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aceecee · 27 days ago

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Insatiable - Chapter Six

TW for this chapter: some angst, reader displaying destructive behaviour just like with her ex-girlfriend, death, grieving or lack of it, themes of obsession and possessiveness

Don't worry, it's packed with a lot of fluff as well

AN: I will not apologise for my favouritism of Zayne.

WC: 6.2K

Masterlist

When the days are rough, he finds himself staring at the photo of the young girl. His eyes trained on her smile. The smile he failed to cherish too late.

The smile he’ll never see again.

He doesn’t really care much for birthdays.

But his family does. Many find it funny how such a stoic kid can belong to outgoing and extroverted parents. He wonders the same.

The party is in their backyard, his parents wanted something extravagant but his wishes won in the end. It was easy to pull the ‘it’s my birthday’ card, he doesn’t ask for much often so he gets what he wants on the rare occasions he does.

Banners are strung up everywhere. His mother’s work. She’s also put balloons everywhere and decorated everything. Despite his wishes she had gotten a bouncy castle. He felt he was too old for it but his classmates seemed to enjoy it. He wasn’t close with the people in his year level, he didn’t know how to be friends with them and they saw him as cold.

He doesn’t have to be a genius - though he is - to see that none of them want to be here. They give him strained smiles while their parents stand behind them, the reason as to why his classmates have been forced to attend. He almost feels bad for them.

They all disperse into their own groups after telling him a half-assed ‘Happy birthday’ and thrusting their gifts into his hand. He tosses the gifts to the pile, not interested in the contents. He’s more than happy to stay at the side, book in hand. It’s on the reading list for an upcoming subject and he likes to be prepared.

Besides, the actual people he wanted couldn’t make it. Caleb had a school trip and Mara was down with food poisoning. She had called him in tears, letting him know she couldn’t make it this morning with promises to make it up to him. Though a little disappointed, he wished her a well recovery and told her not to worry. That just left-

“Happy birthday, zayniee.”

You.

It left you.

You’re wearing a cute jumper, blue ombre in colour. He remembers when you had started knitting it. You’ve paired it with a black skirt and black tights. You’re wearing earrings in the shape of blue ribbons. You look cute. You’re smiling at him softly and there’s a rectangle box in your hands. It’s wrapped in brown paper with an ice blue ribbon and a card on the box. He’s intrigued.

You hand him the box and he takes it. Instead of tossing it like the rest, he keeps it on his lap.

You take the seat next to him, your legs don’t reach the floor so you settle for swinging them. “I’m sorry the others couldn’t make it. They felt bad.” He can’t imagine Caleb feeling sad for missing his birthday. He has no idea why the rascal didn’t like him. “It’s fine. It can’t be helped.” You just give another soft smile.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence as he continues reading his book.

“Oh, is that Monomania?”

He glances at you. “You’ve read it?”

“Yeah, I got bored one day. I liked it, the author did well balancing the themes of obsession and going too far but it also fell flat in many areas.”

He hums, an invitation to continue. “You want a small spoiler about the ending?” you ask. He turns to you and contemplates for a second before agreeing.

“You won’t like it.”

“Like what?”

“The ending.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s more of a fairytale ending than the one even I anticipated.”

“Is that what you think of me? Cold?”

“Not at all. But even you can’t deny that you can be a little…logical.”

“Hmm.”

Of course you end up being right when he finishes the book the next day, a happy ending was not needed for a book like this. It ruined his morning a little. His parents didn’t notice the subtle pout on his face.

His mother calls everyone over to cut the cake. It’s ice-themed. He doesn’t like it. He feels you lean in towards him, touching each other’s shoulders. “At least it’s not a carrot cake,” you comfort him.

At least it’s not a carrot cake, he repeats in his head. It’s weird how you always seemed to know the right thing to say. You seem to understand him a lot. He doesn’t know how to feel about it.

The both of you enjoy the cake together. Your love for sweets was the biggest thing you had in common.

After, it’s time to unwrap the gifts. He doesn’t mean to be unappreciative but it's clear his classmates don’t know him all too well. He’s left with unimaginative gifts like socks or simple clothing. He’ll just donate them.

A familiar brown wrapped box sits in front of him. He unconsciously saved it for last. He’s careful with unwrapping it, you’re watching him with anticipation and the last thing needed is for him to disappoint you with his reaction. The card on the box doesn’t say the stereotypical ‘Happy Birthday Zayne’ like the rest had.

You’ve given him a coupon instead. ‘Ask [Name] to make you whatever sweet you desire’ is on it. Towards the bottom are five punch holes. He’ll have to be careful with his decisions. Your sweets are on a whole other world on their own, he’ll have to savour them.

He removes the wrapping, it’s a vintage record player still in mint condition. You beam at the awed look in his eyes. There’s two vinyl records underneath. “They work, don’t worry. I wasn’t sure about your music taste so I picked at random. The shop I found had many more, I’ll take you there.”

He flashes you a small smile. “Thank you,” he says softly. He’s never mentioned liking music around you or even talked about record players but the gift screams him in a shocking way.

You stare at him frozen for a second. He doesn’t realise you’re flustered when you avoid eye contact.

Maybe birthdays aren’t so bad.

“I’m surprised [Name] isn’t with you. The two of you are always attached at the hip.” When leaving for the new cafe that had opened up, the last thing he expected to happen was meeting his childhood friend again.

Mara was taller now. A hunter, he thinks feeling annoyed. She has a heart condition and chose one of the most extraneous jobs. It’s just like her. He remembers how [Name] had supported her in this endeavor. Zayne had missed you all these years. To everyone’s surprise, the two of you had become fast friends. He doesn’t understand how a warm person like you sought friendship in him but he’s glad you did. He regrets not keeping in touch.

He’s taken aback at the tears that gather in Mara’s dark brown eyes at his question. She’s grown to be a beautiful woman but his heart remains unaffected. He tries to imagine what you look like now.

Did they fight? He brushes the thought off. There’s no way the two of you would end up not friends. No the only reason he can come with for a separation is-

His eyes widened.

No. No. No.

“She’s dead.”

Mara had shown him where your grave was, right next to your parents. She’s waiting in the car while he visits you.

In his mind you had achieved your dream of being a bakery owner and were happy. It’s what you deserved.

He’s disgusted in himself. He’d run away like a coward in his childhood. He missed the extra years with you the others got. While he was busy with med school and then becoming a doctor, you were dead. You’d been dead this whole time and he had no idea.

He’ll spend the next few years just thinking. Thinking of you, of everything about you he can commit to memory. The only place you exist is in the minds of those you’ve left behind. He’ll think of missed chances and regrets. Sometimes he allows himself to fall into the what ifs, imagining a future with you that would never come to pass. These moments were rare, he only indulged in them at his weakest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to your grave.

It’s all he can say.

You had decided it would be best to keep your wishes to disappear to yourself. The twins would never break their allegiance to Sylus, not that you ever wanted them to. No, in the N109 zone, the only person you can fully trust is you.

You had stayed up that night and came up with a mental checklist for escape.

1. Find your own place. Not in the N109 zone.

“No,” Sylus tells you. You’re standing before him in his office. He’s not even looking at you, too busy with the paperwork in front of him. His words bring a pout to your face.

[Why not?]

“Because I said so. You’re not getting your own place. You have everything you need right here. You’re not leaving.” You glare at him and a hint of amusement flickers in his eyes. You hate that he never takes you seriously. “End of discussion.”

Taking in a deep breath - to calm the need to strangle him, it doesn’t work - you reluctantly relent. Instead you ask for something else.

[Can I go visit my brother?]

It bruises your ego to ask for permission to do anything. You’re not a child, you’re nearly the age you were when you died the first time. But the N109 zone isn’t one you can just enter and leave when you want, unless you’re someone like Sylus.

Your words stop him, he pushes away from the work on his desk. His attention is now fixed on you, his gaze leaves you on edge. Nearly two years have been spent with him and you still have no idea how to read him. It's frustrating, being able to read people has always been your strong suit, it helped with the constant manipulation you would pull. You had been happy to do his bidding without question before and now you regret the amount of control he has on you.

“Why would I do that?” he crosses his arms.

[Because it’s my brother…?]

He narrows his eyes at you.

“Why would I do that?” he repeats.

[Because I just found out he’s alive and I want to see him. Not to meet him, I’ll watch from a distance. I just have to see him with my own eyes.] You give him a pleading look. He sighs and looks away, taking a few seconds to agree before looking at you again.

“Fine,” he reluctantly agrees. “But you know the ordeal by now. Do something for me in return.”

Ugh everything is always a business deal with him.

“Sit,” he commands, gesturing at the chairs in front of him. You do.

He takes the glasses off his face. A shame. He looked very sophisticated in them. “That doctor you mentioned, there’s still nothing on her,” every month the two of you would meet and he’d relay the information he had found out and in the last year, not even a sentence could be written down. It left the both of you frustrated.

[Do you think..]

“That we have a traitor amongst us? Yes I’m sure of it now,” he finishes the thought for you. There’s a tick in his jaw. You don’t blame him, moles are annoying to deal with normally. But here in the N109 zone finding one is like finding a needle in a haystack. Everyone is a mole here. Finding the right one will be hard.

“Don’t worry, I already have a trap settled for our little rat. We’ll find them.”

His words don’t comfort you. They meant he’d known about the mole for a while, at least long enough to come up with a plan. Before your mind can go on a tirade at your developing distaste for your boss, he interrupts you.

“Moving on, I’m sending you on your first mission.” You keep his stare. “After you come back from seeing your brother. Make sure to have no contact with anyone. No one can know you’re alive. Also remember to take your phone this time. Got it?”

Ah right. The phone he’d given you was rarely used. There was no point, all the people you communicated with lived under one roof and you all used Meph as a phone anyways.

You nod.

[Cross my heart and hope to die.]

He glares at you, not impressed.

That’s how you find yourself, staring at the mirror in your bathroom.

Sylus had given you three days to visit Ei.

The weather in Linkon will be cold so you make sure to dress up in a nice wool coat. You have a small bag with you, there’s a few outfits in there and way too many pairs of undergarments. You’re not taking any chances. There’s a key to the hotel room Sylus had booked for you in there. The problem is the very large and very visible scar across your throat. You lift your head up a little to check it out. It’s still bright red. Your finger’s trail over it. The scar doesn’t feel as thick as it used to be but it’ll draw attention. You decide to take a scarf with you.

You still haven’t decided on how to feel about it. On one hand, it’s frustrating not being able to talk. It gets in the way of your everyday life. Even if you can sign now, many people don’t understand it so you have to carry a tablet around. Your torturers/killers had taken so much from you that it doesn’t hurt emotionally that they’ve taken your ability to talk as well. On the other hand, you’ve gotten used to not speaking. No longer do you remember what you sound like.

Ah, well. No point dwelling on it.

Sylus will show you how to leave the N109 zone. The way he does.

You feel like an imposter being back.

You had once built a life here but that’s been gone for a long time. You no longer have a place here.

First order of business is to visit the library, after you check into your hotel of course. The looks you receive all go ignored. You’re not humble about them, you’re aware of your beauty.

You peruse the selection of books but none of them interest you. Sylus already had a vast collection and you weren’t interested to add to them. You weren’t here for the books either. No, you were here for the computers.

You walk over to one and set your bag on the table. Sitting down, you turn it on. A book and a pen are retrieved from the bag. The purpose of your visit is to look for places available. A simple one bed will do. Hell, you’ll even take - you shudder at the thought - a studio. You browse through all the available properties, noting their addresses down.

Maybe if Sylus hadn’t proven time and time again he can’t be trusted then you would have accepted his ‘no’ without fighting. But, you have to look after yourself first. Besides, the small act of rebellion soothes you, you had grown a bit too complacent. He’ll find out, Sylus has too many ways of tracking you. The very phone he had given you which was currently in your bag for one. Mephisto for another, the city was loud and filled with people, everything is noisy so you have to really concentrate to hear the bird. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to be following you.

Second order of business is the graveyard, flagging down a taxi, you show the driver the address written on your book.

You walk by your own gravestone and you try your best not to register your parents’. You’re not ready. You stand before the gravestone you’re here for.

Caleb Xia.

He really died.

You hadn’t been there.

He was dead.

And you weren’t there.

Some friend you were. Your mind remains oddly blank as you stand in front of him. It’s not like you can even say anything to him. Not even the lies that easily roll off your tongue. You turn to leave.

Third order of business.

Akso Hospital.

Zayne doesn’t believe in ghosts.

Not when his coworkers tell each other stories of those that took their last breath in the hospital, now doomed to forever roam the grounds. Not when Mara would tell him “spooky” stories to try and freak him out (it never works, he has no idea why she hasn’t given up).

So then, why is there a ghost standing in front of him?

The woman standing before him looks just like you - a grown up version of you. The rational part of him tries to answer, it’s just a coincidence that they look similar. It’s just a coincidence that the lady is standing right in front of the hospital room where your brother currently resides.

Just a coincidence.

There’s no way you’re alive. There’s no way its you wearing that long black winter coat with the black scarf around your neck. The coat practically swallows the woman up, nothing about her body can be seen. It’s not you because you hated keeping your hair long. It’s not you because you'd never sport that dead emotionless look on your eyes. It’s not you because you loved sleeping and you would never have eye bags that huge.

It can’t be you.

As a doctor, he’s treated a variety of people, especially those who have experienced trauma. But his mind (heart) can’t accept the way you look. He never thought he would see you so broken. Just what have you gone through all these years?

The doctor in him is screaming. Yelling to stop standing there and fix you.

He watches silently, frozen, as you contemplate entering the room. Your hand remains on the door handle, the window in it showing you the view of your brother inside. Eiden hasn’t noticed you, he’s fast asleep. The image of his rest calms you down. It’s a good thing he can still sleep peacefully.

The ghost looks painfully human as she steps away from the door. You still haven’t made a single sound, even your steps are quiet. He sees you close your eyes for a few seconds, your hands come up to rub your arms, an effort to ground or comfort yourself. When they reopen you look more focused. You’ve made up your mind on something when you sharply turn and end up looking right at him.

He sees your eyes widen in shock. In realisation. He can no longer convince himself you’re a ghost or another woman, there’s no denying it. It’s you.

The two of you remain frozen where you stand. Neither party makes a move. Neither of you speak either.

You break the moment by running away.

He watches as you leave him again.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Zayne wasn’t supposed to be working but when is a doctor’s schedule reliable? You saw him listed as Eiden’s doctor and you weren’t even surprised. No matter how hard you try to stay away from the main cast, your fate seems to be thread right through theirs. Fuck. You should’ve made a plan just in case. When has anything in this horrible world gone right for you???

You try to look for a taxi. Hell you’ll even break into a car if you have to. Anything to get out of here.

Your mind is unreliable in moments of panic. Every thought is dramatised and the actions you end up taking go too far. You’ll come up with a simpler solution later but by then the damage will often be done leaving you with regrets.

Oh my god, I should just kill myself. Yup, that’ll fix it.

The last thing you wanted was to see Zayne again. He’ll tell everyone, you can’t have that.

I should just kill him then!

Before you can enact terrible crimes, your psychotic thoughts are thankfully halted at the hand on your shoulder.

You shove your shoulder away, stepping back until there’s a good distance between you. Zayne sees the fear in your eyes and his movements stop.

“It’s you,” he finally says in awe.

You can’t look him in the eyes, there’s too many things in there for you to decipher.

“[Name],” he calls out again. That gets your attention. It’s been so long since you’ve heard another say your name. Even after Sylus found out your real identity, he never acknowledged the name. As far as the world knows, [Name] is dead.

He tries to take a step towards you but your eyes are trained on him, when he notices the dread on your face, he stays in place.

“Please…just don’t leave,” he begs. It’s so uncharacteristic of him but you’ve always been weak to a pretty man begging.

“Just wait,” he checks his watch, “for thirty minutes. I get off work and we can talk. That’s it. I only want to talk.” The desperation in his voice freezes any hesitation in your mind. Memories rush in your head, the two of you had been so close once. He’d never done you wrong.

[Only if you promise you won’t tell anyone.] It’s a gamble whenever you sign, fifty percent in your favour, either the person knows the language or they don’t. But if there’s one person you’d think did know, it would be Zayne. Besides, your hands are far too shaky to write.

As expected he looks surprised at the movement of your hands. “Why are you…” he notices the ‘don’t ask’ expression on your face. “Fine. I won’t tell anyone if you wait,” he clears his throat and gathers himself. His voice is clearer when he speaks again. “There’s a cafe down the street, wait for me there. It’s going to rain soon,” he hands you his credit card. His eyes show relief when you take it. His phone beeps and when he checks it you know he’s needed. You won’t let him choose between his responsibilities and you so you relent.

[I’ll be waiting.]

He gives you a small smile, there’s a thousand questions on his face that he doesn’t ask.

Zayne watches you through the glass of the cafe.

You’re sitting at a two-person table. There’s an empty coffee cup in front of you, its warmth long gone. You haven’t ordered any food which worries him. He’d never known you to give up free food.

All his previous attempts of envisioning you grown up fall spectacularly against the real deal. The lashes on your eyes that he wants to count individually. The blemishes on your face have him wanting to know how they got there. The long nails you have that seem almost inhuman have him intrigued. Every part of you tells a story he desperately wants to know but it’s a tale you’re not ready to divulge.

Maybe you’d rather have Mara around. Zayne isn’t the type of person people go to for comfort. He understands that. He can’t give you what you need.

But, fuck, he’s going to try. For you.

You take notice of him when he enters the cafe. Instead of going straight to you, he walks over to the counter. You watch him confused at the action until he returns with two plates. One has a strawberry shortcake and the other is a chocolate cherry tart. Your eyes lit up at the sweets and he suppressed the laugh bubbling in his throat. He notices your focus on the shortcake and places it in front of you.

None of you say anything, simply picking up your spoons and digging in. Then, like it's second nature, you pick your plate up and Zayne does the same, you put the shortcake in front of him and he gives you the tart. Neither of you can help the wide grins you bear when you realise what you both have done. An old memory resurfaces in your mind.

The five of you are currently on your way to the park, walking through the town. It’s a nice sunny day and none of you had anything going on so why not enjoy each other’s company?

Calen, Mara and Eiden are at the front, talking animatedly with each other. You and Zayne are walking behind silent.

“What do you think [Na-” Mara cuts her own words off when she looks back to you and realises that neither you or Zayne are there. The three of them retrace their steps and find the both of you by the bakery, your faces nearly pressed up against the glass.

“They’re at it again,” Caleb says, annoyed. “Why were we even surprised,” Eiden comments. Mara can’t help but watch on in jealousy. You were her friend, it’s her you should be doing stuff like this with.

“Those weren’t there last week,” you let Zayne know, two pairs of eyes trained at the batch of desserts displayed through the glass. “You’re right.” The two of you waste no time entering.

“C’mon,” Caleb grabs the wrists of the two people by his side, leading them away. “We’ll come back for them, they’re in their own world now.” At least he won’t have to share Mara with you today.

Zayne and you have developed a ritual of sorts. Since you’re both just children, you can’t buy all the sweets you’d like to. Each of you only carries enough money for a singular sweet on your person. So, you each order a different one and share. You order a sachertorte while he gets the mille-feuille.

The both of you sit down and only take two bites. The first to taste the desert and the second to confirm if it is actually good. You groan at the thick chocolate and moisture of the cake, “It’s really good.” Zayne has to be careful with his, it’s made of puff pastry and can easily crack. “The custard in this is perfect,” he lets you know. You swap your plates around and try the second one.

The lecture you’ll end up getting from your parents about having too many sweets is worth it.

The smiles don’t wear off as you reminisce.

There’s the smile he looked for in each passing person.

The both of you just stare into each other’s eyes, the words of the others in the shop blur out. The comfortable silence you often shared with him in your childhood returns, two pairs of eyes do all the talking. You break the contact by blinking and that breaks him out of his stupor.

“I..” his words trail off as he overthinks what he’s going to say. You try to give him a comforting smile.

“I won’t ask about what happened. I won’t ask about why you’re not speaking either just…” your breath hitches at the look he gives you, mixed with desperation and yearning. “Let me examine you. Then I’ll be at ease.”

Your gaze falls over the empty coffee cup as you consider his words. [I don’t do well with hospitals…or doctors really.]

“That’s fine. We can go to my place,” he negotiates.

You should say no. You should walk out of here and never come back to him, your mind screams at you.

But it’s Zayne. The same Zayne who had left when he hurt the girl he cared about, Mara, not able to deal causing pain to someone he loved. The same Zayne who became a cardiologist to try and make it up to her.

At your discomfort, a smile adorns his face. “I’m glad to see at least something hasn’t changed,” he muses.

You shoot him a confused look. He pauses, a look of contemplation in his eyes, wondering if he should continue his thought. He does.

“When we were kids you hated being taken care of, even by your family. Almost like you didn’t believe you deserved it,” he explained. “It didn’t stop you from caring for everyone else though.”

You didn’t think anyone noticed your guilt.

There’s a gentle flick to your forehead, snapping you out of your thoughts. You look up at him in awe. “Many are not fortunate to have those who cherish them, so stop running,” his voice is in a whisper, soothing as always.

Ironically, he speaks nearly the same words you had to Caleb. You were always the biggest hypocrite you’ve met.

[Okay.]

The ride to his place is silent.

True to his word, it starts to pour heavily. You worry for Mara when you can hear thunder. Is she still afraid of it? Your gaze is out the window, committing each image to memory. Fauna and flora were scarce in the N109 zone but they flourish here in Linkon city. It’s nice to see. Linkon city looks so alive compared to what you’ve become used to.

Zayne opens the door for you as you get out of the car. His house is just what one would expect of him. White and black are the primary colours. Everything is placed neatly and organised in a fitting manner. It still feels like a home, you can tell the place is cherished.

“Come to my office,” he leads you into a room. He gestures for you to sit at the chair by his desk and you do.

His hand reaches for your scarf. “I’m going to take this off now. Is that okay?” You nod and wait with bated breath as he works on removing it, gently pulling out any hair tangled in it. His gaze is like steel when he sees the scar. You stop breathing all together when his fingers trace over it before removing them completely, his hand clenched into a ball by his side. Even his anger is silent.

[It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt at all. I’ll speak again, don’t worry.] You don’t like seeing him like that. His eyes soften at your words. Only you would try and comfort him about your injury. He kneels before you, hands reaching your left one. He looks over the injury he had caused. He doesn’t have to speak for you to hear his thoughts. You pull your hand out of his.

[Not your fault.]

“How did you stop me that day?”

When you don’t make a move to sign, he sighs. Another secret…

“Neverm-”

[If I knew I would tell you. Truth is my body moved on its own that day. I haven’t done it since then.]

“Ah.”

You can’t help the giddiness as you look over the boy you used to know. He’s become a man now, he’s become the Zayne you used to squeal over. Part of you misses the chubbiness he had in his face but the other part appreciated the sharp look he has now. He’s grown even more taller, and his clothes do a bad job of hiding the muscles underneath. And - oh wow- his eyes are so beautiful. You could look at them all day and never be bored.

Due to his stoicism, many like to paint him as a cold and indifferent person. You yourself thought he’d be like that with you, that his kindness was only reserved for the MC. You had been proven wrong every step of the way. You know better now.

That unlike his evol, Zayne is warm. Not in the way of body temperature or even his outward personality. He was warm in the way he adores animals. In the unique way he shows his care. In his touch. In the way he’d always been careful to never hurt your feelings growing up. You could go on about him all day. None of these things were noticeable at a first meeting with him, maybe even the second but you’re glad he let you in so you could learn them.

You have no doubt that he’s an amazing doctor. His patients must feel so lucky knowing that their physician will advocate for them and has their back. There are only four people that restore your faith in humanity and he’s one of them.

Without thinking, your hand reaches out and cradles his face. He lets out a gasp at the contact before engulfing your hand with his and leaning his face into your hand further. His eyes close and the peaceful expression on his face does not help the erratic beating of your heart.

“I’ll make some tea. Would you like that?” He’s staring at you so earnestly as he kneels, your hands still touching. You lick your suddenly dry lips, all too aware of how his eyes follow the muscle. You nod. This was getting too intimate. He lets go of your hand and stands up. “I’ll be back,” he says.

You decide to survey his office while you wait. The chair you’re sitting on is comfortable. What catches your attention is the bookshelf mounted on the wall. You stand up and walk over to it. Your fingers trace over the spines.The books on it are mostly medical journals and none of them interest you. You stop before an item, one very familiar to you.

A record player.

You remember how frantically you had gone into every shop you came across, looking for a fitting gift. To your luck, you came across a shop with vintage goods. There had been many, in various colours but you thought Zayne would appreciate the dark wood one. The record player was small enough to carry in one’s arms. You picked out two music tracks to go with it. To your utter relief he had loved the gift.

The shop had become a regular place to go with Zayne. It had a variety of vinyl records as well but they were expensive. The two of you would save up for them one by one. You helped him amass quite a collection.

“You noticed it,” his words don’t surprise you. His steps in the kitchen and the noises of him preparing the tea were all clear to you, so was him making his way back. He’s holding a tray with two steaming cups on it. He sets it down on the desk and walks towards you.

[I can’t believe you still have it.] He shoots you an incredulous look. “Of course I did. I make sure to keep it in good condition as well.” He goes over to his desk, pulling out a drawer. The record in his hands is one you know very well. All the artists on these records were unknown to you and this record is no exception. Except for the fact that you ended up becoming a huge fan of the artist. It’s a classical melody. The notes are simple but are so hauntingly beautiful. It’s engraved into your heart.

[It’s our song.]

“Yes it is.”

He places the record onto the player. Familiar music begins playing. You close your eyes to take it in, your head bopping to the tune. Zayne watches as you do the same notion you had when he first played the record. It’s soothing that some old parts of you still remain.

When your eyes open, you stare in shock at his outstretched hand. His cheeks glow with a red hue.

“Indulge me.”

Please.

You stare at his palm.

What are you thinking, Zayne? She’s not ready for something like-

You place your hand in his.

He stares in awe at the flustered look you have. It’s him that’ll need a heart transplant if you keep this up.

Your fingers lace together and he uses the momentum to gently pull you closer. His other hand goes on your lower back while you keep yours on his upper arm. You push your face into his chest as you sway together, you can’t handle looking into his eyes. You dance for a while completely unaware of the turmoil in his mind.

You feel his face move closer to your head. He places a tender kiss to the side of your head. Everything you’ve been holding in seems to break. He holds you tighter when he feels you shake, the wet of your tears decorate his neck. His hand caresses your head over and over again. It’s comfort at its best.

“I’m here,” he whispers against your head. “Let it all out.” It kills him inside how much you seem to need this. How he can’t even hear your cries. It’s fine, he’ll take whatever you give him.

Later, Zayne carries you to his bed. You had cried in his arms for nearly an hour until you passed out from the exhaustion. He lowers you onto the bed, making sure to take the coat off. Pulling the duvet over you, he sits down by your side and examines your face. Your eyes were puffy from the tears but it looked like you really needed this.

As much as he doesn’t want to, he gets up to leave. His movement is stopped by a hand on his wrist. ‘Stay,’ you mouth at him. You push yourself to the other side of the bed, patting the spot you were previously on. He gets on and settles in. You give him a sleepy smile and doze off.

He doesn’t sleep.

Watching you is enough.

You should’ve left. You should’ve gotten into a car and drove off. You should not have stayed. Because you’ve given a very desperate man a taste of you and he’s not letting you go now.

Tag List: @serenity-loves-red @crimsonmarabou @reni502

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intoxicated-chan · 2 years ago

Note

Breeding Kink Miguel O'Hara?👉🏻👈🏻🥺

We’re Both Sinners

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel couldn’t describe it, for the first time, he felt like he lost all sense of control.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ I gotchu! Inspired by “Sinners” by The Ari Abdul. Also, I’m sorry that this seems rushed, I haven’t written a lot of smut before so apologies!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 877

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, breeding kink, sexual content, p in v, pet names (Mi Amor), office sex, bruises, biting, nearly caught? Fingering… Please let me know if I missed anything!

The first time was a complete accident. Miguel had no clue that the condom broke so suddenly, he really shouldn’t be surprised since of how hard he was going. It took the cum leaking out of your cunt that sparked something inside of him.

Of course, he’d never do anything without your permission but every time, the words were at the tip of his tongue. How much he wanted to beg you to let him take off the condom and let him fuck you raw. He was getting harder and harder every time, he knew if he didn’t say anything soon, he wasn’t going to be able to control himself.

It was so distracting that he couldn’t even contain himself during work. The shame he felt during important meetings when he felt himself get hard by the simple thoughts. The embarrassment he felt when he was forced out of his thoughts and everyone was staring at his flustered face. Never again. He couldn’t let that happen again.

You noticed his distraction from day one. He seemed lost in thought and papers began piling up on his desk. You knew that it wouldn’t be long before Miguel returned to his home office and remained there late into the night.

It was supposed to be a simple visit. Bring him his lunch and talk with him. His office was dark, almost pitch black but it was normal. The only light was the very small lamp on his desk, facing away from him.

You set his lunch down next to his laptop and sat down at the chair in front of his desk.

You waited a few seconds before you called his name, “Miguel~” You waved a hand in front of his face, and it made him jolt, “I brought you lunch.”

“Uh, thank you, mi amor.” He smiles. You could see him avoiding your gaze.

“How was the meeting?” You begin to poke at him.

“It went well. We went over some numbers that an employee messed up. And-”

“Miguel.”

“Yes?”

“You do know that there was no meeting. Not a single one today.” You sigh, “What’s got you so distracted that it’s affecting your work?”

He glanced at you but immediately turned away when your eyes didn’t move from his. You leaned in, “Please, talk to me.” You whispered.

He felt his cock twitch, “Don’t say that.” He huffs heavily.

“Don’t say what?”

He hissed, “You don’t know how you affect me, do you?” He chuckled, “Teasing me and all.”

He suddenly reached over and grabbed the collar of your shirt, “You said you wanted me to talk, alright then. I’ll show you what’s got my head in a blender.” You can see his blood-red eyes seeping past his brown ones.

“Has anyone seen Mr. O’Hara?” One employee asked another, holding a stack of papers in his arms, “I have the papers he requested.”

“I was told not to bother him.” Another told him.

“Seriously? After I spent hours going through everything he just gave me.” He shakes his head and walks towards his office.

“I wouldn’t-” The employee ignores the other one who sighs, “Do that.” Leaving him to face the consequences.

The employee managed to free one hand and used it to knock on the door, “Mr. O’Hara?” Silence, “Sir?”

“I thought I made it clear that I am to be bothered,” Miguel growls.

“I’m sorry sir but-”

“Come back later!”

The employee huffed but walked away.

“Nearly got us in trouble.” Miguel seethed, feeling you tighten around him as he continues his brutal pace.

“B-But he didn’t hear anything.” His hand slaps over your mouth to silence you.

“But he could’ve and I can’t have that happening.” He whispers in your ear.

Miguel has you bend over his desk. Whatever was originally on his desk was now on the floor. One hand remained on your mouth and the other was gripping your hip.

Your neck is littered with bruises and maybe a bite or two from his fangs. Your hair is a mess from moments ago.

You continue to moan into his hand, “It’s like you want to be caught. Is that what you want?” He removes your hand and grabs a chunk of your hair, tugging, “You want everyone to see how much of a whore you are for their boss. I’m sure you’d enjoy that.”

Miguel let his control slip, hearing himself groan and you cry… He pounded into you harder than ever. You felt another orgasm come and you completely lost count.

But it wasn’t long before his thrusts became sloppy, and soon you heard him loudly groan, cumming inside of you.

He released your hair and his grip on your waist, but he remained over you. His hands support his tired body, “Still distracted?” You pant.

You try getting up but he pushes you back down, “And where do you think you’re going?”

“You still have work.”

“I’m sure they don’t mind having their boss without a few more hours.” You let out a yelp when you felt two of his fingers thrust into you, “Besides, I can’t have this going to waste.”

“But today’s meeting is important!” You retort.

“I’ve got two hours, you’ll be more than filled up by then.”

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themeraldee · 8 months ago

Text

The Lucky Winner - Part 3

[Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2] | [AO3]

18+ Only | 10k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Early Season 1. Voice kink (very mild mention). Awkward first dates. Awkward dialogue. Messy timeline. Established Relationship. Love confession. Emotional sex. Unhealthy Relationship.

Summary: Your life turns upside down, again, when Homelander reaches out to you asking you out on a date.

Author’s Note: This is set between the events of Part 1 & Part 2. It really is just a self-indulgent excuse to explore some relationship building and dynamics. Lot of awkward dialogue so be warned.

The next time Homelander contacts you it catches you just as off guard as the first time. Maybe even more so. You never expected him to turn up in the first place, let alone be interested in seconds.

Your phone is ringing on the bed and ever since the development from a week ago you’ve been on edge anytime your phone rang. You drop the towel you’re folding back on the pile of unsorted laundry and you nearly dive onto the bed, reaching for your phone. In the panic you drop it about three times, your shaky hands inadvertently playing hot potato.

“Hello?!” You yell into the phone, panicked. You don’t actually end up checking who’s calling, too worried about not accidentally hanging up. Plus it’s not like you could have saved Homelander’s number from a week ago anyway. It showed up as blocked on your phone’s call logs so you had no way to recognise his number.

“Hello there! Nice of you to pick up.” You squeaked in surprise and the voice on the phone turned from chipper to confused. “You okay? You sound a little—” And oh my god, it’s him! You’re talking to Homelander, again. Okay, okay, now it’s time to try and keep calm.

His voice is still gloriously rich and sweet in your ear and here you are about to most likely embarrass yourself again because for the life of you you’re incapable of coming across as calm and collected.

“I’m fine!” You immediately cut him off, your voice shrill and strained. He does not need to know the ins-and-outs of your internal struggle. But either way you’re already doing terribly. Who are you to cut Homelander off mid-sentence? Where are your manners?

“Why are you—um—I mean, is there anything you need?” You clumsily make your way through your response. Definitely not how you wanted to present yourself but it’s a lot better than barely being able to say a word like last time!

“I’m taking you out on a date. Get ready for 7 today.” You heard it. You’re pretty damn sure you heard that right, yet not a single part of you believes what he said.

“Sorry? W-w-what do you mean?” You sputter in confusion, your brain simply not capable of computing this news.

“I mean that I’m taking you out for dinner. What’s hard to understand?” He sounds irritated and your heart is pounding. From so many things at once. How are you meant to process that Homelander contacted you again, is asking you out for a date and now you’ve managed to irk him?!

Before you manage to apologize, following your typical spiel, Homelander continues. “Maybe you don’t know this but it’s kind of what men do when they want to get to know someone. You following yet?”

You ignore the condescending remark and instead you focus on what he’s actually saying.

There may as well be steam coming out of your ears, you genuinely feel like a blushing teenage girl talking to her crush. You’re hot bright red in the face and you feel the literal heat coming off your face.

“Yeah but you’re not—well of course you are—but also you’re not! Y’know, just an average Joe.” How do you go about explaining that you don’t feel worthy of that kind of attention?

“Doesn’t matter, you’re missing the point. Is that a no?” You’d think he would be pissed saying that, who in their right mind would refuse going on a date with Homelander, but he sounds amused more than anything.

Again with the reading you like a book. Because you barely manage to let out a barrage of “No! No no no no— that’s not!” before Homelander starts laughing.

“Alright, I’ll pick you up then.”

“No, wait! I can’t—I can’t do the public thing. You’re you! And as soon as I show up in public with you I won’t be left alone. I know that’s normal for you, but my life isn’t like that. I’m just… me.” You’re just a nobody. You don’t have a social media presence. You don’t bring attention to yourself. And you like to keep it that way. Going on a public date with America’s golden boy himself? You would be ripped apart by the online vultures.

You all but freak out on the phone and for a second you think he disconnected because you can’t hear a thing over the line but he suddenly speaks up.

“Oh well. We can’t have that, can we? You better have dinner ready at your place instead.” You don’t need to see him to imagine him with the biggest satisfied grin on his face. “I’ll be there at 7. Catch you later!”

Homelander hangs up on you and you hear the disconnected tone ringing in your ear as you stand there like a fish out of water. Mouth gaping open, letting out disbelieving stutters.

You pull the phone away from your ear, looking down at it as if it offended you. It’s then you notice the time. Shit shit shit. You have less than four hours to make your place and yourself presentable, go on a grocery run and start cooking for Homelander?! What just happened!

“Oh no no no no. This is not happening.” You rub your hands over your face as if to wipe the shock off your face. You’re so overwhelmed with the rollercoaster of emotions that you don’t know whether to have a panic attack, laugh nervously or downright cry.

Okay, first of all the pile of laundry is gonna have to wait. You don’t have the time to meticulously fold your t-shirts and panties. You gather up the clean and dry laundry into your hands, haphazardly shoving it into the closet before closing the door on what will be an avalanche of laundry for your future self to deal with.

With pure panic-induced energy that you haven’t felt in a long while you manage to just about make your place presentable within an hour. Finally managing to gather and clean up the mugs and glasses that have been cluttering up your surfaces, making your bed all neat and tidy—just in case—and shoving all unnecessary clutter into cupboards. It’s not like Homelander would use his x-ray vision to judge the inside of your cabinets, would he?

Speeding your way out of your apartment you make your way over to the closest shop. Standing in the fresh produce aisle you suddenly realize you don’t actually have a plan. What the fuck are you meant to cook for Homelander?! Even after all the content you’ve consumed you’re pretty sure there’s not a single mention of his favorites. At least ones he’s not been sponsored to promote. Sure, he’s on many products, ranging from frozen peas to whole milk but that doesn’t mean it’s something he genuinely endorses. After all you want to get to know the man behind the costume, a date is not meant to be just another PR interview for him!

You’re starting to look strange. People are passing you while you’re internally panicking over what to buy. What if he’s allergic to something? What if he goes into anaphylactic shock and fucking dies! Even if you had an EpiPen or he carried it on him you wouldn’t be able to stab it into him anyway. And suddenly you’ve killed the world’s most beloved superhero and you’re spending the rest of your life in jail with Vought most certainly making sure you pay your dues. Even if all of that was true you had no way of knowing. It’s not like Vought would ever leak that kind of information. Not very good for their brand to tweet that their best superhero is allergic to fucking nuts!

You shake your head a little, snapping yourself out of your dazed state. If Homelander’s brand is anything it’s that red-blooded American male perfect standard. Surely he wouldn’t complain about some steak dinner right? Men love steaks! You just make sure to avoid most common allergens. You pick up some potatoes and other vegetables to roast along with a good pricey cut of steak that was easily out of your budget.

You get home just as fast and with each passing second you’re more and more on edge. You don’t know whether it’s the anxiety coiling in your guts or the so called ‘butterflies’ but you’ve never been this nervous before. With the clock ticking and the food cooking you’re suddenly more and more paranoid over everything. From your insane Homelander merch collection to even just the furniture you’ve got! Not that that’s anything you can change in the next hour but your mind is running at a hundred miles an hour and you’re trying to account for everything.

Just before it gets to the agreed time you change into something nice but casual, straight after shoving the laundry avalanche back into its place. You even leave the balcony door open, doubting he’s gonna knock on your door like a normal person.

And while you’re there focusing on platting up your best attempt at steak and roasted vegetables, you hear the familiar sound of Homelander’s landing. You whip your head towards the wall clock with such urgency it’s shocking you don’t give yourself whiplash.

Shit. It was literally 7pm. You wanted to set the table all pretty and prep it perfectly but you got so preoccupied with the place looking as good as it can that you lost track of time. You’re sure he’s used to luxury and perfection. You want to do your best to replicate that!

“Homelander!” Comes out of you with a little gasp. You tilt your head to look at him. And what you see makes your heart skip a beat.

There he is, in his suited-out glory per usual, except this time he’s holding a bouquet of roses with a dashing smile on his face that quickly turns into a self-satisfied grin as he immediately notices your panic at his presence. Even after he thoroughly reduced you to a puddle of goo just last week you were still such a skittish uncertain thing around him.

“Wow, smells delicious in here.” He looks around taking it in while inhaling the mouth-watering smell of sizzling steak.

Homelander steps closer with calculated steps, checking you out without an ounce of shame. You don’t know if it’s just the pure intensity in his eyes that has you feeling on edge or if he really is undressing you with his gaze. “These,” he frees your hand, prying your palm open with his gloved hand, “are for you.” He places the bouquet of roses into your palm, squeezing it shut around the wrapped stems.

In a way you’re paralyzed. The reality of the situation finally hits you and you realize you’re really here about to have a dinner date with Homelander. Who just brought you expensive, gorgeous flowers, because that’s something that totally happens to people like you.

You’re standing there, staring at the deep rich red of the roses that actually ends up matching the cardigan you put on for this. Your little attempt at complimenting the suit you knew he'd show up in.

Your mind is going a million miles a second and your other hand squeezes a petal in between your fingertips. There’s droplets of water on the velvety surface. You didn’t realize it was raining at the time. You look past him through a window as if you could make out the weather through the darkness of the evening.

Looking at the roses now, they look beautiful, pristine. He flew here right? How did he manage to keep them in one shape with the speeds he flies at.

“H-how did you fly with—” You don’t even finish the question before he’s answering.

“I don’t have to fly at super speeds all the time. You’d think my most loyal fan would know that.”

“You can read minds too?” Falls out of your mouth before you even think about what you're saying.

“No. You’re just very easy to read.” He places his hands on his hips, naturally defaulting to his superhero pose.

And sure, maybe the way your eyes move in between the window, him and the flowers is a dead giveaway but you still don’t think it’s that easy to figure out exactly how your thought process works.

He seems unhappy with your lack of enthusiastic response. He probably expected you to jump at him, wrapping your arms around him in pure glee that he’d do such a romantic thing.

He nodded towards the bouquet, raising his eyebrows.

“Anyway, your flowers. You might want to put them in some water. Unless you plan on fondling each petal all night.” You don’t know whether he said it that way on purpose or if your absurd attraction to his voice is reaching new heights but the imagery that conjures is not one that would belong at a dinner table. There’s a different kind of petal-fondling you have in mind for later.

“Sorry! I’m sorry. And thank you. Really, this is very kind of you. They’re beautiful.” Finally, he’s satisfied with that response, his shoulders relax a bit, his chest puffing out as he sees you hold the flowers closer to you.

You’re all over the place and your movements are in no way elegant or thought out as you awkwardly stumble around, pulling out the biggest glass you could find. This ends up being a large glass measuring jug which you admit looks rather strange, and you don't miss the way he raises his eyebrow at the display.

Well, it was a lot better than if you used the bucket you keep under the sink for cleaning. It’s not like you have a perfect pretty vase ready for this occasion. Until now you didn’t have anyone bringing you flowers and you never really bought any for yourself.

He doesn’t comment on the miserable display. Instead he focuses on how wound up you are.

“Jeez, you’re even stiffer than last time. You know I usually fuck my dates after dinner, but if you need me to loosen you up…” His crude attempt at humor and breaking the ice just has your brain screeching and halting all actions.

“What?! No, nonono. That won’t—That’s not. I’m sorry. I’m just surprised. That you’re here.”

“I did tell you I’d come. And I’m pretty sure you’re not plating up two plates for yourself there silly.” He shakes his head while clicking his tongue, as if disapproving of your doubt.

“I mean, I’m surprised that you want to do this. With me.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m here aren’t I? Last time I checked I asked you out, not the other way around. And trust me sweetheart, I don’t do shit out of pity.” He walks closer to you, his hand patting the side of your arm, settling his hand there and sliding it up until he reaches your jaw. The leather of his glove is cold, some raindrops still stuck in the crevices.

Although your heart rate picks up, you smile genuinely. Getting the straightforward confirmation that he wants to be here with you warms your heart. “Alright.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have everything ready. I lost track of time. Do you mind just sitting down, I’ll finish up in a second.”

“Yup, can do.” He sits down at the small table slapping his palms on his thighs as he does so. Already peeling his gloves off, discarding the gloves at the edge of the table.

You finish up the plating, trying to make it as neat as possible. You bring the plates over, one in front of him the other right opposite. “Um, do you drink beer? I got some in case you do. I know you do endorse some but I’m sure that doesn’t mean you have to consume it in your free time.”

“No thanks, never got the taste for it. Have you got milk?”

You blank a little at the request. It’s not the typical pairing by any means but who are you to tell him what to like. Instead you comply, tucking away the little preference into the corner of your mind where you keep all your knowledge about him.

“Um, yeah. I do. Again, I got one you’ve done marketing for, just in case you did like it. I wasn’t really sure. Believe it or not there’s a lot I don’t know about you.” You admit. It’s not like everything that his Marketing team puts out is all real. You're sure they leave out any of his actual preferences so future advertisers don't clash with any competition.

“With this logic I’m surprised you didn’t buy the entire store.”

“I was close to it.” You take the carton out of the fridge, shutting the door with your hip. “Do you want it warm or cold?”

“Cold is fine.” You nod, pouring some into a glass placing it in front of him.

As a last touch you take two roses from the huge bouquet, popping them into a narrow tall glass filled with water and you place the romantic decoration to the side of the table before sitting down.

He strangely smiles at the gesture, something about it feeling awfully domestic. It may not be perfectly manicured but it's real and it does the job just as well. It's not a perfect setting made for a photoshoot. You're just trying to impress him with what you've got. All for his enjoyment only. And that alone makes it a lot more special.

Suddenly being right across him really set the reality of the situation. You feel a little awkward about the setting. But there is really only so much you could have done with your small apartment. And it’s not like he hasn’t been here before. He knows what you're working with.

You watch as he cuts into the steak, stabbing it with his fork and bringing a piece to his mouth.

“Wait! You’re not allergic to anything right?!” You suddenly panic, feeling cold sweat pour over you at the thought of your irrational thoughts from earlier coming true.

He looks thoroughly amused but he doesn’t answer and instead just takes the bite.

“Are you always this worried on dates? Or do you get them to fill out a questionnaire beforehand?” He seems to enjoy throwing all these little jabs highlighting how much of a nervous mess you are in his presence.

“I don’t usually cook for my dates on the first date. There’s usually nothing to worry about.”

“I did ask you out for dinner. This is your own doing missy.” He waved his fork at you, pointing at you being the one to blame.

“You think I’m—oh. I’m not complaining about this, oh my god! I just didn’t really know what you like! Surprisingly not a lot about that online. They really know how to keep you a mystery. And even superheroes have allergies! How was I to know whether you’ve got one or not? But even if you did, it’s not like Vought would release that information.” You ramble on, trying to explain yourself but you’re really just digging yourself a deeper hole. Not that Homelander looks particularly put off. If anything, the amused grin spreads to both corners of his mouth.

“You know I’m not here for the food right? Though this is not too bad. Didn’t think you had it in you.” He raises his eyebrows in appreciation.

“I live on my own. I don’t know why you’re surprised to learn that I can cook for myself.” You said feigning offense but inside you were squealing at the compliment.

“When’s the last time you’ve had a date?” He changes the topic, with each passing moment he’s less interested in the food and a lot more honed in on you and what little secrets you can let him in on. Though he’s still happily nursing the glass of milk.

“It’s been a while, I guess.” You’re overcome with this anxious feeling in your gut. Is it meant to be a dig at the date you’ve prepared? Is he saying that you’re not desirable enough to be dated?

He catches you off guard with his smug little smile. “Thought so. Guess you’re too busy being my biggest fan, huh?”

You nearly choke on your food, surprised and flustered by his words. The tell-tale sign of heat creeps up your neck and to the tip of your ears in embarrassment. He’s hard to read and you can’t tell whether he’s trying to humiliate you or if he genuinely enjoys the reminder of having someone fawn over him right there and then.

You put your cutlery down, softly clinking it against the plate. “Look, I’m really sorry about all that. I’m a fan but I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say you were.” The corners of his mouth comically pull down feigning innocence with a shrug.

You playfully roll your eyes. “You insinuated. I’m just saying I wouldn’t have all this stuff out if I knew you’d ever see it!” You wave your arm in the general direction of the rest of your humble apartment. Still littered with Homelander merch. If you had more time to prepare for the date you would have maybe even taken some of it down. Replace some posters with photos of friends or family, making you appear a lot more put together. But alas, your guilty pleasure is still blatantly obvious and out for anyone to see. It's all the worse that in this case it’s being seen by the featured star of your guilty pleasure himself.

“There’s no shame in being a fan.”

“No, but it’s different to collect memorabilia and merchandise of a beloved superhero that you don’t ever expect to witness the madness and to actually have him see it all and feel objectified. As if all there was to him is just the plastic he can sell with his face on it.”

You don’t know why you’re getting into the heavy-duty topic of someone’s worth and value but maybe part of you just wants to present yourself as someone who cares. Someone who looks beyond the obvious.

Homelander is similarly perturbed by your words. Clearly not used to fans taking such direction with him. Thinking about it you doubt he hears more from them beyond a predictable can I have a selfie?

He furrows his eyebrows for a second tilting his head. As if he’s trying to look into your brain to read your mind. And sure he can literally see inside your skull but it doesn’t help him understand your thoughts. So instead he digs deeper. Putting the glass of milk down he looks you straight in the eyes.

“You don’t think that’s it?”

His resolute question makes you pause, feeling as if you overstepped. And even if, there’s no way to backtrack anymore so you continue. “O-of course not. I know you’re more than what Vought puts out there.”

You’ve spent countless hours following the content Vought markets out to the public. All of it manicured to match his perfect brand and profile. They’re slick enough to control even the content fans put out. From conventions to random street encounters. You remember following a thread of an anonymous fan sharing their experience of getting barraged by Vought’s lawyers after they shared a post about a poor experience they had meeting one of their superheroes. You haven’t heard an update from that story in a while, god knows what happened to the fan. Maybe Vought’s lawyers managed to get their anonymous account too.

“How would you know?” Irritation seeps into his tone, shoulders tensing, feeling exposed right before he slides back into his normal casual tone and body language as if remembering that he’s meant to be talking to a date and not some nosy interviewer trying to get the next scoop.

“I mean who hasn’t put up a face to show the world their perfect self? Whether it’s on dates or in front of friends. I just imagine that doing that in front of the whole world means there’s a lot you feel like you have to hide.” With each word you feel like you’re digging yourself a hole, ruining any chance of another date. But you’ve started saying your piece and when else are you gonna get the chance to tell the man exactly how you feel?

So you continue.

“I just think it has to be exhausting. Your entire job, your life is existing in the public eye and you can’t ever slip up? Not super-abled celebrities deal with that already but for you there’s the added burden of being seen as the superhero right? ‘Here to save us all’. I just mean, do you ever get to be yourself?”

You mean to be sympathetic, not that you could ever imagine what it’s like to be in his shoes. Being as obsessed as you are, you've watched all the footage with him. You notice how often the same lines repeat, how well he’s perfected the mask of a perfect hero. The fake humble you’re the real heroes being repeated in every video and appearance. If it was you, you know you’d have enough a while ago now. The daily grind of a job is exhausting enough but to do that all under the public’s scrutiny? You couldn’t even imagine.

You were so lost in your little monologue, spilling all the little thoughts you had about him and his persona that you miss how his casual demeanor has once again shifted into something else. He’s less irritated but he’s tense. Even more so than before. He wears an expression you’re pretty sure you’ve not seen on him before. His jaw may not be dropped but his surprise and confusion is evident without it.

He’s speechless. Thinking about it now, has anyone ever spoken to him in such manner before?

You watch his body language and the way he’s squeezing the fork so hard you’re sure he’s bent the metal.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. It’s just once I get going I can’t stop!”

He lets out a breathless little laugh. His shoulders release in tension. He stops gripping the cutlery and sure enough it has a bend that definitely wasn’t there before but you don’t care. He’s not pissed. He raises his free hand waving you off and stopping you from apologizing any further. Something you’ve managed to do about a hundred times since his arrival.

“No. No, it’s fine. You didn’t.” He shakes his head a little, looking at you with a different look in his eyes. No longer just looking for a little bit of excitement, now he’s truly locked in. What else can he get you to say? “Well maybe you did a little, but color me intrigued anyway.”

He looks at you in a way that makes you feel small. You feel like you’re on your knees praying for your god to hear out your prayers knowing it’s unlikely for him to even notice you.

“Can't say I've heard any of that before.” He concludes, slumping back into the chair now that he's relaxed again, having lost all interest in the food you've served up.

You’re embarrassed by the call out. It’s like all your efforts to not appear like another crazy fan have been pointless. He might not seem angry but that doesn’t mean he’s about to jump at the thought of another date. You may have ruined your chances at this being anything more than mild entertainment to him so you try to save yourself. “I just mean. I have always wanted to get to know you. The you without the cameras.”

“You already have. I don’t go on dates with many fans, believe it or not. And I gotta say you’re a lot more interesting than I gave you credit for.”

And maybe it wasn’t such a lost cause yet. Have there been many people that Homelander has ever found genuinely interesting? You wouldn’t know but at least you’re one of them.

“Oh…ah-hah thank you.” You fluster under his heavy gaze. His words make your heart skip a beat. There’s very little that can match the euphoria of your hero, the hero really, saying he finds you interesting. It’s hard to calm the pounding of your heart at the thought of a man of his caliber seeking your company out.

After all you’ve managed to blurt out you feel more at ease. It’s not awkward like you expected it to be. In a way you’ve broken the ice you didn’t know was even there.

With you both losing interest or having had enough of your meals you move to the small but comfortable couch. And like any good dinner and movie date you put on the first title that gets advertised to you on the main page of the Vought+ streaming platform.

In reality the movie doesn’t get watched. Either you let it play in the background or you pause on sections just so you can continue the conversation between the two of you. And somehow it’s still mainly you literally just rambling on about him. It’s not that he doesn’t talk or doesn’t ask questions about you but you see the way he preens at all the enamored praise you send his way.

The only parts that do get watched is the small cameo Homelander ended up having in the title and the conversation steers back to him. He gives you all the details you ask for, more than happy to talk about how great of an actor he is.

With each minute of sitting close to him you feel your body respond to him. You feel hot. Too warm for the cardigan you’re wearing but you don’t want to seem too forward by taking it off. Especially after knowing what kind of trouble he could get up to in between your legs it makes it very hard to accidentally brush against his thigh and not spontaneously combust.

Homelander turns around to look back into the room while you’re dealing with your internal turmoil. Would it be too unseemly for you to initiate?

Your thoughts are interrupted when his bare hand cradles your jaw, bringing you in for a kiss. The whimper you let out is embarrassing but you quickly lose track of anything that’s not his hot lips melting you into a puddle. Just as things are about to get good, just when you’re about to pry his lips open with your needy tongue he pulls away. He doesn’t go too far. You can still feel his hot breath while he rests his forehead against yours.

“I’ll have to set off. I need to get back to Vought tower.” He hums so close to you that you get goosebumps from the way his voice turns all low and hushed. Even though the words he’s saying are anything but good news, the attractive sound still soothes you.

“Oh-kay.” You nod. A little sad but understanding that he’s got things to get to. Every part of you is holding back from pulling him in for more but as much as your fingers twitch for him you restrain yourself.

“Come on now. Don’t sound so upset.” He gives your cheek a soft little pat before placing another peck on your lips with a chuckle from behind his closed lips.

The taste of your lips pulls him in anyway and he holds you close for a few more indulgent kisses. Upon separating you’re warm and flustered. His touch always seems to have that effect on you.

“It's just… I had a lot of fun today.” And you don't want it to be over or for it to be the last time you see him. But how do you ask him out?

While your limbs still feel like jelly, having melted into the couch, he stands up, walking over to the little dining table where he left his discarded gloves, pulling them back on.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll be back.” He clearly reads your expression and watches as you stumble while getting up, clearly wanting to see him out before he flies off.

His words alone are good enough to lift your spirits and you let yourself show that joy outwardly.

“Thanks for today.” When’s the last time you’ve ever felt this in the moment? Even if he never came back this moment would easily be a highlight you look back on.

“Well, aren’t you sweet?” As if he couldn’t restrain himself his eyes snapped in between your eyes and lips, his eyelashes fluttering, lips parting as he took in the sight of you. So eager to please and be there for him. He wets his lips and your stomach flips at the display. The pink of his tongue disappearing as quickly as it appears.

His eyes soften, lips stretching into a lazy lopsided smile.

“Do I get a goodbye kiss?”

And just like that with one last kiss he’s off again, returning to his duties.

This isn’t where things end with you two. If anything, your life takes a massive turn. It’s not been the same ever since you’ve won that silly competition. And it strangely makes you want to send a gift basket to whoever organized it, no matter how much you dislike Vought itself.

At first he comes back to you seeking comfort.

He strolls in through your balcony door which you’ve gotten into the habit of leaving unlocked—just in case. It’s not like there’s anyone else eager to fly into your home. You awake at the disruption, eyes bleary and straining in the harsh light of the nightstand lamp you’ve turned on to see what’s going on.

He doesn’t explain himself as much as he just vents to you about how he’s not being respected and taken seriously. It’s the first time he’s been back since your date and you’re surprised to see him so emotive. So unlike the perfect persona or even the carefully charming guy he presented himself as during your date.

He’s already pacing back and forth, the thud of his boots bound to disturb your neighbors below. Not that either of you care. He’s too preoccupied with being angry. And you’re too frazzled by the thought of something upsetting your hero to this degree.

You see the angry tremor in his hands and the sharpness of his teeth, highlighted by the yellow night light. You snap out of the sleepy daze and you catch his gloved hand when he paces in front of you.

You pull him down next to you, cooing supportive words and showing your own anger at seeing him be so disrespected by Vought. You believe they don’t know how lucky they are to have someone like him. They should revere him, yet the things he lets slip in his anger make your chest tight, fueling the rage simmering inside you.

It’s like seeing you riled up at the way he’s being mistreated is enough to calm him down. The more you seethe the more he cools down, the energy exchange working in between you perfectly. He’s pleased to have someone in his corner. Preening at how much you parrot the words he’s saying without needing to nudge you in that direction.

Swoop-in visits like these happen more regularly. Either he comes in irritated wanting to get some frustration and anger out, fucking you throughout the night until all he can think of are your moans and cries telling him it’s too much.

Or he comes in happy, excited to share the news that his numbers are up or that the public and the on-scene reporters couldn’t stop praising him after his latest save. Those days he comes in for affection and a cuddle, wanting to hear over and over again just how well he’s done since you’ve last seen him. Treating you less like a stress ball and more like a teddy bear he’s hugged against his chest in comfort.

You start thinking how lonely he must feel. The thought that there aren’t any people around him showering him with genuine love and friendship hurts you and suddenly you want nothing more than to keep him here with you, making sure he knows just how special he is.

As much as you’ve always been devoted to this god-like being and the idea that he represented, you never got to love the person. Until now. Now the ideology alone has seeped into your never ending love, fueling the suffocating adoration you hold for him. So strong it’s eating away at you anytime you don’t get the chance to scream how much you love him.

You used to see these late night visits as something he does for his own benefit. With you always being the easiest and most effective balm to his troubled soul. You didn’t think he was serious with you. After all, this is the Homelander you’re spending every other evening with.

So when he sends you flowers out of nowhere, effectively courting you, you start thinking that this might be turning into something real.

It starts with the first delivery at your door. A gorgeous bouquet bursting at the seams, tagged with a note saying it’s from Homelander. Since then he’s made sure to supply you with the most beautiful bouquets as if to keep a reminder of him on a daily basis. You finally invest in a pretty vase, knowing it’s going to be thoroughly used and displayed.

Your home always had touches of Homelander throughout it—some might even say too many. However, as your relationship grows you come to a realization that those really only represent Vought. It’s these new touches that really represent Homelander’s presence in your life. Like how he times the flower deliveries just right so your place is never empty. Always there to remind you to keep him at the forefront of your mind. Never wavering.

You two haven’t officially said that you’re dating throughout these nighttime visits but it’s at the tip of your tongue each time he comes. You want to voice the love you carry for him like a burden. Overflowing from your arms with nowhere to go. And it feels like each second you don’t say it, it’s being uselessly spilled on the floor like sand falling from in-between your fingers.

Homelander has his own way of showing affection. Seeing as so much of his life has been in front of some sort of camera you wonder if thinking in advertising scripts and photoshoot visuals comes to him more naturally than casual and real gestures. As ever since he started with the flower deliveries he’s been showering you with gifts upon each visit. As if everyday had to be Valentine’s day and he had to bring something to symbolize the reason for his visit.

You call him out on that one day.

“You know you don’t have to bring anything right? You don’t need to bribe me.” You chuckle at the gift box he brought with him. You’ve got dozens of similar gift boxes and bags that you feel reluctant to get rid of mainly for the sentimental value but the retail price associated with the gift they hold certainly doesn’t help.

He clasps the gifted necklace around your neck. The dainty chain lays cold against your skin and your fingers gently caress the pendant with care. Your statement still rings true but you can’t help but feel giddy every time he brings you something he thought would look great on you.

“Do you not like the things I bring you?” With a perplexed expression you see him trying to do mental math, trying to figure out why you could possibly not kneel or bow in gratitude. He watches you play with your new pretty jewelry with a squint.

“No! It’s all beautiful—this one especially—just. I don’t want you to feel like that’s an obligatory part of you being here.” You laugh it off a little, still dreamily thinking about what it really means to get pampered to this degree.

He breaks your thoughts with a simple sentence.

“Maybe I want to treat my girl.”

Your eyes widen, and you let out a shocked stuttered breath.

“Your girl?”

“Yeah, duh.” He scoffs as if what he said is as obvious as the sky being blue and water wet.

“Because you’re mine, right?” You don’t see the way his eyes reflect his own complicated and simmering feelings. The tension in his jaw betrays how he needs you to acknowledge his words and speak them into an existence. But you don’t notice any of that because it’s like the dam you’ve been doing your best to hold together with safety pins finally bursts.

You’re nodding feverishly. No longer able to hold back you’re possessed to blurt out the words that have been threatening to fall off the precipice of your tongue for weeks.

“I love you.”

Homelander’s eyes widen. Surprised by your admission just as much as you are. Your heart is racing, suddenly feeling insane for thinking this was anything more than simple fun to him. The knee-jerk response to apologize spills easily from your lips.

“I’m sorry—,” but instead he interrupts you by cradling your jaw in his bare hands, stepping closer.

“Don’t be sorry.” He says in a low rumble, sending shivers down your spine. He leans in to give you a tender kiss. Just barely slotting in between your parted lips, pressing them against his. Before you get the chance to continue he pulls away with enough distance to speak up.

He breathes out, eyes squeezed shut in longing which to an untrained eye would just look like pure pain and frustration. But not to you. You’ve learned to read him better.

He nuzzles his face against yours, dragging his lips across your cheek until he reaches your ear, growling a weak, “say it again.”

You’ve partially gotten used to the timbre of his voice in your ear. Capable of having a conversation without getting worked up by every word he says but the way he’s now needily begging in your ear has your body erupt in goosebumps. He doesn’t need to say please for you to hear it anyway.

“I-I love you.” You whimper out. The emotion alone feels thick in your throat, as if it was clogging up your airways anytime you come up for air. Your heart is pounding, you’re strung up, the butterflies in your stomach make you antsy.

His hold on your jaw tightens. With a sharp intake of breath he smashes your lips together. No longer composed and tender. Your teeth nearly clash as he’s pressed you close to him. He’s prying your lips open with his, his whimpers easily falling into the press of your lips.

“Again.”

“I love you.”

You don’t want to cry but you’re so overwhelmed with emotion the burn that turns your eyes glassy spills over and you’re dripping tears down your cheeks in pure emotional instability.

“Again.”

And each time he asks he sounds more wrecked.

“I love you.”

Homelander catches the tears with his tongue right before kissing the salty taste into your mouth. Not letting any of your love get wasted. You grab onto him, grasping where you can. Your hands tangle in between his as you wrap them around his neck. One hand grips as much of the fabric of his suit it can while the other tangles in his hair, pulling on it for support more than anything.

You feel like you’re drowning. The intensity of the moment makes you gasp for air but it’s like Homelander kisses it back into your lungs like a lifeline. Hearing his shattered whimpers soothes you, his own need fueling yours, filling the void your tears are leaving behind.

He lifts you up and with practiced ease you automatically wrap your legs around him.

He leads you both to the bedroom while he’s continuously prompting you to continue declaring your love to him. Each again, again, again you reward with the three words that make him feverish and mad. The more you say it the less your heart feels like it’s about to explode from the burden it’s been carrying for too long.

Homelander quite literally rips your clothes off, not caring that he’s leaving his own recent purchases in tatters. He doesn’t want to separate his lips from your neck where he’s kissing trails across each inch of your skin.

You don’t have the luxury to treat his suit with the same carelessness. Even if you wanted to, the tough molded material would make it impossible. Instead you do what you can. Unclasping his belt, pulling at the front of his suit, pushing his pants down where you can reach.

He helps you with taking off the rest of it until he’s on top of you, skin to skin. You rarely get the luxury of lying with him fully stripped and each time you’re shocked at how hot he runs. Now his hot body is making you melt under the heat alone.

Neither of you have stopped kissing with the same intense need that has been laying there dormant for months. Anytime you have the chance you repeat the same words over and over again until they’re all you know how to say.

It’s the first time sex has felt anything more than a physical relief he comes to you for. You’re barely keeping it together as he nudges your legs a little open, sliding his hand down your body, his palm blazing hot as the anticipation makes you clench your core.

It’s by no means either one of your first times, nor it is the first time you’ve been together yet you’ve never felt more nervous. The first touch he descends onto your clit feels like a lightning bolt crackling down your spine, spreading the tingles out to your toes and fingertips.

“Ahh hah—fuck. Want it so bad, don’t you?” He looks as broken as he sounds when he hisses at the feeling of your soaked pussy. It makes his fingers glide too easily, making it harder to give your clit the precise rhythm he’s learned to make you see stars with.

His attempt at his normal dirty talk is disrupted by his keen moans and broken whimpers. Part of you wonders whether his super senses include being able to feel other people’s sensations with the way he’s acting as if it was him getting his body set on fire.

You hum and ahh in response, your tongue feeling incapable of saying anything but the words you’ve been finally allowed to repeat over and over again.

His fingers easily slip inside the sloppy mess you’ve made for him and he moans right into the kiss he leans in to steal from your lips. And it feels good. The friction is perfect, his fingers are hitting the right spot inside you and the loud squelch is embarrassing and intoxicating in equal parts. Yet it’s not what you want.

It takes all your strength to reach down and pull his hand out of you, as instinctively you’re already clenching around the all too familiar emptiness you whine at every other time when he’s done with you.

“I want you. Please. Just you.” You manage to breathe out, your hand reaching over for his hard cock. You give him a few shaky strokes, smearing his leaking precum across the entire length.

“Alright. Uh huh, okay. I’ll give it to you.” And he’s just as out of it as you as his normal cocky one-liners just break into a lot of grunts and stutters.

He wedges himself in between your thighs, spreading them wide open. His lips part with a wistful sigh while his eyes haze over with lust at the sight of your pussy spread ope, generously glistening with slick all made for him.

He aligns his cock with your entrance, not even bothering to tease you. He’s just as strung out as you are. He splits you open with a single thrust, your slick pulling him in with an easy glide.

“I love you.” For the first time the confession spills from Homelander’s lips. A relief just as palpable falls upon him. It’s a different story for you. The words cause more tears to spill, a wet hiccup leaving your throat as you clench around him.

“Shh, shh.” He hushes you sweetly, already reaching back for you.

He lays his body flush on top of yours and kisses your tears away, the heat and weight of his body on top yours grounds you. He repeats the words over and over again in between wet, messy kisses. He ruts into you in shallow thrusts as if he doesn’t want to part from you any second longer.

Nothing in the world exists but you two and neither one of you can believe how perfect you really are for each other. You’ve always felt like the way you love was overwhelming. It left the other person choking on the overwhelming viscosity of it all. Homelander isn’t like that. To him your love is a breath of fresh air.

As long as you love him with the same unyielding intensity he’s yours. At this point, he wouldn’t know how to live without it.

He kisses you in a way that says just that. Needy and broken yet utterly completed by you.

You’re both so worked up with the overflowing emotions it doesn’t take much more than his frenzied grinding to make you both reach the release that’s as emotional as it physical. Maybe even more so.

Because the reward isn’t just a good orgasm. It’s the love that fills the air, spilling into every empty crevice you didn’t manage to fill with your bodies.

Homelander’s whimpers resemble cries as he finishes inside you right as you flutter around him with the toe-curling orgasm wracking your nerves.

It takes you a little while to regain your mental faculties after such an emotionally draining affair. You feel boneless, your limbs feel like jelly and you just lie there dazed. Focusing on the way your heart beats loud even to your ears.

Homelander is doing the same thing. Listening to your heartbeat with his head on your chest.

After a long while you both pull yourself together. Still in bed but now you’ve managed to strike up a normal conversation again. Talking about everything and nothing.

You lie like this for what feels like hours. Having changed positions you rest your head against his chest, ear pressed to his pecs to listen in on the steady beat of his heart.

After this reveal your brain recognizes your relationship as the utmost priority. Because of that your eyes lock onto the Kuddle Buddy plush resting just a foot away from Homelander’s head. As if you were locking onto an enemy. You pluck it from the pillow, squeezing it in your hand.

You’re staring at it, still clutching it too hard.

“What got you thinking so hard? You’re making my head hurt from how tense you are.” Homelander interrupts you from your thoughts.

“Just you. This. I can’t look at this stuff these days without—I don’t know—rage? To know how much Vought has wronged you.” You furrow your eyebrows, assessing the innocent plush toy while it’s staring back at you with its stitched grimace.

“That’s what the toy reminds you of, really? It should remind you of me.”

“It doesn’t anymore.” Your furrowed expression slowly melts into one of content as your hand presses against your new necklace. “Things like these do.”

“And these.” Your fingers continue to travel up your neck where they tap at the darkened patches you feel he has left behind. With soft nipping and sucking he left your neck coloured in all shades.

He plucks the plush toy from your hands, throwing it somewhere across the room with thankfully not enough strength to knock anything else over. You’re pretty damn comfortable and you’d rather not get up to assess any damage.

“Maybe I should give you more reminders then.”

You squeal as he easily pulls you up so his lips can meet yours, kissing your worries out of your mind.

Homelander lands on your balcony with a soft thud. It’s late in the afternoon, earlier than he normally arrives, and he doesn’t want to attract unwanted attention. Already predicting the shit Madelyn would put him through if he got caught regularly perusing outside some random person’s apartment.

His person’s apartment really. You’re not just a random boring nobody.

He makes his way in quietly, closing the door and stepping in. Each time coming back to your apartment has felt more like coming home than he’s ever felt at Vought. You’ve arranged your life around him. He’s noticed you cancel plans, call off events just so you could stay in in the evening, waiting for him to make his return.

You even make space for him in your small apartment. The state of which he’d normally scoff at but it’s hard to mock your financial situation when you manage to make the place feel warm.

His presence left its mark in the gifts you happily displayed or the flowers you always took good care of.

And of course, the insane collection of merchandise you’ve spent years accumulating.

Wait.

Where is everything?

Homelander looks around, breaking out of his routine and instead he scans the surroundings as if it’s the first time he’s ever been here. Only now does he realize that all the usual merchandise carrying his likeness is gone. No posters on the walls. No action figures on the shelves. No funko pops. No collectibles. Nothing.

Homelander feels his blood pressure rise. There’s no way you’d want to get rid of him. Not you too. You love him. You wouldn’t do that.

He finally notices the black trash bags pushed into the kitchen, still open and overflowing with all the things missing from your walls.

His stomach flips.

No. Nonono. This can’t be happening.

You can’t get rid of him like this. He can’t lose you.

Not after he’s finally tasted what real love in cooking tastes like. Or what it’s like to wake up next to someone who instead isn’t pushing you away straight after sex. Someone who makes an effort for him. Not out of fear but out of love.

He mentally compares everything you’ve changed his perception on.

Like when you give him a gift or help him out it’s different. Vought employees being at his beck and call could never compare.

He’s the most powerful man in the world, with means that don’t feel like they have an end yet he could never buy the love you give freely. For once, love doesn’t feel like pulling teeth. It feels like a warm embrace on a cold winter night.

You make it easy. You don’t fake it. And most importantly you do it unconditionally. Love him through thick and thin, the devotion to him a part of your very core. Your love is overwhelming, oozing and sticky like he’s never gonna be able to get rid of it. Just like you could never get rid of him.

You’re the only one who hasn’t left him.

Exactly. It can’t be. You wouldn’t.

This has to be some kind of a mistake.

The shuffle of your slippers against the floor breaks him out of his spiraling thoughts. He looks up sharply. Seeking some sort of explanation.

“Hey baby. You’re early today—what’s wrong?” The smile drops from your face as quickly as he sees it and it’s only then he realizes his hand is shaking. He squeezes it into a fist, the leather creaking with the pressure as he takes in a labored breath with a jittery shake to his head.

“W-uh-what is… What are you doing?” He blinks rapidly, shaking his head pretending that his voice doesn’t quiver and waver the way it does.

“Bit of spring cleaning. After we talked the other night I just can’t look at this stuff and not think how much Vought has used you. I don’t want those reminders. It’s not what I thought it was and now that you opened my eyes to it, I can’t forget. So. Out with it.” You say so casually, not picking up on the panic he’s been going through in his head.

“Oh—okay.” He lets out a visible breath of relief, his posture relaxing. “I thought—” His jaw tightens and he looks away. Thought so heartbreaking, he doesn't want to give it voice.

“You thought I was getting rid of you?” You stop what you are doing. Putting the box on the couch and instead you walk up to him, hand on his jaw you turn him back to look at you.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” You kiss him, and Homelander melts right into it. He lets himself melt into the loving embrace of your pliant lips.

“Good. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.” When you pull away he puts his hands on your jaw, tilting your head as if he was inspecting you. Seeing if what you’re saying is true. And he can’t see a single speck of a lie with the steady beats of your heart and the taste of love on your lips.

“So what are you doing with all of it?”

“Selling it, donating or trashing some I guess.”

“Why not sell it all?”

“You can buy a Homelander poster or card at any shop for a few bucks. I'm not gonna bother with those.”

“What if I sign them?”

“Oh please don’t waste your time. You’re not here to be a show pony.”

“Nonsense, come on. Bring it out.”

Homelander ends up taking the stack of posters with his or the Seven’s likeness from the top of the trash bag, placing them on the coffee table in front of the couch. He sits down, hooking his cape out of the way. He picks up a pen off the table already signing the first poster.

Part of him is still upset that you feel like throwing a part of him away. Is this part of him not good enough for you anymore? It’s how he found you, how he got to know you and now it feels like you’re throwing it away.

As if you could read his thoughts you sit down next to him, placing your hand on top of his as he’s halfway through his signature.

His head snaps up towards you, expression clearly guarded while he looks you over with his piercing blue gaze.

He carries his upset so visibly it would be hard even for someone as unaware as you to miss it. His smile is tight, not even attempting to reach his eyes.

You pull the pen out of his grip, instead wrapping your hand around his. The other one goes to his hair, scratching your nails down his scalp until you reach his undercut where you play with the shortly buzzed hair.

“I’m not getting rid of you. Not now. Not ever.”

At that he leans into you, nearly purring at the pleasure your scalp massage brings him. The way you touch him with no hesitation will never cease to amaze him. There’s enough love pouring off you to almost fill the black hole in his heart.

It was exhilarating to have someone so eager to keep him in their life. Everyone else has just pushed him away, entertained him until they got what they wanted. Not you. You give and give and give. Sometimes he’s scared you’ll run out of love to shower him with. However, one look at you tells him that the love you carry feels just as much of a burden as his need for it does to him. You free each other by sharing the love. You feed his insatiable beast of a heart and he lets you burst the dam free without feeling like you’re not allowed to.

The posters are forgotten about. Any hurt brushed away with a press of his lips to yours. Needy and hungry, wanting to see if you can prove your words with actions. Again and again.

And you do. Like you’ve done a hundred times before and just like you will do thousands of times over.

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged when I post a new Homelander fic)

@morishitoshi @ker0senebunny @itsvaleriesucka @thychuvaluswife

@nervoussystemss @littlegaaby @natliecole @thatvintagefanboy

@infinetlyforgotten @rafecamsgirlll @hom3landr @mrsdesade

@nommingonfood

#yayyyy it's done #I need to learn to keep my chapters at a reasonable word count honestly #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander #homelander fanfiction #my writing #the boys fanfiction

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misguidedasgardian · 6 months ago

Text

I need to

Enjoy my summer II, part II

MASTERLIST

Summary: You were having the time of your life… but nothing could be so perfect

Pairings: Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cursing, in some countries they are minors drinking alcohol, fluff, mentions of smut, fun timessss, smut, might miss some warnings

Wordcount: 6,6 k

Notes: SORRY SORRY SORRY, I HAD TO SQUEEZE MY OWN BRAIN TO GET THIS DONE, AND EVEN MORE? I SAID I WAS GOING TO DO HOLLYWOOD THEMED but I couldn't it was one or the other and i htought you'd appreciate more an update! so Happy Halloween! love you all.

Edit: it was like 4 in the morning when I posted this so I wrote Hollywood instead of Halloween, so sorry for any mistakes 😂

“So you must be Cregan”, said Aemond, he walked towards you, right over you like you didn’t even exist and shook a confused Cregan’s hand, “I’m Aemond”, he said he then turn to you, “so long no see”, he muttered

“No long enough”, you grumbled, Criston and the girls didn’t even bother to say hello, looking everywhere with mixed messages of disgust, or curiosity, Cole seemed rather impressed

It was like watching a car crash, one that you were involved in.

The collision was brutal, two groups of people had nothing in common against one another.

Aegon and Aemond had brought close friends of theirs, wich where Floris Baratheon, Criston Cole, Tabitha Florent, and Agnes Bracken, all of them from Dragonstone University, that as is, what a great turn off for the lot of you

They looked everywhere with… curious… gazes on them, they were not impressed

“The place looks GOOD”, said Aegon, he is the only one who had seen it in its worse, and Aemond too, “good job”

“Mmmm what are you doing here?, asked Jace standing up. You felt Cregan’s eyes on you, and you looked at him. You felt the little hairs on the back of your neck standing, electrified, you felt a deep gaze in you, you guessed it was Aemond’s.

Both of you both turned to Jace, who was discussing with an amused Aegon

“Daemon said I could have the house for the summer”

“What it sounded to me, little nephew, is that this house is the family’s summer house, and any of us can use it”

“He lent it to me”, he said again.

“Listen, nephew, this is our father's house as much as it Daemon’s, so…”, said Aemond, “I want Rhaenyra’s room”

“I have that room”, you said fiercely. He looked back at you and smirked, you couldn’t believe those were the first words you had said to him

“Very well”, he said, amused, he signalled to his friends and they all entered the house through the back door. Criston Cole had the audacity to look at you and smirk. You never liked him, he always gave you the creeps.

Jace whined pitifully when they were all out of ear-shot, you just looked back at him. But he didn’t back down, he followed them into the house to see what they were up to.

They were three boys and three girls, and you also were two couples, this was becoming like a very cheap reality show.

“Well, this is weird”, said Sara, “was that Aemond?”, she whispered/asked you, you looked back at her and nodded

“The one”, you said, incredibly bored

“Dammit”

“He is here to spite us, clearly”, you said, “but this is certainly awful”

“Totally, we shouldn’t have taken so short time to clean this up, they could have helped!”, she said, and now you were more bitter, they were going to enjoy the benefits of what you all spend an entire week doing, and that sucked

“Well, we still have the shack”, you said gently, “our escape, I’m glad Jace took photographic evidence of how the house was left before they arrived”, you muttered.

You didn’t know what to think, the implication of having Aemond here was still falling on you slowly. Aegon though… he was always troubled. The black sheep of the family, he was a hard-partier, always getting into trouble, Alicent and Viserys having to work over-time because of his “mishaps” and “misunderstandings”. Let’s just say his career didn’t go well, and he had a nice pile of DUI’s and tickets for public disruption, breaking an entering, destruction of property, indecent exposure, indecency altogether, drinking in public spaces, and… you didn’t want to talk about the darkest one.

Let’s just say the Targaryen family fortune had dwindled significantly after paying up hush money for Aegon’s misgivings.

You were more worried about him than Aemond, the latter one at least was… civil, you could talk to him, he understood reason and he hadn't been involved in an arson investigation two years back.

“Please don’t leave”, Jacaerys begged, coming back and sitting down next to Sara, she hugged him by his side. You looked at him with pity

“We would never leave you here with them Jacey”, you said lowly

“I told Daemon but he said he couldn’t do anything, he doesn’t want to have problems with Viserys, or Alicent”

“I’m just sad we didn’t save any cleaning for those bastards”, you muttered, “if they arrived here first they wouldn’t have stayed”, you said, and the four of you laughed

“It doesn’t matter”, said Cregan, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, “we’ll do our own thing”, he said simply, “we are all day at the shack most of the day anyways, right?”, he said simply

“Right”, you all muttered, but you were not convinced. You were troubled, all by different reasons. That you felt like there was a camera pointing at you from every direction.

You didn’t really want to think he came all this way just to upset you, but the evidence was very compelling, why else was he here? He preferred to take his vacations… elsewhere, some place more… fancy and elegant. And furthermore, in the path he was in? He already had internships lined up, he didn’t enjoyed his vacations, he barely took his weekends off

Cregan just took a long sigh, watching the scene with increasing worry on his brow, his girlfriend’s ex was here, looking for trouble? Looking to get her back? Should he be concerned? He looked at your beautiful face, perched right by his side, and he decided he shouldn’t be, not on your end.

But he was coming up against Aemond Fucking Targaryen, heir to a fucking dynasty, handsome, with an impeccable reputation (at least that the media knows of), and he seemed to be the image of perfection with each of his movements or each of his breath he took, so elegant and calculating.

But as you laughed on his hold, about something Sara said, as he saw how comfortable you were against him, he relaxed, he knew you had chosen him, above Aemond, he knew you loved him, in that short amount of time…. So he relaxed again right beside you, as the whole group tried to calm down after that surprise.

You completely ignored the other party as you finished your small barbecue and went to sleep, You took Cregan’s hand as you gilded him upstairs, you felt Aemond’s gaze on you, not matter how much Floris was perched in his lap chatting him up.

As soon as you closed the door, you felt like you had to give some sort of explanation to Cregan, or at least some reassurance

“I don’t know what he is doing here”, you said quickly

“I know this isn’t your fault”, he said with a soft smile

“But I don’t want to leave, this is our summer, our plans, we need to keep the shack going”

“I know”, he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, you went to him, and he hugged you tightly, placing his head on your mid body, “we’ll just ignore him”, he said simply

“The house is big, I know we’ll manage”, you said dismissively.

That night you felt so weirded out, especially once someone you didn't see who it was opened the door to the room next to you and settled themselves there, that you couldn't do any funny business with Cregan.

But you made sure to wake up early, as you both were the first ones to come down.

You opened the fridge ready to start some eggs or something, but you found it mostly empty, in instead of breakfast food you found… booze

“Where’s all the food?”, you asked out loud, “why is the fridge filled with beer… and NOTHING else?”

“Sorry, we were hungry”, said Aegon from the couch he was slumping in, is not that he woke up early, you guessed he never went to sleep in the first place

Cregan didn’t say anything as he sat behind the kitchen bar

“Do you know where we can party around here?”

“No!”, you said back, you only heard a grunt, and Aegon standing up and leaving

You started some toasts, as Cregan started the coffee, luckily you still had some of that, Sarah came down with hair all messy, Jace quickly followed, they booth grumbled when they made the same discovery as you did on the fridge

“How good is the cooler in the shack? Because I think we could set up food there”, asked Jace

“Let’s”, you invited, at that moment, Aemond came in, he was shirtless as he had been working out outside, of course he woke up before everyone else.

“Good morning”, he greeted all of you, his eyes lingering on you. You four looked like you had been ran over in the middle of the desert

“Let’s get out of here” you offered when he left

Normally you would take turns, two of you would go to the Shack to open and the others could linger, but… this time you were all in a rush to get out of the house

You wondered when Baela and Rhena where going to come by

You took whatever you could to eat and fled the scene like criminals, in Daemon’s jeep, luckily they didn’t claim that as well. You opened the shack and it didn’t take long for customers to start coming, you were excited, word was getting spread and little kids came with their parents to rent boards and some plastic kayaks for beginners

It was a very full day, but that meant that you were already breaking even on the small investments you had made in the shack and it was fruitful, and Cregan was writing everything down to make his report for his class in the university. You were proud of him, and your friends, and you were happy with what you were doing.

You were so enthralled in your work that it wasn't until when the sun was set and you were done putting the kayaks away that you checked for phone

You screeched, making Cregan drop his notebook and Sara to push all the wrong buttons on the old cashing machine

“WHAT?”, she asked, frightened

“OBERYN MARTELL JUST TEXTED ME!”, you said hastily

“WHAT?”, asked Sara

“HE IS ASKING ME WHAT ARE WE UP TO AND IF THE FESTIVAL IS STILL ON!”, you screamed

“AH!”, screamed Cregan, as excited as you were

“WELL ANSWER HIM! ANSWER HIM!”, cheered Sara, screaming as loud

“WHY IS EVERYONE YELLING!?”, asked Jace, running into the Shack

“OBERYN JUST TEXTED ME!”, you said loudly

“AH!”, Jace let out a girly scream, and then you all started jumping in happiness grabbing one another.

“ANSWER HIM! ANSWER HIM!”

“WAIT WAIT WAIT!”, said Cregan quickly, “is the festival still on?”

“What festival?”, asked Jace

“The Lake festival”, you said, “music, dance?”

“That thing is… has been a bit lame the last couple of years”, he said, scratching the back of his neck.

“What are we going to tell Oberyn?”, you asked.

“We need to do some reckon”, said Jace. “you and me”, he said to you, “guys cover us”, both Stark nodded as you both went outside and took the jeep

“... This is… awful”, like the shack, and Daemon’s abandoned house, it had potential, but the long esplanade where the festival was going to be held was… overgrown, the stage had… nothing to offer, and the flyers were just sad, poorly made

“So it’s on”, Jace said looking at a flyer he found on the ground, “some of this bands are actually cool, it's just… a bit sad”

“Agree”, you said, “what can we do though?”, you looked at your phone, Oberyn seems like an amazing guy outside of the screen, so you texted him back

“What are you doing?”. Asked Jace, alarmed

“Telling him the truth”, you said politely, “that the festival has potential, but we need his help”, you kept writing, you stole one of the flyers and contacted the organisers for the festival, and offered your help, Oberyn texted back hours later, expressing how he wanted to help as well, offering his presence as a presenter for the festival.

You got home late, and you found the house reeking of weed and beer, and as expected, nothing to eat, luckily you had picked something on the way.

“Where were you?”, asked Aegon, “we were hungry!”, he laughed, you looked at him with one of your eyebrows raised

“Excuse me?”, you asked him, “you ate all our food, if anything, you could go and buy some more”

“We were working”, said Jace, trying to calm the already tense scenery.

“Working? We are supposed to be on vacation”, mocked Aegon, you only shared looks with Cregan and Jace and went on your way inside the house.

You found a very weird scene in the kitchen, Aemond was wearing… nothing but shorts and an apron as he was cooking something, and he was cooking

But Floris was sitting in the kitchen counter, the shortest shorts on her and a crop top as she was clearly flirting heavily. Aemond offered her a taste of whatever he was cooking with the wooden spoon and you just stopped in your tracks when you heard her moan shamesly

They both stopped when they noticed you, Cregan and you frozen like deers in headlights.

You felt Aemond’s gaze on you

“We can make the pizzas on the grill”, you whispered, exiting the kitchen.

You didn't feel anything at all for Aemond being with someone else, a bit of disgust really, for the scene in general, but nothing at all. And you found yourself smiling, because it was so freeing. Cregan however, was frowning.

He had been your first great love, and as Cregan saw him, he thought about how different they were, how different Aemond was from himself, he seemed so… perfect, and he saw himself as someone… far from it.

He came to his senses when you whispered sweetly to him, to ask him to lit the fire, he snapped out of whatever he was thinking and smiled down at you

He needed to eliminate those thoughts from his mind, you wanted him, that was it.

You were positively destroyed when your tired body touched the comfortable mattress, but when Cregan got inside the bed right behind you, hugged you and nuzzled the side of your neck with his nose and his sweet lips, something quickly kindled inside your lower belly.

“Mmmm hello there”, you teased, caressing his strong arms

“A very good night to you my love”, he murmured sweetly, kissing your weak spot right under your ear making you shiver. He moved you gently and slowly, making your back stuck to the mattress as you invited him between your legs, to get comfortable on top of you

He finally kissed you and you kissed him back.

What was it about summer that got you all horny?

You kissed him hungrily as you grabbed him by the back of his head, caressing the hair there, his soft deep black locks. You moaned when you felt how hard he was underneath the soft fabric of his pajama pants

“OH AEMOND!”, you both froze in your spots when you heard the high pitch moan coming from right across the wall, “OH YES!”

“What the fuck?”, asked Cregan, even in the dark you could see his grey eyes staring down at you in horror

“FUCK YES!”, this wasn’t real, this was a scene completely made up, because there was no possible way those moans were real.

And then the bed in the room next door started slamming against the wall, YOUR WALL

You covered your ears childishly

“Can’t listen to this”, mumbled Cregan, raising from the bed, this certainly soured your mood

You put a pillow over your head but that didn’t help.

You jumped out of bed and after a look from Cregan you decided to change the entire room setting and change the bed (very loudly) to the other side of the room, nightstands and all, and then, your sweet boyfriend put on the old TV, and a VHS of a Disney movie you watched when you were kids to drown the pornographic noises

“I’m sorry”, you mumbled, when you were back in his arms, all sexy thoughts leaving your mind

“You have nothing to be sorry for”, he whispered, kissing the top of your head

“I don’t even know why he is here, this is not his scene at all”, Cregan chuckled

“Isn’t it obvious?”, he asked, “he clearly wants to get on your nerves”

“It’s psychotic”, you offered, “is not like there's a chance we’ll get back together”, you said mindlessly, you cuddled into his chest, hiding your face in it, inhaling his scent, he smelt so good, it like everything about him was drawing you to him.

You slept cuddled onto him, finally able to have a peaceful night.

You offered to had the morning shift, and as soon as you were able, you snaked out of the house before you could see Aemond’s stupid triumphant grin

It was still super early, but you didn’t care as Cregan layed you gently on the wooden floor of the small second floor of the shack

“Shhh, clients could go in any minute”, he teased with a toothy grin, “I put the ‘open’ sign in”

“You kinky bastard”, you teased, he trapped your lips with him as he accommodated between your spread legs. Today you decided to wear a sundress, so, easy access for your boyfriend. You were both really horny and you were already wet for him, so you went straight to the main course.

“I love you”, you sighed, as he teased your entrance with his thick fingers

“And I love you”, he grunted, so needy for you, as much as you were for him

This was technically a quickie, so uncharacteristically of you and yet… It was delicious. He made sure to release your breasts front he confinements of your upper bathing suit and your dress, as you grabbed his cock and led him inside of you, making you both moan

“Fuck it feels so good”, you moaned

“Fuck”, he cursed.

A quickie is all you could get these days, and you were thankful for them

You shared complicit looks as you put on the shirts you had made to promote the shack, and Cregan went out there to fix the kayaks and boards, so the day started better than you hoped for.

But that didn’t last long

It was past noon, where the four of you received a very unwelcome visit

“So this is where you had been hiding at”, teased Aegon, as the six of them showed up at your shack, coming out of the cars they rented

The girls snickered in between themselves

“What do you want?”, asked Jace, coming out to face the, group

“Iuu its gross”

“Does it even have a bathroom?”, they whispered among themselves and you just pretended you didn't hear them. Cregan became a bit upset, since this was technically his baby, his idea, his project. So he went outside, pretending he needed to check on the rentals

As they all checked the inside you felt Aemond gaze on you, but you tried to pay them no mind, as Jace and Aegon went outside

“This is just…”, Aemond didn’t finish his phrase, and you were there, outside by the rentals to hear him because it was your turn to mind the kayaks and boards, “disgusting, who's dumb enough to come up with this?”, he asked

“Stop it!”, you demanded, probably talking to him directly for the second time since he got here.

Cregan was in the docK, watching over a woman and their kid that were at the lake

“Did you really just dump me… for this?”, he asked

“No, I dumped you because you cheated on me!”, you whispered angrily, “with my teacher! Because you have a toxic personality! Because I didn’t have anything to do in that horrible school!”

“I didn’t make you do it”, he said

“Maybe”, you said, “but you cheated on me, I don’t know what happened to you Aemond, but, I’m thankful for it, because I met Cregan”, you said, “and he is the one, I love him”

“Oh him?”, he asked, pointing at Cregan, who was a bunch of meters away

Cregan was watching the whole thing unfold from the corner of his eye, he couldn’t quite catch what you were saying but he could tell you were discussing something. He had half the mind to go and put an end to it, but he knew you had to fight your own battles, still, as you kept arguing with Aemond, he was able to listen to the pair of you

“I don’t know what you are doing here Aemond, alright? But it's pathetic! Leave me alone!”

“You go and trade me for the first mutt that calls you pretty, you are the one that changed! You used to be determined, have ambition, we were going to rule this country together”

“We were children with childish dreams”, you said back, “and if we are being honest, they were more yours than mine”, he chuckled darkly, “Aemond this isn’t like you, I advice you to find your pride and get the fuck out”, you told him

“Pride, sure, like Cregan is so prideful”, he mocked

“Don’t bring him into this!”, you said, “he is a good man!”

“Wannabe photographer, alternative type…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“...a pariah of his family, about to be disowned”

“What?”, you asked him

“His family shuns him”, he mocked, “his father was siring bastards…”

“Enough!”, you said, “you are sick, and anyways, what is it to you? We are done, get over it”

“I’m sorry its just pathetic what you are using to get over me”, he mocked

“You are delusional!”, you said, “Cregan is handsome! Kind and funny, he is caring and selfless… he is… strong and compassionate and he is ten times the man you are…!”, you heard a loud crack and you both turned quickly to watch Cregan disappear in the middle of the small wooden pier

“Cregan!”, you screamed and ran towards him, he didn’t quite disappear, that was an exaggeration, but a rotten plank gave in under his weight and now he was moaning in pain, half his leg trapped in between the beams

“Are you alright?”, you asked him, getting to him, he was moaning in pain and grabbing onto his leg

You helped him, he grabbed onto you and you helped him out of the hole

“Are you alright?”, you asked him softly

“Yeah”, he said, but it was clear on his voice that he was in pain still

His cheeks were red and he seemed positively embarrassed.

“I’m fine! I’m fine, love, really, ah!”, he whined in pain as soon as he put his foot on the ground

“Maybe you got a sprain or something”, you said softly

“Damn, I’m sorry!”, he said

“You got nothing to be sorry for”, you laughed. But he was mortified.

“We need to go to the hospital I think Cregan sprained his ankle”, you told Jace and Sara, as you managed to help Cregan back inside the shack

Aegon was rubbing his head and Jace was holding an oar, but you didn’t pay attention to it.

. . .

“I feel like an idiot”, Cregan mumbled, as you kissed his cheek and helped him back inside the shack, it was a sprain, pretty mild, but still, they had put a thick bandage around it and he had trouble walking but still.

“You might be an eavesdropping idiot but… you are my idiot”, you teased, he chuckled, and you gave him a peck on his lips. He chuckled against your lips

“I’m sorry guys”, mumbled Jace, as you gathered again in the shack, “I should have never asked Daemon in the group chat, we should have kept it under wraps

“Your family is pretty tight, they would have never not known about it”, you said softly, “what matters is that the shack is thriving and we are together, right?”, Cregan grabbed you and made you sit on his laps, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

But still, the fact that you had conquered the house and then you were conquered was infuriating

“I don’t want to get back to the house”, you just snapped, as everything came crashing back to you, you liked being with Jace, Sara and Cregan, you did not want to get back to that place where Aemond was waiting for you to pull whatever he had planned, thay psycho, and you didn’t want to get back to Aegon and those women and freaking Criston Cole… they had poisoned your safe haven, the home you found.

“I don’t want to get back to the house, you don’t either, let’s do a movie night”, suggested Jace, you shared looks with Cregan

“A movie night?”, you asked

“Yeah, I got a proyector, let’s project the movie on the side of the shack”

“That sounds amazing!”, said Sara

You and Sara went to get groceries as the boys settled everything up in the shack

And then, when you returned with everybody’s favourite snacks, they had everything set up so you could cuddle in the ground and watch the movie

It was a classic, something you all could enjoy.

And only when you realised you couldn’t sleep in the shack, you returned to the house.

The whole group wasn’t there, and you guessed they were partying somewhere else, because their things were still here.

You finally got to put your head on the pillow, right next to Cregan, you shared complacent looks as tonight there was nobody to disturb you

“I love you”, you said, he smiled

“I love you too”, he whispered, like it was a secret only both of you shared.

“I was so scared”, you confessed, “to fall over someone so quickly after everything that happened, I was so afraid, and yet, now I realised I’m the luckiest”, he caressed your cheek

Was it too soon to think it was forever? Because that is what it looks like

“I’m the luckiest”, he whispered, you kissed him gently, and then you cuddled against this chest, “I made a fool of myself today”, he moaned, you only giggled

“No you didn’t”, you said, caressing his chest, “you were fine”

“Right in front of him”, he lamented

“You have nothing to prove to him, or to anybody”, you said then.

“I just wish they would leave”, he groaned. All the doubts he could have had regarding you and Aemond dissipated completely, he loved and trusted you.

“I got a feeling, that soon, everything will balance out somehow”, you said mindlessly

“What do you mean?”, he asked

The very next morning you all were shaken awake by a loud noise

“Alright!”, you heard someone yell. You all jumped out of your rooms, Cregan more like limping, “who the hell had taken over our house?”, you looked down through the railing of the second floor and you saw the twins Baela and Rhaena with smug looks on her faces and her bags

“YOU ARE HERE!”, Jace screamed, “aunties!”

“Fuck you Jace I’m your freaking cousin!”, Baela cursed, and you laughed, because the twin’s parent Daemon was Rhaenyra’s uncle so that made them Rhaenyra’s cousins, so Jace’s aunts, it was pretty funny.

“What’s all that noise?”, asked Aegon coming out of his room

“We are the cavalry that’s what’s up!”, mocked Rhaena

Now you were even! had a fighting chance against the intruders

You managed to scrape up some breakfast for the lot of you, meaning the six of you because The rest had gone back to bed, turns out they were partying.

“So Ben is coming next week”, said Baela, “I already talked to him, and we will all get ready for the festival”

“You know about that?”, asked Jace

“Apparently it's been all over socials that Oberyn Martell is coming, so everybody got hyped and all of Harrenhal is coming, you don’t know about that?”

“We are the ones who invited him”, you said shortly, and both twins just stared at you

“It’s been kind of a long summer!”, said Cregan with a wide smile

“We are like one month in!”, they said

“Well we met him in the Watergardens”, you told them simply

“We have some other news”, Rhaena said in a whisper

“Rhaena you’re such a gossip”, mumbled Baela, but you could tell she was dying to tell you.

“Why know why they are here”, she continued, and you all leaned in over the table to listen to her, “the thing about Aemond came out, about the teacher he fucked, sorry”, she said looking at you

“It’s fine”, you said quickly

“They send him away, and Aegon is a liability every time he posts on social media so Alicent send them both here”, she said wiggling her eyebrows

So that’s it, he was hiding from all the blowout from the thing with Alys, something you didn't know anything about

Nothing mayor had happened, but you were on the brink of an election, so anything could turn the scales to one side or the other… So that is what they were doing

Keeping a low profile

The arrival of the twins proved to be a breath of fresh air, because now they were the “hosts”, not Jace, and they ruled the house with an Iron fist, Aegon discovered that mocking you was a poor way to spend the summer, and lost interest on the palace quite quickly, as it was not the rhythm he was used to, meaning ‘it was boring as fuck’, you heard him say, and started to try to convince his friends to leave.

Aemond seemed determined though, to stay, so, so was Criston.

Floris, since that awful night, clung to Aemond like gum on shoe, and wouldn’t leave his side. What amazed you is that he seemed to reciprocate.

And what wasn’t to love about her? Yes she might be a bit mean, but she was beautiful, rich, and from a good family from the beginnings of Westeros itself, so, she was everything Aemond appreciated. And you were happy, and relieved, for him, as he had let you be after your fight outside of the Shack.

So without Aemond looming over you, you got to enjoy more, get a rhythm going like before they arrived.

And again, he was somewhat defeated. You didn’t know what he wanted to accomplish by coming here, but you could see his face of disappointment everywhere, but that made sense after you learned what you did from Rhaena and Baela

You not being the main reason they were here did make you feel better.

Still, they stayed two more weeks.

But not like you spend too much time in the house anyways,

You felt like you had vanquished them, as it seemed like they gave up, and kept mostly to themselves.

And then, one day, from anywhere, they were called back to King’s Landing

You knew why, but you wanted to stay away from it.

Elections were coming and the main branch of the Targaryen family was pulling everyone in. You were up too, to Harrenhal and Rhaenyra, in only a couple of weeks

The day they were gone, it felt like you could finally breathe, like a dark storm cloud had lifted and all was left was a beautiful sunny day.

But you had no time to enjoy the house to yourselves

Because now the festival was coming

You had talked to the organisers and promised to help, so you divide your time by the Shack, the festival, and also Cregan.

Cregan defended the Shack with teeth and nail, preferring to be there than helping out at the festival, so you, Jace and Cregan took turns to always be two and two. The shack was booming, more people coming each day, and the locals seemed so happy to see you there, always giving words of encouragement, and how happy they were to see their small town come back to life a bit more.

It had been a crowded summer so far, but it was so fulfilling, and so fun.

Oberyn was arriving tomorrow for the festival, but tonight you manage to finish early at the Shack and go back home to throw a small barbeque, only the six of you. And Ben, who just got here.

You had never ‘ran a house’ before, and you were enjoying the domesticity so much, working by day, arriving at home with your friends and your loving boyfriend.

“I miss Aly so much”, Ben lamented, and you all booed him as you drank some beer and ate ribs,

“Oh come on! You just saw her!”, said Cregan

“She is starting to do clinics and all, she’s got a busy summer”, he said, “she is in Raventree hall”, he said

“She is not far from here”, you offered

“I know I was with her since the summer started but her parents kicked me out eventually”, you laughed at him and he chuckled

“Well, we’ll distract you!”, offered Baela, and you giggled against Cregan.

“We got a huge event coming up”, you offered, “Oberyn himself is coming tomorrow”

The big event for the entire season

The Isle of Faces Festival.

The day started early despite you having a late night, but to no matter, you had plenty to do, with your ebay friends.

Cregan and Sara went to receive Oberyn and Ellaria at the Heliport and took him to the fanciest hotel they could find, and you and Cregan went to the Shack for half a day, and then you went home to prepare

The festival had its origins from like two thousand BD, celebrating the friendship between the children of the forest and the first men, and through all these years, they had kept some of the most pagans traditions, one of them was the colourful attires and… masks…

Masks made of wood symbolising the weirwood trees, and it was so beautiful.

He didn’t show it, but you could tell that Cregan was nervous to meet Oberyn, even though he was still limping, he did his best to put on a brave face, and you loved him even more for it.

He was always trying to put up a good front, since Aemond showed up and even though he was gone now, you could tell Cregan wanted to be brave.

So you all got dressed up, and masked, and you went to the huge esplanade where the festival was being held.

There dozens of small tents, all the locals had come to offer their small business, selling their products, food, games, attractions, everything they had to offer. At the end of this huge open ‘hallway’ was the stage where the bands were going to present.

It was like a carnival on steroids, everyone was wearing colourful costumes, and masks, people were dancing, or disguised as mythical creatures.

Oberyn was in his element, on the stage representing and throwing jokes, he was dressed as the symbol of Dorne, a shining sun, with all golden robes and he looked like he was having the time of his life.

Cregan had put on a cape -even though it was so hot you could drop outside-, with a wolf mask, Jacaerys had dressed all in black and red, with scales and a demonic looking mask, even though you knew it was a dragon.

Sara had dressed all in shimmering white. Symbolising the North’s snow, and you, well, you didn’t know what to dress as, so Cregan suggested that you dressed all in silver, with a beautiful round headdress, you were the moon. The twins both decided to dress like creatures of the sea, with glitter on scaly shapes on their faces, beautiful braids with seashells, and flowy skirts.

His moon

It was sweet.

You went backstage before the concerts started, and it was kind of fun to see Cregan and Jace completely fanboying over Oberyn and Ellaria

“So these are the lucky fellas”, he said, all entertained

“The girls were right, they were handsome”, she teased, making Jace and Cregan blush so furiously, it seemed like they were going to pass out.

You had the time of your life, it was the best night of the entire summer, especially once the sun hid and the temperatures cooled. Right now you were dancing in front of the stage, the bands rocking the whole place.

Cregan was right behind you, until he wasn’t

You heard a whine and you looked back to find his face scrunched in pain

“Cregan?”, you asked above the noise

“I’m fine”, he whined, but you could tell he couldn’t hold it any longer.

“Is it your foot?”, you asked him, and for the first time ever, you saw him holding back tears of pain, “Cregan1”

“It's fine”, he said

“No it's not!”

“I can go, you guys stay”, he said

“No way in hell!”, you said

“You are having the best night of your life, you said it”, he said, “you can stay I'll go back to the house”

“You are not, I’m coming back with you”, you assured him, he seemed conflicted, but finally relented.

“Cregan I can't believe you didn’t say anything sooner!”, you said, he tried to rely on your shoulders to walk, but you could tell he was holding back.

“I didn't want to ruin everyone’s night like i just did yours”, he admitted

“Cregan never say anything like that ever again, you hear me?”, you chided, he barely nodded. He had nothing to drink because he was already on mild painkillers, and apparently they had worn off already.

You led him to the car and then you drove back to the house, Jace and Sara could find an uber

“You are going to miss the afterparty Oberyn invited us to”, Cregan warned

“You are injured and in pain”, you said back, “I don’t care about anything else”, you said softly.

Because Crega had become more important to you than any party, any famous people, (like the friends Oberyn had invited to join him), that scared you a bit, but you trusted Cregan completely.

His ankle was purple when you got to the house. You gave him some painkillers, some heated pads to help and you cuddled him on the couch

“I’m going to marry you one day”, he whispered as he looked at you with a loopy smile on his face

“Cregan, those are the pills talking”, you teased

“No they aren’t”, he said mindlessly, “I think you are the love of my life”, you only smiled and kissed him.

And a week after the festival.

It was time to go.

You had spent six amazing weeks on the Island, and now it was time for the last few weeks, helping Jacaerys’ mom Rhaenrya in her presidential run, as you had promised.

You packed the last of your bags and looked sadly at the cosy room that had hosted you for all those weeks. The fact that you had given up the keys to the shack the day before didn’t boost your spirits, except maybe the complete face of shock of the owner, who now had a great business running.

You actually shed a few tears as you board the ferry. Cregan hugged you as you watched the island get smaller and smaller for every nautical knot.

“We will return”, he assured you

“I had such a great time”, you murmured

“Me too love, me too”, he kissed the top of your head

You will always going to remember the Love Shack

Sorry if it was a bit anti-climatic

ANYWAYS HAPPY HALLOWEEN

taglist!

@mxtokko @princesssterek @thefandomimagines @iamavailablesstuff @misspascalpunk @sweethoneyblossom1 @ipostwhtifeel @lunamoonbby @ahristata @watercolorskyy @yazzzmints @n4tforlife @littleshadow17 @alexa4040 @speedyballoonpainter @hc-geralt-23 @rayrayredpanda @eralen @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @iloveallmyboys @schadenfreude-and-sarcasm @ttkttt @aleemendoza2425-blog @drwstarkeyy @casualfansoul @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bruher @@toms-cherry-trees @happinessinthebeing @warmness0ul @jennifer0305 @missusnora @a-beaverhausen@snowtargaryen @qu44nbl4ck @juhdoche @deleteidentity @arabis-world @alawnuhyawpp @cosmosnkaz @ellaprime7 @alawnuhyawpp

#misguidedneed #cregan stark x oc #cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #cregan #house of the dragon fanfiction #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon #hotd modern au #smut #cregan stark smut

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cer-rata · 9 months ago

Text

Fic WIP: “No One Majored In Chemistry"

“...So yes, I’m going to figure out which one of you it was.” Billy growled into his phone as he dodged and weaved through the crowd of other excited freshmen.

Bruce sighed on the other end. “Are you really saying it’s impossible that you could have gotten into a good school without one of us meddling?”

“Gee, I dunno, acceptance and a full-ride scholarship to an ivy league school I didn’t apply to, with no active requirements to keep it up? Because of my AV experience? Room and board included? UPenn has a 6.5% acceptance rate, and again, I didn’t even apply, Bruce!”

A pause. “...It was Diana. Drop out, and she might actually cry.” Then he hung up, because of course he did. Billy groaned.

Fine. It was fine. Maybe superhero nepotism had gotten him into college, maybe that meant some other, more worthy kid didn’t get a shot. He had to balance that guilt with gratitude: Because someone clearly believed in him, and that meant a lot. Ugh, he couldn’t even yell at Diana about it, you can’t just yell at Diana! Why couldn’t it have been Ollie? Half of his job was giving people someone to yell at!

He was so frustrated that he pushed the door to his dorm open way harder than he intended, and it slammed against the wall, startling the boy who had apparently gotten there first. He spun on his heels away from the window where he’d been setting up some figurines and pointed a pair of accusatory finger-guns at Billy. He looked like a Scandinavian dude, with all of the trappings: Tall, broad shoulders, long shiny blond hair, blue eyes as sharp as Tim’s but somehow much less eerie to look at, probably because he wasn’t being possessed by the ghost of a Victorian street urchin.

“Oh! Oh, hey.” He pushed some hair out of his face and flashed Billy a bright smile.

“I recommend this one, Batson.”

Billy paused. He didn’t recognize that voice, who was--Oh no. Oh no, Achilles never said anything unless he was asked a direct question, and even then--OH NO.

The guy cleared his throat. “Um…You’re Billy, right?”

Crap, I missed a dialogue cue! “Uh, yeah, yeah, sorry, weird…weird morning.” Billy quickly propped his suitcase against his bed and walked over to offer the guy a handshake, which was smoothly accepted. Billy wasn’t a little guy, 5”7 was perfectly average, but this guy--wait, what was his name?

“Yeah, totally, it’s been a weird morning. It’s nice to meet you, though! I’m Garth.”

Ah, okay. “Garth” had at least five inches on him, and that, combined with the length of the fingers and width of the palm that consumed his hand served to make average old Billy feel kind of small.

“Me…me too. Um. I mean, it’s nice to also meet you, not that I’m Garth. I don’t know you well enough to decide if I want to steal your identity yet.”

Garth let out a surprised giggle and raised an eyebrow. “...Well, I hope to prove that my credit score is worthy of being ravished.”

His smile made Billy’s eyes sting a little bit, but on a level he wondered if that was a product of every one of the degenerates in his mind (and maybe Solomon) trying to get a look at once.

“Aha, I guess we’ll see!”

Garth shook his head a little and smirked. Then his eyes flicked over to Billy’s bed. “Wait, is that your only bag?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I…don’t like having a ton of clothes.” It was kind of true.

Garth nodded. “Hmm. Fair enough. I’m a little bit of a…well…” He gestured to the pile of clothes on his bed. “...I like shirts.”

"Nothing wrong with that, you seem to be good at…wearing shirts.” What?

“What?”

“I dunno man, I haven’t had any coffee, the prompt was: 'Friendly compliment that is also not weird.'”

Garth laughed again and patted him on the shoulder, and it was at that moment that Billy realized that they’d just been standing in handshake range the entire time. He backed up in the direction of his bed a bit, and Garth took that as a cue to go back to unpacking while he talked.

“I’m from Gotham, my standard for weird is a little warped.”

Billy sat on the edge of his bed and quietly lamented that his feet didn’t reach all the way to the floor. “Gotham is a wild place, yeah. Probably cursed.” Literally cursed, actually.

“Yeah, yeah there’s…yeah. But imma be real, I think Fawcett is much scarier.”

How does he know I’m from Fawcett?

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, that place is a Buzzfeed unsolved video waiting to happen, I mean there’s a reason the Big Red Goober hangs out there so often, right? Magic is spooky, man.”

Billy bit his cheek. “Ah, well, you may have a point, there have been a couple weird things over the years.”

Garth let the silence ride for a beat as he put some sweaters in his closet. “Hey so, big fan of your podcast, by the way.”

Billy chuckled nervously. “How…how do you know about that?”

“How many Billy Batsons can there be?”

“Honestly? A WEIRD number.”

Garth snorted and stretched slightly to get to the top shelf. Achilles noted that his shoulder-to-chest ratio was good for archery (and other things), and Billy tried his best to ignore him. “Either way, I figured you’d be a little more braggy about getting to interview superheroes, that’s kind of good for like, street cred and shit. But I guess being a bit of a shy little guy makes sense, all things considered.”

Billy was about to defend himself against the “little guy” accusations, but Garth turned around and made eye contact again, which derailed him long enough that he lost the window, and Garth continued on.

“So, what’re you majoring in?”

“Mixed media, with a minor in journalism.” For some reason, Billy felt a little self-conscious whenever he told someone, like it was somehow unrealistic, when in reality it had been made abundantly clear to him that the concept of ‘unrealistic’ did not apply to a life like his.

Garth seemed to think it was cool, even. “Oh that’s great! Makes sense, you seem like the type to be good at all of that stuff.”

Billy fought to keep a blush down. “Ah, gee. Um, wh-what about you?”

“Pre-med and Screenwriting. Dual major.”

Billy blinked a couple times. “Wow that--”

“Yeah, yeah I know. I kinda…I kinda applied to both departments and didn’t expect to get into either, so when I got into both I kind of panicked and accepted. So. You know. It’s…I’ll be fine, I’m used to juggling plates.” He brushed some hair out of his face and tucked it behind an ear, and for the first time in the fifteen minutes that Billy had known him, Garth looked a little nervous. Only for a moment though, then it was all smiles again. “Hey, that reminds me actually…”

Billy’s eyes widened as he watched the blond cross their room to sit right next to him on his bed. “Uh, wh--”

“How are we going to do this?”

“Do…what?”

“Oh, I do like it when they’re forward.” Zeus, please!

Garth leaned back on his hands.“I have two stressful majors, my mom has been in AA since before I was born, so no drinking, and I like people. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

“Well, theater, medicine, Gotham, parental stress: You’re one rejection letter from turning into a Phantom of the Opera themed, organ-harvesting villain of the week?” Why did I say that!?

He could hear the smug satisfaction in Hermes' voice. “Just a little inspiration, for free. You’re welcome.” AHHHHHHH--

Garth laughed really hard at that one, and any cool vibe he was trying to foster was shattered by the way his cheeks went pink and he snorted. Billy could suddenly see the dork behind the symmetrical features and shiny hair.

“Fuck you! This just means you’re gonna be my first victim, Batson. That kidney?” Billy giggled and leaned away as Garth jabbed a finger right over where his kidney actually was. “Is mine.”

“This is good,” Achilles said, “Generally this is where I’d suggest pulling your shirt up, and enticing him with your wares, but that may be unwise as you’ve neglected your mortal body’s physical integrity, you disappointing, noodly-armed twink--”

“Hey!”

Garth raised an eyebrow and Billy realized with horror that he’d let that one escape.

“Uh--”

“Sorry, just…remembered…a thing--where were you going with that before you claimed my kidney?”

“Oh! Yeah right. So I’m gonna like…be busy, you know? ‘Everybody stares at me, boys, girls, I can't help it, baby--’”

“You did NOT just quote Rent--”

“It’s a good musical! What I’m asking is if you want to like, set up a schedule, or is there a codeword, or do I put a sock on the door, or…you know.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Billy wanted to die. For some reason.

“Oh, uh. I mean yeah I guess you can just text me? But it’s not gonna be--”

“Yeah don’t worry, I’m a considerate guy, I won’t screw you.”

“Wow, Batson, look at that, you’ve already taken yourself off of the table.”

“That’s not what he meant! Wait, shoot--”

“Who are you arguing with?” Garth asked casually.

Billy slowly turned to look back at him. “...Eheh, whaaaat? Sorry, just, my internal monologue sometimes--”

“It was Zeus, right? I know about the Ganymede thing, I figure I’m within his taste range.”

“He’s not wrong.”

A chill shot through Billy and he frowned. “...How do you--”

“Dami' wanted me to be prepared in the event of, and I quote, ‘Billy fucking up badly enough that you end up with a demon trying to crawl up your ass.’ End quote.”

Billy stared at him.

“...When you say ‘Dami'--’”

“The stabbiest Christmas elf, yeah.”

Billy groaned.

#fic wip #shut up cerata #my writing #billy batson #shazam #captain marvel #dc #tkaa au

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keyboardsmashess · 2 months ago

Text

The Siren, or The Heart of the Matter

Chapter Thirty : The Note, or The Thesis Defense from Hell

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: language, fluff, angst, canon-typical violence, smut MINORS DNI. A/N: My bbs! We're nearing the end of this story - I'd say maybe five chapters to go, give or take 😭 Until then, though, enjoy the insanity of my fully unleashed Bucky obsession now that Cleo's feelings are out there 😘

Summary: The morning after our heroes' big moment takes a very unexpected turn.

Chapter Directory

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Bucky squeezes his eyes closed against the sound, wondering for a moment if he’s got a leak somewhere in his apartment. If he does, then Stark’s really getting sloppy. He’ll have to give the guy some shit for that. These Tower apartments are supposed to be state-of-the-art everything, or at least that’s what he thinks Stark said - he wasn’t really listening when he got the grand tour.

But wait, Bucky thinks, shifting in bed. Since when do I have silk sheets? He listens to the sound again, realizing that it sounds an awful lot like the tapping of a shoe.

Before he even really registers what he’s doing, Bucky’s standing in his boxers with a gun pulled on the stranger.

“What the hell, Barnes? Also, when did you stash a handgun in my nightstand?”

Bucky releases a lungful of air he didn’t realize he’d been holding and lowers the weapon.

“Also part two, what the shit did you guys do to my bedroom? If I have to hire cleaners, I’m billing you,” Meg says, arms crossed and tapping her foot.

Bucky sets the gun down on Meg’s nightstand, finding his pants on the ground and pulling them on self-consciously. His shirt is nowhere to be found, and he suddenly remembers Cleo putting it on after…

After the best damn night of my life.

Speaking of. “Where’s Cleo?”

Meg rolls her eyes. “Sure, just ignore all of the very valid questions I’ve just asked you, no big deal.” She hands him a piece of notebook paper. “Your lovely lady has written you a note. Don’t worry, I’ll pretend I didn’t read it.” She winks.

Bucky accepts the paper with a small smile. “Sorry about this,” he says, gesturing to the mess of a bedroom around him.

Meg waves a hand. “It’s fine, really. I mean, I am for sure billing you for the cleaning, but it’s not like I didn’t expect something like this when I graciously removed myself from the premises for the evening.” She kicks off her shoes into a pile in the corner of the room. “I’m gonna go make some coffee and leave you to collect yourself.”

Bucky nods gratefully, unfolding the piece of paper the second Meg closes the bedroom door behind her.

James,

I can’t possibly wake you up, considering how handsome you look sleeping so peacefully (and how rarely you sleep at all), so I’m heading to my defense alone. Don’t panic when you read this - my advisor already told me I wasn’t allowed to have guests in the room, so you’re not missing anything but a boring hallway.

Bucky chuckles and shakes his head at how well she knows him, realizing his heart had already started racing at the thought of missing her big moment.

I’ll come back to Meg’s the second I’m done and tell you all about it, promise. And then I’m pretty sure someone said something about taking me back to the Tower to celebrate? I have some new ideas for what that celebration might look like, just saying.

Bucky bites his lip as he reads, already reacting to Cleo’s words.

Speaking of that, last night was… everything. I’m shit at mushy stuff, Buck, but it was probably the best night of my life thus far. And I don’t know if you know this, but Meg and I went to a Kassie Cantor concert once and I actually got to meet her, so you’ve passed a pretty high bar. (Since I’m sure you have no idea what I’m talking about, she’s a pop singer who I’m going to force you to listen to on the way back home.)

Anyway, I don’t know why I’m writing all of this in a letter like I’m going off to war or some shit, because I’ll be back soon and could tell you all this in person, but what can I say? It’s easier to write some things than speak them out loud. To that end, I’m sorry for not being able to reciprocate the thing you said last night. I want to, and I should have, but I’m a fucking coward and emotionally stunted and just sort of a general mess, so… yeah. I should probably save the rest of this conversation for when I get back, because you deserve that.

He blows out a huff of air. When he’d told her he loved her, he knew it was something he wanted to tell her - needed to tell her - regardless of whether or not she said it back, but he can’t say he isn’t relieved to read that she apparently feels more than she let on at the time.

Fuck, I really am bad at this, aren’t I? Whatever. You’re great, last night was great, and I can finally tell you that I think your ass is great, too. Like really super great. Okay, I’m going to go stand in front of a bunch of grumpy white men in suits and ask them to give me a degree. Bye!

xoxo, Cleo

P.S. Like spectacularly, phenomenally great.

Bucky folds the letter back up and carefully tucks it into the pocket of his jeans, resolving to save it forever.

He stands suddenly and checks the time, an idea popping into his head. He pokes his head into the kitchen long enough to tell Meg he’s going to take a quick shower, grabs the overnight bag he’d left in her living room, and runs to the bathroom where he takes one of the fastest showers of his life.

Clean and dressed, Bucky darts into the bedroom to grab and holster his gun, then rushes toward the front door. Meg is waiting for him, a disposable travel mug of coffee in her hand and a smirk on her face.

“Cleo told me you couldn’t go into her defense, but I figured after reading that note - the note I absolutely didn’t read myself, by the way - you’d want to do something romantic like wait for her in the hallway. I already texted you the building and room number.”

Bucky grins and accepts the drink. “Meg, you’re the best.”

She waves a hand. “I know, I know. By the way, you’re going to pass a market on your way to campus, just around the corner from here. They sell flowers and Cleo’s favorite is forget-me-nots. Hey, what a fun little irony!”

He eyes her, speaking before he can think better of it. “Come visit us at the Tower sometime, there’s someone you should really meet.” And with a grateful smile, he’s out the door.

******

If Bucky’s calculations are correct, he’s arrived in the hall outside of Cleo’s defense with about ten minutes to spare. He paces the hallway for a few moments to calm himself down after the sprint to campus, then leans against the wall directly across from the door Cleo will be walking out of soon. He’s got a slightly windblown bouquet of blue forget-me-nots, a sweaty right palm, and a nervous but eager grin. He’s ready.

When ten minutes passes with no sign of Cleo, he tells himself that it’s probably normal for these things to go a little long sometimes. After fifteen, he’s doing his best not to worry. At twenty five minutes past the stated end of the defense, Bucky decides that he’s willing to risk embarrassing Cleo and himself by opening the damn door. Taking a deep breath and preparing his excuse (they’ll buy him as a student in the wrong room, right?), Bucky hides the flowers behind his back and tries the handle.

It’s locked.

Fair enough, he thinks. They probably have security protocols in place, you know, to avoid the exact thing Bucky had been planning to use as his excuse for intruding. He knocks instead, deciding he doesn’t actually care about embarrassing Cleo at this point. When nobody comes to the door, he knocks again and presses his ear to the wood, listening closely with his serum-enhanced senses. Not only is nobody coming to the door, but he’s fairly certain nobody is in the room at all.

Fully aware he’s probably overreacting, Bucky lets out a huff of air, looks up and down the hallway to make sure nobody’s coming, and grabs the handle with his metal hand. With a little grunt, he breaks the handle and forces the door open.

No Cleo. No committee. No one at all.

Bucky frowns and pulls out his phone, double-checking the building and room number in the message from Meg. When he confirms he’s at what should be the right place, he paces into the room, hoping to find a note or schedule or something to clue him in to what’s going on. The room is frustratingly empty, though - empty chairs arranged behind a long conference table, an empty lectern facing them…

Bucky sighs and calls Cleo, potential interruptions be damned. Immediately, he hears a buzzing sound coming from the lectern. A sick feeling brewing in his stomach, he crosses the room and peers behind the lectern, seeing Cleo’s phone on one of the shelves lit up with the selfie she’d taken of the two of them in the home goods store. Next to it are several wrinkled notecards and a half-empty bottle of water. He ends the call, dread coiling in his gut.

Stuffing her phone in his pocket, he picks up the notecards and starts flipping through them. They’re clearly reminders she’s made for herself of the main talking points of her thesis, but when he flips to the last one, a small piece of cardstock falls out. Bucky bends down to pick it up, noting the unfamiliar scrawl in red ink.

Soldat -

Only the dead have seen the end of war. As long as you are living, your war is not over.

Hail HYDRA.

Bucky’s vision narrows to a singular point, blood draining from his face. He stumbles backward into the table and grabs it with his metal arm for support. He doesn’t even register the crack of the wood as he grips it too hard.

Ears ringing, he pulls out his own phone and dials the first number that comes to mind.

“Hey, Buck, how’s everything go-”

“They have her, Steve,” he chokes out, voice barely more than a whisper.

“Wait a second, what are you talking about, Buck? Who has who?” Steve asks, voice growing serious.

“HYDRA,” he bites out, the word feeling like poison on his tongue. “HYDRA has Cleo. The Philosopher must be working with them and I don’t know how, Steve, but they found her and they took her.”

He hears rustling and then rapid footsteps from the other end of the phone. “Hang on, Buck, I’m going to get Stark. We’ll find her, okay? Bucky, I promise we’ll find her.” Steve’s voice is calmer than it has any right to be, in Bucky’s opinion, but he trusts the man more than almost anyone else, so he stays on the line.

While he waits, he frantically searches the room for any clues to Cleo’s whereabouts, tossing chairs to the side and upending the table, but he comes up empty. Stark’s voice brings him back to the present moment.

“Barnes, what was she wearing today?”

Bucky gives a disgusted scoff. “Christ, Stark, what the hell is wrong with you? I don’t think now -”

“Barnes,” Tony cuts him off, voice cold and serious. “Just trust me for one second and answer the fucking question.”

Bucky wants to kick himself when he realizes that he can’t - that he didn’t wake up in time to see her off. “I don’t know,” he says, voice small. “I - I was sleeping when she left.”

Stark sighs. “It’s fine, we’ll just track it anyway and hope for the best.” Bucky makes a sound of confusion, speech nearly impossible in his sheer panic. “I retooled her suit a bit,” Stark explains. “Used nanotech to fit the entire thing in two little shell pins she can wear on her shoulders. All she has to do is tap them and the suit comes out. Plus a pretty slick helmet that comes out of her glasses. Ruins whatever she’s wearing at the moment, but you win some, you lose some.”

“Focus, Tony,” Banner shouts in the background.

“Right,” Stark says. “The pins have a tracker embedded in them, just in case, and the HUD in the helmet does, too. If she was wearing them this morning, we can figure out where she is.”

“Got it!” Banner calls out. “Er, I think I got it. This doesn’t really make any sense.”

Before Bucky can ask what they’re talking about, he hears Steve’s voice cut in, sounding weary with resignation. “It does if you know HYDRA.”

******

When I force my eyes open, I’m nearly blinded by the pounding in my head from just the dim, exposed lightbulb hanging overhead. I try to moan at the pain and move to wipe at something wet just above my eye, but I can’t do either.

No. Fuck. NO.

My hands are bound behind the back of the hard, metal chair I’m sitting in, and my legs are as well - one duct-taped to each of the front legs of the chair. And, worst of all, my mouth is taped shut.

I flick my eyes wildly around the room, moving as much as my restraints allow, but there isn’t a lot to see. I’m in a small space, no windows, with that single exposed lightbulb dangling above my head. Curiously, it’s all metal - the walls, ceiling, floors - everything. That’s the only remarkable thing about the room, though, and it doesn’t give me much of a clue to my whereabouts.

I try to think back over the events of the last few hours, mind still fuzzy.

I woke up next to Bucky after the most incredible - nope, no time to focus on that, Blake.

I got ready for my thesis defense, passed Meg on the way to campus and apologized for the state of her bedroom.

I got to the English building, went to room 12C, and…

Oh, that fucker.

It all comes back to me in a crushing wave - the empty room, save for Dr. Sapros. His laughter at my confused look. Anxiously chugging half a bottle of water. Him thumbing through my notecards. And the look in his eyes when he reached out with that current of red electricity and fucking knocked me unconscious.

Just as I’m squeezing my eyes shut in frustration, the metal door to the tiny room creaks open.

Speak of the devil.

Sapros is wearing his usual professorial attire, except with the new addition of that red cape I’m all too familiar with from my fights with The Philosopher. He’s abandoned the Greek tragedy mask, though - I suppose he no longer needs it now that I know his identity.

“Cleo,” he croons, voice disgustingly smug. “Finally awake, I see. Did you have a nice nap?”

All I can do is narrow my eyes at him in a glare, with my mouth taped shut and hands restrained. Nat had been pushing me to practice more, to learn how to manipulate the strings of frequencies without using my hands or voice, but I hadn’t made the time with my defense coming up. The defense that never fucking happened.

“It seems you’re finally speechless. In all my time as your advisor, I never thought I’d see the day where Cleo Blake had nothing to say. Well, I suppose there’s a first time for everything.” Sapros grins widely, and I mentally kick myself for not putting it all together sooner - that cadence in speech, that ridiculous smugness - of course The Philosopher sounded familiar to me - he’d been my teacher for three fucking years.

“I’m terribly sorry your defense couldn’t proceed as planned, but there were more important things to be dealt with - you understand, right? After all, patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.”

I roll my eyes, hoping he sees. That was Aristotle, you stupid dick.

“Some of my… colleagues, I suppose you could call them, are hard at work trying to determine how we might extract that little beauty,” he says, pointing to my crystal. “However, until then, you’re serving another purpose here. Of course, you’d see for yourself soon enough, but I know how you despise surprises so I’ll just let the cat out of the bag, as it were. My colleagues and I lost a very important weapon some time ago, and we believe you are just the thing to draw him back.”

Him. Sapros said ‘him,’ not ‘it.’ That means…

My eyes go wide with realization and I fight against my restraints, crying out futilely from behind the tape across my mouth.

“Oh hush now, Cleo, no need for such dramatics. Though you always were a feisty one, weren’t you? It took everything I had to convince you to drop your Atlantis research in favor of something more ‘mainstream.’ Lucky for me, you were more desperate for belonging than you were to follow in your father’s footsteps. Once I threatened to remove you from the meager little community you’d scraped together at Culver, I could have demanded anything and you’d have given it.”

I freeze, eyebrows knitting together at the mention of my father. I never once told Sapros where my passion for Atlantis came from.

He smirks at me. “Are you just realizing that I mentioned your father? Nothing if not sharp, you are. Yes, I am well aware of your father’s little pet project. And, as it turns out,” Sapros says, tapping the crystal in a gesture that has me flinching away from him, “he was far closer to the truth than we gave him credit for.”

I blink at him, mind reeling as I try to piece everything together - every past-tense word, every mention of my father’s work - hoping none of it means what I’m starting to dread it might.

“It’s tragic, really, that he’ll never know just how close he was. He’ll never know that the crystal chose precisely who he suspected it would, despite my best efforts to find it myself and keep you as far from it as possible. How ironic that I was in the middle of the Mediterranean, following your father’s final theory, while you were stumbling upon the object of my desire in a dusty, second-rate library at little old Culver.”

I make a squeak of indignation when he calls the library ‘second-rate,’ but it goes ignored.

“By the time I returned,” Sapros growls, growing angrier as he monologues, “you had already been snapped up by the gods-damned Avengers. Tell me, Cleo, is Rogers still as self-righteous as he used to be, or has he lost some steam in his old age? And how is my favorite weapon enjoying the droll mediocrity of the fight for justice?” He pauses, sneering at me, before releasing a dark chuckle and bringing his palm to his forehead dramatically. “Of course. I’m terribly sorry, how could I forget I’ve finally managed to render you speechless? And thank the gods for that - your incessant prattling is nearly as irritating as your father’s was.”

I close my eyes, squeezing them tight. Sapros must be toying with me, attempting to rattle me or wind me up. Maybe he’s trying to make me emotional to see if the crystal will react in some way. Whatever he’s doing, he can’t possibly be telling the truth - he can’t possibly mean that my father had been working with HYDRA, or that my father is now gone.

Sapros looses another chuckle. “Of course, you must be simply exhausted after preparing for your little thesis defense. I’ll just leave you to rest for a bit. You’ll need your strength, after all, if you’re going to give me that crystal.”

I hear the click of his footsteps on the metal floor followed by the slam of the door, and only then do I allow the tears to roll freely down my cheeks.

******

“I’ve just sent the coordinates to your phone so you can meet us. But Buck, we’re an hour out at best. I know you’re closer, but I’m begging you - wait for the rest of us to get there,” Steve says, voice pleading.

“Sure,” Bucky responds flatly.

“Bucky.” Steve’s voice is stern, warning. “I’m serious - we don’t know what we’re going to find, but it’s HYDRA, so it can’t be good. Don’t do anything stupid.” Bucky hears footsteps, and when Steve speaks again, his voice is a whisper. “We haven’t figured out how to break your trigger words, Buck. You can’t just go running in there.”

“Got it,” Bucky says, voice void of emotion. “Of course.”

Steve sighs. “We’ll get there as soon as we can, okay? Just hold tight.”

“Absolutely,” Bucky says, setting the flowers next to Cleo’s note cards on the lectern. Forehead creased with anger, he hangs up his phone and memorizes the coordinates before tossing it in the trash on the way out the door. He stalks out of the building and into the parking garage, doing a quick sweep of the vehicles before his eyes land on a motorcycle.

Perfect, he thinks. It takes him all of a minute to hotwire the bike, and then he’s speeding out of the garage, headed for the nearby coast. He has a submarine to catch.

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dandylion240 · 26 days ago

Text

Evan looked up as the office filled with snickers as a man carrying a large bouquet entered. He went back to writing the report he’d been working on. It took several minutes for him to realize the delivery was for him.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made him jump. “What” he asked feeling his face flush with heat beneath the scrutiny of his co-workers.

“Where would you like these” the delivery man asked.

“Um” frowning he looked over his cluttered desk filled with files and picture of him and Jayden. Grabbing a random pile he moved it to the floor knowing his feet would be knocking into it until he found a better place for it.

The impatient delivery man set the flowers down and strode swiftly from the office. Shaking his head Evan reached for the card peaking out of the arrangement. Stunned that Jayden had been thoughtful enough to send flowers. It had been so long since Jayden had done anything like this without him dropping hints it was a nice surprise. However it could just be Jayden’s way of saying sorry for some perceived infraction. He’d been known to do that on occasion although lately Jayden couldn’t tell when he was upset or not.

The message on the card was short and to the point. Meet him at the French restaurant. His eyes teared up. He’d been wanting to go there for months and for once Jayden remembered on his own. It made him feel somewhat guilty for thinking Jayden didn’t care. Maybe he was more special than he thought to Jayden. Finally he’d have a chance to put to use the change of clothes he kept at work on the off chance Jayden ever wanted to meet up for dinner.

Walking into the restaurant Evan thought he was walking on air. His eyes scanned the busy interior trying to find Jayden’s blond hair from the crowd. “Right this way Monsieur” the host directed him towards a small corner table.

Jayden had his head down his blond hair hidden beneath a hat. “Hey” Evan pouted taking a seat the host held out for him. “I’m the one in this relationship who wears the hats.” His audible gasp when the man sitting across from him looked up with dark smoldering eyes caused several nearby diners to look over at them.

“You look good enough to eat” Jasper said lips twitching as he lifted Evan’s hand to his lips.

Evan’s stunned brain took a moment to process what was happening.the velvety soft caress of Jasper’s lips on his skin was like being scalded by boiling water. Jerking his hand away “I’m out of here” he pushed his chair back and stood.

“Please stay.”

Jasper’s entreaty had Evan frozen to the spot “give me a reason why I should.”

Smiling “for one you’ve always wanted to come here. I know. You told me.”

Shaking his head wondering what else he had told him “not good enough.”

“Also Jayden is working late and you’re hungry” he reached for his hand tugging him back to the table. “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Thank you but no” Evan turned walked towards the door with the feeling every eye in the place was watching him. He stood outside the restaurant wondering how he’d gotten into such a mess.

His phone rang “It was nice seeing you again gorgeous” Jasper’s voice sent electric pulses throughout his body.

“Leave me alone” he croaked shoving his phone into his pocket and walking swiftly down the road. Why couldn’t Jayden be half as persistent as Jasper?

When he arrived at home he found Jayden munching on a sandwich in front of the TV. His phone on a tray beside him. “I thought you were working late” he said looking up.

Frowning Evan reached for the remote “what made you think that?”

“I was thinking that this weekend we could go camping” his eyes on his phone missing the sour face Evan made at his suggestion.

“I was hoping we could go shopping….” he paused hoping Jayden would catch what he meant by shopping without him having to spell it out. When he made no indication he even heard him, Evan continued “there’s a lot we still need to do for the wedding.”

“Like what” he mumbled fingers tapping on his phone.

Evan picked up on the underlying irritation in Jayden’s voice. It was there every time he mentioned wedding preparation. “Do you even want to get married” he demanded shocked at himself for voicing the thoughts swirling around his head. He had the feeling of being a spectator at a crash site. Powerless to look away but scared to see what was happening.

“What kind of question is that” Jayden demanded “of course I do. I just don’t see why you have to drag me to every stupid store imaginable to look at things that don’t matter.”

“Really? You could have fooled me” Evan retorted. “Jasper pays more attention to me than you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean” he demanded turning the TV off and setting his phone down.

“Really” he threw his hands up “you haven’t noticed that he’s been making moves on your fiance? I’m so tired of being a part of the surroundings..”

“I pay attention” Jayden snapped, his hands reaching for his phone as it vibrated beside him.

“Hell” Evan tossed his uneaten meal aside jumping to his feet. “You’re already dismissing me. You think this is just something I made up in my head. That I’m being overly dramatic. I’m tired of taking second place to that damn phone.”

“What I do is important” Jayden lifted anger filled eyes. “I work hard to pay the bills and for everything in this house.”

“Meaning I don’t” Evan cried feeling as if he’d been slapped.

“I didn’t say that” he stood to face Evan “but you don’t make as much….”

“What I do is important” Evan crossed his arms glaring at Jayden.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t” he glanced at his phone as it vibrated in his hand. “You just don’t make enough to help with the bills.”

“Is that all you care about” he demanded “you don’t care that Jasper sent me flowers or arranged to take me out to dinner at that French restaurant I’ve been dying to go to?” He could see it in Jayden’s eyes. The utter and complete disbelief like he thought he’d lost his mind. “That’s it” he cried chest squeezing tight “I’m done. Enough’s enough.”

Previous/Next

#jayden reagan #evan o'neil #jasper hammond #ts4 #enough #simblr #sims story

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upat4amwiththemoon · 2 years ago

Note

If you are taking requests. May I request Amelia X reader. Reader is her ex but they broke off( private practise , worked with Addison and all ). But reader left maybe to work abroad or the military. Fast forward now reader returns to Grey's Addison called them in , old flame,sparks . reader was always her safe place but they grew apart and had to grow(get sober). Just want Amelia to be happy, idk what the heck happened to Kai :((( I'm sorry if it's too much or silly feel free to if ore.

Somebody that I used to know

Summary: Even though years change people, the love for them stays the same.

Pairing: Amelia Shepherd x female!reader

Warnings: my medical knowledge is zero, talk of addiction, Scout doesn’t exist

Word count: 1997

a/n: Amelia deserves so much better

masterlists | guidelines

Addison walks towards the break room, hoping to find Amelia there before it’s too late. She walks into the room, luckily seeing the youngest Shepherd sitting on the couch, coffee in hand, talking with Maggie Pierce. “Amelia, could I talk to you for a minute?” She says right away, skipping the pleasantries.

With a look, Amelia stands up. “Sure.” She chuckles quietly, slightly nervous. “What’s up?” She asks after Maggie leaves to room for the two.

“I called Doctor Y/L/N here to help me with a patient of mine, she’s arriving today.” She tells, trying to gauge what Amelia’s thoughts are about seeing her ex again. “I wanted to tell you before she’s here.”

“Okay, thanks for telling me.” And with that Amelia leaves the room. Addison sighs, rubbing her forehead. Suddenly she isn’t too sure if she did the right thing, but she really needs Y/N here, she’s the best in her field. She just has to hope everything goes smoothly.

“Addison!” Y/N’s voice calls out excitedly.

The red head turns around to see her doctor friend walking towards her with a bright smile. “Hey, stranger.” Addison laughs, meeting her half way to hug her. “I’m so glad to finally see you. How was the world?” She pulls away, her hands on Y/N’s shoulders to see how much she has changed over the years.

“The world was good.” Y/N decided to leave the practice in Los Angeles to join the Doctors Without Borders, traveling all over the world with them. “How’s Seattle? I didn’t think you’d come back here.” She looks around the hospital. This isn’t her first time in Grey Sloan Memorial, but it has been a long time since she was last here.

“Seattle is good. You know I go where babies need me, and this baby needs us both.” She nods her head forward, so they start walking. “The baby is two months old and his heart is incredibly weak. He won’t survive without a donor heart, but getting a heart that small will take too much time.”

“That’s where I come in.”

“That’s where you come in.” Addison smiles, she missed working with her. “His heart could become strong enough, if you fixed the veins around it.” They walk into a room full of pictures of the baby’s heart and veins.

Y/N looks through the pictures, at times picking one of them up to see it closer. The heart is compromised, and the baby won’t survive long if they do nothing, but the surgery Addison is talking about is incredibly risky. Fortunately, Y/N is a risk taker.

“I can do it,” she states, “but I’m gonna need a lot of help. His vitals need to be monitored closely.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Addison nods. “I’ll get you anything you need.” She pauses for a moment, contemplating on saying anything. “Amelia is here, you know? Incase you wanted to talk to her.”

“Oh.” Y/N clears her throat, cleaning up the pictures into a neat pile so she wouldn’t have to look at Addison staring at her. “I didn’t know that.” She mumbles.

The now silent and tense atmosphere of the room makes Addison question whether she made the right decision. Amelia is one of the most important people in her life, she’s her sister, but she also cares about Y/N a lot. Their relationship didn’t really end on the best terms, mostly because of Amelia’s addiction, but the relationship itself was good. They both were happiest Addison has ever seen when they were together.

“I’ll make a surgery plan and then get back to you, okay?” Y/N states, not waiting for Addison to answer as she leaves the room.

Her mind is all over the place, which makes her walk through the hallways with less attention than usually, though she does greet the familiar faces going past her. However, she doesn’t notice the person walking right towards her with the same state of mind. So, they crash into each other.

All the pictures Y/N was holding fly to the floor. “Shit, I’m sorry.” She grumbles, kneeling down to gather them.

“Y/N?”

The familiar voice makes her head snap up. Amelia is standing over her, an indescribable look on her face. The exes stare at each other in silence, both unsure what to do. They both knew of the others presence in the hospital, but they didn’t think they’d bump into each other, at least not yet.

Her breath hitches as she looks over Amelia’s face. As much as she doesn’t like admitting it, she missed her. “Amy.” With a mumble, Y/N stands up, dusting off her scrubs.

“Amelia, no one calls me Amy anymore.” She says with a small smile. Y/N just nods, putting it to her mind. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah.”

Amelia scratches the back of her neck. “So, Addison called you.”

“She did.” The pictures are starting to crease in her grip. “There’s a..baby, obviously, uhm, and she needed help.” She clears her throat, looking around for an exit. “I actually have to make a surgery plan for tomorrow, so, I’ll see you around, I guess.”

Going to walk past Amelia, she stops once a hand takes hold of her arm. “Could we talk? Just the two of us, later today.”

The ask makes Y/N hesitant, but the way Amelia is looking at her makes her give in. “Okay.”

“Awesome,” a smile spreads on Amelia’s face, “coffee, after work?”

“I’ll see you then.” She lets go and Y/N walks away, Amelia’s eyes never leaving her back.

Amelia paces around the lobby of the hospital, her mind racing a mile a minute. She has always considered Y/N her biggest love, maybe even soulmate, if she truly believes in them. Seeing her again has brought the feelings back to the surface and she isn’t sure what to do with them.

Her thoughts come to a halt when she notices Y/N walking towards her. Instead of her scrubs, she’s now wearing her everyday clothes. She looks just as beautiful as she did all those years ago. And she decides to tell her so, “you look beautiful.” Y/N hums with a slight smile, her cheeks turn warm, but she pays no mind to it. “There’s a small cafe down the street.”

“Let’s go then.” As they walk side by side, Y/N bites the inside of her cheek, looking down at the pavement. The silence is uncomfortable and they desperately want to break it, but neither of them know what’s appropriate to say in a situation like this. “How have you been?” Y/N decodes to ask, glancing at Amelia.

“Better. A lot better actually. I’ve been sober for a long time, though it’s still hard sometimes. I got two new sisters, sort of,” she chuckles, “Meredith and Maggie. And I’m the head of neuro department.”

“I heard about Derek. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” Amelia sighs. “It’s okay.” She opens the door of the cafe for Y/N before stepping inside herself. At the counter, they order their coffees, and when it comes time to pay, Amelia pushes Y/N’s hand away from the machine. “My treat.” She pays both of their coffees.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.” They move to the other side pf the counter to wait for their coffees. “It’s the least I can do after,” she pauses, “everything.”

“It wasn’t completely your fault.” She looks away from her. “You were going through a tough time.”

“That’s no excuse. I hurt you and drove away one of the best things in my life.”

Being one of the best things in her life sounds like an exaggeration, but the sincerity in Amelia’s eyes makes her believe she really means it. “You’re also important to me.” Before the conversation van keep on going, the barista shouts their names. They take their coffees and find a quiet corner place to sit.

“So, what have you been doing all there years?”

“I moved around with Doctors Without Borders.” Y/N sips her drink. “Also studied a bit on the side.”

“And your love life?”

If Amelia was anything, she was blunt. If she wanted know something, she’d ask, Y/N usually liked her unfiltered talk. “Love life, huh?” She giggles with a shake of her head. “There were some flings and one time things, you know, to release stress I suppose. But nothing that stayed.” Amelia listens intently while she drinks her coffee. “And you?”

She shrugs. “There was Link and Kai, but just like every relationship I have had, they ended with someone’s heart broken.” Amelia has a grin on her face. She has already gotten over the past two relationships, but it’s still disheartening to have failed relationships.

“Hm, you’ll find your person.”

“Maybe,” Amelia keeps eye contact with Y/N, “I really hope so.”

Looking down, Y/N taps the mug in front of her with her nails, all the feelings around them getting overwhelming. “Listen,” she changes the subject, “could you be in the surgery tomorrow? I need someone to monitor her brain activity, and you are the best there is.” She lifts her head to give Amelia a teasing look. “Or at least you used to be. Have you gotten worse over the years?”

“Worse? Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m better than ever.” Amelia answers to the teasing look with a challenging look of her own. “What I’m hearing is, you need my help because you aren’t in the best shape.” Her elbows are leaning against the table.

“Oh, wow.” Y/N crosses her arms. “Your ego is still sky high.”

Amelia laughs, which Y/N giggle as well.

The surgery has been going on for six hours already, and the whole room is tense. Amelia and Addison are monitoring the baby’s health, while Y/N is rerouting the veins near the heart. The surgery is already nearing its end, but there’s still things to do.

Y/N lets out a sigh, shaking her hand to ease the pain in her wrist. It has stayed on one position for a long time. She can feel multiple pairs of eyes on the side of her head, there’s an audience in the viewing room. This is an once in a lifetime surgery after all. Double checking everything she has done, Y/N lifts her head to her friends. “Are his vitals good?” The two nod. “Alright, we’re ready to close.” She says shakily, not ready to relax just yet. But she can feel the relief coursing through the room.

The sutures closing the opening on the baby’s chest don’t take long, as the wound isn’t as big as on an adult. The moment the last suture is on its place, people in the viewing room start cheering, so do the doctors in the operation room. Addison and one other doctor take the baby to NICU, not before thanking Y/N though.

Walking out of the room, Y/N slumps down to a chair, taking off her scrub cap. Amelia sits down next to her. “Watching you work is seriously magnificent.”

Y/N laughs, “you’re being dramatic.”

“I’m not!” Amelia throws her arm around Y/N’s shoulders, giving her a side hug. “You’re incredibly and I love you.” Y/N turns to look at her. “Give me another chance? Go on a date with me?”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” Amelia grins widely.

“Yeah.” Y/N smiles too, her heart beating a hundred miles. She isn’t sure if it’s from the surgery she just did, or the fact that Amelia is looking at her like she’s the only person she cares about.

Amelia nods, feeling like she just won the lottery. “I’ll pick you up at eight, wear something pretty.” She kisses her cheek before walking off, going straight to Addison to tell the good news.

#grey’s anatomy fanfiction #grey’s anatomy fic #grey’s anatomy imagine #grey’s anatomy #amelia shepherd #amelia shepherd x reader #amelia shepherd x you #amelia shepherd x fem!reader #amelia shepherd x female!reader #amelia shepherd x y/n #amelia shepherd imagine #amelia shepherd fanfic #addison montgomery #platonic addison montgomery x reader #private practice #amelia shepherd x addison montgomery #fluff

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