#thanks for asking anon!!!! hope you have a lovely night!!!! :D

[whimsicmimic]

how was your talk?? sorry i didnt message sooner. you seemed nervous but im sure it went really well!

oh gosh, it went really well, actually! Getting the damn thing put together is always the hardest part, but getting up there and presenting was a breeze!!!! :D

We hit our two hours, no problemo

[lunariarts]

If a ttrpg has options for the player characters to be furries, they will succeed. Homebrew can solve any problem, but baked in RAW furry rules are your ticket to fame.

Cyberpunk: Absolute horseshit no one is running around as one those handsome little robot sergal fuckers

Lancer: Deergirl piloting a mech, fuck with me

Monster of the Week: Become Cryptid

DnD: Pirate all of their content, become tabaxi, come aarakocra, become harengon, become leonin

Monopoly: play it in your fursuit you had to pass go fifteen fucking times to afford I guess

SO fucking true. My enjoyment of a setting is hands in hands with how many weird lil fellas there are running around. Like one of my sonas is a kobold I'm not immune to furrybait ttrpgs

Also can you actually play as a deergirl in Lancer because uhhh uhmmm 👉👈

[ohdeerfully]

alastor request HAI can it be based on the fact that alastor doesn't sleep, and it's his lover finding out that petting his ears during cuddling makes him fall asleep.

thank you for your service

yess i love sleepy alastor thank u so much anon :D!!

Goodmorning, Love

Alastor x Reader (fluff) TW: none! join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

You were well aware of the Radio Demon’s sleep habits. Or, well, lack of sleep habits. You often spent nights in his room, where he would sit with you in bed until you fell asleep and go do whatever the hell he gets up to late at night. You always woke up in an empty room, and often so in the middle of the night, struggling to rest again as a greedy tightness gripped your chest in worry and disappointment.

You understood, though, and tried your best not to let it get to you that you didn’t have his warm body next to you when you woke every morning. But you couldn’t help that twinge of sadness. You weren’t particularly needy or clingy, but would it kill him to stay in bed with you for a single night? And to have a slice of domestic bliss as you woke up?

Obviously. 

You roll your eyes as you lay, staring up at the ceiling. You had just gotten ready for bed, and now waited for said demon to join you for a few hours. Your fingers tapped, impatient, against your chest as you hummed absentmindedly.

“How lovely,” You heard him speak. Tickles of that radio static that always followed him clung to your exposed skin, which was signal enough that he had entered the room had he not announced himself. “What a siren you are, luring me here with that hum of yours.”

You smiled slightly at his comment, scooching over slightly to encourage him over. He obliged, joining you under the covers. He still wore his usual outfit, which made sense considering his tendency to go away all night. You purse your lips at the thought, slightly chewing on the skin.

“Why the face?” Of course he noticed your expression. He always noticed when any emotion tickled your face. You appreciated the genuine tone in his voice, the typical buzz of radio barely detectable in his words. He always got a little softer and kinder when he was alone with you like this.

You appreciated nights with him, being able to see a side of him that nobody else would live to spread word of. You enjoyed feeling a little special, especially to somebody like him.

“Do you think you could stay in,” You asked cautiously, fiddling with your hands as you inched closer to him, pressing your body against his. Even laying, he still seemed much taller than you. You gingerly guided his head down, against your chest as you spoke, hoping the multitasking would keep him from sitting up and rejecting your intimate gestures. “Just for a night. I miss you all night long.”

He allowed his head to lay against you. He did feel tense, of course, letting the back of his head be exposed in this manner as he lay vulnerable on you. It was a strange feeling, but not one he cared to consider for too long. 

“(Y/N),” He began with a sigh. “It’s impossible for me to get much done during the day, what with all the running around Charlie does. Somebody has to keep an eye on that young princess. I prefer to stay awake to get my own errands done at night.” 

I know that, you wanted to say and interrupt his explanatory ramble. You wanted to beg him to understand, just this once. You held in a sigh, watching as his head gently rose and fell with every breath you took. Maybe you should just take this submission from him as good enough.

You gingerly began tangling your fingers through his red hair, brushing out any kinks he may have gotten throughout the day. His tense body seemed to ease slightly, becoming more and more relaxed as you weaved your fingers through the locks.

“You have really soft hair, Al,” You commented, changing the subject. You figured there was no use convincing him. You let your fingers lightly trail upwards, up to his ears. You grazed them slightly with a finger. You touched again. When he made no motion of dislike, you fully began rubbing them. Petting him. You smiled to yourself at the idea of petting the feared Radio Demon. “And your ears are even softer.”

“I try to take care of myself,” He responded proudly. There was another hint of something in his voice, but you couldn’t quite place what it was. But it seemed heavy. “A well groomed man is a successful one.” You absentmindedly agreed as you stroked the velvety fur of his ears, switching back and forth between them and his hair. You had a preference for the ears, though.

You sighed and began humming quietly again. He rarely got so… comfortable, even around you. He always had some sort of guard up, always had his shoulders squared. He almost never became so… loose and vulnerable.

You noticed the clippings of radio frequency had stopped, which was a noise that was ever present in his wake. You had a suspicion why it disappeared, a small grin forming on your face.

Yes, the Radio Demon never slept. But that was a choice he made, not a curse that prevented him. Even demons get tired. You don’t know how Alastor makes it day by day without a wink of rest, but it was apparent that exhaustion had built up in him. He just needed to relax for a second.

You graced your fingers over his fringe, and craned your neck in a way to get a glance at his face. Yeah, you were right. 

He laid there, eyes shut, features relaxed with the lightest grin playing on his face. Even in sleep, you complained. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was the sound of his deep, slow breathing and occasional twitch of his velvety ears. You briefly wondered what the Radio Demon would dream about.

Would he be aggravated with you when he woke up, realizing you had practically cast a sleep spell on him? You didn’t, but the rate of which exhaustion took over may as well have been some sort of magic.

You shut your own heavy eyes, exhaling lightly as you continued to comfort yourself with the texture of his fur and hair. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

You craned your arms and neck as consciousness came back to you, but an unfamiliar weight kept you from getting that good stretch in. Momentarily confused, you blinked open and looked down.

Red and black hair, more of a mess than usual, still took place on your torso. This was a first, and your chest felt like exploding with the glee of seeing Alastor still resting with you. He somehow looked even more relaxed than the night before, his cheek flush against your stomach, squishing his lips up slightly. A light grin was still there.

You gently brushed your fingers over his face, trailing a line around his features with an index finger. His eyes squeezed for a moment, and that static ambience of his slowly, quietly, returned. It was a noise that you had learned to find comfort in. He slowly opened his red eyes, a confused and sleepy daze clouding them. There was a wrinkle in his brow as he roughly propped himself up with an elbow, looking up at you with a furrowed expression.

“(Y/N)..?” He trailed, pausing to take in a shuddering morning yawn through a confused smirk. “Did I… Dear, what time is it?”

You looked at him tenderly. Oh, how cute he was, sleepy like this. Composed like an exhausted kid. Something even you have never seen before.

“Yeah,” You responded to his unspoken question. “It’s probably seven a.m. or so. I dunno.” There wasn’t a clock in your immediate line of sight.” “A.m. …” He said slowly. He sat up fully, looking down in disappointment at his wrinkled day wear. He quickly blinked the sleep from his eyes and managed to bring some composure to himself, but that lick of exhaustion was still prominent. Especially under his eyes.

“Yeah,” You said again, a light chuckle following. “Goodmorning, Al.”

He wasn’t obviously upset, it seemed. Though he probably was too tired to think about it too much yet. Maybe later.

“Well… Goodmorning, love.” He responded, still with a hint of confusion in his voice. “I suppose I accepted your plea from last night.” He brushed at his clothes while he spoke, trying to flatten out the creases that were brought on through a night of rest.

“Maybe more often?” You asked, twiddling your thumbs in anticipation. You already knew the answer, but it was okay. You knew how to keep him in now. You mischievously smirked as he closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Unlikely.”

[starkwlkr]

Imagine a Hugh Jackman x reader where one of their kids gets a nightmare and wants the wolverine to scare the monsters away? Reader walking into the scene of Hugh in a children’s wolverine costume trying to cheer them up?? Have a great day and take care of yourself :D

the monsters gone and your daddys’s here | hugh jackman

an: thanks anon for the request! this was such a cute idea 🥹

marvel actress!reader masterlist

Alex was a heavy sleeper so when his younger brother, Reese, whispered his name, the boy continued snoring. Reese had trouble sleeping, but he never told his parents. Why? He thought the scary monster under his bed would get them if Reese told them.

Even with his stuffed animals and blanket, Reese still couldn’t sleep. He then remembered that his dad had bought them walkie talkies for christmas. Hugh kept one on his nightstand. The boys usually called in if they wanted a bedtime story or just to say I love you. Right now more than ever, Reese needed his dad to scare away the monsters.

He grabbed the device from his nightstand and turned it on. He pressed the button and called for Hugh.

“Dad? Can you hear me?” Reese released the button hoping Hugh would immediately reply.

On the other end, Hugh heard it. It took a few tries from Reese to finally get him to wake up, but eventually he did. You were sleeping with Olivia beside you, he didn’t want either of you to wake up so he quickly answered it.

“Hey, what’s wrong buddy?” He asked.

“I can’t sleep.” He responded nervously.

“Why?”

It took a few seconds, but Reese finally decided to tell Hugh what was wrong. “There’s scary monsters and I’m scared. What if they get you and mom! And what if they get Alex and Olivia!?”

Hugh’s heart shattered after hearing his boy. He wondered for how long the scary monsters had been bothering Reese. “They’re not going to get any of you, I will always protect you.”

“Can you scare them away? With your claws?”

Ever since the boys watched X-Men, they were convinced Hugh had metal claws that came out his knuckles. He didn’t have the heart to tell them it was fake so he bought a cheap wolverine costume from the store and used the claws when they were around.

“I’ll be there in a second.” He assured the boy. Reese mumbled an ‘okay’ into the walkie talkie then ended the conversation. Hugh got up from the bed, making sure not to disturb you or Olivia. He got the plastic claws and wolverine mask from the drawer and put them on. He then walked to the boys’ room and opened the door.

“Where are those ugly little monsters, bub?” Hugh asked, getting into character.

Reese, without saying a word, pointed to under his bed. He watched as Hugh adjusted the mask and got down to his knees. “I’ll get rid of those monsters. They won’t stand a chance.” He went down and started ‘fighting’ the monsters. In reality, only toys and dirty clothes were under the boy’s bed. Hugh made fighting sounds so to Reese it genuinely seemed like he was getting rid of monsters.

“Oh this guy is done for! Get out of here!” Hugh continued.

“Did you get all of them, dad?” Reese, too scared to look, asked.

“All of what?” Both Reese and Hugh heard your voice. You stood at the door rubbing your tired eyes. What was going on? You wished you knew.

“Dad is getting rid of all the monsters!” Reese told you.

“Aaaaaand that’s all of them,” Hugh got up from the floor and took off his mask. He started breathing heavily and wiped away his ‘sweat’. “You got nothing to worry about, Reese. Dad took care of all the scary monsters.” He gave Reese a kiss on the forehead.

“Thanks dad.” Reese whispered. He looked over at Alex, who was still sleeping. How could Alex be asleep while the wolverine just scared away all the monsters? At least Reese had a good story to tell at breakfast.

“You alright, baby?” You asked Reese.

The boy nodded. “Dad scared them away. I can sleep now.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Hugh whispered to Reese then walked over to you. He mumbled a good night to Reese and closed the door.

“I am dreading the day we have to tell them Wolverine is just a comic book character.” You sighed.

“Let’s just enjoy this moment. Yesterday, Alex told me I was his favorite hero.” Hugh walked back with you to the bedroom.

“Wolverine or not, you’ll always be their hero. They know you’ll always be there to protect them.”

Hugh didn’t care if he had to fight imaginary monsters, he would always protect his kids. He just hoped they wouldn’t get too upset when they find out he doesn’t have metal claws.

@kellyxo1 @ru-kru @barnes70stark @flyestvenustrap @evasmlp

[f1fantasys]

Could you write something about Lando and reader going to diner with another driver of the grid and they’d be teasing each other under the table and later at home they’d get caught doing things? ;D love your writing btw

Thanks for this anon. I changed it slightly to getting caught in the car, not at home! Hope you still enjoy it xx

Teasers In Trouble

Warnings - swearing, smut, minors DNI, p in v, fingers, blowjob

It was the last race before summer break so it was safe to say everyone in the paddock was buzzing with excitement. Before jumping into the car for FP2, Lando had told you that you'd both be having dinner with Oscar and Lily later, and as fun as that sounded, you honestly wanted a night in with Lando so he could fuck you left right and center. You had been horny for him all day and now you'd have to wait a little while longer til he could take you.

So here you were in your hotel room trying to find something to wear tonight while Lando was in the shower. You normally would have joined him but you decided against it, because why start something you couldn't finish. So you tried to busy yourself and avoid looking at Lando as he emerged from the bathroom wrapped in just his towel.

But of course, you failed. How could you not look when he was stood in front of you - hair messy, eyes looking at you like you're his world - which in his defence, you are - muscles hard and dripping with water, not to mention what you knew was hiding behind his towel.

You didn't realize you were staring until he started speaking.

''Baby are you ok? You've been out of sorts all day'' he questioned you. He really was oblivious to the fact that you were horny because you were never one to hold back - if you wanted him, you'd take him. So he was confused to say the least.

''Peachy'' you said, turning around and going back to what you were doing.

What he didn't miss though, was the way you clenched your thighs together through your incredibly tight leggings you were wearing right now. That made him catch on to what was going on. He smiled to himself and thought, ''game on''

Lando dropped his towel on the spot and walked over to his suitcase, which was next to yours, bending down to take out his clothes.

The sight of his dick springing up and down through the corners of your eyes had your heart skipping a beat as all the air left your lungs.

It's what he did next though that had you literally dripping from your core.

He stood back up and without paying any attention to you, took his cock in his hands and pumped himself a few times before tugging his boxes and jeans on, leaving you somewhat drooling from your mouth.

As much as you wanted to jump him then and there, you busied yourself again, trying to think about anything but his dick.

Finally though, once you were ready and about to walk out the door hand in hand, Lando roughly pushed you against the wall.

''Gonna tell me what you want? Or gonna be a brat?'' he asked.

You cheeks immediately flushed and you couldn't help but lean forward and engulf him in a heated kiss, both your tongues quickly battling for dominance while Lando bit on your lower lip and you moaned into his mouth.

''Needed you all fucking day'' you said through gritted teeth between breaths.

''I know baby. Gonna help you now, yeah?''

You wondered what he was gonna do now, considering your dinner dates were already waiting for you at the restaurant.

But you confusion quickly vanished when Lando held up a pair of vaginal balls.

You gasped. ''Lando!'' and all he did was cheekily smile and lift you dress up to slip his hand in your panties.

''Where did you even get them?'' you whispered, trying to suppress your moans when he ran his fingers through you folds and slipped one in your entrance.

''Don't worry about that. Just let me put them in.''

You bit your lip as he lowered himself to his knees and slowly inserted the balls in your vagina as you pulled on his hair.

''Oh fuck me'' you quivered, the sensations giving you a bit of relief after the day you've had.

''Trust me, I plan to. But for now, these will have to do'' Lando said before standing up and licking his fingers, giving you a peck and pulling you out the door.

You tried to walk as normal as possible, and you tried as hard as you could to keep the blush off your face as you Lando approached Lily and Osc.

Once you were seated at the restaurant you were grateful to be in a booth, so you could squirm without anyone really noticing.

If you were going to get through this dinner though, you needed a bit of alcohol in your system. So you ordered a glass of red wine and hoped for the best.

You tried. You really tried to listen to what Lily was saying and take interest in a conversation but honestly, you were fucking bored and you could think of a thousand different things you could be doing right now.

Lando wasn't helped either. His hand had found your thigh, as usual, but he was itching closer and closer to your cunt. He pushed your dress up a little and let his fingers slip past your panties to dive into the pool of wetness you had going on.

You breath hitched and you could feel a blush creep up on your cheeks as you tried to remember what Lily had asked you until your boyfriend distracted you.

''Y/n are you okay? Lily asked.

''Yeah all good'' you chuckled, trying to keep as neutral as possible. ''Just a bit stuffy in here'' you said, voice quavering slightly.

Lando was being a tease and he knew it. He was so engrossed in a deep conversation with Oscar while he was making a mess of you.

So, naturally, you decided to play him back. Your hand found his knee and inch by inch crept closer to wear his manhood was. As soon as you palmed him through his jeans you felt him get hard, and now he was the one squirming in his seat.

When Lily and Osc were looking at their menu's for what to order for dessert, Lando leaned down to your ear and whispered ''Tease me again and I won't let you cum" before pecking you innocently.

''Fuck you Lan. If you won't let me cum i won't give you the blow job you so deserve for looking so fucking hot today'' you spat back, smirking at him and cupping his cock through his jeans again.

He's eyes darkened when you said that, heat rising to his cheeks.

You knew you both wouldn't last the ride back to the hotel, and just the thought of riding him in the sports car he had rented was doing things to you. Not to mention he slipped two fingers into your cunt, fiddling with the balls, having to suppress your moans so you instead bit the inside of your cheek until you could taste blood.

''I don't think I want anything for dessert. Actually wanna get back to the hotel to talk to Jon about tomorrow. Babe?'' he directed to you?

''Hmm?'' you said, slightly flustered.

''Dessert?''

''Oh no I'm good. Too full'' you said, trying to sound as decent as possible.

You didn't miss how Lily and Osc shared knowing looks, but you didn't care.

Not 10 minutes later and you and Lando were walking out the restaurant and to the car, before he pulled you into an alley way and kissed you ferociously.

''Fuck y/n, you don't know what you're doing to me tonight. Just remember - you asked for it. So don't sulk when you can't walk into the paddock tomorrow morning'' he said through breaths.

''Lan please, need to feel you, now!'' you moaned into the kiss again.

He dragged you to the car, which was parked in a secluded place for security, before pulling you on his lap and shutting the door.

In no time your dress was being ripped off your body, literally in two pieces.

''Fuck Lan!'' you shrieked, watching as your boobs were exposed to his dark eyes right away since you didn't wear a bra.

He lowered his mouth to your peaked nipples and sucked on them, tugged at them, all while you were a moaning mess, fiddling with his belt to set his aching hard dick free.

When you finally managed too free his constraints, you started grinding on it, moving slickly over him to create the friction you so desperately needed, only it felt better than ever because the balls inside you were sitting just right spots.

In minutes your body was trembling over him, his strong arms having to hold you tight so you don't go out of control.

''Lan oh my fuck. Feels amazing'' you said, moaning out his name.

Lando reached down and toyed with your clit, riding you through your orgasm before he roughly entered two fingers in your cunt and pulled at the balls, creating a feeling like no other.

He pulled the balls out and put one on them in his mouth, sucking at it. You watched as the other dangled down his chin and couldn't help but lean forward and take it into your own mouth, tasting yourself.

That earned you a delicious moan from Lando who was now pumping his aching cock in his hands, running it through your folds and slick juices.

While you both kept the balls in your mouths, you lifted yourself up to let Lando line himself at your entrance before you sank down on him, bottoming out.

The feeling back both of you groaning in each others' face, breathing each others' air in as your held Lando's face in your hands.

You started bouncing on him vigorously, your walls clenching around him almost painfully when he started to kiss you again, tongue slipping into your mouth.

''Y/n, so tight. So fuckin tight. Taking me so well. That's it baby''

You sucked on his tongue hard, stealing a the most delicious moans from him as you continued to fuck him shamelessly.

In no time you felt the familiar warmth start to build up in your lower tummy.

''Lan, I'm close. Gonna cum'' you managed to say.

''Let go for me angel. I've made you wait all day. Spill on my cock. Come on'' he edged you on.

And so you did. You came violently around him, a moaning mess as he latched his mouth back onto your nipples to ride you through your orgasm.

You body went limb in his arms and now Lando had to buck his hips up to fuck into you to chase your own release.

Until a knock on the window literally had you halting your movements in fear of who it was and what they must have heard.

''Fuck'' Lando muttered.

You both looked to the window and saw none other than Oscar standing there.

''Oh fuck me'' Lando squealed again, starting the car to open the window slightly.

''Yeah mate what do you want'' he threw at Oscar, who's eyes flew open when he saw you sitting on Lando's lap. Luckily it was too dark for him to see anything else but he obviously caught on to what was happening.

In the mean time your walls were clenching painfully around Lando and he couldn't help but stifle a few moans.

''Oscar!'' Lando practically yelled.

''Shit. Was leaving and saw your car still parked, wanted to make sure you're good'' he said, still a shocked expression on his face.

''Yeah I'm fucking more than good, so jog on'' Lando threw at him before closing the window and bucking his hips up into you, not caring if Oscar heard your moans through the window.

With no warning you came again, releasing all around Lando which in turn sent him over the edge, milking your walls with his warm cum, groaning your name in your ear.

''Fucking hell'' he said as you continued to ride him through his orgasm, dick softening inside of you.

When he pulled out you reached down to your folds and scooped the mixture of yours and his cum. You pryed his mouth open with your other hand and shoved your fingers into his mouth, moaning when he sucked them dry.

''Not gonna hear the end of this from Osc are we?'' you said, chuckling at him.

''Yeah, probably scarred the boy for life.''

''Poor Lily ain't getting anything tonight'' you laughed.

''You're so fucking incredible'' he cooed.

''I am, and I'm not done with you'' you said, climbing off him into the passenger seat.

You did end up giving him the blowjob you'd been eager to give him all day, and it goes without saying he fucked you twice more back at the hotel.

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Hello friend!

Would it be alright if I request some angst content with the Archons + Neuvi + Arlecchino where the darling is injured to a lethal extent, where they are hanging by a thread (your choice if it was self-given or otherwise).

Maybe some of them took darling's company and time for granted so having them be so close to gone is like a wake up call to them, and they become 10x more overbearing, and perhaps a little loving? Thank you!!!

🍌anon

Hi thank you so much for the request! Unfortunately I don't really do more than 3-4 characters in one post anymore so I did half the characters you asked for, but you are 100% free to send in another request for the others <3 I hope you enjoy :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including mentions of violence, mentions of delusional behavior, mentions of reader being sick, hurt, and otherwise injured, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk.

Arlecchino:

Arlecchino might be a bit cold and standoffish, but she was never a cruel lover. She just didn’t trust herself to get any closer to you than she was. She’d sleep in the same bed as you at night, buy you gifts, and eat meals with you, but affection was a difficult thing to get from her. Arlecchino has feared being close to someone not because she doesn’t want to be loved, but because she doesn’t want to experience any more loss in her life.

She thought that by keeping you at arm’s length she could protect you, but in fact, she had been wrong. Sitting by your bedside, ears blocking out the dull beeping of your monitors as she stares. Not at your face, she can’t bring herself to look at your gorgeous features after letting you get this hurt, but instead, she stares at your hand. It lays limp on top of the bed sheets, and as much as Arlecchino hates to admit it, she wants nothing more than to hold it right now.

It’s almost as painful as the first time she saw you all bandaged up, wires all over you as you lay on the bed, looking more so asleep than in the coma the doctor said you were in. The desire to hold your hand, it made her fingers twitch, her nose scrunch and her heart hurt. Arlecchino loved you, undoubtedly, but she just couldn’t bring herself to be affectionate with you on this level. Against her will though, her hand seems to move on its own, creeping up the side of the bed and gently scooping up your limp one. Arlecchino was never one to cry, a barely audible curse leaving her lips as she bites them, trying to steady their trembling as she turns her head, blinking away the building tears. She hated crying, but she hated even more that this was the first time she’d ever held your hand, a time when you couldn’t even return it, couldn’t even be awake to feel it.

Neuvillette:

Neuvillette is distraught, both because of how long it took him to notice how bad your cold had been getting and because he didn’t even notice till a small hoard of angry melusines stormed his office. It wasn’t like he was trying to be ignorant, he had just been busy and figured that you’d get over your cold soon. Humans are strong and resilient, a mere cold shouldn’t be that difficult, especially with some melusines caring for you.

He had rushed home immediately, finding you curled up under a mass of blankets and yet still shivering, a gathering of melusines around you fussing and frantic over your continuous decline. While Neuvillette wanted to reassure them that you’d be alright, looking at you in this moment, he couldn’t even reassure himself of that.

A week had passed since Neuvillette had rushed home, refusing to return to his office until you had made a full recovery. He spent most of the day laying in bed with you, helping to keep you warm by holding you close, his natural body temperature being higher than humans helped greatly with this. He wasn’t worried about catching your cold, dragons had much hardier immune systems, but he was worried about your slow recovery rate. Even with the gracious help of the melusines, you had rapidly declined before he came around to ensure you were recovering. A small part of him wonders what it was that was making you worse, he knew the care the melusines provided was above and beyond what he could do himself. The small part of him that doesn’t know hides the smaller part that does know what was wrong, that small bit of denial that his ignorance was making you worse.

Zhongli:

It had been a long time since Zhongli last felt the warm, sticky feeling of blood on his hands, the front of his suit splattered in it and his polearm drenched in it. Despite having once been the war god, it was never something Zhongli enjoyed, which was why he made the change to the god of contracts. Yet in this moment, he couldn’t refrain from the violent nature that lurked within him. 

Seeing you crumpled on the ground, an ever-growing puddle of blood beneath you as a gathering of treasure hoarders laughed and stalked off, hands holding belongings stolen from the innocent citizens of Liyue, you included. It left a gross feeling in his chest, a sickening, growing rage that he couldn’t dismiss. His first move was to evaluate your condition, making sure you were stable before demanding Xiao, his most treasured Adeptus, take you to the Bubu pharmacy. His second course of action was to summon his polearm, following the obvious trail the attackers had left behind.

Zhongli didn’t even bother to clean up before going to visit you, his once pristine image now stained as he stalked into the pharmacy. He was covered in dried red, yet not a spec was his. He didn’t even need directions to know where you were, silently walking over to the cot you were laid on, pulling up a chair to sit beside you as he nodded in regards to the doctor himself, Baizhu. There weren't many in Liyue that Zhongli trusted to treat his beloved well, but Baizhu he knew was a capable doctor. Looking at Xiao, who stood silently in the corner, watching over you till Zhongli arrived, the tall man dismissed the Yaksha, who knew exactly what mess he was being asked to clean up. It was in this moment, watching skilled hands drag a needle through your delicate skin, stitching up wound after wound, that Zhongli swore he’d never leave your side, not even for a moment. He couldn’t lose you.

[thoughtsforsoob]

hiiiii i really love your writing but im an atiny and i saw you only have one of ateez fics. can i request ateez’s reaction when youre sitting on their lap for the first time?

- 🐰

a/n: thank you for this request anon 🩵 I hope you enjoy it! I know people have been asking for Beomgyu part 2 but I’m still working on it! I want it to be good but I’ve been having writers block 🤬 anyways, please enjoy this! love you! inbox is always open :D

hongjoong

this is going to be so cliche but hear me out. he’s so chill about you sitting on his lap. So chill about it that it actually helps him focus on some occasions. Here comes the cliche part…the first time you sit in his lap…it’s in his studio. Hongjoong and Mingi were working together and they invited you to come watch their process and you offered to bring lunch. When you arrived, mingi stepped out to go get you three drinks and hongjoong pulls you into his lap. You gasp and he just pulls you closely, presses a kiss to your forehead, and immersions his attention back to his computer. When mingi comes back, he laughs and sets the drinks down. You three have lunch and honfjoong does not let you off of his lap.

seonghwa

an affectionate partner would really match with him (he gives off "my love language is physically touch"). natually, sitting on his lap for the first time happens really early on in the relationship. it was your third date and he'd took it upon himself to plan it which you were more than okay with. he planned a picnic at the beach later in the night. The whole drive was soothing and romantic on its own. When you arrive, you realize there’s only one towel! Whatever will you two do?? Seonghwa offers to let you sit on his lap so neither of you get sand on you. You shyly adjust yourself on his lap and he confidently pulls you closer. You enjoy your beach date in the closest proximity you’ve been in so far.

yunho

big boy! he's been begging you to sit on his lap for ages but you've never been quite comfortable. he is just dying to physically feel how much taller he is compared to you. his wish finally comes tru one night when you've been busy working on uni homework all day long. you're rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and yawning non-stop. he takes note of this and starts to urge you to come to bed. he was sitting up against the head board, leaving his lap wide open and avaliable for sitting. you finally take it upon yourself to get up and get comfy on his lap. you didn't even realize his reaction in your sleep state but you bet he bragged about it to you the next morning.

yeosang

This little guy is so shy. like his face legit gets way too red and so do his ears. your and his relationship isn't very touchy so when you sit in his lap for the first time. the first time happens when you're on one of your little stay at home dates. you two were currently setting up your take out on your coffee table so you could start with dinner. you were so enamored with how happy he looked beause it was his turn to pick dinner. something came over you and you just shuffled over and sat in his lap. he stiffins up at first but kind of melts into it when you start to feed him. do not be fooled. he may be very shy but he loves to be close to you and to be doted on.

san

NEVER DO THIS TO HIM IN FRONT OF OTHERS !!!! He immediately gets hard but hey, his explanation is that he’s so in love with you and can’t help it :/ can you blame him? You sit on his lap for the first time while at a party he invited you to. He’d been talking to his friends for a while and was kinda ignoring you so when you decided you’d had enough, you make your move. You slowly slide on his lap when no one is really pay attention to him and he immediately tries to warn you with a low whisper about the consequences of your actions. When you don’t heed his warnings, he picks your ass up and takes you to the car.

mingi

He’s such a nerd. He’s get flustered so quickly the first time you sit on his lap but he ultimately loves it. this happens when he invites you to movie night at the dorms! It’s so cliche but somehow there’s no more space in the couch and he doesn’t want you to sit on the floor. You smirk and take it upon yourself to plop down on his lap and since then, legend has it that he’s never let you sit anywhere else but his lap 😏

wooyoung

This little cheeky cutie loves having you on his lap. He’s the one that kind of initiates it too. You both were at a party and the both of you had separated for a little while. He finally came back around to you since it was just you and one of your girlfriends. She stuck around and talked with you and then when wooyoung got bored, he pulled you into his lap. You gasped and your friend laughed. “Oh my god! You two get a room!” She giggled and you whined, pushing wooyoung away playfully. he’s so silly :(

jongho

he’s not bothered at all. In fact, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he didn’t even realize it happened. You two were at your apartment, watching a movie together. You’d picked a cute Disney movie to watch. He looked at you with a raised eyebrow when you select snowwhite and the seven dwarfs but he doesn’t really care. Half way through the movie, you start feeling a little clingy and make your way to his lap. The only indication that he knew you’d done this was him wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you a little closer. Overall, he loves it.

[earthtooz]

x : AVOIDANCE :*+ﾟ

in which: falling for blade was not on your agenda, so naturally you decide to distance yourself. however, the last thing you'd predicted was blade being upset with the sudden space.

warnings: 2.3k wc, FLUFF, ooc!blade probably bc i'm still trying to figure it out, kafka meddles with the two of you, gn!stellaron hunter!reader who has a past lol, NOT PROOFREAD, idiots in love bc i love that trope, bad writing

a/n: thank you to the anon who gave me this idea :D much appreciated, i had a lot of fun with this one when my angstier fics were draining me af. i hope you enjoy, apologies if it's a little low quality, but it's my child &lt;3

when you first joined the team of stellaron hunters, you didn’t expect to get much out of it, especially since the team looked so cold, calculating, mischievous, and unforgiving, greeting you with vicious smiles and muddy eyes. preemptively, you assumed the most you would receive is acquaintanceship.

however, time has proven you wrong, because on the contrary, you have found comfort, friendship, and stability in the form of this mismatched group.

you never expected to find love either.

but you did, and it might be the worst decision your heart has ever made.

“y/n, there you are. kafka and i are thinking about going out to lunch. want to join?” silver wolf’s voice interrupts your train of thought, disrupting your peace in your private spot amongst the gardens.

“oh, hi silver wolf,” you murmur, shutting your book after shoving in a bookmark. “who else is going?”

“kafka asked blade and he agreed.”

the genius hacker doesn’t notice the way you tense upon hearing a certain swordman’s name. instead, you play it cool by opening up your book again, scanning the pages in hopes of ignoring the racing of your heart.

“i think i’ll pass on this one. thank you though,” you mutter.

“really?” the silver-haired asks, popping her gum before shrugging. “whatever you say. i’m off!”

“bye!”

hearing her footsteps fade, you slump in your seat, your memories with blade hauntingly eminent in your mind. you don’t recall when you fell for him, or why exactly, all you have in your recollection is a series of moments that you look back fondly upon with a full heart, love slowly seeping in to you and causing your affections to grow to the size that they reside at now.

when you had realised, the love had already grown too big to deflate, and dejection struck moments after; a big bang of butterflies in your stomach that all disintegrated straight after.

how brutal- perhaps this was an indication that blade was rubbing off on you too much, and you need to cleanse yourself of his influence.

love, although fickle, was not something that you avidly rejected. despite having lived like a hunted deer, your experiences have been fleeting, building your delicate heart for a life of meeting, falling, then leaving when you least wanted to, needing to run before an arrow pierced you- and certainly not cupid’s one. 

but with blade, everything is different. there is no arrow to run from, not in the life that elio has foreseen for you. for the first time in your life, you can stop running away and try fall into the arms of love with little remorse.

it's just ironic that you fall into the arms of a man who should not be touched.

“y/n’s not coming with us today,” silver wolf reports after meeting up with the other two stellaron hunters.

“oh?” kafka hums, “usually y/n’s always willing to hangout, why’s that?”

“busy or something, i don’t know, i didn’t care to ask.”

the slight scrunch of displeasure in blade’s expression passes by the keen eyes of both kafka and silver wolf. if either of them had noticed then perhaps it would have been a topic of interest, but for the time being, the pair move on (faster than the third member), your unusual absence dismissed in favour of where to get food.

as the days turn into nights and elio issues more missions and mumbles more futures, blade feels as though he sees you less and less.

it’s not intuition more than it is you purposefully ignoring and evading blade in your everyday, though.

“good morning,” kafka’s voice greets when she walks in to the cafeteria, where you were eating breakfast alone. setting down your phone, you regard her with a mouth full of bread. “gross. at least swallow first.”

“screw off,” you murmur. “how did you sleep?”

“fine fine, i woke up in the wrong position though and my neck is killing me, but what about you? seems like you’ve been up a while.”

“i’ve been up since asscrack of dawn.” 

the purple-haired regards you with amusement. “why’s that?”

“body clock or whatever,” you lie, staring down at your glass of water.

“i see,” kafka hums half-heartedly, as if seeing right through you. “well, i’m going to get some coffee, i’ll be right back.”

“mk.”

you’re left on your own for only a few minutes, waiting patiently in silence for kafka to return. the morning is cool and pleasant, and the smell of rain is still heavy in the air as the morning dew lightens the atmosphere. the weather will surely get hotter as the day matures, but for now, you enjoy the gentle caress of sunlight on your back.

or rather- you were enjoying the gentle caress of the sun, but the methodicalness of it all is ruined when you spot a certain figure with dark, long hair beside kafka.

suddenly the last thing you know is peace and calm, and the abrupt, painful scraping of your chair against the floor symbolises that.

“going somewhere?” kafka asks.

picking up your scraps, you avoid blade’s gaze. “yeah! i- uh, realised that i have some documents to drop off for elio by twelve or whatever.”

“won't you stay to keep us company for breakfast,” the purple-haired tempts, “it feels like it’s been so long since we’ve spent some proper time together.”

“has it?” you laugh nervously and kafka easily picks up the pitchiness of your tone. “i’ll make it up soon, i promise, i’ve just been overflowed with things to do.”

“alright. you be off then. don’t work too hard.”

“i won’t. my head is remaining tight on my shoulders, don’t you worry!” you reassure before scrambling away, feeling like your legs could not be any slower as you retreat away from blade’s scrutinising gaze. when you round the corner, you sigh a breath of relief. 

it’s laughable and simultaneously admirable how dedicated you are about dodging every interaction possible, but for the record, you think you’re doing quite well. not that space was doing many favours for your heart, but persistence is key. 

whoever believed that distance makes the heart grow fonder just clearly didn’t try enough, because yours feels like it’s about to hammer out of your chest with how fast it is racing, and the sensation is equivalent to something like pain rather than fondness.

“i’m worried,” blade mutters, gaze lingering on where you’d just disappeared. “and why does y/n talk like i’m not right here?”

“aww, are you upset?” coos kafka, taking a seat. the swordsman mimics her.

“why wouldn’t i be? it feels like y/n has been ignoring me as of late.”

kafka hums thoughtfully, swirling her coffee cup around.

“do you know anything about that?”

“nup. nothing at all,” she answers, feigning ignorance to the many suspicions that are bubbling around in her mind. the last thing kafka is, is blind, your unusual behaviour has not bypassed her perceptive eye at all, but she believes she has uncovered the reasoning as to why; said reasoning being a certain swordsman.

the revelation is definitely interesting, and she might just be able to give the push you both need.

“y’know what, bladie? if it concerns you that much, i’d say you go check up on y/n later,” kafka suggests.

“why not you?”

“i’ll be busy, but i think some support in dire times is just what y/n needs.”

“okay. fine.”

when blade gathers the courage to check up on you, like kafka recommended, the time is nearing 5pm. the sun is beginning to cool, the animals are retreating into their nests, and the big, bad, intimidating stellaron hunter is roaming around the archives, where you’re situated to work, hoping to locate you.

it takes a few laps around to finally find your placement because you’re fast asleep, only identifiable to blade by the jacket you hung on the back of your chair.

the sight of you hunched over your desk over a multitude of forms and papers causes a wave of concern (however much he can feel) to wash over blade, and suddenly, he does something completely foreign to him: dote over someone.

gently lifting your jacket to cover your shoulders, he stills when you shift a little, your eyebrows furrowing in your sleep. deciding to leave you alone, all blade spares is one lasting look at your vulnerability before leaving. 

he wonders what it is that could be making you so frustrated. 

(if only he knew). 

a few days later, kafka confronts you about the suspicions that’s been creeping to the forefront of her mind.

“did you do something to piss a certain bladie off?” 

kafka’s saccharine voice is laced with mischief as she leans towards you, chin resting on the palm of her hand. she certainly does not miss the way you tense up at the mention of the swordsman’s name and her smirk widens when you shuffle away, subconsciously turning away, as if avoiding the subject.

“i can’t think of why i would have,” you murmur, crossing your arms. “why?”

“oh, nothing, he’s just been complaining and crying a lot recently.”

“he does that all the time.”

“so he does,” your fellow stellaron hunter hums. “except he’s mentioning your name a lot more nowadays.” 

you freeze. “what?”

“hm? did i say something peculiar?”

inhaling a deep breath, you steady yourself. you know what kafka wants out of you and you’re not going to give it to her despite how innocent and pretty she spins the web to look. after all these years together, you hope to have learnt a thing or two about how to avoid her snare.

“what is blade saying about me?” you quiz. 

she blinks at you. “why so curious if you haven’t done anything?” 

“can i not ask about something that involves my name? besides, he’s my friend, i want to know what he’s saying,” you lean against the back of the couch, trying to calm the involuntary shake in your legs. you despise that the slightest mention of blade can cause a bottomless pit to form in your stomach and it’s not because of how intimidating or threatening he is. 

no, it’s because you’ve fallen for him, hook, line, and centre.

and blade would have to die before you ever tell him.

“mostly just grumbles about wondering where you are,” kafka expands, waving her hands about to match her words. “he asked silver wolf and i if you’ve been talking to us and when we said ‘yes’, he looked pissed! when i asked why he was being a sourpuss, he just stormed off.”

“so temperamental, that man,” she sighs. then, she looks back at you with those half-lidded eyes that have always gotten her what she wants, and in this case, they’re answers. “so tell me, y/n, what did you do to our bladie to have him all riled up like this?”

“nothing. absolutely nothing.”

“are you sure?”

“positive.”

“positive?”

you avoid her curious gaze. “positive.”

“maybe i phrased the question wrong. has bladie done something to you instead?”

panic settles within you. “no,” you lie through your teeth. “he hasn’t.”

“so if i asked you why you left breakfast so abruptly that day, you wouldn’t say that it’s because of him?”

“i had work to do, kafka, you know how busy my job gets.”

“i know, i know,” she persists, “then why weren’t you in a hurry before blade arrived that morning?”

you don’t know how to refute that, letting silence speak volumes instead.

“and why did you skip out on lunch with silver wolf and i? was it because we also invited a certain someone?”

“okay! fine, you’ve got me. what do you want to know?” you explode, tossing your phone on the couch in frustration. 

“so it is about blade?” questions your coworker.

“yeah. it is.”

“what about him? did he do something to hurt you? you know he’s accidentally mean sometimes-”

“it’s not that, he’s nothing but a sweetheart.”

“so what’s the problem?”

“that is the problem! he’s just… he’s him.”

“is that bad?”

“for my heart, yes.”

“oh my- so you like him?”

you exhale exasperatedly, “don’t act like you haven’t already figured that out, kafka.”

the cheshire smile she then flashes sends shivers down your spine. for whatever reason, an oppressive feeling grows in your gut, resembling something like a warning.

“you’re right, i knew,” she flaunts. then, her gaze cuts to look behind you. “but i don’t think blade did.”

your heart lurches out of your chest with enough force to pull you off the couch and you stumble around to see that, lo and behold, blade was indeed standing in the hallway. the expression he wears tells you enough; he heard you, he knows.

kafka somehow sneaks her way out of the room, leaving you alone to deal with the face of rejection. it’s daunting being in the same space as him after so long, you almost forgot about the intimidating pressure that blade naturally exudes and projects in every space he enters.

“hi,” you start, looking away. 

he stalks over to you, footsteps soundless before stopping a feet in front of you. instead of saying something, the swordsman merely gazes down at you whilst you keep your eyes glued to the side.

“can you reject me already? the silence is kinda killing me,” you snap after a few seconds, crossing your arms protectively. 

instead of obeying to your request, blade does something completely unexpected; he very gently lifts your chin with his hand, and red eyes bore right into yours. is it odd to feel seen in your demise? because blade is looking- no, surveying you with such immense focus and clarity that your heart stills, frozen in position because it wants him to see the most picturesque part of you. 

(he sees it, but he wants to know more of you. the pretty, the ugly, the likeable, and the unwanted.)

“would you like to go on a date?” he asks.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[thecapricunt1616]

Coriander (c.b. one-shot)

Snippet (more BTC): “I thought you'd never ask. I’m gonna go to the back office and wait. If you think you know what I need, then come on back. If you don’t want to, we can just pretend this never happened mm?” you got up, making sure to sway your hips a tad more as you went to the back office. You pushed the door shut behind you and dropped your tote under the desk, sitting down on it and leaning back against the wall. He came in 2 minutes later, cheeks red, biting his lip as he opened the door and saw you sitting on the desk.”

♡ Chapter Inspo: Love, health, immortality, and protection. Tie fresh coriander with a ribbon and hang in the home to bring peace & protection. Add to love charms and spells to bring romance or use in ritual work to ease the pain of a broken love affair. Promotes peace among those who are unable to get along. Use the seeds in love sachets and spells. ♡ Summary: You are in a FWB situation with Richie, Mikey dies - Carmy comes home to run The Beef, and suddenly...you find yourself in a FWB situation with Carmy as well, what happens when Carmy makes you two official in secret so he can have you all to himself? ♡ W/C: 5.3K+ ♡ Posted Date: 05/29/2024 ♡ A/N: Hellooooo! Happy day 4/7 of the Capri 200 Follower Celebration Extravaganza!!! You can find said extravaganza ♡Here♡ this celebration will be going until next Sunday (06/02/24) so get your requests in! Here's another celebration ask on the books! This ask is from a sweet anon, ask can be found right ♡Here♡ - Thank you so much for your request! As you can tell by the word count I got very inspired! I hope you enjoy :D This could easily have a part 2 so if you want one, just let me know in the comments This is kind of a Richie/Carmy thing i've never written Richie before and I had a whole lot of fun doing so! ♡ Warnings for BTC: Swearing, FWB Relationships, Smoking, Usual TB trigger warnings, Asshole!Carmy (kinda), Angst, No real comfort to be found in the end, Age gap relationships, Rough sex, smutsmutsmut, No uses of Y/N, Reader not described (pics are for vibes only)

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You had been working at The Bear since it was The Beef. 3 months before Mikey died, you were hired as a food runner. You’d met Mike maybe twice? Both times, the guy was high out of his mind- so you couldn’t say much about his character. 

Richie on the other hand, was flirty. He was handsome, he was funny, he had a huge cock. You were in your third year of college, Richie was smitten with your girlish charm, and you’d fucked those 3 months pretty consistently - until Carmy came back to Chicago. 

You’d been warned his ‘cousin’ was a big shot NYC chef, ‘Michelin Starred’ Richie said one night while fucking your brains out after a stressful shift as he smoked a cigarette in his shitty, dimly lit apartment. Puffs of smoke left his lips as your ass bounced against his hips and he rambled on about what had pissed him off today, 

“Ye’ sweetheart- fuck-“ he took a long inhale before continuing -  “mm’y’fuckin tight baby- shit-“ he stuttered as your pussy clenched around his cock firmly as your second orgasm washed over you, thighs shivering. “Thaaas it- huh? Gooood girl. Knew y’could do it babygirl” he kissed the dimple on your spine as you shivered, tendrils of smoke trailing up your back and over your hips. 

He then sat up, casually taking another drag, tightening his non-dominant hand around your hip so there would be little fingertip bruises once more over the yellowing hearing ones, and continued, his bruising pace getting rougher and quicker as he continued chasing his own orgasm. 

The meat of your ass and the skin of his hips made smacking sounds as they came together. Pathetic little whines drag from your lips with each rough kiss the tip of his cock gave your cervix as he just continued talking like he wasn’t using you like a fuck doll. 

“he uh, has a Michelin star- whatever that means? He’s a little prick. Guess that’s ahh-fuck- that’s why Mike left it t’him- he knows how t’make fancy shit- little fuckin’ Eleven Madison Park dickhead”  he grunted as he filled you up, spanking you roughly for good measure. 

“Good girl. Always take it like a little whore mm?” He puts out his cigarette in the ashtray. He pats your hip gently as he pulls out, collapsing next to you with an old man grunt that you always teased him for. “Ey’ sweet girl, Y’wanna rub my back since I fucked y’so good mm? So I won’t be sore at work tomorrow?” He pulled you close, kissing your neck, his stubble making you shiver as cum leaked down your beard-burned thighs. 

That was how you spent one to three nights a week since you’d started working at The Beef. 

Then, Carmy came. For the first 6 or so months, it was business as usual for you and Richie. Quiet spanks on the ass as you walked by him during rush as you brought food out to a customer, sometimes letting him fuck your face in the back alley as he went on about what an asshole Carmen was being that day. 

You just took it, the fighting, the bickering, the sexual tension. You were the go-between for the both of them, when they weren’t talking Richie would bug you to go tell Carmy what he needed to say. “Immature asshole” you’d call him at the end of the day as he knelt between your thighs in that same shitty apartment, sucking on your clit while his beard scratched up your thighs. He’d just chuckle into you, squeezing your thighs amusedly with his large hands. 

Then one day, you were in the dry storage, grabbing something for Marcus that was on the bottom shelf and heavy. You were bent over, trying to tug it out and the door shut behind you.  “Hey- sorry just gonna reach over you-“ Carmy. When you felt him press against your ass like that, his tattooed hand resting on your hip. You felt heat rushing straight for your core, your stomach flipping and fluttering.

Then, you started making moves. A brush of the hand here, a smile there, a giggle at one of his dorky jokes no one else bothered to pay attention to, of course, he noticed. The young piece of ass that used to spend all day giggling and shooting the shit with his older cousin was into him now. The first night it happened, you made sure to pick up a double on a day you usually didn’t go home with Richie, and while everyone except Carmy did their best to rush out the door as soon as they possibly could, you stuck behind. 

You went to the bathroom, fixed up your hair, and your makeup not enough to be noticeable to a guy that you’d changed, but enough to look fresh. You put on some more lipgloss, freshening up your body spray and hiking your tote bag onto your shoulder before heading out of the ladies' room into the back-of-house. You heard the swish swish of a scrub brush, and the plopping of water - and knew Carmy was still in there scrubbing something. When you turned the corner to see him on his hands and knees, muscular arms flexing as he really scrubbed that floor. You could tell there was something….about Carmen Berzatto. 

It wasn’t just the fact his brother died, it wasn’t this strange stoic seriousness he had at not even 35, it was something else. Dedication, maybe? But you weren't sure to what because not a day went by without referring to the restaurant as ‘a shithole with decent sandwiches’ - you knew he was just keeping it running because it’s what Cicero wanted and no one denied that man. But you wanted to see if that dedication or learning ability translated into the bedroom. “Damn- You could eat off that grout” you teased. His head popped up, blue eyes twinkling under the iridescent lights.

This damn family and their pretty eyes

“The hell you still doin’ here? Y’shift ended what-” he looked at the clock, “An hour and six minutes ago” he continued scrubbing at the tile with the tiny little brush. 

“Oh you memorized my shift schedule?” you teased, a small smile on your lips. You were towering over him, being sure to block his light so he would give you his attention once more.

“I make the schedule, yeah I know when my employees work” he looked up at you again “n’y’re in my light” he pushed his greasy curls out of his way with his dry hand. 

“Mmm- last I checked Chef Syd did the scheduling- unless…that changed?” you asked and he looked back at the floor, scrubbing over the same spot he had been since you came over here. 

He made a little ‘mm’ noise and was quiet for a few moments as he continued to scrub. “So why are you still here if y’not gettin’ paid?” he asked again. You crouched next to him, hugging your knees and he stopped, looking over at you. He could smell your perfume perfectly, your lipgloss glitter was shimmering in the light. He could very well near smell the mint coming off of your breath from the gum you had chewed an hour earlier. He swallowed thickly, blinking a few times how he did when he was confused he noticed and his eyes fan to your lips before back up to your eyes. “Uh-”

You cut him off “Cause I haven’t met you, Carmy. We haven’t talked, Why’s that?” you question with a small, innocent smile. It was true, he all but ignored you while he’d been here. The only time he spoke to you was when he absolutely had to tell you something or when he was assigning you your morning tasks when you first got in. 

“W-What d’you wanna know?” he asked, tongue darting out to quickly wet his lips. He was nervous. 

“Why do you ignore me for starts” you jet your bottom lip slightly out into a little barely there pout for added effect, “Tina asked me a few days ago what I did, so what did I do Carmy?” you ask gently. You knew it was because you caught him staring at you so often he thought you thought he was a creep, but you thought it was adorable how flustered he got when he’d been caught and quickly tried to make it look like he’d been focused on something else. 

“Nothin- nothin’ y-you didn’t do anything m’sorry I made you feel- what’re you-” he trailed off as you gently fixed his Saint Anthony chain so it was facing front, carefully slipping your finger under the loop and pinching it between your forefinger and thumb, adjusting the clasp to be at the back of his neck. 

“Sorry, small things like that bug me, I think little things bug you too, Carm” you said softly. His cheeks were getting pink, his pupils were widening. Your plan was working. “Is this ok?” you gently fixed the sleeve of his t-shirt over his bicep, the fabric deliciously stretching over his buff arm 

“Mhmm” he muttered, breath catching as your hand trailed up his shoulder and resting there. “Did you um- did you need something…” he asked, voice that delicious kind of soft you adored. 

“I thought you'd never ask. I’m gonna go to the back office and wait. If you think you know what I need, then come on back. If you don’t want to, we can just pretend this never happened mm?” you got up, making sure to sway your hips a tad more as you went to the back office. You pushed the door shut behind you and dropped your tote under the desk, sitting down on it and leaning back against the wall. He came in 2 minutes later, cheeks red, biting his lip as he opened the door and saw you sitting on the desk.

He blinked rapidly, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing “Jesus Christ” he muttered to himself, shutting the door behind him. “Y-y’re sure. Like- wait you mean- you mean you want me t-” 

“Do whatever you want with me, chef,” you told him in a sultry tone, watching him closely as he walked over. You’d assumed he’d be just like Richie, rough, unforgiving, and sometimes even a little mean, but the way he cupped your cheek was…gentle. 

“Are you sure you want this? M’y’r boss..I don’ want you t’feel like i’m…making you, ‘er somethin’” he ran his thumb over your cheekbone. He was so close that you could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath as well as the musky scent of the long workday mixed with his cologne. You were nearly put in a trance by it. In response, you gently rest your palm on the back of his neck, pulling him closer and giving him a gentle kiss. 

He leaned forward, resting his hand on the side of your thigh and kissing you back, his lips hesitant on yours at first but when he felt your tongue swipe his bottom lip, his hand moved to your shoulder and gently squeezed as he opened his mouth, tongue darting out to find yours. He moaned softly at your taste, his breath coming out in small hot puffs that fanned your upper lip as you explored his mouth with your tongue. His hand that was on the desk gently moved to your hip, giving a tentative squeeze. You grabbed it, bringing it to your breast and with your hand over his, guiding him to squeeze and massage it. 

He let out a little hum of realization and did as you asked, only able to do so much with a t-shirt bra and work shirt, he with trembling hands tugged at the bottom of your navy blue The Beef t-shirt, asking for permission to take it off. You pulled away, swiftly taking off the shirt and reconnecting your lips with his. Your hands made your way behind your back, unhooking your bra and pulling it off, bringing both of his hands to your breasts. You whine softly as he pinches and rolls your nipples between his fingers, the action making them even harder and perkier. He kissed down your jaw, nipping gently and sucking on the sensitive skin. 

Richie can’t know this happened 

“N-no marks babe- kay?” you said a bit breathlessly, hand trailing up to gently tug at his hair. He hummed in response, kissing down and mouthing over the hickeys Richie had left earlier in the week. You bit your lip as he continued to roll and tug your nipples kissing down your neck and when he finally got to your breasts you heard him mutter

“So fuckin perfect” before he took one of your perky abused nipples into his mouth, lightly sucking as you combed through his curls, taking out all the knots with your nimble fingers. With his other hand, he continued to massage your other breast, causing a moan to fall from your lips. 

“You wanna fuck me? Mm? Right here over the desk? You can go as hard as you want yea?” you told him, it was nice that he was spending so much time dedicated to making you feel good, but were confused why he hadn’t just…bent you over and gotten it over with by now like Richie usually did when you fucked at work. 

He pulled off with a pop, looking up at you with those wide eyes that had been darkened with lust. “Uh- Can I taste you..instead?” he asked shyly, resting his chin on your sternum gently, his hot breath puffing from his nose and tickling your chest. You raised your brows, looking at the clock - wasn’t he exhausted?! If he ate you out, that would be what - another 15 minutes on top of him getting off, would probably be another 20, so you both wouldn’t be getting out of there until 1:30 or so. 

Well, if it's what he wants.

“Sure honey” You got up, slipping out of the sweats you took the train home in usually, setting them on the desk to sit on and pushing your panties down as well after kicking off your Ugg slipper shoe-type things and sitting back on the desk, spreading your thighs for him and resting one of your heels on the edge. His mouth parted slightly, nearly dropping to his knees, his curls falling in front of his eyes but he didn’t seem to care as he kissed your inner thighs, almost enjoying his time getting you worked up. He gently sucked on your nether lip, groaning lightly at your flavor. Your mouth drops as you watch him, fully blissed out as he laps at your wet folds.

“Holy shit Carmy” you breathe, gently pushing his bangs back so you could see his pretty blue eyes once again. He looks up at you, sandy brown long lashes nearly touching his bushy brows as he connects his mouth with your clit, flicking his tongue over it and running his jaw back and forth messily, a mix of drool and your arousal running over his chin. “Wow feels so good - doin’ so good Carmy” you breathe, head falling back in pleasure and breathing picking up. He was really good at this. When Richie was in the mood (AKA his back wasn't hurting, or his knees, or his shoulder) he would give you the pleasure of eating you out, and he did it well, he always made sure you came when he did it, and you never had to fake it with him.

You weren’t going to have to fake it with Carmy, either, because holy shit - he was amazing at this. You felt that familiar tightening within’ your stomach within minutes. He took one of your thighs, throwing it over his shoulder to give himself a better angle, and ran his tongue down, slipping it inside of your pussy and moaning as you gush over his tongue when his nose runs back and forth over your clit, stimulating it most deliciously. Your thigh twitched, toes curling, and a sharp moan comes from your throat, biting down roughly on your lip. “God- god Carmy, I’m cumming” you warn, Gripping his curls rougher which seemed to edge him on, rubbing you rougher with his nose and curling his tongue up against your gummy walls, wet lewd noises coming from between your thighs. 

Within moments there was a fire of pleasure shooting beneath your skin as you cried out in ecstasy. Your eyes rolled beneath your lids, letting go of his hair and gripping the desk instead with a crushing grip as he worked you through the intense waves of overstimulating delight that ripped through you relentlessly. He finished with a chaste kiss on your thigh before grabbing your bra and helping you put it on as well as your panties, even finding the shirt you’d thrown and shaking off the dust from the floor before handing it over. “That was uh…really good, thank you” he wiped his chin and lips with the back of his hand, rubbing it on the back of his jeans. You shamelessly stared at his crotch and noticed the hard bulge in his jeans before looking back up at him.

“You don’t want to get rid of that? I can suck you off if you want I have a hair tie” you said, holding up your wrist to show him. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. 

“No- no you don’t owe me anything, I got what I needed don’worry. See y’tomorrow- make sure you leave through the back I already locked up the front” he said, leaving the office and closing the door behind him to give you some privacy. You sat in shock for a moment, blinking a few times. All he wanted from you was to eat you out? You’d never met another guy who simply ate you out and that was it - they’d always…expected something from you after, and of course, you gave it because you felt like they’d paid you a favor just by eating you out first even if you didn’t finish. You slip your work shirt back on, get up, and put on your sweats with shaky legs before slipping your shoes back on. 

It continued like this, the days you weren't fucking Richie, you were in the back office getting eaten until you nearly passed out. Until The Beef started getting renovated, then the days you weren’t getting your brains fucked out in Richie's bed, your thighs spread wide at odd hours of the morning on Carmens’ couch, some random cooking show playing in the background as he lapped at your pussy like a man starved on his knees in front of you after kissing down your body like you were a goddess to be worshipped. If you were quite honest, you liked this routine. It felt perfect for you, you knew where your feelings lay for both of the men, and it was a stable comfortable routine on both sides. 

For Richie, it was fun and flirtatious. Sneaky spanks when you came to visit and help him renovate the restaurant with Neil, rough makeout sessions in the back alley when he went out for a smoke, rough near bruising quickies in the soon-to-be walk-in freezer that hadn’t been set up yet, so it was a nice little private area you two could go. He’d even started stealing a kiss or two when you weren’t being sexual. He was protective of you, Carmy started noticing this. That was why a few weeks before the big opening, he had started being a bit more handsy with you. 

The two of you started spending a lot more time together, and you realized he was even opening up to you a bit more. He began asking to see you more often, taking you out with him when he had to run errands for the opening. When he took you with him to the restaurant supply store, he had his hand rested on your lower back, gently rubbing circles as he explained to you the difference between the bunch of different kinds of cutlery. You had been baffled that there were 11 different kinds of butter knives there and he explained to you the difference between them, as well as showed you which sets went together.

It was strange you were clenching your thighs together while a man chatted you up over silverware, but the way he guided your hand to hold them so you were doing it ‘properly’ when you picked one up to get a closer look, had your heart jumping to your throat. That specific encounter was the first time you’d been able to really fuck him, and also draw some dominance out of him as well. It wasn't even his day with you, he knew it - he very well knew this, but little did you know that was the reason why he did it. You rode him hard and fast in the back of his van in the parking lot, he’d made sure to move to a spot in the way back where no one else had been parked so the two of you didn’t get caught and thrown on a registry, of course.

So, that night when you had met up with Richie after he had made you dinner and bent you over the couch for your usual Wednesday night activities - by the first yank of your hips you squeaked, “Gentle - please, daddy, not too rough..” you were glad he was taking you from behind, because you couldn’t bare the confused sweet sorry look on his face. You never asked him to be gentle with you, of course he obliged- because it was all an act. Richie was a big softie, a teddy bear. He just liked to fool around and put on the big mean daddy act in the bedroom because it was fun for the both of you.t in the bedroom because it was fun for the both of you. But he would never really want to hurt you. 

“Wha’s wrong baby, mm? Why you hurtin’?” He held you up by your ribs, sweetly kissing your hairline as he thrusted slower and softer in and out of you, gently resting his lips against your forehead “was I too hard Monday? M’sorry my sweet girl” he rubbed over your breast gently as he continued his gentler strokes. His sweet girl. That caused your heart to sting a bit. You didn’t know that he liked you too, the same way you liked him. Unless it was just an act? You hope it was an act. 

“Yeah” you said, knees going weaker when he reached around your front and toyed with your clit, your hips bucking at the soreness Carmen had left you with earlier. 

“Yeah? Y’never been like this before sweetheart” he kissed over your neck, beard scratching at your skin. 

“Mm- s’okay- feels good- like it when it hurts like this” you rest your head back on his shoulder, closing your eyes and feeling a pit of guilt setting in your stomach. Would it hurt him if he found out you had started fooling around with Carmy? You hoped not, but couldn’t help but wonder. They were family. Most of all you would hope it wouldn’t make him insecure due to the much closer proximity Carmy and your ages were. You were so lost in your own head that you didn’t even realize he was finishing inside of you like normal moaning into your hair. 

“So good- such a good girl” he kissed your head. “go get cleaned up kid, gotta get outta here early t’day cus’ I needa go to Eva’s school play thing” he pats your ass gently and pulled out, leaving you draped over the arm of the couch naked from the waist down and cum leaking down your thighs. You shut your eyes for a moment, rubbing over your face before standing up and doing as he said. 

A little over a week later, Carmy asked you to go straight with him. Well. Not really, he asked you if you were fucking other people to which you gave a simple yes and he just said ‘oh…wish I could be the only one’ you teased him and asked if that meant you wanted to be together, just the two of you and he said yes. So, you stopped fucking Richie. You stopped letting him kiss you in dry storage - you stopped having your ass be available for slapping as he walked by. 

And man, was it hard. He looked like a sad puppy, a small pout coming to his lips when you turned your cheek causing him to kiss that instead of your lips. “ ‘ey-“ he turned your face towards him “where’s my kiss?” You just looked down at the floor, before turning and grabbing the bag of onions you’d been sent in there to get and saying 

“I don’t think we should keep doing this. We should…just work together.” As much as you hated to say it, you did. Then you left the dry storage, and Richie felt his heart crack slightly. Things with him felt way more real then with Carmy, but Carmy was the one who asked you to be his, so you just…went with who asked. You had thought that was the best choice. Even though you stomped on his heart that day, he still cracked jokes with you, and was the same sweet dork you worked with before you started hooking up, the sweet dork that made you want to hook up with him in the first place. 

2 days before the friends and family opening, Carmy invited you over to his so he could cook for you. You’d been able to have his cooking once before, when he’d had you come over right in front of Richie at The Beef, and held a spoon to your lips, a hand under your chin for you to try something he’d come up with. Tonight he was making his familys pasta, and when you’d got there you nearly jumped his bones when he was wearing a work shirt from The Beef. You’d never seen him in it before, he’d never worn it to work even though everyone else had to be wearing theirs.

 You had a joke with yourself that he knew how yummy and slutty he looked in those stupid plain white t’s so thats why he kept wearing them.

“Hey sexy” You’d said when he opened the door, standing on your toes to kiss him deeply. He hummed, pulling you inside quickly and shutting the door behind you both so no neighbors would see. He grabbed your ass with his palms, squeezing it and spanking you lightly.

“Hey pretty girl” he said, kissing your top lip messily “y’hungry, right? Dinners almost done” he carefully brushed your hair from your face, looking down into your eyes with one of his sweet smiles.

“Mm always hungry for the best chef in the worlds food” you mused, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and playing with his curls “Why’d you never wear this at work, mm? Y’look sexy babe” you kissed his neck. He hummed, hands trailing up your back and palming over your ribs.

“Cause they’re itchy, and it’s laundry day” he said as you rubbed over his chest, grabbing at his pecks and squeezing at the flesh. He chuckled, brushing your hands “jesus someones handsy eh? He cupped your cheeks, angling your eyes towards him “food’ll burn, go wash up yeah? I’ll get y’plate ready” he pecked your lips and ran his hands down your front, grabbing your hand nd pressing it to his lips before heading back to the kitchen.

You followed as he said, going to the restroom and washing your hands as well as your makeup off with the makeup wipes that lived in his bathroom for you now, before going to his bedroom. You stepped out of your stupid waitress uniform, slipping on his white shirt that kissed just below your bum. You padded out to the kitchen, seeing him wiping the edge of your plates off with a paper towel, a kitchen rag over his shoulder. God, he looked so amazing in his element. “Hey” you said gently, going to hug him from behind 

“Hey sweet girl, just about done” he sprinkled some fresh parsley over the dish masterfully, before gently rubbing over the back of your hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing it. “How was the train?” he asked and you pulled away, walking over to his couch and sitting since he’d never bothered to get a kitchen table. 

“Okay, weirdo was playing a ukelele again” you plopped down, crossing your legs and looking over at the random dutch cooking program he had been watching from his station in the kitchen, “You speak dutch?” you asked, he chuckled and you weren’t sure at which statement. 

“No, I don’t, I just watch, and I know what they’re doin’ by the look usually.” he came over, setting a beautiful plate of pasta in your lap and sitting down with the small pot he used for sauce, that he’d mixed the noodles in half hazardly and twirled some of the noodles on the fork, taking a bite. 

Classic Carmy, serving you a Michelin Starred dish, and eating the leftover scraps. 

That was the night you really fell for him. Especially after he did the same thing that he did the first time the two of you hooked up, put you first. Even if he didn’t want you to touch him, even if he was too shy to cuddle you before you fell asleep. You really felt your heart crack open for him.

The night of friends and family, though, you may as well have been a stranger. No matter what you did that night to get his attention, he fully ignored you and snapped at you, and everyone, to ‘pick up your fucking pace’. You had never had him snap at you like this. All you wanted to do was go joke around with Richie, maybe pull him into the dry storage for a quick makeout - but you couldn’t, not anymore. You missed him. You missed your old man, as much as he despised you calling him that, you adored the way he frowned and spanked you in response to the name, telling you ‘it’s already unfair when we go out they think y’my daughter’ 

When you had find out that Carmy had been locked in the freezer - your first instict was to rush to the back of house, comfort him- tell him it would all be fine, but you knew you couldn’t do that, and it would piss him off if you did so. You were his well kept secret, and he wanted you to stay that way. You had found out from Syd, who was really the only one to know about your short-lived relationship - since Carmy seemed to be more open with her then he did with you - his supposed girlfriend. 

“He’s ok, he’s fine- look, just keep pace, ok, me and Richie will handle this - bring the plates from tinas station to table 11, ok?” she told you calmly, giving you a quick reassuring hug before whisking you off to do your job. You did as she said, putting on a smile and bringing the food out to the table, setting it down the way you’d been trained and telling them what was what before telling them to enjoy and heading back to the kitchen to pick up another round of food to bring out to an awaiting hungry group of patrons.

Three hours later, when the night was finally coming to a close- you decided it was a good time to go check on Carmy. All the guests had left, and it was just the staff at this point. You knew that the fire department was on the way since Richie had let everyone know they’d been called, and Syd was back there trying to calm him down. What you didn’t know, was Syd had told Carmy to hold on for a moment because she was gonna go tell her father goodbye and thank him for coming, so he had been left all alone in the back of house, in the freezer.

You walked in, hearing him rambling as you walk up, listening closely to what he was saying.

“Like- Like right? Right?” he chuckled a bit “W-what the fuck was I thinkin’? Huh? The fuck was I thinkin’, Syd? Like - Like I was gonna be in- “ he laughed a bit “In- i-in a relationship- er- er some shit? I-I’m a fuckin- a fuckin psycho- thats thats why, thats why I’m good at what I do, thats how I operate, Syd, you wanna be the best? I am the fucking best, because I didn’t have- any- any of this - this fuckin…bullshit! Right? I-I- I could focus, and I could concentrate, and I- I had a fuckin’ routine, an- and I had fuckin cell reception! An-” he paused. You felt your heart crack, tears filling your eyes,

You were bullshit to him.

He continued, “I dont need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I dont need to- to receive, any amusement- or - or enjoyment. Y’know? And I’m…I’m completely fine, with that. Because absolutely no amount of good, is worth how fuckin’ shitty this feels. S’just…a complete waste of my fucking time.” 

You let out the sob you were holding back, gasping a breath, shaking your head and with a trembling voice, you say, “I’m really sorry you feel this way, Carmy…” before rushing out of the kitchen, hot tears running down your cheeks. You grab your bag from behind the counter, slamming into richie on the way out of the restaurant and he stopped you, grabbing your arm. 

“Hey- hey kid” he said, and the soothing sound of his voice made you break down fully, starting to sob so hard you couldnt see straight, collapsing into his chest. 

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry for being so shitty- I- I dont deserve you” you cried, hugging him tightly, “I have-” you took a gasping breath and look up at him “I- i’m done- tell Carmy that I’m done here….” you let go of him and rush out, quickly walking towards the train station the wind whipping your wet cheeks. You pulled out your phone, calling Carmy to leave him a voicemail. 

“Hey, uh…I don’t know why you fuckin’ asked me out- but uh- fuck you, carmy. Youre right- you deserve nothing- youre a coward, and an asshole. I hate you for making me love you” you hung up, shoving your phone in your pocket, not even caring the admission that slipped past your lips as you stomped up the stairs to the L platform.

Back at the restaurant, Richie storms into the kitchen, slamming his palm on the freezer door. “Yo- the fuck did you just do?” he asked, voice laced with anger.

“I-I don’know. I-I don’ know what the fuck she heard. Dunno” Carmy said, voice indifferent to the entire thing, which just made anger bubble in his chest at his lack of caring. Richie slams his hand into the door harder, making Carmy jump a bit.

“No- asshole, I said - the fuck did you just say, to that fuckin’ girl?” Richie repeated, getting louder now.

“Richie” Carmy said, sighing to himself.

“Richie? Richie What- Tell me! Tell me, What the fuck. What the fuck did you just say to that fuckin girl, Carmen” 

“Will you just shut the FUCK UP AND GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE PLEASE!” Carmy shouts, not having any part of being scolded when his fingertips felt like ice. 

“Oh- oh yeah, I’ll get y’the fuck outta there, Donna” Richie mocked, so angry he didnt care how deeply he cut in the moment.

“The fuck you just say t’me?” Carmy challanged

“I-” Richie sighed, knowing he just took things too far and dropped his head back in annoyance.

“N-no- Richie- What the fuck did you just say?” Carmy asks, louder this time, Pounding on the door when he didnt get a response. 

“Yo- cousin, cousin look - I don’t know why you gotta fuck up everything good in your life. That girl is nice, shes a good fuckin friend t’you” Richie explained, completely oblivious to everything that had really been going on. 

“Are you -” Carmen laughs “Are you fucking kidding me right now?!” he spits, the comparison to his mother causing fire to race through his veins.

“No- No i’m not, cousin, someones gotta tell you this shit, ‘eh? First fuckin friend after comin’ home you go ahead and make her cry?!” Richie scolded.

“FUCK YOU! Fuck you Richie!” Carmy yells, running his hands through his hair,

“Ohhh yea, here we go, fuck me, yeeeaaa Carm” he mocked him.

“Yeah! Yeah fuck you fuckin loser. You wouldn’t have shit without me. So fuck you!” carmy shouted at him, his breath coming out in large frosty puffs in front of him.

“Oh-” Richie chuckled, a twinge in his chest that Carmy was willing to cut so deep so quickly “Yeah- yeah tough guy” he mocked, voice getting meeker

“Yeah! Yeah! You- Or y’fuckin kid- fuckin loser - only reason you have anything is me!” Carmy roars, slamming on the door “so ye’ cousin, fuck you!” 

“My KID? Y’gonna talk about my KID? Well at least I have a fuckin kid! What d’you have other then a restaurant, jackass!” he yelled back.

“YEAH? I HAVE THE GIRL YOU BEEN FUCKIN’ FOR THE PAST YEAR, MORON. Why you think she dropped you so fast? Huh? You fucking idiot! She chose me- so ye’. I am the reason you have what you have AND I’LL TAKE WHATEVER I FUCKING WANT. FUCK YOU” He yelled through the door, kicking it with his chefs clog.

Richies mouth dropped, stepping back and feeling as if he’d just been stabbed in the heart. “What?” he said, believing his ears were playing tricks on him, how could Carmy do such a thing to him?

“Yeah- yeah. She chose me, and guess what, I fucked her because i wanted to show you I could. Y’fuckin prick” he sat down on one of the boxes of frozen steaks, rubbing over his face roughly. Richie raced out of the kitchen, telling Syd he was ‘done’ and quickly taking out his phone to call you. 

Back in the freezer, Carmens phone buzzed. He looked at it, seeing a voicemail from you that finally pushed through. When he heard your sad, broken voice, admit that he’d caused you to hate him by his behaviour made him chuck his phone against the freezer wall so hard that the screen shattered.

Never so badly had he ever fucked up, and by doing so he lost the best thing to ever happen to him.

[lichenes]

just you and joost having a lazy night in and all you want to do is be close to each other, you sitting on his lap on the couch and just making out while he softly tells you he loves you🥹

love that idea anon <3 thank you for the ask lovely!! I'm fueled up on taurine rn tbh hope the work is coherent lmao :'D

CW: hickeys, making out, kissin, lap sitting

wc: 483

•───────•°•❀•°•───────••────────•°•❀•°•────────•

Today, Friday, was hard. You both came back home, Joost spent all day recording in the studio, his throat hoarse from singing. Your day was just as exhausting so when you got home and saw him napping on the sofa, snoring softly, you didn’t think twice and laid down and curled up to him. He stirred up from his sleep “Oh… hi.” He said, his voiced still laced with the weight of the day and sleep. “Mmmm, hi baby.” You said softly. 

“How was your day?” “Long… so long.” “...” “Yours?” “Same…” 

You fell into a comfortable silence which wasn’t unusual between you as you understood each other without words. You got more and more sleepy with every passing second. “I need a nap.” You said in a small voice. He didn’t respond, putting his hand on your stomach and pulling you closer. 

You fell back into consciousness around 2am. Joost was lazily stroking your cheek, appreciating your features. “Didn’t mean to wake you.” You sighed contently. “Don’t worry about it.” You sat up and rubbed sleep away from your eyes. The weariness lessened after the nap and it seemed as did his. “You’ve got anything to do tomorrow?” He asked and you shook your head. 

Joost suggested putting on a movie, quietly not to wake up the neighbours. “‘course baby.” You sat in his lap facing the screen of your TV. Your head was on his chest, you could feel his rhythmically rising and falling chest which was calming you down. “Turn around.” He said and you did. 

You were now face to face with him, both flushed with the sleep that hasn’t quite left your mind. He leaned closer to you and pressed his soft lips to yours. You both groaned at the expected touch. “You’re so pretty…” He said in between kisses. “The loveliest…” kiss, “prettiest…” kiss, “most intelligent.”. You were melting into his touch, sleep and titillation fighting for dominance. "I love you."

Your stomach rumbled. He chuckled. “You hungry?” You nodded, not feeling like speaking right now. “I’ll make you something.” You stood up and followed him to the kitchen as if to say ‘I’ll help.’ He was looking through the cupboards and settled on a pack of frozen french fries. “‘s that okay?” You said ‘yes’. He put them into the oven for a while and plated them, salting them thereafter.

You walked back into the living room with the plate and began eating, burning yourself on the first few ones. He snacked on them from time to time, still not quite perceiving the movie, focusing on you instead, opting instead to knead your hips lovingly. You finished the fries and put the plate on the coffee table, left to be washed in the morning. 

Joost was kissing your neck, lazily sucking your skin to form hickeys you would later proudly show off to your friends. 

You couldn’t be more happier.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────••────────•°•❀•°•────────•

masterlist

[animehideout]

Gojo NSFW alphabet? Pretty please.

GOJO SATORU NSFW ALPHABETS

A/n: Thank you anon for this request, I hope you like it 🥹❤️‍🔥.

Warnings 🔞⚠️: SMUT NSFW MDNI

Note : If your request isn't posted yet it's because I'm still working on them, thank you for your understanding and patience 🤍.

A= Aftercare ( How is he like after sex?)

After a rough session Gojo would treat you right. He'll spoil you. He'll get you whatever you want, snacks, water, chocolate, takeouts? Literally anything you crave. He's a giant so he will cuddle you, and you can't escape his arms.

B= Body part: ( His favorite part of your body?)

He loves every part of your body, but your thighs are his favorite. He likes to burry his head between them. He likes to pinch them, squeeze them and bite your inner thighs a lot. Your thighs both calm him and excite him depending on his mood.

C= Cum: (Where he would prefer to cum?)

Definitely your face! He finds it extremely hot and attractive. It would turn him on more and gets him hard again at the spot. Just the sight of you under him while your face drips with his cum makes him go crazy, especially if there's some on your lips and you lick it, damn he would definitely go for another session, a harder and more rough one.

D= Dirty talk:

He's so into dirty talk, like he won't shut up while you're both fucking the shit out of each other. He's very playful, so exepct a lot of teasing. He's a confident man but dirty talk boosts his confidence even more, and it makes him feel very dominant. He's rough so he would give commands and makes you do as he says.

“Oh you think you can handle me? Okay then but don't say I didn't warn you”

“Oh you're enjoying that? my little slut”

“Come on turn around now, face down”

“Feel me fucking pound it”

E= Experience: ( Is he experienced? )

He's a busy man, he works often so he doesn't have time to get into shallow relationships or even one night stands so I don't think he's very experienced, but he's rather naturally good at it. Maybe because he's confident in his body and abilities and he follows his flow so everything turns out to be perfect for him. So when he gets into a serious relationship he'll give you the best sex of your life.

F= Favorite Position:

Oh Gojo got many favorite positions and he's good at each one of them. No matter what position it is, he'll reach your G-spot and make you scream from pleasure. But if I had to mention some positions, I'd say Against the wall?! He likes it when your back hits the hard wall from how rough he's pushing his length inside you while your legs are wrapped around his torso. Also I would say missionary! He likes being on top of you while he looks at how flustered expressions and the fuck faces you make.

G= Goofy: ( Is he goofy during sex? )

Goofy like playful but definitely not vanilla. He's rough, but at the same time chill. Idk if you get it, but like he's rough in a teasing way and not the very serious way. The type that makes you both smirk.

H= Hygiene:

This man is very hygienic, he cares a lot about his appearance and cleanliness and down there as well. He makes sure he's well groomed / shaved. Also his body smells really nice, like you'd be sniffing him the whole time when he's on top of you. His scent is sweetly intoxicating. In return he prefers his partner to shave/ wax as well.

I= Intimacy:

He can be sweet if you want him to be. But most of the time he's rough. He's a man with a lot of responsibilities hanging on his shoulders, so he'd like some tough relief you know, to take everything out. And he does, when he fucks you hard. Would ask for consent first of course.

J= Jerk off:

He would masturbate very often at the thought of you. Since he's always at work, both of you won't be having a regular sex life so to relieve himself when he misses you, he sneaks somewhere and pleasures himself imagining that you're the one giving him a hand job.

K= Kink:

Moaning? your moans turn him on more and more and encourages him to fasten his pace. Your whimpers / screams / panting boosts his confidence, proving that he's fucking you right. Also he's into praise words ( receiving ), oh man just tell him that you like the way his dick slide in and out of you, just tell him how good he makes you feel, tell him that you want only his dick inside of you and see how he's gonna make you see stars.

L= Location: (His fav place to have sex)

Anywhere! But his favorites are in the shower room, pounding you against the cold wall or in the backseat of the car, he loves how the windows turn foggy after literally destroying you.

M= Motivation : (What turns him on?)

When you bend in front of him to get something. Intentional or not, it would get him instantly hard. He just loves your body so much and wants to appreciate in every way including sex

N= No: ( Something he wouldn't do)

Threesome or more are a big no no for him. He would never share you with anyone. He believes that you're his and he's yours. End of discussion.

O= Oral sex:

Of course Gojo enjoys giving head and pleasuring you but not as much as when he's the one getting it. He's a bit greedy and very egoistic so yeah he'd care a lot about his own pleasure and you have to do a great job and suck the cum out of his dick. He likes the feeling of your hands and lips around his length, while he throws his head back in satisfaction while his orgasm builds up. He likes to challenge himself, so he give you the green light till he reaches his breaking point that gets him begging for you to stop.

P= Pace:

Starts slow but then turns fast real quick. He's not worried about making you cum fast, because he'd go for many rounds and makes you cum over and over again.

Q= Quickies:

As I said Gojo is a busy man so you don't have a regular sex life, so he'd grasp the chance whenever you see each other. Even if he's seeing you for a few minutes, both of you would sneak somewhere and have a quick sex. Of course he'll make it up for you with a long ass passionate night when you have time for yourselves.

R= Risks:

I feel like Gojo is open to try new things with you, anything except involving another individual in your sex life. So by risks I mean like he might try public sex, pleasuring you under the table during an important meeting.

S= Stamina:

This man doesn't sleep, he's got a lot of energy, so he can go as long as you can handle. Does he ever get tired? no. So you better prepare yourself for a long night.

T= Toy:

I can't see him using any toys on himself or on you. When he's pleasuring you he prefers using his mouth, tongue and fingers and not toys, nothing else can fuck you expect for him. He believes that a piece of plastic won't get the job done.

U= Unfair:

Satoru is the biggest tease ever. He likes to annoy you. Sometimes, he might edge you till you start begging and pleading for him to make you cum. He's so damn good at it. And he knows how to use his teasing into making you more horny and needy for him.

V= Volume: (Is he loud?)

Satoru is so damn loud. He'd moan, groan, growl, whimper... anything. He likes how your moans harmonize together, it's like music to his ears and it pushes him to his limits. He's not shy or embarrassed, nah he wants you to hear his moans, he knows very well how it turns you on. He'd moan into your ear, also breathes heavily which is so fucking attractive. Even if you're not making love he'd occasionally moan in your ear to make you all flustered.

W= Wildcard:

Despite being a confident man, not easily offended and no one can compare to him, he's still a pretty jealous type. Even though he knows no one can get near you or compete with him or steal you away, whenever someone looks at you in a not very likable way he'd get pissed off and turns on his protective mode. If you dare to tease him and make him jealous on purpose, you already know what's waiting for you. Yep, definitely jealous sex, and if he can't contain himself till you get home then he would literally make out with you in public while everyone is watching. Gojo doesn't really give a single fuck, he'll devoure you, slip tongue, steal your breath away while he's kissing you hungry kisses.

X= X-rays:

He's a big guy so you know what to expect. Your eyes would be wide open the first time you saw him. It is indeed huge and thick, got you nervous and wondering how it would fit inside of you but it did.

Y= Yearning:

He's always ready for you to take him. Always ready for sex with you when you're in the mood of course. Due to his schedule he won't be able to be with you everyday so that accumulation of a long ass week of missing you and wanting to be inside you got him all ready and horny for when he sees you.

Z= Zzz:

Nah he won't fall asleep immediately after that. He'll pamper you first, take care of you and make sure you're comfortable and not hurt after being a total freak in bed. He'll put you to sleep and watches over you then he'll fall asleep if he managed to.

[number1jeonginstan]

Hiyaaa! Hope you’re doing well:) i was wondering if you could be open to writing a virgin!chan oneshot where youre his best friend who he’s crushing on and he wants to lose his virginity to you? Reader could be a dom so he’s turned on by that lol but he’s also a sensitive subby boy. - anon 🦋

A/N: This is actually the first time I’ve written a sub!reader, so I hope it’s good. Thank you so much for sending in a request and I really hope you liked it, I really enjoyed writing it because it was kinda cute in the beginning, also something about the game night Chan agenda is really my favorite for some reason! Also, welcome to the anon list 🦋

WC: 2.1k (oops!)

Minors don't interact, 18+

Pairing: idol!Chan x idol!(afab)Reader

Warnings: loss of virginity (chan), but not, protected sex (for the first time ever!?!?), blow jobs, aftercare is a must!, subby!Chan

You walked into the dorms for your and Chan’s weekly game night. It was a tradition the two of you made when you two became friends after you first debuted. Your friendship was quite spontaneous, you were walking around the music core backrooms, trying to find your manager and you ran into Chan. You both bonded over your love for anime since he saw that you had a Rukia phone case at the time. 

He eventually helped you find your manager, offered you his phone number, and told you to text him if you ever had any questions. You happily took it, not thinking much of it. The first time you texted him was three days after they won an award for their new song.

Chan was taken aback when he first got your text. He thought you were so sweet, offering to take you out to get ice cream to celebrate their win, and you happily obliged. From then on, the two of you have been stuck together like glue, or as much as you can be with your jobs. 

One thing you guys made a tradition of was doing a game night. Sometimes it would be with the other members, sometimes it would be just the two of you, it all depended. “Hey, you are finally here!” he beamed, running over and giving you a tight hug. 

“I’m only a minute late, you miss me that much?” you giggled. You both went to his room, the other members were back home for vacation, and since Chan’s family was back in Australia, and yours was back in America, you guys couldn’t visit them.

“So, what are we playing tonight?” you asked, sitting on the floor of his room. You always loved Chan’s room, the aesthetics were so nice, not to mention his bed was comfortable. Sometimes you would sleep over, or just take a nap while he worked. You never understood why he worked himself to the bone, but you knew he wanted to express his emotions through his music, and you were never one to stop him.

“I was thinking, Felix got me this game thinking it would be fun,” he said, pulling out a box of Jenga from his stack of board games. 

“Wow, Jenga, so original” you rolled your eyes. “It’s not your typical Jenga, it has truth or dare questions”

“Wait, that will be fun, I wanna know all of your secrets Channie,” you said pinching his cheeks. Sure he was older than you, but you loved treating him like he was a baby, it was fun seeing him all flustered.

“Do you want to set it up while I bring us some snacks?” He asked, putting the box on the floor and standing up. “Yeah sure, do you guys still have my favorite chips?” you asked, he simply nodded, heading out of the room as you took the pieces out of the box, stacking them up.

He came back in, holding two bottles of water as well as a bowl of chips. He popped one in his mouth, sitting on the floor facing you. “Okay, you start” you grinned, taking the chip that was in his mouth and eating it. 

“Yeah yeah, just don’t cry when you lose” he grinned. You just glared at him, there was no way in hell you would lose. 

“What is the most embarrassing moment you’ve had in front of others?” you read out loud, it was your turn and you had yet to lose. “Ummm, I think it’s the time I was changing into an outfit for one of our performances, we don’t know what happened, but I guess my boobs were too big or something because the shirt ripped as soon as I put it on, and it wasn’t like I gained weight or anything because it was loose at the stomach.” 

You started laughing at yourself, reminiscing the way your stylist and you were both in shock. What you didn’t see was the blush on Chan’s cheeks and how his ears got a bit red, thinking of how you looked without your shirt on. 

Before he could imagine it more, he coughed, taking out another block. “Where is the craziest place you’ve had sex?” you said, looking over the stack to read out the block. 

Chan’s voice became an octave higher “How can they ask such a question?” he asked, a bit bewildered. “Come on Channie, you have to answer it!” 

“I can’t” 

“Why not?” you whined, wanting to know

“I’ve never done it” 

“What!” you screamed out loud. Chan just covered his face embarrassed, he didn’t need you to think he was a virgin. “I mean there is nothing wrong with it, but that’s so crazy to me. Like you are obviously a really attractive dude, with a great personality, and you have a great body and smile” you kept rambling on, causing him to blush even more.

“You think I’m handsome?” he asked, a bit perplexed. “Yeah, of course, I mean have you looked at yourself in a mirror? Like you are one of the most attractive dudes I’ve ever met.”

“Can I ask why though?” 

“I just came here at a young age, as you know, and I just didn’t find anyone to have sex with” he shrugged, calming down from his previous state of embarrassment. He took a swig of his water as you asked him a question.

“Oh, do you want to have sex with me?” you asked nonchalantly. Chan choked on the water unsure of where your ask was going. “WHAT!” he shouted, not trying to hold back his surprise. “I mean, only if you feel comfortable, I just don’t think you want to die a virgin” you shrugged, taking a sip of your own water. 

“Okay, yeah” he whispered. It was at that moment, the atmosphere changed. The air around you had become more sultry as you climbed into his lap, knocking down the Jenga tower in the process. “Oops, guess you were right, I did lose” 

Before he could even reply, you captured his lips in a kiss. He groaned in your mouth as you began to slowly grind your hips into his. “Why don’t I take you to the bed?” you asked, pulling by his collar. 

He just moaned as his back hit the bed, you began to straddle him, your knees around his hips as you rubbed your clothed pussy on top of his covered cock. “Be a good boy and take off your shirt” you said, kissing his lips again. 

He groaned again as he removed his shirt showing off his abs. “Fuck” you groaned, running your finger on them. “I should have asked to do this sooner” 

He just whimpered underneath you, feeling overstimulated. It had been weeks since he touched himself. He had never felt this way, he couldn’t fathom what was happening. The feeling of your pussy rubbing on his cock was getting to be too much. “Fuck, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum in my pants” he moaned out loud. 

“Aww baby” you brought your hand to his face, “maybe I want you to.” You grinned, getting off of him and taking off your shirt and the shorts you were wearing. His cheeks blushed red as he saw you in your underwear and bra. The accentuated every single curve and mark on your body and he loved it. 

“Be a good boy and lift your hips for me” he simply nodded, allowing you to take off his shorts and boxers. His cock slapped his stomach, the red tip already covered in his pre-cum. He moaned feeling the cool air hitting it. “Wow, you are so big, can’t wait to suck on it” 

Chan’s eyes opened in suprise as you took his cock in your hands, slowly sucking at the lip, given it kitten licks “Fuck feels so good” he whined beneath you. You ignored him, going back to sucking cock. 

You needed to stimulate yourself as well, so as you kept sucking his cock, you took one of your hands, removing your underwear, and began figering yourself. You continued to suck, adding a finger in at a time, knowing you wouldn’t be able to take his thick cock without stretching yourself out. 

He looked down at you, moaning at the sight of you fingering yourself as you continued to take him down your throat. The moans eliciting from his mouth made you wetter, moaning on his cock as your fingers were thrusting faster inside of yourself. 

You began to take him deeper, your nose beginning to hit his pubic bone as you bobbed your head up and down. You could feel him twitch in your mouth, and his moans were getting louder. “Fuck feels so good, omg, I think I’m going to cum” 

Just before he was going to cum, you took your mouth off his cock with a pop. He whined at the loss of your mouth on his cock. “Please, I was going to cum, why would you do that” 

Tears began to form as he felt bottled up, barely being able to take it anymore. “Oh baby boy, don’t cry” you said, wiping the tears off his face. “Just wanna make you cum in my pussy, is that okay?” 

He nodded, feeling eager to feel your wet cunt on him. “Baby, do you have a condom” you asked, kissing his lips once again. He nodded, pointing to his dresser, “The second drawer, Han bought me a box as a joke, never thought they would come in use” 

“Well tell Han thank you, now go rest your back on the headboard, I want to ride you” He simply nodded, sitting up and pushing his back onto the board, allowing you full access to him. 

“You are so beautiful, I’m so excited to have your cock inside of me” you giggled, rolling the condom onto his dick. He moaned at the sight of your small hands wrapping around his throbbing cock. “Fuck” he groaned out loud, causing you to giggle again. 

You rested your knees on both sides of his thighs, running his cock in between your slit, allowing your wetness to cover it. Before he could even think, you slammed the entirety of his cock inside of you, moaning at how well he fills you up.

“Oh my god” you moaned out loud, his cock already hitting that one spot inside of you “it’s like your cock was made for my pussy, I don’t think I’m ever going to let you go”

You kissed his lips again, moaning as you began to move up and down on his dick. “Fuck, your pussy feels so good, it’s clenching me, I don’t think I can last long” he moaned again, feeling your walls clenching him. It was all becoming too much.

You knew he was close, but you were too, the thought of corrupting Chan was took much for you. You began to move faster on his dick. “Fuck, I’m going to cum, please let me cum” he moaned.

“Don’t you want to be a good baby and let me cum, or are you selfish?” you asked, not stopping your pace. “Rub my clit baby” you said, gliding his fingers down to it, and showing him what pace you wanted it at. You moaned feeling his thick fingers rubbing it as you continued to move on his long cock. 

“No, want to be a good boy, want to be such a good boy for you” he moaned again. That was all you needed to cum, your walls spasaming around his dick, your pace didn’t falter, wanting to ride out your high and cause him to cum too “Please let me cum, please I’ve been such a good boy” 

“You have haven’t you? Cum baby, cum in my pussy” that was all he needed, you rode out the both of your highs.

As you came down, you rested your head into his chest, feeling over-exerted. “I hope that was a good first time, sorry if I was too rough” you said, kissing his lips again. 

“If you want me to go, I totally can” before you even said anything else, he kissed you this time. 

“You aren’t going anywhere, you are mine now. We are going to go take a bath and eat whatever you want” You looked at him puzzled, "Was my crush on you not obvious???" You just giggled, "I don't think it was, maybe I need another kiss to reassure me"

He placed another kiss on your lips, this time it was soft and sensual and not lustful like before. He picked you off the bed, took you to the bathroom, and filled up the bathtub with hot water and bubbles. 

After it was filled, you both sat in, your back pressed against his chest as he massaged your shoulders. He kissed your shoulder, whispering in your ear “Thank you for the best first time ever, but for this second time, do you think you can be my good girl?”  

[jasmines-library]

Anonymous said:

Live for your writing <3 I’ve read the batfam and I am quite literally obsessed

Could I ask for a piece about the batboys comforting batsis reader because she had/is having a panic attack? thank you so much!!! :D

Fight or Flight

Note: Hello lovely anon! I'm so glad you like my writing. You absolutely can, I hope you enjoy. Also I’m so sorry but I lost the original ask as my tumblr was acting up and I forgot to add tags the first time.

Warnings: Panic attacks, hurt/comfort kinda.

Word Count: 1k (short but sweet)

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

You had been feeling off all week. Not only was it Gotham’s busiest time of the year, which meant that you were constantly on your feet, but you also had a bunch of unfinished assignments to catch up on that were wearing you out. You had stupidly agreed to help Cass finish her assignments on top of your own and the load was becoming overbearing. On top of that, you didn’t have the heart to tell her that you couldn’t do them, which completely added to your stress level as it now meant you had to find the time to finish all of the paperwork.

You were still feeling overwhelmed as you suited up for patrol. You were out with your four brothers and you knew that the night would be busy. Gotham always was this time of year. The five of you had already stopped a few petty crimes and were making your way through the city. The silence that fell over the five of you allowed your mind to wander and you quickly became worked up over your increasingly large to-do-list and you began to hyperventilate. You just wanted to leave, but you knew you couldn’t. Conflicted, your heart began to beat faster and faster and your breathing got shallow and shallower like someone was cutting off your supply and-

You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your chest was rising and falling in quick, sharp breaths as you tried to take in air that refused to come. Ridden with panic your body was completely tense as you fell behind your brothers, stopping in your tracks to clutch as your constricting chest. Trying to blink away the flood of tears that just fell heavier, you leaned against the wall. This only made you panic more as you knew that you needed to keep going with the patrol.

Dick had noticed that you had fallen behind. His trained ears noticed the absence of your light and smaller paced steps that contrasted against his and his brothers. He slowed his pace as he glanced behind him to try and spot you. The vigilantes eyes widened when he saw you clutching your chest and leaning desperately against the wall and for a heart-wrenching moment he thought that you had been injured. Turning on his heel he sprinted back toward you alerting your brothers who all followed quickly after seeing the cause of Dick’s sudden change in demeanour.

When they reached you, after what felt like too long but was actually only a matter of seconds covered by long strides, Tim was quick to search you for injury only to come back looking confused with his eyebrows turned down when he found you seemingly unscathed.

“What’s the matter, kid?” He asked frantically “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head and tried to give him an answer but all that came out was a ragged sob as you continued to clutch at your chest. Your heart pounded in your chest as you shook, surrounded by your brothers, and suddenly Damian clocked what was happening.

“She’s having a panic attack.”

You nodded somewhat recognisably as your brother's high alert switched off somewhat. Jason took your hands gently, moving them away from your suit that you were clutching and held them gently in his. He then eased you to the floor and crouched in front of you.

“Hey, Y/N/N. Look at me. You’re okay.”

The sound of his gentle voice and the feeling of his leather gloves in your hand grounded you somewhat and you managed to get your eyes to stop looking around sporadically and to focus on him.

“Good. Now deep breaths.” He moved your hand so that it rested over his chest to allow you to feel his steady rhythm.

“In and out, Little Wing. Follow Hood.” Dick added. He was still hovering over you anxiously as Jason tried to calm you down.

As you followed your brother's breathing, you found yours gradually slowing until it somewhat was back to normal.

Damian made his way over and sat down beside you to offer you some comfort. You were feeling slightly dizzy, and noticing he signalled for Dick to grab you some water from his pack. Damian took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’re okay, sis.”

You sniffled, wiping away the last of your onslaught of tears. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Little Wing.” Tim told you. “It happens to the best of us.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah.” Dick added. “I’ve totally freaked out during a mission before. We all have. In fact, just last week Damian-”

“Tt. We don’t need to talk about that.” Damian chided, rolling his eyes.

There was a moment of tender silence as you regained your composure before Jason asked:

“You wanna talk about it?”

You shrugged at them, bringing your knees to your chest. “I don’t really know what happened… I guess I’ve just had a bad feeling about tonight and I’ve been so stressed about all of my assignments I still need to write up. I guess it just all caught up to me at the wrong time.”

“Oh kid. I’m sorry none of us have been around to help. We’ve been so caught up in our own stuff that we’ve failed to notice that you might need help too.” Dick told you.

“How about we get you home so you can relax? Hm?”

“But…what about patrol?” You asked, voice raising an octave as you began to panic a little again “We can’t just miss it!”

“Bruce will understand.” Tim reassured you.

“And we’ll help you finish your assignments.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.” You protested.

“We’re your brothers, kiddo. It’s what we’re here for.”

[julsvu]

hiiii :3 can i request blue lock bachira x f!reader hcs where his s/o is really sweet and all lovey-dovey towards him or maybe just bachira boyfriend headcanons in general? he’s so cute i’d conquer the world if he asked…‎ ( ˶˘ ³˘(⋆❛ ہ ❛⋆)!♡ love your account btw~ thank you and have a good day/night!!

fem! reader

💬: hi!! tysm for requesting, i love bachira so much :3 i hope you have a nice week anon (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡ you are so real I'd conquer the world if bachira asked me to, too

📒: fluff

meguru bachira boyfriend hcs

no shame at all. he WILL be all over you even in public, giving you cheek kisses and hugs especially

he always does it with a big goofy grin on his face too

if you return his energy, his grin would somehow be bigger?? he's the human embodiment of ":D"

LOVES LOVES rambling to you, or telling you random stuff in general

probably spams your texts a lot

he's the type to try loads of random filters while on video call

u could be telling a story and he'd be having a tiger filter on (he also makes random facial expressions to test how much the filter can go)

VERY VERY TOUCHY, if u dont want him giving u kisses in public, he can stick to holding your hand and literally glueing himself to you, when you guys sit beside each other, he makes sure your thighs or legs are touching

mans is the type to wait for you outside the bathroom

HE FOLLOWS U EVERYWHERE

loves giving you his sweaters, and vice versa!!

sometimes he steals your hoodies

HE WALKS AROUND SO CASUALLY WITH IT TOO

he'd be all "I don't know, love! i hope you find them soon, though :D" when you ask him where your hoodies are

his friends, esp isagi, knows absolutely everything about you

he rambles about you a lot 😭😭

"did you know (name) is really pretty? and!-" cue him infodumping for at least 45 minutes, take a huge deep breath and proceed his infodump once again

he's vv supportive in whatever u do

if u like soccer like him, he always teaches u how to do tricks and stuff

he gets so excited whenever he plays with u too

mans is having the time of his life

wants to own a small apartment with you and your future 50 cats (half of them are named meguru jr...)

© 2024 JULSVU. all rights reserved. please don't plagiarize, translate, put in other websites or copy my work without permission. ty!

[lilacs-stars]

shattered reflections

pairing: morgie le fay x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is merlin's daughter) SUMMARY: you, the perfect child and student, have always been the epitome of righteousness. but what happens when you encounter a particularly annoying VK one night, when you're out doing something you're not supposed to? GENRE: pure, unbridled, heart-wrenching angst (I recommend a box of tissues), action scenes, some light humor, a bit of comfort, flirty banter CW: absent mother, neglectful father, family troubles, cursing, magical fighting, a bit of blood, threats, mentions of violence and stealing, heavy emotions WC: 15.2k (to those of you hungry for morgie fics…you have been fed) BACKGROUND: the mirror of ytirev is pronounced yih-tur-ev, the spells are all in latin (for anyone wondering)

A/N: this got a loooot longer and deeper than I thought it would...seriously how did we get here. I had fun adding some touches of light humor to offset the angst, and experimenting with different pov's was nice too. sooo go get comfy and settle down, and have fun reading this! (the ending is worth it I swear). thank you to the anon who requested this for all the details, I hope you enjoy! all feedback is highly appreciated, I'd love to know your thoughts and reactions!

A piercing clatter sounds from somewhere behind you. You whip around, eyes locking with snake-like slits glowing in the dark.

Shit, you think. 

They finally discovered my secret.

“…can anyone explain to me the properties of goblin mucus?” the teacher of your Magical Artifacts and Antiquities class asks.

A hand shoots up, causing a smile to spread on her face as she calls on the student—only to be met with the reply, “Miss, it says in our textbook that there’s a highly powerful and dangerous artifact stored here, in Merlin Academy. What’s that all about?”

The teacher’s smile falters for a brief second, but she answers the question regardless. “Yes, every class today has asked me about that. It seems like it’s only the dangerous objects that attract students’ attention. Class, turn to page two hundred seventy-five, where there is a more detailed explanation.”

Everyone flips through the pages of their books, more eager to learn than they’ve been for the entire lesson. Your teacher waits a moment before continuing.

“As it says in your textbooks, the Mirror of Ytirev is indeed kept in this school, although it is locked away in a very safe and secure place. For everyone’s safety, and the Mirror’s security. Now, can anyone tell me how it was created?”

You raise your hand swiftly, already knowing the answer from having read this chapter before it was even covered in class, along with the next three chapters. “After the creator of the Evil Queen’s magic mirror originally made it, he accidentally dropped it on the floor, causing it to shatter. He reconstructed the mirror using the larger shards, which became the famed mirror that eventually ended up in the hands of the Evil Queen. But there were still many miniscule fragments left from the first mirror, so he melted them again and made a smaller, weaker version of the Evil Queen's mirror. The small mirror is known today as the Mirror of Ytirev.” 

Your teacher beams again at your perfect recitation. “That is precisely correct, Y/N. Although I don’t expect anything less from the headmaster’s daughter, of course.

“This mirror has the ability to show its user exactly one truth, an answer to any question. But since its original form was shattered, its magic is no longer stable. That’s why it is covered in this chapter,” she continues to the class. “As you can see in the image in your textbook, it is a portable artifact, putting it in Category D, Type Three.”

You look down at your textbook, studying the picture of the mirror, despite having looked at it before. It depicts a vintage handheld mirror, encased in a detailed and ornate silver frame that surrounds the glass itself. The intricate carvings of the metal create symmetrical twin arches at the top of the mirror, ending in fancy loops. In these arches two bright red gemstones are set, their edges cleanly cut and shining brilliantly. The glass of the mirror looks almost cracked, although you know it isn't really.

Just as the thought passes through your mind, someone calls out, “Why is the mirror cracked? I thought the creator fixed it.”

The answer pops up in your brain before the teacher even opens her mouth, but you still patiently listen to her as she explains to the rest of the class. “It’s not really cracked, it just appears that way to anyone who looks at it. The only time someone can see the mirror’s smooth surface is if they’re staring directly in the eyes of their own reflection. When someone does this, it is rumored they will see the truest form of themselves, the truth they desire the most.”

Someone else raises their hand, and the teacher calls on them this time. “So,” they ask, “you can get the answer to anything from that? Like how to become rich or live forever?”

The teacher masks what you can tell is a rather displeased look with yet another—fake—smile. She turns to face the entire class, a telltale sign that the student said something wrong. “Now, as we all know, there’s always a price to magic. When it comes to this mirror, due to its unstable powers, there are many prices.”

She continues her lecture, one that provides you with absolutely no new information, but being the ever-diligent student you are, you continue to listen intently. “If you look at the next page, it explains that anyone who wishes to use the Mirror must first present an offering that is very dear to them. If the Mirror accepts the offering, it allows the person to ask their question.” “And if it doesn’t?” your classmate asked.

“Does anyone know the answer to that?” The teacher looks around the class, before her eyes land on you. “Y/N?”

You brighten up at being called on, before rattling off the information as if it was common knowledge. “If the Mirror doesn’t accept the offering, or if it becomes displeased for any other reason, it will drag the person’s soul not to enlightenment, but to eternal torment. They will end up losing their mind and going crazy, with any form of intelligent life getting absorbed by the Mirror.”

“Correct again,” your teacher praises, and you beam. “And if that's not enough to ward any of you off, keep in mind that everyone who has ever used the Mirror has gone completely mad. No one has ever obtained the answer they sought; instead, they were all lost to its evil spirit. And let me assure you, many people throughout history have attempted to use the Mirror, only to fail. Therefore, it was voted as too dangerous for any beneficial uses by the Department of Magical Security. That is why it is contained here, under the watchful eye of our very own Headmaster Merlin.” 

At the mention of your father, everyone turns to stare at you, as if you’re somehow the reason the Mirror is locked up. Despite the stifling moment of silence, you shrug off the unwanted attention. After all, you’re used to this. Used to the looks that other kids give you when you receive special attention from teachers for being the smartest one, for always raising your hand, for answering questions perfectly, for acing every test and having every homework assignment completed—yet refusing to share your answers (“But if I tell you the answers, how will you ever learn?”). 

Used to the whispers that follow you everywhere you go, rumors of your family life; how your mother must have left because of your father’s bad habits, or neglect, or because she was having an affair with another man. Constant reminders of the past.

Used to how everyone walks on eggshells around you, how they all put you on a ledge far away from them. How people’s conversations quiet as you pass by, afraid you’ll go and report them to your father at the slightest whiff of mischief. How they always eye you when they pass notes in class or plan a prank—as if you weren't already aware of what they were doing—sometimes even begging you not to tell on them.

Used to how teachers and adults in your life expect the absolute best of you. Even when there’s no more left of yourself to give. 

How they expect you to be the absolute best, a paragon of righteousness. You always have to determine the right decision, make the right call, be the epitome of morality and virtue. This is your burden to bear, all by yourself; instead of worries over bad grades or boys, you suffer under the crushing weight of the expectations of everyone around you. The expectations of society.

Briiiiiiingg! The sound of the bell marking the end of class snaps you out of your musings. “Um, Miss?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the sounds of everyone packing their bags.

“You didn’t tell us what our homework assignment is for tonight.”

“Oh, that’s right! Thank you for reminding me, Y/N,” the teacher exclaims amidst a chorus of groans, along with a few colorful words directed your way. “Everyone, please finish up chapter three and be prepared to turn in your report on seventh century runes by the start of tomorrow’s class.”

After all, you’re used to how right they are about you.

…Or so they think.

“Oh good, Y/N! I was looking for you all over, you know,” a panting, all-too familiar voice calls out from behind you. You freeze in your tracks, grimacing. After a deep breath, you paint a smile on your face, before turning around.

A tall man, although much shorter due to his slouched posture, hurries towards you animatedly. His short, dark brown hair is matted against the top of his head, and a thick, bushy beard trails down from his chin, rounding above his mouth in a matching mustache. He dons a pair of thin spectacles that hang low on his large nose, dressed in a dark blue robe with faint golden embroidery and a waistcoat to match. A little brown stick juts out from a hidden pocket inside his robe, an object you can only assume to be his wand—which you are quite shocked he hadn’t lost today yet.

“Dad!” you say as enthusiastically as you can muster, but if anyone had been looking closely, they would have seen the way you ever so slightly cringe as he stumbles towards you. You silently thank the heavens that this man doesn’t pay much attention to anything. Not even to his own family.

Merlin clambers towards you, gripping one of your shoulders once you’re within arm’s length. He pants, leaning his weight on you as he catches his breath.

“Dad, what is it?” you ask him, trying your best not to fall over from supporting him.

“I-I…k-keys,” he wheezes.

“You lost your keys?” This certainly isn't the first time he’s come to you with this problem, and you definitely won't bet it'll be his last.

He nods, clutching his chest as his breathing finally evens out. “Phew,” he says, letting go of your shoulder. “My spare keys to my office…I can’t seem to find where I’ve put them.”

“You mean that big ring that has a copy of about every single key needed to unlock absolutely anything in this school?” you ask, incredulous at the way he nods feverishly. Honestly, how he doesn’t see the issue with what you just plainly pointed out is beyond you.

“Nope, haven’t seen them,” you reply. “Have you checked under the counter? Inside your desk drawers? In the little pockets sewn in the other pockets in all of your robes? On top of a clothing rack? Under the vase of orchids? In the fish bowl? In the left sock from your pair that has those reindeers on them?”

He nods at each one, sometimes hesitating as if recalling something deep in his memory , but then continuing to fervently nod nonetheless. You sigh again. “Well, I don’t know then. I suppose you’ve found someplace new to hide them this time.”

“Hmm…” he mutters, scratching his beard.

“Well, Dad, I don’t know if you heard, but I, uh, I made top student of my year last quarter. For the fifth consecutive time,” you mention, trying to ease into the conversation, albeit very tentatively and with great unease. Most people’s parents would applaud them and give them a prize for merely getting an A. Yours, on the other hand, barely remembers which grade you’re in.

Your father snaps his head up, staring at you with an eccentric haze in his eyes. You feel a small glimmer of hope; maybe he’s going to give you a pat on the back this time, or perhaps offer to take you out for a celebratory dinner. You wait for his response, completely still as if frozen in time, anticipation buzzing throughout every nerve.

“Wait…I believe I put it in the mouth of that owl statue…” He freezes erratically, brow furrowed in deep concentration, before releasing the tension in his body and going back to slumping. “No, I think I already checked there.”

You take a nice, long, deep breath, using up every last ounce of your carefully practiced self-control, which you had perfected through years of deploying in stifling social situations that made you want to crawl out of your own skin, to remain calm in this moment. “Well, I hope you find it.” Giving him one last attempt at even a semblance of a smile, you sharply turn back around on your heel, continuing down the hall to your first class of the day.

Watching the early morning rays of sunshine through the tall windows of the corridor, you think back to the discussion you had yesterday in your Artifacts class. You had answered every question correctly, every fact written in ink not only committed to memory but etched into the very foundation of your brain. 

You wonder if he knows of all the hard work you put into school. All the grueling hours you spend studying, all the sleepless nights you spend fighting against your body’s very nature to stay awake and keep your eyes open just enough to read the page. Heck, you wonder if he even remembers that your birthday is coming up next month—or that you gave him your wish list ages ago to ensure that he gets at least one present you asked for, unlike other years.

No, of course he doesn’t remember, you remind yourself. He doesn’t care about me. He never did.

Just like he didn’t care about Mom when she disappeared.

“Ugh, my nail chipped again. I should find the girl who did these and squeeze her to death.”

A tentacle floating in midair tightens and coils around nothingness, miming the strangulation of an innocent soul with a disturbing nonchalance. A girl with dark skin and long locks in colors such as blue, teal, and yellow, done up in a small bunch on top of her head, checks the painted nails on her left hand with a scowl on her face. 

“Come on, Uli, you’re getting your nails done like, every week,” the god of the Underworld replies, indifference practically seeping through his spiked leather jacket as he chews gum and gives the sea witch a look. “At least find yourself someone better.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Uliana snaps, dropping her hand exasperatedly as she huffs.

A sorceress with purple eyeshadow and two sleek, black horns protruding from the sides of her head rolls her eyes as she complains, “This is so boring.” 

“Well, what do you suggest we do then, love?” a crisply accented voice asks, sounding from a boy with neatly parted brown hair and a golden hook that ends in a sharp, gleaming point.

“Did you hear that there’s a, like, super dangerous magical object being kept here?” Maleficent asks, somehow keeping her voice incredibly monotonous and deathly uninterested, even as her words themselves convey enthusiasm. 

“Yeah, apparently it can tell anyone anything they want to know,” Hades replies. “I don’t know why they’re keeping it here, though.”

Uliana turns back to the group, a malicious glint in her eye. Even before she opens her mouth, the boy with powers rather similar to those of a snake can already guess what she’s going to say.

“How about we go steal it?” she asks, a wicked grin already twisting onto her features.

“You do realize that everyone who’s ever used it has gone mad, right?” Hook asks, raising his eyebrows incredulously as he gives Uliana a look of disbelief.

“We won’t use it ourselves, idiot,” she snaps. “But it’ll be fun to steal it and cause a panic. Right, Morgie?”

Morgie swallows, looking up at Uliana with wide eyes. “Of course! C’mon, you guys. Think of the mischief we can cause with it! We can make people think some kids used it and went crazy”—he leans in, excitement growing as he speaks, making wide gestures with his hands—“and everyone would be so scared! They’d probably cancel school, too!”

Uliana grins diabolically again. “Morgie, honey,” she starts, slipping one of her tentacles under his chin, lifting his face up towards her. “How about you do this one?”

“I-I, uh…” he stammers, uncertainty laced in his voice. He definitely wasn't expecting this turn of events.

“Come on, please,” Uliana pouts. “Do it for me? After all, you’re only stealing a little mirror. How hard can that be?”

Morgie glances up at her again, before tugging uncomfortably on the black scarf wrapped around his neck. “But…it’s super dangerous…”

“Don’t you want to be evil? Don't you want to wreak havoc and cause pain?” Uliana taunts. “Or, are you”—she lets out a faux gasp—“afraid?”

“N-no, not at all!" Morgie exclaims, trying to sound more courageous than he feels. “I’ll do it!”

“Perfect,” the sea witch coos, removing her tentacle arm. “You’ll do it tonight.” She turns back to the group, adding, “I hear that old troll keeps the most dangerous and evil artifacts locked up in a room off the east wing, on the third level.”

Morgie gulps, already trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’d be doing the heist tonight. Hook, jumping off a ledge, asks, “You mean the one guarded by different spells and magical alarms?”

Uliana grins wickedly. “Nothing a little bit of Kraken Powder can’t fix.” She holds up a small vial hanging from a string around her neck like a necklace. It's common knowledge how incredibly rare Kraken Powder is, which makes sense, given how potent its anti-magic properties are.

Everyone catches on to what Uliana's implying, causing the group to all laugh together at their evil plan. Morgie tries his best to join along, but he can’t quite seem to get rid of the uneasy knot already forming in the pit of his stomach.

“You remember the plan?”

Uliana’s slippery tentacles glisten under the moonlight, flailing around behind her in midair. Morgie nods, attempting to still his quivering hands before Uliana notices them. He tries, with a miserable sense of impending doom, to swallow the lump in his throat, but to no avail.

“Here, I stole these from Merlin’s office,” Uliana explains as one of her tentacles drops a large ring filled with probably around two dozen keys, each in various shapes and colors, straight into Morgie's open palm. “One of these has to fit the door. You didn’t forget what you need to do, right?”

Morgie clears his throat, choking out a meager, “Yep.” He pockets the keys, seriously hoping they don’t clink together and make too much noise while he moves. As Uliana already repeated a hundred times, “It’s crucial you don’t get caught.”

Morgie reaches up to touch the vial hanging from his neck yet again, making sure it’s still there—after all, better safe than sorry. Once more, he glances at the large grandfather clock in the common area where he and Uliana lurk in the shadows, waiting. Finally, its bells chime midnight, and Uliana turns back to him as the ringing reverberates around them.

“Go, hurry!” the sea witch urges, pushing him toward the door with a tentacle. 

Morgie nods, hurriedly rushing to the exit. The first part of the plan—a plan he so diligently committed to memory—is for him to sneak out while the bells are still ringing, to mask the sound of the door opening and closing. Thankfully, he makes it out by the tenth chime, carefully closing the door to make sure the latch doesn’t sound by the eleventh.

Okay, I’m really doing this, Morgie thinks as he stares into the deserted corridor. He tiptoes around silently, but still as quickly as possible. Time is, obviously, of utmost importance in missions like this.

At last, he reaches his destination. The unassuming—and misleadingly so—wooden door looms over him, ominous through the lens of his knowledge of what lies beyond it. 

An amateur villain would simply pick the lock and open the door, but Morgie is too experienced in such endeavors to make a rookie mistake like that (Uliana told him what to do, step-by-step).

He hovers his hand above the lock, taking a steadying breath as he summons the powers that reside within him. His pupils shrink into the tiniest slivers of blackness as a dark, magical smoke emits from his palm. He makes a faint hissing noise, reciting an old incantation in a tongue far different from what normal humans use, and the lock softly clicks as the door creaks open. Practically inviting him inside.

Morgie pushes it open the rest of the way, making sure to shut it behind him so as to not raise the suspicion of any night guards roaming the halls.

He turns back around, now faced with a dark, menacing hallway. Walking slowly down it, he looks around with a chilling captivation. Old suits of armor leer down at him, rustic and each coated with a thick layer of dust. Large spiderwebs cover every visible nook and cranny, which makes Morgie exceedingly grateful that the actual spiders aren't in his line of sight.

At the end of the corridor stands yet another large door, matching the first. This one, according to Uliana, has even more security than the other. Time to use my secret weapon, Morgie thinks, reaching to pull the vial of Kraken Powder out from under his shirt. He opens the cap and sprinkles a little of the finely grained dust into his palm, then blows it over the lock of the door.

At first glance, it appears the powder didn’t work, as nothing seem to change. But anyone with an affinity for magical energy can feel the spells placed on the lock of the door melt away without a trace. After the door is unarmed, Morgie fishes in his pocket for the keys. They clang horribly as he pulls them out, echoing up into the tall ceiling of the hallway. He freezes, listening intently for footsteps somewhere outside. When he hears none, Morgie begins the task of figuring out which key fits the lock.

He goes through nearly half the ring (Seriously, who keeps all their keys in one place?) before finding the one that fits perfectly. Twisting it with a swift movement, the door unlocks, and he creeps inside. 

To his immense shock, there isn't a room behind the door filled with evil objects or piled with gold coins. Instead, there’s a…

…library?

Morgie walks inside, utterly confused. Had Uliana gotten the location wrong? No, there's no way. The doors were too guarded for a normal library.

He continues down one of the aisles, wondering why he's never seen this place before. It is extremely large, with arched ceilings meters and meters above his head. Tall bookshelves tower over him, so tall that he can barely see the highest shelves.

Lined against the walls and placed on the shelves are also glass jars and containers filled with seemingly normal items: a seashell necklace, a deck of playing cards, a cane with the head of a snake. But there's something sinister about them; some strange aura that hovers above each object. In fact, it fills the entire expanse of the library. 

Morgie stops by one of the shelves, reading the titles. He brushes his fingers along one of the spines—and that’s when he feels it. An ominous energy rushes through his fingertips, electrifying his every nerve at it travels through him, causing him to realize that this is no normal book. It’s a book of dark magic.

He spins around in a circle, eyeing the entirety of the library. Now that he thinks about it, the whole place has the heavy atmosphere of dark magic. And that’s when it hits him: this is no normal library, and neither are the books. This is the room of forbidden artifacts. It just so happens that most of those artifacts are books, probably containing content deemed too dangerous for normal people to learn.

Morgie briefly considers taking a few of the books off the shelves and perusing through them, or maybe even slipping a couple in his jacket and taking them back with him. After all, all these forbidden books must have countless evil spells and potions. If he and the rest of his group got their hands on these…

However, after a moment of serious consideration, he decides the better of it. He's here for another purpose, and Uliana would be outraged if he only came back with a few meager books, no matter the contents.

Continuing through the labyrinth of shelves, Morgie looks around meticulously, trying to figure out a rhyme or reason to the order of things. No student has ever been in here, and he doubts many of the teachers have, either. Therefore, there were no references or guides to help him and his friends figure out where in the room the Mirror is located. Plus, he doesn’t think any of them had expected the place to be so colossal—he surely hadn't.

After a few minutes of stumbling around in the near darkness, he finally comes across a ladder leaning against one of the shelves. It’s so tall he can’t see the top of it, but deciding it’s his best chance at finding his bearings, Morgie begins the long climb up.

He isn’t really afraid of heights. Not in the way that some people refuse to go on anything more than a few feet off the ground. But he honestly doesn’t see how anyone couldn’t feel at least a little queasy at the high altitude. I must be a dozen meters off the ground, Morgie realizes as he glances down. I wonder what would happen if I fell—

He cuts the thought off before he can imagine the gruesome details. Instead, he looks back up and around the library. From all the way up here, he can see the top of the shelves, and he really was right: this place was designed to be a maze.

On the far side of the area, his eyes spot lots of glass cases reflecting the soft moonlight and flames of enchanted candles. That must be where most of the objects are kept. Chances are, the Mirror’s there too.

He mentally charts out a course through the labyrinth, trying to remember the directions for more than two seconds. Right, left, left again, forward, right, right again, left, forward—or wait, was it right? After a few minutes, he climbs back down the ladder, praying to the demons of the Underworld that he remembers the path correctly and doesn’t get lost.

Morgie makes his way through the maze, growing more and more fascinated by the creepy and wonderful objects around him. He can’t stop thinking about how nice—and useful—it would be to pocket some of them, or maybe come back here and spend more time studying them. Every time he passes by something that intrigues him, his mind immediately wonders if it would fit inside his clothes.

Despite this, he resists the urge to steal things, as he can’t have anything weighing him down in case there are more challenges or enchantments he has to disarm before getting the Mirror. But perhaps on the way back…

His train of thought drifts away as he finally reaches a large area that is surrounded by glass cases, on tables and lining the shelves set into the walls. He never imagined there would be so many forbidden artifacts in total, much less in one place, although maybe that's because he's never really paid attention in class.

From the top of a shelf a few meters away, something catches his eye. A mysterious, eerie white fog pours from one of the highest shelves, dissipating as it cascades down the front of the bookcase. He remembers hearing something about mist related to the Mirror, and deciding it’s worth a shot, he moves closer to check it out.

And that’s when he sees it.

A dark flurry of movement from another one of the top shelves catches his attention. Morgie snaps his head up, brows furrowing as he squints, eyes trailing the structures above him. But he can’t quite make out anything, at least not in the faint light, so he hesitantly shrugs it off and continues towards the mysterious fog—albeit not being able to shake off the strange feeling he has that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He takes a few more steps, and just as he's nearly convinced himself he’s only being paranoid, it happens again. Now that he’s closer, he can see there’s another tall ladder reaching up to around where the movement is happening, close to the Mirror. This time, his eyes register the shape. 

A dark, human figure moves up the ladder, blending in and out of the shadows. 

Morgie’s eyes grow wide, pupils shrinking back into snake-like slits as a reptilian hiss escapes his mouth. There shouldn't be anyone else here.

The figure freezes in place before turning around to face him, hanging halfway up the ladder. Although Morgie can’t see their face, concealed by a thick black hood, he can tell they saw him. 

He stretches out his arms, summoning black magic that swirls around his hands and up to his elbows again. After but a second of him and the hooded figure staring at each other—which somehow felt like an hour—Morgie throws his arm forward, aimed for the figure.

A ball of twisting dark energy shoots from his hand and towards the hooded face. The figure ducks down, dodging the attack. Undeterred, Morgie hurls more swirls of dark magic. The figure dodges the first few of them, but they must have realized that merely ducking down won't be enough to win this fight, because they summon a shield of buzzing yellow electricity to block the next few attacks.

Morgie quickly becomes aware that he isn’t winning the fight like this; he needs a new strategy. And that’s when he spots it.

He puts his hands close together in front of his chest, gathering a potent sphere of black magic between his palms. The figure stands there, motionless, still hanging onto the ladder.

If you can’t knock them down, pull the carpet out from under their feet.

He thrusts both of his hands forward, sending the ball of magic not at the figure, but at the base of the ladder instead. By the time they realize what he's doing, it’s too late.

Morgie’s magic collides with the bottom rungs, exploding the material and sending wooden splinters flying everywhere. He watches as the figure falls, swiftly summoning a flash of lightning below them as they plummet, easing the crash as they hit the ground. 

The aftermath of the explosion has Morgie ducking down and covering his face with his arm, barely being able to make out what happened to the hooded person. As the dust finally settles, Morgie spots the figure get up, gripping their head as if in pain. They stumble a little, then bush off their black robe as they check for other injuries.

As if abruptly remembering why they had fallen, they spin around to face Morgie. He stares, wide-eyed in pure disbelief, as the figure comes face-to-face with him. Even though they don’t seem to be too hurt, and definitely still alive, the force of the impact caused their hood to be knocked off their head.

Morgie’s mouth drops open as he registers the figure’s face.

There, in front of him, in the forbidden archive harboring some of the world's most dangerously powerful magical objects during the dead of night, stands the headmaster’s daughter.

Your grimace grows as you lock eyes with a boy with light brown hair, hazel eyes shrunk into slits resembling a snake’s, causing your head to throb even worse.

You watch as the realization dawns upon the boy’s face, cursing the skies for this little issue that you now have to deal with.

He knows your secret.

“Y-you, you, you’re the headmaster’s daughter,” he sputters out, disbelief still painted on his face, as clear as day. Seriously, if he keeps his jaw open like that, it’ll fall off.

“Yeah, no shit,” you spit back, not paying much attention to his stunned little face. Your mind is overwhelmed with a swirling whirlwind of thoughts and ideas on how to get rid of this new liability, each plan vying for your attention, each one crueler than the last.

After all, now that he knows who you really are, how you're not a rule-abiding goody-goody, there’s no point in keeping up your sweet, innocent facade. You finally let your mask slip off, the mask that you wear constantly in the presence of others. The mask that you only relieve yourself of when you’re all alone, with no one to see your callous, vindictive, cynical side. Your true side.

Ever since that day, at least. The day that forever changed your life.

“What are you doing here?” the boy stammers, as if it isn't already dreadfully obvious.

“The same thing you’re doing here.” “How do you know what I’m doing here?”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. Honestly, this kid could not be more of a dunderhead. “Look, I don’t have time for this. Either get out of my way, or I’ll make you get out of my way.”

At your threat, the boy, whose name you happen to remember from a class you took with him last year, changes his stance. Morgie widens his legs, arms fanned out besides him whilst summoning dark energy that clings to his skin, alive and breathing, yet submissive to its master’s will.

“Aren’t you like, a goody-goody?” he asks, face still scrunched in confusion. “I’ve heard teachers go on and on about how good your grades are, how polite you are, how you’re the perfect student.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed at his relentless questions. It 's already bad enough that he knows this much. You don't need him finding out more.

“Well, looks can be deceiving,” you respond as vaguely as possible, hoping that it’ll shut him up. Instead, he cocks his head to the side, shooting back, “I don’t really think so.”

You try your best to not encourage him and his irritating questions, but you can’t help but begrudgingly ask, “How so?”

Morgie looks at you for a beat with an intent gaze, before replying, “I always thought you were too pretty for a hero.”

Uh, excuse me, what? you think. Now it’s your turn to be shocked. “You don’t find me scary?” You had always assumed that people would be terrified if they saw your real, unfiltered side.

“No, not really. I mean, I’m evil too. If anything, I find you even hotter now that I know you’re not a goody-goody.”

Blinking hard, your eyebrows shoot into the air. There is no way he just said that. Your mind is uncontrollably reeling at his words, but only for a brief moment. Before you can read too deeply into it, your attention is quickly snapped back to the black magic still swirling around him, growing by the second. Ah, a ploy to distract me. Maybe he is more clever than he lets on.

“Listen, Morgie,” you snarl threateningly. “That mirror is mine.”

“Wait, you’re here for the Mirror too?” he asks, with far too light a tone for a situation such as this.

“Th-that was obvious the whole time!” you exclaim, unbelievably irritated. “What did you think I was here for?” “I dunno, a book or something.” He shrugs casually, before narrowing his eyes. “Wait, what do you want the Mirror for?”

“That’s none of your business,” you snap back, fingers thrumming with the rush of energy as you summon your own magic. Letting your curiosity get the better of you yet again, you add, “Why do you want it?”

“I’m a villain. I steal things for fun,” he replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What does a goody-two-shoes hero want to do with a forbidden artifact?”

Barely listening to his words, you study him carefully, needing to know the extent of his powers if you’re going to win the inevitable fight that you can sense coming. You see how his ever-growing dark magic stalls temporarily as he talks, probably from getting distracted while speaking. That’s it. Deciding to buy yourself some time, you use this little weakness to your advantage.

“I want the Mirror because I want to use it.” Even though you’re planning on entertaining his pointless questions, you definitely aren’t going to give him information for free.

“Use it? To get an answer?” His magic hesitates again.

“No, to look at myself.” You see the way his eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you’re pretty sure you’re about to implode. “Of course to get an answer, you dumbass! Unlike you, I don’t go risking my life ‘for fun.’”

“What are you even going to use as an offering? You have to give it something, you know.”

You sigh, reaching underneath your shirt to pull out a small silver locket, its chain blackened from the trials of time. Dangling it from your fingers, you show it to Morgie.

“A locket?” he asks incredulously. “The offering's supposed to be something really special or precious.”

“It is really precious,” you hiss, tucking it back into your shirt. “It’s the most precious thing I own. If anything’s going to make the Mirror work, it’s this.”

“Well, you’re not going to get the Mirror anyways. It’s mine.” He widens his stance again, his magic continuing to grow around him. No, I need a little more time, you think, masking your growing panic with an insouciant eye roll.

“Why?” you question. “You’re not even going to use it.”

“I still need it.” “But why?”

“I won’t tell you if you won’t tell me!” he exclaims. Despite his little outburst, you can tell there’s something he’s hiding. After all, you are a master of concealing the truth yourself. “Plus, you know that everyone who's ever used the mirror has gone crazy, right? You’re literally sentencing yourself to a life of madness.” You give him an unamused look. “I’m the top of our year. Obviously I know everything there is to know about the Mirror of Ytirev.”

He gazes at you in a way you can’t decipher, but it’s softer, more sympathetic than his former glare. You notice that his snake eyes have disappeared as well, despite the magical energy still surrounding him. “Then why are you still doing this, despite the risks?”

You falter, for just a second, letting a sliver of emotion slip through. But as quickly as it happened, you patch it back up, returning to your cold, glowering face. “It’s a price I’m willing to pay.” You expect him to drop it after that, but he continues to press you. “You’re prepared to give up your morals? Your status as a hero? You’re willing to lose all your integrity for one answer?”

God, he talks too much. With a sniff, you throw your hands out in front of you, releasing a bright flash of crackling electricity that had been building up as you cry out, “I don’t care how evil I have to become, I will find the truth, one way or another!”

The lightning shoots forward without warning, hot as an inferno, piercing straight through his chest and flinging him backwards into a shelf like a ragdoll. He falls down to his knees, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s going to get up again. Clutching his chest, he wheezes yet still manages to stand up, summoning wispy black tendrils that shoot at you like arrows.

You tuck and roll, dodging them, whilst building up more crackling lightning between your fingers. The last tendril hits far too close to you for comfort, burning a hole in your robe. That would have been my flesh, had it hit me, you realize in sudden horror.

Seeing as how your opponent is summoning even more dark magic to hit you with, now engulfing his entire body, you break into a sprint. Black spears collide with the shelves behind you one after another, barely missing you, as you run past glass cases, each containing a different artifact that glistens in the silver moonlight. Something across the arena seizes your attention, and a plan begins to piece itself together in your head. You continue your dash towards the shelves behind Morgie. Once you reach a section with books instead of random magical objects, you slow your pace. Amidst Morgie's unrelenting attacks, you create a golden shield of electricity that sparks and crackles, almost alive, and which reaches as tall as you. You jog past the shelves, head craned as you scan the book titles as quickly as possible.

Morgie persists in launching balls of dark magic directly at you, smashing into your shield. Your panic rises as cracks begin to form, at first only small fissures, but growing larger and larger with each sphere that pummels your way.

You run parallel to the shelf, which boxes in the rest of the area in a rectangular shape, eyes frantically darting over words with barely enough time for your brain to comprehend them.

Glancing up as a whorl of blackness blasts the books resting directly in front of you, you duck down, yet continue to run. That’s when you see a thick tome, larger than the others and bearing a dark red cover, jutting out from a shelf a few meters in front of you. With your magical shield barely staying intact, you lunge towards it, snatching the book as you fall towards the ground and somersault behind a desk-sized wooden stand to hide. On top of it stands a glass display case, with faint candlelight illuminating the rustic, yet enchanted, metal shield contained inside it.

You crouch down, flipping through the pages of the book desperately, trying to find the incantation you know has to be in there. One time, on one of your random visits to the library—the normal one, not this hell of the most cursed items in the land—you had picked up a text that talked about the history of spellcasting. Detailed inside was a description of one of the first books of curses ever written, which had been banned from production shortly after its release due to the nature of its contents. There had been a small sketch next to the explanation, which just so happens to match the tome now weighing in your hands.

Morgie’s blasts of magic don’t stop, pounding the wooden stand and the glass case alike. You think he yells something, but you can’t tell; you’re too focused on squinting at the fine print on the page, eyes wildly scanning the names of the spells. The desk quakes with every attack, causing your hands to tremble as you rifle through the pages hastily, pointer finger trailing down the lists of incantations. 

Finally, your eyes lock onto the one you want. “Obiectum impedit semitam,” you recite, gaze darting between the page and the glass case above you. It quivers vigorously, yet remains unscathed due to its magic-bulletproof nature.

“Evanescet a lumine irae meae!” As soon as the last syllable leaves your tongue, the glass case dissipates into thin air. Your hand darts up, clutching the shield and shoving it in front of you. Just in time, as the wooden stand protecting you explodes from the force of Morgie’s dark magic, blasting into a shower of mere splinters that rain down around you. The shockwave causes you to recoil, even as the shield absorbs the brunt of the impact.

Quickly regaining your bearings, you crouch even lower behind the metal. Thumbing through the book pages briskly, your eyes skim the ink, trying to find the first spell that can help you now. 

“Inimicus meus, caveto tibi,” you mutter the incantation rapidly, trying your best not to stumble over the archaic words—who knows what sort of havoc that would make. “Transi me et in carcere gelido capieris.”

You peek your head over the shield as you say the last line, locking in on your target. He stands there, panting, worn from his latest, potent attack. Morgie barely has enough time to widen his eyes as the final word escapes your mouth, instantly creating ice stalagmites that burst forth from the ground, crisscrossing as they trap him in a prison of ice. They tower high all around while entrapping him in a circle, frost coating their sleek outsides, which narrow into dangerously sharp tips.

The air turns frigid, and you can see flurries of movement as Morgie thrashes within his glacial cell. Already, he’s trying to break out. Through the cracks between the icicles, you can see a swirling vortex of black magic fighting the freezingly cold charm. Even though it is a strong spell, you know it won’t last for long. Especially not with the dark energy that is slowly, yet surely, thawing out the ice.

Springing up again, you bolt to the shelves on the other side, jumping over small puddles forming on the floor. The book is still open in your hands as you wildly tear through one page after another, the minuscule words shaking and blurring together as you run. Honestly, what kind of asshole decides to print in such a tiny font? you internally rage. Flipping through the large sheets of paper filled with small text reminds you of reading a dictionary. In a way, the spellbook is a dictionary of sorts, with the way every curse is listed alphabetically, in a neat and orderly manner—much unlike your current frenzied state, with how your heart pounds against your chest as if trying to break free, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins cuts off any semblance of a coherent thought forming in your brain.

Twisting sharply to your right, you dart towards the shelf that the Mirror stands on. You stare up at it as you continue to run, eyes practically sending a silent plea while it sits on its throne undisturbed, watching the scenes before it unfold as if viewing a play from the highest seat in the opera house; somehow mildly amused, yet still condescendingly blasé at the same time.

Flipping to the L section of the spellbook, you scan the page for a spell that can help you reach it at last. Finally finish the last stretch of your journey. 

The icicle prison behind you makes a dreadfully loud crack. Your heart only races even faster with a jolt, your breathing coming out only in sharp, erratic gulps that make you feel light-headed, as if you’re not getting enough oxygen no matter how much you gasp for air. 

As you scan the page, this time with a renewed fervor that has your eyes darting across the words, too panicked to even finish a sentence before leaping to the next, you make a very interesting revelation indeed. For whatever reason, the genius who wrote this book decided not to add levitation to the list of spells, but instead included lignum pullelare, which roughly translates to “sprouting a tree”.

Another thunderous boom sounds again from the constantly fracturing icicles, a violent reminder of the ticking clock. You decide that this spell, no matter how absurd, is the best shot you have. Inhaling another sharp breath that burns your lungs, you cry, “Surge, virens gigas, de terra immunda,” your eyes glued to the page. “Ascendunt ad lunam et super caelos!”

A branch smashes into your chest, knocking the wind out of you—you really need to get used to how quickly these spells take effect—lifting you up as a colossal tree ascends from the ground, growing much more rapidly than even a beanstalk, much less a normal tree. The metal shield slips out of your grasp from the impact, your fingers desperately flailing in its direction futile as it falls and hits the floor with a dull thud.  

Your get snapped back to the present from the momentary distraction as your body starts slipping off the branch, with how it's quickly growing into a thick, strong limb with no end in sight. You slide off the ever-stretching wood, scratches cutting into your arms as you frantically try to wrap them around the branch, until only your hands are still hanging on. Using the book, which remains gripped firmly in one hand, you fling it open and cling to each cover. The book's pages spread wide around the wood as you hold on for dear life.

You continue shooting upwards along with the tree, the bookcase racing past you, when a realization hits you like a strike of lightning. This tree won’t stop growing anytime soon, and when it does, you’ll be too high up—if you're still alive, that is.

Glancing above you, you spot the Mirror and the shelf it sits on getting closer, and getting closer fast. Making up your mind, or rather, making a brash decision fueled by your skyrocketing panic, you wait until the shelf you need to reach comes into view. Then, you jump off. 

Flinging yourself towards the bookcase, you manage to latch on to a shelf, fingers wrapping around the ledge while your feet find purchase on another ridge a few feet below. The book remains clutched in one hand, your iron grip refusing to let it go. Realizing you can't do anything while holding it, you risk letting go with one hand. Gripping onto the shelf with your other hand, you tuck the book under your chin, angling your head down as you struggle to hold it between your neck and body. 

You peer up at your grasp on the shelf, the unforgiving ridges digging into your skin, carving painful lines into your fingers. Your feet barely remain balanced, the ledge not jutting out as far as you’d like it to. Turning your heels in to stay on the little shelf space there is in front of the books, you wince as the ridges between your arms and legs bite into your body. The sweat coating your palms causes your grip to start slipping off, your eyes wide in sheer terror as you let go for a brief second, thrusting your hands further back and hooking onto the edge again.

Glimpsing back down, you see the Mirror resting in its glass cage a few shelves below you, the strange white mist slithering underneath the glass and pouring out over the bookcase like a waterfall. With your chin still uncomfortably positioned as to not lose the book, you release on hand and leg from the shelf, leaving you hanging in between life and death itself.

You move your free hand down one ledge below, then the corresponding foot, haltingly scaling your way down the bookcase. Each time precariously letting go of your grip or footing to blindly feel below yourself for another ledge to stay on. After a few iterations, your feet finally stand on the same shelf as the Mirror, right next to the glass case.

Another piercing boom echoes behind you, making you squeeze your eyes shut as you flinch against the bookcase, quivering breaths sending your heartbeat shooting through the roof. Your eyes dart down to the book you squeeze with your neck, then to where your hands are barely clinging on to the shelf. There’s no chance of using the book to make the glass disappear again. Cursing yourself for not memorizing the incantation earlier, your mind swarms with thoughts, each one so loud they drown out each other.

An idea forms in your head—or rather, slams itself into the sides of your brain like a wave crashing in a bottle while it screams for attention—as you warily lift one foot on top of the heel of the other shoe, maneuvering it off your foot.

Now with only a sock left, you press your toes against the glass container. Inhaling a sharp breath, causing your lungs to ache as they scream for more, you muster enough energy to summon a bolt of lightning, focusing all your attention on passing electrical current through your body and to your foot.

The hotness of the electricity heats up the glass, melting it until there’s a decent-sized hole the size of your foot there. Shuffling to the side and raising your shoeless foot to the ledge above, you draw back your other leg and smash it into the glass, causing the compromised structure to shatter everywhere.

Climbing down the bookcase farther, you come face-to-face with the Mirror of Yteriv at last. It looks exactly like it was depicted in that textbook, sporting an elegant silver frame and seemingly shattered surface, with the two rubies staring at you like glowing eyes. 

A loud explosion rings behind you, resounding throughout the entire library. You snatch the Mirror with one hand, turning your head to the side as far as you can without letting the book slip, just in time to see Morgie demolish the ice prison as he breaks free.

It's clear that since now he's no longer bound by frozen spikes of ice, you’re his next target. Taking in an abrupt gasp of air—the only preparation you have—you let go of the shelf.

You plummet towards the ground for only a second before creating small thunderbolts beneath each of your feet, suspending you in midair. Already, you can see Morgie charging up another attack, aiming it straight at you. Book in one hand, Mirror in the other, you take off into a run through the air. Small platforms of electricity form beneath your feet with every step, dissipating again as soon as your foot lifts.

Balls of dark magic hurl towards you, and you already know you have no chance of winning this fight—not like this. But you don’t need to win. Glancing down at the Mirror clutched in your palm as you jump off a thunderbolt, right as it gets blasted by a black orb, you realize that you’ve already completed your mission. Now, all that’s left is to get out of here.

Your mind scrambles for a way out that doesn’t involve getting blasted into smithereens, eyes still fixed on the Mirror as you continue to dash around in midair. Watching the wispy tendrils of white smoke pour out of the artifact, a previous memory from something you read in a book hits you like a flash.

As the Mirror of Ytirev connects to its wielder’s soul, so do its properties, the book had said. The mist emitted by the Mirror fluctuates with the wielder’s emotions; the more powerfully one feels their emotions, negative ones in particular, the more smoke it produces.

A room filled with smoke? You can’t think of a more perfect cover to help you escape.

Grip tightening even further around the Mirror as you leap to another lightning platform, dodging a new attack, you rack your brain for every negative emotion you have—which turns out to be a lot. The adrenaline pumping through your veins as your life flashes before your very eyes from every near-death experience. The way your heart shatters a little more every time your father overlooks your accomplishments, not paying any mind to how hard you strive to please him. Just to get a single smile, a pat on the back, a meager look of pride in your direction. One simple “That’s my daughter!” sent your way.

The anger deep inside you starts to bubble, pure rage sizzling and growing hotter every second you spend lost in your emotions. A fury that is always there, making every breath a little shorter, every happy moment a little duller. A dormant feeling that is usually left undisturbed, except for when it's triggered. Then it becomes a fire that burns hotter than any flame in the depths of hell.

The emotions and thoughts and memories that you keep suppressed in a corner of your heart all coming flooding out, like a dam finally bursting free. How could everyone strand you like that? Leave you all alone to suffer through your grief, while always expecting you to be kind and cheerful. They know what happened, and they have to know how badly it hurts. Yet not a single one cares. Not your dad, not your teachers, not your friends. No one in the entire world ever so much as offered a shoulder for you to cry on or gave you a comforting smile. Not one “I’m here for you” or “It’s all right, take your time.” No, all they did was raise their expectations, setting the bar so high until you’re barely clinging to it, trying to pull yourself up despite your weary arms. Lifting it to such heights that losing your grip and falling would mean certain death.

You think of the snarling, twisted animal that resides deep inside you, embedded into your very being, clawing at the aching hole in your heart left by the absence of your mother. Finally letting it break free after being caged for so long, you feel, oh-so agonizingly, how it scratches its way up your throat and escapes you in a wretched sob.

Why did she leave me? How could she leave me? I’m her daughter, for fuck’s sake. Who can abandon their child like that? Does she not care about me? 

Did she ever even love me?

Painful thoughts consume your head as a few stray tears run down your cheek. You grit your teeth, sucking in shaky gasps of breaths. Smothered by your anguish, submerged in emotion.

Yet, despite all this, it works. Remembering the entire point of your self-inflicted despair, your head snaps down to the Mirror. Although your legs burn and throb from all the incessant running, you can’t stop. At least not yet.

Thick fog exudes from the Mirror, rapidly engulfing the whole of the arena. Within a few moments, everything is covered in the dense whiteness, so heavy you can barely see your hand, even if you hold it directly in front of your face.

Morgie disappears in the fog as well, to the point where you can no longer see nor hear him. Assuming that he’s no longer a threat for now—if you can’t see him, he can’t see you, and if he can’t see you, he can’t attack you—you summon a staircase of thunderbolts and walk down it until you safely step onto solid ground.

Your legs practically give way at the first touch of hard floor, the urge to collapse and lie on the ground excruciatingly strong. Mustering up the last of your strength and willpower, you force your feet to step one after another, desperately trying to distract yourself from the fire burning in your muscles at even the strain of supporting your own weight. 

Almost done. Almost.

Practically rendered blind by the all-encompassing mist, you keep one hand outstretched, making sure you won’t collide with anything—especially Morgie. Pocketing the Mirror, you continue through the fog. You had made sure to note your direction in relation to the exit before everything became completely invisible as to help you easily find your way out without getting lost. But after a few minutes in the overwhelming whiteness, you start to doubt yourself. 

What’s even worse is that there’s no sign of Morgie. You’re not foolish enough to expect him to pop up right in front of you, but you don’t hear him making any sounds either. No footsteps, no breathing, nothing. Your strides are far more muffled as you take your other shoe off too, annoyed at the limping effect the difference in heights causes. But nothing from him.

Your mind starts wandering to what happened to him, refusing to admit that the smallest part of you feels the tiniest bit concerned. Does he need help? Is he still alive? Your intentions were to steal the Mirror and disarm him, not kill him. You’re not evil enough for that.

Not yet, anyway.

After stumbling through the murky fog for a bit longer, you start to notice that now, you can see your hand extended in front of you. The fog is thinning, you think, which means I must be nearing the edge of this area and heading towards the bookcases.

A little bit further, and the fog disperses to all but a thin mist. The bookshelves in front of you come into view, the rows and rows of them finally visible as they expand into the distance. Follow those, and you’ll find the door you came in through. 

So, so close…

You take a few more steps, the heavy spellbook still in hand as you reach into your pocket with an unusual, yet profound, sense of paranoia, ensuring the Mirror is still there. Out of nowhere, you feel a strange sort of chill cover your feet. You chalk it up to your lack of shoes, but, not being able to resist the urge, you glance down.

That’s when you see strange feathery tendrils of black smoke on the floor, in stark contrast to the thin mist that hangs in the air. They slither and wrap around your feet as they move, condensing together in front of you and rising up a meter off the ground in the shape of a hissing black cobra.

The cobra flares out its hood whilst flicking its tongue at you, swaying side to side as it stretches to its full height. You stumble backwards, hesitating for only a second too long before it dawns on you where the snake came from.

Behind you, a brooding voice sounds. “Going somewhere?” Morgie asks.

You spin around sharply, dismay and a special breed of horror painted on your face as you turn to face him. “I don’t care what you do, the Mirror is mine,” you growl, shooting him a lethal glare that truly could kill.

“I don’t think so.” He gathers more black magic around his palm, creating an orb that whirls around like a dark, spherical tornado. You both stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, a fracture in time, trying to decide your next move—when he suddenly throws his hand forward.

You flinch away, yanking the book in front of your face as a shield. After a second, when you don’t feel anything, you open your eyes, turning back in his direction in confusion.

And that’s when you see that you weren't the target of his attack.

The book in front of you was.

The dark magic gnaws at it from the back cover, where it hit on impact, eating away at the pages. “No!” you scream, desperately flipping through the paper as the magic destroys it. Your own magic may be quite strong, but since you're barely allowed to practice it, it’s nowhere near the son of Morgana’s abilities or prowess. This book was your only chance at defeating him.

Frantically rifling through the pages, a look of pure horror on your face, you try to scan the spells for something to save you. Teleportation is soon gone, as well as fireball. As soon as you catch a glimpse of a spell name that could be helpful, the incantation is instantly obliterated.

Panic building faster than even the speed of the dark magic, you flip to the front of the book, trying to find a spell at the beginning of the alphabet so you have enough time to actually read the incantation.

But apple is of no use, and neither is bridge. Morgie stands there, gaze transfixed on your struggling form, wickedly smiling with an amused raise of his eyebrows. Guess he really is a villain after all.

The black energy eroding the book spreads across both covers, demolishing the tome as you hold it in your feverishly trembling hands. Your eyes race across the letters, desperate to find one that could even have a chance at saving you.

Dragon, no.

Claws, not that.

Chasm, not that either.

None of these will help me! your internal voice screeches, the book dissipating as you hold it. Then, your eyes snag along a word.

Chains. The perfect spell. 

“Ut qui inritat, catenas sentiat iras,” you wildly spit out, heart racing, tongue unable to move fast enough. Your eyes dart frenziedly ahead of your mouth, running on sheer panic as you try to memorize the words in case the book does disappear. “Pati in compedibus, ut solvas pretium peccatorum tuorum,” you continue to cry out.

As the last fibers of the pages evaporate in black fumes, you thrust a hand in Morgie’s direction, yelling the last few words. “Eris enim sine fuga ligatus!”

Nothing.

Then, boom.

The residual magic from the demolished book, no longer contained in a physical form, explodes, the force sending you flying backwards. You soar for a couple feet before colliding with a shelf behind you, your head slamming against a sharp edge.

You crumple to the floor, body bruised, beaten, and bloody. The world spins, your head throbs, and you feel so generally shitty that you want to crawl out of your body and leave this physical hindrance behind.

Your head feels too heavy to lift up, and so it falls forward, swaying back and forth. A warm sensation on the back of your skull draws your senses back to the present, and you lift one weary hand to the spot. Bringing it back down in front of your face, you see a whole lot of red smothered on it, just as more trickles down onto the base of your head and neck.

Groaning, you lift your face to scan your surroundings as the dust settles yet again. The fog is now almost completely gone, allowing you to see rather clearly. Sight still blurry, you barely make out the figure a few meters in front of you as heavy chains whip up from the floor, wrapping around his arms.

More spring up around his legs, dragging him down and causing his knees to buckle. He fights against the metal, but they only tighten as even more encircle his torso, tethering him to the ground. He leans forwards, now kneeling before you, arms spread out and chained to the floor on either side.

In front of him, halfway between you two, lies the Mirror of Yteriv, face-up on the floor.

Scrambling to get up, you slowly manage to stand, leaning your weight on the bookcase behind you. The ground sways underneath your feet, but you don’t collapse. One shaky step after another, you make your way over to the mirror.

You practically crumple to the floor as you lean down to snatch it up, the sounds of chains rattling against each other echoing through your head as their prisoner resists his bonds.

You straighten again, running your fingers over every millimeter of the Mirror’s surface to ensure that the cracks reflected on it are only part of its usual appearance and not actual damage caused during the explosion. Once you're sure of its safety, you look down at the figure shackled in front of you.

Morgie looks up at you, hair disheveled and face bruised, a few drops of blood spattered on his cheek. His eyes are a storm of anguish and a wounded kind of sorrow, his jaw clenched tight. You’d like to think that he isn’t peering up at you, body tied and bound, with resentment etched into his features, but you know you’d be lying to yourself.

He gives another violent tug against the chains, but to no avail. Neither of you speak a word, remaining in complete silence, yet somehow saying a thousand things through your eyes. You stare down at him, at the way he can barely lift his head due to his restraints, the agony swirling in his eyes tugging at your heartstrings in ways that make you ache through your core. 

But you’ve already come this far. You can’t turn back now.

The deafening silence remains as you raise the Mirror up in front of yourself, the white mist wrapping around you as if beckoning you closer. The red eyes glow even brighter, their judgment intensifying as your reflection begins to appear in the glass. The cracks on the surface slowly fade away as you come into view, until finally revealing a completely smooth and unmarred image as you gaze into your own eyes.

Except they aren’t yours.

Your reflection in the mirror is not of yourself, but of a younger version of you. She smiles effulgently, a pure, innocent sparkle of wonder in her eyes. A look of untainted bliss painted on her face as she beams. 

A look you haven’t seen in your own reflection for a long time.

“Mommy?” her young, high-pitched voice calls out. “Mommy? Moooommy? Where are you?”

A sob gets caught in your throat as you gasp, tears framing your vision. As if the memory finally gets uncovered in your mind, after being hidden away all these years from your brain deeming it too painful, you realize when this is—or rather, what this is.

“Mommy?” she calls again, her smile faltering as her little brow furrows in confusion, her face scrunching ever so slightly. “Mommy?” She turns her head to the side, looking at something out of view before asking, “Daddy, where’s Mommy?”

Your chest heaves as a sharp cry escapes you, the pain taking a physical form in the tears streaking your cheeks, your face contorting as you weep. In the background, a man’s faint, shaky sobs sound.

The mirror slips from your fingers, landing on the ground with an echoing thud. You whimper, uncontrollably trembling breaths causing your chest to jolt back and forth. You don’t move, can’t move, empty hand still suspended in midair.

You feel numb, yet like you're experiencing every emotion all at once. Your brain can’t wrap around this, around any of this, can’t comprehend your own thoughts. Can’t process what you feel. You’ve shoved your emotion down for so long, that now that they’re no longer bottled up, you don’t know how to deal with them.

“I’m sorry.” The voice cuts through the thick silence, snapping you out of the raging war inside your head.

You glance over at Morgie, still wrapped in chains. His eyes no longer hold the same animosity and misery, but instead a soft sort of sympathy, an underlying look of understanding as he peers up at you, head slightly raised.

“I don’t want your pity,” you sniff indignantly.

“I’m not pitying you.”

You look down at him, your chest heaving, eyes bloodshot. Taking shaky gasps of breath through your mouth, your body quivers as you wait for him to continue.

“I didn’t know about your mom, and you’re totally justified for wanting to know what happened to her,” Morgie continues. “You can take that Mirror and walk out of here if you want.” You keep on staring at him, not saying anything, frozen with anticipation as he carries on. “But are you really going to risk your future for knowledge of the past?”

You gulp before responding, voice hoarse and eyes half-lidded, voice cold and numb. “Would you still hesitate to take that risk, even when it means it could make your future finally be one worth living?”

“Your future is already one worth living,” Morgie replies. “You may not see it, but you’re talented, and smart, and pretty, and you’re a good person. You have a bright future ahead of you.” He shakes his head, eyes still boring into you. “Don’t ruin it like this. Blinded by your pain.”

Sniffling, you inhale a shuddering breath. “And how do you know my pain is blinding me, and not making me see clearer? Clearer than I have in my entire life. Clearer than she did.” You jut your chin towards the mirror lying on the floor.

“I don’t. But what I do know, from seeing my own mother, is that pain like this gets you nowhere. Letting the people who were supposed to love you instead turn you bitter and cynical never fixes things. You may think that becoming evil is the solution, but it’s not. It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”

You stare at him intensely, a raw kind of pain displayed on your face, one that no one has ever seen before. A thousand emotions flicker through your eyes, your lips twisting into a whimpering attempt at a smile as you cry again, the sob wracking through your body. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

Hope flashes in your eyes, reflected in his. Your gaze softens, looking at him as if he’s the beacon of light at the end of the tunnel. A small grin breaks his steady demeanor, looking at you with optimism shining through the glimmer in his eyes.

You reach down, picking up the Mirror again. You stare at it, although not directly at your reflection this time. He peers up at you, still shackled to the floor, eyes wide with anticipation.

You slip the Mirror into the pocket of your cloak once again before turning around, your back to him. Twisting your head to the side so he hears you, you say, “The chains will disappear in an hour.”

Turning your head back, you walk away and leave him behind, black cape flickering in the dark night.

Unclasping the back, you slip off the locket, placing it in front of you. The rusty metal is reflected in the mirror in front of it, along with the tears that splatter on its surface.

It had belonged to your mother, the only thing you had left of her. She had given it to you when you were a little kid, not too long before she left. It was old and weathered, the silver having tarnished over time. Still, you religiously wore it every single day, never taking it off as if it's a part of your body. And sometimes, if you stare at it hard enough, you can almost trick yourself into believing she's still there.

Safely back in your dorm, all alone, you had set the Mirror down, flipping to the notebook page where you had transcribed the incantations for the ritual, without a second thought.

Now, sitting on the ground, the Mirror leaning against a leg of your desk with your locket as an offering in front of it, you start to hesitate. Your face twists in pure agony, features scrunched up, lips quivering uncontrollably as a waterfall of tears splatter onto your hands and lap.

It’s too late to turn back now.

Taking another shaky breath, you extend your hands forward to the Mirror, placing one thumb on each red gemstone embedded in the intricate silver design. The jewels watch you, scorning your every action. Just like everyone else.

Your eyes flutter closed, letting out the steadiest exhale you’ve had all night. “Speculum, speculum, in conspectu oculorum meorum,” you whisper, feeling the way the rubies press into the flesh of your thumbs. Already, the Mirror starts discharging more fog, enveloping you as it grows denser with each syllable. “Accipe donum meum et veritas libera me.”

You open your eyes as the last words leave your tongue, staring straight into the eyes of your own reflection.

The red gems glow radiantly, emitting a bright light that nearly blinds you. You squint, yet still unrelentingly stare into your eyes—or rather, your younger self's eyes. The fog swirls around you, swallowing you whole. You can’t see anything anymore, can’t even tell where you are. You feel as though your soul, your life’s very essence, gets sucked out of your body and into the Mirror.

You have the sensation of being shoved forward, but you don’t fall. In fact, you don't have a body anymore, no physical vessel to hold you. You try to look down, but you're greeted by the absence of your legs, sheer nothingness filling the space beneath you. You can’t really move around either, not in the way you’re used to. All you can do is simply float, your existence diminished to an untethered life force, with some semblance of what you once were.

Looking around, everything around you is white like before, but not in the suffocating way the fog was. Instead, you stand in a wide expanse of whiteness, a vast field of empty space. It stretches on forever, with no end in sight. It’s as if you’re stuck in a blank canvas, waiting for a painter to bring you to life.

The sound of wind whistles all around you, but not so much as a breeze actually comes. In fact, everything is completely unmoving. Despite the stifling stillness, you remain listening to the sound of the wind. If you strain hard enough, you can hear something almost like faint whispers filling your senses.

You look around again, ignoring the eerie voices. According to all the texts you read, after the Mirror accepts the wielder’s offering, they can ask for their answer. You’re not quite sure if this field of emptiness means your offering’s been accepted, but seeing as how you don’t feel insane yet, you think it’s safe to presume so. Still, your brain can’t help but point out that crazy people probably don’t feel like they’re crazy either.

Shaking off your doubts, you decide to continue with the process. After all, it is the only shot you have. You had memorized all the incantations for this particular spell earlier, repeating them over and over again until every word was engraved into your mind.

“Scire volo verum,” you recite. “I wish to know a truth.” Nothing happens.

You take a deep breath. “I wish to know why my mom left.”

The wind around you grows louder, howling even in the still air. The whispers increase in volume, once seemingly non-threatening and benign, now forming a cacophony of overlapping, chaotic voices. They grow distorted and grating, pushing in from every side, wrapping around you and slithering into your brain. You can’t block them out, no matter how hard you try; can’t swat them away, can’t make them leave, leaving you trying to tear them out of your head, despite not having hands anymore.

Suddenly, the white vastness turns a dark gray, and you start getting pulled downward towards something, like moving towards the center of a black hole. The whispers grow claws and fangs, clawing and scratching at your chest as they drag you down, making it hard for you to breathe. 

You try to fight back, but the voices now in your head keep pulling you down. They’ve taken over you, consuming you whole, and it’s impossible not to succumb to their will.

As they continue to drag you down into the abyss, you turn around—or rather, focus on the other side of your vague form of spiritual energy—and notice a tiny black dot very far down, but steadily growing bigger as you move towards it.

The whispers are screaming now, cries of agony of those who came before you, encompassing you whole and forcing you to the depths of this dark chasm.

And that’s when it hits you.

The others who used the Mirror did all end up getting the truths they sought.

And the truth was what drove them to madness.

You panic, trying to shake off the invisible hands of the whisperers, but they only tighten their hold around you. No matter how hard you fight them, they don’t relent in their endeavor of pulling you towards damnation.

“Are you really going to risk your future for knowledge of the past?” Morgie’s words echo in your head out of nowhere, haunting you with regret. You absolutely despise admitting it, but fuck, he was right.

Your last conversation with him replays in your mind, reminding you of your foolishness and idiocy. You had been so focused on getting what you wanted that you were indeed blinded to the truth that had been right in front of you this whole time.

“Your future is one worth living.”

His voice swirls around in your brain, drawing your attention away a little from the screaming voices in your head.

“You’re talented, and smart, and pretty, and you’re a good person.”

You realize these are probably the last words you’ll ever hear.

“You have a bright future ahead of you.”

You feel like crying again, the despair that’s taken root in you fighting to escape. Still, you don’t have an actual body in this dreamscape, so crying is impossible.

“It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”

You look back up the other direction and away from the black dot, resigned to your fate as you get dragged down into the chasm, deeper, deeper, deeper. At first, you think you’re imagining it; a mirage created by your mind to distract you from your pain. But as the descent continues, you begin to realize that it may not be an illusion after all.

In front of you, from the direction you came, a faint golden thread, seemingly made of pure light, stretches from your form of consciousness and ascends, up, up, up, all the way to the never-ending sky. With each of Morgie’s words you repeat in your head, the string of light grows stronger, brighter.

“You’re talented.”

The thread becomes thicker and more luminous, and you begin to realize that your descent has slowed down as well.

“And smart.”

The thread grows again, and you slow down a little more.

“And pretty.”

Your eyes follow the string upwards, and now, you see there’s a faint patch of white amidst the murky gray surrounding you.

“You’re a good person.”

The thread, still shooting out straight from your form, gleams with a shimmering golden light now. You notice that you’re no longer getting dragged downwards, but instead up, towards the whiteness. The screaming voices aren’t as insufferably loud anymore, either.

“You have a bright future ahead of you.”

You keep ascending, getting drawn faster and faster up. Morgie’s words serve as your lifeline, saving you from insanity.

“You’re not worth it.”

Now, you see that the white patch is actually an opening, an escape from this hell. The thread leads to it, its blinding brightness concealing whatever lies beyond.

“I know so.”

The last of his words give you the final push you need, sending you straight into the white light.

Your head snaps up with a sharp, terrified exhale. You look down, taking a moment to register that you’re back in your room. The locket dangles from one of your hands, the Mirror clutched in the other.

Fresh tears replacing the dried ones on your cheeks as you let out a sob of excruciating heartache, a sound of pure agony. The kind that no one should have to go through.

You look down at the cracked surface of the Mirror—a feeling of raw, unbridled anger set in the way you clench your jaw, and the way your face contorts with your cries—staring straight at the evil red eyes still gleaming at you.

With a swift motion, you lift your hand above your head, still grasping tight. Mustering together all your might, you hurl the Mirror towards the ground, watching as it shatters into a sea of glittering pieces.

“You’re late.”

You lean against the rough brick wall of an empty corridor, arms crossed, your figure partially obscured in shadows.

“And I’m surprised you’re still here,” Morgie quips, walking towards you. “Why’d you even want to talk with me? Especially through leaving that threatening note next to my nightstand for me to find when I woke up.”

He stops in front of you, leaving you to glower at him. Suddenly, with no warning, you lunge towards him, seizing the collar of his shirt and pushing him against the wall, your other hand summoning a rod of crackling lightning. 

His eyes widen with a startled gaze, but he doesn’t look quite as fearful as you want him to be. “Now, listen here.” You press the tip of the lightning bolt against his neck. “If you say a word of what happened last night to anyone—especially my father—I will kill you.”

Although you try to sound as menacing as possible, Morgie is unfazed. An amused smirk spreads across his face as he replies, “Alright, relax. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone anyways.”

His eyes trail down from your gaze to the locket dangling from your neck. He reaches out a hand, brushing his thumb along the tarnished metal as he softly says, “You didn’t go through with it, huh?”

You pull away, frustrated at his compassionate tone. “No. I decided…it was too risky. After all, what’s the point of figuring out the past if I can’t ever use that information, right?” A small smile spreads across Morgie’s face, that sympathetic, delicate look in his eyes again. Your irritation rising at this, you add, with a growl, “Although I will find a way to get my answer. I don’t care how bad I have to become, if you, or my father, or anyone stands in my way, you’ll truly see how evil I can be!”

Morgie keeps his unfettered appearance up. God, he’s so annoying! you mentally scream in frustration.

“Why are you so fixed on this?” he asks, tilting his head sideways and furrowing his brow as if trying to look past your cold, vengeful, rancorous mask and figure out the scarred little girl buried underneath.

You roll your eyes instead of answering. Never one to express emotions, the thought of opening up now about your years of pain feels terrifyingly vulnerable. It’s so much easier to just build walls around your heart and shut everyone out.

“Tell me this, and I promise I won’t tell a word of what happened last night to anyone,” Morgie bargains.

You narrow your eyes. “You already said you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Well, now I’m having second thoughts.”

You raise your arm again to summon another bolt of electricity, and Morgie lifts his hands, palms facing forward, in a gesture of surrender. “Relax, I won’t say anything, fine. But I just want you to talk to me. Bottling up your emotions like this isn’t healthy. Last night should be a good example of that.”

You shoot another glare at him, but can’t deny the fact that he’s right. Still, you hate the idea of how exposed and weak you'd be if you actually told someone how you feel.

“I’m not going to leave you, you know.”

You peer up at him, eyes wide in shock, as he continues. “I’ll stay by your side. You don’t have to worry about me abandoning you.”

Gulping, you nod, averting his gaze. Instead, you choose to look down at your shoes, studying the laces as you speak. “I…when my mom left, it was so sudden. No goodbyes, nothing. It was like one day, she just vanished.”

Your voice cracks, and Morgie places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, unknowingly pulling you closer to him. You swallow, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “My dad didn’t even care. It was as if she never existed. And everyone else…they all knew what happened. But they paid no attention whatsoever. They expected me to act normal, be all nice and sweet as if nothing changed. It made me hate them, hate all of them.”

“Do you hate me?”  

Morgie’s voice rings in the empty corridor, quiet yet speaking louder than a thousand shouts. You look up at him again, his image slightly blurred by the tears welling at the bottom of your eyes. You look up and you see the boy that stood by your side at your worst, who didn’t get scared or run away when you showed him your true colors.

The boy who said things no one’s ever said to you, whose words saved you from destroying yourself.

The boy who stands here, a concerned crinkle on his forehead as he awaits your answer. He doesn’t have to be here, listening to your problems. He doesn’t have to care.

But he does.

“No,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “No, I don’t hate you.”

In the suffocating sea of fake smiles and stifling pressures, Morgie is like a breath of fresh air. The first gulp of oxygen that you take as your head breaks free from the water.

“That’s a relief,” he responds, a trace of a smirk ghosting his features.

You give a small, bittersweet laugh. “Ever since my mom left and my dad stopped caring about me, I’ve never had anyone to talk to. No one seems to care about my emotions, or ask me how I’m doing. It’s as if I’m not a real person who has actual feelings.”

You’re on the verge of tears again, and Morgie must realize this, because he tries to lighten the mood by attempting—and failing—to inconspicuously wrap an arm around your shoulder as he says, “So, what I’m hearing from all this, is that you need a strong, reliable figure in your life to lean on, right? Like…a boyfriend or something?”

You duck under his arm, moving a good few feet away from him while fixing him with another glare. “Yeah no, I’m good.”

“Come on, that was smooth! You’ve got to admit it,” he whines, drawing out a small giggle from you. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve laughed like this: a true, heartfelt laugh, not the fake one that you do to appease other people under the pressure of society's expectations. It feels nice, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. 

All because of him.

“I don’t know, maybe I'll consider it with some time, if you treat me well,” you joke as you turn your head away with faux indifference. 

“Hey, a slim chance is better than no chance at all, right?” Morgie moves closer to you again, as if he can’t stand having so much space between the two of you. “I can see I’ve made some progress since last night, when you tried to kill me.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes at him.

“Oh yeah? Tell that to the bruises on my body.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so weak and sensitive,” you retort with a grin.

He nudges you playfully and you laugh again, shaking your head with an amused look. “Hey, I was wondering,” he asks, locking eyes with you, “what did you end up doing with the Mirror?”

You give a knowing grin, masking the undercurrent of what’s left unsaid. You vaguely respond, “It’s in a better place now.”

“If you say so,” Morgie replies, his smile returning to his face and lighting up his features once again. He continues to tease you, and you oblige him, keeping up the friendly banter as he walks you to class.

The Enchanted Lake glistens, reflecting the sun’s gentle rays with a bright shimmer. Deep down, under feet of clear blue water and various forms of aquatic life, in a far corner of the lake, lies a bag of glass shards. Next to it floats an ornate metal carving with a hollow center, reminiscent of something once set there. And at the top, two glowing red gemstones briefly flicker and die out, like watchful eyes finally closing.

end x

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a/n: how did this get so long...if you're still here, and if you actually read that entire thing, thank you so so soo much! I'm sending you a virtual cookie and a hug (if you're comfortable with it ofc) because you're absolutely awesome! <3 hope you enjoyed reading!

do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

[anyasathenaeum]

Hello! I feel like I might have already requested this before your ask box was wiped, but how about a virgin!Knives x Reader smutfic?? I love how you characterized him as shy and flustered over the idea of sex in that one crackfic you wrote 😵 I hope you have a great day and life is treating you well!! You're one of my favorite writers regardless of what you write :D

A/N: Hey anon! Yes, I remember this request! I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to it, but here it is! This is my first (serious) attempt at smut with Knives, so uhhhhhhhhh please don't come for me, I tried my best. I've decided to start with some headcanons followed by the fic itself, apologies - it's long. Also, anon - thank you SO much for your comment, you're super sweet and I'm sorry I took so long to get to this. All the best! Warnings: MINORS DNI, Virgin!Knives, AFAB!reader (female terminology is used), hinting towards plants having "heats", a touch of yandere-ish behaviour (it's Knives, so not entirely surprising) penetrative sex, P in V sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), reader is submissive in this one, rough sex, marking, a little bit of a breeding kink, Knives being a Loser™, he's kinda in love with you but the fucker definitely refuses to admit it, name-calling (Knives calls reader things like "slut" and such) Word Count: 3.3k

Virgin!Knives is definitely not nearly as confident and as ruthless as he is in all other points of his life - he might seem like he knows what he's doing, but deep down? Man is SHY, but he'd rather die than have anybody realize that

Seriously, you won't ever hear him talking about sex, and he doesn't even use the word if he can afford to outside of the bedroom

When it comes to his first time, he likes to make it seem like he's in charge and like he fucks all the time, but he's literally just a hair breadth away from cumming the moment you touch him for the first time.

Would absolutely make you ride him (mostly because he has no idea what he's doing), but he plays it off with cool indifference and because he "just wants you to please him".

He tries to make up for it, trying to be more forceful or rough with his thrusts, talking dirty to you and calling you names, but it's a double-edged sword because the moment you're crying out his name and squeezing around him, he sees stars and cums WAY too soon.

Basically, Virgin!Knives is a mess and wants to seem like he's still in charge in bed, but with a few thrusts of your own, driving him deeper and deeper into you, you'd have him falling apart beneath you in moments.

But, of course, because he's not human, his stamina is INSANE and the moment he cums for the first time inside you, it unhinges him (do I sense a breeding kink???) and suddenly he's chasing orgasm after orgasm using you, and you're definitely not gonna be leaving his bed for the next few days.

Full fic below! Enjoy!

"Are you sure this is what you want, Master Knives?"

The question slipped from your lips before you could stop yourself. You just couldn't believe what you were hearing.

Millions Knives, the independent plant who you'd been working for for years, had had you brought to his chambers in the middle of the night so that he could ask you something important.

"Are you questioning me, pet?"

The way Knives glared at you, his gaze cold and calculated, made shivers course down your spine, and you quickly bowed your head.

"No, Master Knives. Not at all. I was merely surprised by your request. I apologize."

Knives simply raised his eyebrow as he continued to gaze at you, taking in your form as you stood before him. You'd initially been just some filthy human he was forced to keep around due to your utility and your skills, but over time, as much as Knives refused to admit to it, you'd grown on him. You were one of the more intelligent of your species, it seemed, and one that seemed to know its place whenever you spoke to him. But, in the end, you were still just a lowly, miserable human, part of the plague that threatened Plants across the planet.

So... why?

Why did Knives feel this... pull towards you? Why did he have to fight the urge to be near you each and every time he spotted you, the urge to tuck you against him with his wing and whisk you away, out of sight and out of reach of all others? Why did he feel rage boiling up within him whenever you smiled or laughed at something somebody else had said? A fair share of other henchmen had lost lives and limbs just for speaking to you (not that you knew that, of course - they just conveniently "disappeared" during a mission).

Beyond just those moments, Knives had also noticed... other things. A warmth that seemed to bloom from whatever part of him had brushed your skin, spreading through the rest of his body until it became full blown heat. This heat was unbearable to resist and made him feel as though it were burning him alive from the inside out, unquenchable even when he took matters into his own hands time and time again.

Knives wasn't a fool. He knew of the lust and the need to reproduce that his kind often felt, but he'd never experienced it himself ever before. Not until you showed up. But, you were part of the very thing Knives had sworn to destroy, so why did his body call to you in this way? Why did his body betray him so? What was it about you that made him feel this way?

"You heard me, (Y/N)," Knives spoke slowly and quietly, his gaze not leaving you for a moment as he lounged on his bed, "I wish for you to stay the night."

"Yes, Master Knives."

"You will not speak of this to anybody," he continued, his voice scarily level, "Or I shall ensure you are permanently silenced."

You simply bowed your head again, your heart pounding frantically in your chest.

You had always had an interest in Knives - asides from being somebody who was hired to work from him, you found him a truly interesting being. An independent plant, more beautiful than any living creature you'd ever seen before, hellbent on exterminating the human race to save his sister plants and trying to find his twin brother, another independent plant. He was always transparent of his end goal, and despite it all, you had still agreed to work for him. After all, humanity was a mess and it wasn't going to get any better - you'd seen proof of that time and time again throughout your life.

So, here you were - working tirelessly so he could achieve his goal.

Although, you hadn't expected to be summoned to Knives's chambers so late in the night, and you certainly hadn't anticipated him to wish for you to stay the night. You'd been summoned to his chambers several times in the past, sometimes for work purposes, other times simply on a whim, and you weren't ignorant of the way you felt around Knives.

His presence made you feel simultaneously safe and on edge, as if something was always just about to occur. As though there were always words hanging in the air between you two, just waiting to be spoken but never truly acknowledged.

Despite his reputation of being unforgiving and ruthless, you'd never been on the receiving end of that side of him, somehow. He could be harsh and sharp with his words and his actions, but he'd never caused you any true harm. You couldn't ignore the way your skin felt as though electricity coursed through it whenever Knives accidentally brushed against you, or the way the heat rose to your cheeks whenever you found him watching you intently. He never looked away immediately whenever you caught him staring at you, simply maintaining his gaze and ensuring to keep eye contact with you for a couple moments before looking away almost lazily, as if he'd grown bored of you. But the fact that he did it so often... could it mean?...

You didn't dare let yourself hope. It couldn't possibly mean anything. After all, you were just a human. Unworthy of him in every possible way.

And yet, here you were, summoned to his chambers in the middle of the night and told you were to stay with him overnight. Your mind was in overdrive, trying to figure out what this meant.

"W-Where am I to sleep, Master Knives?" You inquired softly, not daring to look up at him.

Knives would've scoffed and laughed had it been any other person standing before him, but this was you. His pet, of sorts. And as much as he refused to accept it, you softened him. You weakened him.

"We'll address that later, pet. Come here."

Before you could process everything, you found yourself approaching Knives's bed, stopping right before it and waiting for his commands, not wanting to overstep.

"Did I not make myself clear? Here, pet," Knives all but hissed, making it clear he wanted you right on the bed next to him.

Blushing slightly, you quickly followed his demand, crawling into his bed so you were right by his side. You could feel his gaze on you, and you risked a glimpse at his face - his expression was surprisingly calm, almost curious as he studied you as you sat there next to him on his bed.

"Don't move," Knives whispered quietly, bringing his hand up to your face.

Immediately, you froze, almost afraid to breathe.

"So obedient," you heard Knives chuckle, clearly amused, "What a good pet I have."

Without further comments, you felt Knives's fingers beginning to trace over your skin, skimming lightly over your cheeks and making his way over the bridge of your nose, then down over your lips. His touch was surprisingly gentle, more gentle than you ever thought him capable, but you remained silent as he continued his barely-there touches.

You struggled to ignore the beating of your heart and the roaring of your blood in your ears, your whole body feeling like a livewire. You had to remind yourself not to let your mind wander and make your hidden desires obvious, but something in the way Knives was watching you made you believe that he already knew of your hidden desires. You felt your face heating up even worse than before as you looked away from Knives, suddenly finding the threading of the bedding very interesting.

"I don't understand you."

Knives's sudden voice startled you, making you jump slightly as you sat there next to him. However, you remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

"Look at me, (Y/N)."

Slowly, you brought your gaze up to look at Knives, trying not to let your heart beat straight out of your chest as you did so. His icy blue gaze was steady as it trained on your face, still studying you even intently.

"What do you not understand about me?" You asked quietly, steeling yourself as you held Knives's gaze.

After a couple moments, Knives replied quietly, "I don't understand what it is about you that makes my body feel this way. How you, a mere human... are the only one who has the ability to set my soul and my body aflame. I get no rest because of you."

You felt your heart stop for a moment before it began to thunder violently in your chest, your eyes widening in surprise. There was no way that he meant what you thought he meant.

"Master Knives, I-"

"Nai."

You looked at him curiously, and Knives simply continued, "In here, I'm not Master Knives. My name is Nai. You use my name, here and only here."

"Yes, Nai," you replied softly, testing out his name on your tongue.

"I think you know why I've summoned you to stay the night, now. Don't you, (Y/N)?"

You nodded, making Nai smirk slightly, "Clever pet."

Without a second of hesitation, you felt Nai's hand cup the back of your neck, pulling you down against him and slotting his lips to yours in a passionate, lustful kiss.

You let out a small, muffled yelp as you fell forward onto him, your lips pressing against his and your eyes wide in surprise. His taste was surprisingly bright, and you found yourself melting into the kiss, eyes closing and matching his passion in the kiss within moments. You felt Nai's hands burying themselves into your hair as he pulled you on top of him, holding you close to him as he continued to kiss you lustfully, his desire for you overwhelming his typically-controlled self.

Despite the kiss being lustful and filled with desire, you found that Nai's kiss still felt as though he were holding something back. Was it simply due to him not being as invested as you believed him to be? Or was it for some other reason? Regardless, you found your hands coming up to cup Nai's face gently as you continued to kiss him, his hands resting firmly on your hips and holding you in place.

You could feel Nai's hands pressing your hips down hard against him, and underneath his robe and through your clothes, you could feel something hard rubbing against your core. A wanton moan escaped you as Nai continued to force you down onto him, getting you to grind on him as his hands guided your hips. You could feel your pussy beginning to soak through your panties, and your whole body shuddered as Nai pulled away from you, a string of spit connecting your lips together.

You watched as Nai's knives suddenly appeared from him, slowly approaching you. Your eyes widened in fear, and you tried to figure out what you'd done wrong, your whole body freezing and your blood turning to ice. However, the blades of the knives didn't touch your skin, instead the tentacles slowly working their way under your clothing, cutting piece by piece loose and letting the scraps of fabric fall from your body. The tentacles of knives glided across your skin almost tenderly, continuing their work diligently until you found yourself completely naked in Nai's bed, your clothing nothing more than strips of fabric now.

"Worry not, pet. You'll get new clothes," Nai spoke quietly, his eyes eagerly taking in your naked form.

Nai could feel himself getting riled up the moment he laid eyes on your bare skin, his cock hardening beneath his robe as he took in every part of you. You were beautiful, he supposed, for a human.

As he gazed at you, Nai couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like for him to finally take you, to stake him claim on you and to feel you around him for the first time. Of course, he'd never let you know that he'd never done any of this before, instead maintaining his façade of cool indifference and superiority, as if he'd done this so many times that it almost bored him.

Reaching out towards you, Nai pulled you back on top of him, his robe dissipating and allowing you to finally see him, his cock rock hard and throbbing, a glob of pre-cum leaking from the tip. You could see that the same plant markings that sprawled across the rest of his body were also on the shaft of his cock, as well as his tip. Just the sight of him, laid out before and below you like this and clearly wanting you, had your pussy dripping wet. You couldn't believe just how badly you wanted him inside you.

"Well? Go on, pet," Nai commanded, watching you carefully, "Please me."

"Yes, Nai."

You couldn't believe this was happening, but you found yourself feeling excited by the fact that you actually got the opportunity to sleep with Nai. As much as you wished that it could've been more than just sex, you were happy to have this, at the very least.

Slowly, you settled yourself in his lap, your hand wrapping gently around his cock and aligning him with your pussy, letting the tip just barely rest against your entrance. You were surprised to hear Nai hiss as soon as you took hold of him, feeling his body tense and feeling something warm and wet dribbling over your fingers.

"A-Are you okay?" You asked softly, looking at Nai with slight concern, hoping you hadn't hurt him or made him uncomfortable.

"Fine," Nai gritted out, "Don't question me. Remember your place, pet."

Then, suddenly, you felt Nai's hands tighten on your hips, grabbing onto you firmly before pushing you down onto his cock hard.

You let out a cry at the sudden stretch, your pussy stinging at the feeling of being split open so deeply for the first time in a long while, trying to adjust to the feeling of Nai inside you. With him sheathed inside you, you could feel just how big he was - even without moving, he was pressing against the most perfect spot inside you, pulling a whine from your lips.

"Quiet, slut," Nai growled, his hold on your hips bruising your skin as his fingers dug into your flesh.

What you didn't know was that Nai was struggling worse than you were at the moment - he'd never felt such warmth and tightness before, especially not around his cock, and he was trying so hard not to cum then and there. He hadn't expected you to feel so good around him, or for his body to be this sensitive.

However, as he held you against him, you let out a soft whine of pleasure and began to roll your hips desperately, pushing him just the slightest bit deeper into you. Nai's grip tightened on you, and he was about to growl out another command when his orgasm suddenly washed over him.

A choked "Fuck!" slipped from his lips as he involuntarily bucked his hips up into you, wanting nothing more than to bury himself into you even more than before as his seed coated your walls, painting them in white and claiming you as his in a way nobody ever really had before. You let out a moan and clutched onto Nai's shoulders as you felt the warmth spreading within your abdomen, and you couldn't help but continue to roll your hips as you chased your own release, wanting to feel more of Nai inside you.

"N-Nai, please," you whined, continuing to thrust your hips against him, "Want more... need more of you... please..."

Hearing you plead for him, for his cock, to give you pleasure made something in Nai snap.

In a flash, you found yourself laying back in the bed with Nai above you, his cock still buried inside you and still hard as ever. However, now, you could see a fire in his eyes as he gazed at you, his hand coming up and squeezing your breast. The mewl that came from you as Nai touched you made him feel more powerful than ever before, his instincts beginning to take over.

Leaning down and pressing his lips against yours hungrily, Nai began to thrust into you with urgency, his thrusts powerful and deep, pulling moan after moan from you as he continued to fuck you into his bed. He couldn't care less that this was his first time - nothing else mattered right now except for cumming inside you over and over again until you knew nothing but his name and that you belonged to him. He allowed his instincts to take over, the instinct to claim, to mate, to breed, to fill you up until it spilled from you endlessly.

"You're mine, slut. You hear me? Mine."

The growl that came from Nai made your whole body shiver, and the way he sunk his teeth into your neck and left a dark bruise to show that fact to the world made you scream out, partly from pain and partly from pleasure. You were his now, and nobody else would ever have you.

"Say it!" Nai commanded, thrusting into you harshly without stopping. "Say-" thrust "you-" thrust "are-" thrust "mine!".

"Y-Yours!" You cried out, feeling your own orgasm wash over you stronger than ever before as Nai continued to fuck you through it, "'M yours, Nai!"

"Mine!"

Nai slammed his cock into you one final time as he came yet again, filling you to the brim with cum once more. As he recovered from his orgasm, Nai continued to leave marks down your neck, your shoulders, your breasts, working his way down until he was ready to go again, wanting nothing more than to continue this until he could no longer stand it.

"Prepare yourself, (Y/N)," Nai growled into your ear, pulling your body against his hard, "You're to stay with me all night. And I'm nowhere near done."