#i want to watch but i fear the 12 hour shift is getting to me and i'm so so so sleepy

[astonmartingf]

the real winner is yuki, idgaf about the race, he won it for me

[puma-riki]

No One Noticed

Warnings: consistent cursing, kms/kys jokes, [Subject to change every chapter]

Status: Ongoing (Start: 092124)

Taglist (open!): @bee-the-loser @iaintseggsy @channieismylove @yangjungwonnie @luluvhs @nikiswifiee @kingofthekards @skepvids @sammie217 @sh0dor1 @sirens-dreams @starfallia @polarisjisung @minhosimthings @mochiwonz @jiiyen @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @ritzy-dream-boy @roseangelxfuma @sugarikiz @stvrriki @eczlipse @ddolleri @dangerousgardenchild @roarr-ki @rikidaze @rinoosformstellation @domfikeluva @b0os-jellfyfish @wensurr @melancholy-z @brinethebean @sol3chu @luvjichang @aerijns @bananna-12 @jungwonsjellies @sumzysworld @right-person-wrong-time @rikikiynikilcykiki @pjselee @maniluvzyou @jungwonswife-real @annybah @flaminghotyourmom @vvenusoncasual @pookalicious-hq @jaykehoonist @raven-odyssey @rodelalaland @planetmarlowe @joonsprettygf @cherryangel-coke @wintereals

IGNORE TIME STAMPS !!

———————————————————————————-

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Author's Note: Pookie angel baby nation how are youuuuu.... THIS IS SO LATE and once again I am so sorry and so thankful for all of the support and patience you've given me and this smau!! I'm finally done with school so I will have A LOT more free time and continue with this smau (which we are almost finished with). Anyway enjoy! Sunoo does not let anything slide here and they're all a bit dense but it's okay

33. I Miss My Family (wc: 8.0k)

Shit.

Ni-ki has sat on his knees beside his bed for much longer than he'd like to admit, much longer than he should be. Your cheek is still resting on the palm of his hand, warm and soft. Still caught in a deep sleep.

Damn, it only took you the small amount of time he was gone getting water to pass out on his bed.

He didn't mind though. Of course he didn't.

Ni-ki lays his head on the mattress, watching your form rise and fall as you breathe. Your arms are hugged close to your chest and your cheek, laying against his hand, makes your lips form a slight pout. He can feel your hair tangling around his fingers as he moves his thumb to ghost over your lips.

God.

Was this creepy?

He had practically guilt-tripped you into coming over—for the first time, mind you—while you were exhausted, and now here he is, watching you sleep and tracing your features like some obsessed freak.

How does he get out of this.

Mulling it over, Ni-ki has come to the conclusion that he has one of two options.

One, he pulls away like a decent human being, risks waking you up, and settles down on the floor as he originally planned. It’s the safer choice, the normal choice, the choice that ensures you won’t wake up, see his hand still under your face, and immediately call the police.

And two... he stays. He lets you sleep on his hand until you eventually move again, and then he can slip away. But you haven’t moved for a while now, and his legs are starting to go numb.

He doesn’t want to wake you. You’ve had a rough week, and right now, with all your responsibilities pushed far away, you finally look like you’re resting.

But if you wake up and see him like this, staring at you like some lovesick idiot, that’s it. He’s never coming back from that.

At least if you did wake up with option one, he could play it off. Take advantage of your delirious sleep-deprived state and pretend he has no idea what you mean when you ask him if he was sitting here for an hour watching you sleep while softly tracing and memorizing every inch of your face so that he might be able to recreate you in his dreams and hold you like this without fear.

....

Option one it is!

Ni-ki exhales quietly and slowly shifts, rolling onto his heels before pushing up into a crouch. His weight lifts off his knees, one hand steadying himself on the mattress as he starts to stand.

He hovers over you slightly, trying to find the best angle to slip his hand away without disturbing you.

Okay. Slow and steady.

He carefully, carefully starts to pull back. His fingers ghost along your skin as he eases his hand out from under your cheek, his breath shallow, his movements painstakingly precise.

Just a little more. Almost there.

Then—

You shift.

Ni-ki immediately freezes, his stomach dropping.

Your head barely moves, just the smallest tilt toward where his hand used to be, like you’re instinctively following the warmth that was there moments ago.

Ni-ki grimaces.

His muscles are locked, body halfway bent over you, one knee still pressing into the mattress, his other foot planted on the floor. He feels like a thief caught mid-crime, except instead of stealing, he’s actively trying not to get caught for whatever the hell this situation is.

He clenches his jaw and exhales slowly through his nose, mentally hyping himself up. Just a little more. He can do this.

Another inch. Another half-inch.

Almost—

Then your hand moves.

Ni-ki watches, helpless, as your fingers blindly reach out in your sleep. His breath catches, heart stopping in his chest—

And then your fingers brush against his forearm.

He swears he feels it in his soul.

Your hand lingers for half a second before moving again, curling around his arm, hugging it close like a plushie.

Ni-ki stops breathing.

Oh.

His throat bobs as he stares down at where your fingers are wrapped around him, completely relaxed, completely unaware of the absolute mess you’re making of him.

You’re holding onto him. Not just in passing, not for a fleeting moment.

Ni-ki swallows hard, something dangerously warm curling in his chest.

Alright. Alright. Don't freak out.

Just… just pull away slowly. Again.

He tries, just slightly, to move his arm.

Your fingers tighten.

Ni-ki's brain malfunctions.

You can't be serious.

A deep sigh leaves his nose as he stares at the ceiling, willing himself not to let this get to his head.

But then what the hell is he supposed to do now?

Stand here half-hunched over you all night like some idiot? Sleep on his knees next to the bed? Just exist in this ridiculous half-hovering state forever?

His mouth twitches with something between disbelief and reluctant acceptance.

He can't move. He has no choice.

With the deepest, most resigned exhale of his life, Ni-ki slowly lowers himself onto the mattress, resting on his side next to you.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. He just stares at the ceiling, dead weight, entirely at your mercy.

This is fine.

Ni-ki lies there, completely still, as if any slight movement might wake you-- or worse, make you let go. Your fingers, curled loosely around his forearm, feel impossibly warm.

His heart is pounding so loud, he's afraid you'll hear it calling out to you.

He should move. He should. But how could he? Not when you're curled up beside him like this, fitting so easily into the space next to him like you belonged there. Not when you're wrapped in his clothes, drowning in the fabric in a way that makes something deep in his chest ache. Not when you're breathing so softly, so steadily, completely at peace in his bed.

His throat feels tight as he watches you, taking in every detail-- the slight part of your lips, the way your lashes rest against your cheeks, the tousled strands of your hair brushing against his pillow. He swallows.

You're breathtaking.

As he lays in his dimly lit room next to you, he lets himself imagine it.

What if moments like this weren't so rare? The last time you clung to him like this was Halloween.

What if they weren't so accidental? What if he could have this every night-- have you every night? What if, instead of you unconsciously reaching for him in your sleep, you did it because you wanted to? Because you knew he was there?

What if, after a long day, you leaned into him the same way you are now? What if you let yourself need him, trust him enough to fall apart in his arms when things get too heavy?

What if you woke up beside him every morning, drowsy and wrapped in his sheets while complaining about the cold as he hugged you closer?

Ni-ki exhales slowly, willing his racing heart to calm down.

It's stupid, but his thoughts keep circling back to it.

You had seemed so stressed about your mom and this Christmas thing.

"And my mom- she keeps asking me to invite you and the others to this dumb friendsmas dinner at my house for winter break"

"I already told her I didn't think you would be into that."

That had been the first time you mentioned it. Your mom, Christmas dinner, the fact you never considered asking.

As if it wasn't worth asking. As if you already knew the answer.

His Jaw tightens.

Did you actually think it was dumb? Or were you just saying that because you thought he would think it was dumb?

The thought makes his chest feel heavy.

Because, yeah, maybe he would have teased you a little if you asked. Maybe he would've laughed and made a joke. But he wouldn't have meant it. And he definitely wouldn't have said no.

Of course he would've gone. Of course he wants to go. And free food for basically a whole night? The others would've been elated.

So why didn't you think they wouldn't?

It makes something ache inside him, this quiet persistent feeling he doesn't know how to name. He hates the idea that you might not trust him with things like this, that you're still holding him at a distance even after all this time.

He shifts slightly, just enough to lay his head beside yours on the pillow next to you. You're so close that he can count the strands of hair falling over your cheek and see the soft part of your lips as you exhale.

His mind wanders just for a second.

What if he had more moments like this with you. What if you reached for him like this when you were awake? Instead of letting yourself fall asleep alone every night, you let him stay by your side.

This is too much heartache for so late in the night.

He decides to just close his eyes and let his mind wander into his dreams. His tense body starts to relax into the mattress as the sound of your steady breathing fills his ears. He makes a mental note to flick you on the forehead and interrogate you about Christmas in the morning before he finally drifts off to sleep

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝

The distant sound of dishes clattering and familiar voices pulls you from sleep.

Letting out a deep sigh, you roll your upper body onto your back and rub your eyes. You're still too drowsy to take in your surroundings. But not enough to feel the morning sun leaking through the window. You roll back over to your original position, shoving your face into the pillow you're holding to your chest.

But something feels... off.

The scent of something familiar fills your senses— cologne? There's a warmth beneath you that's soft, yet firm, definitely not a pillow.

Your brows furrow and you run your hand along the soft material. You stop when you feel a faint thump against your fingertips.

Steady. Rhythmic.

Like a pulse.

Your brows knit further together as realization dawns, and, finally, you open your eyes fully.

Ni-ki is a breath away from you.

Your heart stutters violently in your chest as you take him in, the weight of sleep still heavy on his face. His lips are parted ever so slightly, breathing slow and even, lashes resting against his skin in delicate shadows. His hair, tousled and soft, falls across his forehead.

You should really move.

But instead, you find yourself drinking him in. Eyes flitting around his body as if you're trying to commit every feature of his to memory like it's the first time you've seen him.

You raise your head off his arm and peer down at your arms entangled with his.

Jesus, were you hugging his arm the entire night, how did this even happen?

Guilt seeps into your chest as you gently and slowly begin untangling your arms. Biting your lip in anticipation. How terrible would it be if he woke up and caught you clinging to him.

Geez, the first time you're over at his place and you've already acted like a pervert. Well, at least you feel like a pervert.

You've just managed to slip your hand out from under his arm when he shifts. Your heart lurches and you yank your hand the rest of the way out in a panic.

Riki lets out a quiet hum, his brows twitching slightly, and for a terrifying second, you think he's about to wake up. Your body goes rigid, your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat.

But instead of blinking awake and catching you red-handed, he only shifts further into his pillow, his arm— now free from your grip—instinctively tucking closer to his chest as if seeking warmth.

You exhale, slow and steady, your heartbeat pounding embarrassingly loud in your ears.

God. What is wrong with you?

You're acting like you've just got caught stealing from a convenience store.

Still, the absence of his warmth leaves a hollow space in your chest.

Not that you should be missing it.

Shaking your head, you cautiously roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling in an attempt to collect yourself. The room is still dim despite the early morning light filtering through the blinds, casting golden streaks across Ni-ki's walls. Somewhere beyond the door, the distant sounds of dishes clinking and muffled voices carry through the apartment— reminders that the rest of the world still exists outside this quiet intimate moment.

You recognize one of the voices to be Jungwon.

Your stomach twists.

For a moment, you'd almost forgotten. The weight of last night, the comfort of Riki's room, the unfamiliar yet oddly welcoming warmth beside you— had distracted you. But now reality presses in, and with it, the reminder that beyond that door is someone who might still be upset with you.

You don't know what to expect from Jungwon. Maybe he won't even acknowledge your presence, just like he's done at work. Or maybe, worse, he'll be totally weirded out by the fact that you're even here, at his place, sleeping in his best friend's bed like you belong here.

When you say it like that it sounds even weirder. God.

Your gaze flickers back to Riki.

Just for a second

His face is soft with sleep, the usual sharp playfulness dulled by something far more delicate. The early morning light casts a glow over his skin. His cheek is pressed into the pillow, and his dark hair falls over his forehead in a way that's so effortlessly pretty and peaceful, it feels unfair.

You turn your head towards the ceiling again, lost in thought. You don't really want to face the inevitable awkwardness outside, nor do you want to get up.

Maybe you could just go back to sleep and leave this to be a problem for future you. Riki's bed is soft against your back, practically lulling you back to sleep. If you fall back asleep now, Jungwon and the others could be out of the apartment or holed up in their rooms long enough for you to slip out quietly. Riki would probably be awake by then too, then you wouldn't feel so guilty leaving unannounced.

Just as your letting yourself feel drowsy again, a sudden, soft "Boo."

Something pokes your side.

You jolt with a sharp inhale, snapping your head to the side. Riki grins at you, eyes barely open, hair tousled beyond repair.

"You—" You slap his arm, making him giggle as he curls away, shielding himself. "Have you been awake this whole time?"

"Mmmm, no. I just woke up." His voice is deeper, still thick with sleep. You hum in response as he returns to his resting position on his side, facing you with his arms crossed. "Why? Scared you got caught watching me sleep?"

Oh shit.

"No, you drool in your sleep." You say blankly, fighting the heat crawling up your body and the guilty smile tugging at your lips as you see him furrow his brows and quickly raise a hand to wipe his mouth.

When he wipes his mouth and finds that he is, in fact, not drooling, he drops his hand on the matress, defeated. "You don't have to lie."

"You don't have to be annoying first thing in the morning."

"I can't help it when you're right beside me."

You click your tongue and loll your head back to look at the ceiling, hands folded over your stomach. You're not sure what to say in response, so you let silence fall between you, but it's not uncomfortable. You're too preoccupied with the thought of Jungwon being upset with you still, and Eunchae.

Riki notices you seem to be lost in thought as you stare up at the blank ceiling of his room. He scoots over so your heads are just centimeters apart. He faces the ceiling too.

"Is there anything interesting we're looking at?"

you blow air past your lips softly, "No... just thinking."

"Well... what are we thinking about?" Ni-ki steals a glance at you.

You let a beat pass, hesitating, before saying, " I think Jungwon's still upset with me." You turn just enough to gently knock your head with his, "And I think it'll be super awkward if he sees I'm here."

Riki hums, the sound low and thoughtful. "Jungwon's always a little awkward, though."

"Yeah, but he's still mad at me. I think." You mutter the last part.

"Well," He draws out. "He's not the type to let an argument, or whatever this is, draw out like this. He probably feels bad now and is thinking of how to fix it."

"You don't think he'll be upset that I'm here?" You quirk an eyebrow in question, even though he can't see you.

"Nah, he'll probably use this as an opportunity to make up with you." He shrugs, his shoulder brushing against yours, "Besides, you were mine first, who cares what he thinks. I'm allowed to invite you over if I want."

Your heart stutters. You're not entirely sure what to say to that. You know he means you were his friend before Jungwon's, but you can't help the heat crawling up your neck at his words.

"But you know what would really help you both get over this?" He asks nudging your shoulder.

"What?"

"Inviting everyone to that party your mom invited us to at your place." He says it rather quickly, but he's completely serious. You completely forgot that you told him about that while you were practically breaking down in his arms. It's embarrassing how whenever he's around you just feel every emotion, every sense, and every word pour out of your very being right in front of him. You shut your eyes and scoff. More at yourself than the boy lying next to you.

"I'm serious!" His voice rises in pitch and volume like he's trying to make a point.

"You're definitely something alright."

"Yet, you're still here."

You roll your eyes, but there's no real annoyance behind it. "Unfortunately,"

Riki pouts dramatically, nudging you again, "That hurts,"

"I'm sure you'll recover."

"If we went to that dinner party thing, I would."

You turn over on your side, facing away from Riki, "I'm going back to sleep."

"What- [name]." He deadpans turning on his side as well.

"Goodnight."

"But-"

"Goodnight!"

Riki is silent for a minute, and you smile, thinking you've shut down his attempt to bring this topic back up. Until you feel a weight drape over your side.

A rather heavy one.

"Oh my f- Riki get off!"

Ni-ki doesn't budge. He's thrown his entire body over your side horizontally. You shove at his shoulder in an attempt to at least, roll him over to your legs so you can sit up, but alas, it does not work.

"I'm not even that heavy." He huffs like he's the one being inconvenienced.

"You're literally crushing me." You squirm beneath him, pushing up on his back but it's like he only seems to get heavier. He's practically dead weight. "Get up!"

"I can't. You won't even let me accept your mom's invitation. Actions have consequences." He drawls, blankly staring up at the ceiling but you can see the stupid grin on his face and teasing glint in his eyes.

"This is not a consequence this is harassment!"

"Whatever you wanna call it, anyway, I'm not moving until you let me, and the others come over to yours for winter break." He sighs, shifting slightly to adjust his weight like he's getting comfortable.

"Why are you so determined to go to this thing?" You grumble, more to yourself, still trying to push him off by his shoulder.

"Why are you so determined to get us not to? Do you not want us to?" He says it casually, but there's something about his voice that sounds a bit hurt.

Ni-ki feels you stop pushing on his shoulder, your struggling softens to just resting your hands on his shoulder silently. Ni-ki's scared he's messed something up or instead gotten it right on the mark and that you really don't want him to be involved in such trivial matters in your life like small Christmas dinners over winter breaks.

You, on the other hand, are wondering the same thing. Is it really so terrible that you invited people over to your place over the holiday break? You were so scared of being rejected you didn't even ask because it's what you were used to. You don't know which is more embarrassing, the fact that you got so worked up over something this silly or the possibility of being laughed at and dismissed.

Ni-ki is hyperaware of your breathing beneath his back and how your fingers have started absent-mindedly playing with the sleeve of his hoodie. "No, it's not that."

Ni-ki closes his eyes and lets out a quiet breath of relief at your words, "I'm just embarrassed." Your eyes shift down to your hands that pinch and pull at the fabric adorning Riki's arms. "I didn't mean for it to become such a big deal, but you know. Then I went crying about it. I've never actually had anyone come over before; people always declined my invites in the past, so I just kind of thought... that it would be the same now. I didn't want to ask you guys and then have it be awkward because maybe you didn't think we were as close as I did and turn me down."

"You're so dumb," he mumbles, but there’s no bite to it — just warmth. "You think I’d ever say no to you? Please, I’d kill for an invite like that."

You scoff softly. "Yeah, right. You'd fight over a free meal, maybe."

"Exactly." He grins. "But also… I’d go because it’s your house. Your family. And you wanted us — me — there. You're allowed to cry about things, you know? Even if you don't think it's a big deal. Even if its messy or weird or not what you think should matter. If it matters to you, it counts. And that's enough."

Your cheeks burn at the way he says me, as if it holds any special meaning, but you say nothing.

"I don’t know what kind of losers you’ve invited before, but I’m not them. Neither are the others. And I hate to break it to you, but we’re way closer than you think. You're stuck with us now."

He says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You feel his hand brush gently over yours, like he’s trying to ground you without making a big deal of it.

"Besides," he continues, his voice softening just slightly, "I kinda like the idea of seeing where you grew up. Maybe I’ll find some embarrassing childhood photos."

You groan, burying your face into the pillow beside you. "Of course that’s what you’d look forward to."

"Obviously." He grins, nudging you playfully. "But also... I just think it’d be nice. You never really talk about your family. I’d like to know more about you. And I wanna be there, even if you think it’s dumb."

There's a beat of silence, his words hanging in the air. Then he squeezes your hand once, almost like a silent promise.

"Still not getting up though," he deadpans. "You're kind of comfy."

And just like that, the weight on your chest feels a little lighter.

A sudden thud echoes from the other side of the door, followed by a familiar voice.

"Ni-ki!"

The door swings open, and Jay fills the frame, his expression hovering somewhere between exasperation and resigned patience. He doesn’t look particularly intimidating—dressed in a loose hoodie and sweatpants, hair sticking up in mismatched directions like he’d just rolled out of bed. But there’s a sharpness in his eyes that says he’s here with a purpose.

Then, his gaze lands on you. For a second, the irritation flickers into mild surprise. "Oh, hey, [Name]."

"Hey," you reply, trying your best to sound casual, even though you're still half-pinned beneath Ni-ki. Not exactly your most dignified moment.

"Why didn’t you do the dishes last night?" Jay’s focus shifts back to Ni-ki, his voice landing somewhere between exasperated and resigned — like this isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last.

Ni-ki groans dramatically, throwing his head back like the sheer weight of responsibility has finally crushed him. "I’ll do them next time. I forgot."

"Next time? You said that last time."

"And sometimes I mean it," Riki retorts, voice dripping with faux innocence.

Jay scoffs. "Right, and sometimes I believe it. Guess which time this is?"

You bite back a laugh, but Riki catches it instantly, turning his head towards you. "Don’t encourage him."

Jay shakes his head. "No, no. Encourage me. Please. It’s about time someone held this idiot accountable."

"Idiot?" Riki scoffs in offense. "I am a victim. You barge in here like I’ve committed a felony."

"You're lucky being a horrible roommate isn't a felony; otherwise, you'd be in jail for being a repeat offender," Jay tsks and rolls his eyes.

"I highly doubt you could take me to court for it either way. Didn't you fail your political science class?"

Jay's lips turn into a straight line. "Man, just get up and do the damn dishes."

"In a minute."

"A minute will turn into an hour which will turn into never. Just come do them."

You watch the back-and-forth like a tennis match, mildly entertained. The banter between them is so natural, so easy, like they’ve been doing this for years. It's the kind of closeness that makes the irritation feel half-hearted — more of a ritual than a real fight.

"If you need them done right now, why can't someone who's not busy do them then."

"Because it's your turn," Jay shoots back. "It's the principle. And you're not even busy."

Ni-ki scoffs. "Uh, yes, I am. I’m entertaining my guest." He gestures toward you as if this somehow solidifies his case.

Jay deadpans. "Well, there's five other people here that are perfectly capable of entertaining her, and I'm sure [name] would prefer them over you anyway." Jay starts walking towards the bed,

Jay takes a step closer, his annoyance wavering just enough for you to see the mischief creeping in.

"What are you doing?" Riki immediately sits up, all false bravado gone. He knows exactly what’s coming. The slow-paced and quiet morning vibe is thrown out the window, you sit up as well and sit cross-legged.

"Getting you to do the damn dishes," Jay says, grabbing Riki by the ankles without another word.

"I said I'd do them in a minute!" Riki turns his body, trying to crawl away from Jay.

"We all know that's not true just come do them now!" Jay tugs again.

"No!"

"You-" Jay tugs harder and pulls Riki halfway off the bed, in desperation, Ni-ki reaches out and latches his hands onto the blankets.

"Wait! I said I’d do them in a minute, I promise!" Riki protests, twisting his body and trying to crawl away like a worm on dry pavement. But Jay tugs, dragging him further off the bed with a grunt.

"We all know that’s not true, just come do them now!"

"No!" The situation is so ridiculous, you can't help but laugh watching them bicker and fight each other.

Jay gives another pull, but Riki, in a last-ditch effort, flails and reaches out — his hands finding your wrists like you’re some lifeline. You’re too caught off guard to move, your laughter bubbling up as he clings to you in mock desperation.

"Let go of me!" You gasp trying to loosen his grip on your wrists, but you’re already laughing too hard to be of any use. Jay’s grip on his ankles remains firm, and the ridiculousness of the scene unfolds around you like a sitcom.

"Get him off!" Jay says through gritted teeth.

"I'm trying!" You gasp, though your attempts to pry Ni-ki’s fingers off are about as effective as swatting at a fly. "He won't let go!"

"I won't let go? Do you not see this lunatic!?"

Riki refuses to release his hold. And somehow, despite the chaos, you don’t feel out of place. If anything, you’re right where you belong.

"Fine then, follow me," Jay says and moves himself to grab under Riki's knees. Getting the idea, you then grab Riki, under his arms this time.

"Hey! What the hell!"

Together, you and Jay lift him off the bed in a mess of flailing limbs and complaints. Riki twists, but Jay has his legs locked down, and you’re holding him firm under the shoulders. The two of you maneuver him down the hallway, ignoring his dramatics as he protests the injustice of it all.

"You guys are being ridiculous," Ni-ki grumbles as you reach the kitchen.

Jay grunts. "You’re ridiculous."

With a final heave, the two of you lay him down directly in front of the sink. Ni-ki sprawls out like a defeated soldier, staring up at the ceiling in silent acceptance of his fate.

"Nice," a voice comes from behind.

You turn to see Jake, lazily sipping from a glass of water as he leans against the kitchen island. His hair is sticking up in every direction, his hoodie practically swallowing him whole. It seems like nobody in this apartment wakes up looking normal. You’re grateful for that, considering your own bedhead and oversized borrowed clothes.

"Oh, [Name], now that you're out here, you should try this curry," Jay says, stepping over Ni-ki like he’s just part of the floor now. He makes his way to the stove, lifting the lid off a pot that sends a wave of rich, savory warmth through the air. "I made it last night, but someone was too busy avoiding the dishes to appreciate it."

"Smells amazing," you say, the rumble in your stomach making itself known as you follow him towards the other side of the kitchen.

"It is," Jake adds, raising his glass like he’s making a toast. "Breakfast of champions."

Ni-ki groans dramatically from the floor. "I don't get any because I'm being oppressed."

"Because you're being lazy," Jay corrects, scooping a generous portion of curry onto a plate of rice and handing it to you.

"Same thing," Ni-ki mumbles.

You suppress a smile, grabbing a spoon Jay hands you and taking your first bite. The curry is warm and flavorful, the perfect balance of spice and comfort. "Woah," you murmur. "This is... actually really good."

"Thank you," Jay grins, smug. "See? That’s the kind of praise I deserve."

"Yeah, whatever," Ni-ki mumbles, still on the floor, though his pout is losing its strength.

Just as you settle into your plate, Sunghoon wanders into the kitchen, his hands tucked deep into the sleeves of his hoodie. His eyes are still heavy with sleep, but he brightens when he sees you.

"Morning," he says, voice raspy. Then, in a slightly awkward but endearing motion, he raises a hand to ruffle your hair. Except, he hesitates for a second. His hand hovers uncertainly, like he’s second-guessing the gesture. You catch the flicker of indecision in his eyes before he finally commits, giving your hair a light ruffle.

"Uh... morning," you respond, amused by how he immediately clears his throat and retreats like nothing happened.

"Smooth," Jake comments dryly.

Sunghoon shrugs. "I tried."

Before you can say anything else, Sunoo strolls in with a towel draped around his neck. His skin is practically glowing, the kind of radiant that can only come from a meticulous skincare routine.

"[Name]! I didn't know you were here."

"I'm also here." Riki butts in, still on the floor.

Sunoo leans forward to peek behind the kitchen island where Riki is lying. "Did you sleep in jeans, you freak." You turn to look at him as well, and it actually registers in your mind that Riki is wearing the same clothes from yesterday, jeans and a hoodie. You stifle a laugh.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Ni-ki mutters, knowing Sunoo would explode upon hearing the reason he didn't change into proper sleep wear was because a certain someone started clinging to him before he could.

Heeseung is the next to appear, running a hand through his hair as he slumps against the counter. He’s holding his phone in one hand, scrolling absentmindedly. He glances up and his eyes land on you, his eyes widen, and a small gasp escapes his lips, clearly surprised you're here, but he doesn't question it. "[Name], did you see the new Fortnite shop rotation?"

"Can't say I have," you reply, taking another bite of curry. He waves you over to where he's sitting beside Jake on the kitchen island stools. You comply and make your way to sit on the open stool next to Heeseung.

"Bro," he says, dramatically shaking his head. "They brought the Jujutsu Kaisen skins back, and they added new ones."

Jake sighs. "He’s been talking about it all morning."

"I’m just saying," Heeseung defends, tilting his phone to show you. "Look at this."

You squint at the screen, half-expecting to see something ridiculous — and you're not disappointed.

"Wow," you deadpan. "They added Makito but not Geto"

"Thank you!" Heeseung gestures dramatically. "That's literally what I've been saying." He flails his arms up, exasperated, looking around the kitchen at everyone. But no one is as passionate about Fortnite ship rotations, not at this hour anyway.

"When are you getting a job?" Sunghoon asks, clearly messing with Heeseung. His brows raised, leaning back against the counter next to the fridge, sipping on what looks like a protein drink of some kind.

"You're one to talk, you just started working this year," Riki says, finally rising from his spot on the floor, dusting and adjusting his clothes.

Sunoo snorts, covering his mouth like that would somehow conceal the sound, as he holds a bowl of rice out to Jay to scoop curry onto. Sunghoon, like everyone, hears the sound, and his face scrunches. He sets down his drink and fully turns to Sunoo.

"I don't know why your unemployed ass is laughing, Kim Sunoo." Sunghoon scoffs, but there's no real bite to his words because Sunoo rolls his eyes, still smiling and happily walks over to sit in the seat next to you. "I'm not a part of this." He says, setting his bowl down and then himself, brushing Sunghoon off completely.

It’s so simple — so easy — that you almost forget why you were so worried about seeing everyone. The air is filled with the chatter of boys arguing over shop rotations, Sunoo enthusiastically planning your “skincare awakening,” and Ni-ki half-heartedly washing the dishes with Jay hovering just to make sure he doesn’t quit halfway through. Which Riki finds annoying, you can tell because he asks Jay if he'd like to take a picture, and that just sets them both into another fit of bickering back and forth.

Sunoo is still talking, and you would really love to indulge in the conversation with him. You try— really, you try— to stay focused on Sunoo.

But your attention keeps drifting.

Across the kitchen, Ni-ki's hoodie sleeves are rolled up just past his forearms, lips pulled into a flat line as he half-heartedly scrubs at a plate. Jay's still hovering over his shoulder, close, like a disappointed mother hen, which only makes Ni-ki more dramatic in his suffering. He doesn't look up from the plate when he asks, "Jay, are you about to back hug me? Isn't that a bit romantic for us?"

You're not even listening to what Jay says in response. You're too busy watching the way Ni-ki's hair falls into his eyes, the way he talks with his hands even when they're covered in soap, the way he moves like he's unaware that anyone's watching, but is still effortlessly cool.

You smile before you even realize you're doing it. Sunoo's voice falters. He blinks, then turns to follow your gaze, and instantly he sees it.

And he has to physically stop himself from gasping out loud.

That endearing gaze and love-sick smile of yours was for Ni-ki. Sunoo's sure that if Ni-ki turned and saw how you were looking at him right now, he would drop dead. Or maybe he'd say something stupid, and the love leaking out of your eyes would fly right over his head completely because he really is that oblivious. Sunoo has seen this look many times before, so he's sure he's not misreading the situation. He's seen the way Ni-ki has looked at you, and now you're looking at him. The same way.

When did this happen!?

Sunoo nudges your arm with his. You whip your head towards him like you've just been caught committing a crime. You look like a deer caught in head lights, eyes wide, and a blush crawling up your face. Even though it's clear, you try to play it off anyway.

"Sorry, you were saying? I'm paying attention, I promise." You try to make your voice sound as casual as possible, but the promise at the end of your sentence is an obvious, subtle sign of begging Sunoo not to mention that he just caught you staring.

Sunoo laughs lightly behind his hand. "You sure? Something on your mind?" His voice is teasing; you frantically shake your head. "Or maybe someone?" He adds, raising his eyebrows at you. "Wow, this curry is so good! Sunoo, you should try it!" Your voice is filled with faux excitement as you pick up Sunoos' spoon and scoop a gracious amount of rice and curry onto the spoon.

"But I-" And the spoon is in his mouth before he can say anything that'll pry into you more. You're now aware that everyone's eyes are on both of you, but luckily, they're more focused on laughing at Sunoos puffed cheeks and scornful expression.

Except Ni-ki. He's looking at you. Of course he is.

Except you don't notice. "See? Isn't it delicious?" You're smiling now too, with everyone else, you don't know where the newfound confidence is, but high on everyone's laughter, you ruffle Sunoo's hair.

But from where Sunoo is sitting, he has a clear view of both of you. So he's noticing everything. His eyes flit over to Ni-ki, peeking over his shoulder at you and your hand in Sunoos' hair. And he pouts at that.

"Wow, you fit right in here," Sunghoon says through breathy laughs

You just shrug, a smug smile tugging at your lips. Sunoo swallows and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, shooting you a look of mock offense. "Unbelievable. Betrayed in my own home."

You roll your eyes, turning back to your own bowl, but you're smiling for real now. The easy laughter and chatter filling the kitchen tugs at something warm in your chest. A kind of belonging you're still not used to.

As the conversation shifts, your gaze drifts, scanning the room instinctively. The question feels heavy on your tongue, so heavy you can't help but let it leave your mouth before you can overthink it.

"Uhm, where's Jungwon?"

You try to sound casual, but Sunoo catches the slight pause, the way you fiddle with the edge of your sleeve, like you're trying to act more nonchalant than you feel.

"He went on one of his walks," Jay says from his spot leaning against the counter. "He always does it when he can. He's fine."

You nod, but a quiet guilt settles in your chest

Sunoo watches you for a second longer, then he bumps his shoulder lightly into yours. "Don't worry. He'll be back in like ten minutes max. Probably trying to find a cat to feed or something."

You laugh under your breath, the tension loosening a little. Still, you can't stop yourself from running your fingers along your jaw out of nervousness.

Of course, Sunoo notices. "Something wrong?"

Your eyes shift from the spot on the counter, that you decided was particularly interesting, to Sunoo's. "Oh no- just uh- feeling a little gross I guess. I usually wash my face in the mornings, but I don't have any of my stuff with me." Not entirely the truth, but not entirely a lie.

"You didn't bring any of your stuff?"

You shake your head. "No, because someone-" You send a pointed look at Riki's back, while he's unaware and absolutely going in on a bowl with a sponge. "-didn't think to stop at my place to grab anything."

Sunoo leans back in his seat and nudges your arm with his elbow. “Hey, if you wanna freshen up or something, you can use my stuff.”

You blink. “Wait, really? You don’t mind?”

He grins. “Of course not. I have enough skincare to last me three lifetimes. Come on.”

You hesitate for half a second, surprised by how easily the offer came, then nod. “Okay… yeah. Thanks.”

The two of you stand, gathering your empty bowls. When you reach the sink, Riki’s still there, sleeves rolled up and elbow-deep in soapy water. He glances at you as you set your bowl beside the others and narrows his eyes, mock-suspicious.

“Using Sunoo’s routine? Brave.”

You roll your eyes. “What, afraid I’ll come back looking better than you?”

He lets out a soft snort, shaking his head. “Impossible. But I admire the optimism.”

You roll your eyes a mutter a soft 'whatever' before nudging him and walking away with Sunoo. You miss the grin Riki sends you and the way his eyes follow your figure until you've left his field of vision.

You follow Sunoo into the bathroom. The sink counter stretches from wall to wall in front of the shower, along with a line of skincare products ranging from serums to cleansers. Your jaw goes slack. There's even a small fridge in the corner. You open it and crouch to peer into it. Inside are neatly stacked sheet masks and tiny tubs of cream inside "You have so much? This must be so expensive. do you have a side hustle I don't know about?"

Sunoo laughs, watching your amazement at his collection as you inspect every inch of the minifridge. "I wish, I'm just irresponsible with my money."

"You should've opened with that. Now I trust you."

He grins and begins sorting through his collection. "Okay, try this one and then this after." Sunoo slides two bottles over to you. One is an oil cleanser and the other is a regular foaming cleanser. You eye them skeptically. You've used a cleanser before, obviously. But you can't even pronounce the names on the bottles, so you wonder if theres some secret ritual you have to perform to properly apply them.

"So I just- like- rub it in?" You ask, typing your hair back.

"Yes, genius," Sunoo says, gently mocking as he rolls up the sleeves of his sweatshirt and turns on the warm water for you. "Rub it in gently. Like you're asking your own skin for forgiveness."

You laugh and follow his directions. The two of you settle into a quiet rhythm, and for a moment theres just the sound of running water and soft dabs of towels against your skin. Then:

"So..." Sunoo says casually, leaning against the counter, pretending to be looking for something among the bottles in front of him. "What's up with you and Jungwon?'

You freeze mid-pat. "What?"

"Don't panic, I'm not gossiping," He says quickly, immediately abandoning his fidgeting with his hands up. "I just noticed the vibe earlier. And the way you asked about him in the kitchen."

You glance at the towel in your hands. Unsure of how to start "Oh. Yeah. There was a... thing"

"Like a fight?"

"Not exactly." You pause. "It wasn't really about me, at first. He and Eunchae had some weird tension at work, and it just kind of spilled over. He got short with me. It was small, but it sucked"

Sunoo listens without interrupting. You're grateful for that.

"I didn't say anything when it happened," You continue. "And after that, it just felt too weird and awkward to bring up."

"I get that," Sunoo says softly. "But Jungwon's not the type to let stuff fester. If it was bad enough to bother him, he probably already regrets it."

You glance at him, surprised to hear something similar to what Riki said

"And if he hasn't apologized yet," Sunoo adds, "he will, he's annoying like that. Stubborn but soft-hearted.

You nod, looking down at the marble counter.

Sunoo shifts to sit on the edge of the tub, hands braced beside him. "You were mostly quiet all morning, but when you asked about him. I could tell it was bugging you."

You exhale, long and quiet, mirroring him, and lean against the sink. "Yeah, I just... hate when things are off with people. Especially him, for some reason. It's kind of silly. I barely talked to anyone a few months ago, and now I care if someone's mad at me."

"It's not silly," Sunoo says, smiling and shaking his head. He's happy to have had the chance to talk to you like this. "That's what being close to people is like. It means things matter now. That's a good thing, even if it's annoying sometimes." He's standing up now. Taking his spot beside you again, reaching and unscrewing a tub of moisturizer. He hands it out for you to dab your finger in.

"Thank you, Sunoo." You murmur, glancing at your reflection as you rub the cool cream over your face. You look a little dewy, a little less tired. Lighter even.

Sunoo leans beside you, bumping your shoulder gently. "Of course. I know what it's like to wake up feeling gross with an unwashed face."

You smile. "Honestly, this helped more than I thought it would."

"Good. That's what I'm here for," he says as the two of you begin heading for the door, an unspoken agreement settled between you to return to the kitchen. But the second Sunoo twists the doorknob and pulls it open, two bodies nearly fall into the room on top of both of you.

A panicked "Oh shit-" tumbles out of Riki's mouth before he catches himself on the door frame. Jungwon is more controlled as he jerks upright like he's been yanked up by an invisible string.

Riki blinks at you, "Oh. Hey."

Jungwon clears his throat, brushing invisible lint off his shirt. "What a coincidence."

Sunoo stares at them and scoffs. "What's this?"

Riki straightens up immediately, his voice a little too quick. "We were just walking by."

"You were stood still in front of the door." Sunoo raises a brow.

"No, really, just walking by." Riki insists, taking a small inconspicious step back, as if that'll convince anyone.

"You're still standing in front of the door. You almost fell into the room, you liar!" This disbelief in Sunoo's voice is so sharp it nearly makes you laugh- almost. You're a little too distarcted by the guilty look on Jungwons face, his wide eyes stuck on yours like he's waiting for permission to speak.

"[name]," Jungwon pauses, swallows, and looks away. "I'm really sorry for what happened at work." His voice is quiet and careful. " I thought what Kehoo did was unfair, and I let my frustration out on Eunchae and you."

His gaze lifts to yours again. There's something tender in the way he's looking at you. Sincere, but almost nervous, "You didn't deserve that," He says, "I'm sorry." He lets out a breath after that, like the apology had been sitting in his chest all morning waiting to be let go.

Riki, who's been oddly quiet beside him, jabs an elbow into Jungwon's side.

Jungwon whips his head towards him, confused, until Riki raises his eyebrows, tilting his head in that very obvious "don't forget that thing" kind of way.

"Oh- right!" Jungwon yelps softly, and then immediately starts patting down his jacket pockets.

Finally, after a bit of fumbling, he pulls something from his pocket and holds it out to you in his palm.

A rock. Small, smooth, and naturally shaped like a lopsided heart. You blink, not quite expecting that, but it's in perfect Jungwon fashion, what else could you expect? He presses forward awkwardly, his fingers twitching as if he wants to retract it. Sensing his hesitance, you take it from his hands.

"I found it on my walk this morning," He mutters, scratching the back of his neck. "Thought it looked like a peace offering."

Your eyes flick down to the rock, then back up to him, his hopeful, sheepish smile, and his fidgeting. The apology already softened your heart, but this strange, sweet gesture that only Jungwon would think to do makes your chest feel light.

You smile and turn the rock over in your palm. "It's cute," you say. You step forward, just slightly, and ruffle his hair just enough to mess it up a little “You’re forgiven, Jungwon.”

His grin widens, and a little breath escapes him, like he was holding it in this whole time. The tension between you dissolves in that second, and it’s like a weight’s been lifted off your shoulders.

You hadn’t realized just how heavy it felt until now—how much it had been bothering you. But now it’s gone, and the air between you is soft again. Familiar. Easy.

The moment settles quietly. You glance down at the little heart-shaped rock again, smiling to yourself.

Sunoo shifts beside you. You almost forgot he was still standing at your side, quiet through the whole thing—but not in a distant way. In a watching-everything-closely kind of way.

His gaze flicks briefly across the hall—just a second—and you're too preoccupied with Jungwon to notice it, catching a glimpse of Ni-ki, still hovering in the doorway. His expression is hard to pin down: blank, maybe. Too blank. His lips are pressed into a thin line, and his eyes dart away the second he notices you looking.

You don’t catch it. But Sunoo does.

He doesn’t say anything. Just tucks the observation away like a note to himself, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly before he turns back to you.

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝

The living room is alive with sound — the chaotic clatter of Mario Kart, the overlapping laughter and curses, the shriek Sunoo lets out when Heeseung bumps him off Rainbow Road. Jay lounges smugly in the recliner like a king on a throne, sipping soda and giving play-by-plays no one asked for. Jungwon and Jake are locked in a heated rivalry, shoulders hunched, necks craned, fingers jabbing at the controllers with full-body intensity.

And still, somehow, it feels peaceful.

You’re tucked into the loveseat beside Riki, knees barely brushing, a throw pillow squished awkwardly between you that neither of you have addressed. You’re half-listening to the bickering, lips curved in a faint smile as Jake groans dramatically at yet another banana peel sabotage.

Then Riki bumps your elbow — gentle, but enough to steal your focus. He tilts his head toward you, voice just loud enough to be heard under the noise.

“So,” he says, his grin faint but persistent, “any updates on the Christmas thing?”

You exhale through your nose, already regretting telling him. “You’re obsessed.”

“I’m invested,” he corrects, leaning in just a little. “Big difference.”

“You brought it up, like, three times today.”

“And I’ll keep going until you give in.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s manipulative.”

“That’s effective.”

You squint at him, but there’s no real heat to it. “I don’t even know why I told you. It’s dumb. I just… I wanted to ask you guys, but I kept overthinking it.”

His smile softens. “That doesn’t sound dumb to me.”

You shift in your seat, glancing at the others — but no one’s paying you any mind. Jay is arguing with Jake now, accusing him of screen-watching. Jungwon is grinning with his tongue out in concentration, and Sunoo is loudly declaring that the game is rigged.

Still, you lower your voice. “It just feels... weird. I'm used to being- rejected, I guess. I kind of stopped trying after a while. It made things easier.” You shift your gaze from the throw pillow, now smushed between you, to Riki. "And I don't want to revisit that feeling."

He's quiet for a second, his eyes studying you like he’s trying to memorize your expression. “But you’re trying again now.”

You nod once, small.

He leans in, the pillow between you long forgotten. “I think that’s brave.”

You roll your eyes, but it comes out weak. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not.” His tone dips a little lower — serious now, in the way that always catches you off guard. “I know it’s hard for you. To ask. To be the one to reach out first. But look at you now. You’re different than you were then, and so are the people you're around.”

You blink, startled by the way the words settle into your chest. He’s not teasing now. He really means it.

“I don’t want it to be awkward,” you murmur.

“It won’t be,” he says, like it’s obvious. “You don’t have to turn it into some big, dramatic invite. Just say it. No pressure. And if it helps, I’ll start it for you.”

You look at him then — really look — and for a moment, you forget there are six other people in the room. Forget the clatter of buttons and the yelling and the video game music in the background. His eyes are steady on yours, warm and sure.

“You’re kind of sweet, you know that?” you say, lips twitching.

He smirks. “Only kind of?”

You shrug. “I have to keep you humble.”

Riki opens his mouth, probably to fire something back, but—

“What are you two whispering about over there?” Jay’s voice cuts through the moment like a knife.

You both flinch, turning in unison like you’ve been caught passing notes in class.

But Riki doesn’t miss a beat. “Just talking about winter break.”

He leans forward a bit, voice casual but loud enough for the others to hear. “[Name]'s got plans. Was inviting us over, actually.”

You startle slightly, your eyes flicking to Riki like seriously? but he only smiles at you — the kind of small, confident smile that says you’ve got this.

You clear your throat, shifting under the weight of suddenly being the center of attention. “Um... yeah. My mom’s throwing this Christmas dinner thing. A couple days before the actual holiday. She told me I should invite you guys, if… if you wanted to come.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then Sunoo blinks, eyes wide. “Wait—your mom knows about us?”

You nod slowly. “I might’ve… mentioned you a few times.”

Sunoo places a hand over his heart. “That’s actually so sweet. I feel touched.”

“Is there Food involved?” Jake asks, already sitting up straighter.

"She just said it's a dinner party, genius."

You huff a quiet laugh. “Lots of it. Korean dishes, but also Western stuff. My mom likes to go all out.”

“Oh, I’m in,” Jungwon says immediately.

“Me too,” Heeseung echoes. “No way I’m passing that up.”

One by one, the others chime in — a chorus of easy agreement, layered with jokes about who's bringing what and whether anyone needs to dress up.

Just like that, the tension you’d been holding evaporates. No awkward silence. No hesitation. Just... warmth.

The conversation drifts back to the game naturally, pulled along by a shout from Sunghoon as Jay hits him with a red shell.

Riki nudges you again, shoulder to shoulder.

When you turn to him, he doesn’t say much — just glances at you, eyes gleaming, and murmurs, “See? Told you.”

You sink back into the cushions, letting the noise of the room wrap around you. The living room glows with soft lamp light and louder voices— someone's screaming about being blue-shelled, Sunoo screaming injustice, Sunghoon attempting to argue with Heeseung about tapping you in to save his terrible track record of past races, and Riki sitting closely beside you.

It's strange, the way comfort can sneak up on you. How quickly warmth can build in a space that once felt impossible to belong in. Maybe it wasn't about saying the perfect thing or waiting for the right moment— maybe it was just about trying. Saying something. Letting people in.

Your gaze flicks sideways, just in time to see Riki laughing at the screen like he hasn't just completely shifted your world with a quiet nudge and a few soft words.

You feel a continuous thud behind your ribs. Familiar now. Heavy and certain.

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 26

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know

A.N: I'm sorry for the delay. Unfortunately life gets in the way of these things!

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13 • Part 14 • Part 15 • Part 16 • Part 17 • Part 18 • Part 19 • Part 20 • Part 21 • Part 22 • Part 23 • Part 24 • Part 25

• ··········· • ············ •

Thanks to whatever gods were now in charge of watching your endeavors, you made your way quickly and easily through the aqueduct. A mix of Viktor’s knowledge of the place and your ability to unlock doors and create distractions meant you didn’t need to go through the rocky riverbed.

Once on the other side of the river, you both made your way silently toward the main city, and when you arrived back at the park, the sun was already low on the horizon.

Viktor paused next to the small bench you had met by that morning, scratching the back of his neck and biting on his cheek, and you frowned.

“Spit it.” You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow when he looked up at you, but then his gaze drifted away.

“I have a…suggestion to give you, but I’m afraid of what you might think of me after.”

Your frown got deeper as his cheeks got redder.

“Go on.” 

“My apartment is closer to the aqueduct than the penthouse, so…” He cleared his throat. “I think it would be beneficial…and far less exhausting… if…youspendthenightatmyhouse.”

The last part of the sentence came out as fast as the hex claw laser. You got 'spend' and 'house'…ah…

…

“You don’t have to; it is completely up to you, and even if you say yes and then change your mind, you can go! And the walls are really paper-thin, so if you are worried that I do anything to you… I mean you do have magic and I'm not exactly the strongest man in Piltover…once…Jayce gently pushed me away from an experiment, and I toppled over… Embarrassing, really… Why am I telling you this?”

You blinked a couple of times. At first I'm shocked that he had actually asked you to spend time at his place, especially after the day you both had. And then at his comically dramatic rant, a smile appeared on your face as he kept going.

“Alright, sounds like a good plan.”

“Besides, your mother isn’t here yet, and you’d be alone and…wait, what?” He finally stopped to look at you.

“It’s a good idea. We’ll be able to squeeze a few more hours of sleep in and do some planning.”

Viktor started to nod slowly at first and then enthusiastically. His face opened up with a nervous but bright smile.

“You want to go get takeout at Voltaire’s? I’m sure I can convince him to get you some tart…” He announced as he passed you by, waiting for you to follow him.

“No need.” He adjusted his cane, and you could have sworn he had a little more pep in his step. “Jayce came over the other day; his mother usually makes him bring me food. I fear she thinks I can’t feed myself.”

“Eh…pastries and dessert don’t count as a balanced meal plan, Vik.” You joked, and he gave an ‘I don’t care’ type shrug. “I’m just happy you're eating.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You shifted your backpack’s straps, realizing what you had blurted out.

“Well, work…”

“I can eat and work! That is why I have two hands…” He made a gesture of screwing a bolt and grabbing something to eat.

“Wow…efficient.” He made an agreeing sound with his throat, and you laughed.

“Keep doing it! As much as people would kill for those cheekbones, gaunt wouldn’t look good on you.” You winked at him and laughed when he touched the reddening apple of his cheeks. 

Viktor joined your amusement as you both walked towards the Artist Quarters on your way to Engineering Street. 

The small apartment Viktor had inhabited was, in fact, closer to the aqueduct, between the riverbed and the Academy. Most of the people working in the Academy had housing there. Mostly because the rents were low for them and proximity. It was a step up from dorms, but not really an upgrade in luxury.

And while Engineering Street was quiet throughout the day and night, you’d even say a bit boring, the Artist Quarters were a lively and colorful place, becoming more energetic at night.

The buildings were smaller, with a maximum of 3 floors, but bright with small shops on the floor levels. Bakeries, art shops, music stores. The cobblestone streets were filled with chalk drawings on the ground, and the streetlights had string lights hanging in between them. 

The colors seemed to become brighter in these streets with the number of flowers and small trees and the strewn artists painting on the streets or people drinking and eating on the restaurant’s patio.

You passed by an art supply shop, and someone inside shouted Viktor’s name and waved at him. Viktor did the same, warmly greeting the elderly man storing a display of watercolors on a shelf, and you became curious.

“Mr. Felton sells me the pencils and chalks the council hates so much.” Viktor explained when he saw your expression.

“Have you ever tried drawing?”

“Oh no! Jayce is the artist of the two of us. He’s in charge of doing the initial designs and sketches…I’m good with a ruler, though!”

You were chuckling at his pride and confidence when he suddenly veered right and started to fish something out of his satchel. He took out a key and shoved it into the intricate front door to a beautiful blue-tiled building.

When he noticed you weren’t following him, he turned back and mentioned for you to come.

Viktor, head scientist and co-creator of Hextech, did not live on Engineering Street… Viktor, the color-coding aficionado, lived in the Artists Quarters. And you knew, in your heart of hearts…in the depths of your soul…there was nothing that made more sense than this.

His never-stopping mind didn’t need the monotony of the academy-assigned living quarters. It needs the bustle and the bustle and the colors of this place. You wondered if anything would have been different if the other Viktor had had this thought.

…

The building was beautiful outside and in.

On the outside, the light blue tiled walls were decorated with white columns and stone windows. There were three floors, with the two higher ones having a small veranda on them, just big enough to have two chairs on them. The ivy that crept up on the walls broke the symmetric façade of the building, clinging to the columns and tiles like veiny tendrils of bright green. What really got your attention at first was the front door, a white wood double door with intricate carvings and colorful glass panes, finished with a beautifully curved glass canopy.

The inside of the building was just as wonderful, with pastel brown painted walls and various little plants scattered on corners; the well-used wooden floors gave the inside a cozy feeling. In the middle back of the foyer was an old, small elevator that Viktor quickly made his way to, only stopping at the metal mailboxes to see if anything had been left to him. Nothing.

When you got to the elevator, you noticed Viktor’s hand tapping on the handle of his crutch. He was biting his cheek and slightly frowning, breathing in and out deeply at points.

“Are you alright?” You asked, leaning against the cage of the elevator.

“Mmm?” You nodded to his fingers on the handle, and he stopped, clutching the handle tighter. “Sorry…I--”

“Remember when you said I could change my mind and go? The same applies to you. I can just go.” You made sure your tone wasn’t disappointed or angry or any unintentional emotion that would make him feel bad when there was absolutely nothing to feel bad about. You’d respect his decision the same way you know he’d respect yours.

“No…” he quickly interjected. “I…this is not because I don’t want you here. It is because I do. I’m afraid I may do something that will scare you off…”

“I don’t scare easily.” You want to add, ‘I once spit in the face of a god,’ but then he would start asking questions. So you just touched his hand and smiled. 

The elevator stopped with a mechanical groan, and Viktor nodded, more to himself than to you, and walked out to the second-floor foyer. He opened the door and walked inside with you close behind. However, you couldn’t make it past the door frame without gasping wide-eyed while your mind blanked.

Something about butterflies and wings came to mind, though.

The inside of his apartment was the exact same floor plan as the other dimension. A small kitchenette to the left with a window on top of the sink, and the rest was open space. The glass and wood door to the balcony was on a diagonal corner in front of the main door; next to it was a small arrangement of windows with curved lines going through them, giving them a delicate design. There was a room to the side, which you guessed was the bedroom, and another room at the end of the open space, the bathroom. It wasn’t cramped, but it was small.

You knew this floor plan like the back of your hand; you could close your eyes and go from here to the bathroom without bumping into the wall.

What changed, though, made the entire home feel different. The decorations and the colors. The lived-in details of the furniture.

The walls had been painted a deep forest green, instead of the neutral gray of the other dimension. There were decorations on the walls, diplomas, and schematics displayed proudly. The wooden floors were shiny and covered with rugs here and there.

The small table that served as a divider between the kitchen and the living space had a napkin holder and a wooden straw table mat. There were pans on top of the fridge and plates on the dish rack. There were two mugs on the sink, one of them with ‘man of progress printed on it. 

It contrasted with the table that only served to hold books, boxes, and schematics. On the other timeline, glasses and plates were stored so as not to catch dust from not being used.

The living room had three bookcases filled with trinkets, books, vinyl records, and their player. 

The books weren’t just academic, like the other apartment’s shelves, but also biographies and fantasy, architecture, and philosophy.

You could see the collector's edition of your mother’s saga neatly tucked into a shelf with small ceramic figures of the main characters in front of them. 

There were photos of him, Jayce, Sky, and even your mom and Willah. Noticeably he didn’t look particularly comfortable in any of them, but it was a stark difference from the single photo of Jayce and Viktor at the inauguration of the hexgate and the framed newspaper clipping of the hex crystal discovery. 

The couch was a light dusty pink color with decorative pillows and two folded blankets on the back of it. It was a sharp difference from the leather-bound couch with blankets thrown about and his bed pillow shoved into a corner.

Behind a clothed divider, a desk and some scientific material were completely thrown around, but the mess was enclosed there. Near a big window, you saw the single-seat, twin version of the couch your mother sent to the lab. Tucked in a nook surrounded by plants and books. 

There were shoes on the shoe rack and coats on the coat hanger. There was an open book with a cover-up on the end table near the couch. There were tea stains on the dinner table. There was a life being lived here.

As you walked around the home, with Viktor trailing in front of you explaining and adding commentary to the million new things you were finding in the familiar house, you found yourself wondering why the Viktor you knew from before couldn’t have been gifted this…why was this Viktor standing in front of you smiling and being a generally happy human while his cosmic twin coughed himself to death? It made you sad and happy and angry and relieved.

“Are you alright?” Viktor tapped your shoulder, something he had now started to use to catch your attention instead of grabbing you.

You took a deep breath and mentioned the couch, silently asking permission to sit. Quickly he nodded and grabbed some pillows to make space for you. 

When you fell onto the leathery furniture, he took the place next to you, looking concerned.

“V…I…need to--”

“Meow”

Your speech was interrupted by a long, muffled meow by the front door, accompanied by small scratches on the wood.

“Oh…No, no… I’m sorry…Give me a moment…” Viktor gave an apologetic smile and got up, while you looked on intrigued by this.

He walked towards the bathroom door and opened it and then went back to the front door and did the same. The blackest of black cats intertwined itself on Viktor's legs, giving out small greeting squeaks and purrs.

“Go. Go on. Yes, I know.” Viktor said, smiling softly at the cat, talking back to them as if he could understand. 

The scientist softly nudged the cat with his foot, making the furry critter understand the big human wanted to move.

The cat finally acknowledged you and walked slowly towards where you sat, sitting gracefully in front of you and staring. Their blue eyes looked at you, and you swore that if all of the lights in Piltover were to turn off, the cat's eyes would be the only thing beaming.

“You have a cat.” You stated more than asked.

“Eehhh…Technically, the building has a cat. She just heard me first.” He limped back towards the couch and sat down.

“What's her name?” 

“Noir…Nono for short.” 

The cat leaped to the couch and smelled the hand you gave her. After a while, she deemed you worthy of her time and pushed her head into her hand, while Viktor stroked her body.

“Nono.” You called, and she looked at you. You presented her with your name, and she meowed.

When she was sick of the attention, she jumped down and walked to the bathroom, where you heard the telltale signs of her munching on her food.

“What were you saying?”

Viktor’s face was the definition of relaxed, the concern from before being replaced with a soft gaze and smile. 

Was the need to come clean to him about his cosmic twin attempting to end the world worth him losing his peace? Would the information you were about to vomit change what he has so carefully built?

“I…think I just need to eat.” You gave him a bright smile, and he laughed quietly.

“Very well.” He got up from the couch and made his way to the kitchen counter, and you followed him. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

You already were, the familiar floor plan making you feel at home. You sat at the dinner table watching him open his fridge and take out some glass containers with food and place them in the oven to heat up. 

Viktor sat on a chair next to you and slowly took off his leg brace, sighing in release.

“If you want to, you can shower. I can go ask Madame Theroux, my neighbor, if she can let me borrow one of her kid's old clothes… I think she might have something that fits you.” 

“Oh no…That’s too much of a bother.”

“Nonsense.” He got up and grabbed a discarded cane that was hooked on the divider and walked towards his bedroom. 

After a while, he came out holding two fluffy towels and handed them to you. “She probably already heard I have company; might as well come clean sooner than later; otherwise she’ll be knocking on my door to snoop.”

“Sounds like a charm.” You grabbed the towels.

“She is actually. She’s very protective of us…the people in the building.” He smiled and mentioned the bathroom door. “If you could just leave the door ajar so Nono can come in and out…otherwise she will throw a tantrum.”

The black cat, now curled up on the couch, meowed at hearing her name. You nodded and walked to the bathroom while Viktor made his way to his neighbor's door.

“Oh…you can use whatever you need from there.” He opened the door and paused again. “There’s a robe on the back of the door if you need it.”

The door clicked shut, and you looked at Nono, who looked up at you and blinked slowly.

The bathroom was big, and while in the other dimension, it was just a well, normal bathroom; this one had been enhanced to help Viktor with his disability.

There were grab rails next to the slightly raised toilet and in the shower nook. All of the towel racks were sturdy enough to assist if he needed.

The floor had several thin anti-slip rugs, and the shower also had one that looked like wood. 

There was also a stool inside the shower that you assumed he would use when needed.

You and Viktor in your timeline had once talked about this, making his house accessible for when he needed it, but his answer had been dismissive. A shrug and an ‘I spend more time in the lab anyway.’ Maybe you should have insisted; maybe you should have been more enthused about making it easier for him. Maybe if you had, he would have seen you in a better light after he had gotten the news.

It frustrated you that ‘maybes’ were all you had now. Even if you went back to your dimension, those things would still be in a maybe and if pile.

You heard the door close and started your shower quickly. You heard a knock on the door.

“There is a chair outside the door, in arm's reach for you to take. Madame Theroux said she threw in some undergarments…I didn’t check.” 

“Thank you.” 

You finished the shower and grabbed the clothes. Some red cotton checkered bottoms, a matching shirt, a white undershirt, and undergarments. It looked cozy, and it did fit you perfectly. This brought up the question of how Viktor had described you to the neighbor for her to get accurate measurements.

Walking out of the bathroom intent on joking about it with him, you stopped when you saw him haul a blanket and what you assume was a pillow to the couch.

“Oh. You are done.” He smiled, grabbed some clothes from the back of the couch, and walked towards you. “I think the food will be done soon. I am going to take a shower too, and then we eat, yes?”

You were still looking at the pillow and the sheet that was already tucked into the sofa. 

“This for me?” You blurted it out before he passed you, and he shook his head.

“No. You’re my guest. You sleep on the bed.” He sounded proud of himself. “May I?”

Viktor pointed to the door of the bathroom, and you noticed you had been blocking his path. You took a step forward, and he smiled, walked inside, and pushed the door almost closed.

The ruffling of clothes snapped you out of your stupor, and you walked towards the kitchen, throwing daggers at the couch.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @kitewa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies @iamfandomnerd @jazzypop-op @jojo-at-heart @deceivethedreamer

[jays-rus]

Night After Patrol

[After a rough night, Dick Grayson comes home angry and dominates his partner in a rough, primal, and intense way, letting his hard dom side take over.]

After a long brutal night on patrol Dick comes home and spots you on the couch, just sitting there watching TV having no clue the hell he went through tonight. It just pisses him off for no reason and he just walks to stand in front of you, blocking the tv from your view. He's just glaring down at you. “Look at you–sitting here on the couch. Blissfully unaware of the hell I just went through. Frankly–it pisses me off…” he growls at you. 

He leans down and snatches the tv remote from you and shuts the TV off, “Makes me so mad that you just sit here on your ass every night, doing nothing..” he growls once again. Your eyes widen in shock at his words. “Sitting here? On my ass? I just got off a 12 hour shift–I haven't been sitting on my ass, if you’re having a bad night don't come home and start being an asshole to me for no reason” You huff out, annoyed by his attitude.

He growls and grabs you by the ankle, dragging you closer to him. He hooks your legs around his waist, “You’re a bratty little thing, so mean to the man protecting you every night.” He says with mock hurt, manipulating you. His voice is deep and raspy, holding a low growl from his chest as he speaks to you. 

“Me? Bratty, what about you and your fuck ass attitude” You hiss back at him, irritation clear on your face but he doesn't miss the way your voice wavers as he looks into your eyes. The way his hands slide from your ankles to your calves, resting there. He squeezes harshly, watching as a gasp leaves your soft plump lips. 

“Look at you–I haven't even touched you and you're quivering” He rasps out, a dark primal look in his eye. His lips curl into a dark smirk as he pulls you closer, his hands sliding from your calves to your mid thighs, making you wrap around his waist tighter.

He lets out a low chuckle, watching the way your face flushes as he barely touches you. He watches intently, “Look at you–Practically begging for my touch like the slut you are– aren't you?” He's not asking, he's telling you what you are, and he's not wrong. He knows exactly what makes you tick, and he's making sure to avoid touching you where you want him to. 

His anger makes him want to be rough, not his usual soft pliable self. He's in the hard dom headspace now. Looking down at you, watching the way you shiver– shivering at his touch, his hand barely ghostin over your body. His eyes gloss over your body as you anticipate his next move. 

“W-what are we doing?” You ask genuinely curious how tonights going to go, wanting to know if he's going to be mean and rough– soft and kind. The way he's glaring down at you answers your question, you can feel the anger rolling off of him in waves, the way his arms subtly flex as he holds your thighs. The way his veins are showing through his suit. 

The sight makes your mouth water, anticipation fills your body. Fear and excitement courses through you, wondering what's going to happen tonight. The dark look in his eyes scares you, but also excites you. You feel your underwear dampen with your excitement. 

Dick can sense your arousal and growls, “such a slut, you like it when I'm rough? I can see how turned on you’re getting.” He watches as you squirm in his hold. Dick slaps your inner thigh, making you gasp out. He grabs your waist and with one hard pull he rips your shorts off– throwing them to the side and reaching down to hook his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and pulling them off with one swift pull, making them rub against your leg, causing a burning sensation.

You let out a loud whine at the way he rips your underwear off, looking into his eyes as you feel yourself grow wet. You watch as he licks his lips, lowering his head closer to your core. Making eye contact as he lets his hot tongue lick a long slow strip between your folds. Relishing in the way your thighs clench around his head. Dick brings his arms up to push your legs down, “let me breathe” He growls out, lapping at your folds, the action making wet slurping noises. 

A slurry of moans fall from your lips as his tongue laps at your folds. His bruising grip on your thighs only adds to the pleasure you’re feeling. Your breath coming out in broken pants as you feel his tongue push its way into your warm core, the feeling of his tongue massaging the inside of your core. Your hand flys down to tangle in his hair, gripping and pulling harshly, “oh Dick, Dick” you say in a pleading tone, not knowing what you’re even begging for.

Dick lets out a dark chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your core, making a loud moan leave you at the sensation. And then you feel it, you feel as he pushes one of his long thick fingers into your cunt, going in and out at a fast pace. Your toes curl as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, the knot pulling tighter and tighter. Dick feels you clenching around his finger and pushes another on in, making a scissoring motion, stretching you out with his long thick fingers.

“Such a good girl, taking what I give you.” He mutters out before moving his fingers faster, curling them. His fingers hit that soft spongy spot making your vision go white, your body shakes as your release slams into you. Your pussy clenching around Dicks fingers, he presses his mouth to your clint, finger fucking you while lapping at your clint, helping you ride your orgasm. 

He pulls back, wiping his lips. His eyes held hunger and desire. He stands up, dropping your legs and he works on taking his Nightwing suit off. Sliding it off and leaving him bare, allowing you to see his hardon, hard and leaking precum, standing up straight with a red tip. He watches your reaction, relishing in the way your eyes widen at his cock hard and erect. 

“Like what you see Mi amor?” he says with a dark raspy voice, his lips curled into a dark smirk. He wraps his hand around his cock stroking it slowly, letting out a soft moan at the sensation. The sight of him jerking off infront of you– it makes you so incredibly turned on. Your pussy clenching around nothing. He uses his thumb to rub his tip, making his hips jerk forward chasing friction. 

You sit up and scoot to the edge of the couch, at eye level with his cock. You look up with begging eyes, he nods letting you touch him. Once your hand wraps around him– he lets out a deep moan, his eyes closing. You stroke him slowly but then gain speed, rubbing your thumb over his tip, spreading his precum along his cock, using it as lube. Leaning forward, sticking your tongue out, licking the tip of his cock.

Dick lets out a hiss and his hip jerk forward, “Jesus baby, warn a guy” he whimpers out as his hips stutter as you take his cock entirely into your warm wet mouth. You let out a giggle and slurp the underside of his cock, licking the prominent vein, making him shutter and let out a broken moan. Dicks hand snakes around to rest on your head, making you take him deeper into your mouth. His his move as he holds your head still, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth with wet slick noises. His balls slapping against your chin with a clap each time he snaps his hips forward. 

He pulls your hair roughly, pulling you off his cock. Dick glances down at you, his gaze dark before he slaps you harshly, the slap making a loud echo through the room, making you let out a moan at the sensation. “Dirty girl– trying to make me cum so early.” He growls out, grabbing your chin harshly, “Open” he says making you open her mouth, he places his thumb on your tongue.“Good girl–” He mumbles out, he leans over your mouth and lets a line of drool fall from his mouth before spitting it on your tongue. Dick moans at the sight. “Be a good girl and swallow”.

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

[“Nothing Personal” – FNAF 2 AU / 1987 / Fritz Smith & Dave Miller]

Notes: An old AU that I wrote a long time ago and abandoned in daft for almost a few months, but I guess I'm coming back to it? And the reader here can be considered an accomplice of William and lives under a false identity with the name "Fritz Smith," just like he does, the story only takes the setting similar to the game timeline - 1987.

12/2/1987. Graveyard shift, backroom silence.

You’re sipping from a cracked thermos, boots propped lazily on a crate of unused party hats.

Across from you, “Dave Miller” leans on the edge of a dusty shelf, arms crossed, one brow twitching as he watches you retell some dumb story Jeremy Fitzgerald told you—something about Balloon Boy and a can of spray cheese.

"You know," Dave says, voice laced in that syrupy false politeness that never quite covers the venom, "Fitzgerald’s got a real talent for making nothing sound like Shakespeare. Really riveting."

You glance at him, deadpan. “Jealous?”

He scoffs. “Of what? Your riveting bromance with a night guard whose entire personality is made of static electricity and expired chewing gum?” He raises a brow. “Hardly.”

You smirk, pushing your luck. “Hmm. You sure? You’ve been a bit twitchy every time he walks past.”

“I’m twitchy because this hellhole is infested with animatronics that want to redecorate my ribcage, not because Jeremy gave you half a donut and called you ‘bro.’”

“Dave”—you lean forward, the amusement dancing just beneath your breath—“did you seriously just say the word ‘bromance’? Who even are you?”

He goes quiet for a second. Too quiet.

Then: “Just a guy,” he mutters, not meeting your gaze. “trying not to lose what little I’ve got left.”

And just like that, the moment shifts again. The silly cracks into the solemn. The cheap fluorescent lights buzz overhead, and for a moment, you remember why you’re both hiding.

—

The clock above the Parts & Service room ticked with a mocking rhythm—3:41 AM. The kind of hour where shadows stretch too long and silence feels like it's breathing behind your neck.

You sat cross-legged on the cold floor, flicking a lighter open and closed with one hand, a ritual born of boredom and anxiety. Dave stood with his shoulder leaning against a file cabinet like he owned the place, which, in a twisted sense, maybe he did.

His badge was fake. So was yours. But the way he watched everything—you, especially—felt all too real.

“So,” you said, voice low, “what’s eating you?”

He didn’t look at you at first. Just muttered, “Nothing.”

“You’ve said ‘nothing’ three times tonight, and every time it sounded more like ‘jealousy’ trying to wear a trench coat.”

His gaze snapped to you. Gray eyes flashing with something sharp. “You think I’m jealous of Fitzgerald?”

You offered him a smirk. “I think you get weirdly fidgety when he gets near me.”

Dave—William—let out a breath that was half laugh, half growl. He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it further, like he was seconds away from combusting.

“He’s annoying. Loud. Keeps leaving the hallway cameras off. One of these days, Bonnie’s gonna play peekaboo with his spleen and I won’t feel a damn thing.”

You raised a brow. “Still doesn’t explain why you keep glaring at him every time he calls me ‘Fritz’ with that stupid grin.”

Silence.

Then: “He doesn’t deserve that name coming out of his mouth.”

You paused. That caught you off guard. “...What?”

William’s voice dropped—lower, quieter, but laced with fire. “You don’t get it. That name isn’t some prop. It’s armor. It’s yours. And he—he treats it like a joke. Like all this,” he motioned around, “is a joke.”

Your breath stilled for a beat.

There it was. The truth, tangled in ego and fear.

He wasn’t just jealous. He was scared.

Scared of losing whatever fragile thread connected you to him. The only person who saw through his act, maybe even before he did.

“I’m not going anywhere, y’know,” you said, voice softer now. “Fake name or not.”

He turned away for a second, pretending to be interested in a broken Freddy head on the shelf. “You say that now.”

“I mean it,” you said firmly, rising to your feet, stepping into his space with reckless calm. “But if you want me to stop being friendly with Jeremy just because it bruises your weird, secret possessive heart—”

“It’s not possessive—”

“—then maybe stop pretending you don’t care when I sit with you instead.”

He looked at you then. Fully. The act, for just a flicker of a moment, melted. William Afton, no mask, no grin. Just the man. Ragged, brilliant, and tired.

“You know,” he murmured, “you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep...”

You leaned in, voice steady. “And you shouldn’t push people away just because you think you don’t deserve them.”

A beat. Then another. Then—

“...Fritz.” It came out like a confession. “You really do drive me insane sometimes.”

You smiled. “Good. Means I’m doing my job.”

And in the far corner of the room, a broken animatronic twitched.

But neither of you moved.

[foundress0fnothing]

For @beesays. I’m sorry this update took so long 💕

So, so, so many thanks to @violetasteracademic for helping work out the plot issues that have been stymieing me for months and for betaing this chapter (aka making me slow down and actually do some worldbuilding). ILY ♥️

Read on ao3 or under the cut!

October, 12 years ago

“You flatter me, darling.”

Rhys studied Feyre’s work as he leaned against the wooden frame that held their easels—a habit she hadn’t managed to discourage no matter how many times she had shoved it out from under him. He always righted himself with a frustratingly feline grace and a smirk before settling down to pester her for the day.

Feyre held up her pink oil pastel stick threateningly, and as she watched Rhys take a healthy step back out of fear that she might smear it on his black sweater (information she gleefully filed away for the next time leaned on their stand), the bell rang to signal the end of the school day.

She sighed and dropped the stick back into her supply case, then grabbed a cloth to wipe her hands off. “Stop peeking.” Even so, she tilted her head to look at the portrait of Rhys she’d been working on. It bore the swirls of color punctuated by harsh black lines that were slowly solidifying into a style unique to her, but it was still a good likeness of him. There was something in the set of the jaw, in the spark of the eyes, that was quintessentially Rhys—his joking mockery, his quiet pride. She was pleased with him—with it. 

Feyre turned to gather the rest of her things, but Rhys had already bundled them into her bag and hoisted it up on his shoulder. She scowled up at him, and he raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong, darling?”

“I can carry my own bag.” She stood up and held out her hand expectantly.

Rhys ignored it and turned to walk out the door, calling out over his shoulder,“But why would you?”

“Asshole,” Feyre grumbled to herself before quickening her pace to try and catch up with him. He was halfway down the hall by the time she managed to reach him. She yanked on her bag, and Rhys let her pull it off of him with an exaggerated sigh. 

“Don’t say I never did anything nice for you.”

“Yes, because stealing my bag is the definition of ‘nice.’”

“It looked heavy.”

“Rhysand—”

“Darling, not my full name…”

“Such a drama queen.”

“You like it.”

Feyre only hummed, but the grin Rhys flashed her told her that he knew he was right.

As they reached the front doors and started walking toward the parking lot along with all the other students streaming toward cars and buses, Rhys grabbed her hand and started steering her toward where his car was parked. “Do you have to go home right away?”

Feyre thought of what was waiting for her at home—a sullen father, an empty fridge, fighting with her sisters over a hot shower. She had already worked a shift at the cafe that morning, waking up at 3:30 to squeeze in a few hours before the school day started, and Alis, the owner, was adamant that Feyre only worked one shift a day. So whatever Rhys was planning, it had to be better than what her evening would otherwise hold. “No—why?”

“I have someone I want you to meet. I think you’ll like each other.”

“Who? One of your soccer bros?” Feyre looked up at him as he slowed, realizing that they had arrived at his car. It was far nicer than she thought a high schooler needed—some flashy Mercedes-Benz —and she tried not to let herself balk at the casual display of wealth.

If he noticed her discomfort, Rhys didn’t comment on it. “Not quite. Although I’m happy to introduce you to Cassian if you’re looking for the typical asshole athlete experience.”

“Isn’t that what I’m getting from being here with you?” Feyre teased.

Some emotion flashed across his face, but it was gone before she had a chance to guess at what it might have been. For all that they had grown close in art class—being forced to study each others’ faces for weeks had a way of bringing people together, she supposed—so much about Rhys was still a mystery. 

“I suppose you’ll have to wait and see, darling.” He had come around to the passenger side of the car as if to open the door for her, and waited with an expectant expression.

Feyre studied him. She liked what she saw in him, despite the super star athlete persona he projected to everyone else. And she wondered if she’d like him even more if he let her in enough to unravel the parts of him that were still mysterious. She hoped so, anyway.

So she arched an eyebrow. “Well? Are you going to get the door for me like a gentleman?”

“I’m not a gentleman, Feyre,” he purred as he pulled the door open and waited for her to slide in. “I’m only here to get a better view of the prettiest girl in school as she slides into my car.” Rhys looked her up and down and winked before closing the door behind her.

She rolled her eyes and flipped him off through the window. “Prick.” 

“I heard that,” he said, sliding into the driver’s seat. 

“I meant it.”

“I hope so.”

They bickered back and forth on the short drive from the school to the town center until Rhys pulled up in front of the ice cream shop.

Feyre frowned at him. “Ice cream? In October? Shouldn’t they be closed for the season by now?”

Rhys scoffed as he climbed out of the car. “Ice cream is the correct choice for any weather.”

“Rhys, that is absolutely not true.”

“And,” he said, as he held open the door for her, “I wasn’t going to bring you to Alis’. As lovely as it is, I didn’t want to ask you to spend more time today at your job.”

Before she could ask Rhys how he knew where she worked, a voice belonging to someone she had never met before called out her name. “Feyre Archeron. I’ve been begging for him to introduce us for weeks.”

“Yes, thank you, Mor.” Rhys looked slightly mortified. “Feyre, may I introduce you to the perpetual pain in my ass, my cousin, Morrigan Datiles?”

“Hi, Mor?” Mor repeated Feyre’s greeting, an incredulous tone coloring her voice. “It’s been a decade since I last saw you and all you have to say is ‘Hi, Mor’?”

“Yes?” Feyre grimaced, looking up to meet Mor’s eyes in the mirror. 

“I had heard…” Mor trailed off, her eyes flicking away from Feyre’s for a moment. But then she took a breath, and started in again. “I had heard that things with Tamlin didn’t end up working out.”

“Nope.” Feyre popped the p at the end of the word and broke Mor’s gaze, grabbing the mascara tube that lay on the bathroom counter and returning her focus to her reflection in the mirror. She hoped that Mor would pick up on her less-than-subtle hint that the events of the last year were not something she was interested in discussing right here, right now. Or ever, she thought privately.

But it didn’t matter whether Feyre was interested in discussing things or not; Mor had never been one to leave things alone.

“I thought you couldn’t wait to leave home. That was your one big dream. You were going to move out to New York and open your gallery and—”

“Well, dreams change,” Feyre interrupted, not wanting to hear a litany of her decade of failure. And one that wouldn’t even include the worst of it all—the pieces of herself that she had given up, one by one, until she was nothing more than Tamlin’s fiancée who could offer an interesting art history tidbit here or there so he could impress his coworkers with his bohemian artist of a partner. 

And it wasn’t just herself she had lost, she thought, glancing up at Mor. The other woman was studying her with an expression of something close enough to pity that Feyre felt herself bristle and turn back to Mor. “My dream right now is to not look like shit, serve this party so Nesta doesn’t fire me, and then go home to sleep it off.”

“O-kay.” Mor raised her hands defensively as she drew out the word, the pitying look changing to something sharper, which didn’t feel much better to Feyre. With a devastatingly effortless hair flip, Mor turned to face the mirror, touching up her lipstick and washing her hands. 

Feyre let out a silent huff of air. For all that she had hoped to avoid interacting with her old friends today, she didn’t want this to be the way her first time seeing Mor in a decade went. They had been friends—good, close friends—once, and even though they weren’t anymore, it didn’t feel right to Feyre not to honor that closeness they used to have.

“I’m sorry. For snapping.” She bit her lip and tried to find the right words. “It’s been … shit. Obviously. And now I’m back, and Nesta let me join Valkyrie Events, and—” Feyre could feel herself rambling but couldn’t seem to stop now that she had finally started explaining herself to Mor, “—and I don’t normally have to serve the events but Dierdre is out, and so they need me, and it’s not how I wanted everyone to see me, but—”

“Everyone, huh?” Mor interrupted, a skeptical look on her face. Her expression was still more severe than usual, but something familiar, almost playful, flashed in her eyes. 

“Yes, everyone, Mor.”

“You had to know that people were going to see you now that you’re back in town. Velaris isn’t that big.”

“I’m aware.” Feyre scoffed, as if she hadn’t complained endlessly about that exact thing when they were back in high school. “I just didn’t want them to see me like this.” She gestured at the black Valkyrie Events server uniform she was wearing and then crossed her arms.

“You wanted a big, fuck-you-all, revenge-dress moment?” Mor wrinkled her nose.

“Maybe,” Feyre sniffed, ignoring the slight prickling of tears she felt in the corners of her eyes. She could sense Mor’s disapproval, but she didn’t care. Was it so wrong to want the first time that people recognized her as Feyre Archeron to be when she could look cool and unaffected and devastatingly hot, and not when she was sweaty and overtired and offering them some dry appetizer?

“Feyre,” Mor’s voice had turned gentle, having picked up on her defensiveness, “no one here is laughing at you. You don’t need a revenge dress moment. Not for any of us, anyway. We’re—” Mor cut herself off, but Feyre could feel the word “friends” hand in the air for a second. 

“Mor…” Feyre started, hoping to smooth over the awkwardness somehow, but Mor held up a hand.

She looked Feyre over for a few beats before nodding, clearly having decided something.

“I’ll help you.”

“What?” Whatever Feyre had been expecting her to say, it wasn’t that. 

“I’ll help you. I’ll get you through this party without having to deal with everyone,” and the emphasis she placed on the word made it clear that she knew exactly who Feyre meant. “As best I can, anyway. A reunion can be on your own terms—although, some things might be different. People have changed. Moved on.”

Mor paused, and then smiled, the first real smile Feyre had seen from her. “But not me, bitch.” The sudden change in tone caught Feyre off guard, and she snorted. “This is our reunion and I have not moved on, and so after we make it through this party, we’re going out and you’re paying for all the drinks I want.”

“As long as you don’t want more than two drinks, I think I can swing that.” Feyre smiled tentatively. 

“It’s a date,” Mor said. “Now please let me give you some lipstick. This clean girl look is tragically too high-school-Feyre to stop everyone from recognizing you.”

After a nod to signal her permission, Mor started brushing the color over Feyre’s lips, and for a beat, it felt like they were still back in high school—Feyre skipping sophomore lit and Mor using her free period to gossip and hang out without any of the boys around. 

But there were subtle differences too. Mor had clearly grown into herself—she had always been beautiful, but there was a subtle confidence that Feyre didn’t remember her friend having at eighteen. And there was so much about her that Feyre didn’t know anymore. They were friendly again, sure, and Feyre thought—hoped, really—that there was the potential for them to be close again too. But all of that would take time.

Time that Feyre resolved to make. Whatever else happened tonight, she and Mor wouldn’t be strangers any longer.

“God, you look hot.” Mor looked over her handiwork with pride, having dusted a few other products across Feyre’s hair and face while Feyre was lost in her thoughts. Feyre looked at herself in the mirror and couldn’t stop from sucking in a quiet breath. She did look hot—Mor’s makeup skills remained flawless—but the face staring back at Feyre reminded her too much of the woman she’d been with Tamlin, someone made-up, polished, quietly perfect, and entirely forgettable. She would take looking like her messy high school self any day over the pretty wallflower she had become to fit into Tamlin’s life.

But that wasn’t the point of tonight. Tonight was about not looking like herself. What better way to do that than looking like the person she had pretended to be for a decade?

“Okay, last thing.” Mor stepped out of her heels—black and staggeringly high with red bottoms—and nudged them over to Feyre. “Size 8, right?” 

“Mor, I’m not wearing your heels,” Feyre balked. “I’ll be fine in my vans. You can’t be barefoot.”

Mor just looked at her as if she was insane. “I have a backup pair in my car. Who do you think I am?”

Feyre rolled her eyes and stepped into the shoes, hating the pressure and strain she immediately felt in her calves and back. “I’m a waitress tonight, Mor. I don’t think heels are practical,” she all but whined.

“Tough. They’re penance for leaving me with just the boys. I had to make new friends, Feyre. It was so much work.” She paused, and her expression turned more serious. “You should meet them, Fey. After all of this tonight. I think you’d like them.”

“I…” Feyre didn’t know how to respond. Mor wasn’t wrong, she probably would like them. But making friends, putting down more roots—it was a sign that she’d be stuck in Velaris, just like she always worried. And while she didn’t mind it as much as she once might have, the thought of making a life here was a little galling.

As if reading her mind, Mor added, gently, “You need to start building a life again.”

“I know. I will. I am.” Feyre sighed. “I just need to get through this party first.”

A few hours later, Feyre stood by the door to the rooftop with a tray balanced in her hand. 

She had begged Nesta to let her sit out the first few hours of the party while the sun was sinking in the background, arguing (not incorrectly) that she should practice loading and holding trays first because she had never waitressed before.

Nesta had agreed, referencing some bowl Feyre had dropped and broken when they were kids and then subsequently ignoring the middle finger Feyre had thrown her way. She only looked Feyre up and down before wrinkling her nose and walking back toward the office. “Don’t trip over your stripper heels and ruin my party.”

“It’s not your party,” Feyre had called out after her.

“It’s my company.” The door snicked shut after that, effectively giving Nesta the last word.

Feyre had stuck her tongue out at the door, never feeling more like a younger sibling than she did in that moment, and made her way, feet aching already, to the kitchens.

But now that night had fallen, Feyre knew she couldn’t put off the inevitable much longer. Tray of mini sliders in hand, she stepped out on the rooftop and surveyed the space. 

And smiled.

Because the party was perfect. Everything she had envisioned, all the hard work she had put into making that vision come alive—it was all there in the glowing lights, the joyful guests, the miraculously still upright flower arch. It wasn’t quite the same as the paintings she used to create, but it was the first thing she had made in a long time that felt alive—that made her feel alive. 

Feyre hoped it was everything Azriel and his fiance—Eris, she had overheard while hiding out in the kitchens—could have wanted.

She spotted them talking with an older woman near the bar. Azriel looked much the same as he had a decade ago—dressed all in black, still breathtakingly beautiful and darkly brooding—although Feyre could tell, even from a distance, that he had a lightness in his fiance’s presence that wasn’t there before. Eris was tall and lithe and dressed immaculately in a dark green sweater that set off the red of his hair. His arm was around Azriel’s waist, the gesture familiar and easy.

They looked at home in the splendor of the rooftop party—at home, and happy, and in love. Feyre breathed a sigh of relief, of contentment for her once-friend. 

Which was then disturbed by a pointed throat clearing from Nesta, who had someone snuck up on her. “I realize that you haven’t been a server before, but I had hoped that the concept of a passed appetizer would have been evident enough even for you, Fey.”

“Yes, thank you, Nes. World’s best boss.” 

Feyre didn’t give her a chance to respond, because she knew that Nesta would only agree with her statement, instead steeling herself to begin moving through the crowd.

After the awkward agony of approaching the first few clusters of people and mumbling “Mini slider?” at them while avoiding eye contact, she felt herself relax. No one looked at her, really—they just took the food and continued with their conversations. The most anyone offered her was a perfunctory “thanks,” and Feyre wouldn’t have had it any other way.

A few times, out of the corner of her eye, she sensed Mor’s presence as she flitted amongst the guests (and presumably steered them away from Feyre), but no one else at the party gave her more than a passing glance to see what food she was carrying. She was perversely grateful for all the practice she had gotten over the last few years at fading into the background; it was almost second nature at this point to duck her head, to skirt around the edges of the room, to be completely forgettable.

When she only had a few things left on her tray, Feyre limped over to the bar and leaned against its surface, desperately trying to relieve some of the pain in her feet. Mor’s ability to weaponize guilt was unmatched. 

As if she had been summoned, Mor appeared by her side with a knowing twinkle in her eyes, apparently pleased at Feyre’s suffering.

“Here,” she said, holding out her half-full cosmo. “Sneak a sip. You look like you need it.”

She wrinkled her nose and gently shoved the proffered drink back in Mor’s direction. “I’m working.”

“No one will know.” Mor whined, her brown eyes wide and pleading, and Feyre snorted at the memory of her friend turning that exact look on teachers in high school who dared mark her late for classes that she was in fact late to.

Still, she shook her head. “Nesta will know.”

“She’s not that scary.”

Feyre only arched an eyebrow at that absolutely false statement, and Mor shrugged, uncowed, before taking a sip and saying, “Just make up an excuse. Tell her I bullied you into it.”

“Oh, so just the truth then?”

Mor giggled and then pulled Feyre into a hug with one arm, the hand with the cosmo holding it just out of jostling range despite Feyre’s surprised stumble into the embrace. “I missed this, Feyre. I missed you.”

She sighed, trying to ignore the stab of guilt Mor’s sincerity conjured up, “I missed you too, Mor.”

“Good.” She tossed her hair for emphasis, and Feyre couldn’t help grinning at her ridiculous friend. “I’ve got to go distract people before they realize who I’m talking to. But don’t forget—you still owe me drinks.” And taking the last two sliders, Mor stepped away, back into the crowd of guests. 

Realizing that Mor had just granted her a reprieve from the rooftop by clearing her tray, Feyre too began weaving through the party, keeping her head down and trying to make herself small (well, as small as she could be while wearing Mor’s heels) as she returned to the kitchens.

She had just reached the doorway where Nesta still stood when a round of applause began, and she startled and whirled around to face the party. As she looked at all the guests staring back at her, Feyre realized belatedly that she had been so focused on her escape that she hadn’t noticed the hush falling over the crowd, or that Eris had begun speaking and thanking all the guests, or that he had reached out a hand to indicate Nesta’s position by the door so everyone could thank Valkyrie Events.  

Feyre could feel the eyes that slid between her and Nesta, and she inhaled sharply as she imagined the flare of recognition that must be happening.

The youngest Archeron girl…

Hadn’t she left?

Good of her family to—

—Tamlin Greenthorne?

And so, without sparing the guests a second glance, Feyre turned and fled into the relative safety of the restaurant.

Maybe she could hide out in the kitchens for the rest of the party. Nesta would get over it. Probably. Or maybe no one actually recognized her. Right? It had been a decade, and who really cared anyway? Everyone had moved on. Everyone. Mor and Azriel and Cassian and—

“Feyre, stop!”

She knew that voice. The rich baritone made her stomach clench—hope, nervousness, hurt, all at once. It was too much.

Without turning around, she kicked off Mor’s stupid heels, bent down, picked them up, and then kept walking. She heard his footsteps growing closer, and, almost unconsciously, threw one of the shoes behind her, feeling a perverse giddiness at the sound of the thwack and the “What the fuck, Feyre? At my face?” that let her know she hadn’t missed her target.

She kept moving, hoping that a shoe to the face had been enough of a deterrent, but no—he wouldn’t take a hint, wouldn’t leave well enough alone, wouldn’t let her pretend that she had managed to go undetected. Asshole. Feyre raised the other shoe to throw it too—out of petulance and irritation more than a belief that it actually stop him—Rhys—from catching her, when a large, firm hand grabbed her wrist and spun her around.

“I wouldn’t do that, Feyre darling.”

[seven-004]

Get Off my Car!

Red Hood x Reader (f!)

Scary vigilante or not after a 12 hour shift anyone would be annoyed with someone refusing to stop using your car as a seat

Warnings: Mild banter and a few innuendos, blood and slight panic, mentions of food and baking

🚫 DO NOT USE FOR ACCURATE MEDICAL DIAGNOSIS OR PROCEDURES OF ANY KIND IM NOT A TRAINED MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL WHATSOEVER 🚫

Taking on a considerable amount of under paid overtime was less than ideal. More so as a fresh med grad at a Bowery hospital. But you needed the hours and more than anything the experience

Slightly regretting it when needing to cross the dark parking lot after a graveyard shift. In a City brimming with vigilantism and villains. They just had to give the worst shift to the newbie huh

It was a dreadingly long walk to your car that felt like a lot longer than it probably was

But here you were nonetheless. A very large obstacle in your way. Something that not only had your mouth gaping open but also incredibly irritated. Red Hood was using the back half of your cars roof as a seat. Said half visibly closer to the ground than the other. While audibly playing some kind of shooter game on his phone

"Uhm- Red Hood can you-" the current irritation was lower than the fear while you clutched your satchel gathering your courage "please can you get off my car sir?"

He was secretly offended you thought he was old enough to be called sir and it may have influenced in his response

He gave you the finger and promptly resumed his game. Not that he'd even paused it to begin with. You were too tired to deal with this after such a long shift. Your keys were already clutched between your knuckles throughout the walk to your car and accessible. You simply got into your car and in a burst of courage? tiredness? irritation? it could of been anything honestly

Regardless of the reason, you simply put the car in reverse and satisfyingly watched him roll right off. No middle finger now huh

Rolling your window down, he lay on the floor twitching. The adrenaline was certainly there now realizing what you'd done and quite honestly expecting to see a gun pointing at your face through the window

However, Red Hood was now laughing loudly from his position on the floor

"You're crazy! Sure caught me off guard"

He continued to squawk on the floor. Leather jacket visibly crinkling with his movement. Not exactly what you were expecting but you'd take it over a gun to the face any day. Peeking curiously out your window with baited breath just waiting for something else to happen. For anything else to happen

Finally sitting up. His day had been less than ideal and rolling off of a car certainly wasn't something he planned on doing today but it somehow didn't make the day any worse. Especially not when you, a cute person in scrubs watched him intently form the driver seat

"Hey-" you visibly flinched "I'll take ya home" still frozen in your seat as he got off the floor and walked over to your passenger side door

Only turning to look at Red Hood when he knocked on the window. Narrowing your eyes at him. He chuckled. "I won't do anything weird, swear" putting a hand up as if saying an oath. Barely convinced and still suspicious, you very slowly moved to unlock the car

"Try anything funny and I'll run you over as soon as you get outta my car"

He laughed again slipping into your passenger seat "Got it. I'll just see you home"

His presence was both releaving and unnerving. Pro, scariest vigilante was here to protect you should anything happen. Con, a huge buff man was now sitting in your passenger seat in the dead of night with no witnesses should anything happen

Your already tense shoulders were now on the verge of cramping. "Put your seatbelt on" Red Hood only stared. Realizing it was a stupid request but persisting anyway now that the words had left your mouth "wouldn't want another incident involving my car now would we"

He was incredibly amused but still complied. You were extremely gutsy and he applauded that. Meanwhile you had no idea where said courage was stemming from

You began the drive home, Red Hood going back to his game. It wasn't a long drive or an eventful one either. Soon pulling into the apartments parking lot "Alright this is it" he didn't make any effort to move. Your shoulder brushing his broad ones when you gathered your satchel and keys

You'd realized how much his shoulders spilled over the seats width when he first took a seat. But it made you feel small nonetheless

You got out of the car and took a few steps towards the stairs leading up. Red Hood was already half a step behind you without really noticing him get out of the car, proceeding to lock it "That won't really do much"

"Yeah I know... it's more for comfort I suppose?" Shrugging absentmindedly, if you were to get robbed not much could stop it unless there was someone there in the moment brave enough to do something about it

He got in the elevator with you, more than you already expected for little ol' you. Accompanying you all the way to the door "Thank you for escorting me?... accompanying me all the way here. Sorry about the car. Genuinely. Omg I didn't apologize sooner I'm so so so sorry. Are you alright? I'm a terrible person- I'm a terrible doctor." His chuckle brought you back up to earth from that downward spiral

"I'm alright-"

"Are you sure! Should I examine you?"

"Oh? "

"What- no wait not like that" if Red Hood had been amused before by how you rolled him off your car he was more amused now seeing you flustered

"I'll see you around" he waved and simply walked off leaving you dumbstruck and flushed red at your apartment door

"I'll see you around? What a dork"

"Shut up dickhead or I'll punch your teeth in" is heard down the hall and you wonder if he was talking to another tenant

— • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • —

It'd been a few nights now and there hadn't been any vigilantes in sight. Until tonight at least. Similarly as the first time you approached your car after another long shift and there he was on your car roof again

Irritation bubbled up like pasta water reaching a boil about to spill over

"Do I have to roll you off again!" A scowl evident under the street light in the open lot

"Oh no not today haha" he slipped off the roof with a practiced elegance a white paper cup in hand, another next to where he was just sitting

A lid immediately placed on those boiling noodles effectively suffocating all irritation originally there "Coffee?" Not exactly what you were expecting making it quite the pleasant surprise

"Oh sorry, I'll be going to bed soon but thank you though" you felt bad, sheepishly turning him down with pink cheeks

"Oh right, it's decaf!" Red Hood quickly reached for the cup on top your car to present it to you, the sticker on it in fact saying decaf

"Aw thank you, that's really sweet"

There was a slight awkward pause. You took a sip of it, the coffee itself was really good although plain. But still hot making you wonder how he'd done it when it seemed like he'd been sitting there for a bit waiting for you

"Ah can I?"

You pointed at the driver side door. Which he was standing in front of

"Oh right, sure" "Smooth "

"Shut up!"

"Excuse me?"

"Not you! Ugh" he seemed to press a hand to his forehead? Brow? It was hard to tell with the helmet "the coms, ah communications" he pointed to the side of the helmet presumably where his ears were

"Oh I understand, cool... you're not crazy then" you tried to dissuade the awkwardness

Red Hoods shoulders eased down and he chuckled "Something like that" he left it open to interpretation and it made you smirk. You liked his humor

"Right..." You teased moving to try and unlock your door. He didn't move much, shadow cast by the street light engulfing your figure. "You going home with me today too?" He snorted, realizing what you said "No! Stoppp it not what I meant" you attempted to shove him out of the way but struggled which only made him laugh "Meanie"

However once unlocked he opened the door and stepped aside for you, it'd been a long time since someone had opened a door for you "Than- thank you" he nodded

Once both of you were seated "Why so nice all of a sudden?" he hummed mulling over the question while you started the car

"I guess I was in a bad mood?"

You snorted "Aren't you usually" you snarked back without much though "Sorry!" You squeaked "Don't shoot me please, you're just easy to talk to I didn't mean to"

He laughed fully and it made your face heat up in embarrassment "I don't mind, you've got guts I like that" he stretched in the cramped seat bumping your shoulder. Sending a wave of heat upon contact, said heat collecting in your face

Hiding your face behind the cup of coffee "Ah, I wasn't sure how you liked it..."

"Oh it's fine, it's really good coffee"

"Yeah, I know a place"

"Open at this hour?"

"I called in a favor"

"For me?" You spared a quick glance his way, but Red Hood was avoiding your gaze looking out the window. A hand rubbing the back of his neck. It made you feel special

The little of what was left of the ride was silent, until he was seeing you off at your door once more "Would you like to sit and finish the rest of your coffee?" You opened the door inviting him in

Red Hood pondered it but realized that required taking off his helmet to do. Knocking on such "Oh right! Sorry" you bumped your forehead gently with a fist "Thank you for the coffee again" remembering something and gesturing Red Hood to wait while you run into the apartment for a short time

Re-emerging with a small tupperware container with a red lid "A snack for your coffee, I can reheat it for you if it's gone cold if you like" some of that heat radiating off of him crawling up his neck

"It's alright thanks though" you hand him the container and wave him goodbye

~

He takes a seat on the ledge of a nearby roof, removing the red lid to reveal what look like homemade tumb print cookies wrapped in a cloth napkin "Ouuu can I have one?"

"Fuck off Dick" he hides them in his leather jacket from the other vigilantes view

"Pleaseeee, c'mon Jay I let you borrow my electric coasterrr"

The older of the two whining "Fine just one tho" he keeps them hidden however until his helmet is off and he's had one. Only then does he offer one to the blue and black sporting acrobat

"Oh these are good! Bring me some too next time"

— • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • —

"Hood!" You smile seeing his bulky figure sat on top of your car. You could get used to his presence even if just for the short ride home, maybe look forward to it sometimes after a couple nights without seeing him

You approached you car with a slight pep in your step. None of that initial irritation present

"Hey!" Red Hood perked up from his seat where he was previously looking at his phone. "Think you can share that cookie recipe?" He says hopping off

"Of course, I can show you how to make them if you'd like"

"I would actually" you can hear the smile in his voice even through the modulator and it ignites a familiar heat in your face "are you free tomorrow?"

"Yeah, what time works" now you had more to look forward to as you approached the car more

"I can come around noon or sometime later if you'd like"

"No that works just fine" it'd been a particularly long shift and the slight chill to the night air made the exhaustion evident with the large yawn

"Here, I'll drive"

"It's fine I don't mind"

He didn't budge, only holding his hand out waiting of your keys. "What, don't think I can drive" he teased and you begrudgingly handed your keys over. Both of you made your way over to the passenger side and he opened the door for you again. Tossing his leather jacket on you once you were seated

You were about to protest but he gently closed the door and made his way over to the drivers seat. Laughing at him when his knees pressed against the dashboard

Not missing the way his suit fit tightly or how his forearm looked while he held the wheel. The drive was incredibly smooth making it easy to doze off quickly. More so when wrapped in the jacket. It was comfortingly warm and smelled lightly of cologne

Red Hood quite liked how you looked snuggled into his jacket. Made him want to snap a picture but thought against the idea not wanting to seem weird

Soon he pulled into the parking lot but you were still sound asleep. Not wanting to wake you up he gathered your things and with the utmost care picked you up bridal style. Making sure to keep you wrapped up in the brown leather

He felt bad going into your home, more so looking around for your bedroom but he didn't want to just leave you on the couch

He set you gently on the first bed he found. After only peeking into the bathroom. Red Hood decided to leave his jacket too telling himself he'd just pick it up when he came to bake. In reality he just didn't want to risk waking you up. Leaving a little note on the dresser before locking up on his way out

— • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • —

Stirring awake face still shoved under the covers. You didn't remember going to bed

But here you were under the covers, shoes removed in the guest room. But still in your scrubs. And also a brown leather jacket. The one Red Hood gave you before driving you home

Turning to face the edge of the bed and sitting upright, noticing the slip of paper on the dresser

You fell asleep in the car, sorry to barge into your house like this but I didn't wanna wake you. I left your bag in the living room before I locked up on my way out

With a poorly drawn version of his helmet in red pen. You left the guest room with a smile on your face and tidied up slightly before going into your room to shower. You'd slept in slightly and only had a chance to do that before you heard a knock at the door. Rushing, you opened the door in an oversized shirt and still wet hair "Oh I can come back later if you want"

He was in a t-shirt and jeans, still wearing his helmet, tupperware in hand "oh it's alright, if you don't mind waiting a little bit" he nodded and you showed him to the living room. Taking a look around and getting a better look at things now that he wasn't reaching in the dark like last night "make yourself comfortable I'll be right back, you can leave that wherever"

You disappeared into the back room and put on a pair of leggings and patted out your hair down with a towel some more before brushing it through another time "I slept in a bit and didn't have time to get things ready sorry" he's sitting awkwardly on your couch hands on his knees

"It's alright" you go back into the kitchen and he follows you awkwardly. Digging around a cloth cabinet where you keep the clean dish rags and cloth napkins

"Aha!" You hold two aprons proudly "take your pick" the more used looking one is black with white lettering saying I don't know what I'm doing which was tempting but the more colorful one had Kiss the cook

"If I pick that one will you do it?" He asks pointing at the pastel tie dye apron in your left hand

"Depends if your cooking is any good" you challenged with a smirk tossing it to him

He caught it effortlessly "I'll hold you to that" you laughed nodding, tying your own appron and going to fetch the ingredients and preheating the oven

A little bit of chaos and shenanigans ensued. But all small messes and a lot of fun. He was surprisingly good in the kitchen, grasping what you showed him fairly quickly

"Now we can make the jam while the dough chills"

"That was homemade too?" You nod chuckling slightly at the awe in his robotic voice "It's really not that hard"

"It isn't ?" He was being suggestive again and you rolled your eyes at him

"Oh shut it or I won't give you any to take home"

"You wouldn't dare!" He holds a hand to his chest dramatically

"Fuck around and find out" he gasps crumbling to the floor in fake sobs and you laugh getting some strawberries and raspberries from the fridge "now go wash your hands again so you can help me cut these strawberries"

He mock salutes from the floor and kicks up into a standing position going to do exactly what you asked, washing the few dirty dishes leftover from when you were making the dough not long ago

"Oh you don't need to" you try to tell him when you notice but he finishes washing them anyway before rejoining you at the kitchen island to finish cutting the strawberries into 4's. Once that's finished you have him squeeze some lemon juice while you get the berries in a sauce pan with sugar and the lemon juice once he hands it over "now just bring to a light boil and stir constantly"

"And we can blend them or mash" he scavenges a drawer you point at and hands you the masher "now we just let it cool"

You turn off the stove and remove the pan before grabing the dough from the fridge "we can roll and cut the cookies out while it cools" you grab a pair of cookie cutters and rolling pins sprinkling a bit of powdered sugar to the kitchen island before grabbing the two dough balls from the bowl

Showing Red Hood to what thickness to roll it out to, him mirroring as you do it. Same when you cut out the circles and reroll the dough to make more

"Now just press your thumb into it a little bit" you snorted as he pushed holes through the first two before getting the pressure right. Now fetching the sauce pan with the jam and two spoons

"Just scoop a little bit into the indent"

He didn't fill the donuts he made and the first he overfilled but the rest came out nicely, it wasn't long before the two batches were in the oven "So about that kiss?"

You'd forgotten all about it "Hmm I'll give the kiss of approval once I try one"

He grumbles but agrees

"Oh I didn't get a chance to wash your jacket sorry" he hums curiously and you go back to your room to fetch his neatly folded leather jacket

"Oh don't worry about it"

~

The smell of the cookies began filling your apartment and the timer you set once they were in the oven went off

"Alright moment of truth" you grin, grabbing a hand towel and opening the oven to remove the trays setting them on the stove top to cool "aww they look good!" You smile at his single print and your heart print cookies

You grab one of his and blow on it a couple of times to cool it off faster before popping it into your mouth. "Mmm~" you sigh content "that's good" you nod approvingly

"So... does it get the kiss of approval?" Once you finish you lean up to place a peck to the cheek of Hoods helmet

It almost made him want to take it off

— • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • —

It'd been a couple of days since you'd baked together and he'd stopped by to drive you home most nights since. Hood hadn't stopped by tonight however

It made the drive home rather lonely

More so when GCPD had closed off a street and you'd had to reroute the way home. It made it seem longer than it probably was. But you made it home nonetheless

Readying for bed but not able shake off a slight unnerving feeling. The ruckus from the reroute had since settled but you couldn't. Already in your pjs but unable to go to bed instead pacing your living room in the dark and basking in the yellow fridge light every so often. Nearly jumping out of your skin when you heard a tap on your living room widow

Should I look, what if it's nothing or just a stray cat or something. It could be a psycho clown. Or or or maybe it's Hood?

There's another tap only this time it sounds more like an actual knock. Your brain is saying no but your gut is telling you to go look. You end up listening to your gut and rip open the curtain

It is Hood. He's hunched over and his helmet is cracked open on top. A jolt of electricity shooting out of your chest and into the rest of your body

"Hood!" You rush to open the window and climb out onto the fire escape. The bars of the platform are cold and dig into your bare feet. You struggle to lift such a tall dense man and help him inside

He collapses on your floor and you mildly panic "okay okay" you rush to turn the lights on and grab the closest medical equipment

His helmet is cracked open and there's a puncture wound on his abdomen it's not big but it is deep. You snap a pair of gloves on and begin to cut his suit. Cleaning it out and taping a gauze over it. There doesn't seem to be damage to any organs or internal bleeding for the time being, at least not that you could visibly spot without any scans. Now his head "I- I have to remove your helmet alright" he nods off "don't move your head alright" you quickly and carefully take it off, there's a red domino mask over his eyes

God he's gorgeous- not the time! Not the time!

He's bleeding a lot, it looks like repeated trauma to the head. It's no wonder his helmet broke. But the bleeding is a good sign it means it's not gathering in his head building pressure. You go to get a towel to soak up some of the blood

His knee is dislocated! How did he even get here

You get a small hand towel and fold it "Bite this, I'm going to push your knee into place. It's going to hurt alright" he clenches his hands above his head and you adjusted everything "alright one, two, three-" applying enough pressure to pop it into place a muffled cry following soon after

The bleeding on his head seemed to subside and you began to evaluate for a concussion. Then cleaning and bandaging his head

He had lost a lot of blood from his head wound and was starting to loose consciousness but you tried to keep him up until you made sure the head trauma wasn't fatal "I need to remove the mask to see your eyes alright"

Hood could no longer consent to procedures as he slipped further and further into unconsciousness. Guilt heavy on your heart, you peeled off the last physical thing protecting his identity

Prying open his cerulean eyes to examine. They were the most beautiful shade of blue, but clouded by a dizzy haze muddling his head "I'm going to get you through this alright" it was hard to tell if you were comforting him or trying to reassure yourself. Regardless the trauma to his head didn't seem fatal upon an initial, thorough examination

Now that Hood was stable for the time being you began clean up. Mostly the pool of blood seeping out of the towel that was supposed to be collecting it

The adrenaline only barely beginning to ware off now. The cleaning wasn't as thorough as your treatment was but it was efficient. Trembling hands wiping the last remains of the crimson stain that would certainly persist long after this

Now how could you make Hood more comfortable? Attempting to lift him onto the couch or spare bed in the guest room was out of the question. You could hardly lift him WITH his help. Not to mention the risk in moving him would pose to his injuries when done incorrectly, which would be the likely outcome

Deciding it was easier to bring the bed to him you went into the guest room and began to strip the mattress. Tossing the comforter and pillows carelessly to the floor and proceeding to yank the mattress off the base. It was almost as heavy as Hood but far less delicate. Manhandling it onto its side and easily sliding it out of the room across the wooden floor

Was it collecting all sorts of dust and nasties? Most certainly. But you didn't care, you could buy a new mattress cover later. Letting it fall flat behind the couch. Now the next issue. Getting Hood on the mattress

Simply getting the damn thing into the living room was a workout in and of its own right. Doing it like at the hospital would be the easiest, now scavenging your apartment for a sturdy blanket or towel that could fit Hood

Settling for the comforter on the guest room floor. And rolling it the long way under Hood and steadily lifting him one part at a time. This was infinitely easier with another person helping on the other end but this would have to do

Firmly grabbing the quilted fabric by his head and lifting his upper torso half onto the mattress making sure his head rested securely on it. Then going around and doing the same with his feet. And again pulling his upper torso to the middle of the mattress and running back to do the same with his feet and lastly planting yourself firmly on the floor and pulling on the middle of the comforter to straighten him out

You were now running on fumes. And still went and gathered a couple of blankets and the pillows from the guest room floor as well. The blood loss made Hood loose a large part of his natural body heat and you had to make up for it with a thick fluffy blanket that you, with great effort spread on top of him

The adrenaline had now fully worn off and that last twelve hour shift began to take its toll along with all the stressors and grueling labor of this rescue

You wanted to do more for him, you had to. But your body gave out, making you slowly sink to the floor next to the mattress. Curling into the little bit of the blankets that spilled over the edge

— • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • —

The following afternoon he began to stir awake. Groaning at the soreness, everything was hazy until he noticed you. Still laying on the floor near his bed, head resting on a folded arm doubling as a makeshift pillow, other arm tucked away under the thick layer of blankets. One you reached out sometime in your sleep

You had had a rough night he could tell that much. He couldn't remember much from the previous night and a brain splitting headache shoved it's way to the forefront making him try to hold his head

The movement woke you up, immediately reaching for a trashcan you'd dragged closer before collapsing onto the floor and placing it by the edge of the bed

Not a moment later does he begin to hurl. You try helping him sit a bit more comfortable and rub circles into his back until he's finished "Nausea?" he tries to nod but winces, holding the uninjured side of his head

"Yeah" you put the bin down and help him lay back down

"Remember anything from last night?"

He scrunches his face "I remember- patrolling, and then a fight I think"

"It's alright, you sustained a mild traumatic brain injury so your memory can be a bit spotty." You get up and move to the other side of the room to get new bandage for his head, stretching out a few kinks and aches along the way "I'll change your head wrap okay?"

"Yesss Dok" he slurred slightly. Frowning when you returned to his side noticing the dry blood on your shirt, and then pants "were you... bleeding?" He looks between the large stain and your face worry heavy on his features

You smile gently at him, taking a seat on the floor where you were previously sleeping and leaning in to check the bandages on his head "no, you were bleeding"

"Oh, m'kay" you begin to remove the bandage that's covered in dry blood. Gently cleaning the wound again and beginning to wrap it in a clean gauze and bandage. Those same cerulean eyes never looking away, only now it was a conscious effort. He wasn't used to such delicate touches

Once nice and snug "I can get you some pain meds if you like?"

"Tryna get me high?"

"Tryna stay miserable with that headache and the lot?" Hood scoffed pouting slightly at your raised brow "Yeah that's what I thought" you disappeared into the bathroom to see what you could give him, returning to the living room with a little orange bottle "I've got hydrocodone well it's Vicodin... I just can't give you anything for the nausea if I give you any prescription painkillers"

"Thas fine"

Getting a glass of water for him and handing him two pills. The absolute menace to society dry swallowed the pills "You psycho" he cackled before you made him drink the water anyway

Complaining about it after every sip "I'll make you drink another one later" he groaned loudly

"I'm sure you could short stack"

"Well this short stack popped your knee into place and I'll pop it right out, don't forget I know where all your wounds are" a shutter ran down his spine, sending small ripples across his skin. He guessed you were kidding but your side eye made him not want to find out. There was also an attractiveness to the way you threatened him. Though he wouldn't be admitting that out loud, brain injury or not

Going to put the glass and medication on the coffee table "Don't move your knee at all I'ma go find a knee brace" Disappearing into a hallway and returning with a black bulky contraption in hand

"No"

"You're worse than the kids at work you big baby" he flushed pink and groaned again as you slid the thing on his leg, painfully aware of your proximity. Your hands tracing the defined muscle under the tactical pants and realizing just how toned he was. The comforter pooling by his hips as he sat up more, revealing his bulky arms and chiseled abs. Something you somehow didn't notice in the busy haze that had been patching him up

"There, it's not so bad" he huffed pouting, it truly was adorable but you couldn't fold on a patient

"Hungry?"

He tries to nod again but the swirling pain reminds him of the injury very much so still present on his head

"I in fact do not have hospital food for that wound but I can make you a smoothie if you don't mind the noise of the blender?"

"I'll manage" Hood wasn't sluring at all now which was a great sign. Becoming somewhat more at ease with Hoods condition you focused on pulling some fresh fruit from a basket and a few more ingredients from the fridge. All while Hoods piercing blue gaze followed you around the kitchen. Intently tracing your every move, in the all too calculating manor he knew

You were trust worthy, you hadn't given him away yet. You hadn't searched him for anything other than injuries from what he could tell "Hood?" You still called him by his alias so you didn't know his name

"Yeah?"

"Green apple and pear okay?" He hummed in agreement and you began to slice the fruit and toss it into the blender with a splash of milk and sugar "Alright I'm going to turn the blender on now okay" and true to your word the infernal whirring and crackling of the mashine filled the room

Hood gripped his hands over his ears. Acutely aware of the growing pain in his head. Only realizing it was over when you placed a gentle hand over his, a glass with a spoon in the other. Instantly relaxing under the soft touch "It turned out a little more like apple sauce than it did a smoothie, I hope you don't mind too much"

He smiled, chuckling slightly. Only to grimace at the increased pain in his abdomen "Easy there" he swayed a little and you helped hold him up steadying the room for him. "Let me get you a few extra pillows" you stacked the few that you'd already brought out and left for a few more to help Hood into a supported sitting position "better?"

Having learned his lesson for the time being he "mhmm"ed instead of nodding. Taking a seat on the floor once more and setting the apple sauce in his hands "What? You're not going to spoon feed the sick patient?" He teased, face looking too innocent for his tone

"Next you'll be asking me to kiss it better" you grumble amused

"Would you?" He batted his eyelashes and you laughed openly, the gesture catching you off guard. Beautiful. Your laugh left him awestruck. Dick was right

"I'll think about it" you smiled, feeling so much more at ease than only a couple hours prior. Hood was being his own suggestive flirty self and for some reason that brought you a lot of comfort "Hood?"

He looked up, spoonful of the light green smoothie sauce still in his mouth. It made you chuckle before a slight air of seriousness returned

"Why'd you come here?"

He drops the spoon into the large cup gently and he seems to ponder the question "I'm not exactly sure, I can't remember what happened well or what I was thinking at the time. But I suppose I just felt like I'd be safe with you" tears begin to well and sting your eyes

The entirety of having not just a life but his life in your hands and only your hands hit you like a sack of bricks. "Hey hey I'm sorry" his voice had become so soft and gentle unlike anything you'd heard in a long time. He sets down the cup and effortlessly scoops you up into his lap

You shake your head no and immediately crawl off as gingerly as you can "Your- no your knee and- and the wound I need to bandage it" but he pulls you back into his side a firm secure arm wrapped around you

"It's okay" he soothes squeezing your shoulders, radiating warmth again. That same faint smell of cologne you'd picked up from his jacket comforting "Thank you"

"You big dummy" you sniffle into his side finally wrapping your arms around him, careful to avoid the taped on gauze. The physical touch grounding you again. Specifically his warmth that had been lacking for most of the night. No longer cold and bleeding out. A warm bare chest against your cheek that echoed in your ear with the constant drumming of his heart. You kept him alive "You're so lucky I have equipment at home"

He chuckles and the deep rumble of it reverberates in his chest. His face, his voice, his laugh all weren't nearly as intimidating anymore without the distorted muffling of the helmet. You pull away wiping a stray tear "Alright I really do need to bandage you up now, no stalling" he gasps feigning offense

"How could you suggest such a thing, I would never" but that handsome, devilish smirk betrays him

"Yeah yeah yeah" you begin to fully pull away, but the arm that was around your shoulders falls to your hips and pulls you back down when you're halfway off the mattress "Hooood" you groan trying fight back the smile that wants to make it's way onto your features

He lets his arm drop and you crawl off the mattress once more to where the first aid kit and more medical supplies still lay sprawled out on the floor. Opening the kit and retrieving a rolled up bandage as well as a new gauze from the messy floor

You crawled back over to his side "Be gentle with me, I'm delicate" Hood batted his eyelashes at you once more and you snorted

"Clearly" you mused snapping on a new pair of gloves

He gasped once more, but didn't get a chance to put on more theatrics. Cringing at the feeling of the gauze with both dry and new blood being peeled off. You examined the wound once more, there was still no sign of internal bleeding or damage to any organs like in your first assessment. As well as no sign of infection

The object was somewhat blunt and most likely not meant to be used to stab someone with, it was an absolute wonder it didn't get infected because of the object or on the way here. Regardless you clean it again with a saline solution and open a new gauze to place over it. Securely and skillfully holding it in place with the bandage you wrap around Hood

Not noticing the way his set cerulean eyes trailed along. Seeing how serious and focused you became and how your hands pulled around his torso to wrap the tan fabric snuggly into place

Only when you pulled back to see his face did your eyes meet. The way he was already staring at you flustering

He couldn't help but lean in, drawn to you like a moth to an open flame. Clumsily and a little roughly pressing his lips to your forehead "H- Hood?" Your voice soft and cheeks pink at the unexpected gesture of affection. You couldn't deny he was attractive or that you liked how his lips felt "I thought- wasn't I supposed to be the one that- that's kissing it better?" You mumbled timidly

He chuckled, that same deep rumble from before. "So doctor, what do you prescribe"

"Stop teasing me" you pout and punch his chest playfully and he falls back on his elbows in response. "I'm prescribing lots of bed rest and less whining hmph" he gasps in offense again "I, however need a shower and change of clothes"

Hood remembers the blood crusting up the pijamas you're still wearing "Yeah of course" you smile gently at him

"I- do you want to change too? I'm not sure I have something that fits but I can take a look around?"

"Don't worry about that I'm fine" he smiles in return

"Okay, I won't be gone long. Don't move- well just don't hurt yourself more" you give his large hand a squeeze before scurrying off into your room

You desperately needed a long hot shower after everything that happened. The adrenaline long gone and sore tension taking it's place in your muscles. Especially after sleeping on the floor in that awkward position

Once under the water you can feel some of the aches drip away with the dry blood and some grime. A couple more pains being scrubbed away with the body wash

Your hair tangled, as you work shampoo into it trying to ease the knots out with your fingers. Letting the hot water run over your face for a couple seconds after you've rinsed the shampoo out

You're not entirely sure how long you've been in there but decide it's been long enough. Having the urge to check if Hood hasn't dislocated his knee again or the like "Oh, did you call off of work or something? I hadn't realized how late it was"

You see Hood still in bed "I missed my shift and I'm getting fired" you shrug and the look on Hoods face makes him look like a kicked puppy "I'm kidding, just your luck you caught me on my day off" but the look doesn't leave his face

"You spent your day off taking care of me?"

"Yeah?" You return to his bedside and place a gentle kiss on his head "What of it?"

He shrinks in on himself and gnaws at his bottom lip. Guilt evident "Hey-" there's a stubbornness in the way he refuses to look up at you until you guide his chin up "seriously Hood, I'd do it all over again if it meant you'd sit on my cars roof again another night"

The quiver to his lip has your heart seized in its embrace. A grasp you can't pull away from, and his eyes. His eyes so desperate and vulnerable, a vast sea you're drowning in until a glimmer of emerald makes you question if his eyes are truly blue

You don't have time to question it further before he's squeezing them shut and you've snapped out of the trance. Instinctively rubbing your own eyes

"I should do a short cranial nerve exam!" you blurt out suddenly. Realizing you should have done one earlier, he chuckles a bit appreciating the dissipating of the tension that had built up a little too quickly . There was an unexpected swirl of the pit within him that he'd felt with the sudden vulnerability. It'd settled quickly and that he was grateful for, especially with the subject change "I'll get a couple things"

He hums and you retreat down the hall and come back with a small basket of items

"First I'm going to test your sense of smell okay" you take a seat on the edge of the mattress and set the basket on the floor. He's about to glance into the basket when you catch his chin in your hand and stop him from turning his head

"Oh-" he looks flustered

You hadn't meant for the gesture to be as smooth as it had been "Sorry!" Hood doesn't respond but you feel the heat radiating from his face "no peeking, can't have you cheating"

You place a cheap sleeping mask over his eyes that you'd gotten in a bathset as a gift and he pouts "Smell this-" you grab a small brown vial and twist the cap off before bringing it up to Hood's nose hiding the label with the way you're holding it just in case he can peek under the bottom of the mask

"Mint?"

You nod before realizing he probably can't see "Yes good job." You cap the essential oil you'd nabbed from the bathroom

The blush doesn't leave his face at the praise and he only hopes the mask obscures it a bit

You grab the next vial and do the same as the first "Okay, tell me what this one is" he takes a sniff and scrunches his nose in a way that makes you think he'll sneeze but doesn't

"A citrus... orange?"

"Yes" you double check the label to make sure he's right "Alright last one" you retrieve the last little vial of the essential oils "What does this one smell like"

"....laaavender"

"Very good" his heart flutters, never would he have guessed he had something for praise "I'm going to take off the mask now so it'll probably be a little bright" you gently begin to pull away the fabric from his eyes. They remain closed for a bit before he begins to blink to get adjusted to the light again

"Next I'm going to do your eyes" you adjust yourself to be sitting in front of him "I'm going to feel around your eyes first okay?"

"Yeah"

"I'm going to get a bit close-" he's a bit dumbstruck until you gently press your thumbs to his cheekbones "does this pressure hurt at all?"

"No"

"Okay, is it uncomfortable at all?"

"No"

You move your fingers to press gently a few more times repeating the questions. Once satisfied you scooch back "Now I'm going to hold two fingers up. Look at my nose and without moving your head or looking away tell me which finger is moving"

There's a slight confusion at first with your left being his right that you both laugh at before you determine his peripherals are better than you'd expect from someone with a mild traumatic brain injury

"Now tell me when my fingers leave your field of vision okay"

You hold both index fingers together up by his nose before beginning to slowly pull them apart horizontally "Now" you nod and bring your fingers back to their initial staring point to repeat the same motion "Now"

"Okay good"

You repeat the motions going vertically as well as diagonally. His field of vision is reduced very mildly but it's not too serious all things considered

"Cover one eye" you repeat the same exercise with the one finger and then ask him to follow your finger as you trace a square in the air "Perfect, now the other" he covers his other eye "same thing, tell me when my finger leaves your field of vision"

One eye has a very slightly decreased field of view but it still traced movement perfectly

"I'm going to use this pen light to see your eyes okay. Make sure the pupils are dialing and responding to light as they should be. Let me know if you're experiencing any light sensitivity though and we can either take a break or move on"

He gives the okay and you flash the light enough for the pupil to constrict before pulling it away and watching the pupil dilate again. There's an odd comfortable intimacy with the proximity. One that lingers as you continue the tests. All requiring the same proximity that has him smelling the mint of your breath, he can only guess you brushed your teeth when you left to shower

Even as you make sure his facial muscles are functional he can only think of your gentle touches, hands warm and a bit dry. Probably from all the times you have to sanitize and wash your hands at the hospital. Your nails short and filed smooth, for the latex gloves he deduces

He drinks up all of you, every last drop a detail he savours with great reverence

You take a firm hold of his jaw and it makes his mouth run dry. Palms sweaty yet a raging fire lighting up his cheekbones "Say ah" your voice is smooth and it washes over him like a cool breeze but it does nothing to soothe the heat he feels just beneath the skin "What does this taste like?" You bring a dropper up to his lips and place a couple drops of the flavor on his tongue. He swallows, hard

"Its- it's strawberry"

Voice strained and eyes half lidded, he's all but putty in your hand "Yes, very good" releasing his jaw it's like he's able to breathe again. A function he hadn't realized he'd lost during that short period

"Lastly hearing, ideally this would be done with a tuning fork but I don't actually have any so we're gonna use my super legit singing bowl" Hood snorts at the small metal but very professional piece of equipment "yeah yeah yeah you're laughing now but it works"

He only rolls his eyes looking amused but complies when he has to shut his eyes

"Well-" you tap your fingertips together, your lips in a thin line "to no ones surprise I'm sure, you have a concussion. It's about a grade 2 but I'm no neurologist"

"Thank you" you smile at him and reach out for his hand

It's large and calloused but warm "I'd say anytime but I'd prefer if you came crashing down on my fire escape not bleeding out and loosing consciousness"

Hood only chuckles and pulls you into bed with him "Noted"

The first day of any recovery process was usually the most difficult but in-between the good company and some playful banter it was more than bearable. You had offered your apartment for him to stay in while you went to work the next day as well but he insisted he needed to go and check in with the rest of the bats and birds which you understood

[razzmatash]

...With You Day 12 - “You are all I need tonight underneath the Christmas lights.” ...Sort of Love and Deepspace Sylus x f!OC 1406 Words Read on Ao3 banner by firefly-graphics

Waking slowly, Calli shifted under the covers, frowning to herself. Something didn’t feel right. Sliding her hand across the mattress, her frown deepened when she didn’t find Sylus. She lifted her head and squinted in the dark but she couldn’t see any lights on from the bathroom. “Sylus?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and pushing herself up in bed.

He wasn’t in the room that much was clear now. Tapping the beside lamp, she still looked around to confirm he wasn’t. Where had he gone? He’d been so insistent about her going to bed after she’d fallen asleep against his shoulder on the couch. She’d pushed herself too hard, according to him, and he was calling it a night. He’d carried her to bed and tucked her in, climbing in with her when she hadn’t settled down right away.

Except it had barely been ten so he wouldn’t have gone to sleep.

Pushing her hair away from her face, she frowned to herself. Was he out in the living room? Had he not stayed because he didn’t want to wake her up? The clock showed she’d been asleep for a couple hours so everyone else should have been asleep by now too. They’d all stayed so they could celebrate the holiday in the morning and so far as she was aware, his twins were crashing on the pull out couch. Would he go out there or-

Calli shivered as a faint breeze washed through the room and she watched the curtains stir from it. Was he outside? She swung her legs off the bed and scooped up a cardigan she’d tossed earlier to pull on before padding over to the glass doors. Quietly peeking out, she wasn’t entirely surprised to see him on the balcony, leaning on the railing and watching the city below him.

“Sylus?” she said softly, not sure if she should disturb him. He’d clearly gone out here to be alone.

He didn’t say anything but he turned just enough to hold out a hand to her.

Shuffling across the balcony, she didn’t complain about the cold on her feet as she took his hand. He moved her to stand in front of him, tucking her close while he continued to watch the city. She looked at him over her shoulder before looking out as well when he still stayed quiet.

They were up high enough that it gave a wonderful view of everything in the area. Her favourite was the park nearby because the city would always light up the trees and she enjoyed watching them twinkle in the relative darkness. But it wasn’t just them. Other balconies had lights and decorations strung up, some curtains open to show the trees lit up inside for people that were still awake. There were little pockets of holiday cheer no matter where you looked.

“It’s different from what I’m used to,” he said quietly, his voice rumbling through her. “Even if people in the N109 celebrate the holidays, they do it privately. There’s no outward sign that something is happening for fear of it being taken advantage of or ruined.”

Calli listened, her heart aching a little. The Zone was filled with all kinds of people, many who hadn’t asked to be there but were there anyways. Because there was nowhere else to go. She knew she couldn’t fix it even if she tried but the holidays were special to her. With how busy her family had been, it was the one time they had all always agreed that they would be together. No matter what was happening, they would get together for the holiday.

“In all the years I’ve been there, I’ve never celebrated anything. I never wanted to,” he admitted. “There was no reason to. Even when the twins came, they didn’t know what a normal routine was either. They did small things with each other, tried to prank me the first few years, but nothing like this. Nothing like what the last few weeks have been.”

The last few weeks had been hectic to say the least and she suddenly wondered if she should have eased him into it a little more gently. “I’m sorry if it was too much,” she said softly.

He ducked his head, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t too much. It showed me a different side of you I hadn’t seen yet.”

Was that a good thing? Calli smiled wryly. “I don’t know how I should take that. I’ve been a little crazy the last few weeks.”

“Because it mattered to you and you wanted it to matter for me.”

That was true but it didn’t excuse it if she’d crossed a line. The arm around her belly tightened as he inhaled deeply, dropping a kiss on her neck that made her shiver.

“You didn’t need to do that,” he said quietly. “I told you you didn’t but you did it anyways.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you alone on the holiday,” Calli protested.

“The holidays don’t matter to me.”

She tried to twist to look at him but he kept her right where she was. “Sylus-”

“They don’t matter,” he repeated. “To me they’ve always been made up days that people use as an excuse to be together. You shouldn’t need an excuse for that. I don’t need an excuse for it. But they matter to you so I wanted to see why. I wanted you to show me why they mattered.”

“They matter because of the people I want to share them with.”

“And you wanted to share it with me.”

“Maybe we had a rocky start, Sylus, but if you think for one fucking second, you don’t matter to me, I’m going to throw you off this balcony.”

He chuckled, deep and low, and moved to press a kiss to her ear. “Odd way to show affection, sweetie.”

“You like it.”

He didn’t deny it and kissed her again. “They still don’t matter to me,” Sylus said after a moment.

She bit her lip to keep from reflexively saying anything. He wasn’t done and if she interrupted him, she wouldn’t get the rest of it.

“But what matters to me is that you shared it with me. You made space in your life, in your rituals, to include me. You went out of your way to do so. That you’re willing to do that for me...that’s what matters to me.” He paused, rubbing his cheek against her hair. “You’re what matters to me.”

Her breath caught as he gripped her chin between chilly fingers and turned her just enough so she could see him. “Sylus.”

“All I need is you, Calliope,” he said quietly. “Nothing else matters so long as I have you.”

She didn’t know what she was trying to say, words jumbled in her throat, before he kissed her. It was slow and deep, his teeth nipping at the plush of her lower lip before his tongue swiped over it soothingly. He slid it against her own, holding her captive while he took his time with her. One hand fisted in his shirt, holding onto him as the world dropped away around her. There was only him.

She managed to get out his name as he lifted his mouth from hers but that was all before he claimed her again. The hand on her chin slid back into her hair, burying in the curls to hold her steady as she began to tremble.

When he finally eased back from her, it was only far enough to press his forehead to hers. His gaze was heavy on her as he watched her gasp for air, taking in all of her. “I don’t need presents,” he said softly. “You are my present.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a small breath. “We’re still going on the trip,” she pushed out.

She didn’t need to see him to know he was smiling before he kissed the tip of her nose. “We’re still going on the trip,” he agreed, his grip around her waist moving to band around her thighs and lift her up. “I’m looking forward to unwrapping my present.”

Not opening her eyes as he carried her back inside, Calli hung onto Sylus and told herself to just breathe. Considering what all she had bought for him to ‘unwrap’, she’d be lucky to survive the trip.

[danaewrites]

Helmet Over Heels

part i: the winter of our discontent

din djarin x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 3.8k

summary:  When your path literally collides with a beskar-covered Mandalorian one night, neither of you expect how that meeting will irreversibly change the trajectory of your lives. 

You’re pulled into his powerful orbit, agreeing to take care of his son in exchange for adventure and freedom– when he’s not off hunting bounties and inadvertently saving villages in need, that is. It’s the perfect plan. Or it would be, if only your quiet crush on the man would stop growing into something more with every hour you spend together. There’s no way he’d ever feel the same, right?

And Din? Well, he’s been trying (and failing) to convince himself that he’s not completely helmet over heels for you since day one. But a Mandalorian can only repress his emotions for so long…

(This fic takes place sometime after Season 2. Din’s back on his bounty-hunting business with a Razor Crest that was never destroyed and an adorable green sidekick who won’t stop chewing on its wires.)

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, slow-ish burn, nicknames, touch-starved din djarin and fem!reader, canon-compliant through season 2 and then Jesus takes the wheel :P

author's notes:

hello and welcome to my first ever mando fic!! i binged the entirety of the first two seasons in a week to get me through tedious internship work and accidentally fell in love with our favorite space dad and his cute green child along the way. oops (i regret nothing)

with the outline i currently have for this fic, it’ll be around 11-12 chapters, although that’s likely to grow as we get deeper into the story. the posting schedule might be anywhere from once a week to once a month, but this wip *will* be finished.

the second chapter's scheduled to upload next week as a little treat for y'all, so if you want to catch it then hit that follow button or ask to be added to my taglist! ;)

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v coming soon!

You watched the last of tonight’s drunken patrons stumble out of the cantina and into the bitter Nath night with a relieved sigh. Wiping your hands on the stained apron tied around your waist, you fished a set of bronze keys out of a tiny pocket and began your nightly walk around the perimeter of the bar, locking doors and pulling down rusty shutters as you went. The cantina was silent aside from your quiet shuffling– a welcome reprieve from its usual crowded bustle and chatter so hectic you could barely hear your own thoughts. 

You hummed softly as you adjusted booths back to their original positions and swept crumbs off of battered tabletops, wishing that the small holospeaker at the edge of the room hadn’t been broken in a recent bar fight. Swaying to its pre-Imperial oldies throughout your long, exhausting shifts had been one of the only perks of working in this run-down cantina, but without the soothing ambience of music, a chill threatened to sink into your bones and paralyze you with the deep depression this side of the planet seemed to have succumbed to.

You never planned to stay here for as long as you had. No one really did, except for criminals who knew that no one would willingly come here to search for them and locals who had never known anything else. Nath might have been charming, once– all soft snowflakes and peaceful walks under sepia-toned streetlights– but that was before the Empire had destroyed every semblance of comfort and culture and replaced them with brutalist brick structures that were already crumbling under the weight of their makers’ crimes. The fear lingered long after the Imps had finally left the post, reflected in the sad eyes of the fishmongers’ children and the way one would be hard-pressed to find a factory worker who didn’t spend his nights nursing a bottle and the ghosts of blaster scars across his back.

You had your own scars, of course, but you still held out hope that things would change and you’d make it out of here– although that hope was gradually diminishing as off-world shuttles visited less and less frequently and the permanent winter worsened. Five years ago, you’d been unceremoniously dropped off at the town’s dingy port, forced to land after your shuttle to Corellia was damaged by an unexpected detour through an asteroid field. You’d taken the cantina job thinking you’d only stay long enough to pay for passage on an outgoing ship, but soon learned that any shuttle risking the terrible weather to land here would also charge an exorbitant boarding price– one that would take you years to afford with the meager pay you received. And your tentative plan of stowing away on a spice freighter and sneaking off once it arrived at its destination (you weren’t picky about where, so long as it wasn’t Nath) was tempered by the increasingly likelihood that you’d get blown to pieces the minute you entered space by one of the pirate gangs that ruled the atmosphere these days. So– you were stuck here, at least for now.

The smell of something burning in the back of the cantina drew you out of your thoughts. Cursing, you raced to the kitchen, where your dinner was quickly blackening on the stove. Kriff. You shut off the burner, staring at the charred mess before you for a few seconds before dejectedly scraping it into an almost-overflowing trash bin. Well, there went your plan to eat quickly and head to your tiny flat before the storm outside worsened. Your rental pod had barely enough space for your bed and a miniscule bathroom, so you had to use the cantina kitchen if you wanted to stay fed– but the stove here was so old, it took half an hour longer than usual to cook anything. You resigned yourself to another night sleeping in a booth, since the flurry outside would prevent you from navigating your way home safely. 

You sliced up a few vegetables and set them to simmer in a pot with the last of the herbed broth and sandseed noodles from today’s lunch special, glancing at the bin next to you. It was probably a good idea to take out the foul-smelling waste before you were sealed in next to it all night. Wrinkling your nose at the unappealing scraps of food threatening to fall off the top of the pile, you hefted the bin up and maneuvered it through the back door of the cantina, being careful not to stain your apron any more than it already was. The harsh winds nipped at every sliver of exposed skin and dusted your hair with a pearlescent sheen of snow, making you wish you’d thought to slip on something warmer than your thin blouse and trousers before leaving the protection of the kitchen.

You navigated through the blizzard to the end of the dark alleyway behind the cantina, your path lit only by two buzzing lamps at each end of the narrow corridor. You scrunched your face up against the cold, willing yourself to keep walking despite your extremely limited night vision. Just a few more steps, and then you’d be free of your compostable burden for the night. You turned the corner, stepping to the left where you knew the trash compactor was, and immediately collided with a giant hunk of metal.

Said hunk of metal cursed loudly as it stumbled head-first over the garbage bin you’d dropped in shock after the impact, falling forward into the snow. “Dank ferrik!” 

Your eyes grew wide as the glow of the flickering streetlights illuminated the very-much-alive Mandalorian lying in front of you. It was just your luck that you’d managed to potentially injure the kind of warrior you’d only heard about in hushed rumors, or at least someone who was wearing the armor of one. Okay, injure was a strong word, but all that cold, hard beskar couldn’t be very comfortable to fall on despite the protection it offered. 

“Stars, I’m so sorry, let me–” 

You reached forward, stretching out a hand to help the Mandalorian up when a small green head suddenly popped up out of a tawny bag slung across their side. You yelped in surprise, losing your balance on the icy road and toppling forward. You winced, bracing yourself and preparing for the inevitable impact– except right as you were about to hit the ground, one steel-clad arm shot out to grab your wrist while the other steadied your hips. You gasped at the warmth of the unexpected contact, pulse quickening as you stared at the–man? person?–beneath you, the only thing preventing you from a nasty collection of bruises appearing across your side tomorrow. 

A deep baritone sounded from the helmet– likely modulated, from the slightly grainy tone. “Are you alright?”

Definitely a man, then. You pointedly ignored the butterflies that stirred to life in your stomach at the sound of his voice, praying that he would attribute your shiver to the cold and nothing more. Stars, this was getting more embarrassing by the minute. You tucked away the thought, making a note to do some serious soul-searching later on about the depth of your touch-starvation and its potential impact on your mental state. 

You gave a quick nod, muttering your thanks and carefully rolling to the side as you dusted clumps of snow off of your trousers. You looked up at him to see him gently picking up the little green creature you’d been so startled by earlier and tucking it back into the bag, pulling his cloak over its head to shield it from the chill. That was… rather cute, actually. You thought Mandalorians were supposed to be scary fighters, dedicated to nothing but their Creed, but this one was clearly fond of the small thing clinging to him. You couldn’t blame him; the green creature’s big ears and bug eyes were adorably endearing. 

The cold winds picked up pace, and you wondered why anyone would be out here during such a storm as you got to your feet. Anyone local would have sought shelter hours ago, and no freighter would dare to land in such conditions. 

“Are you... lost?” You tentatively asked. “Can I help you find someone?”

The Mandalorian remained silent for several long seconds, helmet tilted slightly. Whatever he saw in your face seemed to have settled well with him, and he released a quiet huff through the modulator.

“I need to get food. For my son,” he eventually admitted, gesturing to the baby peeking up at you. 

“Oh!” You brightened up considerably as you remembered the flavorful soup you’d started earlier. “Well– I work in a cantina back there,” you said, pointing behind you at the rusted door that led to the kitchen.

“We’re technically closed right now, but I’m sure I can work something out.” You winked at the curious child, smiling as he let out a happy babble. 

The Mandalorian’s helmet hadn’t moved from its focus in your direction, and you suddenly felt nervous. Which seemed stupid, because–yeah, it felt intense, but was he even looking at you from behind the dark visor of his helmet? For all you knew, he was making the most ridiculous expression at you behind all that beskar and you’d never know. The absurd thought made you snicker softly. If no one could see your face, you’d definitely act goofy at people all the time.

The Mandalorian’s head tilted slightly, and whoops, he’d definitely noticed your little moment now if he hadn’t been paying attention before. Your face reddened and you quickly gestured for him to follow you as you unlocked the door to the kitchen, relieved when you heard the soft clink of his armor come through the doorway behind you.

You placed your hands on your hips, surveying the dimly lit cantina and deciding to lead the duo to a worn table close to the bar. It looked unassuming, but the chairs were the comfiest in the cantina and you figured the baby would appreciate something softer than the coarse bag he’d been in. 

Once they’d gotten settled in, you set about finding a mug of blue milk for the kid and some water for the Mandalorian. You brought the drinks over to the pair, hiding a smile at how eagerly the little green baby reached for his. 

“You’re pretty thirsty, huh?” You observed as the baby slurped up the cerulean beverage. Shooting the tall, beskar-clad man a glance out of the corner of your eye, you continued, “Must have been quite the trip. Most people don’t usually travel to this side of the galaxy for vacation.”

To your disappointment, the Mandalorian remained as still and stoic as ever. Well, that just wouldn’t do. He was your first visitor in years from anywhere outside of Nath, and you were absolutely not letting him leave without getting a bit of juicy detail on life outside of your current drudgery. You decided to go for another angle.

“You know, kids need good role models in their lives. Ones that show them how to socialize with others and communicate. Display generosity of the loquacious sort, even.” You shrugged innocently in your best attempt to mimic the overly casual air the old women at the tea shop always used before passive-aggressively attempting to set you up with their stay-at-home-nephews. “Never too late to start.”

You got the distinct feeling that he was laughing at you under that helmet. Rude. Huffing, you sat down across the table from him and crossed your arms, trying to guess where under his visor his eyes were. Once you were half-confident that you’d found the spot, you stared intensely at it with your most intimidating expression. Which wasn’t saying much, seeing as you had the firepower of a soggy Lothkitten and probably came off as more desperate than anything. 

“Isn’t there some sort of honor code for Mandalorians? One that includes being noble to strangers and whatnot?” 

No response. Argh. 

“Well, I’d consider it pretty noble to provide a lonely soul such as myself with a bit of storytelling entertainment on this frigid evenin–”

Your final attempt at prying some information out of the armored man was interrupted by the sound of the kitchen timer beeping increasingly louder and louder until you were sure the whole cantina was vibrating with the tinny noise.

“KRIFF, not again!” 

You bolted out of your seat towards the kitchen, but not before you heard a thinly disguised huff of amusement coming out of the modulator. Okay, he was definitely laughing at you. 

Once you’d successfully saved the soup from imminent destruction-via-cursed-stove and somewhat regained your pride, you finally made your way back to the table with three steaming bowls of noodles. You placed the smallest one in front of the child, who cooed happily and immediately began plopping his hands in the bowl. The Mandalorian huffed in exasperation and began prying little green fingers out of the bowl. “Hey. Quit that, we talked about this,” he grumbled. You winced as broth sloshed out of the bowl, landing dangerously close to the baby’s tunic. The kid’s lower lip started to tremble, a blaring warning sign that a tantrum was going to occur in approximately ten seconds if he wasn’t distracted from his current petulant state. 

“Oh– hey, bug, don’t do that,” you said as both father and son turned to look at you. You leaned closer to the wide-eyed baby and pointed to his bowl. “That’s pretty hard to scoop up, yeah? Look, there are easier ways to eat it,” you explained as you brought the bowl up to your lips and raised an eyebrow, hoping that he would do the same. The kid blinked up at you for several long seconds before turning to his father with outstretched hands. The Mandalorian sighed, but held up the dish as requested. You hid a smile behind your bowl at the sight.

“Good job! Okay, now we’re going to try something fun–” You mimed slurping up the soup with a silly face at the baby, who burbled something incomprehensible in response but finally followed your example and focused on his food.

When you were sure that the baby’s clothes were no longer in danger of being drenched by broth– and by extension, frozen stiff whenever the pair headed back into the storm–you quietly tucked into your own meal, closing your eyes at the warm memories the comforting flavours brought. Not for the first time, you missed the earthy smell and placid weather of your homeworld, a stark contrast to this icy prison of a planet. 

“You are… good with him.” 

Your eyes darted up to find the Mandalorian’s helmet angled directly at you. Your face heated at the observation and you gave a small laugh, willing yourself to resist fidgeting under his gaze.

“I– thank you, I’ve always liked kids. Used to volunteer in the nursery back home, actually, before the Empire stole every resource from it they could.” 

Your eyes widened with sudden realization. “You’re not Imperial, are you?”

The Mandalorian scoffed vehemently, the most emotion he’d displayed since he’d fallen back in the alley. “No.”

Well, that answered a few questions at least. You were prepared to move on from the conversation when he hesitantly spoke, “My ship ran into a few… asteroids. Is there a mechanic nearby?”

You set down your spoon, thinking. The closest asteroid field was four solar systems away and almost entirely inaccessible if one was traveling through hyperspace, so the likelihood that he’d truly run into one was small. In that case, he probably had damage from some kind of fight— seeing as the average pacifist wouldn’t need that much armor— and would want someone reliable who wasn’t going to ask questions about laser-sized holes in his ship’s hull.

He hadn’t tried to kill or rob you yet, so you figured his personal tussles were none of your business and decided to give him an honest recommendation. You directed him to a small mechanical hub close to the ice huts where there were few ships and even fewer nosy citizens. “The owner, Sanna, is the best in town,” you admitted. “I haven’t had the chance to visit her personally, but she’s known for being very discreet.”

He nodded, entering the coordinates you’d given him into some sort of device on his wrist. You tried to contain your pleased expression at correctly guessing his reason for being on Nath. And it had only taken you… well, four tries, but that was better than nothing! 

“What is your price?”

You blinked, confused. “My price?”

There was that increasingly frequent head tilt again. His helmet tipped forward, scanning you. “For the food. And information.” He clarified slowly. 

“Oh,” you spoke, surprised. “It’s okay, I was making dinner for myself anyway. And you’d have found out the location of the mechanic from someone else eventually,” you shrugged. 

You couldn’t see his face, but from the disbelieving tone of his voice you imagined his eyebrows to be raised. “Not many people would turn down credits.” 

You winced, reminded of your costly dream to get off-world, but there was no way you’d accept this stranger’s money for such a small favor when he had a kid he needed to provide for. “Yeah, well. Guess I’m not most people,” you laughed sheepishly. 

The Mandalorian muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like no, you definitely are not. You squinted at him accusingly.

“Hey, you better not be making fun of my interrogation tactics, metal man.” You leaned forward to poke his soup bowl emphatically. Hm, that was strange– he hadn’t so much as touched it. Did Mandalorians follow some kind of special diet? You resolved to look that up the next time you had access to a datapad.

“Wouldn’t dream of doing that to a lonely soul like yourself.” He responded dryly.

You gasped in mock offense, forgetting your previous train of thought and internally groaning that he’d remembered that part of your disastrous attempt to weasel information out of him. Yeesh. Not your most eloquent moment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you cared,” you shot back in the most syrupy-sweet tone you could muster.

The kid grinned up at you with sharp teeth and blew a soupy bubble towards your face in response. You smiled down at him, adding, “But if you really want to repay me, then bring me back a good story about this little guy the next time you crash land through a— what did you call it? Asteroid field.” You highly doubted the duo would ever willingly return, but if making a deal gave this man peace of mind to know his imaginary debt was settled in some future way then so be it. 

The lights in the cantina began to flicker and you got up with a frown, walking over to the electrical box behind the bar. The dull grey display, crammed with incomprehensibly labelled switches and flashing lights that would give anyone a headache, alerted you that the main generator had been depleted of power. You scrambled over to a window, prying open the shutters a crack only to be met with a dark swirl of snow that completely obscured your view of the street. Stars, the storm had worsened quickly— there was absolutely no chance you were making it home tonight. You slammed the shutter closed and turned around with a grimace that didn’t go unnoticed by the Mandalorian.

“What is it?” He questioned, modulated voice growing wary at the expression on your face.

“We’re running out of power, the main generator’s down from the storm so these lights are going to have to shut off soon. I think there’s enough in the emergency generator to heat the cantina through the night, though.” You hesitated, not sure how to break the bad news. “Unfortunately, the weather is— unmanageable. You’re not making it out of here to the mechanic’s until the blizzard lets up.” 

He didn’t respond for a few seconds, so you continued talking. “I was.. planning on sleeping here tonight.” You muttered, trying to think of a plan. You glanced at the sleepy child resting on the Mandalorian’s beskar chest plate. “I usually keep a couple blankets here for that reason— pretty sure there’s enough to cover the baby, but you might need to be okay with sharing.” 

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, searching your memory for where the emergency supplies were kept. Kriff. How were you supposed to know that you’d be snowed in, and with guests no less? Your grumpy boss really should have put instructions for this type of situation in the closing shift directions instead of the usual “sweep the floors” or your personal favorite: “if the customer creates a corpse, they gotta clean it up themselves”.

The Mandalorian interrupted your musings with a firm, “No need,” gesturing to the charcoal cloak fastened around his pauldrons. You eyed it dubiously, but supposed that the material looked thick enough. That was probably to your benefit, anyway, since you were something of a notorious blanket hog and didn’t think he’d take kindly to having his sheets ripped off him in the dead of night. That seemed like a quick way to wake up with more bruises than you went to sleep with.

“Well— alright then,” you sighed at last, tossing the smaller of your blankets to the man and tucking the other into the side of a nearby booth. “I’ll shut off the lights in a moment. Refresher’s that way, if you need it,” you pointed to the end of a dimly lit hall. The Mandalorian nodded once, then returned his attention to carefully cocooning the child in his lap. You set to work fluffing up your own makeshift bed, folding the cleanest dishtowel you could find into a pillow before trudging over to the light switch and enveloping the room in darkness. 

Quietly feeling your way back to your booth, your eyes adjusted to the pitch-black little by little. You pulled your hair out of its messy updo and curled up on the seat, body slowly relaxing. It was strange, hearing the muffled rhythm of breaths coming from lungs that weren’t your own, but oddly soothing in its own way. 

“G’night,” you mumbled, half-asleep already, consciousness swirled down the psychological drain by the overpowering storm raging outside. The lull-and-hitch of the baby’s soft snores echoing off of solid beskar set you drifting off to sleep faster than you had as a child, so lost to the world that you were sure you dreamed the quiet, belated whisper that sounded back to you.

taglist: @magpiencrow @that-kid143 @lilly-aliyah @itmustbegreattobecalledtheitgirl

comment if you'd like to be tagged for any of my works/fandoms in the future! :)

read on: part ii

[mrsshabana]

𝐏𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary You've been anxious to see the vampire again after that first night. And when he comes, you learn just how binding your pact with him is. Your life will never be the same. ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, modern au, vampires, blood, violence, corpses, biting ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1.6k words

✧:･ﾟ→ Chapter One

Each shift after your encounter with the vampire was filled with anxiety. You would come in to work, hoping you wouldn’t see him but knowing that it was inevitable. Each day that passed without seeing him your anxiety grew more and more. Would he come today? Would he come tomorrow? 

Well today was your lucky day, because there he is. As soon as you walk into the examination room you see the vampire curiously examining your tools. Scalpels, knives, bone saws, siphons. He looks up at you through his lashes, vibrant red orbs glaring at you. 

He looks a lot different than before. Though still dead so to speak, his skin still pale and lifeless but he looks a lot healthier than before. Not so skinny and emaciated, he actually looks muscular under the black hoodie he’s wearing. 

“Why do you look so surprised?” he growls, “You should have been expecting me.”

“I-I was um,” you stutter and put your things down at the desk, “I didn’t know which day you’d come.”

“Hm,” he hums, walking around the room. Eyeing you up and down. 

“I never got your name,” your voice quivers as you attempt to make casual conversation in this not so casual situation. 

“Gyutaro,” he states bluntly.

“Gyutaro? That’s a nice name,” you smile slightly, trying to hide your fear. “I’m -”

“I already know your name, Y/N,” he cuts you off, scoffing as if he’s annoyed by your attempt to introduce yourself, “Can we just get to the point already? I’m not here to be your friend. I’m here for you to keep up your end of the deal.”

“Right, sorry…” you apologize and quickly put on your gloves before heading into the back room where the cold lockers are. He promptly follows you, keeping his predatory gaze locked onto you. You can feel his stare drilling holes into your back.

The two of you enter the room, the cold temperature causing goosebumps on your skin. You look over the lockers, comparing dates until you find the most recent one. Pulling the handle, you open the locker to slide the body out. Revealing the corpse of a woman in her mid 50’s who passed away only 8-12 hours ago. Then you prepare your tools and begin to siphon the blood out of the corpse, filling up the same bucket as before. 

Gyutaro stands behind you, watching you with a judgmental gaze. The scent of blood fills his nostrils but he’s able to control himself this time. 

Once the bucket is mostly full you present it to him with shaky hands, nervous that he may go ravenous as he did last time. But he stands there unphased, with his arms crossed - looking down at you with a raised brow. 

“This isn’t good enough,” he rasps.

“Wh-what do you mean?” you furrow your brows in confusion, looking into the bucket to see what's wrong. But the blood looks perfectly normal to you. 

“This blood isn’t fresh.”

“Well yeah, I have to take it from corpses. It usually takes at least a few hours for the bodies to get to me,” you whimper, feeling afraid of how he will react. 

“That’s not my problem,” he steps closer to you, “It’s yours.”

“B-But you liked the blood I gave you last time,” your eyes begin to water.

He scowls and raises his voice, “That was my first meal! I was desperate for anything,  I was starving…” he looks down as if he had a sad memory but he quickly snaps out of it and gets in your face again, “Would you want to eat stale food every day? Yeah, I didn't think so. So you better find me some fresh blood or else.”

“But I can’t get fresh blood! I have no way of doing something like that,” your tears slowly begin to fall down your cheeks. 

“You know what happens to humans who break a pact with a vampire?”

“N-No… what?” you sniffle.

“Let’s find out,” he grins and puts his cold hand on your shoulder. Opening his mouth, showing his deadly fangs. 

“Ok ok!” you panic, “I’ll get you fresh blood!” You desperately agree, not wanting to find out what the consequences are of breaking a pact with him. You have no idea how you will manage to get fresh blood, but it doesn’t seem like you have much of a choice. 

“Good,” he smirks and steps away from you. Though he does take the blood bucket from your hands, placing a finger inside then putting it in his mouth to get a taste. 

“Ngh, that’s disgusting,” he coughs, “I’d only drink this if I was on the verge of death.”

You wipe the tears from your eyes and clean up the area. Putting the body back in the locker and cleaning your siphon before you go back to the examination room with the vampire. 

He looks at you expectantly. 

“What? I-I can’t get fresh blood for you that fast! I don’t even know how I’ll do it without, well… killing someone,” the thought of having to kill another human being almost brings you to tears. 

“It’s not my problem that you’re completely incompetent,” he rolls his eyes, “You owe me fresh blood, and your first payment is now.”

Panicked, you look around the room. Trying to find anything to help you out of this predicament. It’s 11:42 pm, how the hell are you supposed to come up with fresh blood? It’s not like you can just walk up to a blood bank and ask for it. Let alone go to the extreme of killing someone. But you got yourself into this mess, so you have to do whatever it takes to keep your end of the deal.

You squeeze your eyes tightly and move your head back, revealing your neck to him, “Fine.”

“Wh-what are you doing?” his eyes widen in surprise and his voice softens. 

“Take my blood. It’s the only option I have.”

“Are you sure…?” he takes a step closer to you, almost unable to believe you’re offering your own blood to him. 

“Yes,” you nod, “I’m sure.”

He grabs your shoulders, your eyes shooting open from the sudden contact. 

“Alright,” he sighs, looking down at you. His vibrant eyes staring into yours, “It’ll be easier if you lay down.”

You take a deep breath and nod. The only place to lie down is right here on the examination table. The metal feels ice cold as you hesitantly lay atop it. The fluorescent lights buzzing above you as Gyutaro looks down at you.  This entire time he’s been cold and calculating, but this is the first time you’ve seen him look so unsure. So nervous. 

Gyutaro carefully climbs onto the examination table, hovering above you. He can hear your heart beating, so fast that he feels like he can see the blood pulsing in your neck. His eyes dilate at the thought of piercing your delicate skin with his fangs. 

Your breath hitches as he leans in. Getting closer to your neck with each second that passes. However, his movements are slow and gentle, much different than they were before. 

You can’t avoid what happens next, no matter how much you wish you could. In the end, it’s your fault that you’re in this situation in the first place. So you might as well embrace it and make it as easy as possible. Turning your head to the side, you offer your neck to him. 

Gyutaro slowly inches closer, the tip of his nose brushing against your ear - sending shivers down your spine. 

He opens his mouth and you barely feel the softness of his lips caressing your skin before the stinging pain of his fangs puncturing your skin, sinking into your flesh and penetrating your veins. 

You gasp and flinch from the initial sting, holding onto his shoulder for support. He groans deeply as your sweet blood touches his tongue, the taste more divine than anything that has ever breached his lips. He becomes lost in your saccharine nectar, losing himself in the addictive flavor of you. Without thinking he puts his hand on your waist, holding you still as he ever so slightly leans his body closer to yours. 

Your fingers and toes begin to go numb, and your heartbeat skyrockets. The sound of your pounding heart is the only thing that snaps him out of it. Resulting in him unlatching from your neck just in time before you would lose consciousness. 

The both of you pant heavily, trying to calm down from the intense experience. Gyutaro’s face goes red when he realizes how close he is to you and he quickly gets off of you, standing up beside the table.

You try to stand but you feel too light-headed to do so, Gyutaro puts a hand on your shoulder as if silently telling you to take it easy. You really don’t know how to feel at this moment. Scared? Relieved? Embarrassed? Probably a combination of all three, but you’re honestly just happy that he didn’t kill you.

“Thanks for being so gentle, Gyutaro…” you mutter.

His blush deepens, “Whatever… Just get me fresh blood by the end of the week. I can’t feed off of you every time. Your body won’t be able to handle it…”

“O-ok,” you gulp, “I’ll have it ready for you when you come back.” 

“Good,” he hands you a piece of paper with a number written down, “That’s my phone number. Just in case you need something.”

“Thanks,” you say shyly as you stash the paper in your pocket for later. 

“Just remember we aren’t friends, this is just business,” he scowls, looking back at you one last time before leaving out the window just as he had before.

[strawbeerossi]

Heartless

Pairing: Unsub!Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Part Description: With an old foe breaking out of prison, there are complications when Y/N is left alone with them, exposing her secret to Spencer about just who she is.

Content Warnings: Coarse language, there’s spoilers for season 12 and prison Reid, mentions of drugging, mentions of death, use of a knife, use of a gun, violence, death.

Word Count: 4.4K

Part one || Part two || Part three

Navigation || Masterlist || Request

Confusion had set in the minute that Y/N had gotten to Spencer’s car, watching the clumsy man nearly trip over his own two feet as he was pulling open the passenger side door, his tender touch against her lower back as he was so lovingly nudging her so she’d get in the car. “I thought you said this killer killed men. Why am I going to the office? Her MO isn’t women.” She tried, her boyfriend’s head shaking.

“Just listen to me!” Spencer snapped, bringing his hands to his hair while drawing in a breath. Trying to compose the very overwhelming emotions that seemed to be taking control. After prison, Spencer became more irritable. It was harder for him to control his emotions, he had major tunnel vision, and he was in a post traumatic stress state that wouldn’t ever leave him. Sure, things got better, in spurts. Therapy did so much for him, his girlfriend could only do so much, it was like his mind was against him.

“We need to get to the office now, okay? I promise you that I will explain everything in vivid detail but I need you in the fucking car! You’re gonna get hurt and I can’t lose someone else. Please just get in the car..” Watching Spencer panic and grow fearful was enough to make Y/N’s heart shatter. Her poor baby. In order to fulfill the man’s wishes, she was pressing a soft kiss against his cheek before climbing into the car, the seatbelt being snapped into place as soon as she was settled. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

Who the fuck was trying to take Y/N’s position? To claim all her hard work as their own? There was no doubt those men, no, those dirty pigs deserved to die. However, she was the one doing it. She was delivering justice to women who were failed by the system, by the courts, even by their spouses. What she did was vigilantism, doing what the law couldn’t. Even if her boyfriend was part of that same very law and would look down upon her choices. She had to keep it under the radar. She knew what would happen if her boyfriend was to find out.

She’d have to kill him.

It was almost a little laughable how naive Spencer was with the whole situation with his girlfriend, the way she would come over at all hours of the night, the way she’d always be tightly wound up. However, working in customer service for all shifts was a good excuse for that.

Spencer, the genius FBI profiler who had so much under his belt, had no idea he was in bed with a woman who he wanted to strangle. She’d like to think that he loved her, that he was overlooking everything just because he found solace in her arms. It was something that he told her, saying he needed her, that she made him sane after all the hell that he’d been put through.

Deep down, she knew that he was one of the good ones. The ones who deserved a loving relationship, a woman willing to take care of him, willing to deal with the long nights, days, even weeks when Spencer was off on a case. That was why she was there. To give a man who was the most deserving of love the very thing that he craved, needed. It wasn’t even just the sex that kept her there. It was that studious, lovable dork who always had so much to say, so much to teach her.

“There’s this woman, a woman who has been messing with me for years. I outsmarted her.” Spencer answered, one hand coming up to rub his right eye, the tunnel vision setting in as he was growing more overwhelmed. “Cat Adams. She-“ He let out a low sigh. “She drugged me, she framed me for murder, had me incarcerated, she.. She..” He was taking in a shaky breath while Y/N was reaching over to let her hand rest on his upper arm.

“You don’t have to say it right now, okay? I promise that it’s alright. I’m here for you.” Y/N assured her boyfriend, a weak smile on her face. Oh, she was gonna kill this bitch, for sure. She felt like this was going to be a bigger fight than it needed to be. Way too big.

Spencer was pulling in the parking garage soon after that, sitting in a deafening silence while he tried collecting himself the best that he could. He had to think clearly. Not only was he at risk but his girlfriend was too. Cat had so many people to do her dirty work outside of prison, he knew that. This was her handiwork. He didn't know how he didn't see it before.

Cat made the most sense. She was a 'Black Widow' killer. She used her seduction and charm to lure men in. She saw all men as threats, considered them all as evil and dark as the next. She never spared a thought for most of them. Spencer though.. Oh, Cat was infatuated. He was the only man to ever outsmart her, to arrest her while winning the game that she rigged against him. That woman wouldn't ever leave him alone, not until she was dead.

Being locked in a maximum security prison didn't deter her. Instead, it fueled her. It drove her to dig up every piece on Spencer that she possibly could. Hell, she had him drugged and imprisoned all the while blaming Mr. Scratch.

Emily Prentiss, the unit chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, was the one who greeted Spencer and Y/N by the elevator. "I'm glad you could make it. I know you've been busy with your personal investigation." She hummed, turning her attention to Y/N. "I had a suspicion our beloved Dr. Reid had a secret girlfriend." She joked, holding a hand out. "I'm Emily."

Y/N did her research on the BAU leader. She was strong willed, determined, and loyal to her work family. However, the mommy and daddy issues were apparent in her work ethic. The way she took on a more demanding tone, the way she looked at Y/N with that hint of mistrust. It was enough to make the other woman almost respect her. Emily was definitely going to make things difficult if she didn't play things smart.

The leader gets suspicious, and the team turns against her. No thanks.

"I'm Y/N. It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you." Y/N greeted, a smile gracing her features while her hand was reaching out to hold Emily's, the two shaking hands before their hands were falling back to their usual places.

"Spencer. If you wouldn't mind taking Y/N somewhere she can get comfortable, everyone else is waiting on us." Straight to business.

"I know it's not really work appropriate," Spencer began, his gaze falling on his girlfriend before he was taking her hand. "I'd really appreciate it if she came in too. She's been my rock throughout all of this and I don't think I can even talk about.." He paused briefly, making Emily look at Y/N before letting out a sigh.

"Alright. If you would feel more comfortable with her there, she can sit in. However," Now her attention was on Y/N. "I don't know what Spencer has told you but this is a violent case. We are going to be talking about a lot of dark subject matters." She spoke, a warning to the very woman who was behind every single murder except the most recent one.

"I understand. I think that I can handle it. If I can't, I'll quietly excuse myself." Her tone was soft as she offered a gentle smile.

Following close behind her boyfriend and his boss, Y/N was looking around the bullpen. There was a lot of structure and order, yet a hint of chaos judging by the piles of files and other papers on certain desks. She could already guess which one was Spencer's, which made her smile.

Inside the conference room though, the talking was coming to a halt when a new woman was stepping in the room, hand tucked in Spencer's.

There was a blonde woman that was speaking up first, a wide smile on her face. "Who is this?!" She asked, the case at hand almost being forgotten by the woman with purple framed glasses, a dress that was littered with unicorns amongst other fantasy style items. She didn't look like someone who would willingly choose this career, seeming very overjoyed and kind, too kind for the world.

"I'm Y/N. You must be Penelope." Y/N spoke up, the woman perking up even more if it was possible. "You've been talking about me!" She laughed, putting her hands together. "Is this your girlfriend? Oh! Spencer she's so-"

"Garcia."

Emily's voice was bringing the woman back to the heavy reality of the situation, making her smile fall as she nodded. "Sorry, sorry. Um," She began while grabbing the remote on the table. "We have Matthew Thornton." She began, clicking a button on the remote to pull up the crime scene.

Whoever was trying to take Y/N's thunder didn't even do it right. They stabbed the body about seventy times, which was far too much work for her to even attempt. Besides that, she'd never think to leave behind a note taunting anyone. However, this wasn't her. With the way she could feel her boyfriend tense up, she knew this was the work of the woman he told her about in the car.

"She ended up being a part of a well coordinated prison break." Tara was speaking up, her gaze looking over the files in hand while frowning. "How did the guards not notice?" She asked while Matt was looking over at the woman's direction. "Guards were in on it. It doesn't help that some of those same guards were killed while on their shift once the break happened and their clothes were stolen. Makes it easy to scan an ID and open the doors for everyone."

"So, wait," Y/N interjected herself into the conversation, however nobody seemed against her speaking her thoughts out. "With the break and how it flew under the radar for so long, do we know how long they've been out?" She asked, her eyebrows raising in curiosity. Maybe blaming this on Cat Adams could potentially get her fully off the suspect list.

"According to reports, this went on months ago." David responded, making Luke nod. "Meaning, Cat has been fighting for Spencer's attention in the only way she could. It looks like the killings led up to Spencer's apartment at one point but they stopped, now they are back on track."

Oh. Blessing in disguise maybe?

"What do we know?" Spencer finally broke his silence, his hand reaching over for one of the files before he was opening it, although it was almost like he had it to where Y/N could see too. Was she unknowingly getting signed up to help?

"She was seen in a convenience store security footage." Penelope answered, quickly pulling up the files. As they went through the footage a couple times, the blonde was pausing it on Cat's face. There was no doubt about it being her. Why was she playing the long game though? When Y/N found someone she wanted dead, she got on with it. There wasn't any doubt going through her mind.

"She's taunting us. We could be walking directly into a trap." Emily pointed out the obvious, her hands resting against the tabletop while keeping a sharp eye on the screen ahead of her. "I think it's time for us to go off of our leads. Garcia, send us coordinates for her last known locations. Judging by how recent this footage is, she's close. I’m pairing all of us off. We need to play this safe.”

Emily just didn't know how close Cat really was.

◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆

Cat had successfully evaded police capture for months now, keeping her eyes on one specific person. She saw Y/N approach Spencer in a bar a few months ago, getting cozy with him before going back to his apartment. So.. Cat did what she did best, digging.

She followed Y/N around on her nights of leisure, watching her use her intoxicating voice and seduction to lure unsuspecting men back to shitty motels and other discreet places just to kill them. Yet, after all that, she’d made sure to not leave a trace of evidence behind before she left.

Going straight home to her boyfriend, an FBI agent who would no doubt kill her if she found out.

That was when Cat decided to make her escape known, attracting the attention of the BAU in order to throw this woman under the bus. Cat’s obsession with Spencer knew absolutely no bounds. She would do what she could to make him suffer, all the while managing to keep him all to herself.

He didn’t deserve to be happy. No, he deserved to be with someone who was meant for him. She knew from the moment she met Spencer that he was an evil person, harboring a dark side that only she had managed to bring out after being part of completely breaking him down, making him crumble into a form of himself that he would never fully recognize.

She knew they’d be catching on soon. The BAU never disappointed her, she was going to one place where they wouldn’t be looking. In fact, it was the place where Y/N was sent after Emily was making the woman leave due to the fact that no normal civilian needed to be part of this. Spencer was against the idea entirely but at the promise of an agent going to guard his girlfriend, he had to deflate and accept she needed to go home, where she was safe.

So, as she was being ushered home by some big agent to keep her safe, Y/N could help but frown. They thought she needed a man to protect her?? She knew what she was doing. If Cat even showed up on her radar, it’d be easy to kill her. No guard would be able to hold her back either. She’d pieced together every horrible thing that Cat coordinated against Spencer, the way she pulled the strings in an elaborate plan to completely break him.

There was going to be a long, painful death in store for the notorious escaped convict, that was all she knew.

“You don’t have to be here you know.” Y/N murmured to the man beside her, her hand reaching in her purse so she could unlock her front door. “Sorry, ma’am. Orders.” He wasn’t gonna let up. It was enough to get under her skin, wanting to grab her blade tucked away in her bag and slit his throat. However, she wasn’t going to fully incriminate herself after seemingly getting away with murder.

As soon as the door was unlocked, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Thankfully, the man outside would just be standing guard, which was a shitty decision if Cat was as good as they said she was.

Y/N had gotten her shoes off before heading to her kitchen, flipping on the light before raising an eyebrow as she saw Cat Adams, the woman the whole team was looking for, at her kitchen table. She had a folder resting on the table, labeled for Spencer. “You’re home! Thank god, I was worried I’d have to go find you!”

“What the fuck are you doing in my apartment? How did you get into my apartment?”

“I have my ways! Now, why don’t you sit down?”

The way that this woman was talking to her had Y/N rolling her eyes. “I think I’m gonna have to ask you to leave before I shove a knife in your throat. I mean, it would be self defense, after all. You broke into my home, you’re a convicted murderer.”

“Ah. You’re a murderer too though.” Cat stated, opening the file in front of her to reveal the prints linking Y/N with each victim. The same bar where she met Spencer, the same drink, the same body language. “I mean.. This is plenty of evidence. The cameras may not work there but people have their eyes open. Always. I know so many people around here, you’d be surprised.”

Cat didn’t give Y/N time to ask any questions. “Now, what I wanna know is, what are you doing with Spencer Reid? Your whole crusade is to kill men who have gotten away with violence against their partners and/or their children. Men who are violent, harboring dark thoughts and using their strength to either take life away, or to try and end it.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with Spencer.”

“You don’t? You do know that Spencer murdered a woman, correct? In cold blood, might I add. She was trying to help him and he returned the favor by stabbing her to death.”

“Because you drugged him, Cat. I’m not fucking stupid, I’ve already been made aware.”

“Were you aware that after his release from prison, he came to visit me? He had to talk with me about my involvement, which I’m sure you know that I had his precious mommy under my lock and key. Do you know what he did to me? What he said?”

There was silence from Y/N’s end. That was something she hadn’t heard yet.

“You see, I was pregnant in prison. Spencer had come to question me, asking me all sorts of bullshit questions. So I answered. He got impatient with me. Started yelling, threw a table out of the way, and slammed me against a brick wall. He was going to choke me to death, Y/N. I had bruises for months after that. I even miscarried. If JJ hadn’t been there, I would’ve been dead.” The story wasn’t as tragic as Cat believed it to be. She deserved it.

“You fight for women and children who have been fucked over by the crooked structure of law enforcement. The same law enforcement that your sweet boyfriend is a part of. Killing all of those men was a waste of time. If you truly cared about those people who you claim to be fighting for, Spencer would’ve been dead a long time ago. I respected your choices leading up to that moment. The moment that you grew weak. The moment you betrayed every single thing you were fighting for.”

As if right on cue though, there was the sound of banging right outside the front door, Spencer’s voice being muffled by the front door as he called out to his girlfriend. He willingly sent her home, thinking she’d be safe. All the while, Cat left plenty of clues as to where she was. “Right on time! I knew Spencie wouldn’t fail me.” She grinned.

“Go be a good girl and unlock the door. I think you and him need to have a long talk about what you did.” She spoke, leaning back in her chair while nodding towards the front door, where Spencer was still yelling for his girlfriend. If she didn’t open the door soon, he’d have to pull a Derek and kick the wooden door clean off its hinges.

This was where Y/N’s heart fell into her stomach. Realization was setting in. Spencer was going to know. He was going to see the incriminating bullshit that Cat had in front of her. Everything was going to fall down to Y/N killing Spencer. This was what Cat needed her for. What she used her for.

She quietly approached the front door, unlocking each individual lock before pulling it open. “Oh thank god!” Spencer croaked, his arms wrapped tightly around his girlfriend while he held her flush against his chest. The comfort of knowing she was okay was enough to have him sobbing in her arms, unaware of what darkness was looming in the kitchen. “She’s on the way here.” He spoke, him against her shoulder while his eyes were closed.

The moment was gone in an instant. “I’m already here, Spencie. It’s so nice to see you again. I bet that you thought you were doing justice here,” Cat smirked, body leaning against the kitchen archway as she let an eyebrow raise. “I suggest you come inside, sit with us in the kitchen. We both have a lot to discuss with you.” She began, causing the couple to break apart from the hug as Y/N grabbed her boyfriend’s hand. “Come on.” She whispered, tears rolling down her pale cheeks as she led him into the kitchen.

“Now, I think you guys should recruit me into the fbi. Because I solved this case for you!” Cat grinned, pushing the closed file to Spencer. “Your killer, the one you’ve been searching for, has been right under your nose this whole time. It’s not even me!” She had a wicked smile on her face. This was another shot to Spencer’s heart, making him go through pain all over again. As long as she was alive, Spencer wouldn’t ever escape her.

You could hear a pin drop the minute that Spencer opened the file, his eyes staring at the pictures inside while his mouth ran dry. That was Y/N. His girlfriend. With the men who were murdered, the same bar they met in and everything.

“What the fuck is this?” There was anger in his voice, betrayal. “You’ve let me nearly kill myself from lack of sleep and bringing me to near heart attack level because of you?!” The venom in his voice had Y/N flinching upon impact, her eyes squeezing shut. “You don’t understand-“ She began, though it wasn’t long before Spencer was throwing the file down and standing.

“Was I another victim?! Were you playing the fucking long game with me? You wanted to catch me fully off guard?” He growled, the woman being backed up to the wall. Y/N felt powerless, her heart beating out of her chest as the man she loved was towering over her, keeping her trapped between himself and the wall.

However, once his back was to Cat, it was almost like something else flashed in his eyes. There was anger but now there was something else. Encouragement? She didn’t think much about it until Spencer was reaching over to take a knife out of the knife block, holding it out to his girlfriend. “Do it then. Go for it.” He growled, though there wasn’t fear behind his eyes. No.. There was a fucking smirk on his face, egging her on to make a move.

Y/N was slowly taking the knife once Spencer backed up, this time sitting in a chair. There were a few moments of silence while Y/N was looking at her reflection within the blade of the knife, something ticking inside of her. Something she’d been waiting to act on for a while. “I’m sorry.” She whispered, looking over at her boyfriend who seemed unbothered. “I don’t wanna fucking hear it. Just hurry up. We don’t have much time.” 

The way she was encouraged made her face Cat, then everything went black.

The first thing she did was charge the other woman, knocking her out of the chair. The air was thick with adrenaline as the woman was wrestling the other to the ground. This was a long time coming. However, cat put up one hell of a fight, the woman ending up getting a good hit on Y/N and knocking her to the ground, which had Cat be the knife wielder.

As the woman was climbing on top of the other, she was pushing the knife deep into Y/N’s shoulder, the woman letting out a loud cry. “You’re pathetic, you know that? All that promise? All that strength. He was going to take it away from you anyway. You never loved him and he never loved-“

BANG

Blood was splattered all over Y/N’s face, the sound of a gunshot echoing through the apartment. The deadweight of Cat falling on top of her was enough to shock her. Did Spencer just.. There were a few moments where Y/N used the adrenaline coursing through her veins to shove the dead weight off of her.

“How dumb do you think I am?” Spencer asked after a moment, using a lighter to light up the incriminating evidence in the sink to let the pictures burn completely. “I’ve known the whole fucking time. You’re not exactly subtle. Be real. I was in that bar on a stakeout.” He continued on while looking back at Y/N.

“I was supposed to go in, do my job, and get out. However, you sat beside me. The way you were talking to me, touching me, and your body language gave you up immediately. However.. Against my better judgment, I had some sort of trust in you. I took you home with me.” He began while turning on the water to put out the fire from the burning evidence before grabbing the unidentifiable pictures and throwing them in the trash.

“I fell in love with you. Even if you didn’t deserve that love. Quite frankly, you still don’t.” He was taking off the purple scarf around his neck, wrapping it around her bleeding wound while he was moving to grab his microphone, putting a finger up. “Prentiss, send up medics. Cat’s down and Y/N is wounded.” He sent off the message while letting his arms cross as he looked over his girlfriend.

“I’m not gonna say a word about any of this. I told you that I refuse to lose you and I mean that. You’re not going to be locked up in a jail cell the rest of your life or mine. But you have to promise me that you’re not gonna fuck around and keep doing this bullshit. I mean it, if I feel like you are killing anyone else..” He was grabbing her chin by making her look up at him.

“I’ll kill you myself. Now, go get stitched up before you bleed out.” There was a soft kiss pressed against her lips while he was standing straight again, walking out of the apartment to greet the other team members downstairs.

He left Y/N to stand there, mostly in shock.

What the fuck just happened?

[thegodmother007]

My New Neighbor Chapter 12: Sick Day

TRIGGER WARNING: This story will eventually contain violence, angst, threat of death, swearing, dark humor, adult themes like sex & drugs, racism, classism, sexism etc. Do not say you have not been warned

Chapter 12:

It’s been about 2-weeks since the party where I almost drowned in beer, was tossed around like a toy & played with like one. But I was ultimately grateful to be saved by my neighbor who I watched choke Myra over & over again on the video that Foster texted me the morning after. 

Something in me burned watching that video again and again. I felt the satisfaction of Myra’s stupid face contorting into real fear of Vi & what she was going to do. Served her right, she should know how it feels to be overpowered. Then rage fills my chest when her brother, Bo, steps into frame & stops it. What I would have given to watch this play out in real life & not just hear it from my friends & a poor quality video. 

Since the party though, I have spoken to Vi more & more. It started out with her checking in on me, probably to make sure we were still cool. Then it turned into simple memes being sent back & forth, then quickly escalated into full-on text conversations, from there. I found it was much easier to talk to her in this way than in-person. I may have noticed my feelings shifting with Vi, but that did not get rid of the intimidation I felt being around any giant’s presence. However, when I texted Vi this morning, continuing a conversation we started last night, I did not get a response back from her. I knew she was home, because I felt her walking around once or twice, so I was not sure why she was avoiding me. Eventually, I texted her to ask “Are you mad at me or something..?” I waited for a while. One hour turned into 2 hours, turned into 3 hours, turning into 4 hours with no response. It was about 3:00pm at this point and when checking my phone to see she still hadn’t read my messages, I decided to give her a call, just in case. I held the phone to my ear, waiting for her to answer. To my immediate relief she did, but she certainly did not sound like Vi. 

I got a groggy voice answering me, which sounded horse and withered, say “hello..?” on the other side. “Vi?” I asked her, not 100% convinced it was her with how tired she sounded. “Yes?” she asked, thinking I needed something, which I was quick to correct “Hey are you alright? You haven't answered any of my texts & although you’re not obligated to, I got worried.” I confessed the last part with no shortage of embarrassment lacing my words. A pause between us made me wonder if I had made her uncomfortable. Vi quietly answered with a sniffle & a cough clearing her throat “I’m sick. My head’s spinning, my nose is stuffed, I have a cough, I’m cold, I feel weak and tired. I haven’t found it in me to text anyone today, sorry.” I felt bad that she felt the need to apologize to me “No, no don’t apologize. I didn’t know you were sick. Anything I can do?” I offered automatically, realizing only after I offered that I must have sounded silly to her. What could I, a small Human, do for her at this moment? I couldn’t go to the store to get her medicine or make her soup. Hell, I can’t even get her another blanket if she wanted it. Vi coughed up a lung on the other end before answering and when she caught her breath replied “No, not much anyone can do right now, really. Just gotta ride this out.” She said in a way to try & spare my feelings. “Alright. Well get plenty of rest, okay?” I say before I go to hang up, but not before an idea hits me. 

“Actually…what’s the passcode to your apartment?” I asked with a mischievous tone I could tell unsettled Vi a little. After she gave the code to me, I say into the phone “See you in 5” before quickly hanging up on her without letting her respond. I grabbed my guitar & hurried to punch the 4-digit code into the door that separated our spaces. This code is for emergency situations & although not an emergency, I think Vi was going to like my idea. 

As fast as I could, with my guitar in hand, I walked towards Vi’s room. I did stop to admire her apartment space like I’ve never gotten the chance to. Looking high above me, I observed some of the most mundane items, like a dining table, chairs, couch, pairs of shoes by the door & books on the shelf. Except, due to their immense size, I looked at everything with a sense of wonder only giant-sized items could invoke. Anytime I entered her unit, she was always there keeping my attention or a bunch of giants were there to distract me. I marveled at the opportunity to see where Vi lives daily, feeling calmed by idea that her apartment hardly looked any different than my own, outside of stylistic choices. 

I turned to the hallway & notice that Vi’s door is open halfway, giving me more than enough room to enter. When approaching her bedroom, I knock as hard as I can on the doorframe, giving her a heads up I was here. I walk into a very dark room, sans the daylight that shot through the cracks of her window blinds, which gave me enough light to make out her darkened silhouette. I can see her long hair hanging off the side of the bed & I watch her head slowly poke out from behind the blanket, to see me standing in the doorway. Vi’s eyes look tired and her skin pale, even in this light. I could see her muster a small smile but then quickly fade out as I walked closer to her bed. 

“What are you doing here?” She asks me, voice scratchy and obstructed by phlegm. I smiled and held up my guitar “You said there wasn't anything I could do for you, but I thought of something. Do you mind if I sit?” I ask, pointing to a spot directly in front of her line of vision on the floor. Vi shakes her head, confirming she wouldn't mind, but obviously unsure of what I had planned. I find my spot, sitting cross legged while I gaze up at a very sick Vi. “I was hoping a little music might help you feel better…” I say strumming my guitar. 

For a moment I saw Vi’s eyes light up, before the energy in them was dimmed once more by her sickness. I could tell she was hiding a smile behind her blanket while only her eyes were exposed. I started out with something slow & cheerful ‘Here Comes the Sun' by the Beetles. Hoping I wasn't making a fool of myself, I started singing “Here comes the sun, do do do do. Here comes the sun & I say-”

Now, I am not the greatest singer in the world, but in that moment, I felt like it. I would occasionally peer up at Vi from my seated position to see her eyes sparkling at me, glossy & focused. I wasn't sure if it was her cold that was making them do that, but it fueled me to play a second song. I followed ‘Here Comes the Sun’ with Led Zeppelin’s ‘Stairway to Heaven’. Again I sing to Vi, whose eyes never leave my form. “There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold

And she's buying a stairway to Heaven-” 

When referring to ‘the lady' of the song, I glance at Vi and shoot her a smile, one similar to the one that she keeps hiding behind the blanket. I take my time, playing slowly & not loudly at all, hoping not to disturb her, but rather give what little comfort I could as I strummed.

************************************************

I wasn't sure what Cain was thinking after he called & asked for my apartment code, only to have him hang up once I gave it to him. “Whatever” I thought to myself, putting my phone back on my bedside table, sneezing a few times before blowing my nose and laying back down. I started shivering after having my arms outside the blanket, so I nestled back into my cocoon, covering my whole head when I heard a knocking at my door. I wasn't shocked to see Cain standing there, but what did surprise me was he had his guitar with him. I felt my pale face go red, realizing Cain might intend to play for me. For the first time today, I wasn't focused on how crummy I felt. I watched Cain sit on my floor & start playing ‘Here Comes the Sun' for me. I felt a wave of goosebumps begin crawling up my body for the first few chords. 

I couldn't help but stare in awe at Cain’s gesture. It was the kindest thing someone had done for me in a long time & I couldn't help but tear up as he began singing too. His voice was calming & slow, perfect for acoustic guitar. My heart leapt for joy as he winked at me during the part of the The Beetle’s song: “Little darlin', it's been a long, cold, lonely winter” I felt my smile involuntary sneak onto my face while I hid behind my blanket, trying to play it cool. Inside however, I was tickled by how genuinely sweet he was for doing this. I used my blanket to discreetly dab my tears away when he looked back down at his guitar, watching his hands & making sure he plucked the right strings. Had my voice not sounded like an old hag’s, I would have sang along with him. For now though, I was happy to just listen. 

Cain’s taste in music only got better with each song because after he played ‘Stairway to Heaven', he played ‘Wish You were Here’ by Pink Floyd. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to be carried away by the music, imagining laying under the blue sky with white fluffy clouds passing by & next to me in the soft green grass was Cain, the sun warm on our faces. 

*********************************************************

It wasn't too far into ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, that I watched Vi slowly close her eyes & drift off to sleep. I made sure to finish the song, not sure if she’d really fallen asleep, until I let the last chord fade out. When she didn't open her eyes again & I noticed that her breathing had deepened, I knew my work here was done. I felt a sense of accomplishment that I was able to lull a giant to sleep in under 5 songs. This was going in my portfolio for sure, I joked to myself.

Before standing to take my leave, I just watch Vi sleep for a bit, admiring how she was completely at peace. In a very weird way, she was very beautiful in this moment. I'm sure she covered her face because she didn't feel like it, but I liked seeing what she looked like underneath make-up & the stress of having me as a roommate. In an effort not to disturb her, I slowly put my guitar back in its case and carefully locked it, slow in my movements back to my own unit where I make sure to shoot her a text to wake up to, before closing our shared door behind me: “Sleep well” 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I’ve thrown a lot of angst into this story, I think we needed a change of pace 😉

Sorry the story is a bit short, but the next chapter I am working on is much longer than many of the ones I've written so far.

Previous ||| Next

TAG LIST: @gt-daboss

[colouredbyd]

I’ve always admired the way you write and how you can make people feel so much just through words. You somehow always find the right way to say things, and it never feels repetitive or forced. Even though you’re only seventeen, you write with so much emotion and honesty—it’s really inspiring.

Honestly, sometimes I get scared to even share my writing. I start overthinking everything—like, is it good enough? Are people going to feel anything when they read it, or just scroll past it? I see how you write, how you just seem to get it right every time, and I wonder if I’m even close to that. I get stuck using the same words over and over again, and it feels like I’m just circling around what I want to say but never actually getting there.

Sometimes I’ll write something and just stare at it, trying to decide if it’s worth sharing. Other times, I don’t even want to start because I’m already convinced it won’t turn out the way I want. I guess what I’m trying to say is—how do you push past that? How do you keep finding the right words without getting caught up in all the doubt? You are amazing Dalia :)

-🪩

thank you so much for saying that, it genuinely means everything to me🌷💗

i think there’s something so beautiful about writing—about putting pieces of your heart into words and watching them grow into something real, something that reaches people. to know that you feel that through my writing is genuinely everything.

and honestly, i get it. that fear of sharing your writing? it’s so, so real. i’ve been there, and sometimes, i’m still there!

writing has been part of my life for as long as i can remember. it all started when i was around 9 (fully blaming my parents for giving me way too much media access ). i discovered wattpad, and i would just get completely lost in those stories for hours. i remember thinking it was pure magic—how just words on a screen could make me feel so much. i think that’s when i knew: i wanted to do that too.

from there, i started reading so many books, anything i could get my hands on. i was obsessed with the idea of stories, how they could build entire worlds out of nothing. eventually, that obsession turned into me wanting to create my own. i started writing random little things, mostly just for me

when i was around 14, i fell into this massive Draco x y/n phase and even tried to shift (the dedication i had back then) i would write for hours, just pouring everything onto the page, but the idea of posting it? terrifying. it felt like exposing the softest, most fragile part of myself.

at some point, i realized i had over 160 fics just sitting in my drafts, untouched. all these stories and characters trapped behind a screen because i was too afraid to set them free. i kept telling myself “one day” but that day just never came. then this year, i don’t know what changed, but i finally decided to just… do it

fun fact: my first-ever post was on april 12, literally just a month ago—crazy, right? i posted two fics, honestly just for fun, and the amount of love and support i got? it was surreal. it gave me the courage to start freeing my drafts, one by one

and it’s wild because if you go back and read that first post from april 12 and then read something i’ve posted more recently, you’d definitely notice quite a difference. that first fic was actually written sometime in 2023 or early 2024, and you can just see the growth. i truly believe that the more you write, the more you naturally improve without even realizing it. your voice sharpens, your phrasing becomes smoother, and things start to click into place

if you’re ever looking for a little help with finding the right words, there’s this website called WordHippo that I swear by. you can type in any word or phrase, and it’ll give you synonyms, alternatives, even phrases that match. it’s a lifesaver, especially when you’re trying to avoid repetition or just want to make your writing feel more vivid

but as for the fear of sharing:

i want to dedicate this to every soul out there who holds stories in their hearts like fragile secrets, who has pages and pages tucked away in journals and documents, too afraid to let them see the light. to the ones who stare at their screens, fingers hovering over the “post” button, hearts racing with the ache of what if it’s not good enough? to the souls who write and rewrite, who bury their words in the safety of drafts because the idea of exposing them feels too raw, too real

i want you to know that there is nothing more beautiful than a story set free. that fear you feel? it means you care. it means your heart is in your hands, trembling but alive. the act of sharing your writing isn’t just about bravery; it’s about faith. faith that your words are worth hearing, that someone out there will feel them the way you felt them

i think sometimes we glamorize writing like it’s this untouchable art, like you have to be perfect to be heard, but that’s not true. the most moving stories are often the ones that are real, that are messy, that stumble over their own heartbeat.

the fear of being seen is only as strong as your desire to be heard. when that desire to be heard—to reach someone, anyone—outgrows the fear, you realize that even if it’s messy, even if it’s imperfect, it’s yours. and that’s enough

if you don’t set your stories free, they will haunt you with the weight of what could have been. you don’t want that ghost lingering in your chest, whispering what if every time you close your eyes

your words are seeds; let them grow

that’s actually why i named my blog The Secret Garden. it’s a place for those hidden seeds, those fragile stories waiting to bloom. i think every piece of writing is like that—a tiny piece of magic just waiting for its moment. you don’t always get to decide how or where it blooms, but you can decide to plant it. that’s the first step, and it’s the one that matters the most

and just remember, gardens aren’t made in a day. sometimes, you plant seeds that take a while to sprout. sometimes, the soil isn’t ready, and sometimes, neither are you! but if you keep planting, keep tending to the words you bury in ink and hope, one day, you’ll look up and find an entire world in bloom

whoever you are, anon, if you ever decide to post something, please tag me!! i would be so honored to read it and cheer you on. because your voice deserves to be heard, and your stories deserve to exist outside of your drafts. you are braver than you think, and your words are worth everything <3

[katyawriteswhump]

power of love, part 15

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 16

(also on AO3 here and as part of my steve whump fic series)

Steve’s back in the loggers’ cabin. He’s kissing Eddie stupid, and he’s loving it.

They’re both done with drinking bad beer, and even more done with pretending this thing between them isn’t real. They’ve gotten their arms flung around each other. Steve’s tongue is happily exploring the depths of Eddie’s mouth.

Kissing Eddie is totally unlike any make-out session Steve’s ever known. The scratch of Eddie’s lightly stubbled jaw against his is… Gnnng, mindblowing! Steve slides his knee into Eddie’s lap, wishing Eddie would jump his bones already. When Eddie snags his fingers through Steve’s hair, it sends literal sparks down Steve’s spine. The insistent brush of their lips is actual fire, until…

… it’s all too much. Steve moans with something other than dumb teen passion, and it feels like his head’s gonna explode. That familiar crimson tide washes through his brain, and then…

“Steve?”

Robin’s voice wrenches Steve back to the present. Oh, yeah. They’re wading along some shitty little stream, hidden between high banks. Somehow, while getting lost in memories of that kiss, his feet shifted forward on autopilot.

She’s following behind. “I haven’t heard those woofy search dogs for a while,” she says. “You?”

I’ve not a clue, Robin. My head’s zoning in and out of Christ-knows-what-crazy-ass-shit, and I’ve gotten a boner from daydreaming about Eddie. Which is fading fast, because when I remember I might never get another shot at kissing him for real, I wanna stuff my fist in my mouth and bite down hard.

“Gonna trust you on that one,” he mumbles.

“We can get out of this disgusting drain then?” He shrugs, climbs up the bank to check all’s clear.  “See anything we need to worry about?”

“Not sure.” Steve frowns, surveying a few dumped cars and a burned-out trailer. It’s a familiar patch of wasteland, a known hang-out for pretty much every teen in the area. “We’re back in Hawkins already.”

“You’re kidding?” She scrambles up to join him and visibly pales beneath her grime and freckles. “Oh my God. We must’ve travelled at least ten miles. In less than an hour and a half.” She glances at her watch and nods emphatically. “Any explanations, Steve? Any cryptic messages from your water-fairy-godparent?”

“Gimme a break! You’re the one who said we’re off to Magic Camp. At this stage—boom! Whatever! Crazy is to be expected.” He sounds chill. Despite the fear jostling him from every angle over what the hell is happening now?  Their gazes lock, and… Jesus, he can read in her manic eyes how her last ragged nerve is about to snap.

“Okay, okay,” she says, “we won’t panic.”

“I’m not panicking."

“Well, I am! One plus side—there’s plenty of nice dry paths leading to Lover’s Lake in that direction.” She points to the wasteland. “Don’t you dare make me get back in the ditch. I am literally wearing duckweed for mascara.”

He considers her suggestion for a few seconds, before that stupid waterfall roars in his head. “Sorry.” He bounces back into the stream. “If we’re believing in this bullshit, then I gotta go the way I get told.”

With the biggest sigh ever, she skids down after him. They paddle onward, hand in hand. She’s shaking weirdly, gasping and gulping, like she’s giggling and crying all at once. Oh, and shivering too. He wants to check she’s okay, but he doesn’t dare speak. Sounds bombard them from every angle, including shouting, maybe a quad bike, and plenty of distant and not-so-distant sirens.

“Look, Robin,” he whispers, when it seems safe. “You’re not in deep shit, like me and Eddie. Maybe you should go home to your mom.”

“Nice thought. Mommy Dearest has probably rented out my room already.”

Steve hums sympathetically, while pausing to mindlessly kick off his trashed sneakers. “If it’s any consolation, when I was reported missing, nobody noticed my parents rushing back.” He’d asked Hopper, casually enough. “I’m guessing they didn’t bother."

“That sucks, though…means we could nip back to your place for a warm shower, clean clothes?”

“Trust me, I’d murder for that. You really should go, but—” The sound of way-too-close voices interrupts him. After a minute longer, shuffling forward, she wrings his fingers crushingly tight. 

“Uh, Steve? Look.”

Up ahead, the waterway flows into a culvert. The entrance is barred with a metal grid. 

“Oh, thanks a bunch, fairy-guardian-water-spirit-angel-parent,” says Steve. “Great short cut, just great!” A dog growls so close that they startle as one, resulting in a loud splash. He shoves Robin toward the opposite bank. “Go! I’ll try… something.”

“How’s that gonna help?” she hisses, letting him bundle her ahead. “It would be kinda sad if you lightning-fried the dog because it’s not the dog’s fault—"

“Scram, will you? I’ll give it a quick shot—mind the freakin’ dog—and be right behind.”

She scrambles into some bushes at the top, and he prays she keeps going. All he hears is goddamn barking. Christ, can it smell my blood? Still, he has to keep it together and come up with some damn heavy rain, and fast, to destroy her scent as she escapes.

He crouches down, conjures up their recent discussion about parents. Eleven told him to channel anger, so that’s a decent start…

Grrrrrr!

Steve jumps up, whirls about. A foam-flecked mouth snarls at him from the top of the bank. He’s faintly relieved to see the canine owner of this huge and scary mouth is on a leash. Unfortunately, the leash is held by a tall guy in khaki, a semi-automatic tucked at his side.

He shines a flashlight directly in Steve’s face. Steve meekly raises his hands. He’s too stunned for real fright.

“You shouldn’t be here,” says army guy. “Woah, you’re filthy! You got papers?”

“Huh?” Hopper hadn’t been kidding about the military dictatorship.

“Got a name, kid?”

He glances down at his Hellfire Club t-shirt, cringes back into the dazzling beam. “Eddie Munson?”

“Outta the ditch. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Steve doesn’t instantly obey. He’s still trying to figure out if this is really happening, and why exactly he said he was Eddie. To protect him, right? Then Eddie can get clean out of the state. Oh, and because he’s so obsessed with Eddie that he can’t stop thinking about him.

A second later, the dog-handler is in the stream with him. He grabs Steve by the arm, and snaps into a lapel radio: “This is MWD-handler 7. Inform O’Sullivan that fugitive 1 is apprehended.”

…

Eddie POV

The forces dragging Eddie home to Hawkins are suddenly spooking-him-the-hell out. 

It’s not all about Steve anymore. He’s hearing water. Loud running water, which draws him toward what turns out to be a nonsensically pathetic-as-piss stream. He jumps in and follows, even as he starts to panic for real.

Steve said he was hearing water. Now I hear it too. What does this mean? Wtf does this BS mean!?!

He presses on anyhow, finding he simply can’t stop thinking about THAT KISS. He’s reliving it over-and-over. At least, the good parts, before Steve fainted on him. Did Eddie daydream the delicious twisty, flirty things that Steve did with his tongue? 

Then he’s thinking about Steve’s butt. 

You never gave THAT BUTT the squeeze it deserved. Holy shit, Munson, you’re such a loser. 

Most torturous of all, the idea that it might be all over between them… Crap, it makes him feel physically ill. How can the idea of losing somebody he never really had hurt so much?  Oh, and when the heck did he kick off his sneakers and start wading bare foot? He has absolutely zero memory of doing that. Still, the cold water doesn’t seem to bother him.

As darkness falls, he spots some familiar landmarks, and realises he’s only a mile or so out of Hawkins. Which is also totally cuckoo, because there’s no way he should’ve travelled back so fast. For the first time since he set off, he stops dead.

Reality check, Munson—pretty much everybody in this dump you call home believes you to be a freakshow-turned-serial-killer. And you’ve come storming back for some douchebag rich kid who dumped you.

There is, however, a single good side to his progress into Hell. He pulls out his walkie-talkie out of his pack, switches it on, and tunes into Dustin’s coded wavelength:

“Anybody there? This is a code-red. CODE RED!” Okay, being officially too ‘old’ for the Party, he’s not supposed to say that, but desperate times call for desperate—

“No way! Is that you? Over.” 

At Dustin’s reply, some dam deep inside Eddie bursts. His face crumples, and he shamelessly, softly weeps. “Yeah, it’s me, buddy. It’s me.”

“Roger that. What the hell are you doing? This place is overrun with wannabe Nazis.” The hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck stand suddenly on end, and not because of Dustin’s news. “It’s a warzone. You should be in the next state by now!”

Eddie drops the walkie-talkie and shoves his hands in the air. Some military-fascist-knucklehead is pointing an assault rifle at him, though he’s weirdly numbed to the horror of it all. He honestly hadn’t expected it to feel this inevitable.

“Roger that?” says the walkie-talkie.

Eddie grins, so manically goofy that his face aches. 

“Name or papers,” demands the son-of-a-bitch.

“Uuuuuh…” Okay, he’s blown this. Nobody with nothing to hide, blunders THAT answer. “Steve Harrington?”

He said that to protect Steve, right? If they think I’m him, they’ll… torture me instead. Oh shit. Oh Shiiiiiiit!

A big angry dude pummels into Eddie from the side, crushing him into the mud. 

Part 16

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology @finntheehumaneater If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know. Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 16

[sunchaserwings]

Incoming rant about The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, Herlock Sholmes from The Great Ace Attorney, and the BBC Sherlock (no major spoilers ahead I promise).

A preface before I begin; I was never a big fan of Sherlock Holmes or any adaptation of the stories. I've seen Elementary although I was very young so I only have the vaguest of memories of enjoying it, and my roommate had me watch a couple BBC Sherlock episodes when I was a tween/young teen. My mother claims she tried to get me into Sherlock Holmes but I'm rather skeptical. Anyhow, onto the story.

Back in March my boyfriend bought me the Ace Attorney games for my birthday which included the Great Ace Attorney Chronicles (or Dai Gyakuten Saiban for those who are still stuck on the pre-localization names ;p). I was on my flight home from my birthday trip after I got the news my manager fired my brother while I was out of the state and figured why not, I'd start playing the first TGAA game on the flight. I'd probably enjoy myself and I couldn't sleep.

Second biggest mistake of the year (first biggest was trusting Les Schwab to do my brake job). I. Was. Hooked. I played the first case and fell in love with Kazuma instantly (he's so Zero shaped!). I played the second case and realized that calling him Zero shaped was way too accurate. We all know what happened there. Most important to this rant, I met Herlock Sholmes (more on my opinions on him later). I could barely put the game down but I had to take a break due to finding a new job and getting adjusted. I ended up finishing the game in June or July, one of the two. I finished the final case of the first game in one long 12 hour gaming session it was that good (my back didn't thank me though).

Now, the man of the hour: Herlock Sholmes. I didn't think much of him initially. He was simultaneously charming and annoying in the second case but as I played more he grew on me. I cried when the start of 1-5 happened. He clawed his way up into like the top 7 favorite characters at the time. The ending of the game with him playing his violin made me bawl my eyes out. I. Loved. This. Game.

It took a few more months to start and finish the second game. In between Adventures and Resolve I played Skyward Sword, Minish Cap, and some others so I had a healthy break. I came back to play Resolve and finished it like two months ago. It hit me in the gut just as hard as the first game did although there are a great many things I'd tweak and do differently. But Herlock Sholmes... man, he's not my favorite but he's up there underneath Kazuma and Van Zieks.

Anyhow, I finished the game but the hyperfixation had started and would not let me go. I've never been one to go out and seek fanfiction due to... personal stuff but I had a feeling I didn't want to go probe the depths of AO3 yet for fear of crying. I started a graveyard shift at my job which severely limited my ability to talk with people about stuff and also there's so many major spoilers but very few people I knew had played the game. A thought occurred to me, however. What about Sherlock Holmes audiobooks? I have an auditory processing issue which has made listening to audiobooks hard but I decided to give it a go. Perhaps it would satiate the TGAA hyperfixation hunger.

I found the ones produced by Magpie Audio, expertly narrated by Greg Wagland. Go check him out, he has over 77 videos of Sherlock Holmes audiobook recordings and all of them are a minimum of 40 minutes, often times far more. I went through over 30 hours of audiobook in a few weeks listening to these. Sherlock Holmes is such a good character and I can understand how and why he took late Victorian England by storm. And you know what the best part is?

Herlock Sholmes is the most faithful adaptation I have personally seen as a character of the original Sherlock Holmes.

They got so many of Sherlock's little idiosyncrasies right and you can tell the entire team were genuine fans of the books. I listened to Mr. Wagland's narration *and I saw 221B Baker of the games*. Especially the jack knife impaling the communications to the mantle being referenced in the game? The sheer mess of the flat? It's so good!

My roommate (whom is also a Sherlock Holmes fan) noticed my newest hyper fixation that spawned off of TGAA and that reignited his Sherlock Holmes obsession. He was a fan of the BBC Sherlock and now recognizes it was not a very great show but it's a comfort media for him nonetheless. He just dragged me into rewatching it and... okay, it's playing into a lot of inaccurate Sherlock tropes I don't like but goddamn Martin Freeman carries the whole show. I love his John Watson because it feels like a reasonable version of a modern, younger Watson. He feels real in a way. I do like the fact that even in the first episode, it's established that John and Sherlock can make each other laugh and smile just like in the books. I don't forgive them calling Sherlock a sociopath, however (speaking as someone with a brother that has been diagnosed with being a high-fuctioning sociopath). He's AuDHD to the max and deserves recognition in that department.

All of this to say, I can trace my current Sherlock hyperfixation back to Mega Man. Finding Mega Man in 4th grade led to watching the Ace Attorney anime in late 2021 which led to playing The Great Ace Attorney and that led to listening to Sherlock Holmes. I don't know why I decided to make this post but maybe I might start live blogging this shit? All in all, this is going to be a wild ride.

[welcometolansstudy]

1 nov 2024 - friday, 06:05

WAKE UP ! ITS HE 1ST OF THE MONTH !!!

how was your halloween?

was planning on updating yesterday before bed, but i slept at like 23:30 expecting my boyfriend to call and wake me up at around 2 am, when he didn't 🦧 it's okay tho, since now i've slept for 6 hours consecutively, rather than in two parts. i woke up just a few minutes ago out of sheer fear i had slept through my alarms and was late to work. fortunately, i still have an hour and 30 minutes before i start

yesterday after my shift, i ate dinner, took a shower and right after that i did a short workout (IT BURNNNEEED). in the morning, before my shift, i ate some breakfast and mainly just watched "Oshi no Ko" till i had to leave for work, so i didn't study whatsoever 🧍‍♀️ i hoovered my room and a bit of the house though!! as to editing my vlog... instead of editing, i chucked the thing away because i had moved some of the videos to my SD card, so VLLO saw it as my videos being deleted. i'll have to free up space on my normal phone storage and move every vlog video to there 😭 unless i'm gonna edit on my laptop, but tbh i really like editing on my phone.

today i have to work 07:30 - 12:00, and im my mind i was gonna take a big fat nap after, when i realised (literally as i was writing this morning post) that me and my childhood friend had said we'd meet today for lunch. i'll text her to see if we really are gonna do that, because i have a feeling she forgot as well AHVDAJJW

this is the friend i was talking about a few weeks ago, when we decided to reschedule. i hope we can see each other today, because i don't really like it if i have to reschedule and reschedule and reschedule every time, yk? i just want it to be over quickly (not bc i don't wanna see my friends, but my mind just gets clogged up with all these rescheduled dates).

my goals for today are:

- do a workout

- change from work clothes to nice clothes!

- don't spend too much money (mission impossible)

i don't really know what to put as my goals, since it's unsure whether i'm meeting up with my friend ... i guess we'll just have to find out

i hope you have a nice day!