, it might seem shallow, like she was just trying to justify her regrets.

And that—

That was when she exhaled sharply, her voice quiet, raw, and firm.

“I failed her.”

Duke stiffened beside her.

“Cass…”

“No.”

She finally moved.

Finally stood.

Her knees ached from kneeling too long, but she ignored the feeling, ignored the way the world spun for half a second before steadying again.

She looked down at the grave—at your name, your absence, the proof that you were really, truly, gone.

“There’s a lot of things I regret,” she admitted, her voice steady. “A lot of things I should have done. A lot of things I shouldn’t have done.”

She exhaled.

“But there is no use feeling this way when—”

She stopped.

When what?

When you were already gone?

When nothing she did would change that?

When no amount of guilt, no amount of grief, no amount of anything would ever bring you back?

Duke watched her, silent, waiting.

And finally—she finished.

“There is no use feeling this way when the only person who could have forgiven me isn’t here anymore.”

Duke inhaled sharply. His lips parted—ready to argue, ready to refute, ready to tell her that it wasn’t her fault.

But he didn’t.

Because she was right.

And they both knew it.

There was nothing either of them—or anyone else—could do.

The damage was done.

You were gone.

And Cassandra would have to live with that. He would have to live with that.

She turned to Duke, her expression unreadable, her body language tight.

Her shoulders were stiff, arms curled inwards, fingers twitching ever so slightly at her sides. A silent scream compressed into muscle and bone, into tension that refused to unravel. Her breath was steady, too steady, the kind of control that only came when someone was barely holding themselves together.

And then, after a moment—

He moved first.

Slowly, carefully, as if giving her the chance to pull away, to reject the gesture before it even landed. But she didn’t.

So he pulled her into a hug—strong, firm, grounding.

A weight. A warmth. A presence she didn’t realize she needed until she was sinking into it.

Cassandra didn’t resist.

Didn’t hesitate.

She didn’t go rigid, didn’t pull away out of habit, didn’t keep that careful distance she always did when she wasn’t sure how to accept comfort.

No.

She closed her eyes and let herself feel.

For the first time in hours. In days. In what felt like forever—she let herself be held.

Let herself be comforted.

Even though she didn’t feel like she deserved it.

Because what right did she have to be comforted when you weren’t here?

What right did she have to grieve you when she had been part of the reason you were gone?

But Duke didn’t let go.

He held onto her like he understood. Like he knew that if he let go, she might just disappear, might crumble into something irreparable, something that grief would consume whole.

So she stayed.

And for now—

For now, that would have to be enough.

128 hours, 13 minutes, and 27 seconds.

That’s how long it’s been since Gotham fell into chaos. Since the family fell into shambles.

Since you took your last breath.

Tim’s fingers twitched over the console, knuckles pale, hands locked into position as if frozen mid-action. The blue glow of the Batcomputer flickered against his face, casting long, sharp shadows that made the bags under his eyes seem deeper, his expression more hollow.

He hadn’t slept. Hadn’t moved. Had barely breathed.

Because he couldn’t stop watching.

The footage looped again. And again. And again.

Warehouse. Low light. South Gotham docks. Camera angle, elevated—one of Batman’s hidden surveillance feeds.

You moved like a ghost. A shadow.

A blur of motion cutting through the dark.

Tim rewound the footage. Slowed it down. Watched. Memorized. Analyzed.

His eyes were red from the hours of staring at the screen. The footage ran in a constant loop, a ghostly reminder of everything that had gone wrong. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t look away, even though he knew it wouldn’t change anything. Maybe this time, there’ll be something he missed.

That’s what he told himself.

It was a sickening kind of hope, one born from desperation. He needed something—anything—that would prove this wasn’t just another casualty of the mess they lived in. This wasn’t an accident. He couldn’t let it be an accident. If it was, then what was the point? What was the point of all of this? If it was just an accident, if this was just the way things always were, then what the hell was he even doing here? What was the point of it all?

What was the point of all the fights, the struggles, the years of fighting against the darkness if it could just snuff out a life like that, without any warning? Tim couldn’t accept it.

His heart hammered in his chest as he hit replay again. He didn’t even realize how many times he had watched this same clip. How many times he had gone over it, scrutinizing every frame, searching for something that wasn’t there. There’s something.

There has to be something.

A sign.

A clue.

Anything to prove this was deliberate, something he can blame.

But no matter how many times he watched it, no matter how many hours he spent scrutinizing every damn detail, nothing would change. Nothing could undo what had already been done.

But still, he couldn’t stop himself. He had to watch. He had to know. He had to find the why, the how, the reason behind it.

Why had you gone in alone?

Why hadn’t anyone been there for you?

Why hadn’t he been there?

The rest of the world had moved on, or at least tried to. Gotham was still reeling from the explosion of chaos that followed the takedown of the drug ring you’d infiltrated. The criminals, the ones you’d exposed, some of them were caught, while others were already on the run, their operations disrupted in ways they hadn’t anticipated. The whole damn city had been thrown into disarray because of this.

Tim gripped the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. He felt a knot twist in his stomach, one he couldn’t untangle, no matter how hard he tried. He wanted to blame the criminals. He wanted to blame them for everything. For the sudden rise in crimes. For the sudden disarray in Gotham. But it wasn’t them. He couldn’t make himself believe that. No. It wasn’t their fault. Not exactly.

It was yours. It was yours and no one else’s.

It’s all because of you.

That thought stung, burned in the pit of his stomach, and yet it lingered, demanding to be acknowledged. Tim didn’t want to think that way—he didn’t want to blame you. But how could he ignore it? You had done your job, you’d exposed something they couldn’t ignore, but now it was a nightmare. Gotham was chaos, because of you.

No.

He slammed his fist on the desk, glaring at the footage, refusing to accept that thought. No, this wasn’t your fault. It couldn’t be. It was never supposed to happen like this. You had been right about the drug ring, and you had fought damn hard to stop it, all by yourself. But that’s where it went wrong, wasn’t it? You hadn’t called for backup. You hadn’t reached out. If you had—if you had just asked for someone, anything, anyone—maybe you would still be here.

Tim couldn’t stop the wave of anger that crashed over him. But it wasn’t at the criminals who had shot you, it wasn’t even at the fact that Gotham had spiraled into a warzone. No. It was at you.

Fuck.

Even now, after everything, he was the one left to clean up your mess. The same way he always had. The same way he always would. The same he always did. But this time—

This time, you weren’t there to hear him run through the details, to see the frustration in his eyes when things went sideways. You were gone.

And that was the most fucked up part of it all.

Where had it all gone wrong? When had things shifted from predictable to catastrophic? What had gone wrong between your last breath and his desperate attempts to piece together every detail, every frame of this damn footage? How many more people did he have to lose before he could just accept it?

Tim’s hands tightened around the desk, nails digging into the cool surface, but his thoughts kept spiraling out of control. He should be used to this by now. Loss. Death. People getting torn away from him like everything was just so damn fragile. But no. He wasn’t used to it. No matter how many times he told himself he should be, no matter how many people he’d lost, he wasn’t.

It never got easier.

It was almost too much. Too much to bear, but it wouldn’t stop. The losses he faced just kept looping over and over again. The image of you, falling to the floor of that warehouse, blood pooling beneath you.

Tim exhaled shakily, his nails scraping against the desk as he forced himself to take another breath. His chest was tight, his ribs felt like they were caving in, like his own body was rejecting the sheer weight of everything. But he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop watching. Couldn’t stop looking at you, frozen in time, caught in the endless cycle of your last moments.

The footage looped again. And again. And again.

His brain wouldn’t stop dissecting it, wouldn’t stop scrutinizing every movement, every frame, as if the sheer force of his obsession could change something. As if watching it just one more time would suddenly make it all make sense.

But it didn’t. It never did.

He slammed the replay button, forcing the video back to the start, watching as you darted through the shadows, your movements swift and efficient. You had been so sure of yourself. You had to be, because you wouldn’t have done this otherwise, right? You wouldn’t have gone in without backup unless you knew you could handle it. Unless you thought you had no other choice.

Right?

But why?

Why?

Why hadn’t you asked him for help? Or anyone else for the matter.

Tim dug the heel of his palm into his eye, as if he could press the questions out of his skull, force them into submission.

Hah. Who was he fooling?

He knew why.

Because this wasn’t the first time.

This wasn’t the first time you’d come to him with a lead, eyes sharp and voice brimming with certainty. You’d always been like that—so sure, so goddamn convinced that you were right. And most of the time?

You weren’t.

Tim had been the one to prove it almost every time, the one who always had to go back, retrace your steps, find the gaps in your logic, the flaws in your deductions. He’d been the one who had to clean up after you when things didn’t go the way you expected.

And this time—

This time, you had been right.

The realization hit him like a knife to the gut, twisting, tearing.

You had been right. You had exposed something big, something that should have been on their radar, something that had been festering in Gotham for longer than any of them had realized.

And it had cost you.

Tim’s hands trembled over the keyboard, his fingers curling into fists. That’s why he can’t blame you. That’s why he can’t let himself be angry at you.

Not really.

Because if it hadn’t been for you, this whole operation would have gone unnoticed. Would have slipped through the cracks, just like so many things before it.

You had forced them to see it.

And now Gotham was paying the price.

Now you had paid the price.

Tim gritted his teeth, his breath unsteady.

If you had just—

If you had just waited.

If you had just asked for help.

If you had just asked him for help.

His vision blurred for a moment, but he wasn’t sure if it was from exhaustion or frustration or something worse. He swiped at his face, barely noticing the wetness on his fingers before his hand hovered over the keyboard again. He had to—

“Tim.”

The voice cut through the haze of his spiraling thoughts like a gunshot.

He barely reacted. His shoulders tensed, his gaze stayed locked on the screen, his fingers frozen above the keys.

“Tim.”

He heard her footsteps approaching, the sharpness in her tone laced with something else—exasperation, frustration. Concern.

He ignored it.

The footage replayed.

Again.

And again.

“Tim.”

He didn’t turn. Didn’t blink.

And then there was a hand on his shoulder, yanking him away from the screen, forcing him to look up, to register the anger, the exhaustion, the raw frustration carved into her expression.

Stephanie.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Tim blinked at her, dazed, uncomprehending.

Stephanie’s jaw clenched, her grip tightening. “Are you even aware of what’s happening out there? Gotham is a fucking mess. And you’re down here—what? Watching the same damn footage on repeat? Watching (Name) die over and over again?? Like it’s going to change something?”

Tim’s fingers twitched. His throat felt dry, his voice rough when he finally spoke. “I have to—”

“No, you don’t.�� Her voice cracked, just slightly, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by something harsher. ���You don’t, Tim. You’re just—” She exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. “Jesus Christ, do you even know where Damian is?”

That made Tim hesitate.

Stephanie’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Tim swallowed, his jaw locking. “I’m—”

“You’re what?” she cut in, voice sharp and furious. “Busy? Too busy staring at a screen, trying to—what? Bring her back? Figure out some convoluted explanation that makes this make sense?”

Tim flinched.

And Stephanie didn’t stop.

“Because guess what, Tim? It doesn’t make sense. It never makes sense. And you just sitting here, watching her die on repeat? Analysing her every move, every breath, every mistake? It’s not going to fix anything.”

Tim exhaled, slow and shaky, his gaze dropping for a fraction of a second.

“Bruce, Jason and Damian are god knows where. Dick’s gone on a rampage. Cass and Duke are off on their own, trying to keep shit from burning down completely. Helena and Kate are out there trying to contain the damage—we had to call Dinah in because there aren’t enough of us—”

Her breath hitched, her voice shaking now, but she pushed forward, because Stephanie Brown didn’t stop when things got hard.

“And you? You’re here. Acting like this is going to change anything.”

Tim’s fingers curled into fists.

Stephanie shook her head, anger flashing in her eyes. “She’s gone, Tim.”

“She’s not gone.”

Tim’s breath was coming in quick, ragged bursts. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, but he wasn’t sure if it was from frustration or the way Stephanie was looking at him right now—like she couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“She’s not dead…!” His voice cracked, but he barely noticed. His hands slammed against the desk, gripping the edges so hard his knuckles went white. “She can’t be dead—she just—”

“Tim, do you even hear yourself right now?!” Stephanie snapped, stepping closer. “(Name) is dead! Dead, Tim! And you need to start—”

“No.” He shook his head, refusing to let her finish. “No, because what about all the other people we thought were dead? Superman. Bruce. Conner. Bart.” His voice was climbing now, chest heaving as his mind raced faster than his words. “And you—you, Stephanie. Every single one of you somehow came back to life, whether it was because you weren’t actually dead, or you were brought back by—”

“That’s not the same thing!” Stephanie’s voice was sharp, but Tim didn’t stop.

“It is the same thing!” His eyes were wide now, wild with something he didn’t know how to name. “Superman was literally killed, and what happened? He came back. Bruce—we buried him, and guess what? He wasn’t even dead! Conner—he died during Infinite Crisis and came back! Bart sacrificed himself during —” His breath hitched, and he barely held it together. “And you.” His voice was shaking now. “You faked your death, Steph. You let me and everyone think you were dead for months...! And yet—”

Stephanie exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. “But this is different, Tim! She’s different!”

“How?! How is this different?”

“Because she was shot, Tim!” Stephanie practically shouted, frustration burning in her chest. “She wasn’t resurrected by some Kryptonian regeneration matrix, or caught in some bullshit time displacement! She wasn’t lost in the timestream like Bruce, or cloned by some insane scientist, or mysteriously revived by the Speed Force! She was shot! Bullets went through her, Tim! There’s no coming back from that!”

Tim’s breath stuttered, but he clenched his jaw, shaking his head rapidly.

“No,” he muttered, his fingers flying over the keyboard. “No, that doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense. Her suit was reinforced—there’s no way a bullet could have—”

“Because we weren’t prepared, Tim!” Stephanie cut in, her voice cracking. “She wasn’t prepared! Those bullets weren’t normal—those weren’t some cheap rounds from street dealers—they were made of promethium, Tim. Promethium. Her suit wasn’t designed to withstand that kind of impact.”

Tim faltered for half a second.

But it wasn’t enough.

“No.” His voice was flat, empty. “No, because if that’s true, then that means—” His breath hitched again, his fingers twitching over the keyboard. “That means she wasn’t supposed to die.” His voice grew distant, his mind racing through every scenario. “That means there was a way we could have stopped this. That means there was a way I could have—”

Stephanie’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing.

“You always do this,” she seethed, voice shaking. “You always think it’s on you to fix everything—to stop everything before it happens.” Her hands clenched into fists, nails biting into her palms. “Well, guess what, Tim? Not everything is your fault.”

Tim let out a humorless laugh, sharp and bitter. “Oh yeah? Because it sure as hell feels like it is.”

Stephanie inhaled sharply, rage flaring in her chest.

“She’s gone, Tim,” she said, her voice dangerously low. “And you’re sitting here acting like you’re the only one who lost her.”

Tim flinched at that.

She’s right.

How could she not be?

“You think you’re the only one hurting?” Her voice cracked, but she pushed through. “You think you’re the only one who can’t believe she’s actually gone?” She shook her head, frustration bleeding into every word. “Newsflash, Tim—I can’t believe it either. None of us can.” Her breathing was uneven now, the weight of the past few days pressing down on her like a vice. “But you—” She exhaled sharply. “You and (Name)? You weren’t even close.”

Stephanie saw Tim stiffen, and she felt her throat tightened, but she didn’t stop. Even though she knew she didn’t have any right to say the next few words.

“I mean, I can’t even talk, right? Because it’s not like she and I were friends or anything. But whatever we had was at least something—more than whatever the hell was going on between you two.” She swallowed, voice thick with something she refused to name. “So why, Tim? Why are you acting like this? Like you’re the only one who lost her?”

Tim opened his mouth—then closed it.

Because she was right.

And he hated that she was right.

Because he didn’t know why.

Didn’t know why this loss felt different.

Didn’t know why it felt like he was suffocating on it.

Maybe because he had never taken loss well.

Maybe because every time he lost someone, it felt like another piece of him was being ripped away.

Maybe because he still wasn’t convinced.

Maybe because he still felt like there was a way to fix this.

Before he could say anything—before either of them could keep unraveling—a sharp, piercing alert rang through the cave, slicing through the air like a blade.

Stephanie jerked her head up, eyes narrowing. “What the hell was that?”

Tim’s entire body went rigid.

He turned to the screen, fingers flying over the keyboard. His heart pounded against his ribs, his stomach twisting. His eyes scanned the system logs—

And then he froze.

Stephanie immediately stepped closer. “Tim?”

Tim didn’t move.

“Tim.”

Nothing.

Then, slowly—so slowly—he turned to look at her. His expression was unreadable.

“…That’s the alert Bruce installed at the graveyards.”

Stephanie felt her stomach drop.

“What?”

Tim swallowed, his throat dry, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s an alert that goes off whenever someone is digging up the graves.”

Stephanie’s breath caught in her throat.

And then—

Tim clenched his jaw.

“The alert that just sounded… was for (Name)’s grave.”

The Batcave was silent.

Not the kind of silence that came with solitude, nor the kind that settled between brief moments of stillness.

No—this silence was suffocating.

Not in the literal sense—there was no smoke, no lack of oxygen, no pressing physical force keeping them in place. But the weight in the air, the way it clung to their skin and settled in their bones, made it impossible to ignore.

It was the kind of silence that pressed against their ribs like iron bars, the kind that wrapped itself around their throats and made it hard to breathe. It was the kind of silence that wasn’t truly silent at all—because beneath it, there was tension, rage, a storm waiting to break.

The only sounds were the quiet hum of the Batcomputer and the occasional distant drip of water echoing through the cavernous walls. Even the bats that lurked in the high crevices seemed to hold their breath.

It had been silent since they got back.

Not the comfortable silence of routine, not the practiced quiet of soldiers working in tandem, but a silence teetering—on the edge of something irreversible, something that could snap at any second.

Bruce had yet to turn around.

His back remained to them, shoulders squared, posture impossibly still, and yet—somehow, in some unnatural way, he still managed to command the entire room. Still made every breath feel like it had to be earned, like speaking out of turn might shatter something fragile and irreparable.

But the silence couldn’t last forever.

Bruce’s voice, when it finally came, was low and sharp as a blade.

“Damian.”

His name cut through the air like a blade.

Damian inhaled sharply, but he did not falter.

His shoulders squared, his hands curled into fists at his sides, his jaw locked in a way that made his teeth ache, and he forced himself to meet Bruce’s gaze when his father finally turned around.

“Why did you do it?” Bruce’s hands had curled into fists at his sides.

“I had to take a chance.”

The words left him before he could second-guess them, before he could even consider any other way to phrase it. As if putting it any other way would make a difference. As if making it sound more reasonable, more calculated, more understandable would change anything.

Bruce’s stare didn’t waver.

His response was immediate.

“No.” His voice was harsher now, dangerously close to breaking. “This isn’t the way.”

The words were spoken like a fact. As if there was no arguing it, as if the conversation should have ended right there, as if Damian had already lost.

But he hadn’t.

Because this wasn’t about right or wrong.

This wasn’t about rules.

This was about you.

“Why not?”

His voice came sharper this time, cracking through the space between them, pushing against the weight of Bruce’s certainty, forcing something else into the silence. Something raw. Something desperate.

“I had to take a chance.”

He had to.

He had to.

Bruce inhaled, slow and measured, before exhaling just as steadily.

When he spoke again, his voice was still calm.

Unshaken.

And somehow, that only made it worse.

“(Name) is dead, Damian.”

A sharp breath.

His stomach twisted violently.

His body tensed, his nails pressing so hard into his palms that the sting barely even registered. His heartbeat slammed against his ribs, but outwardly, he refused to react.

He refused.

“She’s not—”

“Damian.”

Bruce’s voice cut through his own, and the finality in it sent something cold shooting down his spine.

But he shoved it down.

He wouldn’t accept this.

He couldn’t.

Damian’s hands curled into fists. “Then I should have gotten her to the pit sooner.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“Then how does it work, Father?” Damian snapped, his voice cutting through the cave like a whip. “Tell me—tell me how it makes any sense that Jason could be revived but not—” His voice caught for half a second, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through. “Not her.”

Bruce didn’t answer immediately.

And that silence—it was almost worse than anything he could have said.

“That was different.”

Damian’s fists clenched.

“How?”

Bruce inhaled again, and something in the way he did it—something so controlled, so deliberate—made Damian’s stomach twist even further.

“Jason wasn’t brought back to life by the Lazarus Pit.” His voice was firm, but there was something almost reluctant in the way he spoke, like he didn’t want to explain this. Like saying it out loud would make something real. “The pit only restored his mind. It erased the damage. That’s different from what you tried to do.”

The words felt like they didn’t make sense.

Like they didn’t fit.

Like they shouldn’t exist.

Like they should be impossible.

But Bruce—

His father was saying them like they were true.

Something shifted.

Something small.

But Damian noticed.

Bruce stopped speaking, his sentence left unfinished, hanging in the air like a rope about to snap.

His fingers twitched at his sides.

His jaw tightened—just slightly, just barely.

His mind raced—whirring, unraveling, dissecting—because it should have worked.

He had done everything right.

He dug you out of your grave, broke through the dirt with his own two hands. He had brought you to the only Lazarus Pit in Gotham, he dragged your lifeless form across the damp cavern floors. He had submerged you into the emerald waters, the same way his mother had shown him, the same way it had worked before.

But nothing happened.

The pit remained still.

The water glowed, but it did not churn, did not surge with life.

It removed the scars you’ve gotten over the years. But that was it.

You—

you did not wake up.

You remained still. Cold. Gone.

Why?

Why didn’t it work?

It should have worked.

Unless—

A voice rang in his ears.

His mother’s voice.

“The Lazarus Pit restores the body to its perfect condition—before death.”

Before death.

Is that why?

Is that why the Lazarus Pit didn’t work?

Jason was barely alive—barely sane—when he was thrown into the pit.

But he was alive.

And you—

You weren’t.

Damian couldn’t say it.

Couldn’t bear to say it.

No.

No, he refused to accept that.

You couldn’t be gone. Not like this. Not this easily. Not this pathetically.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke again.

Something inside him cracked.

“You knew.”

The words felt like an accusation.

Bruce didn’t deny it.

Damian’s hands shook.

“You knew it wouldn’t work, didn’t you?” His voice was quiet, but it carried through the cave like a gunshot.

Bruce still didn’t deny it.

“You knew, and you still let me—”

Damian felt himself faltering. He felt the words get caught in his throat.

“You still let me dig her up.”

His throat tightened, and he felt something press down on his chest, something suffocating, something that refused to let him breathe properly.

“You let me take her to the Lazarus Pit. You let me think it would work—”

Bruce inhaled, slow and even. “You needed to see for yourself.”

Damian’s vision blurred for half a second.

Then he snapped.

“That’s bullshit.”

Bruce remained still.

“You wanted me to fail.”

Bruce remained silent.

“You wanted me to see—” His breath hitched. “That she was really—”

He couldn’t say it.

Because if he said it—if he let himself even breathe those words—

It would be real.

Damian couldn’t stand it.

Couldn’t accept it.

Because how could he?

When you had died such a meaningless death?

When you had gone out like that?

He hadn’t gone to your funeral.

Hadn’t watched them lower you into the ground.

Hadn’t stood beside the rest of them, listening to empty condolences and meaningless words.

No.

Because he couldn’t.

Because he refused to accept that you were really gone.

Because you had always been so stubborn.

So reckless.

Because you shouldn’t have died like that.

Because you should have let them help you.

Because it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

But who was he to say that?

When he was just like you.

Stubborn. Reckless in his own way.

Just as self-destructive.

And it was eating him alive.

“She wouldn’t have wanted this.”

Damian’s eyes snapped toward Tim.

Tim, who had been standing quietly until now.

Tim, who looked like he was barely holding himself together.

Tim, who had alerted Bruce—who had found Damian at the Lazarus Pit, alongside Stephanie.

Damian let out a sharp scoff. “Huh.” He tilted his head, voice dripping with something venomous. “And what would you know?”

Tim’s expression flickered—just for a second.

“More than you think.”

Damian scoffed, shaking his head. “No. You wouldn’t.”

Tim exhaled sharply. “You think you knew her.” His voice was low, measured, but it wavered slightly. “But you didn’t.”

Damian’s chest tightened. “And you did?”

Tim’s hands curled into fists.

Damian let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You hated her.”

Tim stiffened. His jaw clenched.

“No, I didn’t.”

The words were immediate. Unshaken.

And somehow, they hit harder than anything else so far.

“You never even acknowledged her.”

“Yes I did—“

“Well I suppose it wasn’t enough apparently.”

Tim’s breath stilled, his shoulders locking, his throat bobbing in a way that Damian almost wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been looking for it.

“Well you pushed her away every chance you got,” Tim shot back, voice sharp, words cutting. “So don’t act like you actually cared.”

Damian’s fingers twitched.

“I did care.”

Tim exhaled, bitter.

“Yeah? She definitely knew that for sure.”

Damian froze.

His breath hitched.

You knew.

You had to know.

Didn’t you?

Even when he had insulted you, even when he had been a complete bastard—

Even when he was cruel, even when he acted like you were nothing but a nuisance, even when he never said anything—

You had to have known.

Didn’t you?

Didn’t you?

“I had to take this chance,” Damian said, quieter, breath uneven, hands shaking. “Because she was my sister.”

Tim’s expression flickered.

And then—

“She was my sister too.”

The words left Tim before he could stop them.

Before he could even think.

Everything stopped. The words lingered in the air, sinking into the silence like a blade buried deep into flesh.

She was my sister, too.

Tim hadn’t meant to say it.

Hadn’t planned it.

Hadn’t even thought about it before the words just left his mouth, before they hit the space between them, before they cut into something raw, something real, something he hadn’t even let himself acknowledge until it was already too late.

His own breath caught, his hands curling into fists at his sides, his pulse hammering against his skull as if his own body was trying to reject what he’d just said.

Because why now?

Why was he only saying it now?

Why was he only acknowledging it when you were already—

His throat locked up.

Damian’s fingers twitched.

His mouth opened slightly, as if to speak, as if to say something, but no words came out.

The air between them was thick, suffocating, the weight of everything pressing down on Tim’s ribs so hard that he felt like he could barely breathe. His heartbeat was uneven, erratic, like his own body didn’t know how to process what had just happened.

“You don’t get to say that.”

Damian’s voice was quiet.

Too quiet.

Tim exhaled sharply, his jaw locking. “What?”

Damian’s shoulders squared, his arms stiff at his sides, his fingers still shaking even as he clenched them into fists. His breathing had turned uneven, almost unsteady, but his voice—his voice was sharp.

“You don’t get to say that.”

Tim scoffed, shaking his head, but he felt something tightening in his chest.

“I don’t get to say that?” His voice came out bitter, biting, but his own hands were trembling slightly now. “(Name) was my sister too, Damian. That’s just a fact.”

Damian’s breath stilled.

For a split second, his body went completely still.

“Then why did you treat her like she wasn’t?”

Tim’s chest clenched. His breath hitched.

Damian took a step closer, voice cutting deeper, something sharp in his expression, something broken in his stare.

“Why did you act like she didn’t matter? Like she wasn’t even worth your time? Why did you act like she—”

His breath stuttered for half a second, something cracking through his voice before he forced it back down.

“You pushed her away.”

Tim clenched his teeth. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Damian’s hands twitched.

“I never pushed her away.”

“You shut her out,” Tim snapped, voice cracking under the weight of it. “You resented her.”

Damian’s stomach twisted.

“I did not.”

“You didn’t care about her when she was alive.”

“I did.”

“You barely even acknowledged her—”

“I did not hate her.”

“But now you suddenly care?” Tim let out a bitter laugh. “Now, suddenly, she’s your sister?”

“She is my sister,” Damian snapped. “And you don’t get to say otherwise.”

Tim’s breath hitched.

His heartbeat slammed against his ribs.

Because that—

That wasn’t the same thing.

That wasn’t—

“That’s not what I said.”

Damian’s nails dug into his palms.

“Yeah, but it’s what you meant.”

Tim inhaled sharply, his hands twitching at his sides, something thick in his throat that he didn’t want to name.

He shook his head, exhaling, his breath uneven. “You think I—”

“You think I hated her?” Damian cut in, voice sharp, voice dangerous. “You think I would have wannted her to die? You really think that’s what I wanted all this time??”

Tim clenched his jaw, shaking his head. “That’s not what I’m saying—”

“Really?”

Damian took another step forward, his body tense, his posture unreadable, his fingers curled into fists like he was trying so hard to keep himself steady, to keep himself from doing anything other than this.

“Then what are you saying?”

Tim exhaled sharply, shaking his head again, running a hand through his hair before letting it drop back to his side, something tight inside of him, something that was pressing too hard against his ribs, something that felt like it was clawing at his chest from the inside out.

“She wouldn’t have wanted this.”

Damian stilled.

“You keep saying that,” Damian said, voice tight, voice low, voice lined with something Tim couldn’t fully decipher. “Like you actually know what she wanted.”

Tim’s throat tightened.

“You didn’t know her, Drake.”

A beat of silence.

“You don’t get to say that,” Tim said, voice shaking with something raw. “You don’t get to act like you gave a damn about her when it actually mattered.”

Damian’s eyes burned.

“You don’t get to act like you knew her, either,” he shot back, his voice venomous. “You don’t get to tell me what she would have wanted—”

Tim let out a breathless laugh. “And you do?” His voice was rising now, sharp with frustration. “You think you had the right to drag her out of her grave and throw her into the Lazarus Pit because you couldn’t deal with it?”

Damian’s stomach churned. “Shut up.”

Tim stepped forward. “You think she would’ve wanted this?”

Damian’s nails dug into his palms.

And at that moment, Stephanie, who’d be silently listening to the entire argument, stepped forward. “Okay, that’s enough, guys—”

“You think she would’ve wanted to wake up in that pit—if she even could?” Tim’s voice cracked slightly, but he didn’t stop. “To wake up wrong?”

“No,” Tim interrupted, his voice raw. He stepped closer, his fists trembling at his sides. “You think you’re the only one who wanted her back?” His voice cracked slightly, but he pushed through. “You think you’re the only one who couldn’t accept it?”

Damian exhaled sharply, looking away.

“You thiink you’re the only one who’s thought of dumping her in a Lazarus Pit, hoping that somehow—”

Tim’s breath caught.

He stopped.

Because he couldn’t say it either.

Because saying it out loud would make it real.

Would make it final.

That there really was no way of bringing you back to life.

And for a moment, neither of them spoke.

Neither of them moved.

“That’s enough.”

Bruce’s voice cut through the air, sharp, commanding, absolute.

Tim sucked in a breath.

Damian’s hands shook.

Silence.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Heavy. Almost unbearable.

Tim felt his pulse pounding in his ears, his breath still uneven, his body still tense from the argument—no, from the fight. Because that’s what this was.

Damian wasn’t even looking at him anymore.

His hands were curled into fists so tight that his knuckles had turned white, his shoulders were stiff, his breath was shallow, and his entire posture was wound so tightly that Tim thought he might just snap.

But he wouldn’t.

Not in front of Bruce.

Bruce, who had spoken with finality, whose voice had cut through the air like a blade, sharp enough to make even Damian shut up.

Tim swallowed, dragging a hand down his face before exhaling sharply, trying—failing—to let go of the tension clawing at his chest. His other hand clenched at his side, nails digging into his palm, grounding him, steadying him, because if he didn’t, he wasn’t sure what would happen.

Damian still wasn’t looking at him.

He wasn’t looking at Bruce either.

He was staring straight ahead, at the cave floor, at something that wasn’t even there, his entire body locked up, unreadable, unreadable, unreadable—

And then his gaze shifted.

Just barely.

Tim saw the exact moment his eyes landed on your body.

—or, at least, where your body should have been.

You were still there.

Your body was still there.

They had laid you down. Covered you up with a white sheet. Tim hadn’t been the one to do it—he didn’t even know who had done it, if it was Bruce, or Stephanie, or if they had both done it together, but he knew it hadn’t been him.

He hadn’t looked.

Not really.

He hadn’t let himself.

Damian’s fingers twitched.

His breathing hitched.

And then, before anyone could say anything—before Bruce could look at him, before Tim could process anything, before Stephanie could even move—

Damian turned and stormed out of the cave.

His boots struck the floor hard, fast, and then he was gone.

Stephanie opened her mouth, but nothing came out of it.

Bruce was already turning back toward the Batcomputer, already refocusing, already shutting down, because that was what he did. That was how he functioned.

Tim exhaled sharply.

The tension in his chest was still there.

Still suffocating.

Still unbearable.

He thought back to what he’d said. Thought back to what Damian did.

And Tim hated how he would’ve done the exact same thing Damian did if he were given the chance to.

Hated he was just like Damian in that sense.

Without a word, without a look, without a second thought—

Tim turned and left, too.

The alley reeked of rain-soaked asphalt and cigarette smoke, the kind that clung to the air long after the ember had burned out. A flickering streetlamp cast jagged shadows against the crumbling brick, the light barely reaching past the fog curling along the ground. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed—short-lived, swallowed by the city’s restless hum.

Then came the scratch of a lighter, a brief glow illuminating a worn trench coat, a sharp inhale followed by a slow exhale, smoke drifting through the damp air.

“Well, ain’t this a bloody mess.”

woops… 😬 heyyy guys…!! 🫣 did y’all miss me HAHA. this was definitely long overdue… i think i probably gave yall trust issues 😭 actual chapter 7 will be out at utc+8 12am on 14 Feb 🥰

taglist is closed ‼️(i’ll think about opening it again soon 🤫)

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[covenofagatha]

Do I wanna know? (Part 4)

The final two weeks before Agatha moves to Albany

Word count: 5k

Warnings: mentions of sex, fluff

The following Sunday, Agatha drives you to Albany so you can look at apartments with her. She found three online that she really likes and is hoping that she can sign a lease today. 

Since her new job starts next week. 

You’ve never exactly known what she does for a living — you never really cared to ask when she was married to your dad and once you got together, she just kind of assumed that you already knew — so you have to ask about three times for what this new position entails so you can try to work it out. 

So far you’ve gotten that she advises the company on how to raise capital, financial modeling, legal and compliance issues, and general advice. She did try to explain what she does when you found her looking over a contract one night, but it went so far over your head you didn’t realize she had stopped talking until she kissed you to bring you back to earth. Agatha did say investment banker once, but even with all the job descriptions, you’re still not sure you actually understand. 

“All right, here’s the first one,” she says, squeezing your hand that’s interlocked with hers over the center console, and parallel parking on the street in front of a high-rise building with floor-to-ceiling glass windows. You peer into the lobby to take in the crystal chandelier, dark floors, and mahogany wood panels on the wall by the elevator. “See, it’s not that bad of a drive. As long as you leave pretty early Saturday morning, you should be able to get here in under two hours.” 

You look at her and shoot her a smile. Agatha’s been overly nice to you the past week, telling you how pretty you are and how lucky she is and buying you flowers and cooking you all your favorite foods, so you’re trying to just sit back and appreciate it. 

She took the job. You told her it was okay. All that’s left to do is accept it. 

“It’s really nice,” you tell her, turning back to the building. “It’s in a good area, too.”

Agatha turns the car off and unbuckles her seatbelt. “Only about ten minutes from the office, so even better. And it’s not too far from the interstate for traveling to and from here.”

Another thing she’s been doing is talking about how much you’ll be able to come visit and vice versa. It should be reassuring, but it just feels like she’s overcompensating slightly to make the move sound better than it is. 

It’s not fair to still be upset because Agatha is trying. And you are feeling good about this, you feel secure that what you two have is real and strong, and you’re going to start working on your application to the University at Albany this week. If you get in, you’ll start in January, which really only means four months of long distance, and you know you’ll both make an effort to see each other on the weekends and during breaks. 

When you put it like that, the pit in your stomach lessens. Your tendency to overthink and blow up problems in your head is definitely something you need to work on. 

The moment you step out of the car, the first thing you notice is the smell, almost like rotting plants and sewage. You wrinkle your nose and Agatha walks around to you, the same expression on her face. 

“Think you’ll ever get used to that?” you joke and she solemnly shakes her head. 

“Guess I’ll just need to bury my nose into something else until I forget it,” she says with a wink and you laugh before following her up to the glass door of the apartment complex. 

There’s a man sitting at a desk, maybe about ten years older than you and wearing a flannel shirt, typing something at his computer, and he doesn’t look up at you until Agatha clears her throat and taps her fingers on the counter. 

He raises a bushy eyebrow, unimpressed and annoyed that someone dared interrupt him. “Can I help you?” 

Agatha tosses her hair back over her shoulder and straightens up. “My name is Agatha Harkness and I made an appointment to see a two-bedroom.” 

The man sighs and taps his mouse. “Yo, Dottie,” he calls, swiveling in his chair to face an open door to the right of him, “I’ve got a ‘Harkness’ here to see the two.” Whoever Dottie is, you hope she’s friendlier than this man. Even his mustache seems to be frowning at you. 

A tall, blonde woman steps out of the room, beaming brightly at you two, wearing a brightly colored floral dress. She walks around the desk, shakes both your hands, and introduces herself. 

“Wonderful, wonderful,” she claps her hands together and you wince at the loud sound in the otherwise-silent lobby, “let me get the keys and then I’ll show you and your daughter the model apartment on the seventh floor and then the one that’s open, which could be yours! We also have some specials on leases if you sign one within twenty-four hours of your tour, which I’ll go over after this.” 

Dottie waves you along and you catch Agatha’s eye behind her back, mouthing your daughter? at her with an amused smirk. Agatha playfully rolls her eyes and swats your arm. 

You still remember the first time she took you out in the spring, when the waitress had assumed you were a couple. You had choked and almost died from coughing so hard, flabbergasted at the thought that anyone would look at you two and see anything other than a mother and her daughter, even if she was your step-mom. 

But now, it kind of bugs you that someone does see you that way. You’re almost tempted to see what Dottie would say if you kissed Agatha or if Agatha squeezed your ass. 

Dottie’s rambling about the safety features of the elevator as she presses the button and you stare at the reflection of yourselves in the bronze doors, blurring the sound of her voice out. You watch Agatha nodding attentively and you probably should be paying attention, but you just can’t. 

Something about looking for apartments with Agatha seems so surreal. You had helped her pick out the one in Westview and it felt like you were picking out a place for the two of you, even knowing you were going to live at the dorms. 

But now, you’re picking it out for her and she’s breaking her lease on the apartment you shared. 

It’ll be back to being both of yours in January, you remind yourself. 

The elevator doors slide open and the three of you step into it, the tile a fancy black marble with gold cracks and the walls a dark wood with the top half covered in mirrors. Dottie touches the fob to a pad and then presses the button for seven. 

“It only lets you get to the floor that you live on, and the roof for the pool and the game room. We take our security very seriously,” she explains and Agatha hums before looking at you for your approval and you nod like you’ve been paying attention this whole time. 

She takes you down the hall and pauses in front of a door, fumbling with the key ring and then finally inserting one into the lock. She pushes it open and lets you and Agatha step in first. 

The floor is a cool gray color, all white walls except for the blue accent in the living room, and it’s pretty spacious. The kitchen has an island with quartz countertops that match the other counters against the wall, all stainless steel appliances, a double oven, and a hood over the stove. The backsplash is green and blue and gray tiles. There’s a deep sink and three pendant lights over the island.  You have to admit it looks really good.

“Wow,” Agatha says, tracing her fingers over the countertop and crossing the threshold into the living room, where the floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the city of Albany. It’s the model, so there’s comfortable-looking couches around a coffee table and a rug, facing a television on an entertainment center. Even with all the furniture, it’s easy to imagine exactly where Agatha’s stuff would go. 

You follow her into the first bedroom, the bigger one. It has the same windows as the living room and your only thought is that Agatha will certainly need to invest in some curtains if she picks this place. It’s a huge room; Dottie tells you that the bed in there is king-sized and there is still plenty of space for the nightstands and lamps and dressers. The walk-in closet is probably half the size of your dorm room right now, and there’s a standalone shower next to a tub across from the double vanity in the bathroom. 

“This is nice,” Agatha whistles and you nod your head in agreement. 

“Let me show you the other bedroom,” Dottie says and leads you to the other half of the apartment. “This door closes off the hallway to the second bed and bath, so plenty of privacy. Will your daughter be living with you?” 

It’s hard not to laugh when you and Agatha glance at each other out of the corner of your eyes. “Um, no, I go to college in New Jersey. But I’ll be visiting a lot,” you answer, and then, just for the fun of it, add: “How thick are the walls, though? Like, apartment to apartment.” 

Agatha stifles a laugh that turns into a cough and Dottie looks back over her shoulder. “We don’t get a lot of noise complaints. If you’re worried about the TV being too loud, it shouldn’t be a problem because the living room is in the middle of the two bedrooms. But if you’re watching something in either bedroom, there’s a chance a neighbor might be able to hear a bit of it.” 

“That’s exactly what I was worried about,” you mumble and Agatha nudges you, even though she’s smirking too. 

The second bedroom is a bit smaller than the other, but still a good size. This one has a window-sill and only one long window and the closet is only about half as big. The bathroom has an alcove tub and matching countertops to the other bathroom and a lot of cabinet space. 

Dottie also shows you the three extra closets for extra storage and then takes you to the empty apartment on the ninth floor. 

Agatha walks around, gesturing wildly with her hands and pointing out where things could go, while you trail after her like a lost puppy, occasionally adding a yeah and I like that and I think that’ll look really good. 

Seeing her plan the space feels like a hammer in your gut going it’s happening it’s happening it’s happening over and over again until it almost overwhelms you, but Agatha is so engaged in it that she doesn’t even notice. You’re being completely irrational. Everything is fine.

“So, what do you guys think?” Dottie asks when Agatha finally stops and comes to stand next to you as you’re leaning on the island and picking at your fingernails. She puts a hand on your lower back and you stiffen, eyes darting up to look at Agatha, who’s looking back at you inquisitively. 

“Could you give us a second, Dottie?” It’s clear from Agatha’s tone that it’s not a question and Dottie gives you both a tight smile before leaving the apartment. 

You rub your forehead, trying to stave off a headache you can feel slowly budding, and walk over to the windows. Her footsteps are soft and then she’s wrapping an arm around you to pull you into her and kiss your head. 

“You know what I’m thinking about?” she asks and you hum inquisitively. “Fucking you against these windows so anyone down below could look up and see how well you take me. See how good of a girl you are for me.” 

A burst of heat flashes through you but you smirk, not being able to pass up the opportunity to make a joke. “That’s quite an inappropriate thing to say to your daughter.” 

Agatha snorts. “Good thing Dottie isn’t here.” And then she softens against you. “Do you like this place?” 

You shrug. “It’s pretty nice. Aren’t we going to go look at the other places though?” It’s a stupid thing, but you feel like it’s not real until she signs a lease. And maybe you just want to keep it not real for a little bit longer. 

She makes an equivocal sound. “This one did look the nicest online. And honestly, I really like it. I can definitely see myself living here. I can see us living here.” 

“Okay,” you say softly, melting on the inside. As long as she’s picturing you here with her, you’d be good with anywhere. “I think this is the place, then. Let’s go tell Dottie, mommy.” You go to move but instead, she turns you by the shoulders and grabs your cheeks, pulling you in for a long kiss and then gives you another one for good measure. 

“You are so perfect,” she says against your lips. “I l—” 

The door opens and you jump back from Agatha and whirl to find Dottie standing there. Your cheeks heat up, but she doesn't look scandalized so you’re guessing she didn’t see anything. “How’s it going in here, ladies?” 

Agatha gives you one last look-over, giving you all the time in the world to object, but you just swallow hard and nod. “Dottie, we’ll take it,” she says and you plaster a smile onto your face when Dottie gasps and exclaims excitedly. 

She ushers you back to the lobby and leaves you sitting at a desk while she runs off to go print out papers. You’re tapping your foot impatiently when your phone buzzes. 

Thinking it’s just one of your parents — you didn’t actually tell either of them that you were going to New York — you pull it out of your pocket. 

Hey, it’s Carol. Want to get dinner tonight? You vaguely remember giving her your number the night of the party last week. You’ve only seen her once or twice since then and the first time, she asked how you were feeling, and the second time, she shot a finger gun at you. 

“Who’s Carol?” Agatha murmurs, having leaned over your shoulder. You fight the instinct to turn your screen and type back, Sorry, out of town tonight. Rain check? before slipping it back into your pocket. 

“Just this girl that lives in the dorms. She was the one who drove me to your place when I was hammered last Sunday.” 

“Ah.” She’s opening her mouth to say something else when Dottie comes back over and plops down a thick packet and starts rattling off the rules of the complex, the extra fees, and where to sign. Dottie says because you’re not living here full-time, you don’t have to fill anything out and you inwardly sigh in relief. 

Agatha barely looks at the papers before signing her name in big cursive letters and you can’t help but long for that kind of financial security and stability, where you don’t even have to worry about the cost of rent. When you do transfer and if you do end up living with her at any point, you know she won’t let you pay for anything, but you make a mental note to start looking at jobs, maybe even just part-time, so you can buy her things with your own money. 

“Perfect, let me just run a quick background check on you, make sure your credit is good, and then I’ll get back with you. And you want to move in…?” 

“Next Saturday would be great,” Agatha says and your foot starts bouncing even more erratically. Dottie leaves to go back into the office and Agatha’s head drops back to look up at the ceiling. “That means I need to set up electricity, water, internet, I need to schedule movers, I need to talk to my complex.” She groans and sits back normally, rubbing her face with her hands. 

You’ve done the whole moving thing a few times and it absolutely sucks so you reach over to pat her leg. It’s the first time you’ve seen her even the slightest bit overwhelmed with all this and it’s honestly refreshing. “I’m here. Anything you need, I want to help.” 

She gratefully smiles and leans across her chair to give you a kiss on the head. “How did I get so lucky?” 

“Um, you married my dad.” Agatha wrinkles her nose but laughs anyway, resting a hand on top of yours that’s still on her thigh. It’s an anchor for both of you and neither of you move until Dottie comes back about five minutes later. 

“All right, you guys are all good! We will see you next week. Any more questions?” 

Agatha stands up and shakes Dottie’s hand. “I think we’re okay. Thank you so much for all your help.” 

The drive back to Westview is filled with mindless chatter and no mention of the move. You make plans for the week — you’ll stay with Agatha every night, she’ll cook dinner, movie night on Tuesday, picnic in the park on Thursday. She knows that school is starting to pick up for you, so it goes unspoken that you’ll be doing homework with her. 

“And of course, plenty of sex,” you add when she asks you if there’s anything else to plan for. 

“Oh, sorry, was that not implied?” Agatha simpers and her hand sneaks its way into your lap, dipping under the seat belt to play with the elastic of your leggings. 

You let her slide inside and let out a small moan when she brushes a finger against your clit through your underwear. “Better keep your eyes on the road, mommy,” you say tightly.

“I can multitask.” 

She rubs your clit and you shift in your seat to give her easier access to you. It’s an odd angle — her wrist is bent in a way that is surely uncomfortable — but Agatha is determined to make it work. She teases you slowly and before long, you can feel how wet you’ve become. Your breathing has deepened, cheeks hot, and you start to roll your hips to get more stimulation. 

“Mommy, please,” you beg, and she looks over at you to say something when the car in front of her stops suddenly. Your stomach lurches. “Watch out!” 

Agatha slams on the brakes, sending you both flying forward, the seat belt putting an immense amount of pressure on you, and she yanks her hand out of your pants to put her arm in front of you. 

The car screeches to a halt about two feet from the one in front of you. You’re both panting and Agatha tosses her hair back before assessing you. 

“Are you okay?” she asks quietly. You nod, still gripped by a cold sweat. She takes a deep breath and puts both hands on the steering wheel when the cars begin to move again. “I think we’ll save car sex for another time.”

You huff out a laugh in agreement. “It went pretty well that one time. But we were in a parking lot on the way to get pizza in rural New Jersey, not on an interstate in New York.” 

“Who would’ve thought there’s a big difference,” Agatha quips and the tension from almost getting into a wreck lifts the more she drives. You’re back to giggling and talking in no time, although you both keep your hands to yourself. 

The rest of the day passes quickly, with Agatha busy setting up everything she needs for her new apartment while you finish up some homework for the upcoming week. 

On Tuesday, you’re leaving your dorm after your third class of the day to go to Agatha’s for the night when you run into Carol. She brightens when you see her and you give her a quick smile, determined to keep moving. 

“Hey, where are you off to? You still owe me that dinner,” she says, catching you by the arm. 

“Yeah, sorry, this week is going to be a little tough,” you tell her apologetically. “My…girlfriend is moving on Saturday so I'm just trying to spend as much time with her as I can.” You’ve never really had to define your relationship with Agatha, but it seems natural to call her that. 

A stormy look flits across her face before she’s back to normal. “The same girlfriend who broke up with you?” 

You hadn’t exactly found the time to fill her in on the whole story. “Turns out she wasn’t cheating, it was me jumping to conclusions. She had a job interview in Albany and she got it! So she starts next Monday.” 

“Be careful with long distance,” Carol warns, instead of being happy for you like you thought she would be. You raise an eyebrow. “It always starts out so nice and happy and everything is okay…but then the distance sets in. Texting and calling aren’t the same as just being able to see them and talk to them in person. Traveling becomes exhausting. The traffic makes you mad and then you’re in a bad mood and you can only think about the drive back and—”

“Stop,” you snap, stepping away from her. This is possibly the worst thing you could hear right now and you can’t take it any longer. “That’s not how this is going to go, okay? Agatha and I are different. We’re solid. And besides, it’s probably only going to be like this for a few months. She trusts me and I trust her. We’re going to be fine.” 

Carol scoffs, a cold look in her eyes. “You trust her? Is that why you were so quick to believe she was cheating on you?” 

The blow knocks the wind out of you and you just stare at her blankly. Who the fuck does she think she is? 

She softens, realizing that she cut deeper than she intended to. “Shit, I’m sorry. This is your relationship and I should’ve stayed out of it — I’m sure you’re right, okay? You guys will be fine.” 

But you don’t want to hear anymore from her, so you turn on your heel and walk to your car. The rest of the night, you’re a bit out of it and you can’t stop cursing Carol for putting those thoughts in your head. 

The next few days fly by in a blur with classes and homework and avoiding Carol around campus, but your evenings are absolutely perfect with Agatha.

She keeps the light low in the kitchen while she cooks for you each night while you sit at the table and ramble on about whatever you’re learning. She hums at all the right times, but when you take a break to look up at her, she’s staring at you with a fondness in her eyes that you’ve never seen before. 

Each time it happens, you think it must be what love looks like. 

Growing up with parents that should’ve been divorced, you never had a good model for what love was. You used to think that everyone’s parents were like yours — cold, didn’t actually like each other, and just stayed together for their children. You thought that love meant complacency, or even that maybe there was no such thing as it. 

You weren’t sure if you’d actually be able to fall in love and be loved back. But with Agatha, there’s an intimacy your parents never had. You didn’t know what that was like until her. 

And you know that you love her more than anything in the entire world, and when she gives you that look, you think she might feel the same. 

The three words are constantly on the tip of your tongue, but for some reason, you just can’t say them again. You don’t even say it when she makes you cum, which is a lot of times over the week. 

She bends you over the countertop and fingers you. She shoves you against the wall after you get back from your picnic on Thursday, gets on her knees, and eats you out. She makes you sit on her strap while you finish your essay and then pushes you onto all-fours and pounds into your pussy until you’re crying. She fucks you in the kitchen, in the bedroom, in the hallway, in the living room — even in her car and your car. Both while you’re safely parked in an abandoned lot, of course. 

It’s like she’s determined to give you as many orgasms as she can before she moves, and she’s doing an excellent job of it. 

Saturday, after everything gets moved into the new apartment and you’re finally done unpacking most of the stuff, Agatha takes you to a fancy Italian steakhouse in Albany. The atmosphere is romantic, with classical music playing softly and candles lit at every table. Agatha looks absolutely stunning in a tight black dress and curly hair, and you’re wearing your best outfit as well. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” she asks and your cheeks heat up as your head ducks down shyly. 

“Once or twice,” you answer coyly, finally meeting her gaze again. 

She holds out her hand across the table and you take it, feeling the normal electricity that her skin on yours always gives you. “We’re going to be okay, you know that, right? I know you’re more worried than you’re letting on. I know how you’re feeling — I know how easy it is to get swept away with doubts. But I really appreciate you telling me to take this job and I promise we’ll be okay. I care about you far too much to let anything happen to this.” 

You nod and squeeze her hand. “I do know. I feel the same.” 

“Oh — that reminds me. I got you something,” she says and digs around in her purse before pulling out a small black box with a red bow neatly wrapped around it and handing it to you. “You might want to open it beneath the table. Might be embarrassing if someone sees it.” 

Brows furrowing in confusion, you dip the box under the white tablecloth and undo the bow quickly before lifting off the lid. Your mouth falls open and your eyes shoot up to meet hers. 

“Agatha,” you hiss, flushing. 

Resting on stretched out cotton in the box is a small, purple vibrator, curved to be able to rest on your clit while also vibrating against your g-spot, with a gold engraving along the side that goes inside you: Mommy’s cunt. Your clit throbs.

She holds up what looks like a small key fob and presses a button and the toy starts vibrating. You drop the box into your lap while gaping at her and she smirks triumphantly. “Works from anywhere in the world,” she says casually and your stomach sears with heat. 

“Oh, fuck,” you rasp. You’re suddenly feeling very excited about this move. Something about the distance, about the anticipation and the teasing and the pining that it will bring, doesn’t seem so bad anymore. 

Suddenly, the food can’t come fast enough and then you’re both in the car, Agatha speeding while you sit on your hands so you don’t distract her, and then she throws the car into park and you both race into her apartment. 

Her mouth finds yours the moment you step through the door, pushing you against the wall as a muffled oomph slips out of you, and she sucks on your tongue and then bites your bottom lip and then kisses her way down your neck. Your brain is going foggy and your underwear is soaked and you quickly tug her into the bedroom. 

Agatha tears off her dress and then pounces on you, knocking you onto your back on the bed, hands coming up to cup your breasts and you keen. 

“God, Agatha,” you groan and she scrapes her teeth against your neck. It’s so good, but it’s also your last night before everything changes. “Wait, fuck, stop.” 

She jumps back like she’s been burned. “What — is everything okay?” 

You nod, panting, and run your hands up and down her hips. “Yeah, everything’s great. I just…can we just cuddle tonight? I just want to be close to you.” 

Agatha runs her tongue along the inside of her bottom lip, her eyes going glassy for a moment before she blinks, and she chokes out, “Of course, honey. Whatever you want.” 

Smiling gratefully, you take off your clothes and slide under the covers next to her so you can feel all of her warm skin against yours before she tucks an arm around you. You nuzzle into her body and your face twitches with restrained emotion. 

“I’m going to miss you,” you say softly and she presses a kiss to your head. “I know it’ll be okay though. I’m almost done with my application to the University at Albany.” 

She hums and kisses you again before breathing in your scent deeply like she’s making sure she doesn’t forget it. “I have no doubt you’ll get in. And then it’ll be us in our own little world.” 

“That’s right.” 

The two of you lay like that for what feels like hours, and eventually, Agatha’s breathing starts to even out. A quick glance up at her face confirms that she fell asleep. 

You know you should too, but you’re reluctant to let this moment go. Right now, it feels like you’re frozen in time, just the two of you. 

So you stay up as late as you can, just soaking in the feeling of her. 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @vyvvycg @m1vfs

[nmhdreamscape]

pillow prince ✧ l.jn

pairing | idol!jeno x fem!reader word count | 2.5k synopsis | late night recordings and rehearsals had been doing a number on jeno, what kind of girlfriend would you be if you didn’t try and help him relax a little? content | whiny!jeno, oral (m receiving), hair pulling, praise, marking

the sound of the front door opening and closing catches your attention. you were stood in the kitchen finishing up dinner for the night when jeno crosses into your line of sight. the first thing that caught your attention was the lack of fabric decorating his arms, having a very strong weakness for the sight of your boyfriend in a tank top. the way that the black material contrasted against his pale skin. the sight of his muscular biceps and protruding veins. it was enough to drive you silently insane, stirring a sense of want inside of you.

however, those thoughts were soon interrupted by the fact that jeno simply walked right by you and straight into your shared bedroom. that’s how you knew something was off. you quickly turned off the stove, opting to follow him. standing in the doorway, you watched in amusement as he flopped onto the bed with a groan. jeno turned his head to look at you with an apologetic smile.

“hey baby. sorry, they threw in a last minute recording session on top of us learning an entirely new routine.” he sighed, rolling over and stretching with a yawn. you walked toward the bed, your boyfriend moving back to sit up against the headboard. you climbed onto the mattress beside him, studying his figure carefully. you carefully climbed into his lap, something you often did after spending the day apart.

“it’s okay! are you feeling okay though?” you reassured him, stroking his cheek. he quickly leaned into the touch, feeling some of the tension leaving his body purely due to your presence. you secretly adored when he got like this. the sleepiness seemed to only amplify his affections, jeno becoming a bit clingy and somewhat pliant.

“just a bit stressed and a little tense.” he mumbled into your palm, before kissing it softly. the earlier thoughts from when he had first come into your shared apartment quickly came front of mind as you absentmindedly tranced patterns along his bare arms. he seemed to watch with bated breath as your fingers trailed up higher. a smirk begins to grace your lips as you heard a sharp intake of breath come from your boyfriend when you traced across his jawline, tilting his head up to look you in the eyes.

“want some help with that?” you asked quietly, moving forward so that he could feel your breath against his lips. jeno stared up at you with eyes slightly glazed over, somewhat out of it, before coming back down to earth and nodding rapidly. he hurriedly pressed his lips against yours in a kiss, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. any control you had over him before seemed to be slipping as you melted into his grasp.

his movements were more needy, sloppier, desperate. he let out an audible groan when your tongue finally slipped into his mouth, hands clinging to your hips harshly. you could still sense an air of hesitation surrounding jeno, still sat up straight, muscles still overly tense. he seemed to have trouble with fully letting go. it was natural for him to step up and take the lead, and this went very much against that. you could practically hear his brain whirring around, overanalysing every movement, every touch.

jeno needed reassurance, you could tell that much. you pulled away from his lips slowly, the strand of saliva connecting the two of you showing just how messy things had gotten. your boyfriend surged forward to kiss you again, only for you to move back again. he began to pout, pulling you even closer. he was still trying to take control, letting out a noise of confusion as you continued to maintain the distance between you.

“baby, just relax. let me take care of you, please.” you whispered, resting your forehead against his. you watched as everything seemed to click into place in his mind, his body visibly relaxing at the realisation of your intentions. jeno mumbled a quiet okay before looking up at you expectantly.

you smiled down at him before ducking down to begin pressing kisses against his neck. they felt light across his skin, barely giving him time to register they were there before you shifted to another spot. jeno knew why, you didn’t want to risk leaving any evidence behind. you had learned that lesson the hard way in the beginning of your relationship, when jeno had come home one night looking like a sad puppy after being scolded by stylists all day. it wasn’t enough, he wanted more. his eyes fluttered closed as he tilted his head up to bare his neck to you, fighting the urge to grip you in place to ensure he got what he wanted.

“you can leave marks… you know if you want to.” he muttered quietly, pink beginning to dust his cheeks. you let out a breathless laugh against his skin, very amused at how easily he was following along with everything now. against your better judgement, you gave into his request. he let out a whine as your movements became harsher, lasting longer, relishing in the feeling of your lips against his skin starting from his jaw all the way down to his collarbones.

you moved back for a moment to assess what you had just done, watching as colour began to bloom on his pale skin. he looked so pretty like this, blissed out and content, body free from the worries of the day. it made all the work you had to do in the morning to cover it all up worth it if he was enjoying it this much. your gaze soon shifted down once again to that damn tank top and just how good he looked in it. you gripped the hem and begin hastily lifting it up his torso.

“fuck, you always look so good in these.” you moaned as you finally managed to get the black fabric over his head. your eyes remained locked on his expression as you threw it to the side, watching how his cheeks went from a light pink to a brighter red. his breath seemed to stop at your comment, eyes darting elsewhere as he bit his lip.

oh. oh. that was new. you knew he liked to praise you, that was very much obvious. but you didn’t think it went both ways. sure, you had jokingly called him a good boy before, and you sure as hell complimented him all the time. you had just dismissed his reactions as shyness, not that he had like the comments like that. you certainly weren’t complaining.

you resumed kissing at your boyfriends neck, beginning to trail your lips down his collarbones and onto his chest. you conjured your assault downward, mumbling sweet praises into his skin. you studied his demeanour carefully as he became increasing flustered and needy. jeno’s hips were now bucking upward with each of your movements. your lips now firmly sucking marks into his hip bones while playing with the drawstring of the sweatpants that rested just below. your eyes remained locked on his, savouring each other noises you managed to pull from him in anticipation.

jeno let out a sigh of relief as your hands finally gripped at his sweatpants with the intention of pulling them down. he eagerly lifted his hips up to help you remove them along with his boxers. the mumbling of “good boy” caught him off guard, a high-pitched whine escaping from the back of his throat. jeno let out a hiss as his cock was finally freed from his boxers. you returned to kissing down his body from where you had left off, fingers now tracing patterns on his thighs. you could tell this was driving him insane, your hands and mouth being so close and yet so far away from where he actually needed them.

a quiet whine of “please” caught your attention immediately, your teasing ceasing. you had started this to help him relax, not to rile him up. that was something you could save for another time. jeno could have thanked every god above when your hand finally wrapped itself around his cock, carefully moving up and down to ease him into the feeling. a smirk graced your lips at how easily he was getting lost in the pleasure, slow strokes being enough for him at that moment.

but you wanted to spoil him, reward him for a hard day at work. that’s when you leaned forward to lick a long stripe upwards from the base all the way to the tip, collecting the precum that had pooled there on your tongue. you watched on in amusement as your small licks against his head drove him mad, head falling back against the headboard in pleasure as he muttered various curses. you tested the waters by slipping the tip between your lips and sucking, earning a whine from the lips of the boy now staring down at you.

you had now decided that enough was enough. your hands reached up, one to grip at his thigh and the other to grip at the base of his cock, before you took more of him into your mouth. you watched on in amazement at how vocal your boyfriend was being, making a mental note of this moment for use later. when you reached halfway, you started to bob your head, your hand working the other half of his cock as your eyes fell closed. you quickly found a rhythm that he enjoyed, occasionally breaking it to spending sometime kissing and lapping at the head.

jeno watched on in amazement as you worked, stress well and truly forgotten about as he focused on keeping his hips still as you worked. your boyfriend didn’t really know what to do with himself at that moment. he really wanted to grip your hair to help you along. thrust his cock further into your mouth to get that feeling of being completely swallowed by you. however, you were controlling everything, and he didn’t want to do something that you didn’t want him to do. as if sneaking his apprehension, your eyes opened to stare into his. your eyes shifted downward, and that’s when you noticed his hands curled into fists beside him. you pulled off of him with a downright sinful pop, spit dripping down your chin, and your chest heaved from the lack of air.

“you can hold on, i don’t mind. want to make sure you get the most out of this.” you asked, eyes locked with his as you pressed kisses along his length. you then reached up to grab one of his hands and placed it in your hair, giving him an encouraging nod before swallowing down again. it took him a few moments to realise why you weren’t moving before he sprung into action. only when he grabbed onto your hair did you resume your movements, enjoying the slight sting that came as his grip tightened in pleasure.

you continued your ministrations, hands and mouth working together as you slowly eased yourself down further along his cock. at the feeling of you going further, he accidentally thrust further into your mouth, causing you to swallow him entirely. you felt your gag reflex kick in, the sensation feeling heavenly around his length. you pulled off entirely, watching as he muttered out apologies in between curses and moans. you let out a small giggle before swallowing down on him again, stroking his hip to indicate he was all good and to continue. and that was all the indication he needed. he began to thrust needily into your mouth, matching the pace you had set, as your grip on his hip tightened.

you continued to work your hand in conjunction with his movements, eyes snapping up to take everything in. the sight of jeno with his head thrown back, eyes screwed shut with his lips parted in pleasure was enough to earn a moan from you. the vibrations drove him mad and caused a particularly harsh thrust, which only elicited further noises from you. his moans had begun to get whinier now and more frequent, hips beginning to fall out of line with your own movements. you could tell he was close. jeno’s mind was completely fogged with pleasure at this point, his only focus being on his release. that didn’t stop you from being surprised when you heard his voice from above you.

“please let me cum. i’ve been a good boy for you. please.” he whined. you momentarily based to look up at him in wonder, you would definitely have to revisit this later. jeno began to squirm as he waited for you to move again, shallowly thrusting into your mouth. when you snapped out of your daze, you nodded as best you could with his cock in your mouth, before resuming your movements.

all it took was a few more bobs of your head and a few more thrusts, and jeno was cumming down the back of your throat with a whine. you gripped onto his hips for dear life as he rode out his orgasm, a broken whine hanging in the air as he came down from his height of pleasure. you pull off of his length carefully, knowing he would be sensitive. a trail of spit follows you as you move away, lips puffy from being used. your boyfriend’s head fell forward with a blissed out smile, eyes creasing up into crescents as he looked at you. you giggled at his expression, leaning forward to press a quick kiss against his lips. before you could get away, he pulls you into his lap once again, lips pressing against yours harshly as his hands came to cup your ass. realising where he was going with this, you grabbed his shoulder to help push the two of you apart. jeno simply looks up at you, confused.

“is it not your turn?” jeno quizzed, landing a light smack on your ass. you let out a yelp, looking down at him with a smile.

“are you not tired?” you dismissed, moving to hop off of his lap and get ready for bed. jeno seemed to have other ideas though, shifting his hand to rest on your waist to lock you in place. any tiredness that your boyfriend may have had when he entered your apartment was long gone.

“not even in the slightest.” he smiled before moving to begin pressing kisses against your neck. you let out a small whine, attempting meekly to push him off, to no avail.

“tonight was about you though.” you pouted as your grip tightened on his shoulders, eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself get lost in the feeling of jeno finally showing you some attention.

“well now i want to watch my girlfriend as she cums around my fingers. think you can help with that?” he teased, snapping the fabric of your shorts back against your skin, eliciting a gasp from you. you simply nod in response before your swiftly pushed back down into the mattress. if it helps him relax, who are you to say no?

masterlist

requests and asks are open!

[r0tting-rat]

"Little pest."

Hi Magpie!!! Gift :> Just a lil thing for a very talented someone with an incredible au. Yeah I'm a huge simp for their alien boys what about it /silly

Pairing: Alien King!Eclipse (by @sleepymagpie-draws) x Gender Neutral Reader Warning: None, maybe just a bit ooc (sorry mags) Words: 4000+ Summary: You're bored and can't sleep. Thank god you have someone to annoy to pass the time <3 Heavily inspired by this ask/art!!! Literally died when I saw it he's so beautiful. Additional tags: TouchSTARVED reader. Starved as hell. Also fluff fluff fluff so much fluff. Magpie I love him can you tell. (Reminder everyone that the reader has techincally been kidnapped, but they're pretty chill about it dw)

Who said being kidnapped by aliens is a terrifying and horrible experience? It has already been months since Sun literally grabbed you and brought you with him, and you have yet to be put on a vivisectionist's table. In fact, all you have known since then are silky sheets, soft pillows, ornate plates of fresh fruits you have never seen before, and heavy pieces of jewelry that hang down your neck and rest fresh against your sternum. You live better than you used to back on Earth, spoiled rotten by three royals every single day of your dull life, sleeping in a bed three times the size of a human one, and with countless workers ready to be summoned at your every call. Although, you have to admit that you much prefer the attention of your “captors” compared to the one of their servants, feeling like their soft touches work like a relaxing balm on your mood. 

The one of the three brothers you see less is Eclipse, and even if you can bet your money on the fact that he must be constantly busy due to his duties as a king, you can’t help but wish you could spend more time with him, craving the way he gently scratches the top of your head with his claws whenever he manages to stop by and pay you a visit.

Rolling around in the soft sheets of the bed you are resting on, looking up at the dull ceiling, you feel like a pampered and neglected pet at the same time, left to the care of strangers who refuse to speak more than quick sentences to you, covered by precious gifts from head to toe and fed with silver spoons while also being locked alone in your quarters for hours without end. 

You complain, of course. To Sun, Moon, and anyone who’s willing to swing by and listen, really. You grumble and whine; you roll on your bed and do your best attempt at puppy eyes, but all the brothers do is laugh and caress your cheeks. There are rules—they say—rules that can’t be broken, and each time they remind you, you roll your eyes. They promised you books and games to pass the time, but as you wait for the shipment from Earth to arrive, you are left with nothing. You don’t understand the language of the heavy volumes collecting dust in the bookshelves of your room, and something tells you you wouldn’t enjoy reading them even if you did.

The part of the brothers’ visits you hate the most is when you see them stand up and prepare to leave, because you know that the very moment the door closes behind them, it locks, leaving you stuck in your room for hours. There’s no real keyhole in your door, so you can only guess how it works, but from what you have gathered so far, it seems like it’s semi-automatic but opens only when you’re coming in from the outside. Listening to Sun and Moon made you realize another thing as well: their rooms seem to be close to yours—maybe even adjacent—and the thought infuriates you. So close, and yet so far! Why do they so rarely visit you if they are so close by? Do they have other places to rest? Do they sleep at all? Are the bedrooms just for show? Drowning in questions, you decide that it’s time to break some rules, and when Eclipse finally stops by to visit you after dinner, you come up with a plan. 

The alien is so tall the tip of his crown brushes over the canopy of your bed as he leans over your draped form on the bed. He rests one of his hands on top of your head, brushing your hair back, and you look up at him with a pout.

“Finally decided to pay attention to me?” you say, swatting his hand away and sitting up. You know you’re being a brat, but if they so desire to treat you as a glorified pet, then you might as well show them the reality of owning one. From under his crown, which you consider more like a helmet or mask, you hear the disappointed clicking of his mandibles that translates through your magnetic ring with a soft cooing sound.

“Oh, my pet, are you feeling neglected?” he asks, coming back to gently run his claws through your hair. He loves to do it, and you love allowing him.

“I’m bored, Eclipse.” You have no qualms about calling him by his real name, ignoring any honorific everyone around keeps suggesting to you. “I’m bored, and it’s been almost a week since your last visit.”

You shift back on the bed a little so it doesn’t seem done on purpose, and you watch as the terrifyingly huge alien climbs on the disarranged covers to follow you. He never fully enters your personal space, always keeping enough room between the two of you to keep things “formal,” in a way, but you also noticed how he likes to have you at arm’s length. Every time you are in the same room as Eclipse, one of his four arms is always touching you, resting on your head or shoulder, tilting your chin up, sometimes even running his claws from the base of your spine to the nape of your neck just to see you shiver and glare at him.

“My apologies,” he says, and his words sound sincere, “I promise the shipment will arrive shortly; you’ll have your books in no time.”

“It’s not the books that I want, though,” you reply, leaning closer, and that causes Eclipse to slightly move back, like he’s scared you might end up too close to his face. “You kidnapped me, dragged me here, then proceeded to simply ignore me.”

You weren’t being ignored, of course. You were just acting dramatic so as to get what you wanted.

“I’m sure I do not need to remind you who of the three of us is the one at fault for your presence here. As I told you already, I’m afraid I cannot bring you with me while I work, pet,” Eclipse sighs, “After we expanded on your little planet, both Sun and Moon’s responsibilities and tasks have doubled as well. It has to be said, your fellow humans are quite rowdy.”

You turn your head away, pretending to look saddened by the news—nothing you hadn’t expected, of course, but still.

“Also, the thought of you roaming these halls alone makes us all uneasy,” he adds, “You could get lost, or someone could see you and be scared to the point of calling the guards on you. That’s why we must lock your door, my pet, to keep you safe.”

“Not because you think I might run away?” you question, eyebrows rising up with skepticism, and Eclipse purrs with amusement.

“Run off? And where to, silly?” he laughs, “You wouldn't even know how to leave this place, let alone return to your home planet.”

He’s right; running from them would have been stupid. Plus, you don’t really want to escape—not when you have two princes and a king spoiling you like that—you just need to leave that damned room for at least five minutes so as to not go mad! Is it too much to ask not to be subjected to psychological torture?

“Are you returning tomorrow morning?” you ask, hopeful, and Eclipse shakes his head. You groan, now seriously disappointed, and try not to lean too much into the touch of his hand caressing your cheek. The contact burns, like living embers, and you have to stifle a second groan. It’s been so long since you had some form of physical contact with a human, and something tells you it’s starting to take a toll on you, making you more compliant and demanding of attention. It could be due to the unfamiliar setting, which you simply can’t grow accustomed to despite how much you walk the perimeter of your large room, or the complete absence of familiar faces, but the cause of it doesn’t matter. All you know is that you need to be hugged, to be cuddled, to be held, and to be caressed. You’re touch starved, so hungry for it you could just throw yourself at Eclipse and cling on his neck until he relents and decides to sleep there with you or bring you to his room—either way, you’d get a full night of cuddles; too bad common decency stops you from hugging a king like a koala. 

“I have an important meeting in the morning, so I’m afraid not. I’m sure Sun and Moon might be able to clear their schedules in the afternoon, though, so don’t fret.”

His words are apologetic, but you feel as if they were said with the sole purpose of bringing you harm because they do nothing but hurt you. 

Eclipse leaves after a while of chatting, bringing all the warmth of the room with him, and you watch him from your spot on the edge of the bed as he walks towards the door. You’re on your back, head hanging down the bed, staring blankly at the heels of the king and mentally preparing your next move. You act fast. The door opens, Eclipse slips away, and right before it closes, you throw a pillow in the gap of the threshold. The noise of the pillow falling is soft and muffled, and Eclipse doesn’t seem to notice that the door hasn’t closed completely behind him; instead, he simply walks away in the white corridor outside your room, and you stare at your successful attempt with surprise. You actually did it! The door is still open, blocked by the red pillow, and you finally have access to the rest of the rooms. 

Carefully standing up from your bed, like afraid someone from outside could hear you, you make your way towards the exit and peek out, hoping not to be met with Eclipse’s disappointed masked face. When your eyes travel the length of the long corridor extending before you like a white snake, you find no sign of any alien, and a smile splits on your lips from ear to ear.

The idea of immediately beginning to explore is alluring, but you know better than to leave when it’s still so early. You must wait some time until you’re sure Eclipse must have already retreated to his room for the night, and then enact the second phase of your plan.

Once you’re finally sure enough time has passed since the king has wished you goodnight, you finally push fully open the door of your room, looking around once more to make sure the coast is clear. After that, you put the pillow back to stop the door just in case it couldn’t be opened from outside like you thought, and walk in the direction you’re almost sure Eclipse has taken. During your short trip, you notice the complete lack of furniture or wall decorations in the halls, mumbling to yourself about “rich people’s lack of taste,” occasionally finding a door and trying to open it with no success, and you’re just about to give up when you finally place your open palm against one tall frame and see it move at your gentle touch. 

You stare in disbelief at the room opening before you, large and barren at the same time, trying to understand who the place belongs to while lingering on the door sill. In the darkness you see thousands of books neatly arranged on tall bookshelves, with their colorful and ornate hard covers staring at you as if they’re aware you’re a stranger, and as you enter you notice many have a broken spine. Those books, you realize, have been well loved by someone, or maybe simply re-read dozens of times out of need. It doesn’t matter to you, because what you’re most interested in is the second door in a corner of the room, likely leading to the actual bedchambers. It seems like the initial area has been arranged to be used as an office, separated from the personal spaces, but if that isn’t the truth, then you might have simply stepped into a random library and made a fool of yourself in front of the books. The hair on the back of your neck is standing up, and the monkey part of your brain keeps screaming that there’s someone watching you, but the deeper you go in the quarters, the more you keep telling yourself that it’s just your imagination. Your bare feet leave a slight trail on the carpet in the middle of the room as you walk towards the second door. 

As expected, the second room is more similar to a bedroom, although it doesn’t seem to gain any form of personality compared to the office you just left, almost as if the owner of the room doesn’t spend too much time in it. It wouldn’t fit Sun to sleep into such a sterile and dark ambience, and you feel like Moon would also take some more care into creating a welcoming area for himself, so that leaves out only one of the three brothers. 

The size of the bed confirms your theory: you have ended up exactly in Eclipse’s room, and you’re face to face with his sleeping form. Or, at least you guess it must be him, considering how dark it is in that corner. The only source of light in the room is a large window kept almost entirely shut, not allowing a ray of starlight to enter, so you really can’t be sure of anything.

The canopy bed in front of you is enormous, of a deep burgundy color, and see-through curtains drape over it to hide the figure in the middle. As you study the fabrics with the tips of your fingers, testing the softness, you find yourself enamored by it, beginning to press your open palms in the covers and then your face. You breathe in the scent, delicate while also heavy in your nostrils, and recognize the amazing aroma Eclipse brings with him everywhere he goes. You have no idea if it’s his favorite perfume or simply his natural scent; all you know is that it reminds you of the time you fell asleep on the king’s cape while he stopped for a visit, and the morning after, you found it still draped over you like a heavy cloak.

With your face in the covers, you simply close your eyes and let the memory play in your mind, affection blooming in your chest and throat like a warm flower, not noticing the dark frame towering over you from behind. Eclipse, from the height of his 8 ft, looks down at you like you’re nothing but a silly rabbit caught in a trap, about to be served for dinner to a horde of hungry guests. 

“What exactly are you doing here, little pest?” he asks, and his deep growl makes you jump in the spot. When you turn around, your heart is racing, your eyes are wide open, and you feel more like prey than ever before in your life. As soon as you realize that Eclipse isn’t wearing his crown, you suddenly feel your blood pumping in your throat, and your cheeks grow warm at the sight of the red marks around his eyes and the dark color of his face sweetly mixing together, hypnotizing you for a second. All you can think of in that little head of yours is that the male should take off the helm more often so as to let his beautiful eyes see the light of day. 

It isn’t the first time you saw him without the headpiece; sometimes he takes it off after he comes back from a long meeting with his advisors, and the sight always strikes you like lightning.

Eclipse—it has to be said—is beautiful. Not only for the eyes, which are of a wonderful milky color that makes you feel as if they’re cursing you with some kind of magic, but also for his soft features, unfortunately hidden for most of the time. Did his citizens even know their king looked like that? Heavens, you suddenly remember why you’re so happy that you’ve been kidnapped.

Eclipse is wearing something similar to a robe that wraps around his torso while leaving his chest open, with long sleeves covering his four large arms, and everything is kept into place by a tie in the front. He must have been on his way to go to bed before you interrupted him.

“It is only polite to answer when a royal addresses you,” the alien angruily reminds you, and you suddenly realize you haven’t said a thing since he entered. 

“I just… I wanted, I was…” None of your sentences are making sense, so you swallow the lump in your throat and force your mind to clear itself of all the other distracting thoughts. “I just wanted to spend time with you, Eclipse.”

That sentence paired with some well-played puppy eyes is enough to make the alien sigh and relent, annoyed, probably too tired to argue with you after a long day of work.

“I don’t know how you left your room, but that’s unimportant now. You should return, it’s late,” he says, and you pout.

“Why can’t I sleep here?” you ask, and Eclipse looks down at you like you have grown a second head. 

“I have a meeting tomorrow morning. Have you forgotten?” he sounds incredulous, “I’ll wake up early.”

You shrug after fake-pondering for a second. You had already made your decision. 

“I don’t mind,” you reply with a small smile, “I sleep for the most part of the day anyway, so I’m well rested.”

Eclipse’s eyes turn into slits as he stares down at you, one pair of arms crossed over his chest and the other pair of fists on his hips. You can’t help but admire the dip of his collarbones as the fabric of his robe reveals more of him.

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?” he sighs, and your smile widens as you see his resolve start to break. You shake your head, and Eclipse finally relents. “Fine, get on the bed already.”

With a smug expression, you jump on the soft covers, happy with your little win, and you watch from behind the see-through curtain the king as he walks back in his personal library and returns, a moment later, with a book in his hand. You turn around, curious, and realize that the frame you thought belonged to Eclipse was actually just a bunch of pillows stuffed under the covers. Had he put them there because he had heard you come in? That would explain why he was ready to jump on you the very moment you turned your back.

The king motions you to get under the covers, then parts the curtains to slip in himself. Your eyes don’t miss the way his tense frame relaxes once his body finally rests on the mattress, as if the dark red sheets weren’t made of fabric but rippling water of a warm spring. One of his hands wraps around you, caressing your back, and you take it as a sign you can scoot closer and lay your cheek on his chest. The contact is pleasant, sending a nice buzzing of emotions down your spine, and you find yourself leaning onto him more and more every second, warm face resting on a cold and hard exoskeleton with a sigh. His main pair of arms opens the book on a page in the middle, and, with his back against the headboard, he begins reading a book with pages covered in mysterious letters and signs.

You can’t help your curiosity, and the words slip out of your mouth even before you can stop them. You don’t want to bother him, but you crave to hear him talk to you some more. 

“What are you reading?” you ask, and Eclipse begins to smile.

“Fiction. After so many hours spent on documents, I need something to distract my mind.”

“I didn’t take you for the type,” you murmur, and your sentence makes him laugh.

“You just don’t know me enough, pet,” he almost purrs, and once again your face heats up. How can he say that as if it was nothing? You do want to know him more—in fact, you want to know everything about Eclipse. You want to know his favorite books, his favorite scents, what he does in the morning after waking up, and what he likes to eat. You want to ask about his childhood, you want to spend time with him and his brothers, you want to learn more about their culture and more about them as well. You want to be able to spend every second with the three of them, but you can’t, so you cherish the moment you have with Eclipse before you eventually fall asleep.

“That’s something we can always change,” you say, nuzzling closer to him and closing your eyes for a moment. You’re so close you can hear the pumping of his heart under his exoskeleton, and the sound of it is almost lulling you to sleep. “What’s the story about?”

“Ah, just a tale about two lovers,” he explains, “It’s tragic, but I can’t fall asleep without reading at least a chapter.”

“I hope it’s not too tragic,” you murmur, “It’d be sad if one died.”

“I must agree with you here,” Eclipse hugs you even closer. “They’re made for each other. If one were to pass away, I have no idea what the other would do.”

You feel cradled by the gentleness in his words, the emotion that you so rarely hear in them, like a hand caressing your cheek and tilting your face up. When you do open your eyes, you find Eclipse fondly looking down at you with a small smile.

“Keep going,” you mutter, fighting with your own heavy eyelids as you speak, “I wanna know about them…”

“Sleep, my dear pet,” Eclipse whispers instead, bending down to kiss the top of your head, “I’ll tell you more tomorrow.”

You don’t want tomorrow to come, you know you wouldn’t stand to see him wearing his crown and leave for the day. The thought is so painful you curl up into a ball and groan, and you stop only when a pair of strong arms hold you close to a hard chest, and you realize that Eclipse has fully slipped under the cover and is now gently hugging you, one hand on the nape of your neck, another burying its fingers in your hair, and the last two resting on your hips. Another kiss is placed on your forehead, and you swear you might just start boiling on the spot.

“What about your book?” you ask with a tired and groggy voice, wrapping yourself around Eclipse some more, like you’re afraid someone might come in and untangle you from him. 

“It’ll wait,” the king answers. 

“But you said you can’t sleep without reading…” Your eyes are closed again, and this time you feel like they might not open until morning.

“This can work as well.” 

You finally fall asleep cradled and hugged by Eclipse’s arms, uncaring of his hard shell being so different from any kind of fur or skin humans might find more comfortable, and when you do manage to sleep into your own world, you do it with a smile on your lips. You’re no longer afraid of turning around right after waking up and finding the bed empty and cold, not anymore, not when Eclipse is making up for all the lack of affection you had to endure. 

Next time, you’ll try to see if you can rope Sun and Moon into it too. It’d be nice to have a sleepover all together.

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Death and the Fool

Chapter 2: The Ace of Pentacles--Upright

Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Summary: Where the personification of Life believes she has no chance with Agatha Harkness after Death gets to her first

Spotify playlist here

Chapter 1

Taglist: @hannah-0730 @loveshineslikethesky

“The Ace of Pentacles–Upright: Opportunity, prosperity, new adventures.”

__________

October 2026

The first thought that comes to your mind is not good. 

The house that stands in front of you looks just shy of completely mangled. The door has been ripped off its hinges, splintered into a thousand pieces. Outside, the flower box holds crushed shrubbery and chrysanthemums and the roof drain pipe is half way from completely falling off. 

You take a few measured steps forward and notice the mailbox is overflowing with mail. You sigh, roll your eyes, and continue towards the house.

Stepping through the door, you’re met with piles of splintered wood, and as you try to watch your footing, your eyes lock onto something familiar. Your heart lurches when your fingers touch it. The Triple Goddess pendant was all too familiar. You had known Agatha for over 300 years and she never once went anywhere without it.

You slip your nail beneath the clasp of the pendant. Inside is another familiar sight and you smile bitterly at the piece of dark hair before closing it again and dropping it in your pocket.

You can't see her, but Agatha’s voice is clear and distinct, and your chest warms hearing it for the first time in decades.

“Fine, I’m driving.”

There’s no chance of reacting when she rounds the corner as soon as the words escape her mouth.

You’re both frozen, staring each other down, and the kid behind her looks between yourself and Agatha.

“Hi,” he smiles, attempting to hop towards you. When he makes eye contact, something feels off about him. You recognize every single soul that walks the Earth. You create them from nothing, yet form them into everything. But this one, you don’t recognize. 

“I’m–” His mouth is forced shut and it looks almost as if his own skin is stretched over his lips. When a black squiggle paints itself over where his lips would be, you narrow your eyes at him.

Agatha reaches for a pair of scissors and cuts the rope from around the boy’s wrists, handing them to him, “Cut the rest of yourself free,” she sneers, “and go outside, you’re driving.”

He struggles to hop between the two of you, stumbling briefly on the wood chips, but managing to catch himself before he leaves for the grassy front yard. 

“He has a sigil,” you point out, watching him carefully.

“Yep. I’ve been calling him ‘Teen’,” she says. “He’s pretty insistent on not being a kid.” 

You turn your head to look back at her. “Rio said she ‘stopped by’.” You pause and look around at all the damage in the house–broken glass and china in the kitchen and more concerningly, blood on the floor. “It seems she left out some parts of her story.”

Agatha purses her lips, “Like trying to kill me?”

“Oh, I’m sure you enjoyed that, Aggie,” you sigh, leaning against the wall. “You were never one to shy away from a fight.”

Agatha’s stiff and cold demeanor didn’t falter, even at the nickname. “Why are you here?” she asks.

She’s so different from the Agatha you originally knew. The Agatha that would laugh at the stupidest jokes you’d tell her. The Agatha that would climb up a tree to scare you and Rio and laugh with that mischievous glint in her eye. The Agatha that would sing lullabies. 

Oh, how you miss the Sun.

“Just checking in,” you shrug. “Where are you driving to?”

“The last time I saw you–”

“You told me I’m too pure,” you butt in, remembering the memory that you aren’t too fond of. “You told me that I’d be corrupted by your ways if I did not leave. But I’ll tell you the same thing I told you that night, Aggie–Unlike Rio, I can find any soul, anywhere, at any time without her necessary process. No amount of dark magic can hide you from me, Agatha, and you cannot corrupt me. You cannot corrupt Life.”

She’s quiet for some before she glances at Teen, who sits on the grass, clearly distracted by his phone. Agatha leans in closely, lowering her voice, “We’re walking the Road.”

You pull back, searching her eyes for any sign of farce, “You said you would stop with the Road bullshit, Agatha. What is he, sixteen?”

“Well that was before Wanda Maximoff drained me of everything and stole the Darkhold…besides, I’m just having him drive me around collecting witches for the coven,” she shrugs. Agatha grins as she watches you sigh, “Why don’t you join us, hon?”

“Excuse me?”

Agatha takes a pair of sunglasses and cleans them off with her shawl before slipping them over her eyes and smiling at you. “You’ll be here with Rio to collect their souls after I drain them anyway. Why don’t you have a bit of fun?”

You want to say no. You want to say no so badly, but you don’t. Instead, you groan. “Fine, but I’m not having that kid drive me around. I’ll stay here and…clean up.”

“Sounds good, doll,” she smiles–and, oh, how you love when she smiles, especially when it has that mischievous undertone. Agatha steps over pieces of the door and exits through the doorway. “We’ll be back soon!”

When the pair of them leave you’re left to your own devices. You look around the entire first floor, ending in the kitchen. You let out an exasperated sigh, Rio really did a number on this place.

By the time you finish cleaning the house, it’s three o’clock and Agatha and Teen still aren’t back. You aren’t usually the type to snoop around but you’re so curious as to how Agatha’s been living the last few years.

In the room off the left of the foyer is the sitting room Agatha came out of. Afternoon light creeps in through the curtains but the lamps provide a warm ambience as you take a lap around the room. 

You don’t recognize a single person in the framed pictures–there’s a bearded man with an older woman who looks to be his mother, a picture of three women, and a bigger picture with a huge group of people all wearing shirts that read “Bohner Family Reunion”. 

There are collections of records and Blu-Ray discs from the previous owner and you rifle through them–a colossal amount of classic rock and movies that you know a guy would try to man-splain to you when you tell him that you “just don’t get it”. 

On the partition wall separating the sitting room from the dining room, there are at least thirty pictures and pieces of paper covered in red ink. Upon further inspection, the pictures are nothing but daisies and patches of grass, and the ink on the papers are just random letters and scribbled lines. You think back to your conversation with Rio the previous night.

“She’s gone all true crime and thinks she’s trying to solve a murder. It’s kind of funny actually, I’ve been playing along.”

When you go upstairs that’s when you see the little touches of the real Agatha. The door to her bedroom is open and you amble in. Her bed is unmade and you’re not one bit surprised after having asked her decades ago why she doesn’t make it. 

“I’m gonna be sleeping in it again tonight, why the hell would I go through all that effort just to mess it up again?” she had replied.

On her nightstand is a ceramic bunny figurine. Closer to the bed is an empty wine glass with the smallest bit of dried red at the bottom, and beside that is a bottle of ibuprofen and a half-way read through book.

In her closet are all different decades of clothing–50’s, 60’s, 70’s, 80’s, 90’s, and the 2000’s. You find leg warmers and laugh to yourself, imagining Agatha Harkness wearing these brightly colored monstrosities over whatever workout fit she was wearing. Your favorite, however, is the 50’s and 60’s section. You can remember those years so vividly, going to diners with her and drive-in movies after she finished “walking the Road” again.

After closing the closet your attention is pulled to a chair across the room. You walk over to it and see there’s a pair of black boots, a folded white blouse with purple slacks, and a teal trench coat hanging over the back of the chair. On top of the neatly folded blouse is a small envelope with Rio’s familiar handwriting, reading, Agatha.

The sound of Agatha’s voice reaches your ears. You look at the clock and it’s almost four. You’re able to hear her voice clearly, snapping back a snarky remark when Teen asks her where she’s going. 

She’s in the doorway of her room quicker than you realize and when you turn around she has that sly smile that makes you weak in the knees each time. 

“The house looks good,” Agatha says, tossing her shawl and hat on the bed. 

“Thanks, who did you steal it from?” you tease.

“I don’t know,” she huffs. “Some guy named Ralph…or Randall? Robert? I don’t know. I–What the hell is that?” 

She walks quickly over to where you are and snatches the note from the folded clothes. After tearing it open, she scans the lines and rolls her eyes, balling the paper up and throwing it away in the bathroom.

“She does know your style!” you chuckle. You take the clothes from the chair and bring them to her, smiling softly when she glares at them. “Just put them on, Aggie. You want to look good when “walking the Witches’ Road”, don’t you?”

She looks at you, fighting herself before sighing, completely defeated. “Fine. But I’m not going to like it.”

“I don’t expect you to,” you smile, chuckling as she shuts the door in your face.

You have to remind yourself to breathe when Agatha steps out of the bathroom. She could wear a potato sack, a garbage bag, and she’d still be the most beautiful woman you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

“Right,” she huffs, looking at herself in a full length mirror. “How do I look?”

You could answer in a million ways. You could tell her that the way she has her hair pinned up makes you want to place a thousand kisses over the exposed skin. You could tell her that she looks so good you want to rip the blouse she’s wearing open and have her take you right there. That the way her hands adjust the collar of the jacket makes unspeakable thoughts fill your mind.

But you don’t say that.

“Good!” you say. 

She looks at you through the mirror, grins, and turns around. “Good?”

“Amazing!” you correct yourself.

“Amazing?” she repeats. “Hm…Thank you.”

You take a deep breath and let it out. “You’re missing something, though.” 

Under the curious eye of Agatha, you step closer to her and reach into your pocket. When you grasp the pendant of the necklace and pull it out she visibly tenses. But you don’t acknowledge it. Instead, you move closer and reach around her neck, clasping it in place and adjusting it to lay beneath the collar of her blouse. Your fingers straighten out the pendant before pulling away. 

It’s quiet. 

Your eyes meet and you can see something in her soften. 

“Where did you find it?” Agatha asks quietly.

“Amidst the pile of door that Rio left behind,” you answer, letting out a quiet hum. “You’re not you without it and I know how much it means to you.”

“Is his–”

“Yes,” you cut in. “It’s still in there.”

She gives you a subtle nod. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

“You’re welcome,” you whisper, and you can almost swear you saw her eyes glance down at your lips. “You should probably get downstairs. Who knows what Teen is getting up to?”

Agatha scoffs, “Not much probably. Teenagers these days are too soft.”

Downstairs, you see Teen, who has set out what he calls “Pre-Road appetizers”. Over the mantel, he’s taped up a sign that reads “Welcome Coven”.

“I think it’s cute,” you shrug, watching as Agatha tears it down and huffs.

“No, leave it up,” a voice behind you says. “Really sets the mood.”

Teen breaks out into a smile and beckons her in. “Please, come in! Right, Agatha?”

“I don’t care, I mean whatever…” she mutters. Agatha seems mildly annoyed at this situation and you’re finding it hard to reserve a smile.

When Teen offers the new witch a “pre-Road appetizer”, she declines just to be overshadowed by another woman behind her.

“I don’t mind a lapsed expiration date,” she chirps, taking a bite of the expired granola bar. She pauses as she looks at the witch beside her, “High Priestess.”

“Jennifer Kale, potions,” she says.

“Lilia Calderu, divination,” the second one says. She narrows her eyes. “You’re bound.”

“And you need a chemical peel,” Jen retorts, much to Lilia’s dismay.

Behind them, a third woman appears and sighs. “This is never going to work. Your front door is missing.”

“Alice!” Teen exclaims with a bright smile. “How did you find us?”

“I’m an ex-cop,” she shrugs. “That’s gonna be my answer to a lot of questions.”

Impatient, and completely over the introductions, Agatha sighs loudly and claps her hands. “Okay!” she chirps. “We’ve got everyone! Let’s go!”

“Um, what about the green witch?” Jennifer asks.

Agatha scoffs. “Oh, we don’t need one of those! Let’s g–”

“Yes, we do!” Lilia insists.

“Green magic is arguably the most important of the skill sets needed for the road,” Jen says.

After more bickering, Agatha finally relents and leaves the house to retrieve the “green witch”. An awkward silence falls over the room as you all wait for her to come back, and it felt longer than it actually was.

“Okay!” Agatha cheers. “I’ve got our green witch! This is Mrs. Hart.”

A small woman stands beside Agatha, smiling as she greets everyone. “Oh, actually, it’s Sharon!”

You can see Agatha becoming visibly frustrated at the revelry, but she hides it (and not well) with an overly cheery smile. “Alright, let’s go!”

You and Agatha stand together with Teen in between you. You watch as the coven takes in their surroundings. Lilia strolls around, nosing around in the boxes on the shelves while Sharon, Jennifer, and Alice stand there awkwardly.

“Do you think we’ll need another car?” Teen asks. “I don’t think everyone will fit in mine.”

Agatha sighs, “You don’t drive to the Road, Teen. The Road is conjured. In fact, why don’t you go upstairs.” She turns him around and despite his protests, keeps pushing him toward the stairs. “Yeah, let’s getcha up there. Let the adults handle this.”

When he leaves the basement, Agatha turns to you, “Go with him. Make sure he doesn’t come down here.”

The sun is almost completely set when you and Teen make it upstairs. The dim lighting leaves an eerie glow around the house and it’s almost unsettling as you watch Teen explore the living room. When he gasps and picks up Agatha’s rabbit, there’s a twinge in your chest and it feels like you’re seeing Nicky for the first time again.

But your thoughts are interrupted when Teen drops the rabbit and slowly walks outside. You follow closely behind him, “What are y–shit.” 

Agatha had made sure your priority was keeping him from going back down into the basement, but that priority had changed. Now, as you stare face to face with the Salem Seven, your priority has changed: protect Teen and make sure they never reach Agatha.

You pull Teen back, “Get inside, now!” 

You can hear the faint sound of the ballad below the floorboards as you cast a protection spell over the vacant doorway in an attempt to hold them off. Teen pulls the nearest couch over and blocks the entrance. He moves to another room and it’s quiet–and you know that means nothing good. 

Teen’s scream from the other room makes you react before you can even think. You run to him, pulling him behind you just before one of the Seven can reach him. You cast another spell, sending one of them flying into the wall before you turn and run to find Teen.

You can hear shouting below you and just like that, it stops. You know what that means. This wasn’t the first time you’ve witnessed it. 

Teen’s screaming echoes through the house and you can hear him running towards the basement. “Agatha!” he shrieks. “Agatha!”

You run after him, just on his tail as he makes it to the basement. “Teen! Wait!”

“Is this the Road?” you hear him shout. “Is this the Road, because we should really get going!”

And now you’re nothing but confused. 

Is this the Road? 

The Road? “The Road” should be three dead witches and Agatha’s neighbor.

And then you reach the bottom of the stairs. 

You pause and stare at Agatha. The air feels electric and the very thought of the Salem Seven leaves your mind, because when you look up from the hexagon door, your eyes meet and you both share the same questions:

Where did that come from? And why is it here?

[beef-brisket]

Lucifer couldn't believe it. He's here- Adam is here. Right in front of him. He's real.

That's when everything slapped Lucifer in the face. His appearance and his room were a complete mess, definitely not something he wants Adam to see.

Snapping his fingers, Lucifer's room became only a tad tidier, and he summoned himself some clean clothes and the best imitation of a put-together guy. His hair was slicked back, brushed, and even though he couldn't help the paleness, some different tones foundation will do.

But Adam growled before he could put on his purple eye shadow: I don't give a shit how you look, it took me nearly four hours to fucking drive here, so stop wasting my time, shorty.

Charlie glared up at Adam, she hated how he spoke about mad to her dad. There was no need for it. But when Adam didn't even shoot her a glance, she gave up.

Lucifer: I- of course, sorry! Come in!

Charlie smiled at her dad as Adam walked into the room. Giving him a thumbs up, she walked away.

Breathing out slowly, Lucifer closed the door. He's got this. He's definitely got this.

Turning around to face Adam, he felt his heart race and his body burn. Adam, the minx, was torturing him.

Adam was sitting on Lucifer's couch with his legs folded. His large furr coat was open and draping off his shoulders. He had a short dress that showed off his legs till about mid thigh, and tasteful gaps showed off his midsection and a good part of his chest. And those thigh-high heels were doing something sinful to Lucifer's body.

Though the more Lucifer stared, the more Adam's leather wings twitched and his tail trashed.

Adam: Eyes up here, Lucifer.

Lucifer blushed snapped a small chair in front of Adam: S-Sorry! Sorry!

Sitting down, Lucifer smiled softly at Adam. He was too scared to do much else, in case it set Adam off.

In the dimness of the room, Adam's yellow and pink eyes glowed menacingly. If Lucifer wasn't the Devil, he would be terrified.

Lucifer: S-So, uh... thank you for coming... first I... I wanted to apologise. Properly.

Adam tilted his head: For what?

Lucifer blinked: Uh... w-well... I would say Eden, but... I think that's a topic for another day...

Adam: Yeah, there's only so many of your fuck ups we can talk about without alcohol.

Lucifer chuckled awkwardly: Yes, uh. Well. You're not wrong... so, first... I'll apologise for my actions the first time we met in Lust. What I did... I shouldn't have hurt you. That was uncalled for and completely unreasonable. You didn't deserve that.

Shifting in his seat, he decided to keep talking when Adam said nothing: S-Second. I shouldn't have gone to your house uninvited and... uh... and-.

Adam: Try to fuck me in my pool?

Lucifer recoiled. Fuck, that sounded bad. Because it was: Yes. That was incredibly stupid of me... I... I spoke to Charlie afterwards because I didn't understand where I went wrong- you're an incubus, I thought... you would want me that way. But, she made me see that just because you're a sex demon doesn't mean you want sex all the time or would have it with everyone and anyone... I've learnt the error of my ways and how that affected us negatively and had... the opposite effect I wanted it to have.

Adam: Hm... anything else?

Lucifer straightened up: Y-Yes, actually. One more thing. With Ozzie... I shouldn't have denied your form to go to earth. That was selfish of me, and... so, so wrong. I've waited a long time to speak with you, and I could have easily waited another three years. Especially if it would have helped you.

Adam: ...That's it?

Lucifer nodded: That's it... for now.

Adam gave a small laugh, making Lucifer beam: Look... I appreciate what you've said. I'm glad you've realised how much of a cock hole you've been.

Lucifer: Oh- of course!

Adam: But.

Lucifer: But?

Adam: But, I don't think I can forgive you... not yet. And, I'd like to work on that... I want you to know how much you've hurt me... not only these last few months, but also during our meetings, and in Eden. I... I did nothing to you, and you treated me like fucking shit. I was so confused, I had no idea why you just- starting hating me! Avoiding me! Like... like I was some sickness.

Lucifer: I... I understand... but, that wasn't the case! It's just... when you get in a relationship, you kinda... lose focus on everything else.

Adam: ...Bullshit.

Lucifer sighed: Adam-.

Adam: No, shut up. Don't "Adam" me, like I'm some fucking idiot kid. I've lived as long as Lilith, I'm not fucking stupid! You hated me! The way you looked at me-! The way you would both glare and walk away from me-! Like I did something! The fuck did I do?!

Lucifer: That- that isn't important right now-.

Adam: Yes, it fucking is! It is because I say it is! What did I do, Lucifer?!

Lucifer stayed silent.

Adam: What did I do?!

Lucifer: Nothing! Absolutely nothing! I swear!

Adam: ...Then... then, why...? Why would you hurt me...? For no reason? You thought it would be funny? What? Why?! You better have a fuckinf good reason, Morningstar, because you fucking broke me. My life was miserable on Earth, and in Heaven- because of you and that fucking whore wife of yours! So, tell me! Tell me the reason why I was nothing to you?! Tell me why I wasn't good enough to come back for- but Eve was?! Why did you come to save her but not me-?!

Lucifer: She said you hit her! That you controlled her!

Adam: ...W-what? Who?

Lucifer: ...Lilith...

Adam: ...H-Hit her...? I've... I've never... done that... I- I swear... I never hurt her- I loved her!

Lucifer: I-I know you didn't...

Adam: What? Then why did you... you just couldn't say no to her? Was she worth me than me? I... I don't understand...

Lucifer: ...I believed her. Everything she said... but she lied. Adam. All of it. She lied.

Adam: ...I... I was ruined... broken...because of a lie...? I... I wished for death because of a lie...? I lost everything... because of her... f-fuck- I-I need to get out of here. I'm sorry for coming- fuck, I shouldn't have come.

Lucifer panicked as Adam stood and pulled his coat tightly around himself. As he made his way out of the room and down the hall, Lucifer followed quietly behind.

Lucifer: Adam- wait, please.

Adam: Wait?! I- do you have any idea what this means?! Nothing! I was broken for nothing! I could have been different, Lucifer! Perfect, I could have been Perfect, but she took that from me! She took everything and YOU rubbed dirt in the fucking wound! You want me to wait?! I wanted you to wait! I wanted you to fucking come back for me! But you didn't! I-I want to scream at you! Yell-! Fuck, I want to kill you! I'm so angry I don't know what to fucking do!

Adam knelt down, pressing his back into the wall. His hands gripped his hair, he felt tears in his eyes but they wouldn't fall.

Lucifer didn't know what to do. The man on the floor was shaking and breathing hard and fast. He was so lost.

When he looked towards the stairs, he saw everyone from the lobby standing there, looking at Adam and him. He just looked at them dumbly. Or, more specifically, looked at his daughter. What could he do?

Succubus au

@beef-brisket

@fanofstuff01

(This au was originally on @things-aren't-what-they-seem66blog and was originally thought of by an anonymous ask)

The roaring of the crowd and the playing of his guitar deafened his ears but the incubus didn't care. He loved the way they cheered his name while he shredded on his axe. With one final strum, his song was done. He raised his arms and gave the horns, to which his fans reciprocated, and bid them all goodnight. He walked away his hands still raised until he was out of sight from them. Adam sighed heavily and wiped the sweat with his forearm as he made his way to his dressing room.

Once there he flopped onto the couch and groaned. Though Adam loved being a rockstar and having adoring fans, he wouldn't lie to himself, each performance, especially concerts, can be quite draining since he always had to prepare with mic checks and making sure he sounded right. Steve, his producer/manager/on-and-off-again fling, always assured him that these were mandatory. Just one of those sacrifices that come with being a star. Still, Adam felt a little like shit and he needed a drink, a hard one. Unfortunately, his evening wasn't quite over yet as knocking was heard from the other side of the door then a voice called out.

Assistant: Excuse me? Commander? I'm sorry for bothering you but I brought the VIP guests here with me.

Adam sighed completely forgetting about that. Almost all VIPs get access to meet him after every show. Though he loved his fans coming to him and saying how much they loved him, maybe even getting some head from the older crowd, tonight, he didn't want to. However, he knew that he didn't have much of a choice. Unless he wanted Steve up his ass, and not in a good way. Letting out a long groan he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and yelled out to her.

Adam: Bring them in.

He closed his eyes and sighed once again as he heard the door open and feet shuffle in. He prepared himself for the immediate responses of squealing and clamoring over to shake his hand. However, he was not prepared for a familiar voice to call out his name.

Charlie: A, Adam?

He opened his eyes and standing in front of him were Charlie, Vaggie, and a one-eyed sinner.

[theemissuniverse]

How on EARTH did I not find your page until now? Your writing is godsent I swear. Thank you for your service and I apologize if I spam you with likes. 🙏🏻

-Ghost <3

“GIRL DANGER” HENRY HART X FEM!READER

SUMMARY : You refuse to let Henry go on a dangerous mission alone but Henry refuses for you to come with him.

CONTENT : Henry being protective, very fast read. I did not proof read

A/N : thank you so much! I appreciate it

MASTERLIST

Being the best friend of Kid Danger was cool and everything until Kid Danger had to go on missions where it could mean life or death.

Henry was nineteen now which meant he took more riskier missions than he used to. It pissed you off because honestly, you didn’t feel like he needed to save the world much less the shitty town the two of you lived in.

Captain Man was kidnapped by a new supervillain that arrived in town so it was up to Henry to get him.

You thought Henry was being impulsive. There was no thought out plan. Henry was just going to march in the villains lair and take Ray back. He was already prepared in his Kid Danger disguise.

The two of you were in the man cave along with Charlotte and Jasper. The two of them were watching the two of you just argue.

“You’re being ridiculous. I’ll be fine.”

You scoffed at Henry’s nonchalant response. “Fine? You don’t even have a plan! What if it’s a trap? Then what?”

“Then I’ll get out of the trap.” Henry said as if it was obvious.

You gave him a look. “Really?”

Henry nodded to confirm. “Uh yeah? In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve got hyper mobility so I’ll be-“ in a swift motion, he felt your palm slap him across his face. Charlotte and Jasper had wide eyes while Henry felt his cheek. “Um ow!”

“Your reflexes aren’t that fast obviously.”

“Well not really expecting to get slapped from my best friend.”

You crossed your arms, eyeing him down. “Okay. Then I’ll go with you.”

Henry couldn’t help but let out a laugh at how ridiculous the idea was. He shook his head, waving his hand in the air. “Oh no. You’re not coming with me.”

“Why not?”

“Because last time I checked…I was the one who had superpowers and knew how to fight while the only fight I’ve seen you had is with opening a pickle jar.”

You bit your lip to hide your annoyance before turning around to Charlotte and Jasper. “Help me out!”

Charlotte and Jasper shook their heads in a hurry. “No. We can’t…we have to..check on the tree outside.” Charlotte made up.

The two of them started to head towards the elevator. “Yeah. The tree.” Jasper agreed.

The hurried to click the button while you just glared at them and they rushed to get on before disappearing.

You rolled your eyes before turning to look at Henry. “When you first started this job you were thirteen and the most disturbing fight I saw you have was trying to get a girl’s number.”

Henry placed his bubble gum back in his pocket. Then responded. “I don’t care. This is different. I don’t have time to worry about you.”

He started to walk to the tubes but you grabbed his arm. You turned him around so he was facing you. “I got five years of karate under my belt. I got this.”

“I said no.”

“So you can risk your life but I can’t?”

“Yes. I’m the superhero.”

You looked at Henry then to the bubble gum in his pocket. That’s when you realized you were about to do something stupid. You kicked Henry to the ground and grabbed the gum out of his pocket before heading to the tube.

“Wait! Don’t!”

“Up the tube!”

It was too late. You were already up and gone. Henry let out a yell of frustration before standing up. Here you were trying to protect him by being impulsive. Maybe he should’ve saw the irony of the situation but he didn’t care. He didn’t want you to get hurt.

His job was not only to protect the town but to protect you and he couldn’t do that when you made rash decisions like this.

He immediately got on his cellphone and tried to track your location. That’s when he saw the notification that you stopped sharing your location with him. “I’m going to kill her.” He mumbled. He started to call Charlotte. She picked up within seconds. “Is the married couple done arguing?” She teased.

Henry ignored her comment before responding. “She took off to get Ray and stopped sharing her location with me. I need you to track it.”

“How did you let her get past you?”

“Just shut up and track her!”

It took a couple of seconds before he got an answer from Charlotte. “She is heading to Doctor Yetti’s warehouse.”

“Alright. Keep an eye on us.”

“Got it. Also Henry? Please bring back your girlfriend in one piece.”

It was evident to everyone but you that Henry had feelings for you. Charlotte was even shocked you didn’t figure it out considering how smart you were.

That’s why Henry was so mad you went off. He couldn’t let anything bad happen to you. Just the thought of you getting hurt or worse brought in severe anxiety.

Yeah, you weren’t some damsel in distress but that didn’t mean you could or should do the things he did. He was the superhero. You were his bestfriend. That was it. But the more Henry got deep in the lifestyle, the more you tried to include yourself. And he couldn’t let that happen.

Henry was in love with you. The love suffocated his heart. He had no choice to be lost under your spell. But were you lost in his?

You had to do this. Not only because you didn’t want Henry doing this alone but you wanted to prove to Henry you were more than the best friend on the sidelines.

The truth was, you were in love with your best friend and impressing him was important to you but it’s like Henry didn’t care for any of it. He didn’t believe in you and it pissed him off.

You were going to prove to everyone that you were more than they thought.

On the rooftop of the warehouse, you popped the bubble gum and like magic, you were dressed in Henry’s disguise. You looked at your reflection in the metal door to the rooftop. You looked like Kid Danger 2.0. It spooked you a little.

Taking in a deep breath, you opened the door to Doctor Yetti’s warehouse where you saw Ray chained to a spinning wheel. Doctor Yetti was spinning the wheel, making Ray go round in a circle.

You didn’t see any of his crew around so you went over the railing and dropped on the ground.

Doctor Yetti stopped spinning the wheel. “Oh I’m gonna puke.” Ray yelled when the wheel finally stopped.

Doctor Yetti turned over to you. Then looked at you with a confused look. “Girl Danger?”

You were about to comment about that but you tilted your head when you realized how small he was. “You’re like 5’3.”

He looked at you, offended. “So?”

“Your name is Doctor Yetti?”

“Yeah…”

“But Yetti’s are tall?”

“I’m not following.”

Ray decided to speak. “She’s calling you short, bruh.” He took a closer look at you and his eyes widen when he realized it was you. “What are you doing here?”

You placed your hands on your hips. “Rescuing you.”

It was at that moment, Ray let out a laugh as if what you said was the funniest thing in the entire world. You gave him a death glare. “You? Rescue me? Seriously where’s Kid Danger?”

The amount of anger ran through you like water under a bridge. Nothing pissed you off more than someone thinking you couldn’t do something.

Doctor Yetti spun Ray again on the wheel which made him start screaming. He then took some steps to you. “Well, you’re too late Girl Danger. I’ve already begun extracting Captain Man’s invincibility. Soon, I will be invincible.”

“Invincible and short?” You mocked. Doctor Yetti faked laughed at your joke before snapping his fingers. When he did, a couple men in black ninja outfits came from the door then surrounded you.

It was supposed to intimidate you but you gave him an unconvinced look. “Ninja costumes? Seriously?”

“Can you seriously start saving me?!” Ray asked while be spun repeatedly on the wheel.

Henry was on the rooftop, still not believing you were going this far to prove yourself. He swore after this was done he was going to give you a piece of his mind.

He went through the door and then stood on the railing above the warehouse. That’s where he saw you, fighting multiple ‘ninjas’ at once.

His first instinct was to go down and help you. The second was to watch you in action. You were good. Not that he didn’t believe you were good but being good in fighting classes and being good in an actual fight were both two different things.

Then he saw Ray spinning on a wheel and he couldn’t help but snicker to himself. He looked back over to you and there were only two guys left to go but one of them had you pinned down to the floor.

That’s when Henry hoped over the railing and jumped on the man’s back.

You should’ve known Henry was going to get to you at some point. Henry pinched a nerve on the man’s neck to make him go to sleep then hopped off him. The man fell down. He saw the other man try to go after you on the ground and Henry kicked him in the stomach. Then twisted his arm before elbowing him, knocking him out.

Henry walked over to you. “I had it.” You said.

“Sure you did.” He helped you up to your feet but when he did, you immediately yelled in pain. Henry held you, making sure you placed all your weight on him. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I twisted my ankle.” You pointed your finger at him. “Don’t you say anything.”

He sighed and helped you sit in a chair nearby before looking at Doctor Yetti. He saw Doctor Yetti get in a fighting stance and gave him a look. “Dude, you’re like 5’1.”

“I’m 5’3! It doesn’t matter. Soon I will be invincible and you won’t be able to stop me from draining your powers too-“

Henry reached him his pocket for his laser. Then pointed it at Doctor Yetti. He pressed the button and Doctor Yett immediately fell to the ground.

You tilted your head at how fast the action was. “I should’ve took that from your pocket.”

Henry went over to the wheel while Ray was screaming. He pressed the lever down making the wheel stop.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Henry started to detach the metal chains on him and helped him down. Aftet Ray found his stance, he hit Henry in the chest. “Took you long enough!”

Henry hit him back. “Shut up.”

He walked over to you and you shook your head. “I’m fine!”

Henry wasn’t hearing it. He scooped you up, bridal style and turned to look at Ray. “Clean this up. I’m going to take her back.”

Ray was still gagging in the back. “Sure! Have the spinning man take care of this!”

Both back in normal clothes, Henry had you on the couch in the man cave as he wrapped up ur ankle with a bandage.

The room was silent. It was like you and Henry were having a contest of who can go the longest without speaking.

You knew he was mad and you could understand to a certain extent but you didn’t care. You just wanted to prove yourself and now all you proved was that you needed Henry. Just liked he hoped.

When Henry finished wrapping the bandage, he looked up at you. “Why am I getting the silent treatment from you? You were the one that stole my gum and went into crime fighting.”

“You know what? You’re so lucky I can’t walk away from you right now.”

“Why? Why did you do it? What are you trying to prove?” You bit the inside of your cheek, not looking at him. Henry understood a little of what you were thinking. “Why do you feel the need to impress me?”

You decided to change the subject. “Why do you feel the need to protect me? I don’t need your protection.”

“Because you do things like use my costume to fight bad guys.”

You got annoyed. So, annoyed that you stood up and tried to walk away but Henry grabbed your waist to hold you in place. “Let me go!”

“Stop it.”

“Just leave me alone. Why are you being like this?”

After that sentence, you felt lips pressed against yours. You stood in place, completely still with eyes wide. Henry Hart was actually kissing you.

It all made sense. The entire day he had been nothing but protective and you were trying to understand why. This was why.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back. You didn’t think Henry and you would ever end up doing this but here you were, two best friends kissing.

The two of you were so wrapped in the moment that you guys didn’t even notice Charlotte and Jasper walk in. “Finally!”

The two of you broke apart to look at them. “It only took you guys seven years.” Charlotte continued.

“Seven years is a long time.” Jasper pointed out to Charlotte.

“Sarcasm!” She yelled at him making the two of you laugh. She looked back over. “How was fighting crime, Girl Danger?”

“It was cool but…” You held onto Henry. “I think I’ll leave all that to Kid Danger.”

“Cool. Everyone good?” Henry asked and they nodded. “Now get out.”

Charlotte and Jasper rolled their eyes before leaving. “I hate couples…” Jasper mumbled.

Henry turned back to you. “Does this mean you’ll be with me?”

“Ehhh…give me seven more years to think on it.” You said playfully and he smiled. Then kissed you again.

[yeosangmaybe]

Hiiiiii! Here’s the next one to my movie night with your bestie series. I hope you like. Follow and like for more!

Btw I’m open to requests! I’m thinking of doing some text message posts, too. Let me know what you think :P

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Genre: female reader x bestfriend!hongjoong, mutual pining,

Warnings: mention of food, roasting, hongjoong is allergic to reading the room, drama, kithing idk what else

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 1

The sun was just starting to set. Pink and yellow hues cascaded across the sky, gentle striations of white surround the descending sun. The air was oddly still for a February evening, like even the earth waited on bated breath for tonight’s events.

But even with the calming scenery, Y/N didn’t believe that walking helped rid her any of her nervous energy like she had intended.

Y/N’s heart was pounding as she made her way to the dorm, the weight of a pending confession pressing against her ribs. She had spent weeks, months really, battling with her feelings for her best friend, Hongjoong. At first, it was easy to ignore, to pretend the butterflies in her stomach were just remnants of excitement from their constant banter, to chalk up the warmth in her chest as simple fondness between friends. But now, it was unbearable. She wanted more. Needed more. And tonight, she was going to tell him despite the fear of rejection looming over her in the back of her mind.

Once Y/N arrived at the front door, she took a deep breath before knocking. There was hardly a need to wait before the door swung open to reveal her bestie.

All Hongjoong could think when he saw Y/N was she looked beautiful. Her hair was down and in its natural state. Her face was bare, only the slightest flush colored her cheeks due to the cool air. Her outfit was just a simple pair of black leggings and black university sweatshirt. She still managed to make his chest hurt with her natural beauty.

“There you are,” Hongjoong greeted her with a grin, stepping aside to let her in. “I was starting to think you’d ditched me for another movie buddy.”

Y/N scoffed, trying to push down the way her heart skipped at the sight of him. He looked cozy in sweats and a hoodie, his hair slightly tousled, eyes crinkling with amusement. “Please, no one’s got a better setup than you.”

And she wasn’t exaggerating. The room was dimly lit, a projector casting a soft glow against the wall opposite his bed. It displayed the paused opening scene of some romcom about best friends falling in love. The scent of something faintly woodsy from the candles he lit lingered in the air, and his nightstand was stocked with their usual snacks.

As if that wasn’t enough, Hongjoong reappeared from the kitchen with her favorite takeout, holding the bag up triumphantly.

Y/N let out a laugh, but it was shaky. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Ridiculously thoughtful?” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows before plopping onto the bed, patting the spot beside him. “Come on, let’s get this party started.”

She sat beside him, the confession burning on the tip of her tongue.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before gathering her courage. “I have something to tell you…”

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

The way he looked at her, his eyes filled with curiosity, made her stop in her tracks. Was she really ready? Shit, I should’ve waited to say something.

Instead, she quickly hit play. “Um, nothing bad. You’ll see.”

He huffed but let it go, settling into the movie.

He may have seemed fine with waiting, but he wasn’t known for patience and the anticipation of what she’d say was slowly eating away at him. What could be so important that she’d bring it up now, just to make him wait longer? Nothing bad? That could mean anything. Did that barista who always flirted with her finally ask her out? Even worse, did she say yes?

I hope fucking not.

Y/N’s giggle brought him back to the moment, keeping his jealous spiral at bay. He’d just have to wait until after to find out. Which was fine. Totally fine.

As always, they made fun of the cheesy moments, throwing playful jabs at the predictability of the plot. But then, Hongjoong started going in on the female lead.

“Oh my god, again with the pining? Like, just tell him already,” he groaned, shaking his head.

“How is she so bad at flirting? So cringe.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted.

“She’s trying,” she muttered, forcing a chuckle.

Hongjoong snorted. “Yeah, and failing. He hasn’t shown any interest in her at all. There’s no way this guy just wakes up one day and realizes he’s in love with her. It doesn’t work like that.”

Her laughter died in her throat.

Is that how he’d see me if I told him?

Her hands curled into fists under the blanket as he kept going, every word another knife to the gut.

Hongjoong didn’t know why the main character was the focus of his ire. Maybe he was bitter. Maybe the movie just rubbed in his face that Y/N wouldn’t possibly have feelings like that for him. Maybe he was pissed at the fact that he wouldn’t have a happy ending, too. Unfortunately, his jealousy made him blind to Y/N’s discomfort.

By the time the credits rolled, her mind was spiraling, her chest heavy with humiliation. She barely noticed that she hadn’t spoken in a while until Hongjoong nudged her.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”

Y/N forced a nod, swallowing the lump in her throat. She couldn’t do this. Not now. Not when she already felt like a fool.

“I’m just… tired,” she lied, standing up.

Hongjoong frowned. “Already? It’s still early.”

She shrugged, grabbing her things. “I think I’m just feeling off. I should go.”

“I thought you were staying the night? I already bribed wooyoung to make your favorite breakfast in the morning.” He said with a pout.

Of course he did. Because he was so thoughtful and perfect, it’s practically torture.

“I’m sorry, Hongjoong,” she apologizes while making her way to the door.

“Wait,” He stood, blocking her path. “You said you had something to tell me, remember? What was it?”

Y/N hesitated, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag.

“It’s not important anymore,” she said, barely above a whisper, before slipping past him and out the door.

As she walked away, her chest ached with something worse than rejection.

And Hongjoong?

He stood frozen in the middle of his room, confusion twisting in his gut, a nagging feeling settling in his bones.

He had missed something. Something big.

Part 2

Hongjoong sat on the dorm’s couch, his leg bouncing anxiously as he scrolled through his messages with Y/N. The last real conversation they had was from two weeks ago. Every other attempt since had been met with dry, dismissive replies.

“Hey, wanna grab food?”

Busy.

“Wanna come over? We can play something.”

Not feeling it tonight.

He had even sent a dumb meme the other day, something he knew would’ve had her sending back a string of laughing emojis. Instead, all he got was:

lol

It was killing him.

They had never gone this long without hanging out, without even talking. Not having her around felt like he was missing a limb. His patience was thinner(if that was even possible), his energy was shot, and the other members of Ateez had definitely noticed.

That’s how he found himself being sat down for an intervention.

“Alright, spill,” Seonghwa said, arms crossed. “What did you do?”

Hongjoong scoffed. “What- why do you just assume I did something?”

Mingi raised an eyebrow. “Because Y/N hasn’t been around in 2 weeks, and you’ve been a pain in the ass ever since.”

Hongjoong groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what I did. That’s the problem.”

“Go back,” Yunho prompted. “What happened the last time you two hung out?”

So he did. He told them everything, how he had set up the movie night, how Y/N seemed normal at first, how they laughed and made fun of the movie like usual. But then, when he started joking about the girl, Y/N had gone quiet. Then, by the end of the movie, she was gone.

As soon as he finished, the room was dead silent.

Then, Wooyoung snorted. “Wow. You’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

San sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Dude… it’s so obvious.”

“What’s obvious?” Hongjoong asked, exasperated.

Jongho looked at him like he was particularly slow. “She’s in love with you.”

Hongjoong’s brain short-circuited. “What?”

“You roasted that girl in the movie for pining after her best friend,” Yeosang pointed out. “If Y/N has feelings for you, how do you think that made her feel?”

It hit him all at once.

The way she had stiffened beside him. The way her laughter had died. How she left without telling him what she had planned to say.

The realization made his stomach drop.

“Oh my god,” he muttered, feeling sick. “I- I didn’t know.”

“That’s because you’re a dumbass,” Seonghwa huffed, then softened a little. “But you didn’t mean to hurt her. That’s why you need to fix it.”

Hongjoong swallowed, nodding. He wasn’t about to lose Y/N over his own obliviousness.

As he sat with the members, brainstorming ways to make it up to her, his phone buzzed.

His heart leapt when he saw her name, until he read the message.

Y/N: Hey, I’m sorry for being dry. You’re quite literally the most important person in my life and it’s not fair of me to leave you hanging like this. After our movie night, I came to realize some hard truths. And although it hurts so fucking much for me to do this, I have to. I can’t be friends with you anymore, Kim Hongjoong. I think it’s best we go our separate ways.

His hands tightened around the phone.

No.

No, no, no.

Not like this.

He shot up from the couch so fast it startled everyone.

“Where are you going?” Seonghwa asked.

“To fix this,” Hongjoong said, grabbing his keys.

He wasn’t going to let her go.

Not when hadn’t even got the chance to have her in the first place.

Part 3

Hongjoong’s heart was pounding, but his legs carried him forward before his mind could catch up. He wasn’t thinking anymore. He was moving, desperate, fueled by sheer panic.

He couldn’t let Y/N slip away.

His hands tightened around the steering wheel as he sped toward her apartment. The thought of losing her, of never seeing her smile at him the way she always did, of never hearing her laugh at his dumb jokes, was unbearable.

By the time he reached her building, he didn’t even bother parking properly. He jumped out of the car, his feet hitting the pavement hard as he sprinted to her door. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest, but none of it mattered.

He pounded on the door.

“Y/N!” His voice was desperate.

Nothing.

He knocked again, harder this time. “Y/N, open the door. Please.”

Still nothing.

Fuck this.

Hongjoong ran a hand through his hair, chest heaving. He couldn’t lose her. He wouldn’t. If she wouldn’t open the door, he’d stand here all night.

Just as he was about to knock again, the door cracked open.

Y/N stood there, her face unreadable, eyes red-rimmed like she’d been crying. The sight of her like this, hurt because of him, made something inside him break.

“Why are you here?” she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hongjoong stepped forward, the lump in his throat growing. “I can’t let you do this.”

She swallowed, gripping the edge of the door like it was the only thing keeping her upright. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I know,” he admitted, his voice raw. “But please, just let me say what I need to say. And if you still want me to go after that, I will.”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers tightening around the door, but after a long pause, she stepped back, letting him in.

Hongjoong released a shaky breath as he walked inside, his mind racing to find the right words. He turned to face her, hands clenched at his sides.

“I was an idiot,” he started. “That night, I- I didn’t know. I didn’t realize what I was saying, what I was doing. And I hurt you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, her expression unreadable. “You didn’t mean to.”

“But I still did,” he pressed. “And I hate myself for it.”

Silence stretched between them.

Hongjoong took a step closer. “I can’t lose you, Y/N. I won’t.”

Her breath hitched, and he could see the tears welling up in her eyes again. “Hongjoong…”

“I don’t just want to be your best friend,” he blurted out, his chest aching. “I don’t think I ever have. I was too scared to admit it, too blind to see what was right in front of me.”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak.

Hongjoong exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “That night, when I was making fun of the movie? I think I was just bitter. Because I thought I’d never get to have something like that. I thought I’d never get to have you.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks, and his stomach twisted.

He took another step forward, his voice softer now. “But I do, don’t I?”

She bit her lip, her shoulders trembling. “You-“

“I love you,” he said, the words breaking free from his chest like they’d been waiting to escape for years.

A small sob left her lips.

“I love you, Y/N. And I am so, so sorry that it took me this long to realize it.” His voice wavered. “But if you still want me, if you can forgive me, I swear to you, I won’t waste another second.”

Y/N sucked in a sharp breath. And for a moment, Hongjoong thought this was it, that he had lost her.

But then, suddenly, she was in his arms.

Her fingers clutched at his hoodie as she buried her face in his chest, her body trembling against his.

Hongjoong wrapped his arms around her without hesitation, holding her tightly, as if she might disappear if he let go. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m sorry for being an idiot. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

She sniffled against him. “You are an idiot.”

A watery laugh left his lips. “I know.”

Y/N pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes glassy but warm. “I love you, too. But you’re dumbass.”

Hongjoong let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

“So I’ve been told.” He said, thinking about the intervention earlier.

And then, before he could second-guess himself, he cupped her face and kissed her.

It was soft at first, hesitant, like he was afraid she might change her mind. But when she kissed him back, when her hands fisted in the fabric of his hoodie to pull him closer, Hongjoong knew, he wasn’t losing her.

He never would.

[jackiequick]

—This Is The Place I Feel At Home… | Marvel AU

Pairing: Jason & Elizabeth

Additional Cast: Tony, Liane and Louis

—

Summary: A home isn’t the place, it’s the people in your life that who help build the home together

———

Note: This is Earth 82. Jason and Elizabeth nicknames are JJ & Liz

Inspired: A certain show on NBC if you know, you know ;) and the song To Build a Home by Cinematic Orchestra

Fic Type: Fluff & Angst

———

Superbowl Sunday.

Usually a StarkWood event with tables and chairs all lined up, participants will run through the entire house playing. Family members and friends going out or staying in to enjoy a day off.

But this year was different. The kids were older and no one was around to enjoy the night like they used to. Louis went out to the mountains for a party with his girlfriend Laurel, Liane was busy shopping with her friend Petra along and Tony decided to head out to a party with Rhodes.

So that left Jason and Lizzie all alone to spend the evening together. It felt like an empty nest, but it wasn’t so bad. Sitting on the couch, eating chips and drinking as much as possible while watching television. The two even pushed the coffee table off to the side, making room for the two of them.

“A dance, m’lady?” Jason teased, extending his hand as he grinned.

Elizabeth chuckled, taking his hand, “Why certainly, good sir.”

The two danced together and laughed, looking around as they played around with the idea of extending their home. Building a bigger house to remodel together or buying a new one to renovate for a forever home they stay in when they’re old and grey, with great value.

A new production for this family.

“How about we take this talk upstairs?” Elizabeth teased in a suggestive tone and smirked, “The kids will come back later.”

“Mrs. Starkwood, how naughty!” Jason teased back as he smirked, lifting her up into an embrace hearing his wife’s squeals, “I love the way you think.”

There was laughter and chatter all the way through the bedroom floor…

——

Hours passed, the kids returned home, except for Louis who stayed over at Laurel’s house that night. Liane went to help their mother with fixing up the living room and put away any food that was left out. Tony decided to take a few minutes to clean up the kitchen with their father, making sure to throw away anything that might need to be thrown out.

Music softly played in the background as background noise as they all quietly talked and sang along to the sound coming from the radio. Liane was the first person to go upstairs, not with a kiss on the forehead from both parents and Tony soon followed after, turning off the items in the kitchen before he did. The still new dog, Bailey, went running downstairs to the living room to sleep. Elizabeth asked if her husband was coming up upstairs as Jason replied he’ll be there in a minute.

Jason took that time to tidy around the living room, write a note to Louis that was pinned near the entrance, turn off a few lights and then headed to bed.

Soon enough, the house was sound asleep with not even a single word was made out in the halls. Suddenly, an ever so quiet ticking sound appeared in the air, a switch downstairs in the kitchen flipped on.

The soft crumble of fresh flames crawled up the fabric and began to rise into the curtains within the kitchen, then slowly disappeared as it toppled onto the walls filled with memories and reminders…

———

————

A smell of smoke and burnt flesh wood filled his senses as Jason sat upright. He yawned and fumbled quietly toward the door, but as he opened the bedroom door he was greeted with brightly painted orange flames.

He slammed the door shut as he said, “Lizzie! I need you to wake, baby, the house is on fire. Get dressed and put some shoes on!”

Lizzie woke up to the sound of her husband's voice and gasped, “What?”

Jason opened the door to call out to the kids, “Kids! The house is on fire, Tony! Lia!” He heard their voice and the sound of Liane’s screams as she swung opened her door, “Guys, close your doors! I’m coming to get you!”

Jason closed the door rushing to put on his sneakers and a sweater, exclaiming how he’s going downstairs for Louis in a panic. Elizabeth was putting her hair in a quick bun as she told him that Louis is not here, he stayed at Laurel’s house, as he nodded in response. Elizabeth rushed to the bathroom to wet any towel, and started removing the bedsheets from their bed. She watched in horror and panic as Jason rushed out the bedroom door towards Tony’s room.

He crawled and grabbed the door open, only to see Tony hyperventilating and coughing. His eyes were wide open as he tugged on his shoes, before meeting his father’s eyes.

“No, I’m not going out there! I’ll climb out my window or something!” Tony shouted, shaking his head, as his father pulled him down to the ground and he breathed deeply.

“Tony, buddy, there’s no time, come on!” Jason shouted, coughing as he led his son towards the room, watching Tony scurry into the bedroom floor.

Jason shouted, “Princess! I’m coming back for you!” As he shut the door coughing loudly, looking over to see Elizabeth going to open the window. He watched his wife breathing heavily as she coughed.

Elizabeth put the towel under the door and rushed to open the window taking in the cold brick air looking over her shoulder, “Darling hurry up!”

“I’m trying!” Jason shouted before turning to Tony with a firm expression and sighed, “If I’m not back in 3 minutes, you take your mother out that window.”

Tony nods frantically, “And if she doesn’t?”

“If she won’t go, you drag her out.”

“Wait don’t…”

“You’ll be fine.”

——

When Jason rushed out again, this time to find Liane, he was meant by a different type of expression. Screams and cries coming from his daughter, as he shut the door behind her.

He cupped her cheek, “Hey, hey, look at me. We gotta go.”

“It wasn’t my fire! I didn’t cause it!” Liane screamed between her cries as he wrapped a wet towel over her.

“I know you didn’t but baby we gotta go.”

“I don’t wanna!”

But he ignored her cries of refusal as he breathed out looking around frantically for an opportunity for assistance. Elizabeth and Tony’s screams were heard from the bedroom, threats from Lizzie that she’d come in there to get them, if they didn't respond back soon. Jason took the mattress off the bed as Liane screamed wondering what was his logic, but the answer soon came.

The door was open as they were meant once again with bright orange flames as the mattress was used as a shield against the fire, allowing for them to escape the bedroom and into the main bedroom. Tony slammed the door shut once they came as he screamed at how incredibly insane this situation was.

———

Cough, shouting and crying was heard from the whole family as they escaped through the window then stood on the roof. Elizabeth’s eyes were filled with fear seeing the danger and damage they were inflicted upon. She helped Jason finish tying the sheets together to create a rope, as they lowered Tony down first onto the ground as next went Liane who appeared just as frantic as her brother.

“Shit. I think Bailey’s still in the house…” Tony suddenly shouted as Liane’s realization hit her as well, wiping sweat off his face.

“What?! No, no, no!” Liane yelled looking around as if she could see the dog across the flames and held her brother close.

Jason caught his wife’s attention as he wrapped the sheets under her armpits secured with her grip holding on firmly. He looked at her in disbelief and panicking, his eyes filled with the same intensity as she held.

“I love you.” He said slowly lowering her down towards the ground where the kids stood.

“I love you more.” She breathed deeply as she replied watchung him slowly disappearing from her gaze as she was lowered.

Jason sighed in relief seeing his wife and kids down on the grass, as Elizabeth tugs their children to step away from the engulfing flames that were screaming from every window to crawl out even further. Jason takes a slight breath, coughing even harder than before and hisses in pain, not fully aware of the burns that appeared on his hands and forearms yet.

“Bailey is still in there!” Liane suddenly yelled once more.

Jason looked between the house and his family frantically as he yelled, “Forget the dog! I’ll buy you a new one!”

“No! Bailey!”

“I don’t hear him!”

Liane huffed and coughed even further, ready to race though the front door to grab said dog but Tony drags her back by the waist shouting how the dog’s not worth it. Tony’s voice was clear as day, trying to be the voice of reason here. Jason was breathing heavily through his mouth as his gaze fell upon the house in flames and his family.

But before he could say another word or turn around to climb back inside, Elizabeth’s firm screams through all the tension as she glared daggers at his direction.

“JJ! Jason! If you go back inside, I swear I'll drag you out myself!” Elizabeth screamed, coughing with a pointed finger straight at him.

Lizzie knew that if she didn’t catch his attention and made that harsh threat, he would’ve risked his life to save that fairly new dog and a couple of items within the house. She hated the words that escaped her lips, but she wasn’t blind to the dangers that were in front of her and the even bigger ones that would happen if he returned though their bedroom window. Furthermore, she could see the moment of doubt across her husband’s face, to know he was at a crossroads here.

Without a second later, Jason made a swift move as he climbed down the sheets that were created to make a rope and stepped onto the grass. He stumbled backwards, as Elizabeth held him upwards as her gaze was fixed between her husband, children and their home that was up in flames.

Tony held his sister close as she tried to fight back, but her tears stopped her as she screamed. Liane flopped into her brother’s arms sadly as her word quieted down and her gaze fell onto the house. Tony exhaled looking around watching their home, a pang of sadness filled in his chest as he sucked in a breath and sniffled. His own eyes were wet, leaning against his mother.

Elizabeth and Jason felt dizzy at the sight, coughing and gasping for air. The sounds of firetrucks and shouts could be heard from a distance that grew closer by the seconds, along with the screaming colors of police cars driving up the street. The cries from an ambulance appeared within grasp, as Jason rested his head next to his wife as she wrapped her arms around his waist. He tugs Tony and Liane forward into the embrace that was already formed from the one he created with Elizabeth.

———

————

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Extra notes to talk about in this AU

Bailey is fine don’t worry!!

Liz & JJ took Tony, Louis and Liane in when they were practically babies cuz they’re parents couldn’t afford them etc (or maybe one of them is biologically their own and they adopted the other two?? We discuss this later!!)

This fire sadly happened but it gave the whole family an opportunity to get a better view of the world as they live somewhere better, expanding their horizons and creating new memories while still keeping the old ones alive

The fire and the fact that the family stayed together ALIVE, showcase a huge view for Liane and Tony, who will grow up to become Superheroes influence them to fight for what matters most.

We can discuss this more later 😉

~~~~~~~~

Anyways that’s all folks I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think in the comments below 👇🏼

Remember to like, comment and share your thoughts 💭

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff f @gcthvile @missstrawbs2001 @djs8891 @starkleila @aidanxsophxoxo @mandylove1000 @yetanotherwells @topgun-imagines @buckysteveloki-me @sherloquestea @ximehs @savemewattpad @rose-of-oz @rowinablacks-moodboardsandstims @rickb-chaos @capsshinyshield @blueboirick @wickedocs @rowinablx

[somuchforahobby]

you'd make me fall from heaven

Summary: What if Loki is a fallen angel and reader is still one? Heavily inspired in the ineffable husbands of course Tags: Fluff,banter, mutual pining and THE enemies to lovers Warnings: Saint Peter will ask about this when my time comes - this is pure blasphemy I am sorry Word count: 4.7 K Left GIF belongs to: @tomhiddleston-loki Right GIF belings to: @stevenrogered Read on AO3

You watched as the couple left the garden, both ashamed of what they had done.

“I won this time.” A sultry voice spoke from behind.

You turned to it in a defensive position, your holy sword in one hand and a shield on the other, making a full display of your wings and halo.

“Well, hello.” A tall man, with dark hair and mesmerizing eyes greeted you. “I don’t think we have been introduced.” His sight roamed through your tunic covered body.

“Nor shall we. I order you to leave immediately.” Your voice did not falter but one of his eyebrows rose in defiance.

“Or what?” A smirk also played on his face.

“Wait and find out.” You defied him as well.

A lustful demeanor took him over, “Oh, I’d really like that, angel.” He took a step closer and you raised your sword, “the name’s Loki.”

Before he took another step you spoke, “The smartest thing you can do is leave before an Archangel sees you and ends you.” 

He stared in silence, “Are you sparing me? Because if you are, I will be at your dearest service.” 

“Just leave, disgusting demon.” 

And with a wink he dissapeared in the air.

***

“ What have you done? ” The heavenly voice asked Cain, as you watched from afar.

Abel lay dead on the ground, his blood spilling the earth; staring at the crimson liquid you felt an obnoxious presence near you.

“That is probably the lowest you’ve gone, fallen .” You added a nickname for him.

Loki creeped behind you until he reached your side. “Is that a challenge, I hear?” 

You turned to find him smiling, actually smiling, enraging you. “I should have ended you in the garden of Eden.” You muttered. “I will kill you.” With a flick of your wrist you leaned your sword on his throat. The mere touching causing visible damage on his skin.

“Threatening to commit murder is actually a form of flattery, angel.” His eyes shone, “I will die happily if it means I got you to sin.”

Your sword came back to your hip in an instant as a gasp left your mouth. With tears in your eyes you stared at him; his blue eyes staring back at you nonchalantly, curly black hair falling on his shoulders and a devilish grin on.

You turned away from him muttering “just get away from me, please.”

***

You could not believe your eyes as you stared into Gomorrah, bodies clinged to each other, doing things you had never seen before. You were sent to stop it, to warn them of the fury of the Lord, but something in your belly did not allow you to stop staring.

“‘tis a dangerous place for a woman to set foot in.” 

You finally looked away and turned to find Loki leaning against a wall. His hair was in a ponytail, small curls bouncing free behind his ears.

“I am not a woman.” You muttered.

He gasped “You’re not?! Then what’s under that?” He signaled at your tunic.

“I am an angel of the lord and as such I am not categorized into the social ideologies of the bodies.” You calmly explained before turning back to the people sinning in front of you.

“Does he agree with that? Your boss?” He bumped you with his shoulder, throwing you off tracks. Exasperated, you turned back to him.

“First of all, he created me so I don’t think he does not agree with whatever form I use. And second, he is not my boss, he is my Father.” You took a step back, “Do not bump me, demon.”

“Oh, angel, he really is not your father.” He nodded towards the people, “he is their father.”

You swallowed as you stared, again. A fuzzy, new feeling coiled in your tummy. “This is your doing?”

“Some, yeah. Not the murdering but definitely the orgies.” He said proudly.

“That’s what you call…” your hand moved ahead of you trying and failing to pinpoint, “ that ?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What…” you cleared your throat, “are they doing ?” Blushing, you turned to him again.

His eyes turned red as his smile extended all the way to make wrinkles, “You actually don’t know.” His head leaned back in a big laugh, “oh, you sweet, naive feathered-thing.” His sharp teeth bit his lower lip.

Your eyes rolled as you backed away from him.

“Oh, come on, don’t leave, I can’t let you go up there with that doubt.” 

“I will ask Michael.” You kept walking.

“In the best case he will tell you they are sinning, the worst he will send you down to me.” He cut off your way, standing in front of you. “I will explain what it is and why they do it.”

“Do it quickly.”

The ghost of a smile creeped his face. He seemed to think about it for a second, then he asked, “do you know how babies are born?” 

It was your turn to laugh, “of course!” 

He raised both eyebrows, expectantly. 

“Families pray to God for a baby, so He makes it and sends it to them through the mother’s belly.”

Loki took a hand to his mouth to avoid a burst of laughing. “I guess that is a way to see it.” He swallowed and turned his body towards the multitude again. “But there is something that needs to happen within their bodies for a baby to get into the mother’s belly.” His arm surrounded your shoulders as he angled your body to face them as well. “See that?” Loki’s finger pointed to a naked man standing.

“Yeah, what of it?” 

“He has something between his legs that is different from what a woman has, isn’t it?” Loki’s eyes fell on you, his head was much closer than ever before, his brow almost leaning in yours. You nodded softly. “From there, sometimes, comes out a pasty liquid that goes into the woman’s belly and starts to, anatomically, form the baby.” 

“Oooh.” Your head nodded in full understandment, “that is why she is putting it in her mouth!” You pointed to a woman kneeling in front of a man.

This time he could not stop himself from bursting out laughing. He even took a few steps back and faced the wall to calm down while you tried not to think of the coldness on your shoulders now that his arm was gone.

“That is not.” He tried but a laugh interrupted him. After a few more deep breaths, he turned back again. “That has entirely another purpose, and we will get there, but first, see those two?” He pointed to a couple, the man was lying on top of her, pushing his body on hers. You nodded to Loki. “That is how he puts the pasty liquid inside of her belly.”

“So all these people, are they just gathering to make babies together?” Your eyes returned to Loki, who stared at you with wonder.

“Not necessarily. Now we will talk about pleasure.” His voice darkened as he leaned to you, placing his arm on your shoulders once again, but now he turned you away from the crowd, towards him.

“What is that?” 

His eyes scrutinized you, as he was deep in thought. “What do you enjoy?”

“Uh?”

“Anything. Food, music, nature, talking to Michael .” He rolled his eyes at the last one, making you giggle.

“I like music. I come to earth sometimes just to hear it.” A blushed crept in your face as you confessed.

“You sinner.” He said with sarcasm. “Alright, what you feel when you hear music” a clasp of his fingers and a quartet of musicians appeared in the corner, filling the venue with a strong melody, your eyes closed and a breath left your mouth. “That’s what they feel when they do what they do.” He whispered in your ear, flustering you even more.

Instinctively, you took a step back as you opened your eyes. Loki, in front of you, had a devil smirk on his face.

“Well.” You swallowed, “God does not like them pleasuring themselves like that.” Your words felt stiff as you spilled them.

“Well, God does not like many things, does he?” 

You ignored his comment, “Thank you for explaining your demonic doing to me.” You turned on your heel and started to walk away.

“Let me know next time you get curious.” 

You did not dare to look back and yell at him, mostly because he would then have noticed the color of your cheeks.

***

The Egyptian heat was starting to get to you, so much for angels not having bodily experiences. Your mouth was dry and you craved something to ease your hunger. Staring at the enslaved people working under the sun while you smoothly and quietly worked on Moises faith, was starting to weaken you. You knew it was wrong, you were not supposed to feel anything, but to see this injustice and not be able to stop it made you miserable; the sun along with all the evil surrounding you made your strength wobble.

You could feel Loki was always around, of course he had to, needing to maintain the minds of the slavers rotten.

For a reason you could not comprehend, you followed his aura until you found him, staring at sin with a smile.

“Hey, angel.” He smirked.

“Hey.” You barely whispered out of exhaustion.

“Are you alright?” He turned his entire body in your direction, his shoulders shrugged and his brows furrowed.

“I am just” you sighed, “tired”.

Everything started to fade around your eyes and before you knew it, you collapsed.

You woke up in a dark yet cold space, lying on a comfortable bed, a wet towel on your forehead and air caressing your face. After a few blinks, you identified Loki sitting in front of you, reading.

“And she lives.” He said sarcastically with his gaze still fixated on his book. “You know, you really should talk to your boss about an 8 hour shift.”

“It is not that.” He finally directed his eyes to you, a warm ocean blue staring into yours. “There was just… too much evil around.” 

“And yet you went to me” he scoffed.

“I had a feeling that you wouldn’t let me die.”

“Well you shouldn’t have!” He stood, enraged.

“Am I not alive?” 

“I could have done anything with you!” He raised his voice even more, “I could have murdered you! I could have dismembered you, or even worse, take you to hell and let everyone have a feast! And then take you back to heaven’s gates for your big boss to see who you ran into.” He sneered as he paced around the room. All you did was chuckle.

“But you did not.”

“I am a demon, dear. Angels do not go to demons when in need.” His voice was vicious, the warm blue in his eyes turned to ice.

“I did not go to a demon, I went to you.”

He stopped his rant to breathe out and look at you. “Well it was dumb.” 

You smiled, “but you saved me.”

His eyes closed with a faint smile on his lips, “like I said, it was dumb.”

“I should eat something” you ignored him looking around the room for food.

“There” A red apple dropped on your lap.

You turned to see Loki with a mocking smile and a scowl, “really?” 

“It's just an apple!” His eyes rolled, “just eat it and get the hell out of my bed.”

***

“Yes, lamb blood on the lintel.” You finished explaining to the family and walked off, looking for the next ones when a man reached your step.

“A bit too far this one, eh?” Loki whispered near your shoulder.

“It is not in me to question my Lord’s order and neither should you.” Your voice was filled with pride and duty.

“He never liked the first borns, anyway.” He mocked.

You turned to see him again, both eyebrows raised. “Of course hell would find a way to make this about themselves. God does not revolve around you, you know?” You asked with a smirk.

He scoffed, “of course.” 

He kept your pace and waited outside as you delivered the Holy message to all the households in Egypt. After the sunset you finally sat down on a boulder and he stood stoically in front of you.

“My feet are killing me.” You raised and stared at both your feet, red and trapped in sandals, dirty from all the walk of the day. With a clasp of fingers they were clean and you dipped your chin in gratitude towards Loki.

He kneeled in front of you and removed your sandals from your feet, rubbing circles on your soles with his thumbs.

“What are you doing?” Your voice revealed nothing as you stared hollowly at him.

“Trying to ease the pain.” He did not falter, his hands kept working on your skin.

“I mean here today, with me.” 

He stopped to look at you, dropping your feet to his lap. “Well, the Egyptians could take you hostage, imprison you or worse, marry you to some random.”

“Did you know Egypt is one of the places where a woman is the safest? I can buy land, I am free, I can divorce, even.” You explained with a cocky smile.

“I thought you weren’t a woman.” He reciprocated.

“I thought you were dangerous.” You bit your lower lip to stop smiling. “Are you trying to protect me?”

“No!” He scowled, “just keeping you company.”

You hugged your knees on your chest, “Thank you, then.” Another smile escaped your mouth.

He only growled in response as he stood up from the ground, patting his pants roughly to take off the dirt.

“Why did you fall?”

Your whispered question stopped his movements altogether, his eyes rose to yours but not with anger, but with pain.

He took a step forward, not breaking eye contact, and for a while his eyes told you he was having an internal battle.

“Because I was not as worthy as my brother.” Loki finally muttered before walking away.

***

“You can still stop this, take him to justice.” You whispered in the human’s right ear.

“Just stab him.” Loki bittered on his left.

“This is not the way.” You tried to convince him.

“It is the only way.” But the demon next to you kept tempting him.

Brutus finally stabbed Caesar, putting an end to his dictatorship.

You walked out of the Theater of Pompey, defeated, with Loki following nearby.

“Cheer up, darling. Brighter days will come.” He mused.

“I doubt it. Poor Cleopatra, may God help her grief.” You prayed, head down.

“She is not one of yours, you know.” 

You raised your face to find him standing in front of you. “ Everyone is one of ours.” 

You sat down on the steps of the Theater.

“Can you imagine the amount of filth that is on that floor?” 

“I didn’t take you for a clean one.”

“Are you kidding? That’s why I’m up here all the time.”

You giggled, “look at the bright side, fire kills bacteria.”

He scowled, “Very funny. I didn’t know you were capable of joking.” His head tilted softly to the side.

You rested your palms on the floor, leaning backwards a little to lift your face to him.

“Humans are starting to grow on me.” 

Loki smiled. “Don’t get too attached, dear, I will still take them from you.”

“You should take me-” his eyebrows rose and his smile grew, “TO DINNER.” You yelled, offended. “I’m hungry, okay? Trying to stop a murder is exhausting.” You rose to your feet, two steps above where he was standing, finally being the same height gave you the full view of his lusting eyes.

“I’d take you anywhere, angel, to dinner, for a drink, hell.” He smirked as he extended his arm for you to lean on.

“You don’t even go to hell.” You accepted his offer, placing your hand on him.

“I can still give you a guided tour.” 

You both laughed as you walked off.

***

“ ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants’ . And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.” Jesus spoke with great calmness to his disciples, and you listened from afar with a smile.

“Do you think he means it?” Loki asked on your left. You scoffed.

“Of course, He does not lie.” You pointed at Jesus with your chin, leaning a little closer to Loki. “You just need to repent.” You said softly, looking at him.

His chin was held high, proudly; looking down on everyone around. He growled in response before stepping away from you and disappearing.

***

“You did this, didn’t you?” You asked Loki with tears in your eyes.

He stood beside you, his hair a bit longer than before, wearing a green tunic that made his eyes pop and his skin even paler.

“Oh, no angel, that was not me.” His hand cradled your cheek to wipe away a tear.

“Then who else could have done this?!” Your tears kept falling as you watched the man you had been sent to take care of, be tortured and killed.

“I’m afraid it was your boss, darling.” 

You turned to see Loki, enraged, “No, He sent his son to teach humans the holy word, he did not sent his son to-“

“Die for their sins? That was the whole plan.” 

“I don’t understand.” You covered your eyes with your hands.

“Don’t worry your divine little head with that, you don’t have to understand, you just have to obey.” Although there was hatred in his words, he sounded sincere and kind, somehow. “What happened to him, anyway?” Loki asked, as you both stared at the man being nailed to a wooden cross.

“Mm?” Your eyebrows rose as you turned to face the demon next to you.

“The big guy. Ages ago he would’ve torn this place to ashes for much less.” 

You smirked, “yeah, or under water.”

Loki laughed, “or filled it with, what were those awful bugs?”

“Locusts!” You yelled with a smile and his smirk softened. “Yeah… I guess parenthood made him softer.” Your arms crossed on your chest.

“Wanna grab a drink? You don’t have to see this, y’know?” You looked once again and saw how the cross was slowly lifted. Your eyes closed instantly.

“Yes, but-“ you bit your lower lip anxiously, “I don’t have any money.” Loki rolled his eyes with a smirk and before he spoke you continued, “And I can not just make it appear, it’s… against the rules.” 

“Of course, modesty and all.” He laughed, “Don’t worry, angel. It 's on me. Now and every other time you allow me.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to guide you through the crowd.

***

You looked at Loki from afar, a bunch of people were sitting around him while he showed them a book and explained what was inside.

He raised his eyes to you eventually, with a smile you dipped your chin in a gesture of challenge. After an hour, he finished his lesson by giving all the people a book and then walked to you.

“What brings you to America, angel?” 

“Evangelization, of course.” You smiled at him. “You?”

“Same thing, I’m afraid.”

“Is that why you gave them books? Are they your disciples?” 

“Sort of.” 

“But you were teaching them how to read, you dirty liar!” You accused him with a smile.

“Well, technically, it is a sin for them to know how to read.”

You busted out laughing, “no it’s not!” 

“Your people say it is!”

“Well they are obviously wrong! I wonder whose work it is that got them thinking some humans are better than others!” 

He smirked, “Point taken. But you are still losing, angel.” 

You took a step closer to him with a seductive smirk, “How is having a demon doing good deeds losing?” 

“So you know this is wrong? How has your boss not sent them a message that this is wrong?” 

“He does not communicate with them like before, you know that. His message was loud and clear with Christ and He has given them free will, the shall be judged in the afterlife.” The air of holy and perfection came back to you, making Loki roll his eyes. “You, on the other hand, seem to have understood Christ’s message perfectly.” The corners of your lips tilted upwards.

“I am going against your own rules.” Loki gritted.

You scoffed, “Whatever floats your boat, love.” And with the same seductive smirk, you walked away.

“You calling me love certainly does.” 

You did not turn back.

***

“What is that?” You pointed at the shiny chain around Loki’s neck.

“Oh, this? Is called jewelry.” 

“Is it ornamental?” You took a step forward to inspect it closely. 

“Yes and no. It is very expensive.” He pulled it from your fingers to put it back into place. “You see humans found out that the big guy left some shiny rocks down here and they are making these out of those.” He extended his hands to show some other metals around his fingers. “Only kings and queens use them.” He gave you one to inspect.

You fiddled it while you laughed, “but you are no king, you’re the lowest being in the universe!” 

“I may have fallen, but I kept my title.” He snatched back and put it on again. “I am still a Prince. And I brought you one.” He searched in his pocket and extended a golden chain with a dangling charm.

“What is this?” You looked at it, there were two lines, one horizontal and one vertical, against each other. The horizontal was slightly shorter than the vertical.

“It is what your followers use to identify each other nowadays.” 

Your brows furrowed as you tried to understand, “but what does it mean?” You look back at Loki.

“It symbolizes the cross where Jesus died.” He calmly explained.

“IT WHAT?” You tossed it away but Loki catched it gracefully. “That is AWFUL. Why would they choose the Lord’s most traumatic event as a way to identify their religious beliefs?” You gasped in horror. “This is your doing, Loki.” You pointed a finger at him.

The corners of his mouth quirked up, “I’m afraid I can not take credit for that.” He extended his hand with the chain to you again. “Use it, let them see you as one of them. Maybe they will even start following the rules more closely led by your example.” His eyebrows perked up in a quiet petition. You only nodded.

He walked to your back, you lifted your hair as he clasped the thin, golden chain around your neck.

“It is quite pretty, though. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it, angel.” He whispered in your ear.

***

“What are you wearing?” Loki scowled.

He stood in front of you with a full black outfit, as usual.

“My-my tunic.” You looked down on you, blushing. “Why?”

“You will draw attention.” He clasped his fingers and your white tunic turned into a red velvet dress, the bodice was tight lining your waist and breasts, with golden embroidered details, while the skirt’s details were in a darker shade of red. 

“What are you doing?!” You gasped at the change. “What is this?!” Your open hands signaling down your body.

“It is my treat to you.” A devilish grin adorned his face, “although I can’t say it’s not for me too.” His eyes wandered your body.

“Oh and this color!” You finally touched the fabric, changing its color to a light blue and white details and a much more loose bodice. “Much better.”

Loki pursed his lips in disapproval. “Be careful, let’s hope the King does not see you and desires you to marry.” He offered his arm to you, gracefully you placed your hand on the inside of his elbow and let him guide you through the street.

You chuckled “Henry the Eight is married already, perhaps since it is an alliance blessed by God you did not notice.” You added smugly.

With a smile on his face, Loki raised your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles. “Soon enough you will know what I mean, dear.”

You both walked through the London streets looking for a decent looking tavern to share a drink.

“So what have you been up to lately?” You asked, lifting a golden goblet to your lips.

“The usual, you know, tempting.” A charming smile adorned his face. “You?” 

“The opposite, of course.” You smiled as well, “your 

brother asked me about you the other day.”

Loki nearly spat his drink, still coughing, he asked, “pardon me?” 

You tilted your head to the side with a smug smile.

“And what does my dear brother say?” 

“He is very surprised I haven’t seen you all these years on Earth.” You said with a smirk and he quickly matched.

“Well I was always the smart one.”

You tried your best not to laugh but you could not hold it, and just as you gained your breath again, a big sweaty hand fell on your shoulder.

“Haven’t seen this whore before.” A fat man grabbed you towards him, but before you could react, Loki had unsheathed his sword and stabbed him dead.

You gasped in horror while Loki pulled you to him and transported you elsewhere. In just a second you were in Spain.

“What did you just do?!”  You asked, horrified. 

“I saved you.” He answered calmed.

“You killed him.”

“He disrespected you and was going to hurt you.” He stood proudly in front of you.

“You murdered him.” You took a step towards him, although he was much taller, you defied him with your stare although your breath was hitching, still in complete shock.

“Yes, for you!” He snapped, shouting at you, “And God knows I’d do it again!” He lowered his face to yours and in his eyes was long gone the saphire blue, replaced by a hellfire red.

“Then I shall not allow the opportunity.” You straightened yourself to walk away but he stopped you with a hand on your waist.

“Angel.” His hoarse voice was not demanding this time, but begging .

“Fallen.” 

You look into his red eyes until they return to blue, actually feeling the rage leave his body. You tried to focus on your breathing instead of how you felt with his digits still on your body.

“Farewell, Loki.” You sighed.

“See you around, angel.”

***

You were sitting on a bench in front of a church looking at the just married couple. They looked happy and inlove, everything around was filled with flowers. You looked with joy and a pinch of jealousy. That’s when he appeared next to you.

“Did you summon me?” He asked, sitting next to you.

“No!” You scowled, “I would never-“ a gasp left your mouth.

“Oh, you sinner.” He sneered. “What is it that made you sin?” His eyes wandered around, struggling to find it and you did not try to help him. “Them?” He pointed at the people gathering outside of the church.

“I am not jealous in a sense that I don’t want them to have it.” You quickly explained, straightening yourself. “I just wish I could too.” 

“Oh, darling!” Loki laughed, “you are better than that, you are an angel! They wish to be like you.”

“But I just want that!” You cried out.

“A wedding?” 

“No! A family.” Your head lowered in shame, “a partner to share my life with.” 

You felt Loki leaned closer to you. “Why don’t you ask Micha-“ His mock was interrupted by your lips, since you grabbed his hair and clasped your mouth to his.

He was hesitant at first, but he quickly adjusted to your pace and kissed you back fiercely. One of his hands cradled your cheek while the other sat on your waist, pulling you to him.

“Took you long enough” he whispered in your mouth.

[starsreminisce]

SJM Romance Week Day Five Favorite Trope

Koi no Yokan

Word count: 4800 for @sjmromanceweek

Summary: When Elain saw Eris's red scarf, it triggered a memory of a red-haired fae who had once shown her a kindness she had never experienced before. Only then did she realize she had met her mate before their bond had ever snapped.

Read on AO3 or Continue Below

It was the red scarf wrapped around Eris’s neck that Elain couldn’t stop staring at. She barely heard the conversation—Eris’s irritated tone as he tugged the scarf loose, Rhysand’s low drawl as he led him into the office.

The scarf reminded her of another winter. Another life.

Back when her ears were still rounded. When threadbare clothes clung to her too-thin frame, her stomach growling from days of hunger. It was the winter she had schemed to cross the wall, to save her family. Feyre had come home with nothing, and Nesta spoke of Tomas taking them in. The forest had seemed endless then, the cold sharper than a blade, but Elain had been determined. If the Children of the Blessed were right, if the fae were truly so easily swayed by beauty, then she would use hers to save her family.

She shivered beneath her flimsy cloak, the trees creaking around her. Somewhere ahead, voices rose-deep, otherworldly. Fae. She froze, pressing herself behind the nearest trunk.

“Andras,” a deep voice, as cutting as the cold, instructed, “this is as far as I can take you.”

Elain’s heart pounded as she peered out from her hiding spot. Three of them with ornate masks. Too tall, too perfect to be human. One of them—a blonde male with ethereal handsome features—flicked his hand, and the second fae shifted into a massive wolf. Elain’s held her breath as the creature shook and then darted into the woods.

“Tam,” the third fae—the red-haired one with a beauty so precise it felt like a punishment—snapped.

But the blonde cut him off with just a look; his emerald eyes were cold, commanding. Then, with a jerk of his head, he was gone, disappearing amongst the trees and leaving the red-haired fae to follow.

The glade was quiet once more, thick with silence. There was only the faint whisper of branches in the chill breeze. The redheaded fae remained standing, jaw clenched as he stared after Andras, his hands curled to fists. One long weighted moment, it seemed almost as though he would give chase, but he did not budge.

Elain’s heart thundered in her ears; her breath was shallow and came fast. She had moments, mere moments before he, too, disappeared. Her mind racing, she fought through the haze of hunger and fear.

Do it.

“Wait!” she called, stepping into the open.

The fae turned, and her breath caught. He was beautiful in the way a wildfire was beautiful—impossible to look away from, but every instinct in her screamed to run. His sharp grin sent a chill down her spine.

“Well, hello,” he drawled, like honey dripping from a blade.

Elain swallowed hard. “Take me with you,” she said, her voice trembling even as she fought to sound brave. Her knees shook beneath her, but she forced her chin high, refusing to let him see her fear. “Take me, and I’ll do anything you want.”

His scarred brow arched, and his grin stretched wider, pulling the brutal mark across his eye into something cruel—mocking.

“Anything?” he purred, the word dripping with wicked amusement, as though savoring it.

Elain forced herself to nod, the cold biting her cheeks as the word slipped from her lips. “Anything.”

He stepped closer. Instinctively, she moved back, her breath clouding the air between them. His grin only deepened, sharp and vicious, as if her fear was the gift he’d been waiting for.

His boots crunched against the frozen ground, and she froze, the icy earth beneath her feet anchoring her in place. She couldn’t retreat further—not from him. His russet eye gleamed as he watched her, a molten light flickering there. He tilted his head, the motion eerily animalistic, his sharp teeth flashing in the fading light.

“Do you hate us?” he asked, his voice low and velvety, the words curling through the cold air like smoke.

She shivered as warmth radiated off him, her body betraying her resolve as she swayed toward him. His scent—rich and earthy, like roasted chestnuts—filled her senses. Her mind flickered to a memory: her father, smiling by the fire, pressing a warm handful of chestnuts into her palm. A time when she was safe. A time when she was loved.

“No,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. Not him, anyway.

“That’s too bad,” he murmured, his breath brushing her lips. “Because that’s the only way I can take you with me.”

And then, just like that, the warmth vanished.

Her eyes flew open, the cold rushing in as if to punish her for the brief reprieve. He had stepped back, his head tilted as he studied her with narrowed eyes. For the first time, his grin faltered. Confusion flickered there, cutting through the cruel confidence that had been so effortless moments before.

“I don’t understand,” he said, almost to himself.

She blinked, her breath curling in the air between them. “Don’t understand what?” she whispered.

Before he could answer, her stomach growled loudly, the sound breaking through the charged silence.

“You’re hungry,” he said flatly, his voice unreadable.

An icy breeze passed between them and she shivered.

“And cold.”

“Please,” she said, her voice breaking, “please take me with you.”

For a moment, his expression softened, something like kindness threading through the sharp lines of his features. Then it vanished, replaced by something painful.

“I can’t.”

Elain’s throat tightened, and she couldn’t stop the words that spilled out. “Am I not beautiful enough for you to take me?”

The words burned her throat as she said them, humiliating and hollow. But what else did she have to offer? What else did she have left to barter?

He let out a bitter laugh, his head tipping back slightly. “Extremely for a human,” he said, “but that’s not what we need.”

She inhaled sharply, her nails digging into her palms. “I can be what you need.”

His jaw clenched, frustration flaring in his russet eye as he stepped closer. “I need you to hate us,” he said, his voice low and taut, like a cord pulled too tight. “I need you to hate us enough to kill me right now.”

The idea struck her like a blow to the chest. Kill him? She couldn’t—not because she wasn’t strong enough, but because the thought of harming him, of snuffing out this strange, painful kindness, made her stomach twist. The cruelty he wore like armor didn’t fool her. She could see the cracks underneath, the shadows of something far more human.

He knew it, too. The tension in his jaw eased, his russet eye flickering with something unreadable—something almost tender—as the metallic one whirred softly. His grin lingered, but it wasn’t cruel anymore. It was weary, resigned, a shadow of what it had been moments before.

With a quiet sigh, he pulled the red scarf from around his neck, hesitating for a moment as though deciding whether to go through with it. Then, slowly, he draped it over her shoulders, his fingers brushing against the cold skin of her collarbone.

“The least I can do,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, as though the weight of the gesture was something even he didn’t fully understand.

She clutched the scarf tightly, feeling the burn of tears she wouldn’t let fall.

“Let’s find you something to eat,” he said, his earlier drawl replaced with something gentler.

“That won’t be enough to save my family,” she said, her voice trembling.

He considered what she had said. “No. But it’ll be enough to get you through today.”

He glanced around, his sharp gaze sweeping the forest before he took her hand. His grip was firm, and she stumbled after him, too cold and too empty to resist. The forest around them was still, the snow muffling their steps, but she barely noticed.

When they reached a clearing, he let go of her hand and knelt, his movements quick as he began gathering sticks. The clearing was small, ringed with ancient trees whose gnarled branches clawed at the sky, their shadows stretching long across the snow.

“Do you know how to build a fire?” he asked without looking at her.

She shook her head, her fingers too frozen to even try.

He lit it effortlessly. The small flame burst to life, crackling as it spread through the wood. She leaned toward it as she closed her eyes, her trembling fingers outstretched, letting the warmth seep into her skin. For the first time in hours—maybe days—she could feel her hands again.

When she opened her eyes, he was gone, the trees swallowing him. She stared into the flames, the flickering light dancing over her pale hands. Her stomach growled loudly, but she ignored it, guilt twisting inside her. What would Nesta and Feyre think if they could see her now, warming herself at a fae’s fire? Taking food from a fae that she knows she shouldn’t but desperate enough she had to?

He returned a few moments later, his movements silent except for the faint crunch of snow beneath his boots. A small rabbit swung from his hand, its body limp, its fur already matted. She looked up at him, her stomach clenching with hunger and guilt alike.

The fae took no notice of her hesitation as he prepared the rabbit, working with a quiet precision. When the smell of roasting meat wafted toward her, her mouth watered despite herself.

She shivered violently, pulling her knees to her chest as the cold seeped into her again. He looked at her, his sharp eyes softening as he moved closer. Without a word, he slid his arms around her, cradling her against his chest as if she were his to protect.

When he pulled her close, she stiffened, unsure if she could allow herself this comfort. But the heat of him—the solid, unyielding warmth—was irresistible. Slowly, she let herself sink into his chest, her head pressing against the soft fabric of his tunic. His steady breath rumbled through her, and the tension in her body began to melt, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion she hadn’t allowed herself to feel until now.

She knew fae were mercurial. Temperamental. Cruel.

And yet, he was the first to ever show her this brand of kindness.

She blinked hard, willing the tears to stay hidden. She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry—not in front of him, not in front of anyone. But the fire was warm, and his arms were warmer, and something in her cracked. The tears spilled silently, unbidden, sliding down her cheeks as she burrowed closer to him, trying to hide the evidence of her weakness.

“Please don’t cry,” he whispered, his voice soft against her hair.

“Why not?” she choked out.

“It’s breaking a heart I’ve forgotten I had,” he murmured, his voice raw, as though the admission cost him something. “You shouldn’t let someone like me see you cry.”

She looked up at him, her vision blurred with tears. He was the most beautiful being she had ever seen. His mismatched eyes—one gleaming russet, the other whirring softly as though it could see through her—lingered on her with a strange mix of regret and something warmer, something softer.

Her trembling fingers rose of their own accord, tracing his jawline. She had never seen kindness on a face before. Fae faces were meant for cruelty, weren’t they? But as her touch skimmed the scar cutting through his eye, she realized how wrong she had been.

“I didn’t mean to cry,” she whispered. “It’s been a long time since someone was this kind to me.”

His lips parted slightly, looking through her through half-lidded eyes. “And it’s been a long time since I wanted to care for someone like this.”

Elain swallowed hard, her stomach twisting at his words. He shouldn’t have cared for her. She shouldn’t have cared for him. She thought she could use this to her advantage. Let him ruin her so thoroughly that he’d have no choice but to take her with him. It was a small, desperate hope—but it was enough to keep her upright.

And yet, as his thumb brushed her cheek and his warmth seeped into her frozen bones, another part of her whispered: this wasn’t just a lie. Some selfish, quiet part of her wanted to be held, wanted to be wanted—for herself, not for what she could offer. She didn’t know which part of her was worse.

But she couldn’t think like that—not now, not when her family was hungry and desperate. 

“I thought the fae didn’t care,” she said softly.

“We don’t,” he replied, though his voice had softened, low and unsure. “That’s why I don’t understand… but you… you would have someone who does care for you.”

She did. But not like this.

Not in this open, quiet way this strange fae had shown her. Not when Nesta’s care was wrapped in anger or Feyre’s love came laced with resentment. Not even her father, who seemed to drift between worlds, half there and half lost.

Definitely not in the way he held her now—with his scarf wrapped around her neck, the rabbit roasting over the fire he built for her, his gaze on her like she was something precious.

And all of it given freely. All of it without asking for anything in return. Because he refused to take her with him.

Her breath hitched as his gaze dropped to her lips.

“My sister,” she said, trying to break the invisible pull between them. “She hunts for us, but this has been a harsh winter.”

“Is that why you want me to take you?” he asked, his voice a lover’s caress.

Elain bit her lip, and his reaction was immediate—his russet eye darkened, his gaze snapping to the movement as though it had struck him. She could feel the shift in him, the tension coiling tighter in the small space between them. He furrowed his brows, his focus never leaving her mouth, as if he were being denied just as much as she was.

“If she doesn’t come back with something tonight,” he said after a moment, “I’ll make sure you and your family will have something by the morning.”

Her chest tightened, the weight of his promise settling over her. “What’s the cost?” she whispered, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.

“No cost at all.”

The words fell between them like a lifeline, unasked for but freely given. Her throat burned, a thousand words threatening to escape—gratitude, disbelief, apology—but she swallowed them down, refusing to let them break the fragile silence between them.

She watched the realization dawn on his face, saw it settle in the slight furrow of his brows and the way his tongue swept over his lips, as though he were already anticipating how she intended to pay. And yet, hesitation lingered in his mismatched gaze, thin and taut, like a thread about to snap.

She had already spoken to him, had already been held by him. Now, food roasted over the fire, its scent curling through the cold air, waiting to be consumed. Would it be so wrong, then?

Her propriety was the only thing she had left—the final shred of status she clung to, the last remnant of the life she had once known. And she had already decided she was willing to give it up.

She was lowly now. She had been for a long time. Did it even matter anymore?

Could she let it go completely? Let it fall away like ash in the wind, if it meant convincing him? If it meant saving her family?

Even knowing she might fail?

“You do that,” he warned, “and I absolutely cannot bring you with me.”

Her breath caught. But there was still a chance he could.

She closed her eyes, her heart pounding so hard it drowned out everything else. She leaned in, hesitant at first, inch by inch, giving him every chance to stop her.

He didn’t move.

Her lips trembling as the space between them disappeared, as though the pull was stronger than either of them could resist. She hesitated, hovering so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.

Still, he didn’t move.

Her stomach twisted, a knot of fear and need tightening inside her. What if this was too much? What if it wasn’t enough? She couldn’t tell anymore—couldn’t think past the roaring in her ears, the ache in her chest.

It would be her first kiss.

The thought nearly stopped her. A piece of herself begged her to hold on to it, to keep this one part of her untouched, untainted. But another voice—a louder one—rose up, fierce and aching. She wanted this. Wanted him.

It wasn’t just desperation, not entirely. It was something deeper. Something she couldn’t name.

And he stayed there, so still it was almost painful, as though waiting for her to decide.

And so she did.

She leaned in the final inch and gave him the only thing she could.

A kiss.

It wasn’t payment. It wasn’t a transaction. It wasn’t about convincing him to stay or take her with him.

It was something she wanted.

The touch of his lips was softer than she expected, hesitant at first, but the kiss deepened as his hand slid into her hair. He tasted exactly as he smelled—roasted chestnuts, woodsmoke, and a sweetness she couldn’t name. It warmed her, wrapped around her like his scarf still tied at her throat, and made her feel things she hadn’t felt in years.

Safe. Wanted. Unburdened. Loved.

Her fingers curled into his tunic, desperate to keep him close. When a small, helpless moan escaped her lips, he groaned in response, pulling her tighter, deeper, as if he couldn’t stop himself.

She had been starved before, in more ways than one. But this—this was a different kind of hunger, something she hadn’t even known she could feel. She understood his desperation now, the way their hands clutched at each other, the way their lips pressed harder, seeking more. They were tasting something sweeter than they had ever imagined was possible.

But then he pulled away. His breaths came ragged, his chest rising and falling as if it physically hurt him to stop.

He rested his forehead against hers, his mismatched eyes fluttering shut. When he spoke, his voice was a broken whisper.

“You’ll ruin everything if I bring you with me.”

She didn’t know how she could ruin him when he already had.

His breath was shaky as he leaned into the curve of her neck, his lips brushing against the soft skin beneath her jaw. Elain sucked in a breath, the sensation unraveling her nerves, and leaned back, baring her throat to him as a breathless sigh escaped her lips.

She could feel the dampness pooling between her thighs, the ache coiling deep at her core, and her hips began to roll against whatever was pressing into her, seeking relief. The movement was instinctive, desperate, as though her body was responding to what she couldn’t admit.

Her head lolled toward him, and their lips met for a second time. This kiss wasn’t like the first—there was no timidness, no hesitation. It burned between them, consuming, as if they both knew they were stealing a moment that was never meant to last.

And yet, even as their mouths moved together, she felt it: a sharp pinch beneath her lower left rib, like a string pulled taut. She gasped softly at the sensation, but it didn’t stop her. If anything, it rooted her deeper in the moment.

It wouldn’t be a bad life, she thought hazily, her mind scattering as his hand buried in her hair. To leave her family behind, knowing they’d be taken care of, if only she could stay here—in his arms, for the rest of her days.

But then, he pulled away.

She saw it the moment their eyes met—longing and pain, a depth of feeling she couldn’t fully understand but that shattered her all the same. He looked at her as though their kiss had destroyed him, as though it had splintered something fragile and irreplaceable inside him.

“You can’t ruin this for us,” his voice hoarse, as if it was all he could manage.

And then he was gone.

The cold rushed in to replace him, leaving her unmoored, untethered. His absence hit her like a blow, the warmth of his body still lingering against her skin, the ghost of his lips still brushing her neck. She sank to her knees by the fire, clutching the red scarf he’d left behind as though it was the only thing keeping her upright.

The rabbit roasted over the flames, its scent mingling with the sharp winter air, but Elain barely noticed.

She blinked back tears, the ache in her chest heavy and unrelenting. She had come so close—so close to convincing him, so close to achieving her goal—and yet she’d failed.

Her stomach growled, sharp and insistent, but she couldn’t bring herself to eat. The guilt gnawed at her, sharp as the winter cold. Guilt because she was being fed while her family starved. Punishment because she hadn’t succeeded in securing more for them. Wariness because it had been a fae who had built this fire, hunted this rabbit.

Her fingers trembled as she reached toward the rabbit, then stopped. She couldn’t. Instead, she decided to save it for her father. He would need it more. He would need the strength to survive another day, another failure.

The fire crackled softly in front of her, its warmth doing little to thaw the frost clinging to her chest. She stayed there long after he vanished, staring into the flames, her fingers gripping the red scarf as though holding on to it might bring him back.

Elain blinked, the memory shattering like glass, leaving her floundering. The phantom weight of the scarf was still heavy around her neck.

And there it was. Hanging neatly by the door. An afterthought. Forgotten—yet waiting.

She felt it.

Her head snapped toward the sound of the door swinging open, and she sensed him before she saw him.

Lucien entered, his russet gaze locking on hers almost immediately. A ripple of awareness passed between them, swift and undeniable.

Their eyes locked, and in that moment, she knew.

Recognition. Understanding. A truth she hadn’t wanted to face.

Her gaze flicked to the scarf, and the memory came rushing back all at once.

“It was yours,” she said softly, the words falling from her lips before she could stop them.

Lucien frowned and turned to follow her gaze. His mechanical eye whirred, narrowing in focus as though piecing together a puzzle he hadn’t realized existed. Then he froze. His shoulders stiffened, and something flickered across his face—regret.

“It was,” he said at last, his voice quiet.

Her throat tightened. Her eyes started to burn. Her fingers trembled, and her nails bit into her palms as she tried to keep the tears at bay. I promised myself I wouldn’t forget. I swore I wouldn’t forget him.

And yet she had.

Lucien’s lips quirked into a small, apologetic smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Then you’ll remember what I said to you.”

Her breath hitched. You shouldn’t let someone like me see you cry.

Her voice was a whisper. “A mate, you meant.”

Lucien hesitated, the weight of the word hanging between them like an unspoken vow. Finally, he nodded, his voice barely above a murmur. “I didn’t know then. But yes.”

Elain let out a shaky breath, her chest tight with the weight of his words. A mate. He was her mate, and yet he had left her. She felt the ache of it spreading through her ribs, too big, too much. She needed to feel something else. Something sharp. Something that would cut him the way he had cut her. She settled on anger.

“You left me,” she said suddenly, the words spoken as she thought of them. “You left me there.”

“I had no choice,” Lucien said softly, his eyes searching hers. “Tamlin needed Feyre. Someone like Feyre. We all did. You weren’t…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening. “You weren’t what he was looking for. But I made sure you were safe, Lady. I insisted. Once I realized who you were to Feyre, I couldn’t—” He stopped, the words catching in his throat.

She shook her head, her throat burning with the tears she refused to shed. “You didn’t even give me a chance,” she said, her voice trembling. “I hated the fae enough to do whatever it took, and you didn’t even let me try. I didn’t need to kill you. I could have killed any of Tamlin’s men.”

The truth hung in the air between them: for him. She would have done it for him.

Lucien flinched, as though her words had struck him like a blow. His shoulders sagged, the weight of her anger pressing him down. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper. “I know,” he said. “I know.”

“But now I’m just someone who would have ruined it,” she said bitterly as they cracked, her pain sharpening into accusation.

Lucien’s jaw tightened, and his mismatched eyes flashed with something fierce—something she couldn’t quite name. The softness in his face disappeared, burning away like a candle’s flame flaring too high, fed by an unseen, simmering heat.

“Because I didn’t want to see you fall for someone who wasn’t me!” he snapped.

Her breath caught, his words landing like a blow. But she refused to let her own anger falter, refused to give him the satisfaction. “And now you would?” she shot back sharply. It wasn’t a question—it was an accusation, a challenge.

His face hardened, his golden eye whirred, the tension in his jaw sharpening until it looked as though it might shatter. When he spoke, his voice was low and bitter, but there was something hollow at the edges, something almost broken.

“I’m better at accepting it now than I was back then.”

The words cut through her, though she couldn’t tell if it was because of the quiet finality in them or the resignation that darkened his gaze.

He exhaled harshly and closed his eyes, running a hand through his now-molten red hair. He cursed softly under his breath, his voice little more than a growl.

“I have to go,” he muttered, his tone quieter now but still brimming with something unresolved—something raw.

He walked past her without another word, his footsteps soft and measured, though the tension in his shoulders made her want to call out, to stop him. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

As he passed, she caught the whiff of roasted chestnuts, the same scent she remembered from another time, another place. The scent sent the memories rushing back, too sharp, too sudden—the warmth of a fire, the brush of lips that had tasted like safety, the weight of a red scarf settling around her neck like a promise unspoken.

The tears she’d been holding back finally spilled over, slipping silently down her cheeks. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, forcing herself to stay rooted in place even as her heart begged her to move, to follow him.

When her gaze fell on the scarf hanging by the door, its red threads frayed at the edges, a weight pressed down on her chest.

She had promised herself she wouldn’t forget—not the firelight, not the taste of roasted chestnuts, not the way the scarf had wrapped around her like a lifeline in the cold. And yet, she had forgotten. Time had blurred the edges of those memories, tucking them away in the quiet corners of her mind where grief and desperation lived.

But now, as she stared at the scarf, its color as vivid as the day he had placed it around her shoulders, the memory now fresh in her mind. She thought of what she had told herself then, being cradled in his arms in that snowy clearing: that it wouldn’t be a bad life for her, not if her sisters were taken care of.

And now—now, as the past collided with the present, she wondered if she had always been ready to accept the bond she hadn’t realized she had.

A bond that had waited for her, patient and unyielding, as though it had known she would need to find it on her own.

[panhelleniios]

am I thinking too much about herc and his friendships and relationships tonight. maybe.

[galacticlamps]

actually ascension needs its own post since that's the one with the most details to speculate over and im starved for soho talk so i will talk to myself if need be

First the cover again, because I kinda can't get over it:

my only thing is that I had been hoping we might get Lizbeth on a cover again since she's never been on one of the boxsets before, despite being the 2nd person credited on all 4 of them (even if that's just alphabetical, still, she's the only one of the four main characters who never makes the cover)

But letting that go...

I know we already kinda knew the brief for this one but damn I didn't expect it to go quite this hard. Maybe that's just because the Parasite & Ashenden covers were (comparatively) similarish to each other and I was so pleased with Unbegotten's, and then got so used to it as the placeholder for Ascension while they kept postponing it, I wasn't expecting anything this colorful or detailed or with what I can't help but register as Fun New Outfits even though these are still like, pretty damn basic as far as costumes go. Still, it's a different vibe from everyone in suits and trenchcoats on every cover, technically. (Oh the woes of being an audio fan such that two characters owning sweaters actually does qualify as new information)

On top of just being visually delightful though, I know we knew religion was gonna be a fairly big part of this one, but I didn't actually expect to get quite this much of it - though I'm glad of it for a number of reasons. The BF twitter already made the ineffable joke so I don't have to, but also yeah I did very much spend all of season 2 episode 4 of good omens half convinced Samuel Barnett & Dervla Kirwan were about to pop up around any given corner (if you will go around being gay supernatural and horrible at your messy bureaucratic jobs in midcentury soho then I'm sorry, this is where my brain's gonna go) - so, fuel to that fire. But in terms of actual important things, at least one of my Soho wishes looks to be being granted because we have a Rev Edward Folgate on the cast list, which must mean we're finally meeting Norton's father, even if his mother & brother don't appear (which they could, technically, I've definitely seen BF not list all the doublings on their cast tabs before). Religion, domesticity, and the nuclear family are all things that absolutely fascinate me when it comes to Norton's character, so getting any amount of story involving his father & his church is something I've been actively hoping for for a long time now.

(I will say I'm a tiny bit bummed Saffron Coomber isn't on the cast list to play Mia again, but I kinda figured she wasn't going to be since Greg Austin's Armitage, who's making his first recurring appearance after originating in Unbegotten, was listed ever since the boxset was announced - presumably if she was also returning, that would've been handled in the same way. But since Unbegotten ended with Lizbeth and Mia going on a date, I still held out hope. Who knows though, maybe things did go well for them and Lizbeth just has a better work/life balance than Norton so she can date someone without them getting dragged into every scifi plot. I know that's not a very common accomplishment for any Torchwood agent, but a gal can hope)

At this point I know I'm completely in the realm of speculation & even wishful thinking, but I'm really really hoping we get some more clues as to Norton's overall timeline in this one, and I have a feeling that even if there's nothing as direct as dates given, the events of a plot like this one are going to heavily influence my personal interpretation of it.

To say that life & death are major themes for the soho crew feels wildly reductive, but even by Torchwood's standards and taking into account its origins as a piece of media with Jack Harkness & his newfound immortality at the heart of it, the living/dead status of this bunch has always been fantastically up in the air to me. Obviously Ghost Mission introduced Norton as kind of a ghost before revealing more obvious ghostly characters later on to which the title might have been referring, but his being from the past did beg the question of his survival into Torchwood's present era all the same, which Outbreak later alludes to much more directly, and his habit of showing up via hologram in multiple stories only further obfuscates any certainty we might have about where & when he definitely can be said to be alive and well. Then you've got Lizbeth and Gideon both being effectively 'brought back to life' via paradoxes that prevented them ever having died in the first place. Again, they are very very far from being the only Torcwhood characters this happens to (for a sprawling EU, it's really rather impressive how often & in how many different ways Torchwood as a whole manages to circle back to being about like. chaotic undead queers at the end of every day. though I suppose that consistency is part of why I keep falling in love with its different iterations again and again). That's without even getting into the question of Norton's dubious fate in God Among Us - and I say dubious because I know some people take that to be his ultimate death, but I personally think that reading something as vague as that as having any kind of finality rather goes against the spirit of this whole world/series, not just because I want him to live. (There are obviously other ways to make him survive/reappear, but I don't see this as a River Song scenario where we can safely assume one of his earlier-released adventures had to happen at the end of his personal timeline). But wherever God Among Us falls for him, he does very much meet God in it - or at least, a god, since the sentinel in Unbegotten is also described as a god of sorts, and even if he doesn't ultimately have the status of the god Jacqueline King is playing there, Unbegotten is still full to bursting with ghosts/undead/came back wrong/echo characters to continue underscoring that life/afterlife theme.

So all things considered, even allowing for the fact that we know Norton's twin hobbies are lying about himself and abusing time travel to suit his own ends/ever-shifting alliances, I find it difficult to believe we could get through a whole 6-part boxset about religion & death without something providing some kind of compelling evidence about where this adventure fits in among his other run-ins with apocalypses and gods and ghosts and dead-but-still-here characters/creatures, so I'm very much looking forward to any further exploration on that front.

And lastly, and least intellectually, I really want to know what the hell 20th-century Torchwood's obsession with Reginalds is. Reading through the cast list, I had to do two separate doubletakes over the character 'Sir Reginald Peebles' - firstly, because I had Reginald Rigsby on the brain, this being Soho (and the other Troughton brother being so active on BF's releases for this same month) - and secondly, because reading this in conjunction with the announcement for the July monthly adventure in which the new main Torchwood guy of the 20s is apparently called Sir Reginald Dellafield, there was a brief moment where I took that monthly release to be a tie-in with Ascension. I don't expect it to be, but damn. was it really so popular a name?

anyways, catch me thinking about those stained glass windows for the next couple months I guess (and knowing Torchwood Soho, for a long long time after it comes out as well lol)

[saymio]

Silent Obsession

Pairing: Hwang In-ho (the front man) x Fem!reader

Summary: your husband was missing, and all you did for days was stay at home crying your eyes out...waiting for your dearest husband to come home. this was until inho had decided to come give you a little visit while you were all alone and vulnerable.

Warning: dead dove: do not eat, noncon, degradation, light bdsm, manipulation, In-ho is obsessed with you, rough sex, mentioned age gap (20 years), cheating (not rlly), there might be more but I'm too lazy to write it.

A/N: not proof read. this takes place during s1. (most/all of the beginning contains junho x reader content)

7.2k Words

...

it was 2015, just a few days ago your boyfriend junho had invited you to meet his family on the day of his brothers birthday. his brother was turning 40 and they were hosting a small party, just a few people... and your boyfriend thought this would be a great time to invite you to meet his mom and brother. he was ecstatic at the thought, he really wanted his family to get to know you since last year he had met yours. and he was really serious about you... but it would be an understatement to say you were nervous. hell, you were scared. you wanted to leave a good impression on his family, this was the man you wanted to marry. if his mom didnt approve of you what could you say? she was wrong? that her opinion didn't matter? these thoughts swarmed your head for hours every day....

junho was driving the two of you from your small shared apartment to his moms place. you were sitting in the passenger seat as you stared out the window of the car, you were shaking... not from the cold but from the anxiousness you were brimming with. your fingers tapped against the interior of the car, your nails making a clicking sound every time they touched the material. "are you cold y/n? I told you itd be cold today..you should've worn a bigger jacket" junho glanced at you for a second before staring back at the road and sighing. he hated when this happened, when youd be so insistent in not 'ruining' your outfit that you wouldn't pay attention to whether you'd be cold or not. this always happens! ..but he always wears a jacket for you. because he knows you'll end up shivering from the cold gusts of wind and he cant stand the thought of you suffering from the freezing temperatures. you let out a small chuckle, it was barely over a whisper but junho heard you loud and clear. "why're you laughing.." he frowned a little, not because he's upset or mad at you but just because you werent taking the situation that seriously. "what if you catch a cold? at least think about me when you dress this way..you know I hate when you're in pain.." the last part of his sentence was soft and quiet, as if he was murmuring to himself..making sure you wouldn't hear him. "stop worrying so much babe...I'm not cold or anything.. just a little jittery, its my first time meeting your family after all." you giggled at his genuine worry for you, he was such a drama queen. making these small actions seem so much more serious then they were..but its something that made you love junho. how kind and protecting he was of the people he cared about. "nervous? you don't have to be nervous y/n...I'm sure they'll love you." junho's right hand made its way to your left hand. holding it tight before giving you a soft gentle smile. his ability to sooth you with just his smile had to be studied, he truly was an angel on earth to you, like he had a halo on his head 24/7. you leaned forward a little and left a quick peck on his cheek, quickly leaning back down to your seat and looking away from him. but at the corner of junhos eyes he could see how red you've gotten...he thought it was adorable. how the two of youve been dating for 2 years but you still got flustered over small kisses. you were so innocent and kind, the exact woman he needed in his life...

but little did junho know, he was right. his family did love you..especially his brother.

you had arrived at his mothers house, .. your nerves were spiking, how should you introduce yourself? what if the cake you made was still raw? what if inho doesn't like his present? these thoughts ran through your head as you two waited for someone to open the door. your finger nails tapping against the box the cake you had made was in. the sound deafening you as you just wanted the damn door to open already. you really just hoped youd make a good impression... after what felt like an eternity the door opened, behind to door revealed the birthday boy himself, Hwang In-ho. junho just shook his hand before you bowed at him slightly before shaking his hand and introducing himself briefly. "happy birthday In-ho, my names y/n" In-ho just nodded coldly at you, if the harsh winds outside didn't freeze you his stares did. he stepped aside, allowing the two of you in. he lead the both of you up the apartment complex stairs, your heels making a loud click sound echo though the staircase with every step you took. after only a bit of walking up stairs you had reached the door to where the party was being hosted.. . . when junho had told you itd be a 'party' you expected a family gathering with like 15 people, but upon arrival you quickly realized..it was truly just him, his brother and mom celebrating inho's birthday today. you were pleasantly surprised, you hated large groups of people..it made you skittish and always super nervous. so just 3 other people being there calmed your nerves down, alot. the apartment was small and cozy, very homey and nice. his mother had made a mini feast with delicious foods and decorated the place with a few balloons and banners. it was a seemingly wholesome sight of a mother doing something nice for her sons special day, it made your heart warm up inside your chest as you took a seat at the table. "hi honey, what's your name?" junho's mother grabbed one of your hands, cupping it with the both of hers. you felt yourself blush and smile, you had barely even been inside yet his mother was being so kind already. her soft gentle voice, and kind soft eyes. it was everything that's junho was. "y/n, what about you miss?" you were trying your best to be as polite as possible, you didn't want to tip her off and cause her to hate you.. but you felt kind of uncomfortable.. inho..he was staring at you alot. and it was like he wasnt trying to hide it, his dark eyes piecing into your soul. as if he were looking for the innocence inside of you... to take it away from you. the entire day just led to you getting more and more uncomfortable. you weren't able to stare into his eyes because you felt if you did he would just jump onto you not giving a shit about his mother and brother being there too. "y/n, what would you say if your favorite thing about junho?" inho spoke, his deep voice sent uncomfortable shivers down your spine.. this entire atmosphere..it was odd. but it was like only you caught onto it. you stared at inho before turning to junho...he was blushing. he tried keeping a stoic face but you could tell he was getting flustered before you even spoke. his ears tinted in a light pink an so was his neck. "ah.. well his kindness..I think its the main reason I fell in love...he's very kind and soft spoken to people. at least until they do something wrong..but either way he's an angel." a gentle smile took over your face, you stared at junho and then at inho to continue your sentence..it was obvious you were head over heels for this man.. "he's just a very likable man." inho smiled at you, not speaking a word but it was like his face said them all for you. but they weren't the words you'd expect a caring older brother to say, it was more like a .. 'wow how nice.' but in a sarcastic tone.. his mother on the other hand.. "aww how sweet! young love, its so beautiful." she clasped her hands together before grabbing your forearm and staring up at you with twinkling eyes, it was like she was already envisioning your wedding and family with junho. "promise me you'll take care of my son, okay?"

it was a little past 10pm by now, everyone had eaten a slice of cake and junho's mother adored it. junho was right, his mom did love you. she was already talking about marriage and how she wouldnt be surprised if you made the wedding cake because the one you had brought today was "just too delicious!" you laughed and giggled at her antics, your face flushed in embarrassment. you turned to look at inho, who was staring at you intensely. your happiness almost instantly vanished as you shuffled in your chair. maybe he was upset you hadn't given him his gift yet...that should do it!! maybe he'd stop once you did. "a- inho, I brought you a gift." his eyes widened and it had seemed like he just heard life changing news, maybe he really was just sulking over a present..it was kind of cute. you grabbed your bag from your feet next to you and shuffled around until you found a yellow box, you pushed it towards inho and smiled. your tried your best to give a genuine, heartfelt smile even though you felt uncomfortable with all his glances and stares. he smiled at you, this time it seemed a little less fake...but still not genuine. he opened the box, it was a watch. a very beautiful one. it was shimmering under the dinning room light, a light white silver with simple but detailed engravings on the band of the watch. it was beautiful and it definitely wasn't the cheapest, you don't remember how much it was exactly since you had bought it the same day junho had told you about his brothers birthday..but you knew it was enough to make you wince at the receipt. "I left the receipt folded under the cloth Incase it isn't to your li-" you were cut off by inhos voice, it was calm, not as cold as it was before..it was rather soothing even.. "no. its perfect." he put the watch on, adjusting it so it fit his wrist perfectly. you felt your lips creep into a wide smile, you were so glad this day was going perfectly. "wow, that's such a pretty watch! it must've costed you a lot." their mother interrupted the two of you, staring at the watch that sat on inhos wrist and then at you. "inho, say thank you! be polite." she hit the back of his head harshly, as if she were scolding a little kid... you laughed at the scene, mothers truly see their children as their babies forever. "no- its okay miss don't wo-" it seemed like today was full of interruptions and cut offs as inho did just it again. "thank you y/n, I appreciate it a lot." his face was blank again, no readable expression was there.. but based off his passed reactions..you felt he was being sincere. . . . "thank you miss, thank you inho." you bowed at the both of them while you stood at the front door with junho, showing your gratitude for their kindness and patience with you and your boyfriend. "of course honey, please come back any time you want." junho's mother grabbed your hand one more time, inho nodded along with her. he wasn't a man of many words but it seemed his scary demeanor had vanished. maybe it was never even there and you were just nervous..either way you were glad you didn't leave the house with a weird feeling about your boyfriends brother. juho's mother then shoo'd the two of you away, telling you it was late and you shouldn't stay up so late at such a young age... you felt happy. a warm feeling sat in your heart and stomach, it was like you had just found your second family.

time skip (5 years)

there you sat in the police station, its been days since youve last seen your husband. you were sobbing into the palm of your hands, the salty liquid dripped onto your long dress as you drained ever drop of water from your body. you were terrified. what happened to him?? where was he?? what had he gotten into? you were devastated to say the least, you explained with a shaky and quaky voice that your husband had just told you he was off to investigate his brothers vanishment and would be back by the night..like always! so when you woke up and he wasn't there you just felt dread. you texted him and texted him all day to no response. when he didn't come back for the second day you reported him missing. you reported this story to the police about 9 times already, everyday since you reported him missing you came to the police station for any clues or help..an obviously everyday they told you the same thing...that they had nothing. the only reason they didn't push you off to the side when you came in was well..because your husband worked for them. he was a police officer under them, it'd feel disrespectful to you and junho if they just told you to give up hope on finding your husband. maybe you'd stop after another week or two..you'd realize whatever fate inho had found was the same junho ended to aswell... and not only that but you were pretty, kind and in obvious distress over your husband. they'd feel like they just kicked a sick puppy in the stomach if they told you to go away. so every day, at 8am you come in. usually in a pretty sundress but your state of mind isn't as pretty. your eye bags were prominent and you seemed to constantly be in a state of dissociation.... "you promise there's nothing? please double check! please..I need my husband back. you don't understand" your words were exasperated and rushed, you wanted answers, your husband, closure, anything! your breaths were getting heavy as you reached your delicate hand to the tissue box on the desk infront of you. you felt yourself breaking down, more and more, every. day. the police officer let out a breathy sigh, he was trying his very best to not tell you off. to tell you to go back to your home and cry there or something. to stop wasting his time every single fucking day.. but he couldn't. and he wouldn't. not when your state was some of the worst he's seen in his years of being an officer. "listen ma'am, there seems to be a dead end a-" you slammed your hand onto the table, one still holding the now damp tissue as you started to cry harder. you shook your head violently, indicating a very obvious no...or in this case obvious denial. "no. there..there isn't a dead end. he's alive and he needs your help!! please..please keep searching i-i'll.." you started to dig into your purse, the same one junho had gifted you for your 5th anniversary not long before this whole ordeal. when you felt what you were looking for you snatched it out your bag, like it was grabbing it, stealing it from your grasp. "h-here..d-dont stop searching please. I'll give you this..p-please.." in between words you started to cry more, tears streaming down your cheeks and dripping off your skin. your head was lowered and you were looking at your lap. you didn't want to stop looking for him. you wouldn't stop until you knew he was safe. "ma'am...you don't have to give me money for doing my job." he slid the stack of money that you had taken from your purse back to you and shook his head in disapproval. "listen.. sigh we're trying our best okay? we arent just laying around doing nothing, he was our coworker and we want to find him as much as you do.." he looked away from your depressing state, you were catching your breath and shaking, your fists were curled into balls. it was clear, even though he was an officer that he didn't want to find junho nearly as much as you did..he didn't think it would even be possible to. "just..take a break. you're overwhelming yourself and it isn't good for you. junho is strong and you know this, so just believe in him and his ability to live..."

the officer opened a drawer that was next to his seat, it was a little pile of candies.. he grabbed a handful and handed you a few. with a shaky hand you took the candies, your eyes were red and puffy. it was painfully obvious that you had just broken down in tears. you didnt want to speak but it was obvious by the way you acted, that all you wanted right now was for your husband to come back into your embrace. "if you want I can step out and let you calm down." the officer stares at you, awaiting the answer that would leave your lips. "no..its okay.. i-...whatever. thank you, I will take a break to calm down and compose myself. please have a good day." you mumbled the first few words, like a scared child who had just gotten caught with their hand in the cookie jar and is now making up an excuse. you let out a loud sigh before you stood up from your chair, rubbing your tired, sore eyes before fixing your hair and grabbing your bag. you turned around right as you were in front of the office door, you bowed at the officer to show your gratitude as you proceeded to touch the cold metal handle of the door and creaked it open. with a click of the door closing you were walking away from the room you had just broken down in.

there you were, sitting on the edge of the bed you and your husband shared. it felt cold every time you sunk your body into the soft mattress..cold and empty. you weren't used to this, you were used to your husband coming home from work and giving you a kiss. slipping into the soft blankets together as you worked as heaters for each other's bodies. you didn't like this. you didn't want this. you flopped your upper torso onto the bed, causing it to make a squeaking sound to the sudden pressure. your legs were dangling off the side of the bed as you stared up into the ceiling. the world around you felt hazy, like everything that surrounded your body was just an empty void of nothingness. the world was meaningless without junho. you felt your eyes getting heavier and heavier...until they had finally closed shut.

knock... knock... knock you jolted up from your bed, who was here at this time? it's like 2am... you stared at the closed bedroom door, thinking about if it was a good idea to open the doorm. you're a young woman alone at her house at 2am...what if it was a sex trafficker trying to kidnap and rape you!!?? knock... knock... knock the loud but slow knocks echoed throughout the house, the knocks took a 3 second pause inbetween..it was so creepy.. it made your skin crawl.. bu...what if...what if the police have clues about junho and came to talk to you about it they heard of it!! or..what if junho had finally come home..... these thoughts rand through your head, you were scared of what might be behind of that door. but not scared enough to not open it. you slowly got up from your bed, making it squeak under the pressure of your body. your soft slippers made a swooshing sound against the wooden floors as you shuffled your way to the front door... knock... knock.... knock there it was...the knocking. you couldn't help but feel this dry lump from in your throat, but you had to do it...you needed to make sure... if it was some stranger you'd just slam the door on them and go and hide in a closet or something.. your swallowed the lump in your throat and placed your palm on the cold metal of the handle, unlocking it with a small click and turning it clockwise so that it opened the door.. you didn't open it alot, just enough to see who was on the other side. your eyes stared at the dark soulless eyes In front of you, it was a random man. you had no idea why he was here or what he wanted..but he looked very familiar..maybe he was an off duty cop that just wanted to check up on you..? "h-hello..? how can I help you..." your voice was small and quiet, barely above a whisper as you used the door as some kind of shield from the strange man. "yes. you can." you stared up at the man with confused puppy dog eyes, what did that even mean?? you furrowed your eyebrows and squinted your eyes as you stared at him..you were about to close the door on the strange man until something clicked inside of you. you recognized where he was from.. "inho?! w-what? what are you.." your judgmental facial expression quickly changed into one of shook and worry, was he here to see junho? how would you break the news that his brother was now missing too?? you raised your small hand to your mouth, covering it in shock..you didn't even know what to do....what should you say..? your eyes started to water and tear up, you were reminded of the harsh reality junho was in..he was seriously missing and now the person he went missing looking for was In front of you...it seemed like everyone was just against you. mocking the disappearance of your husband. "what...are you doing here? a-are you here for junho..he's.." you let out choked sighs after every other word, taking your hands from your mouth to your entire face. you were a crying mess In front of a man you barely knew, it was so embarrassing. you were so pathetic and sad. everyone's been telling you to just get over it but here you are, sobbing for what felt like the 6th time today. a loud sigh snapped you out of your saddened state,, but...it wasn't a sigh of disapproval or frustration...it was like a sigh of...desire. like he was getting off to the sight your sobbing, scared and fragile body. "you're doing this on purpose, you have to be." you stared up at inho with confusion. you eyebrow was raised, as if asking him what the fuck he meant by that. before you could even mutter a word he pushed you, really harshly. you went flying back into your home, head hitting the hard wood. you felt yourself getting dizzier and dizzier for a few seconds...you felt like you couldn't move, speak or even see anymore...your head was spinning and alarms were ringing from the inside of your head..until you were passed out.

you woke up... you were sitting in the middle of the dining room, it seemed like someone had moved the table and other chairs out the way as it was literally only you. you and the chair you were sitting on. the room was barely lit up, you could only see some of your surroundings due to the singular light that was on. the ligh that bulb was right on top of you..it felt like you were about to get interrogated for murder,,you were terrified. for you wanted to scream, cry and just run away from what was happening. but you couldn't. your ankles were tied onto the legs of the chair. your arms and torso were bounded to the chair itself with a thick rope., it was digging into your skin hard..it hurt. alot.. you wanted to squirm around and get yourself free but you knew you'd just end up knocking the chair down and you'd be stuck in an awkward position..you tried to start screaming but you couldnt, you were confused..it was like your mouth was glued shut.....your eyes darted around the room, looking for anyone, anything to help you. it took you a second for you to put the pieces together but.. once you did you realized.. your mouth was duck taped shut. you didn't know what to do, you were overwhelmed and you just wanted your husband back to you. you closed your eyes shut as warm salty tears fell from your eyes. your eyes just couldn't catch a break, could they? they were tired and sore. even when you werent sleepy it hurt to open and close the..a result of crying for days.. you just wanted to feel happiness again. but clearly that wasn't going to happen soon. was your fate going to be the same as your husbands? were his kidnappers after you to sew your mouth shut?? you didn't want to die..at least not because you got closure.. "you shouldn't cry Infront of me. its a bad idea. I have a thing for little girls that look pretty when they cry." your head jumped forward, looking at the figure that had stepped out the shadows surrounding you.. your eyes widened, remembering that inho had been the one that knocked you over and caused you to black out. the same man that had gone missing 5 years ago, the same man that your brother went missing looking for.. what was he doing here? was he here to kill you? to keep you silent? to assault you? thoughts rand through your head as he took large, slow steps towards you. as if he was mocking your frightened state. he reached his right hand out towards you, your eyes landed on the silver watch he was wearing. it seemed so similar to the one you had gifted all those years ago..but no way he would still be wearing it, right? before you could even process another thought his hand gripped at your hair, pulling your head back and forcing you to literally stare up at him. the roughness of his grip made you wince in pain..he didn't come here with intentions of being nice and if you didn't realize that person you definitely realized that now. you tried to scream and kick your feet, you knew the tape and rope would stop your attempts and make them useless but you still tried. your screams just came out as diluted, muffled noises. the tape had stopped you from making any loud noises... the chair under your only shook a little but it wasn't enough to lighten the grip inho had on your hair. his dark, soulless eyes stared you down. they were like black orbs, nothing behind them. he grinned at you, like he was watching a cartoon and a character had did something funny. he was laughing at you. he thought this was funny. "you look so stupid, you do know that the tape will just silence all your screams, right? or are you too young and dumb to understand that yet." he tilted his head at you and gave you a mockingly confused expression. he was having the time of his fucking life while you were here, scared for your damn life. you glared at him, trying to intimidate him..doing anything to scare him...trying to find the little humanity in him that feels sympathy was clearly never going to happen. so you had to try another approach..even if it wasn't going to work either... and your suspicions were right ..

he just smiled at you, another mockingly fake smile... he released his hand from the grip he had on your hair and pinched your cheeks, just as roughly as he did with your hair. leaving a red mark when he let go... it was like he was treating you like you were a pouting child, stomping your feet because your mom didn't let you buy the comically huge lollipop you really wanted. "youre not scary sweetie." the pet name made you want to throw up in your mouth. he knew well you were his sister in law but here he was, calling you pet names with his disgusting voice. " you know..ive had my eyes on you since i met you...you're just so gorgeous..and delicate." he took a short but slow walk around u and stopped to stand behind you. his cold hands reached to your face and covered your eyes. you couldn't see anything but you knew he was leaned up in your ear...you could feel his hot breath making you unnervingly uncomfortable. "I just wanna ruin you." your breathe hitched in your throat, he was going to rape you. you know it, you had to fight back, you had to. you couldn't let a man that wasn't your husband put his dick inside you. inho took his cold hands away from your face and walked back in front of you. you glanced down at his crotch and...there was a bulge...he was getting off to your scared shape. he truly was an emotionless sadist.. he held up his index finger to your covered lips. "shh. make any noise and I wont think twice about killing you and your husband." your eyes widened as you heard the last part...that meant your husband was alive..and he knew where he was. you nodded slowly, complying with his words. he ripped the piece of tape off your mouth, causing you to let out a yelp in pain. you stared at him with a frightened face, you realized you had just made a loud sound...you didn't want to die you didn't..you didn't want your husband to die! "I said. be quiet." the truth with inho was, he had already killed your husband..at least he thought he did. only a day ago did he shot junho, causing him to fall off the side of the island...he probably drowned and is floating lifeless in the sea right now.. but you didnt need to know that...and it was clear you weren't even aware. your mouth was shut and you tried to silence your heavy rapid breathing....you really did love your husband..he wanted to steal that love from junhos grasp. he leaned down, his face was now perfectly aligned with yours... you wanted to say something, you wanted to scream and cry but if you did he'd kill you...you knew he would... his left hand started to rub your cheek, it was gentle and warm but it just made you hate it even more...his fake kindness. you hated it. his lips connected with yours, at first it seemed like he was trying to be gentle but it was obvious he had quickly gotten bored of it before he got rough. your teeth were clashing with each other as he shoved his tongue into your mouth. exploring every inch of it before he started to nip at your lips...he was aggressive and messy. everything junho wasn't.. this wasn't the kind of kiss you wanted or craved. you felt like your eyes were sewn shut the way you refused to open them, you didn't want to stare at inho. you just wanted this to end..maybe once it did you'd finally have your husband back. after what felt like hours of making out he has finally took his chapped lips off of your soft ones. a string of saliva connected the two of you as he caught his breath. you opened your eyes to stare at him, they were watery..your tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes as you caught your breath. to inho you eyes were like glass marbles...and he wanted to shatter them into pieces. you took deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. if you were calm it wouldn't be as bad. you read this inside your mind over and over and over again. you just prayed he would use you quickly and then leave... "you know, that day..the day where junho has brought you to our mothers house for my birthday.." his eyes wandered away from you, as if he were recalling the day in exact detail, scene by scene...

his eyes snapped back to yours, holding intense eye contact until he continued his sentence... "when I asked you what you loved most about junho you told me you loved his kindness. you said he was a soft person..an angel in your eyes." he crouched down, staring at you with intense eyes. his sharp features were like daggers, stabbing one by one into your heart. "you told me you loved something about him that I lacked. I'm not a kind person. and right now..you probably think I'm the devil instead of an angel like my brother.." he smiled at you, it was a cold, fake smile. if you touched his face right now it'd probably be ice cold.. "thats how I knew someone like you would never willingly be with a man like me.. but it's okay, I'll just force myself onto you." you started to cry, the salty liquid streamed down from your cheeks to your chin. your eyes were red and puffy, you didn't know what to do. you didn't want to be with this man, you didn't want this. inhos left head reached to your face, this time he squeezed the both of your cheeks so that your lips were puckered at him. "got it, princess?" he leaned in to kiss you again, this time he went aggressive right away. forcing his tongue into your mouth, some of your tears dripped onto his mouth. letting him taste the saltiness of your sadness. and it was delicious.

there you sat, he had freed your ankles from the restraints on the chair. nipping and licking at your clit. you hated this, you couldn't stop crying. you felt disgusting, a man that wasn't your husband was licking and eating your pussy out. why would you let this happen? at this point death felt better than breaking your husbands heart. you lets out cries and soft no's as he slurped your juices. you hated that it felt good, you hated that he knew what he was doing. your moans and mewls filled the room, followed with wet sloppy sounds of spit and cum mixed together. he's been eating you out for what felt like hours, you've probably came like 3 times already. you were getting tired..your legs were shaky, trying to close in on themselves but inhos arms kept them wide open for you. "p-please stop. I don't like thi-this...ah...please..let me go already..please.." you were begging with him, your eyes were shaky, your face was flushed and your lips were wet from his aggressive kisses. god. the scene of you begging for him to stop as he abused your clit was one he wanted engraved in his mind forever. he let go of your pussy with a loud pop, your juices and his spit was all over his mouth and chin. he looked like a wild animal that had just eaten his prey alive. with his sleeve he wiped off the liquid on his face. 'ruining' his all black jacket. "you want me to stop but your cum is all over my face and lips. you want me to stop but you keep moaning. just admit you're a slut for me." you close your eyes shut, shaking your head viciously, you don't want him. you don't want this. you just want your husband to be safe. that's all you want... inho scoffs at you, as if you were lying to his face. maybe he truly did believe you wanted this..that you wanted him.. but you knew it wasn't true, you knew that you loved junho and that you werent fighting back back because you just wanted him back.. you'd break down in tears in his arms once he comes home, you'll explain it when he's home. he'd understand..right..? you were lost in your thoughts, but reality snapped you out of them.. 2 long fingers were inside of your core, curling and pumping in and out... it hurt so much. it was nothing like you were used to, slow paced and gentle..no..it was fast and rough. you let out a cry, you were in so much pain it made you want to go insane. the rope that was still tied around your arms and waist dug into your skin, burning you as you struggled under the restraints..trying to find a way out. it felt like inhos was trying to split you in half, the rough skin on his finger pads only made it worse. but ofcoourse it had to feel good, because he knew what he was doing. even if it was messy, even if it was rough, even if you didn't like it..he knew how to make a woman feel good past all the pain. he tilted his head up towards you, his dark almond eyes burned holes into yours. "you gonna cum?" instead of a question, it felt like a demand. demanding you to answer yes, scaring you into saying yes.. but you didn't say yes, you said no. you shook your head and mouthed no to inho, not daring to say it out loud..and it obviously made him upset. he sneered at you before grabbing is free hand and pinching your clit before speeding the pace of his fingers. this was something you've never felt before, the pleasure finally overshadowed the pain and it felt like he had just forced your orgasm out of your body. your cum coated his digits, leaving a slightly milky white color on them.. you were catching your breath, it was hard to breath..the pain, anxiety and fear were catching up to you...you felt your throat slowly closing on you..you felt like you couldn't even breath enough air to supply your lungs are this point.. you were so caught up in your own world that you didn't even realize how he was pressing against the bulge that was begging to be freed from his trousers..he stared at you with bleak eyes, there was nothing behind them...nothing but desire and want..you were scared witless of what he would do to your poor body next. and whatever it was, you didn't want it

the bed was creaking under you, the same bed you and juho slept in everyday... you legs were pressing onto your stomach, the skin rubbing against each other. inho was slamming his cock in and out of you.. touching spots you didn't even know could be reached before this. you felt horrible for feeling so good. but you didn't want this. you were a crying moaning mess. your nails were digging onto his hands, the ones that were pressing you down. you were begging for him to stop, you didn't want this..you felt like you were being forced into this. with the life of your husband on the line.. inho let go of your left thigh and reached to your neck. his freezing hand sending shivers through your body as he started to choke you whilst pounding in and out of you..destroying your gummy insides. he lowered his face to you and scoffed, you looked so pathetic. crying and sobbing acting like you weren't enjoying his fat cock. why wouldn't you just admit you liked it for once? "acting like youre the victim while my cocks deep inside of you. is this all women do? complain about everything..just admit you like it. I wont tell." you felt so degrading. you were getting fucked by a man you barely knew on the bed your missing husband and you slept on every day at somepoint. using his life against you and now he's blaming you? was it really your fault? could you have just turned him away and still gotten junho back? was that an option that you weren't told about? you started crying, your weak arms pushing against his chest with no avail. you just wanted it to stop, you were in pain and now you're being told its your fault you're in this situation. you can never win. you began to sob louder, begging him to let you go, louder and louder until you were wailing like a stupid baby. your hand grasped at the tight grip he had on your neck, then to his chest to push him away again. "shut up." he snarled before taking off his hand from your neck, he had left a bruise from how hard he was gripping...with the same hand he harshly slapped you. shutting your cries up quickly. a red spot started to quickly form, your skin was now irritated in what felt like every place on your body.. "you're such a slut. taking the dick of a man 20 years older than you on the very bed your husband would sleep on. do you not feel ashamed? hmm?" he hummed at you, waiting for your reply. but you didn't even mutter a word, nothing. you decided you'll just take it with no noise, if you stay quiet up maybe it'll end faster?.. it should...shouldn't it..you were trying to comfort yourself in your head.. "you can keep trying to tell yourself otherwise but youre nothing but a dirty cheater. taking dick like a good girl. this probably isn't the first time youve done this huh?" he laughed at your now soulless face, he was right when he said he wanted to ruin you. he was doing that, and it got worse with every second that passed. "ffuck I'm close. you better cum or else I'll js' keep on using you until you do." you started to tear up, your clit twitching and your hole began to clench around his cock. you felt good, but terrible at the same time..you doubted he was cumming because he thought you felt good though, it was a factor but it was probably your shape that made him so horny. you were sad, in pain...tired... he got off to it so bad. you let out quiet pants and moans, indicating to inho that you were close too. he started to get sloppy, his pace getting even faster as the wet slapping sound of skin filled your ears to the brim. you felt your clit pulsating, begging for release...once you came you'd be free..you'd be...you'd be....be.. "a-aa.. fuck fuck fuckfck fuck! ouOUGH~" you let out loud, filthy moans. probably for the first time that night, instead of your cries it was your moans and whimpers that the room was now brimming with. inho loved the sound of your noises, your cries, moans, everything. God it made him so horny...once he felt you cum all over his cock he let his go through as well. fucking his orgasm into you deeper, and deeper with a loud groan..

he kept moving slowly, fucking you through your orgasm as your breathes calmed down.. "I want to ruin every inch of kindness and hope for humanity you have left in you. you're so perfect. perfect to corrupt.." his hand raised to your cheek and started to rub it 'lovingly'. you had a feeling he wasn't going to let you go like he had told you he would.

...

Another not: I FINALLY FINISHED YAY took me like all day again but ....yay!! I hope u guys liked it. I'm pretty proud of it but idk if its ooc or not... but SMASH THE LIKE BUTTON N HIT SUBSCRIBE 4 MORE..!!!!!!!

TAGLIST: @pollys-doublelife @gongyoosgf

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪  lover !!

ᝰ.ᐟ even if he doesn't exude this energy to outsiders, you're happy to know that your boyfriend is the biggest simp around when it comes to you. or: the cute things he'll do for you.  (fem!reader)

featuring yoichi isagi, seishiro nagi, reo mikage, rin itoshi, rensuke kunigami content contains hotel bathroom sinks designed by a man, slight jealousy (reo is the jealous boyfriend), height differences (nagi + kunigami + rin are described as taller), wearing his clothes + clothes is described to be oversized on you (nagi), called a simp by his teammates (kunigami), clingy bf (yoichi <3) author's notes hq version coming soon!!! i just wanted to write something soft n fluffy for once <3

౨ৎ YOICHI ISAGI — goes viral on tiktok when the two of you go on vacation to celebrate your second year anniversary. you're recording yourself from the bathroom of the private villa he rented out for the two of you, and you originally wanted to record what an absolute joke the sink is. there is literally no counter space. nowhere to place any of your makeup or skincare products. yoichi interupts the video unknowingly, knocking softly and asking if he can come in. he doesn't realize you're filming, and it's entirely genuine when he asks, "is everything okay? you sounded frustrated? did you need help opening something?" you laugh before explaining the situation, and he's silent for all but one second before he goes, "oh! i'll just hold your makeup bag, and i'll hand you the stuff when you need it." (poor yoichi means well, but he's standing there for over an hour as you laugh at him when he can't tell the difference between a tube of lipgloss and liquid blush. the look of concentration on his face as he nods intently while you explain what each product is for is absolutely adorable; it's the same concentrated look he gets when he's reviewing game footage, meaning he's taking this seriously for you.) he's also the type that loves to follow you around. it's a common joke for his fans to comment "walk him like a dog, sis!" on any candid photos of you + yoichi because he is almost always holding your hand while trailing behind you. he's like your shadow as he follows you around different stores in the mall, and even when you tell him he can just sit down with the other boyfriends while you just try on some clothes, he refuses to leave your side. tries to follow you to the dressing room, and gets all pouty when he realizes he's not allowed in. makes you walk outside the dressing room with the new outfits on so he can rate them (he is incredibly biased and believes everything looks good on you and forces you to bring everything to the cashier so he can swipe his card to get it for you <3)

౨ৎ REO MIKAGE — cannot handle anyone else taking up large chunks of your time, especially when he rarely gets to see you during game season. makes a face anytime he realizes that the server at the restaurant is a guy. the server will smile at you and tell you that he'll get started on that meal for you right away, and reo leans forward once he's gone and goes, "i can't believe he was flirting with you right in front of me! disgusting!" he's actually convinced that every man in the world wants you for themselves, and if you tease him by threatening to run off with any of these men, he'll instantly frown and start telling you to take that back right now! however, he is entirely convinced that you are the greatest thing to ever grace this earth, and he feels so proud whenever you two are out in public and a fan or an employee compliments you. they could say anything postive about you, and he'll beam with pride, going "i know, right? i tell her this all the time!" it's almost common knowledge that the easiest way to get on reo's good side is to treat you well. he also loves listening to you gossip, and is the type of boyfriend who loves all your friends (even if he can't quite remember their names; it's only important that they treat you kindly and loyally), and hates everyone that you hate. he's also less forgiving than you; if someone backstabs you but you forgive them and grant them a second chance, just know that reo still hates their guts and he'll make it incredibly obvious.

౨ৎ SEISHIRO NAGI — can’t help but make video game versions of the two of you any chance he gets. he’ll pretend to not notice the way your eyes light up when you pass by any claw machine containing plushies of your favorite anime characters, but somehow he’ll manage to find himself at the machine, casually winning you your favorite as if the game isn’t designed to make everyone lose. (he’s just that good.) even if you’re not as big of a gamer as him, he’ll watch you play sims 4 (and subsequently watch you spend 3 hours on the create-a-sim section because you’re trying to create a perfect carbon copy of the two of you.) looks for his favorite hoodie only to glance over at your still-sleeping form on his bed and realizes that you’re wearing it. you look adorable in it; he’s taller than you, bigger in every aspect, so the material swallows you up. (he doesn’t wake you up nor does he ask for it back.) despite the fact that he’s taller than you, nagi is definitely a big baby, and is constantly the little spoon. he loves to come home and bury his face in your neck, loves the way you gently run your fingers through his hair (it’s the easiest way for him to fall asleep), and he’ll constantly try to find ways for you to hold him.

౨ৎ RIN ITOSHI — grants you “scary dog privilege.” literally will mean mug every man in the street as the two of you are walking together. everyone thinks that rin would be a selfish lover from his outside appearance, but he surprisingly puts up with a lot of your antics because he loves you so much. you don’t bother buying a step stool because you count on rin to get you anything you need from the tall shelves (and when you’re mad at him, he’ll purposely find ways to get all your most-used items on a hard-to-reach area so you have to sulkily seek him out and ask for his help. there’s no way in hell you put your face wash on top of the fridge, and rin looks all too happy to grab it for you.) he has a very bare social media account and most of the time, he just posts whatever his publicists draft up for him. the only post he has personally created and shared himself is the one of you on your birthday; in a sea of promotional posters and professionally taken game highlights, the smiling faces of you and rin stand out. (it’s the happiest any of his fans have ever seen him look.)

౨ৎ RENSUKE KUNIGAMI — his teammates make fun of him because he is notoriously loyal to you. they tricked him and took him out to a strip club, and there’s a viral video of kunigami staring intently at his phone, never looking up once at his surroundings. (he was going through your instagram feed + then ran out of photos to look at, so he started going through his camera roll to look at pictures and videos of you.) is the boyfriend who embodies the phrase ‘wear whatever you want, baby, i can fight.’ there’s a photo of you two that did numbers on pinterest. kunigmai is such a big guy, towers over you, honestly, but he readily gets down on his knees for you. in the photo, you two are dressed up to attend a gala. he’s on his knees, and you have one high-heel clad foot resting on the top of his thigh as he looks down and is adjusting the ankle strap of your heel for you. his friends shared the photo in the team groupchat and called him a simp, but kunigami knows that if they had someone half as great as you, they’d act just the same.

[beef-brisket]

Lucifer growled as Michael smiled down at them.

Michael: Hello brother. Long time no see. I hope you've enjoyed your time galloping around earth like some feral beast.

Lucifer: Michael. Gabriel. Uriel. I would say its a pleasure seeing you, but that would be a lie.

Michael laughed: Oh, that wouldn't an issue for you! Lying seems to be a speciality of yours!

Lilith glared at the angels: What is all of this about?

Eve: Yeah, get on with it!

Gabriel: You three are being brought back to Eden. For divine judgement.

Lucifer: What?! Are you insane?! We did nothing wrong!

Uriel: Hm. Allow me. You meddled and sabotaged the Eden project, corrupted not only the first woman but the second. Something you both had a hand in, and last but not least, you are being judged as the murderer's of Adam, the first man.

The colour drained from Lucifer's face: W-what...?

Lucifer: Murderer?! What does that even mean?!

Eve: Adam? What happened to my husband.

Gabriel growled: He is not your husband. And you will refer to him only by his first name, as he has no association with you any longer, Eve. And don't worry, Lady Sera is dealing with his body.

Lilith: Body? What body? You're making no sense!

Lucifer: M-Michael... what happened?

Michael smiled: You'll just have to come with us and find out, now won't you?

-

The journey back would only take a few hours, but it felt like it would never end to Lucifer. He was rattling his brain, trying to decode his siblings' cryptic code.

As their wings flapped, Lucifer felt like he was on auto pilot. How did they even find them? And why would they suffer through divine judgement?

He hadn't hurt Adam, and neither had the women, so there was no way they could be charged with murder.

Eve: Pst, Lu.

Snapping out of his daze, he looked over to Eve, who was wrapped in chains, much like Lilith, being carried by Uriel.

Lucifer: Yes, Eve?

Eve: What's murderer? What does it mean?

Lucifer sighed: A murderer is someone who takes the life of another. Intentionally or otherwise.

Eve: ...End someone's life? Is that... what happens to some of the animals in Eden?

Lucifer: I- yes. How did you know?

Eve was silent, looking tense, sad: Adam would pick flowers for them. He said it "The flowers are something nice for them to wake up to". But... they never woke up. They'd... fall apart. He cried when the giant cat didn't wake up.

Lucifer looked shocked. He didn't know Adam's animal friend died. Belpha was a constant in Adam's life, since the beginning.

Lucifer: I... I didn't know.

Eve: D-Does that mean Adam's in a permanent sleep? H-He's gone?

Uriel: Silence. Do not speak of him.

Lucifer: Uriel, how dare you! He's her-.

Uriel: Nothing. He's nothing to her.

Lucifer glared as Eve teared up, they were all so confused.

-

Gabriel: Sera! We've returned with the traitors!

Lilith: Do not call us that!

Sera: QUIET!

The humans were instantly silent as Sera unfolded her massive wings. Her back was facing them.

Lucifer felt fear for the first time, he's never heard Sera raise her voice before. The only ones that didn't show fear were his siblings.

Sera: Bring them to me. Let them see. Let them see what their selfishness has caused! Let then see the innocence they've destroyed!

Lucifer: Sera- what is happening?

Sera: Quiet, Morningstar, before I cut out your tongue.

The humans and Lucifer were dragged over to Sera. That's when they saw something resting on her.

Lucifer: W-What is that...?

Eve: A-Adam...? ADAM!

The Sin of Lust

@beef-brisket

Adam knew deep down. He had his suspicions on what his wife was doing. Now he knew.

For the evidence was staring him right in the face a few yards away. There under the shade of the tree that held the forbidden fruit were Eve, Lucifer, and Lilith committing the act of carnal knowledge.

The past week Eve had been a bit distant. Always making excuses as to where she was and what she was doing. Deep down he had a feeling of who she was seeing.

She acted the same way Lilith had before she left.

Now Adam stared with dull eyes as Lucifer had his face and mouth on Eve’s vagina with the second woman moaning in pleasure. Lilith stood by and watched her lover take Eve as she bit her lips.

Her face held an expression he could not pronounce but knew what it was deep down. For a split second her amethyst gaze met his and she smirked. She had won.

She took his first time.

She took his angel.

and now she took Eve.

She had completely broken the first man.

In her mind that meant she won. But Adam wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of rubbing it in. Turning on his heels he left the women and Angel to their devices.

He was done. He was not going to stick around and be stuck in a marriage with someone who obviously doesn’t love him. He wasn’t going to let the angels make another wife only for her to fall for the charms of that snake.

In fact he wasn’t going to be fulfilling his duties as the future father of humanity. Or as the first man. Someone else can have it.

He wouldn’t live in a place where everywhere he turned he was reminded of betrayal. Even the spots that once held sweet memories soured.

Soon he had made it to his destination. After making sure the angels guarding the gates weren’t looking he crept towards the doors of Eden. Turning back one last time he said only one thing.

Adam: Goodbye.

With all his might he pushed the doors open and stepped out into the world before him. Unaware of the consequences that this act of defiance would have on his soul.