#But hell. It better not be another eternity before i see him again

[krisseratops]

Why do they always do my boy dirty

HE'S BAAAAAAACK!!!!!!

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

🤍🖤🤍

[moonyswoony]

Lost and found

Pairing: Five hargreeves x reader

Summary: You an Five discover more than just plants and strawberries in the greenhouse

Warning(s): kissing, fluff, nothing really

“What the hell is this place?” Five muttered, his voice tinged with suspicion.

“Beats me,” you replied, stepping further inside. “But it’s not like we’ve stumbled upon a better place than this one so far.”

The two of you had been on the run for what felt like an eternity. Your attempt to figure out the subway had gone sideways—again—and now you were stuck in this strange, green timeline with no clear path back.

Five stayed close as you ventured deeper into the greenhouse, his sharp eyes scanning every inch. “This doesn’t make sense. None of this should be here.”

You brushed your fingers against a nearby vine, feeling the life pulsing through it. “Maybe this is just a small piece of the world that refused to die.”

Five huffed, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “That, or we’ve stumbled into some kind of twisted fairytale.”

“Great. Does that make you the grumpy old troll under the bridge?” you teased.

“If I’m the troll, that makes you the annoying adventurer who won’t stop asking questions,” he shot back, though his tone was more fond than bitter.

As you explored, you found yourself drawn to a patch of strawberries growing along the far wall. They were perfectly ripe, a vibrant red that stood out against the greens and browns around them. Without thinking, you plucked one and popped it into your mouth, savoring the sweetness.

Five watched with raised eyebrows. “You sure that’s safe?”

“If it’s not, at least I’ll go out with a decent meal,” you replied, plucking another and offering it to him.

He hesitated, then took it, biting into the fruit with a thoughtful expression. “Not bad.”

“High praise from you,” you quipped.

There was a brief, comfortable silence as you both absorbed the strange beauty of this place. The tension that had been winding tighter and tighter over the past few days—or even years—slowly began to ease, the peacefulness of this place working its way into your entire being.

As you wandered deeper, you came across a patch of wildflowers bathed in golden sunlight. You knelt to touch them, their delicate petals soft under your fingers. “This feels like a dream,” you murmured.

“Or a trap,” Five countered, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

You looked up at him, catching an unguarded expression in his eyes,something softer, more vulnerable than you were used to seeing. “Five?”

He stepped closer, the sunlight casting a warm glow across his features. “You’ve always been fearless,” he chuckled,though his voice was quieter than usual.

You blinked in surprise. “What are you talking about? I’m not fearless, I’m—”

“You are,” he insisted. “And I should have told you sooner.”

“Five…”

“I’ve spent so much time trying to fix everything, trying to keep us all alive, that I forgot there are things I want, too,” he said, his gaze pined on you.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut as you realised what he was implying—not in a painful way, but in a way that left you breathless. You had always known there was something between you, a connection that went deeper than partnership or friendship, but his words still had that affect on you.

Without giving yourself time to overthink it, you reached up and pulled him into a kiss. It wasn’t rushed or frantic, but slow and deliberate, a promise in every brush of your lips against his. Five responded in kind, one hand slipping around your waist while the other cupped the back of your neck, holding you close.

The kiss deepened, his tongue teasing your lower lip before slipping into your mouth. You felt your knees weaken as a wave of heat washed over you, your fingers gripping the front of his shirt as if to support yourself. His hand slid down your back, pulling you flush against him as the kiss grew more intense, more desperate.

It was a kiss that spoke of everything you had both been holding back,years of unspoken feelings, of missed opportunities, all coming to the surface in this one, perfect moment.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath.

“I love you,” he said, his voice rough but certain.

You smiled, your thumb brushing against his jaw. “I love you too.”

For a moment, you both stood there in silence, the reality of what you had just confessed settling over you like a warm blanket. The world around you didn’t feel as interesting anymore, not when he was in front of you.

Five glanced around at the greenery, his expression contemplative. “You know, we don’t have to leave right away.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You want to stay?”

“Just for a little while,” he admitted, surprising you with the softness in his voice. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had a moment of peace. We could use the rest and some proper food.”

You looked around at the lush greenery, the golden sunlight filtering through the broken skylight, and felt a sense of calm settle over you. “Yeah,” you agreed, smiling up at him. “Let’s stay.”

With that decision made, the tension that had been a constant companion began to melt away. You found a spot to sit, leaning against a wall covered in ivy, and Five joined you, his hand finding yours and holding it tightly.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself relax. No missions, no timelines, no disasters—just the two of you, in a place that felt almost unreal.

Five squeezed your hand, drawing your attention back to him. “You know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “if we’re staying here, we might as well make the most of it.”

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him again, this time slower, savoring every second. “I couldn’t agree more.”

[lexsssu]

Light (Sung Jinwoo)

TAGS: Jinwoo/Wife!reader, a/b/o dynamics, yandere, possessive behavior, death threats, breeding, impregnation, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

‘E-Rank Hunter’ Sung Jinwoo, a title that followed him wherever he went.

Despite being a Hunter, his power was barely above an ordinary human aside from his slightly more durable constitution and slightly increased healing factor. 

So it’s only natural that he’d always get hurt. Hell, he’d even nearly gotten killed several times already too!

It’s not that Jinwoo wanted to be a Hunter in the first place, because aside from the danger, others also made fun of him for his weakness. Even the pay was surprisingly not that great.

Unfortunately, someone in his mid-20s who lacked any viable skills that could land him a normal, stable job could only work for the Hunter’s Association as one of their Hunters thanks to their medical aid. Had it not been for that, he wouldn’t have been able to afford the millions of won in medical bills he owed to the hospital that took care of his mother. 

It’s not even just his mother that he had to provide for, but there was also his little sister and…

“Look Yeonjin, it’s Papa!”

Worn out from another hard days’ work, E-Rank Hunter Sung Jinwoo felt all the fatigue in his body seemingly melt away into nothingness as the sight and scent of his wife and child soothed his weary soul.

“Baba!” Yeonjin babbled excitedly as his father made a beeline straight towards you both.

“Welcome home, honey.” You press a kiss to the corner of his lips, smiling up at him with those beautiful eyes he always finds himself lost in.

This is why even if he didn’t want to, he would still participate in these Association supervised raids.

No sacrifice is too great when it comes to his loved ones and regardless of how incompetent he was as a Hunter, Jinwoo will do everything in his power to ensure that they are cared and provided for.

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

You’ve been with Sung Jinwoo ever since you were both just awkward teenagers in high school. When his mother succumbed to Eternal Slumber and left the two siblings to fend for themselves, instead of leaving you surprised Jinwoo and moved into their cozy little home and took it upon yourself to keep the house running.

While Jinwoo did his best to provide for the family’s needs, you would ensure that Jinah and the house was taken care of, this of course also included the man himself whenever he came home from a raid. You even managed to get a remote job that helped with the bills in spite of juggling that with your online college classes as well. 

You and Jinwoo had gone through so much together over the past decade so was it any surprise you’d end up married and with a child? 

Former friends and schoolmates might have tried to dissuade you time and time again to leave him, pitying you for spending your youth making ends meet and watching over your comatose mother-in-law, Jinah, and now your own baby.

But you don’t need their ‘advice’ when it all basically boiled down to having you leave your family because you ‘deserved better.’

They are already what’s best for you.

Why can’t they see that?

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

“ How are you and Sung Jinwoo? Sorry I couldn’t check up on you guys sooner. Life’s been pretty hectic on my end.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t attend your baby shower before! I had an important appointment that I couldn’t bail out on back then. Why don’t we go out for coffee to catch up?”

“...way too long since we last got together! Our whole class is gonna have a reunion this weekend. Everyone will be stoked to see you and Sung Jinwoo there— ”

Beep.

You don’t have the chance to reply to the latest call you received from another ‘old friend’ when your husband pressed the ‘end’ button in one swift movement. Though his face looked impassive, his scent clearly revealed his agitation…not to mention the shadows that seemed to curl spread from the soles of his feet.

“First they tell you that I’m not good enough for you and that you should leave me, but now they’re all tripping over themselves just to get to me through you…” His lips stretched into a snarl, power rolling off of him in waves at their blatant shamelessness.

Jinwoo’s inner alpha snorted and growled, the mere thought of these impertinent swine daring to involve themselves with his mate even if to gain some sort of favor from him made him see red. 

How dare they?! He will rip and tear into their bodies and reap their souls to become his puppets if they so much as even approach you. Did they think he was bound by the rules of ordinary mortals? Foolish! 

The hunter’s alpha grinned diabolically, cackling from within the confines of his soul at thought of giving them their just desserts.  

“My big, strong alpha…Always willing to jump into the fray to provide for and protect us…How can I even think about choosing anyone else?” You crooned and purred at him, the soft sounds and your calming scent enveloping him and taming the shadows that once agitatedly tried to claw their way out of him to carry out his will. 

Burrowing into his arms, you embrace his waist and nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck as best as you could considering his height had also shot up recently. A few soothing kisses and kitten licks against the skin of his neck later, Jinwoo’s darkness ceased pouring out of him.

Because now he focused on wholeheartedly pouring every last drop of cum into your quivering pussy, thrusting weakly even as his fat knot plugged you up. Your lower belly bulged with the amount of cum he’d already fucked into you, but he still didn’t think it was enough.

At the rate he was going, he’s definitely gonna knock you up again.

Not that you were complaining. It was about time for Yeonjin to finally have a sibling to love.

[mygnolia]

A HUNDRED HIDDEN KISSES | s. jaeyun

୨୧ -› so, the story goes that you’re supposed to feud with Sim Jaeyun, with his perfectly handsome face, his foreign exchange student accent, or his flirty remarks. but the story has a plot twist; somewhere along the way, you fell for his winks and charm.

pair -› (BLONDE.) soccer player!jake x top student!fmr | trope -› one sided enemies to lovers | wc -› 1.7k | cw -› kissing but idk how to write two ppl kissing oops anyways downbad HORRENDOUSLY down bad jake here | library

the weird thing about a crush is, it happens unexpectedly. 

maybe not so unexpected- because your heart has an attraction to the lamest soccer player on the team before your head even tolerated him. you hated sim jaeyun and you swore you did- but maybe you didn’t swear hard enough, because at some point, you could see your sense of rational floating above your head before it pops like a bubble and disappears into thin air. 

see- you’re supposed to hate sim jake. he’s obnoxious and loud and always says ‘no’ in the accent that makes it incredibly clear that it’s him (and only him) who’s said it. and not just that- he’s become best friends with sunghoon in an instant. park sunghoon, aka, your study buddy since beginning of high school. so yeah- maybe you hate that sunghoon has started hanging out with jake more and you swear you always catch the new exchange student looking in your direction whenever he’s with sunghoon. he definitely talks about you, but sunghoon is as quiet as a mouse when you two study for exams- which is infuriating, and so unlike him. but there’s another huge huge problem. 

jake is probably the prettiest boy you’ve met in your life. 

he came to the school with shorter hair, but sunghoon’s ability to change someone’s entire look is blessed by the gods- and sunghoon himself was kissed by eternal beauty, so of course, when they started hanging out, you noticed the change in clothes to be more baggy, his walk to be much more confident, his grin to be sly, and his hair to be so much cuter when styled. you were royally fucked from the day you saw jake wave in your direction when he entered class, with a confident smile that you weren’t sure he only showed to you. 

and that made you all the more irritated with him. “I am not going to teach him anything, hoon.” you state firmly. “he’s like- the most annoying younger brother you could ever ask for.” and there’s a worrying look that flashes in the boy’s eye, leaving you confused and pondering on the way home. “why don’t you teach him art history?” 

“we goof around too much.” and you roll your eyes at his lame excuse. 

and yet another problem arises. see, park sunghoon knew much more than you did when it came to jake. he knew that he played soccer in his backyard before heading to school, that his dog was a border collie, and that sim jake had a crush on you- aka- the most unavailable girl ever, who’s never dated anyone, thinks boys (especially boys who play sports) are stupid, and has a hatred for jake and only him. so sunghoon thinks his friend is utterly hopeless, and wants to tell him to give up, but when sunghoon hears how the boy raves about you and how pretty you looked in class today, he smacks jake on the arm and whines to him about shutting up and to stop being a loser. 

“do you think she’ll like it if i dyed my hair blonde?” 

sunghoon sighs, “you could dye your hair any color and she’d still want to cut it off.”

jake blinks. “but blondes are hot, right?”

and that’s how he shows up the next day, making you shrink in your seat from just how much better he looks and how much more annoying that makes him. 

jake has heard about the guys you’ve rejected for liking you because they’re shallow. and jake sees how you scowl at him- but he’s determined to make you his girlfriend, so once again, he tells you good morning with that accent of his and that grin on him, and you mumble a good morning back, wondering why the hell he’s always trying to talk to you. maybe he still wants you to tutor him for art history. maybe that’s why he intercepts you on the way out of the school gates with heavy breathing after running across campus.

“please- stay after practice.” he begs you, and you recognize a fresh ocean scent that compliments his bubbly personality with how he’s run up to you and leans down to make eye contact. and there’s only one thought in your head, one that manifests into stupid words that stupid and now blonde sim jaeyun hears. 

“you’re so pretty.” and you think if an alien ufo were to suck you up into space and carry you away from the pit of shame and embarrassment you’ve carved out for yourself, you would embrace extraterrestrial life without hesitation if it meant getting away from him. “fuck, sorry, i didn’t mean to say that.” 

and fuck, his laugh his so cute when you hear it, so much so that it momentarily distracts you from the blaring truth that his efforts to look good for you have paid off. “you think i’m pretty?” 

“pretty stupid.” and you try to say it with malice, but it comes out small and he knows you mean none of it. “i’ll be waiting with sunghoon on the bleachers.” 

yeah- it’s safe to say that jake has never scored that many times against his goalie in his entire life. but his excitement is infectious, and when sunghoon sneaks out of the sitting area to meet his friend during a break, the latter knows something is up. “she called me pretty, hoon. like, she actually meant it.”

“are you sure?” 

“and then she said i was pretty stupid, but liste-ow! what the hell?” he stops himself when he gets yet another smack from sunghoon- except this time, his friend’s eyes are shining. 

“no way. she meant it?” and jake nods in earnest. 

“that’s why she’s been waiting at the bleachers.” and sunghoon fake gags. 

“you’re disgustingly in love with her or something.” jake offers him a lopsided smile and bounces off in your direction, afraid you’ve left now that there’s no one on the field and the sun might start to set soon. but to his relief, you’re there, with your pretty hair and your pretty face and your pretty everything. 

“____!” he says running over with his bag. “sorry for keeping you waiting.” 

you close your notebook, where you’ve done half of your math homework between watching jake pass the ball and scoring. and you’re a little irritated at how long it takes for boys to run across the field to practice soccer, but you’re just more worried about getting home safely. “tell me what you need. it’s cold, and it’s getting dark, sim.” 

“you walk home?” and he doesn’t know why he hasn’t noticed something like that sooner. and you nod, packing your things slowly. “i’ll go with you.” 

“why?”

“because i don’t want a pretty girl like you to walk home alone.” he says, changing his shoes. 

“i’m not worried because it’s dark, i’m worried because it’s cold.” you argue, not ignoring how he calls you pretty. 

“then wear my hoodie.” 

“but my face will be cold.” 

“then kiss me.” he blurts. 

huh? kiss? jake? 

“kiss?” you reiterate, staring at him like he has three heads. 

jake’s eyes widen in panic. “well you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

“it’s not like i don’t want to.”

“so if you want to, and your face is cold, why can’t we..”

“well i don’t know what it’s like to be kissed!” you admit awkwardly, suddenly finding the dirt on the bleachers much more interesting than the way jake is probably looking at you like you’re a loser. 

“it’s okay, i haven’t either.” and his confession makes you whip your head around, face to face with a boy who very much looks like he’s had a girlfriend- or a few. 

“but-“ and you’re definitely taken aback. “but you’re so..” 

all of the playfulness floods back into his grin as he unabashedly observes your every reaction. “so…what, ____?” and despite a frown overcoming your features, your heart thuds rapidly with the proximity between you two, and you can’t help but lose your train of thought when he’s so close. “pretty?” and it refers to your slip of tongue, making you scrunch your nose in embarrassment. 

“i don’t know.” your murmur. 

“you don’t? come on angel, you aren’t the smartest in our class for nothing.” and you hear the way his accent permeates every few words, and unfortunately, it’s just painfully unfair how attractive he looks when he chuckles and reaches up. “may i?” he says, and you nod, letting him scoot closer and grasp your chin. and you give him permission because you don’t have a reason to say no, and even if you did, all protest dies on your tongue when he leans in just a little bit more, and your eyes flutter shut, tilted slightly for your lips to slot perfectly against his. and your face burns with how much you enjoyed your kiss with jake, so much so that when you part, it’s not for long, since you place your hands on his shoulders and whisper to no one but him, “kiss me again.” 

and you kiss sim jaeyun on the bleachers for the second time, your hands pulling him close as you both enjoy the spark of the moment. and jake can’t get enough of you- it's evident with now the time you spend apart from each other far less in comparison to the time he spends with his eyes closed and with your lips against his. 

you pull apart with a giggle and a boulder of bashfulness on your shoulders, unsure of how you even got here with your lip balm smeared across his lips. and you’re one of the smartest students there, but your train of thought probably crashed somewhere the moment you could smell the fresh scent of his cologne. 

yeah- maybe you were doomed from the start. 

“let’s get you home, yeah?” 

and even though your face is still cold, you wear his hoodie and hold his hand to make sure you’re not cold anywhere else. “what did you want me to stay behind for?”

“right- art history!”

“i said it a whole bunch of times! i’m not going to tutor you, jake!”

he pouts. "still?"

reblogs + interactions r appreciated!

[helluvapoison]

heyy i was wondering if you could do like Lucifer x reader getting married if ,you want to ofc🫶

btw i love your work so muchh, thank you!!🫶(also english is not my first language so i hope i didn't write anything wrong)

Absolutely I Do

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

a little insight to your wedding with the king

[part ii (18+ only)]

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• What would be a tamer version of a bridezilla? Not quite lashing out at everyone and their mother over the tiniest details but blowing a fuse when white roses arrive and he specifically asked for white gardenias?

• That would be Lucifer

• Asmodeus is his best man and the other Sins are his groomsmen, they’ll handle the flower debacle and any other matter that needs saving

• Good natured Charlie was given, arguably, the easiest task of holding onto the rings! She’s more than capable of planning the entire event on her own (and she asked to… twice) but Lucifer wanted her to enjoy this wedding as he wouldn’t be having another

• It’s part of why he wants this to go perfectly!

• He never thought he’d find another love after Lilith. He didn’t even realize that while you were delicately filling in the crater she’d left, he was falling more and more in love with you

• The other part, his pride and perfectionism aside, is that while it may be his second wedding, it’s your first. In his eyes you deserve only the best and he’ll be damned all over again if he doesn’t deliver

• You told your fiancé (FUCK he loved that word coming out of your mouth, almost as much as he was going to like husband!) to at least try to not go overboard. To which you received a “Me? Overboard? Darling, I would never! Simple and elegant, that’s what the headlines will say!”

• The many, many, many vision boards said otherwise. However you already knew damn well “simple and elegant” translated to grandeur and extravagant– and that’s exactly what it was. To Lucifer’s credit, it wasn’t gaudy or blinding. It really was a gorgeous spectacle

• Per his request it’s an all white event, a stark contrast to the overall location. The guest list is massive. After all, Lucifer’s still a king and certain people would be offended if they missed an occasion like this. Everyone goes all out. Bodies pour into chairs, everyone dripping head to toe in white garments and glamorous jewels

• Lucifer preened and primped, checking the mirror a couple hundred times and asking whoever was in the room if he looked ok. Anything less than “outstanding” had him groaning as he turned back to the mirror

• The wedding suddenly seems like a terrible idea. Not because he has cold feet (he’s rather sweaty, actually) but because the moment he sees you he just wants to steal you away

• You are positively and wholly breathtaking. The stars are jealous over how you outshine them! He can’t do anything but stare in amazement as you walk down the aisle

• Does he, Lucifer Morningstar, vow to protect, love, cherish and serve you for all eternity? Undoubtedly. He adds a few his own too like spoil you rotten, compliment you hourly, never ever never let you feel like you’re alone— all things he’s already done but wanted to make it “official”

• “It’s been an honor to be your confidant and friend… but I’m dying to do that and more as your husband.”

• Then do you take him to have and to hold, for better or worse, richer or poorer?

• “I do.” You answer proudly, squeezing his hands ever so slightly

• Forgetting present company, forgetting he’s a king and supposed to act dignified, Lucifer doesn’t wait to get permission to kiss you. He jumps slightly, knowing you’ll catch him instantly. Hugging your neck he crashes his lips onto yours

• You giggle against him, returning the kiss briefly before setting him down. (Hell knows he’d get carried away and forget much more if you didn’t)

• “I do believe you’re my husband now, Luci.”

• The entire wedding may as well have been a surprise party the way his eyes widened, as if it only just set in what the ordeal was for

• “Oh my golly, I’m your husband. I’m your husband! Hey everybody, I'm their husband!”

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ don’t apologize, you did great friend! thank you so mochi and i hope you enjoy

[jifloulette]

sometimes, he can't help it but fight for your attention even if it means he's doing it against your pet cat . . .

who ? . . nagi seishiro ! words ? . . 642 !

oi.. y/n, stop cuddling yer cat and keep playin' with my hair.

nagi said the second you let go of his snow-like hair in order to hold your cat for a bit. it was more funny than it was cute, you knew your boyfriend loved your attention but you didn't think he'd fight for it against your cat! i mean, the cat was basically his child at this point, the two of you had been dating for a while now. hell, nagi once tried making choki play with the cat! so in order for your affection hungry lover to focus on his game as he laid on your lap, you had one hand on him and the other on your pet. you thought this would've solved the cries of nagi — instead, he kept pleading for you to have both of your hands on him. it was selfish, selfishly cute. nagi's touch starved personality is one of the reasons you love him so much besides his good looks. he always wanted you to either cuddle him, piggyback ride him, or play with his hair. you didn't listen to the begs of the man laying on your lap. even after he tried to make his tone sound more stern and serious — it only made you giggle due to the fact that his voice cracked as he tried doing so.

y/nnn, pls play with m'hair. i want you to play with it.

nagi said as he got up from your lap to push your cat away from you. it was a sight to see, it's the most your boyfriend has done just to get your attention — plus it was all because of a cat! not even another human being! you cat was already trying to scratch nagi to make him put her back down, but he couldn't care less. all he wants is to have all your attention on him and only him. it's only when you pull the white-haired boy down in order for him to stop is when he let go of the poor animal. when you finally play with his hair again, he goes soft and lays back down on your lap — continuing to play whatever shooter game was on his phone. then all of a sudden, your cat jumps on top of nagi, knocking his phone to the ground! thanks to nagi's fast reaction time, he got his phone safe and sound. though you did notice him glaring at your cat but before you could really take the look on his face in, he was already back to laying on you, except this time he did it on your chest.

i can't let that pesty cat get on you so i guess i needa do this..

this time, nagi took initiative and picked up both of your hands to put on top of his hair. you didn't resist though, you fully stroked his hair on purpose. before you knew it, he was already asleep on you. it's only been just 3 minutes, hasn't it? you weren't going to complain, you loved seeing your boyfriend snuggled up close to you as he went to dreamland. he enjoyed having you caress his messy hair, you enjoyed playing it the same. it was always moments like these where nagi just wanted time to stop, to just have you tousle his hair for all eternity. it was a self-centered thing to think about but really, he didn't care. as much as he loves your cat (he won't admit it to you though.), he really just wants you to focus on him the same way he does when he's playing video games. he's a selfish lover, he doesn't mind that — plus you loved that aspect of his personality anyways so why would he change? you knew better as his lover that that's what's best, after all!

©🇯​​🇮​​🇫​​🇱​​🇴​​🇺​​🇱​​🇪​​🇹​​🇹​​🇪​, do not steal, translate, or repost any of my writings anywhere else.

[arabella0001]

beneath the uniform

pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader Anime: Attack on titan Synopsis: a wound leads to more than just physical healing.

Warnings: light teasing, rough sex, dirty talk, fingering, power control, fluff

Levi’s blade flashes as he cuts through an enemy without hesitation. You draw your weapon, rushing to fight alongside him in the narrow, blood-soaked underground chamber.

The air is thick with the clash of steel and cries of the wounded. Blood spatters your face as you fend off another attacker. A sudden pain tears through you, and you cry out. Levi spins, cutting down a foe near you, his sharp eyes catching your injury.

"Keep going!" he barks over the noise. "We can’t let them get the upper hand!"

When the last attackers flee, Levi sheathes his blade and moves to you, his gaze grim. He offers his hand. "Let’s get out of here. And clean that wound."

The ascent to the surface is treacherous, but Levi leads with ease, glancing back to ensure you’re following. Once outside, he examines your wound. "That needs stitching," he mutters.

"Thank you, sir," you say quietly, preparing for what’s coming.

Levi shakes his head. A rare softness flickers across his face. "Don’t thank me yet. It’s gonna hurt like hell." His hands work deftly over your torn flesh, and every stitch sends jolts of pain through you.

When he finishes, Levi ties the bandage firmly. "That should do it. Rest up. We’ll need to move soon."

After what feels like an eternity, he nudges your shoulder. "It’s time to move. Can you walk?"

"Yes, Captain Levi."With a curt nod, he leads the way through the wilderness.

Eventually, the camp comes into view. Soldiers turn to you with concern as Levi directs the medics. "Patch her up. I’ll check on her later."

Once inside the tent, you hesitate before speaking. "I’m sorry for slowing you down. I should’ve been stronger."

Levi listens, his expression unreadable. Then he speaks, voice sharp but steady. "You’re lucky to be alive. And you’re damn right you should’ve protected yourself better." He exhales, running a hand through his hair.

"Thank you, Captain Levi." Your voice trembles, and relief washes over you.

Levi clears his throat awkwardly "Rest now."

After leaving the medical tent, Levi tries to focus on his duties, but his mind keeps drifting back to you—your pale face, the sight of your injuries. The unease lingers, and by nightfall, it weighs heavily on him.

A strange sensation fills him - something foreign and unsettling. It takes him a while to realize what it is: concern. Concern for you.

At night, you lie awake thinking of Levi—his steady voice, his sharp gaze. You admire him, crave his approval, and dread disappointing him. The feelings are overwhelming, a mix of longing and fear you can’t escape. You wonder if he’ll ever see you, not as a soldier, but as someone worth noticing.

The next morning, during breakfast, he notices you instantly. Relief flickers briefly across his face when he sees you looking better, but his sharp gaze darkens when you sway. Already weakened from yesterday, your chest tightened, and heat flooded your cheeks. The mix of nerves and exhaustion made your knees buckle as the room spun faintly.He strides over, steadying you with a firm hand. Your blush deepens under his touch.

"Easy there. You're not going to pass out on me again, are you?" His voice, gruff but laced with concern, makes your heart race. The warmth of his hand lingers, sending butterflies through your chest. He dont know what is making you act so weirdly.

"If you faint, I’ll make you run laps until you drop," he growls, though his protective stance remains firm. Soldiers’ stares draw a snap from him: "Eyes off, unless you want extra guard duty." The intensity in his voice makes your cheeks flush even more.

Later that night, footsteps outside your barrack make you peek through the crack in the door. When you see him, your breath catches, and a blush spreads across your face. "Captain Levi?" you whisper.

"I need to talk to you," he murmurs, stepping closer. Nervous but eager, you open the door fully, inviting him in. Your heart pounds as he scans your room before locking eyes with you.

"I’ve been trying to figure out why you acted so strangely at breakfast," he begins. His tone is steady, though his gaze feels like it’s piercing straight through you. "And I think I might have an idea."

You fidget under his scrutiny, your hands trembling as you manage, "What is it, sir?"

"You were acting like a girl who likes her captain." His bluntness sends your cheeks burning hot. You stammer, trying to deny it, but his hand cuts off your protest.

"Save it. I already know," he says, stepping closer. His fingers lift your chin gently, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. Your heart pounds furiously, your blush deepening as you realize he’s reading every emotion you’re trying to hide.

"Don’t deny it anymore," he commands, his voice soft but firm. "It’s time we talked about this."

Swallowing hard, trembling, you whisper, "Y-yes, Captain Levi… you’re right." The vulnerability in your voice stirs something in him, and his brows knit slightly.

"It’s not wise to have feelings for your commanding officer," he warns, his words sharp but his tone laced with a strange warmth.

Shame washes over you, and you lower your eyes, voice trembling. "I know… I-I’m sorry. I’ll get over it, I—"

He presses a finger to your lips, silencing your apology. The touch sends a spark through you, and your wide eyes meet his.

"No," he says firmly. "Don’t apologize. It’s only fair if I do the same." His words leave you breathless, your heart pounding so loudly it drowns out everything else. "W-what?" you whisper, caught between disbelief and longing.

Levi pulls you into a rough embrace, his lips crashing down onto yours in a desperate kiss. The passion between you is undeniable, despite his initial hesitation. And for once, he allows himself to indulge in these forbidden feelings. Feeling your response, Levi deepens the kiss. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer until there's no space left between us. There's a wild desperation in his actions, fueled by years of suppressed desires.

"I should punish you," he murmurs against your lips, "for having such foolish feelings."

"Captain Levi…"you whisper while panting heavy and very flustered. Ignoring your plea, Levi trails kisses down your neck, leaving a hot trail of tingles in their wake. His grip tightens around you as he pushes you back onto the bed, his body hovering over yours.

"But I can't bring myself to do it," he admits, "because I've got these damn feelings too." You gasp softly, surprised by his admission. Without another word, Levi claims your mouth in another heated kiss. His body presses against yours, the hardness of his arousal pressing insistently against your softness. With a growl of pure need, he breaks the kiss long enough to peel off his shirt.

"Do you want this?" he demands roughly, "Tell me you want it."

"Yes" you murmur. Hearing your admission, Levi grins wickedly. His hands move to unbutton your uniform, pulling away from you only long enough to strip you bare.

"Good," he murmurs darkly, "Because I don't plan on stopping." With a growl of anticipation, Levi positions himself between your legs. His fingers trace teasing patterns along your inner thighs before finally finding their way to your soaked center.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asks huskily, "To feel my hands on you like this?" you moan embarassed. Levi's fingers explore further, delving deeper into your folds. His thumb brushes over your sensitive clit, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm beneath him.

"And is this what you really want?" he teases, "For me to fuck you senseless until you can't remember anything but the feel of my cock inside you."

"Yes, sir" Smiling at your submission, Levi slides two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that sweet spot within you. His thumb continues its assault on your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Just remember," he whispers,"it's your fault for getting attached to your commander." You whimper softly, encouraged by your responses, Levi adds a third finger to your soaking cunt, stretching you expertly while his thumb keeps working on your throbbing clit. He increases his pace, each thrust of his fingers meeting with eager resistance from your walls.

"That's it," he groans, "squeeze my fingers like a good little soldier." You gasp and moan loudly

"Levi.. " Levi smirks at your near slip-up, enjoying the fact that you've forgotten his rank. His fingers continue their ruthless assault on your needy pussy, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

"You'll address me properly," he corrects sternly, "or I won't let you cum."

"Captain, please…"At your plea, Levi leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue invades your mouth as his fingers work overtime inside you, curling just right to hit that sweet spot.

"Say it again," he demands against your lips.

"Please, please, Captain.. "Levi grins wickedly at your plea, loving the way you're begging for release. His fingers pump into you harder, hitting that sweet spot over and over.

"There's my good little soldier," he purrs, Levi smirks at your reaction, loving the way you're still panting and flushed after your orgasm. He withdraws his wet fingers from your pussy, bringing them up to his lips.

"Don't worry," he murmurs, "I haven't even started fucking you yet." Levi watches your reactions closely, enjoying the way you blush under his gaze. He stands up from the bed, stripping off his pants and underwear to reveal his fully erect member.

"Well then," he says, climbing back onto the bed, "let's see if you can take more than my fingers." You look at his dick nervously because it looks intimidating, you still cant believe you end up in your situation with your Captain.

Noticing your hesitation, Levi lays down beside you and pulls you close. His hand reaches down to guide his length between your folds, teasing your entrance with the tip.

"It's okay," he whispers reassuringly, "just breathe and relax."As you begin to relax, Levi starts pushing into you slowly. The head of his cock stretches your entrance before sinking deeper into your tight heat. Each inch brings a new wave of pleasure and slight discomfort.

"That's it," he groans, "… You can take it."you moan softly as he enters you, you feel so full and aroused, start moving with him so he can go deeper. Levi begins to set a slow, rhythmic pace. His hips grind against yours as he sinks deeper into your warmth, each thrust eliciting a low growl from deep within him.

"I knew you could handle it," he grunts, "Now squeeze that pretty little cunt of yours around my cock."

"Levi.. " Levi smiles at your words, pleased that you've forgotten to adress him better once again. His thrusts become more forceful as he pushes deeper into you, filling you completely with each stroke.

"You're doing good," he murmurs, "Keep taking my cock like a good girl."Hearing your soft moans, Levi can't help but push you further. His hands grip your hips tightly as he pounds into you relentlessly. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through his veins.

"That's it," he grunts, feeling your body tighten around him, Levi knows you're close to climaxing again. He quickens his pace, pistoning in and out of you with brutal efficiency.

"Come for me," he commands, "Let me feel that tight little pussy squeeze my cock." Seeing you climax, Levi can't hold back anymore. He thrusts one final time, filling you with his hot seed as he roars out his release. Collapsing onto the bed beside you, he pulls you close into his arms.

"That was…," he murmurs breathlessly, "one hell of a fuck." You pant heavily, you feel so vulnerable. Levi notices your silence and vulnerability after the intense session of lovemaking. He pulls you closer, nuzzling into your neck gently.

"Y/N…"he whispers reassuringly,"We're okay… It's just us right now." You hug him, and he holds you close, feeling your vulnerability. He knows things are complicated between you two - he's your captain and you're his soldier, but they've admitted their feelings for each other.

"Just relax," he murmurs against your skin, "We'll figure it out…"

"Capta…Levi" you correct yourself "…can i ask you a question? " Levi chuckles softly at your correction, appreciating the intimacy of it. He nods, encouraging you to ask whatever's on your mind.

"Yeah," he says simply, "Go ahead."

"For how long did you feel like this about me? "Levi hesitates for a moment, considering his response carefully. He'd been trained to keep his emotions hidden, especially from those under his command.

"A while now," he admits quietly, "But I didn't want to complicate things… Until you made it clear by your reactions that you felt the same."

"You think others will judge us? Because of…you know…"you ask anxious. Levi lets out a soft sigh, running his fingers through your hair soothingly.

"I don't give a damn about what others think," he murmurs, "As long as we're careful… And as long as it doesn't affect our duty."

"You are right.. " you nodd gently and nuzzles into his neck "C-can you sleep here? " you ask scared of his reaction. Levi considers your request, weighing the risks and benefits. As your captain, he has duties that must be attended to, but perhaps tonight…

"If you want me to," he murmurs, "I'll stay."

"Yes" Levi pulls you closer, nuzzling into your neck gently. Despite everything, despite their different roles and responsibilities, there's a comfort in being near you.

"Good," he murmurs, "Then let's get some rest…" you yawn soflty while feeling so loved "Good night, Levi… "

Feeling your body relax into slumber, Levi stays awake for a while longer. He watches over you protectively, savoring the rare moment of peace and intimacy. Eventually, exhaustion catches up with him and he drifts off to sleep alongside you, keeping you safely in his arms throughout the night.

[jazztato]

Hazbin hotel Boyfriend scenarios~ How you meet Alastor

Hell is a dark place for those who were dammed there for all of eternity for their sins that they did when they were among the living, including myself I did things I’m not proud of but they had to be done and because of those things I ended up in hell, I didn’t expect to die so soon but I suppose it was my fault I got by my friend’s father who just so happens to have been the sheriff he didn’t hesitate to shoot me even if I was his daughters friend, I was a killer and to him killers must be taken down.

Now I'm in hell I was walking down the bloody streets as sinners of all kinds were stabbing each other or setting things on fire as they fought for territory, I kept my movement along the path sometimes i had wished I choose a different path then what I had, hell is nothing but a bloodthirsty hell hole literally, making me regret my life choices seeing how with every step I take I watch where I go trying not to get myself killed…  Again.  As I walked down the path of blood and death I was met with an old 1920’s style bar. It looked like the perfect place to cool down for a bit.

I pushed open the doors and just like the sign everything inside was decorated with old 1920’s decor, just like the old speakeasies they had, I walked through and around the other patron’s there who were chatting amongst themselves till I finally managed to spot an empty stool at the bar, there were tons of sinners drinking about but they all didn’t seem to want to sit in that last stool as I approached it I started to realize why it remained empty, in the neighboring stool was a sinner with deer like features, razor sharp teeth, even though all the sinners basically have razor sharp teeth, and a long red coat, he was a demon that was feared by all no wonder no one wanted to sit in the stool, it’s neighbor was none other than the radio demon.

I didn’t exactly care if he was a scary and very powerful overlord I didn’t feel like standing any longer then I already have I decided to take my chances and sit in the remaining empty stool, as I sat down I saw the sinners surrounding the bar giving me glances as if I had a death wish for sitting beside a demon such as the radio demon I decided to ignore them as I told the bartender what I’ll be having.

“Bartender, I'll have a whiskey.” I spoke clear and loud enough over the crowd the bartender just nodded and was about to make my drink till a static-like voice spoke out.

“Make that two my good sir!”  he had looked over towards me as his smile never left his face.  “You have good taste in liquor my dear!” I watched as he stretched out his hand as if he was looking for a handshake.  “Alastor!  It’s a pleasure to be meeting you my dear!”  I looked at his outstretched hand thinking if I should shake it or not knowing my better judgement to not shake his hand, I decided not to be rude and to accept his outstretched hand.

“Whiskey is the only drink I can handle at these places, the names (Y/N), what brings the oh so famous radio demon out here?  Not for fun I'm assuming?”  I firmly took my hand back as the handshake was starting to feel like a hand hold at this point, I placed my hands in my lap as I fiddled with my thumbs.

Alastor let out a slight laugh as if he thought what I said was amusing. I gave him a small glare as he took a sip of his whiskey once it was set in front of him.  “This place has the best whiskey in town. I come here every week. A friend of mine owns the bar. She always says I could drink for free, but I don’t want to bleed her dry and leave her nothing!”  He let out another laugh. “But watching the sinners run in fear of me is quite entertaining. I've been around for years and yet they still aren't used to me coming in every week.”  I watched as he took yet another sip from his whiskey. I then stared at my own before chugging it down the taste burning down my throat as he stared at my now empty glass.

“Is that so?  Why is it so entertaining to you?  I don’t get why sinners are afraid of you they all did similar things to get into hell and yet here we are sinners of all sorts not even wanting to come close to the stool that i reside in if you're asking me, you don’t seem too bad of a demon especially when it comes to small talk.” I didn’t know why I said what I said but it’s been a while since I’ve last held up a decent conversation with someone without getting into a bar fight or killing someone.

For a few minutes it was nothing but silence I was about to speak up but was cut off with the scrape of his stool he had stood up he was taller than I had expected since he was sitting most of the time, I stared over at him a bit confused he looked over at me his smile looking more strained than before.  “I am a gentleman, but I am also a powerful overlord, sinners all over fear me because of the power I have, they didn’t sit beside me because of that fear but you my friend you are different you don’t think like everyone else here you sat beside me without a care in the world.”  For a second I could’ve sworn I saw his ears pin back but quickly perked up again as if he didn’t want to be seen as weak and powerless.  “With that said, I'll be off!  Places to be errands to run, deals to make~” As the last words left his mouth a light green energy formed around the room but dissipated instantly as he stood up straight.  “Maybe we will see each other again?”  with that said he vanished into the shadows.  I let out a slight gasp as if I had been holding my breath, he was a mysterious man with a mysterious background I was about to pay my tab but the bartender rejected it saying it was covered that was when I realized that son of a bitch payed for my tab without me noticing I can’t believe it He really was a gentleman I let out a soft groans as I stood up from the stool and headed out of the bar back to the bloody streets of hell, the next time I see him I will have to figure out a way to pay him back without him knowing because that sneaky deer thought he could get away with it, it was a nice gesture but now It’s making me feel bad since he spent his money on a sinner such as myself, he said he goes there every week if I’m lucky I’ll see him again and this time I’ll have the upper hand, I fell onto my bed closing my eyes as sleep soon washed over me.

[ghoulishhx]

𖹭 she plays bass 𖹭

✮⋆˙ CHAPTER ONE ˙⋆✮

SLOW CHEMICAL

hi! this is my first ever fan fic, so go easy on me! will be updating after i write more :3

Chapter 2: I'm Your Biggest Fan

──── ୨୧ ────

Pairing: Frank Castle fem!reader

Warnings/tags: 18+, TW mentions of self loathing, self consciousness, suicidal thoughts. contains friends to lovers, slow burn, canon violence, fluff, angst, eventual smut (more tags may be added in the future!)

Summary: you and your bandmates (and best friends) move to New York for a change of scenery. you didn't think this adventure lead to you to him, the most dangerous man in America

Word Count: 1414

He’s there again tonight.

You and your band were playing another gig at Josies, just like you have done every Friday for the better part of a month now. You guys have been strapped for gigs, and were willing to take anything. Turns out, Josie’s drunkards on Friday night loved your stuff and you were asked to return every week. You don’t hate it, although the venue is tiny and it gets so crowded your social anxiety can't handle it. Anything to be able to play your music.

The First Friday

Arriving at Josie’s for the first time was definitely a culture shock. You’ve played gigs in bars before but there was a different energy here in Hell’s Kitchen. More bar fights than you can count, the rowdy tone of the New York accent filling your ears. You quickly adapt, putting in your ear buds to defend yourself from overstimulation, plugging in your bass and tuning her to standard, pulling your microphone closer ready to perform. Typically the bass player isn't the front-person of the band but nothing about you was typical. From your coloured hair to your piercings and tattoos, you looked good. Fucking great even, despite your self consciousness nitpicking at everything wrong with your appearance. You fit in being amongst these New Yorkers, even though the little voice in your head that's soul purpose is to shatter any amount of confidence you have is still there and present, you know in your soul there is nowhere else in the world you are supposed to be.

Stage nerves begin to set. This is a new venue, a new audience. What if they don’t like you? What if they throw rotten tomatoes at you and your friends? What if you get blacklisted from playing anywhere ever again and you have to spend the rest of your life working in the coffee shop? 

The sound of the drummer tapping his stick to the beat to count you in pulls you out of your trance.

Stop. Take a deep breath and play. This is what you’re meant to do, this is your calling.

Life is a waterfall, we’re one in the river and one again after the fall

Okay, you’re doing great, you're on key and you're playing the notes perfectly.

Swimming through the void we hear the word we lose ourselves, but we find it all

Nice, you didn’t fuck up the belt. You’re good and they’re loving it, bobbing their heads to the tune. You’re not surprised New Yorkers fuck with System of a Down

Aerials in the sky. When you lose small mind, you free your life.

Aerials, so up high. When you free your eyes, eternal prize.

The sound of applause fills your ears, after absolutely smashing Aerials you went on to have a great set, the whole crowd was eating it up. It was a lucky guess that Josie’s patrons love nu-metal. You look out to the crowd, grateful for their acceptance and that's when you see him for the first time sitting at the bar, beer bottle in hand and dark eyes locked on someone. 

On you.

The bar is dark, but not too dark to catch a glimpse of his face under the light of the bar. Chiseled face, a jawline that could cut diamonds. Plump, rosy lips. You watch as he flicks his tongue over to wet them before he takes another sip of his beer, all while holding eye contact with you. The expression on his face is unreadable, you can’t tell if he's angry or if that's just what he looks like. You truthfully don’t mind either way, you're entranced by him. His dark hair, beat up nose, rugged appearance and large frame encapsulate you. You offer him a small smile, parting your dark nude lips, you’re not sure where this confidence is coming from but there’s something about him that you feel drawn into. He catches your smile, raising an eyebrow and he offers a smirk back. He looks away as he smiles, eyes back on Josie behind the bar. You duck your head trying to conceal the blush creeping up your neck. When you look up his seat is empty and you watch him walk towards the door, his back to you and you can't help but ogle at him now you don't feel his eyes watching you. The shadows from the light bounce off his muscular back, the back of his head (you definitely did NOT imagine how it would feel wrapping your hands around the back of his head and pulling him closer to you) shaved to a military cut. He is/was a Marine maybe? Whatever you did, you couldn’t shake him from your mind. Unplugging your bass from the amp and tying up the jack cable you just couldn't get the image of him staring you down out of your mind. Your lead guitarist patting you on the back to get your attention barely snaps you out of your trance.

“Good fucking job girl, you absolutely crushed it out there,” she exclaims tucking her plectrum into her front jean pocket “Hello?? Is there anyone there?” waving her hand in front of your face.

“Oh, uhm yeah sorry! I got a little distracted” You look back towards the door, silently hoping he only went out for a cigarette or something, but if he IS a military man surely he wouldn’t smoke.. Or would he? I guess the job can be kind of stressful..

“Hey! You’re daydreaming again. Come back down to earth and help us pack up our shit. Faster we do this the faster we can celebrate!” 

“Sorry Luka, I’m here now.. Hey, did you happen to notice that guy sat at the ba-”

“The one who was basically fucking you with his eyes? Yeah bitch. Shame he left before he gave you a chance to tap that.”

You laugh and give her a friendly teasing push on her shoulder. At least you weren't making anything up about the way he was looking at you, you thought. Hopefully he’s there next week.

Today

Spoiler alert, he was. And he was there the week after that, and then the week after that which is today. You pretend to act all nonchalant as you walk up onto the small makeshift stage, knowing he was there again only added more anxiety for this performance. 

The past three weeks you’ve been too scared to approach him, the first after his abrupt disappearance you went home and fell asleep thinking of him and his eyes staring at you. The following weeks played out like the first, you both offering smiles to each other and him leaving after your set. You secretly hoped that this week he didn’t rush out so soon, just so you could carry on this staring affair. You were still far too anxious to approach him.

Right, snap out of it. You have a job to do. You put in your earbuds, plug in your bass and pull the microphone closer to you. Let’s do this shit.

The wonder of the world is gone, I know for sure

All the wonder that I want I found in her.

As the world becomes a part, I strike to burn

And no flame returns.

You don’t know what compelled you to perform Slow Chemical tonight, growing up with wrestling on the TV 24/7 probably subconsciously made you add it to the setlist. Growing up you were a HUGE Kane fan and then he.. Well, you know. 

You look out to the mystery man who’s been invading your mind for the past month, and there he is. Sat in his regular seat, drinking from his beer bottle and his eyes only on you. His eyes have a different look to them tonight, drawing you in even further than you were before.

Give me what I could never ask for

Connect me and you could be my chemical now

Give me the drug you know I’m after

Connect me and you could be my chemical

Applause. Another amazing set, you’ve grown accustomed to Josie’s at this point and Friday nights are the best part of your week. You take a deep breath and look over to him, he’s not looking at you anymore. He’s staring off into the wall behind the bar. You’re being eaten alive by the curiosity you have about him, tonight is the night.

You HAVE to learn more about him.

𖹭

[eveenstar]

we are the blood of the night | vampire!targtowers x human!reader

tags/warnings: manipulation, kidnapping, blood drinking, vampire AU, hints to sex, polygamous relationship, reader's gender is unspecified, helaegon strives, targcest, slight stockholm syndrome, 16+ read

note: can you tell i watched iwtv

note pt2: this is an old work, forgotten n abandoned in my drafts. Thought that might as well put it out there.

In the olden days....Well, maybe not so long ago. Perhaps a few months. A year, even? You weren't so sure anymore. Time seemed to move differently in the Targaryen Manor.

You were, once, the baker's child. You loved and were loved by all. You were your father's prized possession - "the best thing he'd ever done," said he. There wasn't another life for you. This was what you wanted, what you would spend an eternity doing if you could.

The bakery was in a small village in the outskirts of a forest, surrounded by mountains. A little community thriving under the lordship of Lord Aegon Targaryen and his siblings, Lord Aemond and Lady Helaena. No one ever saw them. Truth be told, they were as mythical as the white stag said to roam the forest. The whispers told that they were...sinful creatures, partaking in the darkest of rituals and magics - but starvation and plague hadn't harmed the village since Lord Aegon took over, and who were you to complain? They could do all they wanted behind their stone walls, as long as the village remained safe of their doings.

Which it did.

Until it didn't.

It started as a word, a mere whisper in the wind, travelling from ear to ear until it reached yours. A group of religious fanatics, proclaiming themselves to be prophets of the Seven, had begun cursing Aegon and his kin, claiming they were devils, and you, the poor few, were being manipulated by them.

We are all cursed to the Seven Hells, they screamed.

Of course, such words were soon to reach the siblings. For a few days, you thought nothing of it. Perhaps they didn't even care.

On the seventh night, you awoke with the screams of the damned. The fire that consumed the church reflected in your eyes as you ran outside, calling for your father. In his stead, you saw the burning flesh and melting faces of the so-called prophets and their believers. Amidst fire and smoke, Lord Aemond came riding on Vhagar, dragging behind the horse the perpetrator of such lies.

"Father!" You screamed, running out of his way and hiding behind some barrels. Little did you know, you would never see your father again.

Hearing your wails, Aemond dismounted his beast of a horse and pulled you by your arm to him. The tales about him didn't live up to the man before you. You swore it was a fallen angel, coming to drag you to hell with it.

The fire in his eye, his lips drenched in fresh blood that dripped down from his fangs, his long silver hair glimmering in the light of the moon. A devil, a fallen angel, a demon. Aemond Targaryen was all of these things and more.

He took you to the Manor that night. Even as you screamed and kicked, it was like you were a feather on the palm of his hand. He dragged you to his brother's feet, who seemed as confused as any, still wearing his nightgown.

"What is the meaning of this? Who gave you the order to attack our village?" Demanded Aegon.

Aemond snarled, his grip on your hair only tightening. "I merely maintained the integrity of our subjects, brother. They must be reminded of who they serve."

"And this?" Aegon motioned to you.

From the darkness, a voice spoke. Lady Helaena revealed herself. "A sacrificial lamb in a blood web."

Aemond shoved you to the floor, a somewhat proud look on his face. "Beloved child of the village. I wager they shall remain on their toes if they wish her...Well."

"Mother taught you better than play with food, Aemond." Reminded the older sister. "Especially if it's a female."

Play with food.

Were they...cannibals? No, no, there was something terribly wrong with the Targaryen siblings. Something dark and twisted that would reveal itself to you rather sooner than later. Something that would change your life for all eternity to come.

Helaena, sweet Lady Helaena, took you under her wing, away from her brothers. She was kind and sweet, bathing you in a golden tub and gifting you garments of the finest silk you could only dream of.

"What are they?" You'd ask, in a hushed voice. "You, I mean."

But in those few days, Helaena would only cup your cheek and speak in riddles. You could hardly understand her, and you found yourself wondering if that was intentional - to leave you in the dark, just for a little while longer. To have you wanting for knowledge, for the obscure truth that awaited you in the long hours of the night.

Back then, you rarely saw Aemond, but you heard Aegon. He was loud and boastful, but so under Helaena's thumb. Completely enamoured by his sister. You quickly understood that Aegon might be the Overlord, but it was Helaena pulling the strings. Without her, your village would've crumbled to fire and blood to the bloodthirsty brothers.

Then, at last, you came to a dreadful realization.

They weren't devils nor fallen angels. They were creatures of the night, doomed to an eternal life of youthfulness and beauty, ravishing in the nectar of the innocent. They were vampires.

"The village has understood your message, my Lord," you pleaded, "I won't tell anyone what you are. You have my word."

Aegon laughed until he realized you were serious. You knew their true nature. "Oh," He threw a glance to Helaena and Aemond. "The little bird knows our secret. What are we to do now?" Asked he, rhetorically.

Before you could reply, Aegon leaned on his throne. "You see, my young brother is eager to taste you. He might lie to himself," The white-haired Lord stood up and within a breath, was right in front of you, making you nearly stumble. "But I know he wishes to drain you dry of your..." One cold hand viced itself around your neck, like cold air. "Sweet youth."

Behind you, Aemond glared. How he despised being diminished to a pup, to have his brother mocking and taunting him like they were children.

"But, I say none of that." Aegon smiled, and you could finally breathe. "After all, we need the people on our side, and why waste such a beautiful face for only a few moments of ecstasy?" His attention shifted to his sister Helaena, to whom he smiled, sharp fangs glimmering in the pale light. "What do you say, love?"

Helaena hummed, tilting her head as she looked upon you. In her eyes, you saw not the lust or bloodthirst of the brothers, just a strange softness that seemed to draw you to her like a moth to a distant moon. You shook your head before you could get lost in her gaze.

"I quite like her."

Aegon clapped, "Wonderful! Then, it is set." He declared, holding your chin so your eyes were solely on his violet-reddish ones. "Be not afraid. We take very well of our...own."

And that was the night your fate was sealed, for better or worse. Alas, you have only seen the village from afar, only heard news of your father's thriving bakery. They were all alive, unlike your...you didn't know what to call the Targaryen siblings. In the months that issued your unwilling kidnapping, you found yourself living as a guest and not as a prisoner.

Aegon assured you that you could leave anytime you wanted, and although you were tempted to do so in certain nights, you... never went past the gates. Memories of Helaena's singing, Aegon's strange jokes, and Aemond's fleeting touches always drew you back in.

It wasn't so bad, after all. They hadn't drained you dry yet, had they? Just a few drops, here and there. Aegon would practically get drunk on your blood alone, and Helaena had to 'gently' persuade him back to her bed, to her blood.

Aemond was the strangest of the three. Unlike Helaena and Aegon, he preferred to watch you from the shadows, creeping in the corners of your peripheral vision, and shamelessly stare at you during supper. You, as the only human, were the only one eating actual food while the others fed on animal blood.

The one-eyed vampire seemed to thrive on making you uncomfortable.

It didn't take long to get used to their routine. Sleep during the day, live during the night. You were no servant; make no mistake. You were their 'guest', their....little adventure. From the finest of clothing to the ancient books and scrolls, all were gifted to you as a way to...thank you, for your most willing offer; your blood.

Oh, yes, the first bite had hurt. You still remember as if it were yesterday.

"They say eating cherries makes your blood taste sweeter," said Aegon in jest, "And pineapple makes your body smell better during sex."

You'd nearly choked on your food. "I...I'm sorry?"

"I heard a maiden say once." The Lordling leaned back on his cushioned chair. "Of course, she tasted neither like cherries nor smell like pineapple, but..." He threw a fanged smile your way. "A vampire shouldn't complain when his meal throws itself at him. Don't you agree, sweetling?"

"I..." You cleared your throat, glancing at Helaena for moral support. "Well, I never had a boar throw itself on my plate."

Aegon's booming laughter filled the hall as if you had told the funniest joke of all millennia. "Oh, she's funny, this one. I like her."

"You like all of them, dear brother." Said Aemond. A common thing, it was, for the brothers to be at each other's throats. You had witnessed a true fight between them once, but...that is a story for another time.

For now...Now you had to focus on how to survive three Targaryen vampires that were all too enamored with you.

[pretty-lovely-mar]

"Charles, please. Stop running away from me. You know that you can always tell me anything," Edwin says, getting up from his place at his desk.

Charles, who had already started to grab his overcoat and walk out the door, paused for a moment. He whirred around, "No, Edwin. You don't get it, do you? I yelled at you! Just now, after this case because I was annoyed and I got all caught up in it. I yelled at you... I don't do that, 'Win"

He seemed to sag under the weight of his words, momentarily losing his resolve to leave.

"It's okay." Edwin walked over to take his coat and hang it back up. He then walked back and put his hand in Charles' "I don't mind. I know you, Charles, and I know that you didn't mean it." He paused for a moment. He seemed to mull over what he was going to say next. Since his confession on the staircase in Hell, Edwin had begun to choose to be honest more and more often.

"In the spirit of honesty, I must say that I'd let you yell at me or more if it meant we were still together here in our afterlives."

Immediately, Edwin could see it was the wrong thing to have said. He still had some trouble reading Charles, especially when he was in a state of being greatly affected by his own trauma from his life. Crystal had always been better at comforting him and being there for him in that regard, but she wasn't here right now. There was no one for Charles to go to when Edwin inevitable seemed to mess it up.

Charles let go of Edwin's hand and clenched his fists at his sides. "Edwin, no. You can't... If I do something to you..." He trailed off, seemingly unable to finish his thought. Thoughts of his father ran through his head, and his mother's face featured right after.

His mother had stayed with his father for so many years, he had endured his father's actions until he died. He wouldn't wish that upon anyone, especially not Edwin. Never Edwin. And as much as he wished he were sure about the opposite, or that he was certain they weren't qualities that he could inherit, Charles always had that itching thought in the back of his head that he'd turn out just like father, even in his death.

Even though he had seemed like he couldn't quite get the words out, Edwin waited patiently for him to flesh out his thoughts. He took a step closer, to remind Charles that he was there for him.

Finally, he said, "If I ever hurt you, even once, never speak to me again. Tell the Night Nurse to let Death take me, start your own agency, do whatever it takes to get away from me. No matter how sorry I say I am, no matter how many promises I make." Then, quietly, almost like he didn't want him to hear, he added, "I never want you to suffer from me like my mum suffered from my dad."

Silence made the air around them feel heavy and still. Charles took an unnecessary shaky breath and looked away from Edwin. In times where he was vulnerable, Charles hated to look Edwin in the eyes.

"Charles. You will never hurt me. You can't! You don't have a single violent bone in your body. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. You are the best person I know, Charles Rowland, and nothing will ever change that." Edwin enveloped Charles into a hug, slowly so that Charles could move away if he wanted.

Instead, he burrowed into Edwin's neck, lips against a non-existent pulse. He stood there, being held in the agency's doorway for what seemed like forever, and he could've stayed there for another eternity.

Eventually, Edwin released him and held him by the shoulders, as Charles often did for him when he felt overwhelmed. "You're too good to be like your dad, Charles, and I will remind you every day if I have to."

And still, Charles seemed to be too overwhelmed to form words, but he nodded his, closing his eyes, and just allowed himself to lean against Edwin for a while.

Because even though Charles may never fully recover, and he'll never forget that fear, Edwin is there to remind him to not be afraid. After all, he's the best person Edwin knows, so he must be pretty great.

@aspiring-wildfire i saw your post abt edwin and charles' worst fears and something abt it just clicked so thanks for the inspiration :)

[doe-eyed-fool]

Heaven Is Where You Are

Chapter One

Lucifer x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): Mentions of blood, Injury

Making this into a full fic lol. Enjoy~

There were consequences for every action, and it could be good or bad. When given life, one would live it to the fullest, and try to be good. Try to be forgiving, even when it hurts. Try to be understanding, even when it's hard. Try to be a better human being.

And when that life comes to an end, the consequence for doing all one can, being the best version of one's self, is the afterlife of Heaven.

Life, was a gift. Heaven, was a privilege. Not just anyone could get in.

So, when given such a privilege one would consider themselves lucky. Blessed, even. There would never come a day of hardship or anguish. It was paradise after all. It was meant to be easy, meant to be rest and relaxation for the rest of eternity.

And you, an angel granted that paradise from the very beginning, knew better than to take it all for granted.

But how much longer could you go, knowing that he was gone?

Lucifer. God's favorite. The brightest star in all existence, in your eyes. He was so much more than an angel. He inspired those around him, made everyone's day better, including yours.

Though, there were times when his creativity worried and concerned others.

And in the end, that creative mind of his, would lead him to his doom.

Even God frowned upon his ideas, his views, but God was merciful. Lucifer was given the chance to stay, if he put aside all of that "nonsense".

But Lucifer refused. He insisted that these new ideas of his could be grand. It could change the very way of life itself. And that's what scared everyone.

Lucifer was forced from Heaven, and fell into the wasteland of what would soon be called Hell down below.

Your heart ached, not a day would go by, when you didn't miss Lucifer. There was no way of contacting him, it was out of your power to do so. Many nights you spent crying, and wishing he were still here.

All you could do, was hope and pray that he was alright.

As the years go by, moving on grew harder and harder. And just as you began to give up, there was a flicker of hope that walked through Heaven's gates.

Charlie Morningstar, daughter of Lucifer.

You saw so much of Lucifer in her. The light in her eyes, her determination, her strong will, even her smile. It all reminded of you of him.

And if Charlie was here, Lucifer was still alive and hopefully well.

You couldn't give up now. Now, you had a reason to fight for a chance to see him once more. However, it would come with dire consequences...

Heaven grew further and further away from you as you rapidly descend. The pain from loosing your wings, and the harsh plummet to the hard ground below would all be worth it in the end. Just a little while longer...

You didn't move for a moment, as you looked up at the blood red sky. Your head was pounding, and your body ached, but you couldn't give in just yet.

You brought yourself to a stand, and start walking. There was only one place you could go now. And you could only hope that she would welcome you in.

You grew more exhausted by the minute as you continue onward. Nearly tripping and falling over as your legs trembled with every step.

Almost there.

You walked for what felt like hours before finally arriving at your destination. You look up at the tall building before you.

Hazbin Hotel.

Relief washed over you, but just as you took another step, exhaustion finally settled in.

And you collapsed.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, you could hear a voice, though it sounded muffled.

"The fuck? Ugh...Ey! Charlie! We got a dead body out here!"

"A what!?"

Charlie. That's who you came here for. Darkness took over before you could utter a word, but only for a brief moment.

"What happened?"

"I dunno, I just found her like this."

"Well...What should we...Wait. Is that...Her blood! It's-"

Again, into darkness. The voices only growing more and more muffled as you finally slipped into unconsciousness.

You awoke sometime later. A groan left you as you brought yourself to a sit. As you did, your back throbbed with new pain. With a hiss, you look over your shoulder. Your wings were gone, but that wasn't the only thing that stood out.

Your top was missing, the only thing keeping you covered was thick bandages wrapped around your back and chest. Who did this? You take a look around, and noticed you were in a room.

The bed you were on was surprisingly comfortable. To the left of the bed, was a large window that lead to a balcony. Ahead of you was a bathroom and outside of it, slightly towards the left, was a decently sized TV. And to the far left of the room, was a closet and the door.

Who's room was this? Where were you? Who bandaged you?

Your questions would soon be answered, as someone opened the door and walked inside. You relaxed upon seeing just who it was.

"Hey, you're awake."

Charlie Morningstar. She smiled as she approached you, carefully and cautiously. She stood just before the bed. "How are you feeling?" She asks.

"Sore." You mumble. Charlie nods. "I thought you might be." She motions her hand to the table beside the bed. You look over to see a glass of water and some medicine. "Go ahead, you'll feel much better."

You thank her before reaching for the medicine and water. You downed the pills and sighed. Hopefully it will kick in soon.

"So. Um...Sorry if this is uh, a bit of a personal question but..." Charlie trailed off, rubbing her neck. "Are you...an angel?"

You nod. "I am. Well...I was. I'm not an exorcist angel, if that's what you're worried about."

"Yeah, I didn't think you were." Charlie says before sitting at the corner of the bed. "But I'm still confused. What happened?"

"It's...a very long story." You sigh. Charlie stays quiet, giving you the ok to continue. And so, you told her everything. You told her about Lucifer, and how much you cared for him. You told her how lonely you felt when he fell all those years ago. And you told her how you risked everything, for the chance to see him, just one more time.

"You must have really missed him." Charlie says softly. "I did. I still do..." You felt tears at your eyes. "Please, tell me, how is he?"

"He's doing good. Well, he is now." Charlie tells you with a small smile. "I don't know if you know this but, him and my mother split. And it kind of...really made him upset. He wasn't the same for a while after that. But, as of recently, things have been slowly getting better. We've even grown closer."

You heard rumors of Lilith suddenly disappearing without a trace. It only added to your worries. Lucifer fell with Lilith, the love of his life. They both made sacrifices, some that hurt them, but they had each other.

And that gave you a strange new feeling you'd never felt before. And you didn't like it, nor could you explain it...

"Well, I'm glad he's doing better now." You smile. "I may be overstepping here but...may I see him? I don't think I can go another second without seeing him. It would only be for a little while."

Charlie chuckles and offers her hand. "You're more than welcomed to see him. I'm sure he'd want to see you too."

Your smile grew. Finally, after all these years, you'd be able to see Lucifer again. Your heart soared at the thought, you could hardly contain your excitement.

You reach out, and take Charlie's hand.

[acupofinkedblood]

Hyperlaser x reader [Familiar Stranger]

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

The bar provides Hyperlaser a certain sense of comfort. Or maybe it’s just the alcohol speaking. He has been through different locations to get a drink, sometimes even in a complete different faction because of Katana’s invitation as well. But nothing beats his usual spot

Calling him sentimental isn’t really that fitting, he will admit. Yet who can blame him? He has been to this place before everything went south. This place alone is his precious memento of the pass. He can still imagine his comrades drunkenly laughing aloud while their hands on each other’s shoulder, those bozos are all his family, even when they could be so insufferable

And to top it up, this place is where you and him used to pull an all-nighter, chatting the time away whenever you got a chance

You, who is his senior. You, who he respects. And it’s still you, the one he loves dearly

This is where your memories are the most vivid

Old habit dies hard, they say, and the owner doesn’t even have to ask what does he want before slide him the usuals: One glass of whiskey — neat — and a glass of your once favorite. The owner has been there ever since he was a rookie. Or to be specific, it’s the son of the previous owner who used to watch you and him drink together, he’s also old now. That’s just something he finds interesting, how the son keeps his father’s legacy seriously even in this simple act

Even when you’re no longer able to savor the sweet aftertaste of it, your memories will live on with him. He will never allow himself to forget such detail about you

“Cheer,” he mumbles to himself, gently clinks his glass with the one that is supposed to be yours

Anyone who is a regular in this bar knows better than to question his odd behavior. They let him grieve and relieve the memories of someone close to him. Then again, no one in their right mind will approach an intimidating looking man whose face covered in scars. They simply let him be

Each sip he takes, he is constantly reminded of you. He still imagines you sitting beside him, going on about your work or another random thing to add on your wish list before you died. He has been doing that on your behalf: From going to Thieves Den, having someone to remember you to adopting a little cat. A black cat, just like you wanted. It’s like fate was behind all of that, he can’t help but huffing in amusement before savoring the wine down

But then something almost makes him choke on his own glass

A voice that despite the obvious change, he can still realize no matter what. It’s the same voice that orders your drink of choices ever since he was still fighting side by side with you

Hyperlaser immediately turns his head to the person who just takes a seat beside him — which is used to be your regular seat — and he can’t even believe his eyes when he sees that look

It’s you. His senior. His comrade. His love

He drops his glass right away, and you immediately catch it with ease before it breaks. Hyperlaser can see your arms have been replaced by prosthetics despite the long coat you are wearing. Your face is covered in scars, and dare he assume that those are burnt marks. From your eye to the visible part of your neck, they are all ruined now. Broken horns and damaged features — But hell, he still recognizes you — The familiarity in the way you look, he can’t never mistaken it. Is this a dream? Then why does it feel so real? Hyperlaser freezes on sight, his mouth goes dry as his mind functions the new information that is thrown into his face with no warning

“No proper greeting for your senior? How rude”

You hold his glass back to him, single the owner to wait before preparing your drink. It takes eternity in Hyperlaser’s mind before he mumbles

“This isn’t real, you can’t be real,” he denies “You are not—”

“I owe you an explanation”

That day, when you bided him goodbye to go to the other side of the battlefield as you were ordered to, a boom hidden under the snow exploded right underneath your feet. For some reason, your body is still there, minus the burnt flesh and disfigured leg. You couldn’t remember what happened afterward. Adrenaline rush kicked in, mixed with your wish to survive forced you to run, to crawl, to charge forward into nowhere to save yourself. You were surprised to find out you have literally refused to die and escaped the reaper’s grasp like that. After who knows how long you have been running, someone managed to find you and you were provided medical help. Just in time when you’re on the verge of death

The rumor of your death is all bullshit. They didn’t bother to look for any of you, let alone make sure that you survive at all. With the fear that if you go back, you will be dragged back to the battlefield, you have isolated yourself from Blackrock’s territory at all cost. In your mind, you are alone and all of your comrades have fallen down meaningless. Yet Hyperlaser is here, you didn’t see that coming of course

You didn’t even realize that it was him. To say he has changed physically is an understatement: Scarred face, broken horns, completely new outfit…Yet you have made a bet when seeing him order those familiar drinks. And once again, fate has been such a joke. He recognizes your presence in a heartbeat

Hyperlaser still figures on how to process all the information. You are alive! Right here, right now, right beside him in flesh and breathing. For the moment, all the noises seem to drown in his ears as he finds trouble keeping his breath steady. Not until you snap him out of it does he finally looks back at you

After that emotional reunion, he has so much to tell you. Like the good old days, no? And so do you. The drink he has previously ordered as a way to remember you, now finally being cheered up with him. You two have forgotten the concept of times together, one story follows another, one chuckle follows another…He has never felt so alive before. He has told you about Princess, and you immediately laughed at the mental image of him being a cat dad. The owner has to politely remind the two of you that he is going to close now for you to realize how fast time has gone by

He doesn’t have the chance to tell you about his feelings yet. But it can wait, there are so many things he wants to tell you now

When he walks you out of the bar, he can’t help but wondering why did you decide to come back all of the sudden, and how long will you stay? If you need a place to go, his home will welcome you with open hands. But then your answer makes his heart sinks

“I come to Blackrock one last time before saying goodbye forever,” you hum as the snow starts to grace your skin, “I will move on. Going somewhere far away where my nightmare can no longer haunt me”

“This is so sudden,” he breathes under his helmet, “I still have so many things to tell you”

“I know”

A part of him wants you to stay, even just a little more. Yet he finds his words going back of his thoughts

“Are you going to leave soon, again?”

“Hyperlaser,” you call out his name, “If fate allows us, then let us meet again under a new dawn, when you too have found a piece of peace inside you. I wish for a day you will leave your grunge behind to move on, then maybe find me if you want”

He calls out your name. He can’t leave just yet, he still has to follow his oath of unfinished business with Blackrock. Hyperlaser hates this goddamn faction, yet he can’t just leave yet. As much as he wants to go with you, his responsibilities hold him back

“Please,” he pleases, “Until that day comes, please wait for me”

You smile. That smile has never hurt him so bad like now. He comforts himself, knowing that as long as you are alive, that’s all matter. And when you wave your hand as you walk away under the snow, he finds himself subconsciously reach out for the sight of you slowly fade away into the snow

That’s the last conversation he has with you. Hyperlaser knows better than to seek you out himself. Not only does it might risk your safety when Blackrock finds out you are being involved with him — those bastards will definitely pestering you nonstop — but also, he knows that he will soon grow attached to you again. As much as his scarred heart bleeds when he realizes he has to bare the thoughts of losing you again, this is for both of your sake

He loves you, so much that he’s willing to let you go

Hyperlaser just wishes that Princess has a chance to meet you. You will adore her, and she will love you like he loves you

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Note: Sorry for the pain all Hyperlaser fans, but you didn’t specify what sort of ending you want and just saying green tea soooooo-

[goodolddumbbanana]

For you my eternity au [Sun and Nexus fic]

(This is based on my theory that Nexus and Sun get linked because Sun can feel Nexus power and Nexus keeps getting attracted back at Sun and Moon. More than that, he revived near Sun house.)

Imagine Nexus being back, and getting killed again and again, by Sun. Like he refused to do anything else, and he is too dangerous to be alive.

But like, while his hatred for Sun is getting bigger and bigger, it gets to the point when Nexus doesn't remember what exactly make he hates Sun so much in the first time.

Sun is just his obsession, and the person he wants to destroy utterly and completely.

And Sun, the first time he killed Nexus has destroyed half of his soul.(Sun becomes colder and more aggressive. Dude straight up to violent options a lot these days, and some of his actions might make people mistake him for Moon.)

The second time, he just cried in silence and accepted, that Nexus was never meant to be alive. And the third, the fourth, again and again, and the most tragically that only Sun can put the final hit on Nexus.

So it definitely gives Sun really seriously mentally damaged. Like dude definitely not okay if he has to kill his brother again and again. Imagine if Sun gets more twisted or creative on killing Nexus and it really concerns Moon. Like Sun still tries giving Nexus a chance to be better but it is now just a statement, like he already knows Nexus wouldn't give up on making his life suffer. He treats Nexus like a common event now.

Believe me it's hilarious. It will be a big spiral for Sun, lol, anyway here are some of my scraps. For you my silly clown, I know you love angst @sillyzone1209

Anyway, I can imagine one of Nexus's death, when Sun just straight up crippled his legs ripped out Nexus's core, (the one giving Nexus power, his battery)

And then he just hugged Nexus and stayed with Nexus until his dying breath.

-----

They still hadn't stopped. Their curses and oil-choked sounds echoed in his ears, almost making Sun regret leaving their voice box this time.

He didn't want his daughter to wake up this early when the dawn had not yet broken.

"Can you stop, Nexus? We have over it so many times. Yes I know you hate me, yes, you will make my life a living hell next time. Yes, I'm the one who killed you and ruined your life. I hate myself too."

Sun signs, his hand gently supported Nexus's back, bringing them into a more comfortable position.

The ash-colored cloth that rolled up to his knees, stained with oil and dirt, made Sun silently think about taking Nexus's clothes home to wash before killing them off again, before shaking his head because he already put Nexus out of their misery, or in process.

He doesn't know if he does that, would their clothes disappear or would they have new clothes?

Sun was so lost in thought that he didn't realize he was too close, close enough for Nexus's other arm to swing out.

The pain was almost burning, like being dipped in a molten fire, like the time when the Creator was still alive to torture him.

"It hurts, Nexus." Sun grumbled, covering his face with annoyance and tiredness.

His hands were wet with oil, dripping down onto the soft, baby-gold wool coat that Dazzle and Earth had knitted for him. This is his favourite coat and just like everything he loves, it gets ruined, all because Sun does things too late.

The metal plated reflected his reflection, a long, ugly gash right in the middle of his eye. He sighed, knowing Moon would be furious with worry when he returned, especially with a wound this large.

"Served you right." Nexus chuckled, his face satisfied at seeing Sun's discomfort. Sun wondered with the amount of hatred he had for him, if Nexus even remembered who he was, who they were? Was the broken animatronic gasping for breath before him still the same person or just an empty shell he had created.

Is he creating another monster by repeating this process, and turning an innocent soul into a Frankenstein by continuing this cycle of violence?

Is there any solution other than stopping Nexus permanently like this before the man who used to be his brother pulls another William Afton and comes back?

He is tired and he knows Nexus is tired too.

"Do you remember me?" Sun asked softly, he sat down, leaning against the wall near Nexus, doesn't mind the damage and also he doesn't think they couldn't do much, not when Sun had already cut off both of their arms after the stunt they pulled.

"Do you still remember why you hate me?" The question falls into deaf air, only to respond with more vicious swearing.

"I miss you." Sun didn't understand why that sentence still made him startled until now. He grabbed the ribbon around his wrist and pulled, feeling his claws punch holes in the fabric, neither pain nor worry aches as the fan grew louder and louder inside his chest.

The air smells like fire and smoke, and he is the one holding the lighter. The words were difficult to come out of Sun's mouth, like a hamster was having all its teeth knocked out of his throat.

"I still miss you. I still love you." And the voice was louder and louder until all of Sun heard was his own voice and all Sun felt was the bitterness of reality. And it was pathetic how Sun almost wished Nexus' silence was because they felt sorry for him or that there was still some trace of love in their souls for Sun rather than just simply a simple fact that they were dead.

Not that the battery can last long. And not that he expects anything from Nexus. For the person who says he hates Sun, they couldn't leave him alone.

And some ugly parts of Sun are really happy because he can still see Nexus ,even if the condition of them was so twisted like that.

Their hands are still warm, and Sun wishes they could hug him like they used to, that the thing in his hand was not a dead piece of scrap metal.

It seems like I still can't forget the person you used to be, and your revive has always been my curse and blessing.

For the next time I meet you... Brother.

[therenlover]

Always For A Second (Usually At The Start) - A Helmut Zemo x Reader fic

"And when I imagine life when it's mine / I can try to picture faceless folk to love a thousand times / But always for a second, and usually at the start / You're in the image posing with a cradled beating heart" - Katie Gregson MacLeod, i'm worried it will always be you

Synopsis: Leaving Helmut for good had been the biggest, most final choice you'd ever had to make. Two years later, he's in your living room again. This time, though, things are different.

Tags: Explicit Smut (+18), Exes, Getting Back Together, Enemies to Lovers to Exes to Lovers, Enthusiastic Consent, Switch!Zemo, Oral (Fem Receiving), Service Top!Zemo, Aftercare, Bucky is Mentioned Too Much

Rating: E (+18) Minors DNI

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 8,600~

-------------

“I didn’t expect you to come crawling back so soon, schatz,”

The restaurant was crowded enough that nobody heard Helmut’s words, curt and cloying and so fucking familiar. Still, my face heated. It always would for him, no matter how much my common sense protested by body’s reactions. How dare he be so damn effective at getting under my skin? 

Some over-expensive brown liquor sloshed against the rim of the glass in my hand as I lifted it less than gracefully from the table, dribbling down the edge of my mouth as I guided it to my lips and drank deeply. “For one, two years isn’t soon,” I started, swallowing. “Two, you’re the asshole who showed up in my apartment like a robber, which makes you the one who came crawling back. I was just nice enough to let you take me for a free meal to get you the hell out. Three,” I set the glass down sharply, “don’t call me that. We’re not friends. We’re not anything. I still haven’t forgiven you,” 

“Apologies,” 

He didn’t mean it. 

“Still, it’s too soon to expect any sort of kindness from you,” he continued, “If I recall correctly, you said you’d rather die than suffer through another night with me for the rest of eternity. I believe an eternity has yet to pass… and yet, here we are,”

His matter of fact tone left little up for debate, unless I wanted to reach for my fork and maim his smug face. Instead, I bit my tongue and swallowed another mouthful of whatever I was drinking.

For once I was glad to be surrounded by the kind of noisy, faceless jumble of humanity that usually made my skin crawl. F. Scott Fitzgerald was on to something with his theories on large crowds and intimacy; there was no better place for two war criminals to meet than the corner booth of a hazy restaurant, lounging and drinking, covered by the blanket of sweet anonymity. Anyone who glanced our way would see two normal human beings sharing a meal in peaceable silence, sharing sparse conversation between bites of this and that. 

They would see lovers.

The thought left a lump in my throat. 

Maybe I looked uncomfortable enough that they would presume, correctly, that we were ex-lovers. I wasn’t hopeful about it, though. 

Helmut noticed, of course, but I knew he would. He had always had an almost supernatural sense for these things, like he could tune into my emotional radio on a frequency I didn’t even fully know myself. Enemy or ally or… otherwise, it was a constant to be seen through and picked apart like carrion. An appetizer for the fights to come. Thankfully, though, he chose to have mercy on me this time in a rare show of respect. Instead of wrapping his lips around another snide comment- even though I could tell it was burning a bitter hole into the tip of his tongue behind his clenched teeth- he chose to pick up a ring of calamari from the plate between us. He held it up to examine the crust in the dim lamplight before placing it delicately against his lips, pulling it from the fork in one bite. Still, he couldn’t be too gracious. Helmut held eye contact as he went.

I could only managed a disgusted sigh but found myself mirrored as his teeth sunk into the squid and his brow furrowed. 

“Bad?” I asked.

He chewed for a good while before managing to swallow the offending clump down, gagging all the way. “Despite my recent diet, that might be the worst thing I’ve eaten in a long while,”

A laugh escaped me before I even knew it was there. “You managed to pick a restaurant where our appetizer is worse than prison food? Serves you right for ordering seafood in the midwest,” 

“I suppose it does.” He nudged the plate towards me with a growing smirk, “See for yourself. I’d hate to see it wasted, and as you said, it is ours. I can’t be expected to finish it alone,” 

As if under the spell of his charisma all over again, I followed his instructions without a second thought. It was just as bad as I anticipated. 

Things were off to a bad start from the moment the tines of my fork hit the batter. The breading seemed to squelch under the pressure, sagging and giving way into meat that was somehow both rubbery and gelatinous, if that was even possible, and if the texture seemed bad outside of my mouth it was even worse inside. Somewhere between its fishy tang and the overly salted batter, there was a bitter, almost sour note that seemed to permeate further with every chew. I spit the macerated glob into my napkin before even attempting to swallow down the remaining spit. 

Across the table, Zemo grinned at my misfortune. “Let’s hope our entrees are less offensive to our palettes,” 

“Fuck off,” I muttered, lips turning up at the edges. 

“You can curse all you want at my poor choice of venue, but I can tell you’re glad you’re the one who ordered the pasta instead of the steak,” 

I went for my glass again, letting the liquor with a name I couldn’t pronounce burn all the way down my throat and into my chest. “I hate that you’re always right, Helmut. Can’t you be wrong, just once? Leave some correctness for the rest of us,” 

Maybe it was the lighting, soft and amber against the dark wood of the table to mask the bloody steaks that would sit below, or maybe it was the music, something old and swinging that I couldn’t quite put my finger on but knew from the radio in my grandmother’s car as a child, or maybe, just maybe, it was the crows feet that popped up around Helmut’s eyes when he smiled that hadn’t been quite so prominent the last time I’d seen him, but no matter the cause, the solid iron wall I had put up around my heart when I walked out of the Baron’s life those two year sago seemed to soften. Weakened, somehow. It was like someone took a blowtorch right to the center of my defenses. Something in me screamed that they had never been all that strong to begin with. 

I only noticed I’d been staring when he looked away, clearing his throat and wiping his thin mouth with the napkin from his lap. 

There went my hand. Helmut, 1. Me, 0… Well, 1, if leaving him those years ago counted for anything, and I refused to believe that it hadn’t. That the blow to his ego hadn’t given me at least a slight upper hand compared to the naive girl I had been in comparison when I first met him. There had been so much good in the world then. 

The silence dragged on as if the structural flaws of my guarded heart could patch themselves up with the defenses created from just a few silent moments between us. That’s all it would take for me to remember all the reasons this would never work: all the pain, the sleepless nights, the snide comments that turned into biting replies that grew into massive, earth-shattering fights that exploded into days or weeks or months living alone in a house with him. One by one, the memories flooded back, reminding me exactly why it had taken me almost two years to find enough peace within myself that I wouldn’t decide to shoot the man in front of me on sight. My heart hardened by the second.

“I saw your concert,” 

I was simultaneously thawed and frozen all over again. “How did you-“ 

“James mentioned it,” 

“You still talk to Bucky?” 

“Here and there,” 

The conversation lapsed into silence. 

He had… been there? I didn’t even bother to think about the talk I’d have to have with Bucky about my privacy, too focused on the more important matter at hand. 

The venue was grungy, a basement bar with a small stage serving the communities aspiring comedians and desperate punk-rock garage dwellers just waiting for their big break. I had barely had the guts to pay the booking fee, though. It was just me, a piano, and my guitar for an hour and a half set of mostly cover songs that had gone better than I’d expected, but hadn’t been anything crazy. The crowd was appreciative and respectful. Several people had left tips, even more giving me a congratulatory clap on the back as I left the building that night, promising to “stream my EP” whenever I released it, despite the fact that I had no plans to do any such thing. Still, I couldn’t imagine that I hadn’t seen his face in the crowd. I couldn’t name what I was feeling as I imagined it; visualized his face on the other side of the smoky room, leaned against the bar with his dark eyes catching hold of mine…

“You came and you didn’t say anything? Not even a hello?” 

Helmut laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “And risk my life over a free concert? No.” He paused, “Despite my tendency to sometimes be… less than kind, I knew it would rattle you to see me. I didn’t want to throw you off before your performance.” 

I didn’t have much of anything to say in response. Instead, I picked at the paper straw wrapper in my lap and tried to look anywhere but in his direction, shoving down whatever was welling up in my chest. He wouldn’t let things go, though. He never could. That was half of why we’d never work. Every time I tried to drop an uncomfortable subject he’d be there to pick it up with a snide comment or two. It was an easy rhythm. Too easy. I had never wanted to fall back into it and yet, here I was, almost excited to snipe his next words down. 

“Cain misses you,” He continued. 

I folded the straw wrapper in my hands, pulling at the crease as I thought about the doberman puppy I had left behind. He would be so big now, as big as the one I’d taken with me was now. My heart ached at the thought. 

“I doubt he remembers me after all this time,” 

“Of course he does,” Helmut’s voice was low. It was almost hypnotic, the way he carried himself. He could fool anyone. I realized, with a sinking feeling in my stomach that couldn’t have been the calamari, he could still fool me. “He’s quite the troublemaker. More times than I can count he’s evaded me in the house, only to be found asleep in your old closet. I think he remembers your scent,” 

“Thats…” I sat quiet for a moment, pursing through choices of words in my mind, mulling over the sharp accented way he pronounced the t in scent, “Sad. Really sad. Makes me wish I could’ve taken them both,” 

“And what of Brutus?”

“He’s good,” A smile crossed my face. “Big, as you saw tonight. I remember when we got them, they told us they’d be 60 pounds at most, but I swear Brutus must’ve snuck in with the rest of those puppies, because he’s massive. Headbutts me every time I walk through the door wondering where I was. He’s a good boy, though. Keeps watch while I sleep, just in case.”

“Just in case I decided to let myself in through the window one night?”

I let myself laugh without judgement this time, reaching for my water. “Looks like it was all for nothing, then. Who knew he’d just let intruders come waltzing in off of the fire escape?” 

“Am I truly considered an intruder in your home?” He asked it as if the answer wasn’t obvious. As if there were any other answer I could possibly give. As if I could’ve wanted him there. His earnestness almost hurt as much as his taunting did, maybe more, because even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself, there was a soft ring of truth to his words. 

I took the cowards way out. “I don’t know, what do you think?” 

It was a vulnerability to not give a straight answer, the kind of weak spot that Helmut would catch wind of in an instant before using it to unravel someone piece by piece. Not a no, but certainly not a yes, and the fact that it hadn’t been a resounding yes was enough to glean that maybe, deep down, I wasn’t hating this dinner. He would see through me. Rip me to shreds for the subtle admittance that I hadn’t hated seeing him waiting for me on the couch when I walked through my door, even if I hadn’t expected or wanted him there in the first place. 

I found it was better to lie by omission than to fully lie and let him see through me to the more important truth; For as much as I despised everything about him, I had missed Helmut Zemo. I had missed his stupid expensive taste and the tilt of his stupid head and his stupid shiny white smile. I had missed seeing his coat hung up beside the door and knowing what waited for me inside. It was sick how I had loved him. How I had loved every minute of him picking me apart by the seams and putting me back together. Who could possibly crave their own destruction? Who could live knowing that to be loved was to be deconstructed down to the bone and laid bare as something lesser, something so small compared to the great destroyer I devoted myself to. 

How could he let me live like that if he truly saw through me? 

And that was why I had to leave. 

Loving Helmut Zemo was no way to live. I knew that. I had known that the day I picked up my dog and walked out of our home with nothing but my wallet, car keys, phone, and a polaroid picture of his silhouette. Somehow, I knew that he knew that too. Why else would I move on so suddenly, so sharply, removing every piece of the life we’d built to start myself fresh? A new me, I had said. A new chapter. Yet here I was across from him, shredded bits of paper littering my lap as he puppeteered my heart right back into his arms. 

No. I couldn’t let it happen. 

Not again. 

“Listen, baron,” I didn’t let him answer my rhetorical question. It wouldn’t be wise to let him gain the upper hand again. It wouldn’t be smart to let myself stay weak. “I appreciate dinner. It’s been surprisingly lovely to catch up with you. I’m glad to know you’re not dead, and its great to know Cain is doing well, but I know you weren’t here to tell me that over a plate of mediocre pasta,” 

Helmut smiled, his head in its signature tilt, and swished his own glass a bit. The ice was all but melted giving the liquor an almost clear quality as it diluted. Not a sip had been taken. “Ask the question, schatz,” 

“Why are you here? Why did you stalk me here and break into my apartment when I made it clear that you weren’t welcome in my life?” My words came out so matter of fact even I almost recoiled at them. Not unemotional but detached. 

“Um, who had the chicken alfredo?”

I could feel the blood drain from my face as I looked up at the poor waiter, hot plates in hand, as he took in our table at just the wrong time. Five minutes earlier he would have walked in on polite conversation about the dogs or the shitty appetizers. Now, though, he stood between a man who was known to kill for the things he wanted and me, the one thing he could never have again. 

Surprisingly, though, Helmut waved a hand towards me as I froze. There were none of the usual dramatics, just polite chatter with the waiter as he set my plate in front of me and left Helmut with his, taking the offending calamari plate away with him as he scurried away, surely to tell his coworkers about the crazy exes at the corner table. Helmut didn't even carry on with his answer. He just started tucking in to his steak and potatoes, not sparing me a single glance. If I didn’t know better, if I hadn’t memorized the way his eyes looked in the low light of a restaurant across from me, I would think he’d been replaced by a skrull.

Where was the tearing? The shredding? The utter evisceration of my waiting throat as he drank deeply of my darkest, most shameful thoughts only to spit them out for the world to see. Where was that shame? In the before times, in the times that the two of us had been a we, he never would have paused to mind a waiter. The world would have revolved around him as he laid me bare, no matter who watched or waited in the wings. What changed? 

How had I not noticed his docility until now?

The pasta was decent. It was better than anything I would’ve made at home, at least. I barely thought about it, though, letting my body go through the motions of eating mechanically while my mind went over a million things I could say. What could I say? There was nothing left to. We had gone over every possibility before I had left, at least I thought we had. Whatever we were was dead. That was certain. But what we could be…

I swallowed hard before I could choke on a relatively large piece of broccoli I neglected to chew in my trance. 

Helmut seemed to be in a painfully similar situation. One look at his plate showed a steak cut into tiny pieces. Almost none of it looked eaten, just diced into a pile and shuffled around a bit on the plate to mix with the potatoes, smashed down from their neat ice cream scoop globe and spread with the back of a fork. 

With a sigh, I set down my fork, pasta already forgotten. 

“Lost your appetite?” 

He paused his fiddling with his fork and knife, mirroring me and letting the utensils rest on the table beside his plate. It was odd to see him rattled. Strange to watch his eyes roll up to the ceiling and pause there, as if he was searching for the right words to say. He always knew just what to say to cut the deepest. Maybe it was foreign for him to not want to cut; To find a soft word, instead of a sharpened one. His mouth opened one… two…three times. Open and shut, open and shut. I couldn’t help but hurt for him. The man of many words was finally struck dumb. 

Finally, it came. 

“I’m sorry,” 

I had anticipated a selfish reply, a demand for me to come back and put the past two years behind us, but time had changed him. It had changed us both. He was no longer the man he had been when he was first freed from behind bars, vengeful and biting and so deeply afraid of being alone again, but I was no longer the lost girl I had been either. I did not need to be destroyed to breathe. I could feel tears pricking up in my eyes as he reached a hand across the table to search for my own. It was such a familiar sight in a time of uncertainty. I kept my hands firmly in my lap, though. I would not give him the satisfaction. 

More, I would not give him hope.

“Come home, schatz,”  

There it was. 

I couldn’t hold in the bitter, wet laugh that bubbled up through me, more at my own foolishness than at anything else. He had changed, yes, but some things never would. 

“Helmut,” The word hurt to say. It was altogether both familiar and unfamiliar, covered in a thick layer of dust from time, but nothing could erase the fact that it had once been used over and over, like a prayer, as easy as breathing or saying my own name. “You know I can’t,” 

He let his hand slink back to his side. “I had to try, you know,”

“I know,” The words were a whisper. 

So this was closure? 

The table was quiet. There was no desperation from Helmut’s side, no attempts to sway me or sudden outbursts of resentment. It was almost peaceful. His voice was sad but there was no manipulation in it. We laid our cards of the table as the game we’d played for years finally came to an end. 

“You were right about us, when you left,” he laughed, “I was, as you so aptly put it, a massive ass. I was still so deeply disillusioned about this world and the horrors of it. It was as if everyone around me was just another cog in it all, even you. I thought if I could puppet it all, make things go my way, everything could just be quiet. The horrors would finally stop. The memories would finally stop. I took it too far, though. I took it out on you. For that, I will never be sorry enough,” 

I put up a hand. “Helmut, you don’t have to do this-“

“I want to,”

His voice was delicate but didn’t waver. For the first time I wondered if this was more about what he needed to say than about what I needed to hear. I nodded him on. Without me even thinking about what I was doing, my hand caught his across the table.

“I wanted to run after you the same day you left. I nearly did, too, before I thought better of it. Then I really thought of what you said. What I did. It was then that I decided I had to change for the better, not for you but for myself. Only then would I allow myself to try again. So I did. I spent my time deconstructing the things I had seen and done and finally facing my own demons. I’m not perfect- believe me -but there are many things I have… worked on, for lack of a better word. James was surprisingly helpful throughout it all,” 

“Is that why you’ve been talking?” My thumb stroked over his knuckles, pausing on a scar. 

“More or less. I needed advice on how to overcome my atrocities, and I owed him an apology either way. He told me about your concert because he thought I would be ready to make amends, and yet I found myself unable to speak to you because I knew that if I did, I would have to beg you for forgiveness, and that is not something I will allow myself to do from anyone. Not now, nor ever,”

I let myself pull away. This was not a movie. There was no happy ending for the two of us at the end of this conversation. It was a chance to clear the air and let go of our grievances before going our separate ways. Treating it any other way would only hurt us both. “Why break in, then, and drag this all out over dinner? Why not just knock on my door, apologize, and leave?”

“I couldn’t have you slamming the door in my face and leaving me to apologize to the wall, now could I?” 

We shared a sad smile, a knowing one. “I guess that’s true.” 

“I needed to know you would hear what I had to say until the end,” he paused, “And one last confession. I must admit, I could not walk away without sharing dinner with you one last time. It’s selfish, as I am selfish, but I could not see you again without truly seeing you, more than just as you shouted at me and threw me to the curb,” 

“You think so little of me?” I asked. There was no bite in it. 

“No, I think so little of myself,” he finally took a sip from his glass, “Any anger on your part is warranted,” 

We did not speak again for a long while. Helmut methodically went through the bite-sized pieces of steak on his plate as I finished the alfredo, which had grown cold in the time it took to sort things out. There was no quiet conversation, no jokes or shared stories in the glow of the lamps overhead. Instead we sat in peaceable silence and breathed in the finality of it all. I was almost grateful for it. I never would have imagined sharing a meal like this with him in all of the years I had known him and loved him. If it was to be the last, and it was, we would savor every moment of each others company. Every moment not spent on my meal was devoted to memorizing the line of his jaw and the shape of his eyes as he did the same for me. 

By the time the waiter came to ask about dessert, I could have written sonnets about his face alone, and by the time he returned with the check, paid discreetly with a 40% tip for his troubles on Helmut’s card, I had committed the sound of his breathing to my mind. I could only hope the memory would last this time.

Realistically, I knew it wouldn’t. 

I wondered if he was thinking the same thing as we approached the front of the restaurant together, pausing awkwardly outside the door as we exited out onto the street. 

“So, this is it,” My hands found the pockets of my coat as I rocked onto the balls of my feet. 

Helmut smiled softly in the lamplight. “Let me walk you home,” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” 

“Says who? I have to follow you either way, my car is parked down the block,” He offered me his arm. 

I took it far quicker than I should have, relishing in the scent of his cologne. Even after all these years he had never switched to another brand, and I refused to admit to anyone else but myself that I was grateful for it. Instead I leaned into his warmth. “Well, it’s only a few blocks anyways. I guess it couldn’t hurt,” and with that, we were off. 

The night was cool. Summer had given in to the pull of a lush fall, the temperatures dropping to a comfortable but windy chill when the sun fell below the horizon. The leaves were not yet falling but they’d begun their slow transformation from green into a mosaic of reds and yellows and greens, forming a rustling canopy above the sidewalk that allowed a flash of stars and moon through the foliage every few steps. 

We were not the only pair walking through the streets that night, but if you had asked me about it later I would have said we were the only two people in the whole city, matching each other step for step under the flickering streetlights. Helmut’s crows feet were in full force as he laughed at my terrible jokes, and I couldn’t help but feel warmth rush through my neck and cheeks as he recounted the moment we first met. 

It had been fall then, too. A brief, chance encounter in the streets of Paris was all it was, a night spend with a stranger, until I had seen him again in Sibera, and again in Germany, and again on the Raft, and again, and again, and again, and again…

He had been younger then, much younger, and still raw with grief, but I had loved him even then.

I was so lost in my own memories that I almost missed the stairs up to my apartment, but Helmut paused there, keeping me rooted with him even though the look in his eyes told me he almost kept walking past, hoping to gain one more turn around the block before he had to let me go. He didn't, though. This was the end of the line. 

My arm slipped easily from its place against his own, hand catching briefly on the crook of his elbow. “Walk me to my door?”

His laugh felt almost nervous, a paid mockery of my own earlier reticence. “I don’t think that’s wise,” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be a gentleman, baron?” 

“I have never claimed that,” For a moment, when he paused, I thought that would be that. I would turn my back, ascend the stairs, and turn around to find he’d shifted back into the shadows from whence he came, but then the moonlight caught on his soft, wet eyes. “But for you, schatz, I try to be,” 

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find the words I wanted to say as we walked up the front steps and into the building. 

It had been so angry last time. I had vomited up every hateful, raging, repressed thought that I had shoved down into my chest over the course of our turbulent time together all at once and left without a second glance. This time, though, it felt wrong to end things without giving him credit for all of the other things, the things I had forgotten in the midst of all the chaos that surrounded us. How could I thank him? How could I tell him every wonderful thing about himself only to close the door in his face a moment later? I spent the whole trip up to my apartment trying to find a way to express even an ounce of what I felt, and then it was far too late. 

We stood there on my novelty doormat, boots settled over the dirty cartoon chickens, hands in our pockets, and breathed in the stale hallway air. 

“Thank you for dinner,” I said. If I shut off my heart and my mind and every other little betraying ache in my bones it was like it had been all those years ago. We were just meeting. This was the end of our very first date. There was a future instead of a past in the time that lay beyond us. 

Helmut averted his eyes from mine. I could tell he was pretending too. “Of course,” 

“I’ll see you again,” I lied, “I mean, it’s inevitable. We’ll end up at Bucky’s place at the same time,” 

“Or run into each other at a busy cafe,” he offered. 

“Exactly! Or our cells will end up next to each other in maximum security prison,” I laughed, but it caught, pathetic, in the back of my throat.  

He took a step back, boots leaving my doorstep. “I look forward to it, whenever it may be,” 

My shaking hands found my keys, an autopilot motion I had done a million times, and the door to my apartment swung open. I could hear Brutus in his kennel, beginning to whine the moment he heard me come home, but I paused there for a moment, one foot in and one foot out. 

“Goodbye, Helmut,” 

“Sleep well, schatz,” 

I stepped inside and locked the door without turning around for a last look. 

My tears came quicker than expected as I took in the room around me. It was the antithesis of my home with Helmut, all whites and beiges and grays from the sparse walls to the lonely couch against the wall. There was one great shock of black, though; a solid footprint on the windowsill. One last souvenir to remember him by. 

I had done the right thing. 

I had to have done the right thing. 

Life with Helmut was hell. It was exciting and lush and romantic and alluring but it was destructive and painful too. It would mean being seen and unseen for the rest of my life, living with the ghosts of those lost in Novi Grad. He would never stop being the man his grief had created. He was just too broken… wasn’t he? 

All at once I knew I had to see him again. This wasn’t going to be the end. There were still so many chances to make it right. 

Before I knew my own feelings, I was undoing the latch and throwing my door open, only to find him there, feet planted solidly on that stupid welcome mat and fist raised to lift the knocker. Our eyes locked. 

We didn’t need words then. 

No, all I needed was his lips on mine and my hands in his hair. It was a need easily rectified. 

He didn’t pull away as I grabbed the edges of his ridiculous fur coat and dragged him in for a kiss, letting the remains of that day’s lipstick smear against his chapped lips as the parted and made way for me. It was like a piece of my puzzle fell back into place, like the thing that had been lying dormant in my empty chest for the past two years had jumped to life and jumped into my throat. The tears weren’t coming anymore, though Helmut’s cheeks felt wet when I guided one of my hands to rest against it, dragging him closer. I needed him urgently. I needed all of it. Every moment I had missed. 

At least one time in my entire tiny, useless life I needed to know him as he had always known me. I had to see him through eyes that would know every atom of him by heart. 

It could have lasted second or hours. I was lost in it; lost in every heartbeat and the messy clack of teeth on teeth as we remembered exactly how our mouths locked into each other. There was no need to breathe. I would happily drown in him if he would let me. Through the passion I distinctly remembered this fervor, the endless need for him. It wasn’t frightening anymore, though. I knew how to walk away. We both did. 

This time I didn’t want to. 

Helmut was the first to pull away. His mouth was wet and red as he panted there, just a breath away from diving in for more, but he pulled away when I advanced again, instead choosing to speak between placing kisses on my cheeks and down my jaw. “I couldn’t let you walk away from me. Not again,” his voice shook as he kissed me, “Does that make me a bad man? Does that mean you can’t love me?” 

I could only breathe a laugh as I pressed my chest to him. No measure of closeness was enough. I needed him to cover every inch of me. “I don’t think I could stop loving you if I tried, and I’ve tried,” 

“Please, stop trying,”

With that, he caught me in another kiss. 

“We should probably go inside,” I panted, gesturing towards the apartment with my head and Helmut nodded, maneuvering us over the threshold and into the barren entryway of the home  I’d made without him. It didn’t matter, though. That wasn’t what I was focused on. Instead, my hands were more focused on pulling his coat from his shoulders and discarding it loosely in the direction of the coat rack between fevered kisses. 

The old Helmut would’ve pulled away and make some snarky remark about keeping the place clean. This Helmut, though- my Helmut, as I had selfishly started to refer to him mentally in the past few moments -just dragged me in closer after his arms were freed, letting his hand drift to the small of my back but not even an inch lower.

Suddenly, though, things seemed to cool. The kisses grew shorter, softer. His arms still held me but seemed to loosen their grip. 

“Tell me you want this,” He whispered softly against the shell of my ear, “That you want me,” 

Ah. So that’s what this is. 

“Helmut, of course I do-“ 

“That’s not enough,” his voice was laced with a rare seriousness as he pulled away to look at me properly. His brown eyes glowed a million honeyed colors under the shitty, flickering overhead lighting I should have replaced months ago. They flitted from my swollen mouth to my cheeks to my watery eyes as his hand came up to cup my cheeks again. “Tell me this isn’t a mistake or a bad decision you’ll regret the second we finish,” 

The rest went unsaid. 

(Tell me you’ll stay. Tell me this means something to you, even if it doesn’t mean as much as it does to me. Tell me I won’t wake up alone tomorrow morning. Tell me anything and everything except the cruel reality that neither of us really knows what the future looks like once this is over)

I simply nodded my head, coming in for one closed mouth kiss. “I want this. I want you. Whatever I choose to do next, you’ll be a part of the decision. No more running away,” 

Like a shot, we were off to the races again. 

It was hard to detach our bodies long enough to give Brutus a treat to quiet him down, harder still to lead him to the bedroom and drop his hand long enough to turn on a nearby lamp, but somehow I managed. For all of the small things I’d forgotten about Helmut in the two years we’d spent apart, his bitten nails and the silhouette of his nose and the sound of his labored breathing as he took in my body with something akin to animalistic hunger, it was easy to fall back into the rhythm we’d always found ourselves in intimately. 

His shirt came off first, exposing the soft curve of his stomach. I kissed down from his neck to his chest, letting myself pause on each and every pinkish scar that graced his flesh. I made a mental note to ask him about a few new ones, including a wicked one across his collarbone that still puckered into an inch long divot in his flesh. My fingers followed my mouth, mapping every inch of his flesh. They caught on every soft yielding place he offered, a worship on the altar of his body, dragging his flesh ever so slightly but never enough to leave a scratch or bruise. 

I would not mark him any more than the world already had. It was not my purpose to remold him into my image. Instead I would venerate what he was, what he had become. 

Helmut had put so much effort into changing himself, rebreaking the things that had never healed correctly and setting them right again. I refused to let him break down to splinters again. Not on my watch. 

He shuddered at my attentions. 

“Let me see you?” It was a question, not a demand, and how could I deny him when he asked so nicely? 

I stood up again, relishing in the feeling of his fingers against the hem of my t-shirt, the gentle scratch of nails on skin as he lifted it over my head. When he looked at me, it was like he was looking at the most precious thing in the world. Usually he was so hungry for it that there was never a pause once my shirt was discarded. My bra would be thrown off with it, then my pants, then my underwear, all in such quick succession that I barely distinguished one article from the next in the order of things. This time, though, he paused, hands just inches from my bare flesh. 

“My sweet girl,” he whispered to me like a prayer, a confession, “I don’t think I can hold back much longer,” 

Slowly, deliberately, I stepped forward and pressed my body into his awaiting hands. He squeezed my hips once, gentle, and twice. Then they were roaming up to the clasp on my bra with that usual hunger again, freeing my breasts for his attentions. I don’t exactly recall how he manhandled me on to the bed, I was too busy feeling the hard press of his bulge through his crisp dress slacks. The first thing I was fully cognizant of was his hot breath on my sternum as he hovered over me, still standing but bent at the waist, boxing me in with his knees. 

“So fucking sweet,” he whispered before taking one of my nipples between his lips and laving his tongue over the hardening tip. 

I felt like a live wire. Heat was building everywhere. Dazzling electricity shot through my head and fingers and toes and cunt and gods especially my breasts. They were always my weak spot, and how he knew it, how he knew me. I wanted to thrash against him, to buck and gain his attention where I really needed it, but his body above mine held me fast, keeping me right where he wanted me, vulnerable to him and his specific brand of torture. With a particularly sharp pinch and a well timed suck he had me keening against him, curling into his every move. 

How had I lived without him? It was hard to imagine a night not spend here with Helmut, wherever here was, not that that mattered. I was embarrassingly wet. The slickness had gathered enough that I could feel it on my thighs despite my jeans. When I tried to relieve myself, though, the baron caught my hand, tutting softly. 

I expected to have to ask permission. Soft begs escaped my mouth. I needed him. I had no patience for games. Instead, though, he lifted up off of my chest and smiled, pulling my hand to his lips. “Let me help you, love,” 

There are no words in the human language that could adequately represent the sound that escaped my mouth. I could not even begin to try. It continued even as I lifted my hips to shimmy free from my jeans and underwear in one fluid motion, only ceasing when Helmut was on his knees with his face buried in my cunt. I was making different noises then. Loud. Guttural. If I had any mind left at all I would worry what my neighbors thought, to see me out on my doorstep desperately pawing at a man only to hear the noises we were making in tandem now. Thankfully, any sensible thought I had left seemed to fly out the window with Helmut’s first lick to my cunt. 

It was clear that he hadn’t forgotten me, and if he had, the muscle memory was coming back quick. His tongue was deft as it worked its way over my aching nub in a pseudo-figure eight; circling once, twice, and three times before dipping back through my folds. I held him in place this time, though, rocking into his mouth. At some point my hands found their way into his hair. It was so soft between my fingers, so pliable as I pulled against him, desperate for more of him, anything he would good. 

Every time he relented to me. Each sharp jolt was rewarded with a kiss against my thigh or a muttered curse in Sokovian, hot breath teasing my glistening mound. 

He was so giving, so attentive to my every need. He had always been a generous lover, never leaving me wanting for anything, but this felt… different. The way he sucked bruises into my thighs, relenting to each and every sobbing please that escaped my soft lips, was a new and devastating experience. There were no power games left to play, no lording his sexual prowess over me as he brought me slowly closer and closer to the ever distant goalpost, just his mouth on me over and over and over again as he wrung the first orgasm of the night out of me, then the second in short measure, barely ceasing from one to the next.

By the time he decided I’d had my fill, my legs were a trembling mess against his shoulders and my cunt was a sopping mess. 

He grinned a crooked grin at his masterpiece.

“How was that, my love,” 

I could barely catch my breath enough to speak. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, thrumming a frantic drumbeat even as the room quieted. “So good- really really good, Helmut,” 

Slowly, he rose up from his knees, undoing his belt. “Please say my name again, schatz,” 

“Helmut,” My voice was hushed. Reverent. 

He undid the button at his fly, pulling at the band of his boxers. “Again,” 

It fell from my lips like a prayer. “Helmut,”

His cock bounced free, bobbing as he took a sharp, steadying breath. He placed his hand at the base and squeezed slightly. 

“Again,” 

“Helmut,” 

“Fuck, that’s good,” The trance broke momentarily as I gazed up at him, watching the sweat roll down his forehead in shining rivulets despite the chill in the air. He wiped at them with the back of his free hand and smiled sheepishly. “Scoot back and get comfortable, please. I don’t think I’ll last long,” 

I did as he asked, settling against my pillows on the still-made sheets. “Neither will I,” 

“Where are your condoms?” 

“Bedside drawer, way in the back. I’m on the pill too, so no worries,” 

He moved quickly, grabbing a foil package from the small pile I’d accrued, just in case. 

It felt odd to have him be the one using them. 

There had been a few other men who had been invited here, fewer still that made it to the point that Helmut and I were at now. Every time, though, I hadn’t been able to go through with it, because every time they had finally settled themselves above me, I would close my eyes and, just for a moment, see Helmut in their place. It was unsettling the first time, enough so that I sent the guy home right away. The next time, though, it was more thought provoking than anything. I chalked it up to him being my longest lasting sexual partner and left it at that, but now, watching him roll the condom onto his length and crawl into his position over me, I knew. 

I would never get over him, even if I tried for years. My heart had a space carved out in the shape of his own. No matter how long I stayed away, I would never find something quite like what we had. He was it. This was what people dreamed about. And to think, I had almost let it slip away…

He slid one hand into mine, lacing our fingers together in the gentle lamplight. “Are you ready for me?” 

“More than ready,” My thighs spread as I canted my hips up.

Physically and mentally and every other possible way I needed him. I was prepared. 

So Helmut pumped himself once with his free hand before guiding himself into my wet heat. 

It was impossible to last long once we were finally complete. 

Feeling him inside me was like knowing the truth of the universe. It was comfortable, and thrilling, and so deliciously enough. He filled me well, finding his rhythm as he swore and released my hand to prop himself up more comfortably. We were linked together like the final pieces of a puzzle. I closed my eyes at let myself relish in it. 

There was nothing left to worry over while Helmut was inside of me. All thoughts that weren’t of him were banished. It was something to be cherished, every thrust paired with a whispered confession of love from one of us, a fleeting kiss, a curse, a plea… We laid ourselves bare. I let my legs wrap around his warm, soft hips as he rutted into me, bringing a hand between us to circle my clit once more. Even after everything he refused to leave me behind while he chased his own pleasure. It didn’t take much to send me tumbling over the edge into oblivion. 

As always, Helmut followed me down. 

His thrusts quickened, then stilled as he came to rest upon me, panting and heaving and begging for breath. I didn’t care much. He smelled of cologne and sweat as I buried my face in his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could feel him soften inside of me but I was far too spent to urge him to move.

We only shifted apart when he slipped free of me.

Helmut quickly kissed my forehead and gathered himself up, shuffling to the trash can to discard the used condom and grab a tissue to wipe himself up. I didn’t let myself move an inch. If I moved, would the bliss run away? Would I realize what I’d done? I let myself lay instead, eyes closed, panting in the autumn chill as my lover approached and wiped up our beautiful mess as gently as he could manage. With one last kiss to my thigh, he discarded the rag, opened the window, and crawled back into bed with me. 

The process was indelicate, a lot of awkward shuffling of sticky limbs, but we were settled beneath the blankets soon enough. Helmut stroked his fingers down my arm languidly while kissing the back of my neck. 

I broke the peace between us. 

“I don’t… I don’t know what this means for us,” 

He sighed gently. His breath was soothing and familiar against my shoulder. “That’s not something we have to decide at this very moment,” 

“But I just don’t want you to think this means something… or at least something more than it does? If that makes sense? I don’t know,”

“Schatz, please,” 

“I want to keep my own place, at least for now. I don’t know what that means for when I’ll see you or if we’ll keep doing this,” I gestured vaguely to my nude body beneath the sheets, “or if we’re even a thing anymore, bu-“ 

Helmut reached his arm around us, placing a quieting finger over my lips and another soft kiss against my shoulder. 

“I swear, your mind sounds even louder than mine,” 

“Sorry,” 

“No reason to be,” His hand left my lips, running down to my stomach and pulling me back towards the softness of his chest. “As for your questions, I shall respect your wishes about distance and housing and labels, whatever they may be. That being said, as long as you’re still up for… this, as you put it, I will never deny you, no matter the distance. I would cross oceans for you,” 

A cum-drunk, half-asleep giggle escaped me as he nuzzled in, kissing my ear. 

“Thank you,” 

“No, thank you,” he matched my laughter with his own, “I believe this is what James would call post nut clarity,” 

“Now you ruined it!” I huffed. The faux anger only lasted a moment, though, before I was rolling to face him, cheek pressed to the soft, downy hair of his chest. “I love you, Helmut.” 

“I love you too, sweet girl. Now sleep. I’ll get up and deal with the dog once you’re resting,” 

For the first time in two years, I breathed in the scent of Helmut’s cologne before lapsing into a peaceful sleep.

---------

A/N: Thank you for reading! This is my first foray into smut in literal years, and it was literally all written within a 12 hour period, so I hope any mistakes weren't enough to take away from your enjoyment. Comments are always appreciated, but never expected. See you on the next authors note!

[mediumgayitalian]

“Sit down, Solace, you pain in the ass, I’ll get it.”

Will huffs moodily, trying in vain to continue hobbling towards the cupboards against the infirmary wall. Nico has to physically wrestle him back to his cot, which in theory should be way harder, but luckily he’s weak enough from the pain meds that once Nico manages to shove him against the cushions, he can’t get back up.

Ha. Karma.

“You can’t get it,” says the most dramatic drama queen alive, dramatically, “on account of you not know what ‘it’ is.”

Nico smiles patiently. It resembles, to the outside eye and perhaps the inner one also, the bared teeth of a grinning shark. “Tell me, then.”

“No.”

“Then tough shit for you.”

“I’m just gonna wait until you’re turned away again,” Will calls against his retreating back. Nico flips him the bird. “So this was futile, really.”

He’s stubborn, but he’s not an idiot, Nico reassures himself. Surely, the many years — formative years — he’s spent as head medic have made him smart. Surely, Mr. Nagging Nag shall heed his own advice, lest the entire camp descend upon him in swathes of shrieking, not quite righteous fury, intolerant or hypocrisy. Surely.

He hears the creak of a rickety bed, a thunk of something hitting the wooden floorboards, and a soft oof.

He closes his eyes and exhales deeply.

For fuck’s sake.

When he turns around, he sees William Andrew Solace, Best Healer in Generations, Paraded Progeny of Apollo, Also Notably Naomi Solace’s Son, That’s Kinda Sick, Isn’t It, sprawled on the floor, ridiculously long limbs outstretched, attempting to wiggle across the floor to the cupboards.

“Solace, I am going to kill you.”

“Some healer you are,” Will mutters, as if Nico is not playing healer right now purely because he is the only one in the entire camp with a half a chance of wrangling the dumbass head medic himself. He continues to wiggle.

Wrapping a hand around his uninjured ankle, Nico drags him bodily back to his cot, ignoring the shrieking.

“One day on bedrest, you dipshit. One. Day. That is all anyone is asking if you.”

“My binder!” he insists, because he is difficult. “I don’t need to sit down and do nothing, I need to run my infirmary!”

“You need to sit the fuck down and heal your body before it schedules healing for you,” Nico snaps. “For fuck’s sake, Will, does it matter to you at all that other people would like to see you safe and healthy, even if you couldn’t give a shit?”

For a glorifying moment, Will stares at him, eyes wide, face frozen. Nico meets his gaze, glaring, his own chest heaving where Will appears to have held his breath.

Then, Will bursts out laughing.

“That!” he says, wheezing. “That is what I have been trying to nail through your thick skull! Karma, you little turd!”

Mouth opening, and closing again, it’s Nico’s turn to freeze.

“Oh, gods.”

The horror in his voice is tangible. Will laughs harder.

“Oh, gods, I’m becoming you.”

He stumbles to the closest cot, sitting down quickly before he gets any dizzier than he already is. Nausea builds up his throat.

Gods, that was a direct quote.

“Not so fuckin’ easy to wrangle you clumsy shitheads, is it!”

Nico cradles his head in agony. No. No! It can’t be! He refuses to lend any credibility to Will’s mother-henning! He is obnoxious, and overbearing, and hell-bent on restricting Nico’s freedom; there is no way Nico is emulating him right now, because that would mean he has a point when he’s bossing Nico around, and — no. Cannot be.

“I told you,” Will says, smug as a godsdamn rooster in a hen house. (Oh, gods, now his stupid cowboy idioms are ringing in his head? He needs to spend less time with Will. Better yet, he should take another dip in the Lethe — willingly, this time. Anything is better than this.) “You clumsy fucks are the sole reason I am going to die from stress-induced heart failure at twenty-two, and then I am going to resurrect myself as a ghost through sheer stubborn will alone to haunt each and every one of you for eternity.”

Nico chooses to focus on the part of the sentence that he can conveniently argue with. “You don’t get to call anyone a clumsy fuck, on account of you shattering three bones in your ankle because you stomped your foot too hard when you were trying to make a point.”

“What was the point I was trying to make, again?”

Nico keeps his mouth shut.

“Something something reanimating entire dragons to scare the shit out of Cecil is going to drain you to dangerous levels of energy and make me have to drag you from the brink of death yet again something something.” He pauses. “Even if it was really funny and he nearly actually pissed himself.”

“Well, whatever,” Nico says, elegantly changing the subject. “You’re an idiot, and if you don’t let yourself heal than you’re worse than the rest of us and can never lecture us ever again. So. And I’ll rat you out, too, they’ll believe me.”

Will glares at him. Nico glares back.

“Get some rest,” Nico orders, still glaring. Will pulls a face and repeats his words back to him, mockingly.

“There’s a difference between me and the rest of you idiots,” he grumbles, petulantly ripping loose the blankets and shoving himself under them. Nico smacks his hands away, tucking them around him for him, checking his pillow, and then his forehead for good measure, just in case his stupid ass somehow gave himself a fever. Will squirms, just to make things difficult, so Nico, as acting healer in the room, has to smack him. “I can feel my limits.”

“And yet you pirouette right on over them. I think that makes you worse, actually.”

Will, son of the god of truth, has nothing to say to that.

“Stupid,” Nico says, fondly, squeezing a gentle hand in his cheek. “Sleep, okay? You can go back to being dictator of the infirmary when you’re healed.”

“Tomorrow,” he insists.

Nico rolls his eyes, smiling, and pulls his hand away. Will darts out and snatches his wrist before he goes far, eyes pleading, and Nico caves immediately. Will’s skin is warm, and smooth.

“If you’re healed by then.”

He traces his thumb across Will’s freckled cheekbone, shivering slightly as his long eyelashes tickle the tip of his fingerprint.

“Mhm.”

He’s already puffing out small, quiet snores, head lolling against Nico’s hand, body exhausted from working overtime to try and heal.

Shaking his head, Nico ducks down, pressing a kiss to the space between his eyes before pulling away. He watches him for a moment, peaceful, face smooth and un-creased, delicate cupid’s bow pink and poised, skin spattered with paintbrush freckles. Heart skipping, he can’t resist another quick peck, lingering, at the top of his nose, the middle of his cheek; again at the dip of his brow. It furrows, briefly, under his touch, before relaxing again.

“Goodnight, Will.” He brushes a knuckle over his cheek. “Thank you, you dork ass.”