#divergent smut

[lilithslittleworld]

Intruder

A/N: this little story is for @slutforoldermen and @maisiestuff ! The inspiration comes from this* post here and I have brought the best I could to the function fr😮‍💨 tehehehe enjoy!!

Also don't mind the title I couldn't think of anything witty :'(

CW: sort of forbidden sex, dirty talk, oral sex, penetrative sex, begging, teasing, some humiliation.

Summary: (Four x reader) You decide to confront Four after days of cold and distant behavior towards you but you didn't expect to walk in on him...

Four was known for being tough and hard to get through to but that was no excuse for the way he had been treating you. Trainings had become even more rigorous and so had his demands. It wasn't your fault you had a sense of self preservation, something most of your other Dauntless initiates seemed to lack.

Your steps were short and fast, as you approached the block of apartments where Four lived. Your breaths were audible, partly due to your speed but also to the anger that coursed through your veins. He had no business calling you out and humiliating you in front of everyone simply because you had turned down the offer of standing before a target as the instructors threw knives around you. You wanted to tell him off to his face and now was your chance.

You knocked on the door confidently, crossing your arms as you awaited a response. You got none.

"Jesus Christ," you muttered, knocking again even harder. And yet, the seconds ticked by and the door stayed closed. Your hand flew to the doorknob, even though you knew it would be locked but it didn't hurt to try.

To your surprise, the door opened with a slight creak, leading to Four's spacious studio. Your eyes quickly scanned the room for signs of him but were disappointed to find the lights off and his bed empty. You had almost given up hope as you turned to leave when you heard a noise. The sound of water running in the distance made you creep towards it.

Ah, so he's washing his hands, you thought to yourself as you pushed open the bathroom door. It all happened so quickly. As the door opened, your eyes fell on his naked, wet body, standing below the shower. And he'd heard you.

"What the f-" he screamed, interrupted by you slamming the door shut behind you. Now you really were breathing heavily and it was solely due to the adrenaline this time. You'd seen him fully. His toned back, arms, chest, and even his dick, water dripping off of him. He was so big and beautiful everywhere. Your cheeks flushed at the image that was flashing in your mind repeatedly as you covered your eyes in horror. He was your instructor! How were you ever going to face him again? He was going to make your life impossible now.

The sound of the bathroom door opening made your heart drop but you didn't turn around.

"You have five seconds to tell me why the hell you're here," Four said, his voice careful and cold as ice. You shivered in response, turning slowly as you thought of a good excuse. He stood before you, white towel wrapped around his waist, his eyes shooting daggers at you. You couldn't help but stare at the little droplets of water that remained on his chest, his abs, dripping down slowly past his navel.

"I came to see you," you choked out, "To tell you off, actually."

"What makes you think you can come see me?" he said carefully, his voice so soft it was dangerous. He took a step towards you, "What makes you think you can come into my house?"

"It was a mistake, honestly!" you protested, stumbling backwards, your hands fumbling to grab onto something, anything. You came in contact with the wall, gripping it tightly to keep you steady and upright in case your legs gave out. This had turned into a terrible idea.

"I don't believe that," he said, his voice taking on an even more dangerous tone. Dangerous because it made you press your legs together tightly and hold back a whimper that dared to emerge from your mouth. You pressed your lips together tightly before speaking.

"I-I," you stuttered, your brain buzzing with filthy thoughts of the man standing in front of you.

He took another step towards you. "So sure on telling me off and now you can't even get a sentence out."

Your cheeks burned as he taunted you, now clearly unbothered by your presence in his house. He was excited even, you could see it in his eyes, in the way he looked at you.

He took yet another step towards, now just inches away from you. He was so close you could smell the warm musk that was coming from his skin. You silently fought back the urge to reach out and run your fingers along his glistening , muscular body.

"Why don't you tell me why you're really here?" He placed his free hand on his chest, the other one still tightly wrapped around the towel that barely covered him. If only it would just slip down a little.

You ducked your head down in embarrassment, hoping he wouldn't pick up on the smile that was pulling at the corners of your lips. "I already told you, I came to see you," you said softly, staring intently at the floor. That's when a piece of fabric fell. His towel.

"Take a good look then," he whispered, his lips brushing against your hair, sending a shiver down your spine. He wanted you to see him as you'd seen him just moments ago. If you listened and brought your eyes up to him, there'd be no turning back. It was also a breach of conduct but again, you didn't care.

"Four," you murmured, as you brought your gaze back up to him tentatively, meeting his dark brown eyes instantly. Your heart raced as you pushed past the embarrassment of avoiding his naked body. Your eyes ran down his body, his wide shoulders and brawny arms. You took note of his veins everywhere, they were so noticeable and prominent. Taking your time now, your eyes scanned his strong chest, toned abdomen, and followed his happy trail further down, gulping as you saw him again.

And suddenly, his lips were on yours. His lips moved against your passionately, his tongue swirling erotically against yours, your breaths mixing in your colliding mouths. Your hands found him instantly, trailing down his chest lightly as he groaned into your mouth. You wanted him so badly, to taste him, to feel him, to hear him groan again. But his hands stopped you, holding them tightly in place even when you tried to free yourself.

"Stop," he breathed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He took a few steps back from you for good measure before pointing to your shirt. "Take it off."

You were used to cooperating with Four's orders but this one threw you off, a slight edge of self consciousness beginning to emerge.

"Take it off or you don't touch me," was all he said, making you whine in return. You complied quickly, slipping the top over your head, leaving you completely exposed. You could feel Four's eyes burning into your chest as you stood before him, your eyes never leaving his.

"And that," he said, gesturing to your pants, which came off just seconds after his command. You took a confident stride back to him, no longer bothered by the fact that you too were almost completely naked. Up on your tiptoes, your hands found his hair and your lips his own. You kissed him feverishly, breathlessly, feeling his hands snaking down your back, stopping to grab a handful of your butt, pulling you even closer to his body. You could feel him hardening against your stomach as you pressed yourself onto him eagerly, your fingers tangled and pulling at his hair.

Four took you in his arms, grabbing your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist, whimpering softly when his cock grazed your clit as he walked you over to his bed.

"I haven't even really touched you yet and you're already making pretty, little noises," he murmured as he sat down on the edge of the bed, with you still straddling him. Now, with his cock fully between your legs, only separated by the thin fabric of your underwear, there was no stopping you. Your hips moved against him almost instantly, seeking some sort of stimulation.

"Fuck," you sighed, as you rubbed your aching clit against him. His hands found your waist and guided your movements vigorously.

"Use me," he groaned, his eyes on your face, watching the pleasure on your face grow, "Just like that." You could feel the wetness of your panties start to spread, dripping down onto his throbbing cock. Your moans grew louder, as you began to reach your orgasm, griding against him at an even faster pace. His big, rough hands reached down to squeeze your boobs. Four's heavy breathing below you only fueled your desire, you were almost drunk on it. You knew you were only minutes away from climaxing, so when Four's hands held your waist still in place, it felt almost violent.

Your eyebrows furrowed pleadingly as you opened your eyes to find him smirking, his eyes wild with excitement.

"Get on your knees," he breathed, as you lowered yourself below him. You watched him mesmerized, as he stroked himself, eyes closed and head tilted back in pleasure, his moans were soft and breathless. You squirmed impatiently as the need to touch yourself grew, he was driving you crazy and he knew. You whined breathlessly, hoping he'd turn his attention back to you. You wanted so to badly to feel him in your mouth.

"Open for me," he said softly, bringing his hardened length to your eager mouth. You took him into your mouth greedily, swirling your tongue around his tip ardently, tasting his slightly salty precum. Four's hands stayed near you, one holding your hair back and the other softly stroking your cheek. With every movement you made, every lick and stroke, you felt him grow harder in your mouth. The situation itself was enough to give you a thrill of pleasure too, moaning around him occasionally.

"Fuck," Four grunted, leaning his head back in pleasure from the vibrations of your throaty moan. "Moan on my cock again," he almost begged, almost entirely lost in ecstasy. You moaned back in response as the man above you started to come undone, bucking his hips against your face. He felt so much bigger in your mouth when his speed picked up, no longer expecting you to bob up and down his length.

Four pulled himself out from in between your lips, his cock sliding out perfectly from the back of your throat, covered in your glistening spit.

"I want you inside of me," you begged, now with an empty mouth but begging to be filled someplace else. Four pushed you back onto the bed in response, prying your legs open as you bit your lip. Instead of sliding himself into you, he bent down, now eye-level with your pussy. He trailed feathery kisses along your inner thighs, making a point of avoiding where you really wanted him. But no amount of whining or whimpering would make him speed up.

After torturous seconds, Four's fingers slid up and down your wetness. His slick fingers rubbed soft, slow circles against your clit as your eyes rolled back. He knew exactly what he was doing, exactly where to touch you and how. His fingers gradually sped up, the circles he was tracing becoming more precise before bringing his mouth down to you. Four's tongue took over for where his fingers had been, drawing lazier circles than before. You desperately wanted him to speed up, to fit one or two of his big fingers into you.

As if he'd read your mind, he brought a finger slowly to your opening, teasing his way in. His finger stretched you deliciously, sliding in and out with ease, curled slightly in hope of hitting your G-spot. Your moans became pornographic now, pulling on his hair as he hit the right spots, both inside and outside of you.

"Four," you gasped, interrupted by another trembling moan, "more," was the only word you could get out.

Four brought his mouth away from your drenched pussy, his finger still fucking you as he spoke. "You want my cock, don't you?" he taunted, watching you buck your hips against his hands, your body begging for more. You nodded quickly.

"Tell me," he breathed, "Tell me how badly you want it inside of you."

"I want it so bad," you whined, "Need you inside of me."

Instantly, Four stood up and found a condom, sliding it rapidly down his throbbing member. In one swift movement, you found yourself straddling him again, in charge once again. You lowered yourself onto him slowly, allowing him to stretch you out even further. Burying his dick in your pussy, he groaned and your own moans joined him. Steadily, you began to ride him, taking notice of how he gripped your boobs to keep you in place, his rough fingers brushing against your hardened nipples.

"That's it," he panted, sweat beading on his forehead, "Ride me. Ride my cock." He felt so good inside of you. You moaned his name as his mouth came onto your boobs, sucking on them as they bounced. His stubble left the skin around your boobs tingly as he turned towards the other one. His hands found your hips once again, speeding them up against his own moving hips.

The friction of your bodies, the sounds coming from him, and the sight of him was too much. You knew you wouldn't last much longer as he continued to hit your g-spot, digging your nails into his strong arms as the waves of pleasure hit harder.

"Yes," you whimpered, "Feels so good."

"Yeah?" he pressed on, wanting to hear more of your desperation.

"Mmm," you moaned back, your legs beginning to shake. You were just seconds away from the release you so deeply craved.

"Beg for it," he grunted, feeling his own orgasm slowly creeping up. But he'd hold out for you.

"Please," you begged frantically, unsure how much longer you could hold back. "Let me cum."

"You sound so pretty while you beg," he answered between breaths, "Cum for me then, cum all over my cock." And that was it, all you needed to hear.

You let the pleasure wash over you completely, taking over your body and your senses as you came. You threw your head back, moaning his name as you felt yourself clenching around him. Four wasn't far behind you, his hands squeezing your hips even tighter as he buried his dick deep into you one last time as he came. Both of your hips came to a slowing stop as you both tried to catch your breath.

"Fuck," you laughed breathlessly, in shock of what had just unfolded before you. You had actually had sex with your trainer. Four seemed as bewildered as you did but he didn't say anything. Clearly he wasn't used to hooking up with initiates, thankfully.

You laid there together silently for a couple of minutes. Four stroked your hair softly as your fingers traced imaginary lines along his arms. You were both sweaty but neither of you seemed to care. And then he spoke.

"So," he said, his voice a deep rumble, "Is you intruding my house going to become a regular thing?"

"Only if you want it to be," you smiled up at him, knowing very well that's what he wanted to hear.

"Hmm," he said thoughtfully before a smirk appeared on his mouth, "Want to shower?"

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

Y/N's finally going to try out his shower and not just catch him in it! tehehehe I think it's kind of a cute ending :)

[skiiyoomin]

hi!! can we have an m jealousy fic with tobias eaton from divergent please <3 thank you!!

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Content: SMUT CONTENT, jealous Tobias, possessive Tobias, fem! reader

Summary: When a new Dauntless initiate gets a little too close, Tobias takes things into his own hands.

a/n Hii, sorry for the late reply! I hope you enjoy this :)) p.s it might be a little crusty cause its been a while since I read the books BUT i still hope you enjoy it!

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

ღYou're mine | Tobias Eaton

His eyes continuously drifted towards your figure, a scowl etched deep onto his skin as you laughed, clutching your stomach.

Tobias loved your laugh, it was the sound that made his heart swell, the cause of his love struck smile. But those were the last things he felt at the moment, because he wasn't the reason for that laugh. Instead, it was one of the new initiates in Dauntless, a young boy with a charm that had girls and boys all over him.

While you and Tobias were in charge of training said initiates, he had seemed to take a liking towards you, often hanging around you during your training sessions, asking for advice as a way to get close to you, and more often than not, trying to lead the conversations to something more than just trainer to trainee.

Tobias was far from insecure about your relationship, but he couldn't help but feel his nerves rise each time he saw the younger boy move a tad bit too close for his liking, his dashing smile widening every time he pulled even the smallest of smiles from you.

While you weren't extremely open about your relationship, it was clear you were together. Now the boy either didn't know or didn't care. Of course, Tobias was too prideful to admit he was jealous of him, he'd rather kiss Eric than admit it out loud. However, he truly didn't need to say anything for anyone to know he was envious. The deep scowl and deadly glare were a dead give away.

But, the boy was oblivious to the sharp pair of eyes on the back of his head. He continued pushing his luck, using his smooth words to sway you. You, on the other hand, merely snorted at his attempts, finding them more entertaining than alluring. Unlike him, you weren't unaware of the eyes inspecting you, you didn't have to turn around to know it was Tobias. You knew the second the boy got too close he'd be jealous, hence the reason why you never put a stop to his flirting. Smirking to yourself, you counted down the minutes until your boyfriend would snap.

Almost as if on cue, you heard the loud stomping of boots on the hard ground of the wide room. You felt a large calloused hand snake around your waist, the tall figure of Tobias standing next to you, his glare burning into the initiate, making the boy cower in fear.

"Last time I checked flirting with my girlfriend wasn't part of the training. If I didn't know any better i'd think you're trying to get kicked out of Dauntless"

The younger stammered, fear and shock stopping his ability to speak. Finally he managed to mumble a loud sorry, scurrying away almost immediately. You watched the whole ordeal go down with an amused smile on your lips. As you looked up at him, you spoke with a teasing tone in your voice.

"Geez, you didn't have to be so harsh you know"

However, you were answered with silence as Tobias took your wrist and led you down the familiar halls of the compound. Soon enough you were in front of your shared apartment door. Swiftly, Tobias unlocked it, gently pushing you in and leading you towards your king sized bed. Without any words said, he pressed his lips to yours. As you broke from the kiss, he softly pushed you down until you were sprawled on the mattress, looking up at him with those eyes. The eyes that have him weak in the knees, the eyes that has his cock twitching in his pants.

He once again kissed you, this time with much more fervor and eagerness. Soon after, he trailed his kisses down your jaw, kissing the spots he knew had you gasping and squirming underneath him. "I'm gonna show everyone exactly who you belong to" He mumbled against your neck, before suckling the soft flesh, a purple mark appearing almost immediately.

The intensity of the moment had you both quickly removing your clothes until you were both left in nothing but your underwear. Tobias continued to leave a trail of hickeys until he reached the hem of your panties. Before you knew it, they joined the piles of clothes on the floor, leaving you completely bare underneath his lustful gaze. "So beautiful" he whispered, making a pinkish blush spread across your cheeks at the sudden praise.

Tobias lowered his boxers, his hard dick springing out, slapping his toned abdomen. He gripped your hips, lifting you up slightly until you you were aligned with his long length. Without wasting a second, he pushed into your tight hole, groaning at the feeling of your plush walls against his cock. He thrusted back in with a roughness that had you throwing your head back in pleasure. He fell into a quick and rough pace, slamming with a force that had your brain go fuzzy from the pleasure. You moaned incoherent words as he quickened his pace, your nails scratching down his back, leaving marks that were sure to be there for days. Tobias hissed in both pleasure and pain.

He lifted your legs onto his shoulders allowing him to thrust deeper until he was slamming into your g-spot. Your back arched as your jaw hung open forming a loud moan that was sure to be heard from miles away. Not long after, you felt the familiar tightness in your stomach, signaling your close release.

"F-fuck fuck Tobias, i-i'm gonna cum"

He grunted in response, feeling his own orgasm reaching its climax. With a few more sloppy thrusts, you rolled your eyes to the back of your head, a flash of white blinding your vision as you reached your high, your legs shaking involuntarily. Tobias continued slamming into you before his own release pulled him over the edge, his load of cum shooting inside your soft wall, spilling down your aching hole once he pulled out.

Pants filled the room as you both came down from.your high until you caught your breaths. He leaned down, pressing a much softer kiss in comparison to before. A few moments after, he pulled away, your lips centimeters from each other. He looked deep into your eyes before saying "You're mine, never forget that"

[romanshomeonwattpad]

Awaken Me | Tobias Eaton

pairings — four/reader | divergent au! |

summary : four seems to pick on you especially—and you figure out why. it’s because you both share the same secret.

warnings : none i think?

authors note : i forgot about this and decided to upload it even tho it’s unfinished…

© elliotsblunt 2022. do not repost, modify, or translate.

Your eyes burned slightly as you blinked away tears, confused as to why you couldn't find that certain...

Anger.

Wren, a curly haired blonde that belonged in Amity—somehow landed in Dauntless. But during combat, her frail arms would summon the strength of twice the muscle capacity she contains. If you hadn't seen her flip a man twice her size over her figure—

You wouldn't have believed it.

Anyways, Wren had told you that she had reached that certain level of fighting simply by thinking of what angered her most. The the thing was, nothing horrible had happened to you.

You were born and raised in Amity, where the crime rate remained a negative 0–if that were possible, it would be rated just that.

Your ma and pa sheltered you, as you were their only child. You were also extremely close with them, but after getting your screen test back—it was time to begin a new chapter in your life. One that would drag and smash you to the ground like a bug.

Which is what happened now—basically.

Gritting your teeth, you rolled over to dodge one of your opponents lashes. Fortunately, the girl wasn't a merciless bitch, and let you stand up whilst getting back into position. With shaky fists, you gulped, muttering a quick curse before her own swung towards your chin.

But—

The beating never came. The throbbing rush of warm blood thrashing in your veins never crashed. Your jaw was in tact, and you weren't flopped on the ground like a beaten animal.

Your eyes snapped open, flashing over to the strong hand wrapped around Turner's wrist. Turner, the girl you were fighting, gulped as she stood back from Four. His chest radiated of a warm essence that burnt your cheeks—especially with the smirk dripping off his face.

"Turner," he released her grip, not glancing at you, "It appears the Mary Poppins hasn't improved. Isn't fair to you, is it?"

Your throat went dry, remembering how much of a total prick he was. At first, you thought he was hot, so you deemed him to maybe be a good person. But after you figured one of his life goals was to torment and embarrass you—you checked your values and common sense.

His eyes were dark, but still weren't ever fluttered onto your figure—almost as if he didn't even want to look at you. It damaged your confidence more, knowing you were probably going to be factionless if you didn't shape up soon.

Turner only shrugged, dropping her arm back to her side before placing both hands on her hips. She raised a brow at you as you let out a sharp breath, wiping the imaginary dust off your palms before looking down at the ground and stepping off the fighting podium.

Your ears ring as her blows caused you some damage. Chewing on your bottom lip, you held back your defeated thoughts as Wren threw an arm around your shoulder,

"It's okay. I got a few beat downs my first year here. It gets better," she attempted to cheer you up. You merely hummed as she continued, "Anger, _ _. That's what powers you. You need—“

“I know,” you snapped, stopping your feet before rolling your eyes at her, “I know. But I’m not an angry person, and I’m shit at fighting.”

Her eyes narrowed, “Pity isn’t what makes you a Dauntless, _ _,” she stepped towards you, poking a nimble finger into your heart, “So instead of whining, kid, maybe you should just stop thinking and fight.”

Slowly nodding, you stood there as she headed over to the cafeteria for lunch. You noticed that the boxing bag area was empty—and it clicked in your head what Wren said.

Fight.

Bringing your fists up, you got into a fighting stance and threw your first punch. With gritted teeth, you felt the material bruise up your knuckles—but you wanted to feel it. Feel the pain. If you couldn’t feel the pain, then pity would just Pool around in your chest instead.

And you hated pity.

Hissing as you retracted your first, you did it again. Then repeated on the other fist. Every time the cool leather collided with your knuckles, it sent a sharp pain up your hand. But you stood through it, until the next time you swung, you didn’t realize the bag had made its own hit towards you—swinging and hitting your body with a harsh force.

Letting out a grunt, your body slammed into the cold cement of the training sector. Your ribs ached as you didn’t twitch to get up, instead accepting that you were going to be factionless if you didn’t get back up.

Get back up, _ _. You have to.

Sweat dribbled down your forehead as you landed another punch to the bag. You made it a mission to skip lunch so you could train, because you'd rather starve than be factionless. Breathing harshly through your teeth, you felt the muscles slightly tense in your arms.

"Mary poppins hasn't improved, has she?"

You felt your lip curl as you delivered another brutal hit, finally taking victory in the bag. You released a grunt as your fists kept colliding with it.

You were going to show that stuck up son of a—

"You're supposed to eat in order to gain muscle. Didn't teach you that back in Amity, huh?" You heard a voice quip, a deep and gravelly voice.

Jumping from surprise, your head snapped over to see Four leaning against one of the bags. His eyes were focused on you, smoky and stormy. You looked away from him instantly, but kept your focus on him, "Skipping lunch won't make you a Dauntles—"

"If someone tells me one more time what does or doesn't make me a Dauntless, I might just fucking shoot myself," you raised your voice, feeling the patience that usually you held snapped like a tree branch. Four's eyes stayed narrowed as he now crossed his arms, the muscles protruding from that caramel, ink covered skin of his.

You gulped, "I meant—"

He stood up straight, a smirk creeping into his plump, pink lips as he stepped towards you, "You're nothing but a farmer. You cannot train remotely enough to become one of us," he hissed, venom laced in his words. Something swirled in his eyes, making your jaw lock,

"You don't have anger. You have self pity, and Dauntless don't pity themselves. They fight, and are willing to give up their life for people. How can you fight others when you're fighting yourself already?"

You blinked, feeling anger begin to rise within you. It was a foreign feeling—but you didn't hate it. If anything, your veins welcomed the poisonous rage, but you bit your tongue.

Four laughed darkly, "You can't even speak up for yourself. Surely, you should go back to those farmers," he continued, making your fists balled up at your sides. As he continued to degrade you and your home, well— people who used to be your home, it rose.

The anger rose. It felt as the ground begun to shake, sudden flashes of all the combat you had witnessed before your eyes playing like a rapid slideshow in your mind. The cracks of the bones whenever someone would slip their foot beneath someone—breaking their balance.

Your eyes flickered up to his. He paused right before you, the scent of cologne filling your nose as your chest heaved deeply. Every sense of angst within you was on fire as he tilted his head.

"You don't belong here. But I doubt you'll be able to go home, since your parents disow—"

Your foot slipped under him, trapping him to the ground with a grunt from him. Your teeth clenched as you aimed to punch him, but he immediately snapped his eyes into yours. With furrowed brows, he grabbed your wrist and striked your leg with a harsh kick.

Your knee buckled, a bullet of pain shooting through your muscles. The cold concrete pavement of the training sector burned the flesh on your cheek, ears ringing as a dull ache formed in your back from the landing.

“C’mon, _ _,” Four chuckled, more so in a tiresome way than a tormenting tone. His chest heaved as I blinked, “Get up. Don’t give up now.”

It clicked. Was he…training you?

A boost if adrenaline shot through you. He believed in you. That was the push you needed to balance your wobbling arms off the ground, barely being able to push your body—but you did. Your fists balked at your sides as you gulped, accidentally melting into his cold eyes.

They weren’t as cold, though. As if the ice had slightly melted—but there was still another thick layer.

“Fighting is a dance,” he murmured firmly, grabbing your arm and spinning you around. You let out a harsh breathe as he held your back against his chest, before roughly pushing you away. You hit one of the punching backs, grunting as he smirked, “Until it’s not.”

“Can’t imagine dancing with you,” your eyes narrowed—only making his smirk grow.

But you didn’t hear a response, instead your eyes noticed he was about to take a step forward. Then, you watched his arm twitch—ducking before delivering a jab to his side. He flinched, which broke the barrier, and you didn’t wait to kick him down to the ground.

With a loud thud, you watched as his braid figure slammed against the ground. Picking up your feet, you darted towards him. Every single insult he’d ever thrown at you replayed in your head. He was trying to anger you.

Did he perhaps…care?

Sliding your knee across the ground, you grabbed both of his hands and held him down. Your hair fell over your face, panting deeply, as you used the rest of your strength to fight off his. His hues twitched to yours, something flashing in his eyes as they met yours.

Your throat became dry. Butterflies erupted in your tummy, a warm feeling hugging your heart.

Feeling the cheeks in your face burn—you felt the world slowly silence around you as your eyes melted onto his. You didn’t know if it was your imagination, or the adrenaline pumping in your veins—but you swore you felt his long fingers slowly graze your thigh.

Wait—

How did they get fre—

And in an instant, you were flipped into the ground. His strong hands held you down, gripping your wrist, as his muscular chest held down yours. Bodies pressed against one another, his grunts filling your ears…it was truly a sight.

A musky scent flooded your senses as you felt like you were high, wanting to reach out and touch that sculpted jaw of his. The stubble poking from his skin is probably scratchy against your palm, but his flesh still looked smooth and supple.

Despite his appearance coming off ragged and rough.

“That’s how you fight like a Dauntless,” He taunted darkly, making your brows raise in shock, “You’ll do just fine in ranks if you uh—“

His eyes fluttered to your lips, before he gulped and squeezed his eyes shut. He pushed himself off the floor, away from you, before dusting off his pants, “You should do just fine, _ _.”

Before you could say anything, he cleared his throat and made his exit.

[ghostedgrim]

She's All That .pt.2

MDNI!!

Pt.1. Pt.2.sfw version. Request page. Masterlist

Warnings⚠️:Jealousy, (i recently finished a 700 page dark fantasy book, so that kinda effected my writing) fighting, a graphic fighting scene, injuries, death, fluff, smut written by a virgin 🧚‍♀️ ✨️

The sounds of grunts, and fists connecting with leather echoes through the room as I hit the punching bag over, and over. It's been a month, I haven't talked to James once, nor have I talked to y/n either. No matter how hard I try, I can spot her from across the room, yet she ignores me so easily. Now that I've dated her, every guy around seems to finally notice she exists and they all want a damn piece of her.

"Eric!" I turn around to see Max approaching, my shirt and jacket in his hand. I back away from the bag, and wipe some of my sweat off my face with my hand towel. "Why weren't you at the meeting this afternoon?"

I hold back a groan and turn to Max, "I highly doubt I would've had any important input on how to handle rowdy Factionless when I only handle the affairs inside Dauntless, and our alliance with Erudite."

"Eric, I don't know what has gotten into you, but if you miss another damn meeting, or get to work late again you'll be kissing your position as a Dauntless leader goodbye and living with the Factionless." Max's tone is firm leaving no room for argument or question of a bluff. Fuck.

"My apologies sir, I'll get my act together. I will see you at Erudite tonight." Max fists my shirt and jacket tighter in his hand and punches them into my chest.

"Good, cause you're on very thin ice and summer is fast approaching." I grab my clothes before he can drop them, and watched with a cold glare as he left. I drop my clothes back onto the chair I initially set them on and resumed punching the bag. The bruises decorating my body, curtesy of Four, hurt like Hell, and I revel in it.

Kai, green hair, snakebite peircings, no tattoos, and ironically he's a tattoo artist. I swear he took the job simply because he's a damn coward. I don't understand what y/n sees in him, and yet somehow she chooses to date him of all people. Kai is docile, timid, and to be honest if it weren't for the fact he killed three people during initiation this year you'd think he'd belong in Amity.

Jealousy is a poison that I fall victim to every time, and watching her fawn over him makes my blood fucking boil. Kai killed three initiates so he wouldn't get kicked out of initiation. He was a weak coward, but something about him screams danger. Throughout the time I had taught him he was a predator, doing what's needed to survive while dressed in sheep's clothing. Ironically enough he also takes up the job of defending snipers. I have no doubt he took the job because he's almost never called out onto the field, and people in that position could go their whole lives without once getting in a fight with enemies.

It's stupid because here I am, in the middle of an important meeting and all I can focus on was the image of her grinding against Kai on the dance floor. It should've been me, not that creep. Just from imagining it I have to subtly adjust my pants. God I would love to just toss Kai over the chasm and-"

"Eric." Max's tense tone finally breaks me free of my thoughts. "How do you think we should handle the situation."

I pause. What situation? This meeting... it was about Factionless starting to get too rowdy or whatever. "Which part of the situation? The Factionless are acting out, what are the believed causes, how much risk are the Abnegation who help them are in? The Factionless are bigger than all of our factions combined." Good enough save... I hope.

Max rolls his eyes. Shit.

"So far it's only a small group," I look up at Maverick as he speaks, "and we're yet to see them attack the Abnegation. All the Factionless have done so far is raid five Amity trucks, with only two Amity injured so far. There does appear to be someone organizing their attacks. Kevin Atos, Divergent, and has been evading our capture for the past few months since the Choosing Ceremony." Maverick runs a tattooed hand through his firey hair, then looks back through the documents.

"How do we know it's Kevin? Is he taking part in the raids, do we see him at any points in the raid?"

Jade then scowls at me accusingly, her blue eyes like bullets. She flips her black hair off her shoulder, "Are you implying Kevin is innocent?"

I grimace, "Hardly, I'm simply asking for how we know he takes part in these raids. More specificly, will we need to draw him out. We have seven extremely skilled snipers, meaning we finally have an opportunity to take him out. Without a leader the raiders will temporarily be distraut. That's when a special ops team swoops in and captures everyone who took part in the raids. From there we interrogate, and capture all the Factionless who aided the raiders. Then-"

"Whose to say the entirety of the Factionless don't join up in arms and rebel as a whole. Those raiders could become martyrs," Jade interrupts.

I roll my shoulders and crack my knuckles. "Well maybe if you didn't interrupt I could get to that. Yes we will execute all the Factionless we deemed guilty. However, those raiders had weapons, and sure they could've scavanged them, but it's extremely possible a Dauntless member could be helping them."

Jeanine finally speaks up, "If you find someone guilty we could then hack the records, make everyone who researches the situation think the traitor is divergent."

Max nods in agreement with the Erudite leader, "It's very likely the traitor is Divergent anyway. And if we don't find anyone guilty, we'll just find someone suspected of being Divergent, Erudite will alter the evidence."

While useful to our cause, framing someone of Divergentence, especially if they're 100% innocent, put a foul taste in my mouth. "What if someone from Erudite also helped coordinate the attacks, or help the raiders get weapons. Kevin came from Amity. He may be smart, but not that smart. Either way, we hunt down everyone who was involved, we'll check each faction if we have to, there must be at least one faction traitor, wether we make up one or not. The Factionless will learn their place, and they won't question our authority or justice." The other Dauntless leaders, Maverick, Jade, Max, Mira all pitch in bouncing ideas around. In the end they settle on my plan.

"Y/n, we need to talk." She turns to me with a hard glare, the squad she's training look absolutely exhausted. Ever since we broke up she been training her squads thrice as hard, especially James.

"If you've come to apologize again I'm not listening."

"It has nothing to do with that."

She turns to the five squads infront of her and orders them to hold a plank position until she returns. Absolutely evil, hot though.

We walk out into a more secluded area. "Talk." She commands.

"Factionless have been raiding Amity trucks, we need a skilled sniper to kill their leader."

"At ease!" She shouts towards the gym and I cam hear groans of relief from within. "It'll be nice to get out of the facility. When?"

"Four days from now. I'll be leading the attack, you'll be positioned in a skyscraper overlooking the Amity route where the attacks happen, we'll have a second sniper positioned further down the street near the corner just in case. The second you shoot Kevin Atos me and my men will dive in to apprehend the raiders, disable anyone who tried to run and any vehicles they try to use."

She crosses her arms, she's tense and i can tell by the steel gaze in her beautiful eyes I'm the reason. "Whose assigned as my guardian?"

The name tastes like bile and sulfur in my mouth, "Kai. That's all you need to know for now. Training will be in the southern gym, floor 02, at 0400. You're dismissed."

She turns, sharp and quick, her braid almost smacks my face. I try to turn away, to walk back to my office but I can't. I watch with absolute admiration as this powerful, amazingly smart woman walks away from me. For some reason it hurts, and a part of me that I have long tried and failed wants to pull her into my arms, to finally kiss her, and hold onto her and never let go.

I'm the first person in the gym the next morning. I wear only black sweatpants, no shirt or tank top. I take my time preparing the map, equipment, and warming myself up. Y/n is the first to arrive, soon followed by the three squads I had chosen for this mission. Her eyes drop to the fresh ink peeking over my waistband on my hip and I smirk. As much as I'd love to tease my ex, I have more pressing matters to focus on.

"Everyone at attention please! I will go over this plan only three times followed by four hours of training! Afterwards I'll quiz each of you on the plan and anyone who gets it wrong will stay an extra hour to clean this gym!" I point at the map set up on the board beside me. "Mrs. Dove our first sniper will be located of the 13th floor of this building here. Mr. Rivers," I point at Kai, "you are assigned as her guardian. She dies, you better be dead too. Mr. Bown you will be located on the 15th floor of this building here," I point at the building on the corner of the street. My lecture continues for another fifteen minutes before I finally assign everyone to their respective workouts.

Kai pales as I step onto his mat. "If you're gonna be a guardian you have to be prepared for hand-to-hand combat. Sure, you were decent during initiation but I haven't seen you fight since. Knock me down and I'll let you leave."

The only image better than my fist kissing Kai's jaw was the image of my beloved dagger asleep in my arms while wrapped in my hoodie. I must give the boy credit, he can take a punch, however he isn't very good at giving them. I'm grounded where I stand while Kai is light and moves around, he favors deceit in his attacks then hitting anywhere that's soft and sensitive. But that means nothing when you're hitting stone. Kai may land a few hits but I've barely moved. Jaw, gut, waist, back of the knees, this idiot barely knows how to fucking block!

I sweep Kai onto his ass yet again. "You're going to get her killed! Do you realize just how fucking pathetic you are! If trouble comes your way and you fail to protect her I will take sweet joy in killing you slowly," I seethe.

It was like something flipped in Kai, one moment he's a doe and the next a rabid dog. Kai movies faster than earlier but his movements are feral. A punch to my throat and I choke. His hands wrap around the crown of his skull and my face kisses his knee. I'm shoved to the floor. Punch after punch this kid doesn't stop.

I barely process someone pulling him off me.

"Eric!" It's muffled like I'm underwater.

I wrapped in someone's arms- no, not just a someone. My dagger, she looks like an angel. I don't dare speak because I'll say something stupid so I force my gaze away from her. Kai lays sprawled out, face first, on the mat.

"Eric!"

"M' fine... I'm fine. Just give me a damn second." I hate to see her look so worried, but the twisted part of me is happy to see her worried, to see that she cares. "Everyone out!"

Two burly men drag Kai out by his arms.

"What the hell do you see in that boy," I spit.

"Boy? He's only a year younger than us. And what I see in him is someone who won't treat my emotions like a damn joke."

"I already told you, it was never a joke to me, not after our first date. I fell for you, hard, and my love for you was genuine."

"You say that over and over, but it doesn't change the fact you initially asked me out as a joke. I don't care how many times you ask for forgiveness I won't-"

"I never asked for your forgiveness! Yes I apologized but I never asked for your forgiveness because I am unworthy of it. I hurt you and I own that, what I did to you was wrong and I own that, but not with pride, never with pride. You were innocent and undeserving of that cruelty, that is why I don't deserve your forgiveness." I look up at her, still slumped in her arms and oh how desperately I want to curl her hair behind her ear and kiss away the bruise on her cheek.

"You need to leave Kai."

"Eric." She purses her lips.

"No, listen. That boy is trouble. He is not the sweet boyfriend you think he is. Kai is like a wild dog, give him a treat and he'll roll over, put him in danger he'll leave you to die, threaten him and he-"

She drops me, the back of my head smacks the floor and my ears ring. "Jealous dickbag." One swift kick to my groin and I gag.

"That's fair I guess."

To my suprise y/n actually helps me to the medical wing, only to leave right as a nurse walked out to greet us.

For the remaining days of training I assigned Damien, a very buff and intimidating man to handle Kai's training while I walked the squads through our routines over and over till it was muscle memory.

Finally the day came. Breakfast before missions like this are always strangely quiet, and when looking out my windows the world looks unsettlingly calm. I grab my jacket, it still smells of her perfume. I've refused to wear it since we broke up in fear the scent would go away, but today I will wear it.

It's days like these that you need to take a moment to remember your mortality. So I take my time lacing my boots, and I give Muffin, my cat, a good scratch behind her ear before making my way to the ramp.

Everyone is already armed and in gear as I approached. The two snipers and their guardians aren't here for they left late in the night to sneak into their respective positions.

After a quick review of the plan we march out. We move on foot, silent and hidden by the long shadows cast by the rising sun.

I'm coiled tight, counting every second that ticks by.

It's a haunting sight, watching the Amity transport roll down the street. They don't sing like they always do, they know they're about to be attacked. I frown as inevitably the Factionless run out, they shoot the driver in his arm and the two Amity accompanying her drag her out and dash into a nearby building.

BANG!!!

My men and I rush out, the Factionless scream out orders, both trying to help Kevin, and escape. It's utter chaos, bullets fly past, innocent bystanders are running away and towards us in search of safety.

The medical team are split in three, two men aid the Amity, three men haul Kevin, whose screaming and cluching his wounded thigh, over to the group of bound Factionless, and the rest are spread out to help fallen soldiers.

I grunt as a bullet grazes my right bicep. I dive behind a pillar within a building and peeked to find my attacker. Instead I see a group of Factionless running up the stairs of the building y/n is in. "Shit."

"Carlos, how's the situation out there!"

Static buzzes in my ear right before he replies. "We've captured fifteen Factionless raiders, eight more are on the run with two of our squads hot on their tails. Daton and y/n have already adjusted their positions to help shoot them down!"

"Good, take command of the situation out here, I just saw a group run into y/n's building and I'm going in to intercept!"

I don't wait for a response as I charge in. I bound each step two at a time, multiple times I've already tried reaching y/n and Kai through their comms but all I get is static. Someone between y/n's message to Conor, and me running into the building someone scrambled the comms.

He doesn't see me, but I see him, that tuff of green hair making him stand out like a highlighter as he crawls to hide behind an old desk, the crazy bitch stabs his own leg too. If I had the time I would shoot Kai for running away and abandoning y/n, especially because he's faking injuries so everyone thinks him innocent.

Please don't be dead, please don't be dead. For every bruise and scratch I find on her will equal at least one broken bone.

Three more floors.

Please be alive.

Please.

Oh God please.

I almost cry in relief when I hear the sounds of fighting, she isn't dead. I rush into the room, and met with a fist in my face. I pay it back with a knife to my attackers throat, and just as the second guy comes at me I duck below his arm and stuff my knife through his throat into his mouth.

I turn to where y/n is, and I see red as I watch three men slam her to the ground.

Just as I grab my gun a bullet tears through my forearm. The pain is agonizing, but adrenaline is stronger. I drive straight through the Factionless man holding the gun. Arms wrap around my waist and haul me to the floor and straddles me. I barely process their faces or their ragged appearance. The third attacker kicks my head, but I keep my focus on stealing the second man's knife. The third attacker tries and fails to grab my wrist as I steal the knife. I dig the blade into the second attacker's bicep, and I rip it down tearing down to the elbow. As the second attacker falls off me I stab the third guy in his leg several times and he falls.

I get up in time to see the first guy aim his gun at y/n.

"No!"

I don't think, I just run. I slam straight into him and we tumble through the window. Sharp, breaking pain snaps through my right leg as I snags in metal scaffolding, but fortunately it saves me from plummeting like the first guy. I simply hang by my leg, my vision already turning splotchy.

"Eric!"

I cry out as I'm hauled back into the building, but before I can complain lips crash onto mine. I'd always imagined they'd taste like, but all I tasted was the blood from her split lip.

Just as quickly as her lips touched mine her hand cracked across my cheek.

"You fucking idiot Eric! What the hell were you thinking you could've died!"

"That I was saving an angel," I groan.

"Stop being romantic you almost died!"

"Says the girl that kissed me," I smile through the pain. My eyes roll back for a moment and my whole world spins as I'm hauled over her shoulder. "Ow."

"Shut up."

"Just stay awake Eric, please. Otherwise I'll haul your ass out of the afterlife and kill you all over again."

"Yes," I let out a pained grunt as she starts running down the stairs, "ma'am."

It's been three days and this room still smells of bleach and cleaning alcohol. I can't complain, I'm lucky to have gotten a private room here in the Dauntless medical wing, especially one with a view outside.

"You look like shit."

"I feel like shit. Thank you very much."

Despite my pain I can't help but to smile as I watch y/n enter the room. A bandage wraps around her bicep, and another peeks out over the waistband of her skirt right on her hip.

"How bad are your injuries." Her voice is soft like a lullaby. I could listen to it forever and never get bored. She sits down on the bed and places a hand on my chest and I hiss in mock pain. "Oh my gosh sorry."

I snatch her wrist as she pulls it away and laughed.

"Asshole, your lucky I can't slap you."

"Even if you did I wouldn't regret it. How are you?"

"You first Eric."

"Fine. I got grazed by a bullet on my bicep, got shot in the forearm. I got stabbed several times too," I gesture to my bandaged torso. "My leg got broken in three places, and I'm covered in bruises. Now tell me about you, I know it must be hard after Kai..." I may be cruel but I'm not heartless enough to dig at how he hurt her, the last thing she needs is me to mock her or sound like a jealous ass.

She sighs deeply and looks out the window, "Kai is going to be executed tomorrow. Not only did he abandon his station of protecting me, turns out he helped arm the Factionless, oh and there's rumors that he was Divergent! Why is it I trust the wrong men?"

I sigh, "It's not that you trust the wrong men, it's just that bad men are good manipulators."

"So? I'm from Erudite, I'm supposed to be smart-"

"You are smart, so fucking smart. Trust me, you have no idea how easy it is to manipulate the Erudite. Don't ever claim you're not smart because you're the smartest woman I know." I grip her hand.

"I'm suprised Four hasn't scolded me yet."

"Well if he does tell me so I can punch him."

We sit in silence, soaking up everything that has happened. I almost lost her, we kissed but I don't know if she truly wants me back, I almost died too, which is honestly terrifying.

"What are we?" I break the silence.

She shifts, her gaze moving from the window down to me. "I don't know, I mean we kissed so I guess lovers once more."

"Do you want to be? Lovers I mean. I know we kissed, but we were high on adrenaline, so that doesn't mean you should force yourself to be with me. So is that something you want?"

"I believe I do. Sometimes I really hate you, but you literally jumped out of a building to save me."

"And got stabbed."

"Yeah that too." She chuckles and I soak in every bit of her brief mirth. "I missed being with you, I was so happy back then. So honestly, I want to give us a second chance."

"Good because I really miss how cute you looked running around my apartment in the t-shirts and jackets you stole from me." We smile and she lays down beside me.

"Can I kiss you. When you almost die you really value those little things. Also when you kissed me it was way too brief for my opinion and romantic as it was."

"Only because I like you."

I cup both her cheeks, my arm hurts but I hardly care right now. I pull her down to me, my heart soars as our lips meet. Her lips taste like chocolate and I have no doubt she was eating some before coming here, I can taste a hint of the strawberries she loves to eat too. I sigh and tilt my head to deepen our kiss. I feel like I'm on cloud nine.

Eventually we pull away to catch our breaths and I look at her, my dagger in absolute awe before pulling her down into a second kiss. I tangle a hand in her hair unwilling to let her go. I want to drown in her, to stay in her arms and to never leave.

"Y/n, my dagger, my love, my stars in the sky," I whisper against her lips, "you are my everything."

She straddles my lap and we kiss again, but this time it's hungry. She parts her lips and I happily accept the invite. I slip my tongue in, tasting, exploring. We devour each other in a clash of hungry kisses.

A gutteral groan falls from my lips when she rolls her hips. It's slow, experimental, but it certainly does the job.

"You're going to be the death of me."

She kisses down the column of my throat. "Do you want me to stop?" She asks it so fucking innocently, as if she doesn't have me rock hard and wrapped around her finger.

"Absolutely not," I growl and pull her into another kiss. She rocks her hips once more, but more confident.

I'm hungry.

No, I'm famished and I need her now.

"Fuck..." My hands grip her thighs tight, they're warm, plush, and I wish I could take a bite. My fingers caress the bottom of her skirt. "May I?"

"Yes." Her voice is breathy and I grin as my hands push up her skirt and push the bottom of her underwear to the side.

"Fuck you're wet," I chuckle. "You still virgin?"

She looks shy for a moment, "not anymore."

"Well I may not be at my prime, I'll still certainly give you a way better time than Kai ever could."

"Actually I lost it to Four," she smiles, clearly knowing just how much that riles me up.

"Four, really?" I pinch her clit and watch in glee as she gasps out a moan. "Let me guess, he talked you through it," her eyes flutter closed as I slowly circle her clit with my thumb, "Guided your hands, told you how to use that mouth huh?"

My mouth curves into a fown as she only nods, so I pull my finger away making her whine. I tut, "Look at me, and use your words, my dagger."

"Yes," she gasps, "he did."

"Good girl," I purr, with a small groan I push myself into a sitting position. Call me a masochist but I like the pain. My arms wrap around her waist, I grind her down against my cock and devour her whimpers in a kiss.

"Fuck you taste so good. Now go make sure the door is locked." She gasps as I nip her throat. Y/n practically runs to lock the door. To my supries she then rips off her boots and underwear before climbing back on me.

"Well aren't you cute." I reward her by pushing a finger through her entrance, thrusting slowly.

"Eric," she whines and squirms in my lap. I thrust in a second finger.

I bring my lips to her ear and in a quiet whisper, "baby I don't know how much longer I'm gonna be able to control myself. You look so pretty moaning and reacting so well to my touch," I curl my fingers, hitting that sweet spot that no doubt has her rolling her eyes, " but if you keep squirming I'm not sure I'm gonna be able to control myself much longer." I kiss down her throat before pulling away.

I push her skirt up, revealing her to me. "Such a pretty pussy, next time we do this I think I'll just tie you up and eat you out all night." My lips latch onto the sensitive area of her neck, just below and almost behind her ear, and I suck a hickey.

"Eric, please," her hips start to roll, riding my fingers and I press my thumb to her clit. "Yes, just like that please."

"Gonna come?"

I tisk when she whimpers out a yes without looking me in the eyes. She cries softly when I pull my hand away.

"What did I tell you about eye contact?" I give her ass a form smack making her jolt. "Use your words and look me in the eyes when I talk to you."

She mutters a sorry, but I hardly listen as I lick my fingers clean, "fuck you taste like heaven. I think it's ought time I finally got some well deserved attention."

I lean back, giving her space to pull open my buckle. She pushes her down to sit on my thighs and leans down close, her breath ghosting over my lower stomach, making me shiver. I pull his hair back as it falls over her face.

Her fingers work deftly and soon my cock finally springs free from my boxers. "M- fuck y/n." Moans escape from my throat as she licks a stripe up the underside of my cock before bringing it into her mouth. "Shit, don't- don't stop." I think I might just thank Four for teaching her because I can barely breathe this feels so good.

Far sooner than I want I have to pull her mouth from my cock. Any longer I would've cum. For a moment, all we can do is stare at each other, panting, hungry, swollen lips.

Soft hands trace my tattoos, trail up my arms then finally settling on either side of my throat. My eyes fell shut, letting her pull me into another delicious kiss. I soak in every second, reveling in the feeling of her touching every inch of my upper body. There's a string of saliva between our lips as we pull away panting and I watch in absolute awe as she hovers above my lap and strips the remainder of her clothes.

My lips part, my tounge darting out to wet them as my eyes trace every detail. Those lovely curves, the dip in her hips, the curve of her breasts. Once more my hands grip her hips and I pull her to me. I trail kisses down the column of her throat, sucking hickeys, nipping at her skin then licking it as if it'll soothe the bites. I damn near growl as I kiss, bite, and lick down her sternum. "Ride me," I command, my voice dark and desperate.

I bring a hand down to guide my weeping cock to her entrance, and I have to bite her shoulder to muffle my moans and groans as she sinks down.

"Eric."

"Shh, I got you." I kiss up her throat, and kissed her lips softly, one arm lays flat across her back, the other on her hip with my thumb rubbing circles on her hip as I guide her all the way down. "Just a little more, you're doing so good baby." I murmer words of praise when I'm finally to the hilt within her. I wait for her to start moving, letting us start at her pace.

She rocks her hips and my eyes flutter closed, my head burying in the juncture of her neck, mouth dropped open in endless low groans. I feel like a virgin all over again, she feels so good that I'm momentarily dizzy. But then I notice, her muffled moans and I pull away to see her biting her lip to keep herself quiet.

"Y/n, my love, let me hear those beautiful moans, these walls are soundproof. And who cares who hears, let them, let them know you're mine now. Let them know how good I make you feel." I stare deep inter her stunning eyes, watching them flicker to the door and back to me as she thinks. And then finally, she releases her bottom lip and let's out a moan.

"Good girl," It takes every bit of restraint to not take over and slaim her down on my cock over and over. "Such a good girl, don't stop, you're riding me so well."

My head dips down, her hips stutter then sped up as I sucked one of her pert nipples into my mouth. I moan, swirling my tounge around and on the pert tit, sucking, swirling again, over and over. My other hand gropes her other breast, and I love just how soft and warm it is.

"Eric!" She arches her back and she fists her hand in my hair while the other grips my shoulder for support. My other arm wraps around her waist tightly, and I finally let go of my restraints. Using my tight grip I guide her up, bit the underside of her breast, sucked a hickey and soothed it over with a lick, then slammed her down on my cock. I roll my hips to ensure I hit that sweet spot to make her see stars.

"Tell me my love, which do you prefer?" I guide her up again, and slam her back down loving the way her tits bounce, "the stars in the sky or the ones I'm making you see?"

She locks eyes with me, doing her best to keep eye contact, but I slam her back down making her eyes roll back. "Y- yours Eric! I pref- fuck, prefer the stars you make me see!"

I speed up, and her nails rake down my back deliciously. "Close?"

"Yes," she tugs my head back with my hair, looking me into my eyes now, "yes. Please Eric I'm so close. Please make me come."

I kiss her, hard, swallowing every moan, whimper and mewl. The hand that was on her breast moves down, tracing across her side and down to her hip. I splay my hand across her hip, gripping hard. I angle the arm around her waist so my hand can rest between her shoulder blades. I hold her tight against me.

"Hold on tight." M y thumb circles her clit, and using my grip on her hip and around her waist to bounce her on my cock hard and fast. Her cries of bliss fill the room. I watch her, her eyes rolling back, back arching, mouth stuck open in endless moans. She chants my name like a prayer.

A shudder seems to roll through her whole body, and her nails rake down my back as she comes. I bury my face in her neck, and cum hard. I grip her tight, grinding our hips together as her pussy milks me dry.

Every she slumps against me, her legs shaking and breathing hard. I pepper kisses across her face, murmuring praise after praise.

I pull out and allowed myself to fall back on the bed, pulling her with me so she lays atop me.

"We need to clean up."

"Soon, but I'd rather soak in the afterglow first." She kissed my jaw before laying her head on my chest, her fingers trace patterns across my chest, carefully avoiding my badly injured areas. The pain is slowly returning but I pay it no mind. One hand plays with her hair, occasionally rubbing her scalp or tracing the contours of her face. My other arm is wrapped around her shoulders, holding her close in a warm embrace.

"I love you my dagger, and I'm do grateful you entered my life."

~~~

Thank you so much for reading! I hope the smut turned out well, if not please send me tips and way I can improve/fix it. I hope you all enjoyed it.

Too Blunt? A Four x ex Candor reader coming next

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No Love Lost Series Masterlist

Read on A03! - Listen to the Playlist!

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for canon-typical violence, swearing, mental health issues, mentions of rape/non-con, and sexual content.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.

Series Summary

Three years ago you were normal, the only demons you had to fight were your own, and you the most you knew of Vought and the Boys were what you saw on TV. But then you met Homelander at a stupid party, and woke up the next morning in a cell.

After almost two and a half years of you being Homelander's little project, Soldier Boy was woken up only go rouge and be put back under. Somewhere in there, you escaped. And before Queen Maeve went underground, she told William Butcher about the Anomaly, a powerful supe who recently escaped Vought captivity and may have an agenda against Homelander.

One month later, the Boys found you.

You spend the next five months helping them best you can, though your control over your powers is weak and your fear of Homelander makes you useless in combat. But you get an idea. A stupid, dangerous idea that turns you into Soldier Boy's keeper, giving him a second chance to take down Homelander, you hanging over his shoulder, a threat should he want to go nuclear again. It's exhausting and frustrating, and you might kill him and yourself as soon as this is over, but you said whatever it takes.

And this is what it takes.

Author's Note

This story is non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being;

1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so.

2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad.

Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask!

Navigation Key

❤️‍🔥 = Smut

🚩 = Additional Warnings

Chapter List

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing Chapter 2 - A New Kind of Tension Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress 🚩 Chapter 4 - You Might Be The Same As Me Chapter 5 - Popped, Cool, and Ready to Go Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense Chapter 7 - The Blinding Ultra-Violence 🚩 Chapter 8 - I Just Find My Way Back ❤️‍🔥🚩 Chapter 9 - Can't Cover It Up ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 10 - Lead Me To The Ark ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 11 - The Wolves or The Ocean Rocks Chapter 12 - While My Blood's Still Flowing Chapter 13 - The Terror of Knowing Chapter 14 - Choke on Sun Chapter 15 - I Found A Martyr ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 16 - Let It Flood ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 17 - Make My Chest Stir Chapter 18 - Something In The Static ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 19 - Don't Look Back 🚩 Chapter 20 - Forget to Fall Down Chapter 21 - Some Things You Just Can't Speak About ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 22 - I Stayed In The Darkness With You Chapter 23 - Wherever You're Going ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 24 - You'll Never Be Alone ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 25 - All I Know ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 26 - I’ve Loved Everything About You That Hurts ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 27 - Just A Shot Away 🚩 Chapter 28 - Something That I'm Supposed to Be ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 29 - All My Bets On You Chapter 30 - Every Demon Wants His Pound of Flesh 🚩 Chapter 31 - I'd Do It All Again ❤️‍🔥

More Than You Could Ever Know - A No Love Lost Christmas Special

Part 1 - The Boys start Secret Santa, Ben pretends to do his job. ❤️‍🔥 Part 2 - Ben and Ryan go shopping, and you all try to find a tree. Part 3 - You and Ben have a Christmas Eve date. Many gifts are opened.

Bonus Footage (Standalone Chapters)

Dying’s Up to Me - A Prologue. Takes place 6ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 They're Never Gonna Find You A Home - Request! Everyone adjusts to your life with the Boys. Takes place 5ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 Back to Here - Request! They get horny at the dining table, and Butcher takes it personally. Takes place in Chapter 14. It's So Simple - You make Ben do icebreakers. He's a little bitch about it. Takes place in Chapter 14. Just Your Time - You give Ben internet lessons. Takes place in Chapter 14. As Much As I Do - Request! Ben finds you dancing, is immediately very normal about it. Takes place after Chapter 14 and around Chapter 15. Calling Your Name - Ben's first birthday awake isn't great. Takes place in Chapter 19. ❤️‍🔥 I Skip My Pride - You share some music with Ben over text. Takes place in Chapter 22. The Only Place That I Call Home - It's team game night, and everyone is sick of you and Ben's shit. Takes place in Chapter 24. ❤️‍🔥 Can't Help Myself - Request! Ben has a breeding kink, and you're incredibly horny, so it works. Takes place in around Chapter 24 and Chapter 25. ❤️‍🔥 Anywhere Else Is Hollow - A halloween special episode! Takes place in Chapter 25. It Was Smiling Down - A Ryan pov Chapter. Takes place between Chapter 26 and Chapter 27. A Call To Motion - Request! There's a lot of things you're good at. Sex with Ben is one of them. Takes places in Chapter 28.❤️‍🔥 I Want You Only - You and Ben go shopping. Takes place in Chapter 28 ❤️‍🔥 I’ll Hold Your Hand - Request! You get your period, and Ben has to do his job and take care of that. Takes place post series.

Found Footage (Post-Series Chapters)

Just Too Important - You and Ben head to Costco. Takes place about two months post-series. Dreams of Love - Request! You and Ben have to babysit. Takes place ten months post-series.

[asterias-record-shop]

—𓆩[something worse]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Tobias Eaton (Four) x Fem! Dauntless Born! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - smut, fluff

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 2K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - You and Four had been together since he chose Dauntless, especially because you were one of the Dauntless born pulled into training. You both had never put a label on your relationship because it never seemed right, but everyone knew that you both were a couple, except the newest tributes you both were training, no matter how obvious you both made it. It seems you both have to make it a little more obvious.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - so sorry I was writing this during a final and it might suck I’m sorry 😭 || cursing || unprotected sex || creampie || oral || fingering

You were used to wandering eyes, you really were, your partner was literally the hottest man in Dauntless. It didn’t really matter about wandering eyes though when they knew you both were together, label or not, but it seemed to be difficult to get through the mind of one of the new initiates.

You weren’t born Abnegation like either of them, you were a bitch and you made sure everyone knew it. You were a lovable bitch though, that’s why you were being fucked every night by the hottest man in all of the factions.

It passed through your mind to just show her, get Four to tell her something is going on in a certain area just to pull him there to fuck you. You passed it through Tori just to make sure, and she said no though, so you decided not to go through with it.

Maybe that’s why you were watching Four fix Tris’ position because she wouldn’t stick with it when Eric did it. It made your skin crawl, staring at the two of them. Maybe it did feel right that he was with someone from his home faction, didn’t he like selfless people? You were selfless in your own way, right? He knew that.

“Hey, you okay?” Uriah asks you, a smile quickly making its way to your face.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, thank you. I’m going to go see how some of the kids are doing, you mind telling Four?” You start collecting your stuff, inhaling deeply as Uriah follows you.

“He’s coming over here.”

You shoot up as Four stands in front of you, his brow raised. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to go do my time at the school,” you say, smiling slightly. “I just… haven’t seen King in a while.”

Four sighs. “Well… I can go with you in a minute, okay? King likes me, right?”

You laugh, slowly lifting your arms to wrap your arms around his neck before pausing. Public displays of affection were never really your thing, but you really wanted to.

Four saw you pause, leaning down to wrap his arms around your waist as you smiled and wrapped yours around his neck. “Everyone likes you, Four,” you teased, giggling. “But I love you.”

He smiles back, leaning down for a soft kiss as you tugged on his hair. “I love you too.”

You pulled his hands closer to your form, pulling his face into your neck as you looked over his shoulder just enough to wink at Tris before pulling away. “Let’s go see King.”

He nods, letting you lead him out of the training area and to the school. Dauntless didn’t teach like Erudite did, but they made sure that the children of the faction learned things needed to survive in the faction. King was a child of two Dauntless soldiers who had died exploring beyond the wall, and as a result, you both took him in sort of like your own.

Seeing you with a child really made Four want to give you a child, especially with how good you were with kids, but it never really seemed to be the right time.

That was until he saw you twirling another boy in your eyes, King cleaning one of Four’s guns while the older man oiled up one of the other ones. The younger boy was named Chris, someone whose parents got caught up in a mission and you both took him home just for a while.

“She looks good with a baby, right?” King asks, smiling. “Y/N was always good with kids. She was good with me,” he mumbles now, smiling. “I’m doing well in my training. She said that.”

“You are,” Four said with a smile. “You’re doing really well. Ranked third, kid, you’re doing good,” he leaned forward and ruffled his hair with a laugh. “Want you to get that first spot, though.”

King grins. “I will.”

Someone knocks making you fix Chris on your hip, quickly walking toward the door as Four stands. “Stay there,” he orders to King as you open the door, raising a brow when you see Tris. “Who is it?”

“Uhm… can I help you?”

She inhaled. “I just… I’m here to see Four.”

“Four, honey!” You yell out, the tall man coming behind you and settling a hand on your hip. “One of the trainees wants to speak with you.”

Four raised a brow. “Everything alright?”

Oh, the Abnegation was coming out.

“Y-Yeah, everything’s fine-”

“Perfect,” Four smiles, taking Chris from your arms and setting him on the ground. “King, come here!”

The older boy quickly walks over, standing just like Four. “Yeah?”

“Why don’t you take Chris down to eat? Tris will join you both,” Four says making King’s nose scrunch. “What?”

“Don’t forget I sleep here too.” King takes Chris’ hand, looking back just a bit. “Don’t forget I have a bed! That’s my bed!”

“Bye, King!” You laughed as Four grinned, closing the door as his other hand held your waist.

You couldn’t stop smiling, giggling as you stared up at him. “You did that, didn’t you?”

His smile grows, just a bit. “Yeah, I did. Uriah kind of… hinted it to me.”

You hummed. “Good, because I would've done something worse,” you said, slowly stepping back and pushing your hands into his tight black shirt. “I was this close.”

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?” He asked, smiling as the back of your knees bumps against the bed. His rough hands slip under your shirt, rubbing against your back as though he could feel the black ink you had gotten tattooed.

“Was gonna make her catch us fucking in the corridor,” you giggled as Four slipped off your shirt, humming as he leaned down. “Who said we always have to fuck on the bed? You like that idea?”

He nodded into your shoulder, lips pressing soft kisses to your skin as you started to lean back, his hands securely catching you before you could fall back fully. Carefully, he sets you down, his mouth pressing hot kisses to your neck down your chest. “I fucking love that idea,” he mumbled, his hand slowly rubbing circles against your thigh. “You want to go do that now?”

It was a tempting offer, but you shake your head. “No,” you say, tugging on the hem of his shirt. “You already got me here. Why move?”

He smiled even wider, leaning down as his hands moved to your hips to slowly tug at the tactile pants you wore. “I was thinking,” he whispers as you pull him down to press kisses to his neck. You could see the black peeking out from his shirt, pulling it off of him easily as he pulled away just to slip it off before pulling off your own. “You looked good with Chris on your hip.”

You paused, looking up at him. “You think so?”

He nodded, his hands tugging at your sports bra as your hands dragged down his back. He kneels over your body, pressing kisses down your neck to your chest. “I know so. You’re a natural with kids, angel, you’re fucking perfect.”

The slight husk in his voice made a shiver run up your back, your stomach twisting and heat flooding into your underwear as he lets his hot mouth suck at your lower stomach. “D-Does that mean something?”

He smiled, looking up at you. “Did I just get a Dauntless-born to stutter?”

You blushed madly, looking away. “Don’t let it get to your head, Four.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your pelvic bone before he slowly starts to pull your underwear off, his fingers dancing along your thighs as you squirmed, gasping as he pressed a firm kiss to your clit. It makes you squirm, his fingers replacing his lips as he kisses lower and lower.

“F-Fuck,” you whimper as the tip of his fingers slowly prod against your cunt, his mouth sucking and licking around his fingers as your hands push into his hair. “F-Four, you’re being too nice.”

He laughs, pulling away just for a minute as he slowly pushes a thick finger into you, watching as your hips buck into the air and your back arches. “Maybe it’s the Abnegation?”

You shook your head, reaching a hand down to push his fingers deeper into your pussy. It makes you whine, a gasp coming from your lips as he pulls them out just for a second to add another finger. “Abnegation is selfless, my darling, maybe it’s the Amity? J-Just, don’t stop.”

He laughs, popping a kiss to your cunt before pushing his fingers deeper into you, watching as you squirmed. Moans fall from your lips as he pressed firm circles against your clit, the sensitive bud making you whine loudly, hips bucking.

His fingers curl inside of you, pushing his tongue into you with his fingers as you tug on his hair and your other hand finds his cheek.

You felt your stomach twisting, hips bucking uncontrollably as you attempted to ride his fingers. You gasped as his fingers curled inside of you, attempting to find that one soft spot inside of you that made your eyes roll back. It didn’t take him long to find, especially because he’s memorized your body over the years and he groaned as you clenched around him.

“Come on honey, cum for me. Want to watch you cum.”

Your eyes rolled back, whimpering as he pushed his fingers knuckle deep into you to watch your pussy flutter. Your stomach twists, loud groaning falling from your lips as your stomach twists. Your hips buck, eyes rolling back as he sucked on your cunt, swallowing loudly as he pulled out his fingers.

He pulled away, sitting up as he pulled down his pants just enough to pull out his cock, hissing as you raised your legs to wrap around his waist. He grunts as he slowly pushes into you, eyes rolling back as he leaned down to hold himself up with his elbows, pulling you in for a kiss. “Fucking hell, I want to see you with my kids so bad,” he groaned, gasping as you pulled him down for a kiss. “Want to see you pregnant over and over again.”

You whined, his hips moving quickly as the bed pounded into the wall, your nails dragging down his back. His cock rammed into your pussy, strong thrusts making your eyes roll back as he pressed his lips to your neck. “You want that honey? Want to be fucked, round and full with my kids?”

You nodded, whining loudly. “Yes! Yes, I do!”

He grunts loudly, slamming into you just to feel your pussy clench along his entire shaft, a broken moan leaving his lips as you cum again around him. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, fuck! Four!” You yelled out as he reaches down to rub firm circles into your clit, rutting his hips just a few more times as he came inside you for the first time without protection.

It was an odd feeling, but filling as he groaned loudly, your cunt continued to clench around him to milk him of everything he had. It was warm, and if you could feel sticky-ness inside of you, it would be this. You whimper as he starts to pull out, trying to reach forward to pull him back in before he grabs your legs, pushing them back so your knees were on your shoulders.

“You don’t think we’re done yet, do you? Gotta make sure this sticks.”

omg, I love fulfilling requests ♡ keep them coming for Bingo!!

Taglist:

𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪 𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪 𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪 𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪

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𓆩[@ennycutie]𓆪

© asterias-record-shop

[lokigodofmyheart]

THROUGH TIME 

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader.

Words: 9.455

Summary: The history of Loki and Y/N through the time since they were 8 years old. 

Warning/Content: Canon Divergence; Mean Odin; Friends to lovers; really small enemies to lovers; virgin!Loki, virgin!Reader, first kiss, loss of virginity, marriage, planned pregnancy. 

MASTERLIST

A/N: I really like to write this one. Loki deserves his happy ending. If I forgot any warnning, please let me know. English is not my first language. You can also find this work on AO3.

Y/N and Loki had been best friends for a couple of years now. They met when her mother, a close friend of Frigga, accepted the invitation to move to Asgard and live with them. Loki and Y/N were 5 at the time ant that was 3 years ago. Now they’re 8 years old. 

Y/N had a nightmare that night and woke up scared, so she decided to go to her best friend’s room, like she usually did when she was scared. She knocked on his door, gently. Loki was laying on his bed, sobbing on his pillow, but when he heard a knock on his door, he sat up and tried to stop crying. Y/N didn’t wait for an answer, she knocked and enter his room and went straight to his bed with him. Loki looks over at her and wipes the last of his tears with the back of his hand “W-what do you want?” 

“What happened?” She asked worried seeing him cry, her nightmare long forgotten. 

“Dad hurt me...” Loki said quietly. 

Her face showed pure shock “...what?” 

Loki nods, looking down “He...he hit me.” 

Y/N hugged the little boy tightly “I’m so sorry, Loki.” He hugged her back, sobbing into her shoulders. “Do you want me to stay with you? Or maybe come to my room?” 

He looks at her, his face wet with the tears “I want to come to your room.” 

She held his hand as they got off his bed and walked to her room, Loki following her and still shaken. They went to her bed as soon as they entered Y/N’s room and Loki curls up next to her. “I’ll protect you.” She says to her friend. 

Loki smiles and closes his eyes, slowly beginning to fall asleep feeling safe with her. Y/N seeing he was peacefully, finally closed her eyes and slept too, with no more nightmares in the night. After that night, they made a habit to sleep together sometimes, but no one really mind since they were only kids. 

4 years later

Loki and Y/N were now 12 and they still sleeping close by with Y/N. They are laying on her bed, when she broke the silence. “How was your day?” Loki mumbles something about Odin being mean to him, again. “You should come train with me and Thor. Maybe that could help you relax." She smiles at him. 

Loki just nods at her. He didn’t like that much of the idea to train with Thor. Everyone thinks so highly of his brother. They talked for a few more minutes before they decided to sleep. Loki tried once to train with her and his brother, but he didn't like. So, he starts to spend more of his time in the library reading. 

3 years later

 They're 15 years old now. Loki had gotten taller than Y/N, which was normal, his voice had changed, and he looked more like a man than a boy. Y/N's body was also changing and they're both filled with hormones. Loki got better with his magic and Y/N got better with the fight skills. They still sleep sometimes together, it was a habit by now. But the hormones were starting to act on them. 

Loki was reading a book but couldn’t stop thinking of Y/N. He had thought of her a lot recently and had even caught himself fantasizing of her a lot. He tried to keep his mind on the book, but it was hard when he had been thinking about her so much. Then a knock came on the door and interrupted his thoughts. 

“Loki?” She called him. 

He put down his book and got up then walked over to the door and opened it, looking at her “Yeah?” 

“Can I come in?” She looked a little sad. 

“Uh, yeah.” he steps aside and opens the door wide enough for her to enter. Y/N follow straight to let her body fall on his bed with a groan. Loki walked and sat next to her with concern on his face “Are you okay?” 

“No.” 

“Why? What’s wrong?” Loki looked at her with genuine curiosity and concern. 

"Sif and your brother keep making fun of me because I never kissed anyone." She rolls her eyes. 

Loki thought about it for a minute before a smirk grew on his face “You haven’t kissed anyone at all?” 

"Oh, come on, not you too." Y/N says frustrated and looks away. 

He chuckles and playfully nudged her shoulder “I’m not making fun of you, I’m just surprised.” 

Y/N sighs, sitting and looking at him “Have you?” 

Loki turned slightly red “Well… no I haven’t kissed anyone…” Y/N smiles sympathetic at him. Loki was still a little red “B-but have you really never kissed anyone?” He still couldn’t believe it. In his mind Y/N had kissed loads of boys because she was so pretty. She just shakes her head at his question. 

He thinks for a second and then speaks “So let me get this right, you have never been kissed and I’ve never been kissed, right?” 

“Yeah...” She nods. 

Loki thinks for another second then looks back over at her “I have an idea…” 

“What is it?” Y/N asks curious at him. 

He takes a deep breath and then leans in towards Y/N “Just close your eyes…” She looks at him for a few seconds and then do as he asks. Loki takes a deep breath and then leans in further, so his lips meet hers. It isn’t a very long kiss and is quite short. When it is over Loki looks at her with a blush on his cheeks “So what do you think…” 

She he opens her eyes and smiles, with a blushing on her cheeks too "That was...uh, nice." 

Loki is still blushing hard and can’t pull his gaze from her “You really think so…?” 

Y/N nods "Can we...do it again?" 

He can’t contain the blush on his face and his body is practically radiate heat. His eyes are still glued to her face “Yeah definitely…” he leans back in for another kiss. She leans in too, kissing him. Loki’s mind was racing with thoughts. He never thought this would happen, especially when the person he’s kissing is Y/N. It was incredible, better than anything he had imagined in his fantasies. He holds her waist, pulling her closer to him as he kissed her. 

Loki moans softly into the kiss as the heat escalate, his body reacting to the heat between them. His hands move up her back, tangling in her hair as he deepens the kiss. He can feel himself growing hard against his pants and he breaks the kiss, gasping for air “We should stop.” 

Y/N could feel herself getting wet with just kissing Loki, but she agreed “Yeah, we should.” 

He nods, running his hand through his hair. He can feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. This was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. He knows they need to stop before things go too far “Do you want to sleep here tonight...?” 

“Sure.” She smiles while she tries to recover from that hot kiss. 

Loki smiles back, laying down in the bed and patting the space next to him for her to lay down next to him. She does it and he pulls her close to him and hugs her tightly as he closes his eyes. 

“Loki?” She called him in a whisper. 

He opens his eyes and then looks at her “Yeah?” 

"We're not gonna tell about this to anyone, right?" 

Loki nods “Yeah definitely. I mean, there’s no reason for anyone to know about it. And I doubt you’d want just anyone to know about this.” 

"Yeah. Just two friends helping each other." She says smiling. Loki nods again and looks back down, closing his eyes. Y/N does the same and they soon fell asleep. 

3 years later

Loki and Y/N were now 18. Loki’s body had changed a lot since he was younger. He was more muscular than he was back then, and his face had matured to the point where he didn’t look like a little boy, but a man. Y/N also changed in those years. She looked like a grown woman now and it she was becoming one of the best fighters on the realm. 

Loki was laying in his bed and staring at the ceiling, thinking about things that were not that important. He heard a knock at his door, and he sighed, getting up to answer it. He looked at Y/N standing there for a few seconds, her beauty striking him a little bit.  “Hey, you’re just back from training?” 

"Yeah. I beat Sif's ass all the time today." She laughs getting in his room, dropping her sword closer to his door. 

He grins “Damn, that’s pretty impressive. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you off or complain about you being better than her.” 

"How said she didn't?" Y/N laughs. 

“And I assume you gave her a good comeback, like saying how you’re better than her?” Loki laughed too. 

“Something like that.” She says still laughing. “Can I use your shower? Mine’s not working.” 

Loki tilts his head in curiosity but then nods “Sure, go ahead. There’s soap right next to the shower and a towel is on the floor next to it too.” 

"Thanks." She smiles and enters his bathroom. After a few minutes, Loki heard the shower being turned off. But then Y/N appears on the door with only a towel "Can I borrow one of your shirts? I forgot to bring my clothes." 

Loki looks at her, his eyes trailing down her body. He could see the outline of her breasts through the towel and feel a familiar stirring in his pants. He nods, standing up and grabbing a shirt from his dresser “Here you go.” 

"Thanks." She smiles "Maybe one of your boxers too?"  

Loki blinks caught off guard by her request. His heart races and his breathing hitches. He hesitates for a moment but then nods slowly, grabbing a pair of boxers from his drawer. He hands them to her with clumsy fingers. “Here.” 

"Thanks." She smiles and goes to the bathroom to get changed. She exits the clean clothes she’s borrow. Loki stares at her as she walks back into the room. He can't help but notice how sexy she looks in just his shirt and boxers. His mind races with thoughts of all the things he could do to her, all the ways he could touch her. Y/N lays by his side on the bed. 

Loki glances at her with a smirk “You look cute in my shirt.” 

She chuckles "Thanks." 

He can feel her body pressing against him, and he can't help but respond. His hand finds its way to her thigh, slowly moving upward. “What are you thinking about?” 

His touch sent shivers down her body "Sif and I were talking today about...some things." 

Loki nods and then leans closer to her “What sort of things…?” 

“Personal things...” 

He thinks for a moment and then speaks softly “can you tell me…?” 

Y/N chuckles and nods "She was telling me about her first time." 

Loki’s interest is piqued, and he raises his eyebrow “and…?” 

"I don’t know, I was just...wondering about things.” Y/N looks at him, a small blush on her face “Have you...did you already...Have you ever had sex?"” 

Loki turns red and he blushes “uhm well no….” 

“Really? But you’re a prince.” She smiles. 

He shrugs and blushes even harder “well, have you…?” 

“...no.” She blushes. 

Loki turns to her and looks her in the eye “So you haven’t…ever?” 

"No. Why?" She looks at him. 

“I just thought…well, you must have had boyfriends, right...?” Loki asked. 

Y/N chuckles "I spent my free time with you, so no. I don't." 

Loki blushes more and moves a bit closer to her “So…we’re both virgins…?’ 

“Yeah.” Y/N let out a nervous chuckle. 

Loki smiles at her and his body heats up. He leans in closer to her, almost whispering “So…want to change that...?” 

“...what?” She whispers back to him. 

His breath hitches and he speak softly “Do…you wanna….y’know do it together?” Y/N thinks for a few seconds before she nods at him. He was her first kiss and she trusted him to be her first time too. Loki smiles gently, biting his lip ever so slightly “You sure this is what you want?” 

“I am. Are you?”  

Loki nods, his heart pounding in his chest “Yes, I am.” he leans in slowly, pressing his lips against hers. She kisses him back, remembering a when they kissed for the first time years ago. 

Feeling her lips against his, Loki groans softly into the kiss. He wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as their tongues slowly explore each other’s mouths. Their kiss deepens as their desire grows stronger. 

Loki’s hands wander over her body, exploring the curves that have developed over the years. Y/N’s hand also explored his body and his muscular chest through the clothes he was wearing. That made Loki let out a groan when her hands travelled his body. He breaks the kiss to press his lips against her neck, trailing soft kisses down her collarbone, making Y/N moan and her hands going down to palm him through the pants. Loki gasped at the feeling. He’s never been touched like this before by someone else and it’s driving him wild.  

He slides his hand on her body to take off the shirt she was wearing, exposing her breasts to him. Loki’s mouth goes down, capturing one of her nipples in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth softly. Y/N’s hands worked quickly to take off his shirt too, while his hands worked to slide down her body the boxer she was wearing.  

Y/N’s hand found his cock when she opens his pants, making Loki gasp and his hips buck into her touch. He groans loudly as he feels her fingers wrapped around his throbbing length “Oh gods, Y/N... this feel so good...” She kept stroking him while he struggles to maintain control when her hands worked on him. 

She suddenly stops, smiling at him “Can you take these off? I want to try something.” 

Loki grins and quickly pull the remaining clothes off, his erection visible now making her eyes widen, thinking if he would really fit her. “What do you have in mind?” 

“Lay down.” She says. 

With a nod, Loki obey her. She starts stocking him slowly again, making him moan loudly and squirm beneath her as she kept her slow pace. “Oh, fuck...” 

“Can you guide me?” She asks with a smirk on her lips. 

Loki just nods his head when she decided to put him on her mouth. His hips jerk up off the bed ad he feels Y/N’s warm mouth on his cock, making him let out a long and low moan. Loki’s hand run though her hair, guiding her as she takes more of him. Loki’s eyes roll back into his head, unable to believe how good this feels.  

Y/N looks at him confused when he suddenly pulls her off “Did I do something wrong?” 

He shakes his head quickly and pulls her to kiss her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth and tasting himself “No, you were perfect. I just want to finish with you.” 

“Oh, okay.” She smiles. 

Loki lay her down underneath him, smiling at her as his hands moved to her folds. Y/N let out a moan just with the feelings of his hands coming close. She was never touched like that by anyone. Loki slide one finger inside her, slowly stroking her wetness and rubbing her clit with his thumb. That made her let out a louder moan. 

Feeling her inner walls clench around his finger, Loki chuckles softly. He kisses her neck and moves to her ear, nibbling gently “So wet for me...” 

“Loki...” She moans his name. 

Loki groans in response, pushing a second finger inside her slowly. He starts thrusting them in and out gently, stretching her as he leans down to capture one of her nipples in his mouth again. Feeling her body respond to his touch, Loki puck up the pace slightly, increasing both the depth and the speed of his thrust. 

“Loki, I think I’m close.” 

He quickens his pace even more “Come for me.” Seconds later she was hit by her climax, and his fingers keep stroking her, feeling her muscles relax and loosen after her orgasm. “I don’t want this to hurt you, Y/N/N. Are you ready?” 

Y/N just nods at him. Slowly, Loki lines himself up with her entrance, taking a deep breath before he starts pushing forward slowly, feeling the tightness of her entrance as he slips inside. Her face showed pain when he enters her and a few tears scape her eyes. Loki freezes seeing her tears and stops, kissing her tears away. He then keeps sliding inside her, slower than the first time and stops, kissing gently her forehead. 

“You can move.” She says after a few more seconds. 

Once he’s sure that she wasn’t in pain anymore, Loki begins to move, his thrusts slow and gentle as his hands find their way to hers where they lace their fingers together. Y/N let out a small moan, her pain turning into pleasure.  

Loki speed up his thrusts slightly as he hears her moans, watching her face for any sigh that he was going too fast or too hard. When she smiles softly at him, he returns her smile, a warm feeling spreading through his chest. After years of waiting, he finally lost his virginity with her, his best friend. 

“Loki, I’m...” 

“I know.” Was all he said before kissing her. Loki was close too. Her walls clenched around his cock as she moans his name again. Feeling her climax, Loki couldn’t help but release his seed deep inside her. He groans into the kiss, feeling a wave of pleasure wash over him. Panting heavily, Loki slowly pulls out of her, and he collapsed onto the bed besides her. A small smile crept onto his lips as he thought of what just happened between them “That…felt incredible…” 

Y/N nods, still trying to catch her breath “You’re sure you never done that before?” 

Loki chuckles as he wraps an arm around her and pulling her to him “I’m sure, that was honestly all new to me.” 

“Well, you were really good.” she chuckles, laying her head on his chest. 

He blushes as he rubs his hand up and down her back, a small smile on his face “Thank you…you know…I gotta say that was one of the best things I've ever done in my life…” 

“We should do it more times.” Y/N suggested. 

Loki nods “I agree, I wouldn’t mind doing this over and over again with you…” 

She smiles at him “Yeah. We’re friends, we can be a bit more intimate...” 

He smiles and rubs her back a bit “I guess that’s how we can describe it and that’s how it should stay, right? Just friends…” 

“Yeah.” She agrees. 

----- 

Y/N and Loki manage to keep that way for about 8 months. But being intimate brough them closer than they already were, making people inside the palace starts gossiping about them, how they were cute together, that they were probably together but just hiding for the public, that they’re in love. Even Thor and his friends engage with that gossip. 

Loki would notice the whispers. Some people in the castle would start joking around with him about him being ‘in love’ with her. He would jokingly brush it off with a laugh and would deny it. But he was starting to actually have feelings for her. But he could not act on them due to the fact that he remembered what she said to him about them just being friends. So, he remained silent about the situation, still only acting as just friends with her. 

Y/N knocked on Loki’s door earlier than normal. Loki was just sitting on his bed reading a book and he was quite shocked at her early arrival. He quickly put his book aside and went to the door “Hey, what’re you doing here?” 

Loki could see she was angry “Your dear brother just kicked me out of our training today.” 

He was take by surprise by her answer and he got slightly confused “W-what...? Thor kicked you out…?” 

“Yes!” she sits on his bed letting out a frustrated sigh. 

Loki was shocked and he wasn't expecting her to be this angry. He sits down next to her and thinks about this for a moment before finally asking “Why did he kick you out?” 

“Just because I was mad that they kept saying those gossips about us.” 

“Well…you shouldn’t be paying mind and listening to what people are saying, okay?” Loki says to her, trying to easy her anger. 

Y/N sighs “I know, but it’s all the damn time...” 

Loki nods, taking her hand gently “Don’t let them get to you…alright...?” 

She looks for a moment to their hands together, a small smile appearing on her face “I’ll try.” 

Loki smiled back at her and then speaks softly “Listen…about those people that gossip about us….do you think they’re right?” 

Y/N chuckles, looking at him “We both know that we’re not together.” 

He just nods, looking down before he says quietly “Right, we’re not… just friends right…?” 

Y/N noticed the way he was acting. In fact, she noticed the last time they were together too, but she said to herself she was imagining things. “You’re not happy with this, are you?” 

Loki sighs, avoiding eye contact with her “No…honestly…no I’m not happy with this…” 

She nods at him, feeling tense and fearing his next answer “Do you want to stop?” 

He looks back up at her “No…I meant…I’m unhappy with the fact that we’re just friends.” 

Y/N let out the breath she was holding, relaxing with his answer and smiling “Oh, thank the gods!” 

Loki was surprised by her reaction. He had expected her to pull away as soon as he had said his last few words “But…you…you’re not upset…?” 

“No.” She chuckles “I was thinking about that the last two times we had sex…” 

His body tenses up and he blinks in surprise, his heart pounding as he realizes what she’s said “H-hold on a sec…w-we’re you actually wanting to take this further…?" 

“Yeah, I just didn’t know how to bring this up…” 

Loki was speechless as he realized how stupid he was for not acting on those feelings earlier “But does that mean you would want to start a…. relationship with me…?" 

“If you want to.” Y/N smiles widen. 

He smiles and grabs her hand “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me right now. I’ve wanted this for so long…” She smiles at him. Loki’s heartbeat quickens as he feels her hand brush against his. He was finally with the woman he had always wanted to be with for so long. 

Years later

 Y/N and Loki were still dating. They were the favorite royal couple.  

Thor instead in them going with him to fight the frost giants. Loki had become a master of magic in thoses years and Y/N was one of the best warriors of Asgard. When Thor asked them to go with him to fight the frost giants, Loki agreed without any hesitation or question. 

As they were preparing to leave Loki walked up to Y/N. He looked at her and smirked a soft smile “Hey.’ 

“Hi.” She smiles at him. He could notice she was tense. 

"Are you ready for this?” He asked walking closer to her. 

“Yeah.” 

Loki grabs her hands and gives it a tight squeeze “Don't worry, I won't let anything hurt you.” He smiles at her and pats her forearm reassuringly. 

That made her chuckle, she probably was a better fighter than he was "I'm not worried about that." 

He looks at her curiously, raising his eyebrow “Then what are you worried about?” 

"Odin said for Thor to let it pass, and yet Thor insisted. I just have a bad feeling about this..." She says at her boyfriend. 

Loki thinks about what she's said, he also was feeling a bit uneasy as well, but he wasn't going to admit that yet “Hmm... well, I think we'll be fine. I mean we're fighting frost giants, not the entire realm.” he then smirked and spoke sarcastically “Besides, are you scared?” 

Y/N rolled her eyes at him “Me? Never!” 

Y/N and Loki joined everyone else. In the middle of the fight, she saw one of them grabbing Loki's arm. When she run to him, he looks like he just saw a ghost. She grabbed his arm expecting to see a wound, but it had...nothing. He was fine. 

Loki’s eyes were widened, and he looked at her in shock as he slowly pulls his arm away from her. He was scared and his mind was going a mile a second as he was trying to figure out what exactly had happened. 

“You’re...not hurt.” She says looking at his arm confused. 

He blinks and looks at her, his gaze was now a bit more confused, and she could see that he was still shaken up. “I…no…I’m not….” 

They didn't have much time after that to talk. Everything happened so fast, Odin came and took them all back, banished Thor to Midgard. Y/N quickly took Loki back to her room, before Odin decided to do something with him too. 

Loki was obviously shaken up by everything that had happened. He was quiet and kept to himself whilst Y/N took him to her room and his mind was just running a mile a minute. Once they were inside her room, he spoke for the first time since everything had happened "I need to go...to see something." 

Y/N nods “Okay, I’ll go with you.” 

"No... I'll go alone. It's something I have to do on my own...I’ll be right back." Loki doesn't explain any further as he walks out of her room, leaving a confused Y/N. 

It had been already an hour after that. Loki sat silently in his room, staring at a blank wall as he tried to take all of it in. This had to be a mistake...this couldn't be right...how the hell was he a frost giant? There were so many damn questions racing through his mind right now. 

There was a knock on his door. He looked up and he opened the door, he was still processing everything, and he had almost forgotten about Y/N. “Yeah?” 

"I've been looking for you like crazy." She says entering his room. 

Loki raised an eyebrow “Looking for me? I think you’re being a little dramatic” he says casually, although his voice cracked slightly from the stress of everything that was going through his mind. 

"Me? Dramatic? You're the one who left me alone and was being mysterious and all." Y/N says. 

He was angry and confused at everything that happened with him “What the hell is your goddamn problem? It isn’t like I left you for days or something, why are you so worried?” 

“Because I care about you.” 

Loki scoffs and glares down at her, he was feeling more and more pissed off “Did you not understand me the first damn time? I just needed some time to myself, is that so goddamn hard for you to understand?” 

"Your brother have just been banished and you left gods knows where. Are you really complaining about me being worried about you?" She was not believing the way he was acting. 

He rolls his eyes and sighs, closing it for a few seconds before opening them again. “Do you think that right now I want your goddamn sympathy? No! I want to be left alone! Alone with my thoughts. Don’t you get it?” 

Y/N took a step back “Is that what you really want? To be alone?” 

“Yes! That’s what I want! Can you not take the damn hint?!” Loki yells at her, taking a step forward and clenching his fists as he did. 

“Do I annoy you that much?” She asks almost in a whisper. 

Loki glares at her “Yes! You do! You annoy the hell out of me!” He yells, he had never said something like that to her before and it really caught her off guard. 

Y/N keeps looking at him "Okay...I won't 'annoy' you anymore...or ever again" She took out the bracelet Loki had gifted her when they started dating and put on his desk, before she turns and left him alone "I'm ending this." 

That hit Loki like cold water. He was shocked when Y/N placed the bracelet that he had gifted her on the desk. But when she said that she was ‘ending this’ and then started to walk out, he quickly ran after her “Wait! Wait!” he yelled, trying desperately to get her attention. But she didn’t stop, she kept walking away, with tears on her face now. 

Loki runs up to her and grabs her wrist gently and stops her from going “Wait! Please wait! Just hear me out! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I…” Y/N just shakes her head, crying. Loki feels guilty, he didn’t really mean what he said. He was just overwhelmed and stressed out from everything. he was still trying to control his emotions “I didn’t mean it…I swear…” Loki sighs heavily as he wipes away her tears “I’m just confused right now. I’m sorry about what I said. Please don’t end this over what I said, I was just emotional. I didn’t mean any of it. Please don’t end this…” 

“Why did you say it?” She asks him in a whisper, tears still running down her face. 

Loki sighs once again and doesn’t speak for a few seconds “I don’t know why I did…I was stressed out and confused. I had no idea what to do, and my emotions just exploded. So…I’m sorry…I really am…”  

Y/N tries to wipe the tears, but more came "I need you to be honest with me." 

Loki nods, still glancing away from her to the side. He then spoke quietly, as to avoid choking up or his voice faltering, he was still trying desperately not to cry “I will…” 

“Do you love me?” 

He sighs and looks back up at her “Yes…I love you so much. And I’m an idiot for just saying all those things to you without properly assessing my own emotions…” 

"What happened?" She asks softly. 

Loki pauses for a few seconds before speaking. “Well…to make a long story short, i found out about my true heritage...I’m not an Asgardian…” He could see the confusion on her face “I’m a…frost giant.”  

Y/N’s eyes widen in shock for a second before she looks down at her feet. A few seconds passed, in a silence that was making Loki more anxious than ever. “I don’t care.” She finally says. 

He was a bit surprised that Y/N didn’t take the news horribly. He was waiting for her to call him a monster, say she never want to see him again...but she was actually alright with him being a frost giant. “You’re just…fine with this? Most people would be terrified of me now.” 

"Well, I'm not most people, Loki. I'm the person who stays with the little boy who cried when his father was mean. I'm the person who was always by your side. I’m the person who loves you.” 

Loki was stunned, hearing her say that made his heart melt and some tears fall off his eyes. He never knew he was going to find someone like her. “Thank you...thank you for being here for me..." Loki couldn't help himself, he pulled her close and kissed her. Y/N smiles into the kiss, not expecting it at all. She wraps her arms around him, embracing the kiss. She felt comfortable in his arms once again and she felt happy.  

"Don't you ever say anything like that to me again. Or I swear I will break things up for good."  

Loki couldn’t help but smile when she said that. She wasn’t leaving him after all, and she still loved him. So, he nodded and spoke softly “I won’t. I promise…” Y/N had tried her best to keep Loki sane after all of these events, but he was too angry. After the events that succeed, Y/N had cried a lot when Thor told her he had die in the Bifrost.  

But then, imagine her surprise when Thor came telling her that Loki was on Midgard, trying to dominate the planet with an army. Y/N was in shock when she heard that. She wasn’t quite sure how to feel. On one hand, she was happy to hear that he was still alive but on the other, she wasn’t excited about him being on Midgard. The thought of him trying to take over the planet worried her. 

Thor took her there with him, thinking that maybe she could get him to stop if the moment came. She hadn't seen him until the final fight in the Stark tower, when she walked to him with her armor and her sword in hand, like Thor had requested her. Loki had his back to her "Loki?" 

Loki heard his name being called but he continued to gaze out at the destruction behind him that he had left in his path. He didn’t turn to face her, and his voice had a hint of a cold indifference in it “…what do you want?” 

She looks at the image in front of him "That's not you." 

He continued to stare out into the destruction and chaos he had left. He knew she was right. He wasn’t himself, he was a completely different version now. One that was angry, manipulative, cunning and cold “I’m fine. I don’t see what the big deal is…” 

Y/N walked closer to him, putting her sword on the ground and using that hand to hold his shoulder “Loki...” His cold gaze finally turned to face her, though his expression remained the same, unchanging and uncaring. When she put her hand on his shoulder, he immediately flinched a little bit because of the sudden touch. “That’s not you.” She said again. 

Loki didn’t say anything for a few seconds. He was silent, his face gave away little to no emotion “I’m no longer the person I was before…I’ve changed…and I’ve learned much…and I’ve become so much more…” 

She reached for his face slowly, and Loki was caught a bit off guard when she put her hand on his face, but he didn’t flinch or move his face away from her. He noticed that she was still wearing the bracelet he gifted her as well.  

"Give up this madness dream. Come home with me." She says softly, her hand caressing his face. 

Loki was silent for a few seconds as he stared at her. Then he finally spoke, his voice now had a slight hint of anger in it “I *will* have my revenge. Nothing...no one will stop me…” 

"Please, Loki. I know the man I love is still in there." She says with tears on her eyes. She didn’t know if she would be able to fight him if it was necessary. 

His anger immediately disappeared when she started to cry. Seeing her tears only reminded him of all of the times she had stood by him, through thick and thin. She was always there for him, he couldn’t just abandon her again. So, he pulled her close and hugged her tightly, still not saying anything and just simply holding her close. 

Y/N return his hug "I know something must happen to you...but please, stop it." 

Loki continues to hug her and just holds her close for a few seconds. He didn’t want her to know his traumatic past, at least not yet. So instead, he spoke softly “You’re right…something did happen…I can’t tell you…” 

"It's okay. Just stop this attack and come home...I'll protect you."  

Loki was now on the verge of crying when she said that. But she had told him she would protect him, and he was so desperate for that right now. He didn’t want to be alone anymore. So, he spoke softly “Please…I need you.” 

He stopped the attack and end up fighting alongside the Avengers. Thor, Loki and Y/N went back home. Y/N and Thor talked with Odin and convinced him that Loki help them in the end, so he wouldn’t send him to a cell. 

Loki was now back at Asgard, where everything slowly became normal once again. However, he was still slightly traumatized by what had happened and was still suffering from the PTSD that he had acquired after the torture. The two of them were still together and he felt relieved that he didn’t lose her. Loki struggled a lot with his nightmares, which were getting worse every night. Whenever they hit, he would wake up in a cold sweat, his heart beating out his chest and he would usually be crying. Y/N would be next to him every time, holding him gently and speaking softly, trying to comfort him when he woke up. He felt very weak and helpless during these moments, and he was glad he had her with him. 

That night Loki also woke up with his nightmares, running to the bathroom to throw up. Loki was already on his knees, hugging the toilet and throwing up, his tears streaming down his face. Any second now he would begin hyperventilating, as was typical for how these nightmares would usually go for him. Y/N woke up and walked to the bathroom, holding his hair back. He immediately calmed down a bit and took a deep breath. Hearing her voice and feeling her touch made things more bearable. 

Loki was still shaking a bit when he finally finished throwing up, so Y/N hugged him tightly as they sit on the bathroom’s floor. His body was shaking almost uncontrollably, and he was trying not to hyperventilate. His breath was shaky, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly as he tried to control himself. But when she hugged him, he stopped for a few seconds and then he hugged her back, burying his head into her shoulder and holding her tight. 

"You know you'll have to talk about this some time, Loki..." She says softly. 

Loki sniffled and held her a bit tighter for a few seconds before he finally spoke softly. His voice sounded choked up and shaky and he was still trying to stop himself from crying. “I know...I just...not yet.” 

“I hate to see you like that.” Y/N says while she brushes his hair away from his face. 

He nodded his head, still holding her tightly “I know…I know that I need to talk about it…it’s just…I don’t know if I can….I just…” it was clear that he didn’t know how to speak about it. He simply couldn’t bear to relive what had happened to him. 

"Do you want me to...see it?"  

Loki flinches, the prospect of her seeing his memories was terrifying for him. He didn’t want anyone to see what he had gone through, least of all someone who he loved so deeply. So, he shook his head. 

"Loki, you need to let it out. He can't hurt you anymore." 

He takes a few seconds before speaking again. He was still on the verge of tears, and he was shaking quite a bit. He understood the importance of talking about it, but he could barely even bring himself to speak about it “I know…I know that it will help…but I’m just…I’m just scared…so scared…” 

"I'm here with you." She says "I'll always be here with you." 

Loki sniffled and he hugged her back tightly. Hearing her say that she would always be there for him gave him a bit of strength, and he tightened his grip on her as if to show his appreciation and gratitude. He slowly let out a breath and his tears began to subside. “I know…I know you will be…” 

She starts brushing his hair, close to his forehead "Can I?" 

Loki was a bit hesitant at first, he wasn’t sure about her entering his mind and reliving the trauma with him. He hated the idea of possibly putting her through that…but he felt so weak and so helpless, and she offered. So, he eventually nodded.  

So she did it. She could see the memories when he let her enter. She was gently around his mind when she starts seeing the fight with Thor at the Bifrost, when he let it go. She saw all the torture he endured from the mad titan and everything that happened with him. She could feel his pain and she could understand why he was so reluctant to talk about it. It was a horrible realization but now she knew the extent of the abuse he endured while under the mercy of Thanos. 

When she came back, she was crying. Loki noticed that she was crying, and he looked up at her with a concerned expression. “A-are you okay...?” 

Y/N shook her head. "No, Loki. I'm sorry you have been through all of that." She hugs him so tightly. 

Loki was still silent for a few seconds as he simply hugged her tightly and buried his head in her shoulder again. He didn’t know quite what to say, he just wanted to forget about what had happened. Especially now when having to think back on it all. When she hugged him back, he started to squeeze her even tighter, as if seeking comfort and trying to remind himself that the pain was now gone. He didn’t want to relive it ever again. 

"You'll never go through that ever again. I'll protect you, I swear." 

Loki wanted to believe her so much. Having her to protect him was a great comfort for him and a great relief. He was so vulnerable right now, scared to ever face anything like that again. Hearing that he would never go through that again was extremely reassuring to him. He kept hugging her and didn’t want to let go. “You promise?” 

“I promise.”  

Loki was getting better after a couple of months. He still had some nightmares, but not as often as before. Thanks to Y/N being by his side, he had started to sleep a little more soundly than before. His nightmares had gone from multiple times a week to only once a week, which was an achievement in his eyes. He didn’t feel as scared to sleep anymore and he was thankful for that. Especially because he knew his girlfriend was right by his side, ready to help him out whenever he needed it. 

After six months, Loki was finally getting better. His nightmares were now happening rarely instead of occasionally. He still had them from time to time, but they were now much more manageable. He still had a lot of healing to do, but this was definitely progress. 

With each day that passed and each night that went by, Loki just continued to think about how much he loved his girlfriend. She was always by his side, and she always managed to comfort him whenever he needed it. She supported him through everything, and she understood him like no one else did. It was only natural that he started to think about marriage. He didn’t necessarily know if she thought the same, but the thought hadn’t left him for a while now. 

"What you're thinking about?" Y/N asks as she notices he was not paying attention to the book on his hands. 

Loki was still lost in thought, thinking about the prospect of marriage. He hadn’t realized that he had stopped paying attention to the book he had in his hands, as he had simply been staring blankly at it. But then she asked him a question and snapped him out of his thoughts. “Nothing…just…nothing…” 

Y/N chuckles “It doesn’t look like nothing.” 

He also chuckled a bit and then said “Okay, maybe it was something….” 

"Are you gonna tell me?" She sits closer to him. 

Loki was silent for a few seconds and then he finally spoke softly “I was just…thinking about something…about us…?” 

"Should I worry about this?" Y/N says with a playful smile. 

“Not necessarily…I was just thinking about…what if we took our relationship to the next level…you know…” 

“Like how?”  

“…like…getting married?” Loki spoke carefully and anxiously as he said this, he was wondering what her reaction would be. 

Y/N smiles softly at him* "Are you serious?" 

Loki nodded and spoke softly “Yes….I’ve been thinking about it for a while now….and I wanted to know what you think….” 

“I wouldn’t be opposite of the idea.” Loki’s heart started to beat rapidly as she said that. “Can you imagine us, married and with a mini you running around?" Loki blushed and smiled, imagining the scenario was a bit adorable.  

He could just imagine the two of them with their child, living happily ever after. Loki liked that idea…very much. It felt so innocent and so pure, something that he had wanted for so long. And there was no way he would ever let go of it, not ever. “That would be so perfect…our own little family…” 

Y/N smiled at the thought “Yeah...” 

Loki smiled back at her, and he wanted to say something else. But he still felt a bit anxious, he still felt like it wasn’t set in stone just yet “So…you’re really saying yes…? Like…definitely, yes…?” 

"I don't know...make the proposal." She chuckles. Loki smirked at her response and then thought to himself. He was definitely going to propose to her soon, that was for sure.  So he started to hatch out a plan for the perfect proposal he would want. Once he had that all figured out, the only thing that would be left was to execute it. 

Days had passed and Loki had been waiting for the right moment. And after a week of waiting, he got that perfect moment. He found her alone in her room and he knew that now was his chance to do it. 

“Hey.” Y/N smiled as he entered her room. 

“Hey…” Loki smiles back at her. He feels the rush of adrenaline as he finally has his chance. This is the moment he’s been waiting for. So, he speaks confidently as he approaches her “I want to ask you something….” 

“Sure.” 

Loki takes a deep breath and steadies his voice, trying to sound as confident and sure as he could when speaking. “You know how a few weeks ago I brought up marriage…?” She nods at him. Loki nods too and gets on one knee, making Y/N smiles. There was a hint of nervousness in his voice, but he managed to keep it steady, and he spoke confidently. “I want to make you mine…completely…and I would like for you to do the same…will you marry me..?” 

“Yes, Loki. Yes!” She hugs him. 

He breathed a sigh of relief as she said yes. He was so excited and happy right now, he was over the moon. He smiled back at her and then he spoke softly. “Then…will you please take this, as a sign of my love?” Loki holds up the ring, waiting for her to accept it. 

Y/N gave him her hand so he could put the ring on her. “It’s beautiful.” 

Loki was absolutely overjoyed. It was one of the most perfect moments of his entire life. All his work in planning the proposal payed off. And seeing her accept the ring, his mother's ring, was the cherry on top. Loki was just so relieved and so happy, he was beaming with joy. "It used to be my mother's...I wanted you to have it..." 

“Thank you.” She smiles before she kisses him. 

He smiled back at her when he breaks the kiss, the entire moment was like a dream come true. He was so overjoyed that he almost couldn't keep his cool. This was the perfect moment. So he took her hand again and squeezed it softly. "I love you..." 

“I love you too.” 

A few months after, the royal wedding happened in Asgard. It was a beautiful wedding. A true fairy tale wedding. Loki and Y/N had finally married. The prince of Asgard had found true love and married his princess. Loki was happier than ever, with the woman he loved the most besides him. This was his happy ending, this was his happily ever after. 

Five months after the wedding, Y/N started not feeling well. She usually woke up throwing up. 

Loki was still asleep beside her when he suddenly woke up to the sound of her vomiting. He immediately jumped out of bed and went over to her. “A-Y/N…? 

“Hm?” She had her eyes closed as another wave of nausea hit her. 

Loki was now in distress and panic. He was getting worried as he tried to keep his cool and not let her know his real feelings yet. “A-are you okay..? You’ve been vomiting for a few days now….” He was so concerned about her at this point. 

"I don't know, maybe it's something I eat?" She felt the nausea passing and open her eyes to look at him. 

Loki still looked worried and concerned, he wasn’t quite buying her excuse. It didn’t make sense to him “But it’s been four days in a row…don’t you think that’s concerning a little?”  

"I'll see a healer later if that's makes you feel better." She smiles at him. 

He wasn’t reassured, he was still concerned about her. But he decided to not press the issue further for now “Okay…just promise me you’ll see one as soon as possible…” 

Y/N nods and later that day, she went to the healer. When she got back to their room, she had a small box in her hand. 

“What’s in that box…?” Loki was waiting for her back in the room. 

"Oh, it's a present for you." She smiles handling him the box. "Open in.” 

Loki’s nervous look remained on his face as he slowly took the box from her, not knowing what may be in there. But he then opened it and his eyes widened when he saw what was inside. His heart raced as he saw that it was a small pair of shoes. “What….are these…?” 

"I don't know, Loki. What are these?" She asks him smiling. 

“They look like…baby shoes…” Loki’s heart races as he realizes what she is implying. He didn’t even want to believe it. But then he spoke, and his tone was shaky. “Are you…”  

Loki was speechless. It was official now; he was going to be a father. He was so happy, he felt so many different emotions rushing through him right now, but the main one was pure joy. “I’m going to be a dad…?” 

"You're going to be a dad." Y/N spoke softly before she kissed her husband. 

Nine months later, Y/N gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. Loki was overjoyed about it. Holding the baby boy in his arms felt like a dream come true. His life would never be the same after this, everything would be different. And it was for the better. This child would be the most important thing to him, there would be nothing that would compare to this precious baby. He kissed him on the forehead, smiling as he did so.  

Loki was the best father ever to his son. He was everything Odin never was to him. Loki made sure the child had everything he could ever want or need. He made sure his childhood would be beautiful and happy and he made sure he gave him everything he never had. He made sure to give him all the love he had to offer to his precious son. He spent a great majority of his time with him. And Y/N made sure she took good care of him as well. She made sure to teach him about love and everything he needed to know about the world. It was a beautiful sight. 

A year later, close to their son first birthday, Y/N had found out she was pregnant again. But this time, she was better prepared to make a surprise to Loki. 

He had just put the baby to sleep and came back to their room. “I have a surprise for you.” Y/N said softly. She gave him a present box. "Open in.” 

Loki open the box and just looked at the shirt in a bit of confusion. It said 'Daddy’s girl’ when they had a son. “Uh…? Did you buy this by mistake…?” Y/N shakes her head ‘no’. Loki was still quite confused. Why did she buy a ‘daddy’s girl’ shirt? They had a son, not a daughter. So, it made no sense for her to buy that. “Then why did you get it…?” 

"Because our daughter will need it." Y/N was holding back her smile seeing Loki’s confusion. 

He immediately tensed up at the word ‘daughter’ and realized what she was implying. Their daughter. She was implying that they were going to have a second child. He just couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that it was really happening. Loki was overwhelmed with emotions, and it showed on his face. His mouth dropped open as he spoke softly. “Our daughter..?” 

Y/N nods, making Loki’s heart raced and his breathing quickened as he realized the good news. His smile became so wide that he even felt his cheeks ache. He was going to be a father again? That was an overwhelming thought and he loved it. The happiness he felt was overwhelming. “We’re going to have a daughter…?” He finally asked. She nods again, a few tears escaping her eyes. 

Loki was filled with so many emotions right now that he just embraced her in a tight and loving hug. He held her close to him, smiling as he did so. Loki’s happiness was palpable at this point. He couldn’t believe that he was going to be a father again. He just couldn’t. And it was so unbelievable that he almost couldn’t accept it just yet. But as he held his wife close to him, he embraced the idea of having another child. 

They had some hard months ahead. Thor had given up the throne, so Loki was next in line to be king now. And a few more months, another baby, a beautiful and healthy baby girl, was born. Loki felt like he was on a cloud, he just couldn’t believe how his life was working out so well for him. With a gorgeous wife and two beautiful children, life couldn’t get any better. 

He was truly overjoyed and grateful. His life was filled with nothing but love and blessings. There was nothing left that he could possibly ask for now. With two beautiful children, the best wife in the world, a kingdom to rule one day. Things couldn’t be better. And as he looked down at his babygirl, he thought about all of this. He loved his life, he loved being a father and he loved his family. And this was more than just a passing thought, this was his life. His happy, fulfilling, life. 

[queenendless]

ARISE

A/n: As we are now in a new year, time to write on some new fandoms.

Rewatched S1 dubbed — and yes Aleks Le as Sung Jinwoo is the reason why cause he's so damn fine~! Listen to his voice as you read this, I insist! I just need to get my Sung Jinwoo fix. Therefore—

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x F!Adult!Reader

CW: Explicit 21+ MATURE content inside. SOME SPOILERS but not much. Morning smut, implied mentions of suicide, reader got reincarnated as a humanoid magic beast and serves Jinwoo now.

DON'T PLAGARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE MY FANFIC WORK. Rather reblog like and follow pls n thx.

"Wakey wakey." That teasing low purr in the crook of your neck had you giggling tiredly as the ticklish sensation pulled you out of slumber. Spooning you from behind, his legs entangled with yours, Jinwoo breathes in your scent, sucking tenderly. Taking his enormous hand that rested on your hip into yours, just to play with his fingers, made him smile.

“Don't go.” You murmur, raising that hand to brush petal soft pecks to his knuckles.

"Come on, now. I gotta get ready." His slurred gruffness were telltale signs he was in no hurry.

"The world is your kingdom now, Jinwoo. It'll still be there tomorrow." Your reassurance meant you curled further into your side of the bed, the tendrils of slumber creeping back in. His deep chuckle trailed butterfly pecks from your cheek, down the pane of your neck, then up to your ear. "Stay here with me, please."

"Even the Shadow Monarch needs to lead his guild." His words were one thing. His wandering hands were another story. "But, if you rather keep me in bed all day, I suppose you could persuade me." His very presence chased away the bitter freezing loneliness you were accustomed to, submerging you in his comfortable burning embrace.

"God, you're something else." You turned in his grasp, finally able to face him and shower him with your smooches, such smitteness brought warmth blooming within him. Not to mention his bulge rubbing against your crotch sent sparks shooting through you both.

Flashes of memories surfaced in your mind. Such a whiplash it is that the most powerful hunter in this world that you personally witness slaughtering every beast and human that dares stand in his way, soaked in their blood, could be the very same man that held such requited smoldering endearment for you.

The butterflies and flips occurring inside from every gaze, touch and word given are always worth it.

"God has been long gone from this world ... just Rulers and Monarchs now ... and yours is beside himself. To think his favorite beast on the streets ... is a lamb in the sheets~" That rumbling deep voice roughly heaved in between kisses. Opening your mouth so willingly had him grinning against you as his velvety tongue entangled yours, lost in the thralls of the passionate dance within. “My favorite~”

His sculpted hands slithered underneath your top, lightly brushing up against your sides, then your tummy. One hand stayed to fondle your cushiony mounds; he never gets tired of feeling you up.

"A human from another world ... reborn as a humanoid magic beast." Pinching, pulling and rubbing your pearls between his long sly fingers had you melting as your muffled mewling grew frequent. “Failed by those closest to you, abandoned to that pain and fear … a kindred soul.”

His other sly hand slips under your undies, cupping your dripping sex. Your moaning had him smirking as he nibbled your bottom lip in tune with his thumb insistently rubbing your clit and the tips of his fingers brushing around your cunt. "Isn't this what you wanted? To be touched by me? Your beloved King?"

"Mmm yes~" His voice always got you going, especially when those four fingers filled you up well, curling and scissoring in their trek straight to your burning core. "Aaah~" Your hips rutting into his hand got him bricked up through his sweatpants. "Nngh~" Wringing your hands through those dark messy locks and stroking along his shaved undercut got him trembling, all to reel him in and keep you as grounded as you could currently be in your haze filled state. "Don't stop~"

"So touch starved." Your sharp gasp was the sign he reached your bundle of nerves, prodding it with such vigor, stuffing you right up to his wrist, lathered up in your cream. “To let me be the first and only one to shower you with such devotion ... I'll forever be grateful for that blessing." Tears of ecstasy leave your e/c eyes and he kisses them away, his ebony bangs tickling your moaning burning face, the flames of passion stoked for you as you come undone. "My Queen~"

His creamy hand then pulled right out of your valley, leaving you desperately wanting him to fill up your emptiness. Your faith got restored, however, as he pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, revealing the chiseled marble sculpture that is his physique.

He knows the sight alone makes your mouth water. Your hands traversed the panes of his soft firm pecs, that thick neck, those broad shoulders, even these sculpted biceps that flexed as his daily tasked push ups came with the added benefit of pushing down to your laying form, being enthralled by your rewarding kisses. Such reliable stability beneath that lean stature of resilience.

Your own eyes burned with the glow of enchantment, the image of who he used to be versus who he has become reminded you of yourself. How the physical and mental scars that plagued your old life for years on end shaped you into who you have become. A magic beast serving the Shadow Monarch. What a pairing.

His cream coated hand slips under his own waistband, pulling his beast free from its confines, using your cum as his lube to be more prepared.

His other hand cupped under your knee, draping your leg over his shoulder. "Wouldn't you rather I give you tongue~?" That low toned growl already got your other leg willingly draped over his other broad shoulder already as that mouth sunk into your wet folds.

“Yes love~!” Ripping such a concupiscent symphony outta your mouth. His other hand couldn't help but jack off to your venereal cries. The scorching presence his mouth gave as the starvation had him ravaging, suckling as much as making out with your now squirting folds.

His cheeks filled with your essence, dexterously aiming his tongue to drive you further up the tower of sins. Your spasming hips only buried his face deeper in, inhaling your scent as his nose got pushed in your pubes, his light yet sturdy weight. Those lidded silver eyes flashed violet as their predatory gaze marveled in your sweaty flushed expressions due to his ravenous gorging, your voice shrieking as you unloaded, his creamy covered lips curling swallowing gratefully.

“You're truly decadent.”

Your body and soul trembled in anticipation for what's to come; your legs falling off his shoulders to hug his firm hips. So did him, leading his dick slowly into your loosened yet smothering grip. "Let me make love to you." He grunted, you sucking him up as greedily as his cock started into the slow steady rhythm stroking your creamy grip.

“Fuck me! Please~! Don't stop~! Don't ever stop!” Your unhinged shouts of passion hit his ear as you hugged his neck, his own hot breath hitting your shoulder as he picked up the lace into the feverish fueled tapping; skin squelching and smacking noises bouncing off the walls.

“Fuck~! You’re heaven incarnate~!” Your sob filled yell riled up his necessity to bust his nuts in you even more. His feral groans in response had you squeezing him in a vice state, marking the side of his neck into a bruising suck, drawing scratches along his chiseled shoulder blades.

His own fingers dug into your rolling hips, finger shaped bruises painting your skin in kind, while his sharp teeth marked along your shoulder and neck, marking you as his and his alone, raising you further to the apex.

“I’ll fuck you until the world ends. This needy pussy deserves to be ravaged every waking moment. Every inch of you is mine to worship. Your beautiful womb filled up with my seed. That's my dream. To have you as my wife. To raise a family together. To make you Mrs. Sung!”

“Yes, Jin~! Yes~!” Your choked up agreement got lost in the sloppy, tongue filled kisses as you came a third in a row, making a cum circle around his shaft, painting his rippling thighs and the once pure sheets.

Your orgasmic greeting met with his, shooting right into your womb quite thickly, lifting you in his shredded grasp, externally and internally. Thrusting his still oozing libido into your heavenly valley like a madman to chase that euphoric high.

Your head limply rested on his shoulder like a pillow, fatigued mewls spilling out as the burning weight of his essence settled into your abdomen. Carefully setting you down on the bed, Jinwoo collapsed on his side, heaving slowly and deeply, his dazed eyes gazing at yours, glowing radiantly as the sunlight slipping in outlined your form.

Still submerged in you, now limp dicked, his muscular arm draped over you, pulling you both closer, all to have you curling into his slickened torso, breathing in your intermingled scent.

“Now call in sick.” Your weak request got him chuckling deeply.

“I will in a bit.” Curling your cascading hair through his fingertips, he caressed your pretty head, allowing the tranquil silence to linger.

“I love you, Y/n. So damn much. Thank you for being in my life, in this moment, and for the rest of our reign to come.” His whole being enveloped you in his bear hug of an embrace, drawing in your shared taste through an endearing kiss.

“I love you too, Jin. So damn much.” Your voice fluttered from the swelling of emotion taking hold on your heart, as you couldn't help but fall into the routine of peppering smooches all over that beautifully precious face of his.

“I'll love you. In this life and the next. Until the end of it all.” He vowed to you as you succumbed to sleep once again, smiling softly at your face, kissing your sweet lips once more before reaching out behind him for his phone, sending a quick text to Yoo Jinho about his impromptu work absence. His brother in arms was A-okay about, already suspecting fooling around with you being the reason why.

Jinwoo's next text was him dubbing Jinho as his best man at your upcoming wedding, already looking forward to seeing you on that sacred day, followed up by quite the steamy honeymoon.

He was already anticipating your future together, basking in the early morning, setting his phone aside as it filled with the following texts of congrats and excitement from his little bro, before joining you in the confines of dreams, cocooned in your shared comfy warmth, watched on by his shadow army in the corner, silently cheering for their master’s engagement with their future Queen Regnant.

[thebunnednun]

You're my Coffee

Shouta Aizawa x Pro hero/Teacher! Reader

Summary:

After a distressing call from a Japanese hospital, you learn your friend Nemuri Kayama (Midnight) has briefly awoken from her coma and is desperately screaming for you.

She makes a final request: take care of her students if she doesn't survive.

So you pack your bags and move to Japan, only to find the students at U.A. High School traumatized by the Hero War. Aizawa is struggling to help them, and Nezu is overwhelmed trying to find therapists while managing international scrutiny over the students' involvement in the war. Aizawa panics when Nezu informs him of your arrival, as your hero profile is so blank he can't find decent information about you, despite your international headlines.

Your start is rocky, worsened by your initial deception of pretending to be his new student. The students are unsure what to make of you, but they’re drawn to their new pretty art teacher and soon so is their handsome grump of a teacher.

With the media down his neck, Nezu offers you a deal: Get the kids to seek therapy, you to graduate with your psychology doctorate. Aizawa’s catch: If you fail or harm them, you walk away from being a therapist and hero altogether.

All while facing your own trauma, and the affections of those strange cats...

Tw: PTSD and mentions of violence and mental distress.

Song: SZA - Good Days

----------------------Chapter 1: Who are you?------------------------

The day had been a rare opportunity for the new Class 2-A to unwind and explore the vibrant shopping district surrounding U.A. Academy. With a Saturday all to themselves, students scattered across the mall, relishing the chance to indulge in personal interests and bond outside the confines of their classrooms.

In the heart of the bustling mall, the comic store beckoned with its colorful displays and eager customers. The windows were adorned with colorful posters of heroes in dynamic poses, and the entrance was flanked by life-sized statues of popular heroes. The air inside was thick with the scent of new books and the faint buzz of fluorescent lights overhead.

Izuku Midoriya, his face lit up with joy, led a group consisting of Ochaco Uraraka, Tsuyu Asui, Tenya Iida, Shoto Todoroki, and himself towards the store's entrance. They were drawn by the promise of hero memorabilia and the back to school discounted prices plastered all over the building.

Hey, kids gotta ball on a budget!

As they entered, the store buzzed with energy. Fans of all ages flipped through graphic novels, their fingers brushing the glossy pages, while others scrutinized shelves stocked with hero-themed merchandise—action figures, posters, and keychains, all meticulously arranged to catch the eye. The walls were lined with shelves, each packed to the brim with comics, some new, others worn and well-loved. A few children darted between the aisles, their laughter mingling with the murmur of conversations.

Izuku gravitated towards the section dedicated toToshinori, his eyes wide and scanning for any rare collectibles he might have missed. The rows of action figures stood proudly, their detailed designs catching the overhead light. Posters of All Might in his prime covered the walls, Izuku's gaze lingered on each one, and his eyes softened.

"Hey, Izuku, check this out!" Ochaco's voice rang out, pulling him from his reverie. She held up a keychain featuring a miniature All Might in his signature hero pose, the small figure almost glowing in her hand. "Isn't this adorable?" She smiled brightly, the corners of her eyes crinkling with joy.

Izuku's face brightened, his eyes widening as he stepped closer to examine the keychain. "That's awesome, Ochaco! I wonder if they have any figurines or posters I haven't seen before." He began to peruse the shelves again, his fingers trailing lightly over the edges of the boxes as he searched for something new. His gaze darted from one item to another, his excitement slowly giving way to disappointment as he realized there were no new All Might items to add to his collection.

Izuku sighed softly, the sound almost lost in the ambient noise of the store. His rewards points burned a hole in his pocket, the card resting in his hand as he glanced around the store, hoping for a hidden gem.

The sweet old lady store clerk noticed his dilemma and smiled warmly at him. "Can't find what you're looking for, young man?" She had allowed the Izu-crew to browse before offering her assistance. 

Izuku shook his head, feeling a bit crestfallen. "Not this time, Mrs. Sakamaki. All Might stuff tends to sell out quickly." He shuffled slightly, one hand slipping into his pocket as he spoke, the other still clutching the rewards card.

Mrs. Sakamaki, was a sweet old lady store clerk with a kind smile and gentle demeanor. Her silver hair was neatly pinned back, and she wore a cozy cardigan that seemed to match the warmth in her eyes. 

Mrs. Sakamaki's eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Well, how about considering something new? Have you heard about Charge Bomb? She's quite the rising star, you know." She leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret, her voice full of enthusiasm.

Izuku's head tilted slightly, curiosity evident in his tone, and interest piqued, " Charge Bomb? "

Mrs. Sakamaki nodded enthusiastically, her smile widening as she reached behind the counter. With a practiced hand, she retrieved a medium-sized figurine of Charge Bomb, complete with her signature explosive star emblem and perching pose. 

The figure was expertly crafted, capturing the details of the hero’s ebony mask and cloak. "She's gaining quite a fanbase lately. People say she's as electrifying as her powers!"

Izuku hesitated for a moment, his eyes tracing the details of the figurine in his hand. The weight of it was reassuring, and he could feel the craftsmanship in every groove. "I've heard a bit about her. She seems really strong." He turned the figure over, examining it closely, the gears in his mind turning as he considered adding it to his collection.

Ochaco teased him lightly, nudging Izuku with a playful grin. "Come on, Izuku. Even if All Might isn't here, you can expand your horizons a bit!"

Tsuyu ribbited in agreement, her lips quirking up in a small smile. "Ribbit. Midoriya, you might discover a new hero to admire." Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she watched Izuku's inner debate unfold.

Izuku chuckled sheepishly, feeling the support of his friends. "Alright, alright. Charge Bomb it is. Thank you, ma'am." He offered Mrs. Sakamaki a grateful smile as he handed over his rewards card, the anticipation building within him as he added the figurine to his growing collection.

"This Charge Bomb figure is incredible," Izuku exclaimed, his eyes wide as he examined the action figure in his hands. He was doing that mumbling thing and they were happy to see him geek over something other than All Might. It was good to see him like this. 

He needed this. 

"Yeah, but she seems so distant, like she's always avoiding questions in her interviews," Ochaco remarked, her gaze shifting to a nearby display of hero-themed posters. She reached out to adjust one that had slipped slightly out of place, her fingers brushing the paper lightly.

"She's probably just focused on hero work," Shoto chimed in quietly, his eyes scanning the shelves with detached interest. He reached out to pick up a comic, flipping through the pages absentmindedly. "I've seen her in action in some civilian videos. She doesn't waste time or energy." He placed the comic back, his expression thoughtful.

Tsuyu, standing beside Shoto, nodded in agreement. "Ribbit. Maybe she prefers a direct approach, focusing on getting the job done without unnecessary risks." She leaned over to pick up a comic featuring a leapfrog character, holding it up with a teasing smile before lightly punching Shoto in the arm for showing it to her.

Iida, who had been diligently scanning through hero strategy books, joined the conversation with his trademark earnestness. "Indeed. Charge Bomb's reputation stems from her precise tactics and adherence to hero regulations. She's a model of efficiency." His posture was as rigid as ever, but there was a spark of admiration in his eyes.

Ochaco nodded knowingly, a small smile playing on her lips. "That's part of her appeal. Charge Bomb is known for her no-nonsense attitude and her skill in taking down villains efficiently. But when it comes to interviews, she's a bit elusive. Always dodging personal questions with a touch of humor. I would love to get away with that! Those interview questions always make me so nervous." She glanced over at Izuku, her expression softening as she saw the thoughtful look on his face.

Izuku's brows furrowed slightly, a mixture of disappointment and fascination crossing his features. "It's amazing how she manages to stay mysterious even with all the attention she's getting." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, still holding the Charge Bomb figurine as he contemplated the enigma that was this new hero.

Tsuyu, always the voice of reason, chimed in to lighten the mood. "Maybe she just wants to keep her private life private. It adds to her mystique, kero. Don't you think?" She tilted her head slightly, her wide eyes filled with understanding.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Izuku agreed with a small smile, his shoulders relaxing as he let go of his earlier disappointment. ‘ She's definitely someone I want to learn more about.’ He glanced around at his friends, grateful for their perspectives.

Their conversation was interrupted by Iida, who had found a stack of hero biographies nearby. He straightened up, holding one out to Izuku with a determined look. "Have any of you seen this? It's a comprehensive guide on hero rankings and strategies. We should study this for our next training session." His enthusiasm was contagious, and soon the group was huddled around the book, discussing its contents with renewed excitement.

Meanwhile, nearby, Eijiro Kirishima trailed after Katsuki Bakugo through the bustling mall, his grin wide and infectious. The air was thick with the mingled scents of food and perfume, and the cacophony of shoppers' chatter created a lively atmosphere. Kirishima's energy was palpable as he practically bounced on his heels, his excitement barely contained.

"C'mon, bro, let's hurry up! I wanna check out those romance novels you were talking about," Kirishima urged, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. His red hair caught the overhead lights, giving it an almost fiery glow, and his broad smile seemed to brighten the entire aisle.

Bakugo grunted in response, his usual scowl softened slightly by Kirishima's persistent cheer. He had a reputation to maintain, but Kirishima's unwavering smile always managed to crack through his tough exterior.

The corners of his mouth twitched as if resisting a smile, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of amusement. They navigated through the maze of aisles, their footsteps echoing against the polished tiles. The aisles were lined with displays of books and manga, with colorful covers vying for attention. Bakugo’s eyes darted toward a stand of novels, his expression turning contemplative as he contemplated a particular title.

Nearby, Mina and Aoyama were in their element, quoting vines and hunting for discounted products, their vibrant personalities on full display. Mina's laughter rang out as she twisted open a bottle of lotion, the fruity scent wafting into the air. 

Her pink skin seemed to shimmer under the store's lights, matching the lively energy she exuded. Aoyama, ever the picture of elegance, carefully examined a row of lip glosses, each one sparkling under the lights like miniature jewels. He held one up to the light, admiring its glittering hue with a flourish of his hand.

Being a crusty bitch is a crime in their book. 

"This one captures my essence perfectly," Aoyama declared with a dramatic flair, his voice lilting with confidence as he made his selection. Mina chuckled, shaking her head in amusement as they made their way toward the counter.

Denki and Sero, not far behind, were engrossed in a lively debate over their favorite music band. Their voices rose above the ambient noise of the mall, attracting a few curious glances. Denki gesticulated animatedly, his eyes bright with passion as he defended his choice. "I'm telling you, their new album is fire! The beats are insane!"

Sero countered with equal enthusiasm, a mischievous grin on his face. "Si, pero like , the lyrics in their older stuff hit harder. You can't just overlook that!" His arms crossed over his chest, a challenge in his posture as he awaited Denki's rebuttal. Their exchange was playful, filled with an easy camaraderie.

Not far off, Jirou sat quietly with Momo. Jirou’s earbuds were plugged in, the faint sound of music just audible as she perused a rack of graphic tees. Her expression was thoughtful, her fingers brushing over the fabric as she considered her options. 

Occasionally, she glanced over at Momo, who was absorbed in selecting art supplies from a nearby shelf. Momo's concentration was evident in the way her brows furrowed slightly, her lips pursed in determination as she compared different shades of sketch pencils.

Near the food court, Sato and Koda were in their element, sampling soft pretzels from a nearby vendor. The aroma of freshly baked dough filled the air, mingling with the scent of warm butter and salt. Their faces lit up with delight as they bit into the savory snacks, the crunch of the pretzel giving way to soft, chewy perfection.

"I’m gonna make this back at the dorm!" Sato declared, his eyes wide with pleasure as he took another bite. Koda nodded in agreement, his usually shy demeanor momentarily forgotten as he enjoyed the treat.

In the midst of the mall's eclectic offerings, Toru and Ojiro found themselves browsing through racks of matching T-shirts and pajamas. Toru's laughter was infectious, her voice light and bubbly as she held up a pair of pajama pants covered in cartoonish animal prints. 

"These are so cute! Ojiro, you should totally get a pair to match!" she teased, her invisible form barely discernible except for the clothing she held.

Ojiro chuckled, his tail swaying behind him as he examined the T-shirt in his hands. "Sure thing, these tees would look pretty cool on you," he said, holding up a shirt with a simple yet striking heart design. His expression was relaxed, content in the easy banter they shared.

Further down the mall, the Hot Topic store exuded a darker, edgier vibe. The walls were adorned with posters of alternative bands, horror movie memorabilia, and gothic accessories that attracted a certain crowd. 

Fumikage Tokoyami and Mezo Shoji were drawn to the store's unique collection, their interest piqued by the array of darkly themed merchandise. Tokoyami's eyes gleamed with approval as he browsed through the selection of black hoodies and band T-shirts, Dark Shadow flickering in and out of view as it reacted to the ambient darkness.

Shoji, towering beside him, was more methodical in his approach, carefully examining each item before making a decision. His multiple arms moved with practiced efficiency, picking up and setting down items as he weighed his options. There was a quiet intensity to his movements, his nature calm but intensive.

Hitoshi Shinso, the newest addition to Class 2-A, stood nearby, quietly observing the array of mystery novels lining the shelves. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a spark of curiosity as he reached out to pull a book from the shelf. The cover was dark and foreboding, promising a tale of intrigue and suspense. Shinso flipped through the pages, his mind already piecing together the story within.

As the afternoon unfolded, the tranquil atmosphere of their shopping expedition was abruptly shattered by a sudden commotion echoing from the mall's main atrium. The cheerful chatter and the hum of activity were quickly drowned out by a chorus of panicked voices. 

Shoppers and storekeepers alike scrambled to escape the center of the chaos, their hurried footsteps reverberating through the marble floors.

"What's going on?" Shoto asked, his voice low as his eyes narrowed, instinctively sensing something was amiss. The cool air around him seemed to grow colder as he prepared for the worst.

Izuku's gaze darted towards the source of the disturbance, his expression sharpening with determination. "Something's happening. We need to check it out!"

With a unified nod, they abandoned their purchases and hurried towards the scene, their training as future heroes kicking in instinctively. They weaved through the bustling crowd, the throngs of people parting in their wake as they sprinted toward the mall's open space. The vibrant colors of store signs and displays blurred around them as they closed in on the source of the disturbance.

When they emerged into the atrium, the sight that greeted them was one of utter chaos. A villain stood at the center, their body crackling with electricity, causing nearby electrical appliances and lights to flicker and malfunction dangerously. 

Sparks flew as lights exploded overhead, sending shards of glass raining down. The air buzzed with the raw, uncontrolled energy that pulsed from the villain.

Ochaco's eyes widened in alarm. "We need to stop him before he causes a blackout!"

Before any of them could spring into action, a brilliant flash of light erupted from the villain's direction. The intensity of the glow momentarily blinded them, but when their vision cleared, they saw a figure stepping forward from the crowd—a woman dressed in unassuming civilian attire. 

Despite her inconspicuous appearance, her presence commanded attention. There was a quiet power in the way she carried herself, her gaze steely and focused as she assessed the situation.

"Everyone, stand back!" she called out, her voice firm and authoritative. 

Izuku and his classmates exchanged surprised glances but held their ground. watching in awe as the woman unleashed a burst of energy from her hands. Their initial confusion gave way to awe as the woman raised her hands, now crackling with energy that mirrored the villain's. 

She moved with a fluid grace, her actions deliberate and controlled. In one swift motion, she unleashed a concentrated burst of energy that shot through the air with blinding speed.

The energy blast struck the villain with pinpoint accuracy, the force of it sending them stumbling backward. The villain's powers sputtered out, the crackling electricity around them fizzling as they crumpled to the ground, unconscious and harmless. The once rampant chaos that had filled the atrium dissipated almost immediately, leaving behind a stunned silence.

The woman lowered her hands, the energy dissipating as quickly as it had appeared. She remained poised, her eyes sweeping over the now-subdued scene before landing on the group of young heroes-in-training. Izuku’s breath caught in his throat, the sheer power she had displayed lingering in the air.

"Thank you for the backup, but I've got it from here," she said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she acknowledged their readiness to jump into action. She quickly restrained the villain before pulling out her phone and called for backup, her voice calm and authoritative. 

"This one's neutralized. Send a team to secure the area."

Within moments, the sounds of sirens filled the air as police and other pro heroes arrived to handle the situation. Relieved, the woman now turned to the students, her eyes locking onto Izuku's for a moment longer than the others. Her gaze was intense, as if she recognized something in him.

"You're all heroes in training, right?" she asked, her tone firm but not unkind. It was weird how her presence was both commanding and serene. The way she carried herself exuded a quiet confidence that spoke volumes about her experience.

They nodded, still processing the sudden turn of events and the display of power they had just witnessed.

"Good," she continued. "Stay out of the way and let me handle this. Head back the way you came."

Reluctantly, they complied, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. Some of them were eager to jump in themselves, but the recent war had left a few of them wary of rushing into unknown danger.

Her eyes lingered on Izuku for a moment longer than the others, a fleeting exchange that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in a way yet to be understood.

There was something about that look that he couldn't quite shake, a feeling that would stay with him long after they left the mall.

---

As they regrouped outside, Kirishima was the first to voice what everyone was thinking. "That was so cool to see in person! The way that off-duty pro handled it without anything getting damaged was so manly!" 

"Yeah, but it's kind of a bummer our trip got cut short," Mina added, pouting a little as she remembered the bags they had left behind.

Some of the students remained quiet, their minds replaying the events that had just unfolded. The atmosphere was a mix of lingering adrenaline and reflective silence. Izuku and Bakugou, in particular, seemed more shaken than the others. The encounter had stirred memories of past battles, memories that were still too fresh to ignore.

Ochaco noticed Izuku's distant expression and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Izuku, are you okay?"

Izuku blinked, snapping back to reality and forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about how strong that lady is. It was incredible." His mind was still replaying the moment when her eyes had locked onto his, trying to decipher what it meant.

The group made their way back to U.A., the towering building a comforting sight after the unexpected events of the day. As they entered the common room, they were greeted by the sight of other classes returning to their dorms, their faces reflecting the mixed emotions of a day interrupted by the unexpected.

In the common room, Aizawa was waiting for them, his usual stern expression softened slightly by their safe return. The class brightened upon seeing their teacher, and they quickly crowded around him with excitement, eager to share their experiences.

"Dadzawa, look what I got!" Kaminari exclaimed, holding up a new band poster with a wide grin..

"Check out my new lip gloss!" Mina chimed in, showing off the shiny tube she had managed to purchase before the chaos erupted.

"I got some new hair dye!" Kirishima announced proudly, holding up the box with a toothy grin.

"One at a time," Aizawa said, raising his hands to quiet the enthusiastic students. "I'm glad to see you're all safe. Now, tell me about your ‘mall adventures’ ."

As the students eagerly recounted their shopping trip, showing off their new trinkets and purchases, Aizawa listened patiently, occasionally nodding and responding to their stories. The atmosphere was lively, the students' spirits lifted despite the earlier interruption.

Finally, Aizawa raised his hands again, silencing the room. "Alright, listen up. A new teacher will be joining U.A. while completing her Doctorate. Treat her with respect and learn from her."

Mina and Kaminari immediately perked up at the news. "More details, please!" they chorused, their curiosity piqued.

Aizawa's stern look silenced their pleas. "She will be your new art and history teacher. That's all you need to know for now."

“Ugh, lame!”

Some of the students, especially Mina and Kaminari, let out groans of disappointment. "But, Mr. Aizawa, can't you tell us a little more?" Denki pleaded, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"I understand you all have questions about the new teacher joining us," he began, “But she has asked to remain anonymous at this time. She is to arrive there in three weeks time and I expect you all to give her the same respect you give me.” 

After looking around the room he sighed through his nose, “Hell, make it more respectful. Remember that you represent U.A.”

“But—” Kaminari started to protest, but the stern look Aizawa gave him made him quickly back down.

"That's all for now," Aizawa said, his tone final. "I expect you all to welcome her respectfully. Now, it's time to get ready for tomorrow."

With that, he dismissed them, and the students broke off for the evening, the lively atmosphere gradually returning as they scattered to their respective rooms. Izuku, however, was still deep in thought. As he entered his room, he carefully set up his new Charge Bomb figure on his desk, placing it alongside his other hero memorabilia.

Sitting down, he opened his hero notebook and flipped to a fresh page. His mind raced as he began sketching the mysterious woman, trying to capture the essence of her stance and the way her eyes had locked onto his. Each line he drew was careful and deliberate, his concentration intense as he tried to understand what had transpired.

As he sketched, he jotted down a few notes:

Name: Mall stopper

Quirk: Unknown, but likely related to energy manipulation.

Appearance: Mysterious, not in costume during the encounter.

Personality: Commanding presence, but not rude. 

Additional Notes: Encountered at the mall while stopping a villain. Avoids citizens getting harmed. 

Seemed to recognize me?

Izuku stared at the page for a long moment, his pencil hovering over the paper as he pondered the day's events.

He still had many questions, but he knew obsessing over it would disrupt his sleep schedule again.

But he knew he couldn’t sleep. 

Grabbing his phone, Izuku dialed his mother's number. The dorm room was quiet, the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional distant laughter of his classmates the only sounds breaking the silence. His fingers tapped nervously on the phone case as he waited. It didn't take long for her cheerful voice to come through the receiver.

"Hi baby! How was your day?"

"It was good, Mom. We went to the mall and... something interesting happened," Izuku began, recounting the day's events and the encounter. As he spoke, he could hear the concern in his mother's voice.

"Just be careful, Izuku. I'm glad you're safe," she said, her tone gentle and loving.

“I promise, Mom. I’m tired of everyone thinking I’m in love with that hospital bed.” He chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood.

Inko giggled into the receiver before her tone took a softer approach. “You know, sweetie, you can still come home when you can’t sleep. I’ll handle your teacher.”

Now the idea of his adorable mom dealing with the physical embodiment of a grumpy cat that was his teacher was tempting but he really didn’t want to put her through that. 

"I know, Mom. But I’m fine, really!” Izuku replied, a small smile playing on his lips. The thought of his mother's comforting presence was tempting, but he was determined to manage on his own.

“Okay, if you say so. Make sure to get good rest tonight.”

“Goodnight, Mom," Izuku replied, feeling a sense of comfort wash over him.

"Goodnight, sweetie," she said before blowing a kiss into the phone and hanging up.

As he lay back in bed, his mind raced with thoughts of the new teacher and the mysterious pro hero. The encounter at the mall had been brief, but it left a lasting impression, fueling his curiosity and excitement.

“Who are you?” he muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling. 

The moonlight cast shadows across his room, giving it an almost ethereal quality. The day's events replayed in his mind, the adrenaline and wonder still lingering. 

The gentle hum of the air conditioner became a lullaby, blending with the distant murmurs of his classmates as Izuku's thoughts gradually began to quiet. He could still feel the intensity of that woman's gaze,  the warmth of her presence as vivid in his memory as if she were still standing before him. The encounter had left him with more questions than answers, but those questions could wait for tomorrow.

As he lay there, his thoughts slowly settled, and the comforting warmth of his conversation with his mother began to soothe the last remnants of his restlessness. The image of her familiar smile and the sound of her voice reminded him of the safety of home, a place where he was always welcome.

He shifted under the covers, finding a comfortable position as the day's events continued to fade into the recesses of his mind. His eyelids grew heavier, the exhaustion finally catching up to him. Izuku's last conscious thought was a whispered promise to himself to uncover the mystery behind the pro hero who had left such a strong impression on him.

In the stillness of the night, the world outside his window continued to turn, but within the quiet of his dorm room, Izuku finally surrendered to sleep. Dreams of heroes, battles, and new beginnings filled his mind,

---

As the dorms settled into a quieter atmosphere, Bakugou lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. The buzz of late-night conversations and the distant sound of someone playing music softly on their phone faded into the background. His room was dimly lit, the moonlight filtering through the blinds, casting a faint glow across his tidy desk and the posters on the wall. 

Bakugou could hear the rhythmic breathing of his classmates through the thin walls, and while that used to annoy him and still kinda did, it was a comforting reminder that he wasn't alone, even in the stillness of the night.

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. Glancing at the screen, he saw his mother's photo flash across it. With a resigned sigh, he answered, propping himself up on one elbow.

“Oi, Katsuki! I saw you on the news at the mall today,” Mitsuki's voice boomed through the phone, as loud and commanding as ever. Apparently some people had taken videos of the villain attack and he was spotted in the background. 

“You need to take it easy. Remember your heart? And your arm?”

Bakugou grumbled, running a hand through his unruly hair. "I'm fine, Mom. Just a little leave-"

“Fine, my ass! Have you picked a therapist yet?” she demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"I don't need one," Bakugou retorted, irritation evident in his tone. His free hand clenched into a fist, the tension palpable.

"Don't you give me that, Katsuki! You're my son, and I won't let you walk around with your trauma eating you alive," she snapped back, her fierce tone unmistakable. Some shuffling was heard in the background before a muffled “Fine!” Bakugou rolled his eyes, feeling the familiar mix of annoyance.

A gentler voice came on the line. "Katsuki, it's Dad. You know All Might and Aizawa found some really good professionals for you. You don't have to worry about your... verbal constipation with them. We understand you don't want to talk to us about it, but we love you and want you to be okay."

"The little squirt knows that already!" Mitsuki cut in, snatching the phone back. "You already know that we love you. If we didn't, we'd just let you do whatever, and you'd be a bigger asshole than you already act like."

Bakugou grumbled something incomprehensible, but his mother cut him off again. "This isn't up for negotiation. You don't have to talk to us about it, but you are going to heal, and that's final."

There was a pause, and Bakugou finally sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. "I get it, Mom. I’ll... I’ll think about it."

The line went quiet for a moment, the tension easing. "Good. We love you, Katsuki. Goodnight," Mitsuki said softly, her voice carrying a rare note of tenderness.

"Love you too, Mom. Dad," Bakugou responded, his voice uncharacteristically tender, the words surprising even him.

‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’

Katsuki watched as the line hung up and he clicked his phone off and stared back up at the ceiling, a sense of warmth washed over him. His parents' concern, though sometimes overbearing, came from a place of deep love. Even if he didn’t want to admit it. 

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and allowed himself to relax. The worries and frustrations of the day seemed to melt away, leaving him with a rare sense of peace. 

For the first time in a while, he felt a bit lighter. Bakugou’s mind was quieter than usual, the echoes of his parents’ voices lingering in the back of his thoughts, offering a strange comfort he wasn’t used to acknowledging.

He wasn’t one to lean on anyone, not even his parents, but something about the way they’d insisted, the way his dad had gently nudged him while his mom pushed with her usual force, made him reconsider. It was a rare moment where their concern didn’t feel suffocating, but grounding. It made him think about the things he’d been pushing down, the way he’d been ignoring the nagging feelings that crept up on him in the quiet moments, like now.

The moonlight continued to cast soft shadows across his room, and the distant sounds of his classmates—now more like a comforting white noise—faded further into the background as he focused on his breathing, steady and even. Bakugou wasn’t sure when he’d started to rely on these moments of solitude to sort through his thoughts, but tonight, they didn’t seem as overwhelming as they usually did.

He’d never admit it to anyone, but the idea of talking to someone—a therapist, of all people—wasn’t as off-putting as it had been before. Maybe he was just tired, or maybe the events of the day had worn him down more than he realized. 

Or maybe, just maybe , the thought of unloading some of the weight he carried didn’t seem so bad. But that was a decision for tomorrow. For now, he let the warmth of his parents' love settle in, something he wasn’t used to acknowledging but found comforting nonetheless.

Bakugou let his eyes close, his breathing slowing as sleep began to take over. For the first time in a long while, the tightness in his chest eased, replaced by a sense of calm that was almost foreign to him. He wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring, but tonight, he was content with the knowledge that he didn’t have to face it all alone. 

And with that thought, he finally drifted into a deep, undisturbed sleep, his usual scowl replaced by the faintest hint of a relaxed expression.

---

Across the dorms, a restless atmosphere pervaded the night. The air was thick with the weight of unspoken fears and lingering trauma, wrapping around each student like a suffocating blanket. 

In one room, Sero and Denki were engaged in an intense game of Mario Kart, the room illuminated by the flickering screen. Their eyes were dry and heavy with fatigue, yet their determination kept them focused on the game. Sero's fingers flew over the controller, his competitive spirit shining through despite the exhaustion. 

Denki leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration, occasionally letting out a frustrated groan when he lost a race. The game was a distraction, a desperate attempt to stay awake, to avoid the nightmares waiting on the other side of sleep. They wanted to stay awake, afraid to drift off with the lights off and let the flashbacks creep in.

Down the hall, Jirou sat cross-legged on her bed, her guitar resting gently on her lap. Her fingers trembled as they strummed the strings, testing out the reconstruction of her ear. Tears streamed down her face, glistening in the soft glow of her bedside lamp. 

She winced from the phantom pains, her breath hitching with each painful cramp that surfaced. The melody she played was soft and mournful, echoing the lingering trauma within her. Each note seemed to resonate with her heartache. She closed her eyes, trying to lose herself in the music, hoping it would offer some solace.

The music was a refuge, a way to express what words couldn’t—her pain, her fear, the lingering terror that her body was still recovering from. She focused on the vibrations of the strings, trying to drown out the phantom pains and the memories of the screams and explosions. 

Wounds that no melody alone could fully heal.

Kirishima tossed and turned in his bed, the sheets tangled around his legs. His brow was furrowed in distress, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He fought against the blankets as if they were the villains he’d faced, his body rigid with tension. Kiri was trapped in a nightmare, locked in a never-ending battle with a mysterious figure. 

His hardened skin, usually a source of strength, offered no protection from the terror gnawing at his mind. He clenched his fists physically, his muscles tensing as he fought off the invisible enemy, but the fear remained, a relentless killer.

In another room, Tokoyami paced back and forth, his mind a storm of anxiety. The pacing was erratic, each step driven by a nervous energy that had no outlet. Dark Shadow hovered nearby, mirroring his agitation with restless flutters. 

Sato, sitting cross-legged on the floor, had tried to bake away his stress, but the pile of untouched pastries on the table told a different story. The sweet aroma of cookies and cakes filled the room, a stark contrast to the bitterness of their shared unease. Sato just stared at the pound cake he had made, his eyes unfocused. 

He couldn't bring himself to eat it, the sight of the cake stirring up memories of happier times that now felt distant.

How it mocked him now. 

Shinsou was in Koda's room, perched on the edge of the bed. The room was dimly lit, casting soft shadows that danced gently with the movements of the little creature. Koda's gentle strokes seemed to calm not only the bunny but also the tension that had been building in Shinsou's chest all night. 

Koda's touch was careful and soothing, a therapeutic distraction from the darkness that loomed over them. The bunny's nose twitched, and Koda smiled faintly, a brief respite from the weight of their worries. He would need to sneak his cat in soon.

In the kitchen, Momo and Mina stood side by side, giggling softly as they made fried egg rice, the gentle sounds offering a momentary escape. 

The familiar routine of cooking offered them a small slice of normalcy, a way to focus their minds on something other than the gnawing anxiety that had settled in their stomachs. The soft clink of utensils, the sizzle of oil in the pan, and the aroma of fried egg rice filled the air, creating a comforting backdrop to their hushed conversation.

Their laughter wasn’t forced, but the enthusiasm was a mask for their lack of appetite and the anxiety that gnawed at their insides. 

Momo's hands moved with precision as she flipped the eggs, her mind clearly elsewhere, but the rhythm of the task kept her grounded. Beside her, Mina stirred the rice, her usual energy dampened but still present in the jokes she told. 

They had made a pact to eat together, finding comfort in each other's company. Maybe during one of these meals, they would find some semblance of peace, even if just for a little while.

In Tsu's room, the atmosphere was different, heavy with the shared weight of darkness that clung to them like a second skin. Ochako and Tsu had taken to sleeping in Tsu's room, both girls haunted by nightmares. They found comfort in each other's presence, huddled together under the covers like two lost children seeking shelter from a storm. 

Ochako’s hand moved gently through Tsu's hair, her fingers weaving a calming rhythm that seemed to blend with the steady beat of their hearts. Tsu's voice, usually so strong, had softened to a croak as she whispered back reassurances, her words mingling with Ochako's in a comforting lullaby. They clung to each other, finding safety in the closeness.

Todoroki sat cross-legged on the floor of his room, his hands resting on his knees as he tried to meditate. His mind, however, was a war  zone, haunted by the image of his brother's burnt remains being hauled to prison and the knowledge of his parents' impending divorce. His scar throbbed painfully every time he thought about it, the physical reminder of his family's turmoil adding to his mental anguish. He took deep, measured breaths, trying to calm the storm inside him, but the images persisted, a relentless assault on his peace. 

In another room, Aoyama sat hunched over, clutching a pillow tightly against his chest. He was allowed to stay at the school, but now he used tactical weapons, a constant reminder of the shame he felt. Tears streamed down his face, his muffled sobs filling the quiet room. The guilt of his actions, the sense of betrayal he had inflicted on his friends, weighed heavily on him. He whispered apologies into the night, his voice cracking with each word. The moonlight that spilled through his window bathed the room in a cold, silvery light, but it did nothing to lift the darkness that had settled over his heart. He didn’t deserve their forgiveness. 

Iida scrolled through pictures of him and his brother, his heart aching with every swipe. The blue light from his phone screen cast a lonely glow in the dark room, reflecting off his foggy glasses. He wanted to call his brother, to hear his voice, but hesitated, worried about not appearing strong. He didn't want to burden anyone with his feelings, even though he longed for the comfort of his brother's voice. He clenched his jaw, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him.

Elsewhere in the dorms, Toru and Ojiro were connected by a fragile thread of comfort, falling asleep together on the phone. The silence was comforting, but they would panic if they couldn't hear the other breathing. Hatsume had finally made Toru a suit that would protect her and disappear with her during combat, but Toru hadn't wanted to put it on for a long time. They both dreaded the return to classes, haunted by the visions of devastation and innocent lives lost. The phone line crackled softly, their breathing synchronized in a fragile connection that kept their fears at bay. 

Mineta and Shoji sat quietly in Shoji's room, each lost in their thoughts. Shoji's large hands rested on his knees, his eyes distant as he stared at the floor. The memories of past battles and the fear of suddenly losing his classmates gnawed at him relentlessly. It was a fear that clung to him, insidious and ever-present, like a persistent bug he couldn't shake off. 

Mineta, usually boisterous, was unusually quiet.  The usual sparkle in his eyes was replaced by a haunted look, the guilt of his past behavior towards Mt. Lady and Midnight, and his female classmates, feeling icky and disgusted for treating them so pervertedly when they almost died weighed heavily on his conscience. The near-death experiences they had all faced brought him a new perspective, making his previous actions feel vile and unforgivable. The shame and regret twisted in his stomach, making it hard to meet Shoji's gaze or anyone else's.

The silence between them was heavy, but their presence provided each other a small measure of comfort.

The dorm was filled with a heavy silence, each student grappling with their own demons. Despite their proximity, they felt isolated in their pain, struggling to find a way to heal from the scars of the war. The evening stretched on, each tick of the clock a reminder that the night was still young. 

And then there was Shouta Aizawa, awake in the stillness of the night with little Eri asleep in his arms. The soft, flickering light from the children's show on the television cast a gentle glow across the room, creating a cocoon of warmth and tranquility. Eri, nestled against his chest, was fast asleep, her breaths coming in gentle, rhythmic intervals. 

Aizawa's fingers moved softly through her hair, the silky strands slipping through his touch as he offered silent reassurance with each stroke. He knew he should tug her into bed, but he couldn't bring himself to do it just yet. He needed a few more minutes with her warm presence, a reminder of the fragile yet resilient life he was entrusted with.

Aizawa's eyes wandered to his laptop, the screen dark and waiting. He sighed, knowing there were reports to review and emails to answer, but he decided it could stay shut. The digital demands of his work could wait; this moment with Eri was too precious to cut short.

His thoughts drifted to you, the new hire who had been a topic of much discussion. He didn't know much about you other than what Nemuri had mentioned before in passing and now in her lucid moments before slipping back into her coma. 

He was visiting that night when Nemuri awoke and kept screaming your name, an indication of some message he didn't yet understand. You were coming over from somewhere outside Japan, and your media stunt piqued his curiosity. 

Your hero name had made national headlines a few months ago when you openly condemned the world government for letting the villain situation in Japan deteriorate to the point where high school students had to step in as heroes in an interview. This statement had sparked national outrage, the impact of your statements was still reverberating throughout the world.

Parents, politicians, teachers, pro heroes, retired heroes, activists, universities, civilians and students had reshared the clip, their responses ranging from agreement to vehement opposition. Your boldness had shaken the status quo, making waves in a community that was already shaky and possibly past its edge.

Nezu’s decision to bring you on board was a calculated move, but the details of that calculation remained elusive. As the principal of U.A., Nezu was known for his shrewd, strategic thinking. If Nezu saw value in you, it was likely due to some unique qualities or capabilities you possessed that could benefit the school in ways not immediately apparent. There had to be a reason, a calculated move that Aizawa hadn't yet deciphered. 

As he continued to stroke Eri's hair, he felt a mix of skepticism and curiosity about your arrival. What could you bring to U.A. that Nezu found so necessary? What kind of impact would you have on the students?

Eri stirred slightly, her tiny hand clutching his shirt. Aizawa smiled softly, his worries momentarily pushed aside.

He knew you had been spotted in Japan several times, not just as a spectator but actively involved in aiding the capture of remaining villains and providing relief to the heroes. 

Your efforts extended beyond direct action; you had initiated several charities and secured sponsorships to support families devastated by villain attacks and heroes who were affected in the line of duty. These actions had garnered you a significant following and earned you a reputation for being a force for good in times of crisis.

Yet, despite your public persona, you maintained a guarded privacy. You refused to disclose details such as your age, height, or the reasons behind choosing an all-black shroud for your hero costume, apart from its emblem. You seemingly avoided media attention, declining certain magazine features and interviews. 

Instead, you channeled your "celebrity" status towards advocating for societal change and supporting humanitarian causes. It was simple, if they wanted to talk to you, they had to donate. Your reluctance to engage with the press directly and your selective disclosures raised Aizawa's suspicions and defensive instincts, particularly when it came to the well-being of his students.

He was an underground hero himself. Why so worried?

Because he knew they were all suffering. 

Nezu was in the process of trying to find a school therapist team that could be on call. And it killed him that he couldn't do anything about it other than allowing trips to the mall and being there when they got back. So he did not need a 'mysterious' loose cannon of a teacher negatively affecting them in any way. Any additional information he requested was denied under your contract binding the school to not show your image, ever. As far as he knew, only Nezu and Nemuri knew what you looked like.

He valued transparency and reliability in those who interacted with his students, qualities that seemed elusive in your case. The contrast between your public deeds and private secrecy only heightened his wariness.

Eri shifted in his lap, and Aizawa decided he didn't want to think about negative things while holding her. He gently scooped her up, placing her in her own bed and kissing her forehead before tucking the covers around her and turning on her cat night light before shutting the door, but not all the way. He made sure the nightlights in the hallway and bathroom were working before he forced himself to sleep in his bed and not on the couch because it was closer. 

The darkness of his room offered a semblance of peace, but his mind remained active, turning over the complexities of the situation with you. It was his duty to safeguard his students from any potential threats, and that included being cautious about new additions to their environment.

As he closed his eyes, he tried to push aside the anxieties that had plagued him throughout the day. The comfort of his own bed, the familiar surroundings, and the knowledge that Eri was safe in the next room helped to ease the tension in his head. He had seen enough to know that vigilance was necessary, but he also knew that excessive worry would not serve him or his students well.

It didn't matter if you did end up being a bad influence. He would keep a close eye on you and be ready to stop anything that would harm his class.

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

Taglist: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, If you wanna be added lemme know!

Chapter 2 is here.

That was the first chapter! So far there are 3 posted on my ao3 account.

I own none of the images or art!!!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a Bakugou x Sugar Baby Reader here in the master list. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[r0-boat]

Aaa I streamed a date with death

And there are some things that gave me the urge to write this drabble!

Grim x reader

Cw: NSFW but no sex, phantom Touch or whatever that means,slight temperature play, somnophilia, dub con

A quiet night like any other. All snug in your warm bed, after an uneventful day at work All you wanted was to see your favorite grim reaper and have a restful night of dreams.

But it seemed that someone wasn't satisfied with just a text or a call.

Work today was hard and you only made it harder, as well as his mind being played with your Bright smile carefree attitude that kitchen admit the attracted to. Tonight his need needs were stronger than they were before, this aching need to see you, touch you, be with you, be in you. He couldn't just show up and take you right there, no. There's no way he can take your sharp tongue and your filthy words.

Then you remember doing words. When he formed the connection to you.

How this could be used in 'other ways'

His breath still shakes at that.

You did say you didn't mind...

He could still feel his connection from you.

Fuck, He needs you He craves you so bad and it's your fault.

Laying in his bed by himself he poses his eyes imagining your body The connection still strong as he can feel your body on top of his. Ghosting his fingers over your chest he could feel your soft heavy breathing, you're warm skin, your heartbeat.

You are alive.

Deliciously and utterly alive.

That very state that mocks him even now

But at the same time causes him to crave you more.

'nine hells, This is wrong so so wrong.' He mutters yet he does not stop.

To hypnotized on the warmness of your body in the gentle weight pressing down onto him. You are a lot softer than he imagined.

Despite being trained to harvest the souls of what he reaps he knows little to none about human anatomy. He knows how to fatally wound or even kill a human, What spots of the body are vital and fragile, and nothing more. As he feels his pants getting tighter, he ignores his primal urge for pure curiosity as his hands begin to dive underneath your pajama tops. His icy cold breath tickling your ear makes you stir, but he is too engrossed in the nubs on your chest to care.

You always liked your room being cold when you sleep but it feels like you're in an icebox. You let out a whimper as you slowly open your eyes to feel your nipples being squeezed and pulled by something cold. As if ice cold tools were playing and prodding and caressing your body making you shudder as you let out a moan. You thought this was me really a dream since nothing appears to be in your room who is causing you this weird pleasure, when you felt a hand around your mouth.

And a familiar voice in your ear you knew exactly who it was.

'You did this. Look at what you did to me. Isn't it time to reap what you sow?'It took your mind a while to fathom what Grim was talking about never mind the fact that He is now touching your body for God knows how long you were out, until you felt a poke at your backside the warmest thing you've been feeling. You grind your hips against it and grim returns the action with a groan.

'Even now you tease me? Fine I shall play your game, too.' He ends with a purr.

[peachessndreamss]

Filled With Grace

Summery : High Septon Aemond request a private audience with a hight born lady the night before her wedding.

Characters : High Septon! Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

Warnings : Dub Con, power imbalance, coercion, heavy religious themes & behaviors, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, unprotected p in v sex, corruption, loss of virginity, dacryhilia (if you squint), alcohol consumption, cannon divergent

Word count : 8 k

A/N : No one asked for this but it happened, also sorry in advance, sorry for what? sorry for everything. While English is my first language I'm also profoundly dyslexic, I've done my best to minimise spelling and grammar issues but I'm there still are plenty.

When Aemond Targaryen lost his eye he thought the worst of it was the scar but it turned out in the days and weeks after the incident, the cost kept mounting. Finding his father couldn’t look at him had been hard to take and they no longer spent the evenings together reading the histories, studying the great campaigns of ancient kings and speaking high Valeryian. 

The last time his father truly looked at him was the night he sat the boy Aemond down and told him he was going into the service of the Seven. With his injury he could no longer be trusted to defend his brother’s weaker side in battle or in Kingship, and so it had been decided by the small council that he would be handed over to the Septons and be trained in the Faith. He was sent across the city and into the tall towers of Baelor's Great Sept. 

When he wasn’t in training, or studying he would sit by the window and stare back across to the Red Keep, where his family continued to live their lives without him. 

In the early days there was heartbreak, longing and grief, as Aemond spent more time at the Sept the pain turned to anger, his heart hardened and his soul blackened. Still as studious as ever he studied hard, learnt the words and the rituals and felt nothing. 

At the age of 20 he moved back across the city, back into the Red Keep as the self-styled High Septon of the Red Keep. Despite his outward devotion to the Faith he opted to keep the name his family had given him, he believed his injury and his family’s reaction had stolen enough from him but they would not take his name.  

In the 7 years that followed his return Aemond had manoeuvred himself from returning outcast to centre of all courtly life. His mother, who ruled in his sickly fathers place, relied on him constantly, looking to him for guidance in both spiritual and worldly matters and while he didn’t sit on the Small Council nothing happened in the room that he wasn’t already aware of.

He was the beating heart and soul of the Red Keep, the spiritual leader who blessed and condemned as he saw fit. He quickly learned his religious titles protected him from suspicion, so when a body turned up in the Red Keep with a broken neck or floating in the bay he was above reproach, regardless of any known animosities or feuds. He learnt being irreproachable had many benefits and he began to explore the possibilities now open to him. 

Aemond was 23 years old the first time he'd had a high born maiden come to him before her wedding night, the first time had been less about the pleasures of the flesh and more about pushing the boundaries of the Lady who’d come to him as a willing sacrifice. The first time taught him that silence could be bought with loyalty and the promise of absolution, and if those two things weren’t enough, he always had fear. 

Aemond occupied the highest tower of the Red Keep, three floors of round rooms stacked one on top the other. The lowest level was his Sept where the faithful came for his blessings, confession, where his mother lit candles and prayed and where she would ask him to translate the signs and symbols she saw everywhere and claimed were messages from the Gods. 

The second floor were his audience rooms, official rooms where he might entertain visiting Septon’s or Lords who felt themselves in particular need of spiritual guidance. 

The highest level was Aemond’s personal chambers, kept in semi-darkness at all times, the stone walls were dressed in rich tapestries and the large bed hung with blood red curtains. This was his innermost sanctum, the space that bore witness to Aemond’s true self and was the place he brought the high born Lady’s before their wedding day. 

Tonight the room was set for such an event. The fire was burning in the hearth but all other lights had been extinguished. Goblets of deep red wine were sitting on the table, as well as a plate of sweets and cakes, in case she had a sweet tooth. Aemond knew the Lady who'd be visiting tonight, she'd been fostered at the Red Keep since her 12th name day and had grown up under the watchful eye of queen Alicent. Tomorrow she would marry Lord Tullly and the day after she would leave the Red Keep forever to take up her new role as lady of Riverrun, but tonight she belonged to him. 

The knock on her chamber door was quiet but unmistakable, it helped that the lady had been waiting for it. Sitting at her dressing table, her back ramrod straight while trying to make sense of her flickering reflection in the warped surface of the mirror. Tomorrow was her wedding day, but tonight she had an audience with High Septon Aemond.

When she had first come to the Red Keep she had been under the protection of Queen Alicent, who she had followed around like a lost lamb until she was 15 and had been passed into the service of her daughter,  Helaena, who she had served as a handmaiden while she waited for her father to broker a good enough marriage deal. 

The deal had now been struck, the payments made and contracts for lands, livestock and men signed and sealed. All that was left was the wedding and due to her close status to the royal family, no expense was spared, her wedding gown had been trimmed with silver and gold threads and beaded with thousands of tiny river pearls. She had wept the first time she’d seen it from the sheer beauty of the garment and after that moment she had willed every day to pass faster so she could wear it.

The High Septon of the Red Keep called all high born brides to his tower the night before their weddings, and while the reason was never overtly discussed, the older ladies of the Red Keep would share knowing looks and speak in innuendo around the younger ladies, lording their superior knowledge and understanding over the young and naive. 

But she had found by listening carefully both to the older women of the court and the giggling gossip of the serving women she’d come to the conclusion that she would be expected to give a private confession to the High Septon. Confession was usually a fairly private matter, with all people of all status expected to unburden themselves to their Septons but without further clarity she was left wondering what made these pre-wedding confessions something so hushed up and rarely talked of. 

“Enter” she called softly, turning from her reflection toward the door. 

A small serving girl stepped into the room, dressed in the same drab dress as all the other serving women and her hair covered with a square of the same fabric, she looked as indistinct as any other of the small folk serving in the Red Keep. 

“High Septon Aemond ‘as asked to see you, milady,” the serving girl said softly, her eyes cast downward as she spoke, “I'm t’take you to ‘im,”. 

The lady nodded and stood from the stool at her dressing table, she had known the summons were coming and so she’d not undressed from that night's celebration dinner. She was still wearing a deep blue silk gown, edged with silver threads and her hair was still twisted in its elaborate crown braid that had taken over an hour to arrange. 

While the dress and the hair were elaborate, they were still modest enough for the act of contrition she assumed she was going too. 

The serving girl stepped back and turned, moving silently down the corridor and the lady followed, wishing her own steps were as silent as they moved through the dark building, even in her silk slippers she could hear her footsteps and the swish of the fabric of her dress. 

Despite living in the red keep for almost 10 years she could count on one hand the amount of times she'd been in the same room as Aemond Targaryen, he didn't waste his time on high born ladies under normal circumstances. The only women he ever seemed to speak with were his mother and his sister, she couldn’t be sure she’s ever even met his gaze, let alone have spoken with him.

At the foot of the high tower the serving girl opened a heavy door and led them up a tightly twisting set of stairs. They passed two doors on the twisting staircase before they reached the top and the final door. The serving girl knocked twice before melting back into the darkness of the stairwell. 

A voice from within bid her enter and with trembling hands she pushed open the door and stepped over the threshold. 

The room was so dark it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust, still barely able to make out the shapes in the darkness but a rustle of fabric and a small movement drew her eye and from the blackness he appeared. 

He didn’t wear Septon’s robes, instead he dressed every inch the royal son he was, in tight black trousers and a black high collared tunic, he was covered from neck to toe in tight black fabric that looked as close to his body as his own skin. His silver hair was tied back from his face and he wore a patch over his ruined eye. His good eye fixed on her, the indigo of it lost in the darkness so that it appeared to be a blackhole instead. 

“My Lady,” he greeted, bowing deeply before straightening up and fixing his gaze on her face. 

“Your Royal Highness,” she replied, dipping her knees in a curtsey, averting her eyes from his face, “I am your servant,” she added. 

He moved toward her, his steps slow and deliberate, immediately the image of a stalking predator came to mind and her heartbeat quickened. 

“Will you sit?” he asked, indicating the two chairs set close to the fire, a low table between them holding two filled wine goblets and a plate of small fruit tarts, the exact same that would be served at her wedding banquet tomorrow. 

“If it pleases,” she replied, moving toward the chairs and stepping into the circle of flickering light cast by the fire. 

“It does,” Aemond replied, taking the seat nearest to where he was standing and furthest from the light. He relaxed deeply into the seat, crossing one ankle over the other knee, one of his long arms stretching away from his body and toward the table, the tips of his fingers caressing the thin stem of the wine glass. 

She followed his lead and sat, keeping her back straight and tall, crossing her feet at the ankles under the full skirts of her dress and letting her legs fall together against the arm of the chair in the way she'd been taught since she was old enough to sit in the company of others. 

“Eat and drink, if you like,” Aemond said softly, despite the softness in his tone the invitation felt dangerous. 

But she had been raised in the Queen’s household and had impeccable manners, she offered him a small smile and thanked him before lifting the goblet to her lips and taking a small sip. The wine was rich and strong, the scent of it alone causing her head to spin. 

Aemond never took his eye from her, taking in the details of this high lady who he planned to bring so low. He noted the gloss on her lips from the wine, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she fought to master her heartbeat and the wide eyed look of fear on her pretty face which went straight between his thighs and caused his cock to strain against his trousers. 

“Do you know why you’re here my Lady?” Aemond asked after she’d shakily returned the wine glass to the table.

“For confession?” she replied, her eyes flicking toward his face for a second before looking away again after meeting his burning gaze. 

“To confess,” Aemond agreed, “and to meet with god,” he added softly, running his long fingers up the stem of the wine glass and cupping the curve of the bowl before bringing it to his mouth and taking a drink.

Aemond took a slow drink, running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip before taking a shallow breath and placing the goblet back down on the table. The silence in the room was heavy, it deafened and roared at the same time and she was acutely aware of the sounds of her breathing and pounding heart.

“My Lady, the hour is late,” Aemond spoke, “why are you still dressed for banqueting?” 

She glanced down at herself, the silver beads and stitching of the deep blue dress caught in the flickering fire light and she could feel every place the fabric touched her body. 

“I didn’t want to be in a state of undress when you called for me, my Prince,” she replied. 

Aemond chuckled softly, “So you knew you’d be summoned to me tonight?” he mused, “and how did you know?”. 

In that moment she could have bitten her own tongue off to avoid saying anything further, how could she tell the truth without causing trouble for herself and the other ladies in waiting, gossip was considered below them, despite the fact that it made up a good majority of their days. 

“It’s known,” she started before her voice stalled, she squirmed in her seat under the heat of his gaze, “that’s to say, some of the other ladies who’ve been married have mentioned they had a private audience with you,”.

Aemond nodded, while he outwardly gave no sign, he was privately elated, the more that people whispered and told stories of him the more they would fear him and the more power he would have over them. He would have to try and learn the details of the gossip and whispers, and if necessary change the narrative. 

“I trust that what passes between us tonight will stay between us?” he asked, taking another drink, enjoying the rich and heady taste. 

“Of course my Prince,” she agreed readily and he nodded. 

A silence fell between them again, if she strained her ears she could just hear the sounds of the city, as distant as a dream from the covered windows. She dragged her attention back to the man in the room and she looked at him from under her lashes, not wanting to get caught staring. The flickering firelight cast his features in strong relief, his jaw and cheekbones looked like twin blades edging his face. 

“In the eyes of the Gods,” Aemond started, his indigo eye fixed on the fire, “we’re born naked, we live naked and we die naked. They see and hear all of our sins, even the sins we never speak of, or act on, they know them and they judge us for them. We are never beyond the sight of the Gods,”. 

“Of course, High Septon Aemond,” she replied, choosing to use his religious title as she felt the subtle change in him as he went from prince entertaining a guest to High Septon preparing for holy work. 

“And while they sit in judgement of us, I have the power to forgive sins, to wipe clean the slate of any man or woman who is willing to ask for forgiveness,”. 

Aemond turned his eye to her, catching her watching him, his gaze burning. 

“My Lady,” Aemond turned his face from the fire toward her, “are you willing to ask for forgiveness tonight? To confess your sins and be cleansed?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“I will,”.

He took a deep breath and nodded, a small smile twitching at the corner of his lips. 

“Then stand, my Lady, and you will confess as the God’s see you,” he paused for a tense second, “naked,”. 

A chill ran up her spine despite the heat of the fire. Although she had expected to be called to him she had not known what he would want when she was there, she’d had no idea he’d expect her to undress, and if he expected that what else might he expect? 

“My Prince, this gown is difficult to remove,” she spoke quickly, her heart thumping in her chest, “I’m sure the God’s will understand if I remain clothed,”. 

“Stand,” Aemond commanded, and as if touched by a white hot poker she jumped from the seat and stood like marble, her eyes fixed on the prince. 

“Gowns can be removed, repaired if necessary,” he said as he stood and stalked toward her, pulling a small blade from a concealed pocket at his hip, “your confession will not be complete unless you are as you were born,”. 

He moved toward her and with a single strong shove he pushed the heavy chair she’d been sitting in out of the way and brought himself behind her. His breath was warm on the back of her neck, his left hand caressed her left arm. 

“Please, my Prince,” she whispered as she sensed the movement of the right hand which held the blade. 

He took a steadying breath before sliding the blade beneath the silk ribbon that held the back of the dress closed, with only a little pressure the blade slipped through each twist of silver silk and the dress began to open, exposing the bright white shift underneath. She had made a small sound of protest but had gone silent. While the blade never touched the thin fabric of her shift she could feel the coolness of the metal and imagine the sharpness of the blade. 

The prince dropped the blade and used both his hands to pull the gown wider and push it off her shoulders, the weight of the skirt and the beading of the bodice dragged it down, slipping down her arms and off her hands. It landed in a pool of deep, glittering blue around her calves. 

“Better,” Aemond breathed, stepping back a little and admiring her trembling body. 

“If it pleases you,” she had to fight to keep her voice calm, tears pricked at her eyes and burned in the back of her throat. 

Perhaps this would be as far as he took it, perhaps this was bear enough for him. Perhaps she could confess in her underclothes and be gone, but she only believed this for a second as she felt him take two strong handfuls of the neck of her shift and rip them viciously apart. 

The soft fabric gave easily and ripped clearly down the middle, exposing her back and buttocks to him, again he gave the garment a soft shove over her shoulders and watched as it fell around her legs, landing on top of her gown like a blanket of snow. 

“Oh it pleases me a great deal,” he said, stepping around her, caressing her arm as he came to stand in front of her, letting his eye travel up and down her body.

He took hold of her hand and lifted it before giving her a gentle tug, unable to disobey, she stepped forward out of the mess of fabric and further into the golden light of the fire. The only thing she wore now were the soft silk slippers. 

Aemond studied her, the curve of her hips and buttocks, the softness of her stomach, the swell of her breasts that were topped with nipples several shades darker than her skin. As he watched gooseflesh crawled across her body, tightening her nipples into tight little points that he longed to reach out and pinch. SHe kept her face turned down and Aemond was transfixed by the curve of her cheek and the spiky shadows of her eyelashes. 

She felt as if his gaze was burning and freezing her at the same time, every part of her body was exposed to him and he looked at her without shame. No man had ever seen her in such a state. She had been taught her nakedness was for her husband and for him alone but now she was being looked on by her High Septon, her prince, and his eyes were devouring her body, claiming something that shouldn’t belong to him. 

“You are the Maiden incarnate,” he whispered as he dropped her hand and brought his fingertips to her chin. Lifting her head so he could look at her face. Though she still fought them she couldn’t help the tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes or the tremble in her bottom lip. 

“You might look like Her,” he started, his eye flicking to a small image of the Maiden he kept by the fire before returning his gaze to her, “but you are only human and therefore a sinner,” Aemond added with a sigh, as if disappointed to remember the woman before him was human and not divine, “so kneel,”. 

“My Prince?” she questioned, the humiliation was already beyond what she thought she could survive but apparently he had more in his heart. 

“Confession is given on your knees,” he explained calmly, “and so you must kneel,” he moved his hand from her chin to her shoulder, where he applied gentle pressure. 

She allowed her knees to bend and buckle beneath her, dropping onto the thick carpet. Aemond felt his cock throb as her breasts bounced with the impact, he fought the intense and dark urge to force his cock into her mouth, instead he took a deep breath and placed his hand on the top of her head. 

“Under the watchful eye of the seven, I hear your confession,”. 

Aemond spoke the words he learned as a boy during his time in the High Sept. Confession had already fascinated him as a child and he’d hardly dared believe that people would willingly tell him the darkest secrets of their hearts. 

“Under the watchful eye of the Seven, I give my confession,” she choked out, words she’d learnt as a small child and said hundreds of times in her life before now, but never like this. 

“I, I confess to having cruel thoughts about others,” her voice cracked as she repeated another line she’s said a hundred times before to Septon after Septon. Aemond, with his eye closed and his hand still resting on the top of her head nodded. 

“Go on,”. 

“And I’ve told lies,” 

“And, and, and,” she stumbled over her words, “I confess to having impure thoughts about men at court,”. 

Aemond felt a throb between his thighs, this is what he’d been hoping for. 

“What thoughts my lady?”. 

“Thoughts of what it would be like to couple with them,”. 

Aemond nodded benevolently and opened his eye, his gaze soft and loving as he watched the woman on her knees. 

“That’s to be expected, as a bride in waiting,”. 

“This is my confession,” she whispered. 

The tears in her eyes blurred her vision but she nodded, her resolve strengthened now she’d done what he’d asked. Aemond nodded again and closed his eye, turning his face upward and addressing the air above their heads. 

“The watchful eye of the Seven have heard your confession and I, High Septon Aemond Targaryen of the Red Keep, forgive your sins,”. 

She gave out a shuddering breath as a tear slowly tracked down her cheek. She had survived, she had done as she was told and she was forgiven her sins. 

His hand moved from the top of her head and he offered it to her, she took it and allowed him to support her back to her feet. She couldn't look at his face but instead her eyes focused on the floor at his feet. Again he moved his fingertips to her chin and lifted her face. 

“You did very well my Lady,” he said softly as he stroked his finger down the curve of her cheek. Despite the warmth from the fire his fingers were like ice on her skin, “and now, you will take God inside you,”. 

Her brows furrowed in confusion as a chill ran down her spine. Surely he couldn’t be talking about bedding her? Looking at her naked body was one thing but to give her maidenhead to him the night before her wedding was unthinkable but before she could voice any resistance he gently took her hand and led her toward the bed. 

She moved as he directed her, unwilling but unable to resist him. The bed loomed, dark and foreboding in the centre of the room, she’d been able to ignore it up until now. As they moved closer she noticed the hangings and the coverings were a deep blood red, edged with black. 

Aemond brought them to the foot of the bed, placing her so the back of her knees knocked against the bedframe and the plush bed sheets brushed against the bare backs of her thighs. 

Aemond stroked her cheek again before brushing the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. 

“You've got nothing to be scared of my Lady, don't you want to know the Gods in the most intimate way possible?”. 

“Please my Lord,” she whispered, “l mean, I- I mean, my Prince,Your Highness, please,” she stumbled over her words, them coming out in a confused rush. 

“Don't worry about titles now, Maiden,” he whispered, leaning his face close to her, letting his lips brush against her cheek, “tonight you can call me God,”.

She turned her head to look in his face, catching sight of one beautiful indigo eye before his lips crashed into hers in a bruising kiss. One of Aemond’s hands slipped up her back and held her at the base of her skull as the other wrapped around her naked waist, his cold hand resting on the small of her back. He pulled her tighter to his body, feeling the hard press of her soft skin through the leather and linen of his clothes. 

Aemond licked his tongue along the line of her lips, desperate to taste her mouth, would the richness of the wine still linger on her tongue or would he be able to taste her fear? He broke away from her kiss and gazed down at her, noticing the tears in her pretty eyes and the wobble of her soft bottom lip. 

“Give yourself to me,” he whispered, “submit to me, and be filled with grace,”. 

She whimpered softly, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She felt nothing but fear, a clawing, ripping terror that started in her guts and filled every inch of her, she felt as if she opened her mouth to speak pitch black tar would come bubbling out of her throat.

There was immediate fear, what Aemond could do to her if she didn't give him what he wanted and there was the future fear, of the following night and her new husband finding her no longer the maiden he'd been promised. 

Despite the fear, Aemond's words awakened something else inside her, a pinprick of excitement in the doom, a flickering flame of need in the darkness of terror. Aemond’s grip on the back of her head tightened, her eyes focused on his face again, she found him beautiful and terrible. 

“Submit,” he said again softly before touching a kiss to her still closed mouth, “submit,” he breathed again, the sound barely audible above the thumping of the blood in her ears.

The quiet word sounded like a prayer, even though he held all the power in the few seconds after the soft plea had fallen from his lips she felt completely in control, she could deny him and walk away without further incident but she didn’t want to. She wanted to submit, she needed to give herself to him, her body and soul demanded it of her. 

“I submit, my Prince,” she replied, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper. 

Aemond brought his mouth back to hers and kissed her again, there was less aggression now and when he tightened his hold on her body there was a thrill of pleasure, like a seam of gold in the bedrock of her terror. 

He ran his tongue along her lips again and this time she parted her mouth and felt his tongue slip against hers instantly. Without thought she felt herself grip at the arm he had wrapped around her body, her fingers gripping vivaciously at the sleeve of his coat, feeling the strong and lean arm under the fabric.

As her fingers gripped him Aemond groaned into her mouth, feeling his cock throbbing against the lacing of his breeches, the press of her soft body was no longer enough, he needed to take her. 

He broke away from her mouth, his gaze focusing on her heaving breasts and the saliva coating her lips. His own heart was pounding and he felt like the room was spinning around him and she was the only steady point. 

“Lie down,” he instructed. 

She obeyed without hesitation, needing to do nothing but let herself drop down onto the mattress and lay her head back on the plush coverlet. Aemond’s gaze moved up and down her body, from the silk slippers still covering her feet, up her shapely legs to their apex where her sex was hidden by a thatch of curly hair. Further up her stomach to her breasts and their aching hard nipples, her throat and the curve of her jaw all the way to the top of her head where the crown of hair was coming loose. 

Aemond moved directly between her legs, he bent and wrapped his hands behind her knees, yanking her forward so her bottom rested just at the edge of the bed. He kept her knees lifted and pushed her thighs high and further apart. Splitting open the lips of her cunt, exposing the glistening folds of her womanhood. 

She was totally transfixed by him, and from her position below him light cast his features in even sharper relief. It was easy to believe that he was a God, surely no mere mortal could look like him. 

As he stared between her legs he made a groaning sound from deep in his chest. 

“Hold your legs, Maiden,” he said softly. 

She replaced his hands with her own, keeping her sex exposed to him. There was an ache between her legs now that seemed to start somewhere deep within her lower belly and her body was acting and reacting in ways she'd never experienced before. Aemond's hands went to the laces at the front of his breeches, working quickly to loosen them and allow him to free his cock. 

With a soft moan he pulled the hard muscle free, squeezing it at the root and watching as a bead of pearly white fluid appeared at the tip. 

He stepped forward, pressing the length of his shaft between the soaked lips of her cunt, smearing himself in her arousal. She gasped at the contact, having never felt anything between her legs apart from her own fingers before this moment. 

His cock was hot, smooth and hard as he moved it between her lips and she felt her whole body awaken at the feeling of the blunt head of his cock touching the hardened pearl between her legs. 

Aemond watched with fascination as she reacted to his ministrations on her body. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell into a pretty O shape, Aemond felt his cock pulse with desire and he longed to see how many more reactions he could draw out of her untouched body. 

The two of them were now soaked in her arousal, the hair between her legs glistening with wetness in the flickering fire light.Aemond took a steadying breath as he angled his cock at her tight entrance. 

“Be filled with grace,” his voice was like a prayer as he finally pressed forward and pushed inside her. 

She gasped at the sudden feeling of stretching and pressure, it was nothing like she'd felt before and in a flash the arousal seemed to disappear and the fear was back, gripping her like a vice and making it hard to breathe. 

“Don't fight,” Aemond hissed, “submit,”. 

She took a steadying breath, her eyes fixed on his face as he stared between their body’s, at the place the two of them were becoming one. After the initial pain and resistance she found her body wanting to welcome him, she found her cunt pulling at him hungrily and willingly changing to accept him inside her. 

Once Aemond was resting deeply inside her he gave a shuddering breath. He couldn't hear anything but the pounding of blood in his ears and he could see nothing but the place where their bodies were joined. 

“We are one, Maiden,” he said softly, looking up at her face and finding her watching him, a single tear escaping her eyes as he pushed another inch forward, finding her body yielding and vice-like in its grip. 

“Don't weep,” he said, reaching forward and wiping the tear away from her eyes, “you are one with the Gods now,”.

Aemond gathered the tear on his thumb and brought the drop of liquid to his mouth, sucking it off the tip of his thumb. He brought his wet thumb down between their bodies and brushed it against the swollen pearl that peeked out from between her soaked lips. He could feel the tight channel of her cunt squeezing around him at the contact and a small moan slipped between her soft lips. 

Slowly he began to move his hips in a slow, grinding motion. He wanted to stay as deeply rooted within her body as he could but he desperately wanted to bring her pleasure. To share with her the religious experience he was chasing. He ground his hips forward and used his thumb to swipe and stroke at her pearl.

Her whole body was on fire, every part of her mind, her body and her soul was suddenly awakened with pleasure. She moaned and immediately felt a deep shame at the sound. Aemond could sense the sudden shift in her and he looked at her face. 

“Don't hide your sounds, my Maiden, they are prayers and I want to hear them,”. 

After that, any sense of shame melted away, how could there be shame between them now? He had heard her confession and now he shared her body. There was no longer space for shame. The pleasure began to build and a deep groan moved through her body and filled the room as she gave into the pleasure. 

Aemond changed from grinding to short, sharp thrusts, pistoning his hips and moving his cock in and out, the movements made easy by the arousal that slicked between their legs, spreading over her thighs. Her eyes widened and the grip behind her knees tightened as the pleasure inside her reached a fever pitch. She moaned loudly, thrashing her head against the bed, her eyes closing tightly. 

“Submit to it, Maiden,” Aemond moaned as he felt her body tightening around him, “submit and feel God,”. 

With his words she gave her body and mind over to the sensations, the knot that tightened within her belly and the tingling in her fingers and toes, every inch of her skin felt tight and hot and then suddenly, like a dam breaking, there was nothing but bliss. 

The muscles of her stomach  and thighs clenching, the tightening being echoed by the gripping tightness of her cunt around Aemond’s cock. Her blood felt like it was on fire as it raced around her body, burning her alive. Time seemed to stop and her body no longer felt physical, she had passed beyond physical and was now made of stars. 

Aemond followed her into bliss with a deep groan and a final deep and shuddering thrust, pressing himself as deep inside her as possible before spilling his seed. 

Panting and trembling, Aemond leaned forward, bringing his body over hers for the first time and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Still dazed she looked at him, through the haze of pleasure he could have been mistaken for an angel, she expected him to kiss her again but instead he straightened up and withdrew from her body. Tucking his wet, soft cock back into his breeches before roughly tightening the laces. 

Aemond went to the door of his chambers and opened them, letting the serving girl who brought her here inside. 

“Take her back to her room, repair her dress and stay with her all night,” he spoke quickly and firmly, the only outward sign of his recent activities was the slightly pink flush to his cheeks and the sweat gathered at his hairline. 

“In the morning, make sure you stay with her,” he added, glancing back at the woman still naked on his bed, her chest still heaving and her eyes still unfocused. 

“I must go to my Sept,” he finished before moving out of the room and down the winding staircase. 

The serving girl brought a large, soft blanket to the bed and encouraged the lady to sit up, her hair was a mess, half fallen out of its elaborate style. She wrapped the blanket around the lady and drew it closed over her chest. 

“‘ere milady,' she said softly, “so you don’ get cold,”. 

The serving girl gathered up the ruined dress and the slip before returning to the bed and helping her to her feet. The lady was unsteady on her feet and was shocked back to reality by the pain between her legs. 

She brought one hand to her mouth in horror, holding the blanket tightly around her body. 

“What have I done?” She whispered, glancing back at the bed. 

“Come on my lady,” the serving girl said softly, “let's get you back to your rooms,”. 

She followed the serving girl out of the room and down the winding staircase. The stone was icy cold on her silk slippered feet and the chill moved up her legs, quickly turning her whole body to ice. At the bottom of the final turn she stopped outside the door to Aemonds Sept, through the door the sound of his prayers were just audible. She placed her hand on the door, going to push it open but the serving girl placed her hand over the lady's. 

“We must go,” she urged. 

The serving girl led her back to her rooms, managing to avoid any other living being in the red keep. Back in the safety of her rooms she helped the lady into her bed, her naked body slipping between the soft sheets. 

“Sleep, milady,” the serving girl said, “I'll be ‘ere in the morning to help you get ready,”. She closed her eyes and without another thought she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Aemond knelt at his altar all night, the sun was creeping over the city when he finally opened his eye and unclasped his hands. A great deal of his religious devotion was for show, he felt almost nothing for the faith and used it only to manipulate those around him to his will. But after a night with a highborn maiden he often felt the need to unburden his soul. 

He would not attend the wedding of his Maiden and Lord Tully, the ceremony would take place at Baelor's sept and the feast in the great hall. He wouldn't be expected to attend and he assumed his mother would pay him a visit after the festivities to fill him in on his brother's behaviour. He stood slowly from his altar to the Maiden, the candle he'd lit when he'd entered the night before was gutting and spitting as it gave its final flickers before going out, the wick drowning in a pool of its own wax.

Somewhere below the walls of the Red Keep a bell began to toll, waking the city and signalling the start of a new day. Aemond left his Sept, closing the door tightly behind him, he took the winding stairs back to his private rooms. The wine glasses and the plate of sweets were still on the table and the coverlet on the bed was rucked up from his Maidens thrashing and keening. 

He could have knelt at the foot of the bed and placed his face where her arousal had soaked the fabric, he could smell the intimate musk of her body and let him become lost in memories. 

He made to move toward the bed but there was a barely audible knock on the door, Aemond turned toward the door instead and called the visitor in. 

His serving girl stepped into the room and closed the door silently behind herself. She was the only person in the Red Keep Aemond trusted without question. 

“Milady slept fitfully, asked for you when she woke and has now been taken by ‘er mother and sisters to be washed and dressed,” she reported, her eyes focused on her feet. 

“Thank you,” he replied, a cold distance in his voice. 

“If you ‘ave no further need of me, Lord, I’ll be gone,'. 

Aemond nodded and the girl left without another word or sound. Aemond took to his seat beside the fire, he drew a glass of red wine from the decanter on the table and drank deeply, scowling at the flames as they danced in the grate. 

Some hours later the bell in the Great Sept rang out, a loud booming sound that travelled through the hot air across the city and out into the bay beyond. Underneath the tolling bell the bride stood as if made of stone, the only indication she was flesh and blood were the tears streaming down her cheeks. 

The bride groom kept glancing at her nervously, was she weeping with joy? Unlikely he reasoned, was it sadness to be leaving the home she's known most of her life? Or was it fear of the night to come? He'd heard from his older, married brothers that virgin's could be fearful and unwilling on their wedding nights; he hoped he'd give a good showing of himself for her first experience of the marriage bed. After all, he'd never had any complaints before. 

After the sun had set on the heaving city and the wedding feasting and drinking were done the newly weds were finally alone in their bridal chamber. The room was awash with light from torches and a blazing fire, the bed was made up in Tully colours and food and drink set out on a small table by the open window. She waited at the end of the bed for him, sitting with her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes turned down and the skin of her face tight and sore from the tears she’d been unable to stem. 

Her new husband drank deeply from a wine goblet by the window, he was dressed in only his long white linen shirt and black leather riding boots, he drained his goblet and moved toward the bed. He’d decided he needed some extra liquid courage before taking his new wife to bed, he didn’t think he could cope with all the tears without something to help him forget the experience. 

“Lie back, wife,” he said, his voice thick with drink, “we’ll soon  have this done with,”. 

Across the Red Keep Aemond sat alone in his chambers, he’d removed the patch from his ruined eye and the sapphire caught the flickering light from the fire, he stared at the flames as they twisted and licked around one another. Separate tongues of flame merging into a single burning light before breaking apart again and reaching desperately for cool air being drawn down the chimney.

The door to his room opened without warning, he turned his eye toward the darkened doorway and watched his mother enter. Her cheeks were flushed red with the wine she’d taken at the feast and her usually impeccable hair was looking dishevelled from dancing. 

“Nice wedding?” Aemond asked as she sat heavily in the chair beside him and sighed deeply. 

“Lovely,” Alicent mused with a smile, “the bride wouldn’t stop crying but she always was a miserable little thing,”. 

Alicent looked over at her son, her smile was indulgent as she studied his profile. 

“You should have been there,” she said softly. 

Aemond gave a small shake of his head. 

“It wouldn’t be appropriate,”. 

“What would be inappropriate about you attending the wedding of members of the court?” Alicent argued. 

Aemond, not in the mood to argue with his mother remained silent and returned his attention to the flames, tomorrow he would hold a service of devotion for his family and the small council and afterward he might entertain the master of coin to see what he could learn about the plans to deal with the civil unrest that was coming from Dorne. 

“Anyway, I thought you’d like to know that Lord Beesbury has announced his plans to wed the Moreland girl before her next name day,”. 

“The Moreland girl?” Aemond asked, turning his attention back to his mother.

“Another one of your sister's handmaids, the one with the golden hair and the crooked smile, she’s sweet enough but I feel for her marrying an old dog like Beesbury,” Alicent replied before lapsing into silence. The memory of her own marriage announcement brought sharply to the forefront of her mind. 

Aemond’s fingers twitched against his knee, he knew the girl by sight and seemed to remember that despite the crookedness of her smile she showed it off willingly and often. He could help but wonder if she’d smile for him as he took her apart piece by piece. 

“Before her next name day, you said?”. 

“Hmm? Yes, about 3 months from now,” Alicent said, her mind now firmly fixed on the past. 

Aemond nodded his head and drummed his fingers faster on his knee, not long to wait. 

[lilithslittleworld]

can you write something with tobias eaton ?? preferably heavy making out and fluff. i think both of you being instructors/trainers . you can do anything you want

His Girl

A/N: yes ofc! The idea of this fanfic is that Tris never chose Dauntless and captured Four’s attention, you did🤭 I hope you enjoy it!

Sidenote: I LOVE getting requests from you guys, they’re so fun to write, so thank you:) There is also another Author's Note at the end of the fic!

Summary: After a first brutal year in Dauntless, Four managed to get you an instructors position alongside him. However, you can't help but wonder if the soft glances and brushing of hands is strictly professional or if it's something else...

Sometimes when you opened your eyes, you still expected to be in the dorms with the other new initiates. It had been months since you'd gotten your own little studio but it didn't always feel real. You liked having a space all to yourself, for your things, and without having to share. If that made you selfish, you didn't care.

You rubbed your eyes groggily, staring out of the one tiny window your flat had. "Another gray day," you mumbled, pulling yourself out of your bed. To call it a bed was an overstatement but you were forever grateful for that spare mattress Christina didn't want.

The sound of voices grew as you walked down the narrow corridor that led to The Hub. You could distinguish a few: some were other instructors and some came from your own initiates. You liked your bunch, especially since they were the first you were training. As for the rest of the instructors, the majority were fairly nice, some more than others. But only one stood out. Four.

Your feelings towards Four were unclear. On the one hand, he had trained you well, even landed you a job beside him. But your feelings towards him weren't solely professional. No, there were moments in your lonely nights that you imagined him taking you into his strong arms, his lips against yours, protecting you from a danger you both knew didn't exist. You knew that dating instructors wasn't off limits but it couldn't possibly be permissible, socially at least. The rest of trainers usually kept to themselves, indulging in the occasional hookup or fling but it was never anything more serious. Hooking up with Four sounded spectacular but it also didn't feel genuine.

You found your fellow instructors in the middle of the hub, going over that day's training no doubt. Four's back was facing you, as he spoke with Eric, turning his face slightly as he did. You knew he'd seen you out of the corner of his eye when he spun around halfway to meet your gaze.

"Y/N," he nodded at you, his eyes fleeting over your face quickly.

"Four," you responded, standing a few inches away from him.

"Ready for today?" he mused.

"Like always," you said, rolling your eyes and punching him lightly in the arm.

"Getting stronger, Y/N," he said, a small smirk pulling at his lips, "Careful or I'll have to hit back."

You gawked at him in a mock shock, your eyes widening. "You wouldn't dare."

Four shrugged, "You're not my student anymore. There are no rules that say instructors can't fight."

"Oh yeah?" you challenged, raising an eyebrow at him, "See me after class." You took off towards the training room, not bothering to hear his response. Though you knew you had caused an impression.

Your classes that day went by quickly, the minutes ticked closer to your break, closer to seeing Four again. You were thankful to have passed initiation but there was a tiny part of you that missed spending greater part of your days with Four, even if it was through the means of enduring physical hardships and fist fights with others. That's usually how trainings went anyway.

As the final initiates thinned out of the crowd they'd formed around you, the silhouette of one caught your eye as you bent down to pick up the scattered equipment left behind. It didn't take you long to realize it wasn't one of your students, as none of them were nearly that tall, that strong. Or that silent for that matter.

"Right on time," you said coolly, not bothering to glance over at Four as you retrieved knife after knife from the floor.

"I take all of my altercations very seriously," he replied, his voice sounded even deeper in the empty training room.

"Ah," you smiled, spinning around to find him staring down at you, his arms crossed. "Is this what this is?"

"I'll remind you that you're the one who told me to see you after class," he smirked, rolling his eyes, "I've done my homework, haven't I?"

"Very punctual," you answered, tilting your head up slightly to meet his gaze. Four chuckled lightly in response.

"I hate to burst your bubble, though," he said, shaking his head slightly, "I don't have a huge appetite for kicking your ass tonight, Y/N."

"Never took you as a coward, Four!" you gasped, the sarcasm thick in your voice.

"There's nothing cowardly about not wanting to fight on a first date," he replied matter-of-factly. A thrill ran through your body at his words, a hint of blush lingering on your cheeks.

"Is this what this is?" you asked, the shock on your face this time was real but you hid it well.

"Only if that's what you want," he said slowly, taking in your bewildered state. Or maybe you hadn't been as discreet about your surprise as you'd thought.

"Of course," you blurted out, "I just wasn't sure if I was picking up on the right vibe, that's all."

"You're not very easy to read either, you know that?" he shook his head, his shoulder moving as he chuckled.

"Mhm," you huffed, tossing the last few knives back into their container, making sure to hide your suddenly flushed face.

Twenty minutes later, Four had dragged you to The Pit once again. Only now, the seemingly welcoming vibe had been replaced with a much tougher crowd. A quick scan around you gave you the answer. A competition. Most things in Dauntless seemed to be life or death but swinging across the Chasm on a ragged, old rope sounded like a solid death sentence.

"You brought me to swing to my death?" you asked Four sourly, careful as to not make your excitement noticeable in your voice.

Four's lips tugged into a smile. "Not you, obviously. We're here to watch."

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, turning towards him now, "You don't think I can do that?"

"Let's be honest, Y/N, out of the two of us, I'm the expert in ropes," he replied coolly.

"We'll see about that," you muttered, your feet taking off beneath you as you finished your sentence. You were determined to prove him wrong. Was it risky? Yes but how hard could swinging from a rope be?

You were sure Four's voice was calling out for you in the auditory blur that surrounded you but you didn't care. Pushing past the bystanders, you made your way to the edge of the Chasm. A dozen of big-looking Dauntless members stood waiting for the next opponents. That's when you realized there were two ropes, one for you and one for someone else.

"What're you waiting for?" a small, yet strong Dauntless man called out at you.

"We won't bite!" said another, "Sheela's been standing here for a while," he said, gesturing at a tall, brawny Dauntless woman that stood holding one of the ropes.

"Well, I'm sure I was worth the wait," you replied, your voice loud and even.

The Dauntless members laughed, a few looked at you with bewildered faces.

"Well, little lady, step right up," the man said, "You'll have to reach the rope though."

You walked right to the edge, suddenly aware of how far the rope was from you. You would have to lean over the edge quite a bit to grab it. The good news was that if you did, there would be something to hold onto. You didn't want to think about the bad news.

You reached out a shaking arm towards the rope, leaning your body forward as you did. Your fingertips brushed the coarse, prickly line, trying anxiously to pull it towards you. You knew you needed another inch of inclination. Taking a deep breath to steady you, you pushed your body even further.

Thankfully your calculations had been precise, as the rope was now in your tight grip and your body around it. Screams emerged from behind you as you fell forward, many thinking you had missed it altogether. But no, your legs had twisted around it and your hands were holding you close to it. The problem now? You were quite literally over the Chasm.

"Y/N!" Four's voice sounded louder over the rest of people cheering you on, though many still seemed doubtful about your fate. "Swing!" he yelled. And they call this man a genius.

"I got it," you called out, knowing very well he wouldn't see you rolling your eyes at him from this distance.

"She's got it!" the Dauntless men who had teased you earlier yelled back at him. Four's eyes shot daggers back at them but didn't say a word.

They were right of course, you did have this under control. You swung yourself back and forth, each swing bringing you closer to the stone ledge. You used the momentum of your last push to reach out one of your legs, pushing your foot down firmly on the pavemented edge as you pulled the rest of your body back to safety.

The crowd behind you hooted and cheered for your triumphant return. Four's face seemed slightly more relaxed at seeing you back on the floor. He even seemed to smile.

Sheela seemed to be the only one not celebrating. "Are we doing this or not?"

The shorter Dauntless man held up a hand to both of you before turning to the crowd that only seemed to be growing. "The rules are simple. Step one: grab the rope," he grinned at you for a split second, "Step two: swing across the Chasm to the other side. Step three: climb the eastern wall and retrieve the arrow. Step four: come back before your opponent does."

There was no turning back now. Another Dauntless woman held a pistol up in the air, ready to fire the shot that would send you and Sheela swinging towards a very probable death. The shot rang through the silent Chasm loud and clear, the sound bouncing off the walls around you.

In an instant you were running towards the edge, wrapping your body around the rope once more as you swung yourself over the black abyss. You made sure to give yourself a few swings here and there as you neared the other side. Worst case scenario would be to get trapped in the middle and have to rely solely on your inertia to reach solid ground again. Luckily, once again, everything had gone according to plan. A few minutes later, your feet were on the surface of the other side of the Chasm. Sheela hadn't been so fortunate.

"Nice, Y/N!" Four called out from the other side of the Chasm. He was now standing next to the other Dauntless men, near the edge where you had stood just moments before.

You let out a breathy laugh as you tied the rope around a rock. No one had said anything about that and this way, you'd have one less step to think about. The walk to the eastern wall was short but you made sure to focus on your feet. The accidental slip of a foot could send you down. The arrow was lodged about fifteen feet up, in a small crack. This side of the Chasm wasn't as smooth, thankfully. There would be many spots to place your feet on as you climbed it.

You jumped up, arms reaching for the first rock that seemed pushed out, grabbing onto it tightly as you surveyed the rest of the wall. The climb was exhausting, so much stretching and rearranging your feet but the impending doom below you motivated you enough to not stop. You could hear the others cheering for you across the opening as you continued scaling.

About ten feet up, your extremities began to tremble. It started slowly but ultimately ended up wracking your entire core. You suddenly became aware of every droplet of sweat that dripped down you. But you couldn't brush them away. The arrow was now just a foot away from you. It was so close but your body was so weary that it felt like miles afar.

"Come on, Y/N!" Four's voice interrupted your troubling thoughts "Climb!"

His voice brought back a spark inside of you, one that pushed your body to its edge as you reached up towards the next ledge. The arrow was lodged safely in the wall but pulling out was the simplest thing you'd done this night. You let out a sigh of relief as you held it in your hand, resting your feet on the ledge you'd just held.

"That's my girl!" Four shouted with pride, his hands cupped around his mouth. His words sent a shiver down your spine and a swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

You had half a mind to check on your opponent, who happened to be scaling halfway up the wall to your right. You couldn't get distracted now, you still had to climb back down. Placing the arrow in your mouth to free both hands, you began your descent to safety. The way down was much easier, since you had already learned where to step and where not to.

In a matter of minutes, you were back on the ground, running towards the rock you had tied your rope around. Sheela was just seconds away from reaching her arrow but you knew her climb down would be as quick as yours.

Wasting no time, you untied your knot and took a couple steps back to give your swing more momentum. This last step of the competition was the least of your worries. You swung yourself for the last time, your feet pushing off of the ground firmly.

Four waited for you on the other side, his arms ready to catch you as you came closer. You flew right into them, sending you both toppling to the floor. In a blur of seconds, the Dauntless group had pulled you up into their arms, throwing you up in the air as they celebrated your victory. You craned your neck back to catch a glimpse of Sheela, who was still on the other side of the Chasm.

A pair of strong arms caught you. Four smiled down at as he slipped you away from the crowd. It would be a matter of seconds before they realized you weren't among them.

"Had me worried for a second there, Y/N," he smirked as he walked.

"I had it under control," you replied, raising an eyebrow at him.

He laughed, his whole body shaking against you. "Believe me, this wasn't my idea of a first day."

"Well I'd say it was one of the best in the books," you smiled and you meant it.

"You're insane, Y/N," he said, shaking his head in bewilderment as you reached a quieter part of The Pit. Four set you on your feet gently.

"No, I'm your girl," you said softly, smiling up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Oh, without a doubt," he murmured, his lips just centimeters away from your own.

"What am I going to have to kiss you too?" you teased him, running your fingers through his hair.

"God, you're driving me crazy," he laughed breathlessly before bringing his lips to yours. You expected a gentle kiss but there was a force and urgency behind it that made your heart flutter. Four's lips were so warm and soft and his arms wrapped protectively around you sent you spiraling. You needed him in a way you'd never felt before. You pushed your body closer to his, pulling his hair as his hands made their way to the the small of your back. Four's tongue found yours, swirling against it. Your breaths mixed with his own, his toned chest rising and falling as you kissed him. His lips moved against yours ardently, pulling you impossibly closer to him, the warmth of his body consuming you. He was driving you crazy.

You pulled away quickly before you did anything stupid like ask him to spend the night. It took you both a few seconds to compose yourselves before Four spoke.

"So, next date?" he began, playing softly with your hair.

"Who says there's going to be a next date?" you challenged, fulling aware that you were being a pain in the ass tonight but Four seemed to love it.

"I'm going to have to fight you for that," he said seriously.

"Sounds like we have date number two," you giggled, before you pulled Four back in for another kiss.

------

A/N: I realize this isn't too fluffy so I apologize and will definitely write the second date if you'd like!!! (and with a spicier ending!)

[skiiyoomin]

i beg you to write some tobias eaton jealousy smut where he gets all possesive and shit

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Content: SMUT CONTENT, possessiveness, swearing, fem reader, slight tease Tobias, dirty talk? little tiny bit of degradation (he calls you a slut)

Summary: Tobias had to show exactly who you belong to

a/n possesive tobias makes me feralll, also the plot is boring as hell but i geniuenly couldnt come up with something else

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

ღNeed | Tobias Eaton

You're beatiful, that's a fact. Tobias knew it, everyone at Dauntless did. He always felt lucky and greatful to have ended up with you, and he always made sure to remind you of that fact.

However, like everything, there was a downside. People at Dauntless had a tendency for....boldness. Of course that was a given, I mean, it's literally their nature to be bold. But there were times Tobias wished people weren't so bold.

Often times he'd catch people staring at you a little longer than necessary. Other times they'd straight up attempt to flirt with you, but you quickly shut down their advances. However, there's always going to be some idiot who doesn't understand what no means. Like right now.

You were at a party and of course, as expected of Dauntless, everything was absolutely wild. You were having a great time and, surprisingly, so was Tobias. As expected, you had caught the eyes of many in your black silk dress that night and while he felt slightly uneasy at this, who were they to blame really, you did look stunning after all.

At one point, he unwrapped his arm from your waist and excused himself to the bathroom. When he came back, what he saw had him clenching his jaw and curling his hands into fists. A random guy was towering over you, leaning a bit too close for comfort, your face clearly showed discomfort, which had Tobias immediately coming to your side.

"Are you ok darling? Is he bothering you?" He glared at the man as he asked the question, his gaze softening when he glanced back down at you. You meekly nodded, wanting nothing more than to be left alone with your lover.

"Oh come one babygirl don't play hard to get, we were having fun" The man reeked of alcohol making his nose twitch in disgust. His grip on your waist tightened. "She's clearly taken, so I would back off if I were you"

The man merely glanced at him before he drifted his attention back to you, continuing his advances. Tobias stepped in front of you, pushing a finger into the mans chest. "I said back off" He seethed.

Before he could answer, Tobias grabbed your hand and walked towards the door with a fast pace, leaving you no choice but to follow. Once you were walking down the empty hallways of the compound, you reached up to place your hand on his tense shoulders. Hesitantly, you called out to him.

"..Tobias?"

You were answered with silence, and while you questioned the unusual behaviour, you decided to keep quiet, not wanting to cause further tension.

Before you knew it, you were at the door of your shared apartment. As soon as the door closed, Tobias had you pressed up against the wall, his lips kissing yours in fervour. You were absolutely breathless, your mind going blank at the feeling of his hands roaming your body.

He seperated from your lips, though only a mere centimeters. He gazed deep into your eyes, his own half lidded ones holding a dark lustful gaze. "You're mine" He growled. His low tone sent shivers down your spine, your breath hitching in your throat.

He picked you up with ease, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he manuvered with ease through the house and to your bed. Gently he plopped you down and crawled on top of you, his toned arms caging you under him. His lips were back on yours, the tension rising as his hands roam your curves. Your shirt rode up with the movements and in one swift movement it was off, leaving you in your bra. His lips began to move down, leaving lingering kisses on your jaw and neck. You let out a breathy moan when he kisses the crevice of your neck. When he pulled back, he admired the series of hickeys decorating your neck.

With expertise, he unclipped your bra, throwing it to the side. Similarly to your neck, he began to spread hickeys wherever he could. Your back arched when his warm mouth enveloped your sensitive nipple, the other teased between his thumbs. "Mmm Tobias" You breathed out, your hands on the back of his head, messing up his brown locks. He continued giving his attetion to your chest, switching between one nipple and the other until you were writhing underneath him.

"Please Tobias, I need it"

You whined, but he only seemed to want to tease you.

"Need what baby? Use your words"

"Fuck please, i- i need your cock"

That's all he needed to hear for him to remove the rest of your clothes as well as his own onto the pile on the floor. He placed his hands under your knees, spreading your legs until you were wide open for him. The sight of your wet cunt made his dick twitch, a groan errupting from his throat at the sight. "Fuck baby you're already so wet for me, can't wait for this cock to fill you up hm?"

You nodded frantically, wanting to be filled up to the brim. You grinded your hips, needing to feel friction on your throbbing pussy. He leaned forward, pressing your legs to your chest as he lined up with your needy hole. Without any warning, he slammed into you, causing a loud moan to rip from you.

"I'm gonna show everyone who you belong to, who fucks you so hard you can't walk properly like a needy little slut"

You whined at the filthy words, but before you could even react, he was already slamming his hips into your ass, the dirty sounds of squelching filling the room.

He lifted your hips a little bit, allowing him to reach places you didn't know existed. Your head fell back onto the mattress, your jaw hung open while the most pornographic mewls left your mouth. He grunted at the feeling of your walls tightening around his dick, your nails scratching his back adding to the feeling of pleasure.

Soon enough your back arched, your moans rising in pitch and your words turned into gibberish as you felt your orgasm reach its peak. Tobias quickened his pace, feeling his own release coming close.

"o-ooh my god f-fuck i'm gonna cum"

"cum for me baby"

With a couple more thrusts you were cumming all over his cock, your body jerked uncontrollably. Not long after he released his seed inside you, using your overstimulated hole to chase his high.

When you finally caught your breath, you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips "That was good"

He pressed kisses all over your face before looking at you with a smirk "Don't think I'm done with you"

[hail-brod]

The Days To Remember [1/2]

Jack Sparrow x FReader

MASTERLIST || Part 2

Summary: What if Will had survived Davy Jone’s attack? And in return, the captain of the Black Pearl got what he wanted—to sail the seas for eternity. But as much as he desired the thrill of that curse, he was torn between a longing sentiment and his greed for exploration. It was either that or honor his chances. Well, he is a mad pirate. Why not settle for both?

WC: 3.1k

Warning/s: Mentions of gore, battle, and consummation, light cursing, light angst, suggestive themes, kissing, madman Jack, sexual tension, smut (next part).

The battle with Cutler Beckett has met its end. The Black Pearl still stands as your fellow crewmates rejoiced with each other’s cry, voices rumbling out of their chests. Even in your previous state of panic over Jack’s actions to carve his heart out, and ramming it shut into the good ol’ dead man’s chest, your lungs cried out in victory. It was a battle that no man could have ever imagined to happen right before their eyes.

Well, at least maybe just in your case. But you’re damn well sure your mates had the same thought.

This is history.

And as much as you wanted to cling in this moment’s joyous reverie, a single look at the other ship floating right next to yours reminded you of what else your party had gained.

The Flying Dutchman carried itself with a new light, and at the helm stood its new captain, all with his sloppily grandeur demeanor and a wildly pleasant grin. He looked satisfied, and you can’t blame him. This is what he had his eyes on the moment he learned what the ship had to offer; immortality with his beloved sea.

You’re glad that he’s alive and will be around for a very long time and that he got what he desired. That he’s there standing in the presence of his new crewmates who will definitely treat him as a revered captain, heeding his command for it is he who sails it. But as he crossed the deck and towards the plank to bid his farewells on the trusty Black Pearl, his long time darling ship, as well as his loyal crew, you start to feel how much it pained you to see him go as your earlier mirth wisped away into shards of yearning.

You already knew what he planned to do. You were made aware so. And yet, why does it seem like you aren’t prepared yet for this outcome?

There was a falter in your emotions. You have half the mind to not let your bitter smile turn upside down. This is not how you wanted your dear captain to see you one last time.

“No point in hiding it, can ya?” a murmured-like voice speaks next to you. The one-eyed pirate, Ragetti, looks upfront at the sight you were looking at, and points a finger at Jack who’s making the most of his banter with Mr. Gibbs. “If you don’t say it now, ‘tis but a moment you’ll look back on with only regret to accompany it. Well, personally I think you’d regret it more if you’re looking to be with the captain. The Dutchman ain’t worth o’ it all, I tell ya.”

Next to him, his bald-headed companion added. “What the bloody hell do you know? We could take on the ocean and be immortal beings. I’m sure the captain wouldn’t mind us boardin’ in.”

“Go on then! See how it feels to be alive for centuries. It’s just more work ferrying souls—endlessly,” the man bites back with a wisdom you never thought he’d have.

The two bickered on, but you went back to Ragetti’s words. No point in hiding it, can ya? Exactly. At this very moment, you and him are now on a very different footing, on vastly separate worlds. Even if you meet each other at sea whilst he carries on his duty as captain of the Flying Dutchman, it’d be but a fleeting memory that will only tear you away from him before you could even touch the man. So it’s now or never.

It’s either you pursue him or not at all. You have to do it. With only regret to accompany it.

But a line has been drawn, so what in the hells could change once you did so? Wouldn’t that leave you with a broken heart that could easily shatter more into bits?

Jack got what he wanted. What else could he want from you? The helpless woman he saved once from the ocean’s wrath. The torn woman who became a part of his crew even when she had a family waiting for her at shore. The awed crewmate who was only grateful to be a part of his adventure. The teary eyed crewmate who tended to his fatal wound, thinking he would die at her hands.

The appalled crewmate who questioned his choices for choosing her over a hill of wealth—which was very unlike him.

And those were just that. A bond that you will never forget, much less something that you’ll regret. This is what he clearly chose, and you don’t plan to disrupt it. Just like you thought earlier; he’s satisfied.

Yet you see him almost drop his smile from across the deck, a passing gloom that felt so wrong to see on him. It worried you. Nevertheless, his loose smile still hung on as he ran his eyes around the crew, before landing it on you. There was only one thing you could give him, a lopsided smile that you know he’d always return. But this time, it didn’t reach the creases of your eyes and for a moment there, Jack’s expression was that of a relieved one. As if being able to navigate your presence amongst all of the other people onboard was a shining starlight in a vast dark sky. Though, it wasn’t long before he was back at his countenance of flaccidity, elbows at his sides as he sauntered over to you.

“And my darling partner in crime. How could I forget about you?” he teased.

“I’m honestly thinking you did,” you quipped. You then gestured to the docked ship beside the Black Pearl. “With that marvelous thing waiting for you? I’d be over the moon. Well…it could use a bit of color if you ask me.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he replied, eyes seemingly not leaving you. There was something about his gaze that felt intense, and you couldn’t help but meet it, engraving those gleaming dark brown irises into your memory.

As if he was examining you the same, a slight tilt of his head made you aware of the seconds passing by.

“The sea is yours to sail, captain. There’s a lot waiting for you out there,” you said. Your tongue felt bitter.

“Well, yes.” He nodded nonchalantly. “Dead souls precisely.”

“And an endless round of treasures I suppose,” you added as you smiled. And he returned it all the same as the corners of his mouth stretched up into a genuine grin, his golden tooth peeking through. The way he looked at you—it was heartfelt. Not the usual mischief he'd wear. Not a prickle of anything unserious. But it didn't last long as his grin slowly dropped to a melancholic one, his eyes never leaving your own.

Some swell of pride resided in you, seeing that this separation also bothered him. But you won’t assume the extent of such sentiments. You were a team, and that’s where it lies just as it ends.

“Yes…” he hesitantly says. “I believe so.”

For a second there, the world stopped. It was only him that you could see. And in the process, something cracked within you, but you held yourself up with a tilted and pathetic attempt at an amicable smile.

It was time.

“Fair winds, captain," you bade.

His eyes fell from yours, taking him a moment to respond. “Farewell, love.”

And the next thing you saw was his back turned as he strutted far out of your reach.

This was it. This is your choice, and his. No matter how much it hurts, you know that he cherished you as a crewmate just as much as you cherished him as your captain—the savior who made you see light again into this world.

Jack Sparrow was your beginning, and now it’s time to venture forth where that will take you. You owe it all to him.

But, as the said pirate headed towards the plank ‘proudly’, then catching a glimpse of both Elizabeth and Will, that demeanor of his quickly changed with a tilt of his head, annoyance settling through himself like the many times he had to change his course of action. He was one step up the plank when he stopped, seemingly contemplating on the choices he just made.

You had no clue what irked him so. And as you wondered, he turned to you.

What? 

The next thing you know he was already striding towards your way, and soon smashed his lips into yours.

At first you didn’t know how to react, but by then it was instinct to shut your eyes close as you felt him deepen the kiss with his hand cradling your head from behind. There was no room for rejection, so you melted into it as his other arm banished all distance between your bodies. He held you closer like nothing before. As if this particular split bothered him just as much as you did.

Out of all the women he wouldn’t be seeing for a long time, it’s you he chose to cherish. And you dreadfully feel lucky right now.

Somehow, the kiss felt like flying as you feel yourself slightly tilt back with his support, his lips a passionate maneuver. Not even his beard could hinder anything as it only served a far more thrilling sensation.

Who would’ve thought your dear captain felt the same?

For that single moment, the pirates around you didn’t matter. Although, you didn’t miss the comment given by one of them, pride dripping in their tone. “Aye, the captain must’ve heard me advice.”

Honestly, you’re fortuitously thankful if Jack actually did hear. And even if not, you’re not really complaining. Perhaps you should start listening to Ragetti’s words of wisdom more from now on—if you ever see each other again, that is.

But you didn't dwell on that further; you’re far too busy at the moment. 

When he slowly pulled back, the hand behind your head trickled down to your neck as you met his blazing dark brown ones, and you simply couldn't tear yourself away from them. Your poor heart rammed in your chest wildly.

Gods, your thoughts ran. Mum never forbade me to fall in love with a pirate, didn’t she?

And as if he could read your thoughts, that charming smirk of his surfaced.

Which is actually a sign that he's about to do something mad.

You frown. "Jack, what—"

Before you could complete the question, the pirate beat you to it as he diverted his attention right past you, his voice booming across the ship. "Hector!"

"Oh, mercy," the said man sounded displeased as he replied, seemingly knowing what Jack had in mind. "No."

From a second's moment of confusion, you eventually realized what Jack was trying to ask the feathered hat pirate. And if your memory serves you right, this almost feels like the one you’ve witnessed during the battle in the maelstrom. With the look Jack chanced at the two newly wedded couple earlier, you started to register where this was leading.

And you can’t believe it yourself. He is Captain Jack Sparrow for a reason, and he's as mad as ever.

The said man simply stretched out an accommodating smile at Barbossa, and with his arms still holding you close, you tried to look behind you only to see that the latter was staring down his nose at your captain.

“Come on, mate. Do it for an old friend, will ya?” pleaded Jack.

You immediately turned back to Jack. “Please confirm it to me that you’re asking him what I think you’re asking him.”

Jack averts his attention back on yours, his smile turning soft. “I think it’s perfectly obvious now, love.” His hands held you closer from behind just like before, thrill stirring in his dark-pooled irises. Though, it quickly changed as his brows folded. “Unless you don’t fancy the idea.”

You almost wanted to laugh at that, but you refrained. “With me? Now?”

“Aye.” He courtly nodded, as if he was telling you the obvious. “And I doubt your village would want you to join the Dutchman’s crew, so there’s no other day, is there?”

You chuckled at that. “Yes. Yes, I suppose they wouldn’t.”

There’s a part in you that’s begging to digress—that this is your choice. But you also know that they are waiting for you; the rapport of kinship to your homeland is what you also held dear. Besides, piracy was not your first option into livelihood. You already had your fill of adventure, even though it was only a matter of debt. To you, the soils of a land and the buzz of a lively village is where you belong.

Yet you stall here, thinking of bounding yourself to someone who’s now forbidden to step on land. Even so, you believe marriage has more to it than just living together.

“Marry me?” Your words came out quite impulsively than you let on.

Jack’s brows deepened a frown as he tried to process your question on whether you were asking him about his point—or that you’re actually asking him to marry you. But it wasn’t long before he eventually caught on, the corners of his lips upturning.

“Yes,” he answered, a compulsion he can’t turn away. “Marry you.”

You hear Barbossa mutter something as all the other heads turn to his annoyed form, who’s now stepping down from the quarter deck. Stance as intimidating as ever, the feathered hat captain sneered at Jack. But when he landed his attention on you, it at least subsided.

If you blink, you could’ve missed the somewhat compassionate expression he almost fully wore.

“Are we doing this or ya lot already regretting it?” he plainly asked, standing a few feet away from you and Jack, looking like he’s already regretting it himself.

“Oh, no,” Jack started. He pulls away from you, but his palm met yours, and bends down to place a kiss on your backhand without breaking an eye on yours. “No regrets here…nor will I ever.”

You should’ve been shrinking in embarrassment by then, knowing that you were surrounded by a crowd of all kinds of pirates, or melting on the wooden floor from the way Jack ravaged you with his gaze. But none of that prevailed in overwhelming you when Barbossa started his officiation of this middle-of-nowhere marriage.

Jack gave you all of his attention, and it was clear that whatever Barbossa was saying didn’t matter to him any more than you were. You hadn’t even realized how quiet everyone was—maybe just out of respect. But you thought wrong when you glimpsed both Ragetti and Pintel leaning at each other in a heartfelt manner as they eyed the occasion. It was sweet of them. Even Elizabeth herself regarded you with a wide smile as she rested her head on her newly wedded husband’s shoulder.

“Just get to it, mate,” Jack called out to Barbossa. “Skip it to the ‘I do’ part?”

You swear your officiant looked like he was one word away from shooting Jack. You couldn’t help but lightly shake your head, smiling. Jack didn’t even spare his first mate a look.

“Jack Sparrow,” Barbossa mentions the name venomously, and soon after, actually heeds Jack’s request.

When he was finally asked the question, he answered it in less than a heartbeat. “I do.”

There was no teasing at play, nor the walls he puts up as a captain. This time, he sounded as serious as he could have ever been. The smile he hung wasn’t the same ol’ frisky one he’d give you when he’s wrought with excitement. It was different, and you know where you'd seen it before.

A time where he decided the fate of something he couldn’t bear to lose.

And at that moment, he took your breath away.

You had not even heard what or how Barbossa asked you the question, nor the words you unleashed from your mouth. But you know it’s what your heart desires.

“I do.”

Your officiant didn’t even have to say anything else when Jack himself leaned in, catching your lips on his.

I could get used to this, you said in your head. For whatever time we’ve got at least. You couldn’t think of anything else, aside from realizing that Jack had such softer lips than you would have thought of.

“Somehow I’m surprised I haven’t gone and tried to kiss you before all this,” he says as soon as he breaks away, his forehead leaning closely to yours as his hat casts shadows over your faces.

“Did I actually leave you wanting, Captain?” you replied, reminiscing the ghost of his lips on yours.

“No captain, no,” he folded a brow. “Darling would be rather appropriate, wouldn’t it? And yes. Should I demonstrate my love for you again? Because I’m willing to take me single day at shore with just you.”

His gaze didn’t waver as he said that. Sure, you could identify the lingering sexual desire in the door of his soul, but there was also vulnerability. If this was anything like the ways of his seduction to other women, it was not. Because he isn’t trying to seduce you—you’re already his.

Though, with the weight of what the future holds, along with the fact that he’s bound with his new cursed ship with ten years worth of service, there is only one day of respite given to him from the harshness of the seas.

And to be with you.

Well, you mildly think he’d view the seas as harsh when for all his life he loved it. But only a day on land is just as harsh. A longing desire even.

And it certainly doesn’t change the fact that this is the last day you’ll ever hold each other again like this. Not for the next year, nor five. But for a decade. And just until that single day comes again, will you two be able to burn your hearts out.

Your hold on him tightened without you noticing. Getting eloped so suddenly without thinking it through first was certainly not on your list for today. It was all about surviving Davy Jone’s Locker and the battle with the pirate lords. But by the time Jack incited his desire of marriage, it was pretty much clear you both wanted no regrets. For even how too mad it was for you, it is a decision that you will look back on with gratitude for yourself.

Whatever may come, you know that you love and will love this madman.

So as you brushed past the flutter his words had given you, shamelessly suggesting the idea of consummation, your toes pushed you up as you tasted his lips once again. “Shall we make it worthwhile for the next ten years then?” you softly muttered to him after.

Recovering from the kiss, he fluttered his eyes open, grinning. “As worthwhile as can ever be, love.”

>> Part 2

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! As what I've typed above, this will have a pt. 2 which I've already written and been moving onwards to finishing it with a wee bit of editing (jk not wee actually). Here's to hoping I'll be able to settle that next week. I'm just excited because it's been fun writing this >.< Especially the next spicy part— Do don't expect too high on my smut prowess. It has been awhile since I wrote one but it isn't for naught. Because even I shocked myself with what I've just written (´。＿。｀) And lastly, if anyone wants to be tagged for the next one, feel free to comment about it or anything!

Ko-fi?

[theaawalker]

A Run For Your Money [Eric x Reader]

Pairing: Eric x gender-neutral!reader Song Inspo: One Dance by Drake ft. Justin Bieber Word Count: 2,004 Summary: A new Dauntless initiate, y/n, captures Eric's attention. As trouble follows you, Eric is always nearby with a keen smirk. But you won't go down without a fight, promising to give the brutal faction AND instructor a run for their money. Warnings: violence, fighting, mentions of death Masterlist: see fandoms (pc-friendly)

Bam! Bam-bam, bam!

You are by yourself in the initiate training room beating on a punching bag. Today is one the rare days off that initiates get, and you chose to spend your time training. You made up your mind to transfer to this faction, so you did't intend to ease up on your pursuit until you make the cut. It seems that a group of female initiates were attracted by the punching sounds and have come to investigate. After seeing you, one of them attempts to show you how it's done.

Jace is bigger than her friends; one would assume that she was Dauntless born had the classes not been separated. She picks you up and throws you to the side, ready to set an example. You come back, jump and hock a leg around her neck, flipping her on her back to the ground. You land in a crouch, "Come on dude, don't be an asshole."

It's obvious that she nor her friends expected you to take her down. They thought that you would be intimidated like most of the other initiates, but Jace didn't hold her surprise for long.

"Well, that was unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome." She pushes off the floor and hops to her feet. You rise up with her as they meet for a handshake.

"Jace, Candor."

"Y/N." You turn away from her to go drink from your water bottle. Jace watches you for a moment.

"Which faction are you from, Y/N?" She asks. You blink and drink from your bottle before setting it back down.

"That's not important." You say. Jace isn't satisfied with your answer and is about to ask you another question.

"I couldn't agree more." The girls stiffen and jerk around to face Eric, posted up like a soldier with a sadistic glare in his eyes. "Do any of you want to explain to me why you're not downstairs?" His voice is menacing and full of authority. Jace and her friends look at each other confused. One of them tries to respond, but she's a stuttering mess.

"Bu-but w-w-we uh, I thought um.. I mean, we uh-."

Eric, having heard enough, cuts her off, "Got it. I'll give you a chance to make it down there, and you'd better make it before I get back down there." The girls scramble past him and rush down the stairs. You hadn't moved, choosing to remain silent until they had gone.

"Isn't today our day off?" You look at Eric expectantly. You aren't surprised when he starts grinning at you.

"Correct." He's walking towards you while shrugging off his jacket.

"Then why did you scare them away?" He smirks at the question and sets his jacket down near your water bottle.

"I'll be your sparring partner for today." You blink slowly.

"Alright."

2 hours later, you and Eric are both sweaty on the mats, breathing heavily as you stretch together.

"Thanks for the workout." Eric was impressed with you, and he's looking forward to welcoming you into Dauntless.

"No problem, I really enjoyed it. Thank you." You didn't expect the offer, but you appreciated it. Eric isn't known to associate with initiates outside of making sure Four is training them properly. So, while surprised that he wanted to spar, you weren't going to say no.

He nodded his head at you, grabbed his jacket and walked away. You watched him leave, strutting out of the training room with such confidence. He didn't even look like someone who'd been in a fight. You honestly feel inspired. One day, you're going to really give him a run for his money.

[ time skip - visitng day ]

When visiting day rolls around, Eric doesn't see his source of amusement. He wanders into the training room to see you finishing a set of pull ups. He stands in the entry way watching you come down to stretch. You bend down to the front, holds it, and then bend back into a back-bend.

You see him but don't say anything. You don't know how long he's been standing there watching, but since he didn't say anything neither will you. You take a few minutes to quickly stretch your body before picking up your water bottle and walking away. You almost makes it past him, but he stretches out an arm to stop you.

"Not so fast." You aren't looking at him, but he's looking at you. "Why aren't you down there with everyone else?"

"There's no one down there for me." You walk around him, and he lets you go. He sees that you're upset, but it isn't his place to comment on it.

[ time skip - next day ]

Early the next morning, Eric comes across you doing laps around the training room. You pause at seeing him there.

"You want to run?" You nod, your chest heaving with your breathing. "Come with me." You look around, unsure if you should follow him.

"I have training in an hour." He smirks at you.

"I'll make sure you're back in time." You nod again and follow him.

They run to a cliff spot with a full view of the sunrise. You hadn't watched the sunrise since being in Dauntless; you missed it. You wonder if this could be a regular thing for you again.

"Ready to head back?" You nod. "Can I come here every morning?" He regards you for a moment before replying.

"If you remember the way."

They jog back together and make it just in time for Four's class. You head over to join the other initiates lined up. Eric walks past them, ignoring Four completely as he heads to take a shower.

The next morning, you're running back to the Dauntless compound, coming back from your sunrise viewing. You're definitely going to make it part of your routine to run there in the mornings. Halfway back to the compound, you see Eric running toward you. You pass each other, making eye contact but not exchanging words or stopping.

[ time skip ]

Despite their rocky start, you and Jace form a competitive friendship. You're often seen sparring with one another, or with Jace's friends. With individual training, you two are always trying to out-do the other. Friendly competition became a great way for the both of you to become and maintain high ranks among the initiates.

Lately, Four has the group randomly paired every day for mock fights in the ring. Somehow, you always get paired with one of Jace's friends. You haven't lost a fight yet thanks to all the practice you had with Jace. The friend, Byron, was the biggest initiate of the class, so taking down anyone else was easier for you. Bruised, blustered, and bloodied, you managed to beat him. Even Four was impressed, with Eric nodding and smirking like he predicted your victory. Byron seemed pissed as he limped back to his spot. The fact of Jace teasing him didn't make it any better. Perhaps that was the catalyst that led to this unfortunate event.

[ time skip - that night ]

You were already in bed while everyone else was at dinner. You're an early riser which also means you're an early sleeper. That particular day had tired you out more than usual, so you slept heavy enough for someone to pick you up, cradle-style, and carry you away.

The culprits? Three men disguised in all black and ski masks who tried to dump you over the chasm.

One of the Dauntless members on the cameras sees them. He's in the camera room watching them almost drop you over until you wake up suddenly. Kicking and punching, you swing around on the railing to kick one of your attackers in the head. He hits the back wall and falls unconscious. One of them somehow is shoved over chasm railing, while you punch the other one in the throat and head until they fall. You snatch off the masks of the remaining two, and your face crumbles. Hurt and betrayed to see two of Jace's friends. You recognize Byron, and knee on the other one's dick. He tries to cover himself, but you kick his head, hammering down on it with both feet. As a floored Byron and his accomplices groan, you spit on him as a final assault before you stagger up and stalk off.

Four and Eric coincidentally show up in the camera room while this fight was taking place. Four notices that particular camera feed as he glances around the room when he first walks in. He immediately zeroed in on it, coming closer as he sees the victim, who he recognized as you, wake up and fight off their assailants. Four flips out, snapping at the guy sitting in front of him for not reporting this.

Eric, at seeing Four agitated, walks over behind him to see you in action. He finds it humorous, not caring at all about the sorry excuse for an initiate that fell over. Lucky him that he died before Eric could get to him. Those other two would pay dearly for what they just attempted, then maybe after he's done with them will he allow them to die.

Four tries to go to the chasm, but Eric tells him to take care of the guy in front of him first. "It's over now; I'll take care of them."

Eric tells the swarming Dauntless members to get those two initiates in a holding room until he gets there. Eric left the room in search of you, but he couldn't find you. Unbeknownst to him, he passed your hiding spot -- a hallway vent -- several times, but you didn't want to reach out to him. You saw a mix of other Dauntless members and initiates milling around, and you didn't trust them. So, instead, you tucked yourself deeper into your hiding hole and slept.

[ time skip - the next morning ]

You return to your bunk after you've calmed down. Jace tries to approach you, but you flinch away from her. Who's to say she didn't orchestrate the attack? Shortly after, Four, with Eric right on his heels, sped into the room. He's relieved to find you there, and he asks if you could come with them.

You're called to a meeting with the Dauntless leaders, the parents of the dead boy, and for some reason, Jeanine Matthews. The child's mother accused you of killing her son.

"Your son tried to kill me." His mother vehemently denied it, until she's shown the video feed. Then, she flips her argument.

"But you're not dead, now are you?" You, done with the conversation already, looks over at her.

"Let me guess, you'd rather I be dead."

"Yes!"

"Tough." You turn your head, dismissing her.

Eric is full-on grinning as the mother is short circuiting. Jeanine, ever observant of Eric and his mannerisms, notices Eric's interest in you. Thus, Jeanine also takes an interest in you. Reviewing in her mind the initiate's combat skills, she shifts her eyes over to you, who is busy staring out of the window. You could be another Eric, a great soldier to carry out her plans.

After much debate, mainly from the parents' end, you are dismissed. Due to the video evidence of the boy being involved with trying to kill you, and that he was actually bumped over by one of the boys, you are exempt from any punishment.

After the meeting, Jeanine pulls Eric to the side. He instead takes her to his office to hear what she has to say. She asks Eric what he thinks of you, to which Eric responds with a mediocre answer. He doesn't want you involved in this, but it seems his tactic isn't working. Jeanine doesn't buy it after seeing the video, and she gives Eric instructions to introduce you to the plans and get you working under him. After, she excuses herself and leaves him alone to his thoughts.

After lunch, Four escorts you to Eric's office. Four warns him not to be mean to you, and Eric tells him to get the fuck out of his office. During your meeting with Eric, he tells you the rundown of what's going to happen after you've passed your initiation. He doesn't go into too much detail, in case you have too much of an adverse reaction.

After he's done explaining, you're blunt with him, "That's stupid." Eric looks at you, but you keep your eyes on his computer and continues, "It doesn't make sense. She wants to kill people to keep the peace. And these serums, it sounds like some mind control scheme."

You look at Eric. He sees that you're smart enough to pick up on what he didn't say.

"You don't believe her, right?" You ask him. "You know that she wants to make everyone, except a select few, into mindless slaves that do whatever she wants while she rules over everything. You know that she wants a dictatorship and not peace, right?"

You pause for a moment to hone in on his unfazed expression. "Or maybe you do know, but you don't care." You look at him for a few more moments before leaning up and looking away, taking a stroll around his office.

He contemplates life while you busy yourself with looking around his office. How didn't he think about what life would be like with everyone under her new serum? He thought that he'd be done with Jeanine, and he could do whatever he wanted with Dauntless. He didn't care about the other factions. He really doesn't care about the people, but there's not much enjoyment in bossing around mindless slaves who are programmed to do what they're told anyway. How weird it would be to walk down the halls and pass people that aren't really there. Yes, there'd be no more people to piss him off, but there'd be no idiot to amuse him either. No one to hold a conversation with; no one to ignore for being stupid; and no one to threaten and watch them cower.

At that moment, he realizes that he would be bored and alone with not a soul for company other than Jeanine and her lackeys. He grimaces at the thought and sees how unpleasant it would be. He feels ignorant for not seeing the whole picture and not thinking ahead. He's going to rectify that.

[ time skip ]

It took Eric a few weeks to get together his evidence of Jeanine's crimes and organize a trial in Candor. It was unavoidable for some of his skeletons to be exposed, but fortunately, they were overlooked in light of him turning Jeanine in. She was found guilt and set to be executed, which was done by Eric himself immediately after the sentencing.

You passed your initiation ranked #1, with Jace pulling up #2. It took you a while to feel comfortable around her again, but ultimately, it wasn't her who hurt you. Thus, it wasn't fair for you to shut her out. Plus, she physically defended you whenever one of the guys got too aggressive with you, which was a nice plus.

You were also set to start your job working under Eric. The paperwork had already been approved by the time Jeanine's plans were foiled. Also, Eric had taken to courting you. Speaking to you more and spending time with you. He wouldn't date you until after you passed initiation, but now that you had, you and Eric have been together for about 3 weeks now. He was currently taking you to meet his parents for dinner.

Five minutes in, and you were not having a good time. Still, at least there was free food. Eric's mother, Blythe, addressing you, asks yet another insulting question. "So, how long have you been sleeping with my son?"

"Blythe!" Eric and his father shout her name, but you ignore her.

"Not going to answer?"

"No, I don't see how that's any of your business."

Taken aback, Blythe seethes before responding. "My son is my business."

"Yea, you're such a great parent, so supportive of your son's choices." You hear her gasp as you sip your water, not giving her the attention.

"How dare you-"

"That's enough," Eric hisses at her. He's pleased that you're not intimidated by his mother, but he doesn't like her being insulted.

"Are you going to eat that?" Eric asks you, eyeing your plate. You cut the steak and broccoli on his plate and fork it before turning to offer it to him. You have your other hand underneath in case anything falls from the fork. He eyes you again and you blink at him expectantly. He leans in, his eyes boring into yours as he eats off your fork. You turn back to spear more food onto the fork before turning to repeat your actions.

"I can eat my own food." He says while leaning in.

"Then why didn't you?"

As the night goes on, you two pay no mind to his parents. Even though Eric's father seems to genuinely support him, you don't see any sort of relationship blossoming with him or his wife. Yet, judging by Eric's reaction to Blythe, you won't have to worry about pleasing her. Sweet.

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[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 1 - In My Brain and In My Blood

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: This story is non-canon compliant rewrite, but primarily plot wise. Think of it as we're cooking with all the same ingredients (i.e lore, characters, setting, and backstory) but with one change (you) that gets us to a drastically different ending.

What the means is that there will be a lot of similar plot points to the real Supernatural, but the further we go through the story the more it will diverge. I've also take some creative labor with the reader, adding lore that's defiantly not a part of canon, but crucial to this story.

If you have any questions about this, feel free to ask! If not, I hope you enjoy the story!

Chapter title is from The End by Halsey

Word Count: 16.3k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: See the Masterlist for a Summary. Contains usual tags.

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff

Chapter 2

Read on A03!

You know a few things about the dark.

It’s alive inside you. It has been your whole life. It makes your words too harsh and your brain too sharp and your love too big. It’s makes you too fragile, but still too sharp, and raises everything to a dangerous height you don’t know how to come down from. It makes everyone move away because they can see it. You can see it, always.

It covers every corner of your body, and grows roots in something white in your chest. Something no one but you can see. You’d asked your dad once—does he feel it too, feel the strange glow and pull of everything beautiful around you—and he’d looked at you like you were insane.

You might be.

But it’s hard not to be, in this line of work. 

Hunting. Monsters and ghosts and nightmares, all around you and calling to you in your sleep. It’s where most of the darkness lives, in the way that few monsters lay hands on you, no matter how much of their blood you shed. Ghosts will treat you like any other, but the monsters look at you like they recognize you. 

Like you’re one of them.

And that’s something you’ve never told your dad. You never will. He already hates that you do this, and not a month goes by where he doesn’t glare at you from across the table, beer bottle in hand, and ask you to stop.

“Kiddo,” he’d grunted the last time, narrowing his eyes at you over dinner. “That was the last one.”

“You say that every time-“

“And you ain’t listenin’ to me every time!” He’d snapped. “You don’t have to do this shit, not with your-“ He’d made a face, giving you a pointed look. “Ya’ know. Thing.”

“Witch.” You’d sighed. “You’re allowed to say it. I’m a witch.”

“You ain’t a witch-“

“I’m not a normal witch.” You’d corrected with a frown, picking at the wood of the table. “But I’m still not human.”

“You’re human,” he’d muttered your name, and when you’d looked up, he’d been staring at you with an exhausted expression and you’d felt something eat at your tongue. “But you’re right. You ain’t normal, kiddo, and it’s gonna get you fuckin’ killed-“

“It hasn’t yet-“

“It will. It always does.” He’d stood, giving you one last, tired look. “And I’m not tryin’ to lose you too.”

You’d given him a close-lipped smile. “You won’t lose me. I’m being careful.”

He’d rolled his eyes—you were being careful, and he knew it, but it still pissed him off—and nodded. And that had been it.

It’s like that every time. He tells you to quit, because you don’t need to do this, and you tell him you have to. You’re good at it. You’re more resourceful than half the hunters he knows, smarter than all of them, and better by a mile. He’d trained you. He hadn’t wanted to, but he’d realized it was either him teaching you or you learning through trial and error, and he’d decided you being a pain in his freakin’ ass was better than you being dead.

Because—in the end—all he really cares about is that you’re safe. It’s why you know to be careful, why you know what hunts to call for backup on, and why you know that—if you need to—you can crawl back home with your guts in your hand and he won’t yell at you until you’re better. Keeping you safe is his job, more than hunting, more than research, more than cars. He’d chosen to do it when he’d found you—eight years old and starving on the side of a highway—and it had stayed that way ever since. It didn’t matter what you were, what seemed to be inside of you, or how you were certainly more trouble that you were worth. He always made sure you were safe.

Safe from your real family, for what you know and refuse to be. Safe from the worst of the monsters and ghosts, who don’t seem to care for that horrible kinship you don’t know how to stop. Safe from hunters, and how they’ll hate you for what you know how to do.

Safe from John Winchester, and how he’ll put a bullet in your brain without question for what you don’t know how to change.

It’s the top rule. Stay away from the Winchesters. When John comes around for a hunt, hide in your room. When he drops his boys off before vanishing for weeks at a time, sneak out and call your uncle. He’ll pick you up, keep you safe, and drop you back home when the brothers leave. They can’t see you, because they’re loyal to their father and will tell him about the witch-girl who made the wind howl louder than it should’ve. John can’t know about you, because he’s a complicated man with a good heart, but he’ll hurt you worse than any ghost or monster could. 

But you have to say—at least from this distance—he doesn’t look that dangerous.

You know it’s him. You recognize his car in the parking lot from seeing it in your dad’s yard, and recognize his voice from the living room of your house. It’s clearer now—no longer muffled through a door you’d keep an ear pressed to—and you’re certain it’s him. 

And he’s just a man. A broad-shouldered, tired man with a face that doesn’t seem like it’s ever smiledand dark hair that’s streaked with slight silver. He even sounds exhausted, his voice laced with a thin irritation he either doesn’t know how to hide, or doesn’t care to.

“Dean,” he grunts, and you can’t see who he’s talking to, the bookshelves of the library only revealing John’s cold, set face. “Go back to the morgue and look at the bodies again. See if you can get a blood type on the vics.”

“A blood type?” A second voice, this one so clearly younger, a little defiant and bright, asks. “Dad, why do we care about their blood type-“

“Because this bitch is spilling it left and right, and we need to work out what skin she’s got in that game.” John’s words are short, impatient. “And you’re not here to ask me questions, Sam, you’re here to get through these damn books. Dean, go to the morgue.”

“Yes, sir.” That’s a third voice. It’s pretty. Deeper than the second—Sam’s—but not as tired as John’s. Mostly just cautious. “Can I, uh, can I take Sammy-“

“No.” John snaps. “I need him here for the readin’. Take the car and go.”

There’s a soft sound of metal ringing through the air, a scrape of wood on the floor, and you almost don’t move fast enough. You almost don’t duck behind the shelf in time for the third voice—the pretty one, Dean—to pass you, humming something you’d recognize if you weren’t lost in your panic.

Dean doesn’t see you.

But you see him.

And it’s not just his voice that’s pretty. 

You don’t know a lot about the Winchester brothers. Only what your dad has told you. Dean’s three years older than you, Sam’s a year younger. Dean likes music, Sam likes books. They’re both good boys—better than your dad seems to think John deserves, although he’ll never say that out loud—but Sam can be defiant and Dean can be trouble.

You hope Dean’s trouble. He has to be, when he looks like that. 

Because in only a split second of his side profile, you’re sure Dean Winchester is the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. Will ever see. It’s almost ethereal, and a little unfair. All of his features are clean and strong, like someone carved him from marble, but there’s a scar you could see on his jaw and a cut on his lower lip that made him seem human. Made his seem tangible. 

Touchable.

You’d like to touch him. You’ve seen him once, but everything in your body seems to think the world will collapse if you don’t touch him now. If you don’t at least talk to him. Hear his deep, charming voice directed at you. See at his face up close, see it’s clear resemble to John that feels pointless, because Dean looks like he smiles. He looks like he’s meant to smile, and you’d really like to find out if he’d smile at you. 

And that white thing—the one you feel all the time—seems to really like him. Even the darkness is trying to reach out to him, move into him, and you’re not really sure what the fuck is happening. He’d just walked past you, and your body is suddenly trapped by something overwhelming and dizzying in your lungs, your every nerve prickling the longer your brain circles him. The longer it spirals around his beautiful face, and full lips, and the way his voice sounded like something even bigger than the darkness in your body-

“Hey, Dad?” That same voice cuts through your thoughts, a little raised as Dean calls between the shelves. “Are you feeling anything from the beer earlier?”

“No.” John’s voice is clipped as he responds, and you can hear the frown in his voice. “You feelin’ alright, son?”

“Yeah, uh-“ There’s a heavy pause, and you can hear Dean shuffling slightly just out of your sight. “I dunno. Must’ve stood up too fast.”

“Dad, if he feels light headed he might not be safe to drive-“

“I’m alright, Sammy.” Dean’s words are fast. Not frantic, but rapid. “Nothing’s gonna happen to the car, Dad, I promise.”

John grunts. “Better not. Get moving, Dean, we don’t got all night.”

“Yes, sir.” 

You hear Dean shuffle away, sounds of flipping paper and scratching pencils re-filling the air, and you’re trapped in your spot. You shouldn’t follow Dean. Following Dean will almost certainly end in meeting John, and that’s the one thing you’re never supposed to do. Your dad doesn’t fight you when you leave for months at a time, or cross paths with other hunters, or run dangerous scams to keep yourself afloat. He’s okay with more than he probably should be, and he never tells you that you can’t do something. 

But you can’t talk to John Winchester. 

He can’t know who you are. What you are.

So you can’t follow Dean. Your brain is deeply aware that following Dean would be a truly horrible idea, and your body seems to be on board. There’s iron around your lungs when John mutters something to Sam, and a sore shot of electrically whenever one of them stands up to move books around. You’re really good at running. You know exactly when to call it and go. You can sense danger so easily—it’s the same chill of needles ice running up your spine, every single time—and John is dangerous. And you really shouldn’t follow Dean.

But the White thing keeps bucking around inside you. You can almost see it rush and roar in the air, feel it thrash deep down—past your heart chamber and embedded a little to the right—to try and follow Dean Winchester. And it feeds the darkness. It starts to twinge and pulse, seeping and infecting your muscles and blood, locking around your skull and making everything far too big. You can feel it all. The books on the shelves that all read Dean, and the squeak of the floors that say his name, and the lights start to flicker as the air turns humid and cool.

“Dad-“

“I’m seein’ it, Sammy, grab the gun-“

You raise the back of your hand to your mouth and bite. Hard. Grounding yourself before the flood can burst out of your body, before John Winchester could find out who you are in the worst way possible.

And when you run—out the back and to your stolen Lexus—you don’t even realize where you’re going until you’re halfway there.

To the morgue.

After Dean.

It’s a terrible idea. You have ten, long minutes of driving to figure out every way in which this is a terrible idea. You don’t know him. This will distract you from the case. John Winchester will try to kill you. Your dad will kill you. And there’s a high chance it will all be for nothing, because everything in you that’s calling to Dean belongs to that white thing. And that’s a part of you, and no one else. There’s a chance that this—whatever the fuck this is—is something driven by what you are, what’s wrong with you, so Dean won’t feel it at all.

You know all of that. And you still make it the whole drive without turning around. You park and rifle through your glove compartment for a fake ID, pull on your stiff, too-itchy well officer, would a fraud wear this? Jacket, and still don’t turn the engine back on and book it out of town. You even manage to justify it. You’re working this case too. You were here first. You’d noticed the blood thing from the start—it’s why you took the case—but you just hadn’t gotten to the morgue yet. You’d already been planning on it, and Dean just happens to be here at the same time. 

No matter what, you’ll get through it. You always get through it. And this might be a horrible idea, but that knowledge won’t stop you from stepping out of the car and making your way to the morgue. Know something has never really stopped you, and no amount of twisting bile in your gut—telling you to run, because you don’t love life, but you’d really rather not be murdered today—is going to prevent you from doing this. Nothing is stronger than the White in your chest, and it wants to talk to Dean Winchester. 

So that’s exactly what you’re going to do.

It is, as always, worryingly easy to get into the morgue. Half of the work is flashing the badge and saying the right words—Agent Smith, from the insurance company, I need to take a look at the autopsies for the claims—but most of it is the confidence. You carry yourself like a haughty, too-good-for-this-morgue insurance agent. Your chin is raised when you stop at the desk, and your words to the receptionist are impatient and clipped, and God, it makes you feel like the scum of the earth how she’s nervous and apologetic, but you get in the door. You always get in the door, because this is the simple part. The smiles with teeth, and the lies you spit through them are so fucking simple.

The hard part is always different. Sometimes it’s the ghosts that follow you after a failure, the ones that can’t be killed with salt and fire. Sometimes it’s long nights that you don’t have time tp sleep, and the tug and rot of that darkness in your chest tries to push to the surface. Sometimes it’s a puzzle you barely manage to solve, and it costs a little bit more of your flesh and soul each time.

But today, it’s Dean Winchester. Or, as the receptionist calls him, Officer Costello.

“Officer?” You raise your brows. “So the cops are looking into a serial killer.”

“I, um-“ The receptionist flushes, her eyes widening slightly. “I don’t know, he just said he was from a town over, and our Chief asked him to take a look, I’m not-“

“I’ll just ask him while I’m in there.” You shrug, the receptionist’s mouth opens in likely protest, and you call over your shoulder as you walk away. “I need to know for the report!”

You push through the doors—nobody chasing after you a sign of success—turn into the mortuary’s office, and freeze at the sight before you. 

Dean’s hunched over the mortuary’s desk, frowning at the largest stack of papers you’ve ever seen, and shit, he’s even prettier up close. Spiky hair and slightly tanned, freckled skin, rough looking hands sorting through the files and full lips in a frown and what the fuck is happening to you-

His head shoots up, eyes widening—green eyes, deep and vibrant and you need to get a goddamn grip—and you stare at each other for a long, confusing second before he finally speaks.

“Ma’am, if you could wait for the doctor outside please, this is, uh, official police business-“

You scoff, even as your whole body hums from the deep, smooth sound of his voice. “Is that really the excuse you’re going to use?”

Dean tenses, dropping the papers on the desk and rising to his full height, glaring down at you. He’s really tall, and broad, and probably warm-

“Excuse me? If you don’t exit this office right now, I’ll have reason to put you under arrest-“

“What reason?”

He blinks at you. “Interfering in police business-“

“Fake police business?”

“I’m not, this isn’t-“ Dean shakes his head, eyes narrowing on yours. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m a fake insurance agent.” You lift your badge up from him to see, giving a sweet, fake smile. “And you’re a hunter.”

“Lady, I don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about-“

“I think you do.” You step forward, dropping into a seat across the desk. “To start, you’re definitely not a cop. Cops don’t drive muscle cars and raid morgue documents.”

He frowns, still watching you wearily. “How’d you know that’s my car?”

You’d slipped a little. You shouldn’t know that’s the Winchester’s car. But you’re quick on your feet, and by the time you say the lie it might as well be the truth. “Only three cars in the lot. Mine, the black one, and a minivan. And you don’t really seem like a minivan guy.”

Dean grunts, his body still braced and words tense. “I could be allowed to drive whatever car I want on duty-“

You give him an amused expression, tucking your knees into your chest as you lean back in your seat.  “You’re like, twenty. There’s no way they’d let you drive your own car. Or,” you raise your brows. “Ask you investigate a bunch of weird murders by yourself.”

Dean frowns, but drops in the swivel chair behind the desk. “I’m twenty-one,” he mutters, and you snort. 

“Congratulations-“

“And you,” his eyes shoot to yours, voice dropping into a low drawl that felt like it could be dangerous, but mostly made you feel a little fuzzy. “Haven’t answered my question. Who are you?”

You say your full name—the real one, that you’d been given at birth and he’d never connect to your dad—and drop your feet back to the floor, extending your hand across the desk. “I’m a hunter too.”

Dean chuckles, but meets your hand with a grin. “Yeah, I figured that part out myself, Princess. Dean Winchester.”

You shake his hand, and your smile must make you look like an idiot. It’s far too wide just from him telling you his name and touching your skin—he is warm, and his hands are calloused and big and still so soft—but there’s something like lightning sparking and shooting over your skin, and the White inside you is shining like a star. Pulsing and glowing and molding with the darkness. Making nothing really seem that bad at all. 

Dean’s smiling back. And you’d been right. His face is meant to smile. It’s meant to have this broad, cocky grin that’s full of teasing joy and a bright-eyed delight in something you can’t quite place. You really can’t tell if he can feel it. There’s a glint in his eyes that’s full of promises, but you can’t figure out if he can feel this. This raging tug in your body that keeps your hand in his longer than it needs to be, that makes his skin feel like a furnace and your heart feel right in your body.

He might. He really might feel it. His hand stays in yours as well, his grip a little tighter than it needs to be, and when you manage to pull away, he clears his throat—a small, adorable blush covering his pretty face—and stares at you like you’ve fallen from the sky, and you’re still covered in stardust.

“So, uh,” Dean glances down at the papers, then back to you. “You here for the autopsy reports?”

You nod, crossing your legs under your body. “Yep. You gonna share?”

“That depends.” Dean shrugs, shooting you another, very mind-numbing smirk. “You gonna help us out?”

“Us?” You tilt your head at him, twisting a ring on your finger. “You’ve got a partner?”

“Partners.” Dean corrects you with a grin. “My dad and brother. We always hunt together, it’s safer and Sammy’s still a kid, so-“ He cuts himself off, his face falling into a small frown. “Do you, are you hunting alone?”

“Mostly, yeah.” You shrug. “But I can help you out-“

“You, you shouldn’t be hunting alone.” Dean cuts you off with a shake of his head, his voice almost disbelieving. “It’s not safe. Gonna get you killed.”

“Uh huh.” You narrow your eyes, your voice becoming dry and bored. “Do you want my help, Dean Winchester?”

“Sure, but-“

“Then drop it, give me the papers, and let me help.”

He frowns. “You’re kinda bossy.”

“Yeah, well, you’re kinda-“

“It’s not bad.” He pushes some of the files across the desk, shooting you a wink. “Just making sure you know.”

“Oh.” You stare at him. He’s so pretty, and his smile does weird things to your gut and ribs and the White inside of you. “Uh-“

“I’ll take these.” Dean taps the files still in front of him, watching you with a strange expression. “You got those?”

“Sure.” You mumble, pulling the papers into your lap. “Um, thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugs. “More hands, we’ll be done faster. You, uh, you know what you’re lookin’ for-“

“Blood.” You flip open the first file, playing with the corner of a page as you speak. “Every vic’s been covered in it. It’s uh,” you grimace slightly, an image of a corpse painted red flashing in your head. “It’s been really gross.”

Dean hums in agreement, giving you a curious look. “You’ve seen all the bodies?”

“Most of them,” you look down to the file, flipping through it until you find the blood report “I’ve been here for like, five days.”

“Huh.” He frowns, looking down to his own paper. “We’ve been here four. Only seen two of them.”

“Well, maybe I’m just better at my job.”

He laughs, and when you glance back up, he’s grinning. “Sure, Princess.”

You kick him under the desk, and he makes a fake sound of pain.

“What was that for?!“

“Making fun of me,” you stick your tongue out at him, not looking up from your papers. “Not very nice, Winchester.”

“You made fun of me-“

“And if you wanna kick me, I won’t stop you-“

“I’m not gonna kick a lady-“

“Well then.” You shrug, unable to fight the smile on your face. “That’s not my fault, is it?”

He huffs, his voice dropping to a low mutter you can still defiantly hear. “Bossy.”

“That’s not being bossy, it’s-“ You cut yourself off, leaning down to re-read the file in front of you. “Shit.”

“It is shit,” Dean complains, and you can hear the pout in his voice as you grab the next file in your stack, rushing through the report to find what you’re looking for. “You’re lucky I-“

“No, that’s not-” you look up at him, your brain moving too fast to fully linger on why you might be lucky. “Give me your file.”

Dean frowns, but slides the paper over the desk. “What-“

You raise your hand, scanning over the file and grinning as you find what you’re looking for. “I’ve got it.” 

“Got what-“

“That blood wasn’t only the vics. It was their’s, plus,” you turn the page for Dean to read, pointing to the words. “All the previous vics. Mixed together. That’s why there’s been more and more every time.”

“Oh.” Dean leans forward, scanning over the page. “Kinda like a really gross blood cocktail?”

“Exactly.” You grin at him. “I know what we’re looking for.”

He looks back up at you, raising his brows. “You gonna tell me, or-“

“It’s a moroi.” You drop the files, leaning back and pushing your feet back up on the desk. “It explains the messiness perfectly.”

“No,” Dean shakes his head. “My dad says it’s just a normal ghost with a weird thing for blood-“

“Your dad is wrong. It’s a moroi.”

Dean’s eyes narrow. “My dad’s never wrong. And he’s more experienced than both of us combined, he’d know if it was a moray-“

“Mo-roi-“

“And look,” Dean leans across the desk, pointing to the files. “All of them had the same blood type. That’s what Dad said to look for.”

“They have the same blood type because it’s a moroi.” You hold his gaze, because every single part of you might want this man in a way you can’t possibly begin to understand, but you’re also fucking right. “They’re Romanian vampire babies.’

“Vampire babies-“

“Evil infant spirits that didn’t get baptized. They’re really rare, but this-“ You tap the files with a smug grin. “Is their exact MO. Specific blood type that they’ve probably got a taste for, mixing it with their previous victims, incredibly sloppy.”

“Because they’re babies.” Dean mutters, frowning into the air. “And babies, uh, don’t know how to clean.”

You nod. “Because babies don’t know how to clean.”

“And you’re sure?” Dean looks down to the files, his tone cautious. “I mean, you said they’re kinda rare-“

“They are.” You shrug. “And that’s why I’m sure.”

Rare things are your specialty. Things that even the most experienced hunters don’t understand, that were hard to track and harder to kill. Things that were stranger than strange, darker than dark, worse than evil. Things that wouldn’t hurt you, and you’ve taught yourself every way kill. It’s why you’d taken this case in the first place.  It’s why you’re fucking right.

“You, uh,” Dean’s words are slow, like he’s picking them carefully. “You know how to kill these things?”

“Yep.”

“You wanna come with me? To explain it to Dad and Sammy?”

“I, um-“ You start to pick at the skin around your nails, your skin suddenly itching and a weight forming in your lungs. “I mean, I can just tell you how, and you can deal with it, and I can go-“

“Go?” Dean frowns, his brow drawn. “Where are you going?”

“Out of town.” You keep your voice strong and even, because no matter how much the White inside you seems to be trying to move into Dean—no matter how much you’d really like to stay in this office and talk to him for a million years—you have to go. You cannot meet John Winchester. “If your Dad’s as good as you say-“

“He is-“

“Then you’ll be able to handle this. You don’t need me.”

“Well,” Dean leans over the desk, his voice dropping to a charming drawl. “If I ask you nicely, will you consider staying? Giving us a hand?”

You hold his gaze, unable to find enough willpower to shut him down immediately. “How nicely?” 

“Please,” Dean says your name, giving you a taunting, boyish grin, and the White inside you ignites. You’ve heard your name said a million ways, but never like that. Never in Dean’s voice, never like it’s some sort of curse and prayer all at once, never like it’s bigger than just a name. “Please stay in town and help me out. Please explain this moroi shit to my dad, and help us kill the son of a bitch. I’ll buy you a beer, and be in your debt for a million freakin’ years. Please.”

He’s already got you. If the way he said your name didn’t make you fold, the shit-eating smirk on his face and gleam in his eyes that tells you exactly how he plans to repay that debt made you cave. 

“I don’t drink.” You mumble, your face heated and eyes a little wide. “But I’ll take two million years and a promise that you’ll listen to me.”

Dean chuckles. “Awesome.” He grins, his eyes never leaving yours as he stands. “Let’s get outta here, I’ll drive you to our motel.”

That’s where you manage to draw a line. You’ll bow to Dean’s charming words and handsome face, you’ll follow him out of the office and into the parking lot, and you’ll agree to come meet John and Sam Winchester—no matter how stupid and deadly an idea it will certainly prove to be—but you’ll drive yourself. You didn’t steal that Lexus not to drive it, and when things inevitably go sideways, you’ll need a car to escape in. 

“You sure?” Dean walks you to the Lexus, standing right at your side and watching you in a way the White seems to feel. “I mean, it’s not a problem-“

“I’m sure.” You grab your keys out of your pocket, stopping in front of the car. “All my shit is in here, and I can just follow you. It’ll be fine.”

“Well, how am I gonna know you won’t just drive off?” Dean doesn’t budge, barely sparing your car a glance. “Leave me to deal with the vampire babies alone?”

You give him a flat. “I won’t just drive off, Winchester-“

“You might.” He shrugs. “I don’t know you that well, you could be playing me-“

“I’m not- Fine.” You roll your eyes, shoving your badge into his hands. “You can hold onto that, and I’ll have to follow you to get it back. Happy?”

“Very.” Dean winks at you, flipping your badge open to read. “Agent Smith- Who’s Smith?”

“Nobody. Smith is the most common last name in United States.” You shrug, and Dean looks at you like you’re insane. “What?”

“Nothin’, I just-“ He shakes his head, huffing a low laugh. “It’s practical. Smart.”

You narrow your eyes. “But?”

“No but,” He says your name with a bright, cocky grin, and tucks your badge into his pocket. “Can I not call you smart?”

“Not when you don’t really mean it-“

“I mean it. You’re smart.” His grin grows, and it feels like it’s burning its way right into your heart. Kicking it up to a higher speed, warming it until your whole body feels lost in a misting haze. It’s so fucking weird. “Are all your badges Smith?”

“No.” You mutter, crossing your arms to try and stop your heart beating right out of your chest. “Smith is just insurance. Johnson does wildlife, Brown is a cop, and Miller’s FBI.”

“Huh,” Dean looks at you like he’s never seen anything more amusing in his life. It’s not really helpful. “Sammy’s gonna like you.”

“Sammy?”

“My brother.” Dean shrugs. “He’s smart too. Not half as pretty, but smart.”

You flush, leaning back to ground yourself against the cool metal of the car. “You don’t know me, Winchester. I might be a dumbass.”

Dean chuckles, shaking his head. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. Dumb people don’t know about vampire babies.”

“I’d argue vampire babies are the exact thing a dumb person would know about-“

“And I’d argue dumb people don’t say I’d argue.”

You scowl. “Touché.”

Dean laughs again. He needs to stop doing that. “Dumb people don’t say touché-“

“Shut up.” You kick him again, and this time his grin just becomes teasing and smug and a little fucking dizzying.

“That’s not nice, Princess-“

“I said shut up.” You mutter, turning to open your car door. “Go get in your car so we can actually do our jobs.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean’s still grinning at you, his eyes widening as they finally flick to the Lexus. “Holy shit, you drive this?”

“Yeah.” You shrug, dropping into your seat and pointing across the lot to his car. “Go.”

Dean raises his hands in surrender. “Bossy.”

You glare at him. “Winchester-“

He gives you one last wink you feel deep in your core, closes your door, and walks away without another word. But—right after he climbs into the driver seat—he pulls out your badge, holds it up to the window, and mouths Follow me, or this is mine.

You roll your eyes, flip him off, and watch him laugh as he pulls out of the lot. And you could leave. Badges are easy to make, you’re not emotional attached to Agent Smith, and this is your last chance to keep yourself away from John Winchester. To listen to your every instinct, to your dad’s stern voice in your head, and run. It would be so fucking easy to run. To turn around and never look back, never allow yourself to indulge Dean Winchester further than one conversation.

But you don’t want to run. You want to follow this odd pull to him, follow him to the motel, follow him wherever else he seems to be going. Which is fucking insane, because you don’t know him, he doesn’t know you, and he’s almost certainly better off without you. Most people are. Hell, you’d be better off without you, if you could figure out how to do that.

And you know all that. But you still don’t want to run.

So you follow Dean out of the parking lot, through the winding backstreets of the town, and to a backwater motel. You park your car right next to his, close your eyes to take a long, steadying breath, and try to rationalize to yourself how this could possibly end up not blowing up in your face. You’ll keep a hold on yourself. John won’t know who you are, or what you are, or who you know, or what you know, or-

“Shit!” You jump as something raps on your window, and hear a loud laugh from outside your car.

You’ll get through this. You always do.

“You yelped.” Dean tells you as you climb out of the car, a wide, teasing grin on his face. “Real tough of you, Princess-“

“Suck my dick, Winchester.” You glare at him, and his grin only grows wider. “And stop calling me princess.”

“Nah,” Dean places his hand on your back, steering you towards the motel. “Suits you too well.”

“I don’t know what that means-“

“You don’t have to.” He smirks at you, and it does something impossible good to your brain. Makes it calm. A little fuzzy, a little smooth, but so fucking calm. “C’mon, I texted Dad that I found you, he and Sammy’ll be in our room.”

Dean Winchester is dangerous. You should be scratching and clawing and fighting like a feral animal to go, to get back in your car and as far away from here—from John Winchester—as possible. But he says I found you with a proud grin and puff of his chest like he’s bragging, and all that your stupid body knows how to do is lean slightly into his chest and follow him wherever he takes you. Somewhere dark, or somewhere horrible, or somewhere gray or somewhere safe.

Or just a shabby, paint-peeling motel room, where John Winchester and a shaggy haired kid are sitting around a table, looking at you—standing awkwardly in the doorway, watching them wearily, your back straight but arms crossed in defense—like you’re the strangest thing they’ve ever seen.

“This is, um,” Dean glances at you as he says your full name, and you realize he’s more tense than he’d been before. Standing a little taller, his eyes a little more guarded, his expression impossibly neutral. “She’s the hunter I mentioned.” Dean says your name again, pointing to the table as he continues. “That’s my dad, John, and my brother, Sammy.”

“Hi.” The kid—he’s taller than you, and barely younger, but there’s something about him that still says kid—offers you a small smile. “Do you, uh, do you hunt alone?”

“Yeah,” you give Sam a smile back, trying to force your tone to be casual, your body to relax, and your eyes not to wander to where John is tall in his seat, just watching you. “He tell you that?”

You jerk your head at Dean, who frowns. “So what if I did-“

“So, you’re being a real dramatic bitch about that. You’re not my dad, Winchester, let’s calm down.” You give him a small grin, and feel something odd and bright inflate in your chest when his mouth tugs up for the first time since you’ve walked into the room.

Dean looks like he’s going to say something back, but John clears his throat, and something curls and rots in your stomach at how quickly Dean goes rigid, how fast his mouth snaps shut. 

“You got a father, girl?”

You look at John, and he looks even more tired up close, in the dim light of the motel. More threatening as well, watching you like you’re prey, or a parasite, or a disease. Like you’re going to go feral and destroy everything in the room. It would sting less if he wasn’t right. If his attention wasn’t making your skin crawl and the White in you start to twist and pound to escape your body, the darkness rushing out as everything becomes big again. If you weren’t digging your nails into your palm to stop yourself from proving him right, and if you weren’t raising your chin in a weak attempt to be a little taller than you are. 

“I do.” You hold his gaze, and wonder if he can see the darkness. If he already knows what you are, and is trying to work out how to kill you. “We’re really close, actually.”

“He know you hunt?”

“He does.” You shrug. “He’s fine with it.”

That’s a lie. Your dad hates that you hunt. You’re certain the only reason he doesn’t lock you in his panic room to keep you away from the monsters and ghosts is because he knows you’d escape, and he’d never see you again. But John doesn’t know that, and you’re a fantastic liar, so if he doesn’t believe you it’s not because you don’t sell the words, it’s because he just doesn’t trust you. Because whatever you say, he’s going to keep looking at you like he can see right into your horrible center.

John’s face twitches, and as he leans slightly forward, you’re not sure Dean’s breathing at your side. “Your old man a hunter too?”

You nod, realize this is getting a little away from you, and start to run your thumb over your palm as John narrows his eyes.

“What’s his name?”

You use your real father’s name—your biological father, who you’ll never see again if you can help it—and it stings on your tongue. You hate that you have to say it. You hate that you have to repeat it, adding your real last name, but it works. John grunts, and looks away.

“Dean.”

“Yes, sir?”

“How old is she?”

“I, uh-“ Dean looks at you with wide eyes. “How old are you?”

You raise your brows. “How old do you think I am?”

“Twenty…” Dean scratches his head slightly, looking a little afraid. It would be adorable if this wasn’t such an oddly volatile situation. “Twenty-teen?”

“Twenty-teen?”

“I dunno, I mean you gotta be old than Sammy, and you sound like you’re old, but-“

“I sound like I’m old?”

“Just cause of the words you use! You look like you can’t be old than me, but I don’t know-“

“Jesus Christ, dude.” You take pity on Dean—who looks like he’s about to have a panic attack—and pat his shoulder as you speak. “I’m eighteen. And,” you look back to John, cooling your voice and narrowing your eyes. “I can speak for myself.”

John doesn’t waver. You can’t really imagine a world where he would. “I don’t doubt that, girl. But I ain’t lookin’ for help on this case, and you’re barely votin’ age-“

“I’m aware of my age.” You interrupt, crossing your arms over your chest. “But I’ve also been hunting, alone, since I was fifteen, and this,” you gesture through the air, holding John’s cold gaze. “Is my type of case. So you need my help.”

John scoffs. “It’s a ghost, sweetheart, me and my boys will be fine without you-“

“She says it’s not a ghost.” Dean mumbles, paling as John’s gaze shoots to him. “It’s, uh, a moroi?”

You hum in agreement, offering Dean a small grin that John doesn’t seem to miss.  

Sam raises his hand at the table, his expression open and curious. “What’s a moroi?”

“Romanian vampire baby.” Dean says, shooting Sam the first real, full grin you’ve seen on his face since you entered the motel room. “They never got a chance to learn who Mr. Clean is, which is why there’s been so much freakin’ blood everywhere. Right?”

Dean looks at you with a hopeful, bright expression, and it makes the White glow and sing as you nod.

“It’s a ghost.” John grunts, and when you look back to the table, he’s glaring at you. “We got freezin’ temperatures, EMF, and no break ins-“

“Because they’re death monsters. And they can shape-shift, into a guy, or a bug, or a cat.” You shrug. “Wouldn’t be that hard to get into a house.”

John scowls. “And you’d bet all our lives on this-“

“Yes.” You say, the words simple. You’re good at your fucking job, and there’s no doubt in your mind. “It is a moroi. I’ve hunted them before.”

“You have?” Sam’s eyes widen, his tone filled with something that might be admiration. “That’s so-“

John cuts Sam off with a raised hand, his attention never wavering from you. “Well,” he drawls your name, and it’s mocking and cruel and awful. The opposite of how Dean says it, in a way you hope to never hear again. “If you’re such an expert, how the hell do we kill the asshole.”

“Easy.” You shrug, as if there’s not something wired and painful in your muscles that’s trying to force you to run, run, run, far away from John Winchester and his cold voice. “You stab it in the heart with a nail.”

“With a nail.” John repeats, his voice flat, and you scowl. 

“Well, that, or,” you stand a little taller, making your voice cool and bored. “We throw a Romanian funeral for it, and find a living relative to walk around its grave three times with a candle.”

Dean makes a choked sound from off to the side, and when you look, he’s staring at you like you’d fallen from space again. John doesn’t look half as awestruck. He mostly looks pissed.

“This ain’t the time for jokes-“

“That’s not a joke.” You snap. “There are multiple ways to kill something, and that’s one of the ways you can deal with a moroi. It’s that, the nail, or burning resin on a Tuesday, then a Saturday.”

John laughs, no amusement or joy in the sound. “You might think your smart, kid, but how about I see a plan. Stabbin’ something in the heart ain’t gonna be easy, and hell, girl, you said they shape shift. How the fuck are you thinkin’ we find them-“

“There will be blood in its nails and eyes.” You hold your ground, but your palm grows red as you break skin. “And there is a pattern to the tarbets, we’ve just all been looking in the wrong place.”

“A pattern?” Sam’s eyes are still wide, his voice a little eager. “But none of the vics have been the same age, gender, ethnicity, occupation-“

“Have they all been parents? Lived near graveyards?”

All three Winchesters gape at you for a second, and Dean looks at John with wide eyes.

“Shit, Dad, she’s right.” He mutters, running a hand over his face. “The one we looked at yesterday, the house had one of those baby gates-“

“And we’ve driven past a graveyard every time.” Sam adds, looking between you and John with a nervous expression. “So, uh, it could be-“

“I know what it could be, Sam.” John grunts, his glare fully focused on Dean. “You willing to bet on her, son?” 

Dean looks at you, and he shouldn’t be—you’re a stranger, you’re a liar, you’re a monster that’s attracted to him like a magnet—but he nods. He stares at you like he doesn’t really understand what’s going on either, like he’s looking for a reason to not trust you and side with his father, but can’t find one. And—right before he looks back to his father—you see a flash in his eyes that makes you think he feels it. That whatever the fuck is happening to you, it’s happening to Dean too, and he’s just as helpless as you are to fight it.

“I am, sir.” He says, hands flexing at his side. “Sammy and I can do door duty, figure out who’s next on this things hit list-“

Sam frowns. “I don’t wanna do door duty-“

“Blame Dean,” John shrugs, giving Dean a curt nod. “Take my car and be back in two hours-“

You raise your hand, and John cuts himself off with a glower.

“What.”

“They don’t need to do door duty,” you say, your fingers running over your palm. “The moroi will only target parents of infants, so you can look for baby seats in cars. And it’ll all be near same cemetery. Five miles radius.” You catch Dean raising his brows at you, and shrug. “They don’t like to stray far from home.”

“And by home,” Sam jumps in, words slow as he connects the dots. “You’re talking about their grave.”

“Or their coffin.” You offer him a close-lipped smile. “But yeah. It’s already dusk, our best bet would be splitting up and patrolling a few streets until we see the thing. It’ll probably be in its regular form, at least until it spots a house.”

Dean frowns at you. “What’s that gonna look like?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Hairy. Bloody and hairy. It’ll be gross, you’ll see it.”

“And how,” John grunts. “Are you thinkin’ we split up.”

“We’ve got two cars.” You shrug. “Three if you have a second one-“

“We don’t.” John snaps. “And I took a fuckin’ taxi back here, ain’t no way I’m not driving my car, or lettin’ a little girl go off to hunt this on her own-“

“How honorable,” you mutter under your breath—careful to make sure Dean doesn’t hear you—and raise your voice back to a bored, flat tone.  “Then you’ll take your car, and I’ll take one of them,” you nod between Sam and Dean. “So we’re off in pairs.”

“Dad, I could go with her.” Dean takes a small step forward, his tone slightly nervous. “I mean, it would be safer for you to take Sammy. And you know I’d be careful.“

John grunts, jaw ticking, and you can see he’s considering it. That, somehow, you’ve convinced him to go with this, and he hasn’t put a bullet in your brain. There’s a frantic, wired part of you along your skin that’s certain he’s just waiting for an excuse, but for now you’ll take it. You’ll take Dean volunteering to go with you, John not killing you, and everyone winning when you’re right, because you will be. You’re not good for much, but you’re good for this. 

“I want you to drive.” John tells Dean, and you’ll allow it. If it keeps Dean near you—as you so confusingly and desperately crave—you’ll let him drive your stupid, fancy car. Fuck, you’ll let him run it into a ditch if he wants, as long as you’re there with him, and what the fuck is happening to you- 

Dean says your name, and you blink at him as he continues. “I, uh, if you’re good with it-“

“Sure, I don’t give a fuck.” You toss Dean your keys, and he frowns. “I mean, try not to total it, or do donuts-“

Dean gasps, his face full of mock offense that pulls a smile onto your face. “Do I look like a hooligan to you-“

You raise your brows. “Did you just say hooligan?”

“Yeah,” he grins at you, and nothing else seems that real. “It’s a fun word, don’t bash it-“

“I am not bashing it-“

“Kinda sounds like you’re bashin’ it-“

“Well, it kinda sounds like you’re going to try and do donuts in my car-“

“Princess, I would never-“

“Winchester, I don’t believe you-“

John coughs, loudly, and you and Dean fall silent. That keeps happening. You talk to Dean, and everything fades until you’re just smiling like an idiot and watching him like he’s the sun, and you’re just existing in his orbit. And he does the same thing. Dean’s face is red, and he’s staring at the floor as John glowers at him, but you keep catching his eyes darting to you, a small furrow on his brow that you wish you could ask him about. You wish you could ask him a million things. About his life, about his likes and dislikes, why his whole family hunts and what he thinks of your dad—the one he’d know, the one that’s going to murder you when he finds out what you’re doing right now—and if he can feel this too. He must. It’s like a drug, and it’s flashing and loud in the White, and making the darkness blur into something you think would be better. Into something you wouldn’t hate, molding with something that feels foreign but right, strange but just as powerful and certain as gravity. Something secret, that you think you should be fighting but can’t bring yourself to raise a weapon against. 

Something bigger than you. Bigger than him. Bigger than the White inside your chest and the darkness that’s pushed down, down, down as you force yourself to stay in place, and not either grab Dean’s face and scream—shout at him in a begging question of do you feel this, or am I going fucking insane—or run. Flee as John Winchester gives you one last look like he’s imaging your blood on the floor, and you climb into the passenger’s seat of the Lexus.

But you manage to keep it together, and you’ll have to settle for this. For talking to Dean as you patrol up and down a darkened suburban street with white-picket fences, your knees up on the dash and your fingers growing bloody as you pick at them to keep the darkness down. 

“So, uh,” Dean taps his hands on the wheel, staring out at the road. “Hunting.“

You blink at him, raising your brows. “What?”

“I just, mean how’d you end up doing it? You’re young-“

“You’re literally only three years old than me-“

“But I got Dad and Sammy.” He scowls. “You’re alone.”

“Yeah, we’ve establish that.” You cross your arms, curling slightly into your seat. “I’m really good at my job, Winchester, I’m not that worried.”

Dean chuckles, glancing at your half-pout with an amused expression. “Still Winchester? When am I gonna get the honor of her majesty using my first name?”

You glare at him, and it just makes his grin wider. “Shut up.”

He clicks his tongue. “Bossy.”

And he’s so confusingly adorable and handsome—in the soft, shimmering light of the streetlamps and fog—that you speak without even thinking. “You have to earn first names, Deano.”

He freezes for a second, and his grin becomes his whole face. Wide and charming, sweeping you off your feet and knocking the breath from your lungs without even touching you. 

“So,” he drawls, still smirking like an idiot. “Nicknames you’ll pass out like party favors, but I need to work to just be Dean.”

“Seems that way, doesn’t it?”

“Well, can I at least shoot down Deano?”

“Maybe,” you hum. “On what grounds?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs, eyes flashing in the low light. “It kinda makes me sound like a birthday clown?”

You giggle. A small, soft giggle that he pulls out of you with barely any effort, that you want to hate but can’t figure out how to. “Maybe you are a clown-“

“Birthday clown.” He corrects, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Don’t drop the birthday part, that means I’ve got a job. And I can’t be a clown, Sammy’ll never speak to me again.” Dean glances at you, his voice dropping slightly. “He freakin’ hates clowns. Might shoot me before I explain that a pretty lady turned me into one against my will.”

You raise your brows, trying to push down the flush on your face from pretty lady. How he’d said the words like they were teasing, but still so serious, and looked at you with a small smirk when they had his intended effect. You can barely remember how to clear your throat and use words, let alone tease and spar with him when the White is blinding in your body.

“Unfortunately,” you manage to speak, nudging his shoulder with your own. “All sales are final. You’re Deano now.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but his grin doesn’t falter for a second. “Until I earn Dean, though, right?”

“If you earn Dean.”

He hums, shooting you another, oddly heated glance. “And what do I need to do for that?”

You only shrug, running your fingers over your palm to sooth the darkness. It’s starting to eat over your nerves and heart, trying reach out and touch Dean in a way you can’t allow, in a way that will end whatever this is before it begins. Dean only gives you a strange look, his smile still wide on his face.

“Well,” Dean says your whole name, over-pronouncing each syllable. “Am I allowed to return the favor?”

“What favor.”

“Callin’ you a nickname.” He winks at you, and it settles—warm and soft and strong—in your core. “It’s only fair.”

You shake your head. “No. I don’t even have a nickname.”

“Bet I could fix that.”

“Would be a losing bet. I wouldn’t take it.”

“Whatever you say, Princess.”

And just like that, you’ve lost. You’d seen it coming, too. It was too easy a solution for him to have, to easy a path to allow him to take, too easy to let the small part of you—that had wanted to hear him call you Princess again, because it soothed something that was always feral inside of you and blurred the darkness into the White until nothing hurt inside you—allow Dean to coax you where he’d clearly wanted you, and follow with a smile on your face. But all of this was too easy. Talking to Dean was too easy, because the conversation seems to flow and ebb without effort, and you’re almost always in danger of saying too much. He seems to know how to—without any obvious intention—get you to tell him anything he asks, leaving you biting your tongue to keep down bits of the truth that could prove deadly. But he doesn’t push you to speak—which is perfect and terrifying all within itself—and when you fall into silence it’s easy too. It’s easy to control the darkness, calmed only by your thumb and long breathes, and easy to keep everything small. Just you and Dean in the soft silence of the car, just you and Dean in the whole world.

“My mom died.” Dean says suddenly, frowning out the window. “It’s why I’m hunting. And,” he adds, his voice growing a little firmer, a little more defensive. “It’s why my dad’s so careful. I know he can be tough, but we’ve only got each other, and he’s just tryin’ to-“

“I get it.” You whisper, something deep in your chest aching for him. For this pretty, impossible man who might be bigger than the whole word, and how his brow is knit in a confusing kind of hollow pain as he defends his father. Goes to arms for him without prompting, like it’s a reflex. And you really do get it, but even if you didn’t, you somehow care too much about him to force him to rage and spit fire in John’s defense. It looks like it might rip him apart, and you never really want to see him go. So you just offer him a gentle, full lipped but toothless smile, and place your hand on his arm. “And that really fucking sucks.”

He lets out a dry chuckle, and doesn’t try to move his arm away. “It does really fucking suck. Thanks.”

“My dad’s wife died.” You offer, as if that would somehow make this better, and Dean gives you an odd look.

“Dad’s wife? Not your mom?”

You swallow. You did it again. You slipped when you’re usually so fucking careful. “It’s complicated.”

“Ah.” Dean has a little furrow between his brow that you’d like to run your thumb over, but he drops it. “Are you, you gonna tell me why you hunt? If it’s not your Dad’s wife?”

You sigh, a feral instinct of survive shoving the truth just a little further down. “That’s complicated too. I mean it’s not,” you glance up at him, his eyes fixed onto the road. “It’s not like yours. I didn’t lose anyone.”

“Is it a family thing? Like, your dad brought you in?” Dean’s every word is careful, like he’s afraid he might spook you. But that’s another thing that’s too easy. Staying next to Dean and not bristling or fleeing is far too fucking easy. 

“No,” you say, watching the light and shadows shift over his face in a strange, perfect dance. “He tries to stop me from doing it all the time. Shit, he called me last night and asked me to come home.”

Dean frowns. “You-“

“Dean!” You cut him off with a hand over his mouth, and he slams the breaks with a screech. You can see his staring at you from the corner of your eye, but you barely spare him a glance, your eyes locked over his shoulder, out the window, at a shifting figure in the dark. “Look.”

He turns his head, prying your hand from his mouth as he glares out the window. “I don’t-“

“There,” you hiss, leaning a little further forward. “See the-“

“That might just be a shadow,” Dean mutters, his voice dropping to a whisper as he scans over the dark. “Or a fox-“

You turn your head, giving him a flat look. “Do foxes look like babies covered in blood?”

“No.” He grins at you. “But I’ve seen weirder shit, Princess.”

You’re suddenly aware of how close you are. How you’d leaned over the console and started to practically hang off of Dean’s body, how your faces are barely a breath apart and you can see every deep color and fleck of gold in his eyes. He really only gets prettier, and he’s so warm, and there’s molten silver in your chest trying to tangle into him. He smells like fresh grass and spice, his eyes are dilating—but maybe just from the dark—and everything seems to be slowing down as the silver looks for other places to leak out. Places that wouldn’t hurt anyone, like the mist of the night that seems to glow and the wind that seems to bend and creak the trees in your direction, and the golden streetlamps-

Dean’s eyes shoot to the road as the lights start to flicker, his body tensing against yours. “Shit. We should, uh-“

You nod, push yourself away, and try to pretend your body doesn’t grieve the loss of his touch.

John and Sam are taking too long to arrive. You’re tense and bouncing on the sidewalk as you wait, turning a sharp nail between your fingers, and Dean keeps a hand around your wrist as he frowns down the street. You think he can sense that, if he looks away for only a second, you’ll dart into the house and deal with this yourself. You could. This nail has killed three moroi before, and you’d been completely alone then. 

“Winchester.” 

Dean looks at you with a frown, and you tug your arm slightly.

“Let me go.”

“No,” he grunts, his grip tightening. “Dad said to wait.”

“He’s not my dad-“

“Doesn’t matter.” Dean mutters, his gaze moving back to the empty, dark fog. “We’re waiting.”

You scowl. “Fine. Can you let go-“

“No.”

“I swear to god, Dean Winchester-“

“If I let you go,” he snaps, his glare shooting back to you. “You’re going to run in there. So no.”

You narrow your eyes. “You don’t know me-“

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “Look me in the eyes,” he drawls your name, holding your gaze. “And say you won’t run.”

It should be an easy lie, but it gets caught in your throat and you can only gape at him. Dean raises his brows as you continue to stare, and the White inside you starts to thrash as you clear your throat, forcing the words out.

“I’d handle it.”

He scoffs. “There is no way you’re gonna be able to handle it alone-“

“So, come with me,” You hiss, leaning forward until your face is only an inch from his. “And I won’t be alone.”

You don’t know why it breaks him. But something flashes in his eyes, he groans—running his free hand over his face and giving you a look of disbelief—and he caves. 

And from there it’s mostly a blur. It’s always a blur. The darkness inside of you latches onto something primal, and it’s all only a blur. 

Usually it’s all but a blackout. Like something overtakes you and you become just as monstrous as what you’re hunting, your brain only holding onto what you’ll need in order to survive next time, and a sticky smell of blood to haunt your sleep. But Dean’s here now, and things come into focus. Time is still a rush, and you’re still moving on pure instinct, but you remember Dean’s body being pressed to yours as you crept through the suburban house. You remember to set look on his face as you swept the rooms, figuring out what the moroi could be, where it might be hiding. You remember seeing it first, and the sound of flesh tearing as it launched at Dean—over you—and you swatted it with your arm like a baseball. 

You remember Dean shouting your name as you raced forward with the nail in your hand, and how it sounded like his chest was being ripped open. You remember finding that small patch of soft flesh on the moroi’s chest, driving the nail home, and tasting bile when it vomited blood up into your face. 

You remember Dean passing you his shirt on the curb a few blocks down, because the very ungrateful almost-victims threatened to call the cops, and you were covered in blood. He’d faced away as your changed—zipping up his own jacket and humming while he waited—and you could’ve sworn he was blushing when he turned back around.

Then John Winchester had arrived—looking at Dean like he’d just sprouted a second, hideous head and you like he was imaging how amazing you’d look in a casket—and everything grew sharp as they drove away. 

More of it comes together as you drive yourself back to the motel. Dean had dumped the body in the gutter, and you had given him your motel address. John had snapped at you to meet them tomorrow for a debrief, and told Dean that they’d talk back at the room. Sam had smiled at you, and it was a nice smile. There hadn’t seemed to be anything beneath it—just a kind smile for the woman sitting on the curb next to his shirtless brother, her hair matted in blood and fingers covered in monster hair—and you’d liked that. 

When you enter your room, it suddenly feels too small. Nothing is big enough for how strange this is, how you might need all the world and a little more to figure out what the fuck just happened. You miss Dean. You’d met him today, and you miss him more than you’ve missed anything before. You keep looking to the side to see if he’s there, when you know he won’t be. The White is bucking and keening inside of you, the darkness falling out of your body—you can feel the pain of the water as it becomes steam in the shower, and you’re almost knocked to your knees by the ache of the phone to be closer to the lamp—and you need to find out if he could meld them together again. If it had been a fluke, or an accident, or if you were simply losing your fucking mind.

You have to be. You must be going mad. It’s the only explanation for why you take a long shower and change into your own clothing, but you still smell grass and leather and spice. It’s purgatorial. You go through your whole routine—scrubbing all the blood off your body with rough sugar that bites into your skin, running your hands under white-hot water that leaves your skin raw but the darkness pushed down, tending to your hair until it frame your features easily, and you don’t look like a bruised and battered animal—but you still smell him. You toss his shirt off to the side, but he’s clinging to the sheets. You change into sleepwear, but your body can still feel a strong, warm touch. You turn your empty flask in your hands, watching light catch off the steel, and someone’s knocking on your fucking door-

Dean hisses your name through the wood, and you freeze.

“I know you’re in there!” He’s half-shouting, and the whole world feels more colorful, and what is wrong with you. “C’mon, Princess, open the door. It’s me!” He pauses, the knocking faltering. “Uh, Dean Winchester.”

He sounds a little defeated, and you can’t stop the smile on your face as you toss the flask back into your bag, cross the room, and open the door. 

Dean gives you an adorable, almost nervous grin and scans over you. Slow and deep and appreciative—taking in your sleep clothes, how your whole body is more relaxed than it had been all day—and his smile grows as his eyes find yours once more.

“You look pretty wearing normal stuff.” He leans a little on the door frame, and it’s so effortlessly and perfectly rouge-cowboy-white-knight-and-knave that he has to have practiced. “Better than that old-lady jacket you hand on before.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s my professional jacket, Winchester. What do you want?”

The words are harsher than you mean them to be, and his grin falters slightly. “I was, uh, I was wondering,” he rubs the back of his neck, clearing his throat. “I got my dad’s car. I was gonna ask if you wanted to go for a drive or something, but you’re obviously ready to turn in, so-“

“Do you want to come in?” 

You’re not sure how he’s doing this. Making you speak without thought, making your words reckless when they’re usually so carefully chosen. You have to be careful with your words, because you’ve spent years weaving a web that shows everyone everything, but not from every angle. And he’s fucking unraveling it. Dean just looks at you, and you pull at a thread so he can see whatever he wants, and you can’t understand how the fuck he’s doing it.

It must be on purpose, but he looks just as shocked as you are—gaping at you slightly, his features open and uncertain—and you don’t think it’s an act. Especially not as his voice becomes slightly hoarse, his feet restlessly shifting his weight as he speaks.

“Yeah, if you want, but I’m good to just head out if you-“

“Do you want to head out?”

Dean’s grin becomes bright once more, and the shake of his head sends a spark of lightning through your body.

“So,” you step to the side, offering him a small smile. “Come in.”

He shuffles inside, scanning over your scattered possessions and stopping at the side of the bed. 

“I can,” he looks back to you, his eyes a little wide. “I can sit on the floor, or we can go outside-“

You shake your head, moving to his side. “There are bugs outside. Sit on the bed.”

Dean glances at the mattress like the sheets might leap up and strangle him. “Floor looks good-“

“Winchester.” You point at the bed, giving him a stern glare. “Sit.”

“I am not a freakin’ dog-“

You place a hand on his chest and push him—just enough for him to get the message—and he sit on the bed with a wide happy? gesture. 

You drop at his side, watching him carefully as you try to work out what is happening. Why he’s here. If he’s looking at you like that—like you’re more than a human, but that’s hypnotizing, and he’d love to find what you actually are—because he can feel this too. 

But Dean beats you to it.

“Can I ask you something?”

You tilt your head at him, pulling your knees into your chest. “Can I ask you something?”

“Huh.” Dean hums, the smile creeping back onto his face. “How about we trade? I ask you a question, you gimme an answer, then we switch.”

You give him an amused look. “That’s just a conversation.”

“Nah, because if I ask you something and you answer, now I owe you a question. You can turn down a question, but you’ll still owe an answer.”

You frown. “What happens if you owe an answer?”

He shrugs, flopping onto his back. “Then the other person keeps asking questions.”

Dean looks so real. He’s grinning up at you, light dancing as his eyes as he obviously baits you into whatever he’s trying to do. 

And you fall for it. Despite your best judgement, you fall.

“I’m going first.” 

He chuckles, but raises his hand for you to shake. “Deal, Princess.”

The moment your hand folds into Dean’s he pulls you down, leaving your smushed slightly against him and his face only inches from yours once more. And your yelp was undignified, and he’s such an asshole—laughing and grinning as you shove his chest—and you’re smiling too. 

Because this is easy. And you have a feeling that, if this strange man—who’s too pretty, and that’s making you feel like you’ve never really been alive before this—dragged you right down to hell, you’d still be laughing and smiling at him. And that’s so fucking dangerous. And you know that, but you still can’t stop looking at him, and you can’t roll away. And you decide that, just for tonight, you’re going to indulge this. You’ll dedicate hours when he’s gone to figuring out what the fuck this is. Right now you get to laugh and smile and act like nothing in the world has ever—could ever—hurt you.

“So,” Dean says your name, and it still sounds too good. “You have a question to go first with? Or were you just bein’ bossy-“

“Shut up.” You swing your leg to kick his shin, he laughs, and it’s like music. Making you high and dizzy as you watch him, running your thumb over your palm. “I’ve got it, Winchester. You ready?”

“Born it, sweetheart,” he winks at you, and that’s dizzying too. “Hit me.”

“Why are you here?”

“I told you already, I wanted to talk to you-“

You hum, holding his gaze with a small frown. “Why?”

Dean chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s two questions-“

“It’s a ride off of the first question-“

“Well, I still gotta ask my first question before you get a second one.” He raises his brows at you, bump your knee with his. “We shook on this, Princess, you don’t get to change it now.”

You glare at him, but you think he knows it’s fake, because his grin becomes almost blinding. “Fine. Go.”

Dean rolls onto his side, holding your gaze as he speaks. “How’d you get that car?”

You frown. “The Lexus?”

He nods, and you sigh. 

“I borrowed it.” It’s not a lie, but it’s a half-truth. It’s a half-truth that will keep him here, at your side, for a little longer than you might deserve. “For the hunt.”

“Well, it’s freakin’ awesome.” He grins at you, and your face might burst into flame. “Your move.”

“Why are you really here?”

Dean lets out a dry chuckle. “Will you let it go if I say to talk again?”

“Nope. Answer me.”

“It’s, uh,” he rolls flat on his back once more, running a hand over his face. “Tomorrow’s gonna be Dad telling us about safety and Sammy asking you a bunch of questions.” He shoots you a small, amused grin. “I think he’s been writing them down. He’s into all that geek-shit too-“

“I am not a geek-“

“Yeah, you are.” He shrugs. “Don’t worry, I think it’s adorable. But Sammy thinks you’re the coolest person we’ve ever met. So after Dad finishes, he’ll try to use you like a freakin’ library, and I just figured I’m the one who found you, so I should get a night of you all to myself.”

You gape at him for a second, and you’ve defiantly burst into flames. He wants you all himself, and he thinks you’re adorable, and he doesn’t know you, but he doesn’t seem like the type to say all that just to get in your pants, and if he was, he’d be there already. He’d just have to roll on top of you, but he’s only looking at you like you’re something sacred instead of a disease or trophy. 

He must feel this too. He has too. And you want to ask him, but you don’t know how, because you don’t even know what this is. It’s magnetic and infinite and bigger than anything, forging something you don’t know how to name between where the White and darkness live in your body. And Dean might not even have the White and darkness. Nobody else does—that’s something that’s wrong with only you��so if you phrase it like that he’ll think you’re insane-

“My turn.” Dean says, and you’re dragged back down to earth, grounded in his smooth voice. “What’s up with your hand?”

You blink at him. “What?”

“That one.” he reaches over, tapping the back your hand. “You’ve been touching it all day, and I kinda, uh,” he gives you an apologetic look. “I saw the scar. If you wanna pass on this one, I’ll drop it, but-“

“No, it’s,” you take a long breath, because this would be an easy one to refuse to answer, but his fingers are lingering on your knuckles and setting off little sparks over your skin, and you want to tell him. It takes a moment of just staring at him to you find the words, and his eyes never leave yours, and everything about him seems to drug you into a loose-lipped, trusting ease. “I’ve have it since I was really young. There was, um, an incident.”

Dean still doesn’t look away, his voice slightly lower. “Hunting incident, or-“

“No.” You swallow, turning your hand for him to see the long, clean scar on your palm. Running through it in a neat, raised line. “Just an incident.”

He looks like he’s going to say something. Not push, but say something, and you blurt out your next question before he can get the chance. It’s not what you wanted to ask—you hadn’t offered yourself enough time to find the right words for something really fucking weird is happening to me, and I need to know if it’s happening to you too—but it’s dragged out of you in desperation to learn a little more about him. In a plea for him to only know that you’re marred where he can see, and never discover that you’re twisted where he can’t.

“What’s it like?” You watch him carefully, your fingers starting to trace over the scar. “Hunting with your family?”

“It’s fine.” He shrugs. “I mean, Dad’s a freakin’ genius at it, and it’s awesome to watch him work. Plus I get to keep an eye on Sammy like this. Know he’s safe.” He frowns. “I mean, it’s better than sending him off alone. Letting him be in danger.”

You hum, scanning over the wrinkle in his brow, your thumb starts to itch to press on it, sooth his whole face into a relaxed smile. “You guys are close?”

Dean nods eagerly. “Yeah, I mean, He’s a freakin’ loser, but he’s all I got. He’s a weird little geek-“

You laugh. “He’s taller than you are, De. I wouldn’t call that little.”

“He’s little in spirit-“ Dean cuts himself off, and his grin looks almost manic. “Did you just call me De?”

“No.” You hold his gaze, even as your face warms. “Shut up.”

“I heard you, Princess, you can’t lie to me-“

“Well, is that your question?” You grin at him, your body leaning a little further without you moving it, and Dean eyes flash.

“You gonna tell me the truth if it is?”

You nod, and he smirks.

“Then yeah, it was.”

“Okay. I did call you De.” Before he can gloat, you push on. “Why do you call me Princess?”

“I told you already, it suits you-“

You narrow your eyes. “Try again, Winchester. Real answer this time.”

He sighs, shaking his head at the ceiling. “You just,” Dean waves his hand through the air. “You’ve got a thing going. You don’t look like a hunter.”

“What’s that supposed to mean-“ 

“It means,” He gives you a strange look you can feel flash through your blood, melding the White back into the darkness, turning every simple and bright as he continues. “That if you asked me what I thought you were, I’d have said something fancy.”

You open your mouth, but he’s not done, and he won’t look away from you.

“I dunno, you just seem too pretty to be down here in the mud with us. You should eating caviar and wearing those poofy dresses-“

You snort. “Poofy dresses?”

“Yeah, like in movies, when they dance around like douchebags-“

“So you’re saying I seem like a douchebag-“

“No, I’m saying you should be somewhere that’s not here.” Dean’s attention is washing over you like a rising tide—slow and natural and deep—and you still can’t read that expression on his handsome face. “The mud.”

He’s so close. And if he thinks you’re pretty, he’s a work of art. You’ve never see someone look like him. Like he was created, and not born. Every freckle on his face is more like a star than a flaw, and there a slight crook to his nose that tells you he’s been punched there before, but it only makes you want to run your finger over the bump and see if his pretty eyes flutter or flash. His lips are chapped but they’d still be soft. His hands look rough, but that just means he uses them.

You think it would be nice to let him use you.

“I like it in the mud,” you whisper, daring to inch a little closer, until you’re sharing a breath. “It feels real. And,” you grin at him, everything blurring around you but pretty green eyes and shining silver in your chest. “I’ve got good company down here.”

There it is. The flash in his eyes as they darken slightly, a warm breath fanning over your face, and he looks golden. In the warm light of the lamp, glowing soft on his tan skin, Dean looks like something more than human. You feel like something more than human, and for the first time in your life, that’s not a curse. And he’s still so fucking close, and this is a terrible idea, but you can’t bring yourself to move away.

You should. He’s John Winchester’s son, and you’re not sure how you forgot that. It’s past midnight, and you have a feeling he wasn’t supposed to be here at all, and this is the worst idea you’ve ever had. 

But you still can’t move.

“You should, um,” you swallow, and your lips might have brushed over his. “You should get back. It’s late, and your dad-“ 

“Shit,” Dean mutters, but still doesn’t try to move away. “Yeah.” 

Your eyes dart down to his lips—full and pink, just a small movement away from yours—and you decide you don’t care what’s happening to you. This is—Dean is—too good to care. You don’t need to know why this is happening, or what it means, or if you should be trying to run from it. You just need Dean. You think that—if the world ended and time began to move slowly—you might plant roots in the motel floor and grow into Dean until the world flooded and you were both washed away. 

“I have one last question,” he mutters, breath ghosting over your lips. “If I leave you my number, will you use it?”

You nod without thinking, he grins, and you’re so fucked. You can’t kiss him. You might fall from a million feet if you kiss him. Down, down, down, clinging to him as you both try to find an end to whatever this is and likely fail to. But Dean sits up slowly—like the movement is painful—and when he helps you to your feet you think you might ascend from just his hand in yours. Touching him feels like it’s making you pure and worthy of something, and you have to know what kissing him will do.

Not on the lips. You still have enough of your willpower and caution to not crash all the way down, at least not right now. But you kiss his cheek, and that’s tragedy enough. It snaps something into place inside you, soft stubble and warm skin too much for your entire existence to handle. It’s all too much to handle, and if he hadn’t mumbled a low promise of seeing you tomorrow and left when he did, you would’ve jumped on him to chase whatever this feeling is. How it’s the only thing you’ve ever felt that might belong inside you, and the only easy thing that the darkness has ever bended for.

And when you sleep, that’s easy too. It’s dreamless and deep, no nightmares, no waking up in a cold sweat, no darkness wrapping around you and leaving the sheets only ash when you wake up.

But when you do wake up, something is wrong. You feel it first, gnawing at your nails and blood. And when you roll over to check the time, your phone is gone. 

It had been on the bedside table, a scrap of paper with Dean’s number under it, and it’s gone.

The paper is gone too.

You shoot out of bed, and Dean’s shirt is still in the corner, because he’d told you to give it to him in the morning, to trade it for your Agent Smith badge. But your phone is gone.Your window is open—cool breeze rushing through the room—and your phone is fucking gone.

You’d been smart to pack the night before. You’d been smart to keep your keys in your jacket, and park right outside your room. You can shove everything in the passenger’s seat and screech out of the motel lot in a second. You don’t know why, but you’re heading to Dean first. Something is wrong, and you don’t know what, but the White is trying to strangle your heart and the darkness is already eating up your spine and over your skull.

John Winchester’s sleek, black muscle car—Dean told you it was an Impala, and he’d said it with a pride in his voice that had dragged a smile onto your face—isn’t parked in the lot. And when you knock on the door nobody answers. All the lights in the room are off, there’s no shadows moving through the window, and the door is locked.

You move to the front desk and ask if the men in that room had checked out. And when the clerk gives you a weary look and says that they’d paid for another two nights, but dropped the keys off that morning, your gut twists. 

They were gone. Dean was gone. And something fragile and new shattered inside you, leaving small pieces lodged through your whole body. You stumble back to your car, the darkness moving out of your body and the whole world too fucking big, and you don’t know what’s wrong with you. You’d known him a day. He’d known you a day. Nothing was owed, but you can still feel it. How the White seems to be howling from the loss of him, and the darkness can’t stop growing as it sinks in. 

He left. You don’t know why, but Dean left. He’d probably taken your phone, taken his number, and just fucking left you. Maybe he’d seen you last night, really seen you, and realized what you were. Maybe he’d just been playing you the whole time for some sort of scam. Maybe you hadn’t kissed him, and he’d decided you weren’t worth the chase. And that would mean you had been going crazy, and he hadn’t felt anything at all.

The thought lets the darkness move over you, and you can feel everything everywhere. The electricity in the wires over your head, the wear of painted lines in the parking lot, the hope of the grass peeking through the concrete under your feet. 

The grass that smells like Dean.

It breaks through you before you can stop it. Reaching past your body and down into the pavement, cracking it open with all the force of how much this hurts. How it shouldn’t hurt, it doesn’t make any sense that it hurts, but you’re still breaking and bowing and bending to the way you feel like you’ve been fucking shot. You fall down to the curb, curling into yourself as the ground shakes under your feet, and the wind picks up until—in the forest across the parking lot—a branch falls to the ground.

Then a second one. 

You manage to bring your hand to your mouth, to bite down hard and force all the darkness back into your body, and you still don’t know what to do. 

This hurts so much, and you’re alone in the middle of nowhere, and Dean’s gone.

You still have your burner phone. Your dad makes you keep it in your jacket, just in case something happens, and it only has his number. You dial him with shaking hands, the darkness still trying to climb back out of you, take a deep breath as you raise it to your ear.

He picks up on the second ring.

“Hey,” He says your name, his voice already edged with worry. “I didn’t think I’d be hearin’ from you until after that blood hunt thing-“

“Hunt’s over.” You mumble, staring at the cracked pavement. “Got it last night.”

“Was it a vamp like I told ya’-“

“Moroi.”

“I’d call that vamp enough. Good work, kiddo, Rufus owes us a dinner-“

“Bobby?”

Your voice is soft, and he hears it. Bobby always hears it. 

“What happened,” he says your name, and you can hear the frown in his voice. It makes everything worse, because you can’t tell him. Not now, maybe not ever if you can avoid it. You can’t handle how he’ll help you fix this and let you rest, then spend a week lecturing you and telling you everything you already know. Because you really do know. You fucked up, and you know that.

But Bobby doesn’t have to.

“Nothing, I just-“ you swallow, your nails digging into your calf. “Can I come home?”

There’s a long moment of static through the phone, and when Bobby speaks again his voice is low. “You can always come home,” he says your name, and you choke on the clean air around you. “But you get a week of mopin’ before we’re grabbin’ that dinner from Rufus. Alright?”

You nod, even though he can’t see it. “I’ll be there by tomorrow.”

“Should be two days, if you drive carefully like you’re supposed to.” Bobby grunts. “And ditch that fancy car you’ve been usin’, I don’t need the cops askin’ questions about it.”

You feel a smile tug at your lips. “You never let me have anything nice, Bobby-“

“You never let me have goddamn peace, kid.” Bobby snaps, and your smile grows. “Your bed will be ready for you. And I better not see that bells and whistles hunk of shit in my yard-“

“Aye, aye captain. No fancy cars.” You make a mock salute he can’t see, and Bobby huffs.

“Stolen fancy cars.” He grumbles. “Stop bein’ a smartass and get on the road.”

When the call ends, your smile feels real. The strange, fractured feeling in the White is still there, and the darkness might be trying to fly out of you, but you’re better than before. You’ll go home, Bobby will never know what happened, and none of this will last. You’ll be fine. Dean Winchester might haunt you like a phantom or cancer for the rest of your fucking life—or at least until you figure out what he did to you, and how to fix it—but you’ll get through this. 

You always do.

—————————

Dean’s grip was tight on Her phone. It was just a fucking block of metal—it would be useless when they tossed it off a bridge in a few miles—but he couldn’t let go of it. It felt wrong to let go of it. 

He’d be letting go of Her.

He hadn’t wanted to take it, but Dad said he needed to—Don’t want to let an angry woman have a line to you, son. Especially not a crazy one—and Dad knew what he was talking about, so Dean had done it. He’d snuck back into Her room through the window, grabbed Her phone and the paper with his number, and felt like the lowest piece of trash in the goddamn garbage can. The maggot-ridden chunk of food that nobody had wanted, but was still figuring out a way to fuck everything else up in twisted retribution. 

Because there was guilt eating at Dean’s stomach. He shouldn’t have taken Her phone, not when She wasn’t that much older than Sammy. Not when She’d said her dad would be waiting for her to call, and Dean might have stolen Her only line to safety just because-

Because She’d been using him. And he’d been falling for it. She’d given him that smile like he’d fallen out of the sun and into Her hands, She’d crafted some sort of perfect mask that had felt so real—felt like this strange, mouthy, clever woman had just appeared to him, and he could’ve had something nice for once in his goddamn life—and moved Dean like a fucking pawn. 

Dad had been waiting for him when he got back, and whatever weird spell She’d put Dean under—making him feel a little drunk on nothing, making him act like a fucking idiot—had been ripped away under his glare. 

But Dean hadn’t gotten yelled at. He’d just been sat down—Dad’s gaze filled with disappointment that Dean’s bones didn’t know how to handle—and had papers pushed across the table in his direction. 

“What are these?” He’d asked, and Dad had sighed, because Dean was too much of an idiot to just know, and Dad knew it. 

“Read them.” Dad had grumbled, watching Dean through narrowed eyes. “And tell me if you want to see that girl again.”

He’d frowned but scanned over the papers. Printed out website pages about… Her. Her family. How She was missing, how She’d stolen from them, and how they were rich. Normal, alive, and rich, looking for Her and whatever she’d taken. Warning that She was crazy, a chronic liar, and should be turned over to the police if seen. There was no picture, but there was a description that matched Her perfectly, right down to a scar on her palm.

“Dad.” He’d looked up with wide eyes, something strange bucking around inside of him, insisting that this was a lie. Dean didn’t know Her—they’d had three conversations for fuck’s sake—but this didn’t seem like Her. None of this seemed like the clever, beautiful, almost ethereal woman he’d been lying on the bed with. Dean didn’t know howor why, but this couldn’t be the truth. “I don’t-“

“She’s just usin’ you, Dean.” Dad had muttered, his eyes softening just enough for Dean to know he was sorry. He might not really like Her, but he was trying to protect Dean. He always was. “Chasing a high that her daddy can’t give her, lookin’ for a way to pull somethin’ on us. Probably huntin’ just for some sort of fucked up thrill. This,” Dad tapped the papers, his face twisting in disgust. “Isn’t someone who deserves our time, and I don’t know what her game is, but I ain’t just gonna let my boy fall for it.”

Something in Dean had still been fighting. Insisting that Dad was wrong, he had to be wrong, because Dean might not really know Her but he’d throw his life down at her feet. He’d plummet to the bottom of the ocean to follow Her down, if She called him with that siren-like voice and asked him to.

And that was how he knew Dad was right. Dean had no idea who She really was, and he’d already been ready to become a sword for her to wield. So he’d nodded, asked Dad what to do, and fallen back into the line She’d forced him out of. And it wouldn’t matter that Dean had been an idiot and almost fallen for Her—Her tricks, or just Her—because Dad had saved him. He’d protected him. And it didn’t matter.

Now, as they drove—Dad’s grip tight on the wheel, Sammy sleeping in the backseat—Dean repeated it over and over. That hadn’t mattered. It had been a mistake that Dad caught, so no harm, and it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that She’d looked at Dean like she could see him, or that Her voice sounded like an angel in a dream. It didn’t matter that Her lips had felt right on his cheek, and that his annoying brain kept trying to move the ghost of Her touch to his own mouth. It didn’t matter that he could still smell the sugar and fruit that had invaded his every sense when She’d been pressed against him. It didn’t matter that She’d fit perfectly at his side, like she was just another part of him he hadn’t known he was missing. It didn’t matter that something felt like it had been ignited in Dean’s chest. Golden and light and washing him over with a sense of calm he’d never known, making him feel like—if he had been stupid enough to fall further—the worst that could happen was She didn’t fall with him. And even that would be worth the way this feeling was like lightning over his bones, making him strong and fucking alive. 

But it didn’t matter. He’d fallen for a pretty, spoiled little bitch—his heart almost withered at that idea, still being a freaking dumbass and trying to justify why She’d done this—and he’d never even see Her again, so it didn’t matter.

And it defiantly didn’t fucking matter that he’d taken Her flask, because he was fucking pathetic. Because he’d been sneaking around her room, and the flash of silver had caught his eyes, and he’d stolen it like some sort of street urchin. He’d burn it, just to rid himself of the way She was becoming plague-like on his mind. It wasn’t like she needed a flask, anyway. She didn’t even drink.

But that might have just been another strange lie. So Dean would burn it. He wouldn’t tell Dad or Sammy that he’d taken it—they didn’t really need to know how weak and useless Dean really was—so he’d burn it and everyone would forget this had ever happened. He’d burn it, and never think of Her again.

Dean felt like he was being ripped in half for reasons he couldn’t even start to understand, but it had been nothing, and it didn’t matter.

Dean dreamt of Her when he finally drifted off. And his heart kept trying to beat him back down—back to Her—but he held strong. He could dream of Her and not go back. He’d never see Her again, and dreams weren’t real. 

None of that had been real, and Dean could dream of Her.

So he would.

End Note: I know we’re off to a rough start, and we’ve got a long road ahead of us, but just remember this. What’s about to come could’ve been entirely avoided if John Winchester wasn’t the actual worst.

Thank you so so so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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