#even though it got planted a couple years ago

[imwritesometimes]

in far better and happier news: my little tree out front is blooming finally! It's been so cold so long this year I was starting to worried it had died ☹️ but it didn't! It finally warmed up and it's got little baby leaves now 🥰🍃

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Hello dear!! I have a request for the Radio Demon

Do you mind writing sub!Alastor? Imagine your in lobby of the hotel with your beloved Alastor (on his lap) and you decide to do some frisky cockwarming with him.. well in the beginning he has control but then maybe Charlie or Lucifer u walks in.. you decide to tease him until he can't take it anymore and ends up having to cover his moans as he gums in you..

Welp! That's my request🎀 you can delete this ofc but do as you will ~

from windigo anon🦌

i’m drooling, frothing at the mouth, going insane, i love this idea!!! eeeee thank you so much i hope this was good enough i struggled a bit with cockwarming so i hope i did well

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, cockwarming, SUB!Alastor/DOM!Reader, creampie, possible breeding kink, exhibitionism, Lucifer knows what you’re doing, he’s the devil, and you use him to tease Al, jealous lucifer, lucifer is a cuck lowkey, reader wears a dress but no gendered terms or anything, maybe threesome elements?, OOC ALASTOR, NOT proof read, LMK what i missed! xo

word count: 1.9K

You and Alastor have been a thing for a very long time, and throughout the years he’d become rather comfortable with sexual intimacy. Alastor always held the reigns no matter where in life he was, that is excluding the bedroom. Alastor had made a foolish deal with you long ago, he wanted your soul and you were a fairly powerful demon at the time so there was a sit down conversation about such endeavours. You agreed to sell your soul and tie yourself to him, complete all tasks he needed done, so long as he was your bitch. Well, that wording wasn’t used back then, nor was there any sexual innuendos in the mix.

Before it simply meant he couldn’t try to place fear into you, he always had to speak truthfully when it came to you, and if plan involved you, essentially to the outside world he was allowed to look like the boss but behind closed doors he wasn’t allowed to pull that stunt. You two ended up getting along quite nicely as the years went by, your magic side of the deal made it so if he broke his promises, the deal would be off and more then likely fatal to the both of you, so it wasn’t too surprising things went well.

What was surprising was the relationship you developed, Alastor was unable to lie to you about most things due to your deal and most of the time you approached him as a peer lacking judgement. Even when you disagreed with his plans you still still gave your genuine advice and thoughts which made him trust you. Slowly through this weird bond of trust and leaning on each other, Alastor developed romantic feelings and thank god you felt them back.

Alastor was slow to warm up to affections, which meant you normally took over, letting him keep his poise and smile you’d always make the first move, asking for consent to push further whether it was a simple hug, kiss, or a little more frisky. Eventually though, things got to the point they’re at now, where Alastor craves you like his lungs crave air. He is ravenous for your touch, your kiss, your head surrounding his cock. It’s a tough couple months during mating season because he begs and begs for you like a starved man.

Because of his eagerness for you, and to please you, he’s very kindly broadened his horizons leading to absolutely tasteful trying of kinks. Recently the two of you have been planted at the hotel, Alastor called upon you the day he got there, and privately when alone explained his plans with the Devils child, your man had always been an ambitious one, but you couldn’t say no to him. So of course you stood alongside his plans, and now you’re not only dealing with the Devils child, but the devil himself.

Lucifer moved himself in after the big ol’ brawl, and thankfully things have gone somewhat smoothly between Alastor and Lucifer, as in they haven’t killed each other yet, but Lucifer made it his absolute mission to try and “steal you away,” like he did with Adam. Obviously you were committed to Alastor, but your mind would wander to sinful places about all the ways you could show Lucifer how much you loved you deer man. Oh and you just knew how.

Alastor sat in the lobby, looking through a newspaper as he sipped his coffee, music humming softly in the background. The whole lobby was vacant, even Husk was gone for the moment, you made sure of it. Walking into the lobby from the kitchen, your dress flowing around your legs, you walked up to Alastor with a warm smile on your face. “What’re you up to my dear?” You ask softly, making him hum eyes shifting from his newspaper to you, dragging up your form. “Just a little bit of reading, nothing much my doe,” Alastor seemed sleepy almost in the state he was in, his voice was soft and lacking his usual enthusiasm, however it wasn’t a state you were unfamiliar with knowing him for so long.

Slowly you lowered yourself sideways onto his lap, he complied with your actions wordlessly by whisking his newspaper away with his magic, allowing you to scootch yourself right up on him. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you played with the short hairs at the base, causing him to visibly shiver. Alastor smiled down at you softly, watching you tenderly. “I feel,” You whispered with a pause, mimicking somebody taking a thoughtful breath. “Needy.” You breathe out with a cheesy smile plastered on your face. Alastor jolts a bit still entirely not used to forward language such as that, but he didn’t say anything simply blinked at you.

“I think i’m gonna lift this dress up, and your gonna unbuckle these pants, and i’m gonna seat myself nice n comfy on ya,” You purred hands messaging all around his chest as you spoke, trailing down to the button of his slacks and back up to his shoulders. You felt him twitch against his pants, the blood obviously was already flowing to his groin. “Dear we’re in public.” Try as he may, Alastors words were wobbly and his smile looked more like a grimace.

“No baby, we’re in private, in our new home, at the hotel, where no one can see.” You cooed condescendingly, pulling your hands away to hike up your dress. Alastor dared to looked down as you bunched your dress at your hips. Alastor closed his eyes, head falling back at the sight of you bare, nothing but your dress skirt keeping you covered. Turning yourself around, you put your back to him, grinding yourself down on him teasingly.

“Y’know what to do, don’t make me say it dear.” Your voice was stern compared to the tone you held before, Alastor blew out air at your words, head still thrown back at rest on the back of the sofa. Finally he brought his hands from the resting position next to him, and freed himself from his slacks and boxers. You sighed happily as you slowly inched your way down on him, Alastors hands gripped your hips harshly, and his legs kicked out and spasmed every inch you took down.

Once buttoned out, you fixed your gown to flow around you, and backed yourself up against his chest, head rested on his shoulder. Brining his head up to gaze down at you, Alastor gave you a questioning look, sweat already gathering on his forehead. “Dear please-” Alastors words got caught off by a boisterous call, and the front door swinging open. Fixing his posture, Alastor snapped into position, positioning his legs up right feet on the floor, straightening his back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you up with him.

“Hellloooo everybody! Just had an amazing meeting, everything went in my favour, as always.” Lucifer waltzed in swinging his cane. He briefly paused scanning the room to see only you two sitting stiffly. You were more relaxed, eyes littled with an easygoing smile, Alastor however was tense; his smile was tight and unfriendly, with his eye twitching. “Well hello there you two, lovely to see you here.” Lucifer smiled happily plopping himself on the couch next to you, making you two shake.

The small bit of motion from Lucifer throwing himself down, made you clench, your arousal leaking down Alastors cock and onto his pants. Clearing his throat to suppress a moan, Alastor then gave a tiny ‘hello’ to the devil. Turning your body more toward the devil, you made sure to pick yourself up off Alastor a bit, and lower yourself back down, making him sink his nails into you.

Wrapping one arm around Alastors neck, you leaned sideways against him, facing Lucifer, your skirt successfully obstructing the entire view of your sin. “Do tell Luce.” You urge pretending to care, Lucifer caught on to the strange behaviour immediately however he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it yet, so he pushed on shrugging and explaining his meeting. You coyly moaned occasionally throughout his explanations playing it off as “oh”s and “ah”s to his story rather than Alastors twitching cock.

Leaning forward Alastor stuck his blushing face in your hair, breathing heavily into it. “Is he doing okay?” Lucifer asked suddenly, quirking a brow at Alastor. Around your waist Alastors arms tightened, and his legs once again spread and splayed out a bit allowing him more space. Alastor felt pitiful, but in a way he loved it, only you had this power and nobody else, he could live with that. Alastor was too blitzed out to realise he’d subtly humped up into you, needing some sort of release. Playing with Alastors hair, you shrugged your shoulders at the devil, your poise still in tacked.

“Yes, I do believe he’s a little sickly.” Lucifer noticed the twitch in Alastors hips now, his eyes growing in size every so slightly. “Yknow i just want to stay something Lucifer,” You begin to say, eyeing Al from your peripheral, seeing his eyes closed. “I really think we ought to stop with the battle, Alastor treats me very well, very good,” You purr fixing your posture, making Alastor groan into your hair.

“I think it’s time to stop with the whole ‘i could take your partner’ shtick.” You say sharply, with finality, Lucifers eyes at this point were flicking back and forth between the two of you, a prominent blush on his face. You grinned cheekily once again and shifted again trying to fix yourself to face forward again, as you did so you heard Lucifer take a breath to speak, but it got interrupted by a guttural groan from Alastor.

Without warning Alastors legs flexed his hips jerking involuntarily up against you, it caught you off guard and made you gasp and moan. It didn’t stop after one thrust, Alastor sunk his teeth into your shoulder jerking his hips up into you, panting and groaning without care. With one forceful thrust and growl, you whined feeling him force himself against you fully, cumming far up into you, stealing your breath. Lucifer watched bug eyed and taken aback, he never saw Alastor so pleasured, now he felt a ping of jealousy; before this moment he wanted to steal you away to show you how much better he can fuck you compared to Alastor, now he wanted you to fuck him and make him feel the way Alastor felt now.

Alastors form grew demonic, stretching and contorting, you still in his lap. You didn’t move an inch as he contorted, not afraid of Alastor what so ever. Alastors neck snapped inhumanely to Lucifer. “You are to never speak of this again.” Alastors voice didn’t sound like his own when he spoke, and whether or not Lucifer was truly scared didn’t matter as he fumbled, stuttered and then stumbled off covering his eyes and apologising. With the snap of his fingers, Alastor magicked the two of you in the safety of his radio tower, where no one dared to enter unwelcomed. “Dear, that was unacceptable. But amusing, you get away with this little fiasco only because it was Lucifer you did it in front of.”

Alastor growled at you demonic form on display, smile stretched, he had your cheeks tightly pinched in between his nails. Shrugging your shoulders, you tiptoed up to give his teeth a coy kiss. “Whatever maybe now he’ll leave us alone.”

[meazalykov]

rings rings rings

lena oberdorf x reader

summary: a joke in the community makes you come to a realization

the teasing had always been a lighthearted joke, something you and lena both laughed about. 

it started almost immediately after you two went public with your relationship. after you guys started dating in 2020, you guys decided to not tell the public about your relationship until a couple of years in. 

after transferring from barcelona to bayern munich in 2022, and shortly after lena’s second place spot in the EUROS– thats when the public had confirmation about the two of you.  

it wasn’t just the fans who started their relentlessness. your teammates had their fun, too.

your bayern and national teammates instagram stories were flooded with subtle hints—photos of you holding hands, captions about the "future mrs. oberdorf" and even cheeky comments from giulia and laura with ring emojis when lena and you celebrated your fourth anniversary. 

lea, lena’s best friend and your close friend, was the ringleader of the proposal jokes. every time you and lena were out with her, she’d find a way to bring up engagement rings. 

"so, lena," lea would say with a mischievous grin, "when’s the big day? or are you still searching for the perfect ring to put on y/n’s pretty finger?" 

lena would roll her eyes and laugh it off, but you could tell the idea was planted in her head. 

there were jokes during training sessions, comments during team dinners. when lena transferred to bayern from wolfsburg in july 2024– pernille managed to get the entire squad to start humming the wedding march when you two walked into the locker room together.

lena had told you her plan ages ago—she was going to propose during the winter of 2024. it was perfect. the winter break meant no football to distract you, just the two of you alone in the peace of the snowy bavarian countryside. 

you loved the idea, and though you tried to keep it out of your head so you could focus on football, you couldn't help but daydream about how it would unfold, how you would say yes without hesitation.

one day during the pre-season, before the olympics, everyone was cooling down after practice, some even joking around, when pernille and magda walked in with matching grins. they were holding hands and had the kind of look that hinted at something big. 

they exchanged a quick glance before pernille cleared her throat, immediately drawing the attention of the room.

“we’ve got some news,” pernille started, her voice light with her danish accent clear but laced with excitement. 

magda lifted her hand, showing off a simple but stunning engagement ring that sparkled under the fluorescent lights.

“we’re engaged!” magda announced, and the room erupted into cheers and applause. 

teammates rushed over to congratulate them, voices overlapping as everyone admired the ring and shared in the couple’s happiness.

amid the celebration, sydney, who had been stretching in the corner while scrolling on her phone, looked over at lena, who was smiling widely at the news. 

with a mischievous glint in her eye, sydney couldn’t resist.

“hey, lena,” sydney called out, her tone teasing making sure that the entire locker room heard her. 

“so, when are you gonna propose to y/n? or are you just going to let pernille and magda steal the spotlight?”

the locker room fell silent for a split second before erupting into laughter and more teasing. 

klara, always quick with a quip, chimed in, “yeah, lena, what’s the holdup? everyone has been waiting!”

lea joined in, a playful grin on her face. “maybe she’s just waiting for the perfect moment. or maybe y/n should propose first?”

lena felt her cheeks flush under the sudden attention, but she played it cool, offering a lopsided smile. 

“soon,” she replied, her voice steady despite the amount of teasing. “it’s gonna happen, don’t worry.”

the room buzzed with excited murmurs and jokes, but before anyone could press her further, lena’s gaze drifted to the door. 

y/n wasn’t there in the locker room, and she hadn’t been for a while. lena knew she had gone to check on ana in the medical area, making sure their teammate (who came back from an acl injury) was okay after a tough tackle during training. 

but the laughter and congratulations for pernille and madga continued to swirl around her, lena’s mind wandered to the ring she had already picked out, the one tucked safely away at home. 

she had planned everything, just waiting for the right moment to propose. 

but then the injury happened. an acl tear right before the olympics, a devastating blow to lena’s season and your hearts. 

you were happy to win gold at the olympics, but you were sad that lena couldn’t celebrate bronze with her german teammates. 

the surgery, the long recovery, the endless rehab—it took over everything once you got back to munich. 

and with it, lena’s plan to propose was quietly shelved. 

your taller german girlfriend even joked, with a bittersweet smile, that she wouldn’t be able to get down on one knee now, and you both shared a quiet laugh over it, trying to mask the disappointment.

it wasn’t long before the teasing at lena shifted.

“well, y/n, if lena’s knee is messed up, i guess it’s your turn to get down on one knee.”  tuva, with her sharp and sweet humor, was the first to mention it in the full bayern locker room. 

you laughed it off at first, just like lena had, but the teasing continued. 

more teammates joined in, some of your national teammates started to become aware of the jokes in germany and joined in. 

and suddenly, it was you who was being nudged toward proposing.

at first, you tried to brush it off, but there was something in the way lena looked at you—hopeful, maybe even a little relieved—that stayed with you. 

the idea took root, just as it had with her. it's been four years since you and lena started dating– when you were at barcelona and she at wolfsburg. you wanted her to be your wife. 

and before you knew it, you found yourself visiting jewelers, searching for the perfect ring. 

your pupils would have formed into a heart (if that was possible) when you spotted a delicate band with a single, sparkling diamond—it was simple yet elegant, just like lena.

you didn’t tell anyone about your plan. not tuva, not lea, not even your closest friends on the team.

it was something you wanted to keep between you and lena, a surprise that would catch her completely off guard. you didn’t need lena to overhear the teasing trolls that you had for teammates. 

the timing felt right as thanksgiving break approached—a quiet moment, just the two of you, away from the pressures of football.

the day you decided to propose, you could feel the excitement ripping throughout your body, but also a touch of nerves. 

lena had always been the one everyone expected to take the lead, since she was more of the “dominant” one in your relationship– but it was your turn first, and you wanted it to be perfect.

you planned a small getaway, just the two of you, in a cozy cabin nestled in the forests near munich. 

the air was crisp, the sky a brilliant shade of pink and orange due to the sunset, and everything seemed to sparkle in the winter light. 

you both took a small walk through a trail by the cabin. this was the first time that lena got cleared to walk without any cane or assist. 

this made you both happy as the two of you were laughing and chatting about everything and nothing. 

looking away from lena’s beautiful face, you reached the spot where you had decided to do it—a clearing with a view of the mountains in the distance.

you stopped, turning to face lena, who looked at you with a curious smile. 

she notices your face, you tried to look strong but your eyes showed something different. 

"what’s up?" she asked, her breath visible in the cold air.

you took a deep breath, smiling as you reached into your jean pocket and pulling out the small box. 

lena’s eyes widened as realization dawned on her, and you could see the tears starting to form.

“lena,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, 

“i know we always joked about who would propose first, and i know this isn’t how you planned it due to unfortunate circumstances. but i love you so much, ever since that wolfsburg and barcelona match. ever since then i couldn’t imagine my life without you. will you marry me?”

for a moment, lena was speechless. she stared at the ring, then back at you, her eyes shimmering with emotion. 

"y/n, are you serious?" she whispered, her voice shaky.

"absolutely. i’ve never been more serious about anything." you nodded, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. 

lena’s reaction was immediate. she threw her strong arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace, her tears soaking into your neck and jacket. 

"yes," she choked out, her voice thick with emotion. "yes, a million times yes!!" she pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes full of love and disbelief. 

"i can’t believe you did this. i was supposed to propose to you first." she held your face in her hands as she kept your body close to hers.

"well, you can still propose to me later, but i couldn’t wait any longer." you laughed, wiping away a tear that had slipped down her cheek. 

you slid the ring onto her finger, both of you laughing and crying at the same time. lena looked down at the ring, her hand shaking slightly as she admired it. 

"it’s perfect, y/n," she said, her voice full of wonder. "you’re perfect."

later at night, as you sat together by the fire in the cabin, wrapped in blankets, lena leaned her body on top of yours as her head rested on your shoulder. 

"you know," she murmured, her voice soft and full of warmth, "i was always going to propose first. i had this whole plan."

"i know, but i beat you to it." you smiled, kissing her forehead gently. 

the teasing might have started as a joke, but in the end, it led to a moment neither of you would ever forget—a moment that was entirely yours.

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Dress Up, Part 2: The Ceremony✨

Well well well, looks like you guys won. You get a continuation of this fic that was meant to be a one shot lmao! I had some awesome people to bounce ideas off of and I couldn't do this without them. I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's time for the wedding! But you know I can't go a chapter without writing a little smut hehe~

*** - Scene change ~~~ - Flashback

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: It's wedding day! And Lucifer is more than willing to try and convince you to the leave the reception early...

Warnings: 18+, smut, hand job, oral (m receiving)

"You know, if you don't quit your pacing back and forth, you're gonna wear out the carpet..."

***

It had only been a week since the proposal and the wedding was already here. But this is what you both wanted; a nice quiet wedding with only a handful of people with everyone else in Hell being none the wiser. You had to beg Lucifer for the week you got in between, he was practically ready to say "I do" once he put that engagement ring on your hand. It may have seemed like you two were moving a little bit fast considering most weddings take months, sometimes years to plan out! But when you're marrying the King of Hell, there really was next to nothing to worry about when it came to your special day.

The new hotel was the perfect venue, complete with a beautiful ballroom that could rival any chapel on Earth. The guest list was extremely exclusive consisting of only the occupants of the hotel, minus one Radio Demon, not that he would attend even if he was invited. It was Charlie who suggested that he protect the hotel today from any threat that might make itself known. On top of that, Charlie was more than happy to be the officiant, as being the Princess of Hell granted her that authority. Money was no object to the Morningstar family, so no expense was spared.

But regardless of any of that, Lucifer couldn't help but worry. You had one other request for him after he popped the question.

~~~

"I hate to ask more of you after asking for a week to prepare," you started, putting on the last of your clothes that you had discarded during your fun little teasing display, "but..." Lucifer approached you suddenly and held your hand in both of his.

"My love, you can ask of me anything you wish. There is no limit when it comes to you. You've already given me the best gift of becoming my future bride. Anything in my power is yours for the asking, you just name it!" He leaned down and planted a small kiss on the back of your hand. You couldn't help but blush, he never failed to charm you.

"This may sound a little odd, considering what just took place a few minutes ago," you breathed out a sigh, "but...what would you say to refraining from any...intense intimacy?" Lucifer cocked his eyebrow and smirked, seemingly intrigued. "B-but only for this week, I promise! Kissing and cuddling would still be on the table, of course. And no deliberate teasing from me, that wouldn't be fair. I was just thinking that...I want our first night as a married couple to be special. And I figured holding off for the time in between would only heighten the experience. If that's not something you want, I completely understand that-MMPH," you were silenced by Lucifer's soft lips on yours.

"Oh darling, was that all?," he flashed his signature toothy grin at you. "That's hardly a request! I think that's a wonderful idea...n-not that I don't want to ravish you at any given time! But you're right, I couldn't imagine a better honeymoon than getting the chance to feel you again after being denied for a few days, even though it may feel like an eternity. I'll be on my best behavior; you have my word!"

~~~

And Lucifer was on his best behavior, for the most part, at least. There were a few instances where his hands had traveled a little too low on your body and some kisses became deeper than they should have. But both of you managed to make it through the week! But today was the day, and his anxiety was at an all-time high. You decided to sleep in separates rooms the night before, wanting the next time you saw each other to be at the altar. That was the plan, at least.

It had been a while since Lucifer had slept alone. Suffice to say he couldn't sleep. He assured you that he would be alright sleeping alone for just one night, but that ended up being easier said than done. The empty bed he laid in brought back painful memories of his first night without Lilith, something that still haunted him to this day. There would be times where Lucifer would wake up in a cold sweat, only to glance over to see you peacefully asleep, and he could breathe again. Anytime you felt him tug you closer to him in the middle of the night, you knew what had woken him up. He never hid his feelings from you when he confided in you about his ex, and you didn't mind that he would wake you when his nightmares overwhelmed him. You loved him and he loved you. You would never leave. So when you heard your door creek open in the middle of the night to see your fiancé standing ion the door frame, you only smiled and gestured him to you.

~~~

"I-I'm sorry," he sobbed quietly, "I tried...I really did...I-I had a dream, a nightmare, you were there but you started to fade away in front of me. I reached out but it was no use. I woke up and…and you weren’t there, I panicked…I’m so s-sorry…”

"Hey, hey, shh, it's alright," you soothed and brought him into a tight embrace. You felt a tear that had fallen from his face make its way down your collarbone. "Don't cry, Luci, I'm not upset, not at all." You lifted his head up to wipe away his remaining tears. "Let's get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow." You planted a kiss on his forehead, and from the dim red light that shown through your windows, you could see a small smile appear on his face. He laid down, his back facing you as you wrapped your arms around him and brought him flush to your chest. You could hear his breathing start to even about again.

"I don't deserve you," he murmured.

"You know I think the same thing every day," you respond.

He interlaced his fingers with yours at your words, squeezing you hand softly. "Promise me you'll never think that again. Please. You deserve everything and more."

"Alright," you conceded, kissing the back of his head, "as long as you promise me the same thing. You're my everything, and I'll spend the rest of my afterlife showing you that."

"Okay," he spoke weakly. You intertwined your legs with his, bringing yourself as close to him as possible. "I still intend to keep my other promise. I'll be gone before you wake up."

"You can stay as long as you need to," you whispered before drifting off to sleep once more.

~~~

True to his word, Lucifer had managed to sneak away before you woke. After adorning his typical attire, he found himself wandering the halls of the hotel, finally stopping when he reached the lobby. Thinking he was alone, Lucifer started talking to himself and paced back and forth like a madman.

"Was this a mistake? Are we moving too fast? No, no, no it's alright, it's fine! We're fine! Get a fucking GRIP, Lucifer! You're panicking for nothing! She loves you...right? Yes, yes of course she does! Why would she say yes to you?! Unless...NO! No, none of that! Relax! Need to relax..."

"You know, if you don't quit your pacing back and forth, you're gonna wear out the carpet," Husk remarked, attempting to get Lucifer's attention in his anxious state.

"WHAT THE-" Lucifer shrieked hearing the bartender's voice. After seeing Husk standing behind the bar, he breathed out a sigh of relief and clutched his hand to his rapidly beating heart. "Geez, warn a guy next time!" Husk huffed and returned to cleaning the whiskey glass he held in his hand. "How, uhh, how much of that did you hear?"

"Enough to know that you're a fucking mess right now," the cat demon replied, setting down his now clean glass. "Perhaps you need a bartender to talk to."

"Uhh, alright?" Lucifer made his way over to the bar and took a tentative seat on one of the stools.

"This is about your girl, ain't it?" Husk correctly guessed, "about the wedding?" Lucifer sighed and nodded. "Mhmm. You love this gal, don't you?"

"Yes, of course I do!" Lucifer answered almost defensively. "She's...my everything!"

Husk picked up another dirty glass to clean. "And has she given you any reason to doubt that she feels the same way?"

Lucifer huffed. "Well, I...no, no she hasn't. She's always been there for me. Listening to my ramblings, making me laugh, consoling me during the worst times, like last night...she's...she's just perfect!"

"So what's the holdup?" Husk asked after setting the other glass down.

"It's not as simple as you're making it out to be, Husker," Lucifer retorted, pushing his way back from the bar. "I loved Lilith with all of my heart and soul. And she said...that she loved me too. But then one day, she was just gone. Vanished. We fell together. We built a life here TOGETHER! And she just leaves? It's like the last 10,000 years together meant absolutely NOTHING!" Lucifer ran his hands through his hair, trying to keep his composure. "I-I can't lose her like like I lost Lilith. I just can't! I just want to be enough for her. I don't know what I would do if she...", he couldn't finish his sentence. He sat back down at the bar, resting his head in his arms. "The pain would break me..."

The sound of a glass sliding across the counter top caught Lucifer's attention. When he lifted his head, he noticed a full glass of scotch sitting next to him. "Calms the nerves," Husk spoke. Lucifer let out a deep breath and took a swig, choking slightly in the process not realizing how strong it was.

"Not much of a drinker," Lucifer admitted, setting the glass down.

"Sir, if I may..." Husk began.

"You can call me Lucifer," the angel smiled slightly.

Husk smirked. "Lucifer, all I can tell you that love is a vulnerable emotion. I understand that you're afraid. Afraid that history will repeat itself, that your love is not meant to be, and that you're going to end up alone all over again." Lucifer's face sunk, lowering his head against his arms once more. "But," Husk continued, "I know one thing for sure. That girl up there ain't Lilith."

Lucifer raised his head, now hanging onto every word from the bartender.

"If anybody thinks you aren't enough, that's their own fucking problem. And I can tell you that your girl ain't like that at all. She adores ya, can't get her to shut up about ya! Hell, I couldn't even tell you why she ended up down here in the first place! Another one of Heaven's fuck ups, for sure. But for your sake, I'm glad she did." Husk reached over and gulped down Lucifer's unfinished glass of scotch. "Be a shame if it went to waste."

Lucifer let out the smallest of laughs. "Thank you, Husker. And you're right, even in this God forsaken pit, she manages to make it just a little bit brighter. She saved me. And I'm going to devote every moment of my immortal life to her."

"Good to hear. Now..." Husk slammed his hand down on the counter, "get your shit together and go get ready! You got a wedding to attend."

*** You startled awake with the sound of knocking at your door. Your mind was still foggy, brief memories of last night flooded through your head. "Lucifer?" you sat up and looked around your room, but he was already gone, leaving you alone in an empty bed. He had kept his promise after all. There was another set of knocks at the door. "Coming!" you shouted as you ran to grab the robe you had left on the armchair. You opened the door to see Charlie bouncing giddily.

“Good moooorrrrnnniiiinnnngggggg~” she practically sang. “Did you sleep well? Are you ready for your big day?? Are we forgetting anything???” She rapid fired questions at you while you were still rubbing the crust from your eyes.

“Charlie, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re more excited than I am,” you joked, gesturing her to come in. “In order: Yes, I slept…well. Yes, I’m ready...mentally speaking. And no, we’re definitely not forgetting anything. You’re the most meticulous and thoughtful person I know, you definitely have everything planned to a tee! You practically leapt out of your skin when we asked if you would officiate.”

"Aww, thank you!" Charlie smiled as she skipped into your room. "And of course! I would never turn down such an opportunity! Being the princess of Hell does have its perks! You can never be too prepared, ya know? Especially for a day that's so wonderful and magical and full of love!" You saw tears welling up in her eyes out of pure joy.

"Hey now, I thought I was the one that was supposed to be crying today!" you joked.

"Right, right! Sorry!" She wiped the tears from her eyes and grabbed your hands excitedly. "Let's get your hair and make up done!"

Charlie dragged you over to the vanity and sat you down in the chair. You weren't one to wear much makeup typically, but Charlie insisted. And when Charlie asks for something, it's pretty much impossible to tell her no. So you obliged. But you made her promise that she would not go overboard, only the basics. Thankfully you showered the night before, so your hair just needed a good brush through. Charlie grabbed the hairbrush and began to comb through your hair, gently pulling out the knots out of the nasty case of bed head you were sporting. She truly was the kindest soul you've ever met. But that didn't stop you from feeling a little awkward.

"Charlie," you mumbled, "can I-oww...can I ask you something?"

"Yes, absolutely!" She grabbed the the already plugged-in curler and started working on adding some volume to your hair.

"Are...are you sure you're alright with this?" you asked timidly. "I mean...me and your father. I just don't want you to think I'm trying to, you know...replace your mother. I know I don't know much about her or your relationship but..."

Charlie put down the curler and kneeled down next to you, gently grabbing your hand. "You don't need to worry about that! I promise, it's alright with me. It's more than alright, actually! I haven't seen my dad this happy in a long, long time. He loves you so much! You wanna know how I know that? Because he tells me. Every single day. His eyes light up when anybody mentions your name! And I know you would never do anything to hurt him, or me. You're too kind and good hearted for that. I know it may feel like you're inserting yourself into the picture, but I'm more than happy to have you as part of our family! I know the love you have for my dad is genuine, and I wouldn't change a thing!"

A smile formed on your face. "Thank you, Charlie."

"Now," Charlie hopped up from the floor and grabbed the large make up bag sitting on the counter, “time to make magic happen! I have the perfect idea! Close your eyes and no peaking until I say so!”

*** You could feel your heart beating out of your chest as you stood in front of the closed ballroom doors. You knew just on the other side of that door was the love of your life, and he was waiting for you. Husk linked your arm with his, flashing you a warm smile. "You ready?"

You let out a few shaky breaths before you could answer him. "Y-yes."

"Don't worry, I gotcha," he comforted, "one step at a time, alright? Trust me, whatever you're feeling now, he was in much worse shape this morning. Nearly had to kick his ass to the altar myself. But I straightened him out for ya."

You could help but laugh. "Thanks, Husk. And thank you for walking me down. I know this isn't really a traditional wedding, but I appreciate everything you and everyone else have done for us."

"No thanks is necessary," Husk replied, "for what you do for Charlie and the hotel, it's the least I can do. You're a good one to be sure. And the King is damn lucky to have ya." You smiled and tightened your grip on Husk's arm as you heard the faint sound of music start to play on the other side. "It's time."

Without another word, the large wooden doors opened in front of you, and the music could be heard much more clearly now. The Bridal Chorus. Husk waited on your command as you took the first step. You scanned the room. You saw Vaggie and Cherri standing to one side, Angel off to the other, while Niffty skipped in front of you throwing a mix of flower petals and roaches. You noticed Charlie straight ahead of you in a lovely blue suit, a color you've never seen her wear before. You also took notice to the fact there didn't seem to be any organ in the room, despite the music that continued to play as you walked. You guessed it was some of Lucifer's magic. He really knew how to set the scene for the occasion.

Finally, your eyes found Lucifer. He looked at you as if you were the most angelic being he's ever laid his eyes on. You couldn't quite make out the details of his face yet, but you could tell that tears had begun rolling down his face. You saw his suit for the first time. A beautiful black velvet suit with embroidered gold detailing on the jacket. He looked like royalty.

Lucifer stared back at you, fighting every urge in his body to run to you and scoop you up in his arms. Your dress was immaculate. A stunning flowing sleeveless white dress adorned with fluffy scarlet feathers that were scattered across the skirt and completely covered the bodice. An homage to your future husband. You were only a few feet from him now. His smile could have lit the darkest of rooms. The tears continued to flow from his eyes, and you could feel tears threatening to leave yours as well.

"Deep breaths," Husk murmured to you before stepping to the side to join Angel. You inhaled deeply, holding your breath until you stood directly in front of Lucifer, only exhaling when he reached out and held your hands in his.

The music stopped. Your heartbeat was the only thing you could hear now.

Charlie cleared her throat. "Dearly beloved, we're gathered here today to join these two souls before us in holy matrimony. I understand that the couple have written their own vows." Charlie glanced your way and beamed. "Ladies first!" You smiled back at her then turned your full attention to Lucifer, staring lovingly and longingly into his eyes. You had spent the entire week practicing and memorizing your words for this very moment. You breathed in, and you breathed out.

"Lucifer, words cannot begin to describe how you make me feel. You have shown me so much compassion, understanding, care, and adoration that I had never experienced on Earth. My promise to you is that I will always stay by your side, I will never abandon you, and I will love you for the rest of my after life. You've changed my life for the better, and I will make sure that I do the same for you. You are my one true love, forever and always. I love you, my angel."

Lucifer pulled one of his hands away to wipe away the tears the refused to stop flowing. Angel pulled out a handkerchief and brought it over to him and began patting it across his cheeks. You looked at Charlie who had also started to cry. She quickly composed herself and turned towards her father. "D-Dad?" she squeaked out.

Once Lucifer was able to compose himself, he took hold of your hands once more. "My love, I have existed since before the dawn of creation. And in my thousands of years of existence, no one has brought me as much joy as you have. You came into my life suddenly, like a thief in the night, and stole my most precious possession. My heart. It is yours now, for eternity and even beyond. I promise that you will never know another day of sadness, of heartbreak, or of loneliness. My devotion to you is boundless and unfathomable and never ending. I am yours. I love you, my queen."

Razzle appeared in front of the two of you, displaying the silver wedding rings for each of you. You and Lucifer took your respective ring to to place on the other's hand.

"Lucifer," Charlie spoke through her sniffles "will you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife; will you love, honor, and cherish her, hold her up in the good times and the bad, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do, forever," he answered, sliding the ring onto your finger.

Charlie turned and repeated the question to you.

"Yes, I do," you proclaimed, sliding the ring onto his hand in the same manner.

"By the power vested in me, as princess of Hell, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

You and Lucifer smiled at each other, no longer able to hold back any of your tears. Lucifer cupped your face and brought your lips to his for a tender kiss. You heard the cheers from the others in the room, and you definitely heard Angel whistle as your lips connected. When you pulled apart, something had caught your eye. Your rings were glowing. Magic in the form of golden dust surrounded each of them, swirling around the metal bands.

"What's this?" You asked Lucifer, who didn't seem alarmed at all.

He chuckled. "You're the new Queen of Hell, my darling. This magic is a symbol. It signifies that you are no longer bound by the rules that govern the sinners; you are bound to me. You have free reign to travel anywhere you wish, including the other rings of Hell. You're now one of the most powerful beings in the realm! But we can get into the finer details later; for now," Lucifer pecked your lips once again, "let's celebrate!"

After wiping away her excessive tears, Charlie cleared her throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce to you for the first time ever, Mr. and Mrs. Morningstar!" The crowd cheered as you walked hand in hand with your husband back down the aisle.

"Who's ready to fucking PARTY?!" Cherri yelled behind you as you all made your way towards the bar in the lobby.

Drinks poured at the reception, everyone was cutting lose and having fun! You two had decided to partake in as many traditional reception activities as you could! Neither of you knew how you ended up with so much cake all over yourselves, but it was alright considering Lucifer easily snapped his fingers and both of you ended up back in pristine condition. You invited everyone to participate in the bouquet toss, but it was Vaggie who ended up with the flowers in the end. She absolutely failed to hide her blush from Charlie who was jumping for joy! But this next tradition was something Lucifer had really been looking forward to; the garter belt toss.

Ever the showman, Lucifer hiked up your dress to your thigh and rather than using his hands, he decided to use his teeth to pull the garment down. His head lingered near your thigh way longer than necessary, and you could Angel snickering as Lucifer dragged it down the length of your leg.

"Oh, you're gonna get it," you leaned down to whisper to him, hoping no one else could hear.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" Lucifer retorted with the garter belt still between his teeth.

To no one's surprise, Angel was the one to catch the belt once Lucifer finally tossed it.

The reception was going off without a hitch. Everyone was having the time of their lives getting plastered and gorging themselves on the enormous buffet Lucifer hand conjured up. You had changed out of your wedding dress into a new purple dress; the lavender one that you really liked that you had tried on a week ago before you got yanked out of the dressing room by a certain horny angel. Thankfully, you two were able to go back to the store the next day to properly purchase it. You and Lucifer were given your own large round table so you wouldn't have to sit at the crowded bar. Luckily for Lucifer, this gave him easy access to you. As the reception went on and with no one being the wiser, Lucifer's hand found your thigh once more, gliding it up ever so slowly before you shot him a knowing glance.

"What do you say we leave early," he proposed innocently, "I have a wonderful surprise for my new bride once we're on our honeymoon."

You playfully grabbed Lucifer's wandering hand and pushed it down towards your knee. "Luci, it's only been an hour! You can't tell me you can't wait just a little longer, can you?"

Lucifer stuck out his lip and pouted sweetly. "Oh, but my love, have you forgotten? It's been an entire week! And you know how well behaved I've been, I am nothing if not a man of my word." You felt his hand begin its ascent on your leg once more. You didn't stop him. "But I can only be a gentleman for so long..."

You didn't want to admit it, but you were in the same boat as well. That week apart had been almost tortuous. But you were more than willing to wait until the party was over. Your husband, however, appeared to have a different idea.

Alright then.

Before his hand could climb any higher, your hand shot down immediately to his crotch. Lucifer bit back a yelp as he felt you palm him through his pants. His hand stopped all motion, but instead started digging into your thigh, ultimately trying to remain calm. But that task seemed nearly impossible with the way your hand continued its ministrations, his pants feeling tighter and tighter with every passing second.

"D-Darling, please..." he begged through his clenched teeth.

You grinned wickedly. "You want me to take care of you, Luci?" He nodded his head vigorously. "We're not leaving early. But, I'll help you out as a good wife should, yeah?" Lucifer panted, his nails now dangerously close to breaking through your skin. "Head to the restroom just down the hall. Give me a minute and I'll follow you. I'll knock three times to let you know it's me. I have a plan. No touching yourself, understand?"

"Y-Yes," he breathed. When he was sure no one was looking, he stood up from his chair as fast as possible before making his way down the hall. Once you saw him disappear around the corner, it was time to give yourself some cover.

"Angel!" you yelled across the room, waving your hands to flag him down. The spider demon turned his head and smiled. He said something inaudible to Cherri before making his way over to you.

"Hey there, pretty lady!" Angel bent over and folded is first pair arms on the table, "Congratulations on the new gig! Being Queen of Hell sure is a status boost!"

"Yeah, I still need time to process that," you admitted. "So Angel, can you umm, do me a favor?"

Angel stood up and slicked his hair back. "Oh, anything for the new member of the royal family! What can I do ya for, doll face?"

You let out a shaky breath. "Can you...how do I say this...cause some sort of distraction?" Angel raised an eyebrow. "I just need to take care of something real quick."

"Uh huh," Angel chuckled, "you need to take care of something? Or someone?~" You pursed your lips, a light blush dashed across your cheeks. You really should have known better than to try and tiptoe around your means of leaving with Angel. "That's what I thought. Don't think I didn't notice the King almost sprint out of here just now. Man is absolutely smitten with ya! But you'll get no judgement from me, baby, I know how it is! Consider this your wedding gift, I typically end up being the most distracting person wherever I go! How much time do you need?"

"Five minutes?"

"Oh honey, I think you're giving him way too much credit, especially considering the state he's in." Angel laughed, "I can give you three."

"Four."

"Deal," Angel stuck a hand out for you to shake. He was ready to turn away when he flashed you a wink. "Get ready!"

As soon as you heard Angel shout loud enough to grab everyone's attention, you got up from the table and followed Lucifer's path down the hall. Once you stood in front of the restroom door, you knocked on it three times just as you said you would. It took less than a second for the door to swing open and for Lucifer to pull you inside. He locked the door behind you and crashed his lips into yours. You pushed him up against the door as you slipped your tongue further into his mouth. He was devouring you as his hands gripped your hips.

"We don't have a lot of time," you said breathlessly, "we have four minutes."

"How did-HHNG," Lucifer wanted to question until you began to palm at his now very apparent erection through his pants again.

"Let's just say I owe Angel big time." You started to fumble with Lucifer's belt, pulling it off of his pants with a quick flick of your arm. Your hands worked at the button and zipper of his pants next, going almost too fast for you to properly hold anything. You gripped the hem of his pants and boxers and were about to pull them down together until Lucifer grabbed your wrists.

"Wait, wait! What about you?" he asked. Even in such a lust filled state, he still only ever thought about you. God, you really hit the jackpot.

You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I appreciate it hon, but we really don't have the time to argue about this. Four minutes, remember? Probably closer to three now." You pulled your hands away from Lucifer's grip and went back to the hem of his pants, pulling down his boxers in the process, finally freeing his hardened cock that was already leaking precum. You placed your hands on either side of his hips, his back flush against the door. "You better tell me what you want quickly, Luci."

Lucifer gulped hard, staring at you through half-lidded eyes. "T-touch me...please...n-need you..."

Without another word, you moved to stand at Lucifer's side as your one hand gripped his shaft while the other cupped his mouth to keep him from making too much noise. "Shh, gotta be quiet, my love. You don't want the others to hear how your queen makes you feel." He nodded his head silently as you began to stroke him. You watched as precum dripped onto the floor below; it was obvious how pent up he was. You quickly picked you the pace as your hand moved up and down his cock, thumbing over the tip only for Lucifer to mewl into your hand and buck up into your touch. His breathing became more and more staggered by the second, he wasn't going to last much longer at this rate. But you knew you were running out of time and your hands alone were not going to be enough to finish the job. "Not a sound," you commanded as you released your hand from his mouth, dropping to your knees in an instant. Before Lucifer could protest, your mouth had already full engulfed his length. He threw his own hand over his mouth to muffle his screams as best he could. Your head bobbed up and down rapidly on his cock while stopping every few seconds to lap circles around his tip. He was close.

"F-Fuu-uuccckk," he whimpered, "I-I'm g-mmph...gonna c-cum...shitshitSHIT!" And almost on cue, you felt him empty himself inside you. Strings of hot cum hit that back of your throat while you continued to suck him off, helping him ride out his orgasm. Once he was finished, you let his now softened dick fall from your lips, not letting a single drop leave your mouth. You gracefully stood up and grabbed his belt that you had flung earlier and handed it to him.

"Feel better?" you whispered in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

He turned his head to meet your lips once more. He always loved the taste of him on your mouth. "Immeasurably," Lucifer moaned into you.

"And only with a few seconds to spare!" Lucifer buckled his pants once more while you walked over to the sink and began soaking one of the wash cloths in cool water. You dabbed the towel on his forehead, attempting to cool him down. "Can't have you looking so disheveled, my king."

"I promise to make this up to you," Lucifer swore. "You should never be left unsatisfied."

You smiled and kissed him on the forehead sweetly. "My satisfaction is knowing I'm the only one who can pull those beautiful sounds out of you." Lucifer could help but look away from you in embarrassment. "Now, if you promise to behave for the rest of the party, let's just say I have a...proposition for you later tonight. I know exactly how you can pay me back." You unlocked the bathroom door and held it open for him. "Let's not keep our guests waiting!"

~~~

IT'S SO FUCKING LATE RIGHT NOW HOLY GOD I WAS ON A ROLL I DIDN'T WANT TO STOP! I hope you guys are ready for the honeymoon ;)

Taglist: @ask-theradio-demon @kermitdafroggy @thonethatflies620 @luc1fersducky @a-okay-rj @bat-boness @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis @misfitgirlwrites @animationmovieshipps @orbitinglumps @ramenkitten @blaackbiird @bigfatbimbo @lucisaspen @bvnnyangel @seulace9 @fluffypinkpillows @starlightdreaming @k-n0-x @rosen-und-mondlicht @raindropsfromheaven @slutforlucifermorningstar (I'm sorry if I missed anyone!)

[vivwritesfics]

Hungry Like The Wolf

Chapter One

She hadn't seen her best friend, Lando, in years. She didn't run into him the last time she was visiting her father and she doubted she'd see him this time. Things were different now. She wasn't aware of his furry little problem. Just like she wasn't aware of the vampires plaguing the town.

1.5K

Vampire!Oscar x Reader x Werewolf!Lando

Series Masterlist

There were many things she'd miss about living in the sun. Her friends, her family. But mostly, she'd miss the way the sun kissed her skin every time she stepped out of her house.

Sitting on the beach, listening to the music as her friends cooked up a barbecue behind her. There would be nothing like that were she was headed.

Her mother had knocked on her apartment door just days ago. She knocked quickly and let herself in. "Honey, we need to talk about your dad," her mother said and sat herself down on the sofa.

She sat beside her mother, who immediately grabbed her hands. "What's up?" She asked, pulling her hands away and placing them in her own lap.

Her parents had split up when she was younger. She'd gone to live with her mother, only seeing her father a couple of times a year. But those visits happened less and less as she got older. When she moved out of her parents house, she stopped seeing her dad all together.

Her father had a family of his own, though. He had Susie, her stepmother, and Jack, her half brother. If the courts had seen how her father would end up, maybe she would have had to stay with him, instead of moving with her mother. But she loved living with her mother.

"Your father has been in contact. He wants to see you," her mother said.

"He wants to see me?" She questioned, her eyebrows raising. "If he wants to see me, he can contact me."

"He wants you to come stay with him for a few weeks."

She let out a sigh. Just one, quick visit to her father. She could see Jack and Susie, and her childhood friends. "Just a few weeks, yeah?" She asked and her mother nodded. "Okay, I'll go and visit him if you look after my plants for me."

A few days later she was on the road, heading to place where her father lived with his new family. Her music played throughout the duration of the journey, stopping for gas just once.

It had been so long since she'd seen her dad, a small amount of dread filled her. The last time she saw him was when Jack was born, she didn't even know how old he was now.

She hadn't spoken to her old friends since she was a teenager. She had no way to contact them; if she ran into them, she ran into them. It was as simple as that.

By the time she was parked on her fathers driveway, the sky was black, with stars dotted around. She killed the engine and, climbed out of the car and looked up at the house.

This was the house she had grown up in. Once upon a time her parents were together in this house. Now, her father was in there with his new family. She wondered if he still had her room in that house, or if he'd changed it since she was a teenager. That wouldn't surprise her. It had been near five years since she'd last stayed in this house.

Climbing the steps, she hesitated before knocking on the door. It had been so long since she'd last seen any of them. She sucked in a breath and knocked on the door.

There was noise from inside of the house. She watched through the stained glass window panes on the door, but didn't see anything. The door clicked before it was pulled open.

Her little brother stood there, staring up at her. He didn't recognise her, that much was clear. She crouched to his height. "Hey, Jack. Do you remember me?" She asked gently. The little boy in front of her shook his head.

The door opened wider and Jack disappeared back inside of the house. She stood up straight, coming face to face with her father. "Hi dad," she said, her smile tight.

"Hello, Maus."

Toto had been calling his daughter Maus from the day she was born. Even when she got older, he still called her Maus. "Do you need help with your things?"

She and Toto grabbed the few things she had brought with her from her car. He led her through the house, taking her up to the room that was hers. Well, it used to be hers.

Toto dropped her things and switched the light on, letting her look around. The room hadn't changed in the slightest. They still had the pictures of her and friends from maybe ten summers ago, the pictures of her as a baby, both of her parents holding her. There were posters of the bands she used to worship, the blankets she had since she was a child.

"Wow," she said, dropping her bags on the bed. "It hasn't changed in the slightest, has it?"

"I haven't touched a thing in here," Toto said.

"Like a time capsule, right?"

Toto let out a small, quick laugh. He walked through her door and grabbed a hold of the handle. "Wash up and come down for dinner, okay?"

"Okay."

Her dad pulled the bedroom door shut and she started on unpacking her things. She looked at the pictures on the shelves in her childhood bedrooms. All of them had her childhood friend in it. Lando. They'd been friends since they were kids. But, after her parents split and she went to live with her mother, their friendship was strained.

They hadn't seen each other in nearly seven years. It had been so long, she had no idea how she was supposed to get into contact with him. Maybe she'd find him.

She washed her hands and her face, and went downstairs. Jack and Susie were already sat around the table as Toto put their plates in front of them. As soon as Susie spotted her she was on her feet, pulling her into her embrace. "It's good to see you again," she said and released her.

"Sorry I haven't been by to visit for a while," she said as she took a seat between Susie and her dad. "I've been busy with work and I moved out of my moms place not to long ago," she confessed, although it was a lame excuse.

Susie gave her a kind smile as Toto placed the plate in front of her. "No worries, seriously," she said. "We're glad you're here now."

Their first family dinner was a little awkward. It was almost as though Toto didn't realise how old she was now, how much things had changed. He asked her questions about school, even if she had already graduated. It took a couple of questions before he got it through his head that she was an adult now.

But she took it all in her stride, answering everything with a smile. She wasn't mad that he didn't know much about her, he had been busy with his new family.

***

Lando was aware of her arrival from the moment she drove into town.

His territory was close to her home. Even if he didn't recognise the car, he could smell her inside of it. From the bushes, disguised as something not human, he watched as she climbed out of the car and knocked on the door of her old house.

It had been five years since Lando had last seen her. She hadn't seen him then, he'd seen her. He'd watched her. Back then he'd been going through the change, and he didn't feel controlled enough to meet her.

He would have done something he'd regretted back then.

He let out a low growl as he watched her disappear into her childhood house. More than anything he wanted to follow her, but he couldn't. He held back, just watching.

That was all he could do. Watch. He kept his gaze on her bedroom window for at least another hour, until Carlos came to trade shifts with him.

Carlos walked towards him, looking entirely too human. "Come on, pup," he said to Lando. "Go home and get some sleep."

Lando couldn't help but growl as his body changed, becoming human once again. "I'm not a pup," he complained. Still, he hadn't taken his eyes away from her house. "Make sure nothing goes near that house. Especially not any fucking vampires," he said.

Nodding his head, Carlos took of his shirt and transformed. He took position, watching over the house just as Lando had been.

But still, Lando didn't move. He could see her, moving about her room as she unpacked her things. She stood in front of her window for just a second, looking towards the copse of trees. She didn't know they were there, watching over her.

Carlos used his nose to nudge Lando away. "Protect her," he said one last time before taking off, heading back to the pack house.

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for breaking up with my boyfriend because he likes my body?

TW for ED but please hear me out:

My bf (30m) and I (28f) have been together for a little over 5 years. When we got together I had an extremely stressful and physically demanding job. Shortly after our relationship started I relapsed with an eating disorder that had been a problem since prepubescence; I started restricting heavily at age 11 and had struggled with it on/off since then.

After quitting that terrible job and regaining some agency in my life, I spent a couple of years really focused on recovery. Without giving specific numbers (cause triggering) I'll say that I was extremely underweight to an unhealthy level for at least a year and experienced severe health complications because of it. I nearly died from heart problems and had a big wakeup call that caused me to change my whole life. I've done the work of recovery without medical help (history of omission with doctors) but have had support from my bf, and am currently at the highest weight of my life.

at a recent checkup my Dr talked a lot about "healthy lifestyle" and mentioned my weight gain over the past couple of years. I'm still within the "normal" range for my height and build, but the after visit summary/chart notes denoted risk of becoming overweight. Idk if my Dr would have brought it up if my history of ED was in my chart, (and I did switch primary care practices a few years ago, so they weren't treating me at my thinnest) but it still shook me a bit and I will admit to feeling very triggered.

The job I moved to is quite sedentary compared to the previous terrible one - I wfh, and very rarely have to be on my feet or do strenuous activity. In addition, I have chronic pain issues that make exercise difficult, and so historically have just restricted to maintain/lose weight because it's easier for me physically to just be hungry than to work out. I didn't want to go down that road again though because of how intense and scary it got last time.

My bf is a personal trainer and specializes in working with low ability clients and people recovering from long illness/injury. When I told him that I wanted to start exercising more often and get a good cardio routine going, he was really excited and started immediately putting together an "action plan" (what he calls it w his clients idk) for me. Then he mentioned how I'd need to add on a bunch of meal supplements and snacks to avoid losing weight and I got upset.

We're a plant-based (vegan) household and live with a roommate (bf's friend) so mostly eat/cook communal dinners and have various breakfast & lunch plans on hand, so we already eat pretty healthy and make sure to have a good balance of macro/micro in the meal plan. My intent was to eat the same but increase my activity level to get out of the danger zone without restricting. I don't generally snack and rarely eat dessert, just the 3 squares.

I told my bf that I needed to lose weight and be more active according to my doctor, and that I wasn't comfortable with having protein supplements, smoothies, and snacks in addition to regular meals because that would defeat the purpose. He got really sad and said that he likes the way my body is now, and while he supports being more active, he doesn't want the size of me to change. His exact words at some point were "you look so good now, I love the amount of you that there is and I like the way you jiggle." It kind of made me feel sick and wonder if he has like a secret size fetish or something?

So I've been thinking of breaking things off with him and moving in with a friend or back in with my parents, but idk if this is actually a red flag or just the disorder talking? He did help me a lot with recovery but if he's going to keep me from being healthy or wants me to gain even more weight then maybe it's better to leave - would this be an asshole move? I honestly don't know.

[starsstuddedsky]

Needles and Knives

red hood!jeno x doctor!reader

...

“Don’t you dare die,” you say, gripping the scalpel.

“Already did that,” Jeno mutters, eyes fluttering. “Didn’t agree with me.”

...

summary: Jeno’s plans never included you yet somehow you worm your way into his life. Being a vigilante isn’t easy - but neither is loving one.

genre: angst except i can’t stop them from making jokes so like fun angst. little bits of fluff here and there

warnings: gore, mentions of death, violence, cursing

wc: 16k

a/n: dc fans i am so sorry. my knowledge of these characters comes from wikipedia. medical workers i am so sorry. the medicine in this is NOT accurate. if ur neither maybe you can fully enjoy this fic. i hope you do :) this is as proofread as its going to get..... as always i appreciate any sort of feedback you can give. i hope this story leaves you as delusional about jeno as i am <3

Not for the first time, you open the door to your apartment to find a man covered in blood on your couch. At least he managed to keep it off the floors this time. 

You can just see the back of his head from the doorway, black hair sticking up from where he slouches on the couch. The head seems to be intact, which is a bit of a relief—being a surgical intern means you’ve become numb to gore, but not fully immune to the nastiness of patching up a tear in his scalp. 

“Still alive?” You ask as you kick off your shoes. Your feet ache from standing for the past eight hours. 

Jeno huffs a humorless laugh. “More or less.” He twists to look at you, holding up a very sad looking plant. “Which is more than I can say for this poor thing.” 

You drop your bag behind the couch and cross to stand in front of him, his head swiveling to follow you. He sets the dead succulents down on the side table. The tuft of white that hangs over his forehead bounces with the movement, stark against the rest of his black hair. 

 His shirt is already off, discarded to the side. At work, you’ve become just as numb to bodies as you have to gore. You haven’t quite managed that with Jeno despite seeing him shirtless on the regular since he seems to find himself covered in blood on your couch at least once a week. Still, you can’t really be blamed for being a little flustered when he looks like… Well, that. He’s got more abs than ribs and broad shoulders that give way to thick arms of pure muscle. But you can never truly ogle because he inevitably is covered in too much blood for you to ignore. 

“I think I just popped the stitches,” he says, referring to the wound on his stomach that is once again bleeding. “No new shit. I think.” 

“I don’t think that’s actually any better,” you say. “You know we usually tell patients to refrain from strenuous activity after they’ve been stitched up.” You retrieve the medical bag you definitely don’t keep stocked from the supply closet at Gotham City Hospital. 

“They usually get pain meds, too,” Jeno grumbles, even though he’s never once complained about the actual pain of being stitched back together. 

You kneel in front of him, focusing on what was once a deep gash. He showed up with it a couple days ago, spewing more blood than he physically should be able to produce. It’s already half healed, though the new stitches will still help. 

“They usually aren’t getting blood on my couch either,” you say. “We can do this all day.” 

Jeno doesn’t answer, staying quiet long enough for you to peek at him and make sure he hasn’t passed out from some injury you don’t know about. Instead you find his dark eyes, filled with an intensity that wasn’t there when you were children. You still find it hard to believe the kid that walked with you to school every day for three years has grown up into this—all hard lines and guarded expressions. Every time you look into those eyes you are reminded how little you know about him. 

Here’s what you do know: Jeno and his family disappeared when you were twelve. Vanished in the middle of the school year, leaving the house next to yours half full of their belongings in the flight. And then you didn’t see him for another twelve years, long enough for you to graduate high school, and then college, and then med school. Long enough for you to get a prestigious internship in the surgical program at Gotham City Hospital, which had you moving three states over into an apartment you had to rent without even doing a walkthrough. It’s this apartment—the one that he sits in now—that brought Jeno back to you. Again, he’s become the boy next door, though you still can’t reconcile your memories of the little boy with this man, who never smiles. You barely recognized him. But he recognized you, and even though he didn’t seem all that interested in having friends, he found out you were a med student and just happened to need stitches. And then he needed help with a broken wrist. And then a black eye. And then, and then. 

It didn’t take you long to figure out he’s Red Hood, one of the newer vigilantes of Gotham City. Or, more accurately, it didn’t take you long to figure out he’s a vigilante. It did take a while to figure out Red Hood, but his eyes eventually gave it away. One look told you he’s cold on the inside. One look told you he’s a killer. 

(Plus you’ve seen the now-iconic leather jacket hanging in his entryway.) 

But though you can’t call his eyes warm now, they aren’t cold either. He regards you with a softness you’ve never seen before, or maybe just never noticed. You duck your head and turn back to the stitches. 

“If you pull these again, you’ll be sewing them up yourself,” you mutter. 

“Well, how else am I supposed to see you?” Jeno asks. “You only ever make time for me when I’m bleeding.” Despite his earlier complaints, he doesn’t flinch as you begin the sutures. In fact, he doesn’t show any sign that he’s even noticed. 

You roll your eyes. “That's because I took an oath. Something about saving lives, and something about ‘no matter how much I want to take a hot shower and pass out for the next twelve hours, I’m legally obligated to keep my weird neighbor alive when he shows up begging for help.’” 

“Who said anything about begging?” 

You pause, needle in hand. “I can leave you like this, you know. You can finish it yourself if you really want to.” And you know he can. You’ve seen the scars. So many scars, which tell the story he hasn’t told you: the oldest on his forearm, perfectly straight, the result of a real surgery; the thick ones on his back that look like they were never stitched up; the cut on his arm that looks like it tore through muscle yet was carefully stitched up; the scar on the back of his neck that looks like it should have broken his neck; and the angry red scar on his left knee that he said he stitched up himself a couple months before you moved in next door. 

You open your mouth to tell him he’s really on his own now, but Jeno says, “I guess I can beg.” 

You pause, then say. “That’s just terrible.” You have to look away so you continue the stitches. “You can do way better than that.” 

“Oh, YN, great saver of lives,” Jeno says, “please do me the great honor of stitching me up. Again.” 

You hum. “Better but still room for improvement.” 

“I would die without you. I would get on my knees if I could. Please, please, do not stop stitching me up.” 

You grin at him and almost get a smile back, his eyes truly warm. You take it as a win—or at least a vast improvement from how he was two months ago. You finish the stitches, sitting up straight. 

“I don’t suppose you’ll sit still long enough to let these actually heal, will you?” Not that you know how long that is. You noticed a while back that most of his injuries heal far faster than they should. He shouldn’t need to come to you for minor injuries yet he does, over and over again. It doesn’t make any sense, but as long as he keeps showing up on your couch, you’ll keep taking care of him. 

Jeno looks at you like he wants to say something but isn’t sure if he should. Maybe this is it. He’ll finally tell you exactly how he gets his scars. How he became the Red Hood. 

Instead, he says, “Nah, probably not.” 

You sit back on the couch beside him, sighing. “I watched a seven hour surgery today, and you know what I learned?” 

“Hm?” He turns, cheek resting on the couch. For a moment you see the boy again, cast in gold from the afternoon sunlight. You can just picture his smile, the way his whole face melts into a gooey happiness. You blink and he’s gone. 

“Surgeons are dicks,” you blurt out, forgetting what you were going to say. “They never want to believe patients, and I get it, sometimes they’re annoying and think they know best, but this girl came in three months ago complaining about pain and Dr. Park called her a junkie. She came back in today and collapsed in the waiting room because he never actually examined her. 

“She was having a heart attack, and if he just listened the first time, it might have been salvageable, but the second one ripped her heart to shreds. Dr. Nakamoto said he’d never seen someone survive a heart that looked like that.” 

“But she did survive?” Jeno asks. 

“Yeah,” you say. “For now. She needs a heart transplant, though, so it’s a waiting game.” 

He nods. 

“I don’t get why Dr. Park or any of the other doctors couldn’t run a simple EKG. It’s not difficult and it would have saved her life but they took one look at her and assumed she was a junkie,” you say, “and I can’t even complain about it because Dr. Lee will just say some shit like ‘medical decisions are more difficult than you think’ because that’s easier than actually checking if his surgical team gives a shit about their patients beyond death rates.” 

You sigh. “The worst part is, they aren’t even bad doctors. They know the medicine, and the procedures they can do—it’s really incredible. I don’t know, sometimes I worry you can only be good at medicine or good with patients, and it’s impossible to be both.” 

“You really think that?” 

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “I’m just tired.” 

Jeno nods, letting silence settle between you. It’s far too comfortable to just sit with him like this, a peaceful solidarity you’ve only ever felt with him. You won’t give it meaning, won’t think about it any more than another afternoon on the couch together. That’s all this is. 

“I should take a shower,” you say. 

“I should get back to my place,” Jeno says. Neither of you move. 

.

.

Lee Jeno doesn’t consider himself to be consumed with rage, despite what the headlines say. Yeah, the mask is intense, but he doesn’t use it to incite fear among all those who look upon his face. He just needed to keep his face hidden from Bruce (and, as much as it pains him to admit Bruce might be right about anything, he can’t deny that keeping his identity hidden is ultimately the right move). 

He tosses the magazine on his desk. He’s got to stop reading the tabloids. They’re rotting his brain. But somehow they’re the only reliable source on the current crop of Joker’s little worshippers. Jeno still can’t believe it took him six months to realize the ads were calling for new recruits to the cult. 

He feels the pit of anger, deep in his stomach, writhing at the thought of that man. Revenge would be too kind. Jeno will take him down, no matter what. 

Maybe he’s a little consumed with rage. 

But he can’t ignore the recent distractions. He’s spent the past week sitting behind the computer doing whatever investigative work he can, any excuse to avoid pulling the stitches again. You really didn’t seem like you were joking about making him do it next time, and it was a bitch to stitch up his knee on his own. The angle alone would make his ribs pretty much impossible. 

Jeno sighs, tapping on his keyboard to bring the computer to life. Three monitors light up, the far left screen featuring the feeds of all the security cameras that show the apartment building that he very legally tapped into. The far right screen shows three different news feeds, local to Gotham, national news, and an international broadcast, volume off, subtitles on. The middle screen remains blank, ready for him to pull up whatever information he needs. 

Hunt Joker. Get revenge. 

It was simple when he first got his memories back. Those were his only goals. But then he had to train, become a better fighter, establish some sort of half-life in the city–which meant figuring out how to pay rent, which meant figuring out which billionaires he could reasonably steal from without them noticing. He admits it’s foolish to have Wayne Enterprises on the top of the list, but the bastard owes him. 

Six months passed by before he finally set this place and a couple other safe houses up. And then another six passed, and Jeno is still no closer to revenge. He is supposed to be better than before, but all he’s done is steal some lunch money from people too rich to notice and take down a couple men who liked to pick on the weak. He hates that he did more in tights than he’s done becoming Red Hood. 

He let his life become too simple. Day after day of hunting criminals and keeping them from hurting anyone ever again. It was freeing, no debriefings with idiots that would tell him that he should have acted differently—should have acted with more mercy. He makes his own decisions and no one is there to judge him. It’s proof he never needed anyone, even if hunting Joker is taking a little longer than it would if he had Wayne Enterprise resources. 

And then you showed up. 

He leans back in the chair, the joint squeaking. Jeno still doesn’t know what to make of you popping back into his life. He hasn’t been the kid you knew for so long he almost forgot about him. That kid died the day his parents yanked him out of school and moved to Gotham city. His parents worked back breaking shifts in one of the factories, while Jeno lasted a month in school before he realized he could stop going and no one would care. He learned how to survive Gotham quickly, and pretty soon he thrived. He barely even noticed when his parents died. 

You bring back memories of suburbs and eating ice cream before it could melt onto his hand. He remembers this one time you were walking back home after school and you tripped and skinned your knee. There was so much blood, Jeno freaked out and thought he’d have to carry you (which he definitely couldn’t do back then), but you just stood up and gritted your teeth and walked all the way back. It didn’t surprise him at all to find out you’re a doctor now, not when you were always so hardcore. 

It came in handy pretty quick, too, though he’ll at least admit to himself that his powers probably won’t let him die. It just turned into a routine for him, a nice way to end his day (though his work “day” generally ends at dawn). 

But nice is for a boy that doesn’t exist, not for the justice he seeks. He can’t keep pretending to be someone he isn’t, and someone as smart as you can’t keep pretending to believe his lies. He focuses on the security feed, watching a dark sedan roll past. 

He can keep avoiding you. It would be easy to clear out of here, especially when you spend most of your time at the hospital anyways. He could do it now—you’re in the middle of one of those endless shifts where you sleep in the hospital. You complain so much about being exhausted that he doubts you’d notice that he left, at least for a month. You’re not friends with him, Jeno doesn’t have friends. You just took an oath to save lives, and he forced you to save him. You wouldn’t even miss him. 

But even as he contemplates it, he knows he can’t do it to you again. Even if all you are is the person that patches him up every other night, you deserve some explanation. A goodbye. 

Rain begins to fall, slow at first, then a steady patter, the gentle wind strong enough to send the rain against the window. 

He hears the truck engine rattling down the street before it finally comes into view on the top left camera. Strange, the bottom right camera covers the opposite side of the street but shows nothing. He keeps an eye on the truck, which rattles by, frowning at the bottom right screen. 

Not just an empty street. Though the sky is dark in the background, the pavement and sidewalk are still dry. Jeno curses, getting to his feet and grabbing his belt. He loads the pistols, clipping on the extra ammo to his belt alongside the gadgets while keeping an eye on the other cameras, trying to see if he missed anything else. Two more screens play on a loop, the transition more obvious with the rain. He pulls on the mask, grateful he made it waterproof. His jacket is last, riddled with holes he never had the time to sew back together. He keeps his knife in his right hand, checking the cameras a final time—all showing empty loops—before ducking out the window onto the fire escape. 

The jacket is thick enough to keep the rain from actually soaking him, but the cold seeps through. It brings an ache to his bones, an empty feeling like his body doesn’t quite belong to him. He presses a hand to his heart, the pressure bringing a new ache that reminds his body his heart still beats. 

He jumps the rest of the way down from the fire escape, landing in a puddle of water that splashes beneath his boots, sending water up to his knees. He needs eyes on the situation. Ideally he’d go to the roof, but there’s too much daylight to be out in the open like that, turning him into a sitting duck. He opts for the alleyways instead, looping around the back of the building to where he can see the street without being seen. Whatever is going on, he needs to drive the action away from his place. 

He scans the road, settling on the dark sedan parked in front of the corner store. It wasn’t on the security camera feed when he left, and as he watches, two tall men with dark hoods pulled over their heads slip out of the back seat. They approach the apartment building with the confidence of residents, though Jeno can tell from here they don’t. He memorized his neighbors a long time ago, but even if he hadn’t, Jeno has seen enough gangs to know bruisers when he sees them. 

But who do they belong to? Who knows where Jeno lives? The people he’s been skimming from? He hasn’t been stealing enough to warrant this kind of a response. No, his life as Jeno couldn’t have attracted these men. 

So it’s Red Hood? Anyone that knows about Red Hood should know better than to send two goons that could be taken out this easily. Jeno switches the knife to his left hand and pulls out a pistol, turning off the safety and cocking the hammer. 

Before he can squeeze the trigger, he senses something, the rain behind him falling on something other than pavement. He drops to the ground and rolls until his back is against the wall and a dumpster protects his front. A bullet buries itself into the pavement where he had been standing a moment ago. 

He moves again, vaulting over the dumpster, catching the man holding a pistol at the end of the alley by surprise. Still in the air, Jeno squeezes the trigger, hitting the man in the stomach. He lands on his feet and crosses the alley in two quick strides to kick the man as he falls. His hood falls off as he lands on his back, revealing an assuming face. Like the other men, Jeno has never seen him before. 

Jeno kicks the gun out of his hand and snatches it from the pavement, slipping it into one of the extra holsters on his belt. He glances between the front of the building and the back. The two goons out front had to have heard the noise, which means he doesn’t have much time before they make it to the alley. But he’s got no idea what might be around the other corner. 

He crosses back to the dumpster, keeping an eye on the man behind him as he waits. The man at the other end groans but doesn’t call out for his buddies. Rain overflows from the gutters, falling in spurts rather than droplets. Thirty seconds pass and Jeno only hears the rain. Are they waiting for him? Circling around to trap him between them? 

He adjusts his grip on the knife in his left hand, holding it so that the blade is nearest to his pinky finger, his thumb wrapped around the bottom of the base. He keeps the blade facing out, stepping to the front of the apartment building. Instinct guides him to the left, giving him enough time to block the bat with his right arm, sending a shock up his shoulder. 

He steps closer, letting the man—one of the goons from before—pull the bat back for another swing. Jeno swings the knife up, catching the man’s jacket but missing blood. He drops the knife and twists, turning so that the man is behind him and ducking to catch the arm still swinging the bat and flip the man over using his momentum and the bigger man’s weight. He hits the pavement hard, sending water splashing all over Jeno.  

The second man catches up from the other end of the alley, firing wild shots that don’t come close to hitting him but force Jeno to step back. Jeno pulls a throwing star from his belt, sending it cutting through the air to knock the gun out of the man’s hand. With his right hand, he takes a shot at the man struggling to get off the ground, catching him in the back. He falls again and this time he doesn’t move. 

The second man charges out of the alley, the throwing star gone from his hand, though it still drips blood. He has a crowbar in his other hand, like these guys want to be stereotypical goons. He moves about as well as the other man, all power and zero agility. Jeno dodges him easily, letting him take a couple swings before he shoots him in the head. The man drops a couple steps away from his buddy. 

Jeno glances around but the dark sedan has left. No one else ventures out to investigate—probably because Jeno still holds a gun. He retrieves his knife and the throwing star, going back to the first man that he shot who still groans at the end of the alley. Blood mixes with the iridescent swirls of run off, red overtaking the blended greens and purples. 

He kneels on his chest. Rain falls on the back of his mask“Who sent you?” 

The man gurgles a laugh. “What’s it to you?” 

Jeno pushes his knee a little harder. “I asked you a question.” 

“Fuck you,” the man says. He tries to spit but the mix of blood and saliva ends up splattering on his own face. The man suddenly turns, moving with more strength than Jeno expected. At the same time that Jeno points his gun at the man’s head, the man pulls a gun from inside his coat, pressing it straight into Jeno’s stomach. Neither of them hesitate to pull the trigger. 

.

.

Caution tape is up in the alley next to your apartment, but the rain seems to have washed away any sign of the crimes committed. It pounds into your head relentlessly, soaking you through your coat. 

Though you’ve been living here less than a year, Gotham’s reputation has held true. Working in the hospital has given you even more experience with the diversity of types of people the city attracts—good, bad, and everything in between. You even worked on a guy who apparently turned out to be a Batman villain a few months ago. 

Between working at the hospital and living in the city in general, you’ve gotten used to dissociating crime scenes with the sense that you’re actually in danger. Besides, you live next door to a vigilante. Who are you to say this is even a crime scene?

You don’t think anything of it until you open your apartment door and catch the unfortunately familiar scent of blood. Wind and rain crash through the open window, pulling your stumbling feet forward to find the source of the blood. 

Jeno didn’t make it to the couch this time. He lies just inside the windowsill, barely sitting up with his back against the wall. One hand clutches his stomach, red blood spilling over the black shirt. His head hangs low, hair soaked by that rain that still falls on him through the open window. The red mask sits in his other hand.

For a scary moment, he doesn’t move. 

You drop your bag, rushing to him. You can’t stop your voice from shaking. “Jeno?” 

He groans when you shake his arm. “Ow.” 

You curse as you slam the window shut and lay him out on his side, keeping his hand over the wound until you can get a better gauge on what it is. “What the hell did you do to yourself?” 

He doesn’t answer, only groaning as you try to reach your medical bag while keeping pressure on the wound. You finally get it to the ground, pulling out the scissors and slicing through the shirt so that you can see the wound—a gaping hole framed by bullet fragments  where his stomach should be. 

“Fuck.” He needs a hospital, a surgeon that’s done more than assist on an appendectomy, but you can’t bring yourself to dial 911. It would bring too many questions on Jeno, who has clearly avoided hospitals for a reason. And he came to you. He trusts you, even if you don’t trust yourself. You have to save him, if only because you’re the only option. 

 You set out the equipment, spraying them with alcohol to sterilize them and get ready to cut. 

“Don’t you dare die,” you say, gripping the scalpel. 

“Already did that,” Jeno mutters, eyes fluttering. “Didn’t agree with me.” 

You gape at him but he seems to have slipped back into unconsciousness. You force yourself to look back at the bullet hole. You can only yell at him if he’s alive, so you push away the thoughts and get to work, replacing any insecurity with arrogant belief that you know what you’re doing.

.

.

Death is nothing like falling asleep. For one thing, it fucking hurts. Jeno supposes the method might have played a factor. He used to think getting shot point blank might be better than being beaten for hours and then blown up (he now has the experience to decidedly answer that question: marginally better). But death itself. It hurts. 

And resurrection? All the pain of death with none of the peaceful end. Jeno remembers crawling out of the ground, forcing his muscles to work even though his body still suffered from the wounds that killed him. 

But it was the pain that forced him to keep moving, the pain that still fuels him now, a never ending ache deep inside that no time will heal. 

Joker may have held the bat, but Batman didn’t stop him. He never stopped him. Jeno remembers the look on his face, the shadowed glimpse of it that he could see. He remembers dying, hearing the Joker cackle, and Batman calling out to him—calling him Robin. 

He remembers the pain. Pain he can live with. Pain makes him who he is. He can’t let go of the pain, not when it is all that he is. 

But the pain ebbs away when you’re around. And for the life of him he can’t convince himself that it’s a bad thing.  

.

.

You manage to get Jeno into your bed after you finish patching him up—which was six grueling hours of pulling bullet fragments from the hole and praying he didn’t bleed out. No one should have been able to survive the amount of blood that seeped out of him but by some miracle (though maybe it’s a curse), his heart keeps pumping. 

He woke up just long enough to let you sling an arm under his shoulders and half carry him into the bed. You spent the entire time praying he wouldn’t pull apart the stitches and bleed out for real, but it seems like luck was finally on your side. 

You should get up. You should clean up the blood, or at least wash it from your hands. You can only find the energy to drag your armchair next to the bed and sit beside him. His chest rises and falls with even breaths. 

Still alive, for now. 

He mumbles again, voice too low to make out any words. His eyes flutter but remain closed. Does a man like him dream? 

“What happened to you?” Your voice cracks. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t show any sign that he can hear you. “You disappear for weeks at a time. You rarely show up when you aren’t bleeding. But you never talk about it, and you don’t smile anymore. I don’t think I know you anymore. I don’t know if I ever did.” 

You managed to hold back your tears, push all the emotions away to keep him alive but they come flooding back now. Tears spill over as you watch him breathe. 

“Your heart keeps beating but are you really alive?” You ask. 

He doesn’t answer. 

.

.

You moved to Gotham in August. The heat was so bad that crime rates were down–making it miserable to carry box after box up two flights of stairs since the building didn't have an elevator. You’d only been here twice before, both times on school trips, never on your own. 

But your friends all live back in your college town, and your parents were busy dealing with a lawsuit against your neighbor for the mailbox war, so you were stuck moving on your own—which wasn’t all that terrible since the apartment came half furnished. Still, you had to figure out a way to get a mattress up the stairs, along with a car full of clothes and all the rest of your belongings. Between the heat and the prospect of stairs, you weren’t exactly stoked about living in the city. 

Two trips had you wheezing for air, leaning outside your door to catch your breath. The door to the apartment next to yours swung open. You hoped someone wasn’t already complaining about the noise you were making. Instead a tall, broad shouldered man stepped out, wearing a simple black t-shirt and cargo pants. 

He turned around, revealing cold eyes and a face that looked like it spent most of its time frowning. But behind it all something familiar called to you, buried deep behind the bitter front. You remembered a boy who cried because he stubbed his toes, a boy who would fight you to make a wish on every dandelion that lined the sidewalk on the walk home. 

He froze, a tiny frown in his brow. “YN?” 

“Jeno?” 

You set down the tote, stepping around it to get a better look at him. Your eyes jumped between his, trying to decipher the hardness behind them. Though it had been over ten years, you still thought of the sweet boy who lived next door often, always wondering what happened to him. 

It seemed that the years had not been kind to him. Though he grew taller and filled out considerably, he had an emptiness behind his eyes, the kind that comes from too much hurt. He looked like it had been years since he last smiled. He barely seemed to react to you, guarding every expression as if you could be some sort of threat. 

“You’re taller,” you finally said. 

“It has been a while,” he said. 

“I think ten years qualifies as more than a while,” you said. 

He just nodded. “You’ve moved here?” 

“Just today,” you said, gesturing to the boxes. 

“You’re on your own?” 

You shrugged. “My parents are bringing a load later in the week, so it’s really not that much stuff.” You paused but Jeno didn’t run away, so you figured it was safe to ask, “How long have you been living here?” 

“In Gotham since I left.” He pauses, eyes flicking between yours. For a moment you think he’ll tell you everything. Then he says, “Here specifically, only about six months.” 

You should have asked. Maybe it would have made things simpler, maybe you wouldn’t be dancing between fantasy and reality, balancing a tedious act of ignorance. 

Instead you asked him if he’d help you move your mattress and what the pizza delivery situation was like. 

.

.

Jeno wakes up sometime in the middle of the night. You snap awake from your dozing as he shifts. 

“Sit still,” you say. “I don’t think I can put you back together if you fall apart this time.” 

Jeno blinks. Even in the darkness you can see eyes are still glazed over in confusion. 

“You were shot,” you explain. “Point blank from the looks of it.” 

“Ah,” he says. His soft voice carries in the quiet hours of the night. “That’s what hurts.” 

“Never make me do that again.” Your voice shakes despite your best attempts to steady it. The tears from earlier try to weasel their way back out of your eyes. “You should have died.” 

He reaches out, except he really must be feeling weak because his hand barely makes it to the edge of the bed before it hangs limp. 

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles. “Didn’t want to get shot.” 

You blink back the tears as anger courses its way through you. “I don’t think anybody gets shot on purpose,” you snap. 

He tries to snort but it ends up sounding like a short exhale through his nose. “Fair enough.” 

“I’m not a good enough doctor for all of this,” you say. “This isn’t a hospital. I don’t have sterile equipment, or a blood bank, or an extra set of hands, I mean, if anything worse happens, you could be in real danger and there’s nothing I could do about it, and I can’t—” You pause, taking a deep breath. “I don’t like when I have to admit I can’t do something, but with you, it feels like that’s all I can do.” 

“You saved my life,” he says. “It doesn’t really feel like you couldn’t do it.” 

“It was a pretty fucking close call,” you say. “Gunshot wounds aren’t particularly easy, and you had to go and get shot in the stomach.” 

He shifts, hand running over his torso beneath the blanket. “I didn't pop the stitches, though,” he says. “I gotta get some points for that.” 

You glare at him, though he probably can’t see it in the darkness. “Don’t make fun of me. I’m trying to be serious.” 

“So am I,” he says, “it was not easy. I sat still for two full days. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve done that?” 

Ask. Get a real answer from him. Stop shying away from who he really is. You have to talk about it. 

“Well, get used to it,” you say. “You’re staying in this bed. I don’t care if I have to tie you down.” 

Jeno actually smiles. It’s been far too long since you’ve seen that smile, softening the hard lines and curling his face into something sweet. “I could be into that,” he jokes. 

And maybe it’s because there are blood stains on your shirt that will never come out and you haven’t slept in about thirty hours and you came far too close to losing the only person you really care about, but you laugh. “Just shut up and get some rest.” 

“You should rest too,” Jeno says. “You look terrible.” 

“Yeah, well it’s your fault,” you say. 

He pauses then says, “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“Well, don’t apologize.” You sniffle. “It’s harder to be mad at you.” 

He smiles again, and you can’t even pretend to be mad at him anymore. It’s too hard on your heart, which has been through far too much for any more lies. You smile back at him. 

.

.

After a day, Jeno can walk around on his own. You called out sick from work, despite his insistence that he’d be fine on his own. He had to bribe you to convince you to sleep on the couch, since you would barely let him go to the bathroom, let alone move back to his own room. He won’t complain too much, though. He forgot how nice it is to wake up to someone. 

He sways on his feet, holding a hand up to stop you from helping him. He forces even breaths, determined to make it to the couch without any help. 

“You don’t have to do this,” you repeat for the thousandth time. 

“I told you I’m fine,” he grunts. Two more steps and he’s there. He takes a deep breath, ignoring the way his entire lower half screams at him. One more step. 

He collapses onto the couch more than anything, but he makes it. He lets himself slouch a little, head resting against the back of the couch. How many times has he sat here like this? So many hours spent waiting for you, watching the sun inch across the room. But most of the time it’s been like this—you at the opposite end, always a cushion separating him from you. 

The fake wooden floor is stained deep red, pooled around where he laid while you worked on him. He wonders what would have happened if you weren’t there. When he first came back he thought he was invincible, and his healing has saved him from a lot–but he’s never truly put it to the test. Could he have survived without you? 

His mask still sits where he pulled it off underneath the windowsill. He peeks at you from the corner of his eyes, your head turned towards it. Say something. 

You stare at the mask, clearing your throat. “I hope you didn’t pay too much for that shitty costume,” you say. “You don’t even have armor.” 

“YN,” Jeno says but you refuse to look at him. 

“Seriously, walking around dressed like a vigilante is going to get you killed.” 

“YN. You know it’s not a costume.” 

“What, you made it yourself? That’s even worse, I mean, it’s one thing to dress up like these guys but trying to be one of them, that’s just plain stupid. I can’t believe—”

Jeno shifts to the center cushion and wraps his fingers gently around your wrist, forcing you to look at him. “I am one of them.” 

He lets go of your wrist and watches you process the words, trying to figure out any other meaning. Your eyes dart between his, panicked and desperate. For whatever reason, you don’t want to admit it, and it’s been fine. But Jeno is tired of feeling like he’s lying to you. 

“I know,” you finally say, sighing and looking away again. He hates that it feels like he’s let you down. But he won’t apologize for who he is. 

“Why didn’t you ever ask about what happened after I left?” He asks. 

You’re quiet for a long moment. “I think I was afraid. It didn’t take long to realize what you were—or at least that you were wrapped up in something twisted—and then it was obvious whatever happened to you here wasn’t good, and I wasn’t sure if I should know that.” 

Jeno nods, gaze traveling to the window. He can see some scattered rooftops, mostly shorter residential buildings of the area. Farther in the distance, skyscrapers stick out. He’s spent more years in this city than not, grown to love it like family. But unlike family, the city doesn’t love him back. It’s not capable of it. No matter how much of his blood lines the streets, Jeno will only ever be one of millions that call the city home. 

Yes, what happened to him here wasn’t good. But it wasn’t all bad, and it’s not over yet. He won’t give up on the city just because of the past. 

And there’s you now. He has these moments where his heart beats so hard it feels like his chest will burst in the good way. He no longer ceases to exist when he isn’t fighting. Jeno worms his way back into reality, not separate from Red Hood, but no longer overshadowed by him. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think these past couple weeks,” Jeno says. “Time to figure out what I want. For the longest time, it was revenge. It didn’t matter how I got it, how many people had to die. I would avenge myself no matter what. 

“And then you came into my life, and I would catch myself wondering what would have happened if I could have stayed back then, how different my life would be. I even wondered what would happen if I took off the mask, permanently. 

“But this is all I know how to be, and, I think even when I get my revenge, I won’t be able to leave this life behind.” He pauses, tilting his head away from the window and waiting until you meet his eyes.  “I don’t want to die again. I don't want to live this miserable half life where all I think about is getting back at the people who wronged me. I want to live, and when I’m with you, I feel alive.” 

You stare at him, eyes adorably wide. Maybe he's been a little too good at keeping his feelings hidden. It’s alright. He can wait for you to work it all out. It’s not like he’s got anywhere to be. 

“I like being with you,” he says. “I like who I am when I’m around you, and I like you. I mean, you’re stubborn and you always have to have the last word.” He smiles at your bewildered eyes. “But you care so much, not just about me, or your patients, but about everyone, and everything.

“Like your little houseplants that keep dying no matter what you do. I mean, it’s hilarious that you can save my life but you can’t keep a succulent alive. Or the way you talk about the street cats, and even the rats. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had sympathy for the cockroaches.” He finally manages to cut the rambling off. For a long moment you’re too quiet, and he begins to feel the inklings of fear worming its way up his stomach. 

“I don’t know about that,” you finally say, voice soft. “I think they might be radioactive here.” 

He waits but you don’t say anything else. He knows he shouldn’t ask, that he already has his answer. Still, he can’t help it. “That’s all you have to say?” 

Your eyes slide to the floor. “I… I don’t know.” 

“You feel something,” he says, reaching a tentative hand out to rest on top of yours. You freeze beneath him, eyes darting between his hand and his eyes like you can’t decide which you’re scared of more. 

“Tell me I’m not crazy,” he pleads. “Tell me you feel at least a fraction of the way I do.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking a deep breath. “I do care about you,” you begin slowly, “I care about you too much. You have this life, and I know you need it, and I want you to have everything that you want, I just don’t think I can be a part of it when it inevitably destroys you.” 

He squeezes your hand. “It won’t destroy me,” he says, “I won’t let it.” 

“You died.” Your voice shakes. “I don’t think I could handle that.” 

“I won’t let that happen again!” Jeno says. “Things are different now, I’m not the same person I was when I died.” 

He won’t die again. He’s sure of it, not just because he’s learned from his mistakes but because he has something else to live for now. He has more than the family that pushed him to be more than he could, he has his own life, goals outside of revenge. But grounding it all is you, the first person he thinks of, always. He won’t die when it would hurt you this much. 

“Even if you could promise that, it’s not enough.” You look away from him. “I don’t want to die either, and it seems like that’s inevitable around people like you. The loved ones always die first.” 

He opens his mouth to say he would never let that happen but the words die in his throat. He can’t guarantee that, and one look at you proves even if he could it wouldn’t matter. It’s not enough. 

“I think I love you,” he whispers. 

You smile sadly. “I think I love you too. I wish it was that simple.” 

He sighs, resting his head against the couch cushion. “I don’t suppose supreme embarrassment is a good enough reason to let me go back to my own apartment, is it?” 

He watches you purse your lips out of the corner of his eye. He pretends not to see the tears threatening to spill over. 

“I have to go back to work,” you say, voice steady. “I suppose sleeping in your own bed won’t be a problem.” You turn stern. “As long as you swear you’ll actually rest.” 

Jeno winces. “I don’t think I can do anything else.” 

“And yet you will,” you say. Jeno knows it’s worthless to argue, especially when he really can’t promise he won’t do anything. He goes where he’s needed. 

But until then, he’s perfectly happy to wallow in the embarrassment of getting shot and shot down. 

.

.

(please enjoy a brief interlude until i figure out how to fix thing shitshow)

The city always smells cleaner after a good storm. You enjoy walking to work, though the piercing wail of sirens makes it harder to appreciate the way the city almost smells like spring. Green has returned, sprouts of grass and early flowers blooming. You can walk and breathe and pretend like your heart isn’t dragging along behind you. 

Jeno haunts you. You dared to check on him before leaving and found he has reverted back to the one word answers and solemn expressions, a shadow of a person. He barely even looks at you, and you can’t even blame him. You’ve done more than break his heart; you can bear the consequences of doing so. 

Because it doesn’t really matter. He will keep getting hurt and you will keep patching him up. It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that. 

Even if you can’t stop dreaming about him. 

An ambulance wails past, turning into the hospital. You try your best to push the Jeno thoughts away, preparing yourself for the inevitably grueling day. You push open the doors, the security guards now familiar. You smile at them, the movement of the muscles feeling foreign, and take the elevators to the fourth floor, heading to the locker room for the surgical interns. 

You’ve barely changed into your scrubs when Jaemin appears. 

“Wow,” he says, biting into an apple. “You look terrible.” 

You glare at him. “You look worse. How long have you been here?” 

He shrugs. “I got a whole six hours of sleep in an on-call room, so I’m actually doing great. You, on the other hand, look like you spent the two days fighting guys who wear pinstripe suits and call their henchmen goons.” He eyes you for a moment. “And you lost.” 

“That’s pretty much how I feel,” you say. “Though I still think you act like the criminals in this city are cartoon villains.” 

“The aquarium was attacked by a crocodile-man last week and the guy that stopped him cosplays as a bat,” Jaemin says. “I don’t know how you take any of this seriously.” 

It helps when you have a melodramatic version of the bat guy bleeding out on your couch every other week, you think. 

“I don’t know, being afraid for my life helps,” you say. 

“Oh the crocodile guy just wanted to free his people,” Jaemin waves his hand. “He wasn’t going to hurt anyone.” 

“His name is Killer Croc.” 

“Semantics,” Jaemin says. “But seriously, you’re okay? Nothing happened?”  

You shrug. “I just haven’t gotten enough sleep, I’ll be fine. Why are you acting so weird?” 

“You haven’t heard?” Jaemin asks. “Dr. Moon and Dr. Jung were both attacked three days ago. Dr. Jung is in the ICU and Dr. Moon is still missing.” 

“What happened?” 

“Police don’t really know yet,” Jaemin says, “but it’s connected. These big guys in suits with these weird black hoods were seen around both of their places before the attacks. They found Jaehyun in his apartment, beaten pretty bad, he’s been in a coma ever since.” 

“Wow,” you say. You’ve worked with both of them quite a bit. You spent a week learning about skin grafts with Dr. Moon, a star plastic surgeon. Jaehyun gave you an extra shower curtain when you mentioned you tore yours when a cockroach crawled up your shower brain while you were in it. They’re both good, nice people, not the type to get involved in trouble—definitely not trouble like this. 

“Is Jaehyun going to be okay?” 

Jaemin purses his lips and shrugs. “Still not sure. He had some pretty serious injuries, most of which were patched up but apparently he had some bad head trauma. They called in the Lee Taemin from Central.” 

“You didn’t shit your pants meeting your hero?” 

“YN,” Jaemin says sharply, “a good friend of mine was in the hospital, and the best neurosurgeon in the country, the guy I will one day convince to be my mentor, was called in to save his life. Of course I was shitting my pants.” 

“Did you get to meet him?” 

“I thought it would be weird to introduce myself to him, but I did happen to visit Jaehyun while he stopped by, and happened to mention I wanted to pursue neuro when he asked.” 

“And?” 

“And he said it was a smart decision. Or said only the smartest thrive. He’s very confusing.” 

“So basically you’re obsessed?” 

“Yep.” 

You lean against the metal lockers, letting the cold press against the back of your neck. You think about Jaehyun, hooked up to machines with a whole team of doctors, including a star doctor, all working to keep him alive. How long will it be before that’s Jeno, except no machines, no team, just you? How long before you won’t be enough? 

.

.

Jeno has discovered all there is to know about his ceiling. There’s eleven cracks, tiny fissures in the paint that’s at least ten years old. The color is off white, not cream, though in the corner above the door, they did a touch up with a paint that has slightly more blue. He can tell what time it is from the angle of the light coming through the window. 

He’s beginning to run out of things to learn. 

He misses you, so much. He wonders what your ceiling looks like, if it’s got its own little galaxy of cracks. He misses sitting on your couch, knowing that he’d see you soon. 

 He can’t remember the last time he got out of bed, and he can’t even blame it on the gunshot wound. He's not fully recovered, but he doesn’t need to lay in bed all day. He should be up and moving, keeping himself in shape, or at least hunting down the guys who attacked him. All he managed to do was set up an alert with the license plate of the car he saw, feeding it through all the security cameras he could get access to. 

But otherwise he lays in bed and stares at the ceiling. 

Getting this dejected over a rejection makes him feel like a teenager—not that he ever went through this during his teenage years. He can put on the mask and be Red Hood, but Jeno? He doesn’t know how to be Jeno alone, he doesn’t want to learn. He had his parents when he was younger, then Bruce, and Dick, and the family that began to grow among them. Despite all he used to whine, he’s never truly been alone. 

Will he be alone now? Will Jeno even exist without the people around him to keep him going? Or will he truly become Red Hood, letting the man behind the mask cease to exist. 

He knows what Bruce would say. The mask can’t exist without the man. But Bruce is the reason he put a mask on in the first place. He can philosophize all day long, it’s his fault Jeno ever died. He doesn’t have to listen to the man’s words. 

Jeno rests his hand over the wound. He hardly feels the ridge where the stitches are. He wonders how the wound will scar. 

It doesn’t make any sense but even though his body heals unnaturally fast, the scars remain. It’s like his body remembers dying and wants to remind him—even though he came back once and he’s stronger than ever before—he’s still human. 

And there’s nothing more human than a broken heart. He should be grateful it’s only metaphorical. 

Jeno sighs. The worst part is he knows how dramatic he’s being. But it’s only been 28 hours. He can allow himself a little bit of time for the dramatics. Bruce takes like a month off when a civilian dies under his watch. 

He pulls his blanket closer, wondering if it’s too far to put on some music—something loud, maybe. 

Instead he hears a ding, a notification from his computer. He sits up a little too fast, feeling a tug on his stitches, though they don’t fall apart. 

He can’t spare too much thought to them, not when his screen lights up with feed from a security camera, zoomed in to show the license plate of a dark sedan, the numbers he remembers. It rolls past, camera shifting down the block as Jeno drops into his chair, typing rapidly until the screen zooms out. The larger screen reveals the sedan is one of many, traveling in a line together. 

He sets up the second monitor to plot their movements across the city, a bright red line tracing the few turns they take. 

The windows of each car are tinted, concealing those within. But, with his previous encounter, it’s safe to assume there’s plenty of hired muscle in the six cars. It could be anywhere between fifteen and thirty men, headed this way. 

He watches them draw closer, tapping his finger on the desk. They caught him by surprise last time. On a good day, he wouldn’t sweat odds this bad, but it’s not a good day. He can still feel his insides healing. 

It’ll be a tough fight, but he’s planned for this. He’ll rig the place, take down as many as he can and get to one of the other safe houses. 

The Jeno that lived here will disappear. And it will be for the best. 

He changes into his suit, moving as fast as he can without hurting himself. He stuffs as many weapons as he can into his pockets, his belt weighing extra heavy around his waist. 

Then he gets to work on the bomb. A smaller explosive, more of a popper than a true bomb, but enough to take out his computer and all of the evidence he’s left behind here. 

He wonders if the police will come. Will they question you? Surely someone has noticed he spends a lot of time with you. You’d never give him up, but would you defend him? Would you go on television, tell the world Red Hood is just a man? You’d look good on television. 

You wouldn’t though. You wouldn’t say a word, not to the cops, not to anyone. 

He’s really going to miss you. 

He checks the map. Still five blocks away. Except… The cameras first picked up the sedans in the upper east part of the city, by the Sprang River. They mostly traveled west from there, they’re still north of him. 

They stop at a light, just two blocks away. He watches, waiting for them to turn. 

The sedans roll straight ahead, passing the apartment. He frowns, staring at the screen but the cars keep going, one block, two, and then they pull to a stop. 

Jeno curses, grabbing the keys to his bike. It was never about him. 

.

.

The sun peeks through the windows of the hospital, the only sign time passes. The setting sun casts the parking lot in gold, making even the ugliest cars shine. You pause to peek outside, for once not in a rush. You have to scrub in with Dr. Qian in twenty minutes, but until then, you have a rare moment of freedom. 

Because you’re standing at the window, you see the exact moment the cars pull up. They form a line, like a row of beetles, stopping in front of the entrance, blocking the parked cars. As soon as they roll to a stop, the doors fly open, men streaming out all wearing black hoods. They line up in front of the car closest to the entrance, whose doors had remained closed since stopping. The driver exits first, another hooded man, though considerably smaller than the rest. He opens the door to the backseat, head bowed low. 

The man in the backseat takes his time. Pale hands peek out of the carefully fitted suit, the only open skin you can see. He steps out from the car and the line of men bend into sharp bows. He closes the door and you finally get a full look at him: from the suit to his shoes, he wears all black, but most striking is the black mask that covers his face. It melts into his suit, keeping every inch of his skin hidden save for his hands. 

He must say something, because the men straighten and vanish from your view, streaming into the hospital. 

Is it too late to alert security? There has to be twenty men, and with how Jaehyun looks, you doubt they’ll be able to hold them off. 911, then? It’ll take the cops forever to respond, and it’s too late. They’re already here. 

You could call him. He’d come. 

Despite all your instincts screaming at you to hide, you turn around. The lobby is packed with the final rush of visitors, and 9-to-5 staff getting ready to leave for the day. It’ll be safer to pack in with them than be caught on your own, and maybe you can warn security before mass panic breaks out. You rush down the hall to the large open space in the front of the hospital. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline, but everything feels too normal. A father holds his child’s hand as they walk to the bathroom. A nurse whispers furiously into her phone. An elderly couple hold hands, clipboards to the side of them. You scan the small crowd, looking for a security guard. 

Instead you find a brute of a man, black hood tipping back as he raises a gun above his head and fires it a couple times. 

“Everybody quiet!” He growls. “On the ground!” 

You drop into a squat, hands automatically coming above your head as screams echo. Someone yanks on your coat, knocking you off balance. Your heart nearly stops but it’s just Jaemin pulling you to sit beside him with a wall at your back instead of the open hallway. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. You slide into a seated position, back against the wall. Jaemin crouches next to you, keeping one hand on the wheelchair of the patient he must have been with before all of this. You peek at him and recognize him as Yoon Jeonghan, the guy that got hit by a truck while biking. He looks like he’s trying to decide if he’s included in the “on the ground” order. 

The goons pick on a couple people, shoving them to the ground. 

“Hands above your heads!” One of them orders, pointing his gun at random. You raise your hands again, Jaemin following more reluctantly. 

Ten minutes pass as goons escort people from all over the hospital, the lobby quickly becoming packed. Half the patients are in wheelchairs, clinging to IV drips while the doctors and nurses glare at the men. Finally, it seems they have collected everybody, and a quiet tension falls over the room. 

Then the man in the black mask strolls in. 

“What’s the saying?” He asks, muffled voice carrying in the open space. “If you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself.” He clasps his hands behind his back, strolling along, peeking at the cowering hostages. 

“He doesn’t have a pinstripe suit,” Jaemin whispers. 

“I don’t even think he’ll call the henchmen goons,” you whisper back. 

Jaemin shakes his head. He’d probably tsk if he didn’t think it would get you both killed. 

“I bet they’ll still beat us up,” you whisper. 

“If you don’t shut up, they definitely will,” Jeonghan mutters. 

Jaemin rolls his eyes and makes a face at you. You bite back a smile. You’ve tempted fate enough. 

“The name you all will know me by is Black Mask,” he announces. 

This time you can’t help the smile, turning away from Jaemin to prevent yourself from laughing out loud. Even Jeonghan mutters, “Very creative.” 

“I have a list, you see,” Black Mask continues, “people that owe me. They know what they’ve done. I promise if your name is not on that list and you don’t make a fuss, no harm will come to you. I’m a reasonable man.” 

Reasonable men don’t play dress up and shoot up hospitals, but you figure he’s due for a dramatic speech. At least he’s explaining why he’s here. 

Black Mask pauses in front of one of the nurses—Shotaro, a good nurse who you’ve worked with several times. He grabs him by the shoulder, sending him sprawling to the floor. 

“This one,” Black Mask announces, waving at his goons to pick Shotaro up. They half drag him away as Black Mask continues to make his way through the crowd. 

“This is more efficient, you know,” he says. “I’ve tried other methods, but there were some complications. So, I thought to myself, if you’re all in one place, why not just go to the source?” He points at another nurse, Sehun, but Dr. Bae steps in front of him. Black Mask pauses, tilting his head to peer at her before gesturing to the goons to drag them both away. Dr. Bae puts up a fight, trying to twist out of their grip, but one of the men tosses her over his shoulder and carries her out. Sehun follows, stumbling behind. 

Dr. Moon, Jaehyun, Shotaro, Sehun, and Dr. Bae, though it seems like she wasn’t originally a target. All good, hard workers, not the type to make mistakes, definitely not collectively. You watch as Black Mask creeps closer and closer. 

You’ve worked with all of them. Only a few months ago, a case of a man with terrible burns on his face. Your blood runs cold as Black Mask stops in front of you. You stand up, a heartbeat before he points. 

“You,” Black Mask says, venom seeping into his voice. “You owe me.” 

“I remember you,” you say, keeping your voice soft. 

“You remember what you did to me,” he says. 

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” you say, “and neither did anyone else in this hospital.” 

He raises a hand and smacks you, and before you can react, two of his men grab your arms, dragging you away whether your feet move or not. You try to think of something witty or smart, but all you can think is how much you don’t want to die. 

They take you to the stairs, carrying you up two flights of stairs before depositing you in an empty patient room. One of the men stays with you, guarding the door, while the other vanishes. 

You glare at the man, face stinging. Jeno would tell you not to provoke a psychopath. 

But Jeno’s not here. You shouldn’t want him to be, because even if he could be here, he would only get himself hurt, and you won’t be responsible for causing him any more pain. 

He said he loved you, even after all he’s been through. He wasn’t afraid. 

You don’t want Jeno here, not to save the day. But it’d be nice to apologize to him. And if there was only one person you could say goodbye to before you died, you’d want it to be Jeno. 

Maybe you do want Jeno to save the day. Just so you can apologize. Just so you can tell him you were wrong. Just so you can finally admit the truth. 

.

Jeno’s bike screeches to a stop a block away from the hospital. He parks it in an alley, covering it with a tarp and trusting that the locks will prevent anyone from stealing it. He hopes he’s swiped it from the impound lot enough times for the police to leave it alone too. 

He climbs to the roof of the nearest building, moving painfully slow, between the pull of the stitches and the exhaustion of healing such a large wound. But from here he can see the line of black cars in front of the hospital, the setting sun reflecting on the metal, making it difficult to see. He switches to infrared, the mask buzzing a couple times before picking up on the mass of bodies in the main lobby. Majority of the building is far too empty for a place of medicine. 

From his memory of studying the schematics on an off day, he remembers the west facing wing houses the operating rooms, which explains why the infrared picks up a couple small masses. But with the rest of the hospital empty, the four rooms on the third floor stand out. Each holds two bodies, one significantly larger than the other. 

That’s where he’ll start. 

A better fighter would get a better gauge of the situation. Maybe spend more time determining which are civilians and which are hostiles, or figure out exactly where they’re holding people. But Jeno has always worked best flying by the seat of his pants. He still doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but these must be the hostages important enough to separate from the main group. 

It would be safest if you were on the first floor, just one of many in the crowd, but the selfish part of Jeno wants you to be where he can see you. Where he can save you. 

He can’t waste any more time. He shoots the grappling gun, pulling on it to build momentum even faster and angle himself directly at the window. It shatters beneath his feet, and he tucks into a tight ball, rolling once before springing onto his feet. He ducks as the big man swings a crowbar at him, wincing at the sharp pain near his stomach. He takes a quick strike with his knife, slashing up across the stomach first, then across the throat, finally driving the knife into the man’s heart. He crumples to the ground and doesn’t move. 

Jeno pulls the blade out, wiping the blood from the knife on his pants and sheathing it. He turns around to find a figure in a white lab coat, cowering in the corner of the room, hands over their head, glass shards scattered around them. 

He crouches down in front of you, brushing the glass off your shoulder. You peek up at him, eyes softening as you recognize him even though you’ve never seen him in the mask before. There’s a small cut on your cheek. His thumb moves on its own, swiping at the blood and doing nothing but spread more on your face. 

“Are you okay?” Jeno asks. The modulator of the mask twists his voice into an unrecognizable beast. It’s perfect for protecting his identity and intimidating low lives, not so great for comforting the scared victims. Maybe he should tweak that part of the suit, make it adjustable. But you don’t flinch, standing up and shaking the rest of the glass off. 

“I’m fine,” you say. “How did you get here so fast?” 

“These are the same guys that shot me,” Jeno says. “I had a tracker out on the car, which led me here.” 

“Sionis,” you say. Jeno frowns. He knows that name. 

“Roman Sionis, that’s the guy doing all of this,” you explain. “He was a patient three months ago, really bad damage to his face. He’s targeting the team responsible for his care, doctors, nurses, everyone he blames for what happened to his face.” 

“Which includes you,” Jeno says. 

You nod, eyes tight. “Which means they weren’t after you when you got shot.” 

“Hey,” Jeno says. “I’m fine. You patched me up, and I’ve got the super healing, so if either of us was going to get shot, I’d rather it be me. It’s not your fault.” 

“I know,” you say, though you don’t sound like you believe it. “Should you really be jumping through windows, though?” 

He shrugs. “Didn’t pull the stitches. I swear.” 

You purse your lips but let it go. He wishes you would just say what you’re thinking but you look away from him, glancing at the door. 

“They took three more of us up here, and they probably know you’re here by now.” 

Jeno nods. Resolve the situation, then talk. 

“I’m going to clear out the rooms one at a time,” he says, “then work my way downstairs.” He unholsters a gun, handing it to you. You raise an eyebrow. 

“I’ve never used one of these.” You reluctantly take the gun out of his hands. 

“Point and squeeze the trigger,” he says. “It’s semi-automatic, you don’t have to do anything to reload. If they’re close enough you won’t even have to aim.” He forms your hands around the gun, teasing your fingers into the right position and turning off the safety. He lets his hands linger, waiting for your eyes to meet his, though he remembers a moment later that the mask conceals them. 

“Get the rest of the hostages and stay together,” he says. “I’ll be right back.” He forces himself to let go of your hands but doesn’t step away yet. 

He should say something else. Maybe apologize for what he said. Take it back. But he meant every word of it, even if you did too. He’s said all he can, and if that’s still not enough then at least you’re still alive. 

“Go save the day,” you finally say. “Then… I’ll see you after.” 

He nods, turning away and striding to the door, stepping over the body. “Wait for me to clear the rest of them, then get the hostages out of here.” 

He pulls the door closed behind him, trusting that you will be fine on your own. He doesn’t have time to worry, ducking to dodge the knife that flies toward him. He doesn’t let the man get a second chance, sprinting as fast as he can and burying his knife in the man’s heart. He’s turning a second later, using the man’s body as a shield against the second man in the hall, who doesn’t hesitate to fire a couple shots. Jeno throws the first man’s body on him, his knife following quickly after, burying itself in the man’s forehead. 

Like always, his pains melt away when he’s fighting. He barely feels the tug of the stitches, or the exhaustion he felt earlier. This body was made to kill, and that’s what he’ll do. 

He ducks into the room next to yours, knocking the guard to the floor and stabbing him. The hostage, a woman wearing a white lab coat, stands. 

“Wait here,” he says. “I’ll clear the rest of this hall. Don’t go outside unless you want to get shot.” 

She nods slowly. 

Jeno clears the other two rooms similarly, quick and far too easy. He hesitates at the stairwell. He should clear the rest of the civilians if he wants to resolve things quickly, but it feels wrong to leave these hostages to you—you were a hostage yourself only a few minutes ago. But it’s irrational. He knows you’re capable of protecting yourself, and smart enough not to get yourself killed. He has to trust you and do his job. You were the one that told him to save the day. 

He doesn’t bother with the stairs, jumping in the open space between the flights and using his grappling hook to control his fall. If he wasn’t hurt, he’d just drop the three stories, but it’s only a little slower this way. He retracts the hook with a button and sticks it back into his belt, pulling out his knives. 

He makes it halfway down the hall before he sees the first figure, raising his knife on instinct. He drops it a moment later, picking out the scrubs from here. The nurse sprints past him, barely glancing at him. More and more people follow, until a stream of people flood the hall. They part around him, allowing Jeno to make it to the lobby as it clears. Only a few people remain, mostly patients that struggle to move on their own and the people that stayed behind to protect them. 

Where is Sionis? Where are all of his men? Even in the flood of people, they would have stood out. Did they hear the commotion upstairs and run? One of the men fired his gun a couple times, maybe they went to investigate. 

No, they wouldn’t have let the hostages go if that were the case. He curses himself for not trusting his instincts, turning around to get back to the stairs, but the hallway is still blocked by all the people clamoring to leave. 

It takes painfully long to get to a stairwell, but he finally makes it. That’s when he hears the gunshot—different from the pops before, no this is a sound he recognizes. This is his gun. 

.

.

You wait until the hallway is quiet, peeking out the window for good measure. Nothing moves, the bodies on the floor limp. Blood pools around the three, puddles bright against the white tiles. You wait for another heart beat, holding your breath but the only movement comes from the blood, trickling down the hall. 

The door creaks open beneath your fingers. It feels like your footsteps echo as you hurry to the closest door. You make it to the first door, hand on the doorknob when you hear it—footsteps echoing from the stairwell, the opposite side of where Jeno left. They thunder up the stairs, at least ten men. 

You open the door a crack, whispering a sharp, “Stay hidden!” 

You don’t give whoever is behind the door a chance to argue, closing the door and sprinting to the stairwell as fast as you can. You hear a shout just as you cross into the stairwell, sprinting forward. You take one step toward the descending flight but see dark heads bobbing in the space between the stairs. You curse, turning and heading up. 

Shit, shit, shit. You can only go up. The men from the other end of the hall burst into the stairwell, your heart sending another shot of adrenaline through your body and pushing you to take steps three at a time. Even as you feel your body working harder than ever before, you know it won’t last. You have to find somewhere to hide. 

You burst onto the fifth floor, cringing as the door slams against the wall. No chance they missed that. 

You run as far as you dare, ducking into a storage closet and curling into a ball in the farthest corner, hiding behind a wall of bedpans. You shove a hand over your mouth, trying to cover your heaving breaths. Bile rises in your throat as the sprinting catches up to you but you swallow hard, closing your eyes and praying. 

Jeno’s gun rests in your other hand. The cold metal helps calm you down, your breathing evening out as you hear a door bang open. A moment later then there’s another bang. You hear footsteps in the hall, then another. They must be checking room by room. 

You’re about halfway down the hall, maybe five rooms in. You don’t have much time. 

You raise the gun, letting go of your mouth to hold it with both hands. Your finger drops to the trigger. Point and squeeze, Jeno said. You can do that. You aim it at the door, bracing your arm on your knees to keep them from shaking. 

You flinch at the next bang, feeling the wall shake. They’re in the room right next to you. They trash the room, sending vibrations through the floor, until it suddenly stops. 

You’ll have to move fast, you can’t give them any chance. 

Light cascades around as the door is thrown open. You squeeze the trigger, keeping the gun aimed at the large mass in front of you. There’s a loud bang and the gun slams your shoulder back but the man stumbles backward. You squeeze the trigger again and this time he goes down. 

A second man dodges the falling body, taking a step inside but you squeeze the trigger again and again and again and he falls too. 

Shit, how many shots was that? You clench your teeth but they seemed to have learned the lesson for the moment—nobody follows. 

“Alright, that’s enough fun.” You recognize Sionis’ voice from behind the mask this time. “Come out on your own or get dragged out. Your choice.” 

“I’d really rather stay here,” you say, voice shaking. You force yourself to your feet. 

“Fun way it is,” Black Mask says. This time two men push their way through, one blocking the other. You shoot and it hits the front man in the shoulder but he doesn’t go down. You squeeze the trigger again but nothing happens. 

You throw the gun at him, hoping to catch him in the head but he just knocks it away. You start pulling things from the shelves, throwing as hard as you can. It does nothing to stop them, grabbing you by the arms and heaving you off your feet. You twist and kick and try to bite but they don’t seem to notice. They hold you up in front of Black Mask in the middle of the hallway. 

“You are a feisty one,” he muses, watching you thrash. 

“Let me go,” you say. You try to growl but it comes out more like pathetic begging. 

“I’d like you to calm down a bit,” he says. 

You open your mouth to tell him to fuck off but apparently that was some sort of signal because one of the men raises a fist and brings it down hard on the top of your head. 

It sends jitters down your spine as your teeth clang together. You blink tears away, your head lolling forward a little. The floor blurs beneath you—no it’s your eyes, struggling to focus. 

“Now, on with business,” Black Mask says, clasping gloved hands together. “I—”

You nearly fall to the floor as one of the men holding you—the one you shot in the shoulder—falls to the ground. You tilt backward as the second man goes down but a tight hand around your arm yanks you backward. 

Black Mask pulls you into a patient room, the bed pushed against the wall next to the bathroom. He pulls you away from the door until your back is against the window. He keeps his hand tight around your arm, pressing something hard and cold against the side of your head. Your brain still reels from the hit but you don’t have to think hard to figure out it’s a gun. 

There are a few shouts from the hallway but it falls quiet quickly. Only one pair of boots echo in the hall, solemn footsteps that pause by the door. Then Jeno appears in the doorway. 

Blood splatters cover the shirt, concealing the bat motif. It seeps into his leather jacket, though Jeno himself seems to be unscathed. He holds a gun in one hand and his knife in the other. 

“That’s close enough,” Black Mask says when he tries to step inside. 

Jeno’s mask covers his eyes, but if it didn’t, you’re pretty sure he’d be glaring. “Let the innocent go. Settle this like an adult.” 

“Innocent?” Black Mask cackles. “Sure, I’ll let the innocent go. I already did that.” He grips your arm tighter, pressing the gun harder into the side of your head. “But this one isn’t innocent.”

He taps on the mask. “I don’t wear this for fun, I’m sure you know. But I’m not like you. I don’t hide to protect myself or my loved ones—I don’t even have loved ones, and you know why? Because this idiot and the idiots at this hospital don’t know how to do a simple facial repair!” 

“They were third degree burns, you’re lucky to have a face,” you say. 

“Shut up!” Black Mask screams, shoving you. Jeno takes a step forward but freezes when Black Mask turns back to him. 

“One more step and you’ll be cleaning some brains off your mask!” He takes a breath, lowering his voice. “I’ll be the first to tell you, that’s no easy task.” 

“Let the hostage go.” Jeno sounds cold through the modulator.  

“And you’ll let me go?” Black Mask huffs a short laugh. “I don’t think so. Your reputation precedes you.” 

“Then you know what will happen if you pull that trigger.” 

“Leave now and I’ll leave this one alive,” Black Mask says. 

“What, half mad after you spend a few hours with your tools?” Jeno says. “Your reputation precedes you, too.” 

Black Mask sighs. “Then it seems I have no choice.” The gun presses hard against your head. 

“I’ll be seeing you around,” Black Mask says. You squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the shot but the pressure on the side of your head vanishes. 

There’s a loud bang, and for a moment you’re sure you’ve died, but then you feel a hard shove on your chest. Your legs hit the wall but it’s not enough to stop you from tumbling out the window, nothing but air beneath you. 

You barely raise your arms out before something tackles into you, an arm wrapping around your waist. You wrap your arms and legs around whatever they find, clinging like a baby monkey to Jeno’s side. 

He raises the other arm, shooting the grappling hook and pulling hard. You snap in the air, swinging up higher than you had fallen until you’ve crested the roof. 

“I got you,” Jeno says, arm wrapped so tightly around you you’re crushed against his side. 

He takes all the weight as you fall onto the roof, bracing the landing with his legs, somehow remaining upright. 

You can only cling to him, waiting for your brain to sort out what happened. You aren’t dead. Black Mask threw you out the window. Jeno caught you. You repeat the words over and over in your head until they almost make sense. 

“We’re back on solid ground,” Jeno says. 

“Mhm.” You don’t let go, keeping your arms tight around his neck. 

“You’re safe now,” he says. 

“I know.” 

He pauses. “You can let go.” 

“Not ready yet.” 

“Okay.” 

For a long moment all you can hear is the pounding of your heart. It lessens and you start to hear tires screeching on pavement down below, people shouting, sirens wailing in the distance. 

“Black Mask is getting away,” you say. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Jeno says. “I’ll get him when I get him.” His hand ghosts over your back. “All that matters is you’re okay.” 

“I’m fine,” you say. “Physically fine, at least. Just trying to sort out my head.” 

He hums, second arm wrapping around you in a true hug. You let yourself linger in the moment, breathing in the sharp scent of blood on his jacket. It smears against your scrubs as you press closer to him, turning them slimy against your skin. The jacket hides the warmth of his body, a hard layer separating you from him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

You lean back, letting go of his neck to rest your hands against the side of his mask. Whatever it’s made out of is hard, a thin metal that curves around his features yet doesn’t bend beneath your fingers. It doesn’t look anything like Jeno, the pale eyes concealing the most human part of him. He reaches up, pulling the mask off. 

Sweat makes his hair stick to his forehead, which is creased with concern. His eyes flit between yours, dark and full of everything. For too long when you first ran into him, he would look at you with cold emptiness. Though you can’t read everything behind them now, he doesn’t bury all his feelings. He lets them shine through. 

“It’s not your fault,” you begin, letting your hands fall to his shoulders. “Too much has happened, and that guy hit my head, and I thought I was going to die, so it’s hard to tell what I want to say. What I’ve been meaning to say.” You take a deep breath, looking at his forehead instead of his eyes, at the white streak of hair that clings to his forehead. “But if I don’t say it now, I think I’ll chicken out and never say it. 

“I’m kind of a coward,” you say. “I don’t want to get hurt—I mean, like, don’t let anybody anywhere near my heart to keep it safe, and it works. I’ll find an excuse, any excuse to push them away. 

“I did it to you. Yeah, I don’t want to die, and I don’t want to think about you dying because it always sends me into a spiral, but those were all excuses. It doesn’t matter that you wear that mask. That doesn’t change anything, and I won’t hide behind it anymore. 

“I love you,” you say, “so much. So much that it’s making me brave. I don't want to be a coward anymore. I want to love you. I’m sorry it took me so long, but I love you, I really, really do.” 

Jeno doesn’t say anything for a long moment, looking back and forth between your eyes. He doesn’t frown or smile, his face a mask itself. 

“Oh,” he says. 

“Apparently near death experiences lead to radical reflections and revaluations of life values.” 

And then he smiles, a real smile that curls his eyes and sends your stomach hurtling in somersaults. He presses his forehead against yours, your hands still resting on his shoulders. 

“Don’t apologize for things that aren’t your fault,” you say. You brush his cheek with your thumb. “Save your applogies for real fuck ups.” 

He snorts. “Think there’s going to be a lot of those?” 

“Somehow I think I’m going to get stood up a lot,” you say. “It’s okay, though. That’s just what happens when you date a superhero.” 

“I don’t know about that,” he says. “I’m no superhero.” 

You kiss his nose. “Whatever you want to call it. But you’re a good man, Lee Jeno, through and through.” 

Jeno brushes his lips against yours, barely a kiss. He moves hesitantly, like he’s scared you’ll crumble in his hands. 

Well, you’re not going to die, he made sure of that. You are here and alive, and so is he. You grip the neckline of his jacket, pulling him into a crushing kiss. You press your lips harder against his and his arms tighten around you, finally kissing you back. 

It’s terrifying, how much you trust him. Like jumping off a cliff and knowing he’ll catch you—which basically he just did—you have to let go of the fear. Even when his arms are wrapped around you and you can feel him with every atom, it isn’t easy—a part of you will always want to run away, protect yourself. But you’re done running. Jeno put a gun in your hand and told you to fight. You can do that for him—for yourself. 

You will hold onto him and you will love him and he will do the same for you. It’s all you can do. 

.

.

Bonus: 

Jeno doesn’t know how you slept on this armchair. The back is stiff against his back and he can’t hang his legs off the side without the arms cutting into the back of his knees. He can tuck his head against the wing but it leaves his neck at an awkward angle. 

It’s for the best, though, since he needs to stay awake anyway. He shifts the chair until it’s against the side of the bed and sets his legs back on the edge of the bed, crossing one over the other and resting his elbows on the armrest. You raise your eyebrows at his feet but don’t tell him to move. He’ll give it a good twenty minutes before he tries to sit on the bed. He wonders if you’ll kick him out if he just asks outright if he can curl up next to you. Better to ease into it. 

You look radiant, wearing a big t-shirt curled under the blankets. Your lips curl into a little smile every time you catch him looking at you (which is pretty much always). 

“I’m going to invest in a big ass taser,” you say, still listing out your plan to keep yourself safe. “And some heavy duty pepper spray.” 

“I can teach you how to shoot a gun,” Jeno offers. 

You make a face, nose scrunching. 

“No?” 

You shake your head slowly. “No thank you. My arms hurt.”  

“How about some hand-to-hand?” He asks. 

“Are you going to be able to keep your hands to yourself?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

You look pointedly at his hand, which has found yours, fingers tapping on your knuckles. Huh, he didn’t realize he was doing that. He raises both hands, holding them up like a criminal waiting to be arrested. 

“My bad,” he says, setting them in his lap. Your bottom lip juts out for a second but you’re too proud to ask him to hold it again. He bites back a smile at the little war behind your eyes. 

“How’s your head?” He asks. 

“Concussed,” you say flatly. 

“You want to sleep?” He asks. 

“Not yet,” you say. You finally concede, reaching out a hand for him. He puts his feet down, slipping out of the chair to sit on the edge of the bed, clasping his hand over yours. Your shoulder rests against his hip. You blink up at him. 

“What?” He asks. “Is this okay?” 

You nod slowly, studying him with piercing eyes. He gets the feeling you see right through him, so he turns his gaze to your intertwined fingers. 

“What did you think of me when you first saw me? When you moved here, I mean,” he asks. 

You pause for a long moment. “Honestly?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I thought you were unemployed for at least two months.” 

Jeno snorts. 

“I mean pretty much every time I knocked you were wearing sweats and half the time you looked like you had just woken up!” 

Jeno scratches the back of his head with his free hand. “I don’t wear sweats that often.” 

You pause for a moment and he doesn’t dare peek at your face. “When you asked me to sew up your scalp, I figured it was either vigilante or something worse, and then I saw Red Hood on the news and I just knew.” 

He looks at you, head tilted down to see the top of your head. “Really?” 

“It looks like you,” you say. You pause before adding, “Plus you’ve got that leather jacket hanging in your entryway. What’s up with that, by the way?” 

“What?” 

“Your ‘suit.’ A leather jacket and cargo pants?” 

“They’re functional,” he says. 

“Your name is Red Hood and you don’t even have a hood. It’s a mask.” 

“Well a hood doesn’t exactly protect you,” he says, “and it strikes fear into my enemies.” 

You snort. “Does the black t-shirt help with that?” 

“Yeah, I can’t defend that one,” he says. “It’s cheap and easy.” 

“No wonder you died,” you say. 

“I take personal offense at that,” Jeno says. 

You yawn. “Okay buddy.” You scoot over a little. “Just lay down already.” 

Jeno grins, shifting to pull the covers up and slide his legs down them. He stretches out, rolling as close as he dares to you. His arm hovers over you until you shake your head and pull it over your waist, shifting until he all but lays on top of you. Your shoulder presses against his chest, his head resting on the same pillow only a breath away from you. 

“If you wanted to cuddle you could have just asked,” you say. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

You turn your head to meet his eyes, nose brushing against his. He could melt into your eyes, so warm and full of a happiness he hardly recognizes. He hopes he looks a fraction as happy as you do—and he hopes you know it’s only a fraction of how he feels. 

He didn’t think he’d ever feel happy again. Even if he finally got his revenge on Joker and Batman, it would be bittersweet at best, the end goal of a bitter fight that started when he dragged himself out of that grave. 

But he is happy. It’s the warmth that courses through every fiber of his body, the way his heart pounds every time he looks at you, the hope he feels when he thinks of the “after.” 

“You know it’s been years since the last time I smiled?” He says. 

“Yeah, I could tell.” Your eyes soften impossibly more. You rest your hand against his cheek again, fingers soft and careful as they trace the lines of his smile. They work their way to his lips, ghosting over the soft skin. 

“I think that part is over,” Jeno says. “Hating the world.” He presses a kiss on your thumb. “I’d like to be happier now. 

“Red Hood is a part of who I am, and it always will be. But Jeno is too, and I won’t let go of that.” He tightens his arm. “I’d like to hold onto you, too, though.” 

You grin. “I’d like that too.” You press a short kiss to his lips. “But my head hurts and right now I’d really just like to go to bed.” 

Jeno nods, shifting away only to turn off the lamp on your bedside table. He curls back around you, tucking his head against your neck and pulling you as close to him as he can. He is Jeno, he is Red Hood, and he isn’t alone anymore. 

thank you for reading!! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated

[alpaca-clouds]

You Cannot Create A Solarpunk Future Under Capitalism

I am feeling like a broken record, but I just need to make this clear once more: No, Solarpunk in any form is not possible under capitalism. If you think it is, you either fail to understand Solarpunk, or you don't get what capitalism even means.

Technically I wrote about this already almost exactly a year ago. Let me reiterate it again, though: Solarpunk at its core is build around a couple of ideas. Those are:

Living in relative harmony with our environment, rather than destroying it. (Which includes using renewable energies.)

Decolonialism.

Social justice and the same rights, chances and possibilities for all people.

Neither of those three points is archievable under capitalism, as the end goals of capitalism are opposed to each of them.

Let me go through each of them.

Environmental Sustainability is not archievable under capitalism.

This is the point people tend to argue about the most. Because they will go: "But if the renewable energy sources are cheaper than fossil fuels, the capitalist will see more possibilities to make money with it." Well, do I have news for you: A variety of renewable sources, such as solar and wind power, are already a lot cheaper than fossil fuels and yet somehow the capitalist argue against using them. Care to explain that? No? Well, I'll do it for you. (Technically already did in that blog last year.)

See, when someone's net worth is listed somewhere, most of them actually do not have billions of dollars on their bank accounts. And no, they also do not swim in gold coins. Instead their net worth comes from calculating how much money they would be able to make if they sold all thier assets. A lot of those assets are shares in companies they have, as well as stuff like their fancy houses, fancy cars, fancy private jets and fancy yachts. Most billionaires have not more than a couple tens million dollars in liquid money, meaning money they can just spend. If they wanna buy something that is more expensive, they will usually go to a bank, say: "Look at all the stuff I have. I wanna buy myself more stuff. Gimme money?" And the bank will go: "Of course, Sir Billionaire, here you go. Have a nice 10 billion dollars."

And this is where the issue arrises: Most of the billionaires who are investing in the energy market, have already invested billions in fossil fuels. Be it by owning shares of fossil fuel companies, or by owning mines, oil rigs, power plants and the like. And this puts them into a silly little position: Even if they wanted to make more money through renewables, they cannot without harming themselves. Because in the moment that renewables become even more viable than they already are, fossil fuels lose their viabilities - and hence all the assets they hold in fossil fuels lose their value in an instant. The billionairs know that. The banks know it, too. Which is why banks do not want to give the fossil fuel billionaires money for that, even if they ask.

And that is only on the energy-generating side of it. If you go into the other stuff that harms our environment... Simply put: Public transport will never make as much money, as selling everyone their own car. And plastics are just so much cheaper than any alternatives. And the companies need fast fashion, because they won't make as much money, if folks only go buying new clothes every ten years.

Capitalism is build on the exploitation of the environment.

You cannot archieve decolonialization under capitalism.

Let's talk about the call to decolonize next. This is even easier explained: Capitalism is build on colonialism. And contrary to what you might have been told in school, colonialism has never ended. Most indigenous folks never got their ancestral land back - or have to fight to remain on it to this day. The most notable examples you know off might be indigenous people on their land (at times the land they originally had been forced onto after their ancestral land had been stolen from them) fighting pipelines that the capitalists want to put onto that land. That is colonialism.

In fact a lot of the raw material we use to power capitalism is produced on stolen land or is moved across stolen land to be financially viable. Be it oil springs, that can be found there. Or be it mines. That is both mines that produce coal, but also mines that are used to produce lithium and other materials used in batteries of electric cars. These raw materials should technically belong to the indigenous people from whose land those materials are sourced. And we do know for a fact that some of them will prefer to leave those materials in the ground. Maybe because of the harm to the environment that mining for them creates. Maybe because the land is sacred to them. Maybe because some of them just do not care about cheap electric cars.

It is more than that, of course. Because colonialism also allows for slave labor. And yes, I mean slave labor. Like classical slave labor where people are pressganged into laboring in those mines, or in other factories, where they are not paid at all - or are paid in breadcrums. The reason that the global south is so abhorently poor, even though most of the raw materials powering our world are found there, is, that the people in the global south are exploited, while the land is often owned by people from the global north, who either got it through colonialism - or by buying it from someone who got it through colonialism.

And once again: The profit motive of capitalism is directly opposed to decolonizing - and because of that it won't happen. Capitalism is built on colonial exploitation.

You cannot archive social justice under capitalism.

Capitalism as a system was invented for one reason and one reason alone: To allow former nobility, who were close to lose their power and influence in a Europe of anti-royal revolutions, to hold onto the power and influence and veil it underneath the idea of meritocracy. Basically saying: "Everyone gets what they deserve based on the work they got in." Obviosly they got the most, because they owned the land that everyone was working and living on. And then they did their best to brainwash everyone into believing this - at which they actually succeeded.

Here is the thing: Capitalism needs an underclass to exploit. Sure, a good chunk of that exploitation will happen in other countries, where the poor white middleclass folks do not need to see them toil, but some of that exploitation simply cannot be done in those other countries. At times because the work physically needs to happen in the western nations - stuff like road contruction, general contruction work, cleaning and such are an example of this. And at times because some things might be time critical, cannot be transported that far and stuff like that - like farm work in some cases, or also all the Amazon warehouse stuff. Oh, and all those fastfood jobs belong into this area. Stuff that is paid minimum wage and exploited to no end.

And then there is of course prison labor in the US, which once again is just slavery.

And all of that does not even go into the care and nursing work that is either underpaid by a ton when it is happening on the open market (like in hospitals, schools, kindergardens and other care facilities) - or is happening completely for free. Mosten done by women, who will care for both children, as well as elders and disabled family members for free.

The true endgoal of capitalism is to turn the labor of the lower classes into money and value for the upper class to hoard like bloody dragons. As such capitalism will never be compatible with any sort of equal rights and equal chances.

Those three aspects are truths that just cannot be changed. Capitalism will never be able to create any sort of justice, equal rights, or sustainability. It is not in the interest of capitalism to do so, either.

[lonelystarrs]

The Pudding

Barou Shouei x FemReader (Ft Isagi Yoichi)

Barou was acting like you’d been winding him up to brat tame, however you’d been on your best behaviour since Isagi came to crash with you guys for awhile, who knew he’d be such a homewrecker and not even release it was his fault. That pudding Barou was obsessed with do be good though!

Warnings: 18+ MDNI • DomBarou • smut • Barou being Barou. • dirty talk -filth • this do be spicy get your face fans out• 5 years after Blue Lock • Isagi temporary house mate causing arguments • crack • established relationship • the ending tho 💀 isagi you homewrecker.

Frantic, aggressive and a borderline bully -Barou Shouei was showing all these traits when he’d stomped his way over to you, red eyes glowing as his figured shadow drew closer.

Normally you’d do something to warrant this kind of a reaction from him, brat taming you was something he enjoyed and something you found amusing to draw out in him.

Today however? You hadn’t done anything, in fact since Isagi came to crash a couple of days ago with you both for a few weeks you’d been pretty good. Barou only allowed it because Isagi was easy to live with, he knew this from his days in blue lock, collecting laundry and at least trying to aid his level of OCD with cleaning. He was respectful and he, unknowingly to you or anyone else owed Isagi a favour.

Why? That secret would die with Barou -and with Isagi if he kept his word on not telling anyone. Barou had actually asked him to try find out your ring sizes, which he had successfully done -fuck knows how he pulled it off and fuck knows how Barou bit his pride to ask. He wanted someone outside to get the job done, he himself or his sisters would be way too obvious. Apparently he took you shopping with Bachira who you had a soft spot for, the guys eccentric personality made it easy to fall for, he made you try on a load of stacking rings and Isagi remembered the one for your ring finger, clever little shit Barou had to give him that.

“W-wait Barou, s-slow down-“

You tried to tighten your thighs together in an attempt to block him but he’d only pushed his weight by his hips further into you causing you to spread them.

Normally Barou would prep you, much needed considering how thick and long this guy was, he was built like a god head to toe and taking him was always a stretch.

You were actually a little worried at how fired up he was, but equally excited by his sudden attitude shift, he was fine this morning but he was borderline feral at the moment.

Barou snorted a laugh, red eyes looking up to you as he held himself over you. Hands planted by your sides as you gripped onto his forearms to brace yourself, his huge biceps bulging as he held his own weight above you. His shoulders looked fucking huge, pure muscle hovering over you as sweat dripped from his body from his wound up he was getting not even cooling down after he finished a work out. His cock rested hard on your stomach, leaking at the tip.

“Huh? Where’s that cocky attitude gone, girl?”

Eyes returning down he watch himself as he lifted his hips, flexing his thick, heavy cock to hit his stomach watching the pre cum link between him, before dropping it down to press the thick tip to your entrance. You clenched around nothing as he pressed against you, easing the head in.

His deep voice making bumps rise on your skin, there was nothing unmanly about this guy, he oozes testosterone and gruffness, but that voice? God it got you every time, especially when he was threatening you.

“I’ll warn you now-“ he glanced up at you, his gaze harsh as he kept eye contact “-I’d find something to hold onto if I were you. You’re getting devoured, teach you to stop pissing me off.”

You swallowed and he was drinking in how vulnerable you looked under him, eyes glazed and doe like, it sent his ego soaring. The growl that left his chest was feral, eyes flashing as he tried to control himself from pushing himself in with one thrust.

Barou was mean, but not a complete sadist.

You moved a hand to press against the headboard behind you, the other remaining on his forearm.

He felt the tight ring of your cunt protest as he pushed the head in, you were so tight he couldn’t pull the head back as it gripped onto him and it was game over for you when he felt it sucking his cock in.

He pushed through to the hilt, bullying this thick cock through your velvety walls as they gripped him, milking any precum he had crawling up his dick.

“Fucking hell s’fucking warm, how you stay this tight huh? This cock not fucked you enough times?” he breathed out, not once dropping that gruffness his voice carried. He pressed his forehead against yours looking down at his cock buried in you. Barou was big, he had the length and the thickness but this man knew how to roll his cock into you.

“B-Barou s’too much please just -“

“Tch, thought you knew what you were in for? Acting cocky and now whinin’ cause you can’t take me? Suck it up princess, wanna help yourself? Reach down and play with your clit as I fuck you, it’s the only mercy you’re getting.”

You whimpered under him, your hips twitching to try angle yourself better as your pussy clenched around him.

Despite years of being together he was still a stretch to take especially when he’d been away for a few weeks for soccer and you’d not had him. This time, it was because he’d remained rather tame while Isagi was crashing at your place whilst he moved into his new one.

You had no idea why Barou was so pissed off, he only got like this when you’d been teasing him or winding him up until he entered his brat taming mode.

This time though -you hadn’t.

You pussy was soaking, drooling to your ass and over his cock and balls, he tilted his hips so the hilt of his dick rubbed your clit and you threw your head back with an unholy moan.

He withdrew slowly, a deep groan leaving him as he watched his thick dick slide from you covered in slick.

“You’re a mess, acting like you can’t handle it but she’s drooling for me-“ he thrust sharply, hitting that spot in you that made your breath hitch, your mouth fell open as you looked down in slight worry, your hand on his forearm quickly pressed against his six pack.

“Found it already huh? Tch, too easy thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

He rolled his hips beautifully into you, setting a pace that was borderline cruel -hard but not quiet fast enough to build your orgasm as quick as you’d want it.

Barou watched your tits bounce with each thrust into your pussy, hugging him begging it to fill you with his cum, but he wasn’t done yet.

Your vision blurred as he shifted you, only to focus again as he looked down on you folded beneath him. He had hooked both arms under your knees to push you upwards under him, folding you in half as his hands grip the head board behind you to stabilise himself.

Your eyes widened at what he was about to do, tears gathering in your eyes as he moulded you into his own version of a mating press. Mounting you like some animal as he stared down at his prey.

“You’re fucked now, woman.”

His first thrust hit so deep you almost seen stars, head kissing your cervix as he pushed to the hilt whilst rotating his hips in circles.

“Your safe word, you got it?” You nodded dumbly and he pressed a kiss to your leg, a fleeting moment of showing his softness before his annoyance for whatever triggered this took him over again.

Your hand moved to press a finger to your clit and Barou’s eyes followed to watch you rub circles into it, matching his pace to each round.

He was impossibly deep even he could feel resistance to how deeply he’d managed to bury himself into you -actual pride swelling in his chest at you being such a champ and taking him like this. Your clit was hard and burning under the pad of your finger as you eased towards cumming for him. Each squelch of his cock bullying into you, each slap of his skin as his balls hit your ass every moan that left your throat as you begged and spurred him.

Slurring words of adoration for him as he drank everything you gave him, his ego soaring with his heart as he started to rut into you violently. Knuckles turning white as his gripped the head board, sweat dripping from him onto you under him as he pushed himself physically.

“Fuck,” a frustrated growl left him, “-fuck you’re too fucking good.” His words through grunts as he kept up a feral pace. “-you’re fucking made for me.”

“Y-yes!”

“Yeah? You made for this king? Made to take this dick?”

“M-made for you- Ngh-Barou I’m gonna- hah- please I’m cumming, Barou- y-yes there, please-“

“Yeah? Keep fucking begging n slurring all dumb like that, makes me wanna devour you.”

He felt you start to roll your hips under him, your spare hand blinded reaching for his on the head board, finding it you gripped it, fingers laying over his. The finger on your clit started stuttering, picking up a fast messy pace.

“Cummin’ f’you- Bar-King, fuckfuckfuck!”

He smugly watched you lose it under him, body tightening and your toes curling, feeling your pussy clamp around him made him buckle slightly, edging him towards his own release. He didn’t ease you down, instead Barou shifted another gear as his pace turned fast and hard.

“S’Kings gonna fill that pretty cunt up-“

He flipped his hand, twisting it to lace his fingers through yours and planting beside your head, letting one of your legs lower. Barou pressed his lips to your leg still held up by his other, placing wet kisses between bites, panting through his nose as he groan into your skin holding between his teeth.

His thrusts turned sloppy but kept their hardness fucking into you like an alpha fucking his mate through a rut.

“Take it all -fuuuuuck!”

He hunched over you pressing his hips to yours as he spilled into you, cock flexing inside you as he moaned into your leg, red eyes half hooded and glazed. His hips twitched against you as you clenched around him, stomach muscles flexing in little spasms as he came hard emptying into you.

The room was filled with both your panting, coming down from your highs and Barou released you, sitting back onto his folded legs spread. You whimpered as his cock pulled from you now half hard as he softened. Your legs bent up and still spread, shaking as you felt the tremors start to inch up your body. Hands shaking you sat up onto your elbows, Barou was still breathing heavy, red eyes fixed on your swollen pussy starting to leak out his cum and he groaned again. It was the only kind of mess he deemed somewhat acceptable. Running a hand through his hair you could see him shaking lightly, a smug smirk made it’s way to your face.

“The fuck is with that smug smile? Knock it off,”

“You’re shaking.”

“I fucking wouldn’t be if you hadn’t ate the last pudding!”

“What?” You deadpanned at him, “-I didn’t.”

“Don’t bullshit me, I didn’t eat it and it was there this morning.”

“-wait, Barou did you just fuck me like that cause you thought I ate your last pudding?!”

“Hardly the first time, you act like a brat to get fucked like one. Got what you wanted now go out and replace it!”

“I can’t fucking walk! You literally just beat my pussy up!”

“Yeah? I’ll do it again until you stop stealing my shit!”

“I didn’t eat it Barou!”

Meanwhile Isagi sat in the spare room listening to you both from across the hall. -completely forgotten about that he was currently residing with you guys and was actually in the building.

An impressively raging hard on at the inspirational rough sex he’d just heard whilst looking down at his hands, one with a spoon and the other holding an empty container for pudding. He’d been eating it whilst you guys fucked like animals in your bedroom. Like popcorn at a cinema.

Man, Barou really liked his damn pudding, Isagi didn’t think he’d heard him that angry since he called the king a donkey back in Blue Lock 5 years ago.

He shrugged and cleaned the spoon off, ah well Barou didn’t know it was actually him who’d stolen the last pudding, ‘sides it was worth it listening to that.

© pharix 2023 permission is not given to repost, translate or post anywhere else.

[gummydummy19]

Month seven (November): shower me with love

Summary: You do your friend a favour and drag Sy with you to go house-sitting (more like mansion-sitting, but whatevs)

A/N: Oh my god I'm excited for this one... I know this literally took me a million years (apologies AGAIN). I have missed these two like crazy, so without further ago, get cozy and happy reading <3

Word Count: 4k+

(this is part seven of my series: A year in apartment 6B)

The days had been shortening, slowly but surely getting gloomier. Most people hated it. The cold and the darkness. Wet pavement, foggy windows, rosy cheeks, and leaky noses.

You found it charming. It made you appreciate the coziness of your home even more. the home you'd been living in for almost seven months now.

While the rain tapped against the floor-to-ceiling windows of your office, you found yourself thinking of that very home. You couldn't wait to finish work and rush back to your apartment, curling up on your couch with yet another sappy romance novel.

"Can I ask you a favor?" your thoughts were interrupted by Elizabeth, your chaotic but very sweet work bestie. You met her during your first week at the office. She found you cursing yourself in the copy room trying to figure out how the printer worked you guys had stuck together ever since. It was nice to have someone to have lunch with and fill you in on office gossip.

"What now Liz?", you sighed jokingly.

She looked around to see if anyone was listening before whispering "Break room, now." and walking off. You quickly got up and followed her, wondering what this was about.

"Clark's assistant asked me to housesit for him while he's on his business trip next weekend."

Clark was our boss. Handsome guy, tall, rich, and always in a freshly pressed suit. He wasn't really your type, but according to Liz he always smelled delicious. Of course, she would know, she had been secretly seeing him for over a month now. It was all very exciting.

"Okay?..." you questioned, not really understanding what the problem was.

"It's the Paris trip..."

Right.

Office romance was very exciting indeed, but also very forbidden, and even though Clark was our boss, he wasn't the boss of the company.

Of course, he asked her to come to Paris with him. You knew it was hard for them to keep away from each other, it was truly adorable to see them try though. No one would have to know. It would be their perfect weekend away.

Except that now his assistant had asked Liz to housesit for him, just to feed his cats and water his plants, and she had no good reason to say no so she didn't. Which then brought her here, in the break room, begging you to cover for her.

'Why didn't you just say no?' you asked

'I panicked! I didn't want him to suspect anything so I just went along with it. Could you please do it for me? Please?'

You wanted to help her. You really did, but the thought of leaving Sy alone for an entire weekend when he still wasn't fully healed made your stomach twist

"Oh Liz...I don't...I mean...Sy is still not..."

"You can take him with you!" she quickly spat, "Think of it as a little weekend away together. Doesn't that sound fun?"

'We're not a couple, Liz!" you blushed

"Oh please you're basically married." she shushed, "Come on, you don't have to stay all weekend just check his mail, water his plants and feed his cats, that's all! Besides, his house is gorgeous, and it has an indoor pool! Didn't the doctor say swimming was good exercise?"

"I guess he did yeah..." you mumbled, "ugh, fine! But you owe me!"

"oh, you're the best!" she squealed, jumping up and down before giving you a bone-crushing hug.

"You better bring me back some ridiculously expensive gift" you joked as you tried to contain your own smile, secretly excited about your weekend with Sy.

_______________________________________________________

'So we have to spend the weekend in some rich snob's house because he wants to fuck his employee overseas?"

"Hey! She's my friend and they are in love!" you shot back

"Oh, I'm sure they are..." he mumbled, rolling his eyes, "I would be too if I got free trips to Paris"

"Don't be such a grump, Sy"

"What about Aika? We can't just leave her all weekend?"

"Your mom is picking her up this afternoon." you simply said

"My mo-...You spoke to my mother?"

"Yeah, she's been asking to see Aika for weeks! She sends her love by the way."

Sy silently thanked the lord for making this a regular phone call and not one of those Facetime situations because he wasn't in the mood to explain why his cheeks grew red at the thought of you being friendly with his mom.

"Right..." he grumbled.

"So you're in then? The doctor did say you needed exercise, Sy. You can't just stay cooped up in the apartment. It'll be fun!" you tried to convince him.

"Alright alright, fine, I'm in"

"Yay! Pack a weekend bag, I'll pick you up after work." you told him, "Oh, and don't forget your swim shorts!"

"My what?!" Sy asked, but you had already hung up the phone, leaving him in regret already

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

"Holy fucking shit"

Sy's deep voice boomed through the desolate entrance hallway of the Kent Residence.

"Normally I'd tell you to watch your mouth but...damn," you added, staring at the crystal chandelier hanging from the exceptionally high ceiling.

"Hey, check this out!" Sy called from the living room.

You were so wrapped up in your surroundings, that you hadn't even noticed he wasn't standing next to you anymore.

"May I please remind you that this is my boss's place? You can't just go around and touch every- HOLY FUCK THAT'S BIG"

You found Sy with a remote in his hand, standing in front of what was probably the biggest television you had ever seen in your entire life. I mean, it genuinely bordered on a home cinema. It was ginormous.

"You know Sugar, usually when I hear a woman say something like it it's not about a TV," he grinned, making you blush before you hit him with a pillow, hoping he wouldn't notice.

"You're an idiot," you claimed, trying not to laugh but miserably failing.

"You love it," he grinned again, making you roll your eyes.

"Whatever Syverson, I'm gonna go check out the rooms."

"Hold on, I'm coming with you before you snatch the best one."

Sy was hot on your heels as you rounded the corner. His massive chest colliding with your back when you came to a sudden stop.

“Holy. Shit.”

You stared in awe at what was the most gorgeous indoor pool you had ever seen in your entire life (well in all honesty, it was the only indoor pool you had ever seen in real life)

There were floor to ceiling windows and rows of luxurious pool chairs on each side.

“Damn, does this guy crap money?”

Sy’s rough baritone snapped you out of your astonishment, earning him yet another (playful) eye-roll

You and Sy snooped wandered around the mansion for good 20 minutes before you even got to the upstairs area. There was a long hallway leading up to beautiful French doors.

"That's probably the master bedroom, right?", you questioned, motioning towards the doors.

"Probably", he mumbled, "let's go check it out."

"No wait! We shouldn't...", you grabbed his arm, "It's not nice to snoop."

"Oh please, what have we been doing for the past half hour?", he chuckled, "Won't hurt to look, right?"

"Alright fine...just in and out, no unnecessary touching."

"Funny, that's exactly what my last hook-up said."

Sy whistled behind you as the bedroom was revealed.

"Sweet baby Jesus...." you mumbled, eyes wide as you took in the gorgeous interior.

Everything looked luxurious and expensive. Panel pair curtains matched the shades of the bedsheets and the accent wall. There were fresh flowers on what looked like a pure sandalwood dresser with golden details. Everything was perfect.

"I call dibs," Sy announced, making you snap your head at him.

"Like hell! I'm the one who got us here,"

"Correction, you are the one who forced us to come here, so it would only be fair if I got the master bedroom. As a reward for coming with you," he explained, crossing his arms.

"You're joking, right? What happened to 'Don't ya worry Sugah, I'm a real Southern gentleman!'" you imitated in a thick Southern accent.

"Hey, I do not sound like that!" he pointed his finger at you and you couldn't help but giggle.

"Settle down, cowboy. I'll check the other rooms." The truth is, yeah, that master bedroom was gorgeous, but you cared about Sy and he was still hurt, so if he wanted the master bedroom, you'd gladly let him have it.

You marched toward the closest room, ready to be stunned again. But when you tried the door, you couldn't get it open. You tried the handle again, rumbling the door a little.

"Locked?" Sy questioned.

"Maybe it's a home office, there might be private papers and stuff."

"Or a sex dungeon,"

"You are sick, Syverson. Really fucking sick."

He chuckled at that and you quickly turned around again, partly to try the next door, partly to hide the smile he had managed to put on your face.

"What the...it's locked again. Could you try that one?"

You and Sy tried every single door that could possibly be a bedroom, only to find them all locked. It was getting kinda ridiculous at this point, so you decided to text Liz.

"Sneaky bitch..." you mumbled as you stared at your phone screen.

"So?" Sy asked, "what did she say?"

"She uhm,...the key isn't here, he forgot."

"He forgot?" he frowned

"Apparently..." you looked around awkwardly.

Liz was so fucking dead when she got back from her stupid Paris trip.

“Guess we’re bunking together then, roomie” Sy grinned, but when he saw you awkwardly shuffling around and stare at your feet instead of grinning back at him, he nudged your shoulder “hey, I’m kidding, I can sleep on one of the pool chairs or something it’ll be fine”

“Sy, don’t be ridiculous I’m not letting you sleep on a pool chair”

“What? I’ve slept on worse, come to think of it, its kinda look our cots back on base, it’ll feel just like home”

“Base is home?” You said it without even thinking, the words tumbled over your lips before you could stop them and you couldn’t help but pair them with a slightly saddened expression.

“I didn’t mean it like that…”

“I mean I kinda get that, I can imagine it grows on you”, you felt like you were treading dangerous territory, but so was he. He knew you worked so hard to make your place a home, he truly didn’t mean to-

“Wanna go for a swim?” You interrupted his thought spiral

“I’d love to”

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

You dipped your toes in the water, finding it perfectly heated.

You had gotten changed first, covering yourself in your fluffy bathrobe before heading for the pool and waiting for Sy there, while impatiently checking the temperature.

"How is it?"

Once again the deep bass of Sy's voice pulled you back to the present.

"It's perfect. I'm not surprised, to be honest, he probably has some fancy heating syste-euhm...", your voice trailed off when you saw Sy's beautifully beefy chest. His baggy swim trunks hung low on his hips and the hair from his chest trailed down all the way to-

"Sugar?"

"P-perfect", you babbled, "UH- the water! It's perfect...nice and warm"

He threw his signature grin your way and you swore you felt your knees buckle. That grin was almost too much to handle on a regular day. The grin + him shirtless + THE SNAIL TRAIL???? Yeah you didn't stand a chance.

"You gonna swim with the robe on, Sugar?"

"Jeez, Captain if you wanted me to strip that bad all you had to do was ask"

Alright, you may have sounded confident, but this was all fake it till you make it.

Sy jumped in the water to hide his grin, nearly splashing you in the process.

You threw your robe on one of the pool chairs and your eyes found his right as he resurfaced. He took you in, you could tell. For a second you had the urge to cover yourself up, hiding the parts your black bikini failed to cover, but you opted against it, desperately trying to keep the confident act up.

It was quiet for a second or two while you just looked at each other.

"Perfect...", his voice was barely above a whisper, "The uh..., the water. You were right, the temperature is perfect."

You couldn't help but smile as you realized he was just as nervous as you were. Finally, you fully got in the pool too, relaxing a bit as the warm water surrounded you.

"I could get used to this", you sighed.

"We could put a kiddy pool in our living room If that makes ya feel better?"

You snorted at that, "Yeah, and then have Aika jump in and our entire place smelling like wet dog? No thanks, that kinda takes away the whole relaxing aspect in my opinion"

"Oh alright, Miss Fancy", he splashed some water your way.

"Fuck SY! I wasn't gonna wet my hair!" you shrieked.

"What kinda bullshit is that? Why would you get in the pool if you didn't wanna wet your hair?", his eyebrows furrowed, "too late now anyway, Sugar" he chuckled, splashing you again, right in your eyes this time.

"Ah, shit!" your hands flew to your face as you frantically rubbed your eyes as you turned away from him to shield yourself.

"Shit! Sorry, Sugar, u okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine you fucking idiot", realization didn't hit you until you saw the black streaks on your palms, "Fuck, I was wearing makeup", you mumbled.

Alright. You knew it was ridiculous, wearing makeup to the pool. But it wasn't a lot or anything, just some mascara and a little bit of concealer here and there. You weren't even planning on it, honest to god. But when you thought about Sy seeing you in a bikini for the first time you couldn't help but feel a bit insecure, so you needed something to bump your confidence, just a little bit.

You should have known boys will always be boys. And there's no keeping it dry when Sy is around anyway.

"Sugar? You can turn back around now, I promise no more splashing",

Ugh fuck fuck fuck...You still had your back to him. You couldn't turn around now, you probably looked like a panda. And you didn't want him to know you wore makeup to the pool, he would never stop laughing at you.

"I uh...I think I'm gonna get out...I'm getting kinda cold", you tried to keep your face away from him as you made your way to the ladder, but as per usual, he was too quick for you.

"What? The pool is heated, besides, I can keep ya warm. I swear I'm sorry Sugar, c'mon don't leave?", you felt his big hands circle your waist under the water, pulling your floating body closer to him in a matter of seconds. Your back hit his warm fuzzy chest and you stiffled a moan.

Okay, he wasn't gonna let you leave, new plan...

You desperately wiped under your eyes, hoping to god he wouldn't see.

"Wh-are you...are you crying?", he sounded genuinely concerned, "Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to Sugar I promise, lemme see", he carefully turned you around in his arms

"No no, Sy you didn't hurt me, I'm not crying I just..." your eyes met his and for a second he looked even more confused, "Why do you look like Batman?", he grinned.

"Ugghhhh..." you groaned in embarrassment, "I just...I just tried out a new mascara this morning and I forgot I had it on...I have makeup wiped in my bag upstairs just lemme go take it off", you rambled trying to get out of his grip but he didn't budge.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Sugar, just do that later."

"Sy, I'm not being ridiculous I LOOK ridiculous, just let me go fix it I'll be back in a minute."

You tried leaving again, but this time his big paws grabbed you by the face, gently but still firm.

"You don't look ridiculous, Sugar...C'mere..."

For a second you thought he was going to kiss you and your eyes fell shut, but instead, you felt his thumbs wipe away the dark streaks.

"There ya go...all better", he smirked. "No more Batman."

"Ugh, shut up", now it was your turn to splash him.

"Oh don't start what you can't finish, dear." his devilish smirk was enough to make you squeal as you backed up.

"No, Sy come on! My hair!", you swam as fast as you could, and just when you thought you could get away, you felt a hand wrap around your ankle.

"Oh no ya don't", he pulled you back to him within seconds, and just like that...your hair wasn't the only thing getting wet against your will...

"I think your face could use another wash," was all he said before pushing your shoulders down under the water, you came back up immediately gasping for air.

"I can't believe you did that!" you sputtered as he just stood there laughing. You didn't even think before jumping on his back, trying to push him down. Looking back that may have been a dumb idea because the captain didn't budge. If anything, it just made him laugh harder. "Aww, isn't that cute? Well, Sugar if I'm going down, I'm taking you with me..."

"No, Sy", you felt his arms tighten around your legs, "no no no no no n-" he dove underwater, keeping his promise and indeed taking you with him.

"T-truce" you breathed out the second you got up for air, "truce truce truce!", you were out of breath, probably looking like a drowned panda bear and the chlorine mixed with your leftover mascara was stinging in your eyes, "fucking hell, this was not as relaxing as I had in mind", you muttered to yourself.

Sy chuckled, obviously he was looking handsome as ever while you felt like you looked like you were just spit out by something.

"C'mere...truce accepted," he gently pulled you against him again, his fingertips trailing down your sides to your thighs, 'up', he commanded and you unsurely wrapped your legs around his waist, letting him guide you. "there ya go, good girl."

You felt your cheeks heat up and told yourself it was just from his body heat.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and snuggled into the crook of his neck while he slowly floated the both of you through the warm water. A wave of exhaustion suddenly came over you. You were too tired and comfortable to overthink what exactly was happening.

_____________________________________________________________

"Hey Sugar..."

"Hmmm?"

"I really think we just get out now..."

It took you a while to realize you were still in the pool, still in Sy's arms.

"Hm fuck...did I...did I fall asleep?"

"Only a little"

"How long was I out?"

"A good 20 minutes, never seen ya shut up for that long, had to check if you were still breathing"

You wanted to make a snarky comment but all you could muster was a grin before finally peeling yourself off of him and getting out of the water.

"Im starving," Sy said as he reached for his towel.

"Yeah, me too. Do you wanna order pizza? I'm too scared to touch anything in that kitchen"

"Sounds good, probably for the best anyway, don't need ya setting the place on fire"

You threw one of your towels at his face, "Shut it, Syverson. I'm showering first and if I were you i'd be nice to me cause I won't hesitate to use up all the hot water."

"S'fine, Sugar. I'm a military man. Nothing I can't handle", he grinned and watched you turn around with a smirk on your face.

"I could probably do with a cold shower anyway..." he muttered to himself as he watched you walk away, thanking all that was good and pure for not letting you notice the massive hard-on he was hiding while you were snoozing in his arms.

"You order, I shower", you yelled back, "I'll take pepperoni, Cap!"

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

45 minutes later you and Sy sat on the massive suede couch, freshly showered, clad in fluffy white bathrobes, and munching on pizza.

"That's such bullshit!" you laughed

"Is not! I swear to you, Sugar! He just stood there in nothing but a thong. Traumatized the entire squad."

"Where the hell did he get a thong in the middle of the desert?!"

"Fuck do I know?! He musta brought it with him?"

You were dying laughing, like actually proper laughing. Tears nearly in your eyes, face red hot, snorting out laughing.

"Sy, there is no way one of your men walked around on base in the middle of the night in nothing but a thong."

"Sugar, I swear to ya, I'm a lot'a things, but a liar ain't one of 'em."

"So what did you do?"

"Sent the fucker home."

"Maybe that was his plan all along? Maybe he just wanted to get sent home?"

"Maybe, Sugar. Maybe." he took another swig of his beer as you chomped down the last bite of your pizza and a comfortable silence settled over you.

"I think I should probably head to bed, I'm exhausted."

"Yeah, me too", he agreed, "I'll just take some things out'a the room and then I'll be good to sleep here."

"Sy, please, don't be silly", you argued, "I was drooling on your shoulder barely an hour ago, I'm sure we can share a bed for one night."

He chuckled at that, "Alright I guess you got a point there, but only if you're sure."

"Yeah, I'm sure genius, but no funny business", you pointed your finger at him.

"Yes ma'am, Roger that", he smirked.

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

You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror.

Skincare done, teeth brushed, hair blow dried, perfume sprayed, pajamas on.

Alright, okay. There's only so much you can do to get ready for bed.

"You're gonna have to go out there sooner or later" you spoke softly to your own reflection.

Jesus Christ this was ridiculous. This was YOUR idea. It's just sleeping. You did it before. Earlier tonight, in fact. Just get out there, get in the bed, close your eyes, and go to sleep. Nothing special.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe you wanted it to be special. What if he didn't? Oh god, what if he DID?

You took a deep breath and finally opened the door.

"Sorry I took so long, I couldn't find my night cre-...Sy?"

There he was. Bulging shoulders on full display, the muscles on his back moving with each breath, the waistband of his boxers peeking out just above where the sheets covered his butt.

His bearded face snuggled into his pillow, his large arms curling underneath it.

You couldn't help but smile as you looked down at him. The true definition of a gentle giant. It was beyond you how someone could look so fucking sexy and so fucking cute at the same time.

You finally crawled into bed next to him, careful not to wake him up. But as you turned over on your side to turn your nightlight off, you suddenly his beefy arm snaked its way around you and pulled you close to him.

You barely managed to flip the switch before feeling his warm chest against your back again. His beard tickled the back of your neck a little making you grin, soft snores telling you he was still fast asleep..

It felt so good, so safe, so warm, so comfortable...you dozed off with a smile on your face, and not a care in the world...

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

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[ronwestbreeze]

you’re gonna go far | 2

pairing: jake sully x neytiri x tsu'tey x fem!human!reader summary: a scientist arrives on pandora (unwillingly) a year after the exile of the rda. now she must deal with the likes of a clan leader, a great warrior, and a thanator rider. . . word count: 7.2k

read on AO3

The masks were annoying, and you decided halfway into walking through the forest. 

You were stuck between two Na’vi warriors who rode horse-like creatures while being led away from Hell’s Gate and into the unfamiliar forest surrounding the facility. The name of the creatures they rode on escaped you at the moment but all you did know was that you looked utterly ridiculous standing next to them. Like a trapped mouse. Or a bug.

They were that tall.

Anyway, back to the mask. 

While yes, they were useful—humans couldn’t breathe in the air without them, unfortunately—it still didn’t mean they weren’t an inconvenience. There was still dealing with the fogging when your breaths got too heavy or quick. Then there was the fact that you were consciously aware of some of the straps tied around the back of your neck and your jaw. For some reason, it bothered you and you couldn’t stop picking at it.

Your mother mentioned these masks a few times in her videos—even wore one at some point whenever she wasn’t in her avatar body. Sometimes her videos ended up like tutorials—or lectures about every aspect of her job, the Avatar Program, Pandora itself, or whatever created that spark in her eye, that prompted her to send you videos.

You only knew some of the information about Pandora and the Na’vi because of said videos.

That didn’t mean the masks weren’t fucking annoying though.

You didn’t say anything throughout the entire journey and the warriors didn’t offer any conversation, fortunately. 

But then again, they didn’t take too kindly to your sudden appearance in their home—or your species in general. So starting a conversation with you or you with them was out of the question.

There was still a limp in your step as you walked. Your thigh looked newly wrapped, which also told you that the wound was still fresh and hadn’t had much time to heal yet. 

You tried not to wince—or show that you were in pain for the matter. The last thing you wanted was to give them more ammo to complain about.

Not because you necessarily cared for what they thought about you.

You just didn’t have the energy.

“Demon.” One of the warriors—the one walking ahead of you—spoke suddenly, drawing you out of your internal thoughts.

You realized, after blinking, that the warriors had stopped next to a piece of land that was surrounded by what looked like newly bloomed trees and delicate-looking plants.

There was a bit of a lump in the green ground and a long-looking branch—a walking stick maybe—lodged into the ground next to the lump. Small objects decorated this stick. Beads, grass string, a long white shard—a tooth—and some other stuff you didn’t bother to look at.

All you could focus on was the lump. The ground which your mother was buried under. It looked like a couple of years had passed, with all the new growth, instead of a couple of days.

Carefully, you knelt on the ground. Carefully, you allowed your fingers to run along the regrown grass, feeling the lumps of soil and dirt underneath your fingertips. Carefully, you tackled roughly the fact that you wouldn’t be able to see your mother’s smile ever again.

You should’ve cried. But you already gave your tears away in the cell. But you hoped to have more to give. Just for your mother’s grave. Just for the flowers surrounding it.

To you, your mother was gone days ago. You wouldn’t—couldn’t accept that it was for much longer.

Silently, you stayed at the burial. Still and silent. You could’ve been a rock if you had wanted. To remain here, empty with your mother.

But the soft tickle against your right ear spurred you to move. Only slightly, just to swat at whatever was next to your ear away.

A second later it came back, but this time brushing against your left arm. You jolted back, ready to swat at it again when a voice hissed behind you.

“Don’t!”

For a while, you had forgotten that you weren’t alone with your mother. At the voice, you snapped your head over your shoulder to find the Na’vi woman from before—Neytiri—jumping down from a tree behind you. The warriors, who had been tasked to watch you, were already staring at you with intense gazes. The why, you didn’t know.

Something grazed your arm again and the reflex to swat at whatever was touching you kicked in again. You went to swing your arm but Neytiri appeared next to you, catching your arm while hissing, “I said don’t!”

You snatched your arm from her grasp instantly, “What the hell do you want—”

The rest of what you wanted to say remained stuck in your mouth when Neytiri pointed at what was bothering you for the past couple of seconds. Floating around your mother’s grave were white wisps. They moved with the wind and yet on their own accord at the same time. One of them even landed on your arm and stayed there. Despite the gentle breeze that should’ve urged it to fly away.

They reminded you instantly of dandelions. “What are they?”

You expected your question to be met with silence. But Neytiri had answered, “Atokirina. They are very pure spirits.” Instead of the severe expression she wore earlier when you met officially, it was replaced by a thoughtful one as she stared at both the—atokirina—and you. “From a very sacred tree. A tree that is very important to us.”

You continued staring at it warily. It still didn’t move from your arm. Since swatting it was a no-no, you instead gently blew at it until it finally floated from your arm. Only to rest on your injured thigh. The weight of it was nothing, but still. Why didn’t it go away?

Neytiri hadn’t gone away either which was strange. 

Instead, she motioned for the two warriors to leave. You watched them hesitate before steering their horse-like creatures away from you, your mother, and Neytiri.

The three of you were left alone now. You weren’t being surrounded. But you were still being watched. By one less person.

At first, you considered ignoring the Na’vi woman and refocusing your attention on your mother’s burial. It would’ve been easy if not for Neytiri watching you. Literally, you felt her eyes drilling into the side of your head.

“Can I help you with something?” It came out a lot more annoyed than you intended—no, actually you did intend to get your annoyance across.

It was a bitter reminder of the current situation you were forced into.

Neytiri’s ears rose. For a moment the two of you just stared at each other. Until eventually you rolled your eyes and turned your gaze back to your mother.

Then suddenly Neytiri reached for the wooden stick.

Instantly, your defenses drew up. “What are you doing?” She took the beads from the stick. You reached for her hand, “Stop. Leave it alone—”

Neytiri hissed at you and you reluctantly dropped your hands. 

You glared at her hands as she carefully removed the beads—which turned out to be attached to the grass string like some type of necklace. And delicately she held it in her hands, yellow eyes glimmering as she observed it.

For some reason, you were just angry. You didn’t know what the necklace was but you sure as hell didn’t want anyone messing with your mother’s burial. Never mind the fact that someone took the time out of their day to make it for her—a Na’vi most likely. Rationality wasn’t present right now.

All there was, all you could afford, was just anger.

“What’s your deal?” You questioned hotly. “Do you dislike me so much that you have to tamper with my mother’s grave? Do you have to come and keep an eye on me yourself? I already told you I would leave, what fucking more do you all want from me?!”

Neytiri looked up from the necklace to frown at you. Still, a thoughtful look was present in her eyes. “I want nothing from you. You have nothing to offer me, demon…” Her eyes then fell on the atokirina that still rested on your thigh. She then shook her head, “It does not matter what I want.”

Irritated and…confused, you forced yourself up to your feet. “If you want me gone that bad, then fine. Whatever. Just,” Your hands clenched together when she still hadn’t put the necklace down. Your heart twists in on itself. “Just put that back.” Neytiri looked up at you with an unreadable expression. “Please. And don’t—don’t get rid of this place. Please let her stay here even when I’m not here anymore. This was her dream. I don’t want to be the one to ruin it because of—because of everything that happened. She’s innocent.” At least that’s what you hoped.

God, you were so exhausted.

Neytiri didn’t say anything. Instead, she eyed you curiously now. You ignored her gaze and looked down at your hands.

The blisters and ash were long gone now—someone must’ve cleaned your hands while you had been unconscious during your trip to Pandora—now they were just covered in dirt. Imprints of your nails digging into your palms were still present.

Suddenly, the necklace was in your hands. It appeared longer in your hands than it did in hers.

You looked up to find Neytiri kneeling in front of you, staring at you intensely. Instantly your fingers wrapped around the object. Feeling the cool beads, the sharp white tooth, a small bone—this was a peculiar necklace. You wondered if Joan ever wore it.

“It is a songcord.” Neytiri’s voice snapped you out of your quiet thoughts. “We sing for memory.” She then pointed to one of the beads. It was a beautiful purple color, like a shell of sorts. She then pointed to a few more shells along the string until the very end. A black shell next to the bone. “Those are her memories of you. Until the end.”

The anger, you so rightfully felt, had gone and turned into true grief. It hadn’t left you. It had only been overshadowed by your rage. Grief and anger often coincided with each other lately. Sometimes you felt one more than the other.

And your eyes were filled with water once more.

Because your mother hadn’t forgotten about you. God, you were so selfish for thinking otherwise.

You were back on your knees, clutching the songcord close to your chest as silent tears fell from your cheeks and dripped noiselessly to the ground. At that moment, you didn’t care that you weren’t alone. You didn’t care that a stranger was seeing you cry—whereas others who knew you had never witnessed it.

Pandora had made you very vulnerable. Unarming your defenses and breaking you down into the child that you so desperately protected from the world.

Once you calmed down, you were still surprised that Neytiri hadn’t left you alone. One would’ve thought the sight of someone crying would’ve swayed them away. But not her.

You stood, still clutching the songcord in your hands. You didn’t look at Neytiri when you asked somberly, “Can I keep this?”

You didn’t know why you asked. Could she even stop you from taking it? Did she even care enough to stop you? None of these things you knew.

Neytiri did not respond. Her ears twitched as she adjusted her grip on the long bow she had been carrying in her other hand. She stood and you were once again reminded of how tall these people were compared to you.

She nodded her head toward the direction you had come from before with the two warriors, “Come.”

You watched as Neytiri started in that direction. You frowned, tucking the songcord away into your pants pocket—as delicately as you could. “I know my way back.”

“Come.” Neytiri just repeated as she kept going.

Not really in the mood to argue, you let your shoulders sink and followed after her.

And it wasn’t a long walk back to Hell’s Gate—the base where you had been kept—so you still didn’t understand why Neytiri had seemed so insistent in walking you back. Nor did you care to protest about it. The day had been too exhausting. You were ready to shut your eyes. Just to let your body rest.

Once you got to one of the entrances, Neytiri stayed outside, watching you silently as you entered and took off your mask. You glanced back at her with furrowed brows. Neytiri blinked and ran back into the forest. Seconds later you saw one of those winged creatures fly off into the sky.

You took out your mother’s songcord. Memorizing every detail, every bead, until it tied together and ended with the bone.

Was this hers? Was this your mother’s bone?

There was a question in the back of your mind. One that you forced away the moment you were being led to your mother’s burial. One that you had refused to acknowledge ever since DeVoe had brought you here.

DeVoe was dead. And you had some time on your hands.

Eywa hadn’t been wrong before. Neytiri had witnessed it.

With Jake. With Tsu’tey. The last time an atokirina favored someone, it had saved her clan from the Sky People. It had brought them the Toruk Makto, who united the clans together to run those sky demons off their planet. Eywa had heard them.

And Neytiri wouldn’t stop listening.

She had a dream a few nights before—before the RDA ship landed. She saw a shooting star. Flying straight toward her.

Still to this day, she wondered what that meant.

Then you came. She had spotted you first with another Sky Demon—this one reminding her too much of that one she killed, Quaritch. So, she shot an arrow through the demon’s head.

And she finally got a clearer view of you after landing and sliding off her ikran. Neytiri inched toward you with caution. She saw that you immediately didn’t get up to fight her. Instead, you just stayed on the ground and began desperately crawling toward a mask just a few feet away from you. You did not see her.

Neytiri reached the mask first and grabbed it from your reach. Your whimpers weren’t hard to hear, nor were your struggles for breath. There was no fight from you. Your body just slumped against the ground, staring up at Neytiri with glazed—almost empty eyes.

You did not fight her for the mask. You did not fight for your life.

With that knowledge, it should’ve been easy for Neytiri to leave you there. She should’ve tossed the mask far away from your body and let the toxic air consume you until your heart stopped beating. 

Because you were just another infection on her land. In her home.

“Demon.” She hissed at you before your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Just as Neytiri would’ve turned to leave and find the others, her body stopped instantly when she saw the atokirina.

It was so out of place among all the wreckage surrounding them. But still pure. Always pure.

Neytiri prayed that it wouldn’t do what she thought it was about to do. She hoped that she was wrong for assuming much.

But the atokirina landed on your forehead back then. Just as they came to you at your mother’s burial.

She could’ve left you for dead.

But Eywa hadn’t been wrong before.

She could risk it. She couldn’t be like Tsu’tey and heartlessly leave the body to rot. To suffer for invading their home. To pay for the sins they had committed. For trying to come back.

But Neytiri wasn’t like Tsu’tey. And she was fine with that.

She knelt next to you at the last second and placed the mask against your face. She had done it exactly like how she did with Jake when he had been yanked out of his body during the war. Where she nearly lost him.

She kept the mask pressed to your face, praying for forgiveness from the Great Mother. Hoping that she hadn’t missed her chance. Desperate as you were trying to reach for the mask.

You were so small in her arms. Somewhat smaller than Jake had been.

The minutes lasted achingly long until the mask began fogging up.

Neytiri sighed with relief, “Thank you, Great Mother. Thank you.”

For some reason, Eywa favored you that day. And restated it the next when you were at your mother’s burial.

The Great Mother had something in store for you. And Neytiri was quite curious to see what that meant.

Hell’s Gate was abandoned. There were still people running about of course but immediately you had a feeling this place used to be more.

“This was where the RDA and everyone else primarily lived and worked,” Norm confirmed your silent question as he led you through a long hallway, both of you holding a mask in your hands.

You would’ve groaned at the idea of putting back on a mask but right now you were quite determined. Before you left Pandora, you wanted to know one thing. That was it. It wasn’t closure. It was just the information you wanted to obtain.  Something to think about. Something that might dwindle your decision about leaving Pandora.

Both of you passed by different rooms, people who were either face first in their tablets or a deep discussion with their colleagues. Norm noticed this and cleared his throat, “There’s very few of us left here. After the RDA were exiled and all, the natives were reluctant to even allow us to stay here. Even if we did help them win. Before that, there were a lot more of us here. The good and the bad.”

Quietly, you wondered which side your mother fell on.

After putting on your exo-mask, Norm stopped at a door and pushed it open, leading the two of you outside. There, you saw more Na’vi—no, avatars running about. Exercising, manual labor, anything to do with being active.

“This is where most of the avatars come to train their new bodies. Over there are the gardens—” he pointed further toward the right of them where a bunch of tall browning crops were. And there were a lot of them. Stretching toward the trees surrounding them. You wondered if that was a part of the garden too. You wondered if your mother had a hand in that. “No one’s tended to it for a while now. We lost a good number of scientists, not enough to be in charge of it.”

Finally, Norm led you toward a building nestled in the trees. He opened the front door—which was surprisingly unlocked. The door whined from the action. It was quite old looking—no, not taken care of for a while.

“This is where your mother worked. Right in the middle of the action.” Norm explained as you entered the small shack.

It was just another lab. Just a lot larger and crowded than the ones in the main building. Crowded yet neat. Even with all the stuff in here, it was somehow still neat.

Norm cleared his throat again, “I’ll come back for you when we find a ship for you.”

You absently nodded. 

Seconds later the door closed and finally, you removed your mask. The moment you stepped forward, the lights came on. The computers at the center of the room suddenly came to life. Holographic screens floated around the room.

After placing the mask on a table next to a golf club—you didn’t even question it knowing your mother’s randomness—and approached the computers, quickly getting to work on what you wanted to find. 

Which was pretty straightforward. Mostly because you were used to your mother’s organization, her system. Apart of being an apprentice under her required you to sort out everything in a particular order. Files weren’t alphabetical but sorted according to how they would make your mother feel.

Joan Reeds was quite the eccentric scientist.

Files that put her in a good mood would be the first ones to be greeted with. You moved past those. 

Files that made her annoyed would be put aside or hidden away in another folder until she was ready to tackle them. You scrolled past that folder too. 

Then there were files that she would get to eventually—meaning she’d procrastinate on them until they were forgotten. Usually, those went into the recycle bin. And there were a lot.

You scrolled past all of these to get to what you wanted. After getting through a few of hers and the RDA’s security walls, you eventually found the locked files DeVoe had wanted you to look at.

The password space empty.

The next few minutes were spent entering passwords that you thought your mother would use. Her name, Joan. Her birthday. Your birthday. Your father’s birthday. Your late dog’s name—which you knew would’ve been wrong considering how much she hated that dog. Her cat’s name, which she left to you before her trip.

All of them were wrong.

You glanced toward the door, wondering how much time you had left before Norm came to get you. And then you took out your mother’s songcord, looking at it carefully. Memorizing every detail, feeling every bead, every object strung together. Until you found yourself staring at the end. The bone.

You wondered what type of song it was. You wondered how she would’ve sung it. You imagined her voice. Her laughter. Her twinkling eyes. Her excitement. Her infectious wonder.

The bone was rough against your callous fingers.

A word suddenly came to mind then. It was a long shot but you tried it anyway.

Placing the songcord back in your pocket, you typed in the next word after the twenty-minute password cooldown:

Shadow.

A beat went by.

And the folder opened.

There was a tug on your lips. 

Or perhaps you imagined your face breaking into a smile. You couldn’t tell. Your face had been quite stuck as a scowl. Almost like it was permanent.

A video came up first. Your mother wasn’t smiling like she always did in her videos.

“Log 238. We’re making progress on our gardens and the animals we rescued from the RDA’s latest trek through the forest.” She winced, her eyes sparkling with a hint of rage. “Selfridge is pressuring me to hurry up my research on the neurotoxin. I keep telling him that there has been no progress so far and that there would most likely never be progress. He bought it at first but he’s becoming desperate. Greedy. I can only keep up the lies for so long.”

The video ended. Which was smart. She probably didn’t want to admit the truth on camera. You imagined that the RDA had some access to these videos, so her admitting what the lie was would’ve been damning evidence. Especially if she was so protective over it.

You kept looking until you stumbled upon a folder that opened into more holographic screens. You moved the screens around, taking in all the information she had hidden. 

Turns out she did come up with something. Only it was how to develop the neurotoxin. All the information was there to remake it in their labs, to have some of their own. 

You understood then. You understood why DeVoe was so desperate to uncover what was behind the wall. Just another weapon to use against the Na’vi.

Not like they didn’t already have enough.

From the video diaries, your mother explained the darker side of her trip. She never went into too much detail but you could always tell that it bothered her. So much so that she avoided talking about it at all costs. Like she didn’t want to ruin your young fantasy the same way it had happened to her.

You found another video and your stomach lurched.

She looked pale and skinnier here. This must’ve been around the time she was sick.

“Log 324. They won’t stop. Not until they get the unobtanium from them. They’ll take and take and take until there’s nothing left. Until this is a void of a planet—and it makes me sick thinking about it. It makes me sick—knowing that I had helped, whether it was intentional or not I had helped them progress. Oh my god, oh my god. What will my daughter think? What would she think of me? Knowing I had done this? I can’t—I can’t let her see this—be a part of this. It’ll eat her alive, it’ll destroy her. Pandora is a gold mind for them. And they're not going to stop, no matter what I do. The one thing I can do, the only thing in my power I can do is hide my research. Hide it until…I don’t know. I don’t know…” 

Joan dropped her head down. Her breathing was hallow, wheezing. You shook, watching her. The corners of your eye itching harshly. 

“If any—wheeze—if any of you fucks find this…..leave her out of it. If I’m dead, my work goes with me.”

You backed away from the table, eyes wide.

She never wanted you here. She never wanted you here.

“You hear me?!” Joan shouted at the camera. “It all dies with me!”

Anger burned your blood. It spurred you into action as you grabbed the nearest object—the golf club—and grasped it tightly in your hands.

You didn’t think. 

You didn’t think one bit. All you did was swing. Swung it down on the computers, shattering the monitors, smashing the hard drives, the consoles—everything on the table that contained information. You kept going and going and going until there was a worn dent in the pole.

After those computers were surely destroyed, you moved onto the shelves, the journals, the papers—anything that held information. You destroyed it all. 

And god, it felt so good. 

Finally having an outlet to waste all your angered energy away. Finally able to let it out with both a shout of rage and with every bit of your strength left.

You screamed and you hit.

You screamed. You hit.

You screamed. You hit.

One of the monitors caught on fire. But you kept going.

You screamed. You hit.

You screamed. You hit.

You screamed. You hit.

You screamed. You hit.

The door to the lab suddenly opened. The fire had spread to the scattered papers and journals on the floor.

Smoke hadn’t reached your nose until you heard Norm’s shouts behind you. And the reddened vision began to fade into orange flames.

Somehow you were always surrounded by fire.

Behind you, Norm shouted, “What did you do?!”

You hadn’t responded. All you did was threw the worn golf club down and remained there in the room.

A shadow of yourself among the flames.

“What happened?” Jake demanded once he spotted Norm’s avatar approaching.

Just moments before, he had received reports from scouts near Hell’s Gate that there had been some type of fire. Though it wasn’t huge it was still enough to spook the locals and anger a certain Olo’eyktan. Not long after, he got a call from Norm, saying he had to meet with him urgently before Jake took off on his ikran to check out the fire. Although, he briefly wondered why he couldn’t just fly over to Hell’s Gate and meet up with him.

Norm was already on the way. So Jake had waited until he showed up.

After hopping out of the landed Samson ship, Norm raised his hands cautiously, “Well, I can explain—”

“Make it quick,” Jake grumbled, adjusting his chest strap. “I was supposed to be heading out with the scouts to check out some fire. They said it was near Hell’s Gate, Norm. What the hell is going on over there?”

He didn’t mean to sound snappy or on edge than he intended. But after that RDA ship arrived, everyone—including him—had been on edge for the past few days. Jake couldn’t sleep. Tsu’tey’s nightmares were getting worse--his mother becoming more aggravating as the days passed. There was a lot that Jake tried to juggle, tried to manage to the point where someone would eventually have to tell him to slow down and take a breath.

But it seemed Jake could never afford to “take a breath”.

Neytiri—just ducked out of their shared hut with her bow at her side as usual—was one of the people who had to often ground Jake whenever the world, his duties, did get too much. Overwhelming. And when Artsut became savage, Neytiri would become brutal. She would defend Jake with her last breath. She would take him in her arms, pulling him out of the world for a moment, and just talk to him. Talk to him about Neteyam, her hunt, anything to bring some sort of sanity back to Jake.

And he was so grateful to her. So in love with her. But he didn’t deserve her love or her support. If he had been a good husband, a good mate, he would’ve known that. Every time she or Tsu’tey just loved him, there was always guilt squeezing at his heart. Until he lost oxygen.

So to breathe, Jake protected the clan as their Toruk Makto. Kept training and learning more about the Na’vi way as best as he could. Protected Neytiri. Protected Tsu’tey. Protected Neteyam.

Be the best mate that he could. The best father that he never had.

Other than that, what was his worth to them?

“You are in the way.” Neytiri frowned at Norm. Even if Jake and Norm were friendly, Neytiri still wasn’t well adjusted to his presence—which was fair. Any human presence in the village had her on edge. “What is it you want, dreamwalker?”

Norm quickly spoke, “The fire has been contained, it didn’t spread anywhere. The only thing that was damaged was the building it started in.”

Okay, that was somewhat of a relief. But Norm didn’t look like he was done, which was why Jake couldn’t relax entirely at the news. “—It was mostly an accident. Dr. Reeds, she wasn’t in her right mind—”

“Reeds?!” Jake snapped. Of course, it was the new human that did this. Of course, you’d instantly have to start causing problems the moment you arrived here. “How the hell did she get access to a lab in the first place?!”

Norm sighed, “It was her mother’s lab. Something in there must’ve triggered her. She destroyed everything. The hard drives. The manual files. A lot of valuable research was lost.”

What was the goal here? Why pretend like to not want anything to do with Pandora or the RDA and then go and pull a stunt like this? 

In the corner of his eye, he noticed Neytiri’s face change slightly. It softened--only a little bit. And she was noticeably quiet, not having anything to say about the fact that you started the fire. A human. Which, once more, she was uncomfortable around.

“How long until she’s off this planet?” Jake instead scowled, earning a surprised look from both Neytiri and Norm.

Norm looked nervous, “That was another thing I wanted to tell you. We don’t have the resources to send her back. There’s just no way. The ship that she came in is already destroyed by the attack. We have nothing—Dr. Reeds is pretty much stuck with us.”

“Bullshit!” Jake hissed.

“We should bring her to Tsahik.”

Both men looked at Neytiri in shock. After a beat, Jake responded, “What?”

Neytiri nodded surely, “We bring her to Tsahik. She will know what to do with her.” Jake still stared at her in bewilderment. She gave him a meaningful look before addressing him in Na’vi. “You did not see it, Ma’Jake. The atokirina. They were there the day she arrived. And came again when she went to see her mother. It happened to you too. The Great Mother is telling us something. And we must hear her.”

Jake was thrown off. No, he was confused. Because Neytiri was usually the one fully against the Sky People. She held a fit of righteous anger toward them, the same for Tsu’tey. Those two would be Team Get-Rid-Of-Humans-Altogether. But now?

It wasn’t necessarily out of character though. Neytiri had always believed in Eywa. She did with him when the atokirina came to him when they first met. When she saved him--even though she could’ve just as well left him to die to those thanators. Now wouldn’t have been any different if the same thing happened again.

That didn’t mean he had to be convinced.

Jake turned back to Norm, “I want to talk to her.”

Norm sighed, “I don’t know if that’s a—”

“I want to know who exactly we’re dealing with here. She’s already shown how destructive she can be. How do we know she’s not capable of doing worse?”

Surprisingly, instead of a look of understanding—which was often Norm’s character when it came to the natives—he wore something close to offense. “She’s grieving, Jake. And yes, I know we aren’t exactly on good terms with humans outside of Pandora—but she isn’some monster. She lost her mother for Christ’s sake! It may have been years ago for us but for her, it happened a few days ago! This is all understandingly jarring to her. We have to—” He sighed tiredly, massaging his face. “At least consider that when you do talk to her. The wound is still fresh.”

Jake’s ears twitched, his walls still up. Norm could’ve been right, he could’ve considered this. And he would. He would keep it in mind.

But this situation, all of it was just terrifying. 

His nightmares, his fears—it felt like it all just came true the moment they saw that RDA ship. And in that moment Jake thought about the home he had only just started for himself. His mates—the loves of his life—his son who wasn’t even one—and the child that wasn’t even born yet. He felt, in that brief moment, all of that slipping from his fingers and burning away.

Jake was surrounded by fire. He was always surrounded by fire.

“I’ll talk to her.” Jake reiterated. He called for his ikran and seconds later Bob came flying down and landed in front of the three of them. Jake got onto the saddle and looked to Neytiri, his scowl softening. “Tell Mo’at I’ll bring her over in an hour or two.”

Neytiri nodded and rushed off. Norm shifted on his feet and pursed his lips, “Please don’t make her go all She-Hulk on you.”

Jake rolled his eyes, “I’ll meet you there.” and Bob took off.

At some point, you had fallen asleep.

Your body wouldn’t allow you to fight it any longer. Apparently, you hadn’t gotten much rest since your arrival on Pandora. It’s a wonder you didn’t pass out until now.

But then again, you were too much of a light sleeper to get a nice complete rest. Any noise, unfortunately, woke you up from your well-deserved sleep. And when you sat up and blinked the sleep away, exhaustion still weighed down your shoulders.

You looked down at your hands. There were leftover red markings from your tight grip on the golf club from earlier. 

When were your hands ever unmarked? You couldn’t remember.

The songcord was thankfully still in your pocket. You must’ve snatched it in time before being dragged out of the lab and thrown back into a cell again. That was the one thing keeping you sane here surprisingly. Holding your mother’s songcord close to your chest, letting it always touch your skin, and studying each bead every time you brought it out.

It always ended with the bone. Always. Always.

In the corner of your eye, you noticed some ash on your shirt sleeve.

Someone cleared their throat.

You looked up and then found Norm standing in front of your cell. The glass was gone. He nodded his head toward the doorway leading out of the cell room, “Jake wants to talk to you.”

You blinked, “Who the hell is that?”

“Come on, work with me here, Doc.” Norm sighed as you sluggishly got up from the cot. Gently, you tucked your mother’s songcord back into your pocket. “You met him when you first arrived here. Remember when you asked to see your mother? He was there. He’s Toruk Makto to the Omatikaya. He’s a great warrior to the People….and believe it or not he used to be like us. Human.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment as Norm led you out of the cell room. “Okay, why does he want to talk to me?”

“Because believe it or not, Reeds, you and Sully are a lot alike. Even if he doesn’t realize it. If anything, he’s probably your best bet.”

“And if he isn’t?”

Norm frowned but didn’t look at you. “I’m not sure.”

This time, you didn’t go outside—thank god. 

Instead, Norm led you to another room on the ground floor. You were quite startled to find that in this room were a bunch of tanks, occupied with many more avatars. They looked unused compared to the ones you’ve seen roaming about on the grounds.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to wonder if some of these belonged to the people who used to live here. The ones that were exiled.

There was only one avatar that stood among the sleeping ones. Or a Na’vi.

Jake Sully. This great warrior once like you. A human.

He was near one of the tubes. Looking particularly focused on this one. You couldn’t see clearly just which avatar he was looking at. Nor did you try to.

“Please, behave.” Norm squirmed. He was looking at both you and Jake when he said that before ducking out of the room.

Leaving just the two of you.

Jake finally tore his gaze away from the tube to look at you.

“You wanted to see me.” You stated rather than asked. Better to get straight to the point than to talk around it.

He sized you up carefully and frowned, “You nearly burned down a lab.”

“My mother’s lab, yes. As I currently understand it, she made it pretty clear that I was to be her successor before she passed.” Your tone was clipped. Steel gaze unwavering from his observant and stern one. “Which, I believe, means I can do what I want with it.”

“And so you thought destroying it was smart?” He scowled, obviously annoyed by your apparent unconcerned attitude. “You could’ve burned down the forest with your recklessness—if that wasn’t already your goal in the first place.”

You snorted humorlessly, “Fuck off.”

“This place has already seen war. We don’t need more of it—”

“Sure, that’s fine. So, how exactly am I going to start a war? By existing? The only person you needed to worry about starting a war is already dead so no need to worry about that anymore—”

“I don’t think you fully understand what’s going on here.” Jake snapped, yellow eyes blazing in your direction. “To the natives, you are just another infection that they have no problem getting rid of. They will kill you—especially after that little stunt you pulled with your mother’s lab. And your little attitude sure ain’t gonna fix shit for yourself—”

You laughed. And it was a sharp sound too. “I’m sorry, should I be weepy and pathetic instead? Is that what you want? The poor defenseless human whose shit outta luck? Well, I got news for you, buddy.”

His face was hard. His presence, intimidating. A Marine. Anyone would’ve faltered around him. Reconsidered their moves. Softened their spine.

But your spine was dripping with venom. And your moves were unpredictable and hazardous. Something he couldn’t contain.

Jake finally huffed, shaking his head, “Norm thinks I can help you—and I’ve known him for long enough to know that. But I can’t help someone who refuses to listen. I can’t help someone uncooperative. I can’t help a loss cause.” You glared at him. He glared back. “I understand your loss, believe me, I do. But what happens next is out of my hands. Whatever happens next is on you.”

You shrugged, every word felt like you were tasting blood with how pissed off you were, “Then it’s a good thing I don’t need your fucking help then.” Jake’s nose flared, tail lashing behind him in barely contained anger. “So why am I still on this planet? If I’m such a bother to you, a loss cause—in your words, why am I still here—”

“Because there’s no way to get you off of it,” Jake snapped.

He sounded as if he didn’t like the truth coming from his own mouth. You, on the other hand, were flabbergasted. 

So you were stuck on a planet—the same one you were forced to fly to? The same one where a bunch of Na’vi people looked at you as a moving target?

What the actual fuck?

You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. 

But every bit of your energy had gone after your rage at your mother’s lab. All you could do was feel the exhaustion get worse and your power failed you. Anger seemed too much effort to muster now. All there was…

Sluggishly, you looked up at the ceiling with a long drawn-out sigh.

Why were you even so adamant about going back home? 

What was even left for you there? Your mother was gone and so was her forest, the one thing you promised to continue while she was gone.

But you failed. The forest was gone—hell five years have passed after you left Earth. There was probably nothing even left for you to do there.

There was no point in you going back. It was all over anyway.

God, you were so exhausted.

You looked back at Jake to find him watching you quietly, now deciphering your reaction. The severity in his face was still there but now well restrained by his guarded expression. Probably wondering if you were going to throw another rage fit.

You wanted to.

Instead, you muttered, “So, I’m stuck here. Fine. What will you do with me?”

There was a long pause before Jake responded. “I can’t decide that. Our Tsahik wants to see you. Maybe she’ll figure it out—if our Ole’eyktan decides otherwise.”

“So, I’m as good as dead.” You said, almost acceptingly.

He made an uncommitted sound. Another pregnant pause went by.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to burn the forest down. Your odds could’ve been better.”

You chuckled bitterly, moving toward one of the tubes. You didn’t recognize the avatar but you studied it anyway. “If I hadn’t done that then the RDA would’ve gotten their hands on research having to do with recreating your little neurotoxin. You know that shit you use on your arrow tips? My mother discovered a way to recreate it. She died protecting that secret. And now I destroyed it permanently so no one could get their hands on it.” 

His ears twitched at this—it steadily reminded you of a cat. 

You looked up at him bleakly. “You're welcome.”

Jake didn’t say anything. You just kept staring at the random avatar. 

Somewhere in your mind, you were intrigued by it. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remembered that there was one waiting for you to use.

You wondered if you would ever be able to use it. To muster the strength to use it.

“We should go.” Jake finally said. “The Tsahik is waiting.”

taglist: @doggyteam2028 @slutforsmut4ever @lik0 @bigbootahjudy @innercreationflower

[unofficial-writing]

She Calls me Freddie (Pt. 1)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, angst, topics of pain and injuries (mostly burns)

Summary: The twins managed to buy another ticket to the world cup for you but after the Death eater attack, your trip was cut short

Word Count: 5k

Author’s Note: This series was originally from years ago and i’m so so excited to finally write and put it out. it’s so special to me and I hope you enjoy it! Welcome to part one of many <3

༺═────────────═༻

You were woken up that morning by Ginny shaking you. “Y/n.” She repeated your name a few times before she got a response. You groaned and rolled over onto your other side.

“We let you sleep as long as we could,” Hermione told you. You opened your eyes to see her sitting in front of Ginny’s mirror, doing her hair for the day. “But you won’t have any time to get ready if you don’t get up now.”

“And you will be left behind.” Ginny added with a laugh, taking her pillow and throwing it at you.

“Fine,” You said groggily, throwing the pillow back at her which unfortunately she caught. You sat up and stood quickly to avoid being tempted into lying back down again. If there was one thing you weren’t, it was a morning person. And that particular morning was the morning of the Quidditch world cup, which meant a long walk before the sun was even up.

Satisfied, Ginny returned to her mirror, standing behind Hermione to use the space above her. You walked over to your trunk, digging through it to find an outfit. Unlike the other two, you hadn’t had one planned the night before. You ended up pulling out a sweater and a pair of jeans.

“Are the boys up yet?” You asked as you got dressed, sleep still masking your voice even though you were starting to wake up. Ginny shook her head.

“We haven’t checked yet but I doubt it.” She replied, not bothering to pull her attention away from what she was doing. “I don’t think they’ll get up until they’re forced.” It didn’t take long for the three of you to be ready and leave your room. You split up to go wake the others, Ginny and Hermione heading to Ron’s room and you to the twins’.

You climbed a couple flights of stairs and strode down the hall to Fred and George’s room, giving a swift knock to the door. “Boys!” You called, waiting for a response. After a second knock and nothing, you sighed and opened the door. Both the twins were sound asleep, Fred covered with at least three blankets and George snoring.

“Fred, George, do you realize what time it is?” You asked and with a quick swish of your wand, the lamps in the room were lit. The sun was only just starting to rise, therefore it was still dark in the house.

George responded by covering his eyes, even though the lamps weren’t all that bright. “God, y/n.” he complained. Fred on the other hand was too buried in his blankets to notice.

You sighed and walked over to his bed, removing the first layer of blanket. “Fred, get up.” You told him, hearing only him mumble something inaudible as a response.

“Hm?” You responded. The boy grabbed onto your arms in an attempt to pull you down with him. He failed however, giving up since he was still half asleep. You were able to plant your feet and get out of his grasp. “Poor choice of timing to try and get me in your bed.” You huffed, pulling off the last blanket which got him up quickly. “If I have to be up right now, so do you.”

“Good morning to you too.” Fred yawned, resting his head in his hands.

Once they were both sitting up and looked like they weren’t about to fall back to sleep, you walked out their door, turning back around before closing it. “After breakfast, we’re leaving. And nobody is safe from being left behind.” You announced to them what Ginny had said with a hint of teasing in your voice, hoping it would be enough incentive to keep them awake.

─────────────────────────

Downstairs you greeted Molly, who was still working on breakfast. Since you were the first one down, you helped her finish. “Oh thank you, dear!” She said, giving you a warm smile.

Ginny and Hermione were next to come down, followed by Arthur, Harry, and Ron. It was only after you were all seated that the twins came down too. George was first and looked like he was still asleep. “Glad you decided to join us after all.” You said as he sat down across from you.

“Don’t you start, y/n” he groaned, leaning his head back in his chair.

When Fred came down he was wide awake, his long legs taking him out of the stairs and into the kitchen. He ruffled your hair and sat down beside you, close enough that you could smell the faintest scent of gunpowder off of him.

“So last night we were working on these fireworks.” He started to explain, confirming the smell. “We’ll have to show you.”

“Ohhh, is that why you wouldn’t get up?” You inquired with a smile. He rolled his eyes playfully.

“Oh please, like Hermione and Ginny didn’t have a hard time waking you.” He returned. As you talked, you pointed briefly to his food, reminding him to start eating it before he got too distracted by talking. “Once you’re asleep— thanks— nothing can get you up without someone ending up injured.”

“No, that’s only when you wake me up.” You corrected. “And George.” The both of you glanced in his direction, only to see him sound asleep in his chair. Ron beside him slapped his arm, waking him up with a jolt. He sighed and sat back up, returning to his breakfast.

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You left most of your belongings at home, bringing only what you needed for the game that night. The world cup was one of, if not the most important quidditch event in the world. You watch it remotely every year, but this year the twins surprised you with a ticket.

To get there you all would travel by portkey, but it was a hike to get to it. Now on that hike, you found yourself following Arthur Weasley on a wide trail through the woods. He was in an extremely good mood. Everyone was today. Even those who weren’t a fan of quidditch were excited for the event today.

“We’ll be meeting Amos Diggory.” Arthur announced. “And his son, Cedric, which you boys have met.” He gestured to Fred and George. You had met him once a few years ago as well, but you were in a different house and you didn’t get the chance to interact much.

The group reached a large tree where the two waited. “Arthur!” Amos greeted him, he carried a large pack and hiking stick. “It’s about time, son!” Cedric walked up beside him, sporting a smile. He was rather handsome, with friendly eyes and brown curls atop his head. You noticed that he glanced at you first.

“Sorry Amos! Some of us had a bit of a sleepy start.” He replied, turning to look back at his son’s. On cue, Ron let out a yawn.

“You’ve met my boys,” Arthur started and then introduced the rest of you.” This is my daughter Ginny and here is Harry, Hermione and y/n. This is Amos Diggory, everyone. He works with me at the ministry.” The man lifted his head in a friendly way. Arthur then turned to Cedric.

“And this strapping young man must be Credric, am I right?” He asked, shaking the boys hand.

“Yes, sir.” Was his response, that smile glued to his face. After introductions were finished, the group proceeded again down the trail. But Cedric stayed back to greet you.

“Y/n.” Cedric spoke in a charming tone, giving a polite kiss to the back of your hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again.”

“You as well, Cedric.” You responded with a chuckle, wearing kind expression on your face. He mimicked it and walked back up to the front of the group. Hermione beside you nudged you with her elbow and gave you a smirk. Behind you, Fred and George exchanged a look, subtle enough to go unnoticed by you. But you hear one of them huff.

“I think he fancies you,” Ginny whispered in a playful voice, leaning in close to be unheard by the rest.

“Oh no, Gin. Y/n only has eyes for your brother.” Hermione added quickly, immediately receiving a glare from you. Laughter erupted from the two girls.

“Shush, both of you!” You told her, glancing back to see if anyone heard. The twins looked occupied with whatever they were talking about. “And I don’t like Fred any more than usual.” Which would normally be true. But there was a different dynamic between you recently. Nothing about your friendship had changed but you had certainly grown closer recently. But the topic wasn’t something you wanted to dive into at that moment, on your hike to the portkey.

─────────────────────────

After around an hour more of walking, you came out into a huge field of yellowish-green grass. You had felt the uphill climb for a while now and that was confirmed upon seeing a cliff that dropped downward a little ways off. Beyond it lay the sea, its blue surface darker with the overcast weather that morning. As you worked your way closer, you could taste the air develop a hint of salt and feel the wind pick up.

“It’s just up here!” Arthur called, pointing up the hill where an old leather boot sat. It stood up among the grass as if it was planted there, which it likely had been. As your neared it you were instructed to spread out so that everyone had a spot around it.

“Why are we all gathered around that manky old boot?” Harry asked. You imagined he’d never seen a portkey before before, given that he was raised outside the wizarding community.

“That’s not just any manky old boot, mate.” Fred started, settling into a spot next to you.

“It’s a portkey.” George finished, readjusting the bag he carried over his shoulder. Harry followed to find a spot around the boot.

“Time to go!” Amos announced and began counting. “Three..” you shared a look with Fred, placing your hand on the boot with everyone else. You knew what a portkey was, but you’d never actually traveled by one before “Two..”

“Harry!” Arthur called. The boy didn’t have a hold on the boot. He quickly grabbed it before Amos finished counting.

“One!” As he spoke the portkey lifted off the ground, taking us with it. It began to spin, fast enough that you closed your eyes to avoid dizziness. The spinning lasted somewhere around thirty seconds and once it stopped, you were dropped onto the ground. You groaned at the impact, opening your eyes to see the portkey had gone but the rest of the group was down around you. Arthur, Amos, and Cedric, however, had landed gracefully and now walked past you. Arthur beckoned you to follow.

“Come on, this way!” He called. You sat up, rubbing the back of your head. It had a dull ache, but it faded quickly.

“Plan on sleeping here?” Fred asked, making his way to you and offering his hand.

“Oh shove off, Freddie.” you replied, taking it. He pulled you to your feet easily and walked with you to the rest of the group. You climbed up a slope and when you reached the top, the game grounds came into view.

“Bloody hell.” Ron got out, taken by the sight. There were rows and rows of tents in the outer edge, all with different festive decorations. As you moved inward there were tents selling everything from flags to fireworks, which there were no shortage of.

As you walked through the tents, a few were set off right next to you. They stretch up and burst into colorful sparks, raining back down and forming different shapes and figures.

“Those are brilliant!” George exclaimed, lifting his head to watch as we walked. Smiled and laughter filled the group as you made your way through the maze of festivities. That’s when you parted from the Diggorys.

“See you later, Cedric,” George called out to him as Arthur led the rest in the opposite direction, eventually bringing you to a small tent.

“Don’t worry, it’s much bigger on the inside.” You elbowed Harry playfully after seeing his puzzled expression. You ducked into the tent, which opened into a huge space with multiple different rooms off the main.

“Ok, Girls on the left and boys on the right!” Arthur called out. On your side, there were three beds where each of you dropped your bags. You took out a small paint bag out and brought it into the main room.

“I have face paints for us,” You started, pulling the colors out and setting them on the table. “But I imagine we’ll want some other stuff too. Like hats and flags.”

“We can go get some then,” Fred suggested, stepping down into the room. “They have all the tents just a few down from us.”

“Yeah, let’s go now before it gets too busy.” You responded, abandoning the table and standing to head for the tent’s exit. George came into the room, crossing his arms.

“Be back in time to paint my face, y/n!” George yelled as you left the tent, followed quickly by Fred. You two navigated the area, starting to make your way to the shops. There was a tent for everything you could think of.

“Fred, let’s get a firework!” You exclaimed, taking his arm and bringing him to a vendor. Little sparks fluttered around his tent in all different colors and shapes. “Which is a good one?”

Fred looked about the explosives, eventually landing on a large circular one, with a long stick out the bottom. “This one.” He handed the man a galleon, taking the firework in one hand and your hand in the other.

“Careful where you light that thing!” The vendor called as you were led through the crowd and into a small clearing.

“This looks like barely enough room.” You told him, helping him set the rocket into the ground.

“As long as it’s pointed up,” He started, positioning it correctly. He held a hand out for your wand, which you offered to him. “It won’t bother anyone down here.”

He flicked your wand to summon a spark, which started to move up the little wick toward the firework. As soon as it was lit, Fred stood and pulled you back with him. It went off with a whistle, reaching a little ways above the tents before bursting into a huge explosion. Sparks danced above you before raining back down and eventually fading into nothing. Fred cheered and gave you a high five.

“Now that’s a firework.” He said with both hands still on your shoulders, flashing you a smile. It warmed your chest and gave you an almost giddy feeling.

Fred slipping your wand back into your pocket for you and then you were off again. You went down the aisle of tents, stopping here and there to pick up things like flags, hats, and scarves. You even stopped briefly at a jewelry tent after it had caught your eye.

“Oh, I love this one.” You said pointing to a woven bracelet containing small stone beads.

“Really? You’ve never been much of a jewelry person.” He responded, which was correct. You didn’t really have anything against jewelry, you just never wore anything except for earrings and the occasional bracelet.

“Bracelets are an exception.” You explained. “Maybe I can come back and get it after the game.” You moved on from the stand, continuing down the aisle. You now approached the stadium.

“We probably have everything we need.” You started. “Do you—” You turned around to find that Fred had fallen behind and was now walking to catch up. Once he reached you, you asked again.

“Do you want to go back to the tent?” You asked. He nodded in response.

“Yeah, you still need to paint my face.” The boy reminded you, pointing to his cheek. You chuckled and led him back in the other direction.

─────────────────────────

Once you were back at the tent, you broke out the paints. Ginny offered to help so you showed her the basics of it. She ended up doing Ron and Hermione as well as herself. You started with Harry

“Ok, which team?” You asked, prepping one of your brushes.

“I’ll go with Bulgaria.” He requested. “Just one flag though.” You painted the red and black onto his cheeks which he thanked you for. After that you did George, who wanted the same but with the Irish colors and a flag on both cheeks. Once he was done, Fred sat down in front of you with his legs crossed.

“Ok, I’m thinking a huge clover. Covering my entire face.” He gestured to his face, picking up the brush and handing it to you. You laughed, putting a hand onto the side of his face to hold him straight and painting with the other.

“I hope you’re not kidding when you say your entire face.” You said, focusing on what you were doing, which was difficult because the boy kept making faces at you. You had made his entire face white and the clover quite literally covered nearly every inch of it.

“I’m not.” Fred responded. He had given up on making faces and now just gazed at your eyes, which you would argue was even more distracting. Once you were finished, you handed him a small mirror.

“Exactly what I was imagining!” He said, taking your brush from you. “Now it’s your turn.”

“I can probably do it myself, Fred.” You replied, raising an eyebrow. If you knew Fred Weasley, you knew it was safer not to hand him face paint. He gave you a look.

“What? Worried I’ll put a giant clover on your face?” He asked sarcastically. You shook your head, absolutely horrible at saying no to him.

“Fine, just do a flag for me.” You instructed, handing him your paints, but you interrupted him before he could start. “But If you mess up my face, Fredrick Weasley, I’ll never let you touch it again.”

“I won’t! God, woman.” Fred laughed as he spoke. He put a hand under your chin, holding your jaw to keep your head still while he painted. To get back at him, you made direct eye contact with him, chuckling as he struggled to keep his eyes from drifting to yours.

After he finished one cheek he moved onto the next, but the brush strokes were definitely not making a flag. “Freddie?”

“Hm?”

“What are you putting on my face?”

“Just trust me, love.” He assured, glancing down to your eyes for a moment before continuing. You sighed and Fred tilted your chin gently to the side so he could see it better. Once he was done he leaned back to examine his work, taking a little too long before he said anything.

George across the room looked at Ron and started fake gagging, both of them laughing shamelessly. Fred rolled his eyes and handed you your little mirror. He had put the Irish flag on one side and three small clovers on the other. When you looked back up at him he had a smile, knowing you liked it.

“I’m impressed.” You said. “You’re gonna take my job if I’m not careful.”

“Told you, I’m a natural.” He replied, leaning back on the couch. You chuckled, setting the mirror back down on the table.

─────────────────────────

Once the sun went down, you and the rest of the group made your way to the stadium. Your seats were at the top level so it required climbing several flights of stairs that sprouted up just beyond the entrance. About one flight up you were stopped by the Malfoys, the father and son pair. You hadn’t really spoken to either of them personally but they had always seemed like prats from the interactions you heard about.

“Blimey dad, how high up are we?” Ron asked, leaning over the railing to try and see down into the stadium.

“Well let’s put it this way.” Lucius started, leaning into his cane. “If it rains, you’ll be the first to know.” Most of us ignored them and continued walking but Harry and Hermione stopped when Draco chimed in.

“Father and I are in the minister’s box.” He added, giving Harry a smug look. “By personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself.”

“Don’t boast, Draco.” His father scolded, jabbing him with his cane. “There’s no need with these people.” Harry grabbed Hermione’s arm, turning her away from the Malfoys. Before he lifted his other hand from the rail, Lucius used the snake end of his can to trap it. Harry jumped at the sudden pain.

“Do enjoy yourself, won’t you? Lucius said. “While you can.” He released his hand and you reached down to put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, turning him away from them again. This time they continued going their own way and you were able to make it up to your seats.

This was the first time you could get a good look into the stadium. Below you were an ungodly number of levels, stretching down to the bottom where the field resided. On either side of the green, three posts grew upward, the hoops at the top almost as high up as you were.

Cheers and whoops came from every direction, filling your ears with the sound. “When does the game start?” You called out over the applause. Fred leaned down to answer but was interrupted by the formation of brooms speeding by above, seeming to just barely miss the top of your heads. White and green clouds trailed behind the players as the flew toward the center of the stadium, creating a firework display there.

Then the Bulgarian team entered, crashing directly through their show and throwing off the display. They flew in a triangle formation, sporting their red and black colors. At the front, the team’s seeker led the group, showing off as he passed through the audience.

“Who’s that?” Ginny asked.

“That sis, is the greatest seeker in the world!” George answered. His voice nearly drowned out by the crowd. Somehow the applause managed to grow lauded than it was before the seeker, Viktor Krum, had made his entrance.

The game lasted for a long time, only coming to an end when Krum caught the snitch. His catch handed the win over to the Irish, who ended up with around twenty more points in total.

─────────────────────────

Back in the tent you all celebrated, giddy on the excitement of earlier in the day. You found yourself wrapped in the Irish flag that Fred had picked out, watching them goof around. A loud explosion went off outside, sounding like one of the larger fireworks you had seen.

“There’s no one like Krum.” Ron started, standing up on the table. “He’s like a bird the way he rides the wind.” Fred threw another flag at him, which he caught and balled up in front of him.

“He’s more than an athlete, he’s an artist.” Ron continued, clearly infatuated with the quidditch player.

“I think you’re in love, Ron.” You said, earning a look from him.

“Viktor, I love you!” George sang, taking his brother’s arm.

“Viktor, I do!” Fred added, taking his other one.

“When we’re apart my heart beats only for you!” Everyone finished, being cut off by another big firework going off, followed by shouting from a ways away.

“Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on.” Fred stated, smoothing his hair out of his face. Arthur, who had been gone for a few minutes, entered the tent again, grabbing his son’s shoulder.

“It’s not the Irish.” He said in a tone that made your smile drop. He crossed the tent to reach Ginny. “We’ve got to get out of here, now.”

The scene outside was completely different from what you thought you had heard. The fireworks really had been big explosions. Tents were on fire and people fled screaming.

“Get back to the portkey everyone, and stick together!” Arthur commanded, turning to the twins. “Ginny is your responsibility, do not lose her!” He handed her off, George taking her arm and keeping ahold of her.

The chaos had delayed your reaction time while you tried to process the sudden terror. It took another explosion and more screams to break you out of it. George began running with Ginny in tow and you watched them weave through the mess.

“Y/n!” Fred yelled, taking your hand and gripping it tightly. He dragged you through the tents, following quickly behind George. He hadn’t accounted for the height difference and that you would be slightly slower than him because he continued to lead you through until you started to trip.

“Fred,” you managed to get out, the smell of smoke and burning fabric climbing into your throat. He slowed down a little, probably just considering picking you up at that point. As you passed a larger tent, you suddenly tripped over a pile of debris and Fred quickly turned to grab you. Another explosion hit, sending the tent up in flames and you two to the side. Burns tore at your leg.

The flag, which you didn’t even realize you still carried, caught fire and pain seared through your shoulder as you tried to rip the slip of fabric off. Fred hauled you to your feet, yanking the flag away and tossing it to the side.

“Are you ok?” He yelled above the chaos, his eye darting to your arm and then your leg. You winced but nodded and continued moving. Finally both of you came out onto the hill again. It was dark, but you made it to the bottom where the portkey was.

You had to stop there, gritting your teeth from the untreated burns. Fred slipped an arm around your waist to help support you. After looking around, you saw that only George, Ginny, and Arthur had made it back. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were nowhere in sight.

“Where are the others?” You asked. Arthur looked around the incomplete group.

“Stay here!” He ordered, heading back up the hill. “Whatever you do, do not go back in there!” He disappeared back into the chaos.

“Are you ok?” Fred asked his siblings, who seemed shaken but unharmed.

“A couple scratches but nothing severe.” George replied. You patted Fred’s arm so he’d let you sink to the ground. He took your hand to help you get there, unintentionally letting out a wince. You let go to see a nasty burn where he had grabbed the flag.

“Fred, your hand.” You pointed out, but he shook his head and pulled it away.

“Don’t worry about me.” He replied quickly. Then Hermione and Ron came running down the slope. But Harry wasn’t with them. Hermione landed beside you, setting down her smaller bag which she had managed to save.

“Y/n, what happened?” She asked. the burns were painful but the adrenaline hadn’t worn off so they weren’t yet unbearable.

“Where’s Harry?” You asked her, ignoring her question. She looked around, finding that Harry wasn’t there. She then frantically dug through her bag, pulling out a roll of bandages and some sort of cream. They were muggle supplies, which you had some knowledge on since one of your parents was a muggle.

“Ginny!” Hermione called to the girl, who was looking much younger now. “Wrap her burns, like I showed you!” She turned back around and headed up the hill with Ron, despite George’s protests.

“I’ll show you, Gin.” You said, gritting your teeth. She came over, kneeling down beside you. “Rip the pant leg.” Ginny was able to tear it easily since it was mostly singed anyway. Fred and George grimaced at the burns it revealed.

“Put the cream on and then wrap it.” You instructed, trying to speak calmly through the quickly growing pain. You held your burned arm in your uninjured, the whole side of your body now stinging. She did as you said, the cream bringing some relief to your leg.

Under your instruction, she took of your jacket, decently wrapped your shoulder and arm, and then got your jacket back on to shield the injuries.

“Thank you, Ginny. That was perfect.” You assured her, the stinging was now muted but still very much so present. You heard her sigh in relief at your words.

With your burns covered for now, you took Fred’s hand and wrapped it carefully, apologizing with every sound he made. After a while the screams and explosions had died out, leaving the black, smoky remains of the festival grounds. It wasn’t until about an hour after Arthur had left that he retuned, Hermione, Ron, and Harry now following behind him.

“Is everyone ok?” He asked, making his way through the group. Fred and George helped you onto your feet.

“Y/n got the worst of it,” George explained, leaving you with Fred. “The rest of us are ok.”

“Ginny bandaged everything.” You said, heaving a sigh. “I’ll be alright.”

“Well done, Ginny.” Arthur praised, putting a hand on her shoulder. After a final headcount, you all grabbed ahold of the portkey and took it back home. The walk back was brutal, but both Fred and George helped you and once you were there you received better medical attention. By the next morning you were nearly back to normal.

“How are you feeling?” Fred asked as you walked into their bedroom, noting that you were no longer limping. You expected George to be sitting there too but he wasn’t in the room.

“Better now,” you told him, sitting down on his bed with your back against the wall. “Your mother fixed me right up. But I’ll probably have those scars for a while.”

He chuckled, coming to sit down beside you. Fred pulled you into a big hug, sighing. “Sorry you tripped, I was just trying to get you out of there.” He apologized, releasing you from his embrace. You sat back against the wall again, wanting him to hold you for longer.

“I know, Freddie. Don’t worry about it.” You assured, giving him a soft smile. He returned it. His green eyes gave you that same look they did while you were painting his face.

You sighed. School hadn’t even started yet and you could tell this wasn’t going to be a quiet year. But not even those burns could make you trade it for anything else.

─────────────────────────

Click here for part 2!

[fumekara]

MORE THAN ANYTHING 

Kento Nanami x Gn reader 

n/a: English is not my first language, besides, this Fic comes from a draft taken some time ago. I hope you enjoy it. It is my first time back to writing in a long time. 

Tw: Just pure fluff and soft sfw, I would like to specify that this post does not contain any type of sexual content. The title is inspired by HH's song. 

WC: 1.1K

That night you could not fall asleep.

After turning yourself several times on the sheets of the bed, on which you had lain a couple of hours before, you looked at the half-open door through which a dim light filtered from the living room, giving the bedroom a thread of light in the darkness of the night.

You hoped your man would decide to drop the papers and paperwork he often brought home from work and come to bed with you, wrapping you in his arms so you could finally sleep in complete bliss as you usually did.

"I'll be right with you, it won't take long," he had told you when you proposed to sleep with him after you both went through a long day at work.

However, this was one of those evenings when Kento would spend hours on the kitchen table filling out paperwork late into the night. Although he hated office work, he was always diligent and meticulous when it came to completing his tasks.

It was a characteristic that made you feel proud of the man you loved, yet no matter how responsible and careful he was in managing his time and energy, you were sure he was beginning to place less importance on his rest. You wanted so much for him to give up those silly practices and take the rest he deserved.

After staring at the ceiling for an hour, you sat on your side of the bed, shivering from the sudden cold due to the lack of blankets, and looking at the bedside table you saw that 00:50 was written on the screen. And even today he worked late 

You got up and, making as little noise as possible, took small steps towards the living room.

Kento was writing something on his laptop, surrounded by a pile of papers divided into folders of various kinds lit by the light of the monitor and the lamp you kept in the corner of the kitchen.

He noticed your presence and gave you a small, tired smile, giving your heart some warmth.

"Are you still awake, love?" He asked as he leaned against the back of the chair.

"I could tell you the same thing," you replied a little sleepily, returning the smile and moving closer to the blond. As sorry as you are that he was exhausted from work, you couldn't help but think about how handsome he was. Even though you'd been together for a few years, the love you felt for this man had always had that effect on you. I've been waiting for you,' you said, heading towards him. 

You sit on his lap and he wraps his big arms around you, you notice that the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up and show off his forearms, something he always did when he came home. Leaning his head on your shoulder and inhaling deeply, he loses himself in your scent and warmth. Suddenly all the tiredness he had put aside to work on his papers came over him like a wave of a stormy sea, but the fact that you were there with him gave him a feeling of comfort.

He always felt at home with you. 

"I'm sorry Y/N". He rubbed his head in the crook of your neck "I was late again without me noticing" he said, planting a chaste kiss on an exposed spot on your shoulder.

Gently you brushed his hair back with one hand, while with the other you closed the laptop he was working on just now, making it clear that it was time for him to take the rest he so richly deserved.

"Come to sleep, Kento, it's not good for you to stay here late and I miss you," you said as you rested your head on his soft hair on your cheek.

"I know, you're right," he lifted his chin, placing a kiss on your neck, "I don't like leaving you alone either."

Lifting your head slightly, you turned to stare at him, touching his cheek lovingly as you looked intently into his eyes.

Pure love

You couldn't have found any other words to describe the way he looked at you whenever you were in situations like this, alone, with no one else to interrupt you, without Gojo, just the two of you. He made you feel loved, important, and you often thought back to the moment you realized you had fallen in love with him.

As a result, Nanami couldn't understand how he could have you in his life, how lucky he was to have you and how much he regretted making you go through nights like this when he left you alone. He felt selfish and the only thing he wanted at that moment was to go to bed and wrap you in his arms with your head against his chest. 

You remained in that position for a long time, a wonderful feeling for both of you. He placed his face on yours and then gave you a kiss on the cheek savoring the aroma.

Without saying anything, you got up from his lap, took his hand without taking your eyes off his and, after switching off the lights, slowly guided him towards your shared bedroom.

"I'm sorry I don't spend much time with you," he said as he shed his work clothes, "I don't want you to stay up because of me, but I appreciate you doing so." After slipping into his sweatpants, he settled next to you in bed as you wrapped him with the quilt.

"You don't have to apologize for working so hard, you have done and are doing a great job. I just want you not to overdo the work, everyone deserves a break and you especially." After turning off the lights you lie down beside him and feel him encircling your waist with his arm "Don't think you are being mean to me Kento, you always do so much for me, you show me that every day and remind me every time you look at me." 

In the darkness you could glimpse his small smile that made your heart melt.

"Come here," he told you as he felt butterflies in his stomach, as if he had managed to fall in love with you even more than before.

More than anything. 

You felt his grip envelop you even more as you brought faces closer and met lips in a chaste, soft, pure kiss. 

When you pulled away, you rested your head on his chest and closed your eyes.

"I love you Y/N."

"I love you too, darling." 

You both fell asleep wrapped in bliss.

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

APRIL FOOLS, I HAVE A PREVIEW FOR YA!

This is no joke! I have a preview of Part 2 of "Dress Up" for y'all. The prank was that I said previously that I was taking a small break from writing but GET PRANKED cuz here's a sneak peak!

The ~~~ indicate flashbacks!

No active warnings for this part, only slight inferences of sexual things! But don't worry, there will be smut later in the chapter hehe~

"You know, if you don't quit pacing back and forth, you're gonna wear out the carpet," Husk remarked, attempting to get Lucifer's attention in his anxious state.

It had only been a week since the proposal and the wedding was already here. But this is what you both wanted; a nice quiet wedding with only a handful of people with everyone else in Hell being none the wiser. You had to beg Lucifer for the week you got in between, he was practically ready to say "I do" once he put that engagement ring on your hand. It may have seemed like you two were moving a little bit fast considering most weddings take months, sometimes years to plan out! But when you're marrying the King of Hell, there really was next to nothing to worry about when it came to your special day.

The new hotel was the perfect venue, complete with a beautiful ballroom that could rival any chapel on Earth. The guest list was extremely exclusive consisting of only the occupants of the hotel, minus one Radio Demon, not that he would attend even if he was invited. It was Charlie who suggested that he protect the hotel today from any threat that might make itself known. On top of that, Charlie was more than happy to be the officiant, as being the Princess of Hell granted her that authority. Money was no object to the Morningstar family, so no expense was spared.

But regardless of any of that, Lucifer couldn't help but worry. You had one other request for him after he popped the question.

~~~

"I hate to ask more of you after asking for a week to prepare," you started, putting on the last of your clothes that you had discarded during your fun little teasing display, "but..." Lucifer approached you suddenly and held your hand in both of his.

"My love, you can ask of me anything you wish. There is no limit when it comes to you. You've already given me the best gift of becoming my future bride. Anything in my power is yours for the asking, you just name it!" He leaned down and planted a small kiss on the back of your hand. You couldn't help but blush, he never failed to charm you.

"This may sound a little odd, considering what just took place a few minutes ago," you breathed out a sigh, "but...what would you say to refraining from any...intense intimacy?" Lucifer cocked his eyebrow and smirked, seemingly intrigued. "B-but only for this week, I promise! Kissing and cuddling would still be on the table, of course. And no deliberate teasing from me, that wouldn't be fair. I was just thinking that...I want our first night as a married couple to be special. And I figured holding off for the time in between would only heighten the experience. If that's not something you want, I completely understand that-MMPH," you were silenced by Lucifer's soft lips on yours.

"Oh darling, was that all?," he flashed his signature toothy grin at you. "That's hardly a request! I think that's a wonderful idea...n-not that I don't want to ravish you at any given time! But you're right, I couldn't imagine a better honeymoon than getting the chance to feel you again after being denied for a few days, even though it may feel like an eternity. I'll be on my best behavior; you have my word!"

~~~

And Lucifer was on his best behavior, for the most part, at least. There were a few instances where his hands had traveled a little too low on your body and some kisses became deeper than they should have. But both of you managed to make it through the week! But today was the day, and his anxiety was at an all-time high. You decided to sleep in separates rooms the night before, wanting the next time you saw each other to be at the altar. That was the plan, at least.

It had been a while since Lucifer had slept alone. Suffice to say he couldn't sleep. He assured you that he would be alright sleeping alone for just one night, but that ended up being easier said than done. The empty bed he laid in brought back painful memories of his first night without Lilith, something that still haunted him to this day. There would be times where Lucifer would wake up in a cold sweat, only to glance over to see you peacefully asleep, and he could breathe again. Anytime you felt him tug you closer to him in the middle of the night, you knew what had woken him up. He never hid his feelings from you when he confided in you about his ex, and you didn't mind that he would wake you when his nightmares overwhelmed him. You loved him and he loved you. You would never leave. So when you heard your door creek open in the middle of the night to see your fiancé standing in the door frame, you only smiled and gestured him to you.

~~~

"I-I'm sorry," he sobbed quietly, "I tried...I really did...I-"

"Hey, hey, shh, it's alright," you soothed and brought him into a tight embrace. You felt a tear that had fallen from his face make its way down your collarbone. "Don't cry, Luci, I'm not upset, not at all." You lifted his head up to wipe away his remaining tears. "Let's get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow." You planted a kiss on his forehead, and from the dim red light that shown through your windows, you could see a small smile appear on his face. He laid down, his back facing you as you wrapped your arms around him and brought him flush to your chest. You could hear his breathing start to even about again.

"I don't deserve you," he murmured.

"You know I think the same thing every day," you responded.

He interlaced his fingers with yours at your words, squeezing you hand softly. "Promise me you'll never think that again. Please. You deserve everything and more."

"Alright," you conceded, kissing the back of his head, "as long as you promise me the same thing. You're my everything, and I'll spend the rest of my afterlife showing you that."

"Okay," he spoke weakly. You intertwined your legs with his, bringing yourself as close to him as possible. "I still intend to keep my other promise. I'll be gone before you wake up."

"You can stay as long as you need to," you whispered before drifting off to sleep once more.

~~~

[sunshyni]

big boy energy

Jisung × Fem!reader

notes: this is my first text in English, so I'm feeling nervous 😬 English is not my native language, so forgive me for any errors or mistakes like that!! And that's it!! I hope you enjoy it!!

w.c: 0,7k

tw: none

I don't even know if this is good. I write more to see how my English vocabulary is doing, but anyway!!

Good read, sweeties!! ❤️

Your older brother's getting married in a few months, and dance lessons were scheduled for the couple and the godparents to avoid any embarrassment on the big day. Right now, you have no clue who your dance partner will be because your brother keeps saying, “Her right dance partner will show up any minute”.

You're chilling in a chair, adjusting your high heels for dancing, when you hear a noise from the salon door, and your eyes immediately snap in that direction.

— Hey guys, am I late? Sorry, my flight was delayed — Says the guy standing by the door. Jisung looks taller and stronger than the last time you saw him, but he still has that same sparkle in his eyes from when you were kids. Jisung, just two years older than you, used to mess with your braids all the time.

It was tough when he left town to study and work in Korea, his country of origin. You couldn't help but miss him, even though it seemed like he didn't give a damn about leaving you behind.

You kinda resented him for that because you've always had a thing for him, but he either didn't notice or didn't feel the same. I mean, you used to like him, but now that you see him another time, your heart can't help but race.

— Jisungie! You're not tired, are you? — Your brother asks. Jisung, dressed all black, looks even hotter than usual — I've got a mission for you.

— I'm good, let's do it — Jisung says, meeting your gaze with a nostalgic sweetness. You finally stand up, and thankfully, you don't trip and fall flat on your face.

— You'll be dancing with my sister, okay? — Your brother practically pushes Jisung in your direction. Jisung smiles at you, and all you can do is cross your arms and scowl.

— I hate you both — You mutter to Jisung and your brother as he heads back to his fiancée, sticking his tongue out at you in a teasing way. The dance teacher starts the class, and you even have the chance to complain to Jisung. He holds you tighter, causing you some agitation, but all you can focus on is trying to breathe normally while his face is so close to yours.

— Did you miss me, shawty? — He asks, leading the dance with skill, not like the same boy from years ago who learned to salsa from “Shall We Dance?” while you were sighing over the charmer Richard Gere.

— I'm not giving you the answer you want, Andy Park — You say, and Jisung chuckles softly in your ear, sending shivers down your spine, but you brush them off, wrapping your arms around his neck like they were made to be there.

— I prefer when you call me Jisungie, babe.

— I preferred it when you didn't leave me alone, babe — You retort, stepping on his feet. Jisung lets out a low groan but still holds you close, dancing like there's no one else in the room.

— I'm sorry for letting you down all this time. I'm an asshole, it's true — Jisung admits, acknowledging all the times you two didn't talk when you really wanted to, even if it was just to argue, something you did a lot as kids — Can we make peace, pretty please? Go back to the way things used to be?

You hesitate for a moment before letting a small smile slip.

— Like the old times, huh?

— But this time, I really wanna kiss you — Jisung whispers in your ear, and your heart feels like it's about to leap out of your chest. You feel his cheek against yours, and if you don't answer him soon, you might just pass out.

— Andy...

— Keep calling me like that, and I'll kiss you right here, not giving a fuck about your brother and my best friend — He says, planting a soft kiss on your cheek, leaving you dizzy with his scent filling the room, making it hard to breathe. You muster up the courage to speak, looking into his eyes.

— When did you get this big boy energy?

— I don't know, but you better enjoy it, cutie.

[stayandot8]

Insomnia

Genre: Smut, 18+. Minors, do not interact

Relationship type: established boyfriend/girlfriend

Important Contents: smut, so 18+. MDNI. Oral (fem rec., p in v, unprotected (wrap it before you tap it kids), cockwarming) that's all I can think of, if I missed any let me know. Other than that, I'm...just gonna leave this here okayBYE

WC: 2.3k

masterlist

We went to bed two hours ago. Or at least, it felt like two hours had gone by since we laid down. I was snuggling my Wolfchan when I felt his human counterpart lay down behind me and wrap his arms around my waist. His breathing hadn’t changed since he laid down and he kept shifting around much like I had. My guess was that he had too much on his mind, like always. End of the year awards and performances and such. So it was no surprise that I hadn’t heard him start to snore yet. 

It seemed I just couldn’t turn my mind off, even though I didn’t have any performances to worry about. Everytime I would feel myself grow closer to falling asleep, something would pop into my mind and drag me back out. It happened a couple times, I would be so close and I would literally feel myself being dragged back into my conscious mind with something else. And when it happened, I would just move ever so slowly until I got comfortable again so as to try not to disturb my boyfriend behind me. It was no use though. His snores never came, so the only logical explanation was that he was just as awake as I was.

“Chris.” I whispered into the darkness. A groan answered me, not exactly happy about it but willing to answer nonetheless. “Did you know that lemons are actually man-made?” 

Silence. 

Then a very groggy

“What?”

“Yeah, something about sour oranges and citrons.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw it on a tikok earlier today.” 

“Baby, I love you. But I need to sleep.”

“We’ve both been trying for the past hour. It’s not working.”

A huff, knowing I was right but not willing to give up just yet. I turned around to face him, still with his arms locked around me. I couldn’t see his face that well in the dark, but I knew his eyes were still closed with resignation. I felt his breath as he sighed, knowing he wasn’t getting any sleep no matter how hard he tried. 

“I think my mind is just going too fast and I can’t turn it off.”

“I know. Me too. But yours makes more sense because of how much you have coming up. You guys have so much to do during the end of the year, I don’t understand why they sign you up for so much.”

“Well, some of it is us. We want to do it.”

“I know. You’re all workaholics.”

“Can’t help it. We love what we do.” A pause. And a sudden… change in the air. He shifted closer to me. “You know what else I love?”

“Hm?” 

“You.” He kissed my forehead. Then my cheek. Then the other.

“Well I would hope so. I am laying in a bed with you in the middle of the night with no intention of going back to the apartment I pay to live in even though I barely live there anymore. Although you sleeping shirtless is such a nice plus.” He ignored me and continued kissing those lips along my neck. He loved being around me, voicing this often enough until I started to believe him around our third month of dating. We couldn’t stay apart for very long, both of us equally needing the other like water to a fish. No matter how hard we tried, we just couldn’t stand to be apart unless forced to because of tour. 

“Do you know what else I love?” His voice was thick with sleep, giving him a lower register that made my toes curl. He was still kissing me, leaving little chills wherever his lips planted. They were traveling lower and lower, from my neck to my throat to my collarbone over my heart. He noticed my breathing getting heavier and faster, goosebumps popping up everywhere he went and shifted so he was leaving over me. The moonlight shone just enough through the curtained window that I could watch his eyes go from sleepily distant to focused and alert. He watched my lashes flutter and my eyes darted to him, waiting for him to make his next move. Now I knew where this was going. And I knew it would work. 

“What?” I asked, breathless. My nipples ached with how hard they had become in such a short amount of time. They poked through his t-shirt that I usually wore to bed. He caught sight of them and smiled to himself. He ever so lightly grasped the bottom of the worn cloth and lifted it slowly, to tease me further and let the anticipation grow. The sudden chill of the air was too apparent to me now, trying to appease the flush of blood now running hot through my veins. 

“These.” He leaned down to blow his hot air straight on my nipple, the contradicting air making them ache impossibly more. I bit my lip to keep from groaning, but it didn’t suffice. It came out anyway, more strangled than if I had just let it out. “These beautiful tits are just perfect for me. I love how they look when you just get out of the shower-” He stuck out his tongue to press it against them, the muscle swirling circles around and around and he kissed it lightly. “And you’ve got your towel wrapped around you-” He kissed it again. “You hold it close to your chest and it makes them bigger somehow.” He latched on to it and tugged it enough so that when he let go, it bounced back gently. “Ugh. and that. That-” He sucked harder this time, making sure to swirl his tongue as he tugged it back further and let go. “-is my favorite fucking thing.” 

He did the same to the other nipple, my hands flying to his hair as he worked his magic. My moans were useless to fight against now, growing louder and louder. I was sure that someone would knock and yell at us to cut it out. Shame I didn’t care. 

He was too good.

His warm and wet lips licked and kissed and sucked and bounced their fill until my underwear was soaked, the scent of it now inescapable. 

“Chris, please. Please, I need something.”

“What, baby? What does my pretty girl want?” He asked as he was sucking a hickey right above my heart, his favorite place to leave them. So you’ll always have me close to your heart, he once said. He had already left them scattered around my chest, knowing they were my favorite place to have them. He always kissed them after leaving them, especially the ones he knew would leave deeper marks. After the last one, he gently removed my entangled hands from his hair and started moving southward, leaving a trail of featherlight kisses in his path. 

“There. I need you there.” I managed to whisper into the darkness. He let out a huff of laughter. 

“You mean right where I’m headed? I know baby, I know you. I know you better than you know yourself.” He whispered into my thigh before he kissed it softly. “Don’t I.” He dragged my panties down just as slowly as he had lifted my shirt and threw them somewhere.

It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway. He did. He really did. He knew what I liked before I had even told him. I didn’t have to. It was the way he knew me, like we were the same person.

He kissed his way up my thigh, skipped over my core to do the same thing to my left leg. I was writhing now, dying with the anticipation. He was good at making me wait, knowing just when it was too much. Like now.

He dove in with no warning, earning a gasp and yelp wrapped into one. He went straight for my clit, sucking as hard as he had with my breasts. He wanted to suck me dry just to make me wet again, just to prove to me that he could. He anchored himself by wrapping his arms around my thighs, something we learned the hard way that he needed to do or else they would squeeze his head. Not that he minded, but he made me lose all control of every limb that it made me feel safer. When he hooked his arms, he pulled me forward, bringing me straight to his waiting mouth. My fingers found his hair once again for something to hold onto, the feeling of the rapid increase of pressure in my core almost too much. The sounds of him sucking and moaning into my folds added to the fuzzy feeling that was clouding my brain, making it impossible to do anything but feel the pleasure this beautiful man loved to give. My mouth was stuck in an ‘O’ with the cries of pleasure coming from an exceptional suck here or a plunge of his tongue in my pussy. 

He unhooked an arm as he slowed down to ease the intensity of the pressure. The feeling of clenching on nothing was so frustrating that I felt myself pulling at his hair harder than normal. But the harder I seemed to pull, the louder his own moans became. When he slowed enough for me to realize how hard I had gripped him, I released his hair. He pulled away, a string of our mixed juices following his insanely shiny lips. 

“No, don’t you let go. You pull as hard as you need to.” His sultry tone was the reassurance I needed to do just that. I threaded them back through and he put a finger in his mouth then resumed, licking slowly circles on my clit once more. He pushed the wetted finger in my entrance, but it wasn’t enough. 

“More.” I whispered, and he obliged. He thrust another finger in, the two stretching me as they drew apart. He was going slow, too slow, torturously slow. “Channie, you’re going too slow.”

“Baby, that’s not my name.”

“Daddy, faster, please.” I whined, ready to beg as much as I needed to to just get him to move faster…

“That’s my girl.” He picked up the pace, thrusting his digits faster until I was clenching again. “Is my pretty girl gonna cum?” I nodded frantically, the bubble so close to popping. 

And then he stopped. I waited, trying to catch my breath. And then I heard, very loudly, him sucking on something. He was sucking my wetness from his fingers and staring, hard, at my pussy. 

“Wha-”

“I want to cum with you.” It wasn’t a command, more like a declaration. One made from desperation as deep as mine. His boxers were off and he was stroking himself already. “You’re still on the pill?”

“You ask me this every time and yet the answer is always the same.”

“Good. because I don’t think I could pull out tonight if I tried.”

He lined himself up, prodding at my entrance and held himself there. He leaned over me once again, gently kissing me until I wrapped my arms around his neck and forced him closer. He slid the rest of the way and I gasped into our kiss. His size still surprised me even now. He always felt big no matter how many times we slept together. 

We moaned together when he was fully inside and when he started thrusting, it was slower, more intimate. He was taking his time, contrasting his actions moments earlier. Every thrust up, my hips went with him, our breaths mingling as our foreheads stayed touching. With this slow pace, he was able to directly hit my g-spot with every thrust. I could feel him, all of him, in every move of his hips. He was taking his time feeling me, the warmth and the pleasure would crumble him if he went too quickly. 

“I have to,” he said, reading my mind. Like he often did. “If I don’t I won’t last.”

“But I don’t want you to last. I want you to crumble like only I can make you.”

“Shit.” He buried his face in my neck. “You can’t just say shit like that, baby.” 

I felt my bubble coming back, rising with the continued stimulation and essence of him. I might be the only one who could make him crumble, but my destruction button was well within his reach at all times. He knew I could fall apart with the right thrust, he just wasn’t hitting it. On purpose, I had just learned. Every nerve was on edge, every brush of his lips on my neck sending me higher. His hands roaming every which direction I could think of, cupping my chest and rolling my nipples with his fingertips, lighting them on fire. The bubble was closer and closer to popping with every lick, every thrust, every roll.

“Baby… baby, I’m close.”

“Me too. Let go, I’m right there with you.”

And like a match getting struck, the release sent waves and waves of pleasure through me. Chan’s orgasm hit him at the same time, filling my core with his warm seed. My hips moved of their own accord, meeting his thrusts in sync to ride it out together. His pants were mixing with my moans to fill the once dead air and drain any remaining energy I had left. He kissed my neck a few more times as we came down together, smiling as he did. 

“I need to clean you up,” he started, cock still at attention inside me. “But I don’t want to move.”

“Stay. I don’t think I could get up if I tried.” They were the last words I could remember saying before the comforting darkness swept me away in its arms.