#i know its not much but really i like what I have planned for the next chap a lil better

[midatwrtr]

Two For One

Aespa Minjeong & Winter x Male Reader

10k words

Tags: Threesome, Creampies, Squirting, Riding, Missionary, Doggy, Virgins, Deepthroat, Double blowjob

It was a bad idea, a horrible idea. You knew it as soon as you decided to listen to another one of Minjeong’s 3 AM sleepy thoughts: go to the forbidden library of the academy, read the ancient spell manuals, and try their magics. There was already one word you didn’t like in that sentence: forbidden. Most libraries prohibited access to certain books because of their fragility or rarity, which was understandable. However, in a magic academy where not only the teachers could put protection spells on the manuscripts but also repair the damage with ease, surely there must have been another reason. Obviously, it was going to be an important one.

The second thing Minjeong said that sounded suspicious was her desire to try the spells. Both of you knew how hard ancient magics were and knowing that they came from forbidden books should have been a sufficient warning to keep you from attempting them. It was also well known that Minjeong wasn’t the most talented of witches. You didn’t want to be mean to your friend but her academic performance was difficult to ignore.

You thought that being the magic academy’s top student, Minjeong would have brighter ideas, but no. Although you were strongly against the idea, her excitement and puppy eyes got the better of you and you followed through with her plan. 

When you were between the dusty bookshelves and the sounds of the rooms resembled more and more the cries of ghosts and haunted souls, it was already too late to back away. 

“Look, don’t they look so cool?” Minjeong exclaimed, pointing at the black leather book, with ashed gold linings and crooked letters. Clearly a cursed book. You could already feel the languish moans of the unfortunate victims of its curses.

“Wanna take a look at it?” she asked. You were surprised by her lack of worry at the obvious danger in front of her.

“No!” you screamed and pushed her before it was too late. 

“What’s to worry about?”

“What do you mean? If you were to touch that thing, you’d probably lose your hand, you idiot!”

Minjeong looked at you with an offended frown. “You worry too much…” her tone drifted off and she ran to the next bookshelf.

You followed her everywhere, preventing her from killing herself and yourself. There was a moment that almost got you. Minjeong jumped on the shelves with her full force. It was a good thing to remember that these shelves were centuries old and left unkempt for as long as you could imagine so obviously the wood gave out and Minjeong fell together with the ten books she managed to grab out of greediness.

You managed to catch her and shield her from the falling books with your back. Later, she apologized profusely but you had to go back to the dorm with an uncomfortable back pain.

Minjeong followed you to your room. You thought it was to bid you goodbye or apologize some more but then she took a book out of her coat. The weathered leather-bound book seemed to stare at you with its emerald green cover, warning you about its possessor. 

Your friend opened the book and let you see the elegant swirling calligraphy, red and deep. The pages had acquired a creamy yellow color with time and it was hard for you to read it. 

“We should try this spell,” Minjeong declared with a serious tone. 

“We—what?” you replied.

“I said we should try this spell. It will be good,” she said and cleared her throat, gaining a deeper shade in her voice. “It is said to possess the power to bring one’s deepest desires to life. It delves into the very essence of longing and seeks to materialize the aspirations that reside within the caster’s heart.”

“You managed to translate all that from this squiggly writing?”

Minjeong nodded proudly with a bright smile.

Your eyes took the shape of horror.

“Are you really sure? I mean, really really sure.”

“Mh!” she confirmed. Minjeong carefully laid the book on your desk. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she traced her finger along the faded text. “Imagine, our dreams made real!”

You eyed the ancient script warily. “It sounds like a scam. It really does. Do you really think one spell can make all of your dreams come true? It’s even better than the philosopher stone,” you said. “The forbidden section is forbidden for a reason. What if this backfires?”

Minjeong dismissed all your concerns with a wave of her hand. “Oh, come on! This is our chance! Let’s try it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Uhm… that we would die? Worse, we could be cursed for life and beyond as soulless ghouls.”

“Pfft. You read too many books,” Minjeong brushed it off.

“Minjeong, we’re literally in a magic academy!”

“It will be fine.”

Reluctantly, you sighed, “Fine, let’s just be careful. We have to follow the instructions precisely. By the way, what if they hear us?”

“Don’t worry, everyone has gone on the school trip. The nearest students are in the other building.”

The moonlight filtered through the tall windows and cast a soft glow on the center of the floor. The flickering candles seemed to get agitated as their flames danced more frenetically. 

You and Minjeong stood next to each other. She held the wand in her hand with confidence, ready. The air in the room was becoming heavy, there was a palpable energy.

“Are you sure about this, Minjeong?” you asked one last time.

“Absolutely.”

You both closed your eyes in unison. Minjeong’s mind cleared as she focused on channeling her energy into the wand. With a shared breath, they opened their eyes, the moonlight and candlelight casting shadows that seemed to dance with their anticipation. Wands at the ready, they spoke the incantation with a synchronicity that echoed their shared purpose.

"Manifestum Desideria."

As the words hung in the air, a surge of magical energy enveloped the room. You could feel the invisible threads of desire weaving around them, responding to the call of the ancient spell. The air crackled with enchantment, and a faint mist began to materialize, swirling around Minjeong.

The air vibrated and anticipation built up more and more until… it just stopped.

Minjeong opened her eyes and looked at you.

“Was that it?” she asked.

“Yep,” another voice answered. 

Minjeong jumped and screamed her lungs out. You got started as well from the unknown voice and her scream. As you turned around, you could see clearly who it came from. It was a girl and she looked exactly the same as Minjeong. 

“Hey, who are you?” Minjeong asked with a trembling voice, pointing at the other girl.

“What do you mean who is this? I’m you,” she said laughing. Her voice too was extremely similar to Minjeong’s but it was slightly sultrier, more playful, and sexier.

“Uhh, Minjeong? No, Winter?” you suggested.

“Yes, I’m Winter if that’s what you like to call me.”

“You can’t be me,” Minjeong said, more confused than anything. Your friend turned around to search for some kind of reassurance from you but you had no idea either.

“Yes, I am,” she repeated. There was a look of pleasure on her face seeing Minjeong confused. “And I know everything about you. Every little secret you try to hide.”

“W-w-wait, you’re just playing with me.”

“Yeah, like how you stole Karina’s makeup.”

“How do you—”

“And how do you like your friend, right over here,” Winter said, wrapping her arm around you and pulling you closer. Your heart suddenly started beating faster. You could smell her perfume, a strong sensual smell. You had hugged Minjeong before and all of Winter’s sizes were the same as Minjeong’s. She was a clone. If what she was saying was true, you might just roll with it.

“What?” you asked.

“What?!” Minjeong asked too.

“What? Are you going to tell me you don’t?” Winter said, getting closer and rubbing your chest. “Then this won’t bother you, right?” she said smugly, tracing her finger along your neck, then under your jaw and near your lips, right as she got her face closer. You felt goosebumps. You knew this wasn’t Minjeong, but she was so real and so identical to the real one that you wanted to enjoy the moment a little.

“Hey! Get off him!” she screamed, pushing her away. Too bad.

“Why? You like him?” 

“N-no!”

“Mh? Stop lying to yourself, sweetheart…” Winter got closer to your face. “What about you, handsome? Do you like her? You got a Minjeong all to yourself, you know? You can do anything you want with me.”

“Hey! What are you saying?!” the real Minjeong exclaimed.

“I see you staring at my lips, do you wanna taste them?” she asked and leaned closer, slowly enough to wait for a reaction, “Oh, you aren’t backing away.” Truth was, you did want to kiss her.

“You’ve done it now!” Minjeong pulled you away and hugged you hard. She felt territorial, almost possessive. “I’m supposed to be his first!”

“Oh, dear…” Winter laughed.

“Wait.” Minjeong turned to you as you stared at her with eyes wide open. You looked at each other for a moment, both slowly starting to blush.“Oh my god… you’ve ruined everything!” Minjeong screamed in frustration, holding her head in her hands.

“I don’t think so,” Winter turned to you, “You like her don’t you?” 

You opened your mouth and stopped for a second. You felt a gentle tug at the back of my mind. “Well, uhm, yes…” you said. It’s a only after a few moments that you realize what you said. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise, and a hint of nervousness creeps in. 

“Ain’t that lucky?” Winter said and clapped happily while the two of you looked at the floor, not baring the sight of the other one. Your feelings had been confessed and so were hers but you did not know what to do now. Your wingwoman did though.

“You guys should kiss now.”

“What?! Listen, uhm, me, you helped us a lot but that’s too much,” Minjeong said angrily, pointing her finger at Winter who on the other side looked at her with a surprised yet content smile. 

“Why not? You want it.”

“Yeah, but we are going too fast.”

“Listen, I’m not leaving until you’ve done everything you have to,” Winter said, folding her arms and leaning her hips on one leg, showing her attitude.

“Right, are you going to stay here forever or is there a way to let you free?” you asked. “Also, why did you appear?”

“Did you guys not read the warning?”

“What warning,” you and Minjeong said in unison. You rushed to the book and immediately found a blood red paragraph on the other side of the page. 

[Exercise great caution when wielding the Desiderium Manifestum spell, for the line between reality and desire is delicate and easily blurred. The spell has been known to personify desires in unexpected ways, and the manifestations may take on a life of their own, beyond the caster's control. Use this enchantment responsibly, and be prepared to face the consequences of desires brought into the tangible realm. It is advised to thoroughly understand the potential repercussions before attempting to cast this spell.]

Minjeong’s eyes widened in realization. “Wait… the warning in the ancient spellbook? It said something about completing the ritual fully to manifest our desires.”

Winter nodded, a smug smile on her face. “Exactly. You manifested me because of your desires, right? To send me away, you have to acknowledge and act on those desires. I am just here to help you.”

You looked at your friend with disappointment as she laughed awkardely. 

After reading the paragraph you quickly understood that ‘making your desire come alive’ was really meant literally. You blamed Minjeong for not realizing it—she was the one that wanted to use the spell in the first place—and scolded her for not reading everything thoroughly before trying it. She apologized and said that it was her excitement that got her so worked up and that normally she would’ve seen it.

“So, we really have to…” Minjeong’s voice trailed off as she glanced at you, her cheeks flushed.

You felt your heart race as you met her eyes. The air was thick with unspoken emotions. “I guess we have to kiss,” you said softly.

Minjeong bit her lip nervously. “This is so embarrassing.”

Winter sighed dramatically. “The longer you hesitate, the longer I stay here. And believe me, I can be very persistent.”

You took a deep breath and stepped closer to Minjeong, gently taking her hand. “We can do this. It’s just a kiss, right?”

Minjeong nodded, her eyes locked onto yours. “Just a kiss.”

Then came the moment you had been waiting for: you had to kiss Minjeong and Minjeong had to kiss you. Your two figures illuminated by the warm light of the candles inside your room stood still as both of you looked at each other, uncertain. Minjeong bit her lip, her fingers playing with the hem of her sweater. “Whenever you want,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. A brief silence hung between you, filled by the soft noise of the wind.

You took a deep breath. You were the man, you had to do it. You took a step closer, your eyes met Minjeong’s for a brief moment and shy smile played on your lips. She felt her heartbeat quicken and a nervous giggle escaped her lips. Their eyes locked and you both inhaled. 

You held your breath and gently cupped Minjeong’s cheek. Minjeong’s breath caught in her throat as she met your gaze, eyes wide open. 

Your lips met in a soft and hesitant kiss. It was delicate, shy, and quick. It was just a moment but you clearly felt her soft skin press against yours and it was a shock. You’d want more of it, it was the final gift of your long wait, and you wanted to savor it more.

As you pulled away, your eyes met again and a shy smile appeared on your lips while Minjeong had an ecstatic expression, her mouth still open. 

“Oh my god, good job you guys,” Winter said, clapping behind you. You almost forgot about her. “That’s your man now, you have to kiss him better, you know?”

“Calm down, that was our first.”

“Yeah, I know but don’t worry, I’ll show you. I really can’t hold myself back with him…”

“Wha—” Minjeong couldn’t finish her sentence that Winter jumped on you.

She kissed you ferociously—deeply, passionately. If she was the embodiment of Minjeong’s desire, she must have waited for years. You could feel the pent-up frustration and all the regret in that one kiss. Winter moans into you, pulling your face roughly into hers as her tongue invades your mouth, taking away the innocence that has sealed your lips until now. She moves quickly and hungrily, taking your breath away.

Your hands are naturally drawn to her hips. You’ve hugged Minjeong before and you knew how her body felt against her—Winter was exactly the same. Your fingers dig into her ass as you exchange the kiss. Winter’s hands on your neck felt possessive and territorial. She pulled you in even closer than you already were, pretty much grinding against you.

It took Minjeong’s whole effort to detach you from Winter’s grasp.

Minjeong immediately glued herself to you. 

“What the hell was that?!” She screamed with territorial fierce.

“I just showed you how to kiss properly?” the other said nonchalantly.

“Wasn’t that too much?” Minjeong stuttered.

“You left me waiting for too long. If you confessed sooner…”

You could see Minjeong pout under you. You placed your hands on her waist and pulled her close to you, making her annoyed expression fade away. You take her lips and meet her in a kiss more intense than her previous one. Her tongue timidly pushes forward, searching for your mouth. 

Her words resonate inside your head: “Touch me.” Your hands move around, alternating between her ass and her back, greedily taking all of her into your arms. Minjeong’s hands instead move to your chest, to search for support for what’s stirring inside her.

After a couple of moments, Minjeong’s lip turn into a shy smile and she backs away a couple of centimeters.

“You’re-you’re poking me,” she says softly.

“I’m sorry! I- it was you—no, the other Winter, have you seen how she’s dressed?” you quickly try to excuse yourself, thinking it might have been too embarrassing if you were to admit that she was the cause. But after all the blood rushed to your groin, your brain was left empty and the poor judgement would cost you.

“You pervert! You just confessed to me and you’re getting hard from another girl?!” Minjeong quickly yells at you.

“But she’s you! I’m getting a boner because of you!” you yell back, afraid that you might hurt her.

“You can’t scream this kind of stuff, you fool…” her tone becomes soft and she hides away.

“Oh, it looks like you two are starting to finally be honest with each other,” Winter announced, patting you two, “well, what are you going to do about this?” she said while rubbing your member. You jolt back, goosebumps running through your skin. The feeling alone was enough to have you throbbing. “Because if you don’t want it, I’ll take it.”

“You can’t!”

“I know I can and I know you want it too. Remember? I know everything about you,” she says. “Do I have to tell him about all the restless nights you had rubbing yourself thinking about him? Screaming his name in your bedroom, night after night after night…” “Stop! It’s not true!” Minjeong said. She was so embarrassed that she was almost in tears. You couldn’t tell who was redder in that moment: Minjeong, whose secret was revealed to the last person she wanted to tell it to, or you, whose surprise left you frozen.

“So? You already know how her mouth tastes, want to know how it feels too?” Winter said, turning you. You couldn’t answer her question: your legs gave out and you fell into the bed. It was almost as if someone injected you with morphine. Your head started spinning, you couldn’t stand up but you couldn’t stand still either.

“What have you done to him?” Minjeong asked worriedly.

“Just my powers, he’s really really horny right now and his body is starting to lag. I have a really good aphrodisiac in my spit,” she confessed.

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Sorry but I don’t get to leave until he fills both of us with cum.”

“W-what?!” Minjeong was left startled at her clone’s calm demeanor. Their words were a confused blur, from what you knew, you were living a dream, a very fun one.

“The purpose of the spell is to make your deepest desire come true.”

“You must be joking right?”

“Have I said a single lie, yet?”

“No…”

“Look, I’m doing you a favor here, you have to stop being so against me,” she whispered in Minejong’s ear. “Your deepest desire is finally going to come true. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

Winter takes your pants off and your cock springs out. At the sight of your erect penis, Winter lets out a satisfied sigh, being able to finally take a good look at it. Her excitement was vivid, her wide eyes scanned the whole length of your member, from your balls to the tip. Awkwardness, on the other hand, was devouring Minjeong alive. She had her hands plastered on her face, trying to cover her eyes, even though she could see perfectly through them, flickering her fingers to reveal her aroused pupils.

The seducer smirked and looked at Minjeong with a bright grin. ‘You like it?’ is what she’d hear if her eyes spoke and ‘yes’ is what you’d hear coming from Minjeong’s mouth despite her bit red face.

“I know what you want, baby,” she said, brushing the cuter girl’s warm cheek. 

“I-I-I don’t want anything,” the poor girl stammered, suddenly feeling the need to look away at the confused boner between your legs.

“Right, sure,” she giggled. Then she reverted her eyes to you. “You know, dear, I’d really really want you to fuck my mouth and swallow you right up… but,” she looked at her identical friend. “I think she needs it more, don’t you?”

Minjeong was now looking down, rubbing her thighs together. She couldn’t matter a single word

“Scoot up close and give him a little taste,” Winter said, pointing between your legs.

Minjeong little steps on her knees, gulping down when she stood really close. “Are you sure?” she asked again, with a shaky voice.

“Lick him. Make sure to look up into his eyes, too.”

Minjeong took a few breaths to prepare herself. She hesitantly brought her head down, shaking throughout, and placed her closed lips on the bare tip of your cock. You felt shivers running down from your member throughout your thighs. 

Anticipation was killing both of you. “Is she gonna do it?” you thought. “Am I gonna do it?” she thought. She looked at you, looking for some kind of encouragement, reassurance perhaps. You looked just as lost as her, just as excited. You placed a hand on the side of her neck, picked up a few strands of hair, and brushed her cheek with your thumb. 

She smiles, her lips still planted.

Minjeong was ready. She inhaled the scent that was coming from your skin, closed her eyes, and took a long sensual lick, from the base of your cock, right to the tip. She straightened up and looked at you with her puppy eyes.

“D-did you like it?” she asked. 

You quickly nodded. You were twitching terribly at the cold humid air. 

“Take it in your hands and stroke him while you lick him,” Winter said.

“Okay… I’ll give it a try.”

Minjeong gave you a couple more licks, bringing her head down, and up. Her mouth was salivating and it wetted your cock completely. Then she placed her slender fingers, awkwardly holding you with excessive care. ‘You can hold it tighter,’ you whispered. Minjeong nodded.

She jerked you off, your cock slick in her palm. Uncertain about her rhythm, she alternated between fast and slow. Her fingers were thin and delicate but they were enough to make you desperate. 

The licking on the head of your cock wasn’t stopping. Minjeong continued, slowly easing to a more regular rhythm as you began to moan.

Winter let her original do all the work, while like a snake, she wrapped herself around your shoulders, whispering in your ear: “She looks really hot licking you, doesn’t she?” she giggled. “I know you’ve waited so long. You’ve been patient. I can’t wait to suck your cock with her…”

“Use your lips too dear,” Winter said. “No teeth.”

Minjeong placed her lips on the tip of your penis and started lightly sucking it. She looked more confident than before. Her hand continued jerking you off, her cheeks sunk in to give you small suckles, while her lips brushed her saliva away. 

You started to moan more deeply. You couldn’t help it. You placed your hand behind her neck this time. You weren’t sure what this meant for you—were you too stimulated and needed some support, were you praising her, were you caressing her—but for Minjeong it meant, “go deeper”.

So she did.

She lowered her head further until her lips touched her fingers and her tongue fully coated your frenulum. Your hips jolted for a moment. It seemed to please Minjeong a lot, who started to suck with more passion.

“You look really cute sucking his cock…” Winter commented again with her lowly seductive voice. “What about you, do you like her?”

“Yeah,” you said in a single breath.

“Minjeong, I want you to take him deeper.”

Minjeong raised her head, detaching herself from you. A big strand of thickened saliva pooled down from her lips to to her hands. “I can’t take them that deep…” she said in a tiny voice as she wiped the liquid from her face. Her eyebrows curved down in a worried frown.

“Don’t be silly, you’re me,” she said. “You can do it. Besides you dreamt about it every night. Taking his cock right down your throat to the deepes–”

“Stop! I’ll do it. Just,” Minjeong blurted out, “shut up!”

“Alright, alright. Just put him in your mouth. You have to relax your throat.”

Minjeong gulped and opened her mouth as wide as possible. Her warm breath made you stand taller. She wrapped her small hand around the base of your penis, to guide to her. You could feel it slide through her tongue, her lips grazing your skin, enveloping you completely.

She stopped midway.  You could feel the bump of her tongue with your tip. That warmth and wetness were already making your heart race, your breath was short and quick.

“Thaaaat’s right. Good,” she said. “But you can go deeper. Mmmmh. Show him how much you love him, how much you love his cock.” The last sentence sounded way too lewd. The growl from Winter shocked you. It was almost demonic, of pure lust and desire.

Minjeong took you deeper and seemed to struggle at first but then your penis touched the back of your throat. You weren’t breathing anymore and neither was she. She squinted her eyes, trying to keep you there, nice and snuck, until she couldn’t anymore and had to come up to catch her breath. 

The moment she took you out, you gasped. 

“I-I’m sorry, was that too much?” Minjeong mumbled.

“Don’t worry. He liked it!”

“Is that true? Did you, um, like it?”

“It… it was amazing, Minjeong. I’ve never felt this before.”

“Oh, that’s a relief! Okay,” Minjeong smiled, puffing her cheeks. She looked adorable, cute. Just like before the whole deal started. Just that this time, she was covered in spit and her eyes were slightly pink.

“Let me show you,” Winter said, taking you away from Minjeong. She put her hand on your cock and started stroking you up and down, while she was explaining. She picked up all of her previous spit that pooled on your crotch, using at lube. Somehow, she knew the perfect pressure, the perfect rhythm.

“I know just how to take my his cock. Watch me. You move your tongue like this,” she pulled her tongue out, “and sucking, like gasping just a little will allow you to get his cock down without gagging as much, well unless you want to. You can slowly take him in. Like this…”

For the demonstration, Winter tried to take it in as slowly as possible, that took a lot of holding back, you could tell. She blinked a few times, her eyes crossed on your penis as it slowly slipped inside of her throat. Her throat was the same as Minjeong but her technique was completely different, this time it was smoother, tighter, and deeper.

She held you there, her lips planted right on your crotch, balls deep. You continued to gasp, feeling the twitches of her flesh caressing you and her throat trying to swallow you down. It was about ten seconds later that she decided to take you out. 

You were left disappointed but now was Minjeong’s turn.

“Like that. Now you try,” Winter said casually, whipping her lips clean.

“Okay. I’m going to try my best,” she agreed and then looked at you. “Can you keep your hand on me?”

You pat Minjeong’s head again, like a little puppy. She smiles cutely and closes her eyes as you rub her head. She giggles and smiles brightly. “Okay, now,” she said and focused. You kept your hand on top of her head, trying to guide her in.

She did just as Winter said, sticked her tongue out, gasped and let you in. She struggled again but this time she actually took you all the way in. She kissed your crotch and puffed up her cheeks. You could feel her moan, the vibration caressed your whole skin, you must have hit a good spot. 

Then she took you out. 

“I did it!” Minjeong exclaimed.

“You did so well, baby,” you said and continued patting her.

“Hehe, I like it when you compliment me,” Minjeong mumbled. She wasn’t usually like that. Well, she did become very touchy sometimes and demand your hugs when she drank too much, but she was never this… submissive. You glanced at Winter with a suspicious gaze. She just giggled and raised her shoulders.

“She’s just cock-drunk.”

Minjeong took you again, deeper than before. And when she couldn’t hold it anymore, she took you out, caught her breath, and went again. Again and again. And then she made a discovery: she didn’t need to take your cock out of her mouth to breath, just half was good. She maintained a constant suction, leaving you no rest at all.

“You’re so good Minjeong, your throat feels like heaven.”

After a minute of slow bobbing she made a second discovery: having you graze her throat actually felt good. So then she started bobbing her head up and down, just small centimeters, enough to feel you go in and out of her throat. She continued her moderate bobbing, gasping, and moaning, while her thick spit went everywhere. She was affectionate and sucked with passion, she really wanted to make you feel good, and she loved you.

“God, you’re making me lose my mind,” you moaned as well. Minjeong loved your moans. That and your hands on her head made sure she knew how good you were feeling and she just wanted to suck you more.

Winter giggled and brushed your ear. “Isn’t she doing so good?” she whispered. “Wow, all the way down. I’m a little jealous…”

“You know,” she started. “I think you should fuck her face. I think she might like it…”

It was like her words took control of your body. You kinda wanted it but you also wanted to be gentle for her but you stood up. Minjeong stopped and breathed heavily. She looked at you with confusion as she didn’t hear her counterpart. 

“Dear, why are you standing? Is everything okay?” she asked. You didn’t answer as your knees were getting weak but you didn’t want to leave her hanging either. You put both of your hands on her head and patted her, playing with her hair, caressing her gently. “Ah… I love it when you run your fingers through my hair…”

“Minjeong, do you want to feel him take...a bit more control?”

Minejong looked at you with her puppy eyes, submissive and innocent. “I-I’d be okay with that. I trust you.” She held the hand on her head. “Mmm, I trust your touch. I know you’ll be gentle. I’m ready. I promise. Guide your cock into my throat, please.” You wonder how such a pure girl could pronounce suck lewd and naughty words with the same innocence as when she asked for cuddles.

You stand up and she follows you on her knees, holding your thighs. You kinda of felt bad for her, she had to be the only one to stay on the floor, but she looked more than happy. You pushed back into her, as gently as possible. Minjeong wiggled her head to take you in with a slurp and started lightly sucking on you, with care and love. With both of your hands on her head, you started pushing in and out of her mouth.

At first, you only used your hands at a slow pace. You wanted to make sure she got used to the feeling. You didn’t want to be too rough. But then she got more enthusiastic, you could tell she was buckling her head herself, telling you to go faster.

So you did.

You start moving your hips as well, properly fucking her pretty mouth. It was a moderate pace, you were still afraid of hurting her. She felt amazing, out of this world. If her mouth was already pleasurable before, now with the rhythm, it was ecstatic. 

You almost got carried away when you heard the wet sloppy sounds of her spit pooling out of her lips. You had to stop yourself. You pulled out and saw Minjeong coughing. You quickly brushed her face with worry.

“Are you okay?”, you asked.

She looked at you with resolution. “Please, don’t stop.”

Who were you to refuse? You were back in no time and fucked her face even faster than before. Now she started moaning, the vibration of her voice adding to the pleasure. Your legs start shaking and you moan together with her. Moans, slop, and plops, the sound of spit and her mouth were all you could hear.

“Oh wow. It’s so hot watching you fuck her face like that,” Winter coos. “I feel left out… Do you want my mouth and throat, too?”

She put her hands on you, it’s a seductive hypnotizing touch that took your mind out of the moment. You stare at her, blinking vividly, and you slowly stop fucking Minjeong’s face. Winter must have been a succubus, there was no way she was just a “manifestation of Winter’s desire”. She controlled your every muscle, every thought. You reluctantly let go of Minjeong’s head altogether and turn to Winter.

“Why did you stop?” your friend asked needly.

“Because it’s my turn, he’s gonna fuck my throat now.”

Winter’s knees are already on the floor. She crawls towards your crotch. Her eyes are already more riled up than yours. She sticks her tongue out and you’re buried deep inside her throat. She doesn’t gag at all, instead, she starts giggling and sucking you violently. Her hands on your buttocks help her pull your cock inside of her. 

You give her slow hard fucks. You try to break her throat. The wet mess that is her mouth is way too pleasurable for you to hold back. There comes a point where you stop caring and start fucking her throat as rough as you can.

Fast and rough, hard and deep. Every thrust brings you closer to the edge. Your eyes roll back into your head, slowly but surely, and your mind fogs up. You can only feel pleasure, pleasure, and hunger for more.

You went on for so long, you were even surprised at yourself you could last that long. It must’ve been Winter’s doing. 

You were two thrusts away from cumming when you stopped. Actually, you didn’t stop, it was Winter again who pushed you away. She slurped all her spit and cleared her throat. 

“You know I loved it but I didn’t want to keep you all for myself. I want Minjeong to taste your cum too,” she declared and pushed you back down into the bed. Winter continues to work on your cock with small licks and suckles. She gestures for Minjeong to come closer and join her. She does.

Now both of the Minjeongs are licking and sucking you, with such eagerness and hunger, that you were wondering who the original was. But you didn’t have enough brain left to think about it.

Thinking about it, Minjeong was being a lot more affectionate, mixing her licks with little kisses, she was sloppy and inexperienced. Winter was being a lot rougher, her licks were fast, and she sucked you hard enough that she could have left hickeys on you. Both of their faces were smushed together trying to claim more of you from the other.

But you couldn’t last long. You came right after.

You came harder than you ever did.

Strings of thick cum came raining down on their faces. They both stopped in surprise and admired the cum shooting out of your helpless cock. It was a piece of art. Both of them were painted white. Your penis continued to twitch and contract even when there was no more cum left—the pleasure was too much.

Winter went right back with gentle long strokes of tongue to clean up after their mess. She swallowed your cock once again, to suck up all the cum that was left. 

Minjeong instead slowly picked up the cum from her face and stared at it in the palm of her hand. It took her a moment to decide that she wanted to taste it. She licked it. Picked more and ate it. She continued to brush all the cum from her face and hair and licked it right up, like a cat trying to clean her paws.

Heavily breathing and with your heart still pounding, Winter flashed you a very bright smile. “So what do you want to do now?” she asked you. 

“Huh?” you responded. Your mind was still cloudy.

“You can do anything you want. What’s your next move?”

You breathed a couple of times and swallowed. “I want… I’d like to return the favor, Minjeong.”

“Eh?!” Minjeong jolted up. “W-what are you saying?”

“I want to eat you out, Minjeong,” you said with more resolution.

“You’re being too direct.”

“Come on, have you seen what we have just done? There is really no point in hiding now.”

“You’re right…”

“Oh my, you’re so selfless, baby,” Winter joined the conversation. “It’s okay, I can help with this too. After all, this was one of Minjeong’s desires as well. I have the full knowledge.”

“Please, will you ever stop saying this embarrassing stuff?” Minjeong pleaded.

“No, hehe” she giggled.

Minjeong replaced your spot on the bed, but this time she sat right in the middle and you crawled before her. She spreads her legs. The action makes her blush terribly but you’re just as embarrassed. You position in between her thighs and awkwardly smile at her. “I’m– I’m kind of nervous.”

“Well are you gonna leave me here with my legs open, you jerk?” Minjeong teased you.

To break the ice again, you softly kiss Minjeong’s lips, trailing down to her neck. While you’re sucking her skin, your fingers make her towards her heat. Softly brushing her legs, her thighs, and then her panties. Your fingers start playing with the drenched cotton. It had already absorbed all her juices, one squeeze and it would’ve overflown right onto the bed.

“You’re so wet, Minjeong.”

“Please don’t say that,” she said breathily.

You moved down, bringing her panties away. Your breath hits her very core. You stand low, admiring her pussy, completely wet and excited. “You smell sweet,” you said before placing a kiss between her lower lips. She let out a soft moan of anticipation.

You then started licking her pussy and clit with your full tongue. Minjeong moaned louder and her hands immediately strapped to your head for support. Your tongue started moving around and licking her wildly.

The feeling of your warm breathing hitting her core and your tongue making swirls around her clit was a feeling she had never felt before. “That’s so good, baby,” she moaned. You inserted a finger into her hole and your tongue continued to lick onto her bead.

Second finger in, Minjeong let out another lewd moan. “You taste so good, Minjeong.”

“Wait—you have to slow down! Hhhngg, I’ll cum!”

And that’s what you wanted. The continuous licks and motion of your fingers send Minjeong to her high. Her pussy continued to let juices flow out of her hole, which you licked right up with excitement. She could feel the knots forming inside her stomach and her back beginning to arch more and more with each pump, and each lick.

The poor girl couldn’t hold it in anymore. She was twitching everywhere, the pressure inside of her was begging to overflow and her toes and fingers all curled up in an attempt to resist.

Eventually, she let out the most lewd noise that you had heard yet. “Fuck!” as she came. Her pussy let out thick transparent cum, with such a lewd noise as well. You slurped it all up. It was as sweet as all her other juices. With her hands still on your head Minjeong is breathing heavily and looking at you with surprise as you’re still cleaning her up.

Jaw still open, there is a vague smile on her face.

But she wasn’t satisfied and neither was Winter, especially her. She was here for a reason, to make sure Minjeong’s darkest deepest desire came true. Unfortunately, fortunately for you, it wasn’t simply kissing you, which you have already surpassed by now, and it wasn’t pleasuring you either. It was, to put it simply, to have you cum inside her, but you didn’t know that.

“It’s time for the main course, dear,” Winter said, amused at your little work with her twin.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well, we aren’t done,” she said, giving you a confused glance. She wondered why she even had to explain it, of course, you weren’t finished. “You have to…” with a softer voice, “put it in.”

“Uhhhh…”

Winter smacked her lips. “I can understand why you’d be nervous, but don’t tell you me you don’t want to. After all, you haven’t been this hard throughout this whole… ‘interaction’, and I only mentioned the possibility of fucking her.” She giggled and brushed your shoulder. “Look at you, so excited.”

You turned around to search for Minjeong’s opinion but you could only find her cloudy, drugged eyes. She was mindlessly staring at you, full of lust and desire, her lower lips were slightly twitching at your sight. Goosebumps all over, she didn’t need any more time to recover from her previous orgasm, that was her warmup.

She stretches her arm to grab the back of your neck and pulls you into her lips for a soft kiss. “Please, don’t you want it as well? We have already come so far… I don’t think I’ll have that courage again,” she told you in a weak airy voice.

Minjeong was ready. She was ready to take you.

“Alright,” you decided.

Minjeong’s pussy was already dripping wet, warm, and stretched, waiting for you to come in. The demon on your shoulder was caressing your ear the whole time, whispering words of lewd and temptation, encouraging you to act. 

You grab your penis and inch yourself closer to her already parted legs. You position yourself and after Minjeong’s nod of approval, you start lowering yourself into her, steadily, slowly. You stare at your cock disappearing into her folds. The girl whines helplessly and you groan when your shaft finally enters completely, breaking her lock and burying itself completely inside her.

She moans loudly and instinctively hugs you, searching for support. 

You never forget your first time, they say. The first thrust is always the hardest, it makes you grit your teeth. The first time you feel something so tight and warm. Never in your life have you felt such wetness, your lower body stiffens and you already want to cum.

After breaking her lock, every sort of profanity seeps out of Minjeong’s lips. “Fuck! So… full…!”

It takes time for Minjeong to get used to the burn from the stretch. She could feel your every throb and pulse inside of her, so snug and tight. She quickly gets used to this new feeling and finally finds herself begging you to move. 

You’re being careful, not to push too deep and not hurt her more than necessary. But Minjeong liked it. She wanted to feel you against her cervix, your tip brushing against it, and she pulled you deeper and deeper with every thrust, with her ankles clenched around your hips.

Your mind had already lost it. Reduced to grunts and curses, you only knew to push and pull into her pussy, worshipping the beautiful body of your greatest love with the deep motion of your hips. “You’re amazing, Minjeong. You’re—ugh—incredibly tight,” you said. You wanted to let her know. Your movements still don’t stop and you find it a great feat to let out any words at all.

Minjeong responds with a couple more of her moans. Something the lines of ‘Why did you take so long to finally fuck me like this?’ and you were sure to make up for the lost time.

You switch the pace in a desperate attempt to make yourself last longer. Your hips live her and slam against her again, hard, with glistening slick strings stretching between your and her skin. She’s wet, incredibly wet. Everything is too slow for Minjeong, too slow for how desperate she was but you were doing great. You hit exactly the right spot, that exact spot to drive her crazy. All her past frustrations come back with vengeance, building up in her belly, reaching a crazy strong pressure. 

Minjeong’s screams are almost silent, breaking against her vocal cords. Her body finally succumbs to the insurmountable pressure and pleasure of your penis, and she finally cums. She grips you tightly and roughly pulls you into her body, finding comfort in your warmth and weight.

“It’s okay, let it go…” you murmur against her wet skin.

You gently pull out of her, letting yourself rest against her lips and two fingers on her pulsing clit to help her ride her orgasm out. However, you get the opposite reaction. It might have been the heightened sensitivity from her previous orgasm, or how wound up she had been for this long, but your fingers push her over the limit. Another screech and she’s convulsing again, the pressure building up again, and all of a sudden she’s gushing, spraying your arms, sheet, and wetting your whole body.

Her hips buckled and twitched while streams of squirt poured out of her twitching cunt. Her moans were loud, desperate, and helpless. 

“Oh my god, look at her go,” Winter said with a great smug plastered on her face. “Good job,” she said with an even more seductive tone, “look at your work. Look at how totally drenched the sheets are.”

As she talked, her hand came to wrap your cock. She started to stroke you, slowly, and carefully. It was a strange feeling. You were ready to burst, your penis was rock hard, and you were on the edge. But no matter how much she touched you, you just couldn’t cum, it was a constant edging.

“Mh? Wondering why you can’t cum?” she giggled. “Let’s just say it’s a little magic of mine…” 

She turned around to Minjeong, “And to think you were trying to deny it just moments ago and you came so hard. Fucking slut you are.”

“Shut up,” Minjeong replied weakly. She was still trying to recover from her violent orgasm.

Winter laughed with amusement and let you lie down. “Do you think you’ll make me cum as well? But let me tell you something first: I’m the one in charge.”

Her fingers suddenly clamp tightly on your cock, straighened out, she aligned you and sunk you inside of her. It was a totally different feeling. Way sloppier, way wetter, way tighter. You couldn’t believe they were the same person. It was like her pussy was trying to milk everything out of you, clamping down with a choking grip. 

Winter wastes no time and starts jumping on you, with hard pumps. She knocks the air out of your lungs. It was an aggressively fast pace, paired with her tightness, you were already going to cum. But you couldn’t cum. Winter had you on the palm of your hands. 

“So helpless, I bet you want to cum, don’t you?” she laughed.

“Please slow down,” you begged. 

Soon enough, her hips slow down. She remains glued to you, twisting and moving her hips around, your cock swishing inside her pussy. You could feel every single fold of her pussy, she was inviting you to explore the inside of her body. 

It didn’t last long though. There you go, Winter was pounding you inside of her again, with wild hips. You wondered how could she move that fast, even you couldn’t do it. Your hand was just a tiny bit faster than her, which was extremely impressive. 

Your mind was broken. You had difficulty moaning—the pleasure was spreading all the other parts of your body, your fingers were jittery, you curled your toes, and started salivating. 

“Fuck, finally, that’s good…” she exhaled. Her own pleasure was her goal but it was inevitable that you were going to be broken as well.

She stopped once again. With slow forceful strokes, she got up and smashed herself down. It was intense, you had to admit. 

Letting you cum was an act of compassion. She pulled you out and let you spurt your semen everywhere. You covered her tummy and yourself. You collapsed immediately from the exhaustion. Winter lowered herself and started cleaning you, licking your hypersensitive head, and swiping up all the strings and droplets of cum.

“You did a great job, handsome,” she congratulated you with your cock in her mouth. “Didn’t think you’d last that long without passing out.”

“You’re… you’re crazy,” you said with a faint voice.

“Sure, I’m not even human,” she giggles. “Pull yourself together, handsome. We’re not done yet.”

The Deja Vu makes you stand up. “What do you mean?” Her response is a wet kiss. She swivels her tongue inside of your mouth, playing with your tongue and inside of your mouth. A small peck and you’re hard again. 

“Consider that a little help,” she said.

You feel two hands hugging you from behind. It’s Minjeong. She sounds tired but determined. “I haven’t made you cum yet,” she whispered.

“It’s fine, I don’t—”

“It wasn’t an offer.”

When you look at her, your blood runs cold. Pure lust. Pure desire. Pure libido. Stripped of her innocence, there was nothing different from Minjeong and Winter anymore. Strangely enough, her eyes alone were enough to get you riled up. Seeing her desiring you so much got you in the mood as well.

Again she laid on the bed before you, but there was something different this time. Her eyes were a lot more inviting, needy, and she made it clear as with her two hands, she stretched out her pussy, inviting you in. You watch her pink folds slowly open up, completely drenched and tight. You couldn’t resist such a naughty sight.

You slide yourself inside and it’s heaven all over again. Holding onto your arms, you fucked her hard and deep. With her cunt utterly drenched from the non-stop cumming, every thrust was a loud sloppy mess. Her grip was demanding. Her pussy gripped you tight, with her lips glued onto you, trying their best not to let you slip out.

“Don’t worry about me,” Minjeong said. “You can be as rough as you want…”

You were already exhausted but her words could only fire you up even more. You had lost all control of yourself, you pounded her with desperation. 

Her face was contorted in frowns and grimaces of overstimulated pleasure. You got lost in her eyes. They desired you, they wanted you. 

“Please, please, I need you to cum inside of me.”

Minjeong made herself clear. It wasn’t a request, it was an order. Her legs wrapped around your waist and locked you against her pelvis. She squeezed you, forcing you to go even deeper into her wet pussy. You continued pounding her as much as possible, trying to enjoy your last moments. 

“I’m really gonna cum now,” you warned her.

“Do it,” was all she said.

You couldn’t hold it in. With Minjeong’s nails deep into your skin, her legs tightly locked around your hips, and her lips quivering in your ear with that needy lustful voice of hers: “Please, I want it inside. I want you to cum inside me… please,” you couldn’t do anything else but fulfill her desire.

You grunted as you cum so deep inside her womb.  Minjeong had complete control over you, leaving you with no choice but to release more of your semen into her. Her tight walls eagerly accepted every intense release, filling her with an abundance of creamy fluid. The relentless contractions and pulsations continued as she milked you completely dry, not allowing a single drop to escape. Even after that, you couldn't resist the urge to keep thrusting, pushing your messy and heated load deeper and deeper inside her.

As soon as you pulled away from her warm embrace, Minjeong loosened the tight hold her arms had around you, and sat upright on the bed with her legs spread wide open. You cam so deep inside of her that it took a great effort of pushing and squeezing for your cum to finally pour out of her. With her wet pussy lips on display, you both observed as your cum trickled out of her—a steady stream of white liquid that left a mark on her thighs.

"Wow, you totally filled me up," she inquired, breathing heavily, as she slid a finger into her wet pussy and provocatively licked it clean. “Was that too lewd?” she giggled.

“Yeah, totally,” you responded and laughed with her.

“Don’t you think you’re forgetting someone?” Winter cooed, grabbing your chin. “I think you still got some more juice inside those balls. They don’t look empty to me.”

“Is that fine, Minjeong?” you asked. Unsure. At this point, with your seed inside of her, she probably had some kind of right over you. 

“Oh, what a gentleman you are,” Winter said. “But just so you know, I am not leaving until you fill me up to the brim.”

“If that’s what she wants,” Minjeong sighed. “I don’t want to deal with her anymore.”

“Come on, what are you waiting? Are you gonna cum inside of me or what?”

You don’t want to make her wait any longer. You force Winter’s face down to the mattress. Ass up, hands on her lips, she’s full spread, ready to take you in. One single push and you slip inside. There is no need to warm up again, no need to pick up the pace. Her pussy was already molten and shaped to accommodate your cock perfectly.

You quicken your pace, Minjeong rests with her back fully arched to help you reach her deepest spots. Your cockhead taps against her cervix, arousing you more than it should. 

Your hands kneed her asscheeks with greed. It only turns her on, your lips grip you with fierce. Her hole tightens and twitches as you mistreat her pussy.

Winter laughs and moans with joy. “Oh my god, yes!” She squeals. In a sudden burst of energy, she fucks herself back on your cock. “Come on, give me your cum!”

“Fucking cumslut. You’ll get all of it.”

Your hands grab her waist tightly, pulling her hips right into your crotch. Minjeong plants kisses on your neck and lips, to encourage you. The warmth of her breath itches your ears, causing pleasure to the upper part of your body as well. She surrenders completely to you, allowing you to have your way with her. Or maybe it was the other way around and you were her slave, fucking her just how she wanted. 

You couldn’t let Minjeong standing there. You turn around and give your attention to her breasts. They are just the right size to fondle, and you do so generously upon discovering how sensitive they are. You roughly sick on her nipples, pulling on them with your lips and licking them to make her squirm and whimper. She hugs your head, pleading you to continue. 

“Oh God, it only took you one girl to get this good?” Winter mumbles.

“Fuck!" she swears right after. Just like Minjeong, of course, like her clone, she is a messy squirter. 

Winter’s spurts make a total mess of your room. Her climax is intense and drenches the whole floor. Spurts of squirt shoot out from her hole onto the tiled surface and your body, causing her to grip your shaft so tightly that it completely overwhelmed you and triggers your orgasm as well. Although your moans are embarrassingly loud, they are drowned out by Winter's ecstatic cries.

Her cries are shrill compared to the mature and seductive tone she had blessed you with until now. You don't pullout, you can’t. To do so would be to defy her orders. 

You pour all the rest of your cum inside of her with the assistance of the spasm of her vagina, which milked you till the last drop. It takes you a couple of minutes to recover from the mind-numbing orgasm when you finally pull out to witness your cum rushing out of her pussy.

Winter laughs with satisfaction, laying lifelessly on the bed, her hair disheveled, her body ruined. You lean into Minjeong, who was holding you on for support.

“That was your third load? It was so much,” Winter said. “God, I’m sure would have gotten pregnant if I was human…”

“Wait, what about me?”

The color drained from Minjeong’s face, her smile disappeared as the weight of the situation sank in. The fun and excitement of the moment evaporated, replaced by a sinking feeling of dread. Your hands hands, which had been vigorously grabbing Minjeong’s waist, now clenched nervously. Her heart pounded as they exchanged worried glances.

“Right,” you said. “I- I just came inside of you.”

“What’s gonna happen?” she asked you.

“You might— no, you will definetly get pregnant.”

“Don’t worry guys,” Winter said. “I put a little spell on you, you won’t get pregnant.”

“Really?!” you almost screamed.

“Yeah,” she said.

The tension in the air broke like a popped balloon. You and Minjeong’s shoulders relaxed visibly, and you let out simultaneous sighs of relief. Your hearts, which had been pounding moments ago, began to slow to a normal rhythm. Your clenched hands opened, and a tentative smile returned to your face. Minjeong’s eyes, wide with worry, softened with immense relief.

You glanced at each other, grins spreading as the weight of their fears lifted.

"I really thought I messed up," you said, your voice filled with a mixture of amusement and relief.

Minjeong’s face flushed a deep crimson as she started speaking. “Uhm… and how long does this spell last?”

“Oh my god,” Winter laughed. “You want him to cum inside you again?”

“No! No– I mean…”

“To celebrate you two I’ll make it last a week, just for you two.”

“Oh, thanks…” Minjeong smiled shily.

“Well, my job here is done,” Winter said, standing up on her wobbly legs. You could see the cum still dripping down her legs, with droplets of squirt painting the floor.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done,” you said.

“Yeah, thank you,” Minjeong repeated after you.

“I had fun guys. Farewell,” she said one last time and disappeared with sparkles falling to the floor. 

Both of you remained still for a few seconds reflecting on what just happened.

Minjeong played with her fingers absentmindedly, her thumb circling around her ring finger. You watched her, your eyes tracing the curve of her hand, the gentle movements of her fingers. The moonlight shined on her skin, her completely naked body. With your lust completely drained, she looked a lot smaller than before.

“Hey,” she said softly, breaking the silence. Her voice was gentle and intimate. “What are we now?”

You looked up, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were trembling. “What are we?” you echoed. It wasn’t a nice conversation with the both of you smelling like sex and sweat, but it was necessary.

She nodded, waiting for your response. “Yes. You and me. What are we?”

“At this point… you already know how I feel about you,” you said. “And I guess I also know how you feel.” You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. “I want us to be together.”

She nodded slowly, her eyes meeting his again. There was a flicker of something there, a spark of understanding. "Boyfriend and girlfriend?" she asked, the words tentative but hopeful.

"Yes," you said, the certainty in your voice surprising even you. It was the first time you were this honest. "Boyfriend and girlfriend."

Minjeong smiled. “Good. I felt the same.”

“Glad we got that out of the way,” you said. “But let’s get cleaned up now.”

Minjeong giggled. “You’re right. Wanna go in together?”

“You… are you not tired?”

“You know, unfortunately, we didn’t get a clone of you to tell me exactly the whole truth about you, so I am not totally convinced… Take my doubt away. Show me how much you really love me.”

THE END

Written, January 5 2024 - June 26 2024

[moonstruckme]

As promised: more roommate!james

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Thunder crashes. A branch from the tree outside smacks into your bedroom window, making you jump. You smile a little at your reaction, and a frisson goes up your spine, giddy. 

You’re kind of in a euphoric state tonight. 

The storm came in early, darkening the sky hours before its time and bringing torrents of rain down upon your home. Immediately, your windows had been opened, your candles lit, and you were curled up on your bed with a book in your hands. 

Downstairs, you can hear the familiar buzz of the TV playing one of James’ sports games. The whole apartment smells like the cookies you made earlier, which you have a small plate of next to you and which your roommate had moaned as he’d bitten into upon you offering some to him. Sweetheart, keep spoiling me like this and you’ll never get me to leave. 

Suffice to say, you’ve been having a fairly good evening. 

Your book is just starting to pick up when the TV quiets. Everything quiets. There’s a thud, followed by a hissed curse. 

You laugh a little. Pick up your phone. 

Alright down there? You text James. 

More thudding sounds. You think about picking your book back up, but decide to wait.

If I were bleeding out on the living room floor, do you think I’d be able to text you back?

A moment later: If you wanted to do a thorough job of seeing I was alright, you should have come and seen for yourself.

Then: And I heard you laughing.

You smile to yourself, a quiet chuckle escaping you. Sorry, can’t, you reply. Too cozy. 

You hear his heavy footfalls coming up the stairs, and you have only a few moments to brace yourself before he’s swinging open your door. 

Lately, your body has been doing this thing where he looks at you and it’s like the ground softens beneath you. Luckily, you’re already on a bed, so it’s not really possible this time. 

James shuts off the flashlight on his phone, looking around your room with the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“Woah. Are you having a seance in here?” 

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way the candlelight plays prettily over his features. “You’re just jealous that I was prepared for the power to go out and you weren’t.” 

“It looks like you were hoping for it.” James grins. He starts to cross the room, and you’re like a sunflower to your light as you tilt to face him. 

He lays down next to you on your bed, on his stomach with his forearms propping him up. It’s a somewhat tight fit, but James doesn’t seem to mind the way his hip and shoulder are touching yours. His shampoo smell wraps around you like a hug. 

You pick up your tea as an excuse not to look at him, blowing softly before taking a sip. James watches you consideringly. 

“You really are thriving in here, aren’t you?” he teases softly. “Look at you, you’ve got your fuzzy socks on, your tea, your book. You’re in paradise.” 

You smile sheepishly as you set your tea down on the floor. “Sorry you couldn’t finish your game.” 

“Oh, it’s alright.” He nudges your shoulder with his. “I’d rather hang with you anyway.” 

You feel your brows furrow, a confusing mass of emotions knotting in your chest. “Don’t say that,” you tell him softly.

You can feel James’ gaze warming the side of your face. His voice is just as quiet. “Why not?” 

You look over, and his eyes don’t flit away like a sane person’s would. They’re steady and warm as the flames around you. Instantly the room feels too small, him a little too close. 

James’ smile is almost tentative. “Look, I know you drew the short stick with this roommate agreement, but I plan to soak up as much roomie time as I can get. Sorry.” 

“I did not,” you murmur. 

“Didn’t what?” 

“You drew the short stick.” Your face burns. You know James too well to think he’d be making fun of you, but it’s difficult to imagine an alternative. He can’t really think you don’t like having him as a roommate after all the ways he’s been a friend to you, the times he’s stepped in to help, when you’ve only been a burden and a drag. “Not me.” 

His eyebrows twitch closer to each other, and his lips tilt bemusedly, as though they’re unsure of what else to do. The lenses of his glasses reflect the candlelight, brown eyes molten behind them. 

“I’m inclined to disagree,” he says. The air between you feels thick and sweet. Your heart seems to know something you don’t, quickening its rhythm in your chest. Then, because it’s James, he flicks up a brow. “Truce?” 

You laugh quietly, turning your face down towards your book. There are goosebumps going all down your arms. “Sure,” you say. 

“Good,” he murmurs. “Glad that’s settled.” 

You don’t respond this time. You’re not sure you can. The words on your page blur by, unnoticed and unimportant.

Lightning cracks outside. You gasp and turn to see it, and James’ lips meet you there. 

You should have known he would be soft like this. You’ve kept yourself from thinking about it, but you could have guessed. The first gentle, warm press of his mouth is so lovely you get lost in it, but when it lasts for too long and he starts to draw back, you remember that you can move, too. 

He takes in a tiny inhale when you part your lips for him, his hand finding your waist and his body curving over yours. Your arm falls out from under you, and James follows you down. He tastes sweet and familiar, like home. 

You bring your hands up to his face, one resting tentatively on his cheek while the other toys with the idea of slipping its fingers into his hair. The sky rumbles outside. Your heart pitters. 

“It’s okay,” James mumbles. His voice buzzes against your lips. “It’s okay, sweetheart, please.” 

You grasp at the roots of his hair, palm settling more surely on his cheek, and James makes a sound low in his throat. He breaks the kiss to pull off his glasses. You take them from where he sets them on the bed, placing them more carefully on the floor where they’re not so likely to get crushed. His lips curve over yours. You think that if you were to detour to either side, you might find a dimple in his cheek. 

“James,” you murmur. 

“Oh, it’s James again now, is it?” 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He kisses the corner of your mouth. “What is it?” 

“Are you sure?” 

It’s a nonsensical question, but in fairness you think all the blood that’s supposed to be in your brain has gone to your lips, and James seems to get what you mean anyway. 

He chuckles quietly. “I am, yeah.” He makes a sound that’s almost like a sigh, hand climbing up your back until it’s trapped between your shoulders and your bed. “I don’t ever tell you how lovely you are, but I’ve…I’m sure. What about you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I think so.” 

“That’s okay.” James kisses your chin, the curve of your jaw. 

“You’re lovely, too,” you tell him somewhat desperately. His lashes tickle your cheek. Your fingers are still burrowed in the hair at his nape. “I never tell you. I like when you’re here.” 

You feel his smile bloom against your skin. “I like you too, sweetheart,” he says, voice light with teasing. 

You frown, wishing he would take you seriously. “I do. I really like you.” 

“I think I like you more.” 

You scoff. He nips at your jaw, surprising a laugh out of you. “You can’t always win,” you say. 

James makes a happy humming sound. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

[wileys-russo]

mary earps, out shopping, “remind me why i agreed to have those two idiots as my other children?” (lessi and tooney)

part of the a date to remember universe m.earps II we don't know them

"do they really have to come?" mary groaned as she pulled up out front, sighing heavily as you nodded. "we've been away for nearly two weeks. they probably missed you!" you teased pinching her cheek as she mocked you under her breath.

"i missed aunty lessi and aunty tooney!" delilah piped up from the back, swinging her legs with a cheshire like grin plastered on her face. "so did I tiny. mama did too, she just thinks she's too cool to admit it." you patted your wifes shoulder who rolled her eyes.

"did you tell them we're here? we're going to be late!" mary checked her watch with a huff as you quirked an eye in amusement. "can't be late to do the shopping mama." delilah beat you to it with a giggle as you looked back proudly.

"watch it kid or you'll lose your trolley privileges." mary warned fixing your daughter with a look through the rear view mirror. "so dramatic mary!" delilah parroted your own words from this morning as you slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter.

though before the goalkeeper could say anything back there was knocks at her window and she jumped a half foot in the air, scowling at the smirking brunette who winked and climbed into the car.

"where's alessia? for god sakes!" mary groaned head thumping back against her headrest. "for god sakes!" delilah mocked doing the same thing as her head thumped against the back of her car seat and she only giggled as mary shot her a dirty look.

"we're still in the parrot phase." you explained to ella who nodded in understanding, a flash of blonde hair hurrying down the driveway and diving into the car. "sorry! couldn't find my other sock." alessia huffed wrestling on her shoe as mary rolled her eyes.

"see? i told you we could go away for two years and these idiots wouldn't change." mary mumbled under her breath as you squeezed her knee, the taller girl huffing and leaning across to kiss your cheek in a silent apology starting the car back up.

with the other two in the car now the time flew past as delilah caught them up on the adventures of your last two weeks away in mallorca on holiday, both girls listening attentively with oo's of wonder.

"hello children." you finally greeted them both with a hug and a smile as you arrived to the grocery store, jumping out of the car as mary ignored them both and unclipped delilah.

"whats up marys ass this mornin? she got blue balls or somethin?" ella whispered with a wink as alessia shoved her with a dissaproving shake of her head. "something like that." you chuckled, marys plans of a romantic night together now you weren't sharing a room with your daughter ruined by the daughter in question refusing to sleep in her own bed and you not making her.

"we can stop the co-sleeping tomorrow. come on baby, family cuddles!" you denied marys request to remove delilah who was already fast asleep curled into your side, your wife sighing heavily but knowing this wasn't something worth arguing.

but a restless night with little feet kicking into her ribs every ten minutes or a tiny hand smacking her cheek and wriggling around meant it was one without much sleep, meaning a very grumpy mary this morning.

"mary. baby come on, your nose is so long its almost hitting the ground." you poked at your wifes side as alessia and ella hurried off ahead, swinging delilah between them.

"only things on the list!" mary called warning the trio as alessia gave a thumbs up, handing the piece of paper to your daughter who was now happily sat in a trolley, the three of them disappearing into the aisles.

"come on earps, give us a smile." you jostled your wife as she grabbed a trolley for your own list. "not in the mood." the goalkeeper warned but made no move to let go as you slipped your hand into hers.

"well, maybe later you can get in the mood." you smiled suggestively, the taller girl looking down at you with a frown. "i didn't invite ella and less just for a catch up. if we buy them lunch and butter them up a little, i'm sure they'd love to take delilah for a sleepover tonight." you quirked an eyebrow, grinning as mary's face lit up.

"my god woman, you're a genius." mary grabbed your face, kissing all over it as you laughed. "yeah yeah tell me something i don't know. i'm offended you seem so surprised!" you poked her accusingly before starting off toward the fruit and vegetables, having given delilah all the 'fun' food knowing she'd whinge about the healthier things.

"mary!" you hissed as her hand caught your ass, your complaints swallowed by the kiss she stole with a charming smile. "it slipped." she winked, reaching over your head to grab a punnet of strawberries.

you were both almost done with your part of the list when you heard a horrendously loud crash the aisle over and winced, sharing a knowing look.

"please tell me that isn't ours." you mumbled, the pair of you slowly heading toward the source of the noise. "i can tell you but you can't get mad at me for lying." mary sighed at the sight which met you, a bright red alessia apologizing profusely to a store employee as ella wiped off delilah who was coated in flower, her own body caked with white as well.

you met alessia's eyes over the employee's shoulder, feeling mary slip her hand back into yours.

"remind me why i agreed to have those two idiots as my other children? "pretend we don't know them?" "darling you read my mind."

"oi you two get back here!"

[miirohs]

sore wa hanabi [k.s]

pairing: Ken Sato x GN!Reader wc: 1.4k cw: n/a an: this was inspired by hanabi by ikimonogakari and motospeed 24 by bibi, i fucking love those songs so much UGH. pls ignore the plot holes i was tired and it was like 12 when i started!!! i love writing chat

The last of the sunlight rippled across the water, a slow breeze blowing past you on the steps of the house, watching as the city seemed to come alive.

The sounds of a motorcycle in the distance distracted you, head shooting up from your knees as Professor Sato limped out of the front door, gently setting down his walking stick as he sat next to you.

“He’s coming back home then?”

It wasn’t really a question, rather a statement.

“I believe so. He was out for interviews almost all day.”

He didn’t respond, digging into the pocket of his khaki vest, pulling out a worn flyer and handing it to you.

“What is this?” You asked, gently unfolding the colorful paper.

“It was a fireworks festival. I’m sure they still hold them yearly around here, and Emiko took Kenji often when he was younger. I’ve seen it myself from the apartments sometimes, and they’re a sight to see.” He explained softly, smiling into the distance as your eyes flitted over the contents.

“I see, but what exactly-”

“I think you should go see them, you and Kenji need some alone time as well,” He didn’t let you finish, poking your leg with his walking stick, “Plus, it would be good for me and Mina because we need to get more data on Emi, and Ken won’t let us do that without breath down my shoulders about us hurting her.” 

You could barely respond as he got up, limping his way back to the door without further explanation. “But Ken is going to want to see Emi and-”

“Me and Mina can take care of her if anything happens. If the boy troubles you about that, tell him I told you he was to do so. He may be Ultraman now, but I'm still his father!” He cackled, shaking his head affectionately as he closed the door gently.

The light was gone now, but you could hear the sound of his bike getting closer, rubbing your arms to regain your warmth as you waited. Soon enough, Ken appeared against the twilight sky, silhouette illuminated by the headlights of his parked bike.

“Hey baby, what are you doing out here?” he greeted, tone filled with a mixture of exhaustion and relief upon seeing you.

“The weather was nice out, and the view was gorgeous.” You responded, turning to him as he sat down next to you. “The view is gorgeous from inside too,” He joked, intertwining a hand into yours, “I don’t get why you wanna sit out here, it’s cold and you don’t even have a jacket on.”

You clutched the paper in your other, taking a deep breath in. You had no reason not to, it could be a good surprise.

“You know, i was thinking we haven’t had a proper date night since we moved here and-”

“We had a movie night though!” Ken chimed in, staring at you, confused. It was like he couldn’t see where you were going with it. “Yes, we had a movie night honey, but it was interrupted every ten minutes by the loud baby we happen to be taking care of, remember?” You said, exasperated. 

“I would baby, but what about Emi?” 

“Your dad and Mina can take care of her. He said you’d trouble me about it, and that I should tell you that he insists.” You tilted your head towards the city.

Ken chuckled, shaking his head. “That sounds like him honestly, but where do you wanna go? You gotta have something planned if you’re insisting on dragging me out.”

“I was thinking we could ride through the city, I'm pretty sure the seaside looks gorgeous at night.” You could barely hold back your smile as he wrinkled his nose, it was almost like you could see the gears turning in his head.

The exhaustion almost seemed to leave his face, a smile taking its place. “Alright, you win. Go get your jacket and meet me out here in… five?” You nodded, getting up from your spot.

“Five minutes,” you repeated to yourself softly, heading inside to grab your jacket. The excitement was building as you folded up the paper, gently hiding it in your pocket as you grabbed your helmet.

He was already near the motorcycle, leaned over the dashboard as you approached him, barely able to contain the excitement.

“I think you remember how to ride a bike, right baby?” You nodded, allowing him to put your helmet on for you, securing it till you felt comfortable. “Of course. I’m ready when you are.”

Ken winked, helping you onto the bike before climbing on himself. The engine roared to life and you wrapped your arms around his waist, adrenaline running through your veins as you started down the path. The wind was fast, seawater blowing into your face as you both skirted across the water.

​​The city was a blur of nightlights as you weaved through the streets, laughs of delight leaving your mouth as you turned and sped down the straights. The neon signs and billboards created a colorful mosaic, a dazzling display of light. 

Ken glanced back at you briefly, shouting something at you, a wide smile on his face as he pressed down on the accelerator.

“This feels so familiar, what are you doing to make this happen baby?!” You pressed your face into his face, barely hiding the grin on your face as you shouted back. “A magician never tells Ji!” 

You slowed near the city limits, allowing for you to nudge him in the direction you wanted to go. The city faded into quieter roads, riding on the outskirts of the city, the smell of the sea intermingling with the scent of his perfume. The waves crashed against the seawall, spraying you with water.

You looked up, narrowed eyes growing wide as bright lights went off in the sky.

“There, look!” you exclaimed, your voice barely audible over the rush of wind and the distant explosions of the fireworks. You squeezed Ken’s waist, taking one hand off to point up at the sky.

He followed your hand, relaxing in awe as he watched the colorful display unfold above you. It wasn’t long until you found a place to park, Ken eagerly pulling you off the motorcycle, running down to the beach with you in hand.

“Sup- Whoa, surprise Ji!” You laughed as you both stumbled, pulling closer to the source of the lights. The sand was surprisingly cool beneath your feet as you stood on the shore, fireworks exploding in a variety of colors.

Greens, pinks and golds colored the sky, painting the dark with bangs of light, fizzling out just as quickly as they came up.

“Your mom used to bring you here before you moved, didn’t she?” You looked at him, the light reflecting in his glassy eyes, softened by nostalgia.

"Yeah, she did. How did you know?"

“I’ve heard a thing or two about your trips.” You commented to the side, allowing him to lead you aimlessly, "I thought you might like to revisit those memories." You squeezed his hand as he paused once more, turning to look at you.

“She used to call them something else- hanabi. It was the Japanese word for fireworks, I think.” He brought up a hand, wiping his eye on his free arm.

“That sounds beautiful,” You turned to him, floating closer and closer every second.

There was nothing more to be said, holding his hand with as much affection as you could, fireworks exploding somewhere in the background. The light illuminated the sharpness of his features, and you leaned in, closing the distance between you and Ken. 

His lips met yours, soft yet firm. The fireworks seemed to pause for that brief moment, allowing you to be trapped in the bubble you’d made for yourselves. Ken's arms were wrapped around you, holding you close as if he was never going to let go.

en rested his forehead against yours as you pulled apart. His eyes scanned yours, as if trying to capture every detail of the moment to memory.

"I've missed this," Ken murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as you pulled away.

“No kidding, we should do this more often shouldn’t we?” You giggled, running your finger down the ridges of his nose, booping the tip.

Ken nodded quietly, allowing you to lean in closer once more. "Definitely. It's moments like these that make life more bearable."

You leaned in again, brushing your lips against his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder. The last of the embers faded into the sky, pieces of your heart drifting off with them as you watched Ken.

"Let's come back here again," Ken suggested softly, his voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the waves. "Definitely," you agreed. You could get used to it.

[sepublic]

Insane to me how Eda must've said yes to Luz asking to stay with her at the Owl house, because she could relate. Because at her exact same age, Eda also struggled with a mother who meant well, but was ultimately doing something that hurt her out of misguided intentions. And because she felt betrayed and didn't want to go along with that plan, Eda also ended up running into the woods outside her home, only to stumble across the portal in the ruins of a Clawthorne ancestor’s home, and go through it despite what her mother had planned. And in doing so, she found independence and began her journey into discovering herself.

So no wonder Eda let Luz do the same. Even if she didn't know her whole story yet, Eda must've picked up on a couple details with Luz deeply resonating with her "Us weirdoes gotta stick together" motto, as well as encouraging the Conformatorium prisoners that nobody should be punished for who they are. The way Luz said that, Eda must've realized she was projecting/relating to them hard. So Eda saw all she needed to, and that's why she let Luz stay.

Her telling Luz to go back to her "real" family in the season 1 finale hurts even more because of this, because I wonder if Eda missed her mother at the moment too. So she wanted Luz to have a good relationship with her mother that she couldn't have. She wanted Luz to treasure that while she could still have it. And at the same time, I wonder if Eda felt as if she was betraying herself by being a hypocrite, telling Luz to stay with her mother when Eda herself hadn't done so and would continue not to.

But then Luz stays for Eda's sake, and she helps Eda get back her relationship with her mother. And Eda helps Luz in making a new portal so she regain her relationship with HER mother. All while lamenting, at one point, that Luz is going to go back to her real family in Eda's Requiem. They're both going back to their biological mothers, so they don't need each other anymore as a substitute. Besides, even if Eda's morals made sense to her at the time, she might've regretted letting Luz in and allowing her to be hurt by the coven.

But Luz and Eda's familial and found relationships aren't mutually exclusive, either!!! And Eda has to remember what she told Luz in Separate Tides, that her life changed for the better meeting this girl! Maybe Eda thinks that she needs Luz, but Luz didn't need her. But she really needed another parental figure, not unlike Manny, to give Luz another perspective to work with, so she could eventually go back to Camila and explain in better terms what she needed. And by the time Luz reunited with her mother, she wasn't able to articulate how she felt, due to a number of other factors outside of Eda's control that made her feel too guilty to ask for that.

Eda meeting Camila was so tense on her part, because she likely though of herself as an irresponsible stranger who kidnapped Camila's child and got her so terribly hurt and traumatized; At least, she couldn't blame Camila for thinking that way. Eda probably felt that way about herself, sometimes. But Luz needed her moms to get along, it'd mean so much to her, so Eda brushes aside the self-pity and presents herself as Luz's other family; Similarly, Camila has already opened her mind to the Boiling Isles because she can tell how much this place and its people mean to Luz. So even if they had different ideas on how to help Luz, they've since made their consensus by listening to Luz herself, and have gotten together over this mutual love.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Spoiled Brat Child Reader | Platonic Yandere Twisted Wonderland

“You can’t tell me what to do! You’re not my mom!”

It’s alarming for a child to be brought to a world completely different from their own

It’s just as alarming when that child is good at getting what they want

“Aren’t I generous–”

“This is it? What are you some poor old featherduster? Is this really all you can do for the child you practically abducted with your weirdo mirror ceremony un-believable.”

You fit right in at NRC

Stomping your foot and pointing your little gloved fingers 

You have way too much ease when it comes to confronting your seniors

Already surviving and rumored to have started Overeblots

Gathering rows of thralls friends that take it upon themselves to be the big brothers you need try and instill some disciplines

And oddly enough the ones to do it first surprisingly  are those at Scarabia

“Oh (Y/n)! Look at you in your little Scarabia clothes, it looks so good on you.”

“Hmph no it doesn’t I look poor. I wanna wear something else!”

“But you do look cute, promise!”

“I don’t care! Something else!”

“...(Y/n)...”

“Shut up you shouldn’t get to talk to me, servant!”

“(Y/N)!? Apologize!”

It’s really bad at first when rotations have you staying with them

Kalim like so many others is enamored by your cuteness and is usually at your whim

But the minute you take it too far with Jamil especially after his Overblot

Before the Overblot Jamil would just try to hypnotize you or play into your bossy attitude

He’s already watching an overgrown child so why not bratty one too

After his overblot though the guilt from endangering little you has him oddly quiet when you take your jabs at him too far

It’s Kalim who steps up

Doing something he didn’t even do when Jamil had plots to take over the dorm

Get Mad

“(Y/N) THIS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT OKAY! JAMIL DOES SO MUCH FOR YOU AND YOU ARE BEING SO UNGRATEFUL! YOU NEED TO APOLOGIZE NOW.”

The dorm is absolutely quiet

As you nervously shuffle your feet

The thing about being bratty and spoiled is that you almost never get corrected 

Like ever 

So when one of your most avid spoilers turns around to lay down the law

It’s surprising

So surprising you just might cry

“I….I….I…Waaahhahhhhh!!! I’sorry Jamil! Sorry! Sorry! I love you still! Sorry don’t be mad at me!”

Crying into Jamil’s jacket for an hour or two before you’re sleeping 

Kalim is silently crying to himself as he’s certain you’ll never smile at him again

But he doesn’t plan to apologize either he doesn’t feel sorry for defending Jamil

He just hopes he can stand his ground

Jamil on the other hand is beyond amused

It doesn’t really hurt him when a child who stomps and whines about trivial things starts making fun of him

Even having just survived his Overblot he knows it’s nothing but hot air 

He already knows you like him because despite being a 'servant' you’ll follow him around to tell him about something silly Grim did

But the way Kalim actually spoke some sense into you suprises him a lot

He was just going to quickly hypnotize you to listen when he glared at you 

But this was so much better

It ended with you clinging to him promising you’ll behave and that you are grateful for him

“I really really really am, Jamil!”

“I know.”

“I really really really really am!”

“I know Habibi, sleep please.”

“Okay….only if you stay with me though.”

Come next morning you’ll shyly greet Kalim hiding behind Grim or Jamil 

Until its time for you to draw something for him while you sit a little bit closer

“Here…”

“Oh uh thank you.”

“It’s…a picture of us…Me and carpet drew it to uh…apologize for misbehaving. Do you…forgive me?”

“......”

“Kalim?”

“Waahaahha! Oh (Y/n) you’re a sweet angel yes I do!”

Kalim’s unbelievably happy and Jamil is so so prideful 

He is the one taking you hand-in-hand while you apologize for some of the more heinous things you’ve said or done

“I–er–well I…”

“Out with it, (Y/n).”

“O..okay. I’m sorry Ruggie for calling you poor.”

“Wow I didn’t think you’d ever do something like that. Are you sick?”

“I actually really like dandelions too…I tried one after I saw you trying it.”

“....(Y/n)! If you don’t mind being poor you can come home with me next break.”

“Really–”

“Ah-ah no you don’t.”

For this Crowely suddenly is much more willing to give the dorm a bit more leeway when it comes to taking care of you

But if the other dorms have anything to say about it that won’t be the case for long

[seraphinitegames]

A but late, but it's here...The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 21/June/2024 

Was a week of checking off lots of boxes again this week!

I finished writing all the needed blurbs and tag lines for Hosted Games finally! It takes a looooong time to think about a bunch of different ways to describe the story, especially in only 45 words, 80 words, etc! But it was actually really fun breaking down what’s coming up in the story and thinking how to vaguely and mysteriously hint at it, hehe! ;D

I also took the opportunity to rewrite the big blurb for Book Four. I wasn’t completely happy with it first time around, so this was a great chance to rework that:

--

The Wayhaven Chronicles: Book Four

Time is a precious commodity.

Unfortunately, it’s a commodity you don’t have much of these days.

Keeping up with the exhausting training for your new career while balancing your deepening romance on top of juggling some kind of personal life doesn’t leave much time to relax!

But it wouldn’t be a Wayhaven story you’ve come to know without something new to add to that ever-growing pile…

Something stirs beneath the town of Wayhaven.

Something old.

Something powerful.

Something with a very keen interest in you.

-

Delve into the world of Wayhaven once more, where a new enemy is not only unleashed upon the town but unleashes its advances upon you—to your vampire lover’s chagrin.

Or if your heart has yet to find a partner…perhaps you'll succumb to the villain’s romantic attempts?

The choice is yours!

--

It’s still way too wordy, so I’ll probably work on condensing it a bit, but I love it a lot more now! :D

I also got started on Chapter Three! Like, I seriously got started on it and really slammed into that, lol!

The only thing I’m having a bit of trouble with is deciding where a certain POV should go, as I’ve decided to add in an extra Unit Bravo POV with Rebecca, but I don’t want that POV leading into another POV that isn’t the reader’s straight away…I’m not sure if that makes sense, lol! But I’m going to write it all in the order I have it planned and then see how it actually reads.

I should actually get all the way to finishing the first third of the chapter tomorrow, which includes those two POVs!

Hope you all have the most amazing weekend!

[1-victoria-1]

Alastor x Child!Doe!Reader part 3

A/n: this is part 3 of the mini series of alastor x child!doe!reader, I hope you dear readers will enjoy it like the other two parts!

It was a very special day for you today!

It was your birthday! But while being alive you never got to celebrate it because either you papa (not Al of course) or your mama would be yelling at you or at each other and just basically not caring for you.

You didn't really tell anyone when your birthday was, you thought it wasn't important because of how your parents always reacted to it, but because of how much you loved your new papa and only wanted to celebrate it with him you told him about your birthday and its experience.

It would be a lie if Alastor said that he wasn't furious at your parents, he really thought at first your mother might be better than your father but it looks like he was wrong, he felt quite bad for his little doe daughter, so he thought why not make a small birthday party for you, just with the staff and Rosie, and he might consider adding Lucifer to the list because Charlie for sure tell her father.

Anyways, today was your special little day! And alastor was more then happy to pick out yet another cute outfit for you.

Today he picked out a soft red dress with ruffles of cores and black details on it, and he placed a black bet around you to make the dress look classy and of course black flats and gave you your miniature version of his staff.

He picked you up like always as you babbled to him with excitement to celebrate your birthday with him, not knowing the little birthday party he has planned for you.

When you both went down to the lobby, the staff and the ones who were invited (only Rosie and Lucifer) they yelled cheerfully "Happy Birthday!"

You were at first confused as well you only told Alastor about your birthday but you didn't pay much mind when you started to beam happily and giggling happily, of course you got kisses on your cheek as well as happy birthday wishes, and everyone got you a present and you were curious about them as you have never gotten so many presents on your birthday.

Alastor sat you down on one of the couches in the lobby and went to get the birthday cake and when he came back everyone, including him, sang you the happy birthday song to which you were happily wiggling in your seat which was just adorable!

You blew out the candles on the cake and were allowed to open your presents! Charlie got you a new coloring book with more pages to color and new color pencils, crayons and felt-tip pens! Vaggie didn't really know what to get you so she got you a plushie about which you were supper dupper exited! Angel got you some cute necklaces (and cute earrings if you have holes in your ears for earrings!) and also some bracelets, Husk honestly also didn't know what to get you so he also got you some new drawing supplies and paper to draw on, as well as some juice boxes which he only told you about as he had played them in the bar for you to take. Sir pentious gifted you an invention of his own which wasn't really smart as he only knew how to make war weapons and armory and he gifted you a gun..yeah alastor placed that away from you till you're old enough. Your favorite auntie, Rosie, gifted you a whole new wardrobe of mini versions of the outfits each staff member and the princesses and king and even she wore daily so you were just almost exploding from happiness! And last Luci! He gifted you a duck onesie and some rubber ducks as well!

To say the least you were literally vibrating in your seat from excitement and happiness which was adorable but you needed to calm down to eat the cake which resulted in Alastor picking you up and giving you your usual juice box, it somehow magically always calmed you down.

Then you all ate the cake and celebrated your birthday, after the celebration it was already late and everyone went to sleep but not forgetting to wish you happy birthday again and going to sleep, and you of course as well had your bedtime now, and oh how you babbled alastor's ears off by how happy you were and that it was the best birthday ever!

_________________________________________

A/n: i hope you dear readers enjoyed this part as well as the other two! Sadly it is a bit shorter then the other two but i didn't know what to add to this part, but anyways i hope you enjoyed it anyways!

And credits go to this wonderful person who gave me the idea of the duck onesie from Lucifer! : @whatthefucman

Have a wonderful day and night!

[wosoamazing]

Alessia & Olympics - Part 2 Option 2

Part 1 - Part 2.1 - Part 2.2

A/N: I did two part twos and couldn't decide which one to do, so I'm posting both. (There may also be a part 3 IDK, also if you have any requests fro anything send them through. I still have like a month to write and I seem to really be getting back into the swing of things.) Warnings: Collapsing, Vomit, Sickfic, thats all I think

You did it, the past 47.59 seconds felt like absolute torture for Alessia, she wanted to close her eyes almost, but she couldn’t, she watched, everything else around her didn’t matter when you crossed the finish line, you had just broken a 39 year standing record, but to her that didn’t matter, you were currently on all fours trying to catch your breath, clearly struggling, your chest was heaving quite badly, and then you collapsed onto your side, several of your competitions were by your side immediately and they quickly signalled for something, the next second a medical golf cart was out on the track, helping you in, before your coach sat on the back and you were gone.

Alessia was crying into her Mum’s shoulder when there was a tap on her back and she turned around to see a lady she recognised from the most recent family & friends event, she was part of the British Family Services Team “Alessia right?” There was a pause and Alessia offered a small nod, as she wiped her tears away, “Is it okay if you come with me?” again Alessia nodded slightly and the older women wrapped her arm around Alessia’s shoulders, guiding her somewhere, “I’m going to take you back to the village, she will most likely be with the medics at the village, and if she is you will be able to see her, especially because she has finished now, it’s most likely not serious, they have increased the medical procedures this year, they’re most likely worried about Lactic Acidosis, I’m assuming you know what that is,” there was another silence, “As I said I’m assuming you know what Lactic Acidosis is but it is different being the athlete experiencing it to being family, I understand you’re probably scared, but she is in excellent hands, just one second sorry,” the lady said as her phone rang, Alessia zoned out as they now stood outside the stadium, in some sort of behind the scenes area, she couldn’t help but think she could’ve been one of those the athletes walking around her in the ‘behind the scenes’ areas, they were so close yet so far, “okay,” Alessia startled a little “she is back at the village and they have actually already organised a cart for us, she has asked to see you, she is okay though, as I said Lactic Acidosis, but it’s only minor, and after the immaculate performance she just gave it is honestly no surprise really, but the most important thing is that she is okay and it’s only minor, its only a short trip to the village and then you can see her okay,” alessia nodded as she bit her lip nervously.

“I’ve got Alessia Russo here, she is here for Miss Y/F/N Y/L/N,” after a few moments Alessia was now walking with one of the recovery leads, down a series of hallways, as she was told what the plan for you was for the next 24 hours, she saw several athletes walk out of one particular bay as they came to a stop but she didn’t think much of it.

“Okay, thank you so much,” Alessia replied, having learnt that for safety you would be kept in the medical facilities overnight, and that she could stay with you as long as you didn’t deteriorate. “She is just-” “Lessi,” you weak voice interrupted the ever so kind Lady and Alessia looked at her gaining a quick nod before she moved to open the curtain for Alessia, you were sat on a physio type bed, your back and head rested against the bed, which was positioned so your upper body was more upright, a therapist was working on massaging your legs, helping you with your normal recovery considering you could no longer do it yourself. A cardboard bowl rested on the bed next to you, it almost was the exact same as the one alessia was sent home with a few weeks ago after her concussion.

“Hey baby, how are you? You did absolutely amazing out there, I am so incredibly proud of you,” she spoke softly as she came to your side.

“Thank you, ’m ‘kay, might throw up again soon,” you told her, even speaking seemed hard and Alessia felt so bad for you, you were meant to be celebrating, not sitting in a bed hooked up to an IV and monitoring machines throwing up.

“Again?” she was slightly concerned, “mmm” was all you replied as you clumsily nodded before your eyes slipped closed, you reached up for her hand and she quickly took a hold of yours.

“I know vomiting seems concerning but in this case it is good, it means her body is working to get the lactic acid out, her heart rate is getting better, its not at her base rate but its good, her oxygen stats are almost back up to 100 and she is talking, communicating, she might seem like she is out of it but she is just tired, we did the alertness tests and she got perfect scores on all of them. We just got the second round of blood results through and her levels are going down quickly, it's good. Her body is doing what it needs to, it just took a bit longer for it to start doing it’s job,” the recovery lead reassured Alessia.

“Lessi, ‘m going to be sick,” your girlfriend immediately jumped into action, holding the bowl under your chin as you were sick.

“That’s it, baby, I’m here, you’re okay,” Alessia said as she rubbed your back, you slumped back into the bed as you finished and Alessia quickly got rid of the bowl.

“Right, that's you done for now y/n, I’ll be back when you are feeling a little less sick and do your arms and back for you,” The therapist told you before leaving and Alessia made quick work of slipping in underneath you.

“Go to sleep baby, I’ll be here with you when you wake up, hopefully feeling a lot better.” she whispered softly in your ear, with her help you rolled over so your front rested on hers, you tucked your head into the crook of her neck and you quickly fell asleep.

—

As you walked with Alessia hand in hand out of the medical area and into the foyer you were greeted with a surprise, many of your teammates were in the foyer, clapping you, and your hand was let go suddenly as Alessia stepped back and smiled at you, you were handed the biggest bouquet of flowers known to mankind and your medal was placed around your neck, you had missed your medal ceremony because you were sleeping off your sickness and so the British Olympic team had rallied together to make you a makeshift medal ceremony. You posed for some photos as most people dispersed, once photos were over Alessia walked over to you, wrapping her arms around you from behind, but you turned in her arms to face her, placing your forehead on hers as you did, before leaning back and looking into her ocean blue eyes, “I do not want to see those photos, they really couldn’t even give me the chance to shower first, I was throwing up a few hours ago,” Alessia just shook her head and leant in for a kiss but you put a finger on her lips and shook your head, “Did you not just listen, I was just throwing up a few hours ago,”

“I know, I was there, but I do not care, you are my person, and you have just fucking won a gold medal, and broken the world record, which is older than us mind you. I fucking love you and I don’t think I have ever been more proud of anything in my life, I love you so much and so I’m going to kiss you, I don’t care,” you laughed as your lips connected and you knew that you wanted to be with Alessia forever.

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act II, Scene II: The Crazy Idea)

After being cornered by your friends, you found yourself in an even more complicated position due to your impulsive decision.

Part warning: none, just my bad attempt at crack humor Words: 2.6k A/n: If you paid attention, I've been using his gifs from season 9 so the timeline is somewhere along there. And while writing half of this, I realized Emily wasn't even on that season, but for the sake of fanfiction and pure imagination, let's ignore the human error of this stupid author. Thank you. Let me know what you think!!

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

It took you exactly seven hours and fifteen minutes to finally gather the courage to head to Penelope's lair. The morning had been a blur of paperwork and reports, leaving you mentally drained and chained to your desk. But no matter how much work you plowed through, your mind kept drifting back to last night's disaster and how your friends had planned the whole thing.

Frustration wasn’t enough to describe how you felt. You found yourself gripping your pen so tightly it threatened to snap in your hand, and your fingers pounded the keyboard harder than necessary as you typed out reports.

Eventually, you found yourself daydreaming about ways to get back at them. You imagined a dozen different ways to plot your revenge, each more elaborate than the last, and although it provided a temporary sense of satisfaction, it wasn't enough. 

By the time you wrapped up your last report, your frustration had reached its peak. You decided you couldn't wait any longer. You headed to JJ's desk first, hoping to catch her and get some answers, but it was empty. With no sign of her anywhere and your patience wearing thin, there was only one other person who might have the answers you needed.

You made a beeline for Penelope’s office. The moment her door came into view, you knocked sharply and then entered without waiting for a response. You weren’t surprised when you found Penelope and JJ huddled over a monitor, their heads snapping up in sync at your abrupt entrance.

“There she is!” Penelope exclaimed, turning around in her chair. “We were just talking about you.”

“Oh, really?” you replied, crossing your arms. “I wonder what could possibly be so interesting about me.”

Penelope and JJ exchanged a quick look, barely suppressing their chuckles. 

“How did it go last night?”

You groaned at the memory. “I can’t believe you guys tricked me!”

JJ laughed and turned to you, her expression almost apologetic. “Look, we’re sorry, okay? We just thought it would be…” she looked over at Penelope, trying to come up for a word before settling with, “Fun.”

“Fun?” You exclaimed. “Manipulating your friends into awkward situations is your idea of fun?“

Penelope waved her hand dismissively. “It couldn't have been that bad. Did you guys talk it out?”

You stared at her pointedly as if the idea of you having that conversation with him was absurd.

“No.”

“Did he apologize for anything?”

“No.”

“Come on, there had to be some deep, meaningful conversation,” JJ chimed in, trying to hold back a grin.

You scoffed. “No.”

“Did he walk you home?”

“No—wait, yes, he did,” you admitted, recalling the memory. “But he complained the whole time about how inefficient my route was and how there were, and I quote, statistically shorter paths to my apartment.”

“How sweet of him,” Penelope observed, deciding to ignore the last part of your rant. Then she wiggled her eyebrows. “Did he lean in for a goodnight kiss?”

“What? No!” You sat on the only empty chair in the room, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Nothing happened.”

“Did he at least say something sweet when he walked you home?” Penelope prodded, trying to dig deeper.

You shook your head, a resigned sigh escaping you. “No, because it was nothing like that. We talked, we ate, he walked me home. That’s it.”

“Sounds like the start of something to me.”

“Totally the start of something,” Penelope nodded enthusiastically.

You rolled your eyes. “There’s nothing to start because we can’t even stand each other.”

“Well you know what they say,” Penelope sang. “There’s a thin line between love and hate.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, trying not to show how unnerving her assumptions were. "That's ridiculous."

“But he walked you home,” she pointed out.

“So?”

“So that’s got to be something,” JJ joined in. “Spencer’s not exactly known for going out of his way unless he wants to.”

“He was just being polite,” you insisted, feeling cornered. “He walked me home because my apartment was on the way to his place.”

Penelope tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, on his way, or making a way?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache brewing. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Maybe he’s being subtle about it,” JJ suggested, trying to sound reasonable. “He’s not that forward when it comes to expressing his feelings.”

“No, guys, it wasn’t anything like that,” you insisted, your voice rising slightly in frustration as your eyes moved between the two of them. The room felt smaller with each passing second, the walls closing in as they stared at you expectantly. They were enjoying this way too much.

“Oh, but it could be,” Penelope persisted. “You’re both single, smart, attractive people who spend a lot of time together.”

“You two are unbelievable.”

“It’s okay, you can tell us,” she continued, her voice softer now as she reached out to pat your hand. “We’re your friends, and if there’s something more, we’d love to support you.”

“Or if you prefer to keep it a secret, we won’t tell anyone.”

“Exactly. You can trust us. We’re really good at keeping secrets.”

“So good.”

“So good.”

Your patience snapped, frustration and pressure boiling over. “Fine! Yes! We’re going on another date!” You blurted out, the lie spilling out in a moment of desperation before you could stop. “Happy now?”

Silence fell over the room as Penelope and JJ stared at you, stunned. Then slowly, realization dawned on their faces, and a chorus of excited squeals filled the air.

“Oh, I knew it!” Penelope exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight.

JJ grinned at you. “Really?”

The weight of your words hit you like a cold splash of water.

What had you just done?

“This is so exciting!” Penelope gushed, her enthusiasm mounting. Then she turned to you. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

You suddenly felt a wave of panic. You scanned their faces, seeing only genuine excitement and curiosity, no hint of doubt and discomfort swelling inside you. How could you explain that there was nothing to tell because there was no second date? That it was just a knee-jerk reaction to their relentless teasing? You couldn't possibly confess now, not without making everything infinitely worse.

But how were supposed to tell him? The idea of deceiving not just your friends but also involving Spencer in this lie made you feel sick. The room seemed to spin as you tried to come up with some way to ease the damage.

“I... I wanted it to be a surprise?” You managed to say, although the words sounded more like a question. Your lie felt hollow even to your own ears, but Penelope and JJ seemed to buy it, nodding and exchanging excited glances.

“This is going to be amazing,” Penelope said, practically bouncing in her chair. “So when’s the next date?”

Your mind raced. For there to be a next date, even a pretend one, you needed to talk to him. The realization hit you hard, the full weight of the lie you'd just created sinking in. You'd have to involve him in this deception and the thought made you feel queasy. You imagined the awkward conversation, the look of confusion—and likely frustration—on his face. This was going to be a mess.

You opened your mouth, then closed it, scrambling for a response. “Uh, soon. I-I’ve got to go talk to him about it, actually.”

Penelope’s eyes lit up even more. “Oh, planning it together! That’s so sweet!”

You forced a smile, slowly rising from your seat. “Yeah, super sweet,” you mumbled, your voice barely steady. You could feel your cheeks burning as you stumbled over your lies. “I, uh, better go find him now.”

Without waiting for a response, you bolted out of the room, your heart pounding in your chest. You mentally kicked yourself with every step. You had let them get to you, allowing their teasing to push you into this mess. You couldn’t believe you had let yourself get caught up in this lie.

You paused in the hallway, briefly considering turning back and telling them the truth. The thought lingered for a moment, the idea of ending this charade before it spiraled further out of control. But you quickly shook your head, knowing that backtracking now would only make things worse. You could already imagine how unbearable the teasing and explanations would be.

No, you’ve gone too far to back out now.

Continuing down the hallway, your steps quickened as you searched for him. You finally spotted him by the pantry, absentmindedly pouring too much sugar into his coffee. You walked up to him and leaned against the counter, watching him stir his coffee with more force than necessary.

“I did something stupid,” you blurted out, catching his attention. He looked up before glancing back down at his cup.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“No, listen.” You leaned in closer, lowering your voice. “It’s about last night.”

He finally looked at you, eyebrows raised, clearly surprised as to why you would bring up anything from last night.

“What about last night?” He asked, bringing his cup to his lips.

The words tumbled out in a rush. “I was with JJ and Garcia, and they were teasing me about us, how we supposedly have this… thing going on now. I couldn’t take it anymore. So…” You watched him take a sip of his coffee. “…I told them we’re going on another date.”

He choked, the drink catching in his throat. Coughing, he set the cup down with a sharp clatter, his eyes watering slightly as he regained his composure.

“You told them what?”

“I didn’t know what else to do!” You rushed to explain. “They wouldn’t stop pushing and I just wanted them to shut up. I thought if I said something like that, they’d just leave me alone. But now they expect details, and I… I need your help.”

He took a deep breath, trying to process what you were asking of him. “Let me get this straight. You, of all people, told them we’re going on another date, knowing full well how we—” He paused, searching for the right words. “How we don’t get along. And now you want me to help you keep up this lie?”

You nodded, and he called out your name in frustration.

"Last night wasn't even a date!”

“I know! The words just… came out.” When you saw him shake his head disapprovingly, you let out a groan. “I’m not thrilled about it either, okay? But I’m kind of… desperate here.”

Spencer took another sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving yours. After a moment, he set the cup down, gripping it in his hand.

“No.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “No?”

“No,” he confirmed before turning around, walking back to his desk. “I’m not going to help you.”

You shuffled along, trying to match his pace. “Why not? This could actually get them to stop.”

“Do you even hear yourself? This is crazy. You can’t just spin lies and drag me into them because you want to avoid a little teasing,” he retorted, sitting down and starting to shuffle through some papers on his desk, clearly trying to end the conversation.

“It’s not a little teasing! They’re relentless,” You pressed, leaning against his desk. “Come on, don’t you ever get tired of them trying to set us up?”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to pretend to date you. What’s next? A fake wedding?”

“Don’t be dramatic. We just need to show up together a couple of times, act mildly interested in each other, and then we can break up. We fake it, we tell them it didn’t work out, and we move on. It’s simple.”

“Of course, because nothing says ‘simple’ like faking an entire relationship.”

You crossed your arms and took a deep, calming breath. “Look, I know it’s not the greatest plan, but can you think of a better way to get them off our backs?”

Spencer stared at you, his eyes narrowing as he considered your words. “You realize you’re trying to deceive a team of profilers, right?”

He had a point, but you weren’t about to back down. “Wasn’t this your whole idea in the first place?”

“My idea was for us to act like we get along, not pretend that we’re in love.”

“It doesn’t even have to be convincing,” you argued, leaning in slightly. “Just enough to make them back off for a while. Besides, if you start laying it on too thick, they’ll never believe it. They know you don’t have much experience to begin with.”

Spencer looked offended, his brows knitting together. “I have experience,” he countered. “Just because I’m not flaunting it doesn’t mean I’m completely clueless.”

“Oh, yeah? When was the last time you were in a relationship?”

The words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, and when you noticed the sudden change in his demeanor, you realized what you had just implied. There was a tensed pause as you both stared at each other. You both knew the answer to that question, and you both knew you were treading dangerous territory.

But before either of you could break the silence, a voice cut through the tension. “What are you two lovebirds fighting about now?”

You turned to see Derek standing by his own desk, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. And then you saw it, an opportunity. If Spencer wasn’t going to agree to help willingly, you were going to take matters into your own hands.

You straightened your shoulders and faced Derek. “We need to tell you something.”

Spencer sensed what you were about to do and quickly stood up. “Wait—“

“Reid and I are dating.”

You heard Spencer take a sharp inhale. There was no turning back. The nerves in your stomach tightened, but you decided to ignore it and focus your attention on Derek instead. His eyes widened in surprise, looking between the two of you.

“You’re serious?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, crossing your arms and standing your ground, while Spencer remained silent beside you, his expression unreadable. “We decided to give it a shot.”

“At dating? As in romantically?”

“I don’t think there’s another way to describe it.”

Derek stared at you both for a moment longer, then his shock gave way to a broad grin. “Finally.” He let out an amused laugh “Took you two long enough.”

He approached with a playful swagger, clapping Spencer on the shoulder and ruffling your hair, which you quickly swatted away. “Can’t say that I’m surprised, but congratulations.”

Spencer looked at you, and you glanced back at him. Derek, oblivious to the tension between you two, grinned widely.

“I guess all that tension was just unresolved passion, huh?”

Your eyes snapped at him. “Morgan!”

“Alright, alright.” He raised his hands in mock surrender, still wearing a broad smile. “I’m just happy for you both. Seriously.”

You stared at him, bracing yourself for more teasing, perhaps a joke about what supposedly happened last night, or worse, something embarrassingly inappropriate. But to your surprise, Derek didn’t press further. Instead, he simply nodded with a genuine smile and returned to his desk, resuming his work.

You and Spencer stood there, dumbfounded, not quite sure how to process the sudden shift. You both were so used to his relentless teasing that his quick exit left you momentarily speechless.

You slightly leaned towards him as you continued to stare at Derek hunched over his desk.

“Do you hear that noise?” You whispered.

“What noise?”

“Exactly. This is the sound of peace,” you replied with a slight grin, turning back to Spencer. “See? This is already working. If we keep this up, we can finally get them off our backs.”

“I still think this is a bad idea,” he muttered, giving you a pointed look.

“Do you have a better plan?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Because I’m all ears if you do.”

Spencer sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching your face as if weighing the pros and cons. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this…” He trailed off, looking genuinely conflicted. “This is going to backfire, you know that, right?”

Sure, he could be right, but at the same time, you believed this plan was harmless. It seemed like a simple solution: a fake relationship played out convincingly enough to appease your friends. It was supposed to be straightforward—an act, a performance without real consequences. Nothing could go wrong if you controlled the narrative.

You finally looked up at him. “Don’t worry,” you said, trying to sound confident. “It won’t.”

But as the words left your mouth, you realized, you weren't entirely convinced.

[blueywrites]

i was cleaning out my keep notes and came across an idea from months ago, then just word vomited this out 😌 so here you go!

Hawkins High School is a churning cesspool of popularity contests, forced conformity, and purity culture, but being with Eddie Munson makes you forget all that. Or maybe being with him just makes you not care, like his cavalier, snarling-mutt defiance is contagious. Who gives a fuck what the reason is, really, when he makes you feel like this - stomach swooping like you're on a thrill ride, swept away by the frisson buzzing in your hot blood as he presses you up against your locker. Hot bodies against cold metal, pinned together by the hips. Tangled up in your own shared world - your fists in his battle vest, his hands smooshing up your hair as he angles you up, devouring your lips like you two aren't an active obstacle keeping the rest of the student body from flowing through this hallway. Plaque in the main artery of the school building, the pair of you are, almost certain to cause a heart attack since you've chosen now - the busiest time of the school day - to make out like you're trying to burrow down and live inside the other. 

And you love this about him. Even before you were together, you loved how Eddie would never censor himself in public - never lower his voice when he talked about shit that pissed people off, never stifle a cackle or turn down his music when they called him satanic, never rub off his nail polish even when they hissed slurs at his back. Made himself the target to take the heat off his freak friends even when it cost him; took whatever was doled out with a cut brow and a manic, flashing grin every time. It always made your heart swell. And now that he's yours, you love it even more, because it means you get the same treatment as everything else in Eddie's life that he loves. 

He doesn't hold anything back.

It means he doesn't care if anyone sees how much he cares for you, how much he wants you, how you bring out the softness that lives inside him, give it air to breathe out in the surface sunshine. It also means that he's gotta have his hands on you all the goddamn time, and if he wants to feel your soft body pressed all up on him, wants to suck on your tongue between French and Biology right where everyone can see him devouring you, well. He's gonna do it. 

And no one's ever made you feel as wanted as Eddie does. Like no amount of you could ever be too much, even when you're being weird or ugly or rotten sometimes. Eddie doesn't mind weird, or ugly, or rotten. He's a freak, after all. It doesn't phase him, 'cause he also feels weird and ugly and rotten sometimes, and that hasn't pushed you away, now, has it?

So even though you know you just bombed that stupid quiz on verb conjugations last period, you couldn't care less at the moment because Eddie's warm and heavy against you and his nose is whistling with those quick, heavy breaths as he meticulously sucks on your upper lip, working it until it's deliciously swollen and throbbing. The pull is intense, shooting little sparks down to the pit of your belly every time he tugs a little harder, suctions a little meaner, just so you'll sigh with relief when he lets your lip pop free. A devious plan of his own design, orchestrated just so he can capitalize on the opportunity to drag the broad flat of his tongue into your open mouth. 

"Mm." He hums into you, nearly a purr as your buzzing lips eagerly split wider for him. Your tongue draws his taste from his mouth into yours, feeding on spearmint and nicotine as your fingers twist in the broken curls at the nape of his neck. You echo back his satisfaction, your little moans buzzing from your ribcage into his as you both luxuriate in the rhythm of your kisses, the ebb and flow of feeling, the give and take and all that it awards you. 

Beyond the sound of his breaths, dimmed by the rabbit-fast thrumming of your own heart in your ears, the cesspool swirls, churning out its giggles and whispers, its furtive glances and pointed looks shared by passersby as they skirt around the void that you and Eddie create. You allow it to exist without paying it any attention until it forces itself between you, manifesting in the form of a green letterman jacket and a steep blonde side part lacquered church-smart with pomade. 

"Hey, freaks." The hiss is so close you feel its warm puff against your cheek through the spread of Eddie's fingers. You recoil before you can suppress the instinct, your mouth jerking from Eddie's as you sway away from the intrusion. 

Jason Carver straightens up when he succeeds in making you flinch, smug superiority in his blue eyes when you glare at him. "Save it for the trailer park," he sneers. "None of us came to school today asking to see this disgusting display."

Nevermind that Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler necked in the hall for weeks last year without anyone batting an eye. Your burning insides rear up at the insult, but Eddie wraps his forearm even tighter around your lower back - pulling you in, holding you even closer as he turns his head toward Jason. "Aw, Jasie-poo," he coos, brows puckered in a mockery of sympathy. "Don't be jealous, baby. If you wanted me to kiss you, all you had to do was ask."

You watch as Eddie melts into a seductive performance, batting his lashes and pursing his lips, pink and pouty and spit-slick from your shared saliva. He leans in toward the shorter boy, smacking his lips with a series of exaggerated kissy noises. 

Jason's face jumps with alarm, disgust and embarrassment warring in his features. He sputters, grasping for a retort until he finally spits out a "Fuck you, Munson."

Instantly, Eddie's face lights up, his brown eyes wide and his grin full and manic. Jason's expression falls further as Eddie lets his tongue fall out, wagging it at him, delighted that it took so little effort to get Jason to lose himself and curse. 

Red-faced, bested, Jason retreats. And when Eddie curls his tongue back behind his teeth - sharp, victorious, subversively powerful - you feel a surge of intense attraction towards him.

What can you say? His antics really turn you on.

Eddie stares down the hallway at the back of the retreating jock he scared off, oblivious to how your pussy has taken you over, turned you rabid for him. As soon as his chin nudges back in your direction, you snatch him up, surging up to your toes to kiss the breath from him. He stumbles, making a little whimpery noise of surprise as you wrap your arms around his neck, a beat late in clutching you back, trying to keep up with the deep, thorough pace of your lips. 

Once you can bear it, you pull away briefly, your eyes flicking up to his, taking in his blown pupils and slightly dazed expression. "That was hot," you murmur against his lips, and he smirks crookedly for only a fraction of a second before you dive back in. 

It was heated between you before you were interrupted, but now, the intensity has transformed, taken on an edge of urgency and need beyond what it should considering you're in public - freaks or not. Your chest heaves as Eddie presses closer, squishing you hard against the locker, one palm dragging heavy and damp down the side of your neck to land against your collarbone. You suck on his lower lip, coaxing out little noises you can feel more than hear as they vibrate in your chests, your libido raging as his thumb flexes over the neckline of your shirt, clearly yearning to edge beneath it. 

It's when you nibble him - bare your teeth and sink them into his lower lip, a light, stinging pressure that promises more - that Eddie breaks away from you, rearing his head back with a heavy exhale. His adam's apple bobs with a thick swallow, and though his tone is light, he sounds slightly hoarse when he exclaims, "Okay, okay. Don't wanna pop a boner in the hallway." 

You giggle, slowly walking two fingers up his chest - over denim and pins, pausing at the hand-sewn patch over his heart. Low, husky, you murmur, "You sure?" 

A chuckle bursts from him, breathless and bordering on hysterical as he looks down at you - dark eyes like liquid, melted for you. "You're a goddamn vixen--"

"Munson!" The heft of the snapping voice promises more than just social trouble, and Eddie jumps with you this time. Synchronized, you both whip around to see Mrs. O'Donnell glowering at you from behind wire-rim glasses. "Get out of my sight this instant before--"

He doesn't give her a chance to finish. Snatching up your hand, Eddie spins on his heel, booking it in the opposite direction, hobbling slightly as his other hand hovers over the front of his dark jeans to protect his modesty.

Don't ever let it be said that Eddie Munson never knows when to pick his battles.

[starsstuddedsky]

Needles and Knives

red hood!jeno x doctor!reader

...

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

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

...

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

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

warnings: gore, mentions of death, violence, cursing

wc: 16k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who said anything about begging?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But she did survive?” Jeno asks. 

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

He nods. 

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

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

“You really think that?” 

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

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

“I should take a shower,” you say. 

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

.

.

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

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

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

Maybe he’s a little consumed with rage. 

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

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

Hunt Joker. Get revenge. 

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

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

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

And then you showed up. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

For a scary moment, he doesn’t move. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

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

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

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

Still alive, for now. 

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t answer. 

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

“Jeno?” 

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

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

“You’re taller,” you finally said. 

“It has been a while,” he said. 

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

He just nodded. “You’ve moved here?” 

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

“You’re on your own?” 

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

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

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

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

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“YN. You know it’s not a costume.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think I love you,” he whispers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

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

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

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

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

Even if you can’t stop dreaming about him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“His name is Killer Croc.” 

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

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

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

“What happened?” 

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

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

“Is Jaehyun going to be okay?” 

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

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

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

“Did you get to meet him?” 

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

“And?” 

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

“So basically you’re obsessed?” 

“Yep.” 

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

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s really going to miss you. 

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

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

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

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

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

You could call him. He’d come. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then the man in the black mask strolls in. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

That’s where he’ll start. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which includes you,” Jeno says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeno nods. Resolve the situation, then talk. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nods slowly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re safe now,” he says. 

“I know.” 

He pauses. “You can let go.” 

“Not ready yet.” 

“Okay.” 

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

“Black Mask is getting away,” you say. 

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” he says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

Bonus: 

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

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

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

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

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

You make a face, nose scrunching. 

“No?” 

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

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

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

“What are you talking about?” 

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

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

“How’s your head?” He asks. 

“Concussed,” you say flatly. 

“You want to sleep?” He asks. 

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

“What?” He asks. “Is this okay?” 

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

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

You pause for a long moment. “Honestly?” 

“Yeah.” 

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

Jeno snorts. 

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

“They’re functional,” he says. 

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

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

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

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

“No wonder you died,” you say. 

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

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

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

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

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[icarryitin]

Trade Deal

spencer reid/gn!reader

i started this bc i was ill and feeling sorry for myself and it turned into a very not to me not if it’s you kind of vibe, mostly bc i frankensteined a couple of my favourite translations of That Scene so they could have their own version🥰🥰

series masterlist

word count: 1.5k // warnings: reader has a cold and all the grossness that comes with it, spencer is so Cute™️ it causes me physical pain

summary: In which Spencer Reid, known germaphobe, pretends he doesn’t know exactly how many pathogens have made their home in your sinuses.

It starts with a scratchy throat on a Tuesday morning.

You don’t think much of it, blame it on seasonal allergies, knock back a multivitamin - you’re not about to be bested by a cough of all things. That is, until it gets to Friday afternoon. You’re trying, you really are. Your immune system has other plans.

“You stay right there, Patient Zero.”

Rossi’s comment would be funny if you didn’t think that laughing might trigger a coughing fit that could very well be the end of you, right there in the doorway of Hotch’s office. That’d be one hell of an epitaph - too stubborn to take a sick day, choked to death in boss’s office. Hotch, at least, already seems to know why you’re hovering.

“I’m-“

“Going home, I hope.” He interrupts you with all the fondness of a concerned father. You don’t have the energy to argue, or to hold up an unaffected front. The men standing by the window soften a little as they watch you visibly deflate. Dave promises to send you his Nonna’s minestrone recipe, there’s nothing it can’t cure; right now, though, you’re only thinking about your bed.

The well wishes follow you through the bullpen, old wives tales and family cures that have never failed. JJ tells you to sweeten your tea with honey, Derek swears that a hot water bottle on your back will work magic. Even Emily pipes up from behind her germ shield, the folder held across her face so you can only see her eyes, and tells you to take a hot shower first thing in the morning - the steam will clear you out for the day. There’s a chorus of agreement, or disagreement you’re not sure. It’s a struggle to hear much over the cotton wool in your ears.

“We’ll see, with any luck I’ll die in my sleep. Love you!” You sniffle as you back out of the office, feeling all kinds of sorry for yourself, and determined to make it as far as you can without touching anything. Lest you actually start the next plague.

Spencer watches you go, shuffling backwards out of the office and turning towards the elevators. He’d elected not to add his own suggestions to the plethora of options supplied by the rest of the team. Unable to focus on much beyond just how tired you look. You’ve been fighting this thing all week, he’d passed over his own supply of hand sanitiser only that morning when you ran out. Ultimately, you put up a good fight, but there’s no cure for a virus. It just has to run its course. Just like his own feelings.

Okay, maybe he shouldn’t be comparing a virus to whatever it is he feels for you. Has felt, will feel - if there’s an end to this tunnel, he can’t see it yet.

“What about you, Spence?”

JJ’s voice pulls him from his thoughts before he can start spiralling down that particular hole. It takes him a moment to recall what they’d been chattering about before your long overdue exit - drinks, right. Yeah, that’s not happening.

“I’m busy, actually.” He shrugs, content to miss out on one night in favour of the plan currently coming to fruition in his mind. They won’t miss him too much.

“Busy? You weren’t busy when we talked about it last week.” Emily makes no effort to conceal her surprise. To be fair to them, it’s not like him to blow them off. There’s just something that’s come up, something decidedly you shaped, that’s far more important.

“Yeah, I forgot. Sorry.”

Spencer doesn’t miss the look that JJ and Emily share, he doesn’t miss the eyebrow that Derek raises in his direction. He simply chooses to ignore them.

At least the walk to your apartment is short, there’s still heat leeching from the plastic bag around Spencer’s wrist as he fumbles with his keys. You’d given him a bright pink key cap, so he’d know which one was yours, as if he wouldn’t know anyway. Eidetic or not, that’s one he would have committed to memory. The excuse had been because he was helping you out whilst you were down an arm, takedown gone wrong, you’d dislocated your shoulder. And then you’d insisted he keep it, because someone should have your spare key, and he’s the least likely of the lot of you to lose it.

He thinks you might be asleep at first, open plan living area lit only by a salt lamp and a set of fairy lights draped over your kitchen window, it’s cosy. And then you appear in the bedroom doorway, wrapped in a jewel toned blanket. The low light is forgiving, but Spencer would be able to spot the bags under your eyes from a mile away. Without his glasses.

“I brought noodles.” He says as he turns back to set the steaming bag on your kitchen counter.

“I’m so gross right now.” As if to demonstrate your point, another cough racks your body. You just about manage to catch it under the swathes of blanket clutched in your fingers, but at least he can’t claim you’re not truly disgusting in this moment.

“I don’t mind.”

You’re so set on denying him entry that you don’t even really register what he said - Spencer Reid doesn’t mind that you’re ill. He doesn’t mind. A younger, healthier version of you would swoon. You might anyway, although that’s probably the vertigo talking.

“You’ll get sick.” Your rebuttal is weak, resolve crumbling. Warm noodles do sound pretty good right now.

“Will you let me help you, please?” It’s the firmest he’s ever been with you. No room for argument, doctor’s orders. So you have to relent. Not that you have much of a choice, he’s already pottering about in your kitchen in search of bowls. As if he doesn’t remember where they are.

“Did you get me a number three?” Your voice is brighter than he’s heard it all week.

“With extra toppings, of course.”

And those extra toppings go down a treat, of course they do.

Spencer watches you carefully as you eat - usually he’d be a little more subtle about it, but there’s not a lot that could pull your attention away from the bowl in your hands. You’re cross legged on the couch, blanket bunched around your middle, happy as a clam. Something his mother would say. He wonders what else she might say, what she might think about the abandonment of his germaphobia. Convenient, probably. Diana would say it with a raised eyebrow and a sly smile, the one that’s just for him. She has always liked you.

He promises he’ll be back tomorrow, once dishes are washed and leftovers are tucked neatly in your fridge, to make sure you get that hot shower Emily mentioned. The steam will definitely help, he’s read about it. Arguing with him would be pointless. You don’t have the energy, he’d only show up anyway, and it’s kind of nice to feel looked after. Spencer’s never failed to make you feel like that. You’re far too delirious to start thinking about that, not while he’s still standing in front of you at least. So you let him tuck you into bed, let him leave a glass of water on the table, let him dote. Pretending is a comfort when you feel as awful as you do. You’re already drifting off before he’s even ready to leave, content enough in your bed with the sound of him in the other room. Just, tinkering.

The sound of your front door opening rouses you the next morning, just about. Just enough to raise your head from your pillow and witness the sorry sight in your bedroom doorway.

Spencer’s trying - key word, trying - to suppress his sniffles, but the red rimmed eyes and tissue clutched in his fist give him away. It’s impossible to keep the sad little smile off of your face.

“Oh no.” You reach out a tired arm to pat the space beside you. There’s enough room for the two of you in amongst the blankets, and Spencer’s so far gone that he doesn’t even argue. His shoes and bag find a home at the foot of your bed as he lets himself collapse into the nest you’ve built. Tension leeches out of his body the moment he hits the mattress.

You have to lean across him to get your phone, right arm outstretched over his back - you can feel the heat rising off of him through his sweater and yours. Fever, that’s day two. Which means he spent yesterday evening taking care of you whilst he began to feel worse and worse. Softie.

“Egg or no egg?”

There’s an affirmative grunt from where his face is buried in your blankets. Egg it is, then. You dial the number mostly from memory, elbow still resting on his shoulder blade when you put the phone to your ear. You feel a little better than you did, but dragging yourself to the front door is still probably all you’ll be capable of today. At least you won’t be suffering alone. The line rings for a moment, then clicks, and a grainy hello sounds from the other side.

“Hi, can I place a breakfast order for delivery, please?”

i’m stuck on which chapter to work on next, do we want angst or yearning or fun flirty activities????🧡

[erinwantstowrite]

hi!! first off i just want to say i love LOF and i think it really stands out in this niche genre of “spiderman in gotham”, its my absolute favourite fic rn and im loving the long chapters and dynamics between characters :)

for my question, i wanted to know if you ever considered writing any portions of peters past. specifically when he was “Parker”, an informant for the avengers. it sounds like a really interesting story and i’d love to know more about it, no pressure tho ^^

thank you so much!! I do plan on writing more about it. I honestly want to do a prequel,,,

I have some of it written actually. It was called It's called "Technically Not a Lie (Just Omitting Information)" and what is hilarious about that is it's only 27,000 words right now. I haven't touched that fic in forever because I just... had all of the information written down and the planning, and I got into Batfam and was like "Let's just write a little about this" and we can all blame @alighterwood for where we are now LMFAOOO

Thing is, I never expected LoF to get so popular, which is why it was posted first. I was like "I'll just make sure as much as I can that LoF is clear about his past so anyone who isn't me can read it and be fine." And now that we're here, I'm like "...that might be important."

I think it would be fun to have a prequel so more people can see the dynamics of Peter's world from before LoF in a much clearer light.

I kind of wanna shed a little light on how this prequel would go:

He ran from his last foster house at 12 years old, and he's year years old in this fic. In that time, he has been determined to make a life for himself all on his own, as well as help people as Spider-Man. He has no idea that his personality made people trust him so much. He's only on the street for about a year by the time the story starts, but "Parker" is very much intertwined with people. People just know him, he's the kid that the other kids go to for help. Even without Spider-Man (who, at this point, has only just gotten a proper suit and people actually realize he's not a cryptid), Parker manages to help people.

That's why the Avengers end up talking to him. Kids are going missing in Queens and show up dead- but most of them are the homeless population. They think it has something to do with people trying to make a knock-off super solider serum, and during their investigation, everything comes back to "That Parker Guy." Not in a bad way- everything has nice things to say. One kid even says they'll only talk to them if Parker vouches for them.

Turns out, Parker is a 13 year old and a fucking genius. I mentioned in LoF chapter 1 about it a little bit, and here and there it was mentioned. Peter gives the Avengers a real run for their money the way he does for the Batfam. Except it's ten times worse because he hasn't gone to therapy and is on his own, yknow?

So Bucky and Steve run across Peter (who is doing his own investigation into the missing kids as both Parker and Spider-Man) and that conversation ends with Peter going "Look behind you!" and sprinting in the opposite direction.

Sam and Banner are the ones that really track Parker down and have the first contact with him, and from there, he becomes their informant. Of course, he's also lying to their faces. Swears that he has a mother waiting for him and that he's just really good friends with these people. And people have lied several times to their faces for Peter, going with the lie, which muddies the waters about what is and isn't the truth.

From there, the rest is history. Tony thought he was just viewing Peter like he was a puzzle to figure out, and is truly shaken to his core when he realizes how much he cares about the little shit. When Peter gets kidnapped by the people making the knock off serum, they go looking for him. And Peter ends up having a home :)

[azureseacloud]

Hidden Messages

Ghost (Band)

Part 5

Dewdrop x reader

Words: 4839

Warnings: swearing, shenanigans, ✨ghouls✨

So, uh, I know it’s been a while but I finally finished this part and I honestly don’t know what happened but somehow it is double the size of the others (oops). There goes my attempt at keeping them all the same length 😭

Not sure when the next part will be out, but I am riding the strong wave of hyperfixation that I got from watching the ghovie, so it will hopefully take less time than this part.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy, and if you want to chat about ghost or the ghovie or anything really, shoot me a message (I don���t bite, unlike the ghouls ;)

Thanks for your support, love you all <3

Taglist: @gummy-dummy

@viylikescats

@ghoulettess

@starwalker3001

Striding hurriedly through the corridor, you grasped the cup of fresh coffee tightly. Its warmth seeped into the palm of your hand as the strong aroma hung in the air.

Tucked under your other arm was your laptop enclosed on a folder containing the last documents that you had finished last night. You rounded the corner, ducking down the next left and knocking on the first door with your free hand.

“Come in,” Sister Imperator’s stern voice sounded from the other side.

You opened the door, trying not to drop the laptop precariously held under your arm.

“Good morning, Sister,” you greeted her as you made your way over to stand before her desk.

She sat in her chair, a set of glasses perched on her nose. Her greying hair was done up in a tight bun with a few loose strands falling around her face. The suit she wore was a smooth grey.

“Morning. Do you have everything that I asked for?” She replied, her voice stern. That was how it always was though, and it was the one word that perfectly described her entire demeanour.

“Right here.” You handed her the folder of documents. “And I emailed the rest of them as well.”

Sister nodded as she flicked through the pages, skimming each one. Your eyes wandered around the room, scanning over the various novels and grimoires stuffed into the dark bookshelf that took up most of the room.

Practice started in ten minutes, and you were hoping this meeting would be short. You could have had extra time if not for Cirrus, who hadn’t wanted to let you go just as Dewdrop had the morning before.

Ghouls were so much like cats.

It was a similarity you had marked several times throughout working with them. Although, when you had brought it up to Phantom one time, he’d vehemently denied it, even though he’d literally been purring loudly right before you said it.

“Did you sort out the issue with the venue?” Sister asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Yes, they needed an extra few forms filled out for the pyrotechnics. I filled those out, just waiting now for their confirmation, which we should receive some time today.”

She nodded, finishing flicking through the files. “Excellent work.”

“Thank you, Sister.” You smiled graciously.

“What are you planning to do today?”

“I was going to watch the ghouls and Papa practice. But if there’s something you need my help with, I’ll gladly lend a hand.”

Sister Imperator’s gaze roved over you. It always felt like she was somehow seeing through you and into your mind.

“No, that’s fine.” She looked back down at the papers again, shuffling them, before glancing back up. “The ghouls seem to be very fond of you.”

You blinked, unsure what to say. “Yeah, they seem to like me.”

Sister’s piercing eyes moved over your face, as if analysing your thoughts and feelings just by taking in your features. A chill ran up your spine before she ended the brief silence.

“Don’t ever forget that they aren’t like us. They aren’t human, no matter how convincing they may seem.” Her words were etched with warning. “I’d hate for you to get hurt. You’d be so very hard to replace.”

You nodded respectfully, her words and their possible meanings running through your mind.

“You may go.” She waved a hand, and you hurried out of the room, holding your laptop tightly under your arm. Was she trying to warn you?

Or was that a threat?

******

They were in the middle of a song by the time you made it down to the rehearsal room. The muffled thumping of the beats and the sweet cries of guitars could be heard through the walls as you beelined for the door.

Pausing with your hand on the handle, you took a moment to collect yourself. You were already aware that Dew was going to be out for your attention, just as he had yesterday. Perhaps even more so.

But he wouldn’t be the only one. All the ghouls became “absolute attention whores”—as you had heard the siblings of sin describe it—when on stage. And today, there was only one person to focus their antics on.

Why did you agree to this again?

Before you could get too caught up in your thoughts—or think back to Sister Imperator’s cryptic words that had been stuck in your head the entire walk down—you twisted the handle and opened the door.

The music washed over you in a loud wave, the blaring sounds of guitars, drums, keyboards and the vocals belonging to Papa and his ghouls filling your ears. Music was always so much more magical when it was performed live, and you were already tapping your fingers against your thigh in time with the beat.

You closed the door behind you, eyes darting immediately to the stage. Dew was staring straight at you already, deftly playing his signature white guitar. He tilted the guitar to the side, flashing the ‘You Suck’ sticker on the back in way of greeting.

How wonderful.

Flipping him off in return, you tore your eyes off his figure (holy shit that cape!) to slide over the other ghouls as you made your way to the front. Cirrus waved from her spot, flaring the blue of her cape. You shot her a thumbs up, clapping as she did a little twirl. Aurora waved as she and Cumulus sang the backup vocals into the same mic. Swiss flashed his (slightly creepy) smile, giving a delicate wave that quickly turned into him motioning ‘come here’ with his two fingers as he swayed his hips to the music.

Phantom stole your gaze then, stepping in and swinging his guitar under a leg while still playing. Behind him, Rain gave you a friendly nod, which you returned with a smile.

All of them looked amazing, the satin blue adding a splash of colour that contrasted wonderfully with their black uniforms. It gave them all a regal air, and you could see that they seemed pretty thrilled about the accessory.

You stopped halfway down the rows of benches, leaning against one as you waited for the song to finish, unsure where to sit. It was slightly daunting having them all focus on you like this.

“Cry all you want, but there’s not a single fucking thing you can do about those goddamn Rats.” Papa Copia hissed out, his bright blue jacket practically glowing under the lights.

You were nodding along until the song finished, the final echoes of the guitars fading.

“Hello lovely Sibling,” Copia greeted, speaking into the mic. You smiled back, waving shyly. “Come closer, we don’t bite—well they do but I’m sure you’re used to that.” He laughed at his little joke, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

Copia was always a friendly face, with his cheeky jokes and eccentric quirks. He was very different to all the other papas, but you liked him. He’d made you feel comfortable when you had first arrived here, and that was something that you were always reminded of when you saw him. He still checked in every now and then, ensuring that his ghouls were treating you right and that Sister wasn’t working you too hard.

“It sounded really good,” you called up at them as you made your way to the front. You forced your eyes to stay on Copia, even though you wanted to look at the ghoul to the right of him. You’d have plenty of time to admire Dewdrop later, you reminded yourself, although you weren’t sure if it was a good idea to give him that satisfaction.

“Ah, thank you my dear. It will be nice to have someone in here to perform for. We all have a few new tricks to test out.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, getting a laugh out of you as you sat down in the front row, slightly to the right.

Papa grouped the ghouls together, probably discussing the order of songs or those ‘new tricks’ he had mentioned. After a moment they all returned to their positions as Copia vanished somewhere up the back, most likely to make a grand entrance for the next song.

Your gaze flicked to Dew as he stepped over to the very edge of the stage, looking down at you in a way that had shivers racing down your spine.

That was a view you could get used to.

Your eyes began tracing his figure, stopping to admire certain points—the way he held the guitar casually, how his hand wrapped loosely around the neck, his fucking gorgeous boots that you had always been so jealous of, and the way his jacket clung to his form. Then there was the cape. That fucking cape. The buckle clasped across one side of his chest like an insignia, the blue spilling out over his should—

You stiffened, snapping to realisation of where your thoughts, and your eyes, had travelled to. Fuck.

Looking back up sheepishly, you could feel the ghoul’s cocky smirk, knowing he would have been watching you the whole time. Darting your eyes back to the front of the stage, you cleared your throat, kicking one leg over the other and leaning back in the seat, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Aw, don’t get all shy on me, my dearest.” The smug edge in his voice was unmissable. “There’s no need to be embarrassed for liking what you see.” You rolled your eyes, ignoring the subtle heat that had settled in your cheeks. Or at least, you hoped it was subtle.

“Relax Dew,” you lightly called up to him. “I was just having a look at the new cape. Cirrus has been telling me all about it.” And it certainly looked fucking amazing on him, but you weren’t going to say that. “Believe it or not, not everyone wants to fuck you.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you knew that you had just set yourself up.

The ghoul cackled, leaning over the stage to look down at you. “Wrong, sweetheart. And the way you can’t keep your eyes off me tells me that you definitely do as well. All you have to do is ask, lovely sin, and I’ll show you just how much you’re missing.”

You stared back up at the ghoul, mouth falling open. You heard him huff a laugh at your reaction, sending heat rushing to your cheeks. Before you could protest—or keel over and die from what he had just said—Mountain’s drums echoed out and just like that, the music started.

You instantly ripped your eyes away from the cocky ghoul, pinpointing Cirrus who was jumping around at her keyboard. She waved and you managed a small wave back. But even without your eyes on him, all you could think about now was that fucking fire ghoul and what he had just said.

Unholy shit, did that mean he knew how you felt about him!? Had your reaction just given it away? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Maybe he was just messing with you. That was all, right? He didn’t actually want to fuck you—did he? What if he did?

More importantly, was he aware that his words had literally just short-circuited your brain? Deep fried it? Baked and roasted and toasted? The rehearsal had barely even started and he’d already got to you.

You snapped out of your spiralling thoughts as Copia reached the microphone just in front of you, his voice pouring out the lyrics to Call Me Little Sunshine. You could hear your frantic heart thumping against the beat of the drums, as you tried to focus on what Copia was singing, and not those other thoughts that were fighting to overrun your mind. You had to pull it together.

Then that ghoul waltzed smoothly into your eyeline, his fingers skirting along the frets of the guitar. Unbidden, a picture rose to mind of him running those fingers along your body, as his mouth—

Nope, you were not going to think about that right now.

You shifted in your seat, catching the smug tilt of Dew’s head, as if he was aware of the turn your thoughts had taken. You exhaled, recovering your composure, and returned your gaze to Copia.

“You will never walk alone,” Papa sung, his beautiful ghostly voice and intense eye contact giving you chills as you watched with awe. “You can always reach me. You will never ever walk alone.”

“Call me!” Swiss, Cumulus and Aurora’s voices rung out, hauntingly beautiful in their harmony. Swiss smiled at you again, flashing those brilliant white teeth, and you smiled back.

The performance really was amazing, especially being this close to the stage. You’d gotten the job a few months ago, in the middle of their break, so you hadn’t really had the opportunity to see them perform, except for the occasional event at the clergy. But that usually ended with you in the back of the crowd, so watching them today was a whole different experience.

Dew crossed your vision again, this time pointing at you as it reached the chorus again, then making a ‘call me’ motion. Rolling your eyes with a smile, you watched as Rain cut in front of him, languidly reaching his ringed hand out towards you. You reached out as well, your hands too far apart to touch.

Then Phantom pushed in front, leaning backwards over the stage, his upside-down goggled eyes staring at you. Rain and Dew both grabbed the Quintessence ghoul before he fell, pulling him back on the stage as the song ended. You giggled as Rain steadied Phantom, while Dew just gave him a smack on the helmet.

Once they’d sorted that out, Dewdrop stepped up to the front and launched straight into Square Hammer. The three guitarist ghouls were in front of you as they began on the opening, Dew leaning back with Rain. Phantom joined them for the next part, all of them stomping in unison.

You really wanted those boots. Maybe you could steal a pair off Cirrus.

As Papa’s voice began, Dew threw a pick at you. Somehow, you miraculously managed to catch it before it hit your face, raising an eyebrow at the ghoul as he swaggered back to his side of the stage. You slipped it into your pocket, hiding the smile it brought to your face.

It went on like this for a while as they went through every song on their set list. You were bobbing your head and tapping your fingers with the beat, singing along with them. When Cirrus came over for her solo in Mummy Dust, you loudly cheered her on, both of you blowing kisses at each other.

On the other hand, Dewdrop was certainly out to get you. Aside from his usual movements and charm, he was definitely putting on a show for you: hovering on the edge of the stage right above you, running his hands along his body slowly in a way that had your heart racing, licking his fingers and even the guitar, plus a whole lot of other innuendo gestures and actions he seemed to fit into each song.

You were certain the little gremlin was making sure that you were looking in his direction whenever he did any of those actions. It was driving you crazy—and although you tried your hardest to pretend otherwise, you were sure that some of your reactions were noticeable. Worse, you almost couldn’t take your eyes off him, and your thoughts kept spiralling as much as you tried to shut them down.

But by Satan, you were loving it.

Toward the end of the rehearsal, during a short break, Cirrus hopped down the stage and came over to you.

“How are you going?” She asked with the hint of a smile in her voice. You were sure your face said it all—you were practically buzzing with energy.

“Fucking fantastic,” you answered back, nodding at her cape. “You were right about looking absolutely stunning.”

“Aw, thanks gorgeous.” She did a small twirl with it, then grabbed your hands and pulled you up to stand. Staggering at the unexpected movement, she used her grip to steady you.

“What are you doing?” You asked as she began leading you through the seats to the left. There was a little corridor there, which you assumed led up to the—oh no.

“Bringing you up to play with me,” she answered with a wicked grin as your mind landed on the same conclusion.

“Uh Cirrus, I don’t think—“

“You’ll be fine.” The corridor was small and closed off from the rest of the rehearsal room. She led you through it, her hand still firmly on yours. “So, how’s the show?”

“Really good. You’re all so amazing. And the capes are just breathtaking.”

“What about Dew?” She asked, giving you a teasing side look. “Better than those videos I keep sending you?”

“Is that even a question you need to ask? Of course it’s better.” Cirrus laughed at that, a giggle escaping you as well while your cheeks heated.

“Mmm, I thought so from the way you’ve been staring at him.”

“Shut up,” you whispered back at her. “I just can’t help it, and I think that maybe he’s noticed.” You weren’t going to repeat the words he had said to you at the beginning—you would tell her that later, when you weren’t in the same vicinity as the fire ghoul.

“You don’t say?” She gasped, sarcasm heavy in her voice as a smirk tugged at her lips.

Fuck, if that was Cirrus’ reaction then you had definitely not been subtle.

Just then, the corridor opened up into a cozy backstage area, with velvet carpeting and a set of red couches to the side. There were a couple mirrors fitted with benches—ready for last minute and mid-show adjustments, you assumed. A large rack of clothing was beside one of the couches, hung with what looked like Papa’s various outfits.

Copia was there, getting changed into his signature red jacket. He looked up as you walked in.

“Ah, are you going to join us for the next song, lovely sibling?” His eyes lit up as he asked.

“I don’t think I really have much of a choice,” you answered, as Cirrus tugged you to the front of the room. Before Copia could reply, you were out onto the stage. She brought you up to her platform and only let you go once you’d reached the keyboard, as if she suspected you might try to run away.

You looked over the stage, taking in the view of the empty room. It was admittedly a little daunting, being up on stage like this, even without a crowd present.

Yeah, maybe running away was a good idea.

“Finally come up to play with us?” Swiss called from his own platform, a hand caressing his mic stand once again. You were sure that ghoul had been a stripper in hell—if the mic stand was swapped out for a pole, you didn’t think there would be much difference.

“Yes,” you replied, nodding your head as Cirrus draped her arm around your shoulders. “I am totally not a hostage right now.”

Swiss snorted. You thought you heard another laugh, spotting Phantom as he joined the three of you.

“I see Cirrus has brought us an unwilling victim,” Phantom joked, sliding his pick along the string. You heard the sound of another guitar join the echoes of Phantom’s as Dew began playing his own solo. Even from the distance, you could see his fingers moving insanely fast.

“Show off,” Cirrus commented, squeezing your shoulder pointedly. You didn’t miss the way Swiss looked between you and the ghoul currently shredding his guitar, a smile slowly growing on his face. He opened his mouth to say something just as Papa walked out.

“Are we all ready?” Copia’s voice was barely audible over the sound of Dew’s guitar. He propped his hands on his hips, glaring at the oblivious ghoul until Rain grabbed his shoulder, stopping the fire ghoul and gesturing over at Papa.

“I said,” Copia began, this time speaking into the mic, “are we ready? Three, two, one!”

They jumped right in to the next song. It only took a few seconds before you placed it—Kiss the Go Goat.

Cirrus’ energy was contagious, and it wasn’t long before you were jumping around with her. The two of you danced around the platform, Cirrus letting you play the very few notes that you remembered from when she had taught you, while she easily covered the rest that you didn’t.

As she moved her fingers smoothly across the keys, her other hand pulled you to the mic as the pre-chorus came close. You shook your head at her, but she just smiled and drew you closer.

When it arrived, the two of you sang into the mic together, Cirrus smiling widely. You grinned back, pushing away your doubts as you shyly sung the next backing vocals along with her.

You almost didn’t notice Dew stopping by Swiss’ platform, the multi ghoul crouching down with him. Your eyes were immediately set on the two ghouls. What were they up to?

Dew stepped away, catching your stare. He started sauntering your way, stopping just in front of the platform. Tilting his head, he exhaled, smoke slowly seeping out of his helmet.

Oh. Unholy fuck.

The fire ghoul walked back a few steps, still watching you, then turned back around, returning to his spot on stage.

While you were still processing that—and how fucking attractive it was—Cirrus gave you a sharp jab in the ribs and you jolted back to reality.

“He definitely knows,” she said in your ear gleefully. “He did that just for you.”

You swatted her hand away, scowling at her. She grinned teasingly, leaning back into the mic with you as the next pre-chorus arrived.

“Please youuu,” you both sung, blending your vocals with those of Swiss, Aurora and Cumulus.

As soon as the chorus ended, Cirrus launched into her keyboard solo. Standing back to give her space, something brushed against your arm and you twisted around to see Swiss. He held out his hand, waiting for you to take it. You rolled your eyes, placing your hand in his and letting him steal you away to his platform while Cirrus was distracted.

“Having fun?” He asked, handing you his tambourine as he swayed along to the music.

“Of course.” You tapped the instrument along as the keyboard transitioned to guitar. “You guys have the best job in the clergy.”

“Actually, I think you have the best job.” Swiss leaned in closer. “You get to admire us all day.”

You smacked his arm playfully with the tambourine, the ghoul’s teeth gleaming in a teasing way as Dew’s solo came to an end. You kept in rhythm as best you could with the Tamborine, as Swiss handled the back up vocals.

Your eyes caught the shine of a white guitar as Dew threw a pick at Swiss. It bounced off his goggles, the multi ghoul making a rather suggestive gesture to Dewdrop in return, thrusting his hips against the microphone stand.

Dewdrop’s attention switched back to you, and he pointed at his chest.

“He’s the guy you wanna do,” Papa sang. Dew moved his hand, holding up two fingers. “And you know that it takes two. Luckily, he wants to do you too.”

You watched as Dew tilted his hand and curled his two fingers smoothly toward you, in a motion that couldn’t be mistaken in any other way.

Then the charming ghoul blew a kiss, before strumming out the ending of the song, twisting with just enough force to have his cape flare behind him in a dramatic image that you would mentally save in your mind.

And then he was walking away once again, Phantom tilting his head curiously as he watched the other guitarist leave.

Swiss tapped you on the shoulder, and you ripped your eyes away from the fire ghoul, mentally trying to smooth your expression.

“What?”

“He’s definitely got it out for you today,” Swiss smirked. “I don’t think I’ve seen him this feral before, especially at rehearsal.”

“No he doesn’t,” you replied back, offering the Tamborine to the multi ghoul. He took it, shaking it at you.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He flashed another smile as Dance Macabre began. “But that ghoul definitely wants to bewitch you all night.”

You let out an exasperated sigh in response, rolling your eyes at the multi ghoul as he snickered at his own joke.

The next two songs went by rather quickly. You returned to Cirrus’ platform, where Aurora and Cumulus visited to sing and dance along with you. Surprisingly, there were no visits from Dewdrop this time—which was good, because you weren’t entirely sure how many more you could take. He was all over your mind, and you were finding yourself subconsciously looking in his direction every few seconds, which didn’t go unnoticed by Cirrus.

As the last song finally ended, Copia turned around, doing a little ‘ta-da’ motion with his hands as the last of the guitars faded out.

“So, how did we do, lovely sibling?”

“You were all perfect,” you called out, giving him a thumbs up.

Papa clapped his hands. “Excellent. You were pretty perfect yourself, no? Thank you for joining us today, it’s always better to perform to an audience instead of an empty room. Now, I do believe I am wanted by Sister, but the rest of you can continue without me. I want you to do one more run through.” He began to walk to the backstage then paused, putting a finger up.

“No shenanigans.” The warning seemed to be mainly directed at Swiss and Dew. He gave them each a pointed look, then made his way off the stage.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You quickly checked it, spotting a few emails from the venue that you’d sent the pyrotechnic forms to last night. Instead of clearing it, it seemed like they had a few more concerns that you would have to address. Yay.

“Are you staying here with us?” Aurora asked, tapping her hands together.

“I would love to, but it seems like this venue has some more forms to fill out,” you sighed. “Thanks for letting me join though, it was a lot of fun. I love your capes!” Aurora and Cumulus both did a twirl, the smaller ghoul giggling as they gave you a hug before returning to their platforms.

Cirrus simply gave you a knowing grin that told you she would be teasing you all about Dew later. You sighed.

“I’ll see you later.”

“You definitely will,” she sang back.

You had a quick (and super subtle) look for the fire ghoul as you headed to the back of the stage. You couldn’t see him, and it wasn’t until you reached the doorway of the backstage room that something grabbed you by the waist, spinning you around so your back was pressed against their chest.

“Looking for me, dearest sibling?” He purred in your ear, the warmth from his body seeping into your skin.

Heart racing, you didn’t move as he leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning across your neck.

“Oh, hi Dew. I didn’t see you there.” He hummed in response, thumbs brushing over your hips and your breath hitched.

“I told you that you wouldn’t be able to keep your eyes off me.” His smug voice was right next to your ear.

“I-no-That’s not true,” you countered, even as you knew it certainly was. You had no doubt he knew too.

“You’re so fucking cute when you’re flustered,” Dew murmured gleefully, running his hands along your sides as he released you with a teasing laugh.

You stood there for a moment, completely flabbergasted, as he strode back out onto the stage like he hadn’t just got your heart racing so fast you wouldn’t be surprised if you went into cardiac arrest. Reaching out a hand, you leaned heavily against the wall not trusting your legs.

Unholy shit.

Unholy Shit.

You had a lot to process. Seeing them perform up close—having him perform up close, was something you definitely needed to see again. None of those videos compared to actually being there. But at the same time, you almost felt like your heart was going to give out. He knew exactly what to do to get you flushed and heated.

And what he had just done? You could still feel the warmth of his body, his breath on your neck and hear the echoes of his laugh. It seemed that maybe, just maybe, Cirrus was right about him being interested in you.

Satan, what were you going to do now?

[ashen-char]

brace yourself

ship: amber freeman (scream) x fem reader

warnings: some jokes about blood/murder since its amber yknow, not much tho

summary: after getting braces, you feel insecure about it. your girlfriend amber reassures you about it

word count: 1100+

notes: requested here. thank you <3 i dont know too much abt braces but i hope you like it regardless

Awkward would be the first word that jumps into your head about how you're feeling right now. Your mouth feels weird, your lips and cheeks feeling crowded like there's suddenly not enough space in your mouth. You can't help running your tongue over the brackets and wires as your orthodontist speaks to you. He's telling you about how to take care of them, what foods not to eat, things to avoid. You're not really paying attention. Instead, you nod along to pretend you're listening when internally all you're thinking about is whether Amber would totally hate it.

When you had told her about the possibility of you getting braces, you couldn't really read your girlfriend's reaction. Amber was a big part of why you had grown to accept your old smile. She had made you confident in something you used to hate when you were younger, always telling you how much she liked it, always trying to make you smile so she could see it.

Your orthodontist hands you a pamphlet that sums up all the care he was describing, and after thanking him you stuff it into your pocket. That's when your phone buzzes with a text from Amber.

Hey, babe! Can't wait to see u. How was it?

You take a deep breath and type back quickly. Walking out of the clinic, you get into your car. You two had planned a date for after your appointment so that Amber could treat you while your gums and stuff were still all achey. It's cute how much she wanted to take care of you.

ah it went alright. give me a few? omw to pick you up

You catch sight of yourself in the rearview mirror. You flash a smile to inspect how the braces look, if it's really as different as it feels. The braces are clear as day in the bright pink you chose, like they're mocking you. You had picked a colour you liked in hopes that it'd cheer you up but maybe that was a bad idea.

Sitting on your driver's seat, you think about Amber's perfect smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners when she laughs. What if she notices the braces first thing? What if she thinks they’re ugly? Or what if she'll be disappointed that they're just... different?

Your thoughts are interrupted when Amber texts back. There's no time to worry about what she'll think - she'll see you in a few minutes whether you like it or not.

Getting changed. See ya mwah

Sighing, you buckle your seatbelt and turn the ignition key. There's no stalling when Amber's waiting for you.

By the time you pull up in the driveway of her house, Amber is already waiting at her front door. She lights up upon seeing you, walking out to your car before you even had the chance to go to her front door.

"Hey, babe," she says, sliding into the passenger seat. "How was the orthodontist?"

"Hey. And fine, I guess," you answer, barely even turning to look at her. You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should go in for a kiss like you usually do. You've heard these stories about braces getting stuck together when people made out, or the brackets cutting lips. You don't wanna hurt Amber.

You hadn't even realised that you were pursing your lips shut until Amber calls you out on it. "What's with the frown, huh? Hiding them from me?" she asks teasingly.

"I-" you go to argue back, but inside you know she's right. It might have been unconscious but you didn't want her to see yet. Didn't want the opportunity to be judged.

"It can't be that bad," Amber says. "Come on. You haven't even kissed me hello yet."

You bite your lip. "I'm just nervous to kiss you with these," you mumble, still trying your best not to talk too much. "I dunno how to. It could scratch you or something."

Amber rolls her eyes. As if something that small would prevent her from kissing her girlfriend. She goes to playfully nudge your arm. "I'm tougher than that. Kissing you 'til I bleed sounds kinda fun, actually. Kinky."

You can't help but to smile at her playful tone. Amber made you forget that you were trying to keep your lips from parting too much. "I should've known you'd say that."

When you speak, Amber goes to hold your face in your hand, holding your jaw to keep your mouth open. "Ah, don't close 'em again. I wanna see!"

And well, you're a simp so you tend to do whatever your girlfriend wants. You feel your cheeks heat up as she studies you, your mouth pulled to a smile to show them to Amber.

"Cute. Pink," she notes. Amber tilts your jaw, looking at you from every angle. "You're always cute."

You avoid her gaze. When she has your face tilted back to look directly at her, relief flows over you when you can see she's being genuine. She likes it. She still thinks you're cute. "Shut up," you say, but you're smiling now.

"Is that all you were worried about, babe? Can I get a kiss from my girlfriend now?"

It's not like your nerves can go away with a few words. As much as she says it's OK now, you don't wanna ruin kissing her. You don't wanna scratch up those soft pillowy lips you love kissing so much. But still, Amber always gets what she wants. And if she thinks a little bit of blood would be hot, well so be it.

"Alright," you breathe out, weak to how she's cupping your face. "If you do it softly. Don't scratch yourself."

"Don't tell me what to do," is her jokey reply. Still, Amber closes the distance, pressing a soft and tentative (on your end, at least) kiss to your lips. You’re hyper-aware of the braces, but her kiss is gentle, careful, and all your fears of metal mishaps melt away. When she pulls back, she’s smiling, her eyes sparkling. “See? Not so bad, right?”

You laugh, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “Not bad at all.”

"Were you seriously nervous?" Amber laughs. She swats your arm, thinking you're ridiculous. "As if you could be anything but cute to me. Why would I care about some braces?"

"I dunno... You think the others will say anything?" you ask, of Amber's friends.

"They're not gonna laugh. And if they do, I'll knife em' in their sleep for ya. You know me, babe. I wouldn't let anyone make fun of my girl." Amber smirked, her trademark dark humour helping lighten the mood. She squeezes your thigh in a show of quick reassurance before going to do her seatbelt. "Now hurry up and take me out, I'm fucking starving."