#never seen him actually hit the door but a few times it was a close call haha

[bitterwinterdoodles]

The reason Shinji wasn't carrying the cello around in YW(N)R

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Guardian Angel

CW: Stalking, people breaking into your apartment (Arkham Knight and others), people brushing off an obvious issue, and violence. Be warned, there are no angels in Gotham. ~2.2k words

You have a stalker. Probably. Maybe. If you do, they're so good at covering their tracks that you're starting to believe you're just paranoid.

But it's the odd events, the trinkets moved slightly out of place, that have you checking over your shoulder.

There wasn't even any evidence at first. Your day had been completely normal. All you were doing was cooking dinner, when your nerves went on end, and goosebumps rose on your skin. The feeling of being watched, of being prey set in.

It didn't make sense, didn't have a reason, but you closed your curtains and triple checked your locks nonetheless. (The bat you keep by your bed slept next to you that night)

You would have forgotten about the incident entirely if, a week later, the same feeling crept up your spine while you walked home. You'd never walked faster to get to your building. You'd practically sprinted up the stairs to your apartment, and slammed to the door behind you.

Even within your home, it took almost the whole night for the feeling to fade.

Two times could be a coincidence, but then things started getting stranger.

You could have sworn you left your keys on the counter the night before, so why, why did you find them on the coffee table?

It makes you uneasy, almost sick, but you're already late to work. So you do the only thing you can, you brush it off.

Until it happens. A thing you can't brush off.

You knew you had used the last of the sugar yesterday. Knew it because you had made a mental note to pick some up the next time you went to the store.

But there's sugar. It's not a lot. Just enough to get you through a few days. Enough to make you think you might have just missed the last of it.

You know you're right. You know you were out of sugar and even if your coworkers laugh and tell you to get more sleep, that having an angel that refills your sugar can't be that bad, you know someone's been in your apartment.

You set traps, set cameras, get your locks changed, take note of everything. You don't get any evidence.

But you notice that your window doesn't squeak anymore when you open it. Your shower doesn't rattle when you go to start it. Your oven actually heats up to the temperature you set it to.

It's been like this for months now. And you're starting to believe that Gotham does have its own set of angels that go around trying to make your life a little easier.

That is until, you meet him.

You'd been unlucky. Gotten grabbed and dragged into the alley by your apartment by some haggard looking man waving a gun. It wasn't the first time you'd been mugged in Gotham, and you doubted it would be the last.

You had reluctantly pulled your wallet and phone out of your pockets and handed them off when an armored-clad person dropped between the gun and you.

At first, it was a relief. Being saved by Batman or Nightwing is practically a rite of passage in Gotham.

But then you watched the would-be mugger hit the ground with a sickening crunch of his arm. Then you watched your savior turn to face you, and you knew it was him.

You didn't have an explanation, you didn't have proof. You'd never even seen a glimpse of the helmet that hid his face before. But you knew. He's the one that's been following you. He's the one that's been in your home.

No amount of good deeds can overshadow how violating it feels, to know he's been watching you, observing you, doing things for you. You instinctively step back.

He only matches the distance you tried to create with a step of his own.

"Who are you? What do you want," You snap, sounding braver than you feel.

He doesn't answer at first, just tilts his head like he's studying you. You think it might be because he's never seen you think close before.

"I saved you," he says instead, completely avoiding your question. You wonder if he's expecting to be treated like a hero, if he's looking for your praise. It makes your stomach churn.

"You've been following me. You're the one who's been in my apartment," You protest, eyes darting.

You half expect someone to come help you. With the way he's dressed, with how he's carrying himself, he has to be some kind of new villian you missed on the news.

He straightens out at your accusation, "Have I?"

You almost falter, almost do chalk it up to paranoia, but you just knew. Every fiber of your being knows, "Yes," You breathe out instead, "You have."

He nods slowly, then turns his back to you. A part of you wants to run, to try and escape and scream and get as far away from the man who feels like he could make you disappear without a trace.

He bends down and scoops up your phone and wallet before turning back to you. You freeze when he walks closer, each step steady and measured, then extends your belongings to you. Your hand shakes when you snatch at them.

You half expect him to yank them away, to make you beg, but he doesn't. He only keeps his grip tight on them, forcing you to be connected while you tug helpless at your things.

He watches you with his head slightly cocked before speaking again, "And if I have?"

He's easy, robotic cadence makes your blood grow cold, "Then you should stop," You retort, voice as cold as your veins.

"And if I won't," he prompts, finally releasing his hold on your things.

"I'll go to the police," You threaten, stuffing your wallet and phone back into your pockets.

"They can't help you," he warns. It makes you uneasy, that he makes no attempt to keep space between you. Even if his body language doesn't seem dangerous, everything else about him does.

"They can contact Batman," You try instead.

He laughs. It sounds humorless, empty, "He can't help you either."

You lose your nerve then, when he pats your cheek, and the guns holstered to his side seem to glint at you. "Get home," he tells you, and it makes you feel like you're some kind of pet.

And then he's gone, leaving you to an alley empty of anything, save for you and the mugger crumpled to the ground. All you can do is go home. Sleep doesn't come for you that night.

He's sloppy, now that he knows you know. You can tell it's on purpose.

Flashes of glowing blue outside your window, your things carelessly shifted about your apartment, the broken fan that hasn't worked since you moved in left on and spinning when you come home from work.

The only place he hasn't seemed to touch is your bedroom. You're not sure if it's because he's showing some slightest form of respect or if he's simply too good at hiding his tracks for you to notice.

Both options make you feel anxious, and you constantly comb over your things for proof of his presence.

You rack your brain over it, lose sleep over it, but you can't come up with one idea of who he is and why he's doing this.

There's nothing on him in the news, nothing on the internet, not even a whisper on the streets.

It feels like it's all one big, sick game to him when your favorite flowers start showing up at your door, when your gas tank fills itself.

When you tell your coworkers, in a near panic, about your rent being mysteriously paid, they tell you it's harmless, it's kind of sweet, really.

Shouldn't you just be grateful that someone's doing all that for you? Shouldn't you be thankful to have an angel looking out for you in this city?

But you know it's not harmless. You know he's capable of so much more. You know he's no angel.

The sound of the mugger's arm snapping still haunts you.

But you don't know what to do. You're stuck, on edge, and slowly coming to terms with having to live like this forever.

That is, until your bad luck seems to get even worse. You were in your pajamas, already half asleep as you're lounging on your couch, when your world gets thrown into chaos.

There's a click in your apartment door's lock, and you have the terrifying realization that tonight's the one night you'd forgotten to throw the deadbolt.

"I told ya I could get the keys to this floor. And barely anybody lives in this building afta what happen ta Murphy," the heavy Gotham accent fills your apartment and three men file into your living room like they own it.

They freeze when they see you, and you don't hesitate to sprint for your fire escape.

You've just managed to throw your window open when one of them grabs you around the middle and hauls you back, throwing you to the floor. Your head knocks against the ground, and everything spins.

You think you whimper as they start bickering. "You said no one would be here!"

"They weren't supposed ta be! It's all supposed ta be empty," one of them snaps back. It only makes your head pound and your vision swim.

You try to push yourself off the floor, but a boot lands at the center of your back and forces you back to the ground, "We have to kill them."

Murmurs of reluctance fill the room, and for a second, you think you'll get to live.

"They saw our faces," You hear the telltale sound of a gun clicking off its safety, "I'll do it."

You flinch with the shot sounds, but no more pain comes. The weight comes off your back, and a body collapses to the floor next to you.

You lift your head just enough to see a familiar blur of blue charge at the remaining two men.

It's not so much of a fight as it is an execution. It's a struggle to keep your eyes open, but anything you can't see you can hear.

There's no mercy in his actions, all wrath and fury, and you want to laugh because, in a way, he is your guardian angel. An avenging angel, pummeling the people who threatened you into something unrecognizable.

You're sure how long it lasts, how long you hear his fists connect to their flesh. But eventually, your apartment goes quiet. The sound of fabric shuffling reaches your ears, and calloused hands carefully help you move until you're sitting up.

Warm palms press to your face you realize he's taken his gloves off. You force your eyes to open, morbidly curious if he's removed his helmet, too. You're not sure why you're disappointed he hasn't.

"Saved me again," You mumble, words almost slurring.

"You're not safe here," he says softly, and his thumb runs over your cheek like he's trying to comfort you.

"They didn't think anyone lived here," You supply, but he apparently doesn't find that very reassuring.

"Let's get you out here," he says instead, and you blame it on your head injury for being impressed at how he doesn't show any signs of struggling when he picks you up and cradles you to his chest.

"Don't have anywhere to go," you say weakly, mentally trying to do the math on how much a safe hotel would cost at this time of night.

The moonlight seems to give his helmet an odd shine as you stare hazily at him. It almost looks like a halo.

"I have a place," he tells you, already carrying you out of your apartment window.

That snaps you out of your thoughts. It makes you frown, even in your dazed state, you know you don't want to go with him. That even with the trick of the light, he's no angel.

You start to squirm, "No– no, wait–"

"You need somewhere safe to recover," he says, and he doesn't seem to notice your fidgeting. Your heart leaps to your throat, at how securely he's holding you. With anyone else, it would have felt like a promise of protection.

"I don't trust you, you're not safe," You stumble out, head growing heavy with each step he takes from your apartment.

"No one's safe. But I don't have any plans on hurting you," he murmurs, seemingly more occupied with getting you to wherever he's planning to take you.

"But you could," You exhale out, and your voice sounds weak even to yourself.

That makes him pause, and his helmet tips as if he's focusing on you, "Maybe, but I wouldn't like it."

You want to argue more, demand he set you down. But your brain feels so foggy, and you're so tired and drained that your head just kind of finds itself on his shoulder.

"You can sleep," he says, and your eyes fall shut at how soft he sounds, "I'll keep watch."

You really do want to protest, but his shoulder is surprisingly comfortable. You can't help but think, as you drift off, that your angel might have fallen far lower than you can handle.

Jason's Side

[goldsbitch]

remember that

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. But everyone need assurance that they are still loved sometimes. The first time Lando almost slept on a couch blurb

warning: couple fight, angst

It was bad. This time, it was really fucking bad.

After weeks of snarky comments being swallowed in, the "it's fine" line being burned into Lando's ears almost on a daily basis and growing minutes Y/N had to wait before Lando decided to respond to her texts, shit finally hit the fan.

They hadn't seen each other for two weeks now. Inevitable fight broke out right as he crossed the threshold. Postponed dates and forgotten dinners lined up. They couldn't help themselves and put it all on the table. First it was the fact she didn't smile upon seeing him, then it was a reminder that he promised to bring something from Italy and forgot. It went on and on and on. She sat at the dinning table, while he leaned over at the kitchen counter.

"Lando, sometimes it feels like I'm in a relationship with your assistant and not you! For heaven sake, this week I had to call him, once again, when I could not reach you. Do you know how embarrassing it is?" she half-screamed into her hands.

Lando took a breath so deep an average yoga teacher would be jealous. "How am I suppose to be expected to pick up on a race day. You know that I get super busy and distracted."

"Funny how you never were when we started dating," she murmured bitterly.

He had to turn away, couldn't watch his love giving up on him just because they were not in the honeymoon stage anymore. "Yes, but now I'm winning races! Closer to my dream that I've ever been. It's different now."

"I'm glad I met you back then, because obviously you'd not date me if we met now," she couldn't stop those words that rotted in her coming out.

A beat. Maybe it was time to actually break the rule for once and go to sleep angry, because it was getting out of hand. "You know what, that's probably true and it breaks my heart that once I start doing well, you're suddenly not the supporting girlfriend anymore."

A crushing blow. "Tell me how am I suppose to support you if you don't even answer my phone! We used to talk for hours!

"Maybe understand that I can't!"

"I do! But you can't assume that I'll let you push me away completely!"

Lando thew his hands up in desperation. How could she not see it? "I'm coming here to you whenever I have a slightest chance! And I come what? You constantly dragging me through the mud."

"Oh interesting you mention that. How sad that your assistant had to remind you of my sensitive skin before you having him book me an "apology mud massage" when you cancelled on me few weeks ago," se shot, knowing it would hit the target.

"How do you even know that!" he said, unable to comprehend that he did not even control his paid assistant, not mention his own life anyway.

"Well, I talk a lot to you assistant! And he slips up!" It was a weird friendship between people who both wished they could get a little more info out of Lando.

"That's it. I can't deal with this now," he said, with the intention to sleep on the couch for the first time in their relationship. He didn't even know why he chose that action, walking towards their bedroom and dramatically bringing a pillow and a blanket over to the sofa, but if this is what couples did when the fought, there must have been a reason for it.

It absolutely infuriated her. Sparked up something she hoped she'd never feel. "Oh, sleep tight." she spitted with bitter undertone.

"I will!"

//

They walked around each other in silence, him getting ready to sleep on the couch and her cutting her skincare short this time and spending more time debating whether to close the bedroom door as they usually would or leave it open. Just in case.

He could hear her shifting back and forth. It angered him a little bit, since he was the one playing a cruel joke on his already tired muscles.

Thousand things she wanted to say and only one came to her mind in a form of an actual sentence. There goes nothing. "Do you still feel good about this?"

"What?" he whispered, not expecting her to speak to him again before the next day.

"Nevermind, forget I asked."

"About what!" He hated when she did this. If you didn't catch up at the first moment, she did not give you a second chance.

"Do you still feel good about us, being together?" She cursed herself for asking this. Dangerous questions brought up explosive answers. She wished for a reassurance and a rejection. She snuggled deeper into her blanket and turned around to face the door. As if wishing for him to stand there and coming back to her.

Lando hated her question. In fact, it made him furious again. But it was a peace offering, he had already learned that before. "Even here, lying on the bloody couch, because we're fighting...It's the place I wanna be at."

Anxiety kicked in Y/N. "What, you mean like away from me?"

He laughed lightly. She was always thinking the worst. "No, silly. The exact opposite...We could both be at thousand different places at the moment. But we're not. And for me at least, it's because like---I want to be with you. I hate that we'd drifted apart lately. I'd love to be in bed with you, laughing without a care in the world, like we usually do. But, we can't do that now. And yet, I'd rather be left on the couch if I know you're next door than all alone in my bed." His words hit like small drops of rain after a long draught.

She whispered, choosing her words carefully. "You're my twin flame. You make my soul light up in fire, make me feel like I'm the sun. Do you know what my biggest fear is?"

Lando also tuned into sweeter tone, one that was more familiar from days filled with sunshine. "What, my love?"

"That we're gonna burn out. You and me, ending up like an epic love story. The good ones work because they end in tragedy."

"You're always so poetic," he smiled, proud to think he was her love story.

"There is no other way to describe how you'd changed my life. Flipped it upside down the moment you walked into the same room."

Lando chucked. "Yeah, remember that?"

"How could I not."

"You were not having a good day."

Finally, she spoke loudly again. "So, what? Everything was going to shit and the event we were doing had to be perfect before the 'important people' arrived".

"Such an ego boost to know I was your priority before you even met me," he uttered, happy to push her buttons.

"Oh, and you were so cocky! Just laughing around, like we were some sort of comedy sketch."

"Well, I'm sorry, have you heard yourself when you're upset? The way how your voice goes up seven octaves higher?" he laughed, his breath feeling lighter now.

"Coming from you, that's rich! You were giggling in a tone so high the elderly couldn't hear you!"

"I'm so happy I managed to bag the grumpiest person in the building. And bare in mind there must have been around 500 people there."

"980 if you could in staff as well."

He let out a heavy sigh. "You with your pristine memory."

She paused before responding. "Yes. Wish I didn't have that sometimes."

"Wish I had at least a pinch of that."

Silence fell in both rooms. Heavy breath and wondering eyes. The lack of their touch suddenly being more obvious than before. Playing a contest who will reach out first.

"Lando?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Can you back here, please?" she said, somewhat nervously. Lando took a pause. There was nothing he wished for more. It hurt to fight. But he figured a relationship needed that sometimes. As the poets say, you loose a woman when you forget to cherish her. He liked to think this went both ways. And they both started slacking a bit. He could only affect his own behavior, with the hope that she'd also come to the same understanding.

"I'd like nothing more in the world, my love."

[angels-sins0]

Ghost x f!reader

Cw: smut, emotionally unavailable Simon, rough sex, age gap relationship (Simon is depicted in his late 30’s and the reader is around 21), older man!Ghost, young & naive!reader, unprotected sex, creampie

Ghost was a complex man.

You had never actually seen his face before, except for his lips and nose when he would lift up his mask to kiss you a couple times.

You had explicit instructions to only call him Ghost, never even bothering to tell you what his actual name was.

Ghost was a complete mystery to you, and it didn’t help that you were a young and curious girl.

You assumed he was in late 30’s, your best guess being that he was 37.

He had you on your back. Fucking into you so deep, his balls were slapping against you. Your legs were spread wide to accommodate him between them.

He didn’t talk much, only letting out the occasional groan when he hit that spot deep inside you.

“Ghost- feels so good…” You moaned and he didn’t acknowledge it, just kept pounding into your greedy pussy.

Ghost had his eyes closed, his face a few inches away from your own. You pulled him in for a kiss that left you breathless.

He let his head drop down to rest beside your neck when he pulled away, and your first instinct was to wrap your hands around him.

For a moment you let yourself believe that you were two lovers sharing an intimate moment with each other and you relished in the feeling it brought you.

Until that feeling subsided when he spoke in a cold tone. “You close?” He asked, no real emotion behind his voice.

“Yes.” You gasped when one of his hands wrapped around your leg, ultimately forcing you to loop both of them around him.

You were growing needier the closer you got to your release. “I wanna— fuck! Wanna see you.” You whimpered and moved one of your hands to grab at his mask in an attempt to pull it up.

He quickly stopped you, lifting his head up and roughly slapping your hand away, pinning both of your hands up in the process.

“Don’t ever fucking try that again. Understand?” Ghost scolded you, causing tears to finally fall from your eyes. All you could do was nod and look away, completely missing the way his eyes scanned your face for a few seconds.

Ghost grabbed your face and forced you to look at him. “Use your words.” He demanded.

“I understand.” You winced at his roughness. It’s like he had an inability to feel anything except for anger. You would sometimes feel so stupid for allowing him to be like this, allowing him to take that anger out on you.

He muttered out a quick “Good.” Before resuming his movements, tears still falling from your eyes even when he pressed his forehead against yours.

You came a couple of minutes after and Ghost followed shortly after you, emptying his load inside you and thrusting into you a few more times to make sure he doesn’t waste a drop.

Ghost lays still, his cock softening up inside your cunt.

“It’s Simon.” He says suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper. “What?” His words prompting you to stop crying.

He finally lifts his head up off of yours and slides out from inside you, getting out of his bed and going into the bathroom, completely disregarding what he just said.

You stayed in the bed for a few minutes, until he poked his head out to see if you were still there, letting out what you assumed was an annoyed sigh when he found you still in his room.

Ghost locked eyes with you for what felt like an eternity before you finally got the hint that he probably didn’t want you around by the time he got out.

You quickly got up and started getting dressed, taking a look at yourself in the mirror, and wiping away the tears from your eyes.

You felt so disgusting, for continuing to see him even when he had proved on multiple occasions that he wasn’t a good man, for letting him use you however he pleased.

He startled you when the bathroom door swung open. Ghost coming out in nothing but a towel wrapped loosely around his waist.

You looked at each other, internally grimacing at the deafening silence that had grown between you.

“I was just leaving, I’m sorry.” You weakly spoke, and he gave no response as he shuffled around his room to grab clean clothes.

He was still wearing his mask, almost like he was expecting to find you when he came out.

“Thank you for… for tonight.” You didn’t know why you said that but you just wanted to say anything in an attempt to get him to acknowledge you as a human being with feelings.

Ghost looked at you as he was sliding into his pants. He didn’t expect you to walk up to him and give him a hug.

You didn’t have the slightest clue as to why you were doing any of this and you couldn’t help the tears that escaped you.

He pulled you away, having not hugged you back. Your hands holding both of his arms. He looked down at you.

“It’s getting late.” Ghost spoke plainly. “Yeah…” You absolutely hated the silence that followed your words.

“Simon?” You said his real name for the very first time, your eyes lighting up slightly when he hummed.

“I’m sorry for doing that earlier. I don’t know what got into me.” You apologized. Simon stayed silent for a few moments, looking closely into your eyes.

“Okay.” He shrugged you off, barely acknowledging your words as he walked away. You took that as your sign to leave his house.

You finally walked out the door and you silently prayed the ground would swallow you up. You looked back once at the closed door before walking away with a heavy feeling in your heart.

[katsu28]

lucky charm

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: lando finds comfort in your presence as doubt starts to creep in before a race (2k)

warnings: minimal swearing

a/n: hi i know i'm still super new here and i'm not even sure if i'm actually going to start writing rpf but i think about this motherfucker 24/7 now and this came to me in a dream <3 let's ignore the actual way he got his ring necklace okay? okay!

“No one saw you come in, right?” 

Lando let the door close behind him gently, a total opposite to the quickest few steps you’d ever seen him take across the small driver’s room, and he leaned over to kiss you, hard. 

You let out a squeak of surprise at the force of it, but had no hesitation in kissing him back as soon as your body caught up with your brain, arms looping around his neck to bring him down and closer to you.

Lando’s knees hit the cushions on either side of you, hands doing the same on the leather backrest, clumsy as all hell but twice as determined not to let his mouth leave yours. 

Your fingers knocked the McLaren cap right off his head as they moved into his hair, clutching at his chocolate curls on instinct like you’d done so many times before. But never here, never before one of Lando’s races, and certainly never at the risk of being caught by anyone in the facility at any given moment. 

It didn’t seem to matter to Lando, though, with the way he was kissing you like he was parched and you were the only thing that could quench his thirst. 

But given the rather frantic series of texts you’d received from him that got you here in the first place, you weren’t at all too surprised. You knew how nervous Lando got before races, and if there was something you could do, you’d never hesitate to be there for him. Especially since you were able to make it to this one. 

“Yeah,” He mumbled between kisses, panting against your lips. Somehow he’d managed to switch positions so he was the one on the sofa now and you were sitting on his lap, straddling his hips as you continued your rather sloppy makeout session. “Yeah, yeah, we’re good. ‘M sneaky like that.” 

“Had a lot of practice at this, have you?” 

“No!” It was almost comical how fast he pulled away from you to blurt out his answer. “No, not at all. I don’t know why I said that, I—” 

“I was just kidding, bub.” You chuckled, smoothing the pad of your thumb across his kiss-swollen bottom lip fondly. Lando grinned sheepishly, giving your waist a playful little pinch. You’d never get over the way he looked at you, like you were the only other person to exist in the world—especially when he was under you like this, and especially with those eyes. His baby cow eyes, you always called them. 

Even so, Lando was extremely tense, you could tell. He tended to get very in his head before races, probably why he asked you to come meet him so close to the green flag, to help him quell his nerves a little. He always said you helped him more than anything else ever could. 

“I have something for you.” You said softly. 

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” He leaned back against the cushion, happily accepting the chaste kiss you pressed to his lips before you bounced off his lap and over to where your bag was sitting. 

You rummaged around in it for a few moments until you found what you were looking for, a triumphant grin on your face as you made your way back over to an intrigued Lando. This time you settled next to him, throwing your legs across his lap. His hand came to rest on your knee immediately. 

“Open it.” You urged, pressing the small black bag into his waiting palm. He undid the drawstring carefully, beaming even before he got a look at what was inside. That smile only grew bigger as he poured the contents of the bag into his hand. 

A thin silver chain, joined together at the ends with two interlocking rings, sleek and silver just like the rest of the necklace. Upon closer inspection, he saw numbers etched into the inside of each one. One of them, Lando recognized instantly as the date of your anniversary. The other looked like a set of coordinates, but he wasn’t too great at geography, so he looked to you for an explanation. 

“The place we first met.” 

“You looked up the coordinates of that tiny little restaurant? Nerd.” He chuckled, artfully dodging the swat you aimed his way at his teasing remark.

“It could be, like, your new lucky charm or something.” You shrugged, watching him turn the rings around carefully between his fingers. 

Lando glanced up, bumping your shoulder with his gently. “I’ve already got one.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. It’s you.” 

“Me?” 

“I like knowing you’re watching me. Even though I can’t see you, or even if you’re not here, knowing I’ve got you cheering me on from wherever you are helps. I think it makes me a better driver.” 

“Lan, you’re already a great driver.. You don’t need me for you to know that.” 

“I know. I just—it keeps me focused. To know you’re there.” He said softly, giving your hand a tight squeeze. “And now with this, I can have a piece of you with me whenever. Here, help me put it on.” 

“You can’t wear it under your suit, Lando, even I know that.”

“Alright, well, I’ll figure it out later. C’mon, put it on me.” Lando leaned forward, giving you space to bring the chain up over his head and around his neck. He even managed to sneak in another kiss whilst you followed the silver down to where the rings rested just below his collarbones. Your fingers stroked at the warm skin there, the cold of the metal contrasting.

“It looks good on you.” 

Lando melted like a popsicle on a hot summer day under your touch, smiling so big at you that you could hardly believe this was the same boy who had other drivers trembling in their fireproofs. He hoisted you back into his lap effortlessly, nosing at your pulse point a bit before smacking a kiss to your cheek when you wrapped your arm around his shoulders. “You look good on me.” 

“That was so bad. Like, really bad. I get why they call you Lando Norizz now.” 

“What?! Bad? That was so fucking smooth!” He huffed, going from looking completely smitten to entirely offended. “And I happen to have lots of rizz, thank you very much. I practically ooze rizz, love.” 

“I take it back.” You replied solemnly, patting Lando’s cheek. “That was worse.” 

“You’re so mean to me. I don’t know why I even put up with this harassment!” 

“Always so dramatic, you.” 

“I’ve got to be! How else would I be able to withstand this abuse?” 

You scoffed playfully and moved to climb off him, opting to keep a safe enough distance away so you wouldn’t be tempted to kiss him stupid. Then he’d really be late. “Don’t you have a race to prepare for, driver boy?” 

“I am,” He said earnestly, tucking his hands behind his head. You arched a skeptical brow, hands propped on your hips. 

“By hiding out in here with me?” 

“You know what they say—calm the mind, and the body will follow.” 

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that.” 

“Well maybe people should start!” 

You huffed out an amused chuckle, crossing your arms. “Are you ready?” 

A sudden silence  blanketed the tiny room, Lando’s non response giving you all you needed to know. 

He reached out for you with a pout that you’d never been quite able to resist, fingers beckoning you back over longingly, like you were too far away for his liking. You gave in almost immediately despite previously wanting to give him space, trudging over with an overexaggerated roll of your eyes and letting yourself be pulled back onto his lap yet again. 

“I’ll be alright.” He answered finally, taking your hand in his. He fiddled with your fingers, tracing along each digit languidly and then circling his thumb over your palm—once, twice, a third time. 

This, something you’d learned quite early on in your relationship with Lando, was one of his many versions of self-soothing. The repetition of his actions proved rather calming to him, and it certainly helped that he got to feel your skin against his. 

His brows drew together in thought, furrowed and tense until you pushed your thumb into the wrinkle between them, smoothing out the scrunch. He wrapped his fingers around your wrist loosely. 

“You’re gonna do great, you know.” You insisted. 

He offered you as good of a smile as he could muster. “Yeah. I know.”  

“You’re gonna do your best, and whatever happens, you’ve got so many people who’ll be proud of you no matter what.”

“I don’t know if it’s enough.” Lando blurted, scratching at a patch on his suit. “I’ve been racing for years, and I still have no wins to show for it. It’s not fair to my team, it’s not fair to the fans. It’s not fair to you. You shouldn’t have to have a boyfriend who can’t fucking drive for shit.” 

“Lando, I’m not with you because of your job.” You said shortly, pressing your lips into a thin, unamused line. “And quite frankly, I feel hurt that you could even think I was.” 

Lando was quick to soothe, shaking his head frantically. He took both your hands in his, squeezing. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry, it’s just—I get in my head a lot. And I start to overthink, and shit comes out of my mouth that I don’t mean. I know you’re not like that, I do. I’m sorry.” 

You softened, sighing. “You could never win a race, ever, and I'd still love you all the same.”

He snorted. “Well, I’d like to win one at some point.” 

“What I meant was, I can’t speak for everyone else, but my pride for you has nothing to do with how well you do on the track, my love.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I’m proud of you because you’re you. You’re kind and you work hard, and you try your best at everything you do. Even if the outcome isn’t what you expected, you keep at it. You keep going. That’s one of the reasons why I love you, that’s why I’m so proud of you.” 

“I’m stupid.” He groaned, tipping his head back against the couch cushions. You simply made a noise of agreement. “You’re too good to me. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now, you really need to go back to the garage. I’m sure Oscar’s sent out a search party for you at this point.” You said firmly, giving his chest a sharp poke. Lando groaned again but made to get up, shifting your legs off him so he could climb to his feet. 

“Fine. Just kick me out of my own room, why don’t you?” He huffed dramatically, swiping his hat off the floor and jamming it back over his hair. You aimed a fake kick towards him, stifling a giggle when he caught your foot and pretended to undo your laces. “Kiss?” 

“You need to leave, Lando,” You whined, batting him away gently. “I refuse to be the reason you’re late.” 

“One more. Just one more for good luck and I promise I’ll leave.” He insisted, expression pleading. You grumbled something unintelligible, reaching up begrudgingly to bring him down for one last kiss. 

Lando smiled against your lips, snaking a hand around the back of your neck to keep you in place a few beats longer than you intended. You practically had to unstick yourself from him, giving him a little shove towards the door so he’d actually leave. 

Immediately, he whirled around. “Wait, wait—”

“Lando! Go!” 

“No, no, hold on, it’s important.” He slipped his newfound chain over his head, rubbing his thumb over both rings before holding it out towards you. “Keep this safe for me?” He asked earnestly, pressing the necklace into your hands. “Can’t have my lucky charm getting lost already, can I?” 

“Give ‘em hell, number four.” You smiled, donning the necklace yourself. He beamed, blowing you a kiss as he backpedaled down the hall. "Number four on the track, number one in my heart!"

You could hear his infectious laughter echoing even as he retreated around the corner.

Lando would be fine. And if he wasn’t, he’d bounce back, like he always did. And you’d be there to support him every step of the way, like you always were. 

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[ceoofglytchell]

Caterpillar (Prequel to “Butterfly”)

| Prequel | Part 1 | Part 2 |

Summary: Before you were Aegon’s cherished little butterfly, you were nothing more than an insect he wished to crush under his shoes. Over the years his feelings grew from hatred, to indifference, to friendship and to the beginning of a young love that was doomed from the very moment he first laid his eyes on you. This is the story of how the young prince and the princess slowly began to fall for each other.
Pairing: Young!Aegon II Targaryen x Strong!Niece!Reader 
Word count: 5936 words
Warnings: incest, Reader is described of having Strong features, Reader is Aegon‘s niece and Rhaenyra’s second child, enemies to friends to lovers, young love, brief mention of abuse from Otto and Alicent, fluff, longing, hurt/comfort, bittersweet ending, no mention of Y/N 
Notes: I AM BACK! For the lovely anon who requested a prequel to „Butterfly“. This is my first requested fic and I had much fun writing it. Enjoy 💛

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Aegon, second of his name and a proud boy of almost four years, stared with an expression of disgust and disinterest at the small newborn babe in his half-sister's arms, who was still lying exhausted in bed, sweat dripping down her forehead and neck, while you screamed so loud as if there was no tomorrow.

Next to him stood his father the king, staring down at his firstborn daughter with an expression of pride - an expression he had never seen in his eyes whenever he looked at him. His own mother was not here with them and he wondered why. Where was she? Did she not want to meet you?

"Would you like to hold her?" Rhaenyra asked the king exhaustedly, holding out her newborn to him. It was a little girl who was actually only due in a few weeks, but you had apparently decided to come earlier than, for example, your brother or Aegon with his own mother, which is why you were smaller and more delicate. At least that's how the midwives explained your delicacy.

"I would feel honored," said King Viserys the Peaceful with a little laugh and took you in his arms while he gently rocked you back and forth.

Aegon had actually just wanted to play, but he had been sitting in the library with his Septa earlier, who chatted far too much and whom he could hardly listen to properly, which is why it was just right when a guard asked him if he wanted to meet his niece, who had just left the womb at that time. Of course he had ran off immediately, but you were somehow... ugly. Your loud crying and screaming hurt his ears and he had to hold back from making a face.

Suddenly his father leaned down a little so that he could get a better look at you, whereupon his half-sister sat up a little in bed as if she didn't trust him, even though he was only a little boy and didn't know what kind of burden he would one day carry on his shoulders. The king's firstborn son, but he was not the heir to the Iron Throne. He was a prince who inherited nothing. A life without meaning. Of course, he didn't realize that at the time.

"Look... it's your little niece."

Rhaenyra whispered your name once and the young prince nodded and tried to remember it. Another face had seen the light of day and another sound of happy laughter would soon echo through the cold corridors of the Red Keep.

Of all his half-sister's children, you were by far the one he disliked the most. Aegon came to this realization when he was almost ten years old, when, out of boredom, he asked you instead of your older brother Jace if you would like to play with him, but after you tripped and accidentally fell you immediately started crying as if you had been impaled with a lance, and his mother later gave him a slap in the face behind closed doors that he could still feel on his pale cheek days later.

You had simply fallen over the ends of your dress when you were playing a game in which he had to catch you, but hitting your forehead on the hard stone floor of the Red Keep was definitely too much for a delicate thing like you to bear.

But while you, at the age of six, had already stood up for him and assured your mother several times that he had not pushed you on purpose, Queen Alicent forbade her eldest son to play with Rhaenyra's only daughter again, not because she really cared about your wellbeing, but because in her eyes you were nothing more than a bastard who did not deserve to be called a princess.

Instead, the silver-haired prince had taken to annoying his younger brother Aemond and called for the help of his brown-haired nephews, always excluding you and Helaena.

To the world you seemed like a happy girl, always friendly and always carrying a smile on your face, but you too secretly felt lonely. You never really understood Helaena and you were very afraid of everything that crawled and had more legs than four, which is why you avoided the other girl rather than spending the day with her. Aemond was the same age as you and you liked reading books with him in the library, to be engrossed in thick history books with him and your nose being buried deep in a fairy tale, but at least you could talk to the younger Targaryen prince and share some nice moments.

At least until Aegon and your brothers started making fun of you, which had quickly made your only friend leave your side, as he had already heard enough jokes about how he hardly spoke a word or especially about how he did not have a dragon.

Neither did you, but that didn't seem to interest either of them, except maybe sometimes Jace and Luke, who at the end of the day from time to time apologized for their statements and also for Aegon's taunts. The prince, however, never apologized.

The hatred that you believed your uncle had for you was about to change on a cool summer evening on the day of your eighth birthday.

Dressed in a yellow gown that reminded you of the petals of a sunflower and with your brown hair intricately braided, you sat alone in the garden of the castle, leaning against the Weirwood tree that had probably been growing here for centuries. On your lap lay a new book about fables and songs from the distant lands of Essos, which your "father" Laenor had given you.

You were not stupid. Of course you were aware of the fact that Laenor could not be your father, since you looked too different, but your mother had forbidden you to bring up the subject. She hadn't even answered your question about who your real father was and what the deal was with her and Ser Harwin.

Completely lost in thought, you hadn't realized how a person had slowly and quietly approached you from the side, until he suddenly grabbed you by the shoulders and made you scream loudly.

"Aegon!" you shouted angrily, while the boy just held his stomach in laughter, a full cup of wine in his left hand. When had he started taking his drinks with him?

"Oh, come on! It was just a harmless jest, niece," he answered you, giggling, while he collapsed onto the grass a little further in front of you, which was still glistening with dew, the action not looking particularly graceful. He seemed slightly drunk, which made you wonder why no one took the cup away from him if you had noticed it yourself. Why didn't his mother, the Queen, pay attention? Or his grandfather, the Lord Hand?

"Jest or not, you scared me," you grumbled, folding your arms in front of your chest, while a pout formed on your face that even he couldn't miss.

"Hey, don't pout. Today is your name day, remember?"

"Yes. And you have not thought of giving me a gift, Uncle," you noted in a slightly disappointed tone, while your dark eyes searched his.

"Yes, I did," Aegon countered and threw something at you that you were only able to catch so quickly thanks to your reflexes. "Here you go."

"What is this?" you asked him, confused, as you took his gift in your hands and examined it curiously. You had already wondered why he was the only one in the family who hadn't given you a gift when even the queen had entrusted you with a bracelet from her hometown.

In your delicate hands was a small wooden box, which you did not open yet in fear that it might be one of his jokes again and that there would be something disgusting in it. Hopefully it wasn't a spider...

"Open it. The woman I got it from told me girls like that kind of stuff," Aegon said with a shrug, as he brushed his long wavy curls out of his face.

Carefully and with an expression of suspicion, you opened the small wooden box a crack and stared at its contents with wide eyes. Inside was a beautiful golden brooch in the shape of a coiled dragon, whose eye was represented by a fragment of a pearl. It was beautiful...

Aegon looked at you unnoticed as you looked at the brooch he had given you in awe. He had not thought that this little piece would impress you so much. The best thing was that he didn't even have to pay gold for it, since the old woman had just given it to him when she saw his silver hair. He himself didn't wear such junk, but you in your pretty dresses and shimmering earrings and necklaces would certainly appreciate the piece of jewelry and apparently he was right.

With eyes sparkling with joy and a wide grin on your lips, you took the piece of jewelry out of the box and immediately put it on your dress right above your heart and when you looked at him, he needed a moment to come to terms with his thoughts.

It was probably the wine that was clouding his senses, wasn't it?

"And? Does it suit me?" you asked him excitedly in your normally gentle voice.

He swallowed. "Yes... it's pretty. You are pretty.”

For a moment you just stared at him, unable to believe that he-of all people!- had just called you pretty and given you the most wonderful gift of the evening. You liked the dragon brooch even more than the book and also much better than the wood carvings that your brothers had given you.

"I-I think I'd better leave you alone again now," the prince said suddenly and began to stand up, whereupon you quickly shook your head and instinctively reached for his hand in the hope that he would stay and maybe keep you company for a while. He might annoy you sometimes, but you certainly didn't hate him for that.

"Stay! Please..."

You batted your eyelashes and if Aegon had been stronger, he might have been able to resist. But he wasn't.

With a sigh, he let himself fall back into the grass, whereupon his cup tipped over and the dark red liquid soaked the ground next to you, but for some unusual reason he didn't care.

"And what do you think we'll do, princess? I see neither dancing fools nor musicians for our amusement.”

You seemed to think for a moment, then your gaze fell on the book, which was now lying neglected on the ground next to the tree. You picked it up and held it right in front of his nose.

“I could read to you! It is a collection of legends and songs from Essos. Perhaps you will appreciate them more than your brother.”

His shoulders sagged a little and a quiet sigh escaped him, but he nodded his head anyway, because after all, you were the one who had the special day and had turned a year older. Today was your day to make decisions.

“Fine. Read to me then,” said Aegon, leaning against the bark of the old tree that had stood in the courtyard of the Red Keep for generations, a face carved into its center that sometimes seemed to stare at him judgingly. He didn’t like it.

His little niece immediately moved closer to him, almost snuggling into his side, and opened the book to the page she had stopped on before he had interrupted her. Appropriately, it was even a legend from Oldtown, the home of his mother the queen.

Her soft voice immediately enveloped him like a warm blanket as she began to read to him and his initially stiff posture eased as he began to allow himself to relax.

He hated to think about it, but maybe you weren't as bad as he had thought.

The first time he thought about kissing you was on a quiet evening when nothing really special had happened except that you, now a girl of almost eleven, had secretly gone riding with him.

Sitting on your snow-white mare, your long brown curls blowing in the wind, a wide grin on your pretty face, and your arms stretched out to feel the headwind, you looked like a midsummer night's dream. The brooch he had given you a few years ago hung on the fabric of your coat.

It was early in the morning and the two of you had sneaked to the stables before anyone else but you and a few guards had walked through the corridors, but he had managed to get you past the watchful eyes of the King's Guard unnoticed. You had mounted your horses as quickly as you could and ridden together into the King's Wood until you found a clearing that seemed good enough to rest for a while.

You sat on the grass in the shade of a tree and ate cakes that he had secretly stolen from the kitchens before as a surprise for you. You had managed to talk him out of the wine.

Crumbs were lying on your lap and you held your hand over your mouth to hide your laughter after he had been frightened by a bug that had crawled onto his arm, causing him to screech as if he were the girl and not you.

His usually pale cheeks were red with embarrassment - as red as the ripest strawberries you loved to eat for breakfast - and he crossed his arms grumpily in front of his chest, but he couldn't blame you for laughing. After all, he often made fun of you because he loved to see you sulk.

But suddenly your happy laughter froze when you felt something on your head. A small white butterfly had landed on your hair and was slowly flapping its wings up and down. Your laughter disappeared and you looked at him with wide eyes. Aegon's heart skipped a beat.

"Aegon... what is that?" you asked him fearfully, not moving a single muscle.

"Well... it's huge. Horrible. The biggest bug I have ever seen," he lied with a mischievous gleam in his purple eyes, causing you to whimper softly and he could swear tears began to form in your eyes. How sweet.

"Make it go away. Help me." You begged him with a trembling voice. Apparently you had actually believed his lie, which made him feel proud.

Very carefully he slowly moved closer to you until your elbows brushed, which made him feel hot on the inside, and you felt the same, even if you didn't notice it, too afraid of the monster that had settled on your hair. You had no idea what innocent creature had chosen you as its resting place.

The prince stretched out his hand and very carefully approached the butterfly with his fingers. He felt you and the little insect looking at him, and it was then he did notice that you were just as delicate and lovely as the butterfly. Perhaps you had been born into the wrong house? You were not at all a dragon.

The butterfly fluttered its wings and hopped onto his index finger, which he held in front of your nose with a wide, triumphant grin on his lips. A sweet blush immediately spread across your cheeks and your slender shoulders sagged as you realized that you had made a fool of yourself.

In front of him of all people. In front of the boy you had secretly admired for several weeks at this point.

"Oh..." you murmured quietly to yourself and looked down at your lap while the butterfly continued to rest on the tip of his finger.

"Look how small and delicate it is... just like you."

You blinked up at him again and at that very moment the little insect jumped off his finger and fluttered away until it finally disappeared behind a nearby rose bush and you were both alone again, your only company being the birds that flew over your heads or nested in the nearby treetops.

"That was not funny, Uncle," you grumbled quietly to yourself and crossed your arms in front of your chest once again, while a small pout adorned your lips, which he found absolutely adorable.

"I thought so, little butterfly," he replied with the hint of a smile on his face, which was slightly tickled by the warm rays of sunlight that fell through the canopy of leaves - at least his nose was.

"Little butterfly?" you repeated the nickname he gave you with a wrinkle of your nose, because you yourself didn't know whether you should feel flattered or insulted. How did he always manage to make you question your feelings over and over again? It was a phenomenon.

"You heard me."

His smile widened and you couldn't help but try to smack him on the arm as best you could, but he just chuckled at your efforts, because it felt like anything but a punch. In his eyes, you were a butterfly, sweet, pure and innocent, deserving to be protected as far away from the scum of House Targaryen, Hightower and Velaryon as possible. You deserved better than this. At the same time, the thought of you leaving him and living somewhere else made him furious.

He wanted you to be happy, but he also wanted you to stay right where you were and where you were comfortable - with him, your annoying, drunken uncle who couldn't wait to see the girl he was sitting with grow into a mature, beautiful woman he could claim for himself.

And hopefully, when the day came, you would want that too.

Laena Velaryon was dead and House Targaryen had gathered for her funeral on the island of Driftmark to mourn the loss. At least those who knew her, which the young children did not and therefore stood rather bored to the side.

Heleana was talking to a spider, Aemond was standing around alone, and the sons of Rhaenyra stood with the daughters of Daemon. Two, however, had sneaked away from the funeral and sat down on the beach, a jug of wine in one hand and a plate of cake in the other.

Aegon, now sixteen years old and almost a man grown, sat to your left on the white sands of the island. He was dressed head to toe in green - on the orders of his mother and grandfather the Hand - and his hair now fell to his chest, even though he secretly wished it were shorter. He didn't really like the length and the tradition behind it. The expectations.

You sat next to him, now almost thirteen, and you were getting more beautiful by the day. Your brown hair, the proof of your mother's shame, now fell to your elbows and your petite body was wrapped in a purple dress and black cloak, due to the grief you had to pretend to feel, even though you had never known this woman. Your mother had wanted to force you to wear red again, but you had stood up to her and bravely confronted her, telling her that this constant hostility was foolish.

Such disagreements were becoming more and more frequent between your mother, your brothers and you, because you and the eldest prince had become truly inseparable in recent years. The bond that bound you together was strong and apparently unbreakable, because even though he continued to make jokes and antics and you mostly felt insulted and hurt as a result, you still felt this feeling. This warmth around your heart, this tickling in your stomach that felt like little butterflies that were locked inside you like in a chest.

You had learned to love him and without your knowledge he had learned to love you too.

"She told me again today to stay away from you," you told him, staring into the horizon and hoping that fate had other plans for you.

"I know, sweet butterfly. Just don't listen to her. What does she know about us anyway? Nothing. She knows nothing.” Aegon replied, instinctively holding his cup, which was filled to the brim with Dornish wine, tighter in his hand. Actually, he felt no hatred towards his half-sister - your mother - but he disliked the way she told you over and over again that his company was not good for you, that his ways were spoiling you like a worm spoils a ripe apple.

Perhaps his own mother was right and Rhaenyra would seek his life at some point. He would not be surprised, as much as she seemed to despise him. What had he ever done to her? Or was it his very existence that she detested?

You stared down at the cake that was on the plate you held in your hand. You had been hungry a moment ago, but now you were not anymore.

“I don’t understand why we have to be here at all. None of us knew this woman." The prince grumbled, swirling the wine around in his cup, slowly moving it back and forth.

"She was my aunt-"

"But did you know her?"

You shook your head, one of your brown curls falling over your face and hiding half of your features from him like a veil. Sometimes he caught himself imagining a life with you, and lately his thoughts were not so innocent anymore. More and more often he woke up in the morning, desire burning through his veins, and he thought about you, how beautiful you were and how much more beautiful you would become if your curves continued to develop.

Criston had told him such desires were normal for a young man, but if the prince had admitted that you were the one who kept him awake at night, the man who was a second father to him probably wouldn't have understood either.

He carefully reached out his free hand to you and gently tucked the wild strand of hair behind your ear so that he could once again look into your dark eyes, which had always reminded him of a young doe. "What's going through your mind, niece?"

"Nothing. But... won't the others wonder where we are?"

Aegon was about to contradict you and tell you that you had absolutely nothing to fear when he suddenly heard his grandfather's loud, stern voice echo across the beach: "Aegon! Come here. Now."

You watched your friend anxiously as he straightened up and walked with slumped shoulders to the stone steps that would lead from the beach up to the fortress where the funeral was being held. You couldn't see exactly what was happening, but you swore that the old man grabbed his grandson's arm hard. The words he spoke to him did not seem particularly kind or compassionate, as the young prince quickly pulled away from him and disappeared in another direction.

However, he did not come back to you. He left you sitting alone on the beach with nothing but a glass of wine and a piece of cake. Now you had lost your appetite once and for all.

It was evening when you saw him next. The sun had long since disappeared behind the horizon and most people had returned to their chambers for the night or were getting ready for bed.

You did not know where your mother had gone or why there was suddenly no trace of Prince Daemon when he seemed to be in such a good mood at the funeral, even though he had just become a widower, but you were sure that you could not go to sleep without knowing where your friend was and how he was doing.

You found Aegon on the stairs that led to the beach behind. He was leaning drunkenly with his back against the cold, wet stone and his eyes closed. Next to him lay an overturned gold cup from which a small puddle of red liquid was running.

You had never seen him so drunk before.

Had he drunk himself to the point of unconsciousness?

This was the first time. The previous times you had seen him very drunk, he had at most strolled through the corridors slurring his words - or rather stumbled - and you or Aemond usually had to lead him back to his chambers, where he usually immediately fell onto his bed and sank into a deep sleep. But he had never fallen over because of the alcohol. You wondered what his grandfather had said to him that his first reaction was to get so drunk that he simply fell over.

You approached him carefully and knelt next to his sleeping form. Slowly and careful not to startle him, you reached for the now empty wine cup and put it to the side before gently placing a hand on his shoulder in the hope that he would open his amethyst colored eyes again. But he didn't.

"Uncle? Uncle, can you hear me?" you asked him timidly, leaning closer to him, so close that if he were awake he could feel your warm breath on his snow-white skin.

A mumble was all you got in response, but you couldn't understand any of the words or even guess what he was trying to say. Maybe he shouldn't drink so much... That couldn't be good for him in the long run.

When he didn't answer the second time either, you gently shook his shoulder and then finally his eyes fluttered open again and he blinked a few times in a row, as if he didn't understand where he was or why you were sitting so close to him, almost as if he couldn't remember what he had done before.

"What... what happened?" he asked you dazedly and sat up a little, whereupon a small, tortured groan escaped him.

"I was just about to ask you that," you replied with a smile on your soft, rosy lips. "You suddenly disappeared."

The older prince shrugged and stretched out his arm as if he wanted to reach for the wine cup that he assumed was at his side, but he only grabbed for air, as you had fortunately put it away a few seconds ago.

"I wasn't well. Nothing to worry your pretty head about, darling."

His answer wasn't enough for you, as the memory of Otto Hightower grabbing his arm and whispering angry words to him had not yet left your mind. There was more to it. You knew not what it was, but you suspected that it had something to do with you - or rather your features.

Your mother didn't want to name it, but you knew what you were. A bastard.

"You know that you can always be honest with me, Aegon. You don't have to hide anything from me. I am not your enemy."

At your words, his shoulders sagged and he felt a cold shiver run down his spine, but at the same time a warmth spread through him that he couldn't control and that burned in his eyes like the fire of his young dragon. He would not cry in front of you. He wanted to be strong for you.

"What was it?" you asked him again carefully, stroking his silver curls over his shoulder with one hand so that he would not be able to hide his face from you. You were already well aware of his tricks and you could guess what storm was sweeping through his head and throwing his thoughts into disarray like a hurricane over the sea.

"Did he scare you again? Told you you would be king?"

With every word you spoke, his heart tightened more and more in his chest and he could feel the tears burning hot in his eyes, ready to roll down his cheeks and disappear under the green fabric of his coat. You were too good for him, far too good. You were innocent and pure and he was corrupt and filthy. What had he done to deserve your affection? No one else seemed to think like you.

"Did he tell you to stay away from me?"

Without him being able to stop it, the first tear fell, then the second and suddenly he was sobbing bitterly and you could do nothing but take him in your arms and let him lay his head on your shoulder while you laid your cheek against his hair. He held on to you as if you were the last thing that bound him to life, as if you were the Mother herself who had wrapped her protective arms around him.

"He... he said the future king doesn't bother with the likes of you and that... that I would soon be married anyway and you too..." he sobbed into the fabric of your dress, while his arms wrapped themselves around your slim body and he pressed himself tightly against you, like a plush pillow he could bury his face in.

"That's not true and you know it. Mother would never give me to a man as a bride just yet. She wouldn't do that." You assured him while gently stroking his back. However, you didn't understand why this fact hurt him so much. One day, each of them would be married and bring more heirs into the world. That was the order of things, as the Septa's had taught you.

"But I don't want you to get married. I don't want you to be taken away."

More and more tears fell from his eyes and he couldn't help but tell you all the things that had been going through his head for weeks, months, and maybe even years. All his deepest desires, all the thoughts he hoped would never come to light, he laid at your feet like on a silver platter.

He only hated himself all the more for it.

"Why would they take me away from you? The Red Keep is my home. Mine and yours." You tried to talk to him, keeping your voice calm and collected, but you could feel yourself becoming more and more confused with every second that passed and with every word he whispered. He was falling apart in front of you and yet there was nothing you could do to ease his pain. You felt powerless.

"I don't want to marry just any woman," he murmured, hoping that you would recognize the pleading in his tone and understand what he longed for without him having to say it. He couldn't.

"She will be beautiful, Aegon. Beautiful, kind, smart and witty.”

Your list didn’t make it any better, because in his eyes you embodied all of those things. You were the woman you described, the one he wished he would marry sooner or later, but how would you know? How could you even guess what a bad friend he was to you. He was a bad man, a bad prince, a bad son, a bad brother and now a bad friend as well.

You listed other attributes that you hoped would calm him down, because what prince wouldn’t want a woman like that? Sometimes you wished you could be that one woman for him, the one he would spend his life by and learn to love. One who could call him “husband.” But that would probably never happen. You were just a foolish girl with equally foolish dreams.

“But I don’t want just any woman. I want… I want…” He couldn’t say it. He couldn't bring the words out of his mouth and instead he just clung to you tightly, burying his head even more in your shoulder before he managed to actually whisper those words that would haunt you from now on.

"I want you."

For a second it felt like the world stood still. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore stopped and the cool breeze of the evening wind only felt like a gentle touch, a light pat. There was a chance that you had misunderstood him, but you knew what you had heard. You knew it exactly.

"Uncle..."

"No, no, please listen to me," he begged immediately when he felt your arms, which were wrapped around him, loosen just a little and you tried to wriggle out of his grip. It was very important that you listened to him now.

"My little butterfly, you are the only one who sees me for who I really am and I know that I am not always easy, but you have to understand that you are the most important thing in my life. You mean everything to me."

You leaned back and let your eyes wander over his face, hoping to find a sign that this was just another one of his jokes and that he wasn't actually pouring his heart out to you. It reminded you of the books you loved to read. The poetry and the romance.

He wasn't lying. His eyes were honest and from the way he looked at you, as if you were the most precious thing to him, you knew that your relationship would be even more difficult in the future than it already was. The friendship between you two was not accepted by your family, but love? Like in the stories, this love was also forbidden, but in all the books the couples always had a happy ending with each other. Maybe everything would turn out well for you in the end too?

"My mother... she would never allow it," you muttered, shaking your head. and now you were the one who could feel your heart tightening painfully.

The prince shook his head firmly and he placed his hands on your cheeks, cradling your face in his palms while his thumbs gently stroked your cheeks, which were red from the cold and his words.

"I don't care. I promise you that one day I will marry you. I will take you as my wife, no matter the cost."

Without thinking, you closed your eyes and gently pressed your forehead against his. Your breath mingled and he closed his eyes too, continuing to gently hold your face in his hands. It wasn't a kiss, but for the two of you this moment had about the same meaning. It was the start of something new, something wonderful.

At that point, none of you could have guessed that not far away from you, a young, brave Aemond was approaching Vhagar with the intention of claiming the old dragon for himself. You did not know that he would soon lose his eye at the hands of his brother, nor that a discussion would then take place in the halls of Driftmark that would tear the two sides of your house apart, forever.

You could not have known that the very next day he would see you one last time and that you would then be torn away from him for six long years. How could you have known that beforehand?

But in that moment, in that embrace, everything was fine for you and you imagined together what your future might look like.

It would certainly be different than you had hoped, but your story would also come to a happy end eventually.

The dragons would dance and yet your souls burned to become one with each other.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

[specialgradefckr]

tw: explicit content, incest, satoru/reader, satoru/suguru, shoko/reader, codependency, very twisted relationship dynamics, implied abusive/neglectful childhood

suguru had never known what to make of the two of you.

satoru the six eyes and his twin sister. satoru who was his best friend, and you, the girl who looks just like him.

satoru who let suguru bend him over and fuck him until he cried, only to roll off the bed, pulling out his phone.

god. he knew satoru was a dick, but this?

it hurts more than it should. they'd never talked about it, never even called each other friends. he should have figured this wasn't anything special.

but what the fuck is satoru doing on his phone?

"satoru?" he says, trying to sound casual.

everything has to be casual with satoru. low-key. being with him feels like he's coaxing a wild animal. get too close, and he might just bolt.

bolt, only to hit him out of the blue days later with a picture of a candy and a smarmy comment about suguru's taste in food. or his hair. or his power as a sorcerer, or whatever was going through that malfunctioning brain of his.

god, why the fuck does he even like him again?

satoru turns back so suguru can see his smirking face.

god. that was why. the face of a fucking angel, a smile that made his heart skip. why did it have to be on this asshole?

"what, suguru? you feelin' lonely?" satoru drawls.

it's a question he knows the answer to. keep it chill. don't show your hand. don't get too close or he'll get scared.

it aches. "shut up," he says, "i'm just curious who you're texting right after i pulled my dick out of you."

he smirks back when satoru pauses, hesitates.

"who's this person you're thinking about right after you cum?" suguru drawls. he's proud of how distant he manages to sound.

satoru's eyes dart towards him, all ice blue and piercing.

"nobody," he says, setting his phone face down while he pulls on his pants.

he blinks. "what are you..."

satoru ignores his question, strolling out towards the door while waving goodbye. "later, su-gu-ru~"

"but this is -"

before his eyes can furrow, satoru closes the door behind him.

"...your room."

he'd thought that it meant something different this time. satoru always left right after they fucked, he never stayed.

but this is satoru's room. so he'd either kick suguru out, or let him stay.

he hadn't been prepared for him to just... leave. his own room.

what's wrong with him? seriously.

suguru glances at the downturned phone. flips it over.

nee-chan~ (2)

his sister? it beeps.

nee-chan~ (3)

no, don't. i'll ask shoko

you'll ask shoko to do what? satoru has a lock, so he can't see.

seriously, i mean it

after a moment, there's another message.

are you ignoring me, or just busy with him?

don't come over. slut

...what?

the message notification disappears along with the message.

suguru gets a strange feeling.

he looks around satoru's room. he finds some girl's clothes.

does satoru even like girls? they could be yours. he's seen you in his room before.

the strange feeling starts to get. stranger.

there's condoms in here, too, which is weird because satoru has never asked him to use them. or used them himself. he whined when suguru suggested it, actually. asked if he was scared of getting knocked up.

ugh. stupid, insufferable, endearing little shit. he wants to have him in his arms right now.

but it doesn't mater what suguru wants. satoru just left. like he always does, sooner or later.

picking up the phone, he makes his way out. down the hall, towards the girls' dorm.

shoko is already there when he gets there. holding out an arm to stop him.

he raises a brow.

"she's sleeping."

"how do you know i'm here for her?"

shoko shrugs. "why else would you be? saw gojo go in there. anyways, they're asleep now."

"can't be. i was with him just a few minutes ago."

the look she gives him is... strange. everything about this situation feels... off.

he pushes past her, and she sighs.

there's no noise inside, at least. he looses a curse to twist the lock on the door, turn it form the inside.

and it's surprising because - god, what was he expecting?

you're there, curled up beneath the blanket with satoru laying behind you, arms wrapped around you and holding you close.

it's romantic, sure. intimate.

but nothing weird. well, nothing too weird. satoru's always been weird, and you're just like him, so of course you're both weird together. you've always been close. you're his twin sister. what is he thinking?

with a toss, he lets satoru's phone fall onto the floor.

he avoids shoko's gaze as he closes the door and stalks off.

(he doesn't see her anxious glance at the door.)

"he's gone," satoru whispers to you, brushing his thumb over your nipple as you bite your lip.

"shut up," you hiss, putting a hand over his. "i can't believe you did that. why did he follow you? what did you say to him?"

his other hand, threaded beneath your panties, wriggles playfully.

"whaaat? you said you wanted to go to bed. i didn't want to make you wait." he sighs dramatically, "i'm the strongest sorcerer, you know. i need my rest~"

and without you, there is no rest.

as soon as your body is against his, it's like all the tension leaves him. you're there, with him, and everything is all right.

all his worries fade away when he can wrap his arms around you and feel you embrace him in return. mind blank at the soothing sound of your voice. never mind the words you're saying.

"yeah, but do you need to do... this." you say fruitlessly. "you could have come later."

"didn't wanna come later," he kisses your shoulder, "wanted to see you now."

you wriggle in his arms, too wide and too strong to escape, even if you wanted to.

it's enraging. it's gratifying. you don't know what it is, and never have.

he must have been fucking suguru. and after he got his, he came to you.

should you laugh, or cry?

"i could have asked shoko." you mumble almost miserably.

but a sigh escapes you as he fondles your breast. satoru always knows how to make you feel good.

maybe not as good as shoko does, but you're still nice enough not to say that to his face.

"what? to sleep with you?" satoru scoffs, "you can't sleep without me, either."

neither of you have ever slept alone, not a single night in your life.

not even when you were deathly ill and the clan begged the precious six eyes to stay away and not catch your sickness.

satoru had stayed by your side the entire while. held your hand while your head pounded and your body ached. wiped your tears when you cried.

because you were very young, and very sick, in more pain than you'd ever felt before. you had honestly thought you were going to die.

there had been no servants, no mother or father or caretaker. only satoru holding you close, lifting you to drink some water and medicine. telling you that you couldn't die. he wouldn't allow it.

and to your child's mind, that had been reassuring. your brother never left you. your fever broke and you were okay, just like he said you would be.

now, you know better. now you know satoru would lay in bed with people who weren't you, even if he always came back (for now).

now you knew what it was like to have someone else by your side.

(but was it enough? could it ever be enough? could it ever be what you have with him?)

"i'll never know until i try." you turn in his arms to face him, and he allows it.

blue eyes. beautiful, beautiful blue. a pretty face. almost as pretty as shoko's.

you've been learning, lately. you used to think of the mole on her cheek as an imperfection, the cigarette smoke a bad habit.

now? you still think it's a bad habit, but the mole is charming. and you don't hate the smell as much because shoko took you out shopping for perfume.

she asked you which one you liked the most, and bought it for herself. she wears it every friday when you have your girls night out with utahime.

where you get drunk enough to make out with her until she brings you back to the dorm, kissing and fondling and touching.

she asks you if it's okay. asks you how you like it best. asks you to touch her this way, that way.

it's not like how it is with satoru. but she makes you feel good, makes you happy. she wants you to feel good. when you cry she kisses your tears away, like she knows better than to ask but wants to comfort you anyways.

when was the last time satoru tried to comfort you?

"hey," satoru breathes into your ear, pulling your panties down, "c'mon."

when you think of her, your heart flutters. when you think of satoru, your stomach flips, and your whole body aches.

you don't know what love is. you don't think satoru does, either.

otherwise, why would he ever leave geto's arms? when he's so obviously head over heels for him?

you clasp one arm against his chest as you reach down, stroking his cock to hardness. geto must have made him cum (satoru has never made you cum). must have fucked him.

satoru rolls you so you're on top of him.

his shirt is off, baring his lean, muscled chest. your brother, your strong, handsome, beautiful brother, looking up at you with wandering eyes and greedy hands.

your hands are equally greedy. running over his chest, ghosting over his nipples until he shivers. oversensitive. he always is after he's been with geto.

satoru's got a condom out already. he slips it on, leaning forward and pinning you down beneath him.

he doesn't have to use condoms with geto. he doesn't have to be the one on top all the time, either. geto can fuck him. he must like that.

geto's a special grade sorcerer. geto's a man. he's not his sister.

his cock is sliding up and down against your entrance, wetting the condom as he nips at your breast.

he always leaves marks like this, but never where anyone can see.

does he leave marks on geto?

"do you like him more?" you mumble, anxiety swirling in your gut. your lower half is a hot swirling pool of need, leaking for him.

and he inches in, making you whine, making you claw marks into his shoulder. you hope geto sees them.

satoru groans, low and throaty. it always feels like coming home when he's inside you. a perfectly matched lock and key.

his hand threads through your hair. you're so beautiful, so fucking beautiful. he'll admit he's a vain bitch, but who wouldn't be? looking like the two of you do.

maybe one day he should get you to dress up like him. wear a strap and fuck him, that'd be fun.

for now, you're warm and soft and perfect for him. so comfortable. and you're rambling about stuff that isn't important.

"what," he murmurs, breathy from the warmth of you around him, "who?"

if the frustration shows on your face, he can just fuck it away.

"geto." the name is swallowed by a swift thrust, hands planted on your hips.

you wish he'd touch your clit more (you never ask). you wish he'd answer your question (you're afraid to push). but your brother just doesn't think about other people.

"c'mon," he whines, "don't talk about some other dude. you're with me."

"you were with him."

"so?" he thrusts in harder, stealing your breath, like that'll win him the argument, "you're fucking shoko."

satoru fucks you breathless, then. pumping in and out so quickly that the friction has you shuddering, shivering, close enough that you finally start to squeeze around him.

it's always like this with him. you feel like you're drowning, helpless. all you can do is cling to him.

"satoru," you hate how pitiful your voice sounds, "satoruuuu...."

he's hitting you, so deep and so hard it hurts, pierces through the breathless haze and leaves you clenching around him.

"please," your breath escapes you with his next thrust.

please don't leave me. don't abandon me for him. don't discard me now that you have someone better. don't leave me all by myself...

tears dot at your eyes, squeezing around him. satoru's own eyes are wide and wild, his hips shoving into you staggeringly fast.

"i got you," he says, close, so close, "i've got you."

another deep thrust, painful as it is pleasurable, bruising and fast like his fingertips on your hips. he swallows your moans with a kiss.

he thinks he can eat up all your complaints, all your anxiety. hide away from his own by nestling himself in your body.

you don't want anyone but him, right? he's the only one who touches you like this.

the way you squeeze around him, the way your body feels against his, no one else gets that from you. shoko couldn't do this for you. no one could.

you say his name again and he's ready to burst. you love him always. you're so good for him. you make him feel good just by being there.

a part of his life. a missing limb. his precious sister, his beating heart, right there against his chest.

"there," satoru pants, "fuck, there, cum for me, baby..."

it's tears you blink away when he gasps and cums, burying himself inside you with a wounded sort of whimper.

you never do, when it's him. to be fair, you've never done it to yourself, either.

you only ever came when shoko fucked you. but fucked is such an ugly word for how gently she touched you, how soft she smiled.

"satoru," you whine again, "do you like him more than me? i like you more than shoko..."

satoru doesn't answer you. his hands move from your bruised hips to wrap around you, pull you close, plant kisses on your head.

"you know," he mumbles out your name. "you know."

there's a flash of rage. irrational.

he won't say it. he won't even say it. satoru will fuck you, his own sister. cling to you like he needs you to survive, sleep with you every night of his life.

but he won't say he loves you more than geto. he won't even say he likes you.

and you know - because you know him like the back of your hand, you were born with him, you spent every waking moment of your life with him until you came to the school - you know satoru loves you.

but he loves you like he loves air. it's always there. always accessible. it's not like the air will suddenly leave.

you curl into satoru's muscled chest, let him embrace you closer, sink into the silence that's only comfortable for him.

maybe there's something you can do about this.

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

"Pick One Moment"

[Spencer Reid x fem!reader]

Masterlist

Summary: A rough case in Dayton, Ohio brings unexpected emotions to the surface for you, forcing you to confront feelings you'd been hiding for years—feelings for Spencer Reid.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, moment of awkwardness

Word Count: 2.0k words

A/N: just based on the lyric 'And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you...I love you' from the song Something Stupid by Frank Sinatra because it's been stuck in my head. I've been planning to write Spence for a while but I've been intimidated.

Staying professional in Dayton, Ohio proved to be a challenge.

It had been a rough case, but what case wasn't, right? Just have to wrap this one up and you can go back to your house and dog.

Okay, fine, this wasn't like most cases at all, not to you anyway. This one had hit particularly close to home. And you didn't like that one bit.

This made you more short-tempered than usual, even snapping at a witness. After a lengthy lecture from Hotch, I mean from the look on his face you would think you had insulted him, he had 'benched' you by having you go through old files that might be related to the UnSub.

Hey, at least you got to do it with Spencer.

After working with him for so many years, you grew quite fond of him. Too fond maybe.

You stared at him going through files with a speed that should not have been human. 20,000 words at a minute, and you thought you were a fast reader.

"Got anything yet, Boy Genius?" you asked, flipping the page of your own file.

He looked up at you. God those eyes...

"No. This one isn't even related to it." he dropped the file on the table.

"Didn't you read the entire thing?"

"Yes," he replied, "It was interesting."

"You find everything interesting."

"Not true," he protested.

You rubbed your eyes, sighing. "Sure, Spence."

He tilted his head at you, a look of concern on his face. Adorable.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

You considered lying, you had been doing that the entire time you had arrived in Dayton after all, but decided against it. "Not really."

"Is it about your family? I thought this case might bring up some bad memories."

You couldn't help but smile at how quickly he had gotten it. "Yeah, something like that."

"Can I help?"

"Can you make memories go poof?"

He actually seemed to ponder it. "No. I'm not sure why you would want to."

"You never wish that you could just forget the bad stuff?" You knew what he had been through, you had seen quite a bit of it.

His brows furrowed. "I don't like the idea of forgetting anything. I mean, Mom forgets enough so I remember for her too."

You realized your mistake and winced. "Spence... God, sorry."

"It's okay," he reassured you. "You're remembering a dark time in your life, it can be overwhelming. Also explains you snapping at the witness, with your nerves on edge."

"Yeah?" You grinned. "It was going to be Morgan but the asshole left before I could. So collateral damage."

He laughed. "He's outside if you want to insult him now. I don't want to be collateral damage too."

"You? Never."

"Never?"

"Never," you repeated.

Oh, how you loved his lopsided grins. "Thank you."

"Always." If you could pick one moment to live in forever, it probably would've been that one.

Minus JJ coming through the door right then. "We got something."

You wanted to throw a file at her. Instead, you get up with a heavy sigh. The sooner you get this done the better, you had to remember that.

~~~

The BAU was heading back to Washington tomorrow, so you could leave this far far behind. Finally. This case taking up two weeks of your life was enough.

You sat at a cafe next to the hotel where you were staying. It was a cozy little place with a mostly brown interior and warm lighting. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air.

You sipped your drink, feeling the cup's warmth in your hands. You had been coming here for the past few days and you had to admit, you would miss this place.

Just then, the door opened, and in walked someone you recognized, glancing around the room before spotting you. With a smile, Spencer made his way over, pulling out a chair across from you.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

You smiled back, gesturing to the seat. "Not at all."

He sat down and looked around. "So this is where you disappear to?"

You hummed in confirmation. "it's a nice place to think."

He stared at you for a while before nodding thoughtfully.

"What?" you sipped your coffee.

"Just... Are you feeling better?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, UnSubs behind bars. What more could I want?"

"Closure," he replied quietly.

You pressed your lips together tightly. "It's fine Spence. I'm alright with it."

"I don't think you are."

"Spencer," you said, a hint of warning in your voice, "You want to help, I get it. But not with this. Okay?"

It was an unspoken thing, the way Spencer always seemed to know when you needed space and when you needed someone to push just a little. He respected your boundaries, but there were moments—like this one—when his concern slipped through the cracks.

He sat across from you in that quiet cafe, watching you. You couldn’t tell if he was waiting for you to speak or if he was just giving you the time to process, as he always did.

It had been a rough case, yes, but that wasn’t why you were still here, staring into your coffee like it held all the answers.

Your eyes flickered up to meet his. He was still staring at you, quietly, as if he could see past your walls.

"Spence," you said, your voice quieter than you intended, "I’m fine. Really."

He didn’t respond immediately. His hand rested on the edge of the table, and you could see him fiddling with his fingers. That subtle nervousness he only ever seemed to show when he wasn’t sure what to say, but he knew he needed to say something.

"I don't believe you," he murmured, his voice soft but insistent. “I’ve seen you too many times to believe that everything’s okay, especially when it’s not. You’ve been holding it in, and I know that—"

"Spencer—" you started, but you were too late. He was already talking over you, his voice getting faster.

"Please. I just want to make sure you're alright, okay?" He sighed, his eyes briefly darting away before looking back at you. “I just... I care about you."

Everything felt very... loud. Too loud.

He looked at you expectantly, almost uncertain. Maybe, just maybe, he was waiting for you to make the first move.

You cleared your throat. God, you really hated moments like this, when everything inside you seemed to tremble at the prospect of just being honest.

His hand shifted on the table, and before you could stop it, you had reached out to touch his fingers. It was the smallest of gestures—barely noticeable—but it was enough.

For a long moment, you simply looked at each other, the conversation hanging in the air. There was so much unspoken between you, so much left unsaid. Maybe that was the problem.

Before you could stop yourself, the words spilled out of you, quicker than you could catch them. "I love you."

Spencer's face went completely still, his eyes wide as he processed your confession.

You had not meant to say that. You didn’t. It was an accident. You weren’t ready. You weren’t ready to put that kind of pressure on this, on him, on whatever this was.

But the words had slipped out anyway. You stared at him, feeling the heat rise in your face, hoping the ground would swallow you up.

"Sorry-God, I'm sorry," you quickly got up and rushed out of the cafe.

He just sits there. Frozen.

If you could pick one moment to rewind, it would be this one.

Oh, you fucked up big time.

~~~

You had never been more ready to get home, but unfortunately, there was an hour and thirty minutes on the private plane. With him.

Usually, you would spend an entire flight, after a case well done, talking to Spence. But after yesterday? But not this time. Maybe not ever.

You could feel Spencer’s presence beside you, but he was quiet. So quiet. Not the usual playful banter, no sudden bursts of random trivia or observations. It was almost like he was giving you space... or maybe he was just too uncomfortable to say anything.

Your eyes flickered to him once, twice, each time hoping for some indication of what he was thinking. He was staring out the window, a far-off look in his eyes, his fingers curled loosely around a book in his lap. For a moment, you almost felt the pull to apologize again, but the last thing you wanted to do was make him feel obligated to comfort you. You had put your foot in it already. Now, it was time to ride this out and pray it didn't become permanently awkward.

But Spencer, as always, was unpredictable.

"You don’t have to apologize," he said, his voice quiet, but it still carried across the cabin, cutting through the engine's hum.

You stiffened, eyes fixed on your lap. Had you been that obvious?

"I wasn’t going to," you said, a little too defensively.

He didn’t respond right away. You could feel him looking at you, the weight of his gaze making you want to curl into yourself.

“You know I care about you, right?” He said it so gently, like he wasn’t sure how you were going to take it.

You felt your chest tighten. Care about you. Those words. He was still speaking, still looking at you, but it was hard to focus on his words because everything was spinning around that one sentence.

"I do," you replied. You had to stop yourself from saying more—there was more you wanted to say, needed to say—but you couldn’t. Not yet. Not until you figured out where your head was at, where you both were at.

Spencer shifted in his seat. He didn’t look hurt, but there was something in the way he held himself. Maybe he was just holding back, afraid to push too hard, afraid of what that push might break.

You finally took a breath and turned to face him. He was still watching you, his expression a mix of concern and... something else. It was the something else that had you questioning everything.

"You don’t have to say anything," you added quickly, "I just...said something stupid. I didn’t mean to make things weird."

Spencer didn’t break his gaze, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Not his usual goofy grin, but something softer. More real. Something... intimate.

"It’s not weird," he said, his voice still quiet, "You’re not the only one who gets nervous around here, you know."

You blinked at him, genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"

His smile flickered, a small laugh escaping him before he adjusted his posture and leaned back in his seat. He seemed less tense, more at ease, "I’m just saying... I’ve had my own share of... feelings. I just didn’t know how to... deal with them."

Your breath caught in your throat. Spencer had feelings? For you?

The question hovered between you like an unspoken truth, but it seemed too risky to ask outright. Instead, you glanced down at your hands, the heat rising in your face.

And then, finally, you said something else, the words coming out quieter than you intended: "Do you think... we can just... forget it happened?"

You almost expected him to shrug it off, to offer a playful remark about how awkward it was or how maybe you'd both laugh about it someday. But he didn’t do that.

"No," he said softly. "I think maybe... we should talk about it. When we’re ready."

Your heart fluttered. Was this... was this him telling you he was ready? That maybe he wanted to figure it out too? Or was this Spencer, as usual, just giving you a window to process everything at your own pace?

You weren’t sure. You weren’t sure of anything. But you couldn’t deny the weight of his words, the connection that had always been there and that seemed to grow stronger the more time you spent together.

"I’m not great at talking about feelings," you admitted, looking over at him sheepishly.

Spencer chuckled softly, a breath of amusement. "Yeah, I’ve noticed."

You gave him a sidelong glance, your lips twitching into a reluctant grin. “Smartass.”

"Hey, you started it," he teased, finally breaking the tension just a little. "And I’ll finish it. But not right now. I think... we both need time to think."

You nodded slowly. He was right. You both needed time. The last thing either of you needed was to make rash decisions while emotions were still running high.

"You’re not mad?" You asked it before you could stop yourself, the doubt creeping in.

"Mad? Why would I be mad?" Spencer’s face was open and sincere.

"I don’t know. I just..." You didn’t finish your sentence. What was there to say? How could you explain the mess of emotions you were still trying to sort out?

He reached out across the seat, almost as if he was testing the waters, and placed a hand gently on yours. The touch was brief, but it sent a spark of warmth through you.

"I’m not mad," he said again, more firmly this time. "Not for that."

You were both quiet for the rest of the flight, but the silence between you felt different—more like an understanding, like a promise that when the time was right, you’d figure it out together.

It wasn't the one moment you would pick to stay in forever, but it was a moment you didn't mind being in for the rest of the flight.

[callieisto]

☆ Kinktober Day 4: Aphrodisiac! ☆

(fem!reader)

Sam hated witches.

They were nearly impossible to deal with, mischievous, and most of the time, they had no real idea what they were getting themselves into. But the ones that did know were the ones Sam hated the most. Because they did stuff like this.

This older grandma-type had seen you and Sam when you came to interview her about some teenagers disappearing, and then claiming they spent three weeks in the woods as actual animals- squirrels and deer and rabbits. Due to what they claimed was a witch, and what the police claimed to be hallucinogenic mushrooms (or something.)

She decided you needed a little push in the right direction, and had drugged the two of you with an aphrodisiac in the tea she offered. Too bad the kids had managed to describe her only a few hours later. Dean had shot her in the head before she could really tell them what it did beyond the whole 'making you really horny' thing. The spell, drug, whatever it was, had taken its sweet time kicking in. He thought it would be okay. All three of you did.

A town over, after the burning and the burying and the ruining of spell ingredients, it had hit him in the car- and you moments later. He managed to tell Dean to pull into a motel and splurge for three rooms- because no way was he going to share with his brother, and no way was he going to share with you.

You were just- Well, you were... you were something to him, something sweet and perfect and entirely untouchable. Besides, even seeing you right now might cause his heart to burst, because you raise his resting heart rate by like twenty BPM just by existing around him, and he can already feel his heart thundering against his ribs. He's sweatier than he's ever been in his life, naked on the edge of his bed in the motel room with a hand around his dick.

He's trying to jerk off to this terrible cable porn, but he keeps imagining you between his legs, your eyes fluttering so pretty as you lick up the underside of his dick, over that vein at the tip that makes him shudder, and-

He cums with a little strangled gasp and a whimper, not expecting his release to creep up on him like that. He pants, eyeing the spot where the cum soaks into the rug. He thinks 'god, finally', because maybe that would make everything better.

But he's still hard as a rock. And his head is still foggy. And if he's hearing things right, there's a timid little knocking sound at his door, but that might also be a hallucination due to his brain leaking out of his ears. He's so hot. He feels like he's melting.

The knock comes again, louder this time. Sam clears his head enough to tug on his boxers as he stumbles towards the door, still a little shaky from his orgasm. He looks through the peephole, and...

Shit.

It's you.

He opens the door slightly. He just stares at you- you're wrapped in a bathrobe, you're squirming under his gaze, you're sweaty and you look weaker than he's ever seen you. You're so perfect. So beautiful.

"Hey," He croaks out, voice hoarse. "How are you holding up?"

He's never wanted to kiss you more in his entire life.

Instead, he opens the door all the way and ushers you inside. The idea of anyone else seeing you looking like this makes him feel an emotion he doesn't quite want to deal with, and the door closes and locks behind you. He offers you a weak little smile.

"It's, um, it's worse than I thought it would be." You manage, shrugging as you sit down on the edge of his bed. He winces internally when you cast your eyes towards the cum staining the carpet. You don't say anything.

"Yeah, it's... not great." He manages, running a hand through his hair. "I tried to do some research on it when we got here, but, uh..."

"You got too horny to think?" You offered, laughing weakly. Sam nodded with a breathless chuckle.

"Yeah, um- sorry about the porn. On the tv." He said awkwardly, moving to turn it off. "I thought it would help, but it really didn't."

"It's okay." You whispered, smiling as he turned to you. "I don't think there's really anything that could help."

"I can think of something." Sam says with a laugh, shaking his head.

"Yeah?" And you tilt your head and flutter your eyelashes. His mind goes blank, just a little. He swallows dryly.

"... Yeah."

Sam swears he has no idea what happened. It's like everything blurred together, and suddenly he was on top of you, kissing the air straight out of your lungs. And his body stopped hurting. And the fog cleared a little bit.

"Fuck," He rumbles against your lips. "Fuck, you taste so good."

You moan all sweet into his mouth and he gets dizzy, if he wasn't already hard, he would've been, because you're just so soft and so fucking wet-

He's rutting his cock against your pussy, and fumbling with the tie of your bathrobe. It falls away, and something cracks in his head because his tip catches at your entrance and the moan he lets out is guttural. He feels wild, he feels hungry, and he wants to fill you up with cum until it leaks out around him.

"Shh, shh," He hushes breathlessly, because you're mewling and it's so cute he might die. "Shh, I've got you, d-doesn't it feel better? You want me to make you feel better?"

You nod, lightly knocking your forehead against his, and he laughs softly. "Sam," you whine, and your hands come up to curl around the base of his neck. "Need you, please..."

"I'm here," He coos, sweet and soft. "I'm here, angel, I've got you." He pushes in, slowly, kissing all over your face as he does. Once he's settled, he takes a moment to pull back and drink you in. You're so pretty, so impossibly pretty, and softer than any girl he's ever been with before.

He thrusts, just a little, shallowly, and the noise you make is almost enough to have him cumming right then and there. He breathes out weakly, thumb sliding through your folds to find your clit. He fumbles, a little- sue him for being nervous- but finds it eventually, rubbing it slowly as he bottoms out in you over and over again.

You're whining, squirming, and- holy shit- you've cum already, just so sweet and sensitive for him, tensing and crying out and he has half a mind to thank the witch profusely because he never would've dared to touch you if this hadn't happened.

"You're so pretty." He breathes, and his voice breaks when he thrusts back in. He's trying so hard not to cum right then and there. "God, oh god, I want to fill you up so bad. Wanna see you dripping with it, oh god."

"Pleasepleaseplease," you beg. "Please, Sammy, want it, need it-" And with that, Sam's mind fucking shatters. He registers that he cums again, register that you cum again, and he's still fucking hungry, wants to stay like this forever.

He keeps going, working both of you through another orgasm, whimpering breathless little moans of your name, babbling about how good you feel, his head dropping into the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, and he whines like a dog.

The rest of the night is a blur. At some point, he thinks the aphrodisiac wears off, but his memory blots out a little ways before that. Waking up in the morning, he's still in bed, and you're tucked into his chest. His head is spinning. He sits up, and you mumble sleepily, and his heart clenches in his chest.

"Good morning." He whispers, kissing over your face. When he gets a little giggly smile from you, he smiles back.

And then he pulls out. A little flood of cum follows.

And Sam has officially been ruined, because he's going to have to ask Dean for Plan B and he's never going to live it down- but also, he's had you, he's never going to let you go, because you're just so perfect.

He'd endure a lifetime of teasing for you.

☆ taglist!

@adhd-introvert

[starsofang]

To Be Loved is to Be Seen

johnny mactavish x f!reader

word count: 5.2k

tw: NSFW content, abuse (from other partner), hurt/comfort, smut, oral, p in v, happy ending, bad scottish accent (i tried)

Johnny hated your boyfriend. In fact, if he could string him up on a pole and castrate the bloke himself, he’d do it with a damn smile — that was how much he loathed him.

To get you to realize how shitty your boyfriend was felt like a near impossible task. Alas, you didn’t know Johnny, but Johnny certainly knew you. How could he not, when he’d spent every morning and every night, hearing your shouts and pitiful whimpers of defeat through the thin walls of your neighboring apartments?

He knew your boyfriend had spouts of anger, could tell from the sounds of drywall cracking on occasion, or the sounds of things clattering in a messy heap on the floor, sometimes shattering, sometimes rolling around after a particularly loud thud.

Your boyfriend was a nuisance that didn’t know how to care for a woman, and he made a show of it every night when Johnny heard him.

Now, Johnny was a respectful man. He’d never hurt another person unless they were deserving — perks of being in the military, it made that excuse much easier to use.

But your boyfriend? He was more than deserving. He was practically asking for Johnny to bash his pathetic face in, cowering beneath Johnny as he pleaded and begged for him to stop.

Johnny just had to figure out a way to slowly slip into your life, befriend you as a friendly neighbor, so he could kick the damn reality into that pretty head of yours. After all, Johnny would never hit you. Johnny would never call you names. Johnny would never make you cry in anguish.

The opportunity arose when he went to collect his mail and saw you standing there, fumbling with your mail key in frustration. Faulty lock, he assumed, but that was perfect for him.

“Need some ‘elp?” Johnny asked you, and when you perked your head up in surprise, he was already plotting murder in his mind when he saw the ugly bruise being sported underneath your eye.

“Oh. Yeah, actually, stupid thing never wants to unlock,” you said, and your voice up close and not through a thin wall was like sweet nectar from a flower.

He smiled with a nod, politely stepping up to your mailbox. You handed him the key, and he eagerly placed it in the lock. Wiggling it around a bit, it took him a few moments and grunts of concentration before the mailbox popped open.

Your face lit up in delight and you profusely thanked him, taking the key from his hands. Your hands were soft and warm, he noted when the two of yours brushed during the exchange, and he felt his heart swell with affection.

Such pretty hands on such a pretty girl should be kissed and held with nothing less than care. They shouldn’t be the victim of a fighting match, where it was obvious you were the losing opponent every time.

“No’ a problem. Johnny,” he introduced with his hand outstretched, and when you flashed him that smile as you introduced yourself back, he made it his absolute mission to make sure this wouldn’t be your last interaction.

The next time you saw Johnny, it was when the two of you were leaving your respective apartments at the same time (really, Johnny had been listening on for signs of when you’d leave as an excuse to leave his own place).

You lit up when you saw him, once again thanking him for helping you with the mailbox. Your eyes fluttered over to his door that he was in the process of locking, and you realized dumbly that he was your neighbor.

“I didn’t know you lived next to us, Johnny!” Us. The word made his eye twitch. “You’ve never introduced yourself.”

“No’ around all tha’ much.” He shrugged, and you hummed in understanding.

“I see. I’ve got to get to work, but it was nice seeing you, Johnny. Don’t be a stranger!”

He watched you go, feet leading you down the hall and towards the elevator of the building. He stood frozen in place, the breath in his lungs caught when he noticed the bruising on the back of your exposed calves from the skirt you wore.

A knock on his door days later had Johnny grumbling to himself, and when he checked the time, it was nearing midnight. He’d normally be on guard, what with his whole military career, but the only people that ever visited his place were Simon, Kyle, or Price.

Opening the door, it was neither of the three and instead, you. Sporting comfortable pajamas that swallowed you whole and made him want to scoop you up and keep you safe.

“Hi, Johnny! Were you sleeping?”

He was, but that didn’t matter.

“Nah, wasn’t sleepin’. Ye need somethin’, love?”

You threw him a sheepish smile that could melt any man’s heart. It was a wonder how your own man couldn’t see that. “I, ah, ran out of sugar. Baking’s my hobby, y’know? Silly me, I forgot to buy some from the shop.”

“…S’midnight.”

“…Is that a no to the sugar?”

Johnny huffed out a laugh, a smile perking on his lips. You were cute, it was to die for.

“Nah. ‘Course ye can have sugar. Tha’ all you came ‘ere for?”

You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating something Johnny wasn’t aware of. Now that he thought about it, your shitty boyfriend wasn’t anywhere in sight, and he hadn’t heard any noise from your apartment earlier.

“Well,” you began, inhaling before slowly exhaling. “Okay, no, I don’t need the sugar. I have plenty of it, actually. It’s just, ah…”

“Go on.”

“My boyfriend went out with some friends tonight and I don’t really want to be alone. I get nervous when I’m by myself, y’know?”

Your boyfriend knew this, and didn’t even bother to bring you with? Wasn’t texting you throughout the night to give you sweet reassurances, telling you he’d be home soon? Was he even out with his friends?

“Ye dinnae have any girl friends to call?” Johnny asked carefully, not wanting to make you feel unwelcome, but also wanting to tread on a thin line. He couldn’t jump to the opportunity, or you might think he’s weird and eager.

When you shook your head with a defeated look on your face, his own heart shattering rang in his ears. The fact you had no friends to confide in, to go out and enjoy yourself with, it didn’t sit right with him.

Silently, he opened up his door a bit more to welcome you in, and you flashed him a pretty smile before eagerly prancing inside.

His apartment was a bit underwhelming, and there wasn’t much that showed he was even living in it besides the furniture to show as evidence. You didn’t seem to mind as you took it in, smile gracing your features when he gestured towards the couch.

“Ye wan’ a drink, lass?” Johnny asked you, and when you saw him standing in the kitchen, he helped up a bottle of alcohol and a bottle of juice. He was offering you a choice of either, but you didn’t see the harm in drinking a bit and letting loose.

“Why not?” You shrugged, pointing to the left hand that held the liquor. He beamed at you, satisfied by your answer and promptly began to pour you and him a drink.

“So yer boyfriend jus’ up and left ye for the night?” Johnny asked as he sat next to you on the couch, placing the glasses on the coffee table in front of you.

He watched as you eagerly took a sip of the liquor, unable to contain the amusement when your nose wrinkled up as you swallowed it down.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you sighed, lips pouting a bit in the form of a frown. He tried not to stare. “Said he needed a night off. And he deserves it, y’know?”

Johnny raised an eyebrow at you, slowly taking a gulp from his own glass before placing it back down. He definitely didn’t think your boyfriend deserved a night to himself, nor that he worked hard in the slightest.

Hell, Johnny could hear the two of you have sex on occasional nights through the shared walls, and that certainly didn’t sound like your boyfriend was working hard. If anything, it was pitiful and sad.

“Deserves it,” he hummed, and you whipped your head to look at him, causing him to snicker into his glass as he took another sip.

You looked conflicted, taking your bottom lip between your teeth again. It puffed up, causing it to turn a bright pink, and he willed himself to keep his gaze on your eyes rather than your mouth.

“He… works hard,” you defended.

“We all do,” Johnny retorted.

“Everybody deserves a night out.”

“Have ye had a night out then?”

Silence.

Johnny might’ve been pushing it too hard. After all, he knew more than you were aware of. He was sure you had no idea how thin the walls were and that he was practically a third person in your relationship issues.

“Consider this yer night out,” Johnny claimed with a warm smile, and it seemed to work because you smiled back, downing the rest of your drink.

“Thank you for keeping me company, Johnny. I know it’s late. You’re sure I’m not bothering you?”

Oh, you could never bother Johnny. He was practically head over heels just from seeing you for the first time and hearing your voice. Love at first sight, he thought, he was completely enamored with you.

“No’ a bother, dove. We’re neighbors. It’d be smart to be friends, aye?”

“Friends?” Your tone was excited and he wanted so badly to be more than that. “I’d love to be friends! Officially, now that we’re technically drinking together, right?”

You gave a playful nudge to his shoulders with yours and he felt his entire being soften with delight. He smiled at you, eyes crinkling into little crescents as he nodded in agreement.

Friends he could do. Being friends meant he would have more opportunity to try and shield you from harm, the harm being your boyfriend, and even if it took patience, he’d wait for it.

The two of you found yourselves in a flurry of conversation, the bottle of liquor dwindling down until there was nothing left. Time seemed to slip away between you, and when the clock hit 3:00 AM, a series of bangs came battering at Johnny’s door.

They were loud and angry, relentless and never ending until Johnny forced himself off of the couch to swing it open.

Your boyfriend’s face came into view and Johnny wished he could rearrange his teeth in that ugly scowl of his.

“Is she here? I heard her voice,” he demanded, and your head peeked out from behind Johnny. Guilt and shame shined in your irises, and it was as if all of the joy you felt when spending time in your newfound friendship with your neighbor had vanished into nothing.

When your boyfriend saw the sight of you, he put on a sickeningly sweet smile. If he was trying to play off his anger until he got back into your apartment, he was doing a poor job of doing so. Or it was because Johnny already knew about his true colors.

“I’m home. Let’s get you to bed, yeah? It’s late,” your boyfriend cooed, and Johnny had to stop himself from sneering at the venom that dripped beneath his tone.

You nodded silently, shuffling by Johnny and out of the threshold. Johnny and your boyfriend watched as you entered your own apartment, disappearing inside and leaving the door open.

Johnny knew what was going to come, and as much as he wanted to stop it from happening, he knew he couldn’t. Not yet.

“Thanks for, ah, taking care of her while I was out. Let’s not make it a habit,” your boyfriend practically spat, and Johnny gave him an unphased smile.

“Only if ye stop makin’ it a habit to hit ‘er every chance ye get,” Johnny replied back in the same tone, keeping his smile on his face. It was a threat, a warning, and Johnny wasn’t ashamed to make it clear. “I see another bruise on ‘er body, I’ll fuckin’ kill ye.”

Your boyfriend must not have had many people retort back to him. His face morphed into a stunned one before flashing in anger and annoyance, and when he went to snap back, Johnny shut the door in his face before he had a chance to.

He made sure to stay up the rest of the night, eyes staring at the ceiling from where he laid in bed. He kept his ears locked in to the shared wall, listening in for a single sound of fists connecting with bone or a broken wail out of your lips.

When he heard nothing, he knew he’d gotten through for now.

You’d visit his apartment when your boyfriend wasn’t around. You’d come to enjoy his company, and even went as far as going against your boyfriend’s wishes of never seeing Johnny again. You told him it was because he was your only friend, and he’d accept you with open arms every time you came knocking.

The back and forth went on for months. Johnny was even more smitten than before, and his patience for claiming you as his own was slowly slipping.

He hated seeing you sad when you’d come on nights after a bad argument. He hated seeing the tears flowing down your cheeks, smothering your delicate skin with dewy shine, reddening your pretty eyes and glossing them over with heartache.

The heartache you felt would transfer on to Johnny.

He didn’t understand why your boyfriend didn’t treat you like the lovely canvas you were. Didn’t cover you with love and affection, instead covering you with black and blue. He tainted you with colors that didn’t clash with the beauty of your skin, when you deserved to be painted with skies of pink.

Johnny knew you deserved better.

When you came on a particular night, face swollen with tears of sadness and blood, he nearly saw red. Such a delicate thing to be so cruelly used as a personal stress reliever should never have happened, and Johnny was at his wits end.

“Leave ‘im,” Johnny ordered when he brought you inside of his apartment. He stood in front of you in the vacancy of his bathroom, a warm washcloth nursing your wounds with tender hands, grimacing every time you winced from pain.

“I can’t,” you whispered, and he shook his head.

“Bullshit. Leave ‘im. A pretty bird like ye doesn’t deserve this.” When you said nothing and stared down at your hands in your lap, he pushed further. “So many men out there wouldn’t lay a finger on ye. They’d never hurt ye. They’d never hit ye. I’d never do that.”

Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and he allowed it, locking your gazes with one another as a heavy silence filled the room. Your eyes remained filled with unshed tears, glistening in the dim lighting of his bathroom. To you, you looked like broken mess. To him, you looked like you held the entire night sky in your eyes.

Everything happened so quickly, Johnny’s mind nearly didn’t comprehend it. One second, you were staring, the next, your lips had crashed into his without a second thought.

Even with a split lip that tasted faintly of metallic blood, he thought you tasted divine. It was as if sweetness exuded from all parts of you, painting him with a sugary high that he could never get enough of.

One hand strayed to your hair while the other rested along the bathroom counter where your hips rested. Your own hands fisted the front of his shirt, tugging him closer, as if scared he’d fade away.

He planned on going nowhere. This was all he ever wanted, from the moment he heard you for the first time as his neighbor from behind the walls of your apartments.

When he first heard you belting out a song he didn’t know the name of in the security of your own place, presumably when your boyfriend wasn’t around to quiet you down.

When he ran into you at the mailboxes and finally learned your name. When he heard your speaking voice that wasn’t filled with anguish, trembling with shaky tears.

Johnny pressed into you further, consuming every part of the kiss with an eager passion. When he heard the faintest whimper melt from your mouth into his own mouth, he would’ve killed the entire world to hear it again.

“Dinnae be quiet,” he breathed into your lips, smile curling against them. “No need for tha’. Can be as loud as ye want here.”

Your eyes blinked prettily at him from where your foreheads connected. His thumb grazed along your cheek in such a tender manner, it pained your heart in the best way.

Your boyfriend never touched you that way. Never treated you that way. Never loved you that way.

Johnny returned his mouth to yours and you fell back into the clumsy dance of lips and tongue, like a waltz the two of you were learning with one another.

It was intense and fierce, yet gentle and passionate at the same time. You felt dizzy, your mind clouding with nothing but want and desire.

It was wrong of you to do this. Johnny was your friend and neighbor, and you had a boyfriend.

But then you thought back on everything Johnny had been making you realize — a man who loved you would never treat you how your boyfriend treated you. He’d treat you how Johnny was treating you now, soft and caring, pouring his heart and soul into every delicate touch.

On late nights when you stayed up, Johnny was there with the door already unlocked for you. He’d make you laugh, make you smile, he’d heal the inner child you desperately needed to seek. You’d lost her along the way, and Johnny was there to remind her.

“Johnny,” you breathed out, and his smile returned.

“Wha’ is it, dove?”

“I—“ You inhaled sharply, trying to collect your scrambled mind and piece together the words. “I want you. Please.”

Johnny sucked in his own breath, eyes piercing into yours. They flickered along the features of your battered face, and even in this state, he graveled in your beauty.

“I can make tha’ happen.”

Johnny laid you on his bed as if you were the most precious thing to cushion it. His hands roamed your body like mapping out every roll and curve, keeping it noted in his head for future endeavors.

He took his time with you, placing gentle kisses along every bruise, bump, and scar that your sorry excuse of a boyfriend had left embedded in you to remember forever. Johnny didn’t look at them in disgust like you expected, no — he ravished them like fine china, careful and precise, spending as much time needed to ensure each and every one was cherished.

His hands were eager yet patient as he stripped you of your clothes, making sure to take his off in the process so you didn’t feel uncomfortably exposed.

He only thought of your best interests, and it made you feel desired.

“Look at ye,” he breathed, hands slowly gliding down the plains of your stomach and to your thighs. He carefully parted them, eyes dropping down to the glisten of your cunt, taking it in. He sucked in a breath, thumbs stroking along your knees.

Your hands lifted to cover your face, embarrassment filling you to the core. He tsked, lifting a hand to grasp your arm and pull it from your face. He pinned it lightly to the side of your head, peering down at you.

“None of tha’,” he pleaded. “Wanna see ye, bonnie.”

You nodded your head, silently agreeing with him. He took his hand off your arm, flashing you a pleased smile.

He returned to caressing, cascading rough hands down your sides, to your hips, to your thighs, until they traveled back up. The touch of his fingers was light against your core, testing the waters.

“Oh,” you gasped, air getting caught in your lungs. He smiled again, all teeth and all crinkly eyes, before delving his venture further.

His index found your clit and he began a slow and antagonizing pace, circling and stroking, eyes focused on your face to piece together your reaction.

Your eyes were fluttering at the ceiling, breasts rising and falling with every staggered breath.

It was a sight to see. Johnny felt his chest swell with pride that finally, after pining after you for months, feelings hidden away in the dark, he was the one making you this way.

His finger slipped down, seeking the wetness that seeped shamelessly. He scooped his finger in the mess, lifting it to his mouth to wrap his lips around it.

You watched, eyes dazed and hazy. You shouldn’t have enjoyed the sight, but it burned a fire in you.

His smile turned into a bashful grin when he popped his finger out of his mouth, and before you had a chance to breathe, he slipped that same finger inside, prodding you open.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered pathetically.

“Yeah?” he breathed. You nodded dumbly. He huffed out a laugh, curling his finger in a way that had you squirming. “Look bonnie like this. Ye my pretty girl, aye?”

You nodded again, hands fisting his bedsheets beneath you.

“Won’t ever hurt ye,” he continued, and before you knew it, his second finger joined in. “Won’t ever make ye cry. Too pretty to cry, aren’t ye?”

“Johnny,” you pleaded. He pumped his fingers slowly at first, but the sound of his name on your lips urged him to increase the pace.

It was heaven hearing it come from you, and combined with your sweet moans? He was hearing church bells in his mind.

You squirmed beneath him, panting and writhing like the pretty thing you were. He wanted more, he wanted to hear you.

Johnny dove his head down, fingers still buried to the knuckle. His tongue poked out to press flat against your clit, lathing you in bliss and making you see stars.

Your boyfriend never made you feel this way. You were on a cloud, floating peacefully in the skies above.

He could never pull the desperate moans out of you, he could never make your thighs tremble like you’d just run a marathon around the world.

Johnny’s mohawk was soft on your fingertips when you grasped them. You held back, only gripping softly.

“Pretty girl, ye can grip harder than tha’,” he assured when he came up for air. You stared down at him with wet eyes, filled with hazy pleasure. He wouldn’t return to using his mouth until you followed his order, so you did, grabbing a fistful of hair and lightly pushing him against your cunt.

He groaned in approval, burying his face between your legs and eagering fucking his fingers in you.

The stimulation caused your back to arch, a moan bursting out of you. The sound surprised you. You’d never heard yourself sound so wrecked, especially before the main event.

This was how sex was supposed to feel. Cherished, adored, and downright sinful.

The knot in your stomach seemed to tighten, and your thighs clumsily squirmed around, encasing his head between them. You panted breathlessly, the sounds filling the room with an unforgivable act of immorality.

“Johnny, Johnny, I—“ Your words were cut off by your own broken sob, and he feasted harder, urging you to your breaking point more and more.

It was too much. You wouldn’t be able to hold back, nor did you want to. This feeling was too blissful to pull away from, so you allowed yourself the moment of selfishness.

When it hit you, your entire body convulsed. Your stomach tightened and clenched, thighs gripping tight around Johnny’s head, quivering with every movement.

“Tha’s it, dove. Good girl,” he praised. You keened, eyes squeezing shut as your climax came over you.

His fingers slowed their pace but didn’t dare leave your body as he pulled you through the last drops of your orgasm. When he felt you had enough, he swiftly pulled them out, staring up at you with eyes pouring with admiration.

“Look at ye,” he whispered, reaching a hand out to stroke over your cheek. You hadn’t realized they were wet with tears until he stroked them away with a thumb. “Gorgeous girl. Tha’ okay?”

“Absolutely,” you breathed, voice broken.

You regained your breath, chest no longer heaving like a panting dog, and you came out of your clouded haze.

“Let me make ye feel even better, aye? Can fill ye up, wanna feel ye, please, bonnie—“

You nodded before even making up your mind, but really, you didn’t need to. It was already made up the moment he let you into his home and offered friendship.

Johnny climbed over you, careful not to crush you. He hovered, face aligned with yours and a smile on his face. You stared at him in awe.

That smile of his could light up the whole world if he allowed it. It lit up yours, after all.

His hand dove between your bodies, and when you felt the head of him slowly press to your entrance, you sucked in a breath.

He took his time, slowly easing into you, filling you and leaving you with greedily wanting more and more.

“Oh god,” you groaned, and he followed after. His eyes were squeezed shut as you took him in fully, and when he bottomed out, he forced them open to gaze down at you.

“Look at me the ‘ole time, aye? Wanna see ye,” he said, and who were you to deny it?

Johnny began to move and you had to force your eyes open every time they threatened to flutter closed. He filled you from an emptiness you weren’t aware you had until now, and you never wanted it to leave.

Just like with his fingers, he started off slow. He didn’t want to hurt you, but the more he stared at the pleasured, fucked-out look on your face, his resolve broke and he found himself losing control.

One particularly hard thrust had you gasping, hands scrabbling for purchase on his biceps, and that was all he needed to snap.

Hips thrust erratically into you, plunging deeper and deeper every single hit. The noises were nothing but dirty, a mix of sinful slaps and shaky moans filling the atmosphere.

“Takin’ me so good, bonnie,” he sighed, hand cradling your cheek as he continued his relentless torture. “Made for me, yeah?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, fingernails dipping into his skin and marking him with crescent shaped indents. “All for you, Johnny, nobody else.”

“Tha’s right, sweet girl.” His head tilted down to graze his lips along your jaw, peppering loving kisses up to your ear. “Dinnae need tha’ bloke of yours anymore. ‘M gonna take care of ye.”

That sounded divine. You wanted all of that and more.

“Please,” you begged, though unsure what for.

Johnny smiled against your skin before pulling himself back up. He grabbed hold of your legs, gently pressing them up so your knees were level with your chest.

His eyes never strayed from your face, not even when he went back to giving you everything he had in the way he fucked you.

He was proudly marking his territory, taking everything you had while giving you everything in return.

You couldn’t compress the moans that escaped you with every brutal thrust in your cervix. He was hitting every damn spot in you, as if he had your entire body already mapped out.

“Gonna take ye away from ‘im,” he grunted, his fingertips digging into the flesh of your thighs where they pressed against your chest. “Never gonna let another man hurt ye again.”

You cried, tears pouring down your cheeks in rivers. Your body was so overwhelmed with the pleasure he brought you, but god, you wanted all of it. You were going to make sure you took it all.

Johnny continued his string of praises as he glided in and out of you, your cunt molding around him like the perfect fit. He was fast and hard with his actions, yet his words were sweet and tender, only ever showering you with things you needed to hear.

“Ye gonna give me another one, pretty girl?” he asked, his own voice nearly failing on him from his own pleasure.

You nodded quickly, eyes locked on to his. He grinned in approval, cocking his head to the side.

“C’mon, bonnie. Ken ye can do it f’me.”

Those words of encouragement were enough to have you clenching around him, body succumbing to your second orgasm. You felt absolutely divine, head completely spacing out and relieving itself of any worries or stress.

“There ye go,” he cooed, unstopping of his thrusts. He chased his own release, sweat beading along his forehead and dripping down his temple. “Such a good girl, bonnie.”

You whimpered, body spent and exhausted. You didn’t stop that from allowing him to seek out his pleasure. The thought of him filling you, of fully claiming you as his stirred a wild thought in your mind, and you needed it.

“Please, Johnny,” you whined, and he let out a breathless chuckle. It vibrated you to the core.

“Dinnae worry, dove, I’ll give ye what ye want.”

It didn’t take him long to find himself. His movements became less precise and more sloppy, hands slipping from your thighs when his grip became unfocused.

Warmth filled you from the inside and you reveled in its comfort, sighing shakily. He pumped himself in you a few more times, making sure to get out every drop, before stopping to catch his breath.

Johnny looked gorgeous like this. Glistening in sweat, lips parted to suck in air, cheeks flushed pink from the warmth that took over the room.

You couldn’t stop your hand from lifting off of his arm to gently caress his cheek. When he felt your touch, he smiled, leaning into it.

Your heart nearly burst in fondness.

Johnny cleaned you up and let you change into his clothes, which you happily put on.

The two of you laid in the comfort of his bed, his arm tucking you into his side, your eyes staring up at the ceiling.

“I meant everythin’ I said, dove. ‘M gonna take ye away from ‘im, ye won’t ever have to deal with ‘im again,” Johnny said softly.

The thought of leaving your boyfriend was scary, but the thought of leaving behind Johnny after this was scarier. You knew what the obvious choice was.

You had to trust him. And trust him you did.

“Okay,” you whispered in return, and when he turned his head to smile down at you, you’d happily go along this journey into the unknown with him.

finally got around to writing smut like i’ve been planning on and what better choice than mr mactavish himself 🙏🏻 hes so yummy i wanna eat him

[themeraldee]

The Lucky Winner - Part 2

[Masterlist] [Part 1]

18+ Only | 7.3k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Early Season 1. Voice kink (mild). Roleplay. Established Relationship. Masturbation. Dirty Talk. Unprotected sex. 

Summary: After much deliberation you finally decide to meet your hero at a meet & greet.  

Author’s Note: Sorry if the ending of this feels a little confusing. I did have an idea for a retrospective Part 3 of this that would cover the events in between Part 1 & 2, clearing up the confusion a little bit, let me know if you'd be interested!

The metal detector beeps, finally letting you through after the hassle of emptying your entire bag and getting a full body scan. You quickly collect your scanned belongings and you scuttle along, almost sprinting across the now-empty hallway. You’re breathing heavily, holding onto the bag over your shoulder as you reach the right door. Panicked and out of breath you show your pass to the man working the door and he just about lets you in grumbling something about it being way past the time slot and how you’re the last one in. You ignore all of it, instead you focus on your breathing and move along. You inhale sharply through your nose, trying to mask just how winded that rush got you. 

You take your place as the last one in the line. Turning around just in time you see the door guy close off the room, not letting anybody else in. Phew. You just about made it. You smooth out your summer dress, adjusting the bag you had over your shoulder as you look around the hall. God, you’ll be waiting forever!

You knew it would be busy but having usually avoided convention centres it still hits you hard with how overwhelmingly packed the hall is. The ventilation and air conditioning could be state-of-the-art and it would still feel stuffy. Looking around you feel like one of the few people who didn’t bother dressing up like their favourite heroes. You see about thirty Queen Maeves at a quick glance, another twenty Black Noirs, a few of the Seven’s new member Starlight but the most prevalent one is easily a sea of Homelander knock-offs. The sea of cheap red, blue and white assaults your vision, making it actually pretty overwhelming to look around.

For once Homelander is actually drowned out in a sea of look-alikes where normally he stands out like a sore thumb in all his primary-coloured glory. Homelander. Just the thought of seeing him here makes you pick at your nails and bite your lips with anxiety. Sure, you’ve met him before. You’ve talked. You even had sex, really good sex, goddammit. You have history. But still, you’ve never done this. Not the in-public meet & greets that you decided to put yourself through today. But still, you’re doing this for him. 

The longer you’re standing at the end of the line the longer being surrounded by fans dressed in Spirit Halloween versions of the Seven’s costumes is becoming less comical and more uncanny valley. You only wonder what it feels like to them.

You slowly move through the line. Sighing impatiently, your nerves are slowly being replaced by irritation as you watch the interactions play out in front of you. You’re now close enough to see and overhear. Thankfully with each step you take forward the people in front of  you get what they came here for and they leave, making the hall a little more breathable. 

You’re now watching Homelander as he tends to each fan, all puffed up and high energy to replicate the vision they all have of him but you see how much he wishes to be anywhere but here. Most of the Seven do. Vought plucks them from what most expected to be their duties, like saving the world, and instead they drop them in front of cameras and paying fans. You watch as Homelander signs each piece of merchandise his fans bring him, one after another with a smile on his face.

Having seen part of his real self, or the extension of himself he doesn’t show the media you see the smile for what it is. Placating, empty, downright forced. Were you none the wiser you wouldn’t have thought to look past the showmanship but now you knew better. It was easy to notice his tells, his jaw ticks anytime he’s irritated, his eye twitches anytime he has to hold a smile for too long or anytime he’s forced to compliment someone. You overhear his booming stage-voice going, ‘you look great buddy, wear it better than I do!’ for about the twentieth time. The crowd eats it up, again, and somehow they’re blind to his tortured expression. Sure, he hides it very well but if any of them cared to look underneath the surface it would be glaringly obvious. Instead they look at him like the hero they want him to be. Flawless, perfect, serving their needs. The more you’re privy to this viewpoint the more it grates on you. He’s so much more than that! And you don’t understand how they don’t see it. More than that, you're angry that they willfully don’t want to see it. Why would they ruin the image of a perfect hero they look up to when they don’t care to know the person behind the suit in the first place. 

You shake your thoughts away, focusing on keeping up with the queue. Thankfully the hall has now almost emptied, few residual fans loiter around taking pictures of themselves in their costumes with the Seven members right behind them. As it’s almost your turn, and with that the end of the event, you clumsily pull out a postcard out of your bag clutching it in your hands getting it ready to be signed.

With each step you hear him clearer and clearer. Your heartbeat picks up and by the time the Homelander female cosplayer in front of you gets her very own, ‘you might as well take my spot, you pull it off better than me’, your heart is pounding so hard that you think it must grate on Homelander’s nerves. You rub the glossy paper of the postcard in between your fingers trying to distract yourself from the impending doom that’s bound to be caused by whatever comes out of your mouth. Even after all that’s happened between you two, all that history, you cannot stop yourself from feeling flustered in a situation like this.

You’re so stuck in your head that you don’t realise that the lady in front of you already left and all who’s left is…well, you.

You’re broken out of your trance by a familiar voice.

“Looky, looky, who's here? I can't believe you actually showed up at one of these.” There he goes, grinning like a Cheshire cat as he quickly looks you up and down. Already his eyes are glittering with excitement. Your heart skips a beat at his smile. It's more genuine. You see the annoyance seep out of him, his posture a little more relaxed. 

“Yeah…about that. I thought I couldn't really call myself a fan otherwise right?” You rattle off some lines and your anxious mess of a gut is slowly unravelling to make room for the coil of excitement replacing it. Sure, you’re nervous. How couldn't you be. But the place is nearly empty and there isn't much he could say that would get you as flustered as he did the first time.

“Here for an autograph? The one I gave you before wasn't good enough?” Right. Scratch that. You blush a bright red as the images flood back into your mind. And he's grinning so widely, clearly pleased with how he can so easily make you into a blubbering mess. Even if someone overheard, there’s technically nothing dirty about his words but the shiver they send down your spine along with the vivid imagery is enough to make you feel indecent in a public space.

“No—no! It was, um, great. I just—uh—wanted something a little more permanent.” You quickly look around seeing if anyone caught that interaction as if they could read your mind. Well, you are in a room full of superheroes, who knows what they can or can’t do. Thankfully, it doesn’t appear like anyone is interested in Homelander signing a photo for yet another fan. The rest of the Seven is slowly filtering out of the room, finally relieved of their duty.

“Alrighty-doo, let me sign that for you.” He takes his hand out prompting you to put the postcard in his palm. You do so, giving him a little timid smile. Your hands shake a little as you retreat them back by your sides. Catching the way his eyes linger on the movement you cover your shakiness by clasping your hands together in front of you.

“Is this all you want me to sign? Did you really wait the entire line for that?” He says his eyes squinting incredulously as he waves the postcard with his likeness in front of you. Without waiting for your answers he still places it in front of him reaching for his marker pen.

“What was I meant to bring?” You scrunch your eyebrows with confusion. Sure, you weren’t used to going to these events but you still brought something he could sign, that’s good enough, is it not?

“For starters, something that my signature won’t cover entirely.” 

“It’s fine if it covers it.” You brush off his concerns. Really you didn’t care about the signature as much as you cared about seeing him. So placement be damned.

You look as he uncaps the pen, turning the card around. It’s a photo of him in his hero pose standing against a very patriotic background. Originally it came in a pack of seven postcards, one for each member of the Seven. You don’t want to admit that you were so anxious over deciding whether you would even turn up or not that when it came to the day you forgot to bring an item to sign. Hence the pack of generic postcards you bought on the way when you realised that you forgot just about the most important item. This also turned out to be the reason for your tardiness, you spent way too long in the shop just angsting over the small selection of items you could even pick from. 

“You know it's a real shame you of all people didn't come dressed up. I'd like to see you as Mrs Homelander.” He says all cheeky and amused at the image in his head, while he’s fiddling with his marker pen, trying to start his signature for the third time but the ink has run out.  

“Oh no no no, I couldn't. I don't think it would be a good look on me. I mean nobody can rock the uniform like you do!” The idea of dressing up as him was ridiculous, you couldn’t just take that away from him. He’s more than a circus animal to you.

“You think I rock it?” He gives you a look, clearly fishing for compliments while he lets his voice rumble. He might not be in your ear but you still feel a shiver dance down your spine. You don’t think you’ll ever get over the effect his voice has on you. He just knows how to pull your strings. And what’s a puppet to do if not follow.

“It looks very good on you. The colour brings out your eyes.” You make an awkward gesture, pointing at your dress and then your eyes, as if it wasn’t obvious that those two had the same colour on him. You cringe internally but he always seems endeared by your awkwardness. You think it probably feeds his ego. You’re always such a mess in front of him and he slurps it up.

“Wowie, heavy on the flattery today are we?” He’s fiddling with his marker pen, trying to start his signature for the third time but the ink has run out.  “Oh for fucks sakes.” He tries another two times, the leather of his glove creaking with pressure around the pen. You expect him to snap it in half at this point but he just sighs and recaps the used marker, placing it down. He looks around, his jaw ticking as he mumbles, “where the fuck is Ashley…” He rolls his eyes, muttering something about being surrounded by incompetent idiots as he stands up. 

“Just, come with me, I think there are some spares in my dressing room.” He waves his hand, still holding the postcard in the other one.

“Are you sure? It’s really no big deal!” You feel guilty at the way his suggestion sends a shiver up your spine. You’re not entitled to it but the fantasy of him fucking you in his dressing room still plays out in your mind. 

“Nope, you waited your turn. You know I’m not one to leave my biggest fans empty handed.” He winks at you before he beckons you to follow him. You give a short nod and you scurry behind him like a little duckling, mesmerized by the sway of his cape swishing with each purposeful step. You feel your heart rate rise with every step, just being in his presence is overwhelming and the closer you get to his dressing room the more vivid your fantasy gets.

“Righty-ho,” Homelander says as he opens the door to his dressing room, fiddling around to pick up a spare marker. He presses the postcard against the wall signing it for you with a silver sharpie. You stand in the half open door a little awkwardly. Rather than focusing on him, you’re looking around making sure nobody sees you standing in Homelander’s dressing room. He tears you away from your paranoid thoughts as he hands the card back to you with a sing-songy, “there you go!” 

Your eyes widen and you gingerly take the postcard with a “oh, thank you,” and you gently put it back into your bag, not wanting to smear the ink. Part of you was disappointed that he genuinely took you here for innocent reasons. 

Like the open book you’ve always been to him he reads your facial expressions for what they are barking a laugh at the dumb-struck look you were sporting. “What? Did you think I brought you here to fuck you?” He leans against the doorframe, his tone a little condescending and mean. 

You really do your best to recover but your embarrassed blush and the spike in your heart-rate is such a blatant giveaway of your true thoughts. “N-no! I wouldn’t, of course not.” It doesn’t matter what you say in the moment, it’s not wiping the all-knowing smirk off his face.

“Jesus, you’re so easy, you know that?” His gaze is predatory as he looks you up and down again, this time slowly, reaaally taking you in. Before you know what’s happening he yanks you into the room, closing the door behind you. For all his strength he controls it well as you don’t end up with a dislocated shoulder after a move like that.

He cages you in against the door, leaning close to your ear so he can get his voice nice and low and he whispers, “For that kind of slutty behaviour I definitely need to fuck you.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. You love how easily he reads you, there’s nothing you can hide from and you know that these days, you’re his favourite book. In a way it’s liberating, it removes the thoughts behind actions, it removes the second-guessing. You know that he knows what you want. So you don’t have to make propositions and embarrass yourself further, he’s either gonna take you as he pleases or tell you to get lost. So far it’s always been the former. 

His gloved hand grabs the side of your jaw as he leans back and the woodsy, natural scent of leather whiffs past your nose. His other hand is less stationary, he brazenly glides his hand down your dress, generously palming your tits before he slides down further down your waist and back, settling on your ass. “Gotta teach you a lesson that you shouldn't be spreading your legs for men you don't really know that well.” He growls out tilting your head so he’s directly staring into your eyes with his impossibly piercing blues.

“You’re not just a man.” 

“Mhm you got that right.” He purrs all pleased at the obvious stroke to his ego. You’re all flustered, breathy and eager for him and he loves it. The pure adoration and love you give him so easily just flows through him, feeding that black hole starved for affection inside him.

He didn’t wait a second longer to kiss you, one gloved hand still on your jaw, the other quickly moving up to the back of your head pressing you into him. With a moan he kisses you, already acting like you’ve been starving him this entire time. His kisses are feverish, already hot hot hot as his lips ply yours open. You feel his shaky breath hot against your lips while the plush pillows of his lips are pressing against yours in a frenzy.

You wrap your hands around his neck for support more than anything. You know how he gets. Your heart rate has skyrocketed by now, beating hard and loud in his ears as he presses his tongue in between your lips, already wanting to be in you one way or another.

You part your lips for him just like you’d part your legs and you let him kiss you, heavy, hot and wet as he holds you with almost shaky hands trying to get as much as he can out of you.

His ravenous kisses don’t relax you, they make your body feel tight, wound up, always expecting and wanting more. At this moment you need him as much as he needs you. You grind your body against him with each more pressing and needy kiss. You know he can feel you through his suit, even though it’s handily hiding his hard-on. He still moans when you rub against him, clearly just as wound up as you are.

He pulls away, his eyes no longer that bright piercing blue but now his pupils are blown, his gaze lustful and heavy. His breathing is rough and stuttered. Even though he can’t get winded or tired his body is so strained that he pants for you like a thirsty dog.

Homelander takes his time to calm down, wanting to take control of the situation, he wants you to look up at him with those unsuspecting sweet wide doe eyes while he defiles you. And you do, you look up at him, panting out of actual lack of breath and you stare in reverence. 

There he goes, grinning like a shark again and you’re already waiting for the foul words that he’s undoubtedly going to thoroughly wet your panties with.

“Tell me,” he purrs out, seducing you with his dulcet tones. “How many times did you make yourself cum to my voice, huh?” He’s now leaning into your ear again, knowing this is where the occasional brush of his lips makes your body burn bright and hot. “Or to the memory of my cock inside you?” 

You expect him to be filthy and talk with no filter, it’s his specialty behind closed doors, but it still catches you off-guard. It especially does anytime you’re reminded of the time he utterly ruined you for any other man in your home, in your safe space, in your bed.

“I don’t know—many times. I, um, I lost count.” You don’t know exactly what answer he wants from you but you know that he will turn each and every one against you. His hair tickles the side of your face as he nuzzles into you with a small whimper before continuing. 

“Yeah? Maybe you should show me, do it for me. A little performance as a reward for all that I've done for you.” You hear the restraint in his voice. You know he wants nothing more than to just fuck you, have you fall apart on him. For him. But you also know Homelander loves to play. And he doesn’t want the game to be over yet. “You can do that for me, can’t you?” He goads you with that. Homelander knows just as much as he swallows up all your love and affection; you thrive on being reminded of how much you adore and worship him. How much you’d do anything for him. Anything. 

Homelander pulls back from you, his hands now firmly on your waist as if you were a flight risk.

“What do you mean?” You regain some sense of self after he gives your hot and flushed body a little break. 

“I mean you’re gonna sit your pretty ass in that chair, make yourself cum for me, while I watch.” He guides your body towards the further end of the dressing room where he points at a chair in front of a lit vanity table that’s still littered with make-up and brushes from when his team got him ready for today’s event.

Your body is buzzing with excitement but part of you is still a little embarrassed by such a blatantly open display. He wants you to sit in that chair, spread your legs and give him a perfectly lit view of the way you get yourself off? Yeah, that’s not the easiest thing you’ve ever done. But again, for him, you’ll do anything. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” He pulls the chair out a bit tilting his head towards it. He looks at you, blatantly undressing you with his eyes. Literally, undressing. You may not physically feel his x-ray vision but the look in his eyes and the way he stops at your tits with a leery smile on his face is very telling. He doesn’t bother to hide how much he ogles, he knows how much it turns you on anyway. “Come on, panties off and hop on.” He clicks his tongue impatiently.

You sneak your hands under your dress and pull the hem of your panties down. You slide them down your legs until they pool at your ankles where you step out of them with your shoes still on.

Homelander chuckles to himself as he picks up the undergarment inspecting the damage. “You’re like a faucet, always fucking dripping wet.” He brings them closer to his face, inspecting the pair of Homelander-themed panties. He inhales the scent of your pussy now that it’s long seeped into the fabric. “I didn’t think these would be salvageable after last time.” He speaks as if he was talking about the weather and not pure debauchery while he indulges in the scent of your cunt.

“I got more pairs.” You said with a shrug as you got into the chair. You had to jump up a little as it was set on the highest setting for Homelander’s viewing pleasure.

You watch as he tosses the panties on the vanity table in front of you. “You’re gonna have to spread those legs some more.” He tuts with his tongue. You spread your legs as wide as you can in the chair and he shakes his head. “No, nope that won’t do either. Legs up on the arm rests.” He commands and as much as you want to comply, even you have your limits.

“I’m not that flexible!” You yelp out in amusement. “Wait!” You exclaim again except this time he easily manoeuvres you around in that chair with his stupid strength and you feel like a pretzel as you’re being pushed into the right position.

He ends up hooking just one of your legs over the armrest letting you rest it against the vanity table and giving you a comfortable enough position but more importantly, giving him a great view. “See, there you go. Flexible enough.” He pulls off his gloves one by one, throwing them on the table, out of view. “Come on, show off for me,” He coos in your ear, his bare hands, hot and smooth, sliding up your legs picking up the hem of your dress on the way as he pulls it up.

You gasp at the view in front of yourself. In the lit mirror in front of you you see yourself spread wide, your pussy easily visible and glistening in the bright light. This might as well be a porn shoot with how well lit and visible all your parts are. As you instinctively start closing your legs Homelander presses your thighs down, barely putting any power into it yet you feel the unyielding strength thrumming through his fingertips.

“Don’t be shy, you know I’ve seen it all.” He tucks the skirt of your dress above your waist and behind your back. Your hand slowly slinks down to rest on the bunched up fabric of your dress.

He straightens up properly standing behind you, his hands land on your shoulders, close to your neck, squeezing softly. He watches you in the mirror. He extends his pointer finger pushing your jaw up so you look up and meet his gaze. “Keep going, spread that pretty pussy for me.” He growls in your ear as his eyes are locked on the way your fingers slide down your slit, your pointer and middle finger spreading your pussy open for him to see. “Just as I said, like a fucking faucet.” He chuckles at the sight of you drenched and dripping.

You blush at the way he’s staring so intently at your reflection. Your fingers tentatively run up and down, gathering the wetness on your fingers, bringing it up to your clit where you rub small, shy circles around it. You’re taut as a bow and struggling to relax.

“Stop thinking and start feeling.” Homelander purrs in your ear. “I know you can do this for me, can’t you?” His voice sends a hot flush down your body, and you feel your clit throb under your fingers.

“Yeah… I can.” You breathe you, closing your eyes for a second to take a deep breath. The tension slowly leaves your body as Homelander presses soft kisses down the side of your face as he leans over to your other side. You let your hand go on auto-pilot trusting it to know what to do. You suck in a sharp breath as he sucks on your jaw, giving it a little nip while you still circle your clit with a soft squelch of your slick.

“There’s my girl.” He watches as you breathe deeply, your eyes finally opening to watch as he descends more kisses down your neck. You shiver at the sensation, pressing in your fingers a little harder, at the right pressure in the right spot. You’re just about to dip lower, push a finger inside your wet, needy hole but Homelander speaks up. “Uh uh, nothing but my cock is going inside that pussy today so keep your fingers on your clit.” Your entire body prickles with heat all over at his words. He’s so brazen and upfront and no matter how many times you hear it it always makes your head spin and pussy throb. 

You nod a simple ‘okay’ and only ever slide your fingers down to collect more of your own slick. Homelander is whimpering with you as if just the sight of your pussy was enough to get him off. For him, it’s intoxicating. His senses enhance the way your slick squelches loud to his ears and the scent of your pussy just makes him want to stop this little game and rail you already. Yet, he’s a patient man when he wants to be. And more so, indulging in his own desperate urge isn’t as fun as watching you submit to him first.

“Eyes open.” Homelander interrupts the thoughts and visuals in your head. Your eyes snap open and you meet his sharp gaze in the mirror. You didn’t even realise you had them closed. “What were you thinking about?” He asks, almost testing you. As if saying, you better not be straying too far from the path he wants you on.

“‘M thinking about you fucking me.” You say meekly, your fingers rubbing at a particular rhythm now that you know will get you off. Your clit is already throbbing, aching under your fingers.

“Getting a bit ahead of yourself missy, first you’ll have to cum for me.” He says nonchalantly while he pushes the strap of your dress and bra down your free arm. As much as you’ve gotten more used to functioning around him, his voice still makes you dizzy, especially when he’s a master at saying the most depraved shit. 

You pause to help him get out of the other set of straps and when your arm goes up to slip out of the strap he gives your slicked fingers a little suck, tasting you with a pleased grin making you flush hot.

While you go back to rubbing your clit Homelander unclasps your bra from behind your back dropping it on the floor and he pushes your dress down, already groaning at the sight of your tits free for his eyes to feast on. He presses his hands against your tits from either side, groaning at the sensation of the plush pillows underneath his hands.

“That's a good girl, keep rubbing that clit.” He growls out an order, yet somehow he looks more frazzled than you while he's not even the one performing. “Open up,” he whispers, his voice frayed at the edges as he presses two fingers against your lips. Obediently, you open up giving them a suck and laving them with your saliva while you keep eye contact with his reflection. He moans at the raunchy display, his eyes glazing over as he pulls his fingers out. With both his hands back on your tits he pinches your nipples, overwhelming you with the different sensation of one being rubbed wet and the other dry. You whine at the sensation, your pussy throbbing with each hot breath you feel against your neck as he tucks his head against it.

He listens to your heart beat like a drum in his ear, while he gives your nipples all his love and attention. He whispers and moans sweet nothings into your ear whilst watching you rub harder and faster finding the perfect rhythm that has cascading heat climb up your spine. “Thaaat’s it, come on—fuuck—come on, you can cum for me. I know you can.” Homelander watches as your muscles tense, seeing your body just ready to snap. What really does you in is the way he’s whimpering like he’s the one getting off. It’s like he’s sharing all the pleasure you're feeling with you.  

You cum with Homelander’s lips whispering against your ear as you hold your breath, your body tense until it finally gives in and you feel the wave of heat and tingling pleasure wash over you from your core to your limbs. “Ohhh god.” You finally release your breath, your chest heaving with the release.

Homelander is less impressed. Clicking his tongue again against the roof of his mouth.

“Mhm that won’t do, you can do better than that. I’ve seen you cum better than that.” 

You barely have the strength to counteract his claim. This was easily one of your strongest orgasms and he’s trying to say that it was weak? Oh please. You shake your head. You know he’s just playing his little game of ‘I can do whatever the fuck I want’ so you let him.

“Come on, up you go,” He says as he pulls you up on your feet all wobbly and numb from the way you were sitting on the chair. He pushes the chair out of the way with enough force that it topples over with a bang. He bends you over the vanity table where you’re up close and personal with the mirror, watching Homelander’s reflection as he hurriedly unzips his pants pushing them halfway down his thighs. 

You can’t see his cock from this angle but you’re sure it’s rock fucking hard and leaking precum with the way he’s panting like a dog in heat. He’s not even in you and he looks about three strokes away from finishing.

“God, fffuck!” He grits out through his teeth before parting his lips letting a long groan out as the tip of his cock parts your folds, immediately finding your soaked hole and pushing inside with one long slide. He huffs and puffs, his head tilted back as he keeps his eyes shut with restraint. His cock is hot and hard inside you, giving your pussy something to quiver around. 

You’re overstimulated, your nerves totally fried and your body has still nowhere recovered from your performance of a lifetime but you still take him in. You push your ass towards him, whimpering yourself as you feel his hands land on your hips, holding you there. “Look at how your pussy just opens up for me. Taking me riiiight in.” Homelander’s voice is strangled and raspy as he hisses air through his teeth.

You whimper at the way his words leave you buzzing and mindless with pleasure. You prop your elbows against the table as he starts fucking you, dragging his cock agonisingly slowly at first as if he was so sensitive he was about to bust. 

Thankfully that gives you some time to recover and your pussy is no longer screaming at you that it’s too much. He gives you more and more with each thrust, letting out a breathy soft moan each time he hits home. Tip to hilt on every slide. 

His boots kick your legs together giving him a tighter, more pronounced feel. That’s where he really starts to pick up speed. He moves his hands up, gripping where the fabric of your dress is still bunched up as he wholeheartedly fucks into you, minding his strength of course, he gives you what you can take and not a drop more.

You’re so deliciously taken in by him that you barely remember where you are and that you reaaally shouldn’t be screaming and moaning at the top of your lungs. Against all odds, your body is still so wired up and wound up that you feel the climbing sensation prickle at your nerves, your legs quivering with each stroke.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Homelander pulls out of you unceremoniously and you whine.

“I was so close!” You pull a displeased face in the mirror, looking at his reflection.

“I know. And so does everyone on the other side of that door.” He mumbles as he picks up the panties he tossed earlier on the table except this time he balls them up stuffing them in your mouth. You protest around them, your eyes widening in shock and your body flushing with indecent heat when you get a remnant of your taste from the soaked fabric.

“I don’t need people barging in to see who’s screaming bloody fucking murder.”

He turns you around, swiftly picking you up and plopping you on top of the vanity table where you’re nicely lit from behind. “Now behave, the door’s not locked. I’d rather not have anyone see you like this. Capiche?” You nod fervently, at this point just doing anything to get him back in you. 

“Good girl.” He coos as he pulls your legs up wrapping his forearms underneath your thighs, his hands gripping the sides for easy control. And just like that he slides back into you. You give muffled little sighs into the fabric of your panties as he fucks you hard against the table, making it rattle on its legs. The littered makeup and brushes were now rolling off and in some cases breaking on impact.

“You’re always so fucking worked up. Just need someone to fuck you don’t you. Poor little fangirl, so obsessed with me she doesn’t even have time to date anyone else.” He gives you a sharp grin, his canines sharp like a predator’s would be. You body flushes with embarrassment at the almost degrading comment and with the way you’re gagged and fucked you feel like Homelander’s personal toy. 

He fucks you until your legs tremble in his hold and your eyes flutter shut with each press of his cock deep inside you.

He slows down with the literally mind-melting grinds of his pelvis against yours and instead he looks you straight in the eyes getting your attention. “Did you learn? Will you be good?” You nod. He takes the panties out of your mouth, leaving the now even more damp fabric back on the table. 

You keep your promise and you keep mainly quiet, biting your lips shut and only letting the occasional whimper out as he strokes a particularly good spot inside you. Instead you let your body do the screaming for you. You shake and tremble around him, all tense and hot and Homelander doesn’t need to hear you scream to know that you’re close.

With your lips free again he captures them, as if he’s been starved this entire time without them. He kisses you deep and wet while he bucks into you, slowly losing his impeccable rhythm as he’s so strung out for an orgasm it’s bound to happen any second.

“Ah—I’m, uh, close…” You nearly whisper out, all strangled and needy. Homelander nods, clearly just as far gone. He lets one of your legs go, instead letting you wrap it around his waist as he places his fingers on your clit, giving you the extra push to the finish line.

He doesn’t wait for you as he cums in the next, one, two, three, strokes. But he pushes through still fucking into you while his cock pumps you full of his load. You cum immediately after, it’s more the thought than the faint feeling of him finishing inside you that just pushes you over the edge. A burst of buzzing fireworks sparks behind your eyelids as you close your eyes shut through the euphoria sinking into your bones. 

You’re panting, catching your breath, moaning your residual finish in small whimpers. “Wow, that was—”

There’s a sharp knock on the door.

“Sir, you’re needed on stage in 10 minutes.” Ashley’s panicked shrill can be heard on the other side of the door and your heart stops for a second before realising it’s her. Ashley knows better than to barge into any rooms ever since Homelander’s shown interest in you. 

“Oh well, there goes the afterglow.” You mumble with a tired laugh. Homelander nods quietly as he tucks himself back in, finally spent and satisfied—for the time being at least.

Homelander looks at you with fond hunger, leaning in for a soft kiss. “Yeah. Sorry I have to cut it short.” He grumbles, displeased, as he nuzzles his face in the junction of your neck.

He pulls away, reaching for your bra and passing it to you so you could make yourself presentable again.

“Tell me, did you actually leave the door unlocked?” You ask. 

“No! I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this. Well. I want you out there with me, just not when you’re freshly fucked. That’s all for me.” He gives you a wide grin, unable to stop himself from peppering you with kisses, capturing your lips again hungry for them as if you’re constantly denying him air. 

“Thank you for today.” He breathes hotly against your lips. “You know how to indulge me, I really didn’t think you’d turn up.” He smiles against you, caving in for another kiss.

“What wouldn’t I do for you?” You say with an amused roll to your eyes, but it’s all light-hearted. He knows you really would do anything for him. 

“I haven’t found that out yet.” He rumbles all pleased as he helps you make sense of the mess he made of your dress.

“And you never will,” You beam at him, your heart pounding again but this time it’s just from that overwhelming love you have for him, the butterflies that don’t seem to ever calm down in his presence. Even though you’ve been secretly together for a couple of months ever since the fated phone call, the excitement hasn’t even begun waning yet. 

“Hey, you know, you’re a really great actress. Had me sold quite a few times. Maybe I should get Vought to cast you in a movie alongside me, huh?” He grins as he picks up his gloves, pulling them over his hands again. 

You have to laugh. Sure, you’ve enjoyed role-playing as the obsessed fan that you were a few months ago but it wasn’t all acting. 

“I wasn’t acting! Well, obviously I did with the ‘I don’t know what’s gonna happen’ part but beyond that I was really nervous to be with you like that in a public place. You know how I get. It’s not that I don’t want to be with you publically, it’s just a huge adjustment. So… baby steps.” You finally adjust your dress though you still very much look like you just got railed. 

“Come ooon, let me make you mine officially. Fuck this sneaking around. The people who need to know, know. The rest is not important.” He presents you with his sweet honeyed voice, and he’s cheating really, he knows how much it affects you.

In a way, he’s right. The people who matter at Vought know about you seeing as you’re up at his place every other day but there was something terrifying about announcing to the entire world that you were Homelander’s girlfriend. That’s nothing easy to get used to. He’s not just a celebrity. He is the celebrity. You will have to say bye-bye to the comforts of a private life. But maybe that’s all worth it for him. 

“Okay. How about you go do your job and I go do mine and when you see me for dinner we can talk about it again. Sounds good?” You said as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for another sweet kiss.

“Sounds good." He repeats before continuing with a fond, "I love you,” which always comes out a little strained. He’s never been able to say it without letting himself drown in the endless pool of emotions that are just swirling around inside him. 

“I love you too. Now go before Ashley has a heart attack. You’re already late.” You kiss him sweetly, adjusting his hair, making it look more purposefully-tousled, less ‘sex-hair’. You let him go, smoothing your hand down his suit. 

“Oh please, I’m the Homelander. Does the party really even start without me there?” He blows a raspberry into the air with a scoff.

“Sure doesn’t, babe.” You shake your head, amused as you watch him wave you off and shut the door behind himself.

You took the time to make yourself look more presentable but you couldn’t leave the room in the state you both left it in. So you collected the things that fell, you wiped the surfaces clean and you trashed whatever broke on the way. It’s the least you could do.

You looked into the mirror, almost not recognising the woman you’ve become over the past few months. Being someone who feeds off your endless adoration has done wonders for your confidence. You no longer feel crazy and obsessive. You’ve finally found someone who’s never gonna have enough of you. Someone who inhales your love like the oxygen he needs to breathe.

You revere Homelander less as an icon and more as a person, as a partner, these days. You know so much more of who he is now and strangely, while he scares others, you’ve never felt safer in his presence. Something about you two just clicks. It’s no wonder he wants to show you to the rest of the world. He wants to lock you in, have people forever associate with him.

And soon enough, there will be no way out.

[Part 3]

Taglist (you can add yourself to be notified anytime I publish a new Homelander story): @morishitoshi

[harryslittlefreakk]

the pact

summary: you and harry made a childhood pact to marry if you were both still single when he reached 30. now that his big birthday is approaching, you find out whether your friendship (and your pact) have stood the test of time

warnings: mostly fluff, some smut :)

wordcount: 6k

a/n: i actually really like this one. it’s not proofread yet as i was so eager to get it up lol. hope you enjoy!

my masterlist can be found here! happy reading 🫶🏼

From the second you’d received the invitation, you were buzzing with a giddy nervousness. It had been years since you’d seen Harry, though Anne and Gemma were always so quick to share what he was up to. You’d followed his career silently for 13 years, still bumping into him every few years when Anne hosted Boxing Day, or he happened to be in town for your family’s annual summer barbecues. In your mind, he was still the cheeky, dimpled little lad you’d hide under the dining room table with, imagining you were explorers of far away lands.

But Harry wasn’t the young boy you’d chased after in your childhood anymore, the teenager you looked out for when you stuck your head over the garden fence to call your sister home. He wasn’t the handsome young man you’d spent countless hours swooning over with your friends in the bakery after school. Harry was a global sensation, the world’s sweetheart. You weren’t sure he’d even recognise you, a forgotten reminder of much simpler days.

Growing up next door to Harry hadn’t come without its challenges. You’d lost your childhood best friend seemingly overnight once One Direction formed, his life suddenly busy with meetings, tours and interviews. Anne still welcomed you with open arms, but her house felt a little too cold for you with his presence haunting the walls, memories etched into every surface of the house. You’d still hang out in his bedroom sometimes, his band posters and drawings left collecting dust in a lifeless room. When girls from school learned of your connection to him, they’d befriend you and treat you like the hottest new thing until you refused to give over any information. He was your Harry, your long-gone games and silly memories something you held close to your heart. It soon seemed easier to let him go altogether, move on to a new chapter, stop waiting for your best friend to appear again.

Still, you were glad to be able to support Gemma on one of her biggest days. She’d become such a regular feature in your household, she felt like family herself. Your parents had been more overjoyed at the news of her impending nuptials than any of yours or your sister’s recent achievements. They loved Gemma like their own, their ‘extra daughter’, as your dad called her. You knew this was as big a moment for them as it was for Anne, having watched Gemma grow from the tiny dark-haired girl your sister had raved about on her first day of school, to a woman about to become a wife.

Standing outside of the venue now, a beautiful old church overlooking the peaceful tides below, yours and Harry’s childhood pact suddenly hit you. You were laying on a blanket in your garden, tops of your heads pressed together as you made out shapes in the clouds above. “I will never get married,” you told Harry. Your parents had had their wedding album out that day, sharing stories with Anne and Robin. You squirmed and grimaced every time they spoke about it, never understanding how any girl would willingly share their life with a boy. “Yuck,” he squeaked from next to you. “Me either. I don’t ever want to live with a stinky girl!” You giggled together, the cool evening breeze washing over you. “Maybe, maybe I might one day though. When I’m really old and lonely.”

“Old like my parents?” you asked him. “Even olderer than that. Like 30.” You gasped, quickly trying to count on your fingers. “That’s really really old. Maybe we can be married when we’re 30.” Harry ran inside when you said this, leaving you chasing after him once again. He grabbed a napkin from the kitchen counter and scribbled on it in felt tip,

‘I ____ will marry Harry when we’re really super old’

“You have to put your name on that line or it’s not real,” Harry told you, handing the blue felt tip to you. You both signed your initials underneath, and proudly went to show your parents. They’d fallen about in laughter when you told them, promising to hold you to your pact. You hadn’t seen the napkin since that day, and you were sure it was long forgotten by everybody, especially Harry. You felt a small twinge in your chest at this, suddenly wishing you were anywhere but here.

“Hey Boo, you okay? Anne wants to get some pictures of us all together before the ceremony,” your dad told you, leading you through the crowd of guests. Boo was the only nickname that had ever stuck for you, starting when you and Harry decided to go as Boo and Sully from Monsters Inc. one Halloween. You’d originally wanted to be Mike, but with your big brown eyes shielded by little bangs and your signature pigtails, everyone persuaded you to be Boo. You’d outgrown almost everything else from childhood, but Boo was stuck with you for life.

“Oh Y/N, you look lovely darling,” Anne cooed as you came into her sight. She pulled you in for a hug, kissing your cheek as she pulled away. You had to admit, you did scrub up well. It was a long time since you’d really made the effort to look properly nice, still caught in the comfort of your pandemic wardrobe of leggings and sweatshirts. The olive-green maxi dress you’d settled on hugged your body in all the right places, a thick band of material draping over your chest and the tops of your arms, showcasing your toned shoulders. You’d always weirdly liked your shoulders and neck, an odd area to be proud of but it was by far your favourite part of your body. Your hair was scraped back in a sleek bun, tiny wisps framing your fresh face. “Gem and Sophia are still inside, they’ll be out in a minute. Gem’s so excited to see you, it’s been so long since we’ve all been together,” Anne gushed, running a hand up the outside of your arm.

She had such a delicate, warm presence, it was no wonder she’d raised two children as incredible as Harry and Gemma. Anne had been an extension of your own mum as you grew up, small traces of her as much as part of you as they were her own kids. She’d talked you through boys and heartbreaks, been there to wave you off to your school prom, one of the proudest faces in the crowd when you graduated university. She’d been stationed on the garden patio alongside your mum at every birthday party, the two women nattering away as they guarded the wine.

Gemma stepped out of the door, pulling you out of your daydream down memory lane. Your jaw went slack when you saw her, she was positively radiant. Her dress was a dainty satin, huge bishop sleeves adorning her arms and a beautiful full skirt, flowing around her petite frame in the gentle seaside breeze. Your mum rushed over to her first, smoothing a loving hand down the front of her skirt. “You look beautiful Gem,” she told her, tears glistening on her bottom eyelashes. Hugs and pleasantries were exchanged throughout the group, shoulders bumping gaily as you moved around. One thing was still missing though - Harry. You knew he’d never miss his sisters wedding, though he was absolutely nowhere to be seen. Just as you were about to ask, you saw him. With a deep brown suit jacket draped across his body, matching slacks hanging loose on his muscular thighs. A white vest hung low on his chest, his inked swallows sitting pretty on tanned skin.

You knew how good he looked these days, of course. Your tiktok had been full of videos of him performing, Anne’s house littered with framed photos. But seeing him in real life lit a fire in your belly. He’d always been pretty, green eyes and curls enough to charm any woman, but now he was hot. A great, big hunk of sexy man. He approached your parents first, laughing as your dad chose to forgo Harry’s outstretched hand, pulling him into a hug instead. “Here’s our not-so-little superstar,” he smiled, ruffling Harry’s messy curls. Harry pressed a kiss into your mums cheek, exchanging a quick but heartfelt hello. His eyes caught on yours as he glanced across the courtyard, your brown eyes still crinkled as you smiled, in exactly the same way they had when you were younger. “Little Boo!” he chuckled, striding towards you. His strong arms wrapped you into a firm cuddle, his musky scent spilling into your pores. “You look incredible,” he whispered into your ear, voice raspy and low. It wasn’t long before Anne was ushering you all into place to take some pictures, cutting yours and Harry’s catch up short. “Come and find me later,” he told you as you beamed for the camera.

—

With the ceremony long-finished, the party had spilled out of the church hall and onto the grounds outside. You’d danced, mingled and laughed for as long as you could before needing a minute of quiet. Brushing your hand across your mum’s back, you told her you were going for a little walk and would be back soon. You slipped out of the open doors, yanking your heels off in search of some quick relief. You spotted a little wooden bench overlooking the sea, a little way away from the other guests. A great oak tree shielded it from the warm evening sun, providing you just the right amount of peace.

“Thought you were gonna find me,” a voice suddenly came from behind you. You turned around to see Harry approaching your private spot, a sparkling glass in each hand. “Hey,” you smiled. “Just needed a little bit of quiet. Come sit,” you patted the bench beside you. Harry handed you one of the glasses as he sat down, murmuring, “saw you heading over here. Thought I’d bring you a little tipple.” You cheersed, the clinking of glasses cutting through a heavy silence. “How have you been?” he asked you, shifting his body slightly to face you.

“Been good, H. Thank you for asking. Work’s going well, was a bit slow with the pandemic and all but life’s been kind to me recently. I don’t really need to ask you, do I?” you laughed, suddenly shy in his presence. “No, I guess not,” he answered, smiling kindly at you. You settled back into an uncomfortable silence, not really sure how to talk to one another anymore.

“Mum told me you moved to London,” Harry said, seemingly desperate to pierce the awkwardness hanging over you both. “Yeah, I did,” you told him, explaining how Holmes Chapel had started to feel just a little too small, a little too cut off from the rest of the world. “I can understand that,” he told you, chuckling. You ran through the usual questions, telling him about your work as an illustrator, your little flat off of Finchley high road, the couple of girls from school you’d kept in touch with. “I can’t believe you live so close to me,” he gasped. “Mum could never remember what area you lived in, if I’d known you were only down the road we could have reconnected long before now,” Harry told you. You let out an involuntary scoff at this, telling him, “you know where to find me, H. You know your mum has my number, you know where I’ll be every Christmas and birthday. If you really wanted to reconnect it would have happened long before now.” Your words tumbled out, years of one-sided hurt and rejection suddenly pushing to the surface. Harry took a big sip of his drink, placing his hand over yours. “I’ve been shit, I know. Got caught up in everything and barely looked back. Wanted to reach out a long time before now but I couldn’t bring myself,” he told you. “Felt so bad for how I just disappeared and didn’t want to face it.”

You looked at him with sad eyes, searching his face for any sign of insincerity. “I get it, H. I’m really happy for you, I am. You had all your dreams come true, it’s amazing,” you set your glass down beside you and held your other hand over his. “Just feel sad that I lost my best friend overnight.” Your eyes welled up as you spoke, a combination of the free-flowing prosecco, the beautiful ceremony, and facing your hurt with the man who caused it. “Never had a friend who got me like you did,” you chuckled bitterly. Harry pulled his hands from yours and snaked an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to his side. “I’m sorry, little Boo, I swear.”

The pair of you stayed that way for a while, soaking in each other’s words and the idyllic setting. Just being close to each other for the first time in almost a decade, having said what you both needed to, was bliss. “I thought about you a lot, y’know,” Harry told you suddenly, the words bursting out as if he’d been biting them back for a while. “Yeah?” you asked him, sitting up straighter to look at him again. He nodded, cheeks twinged slightly pink. You weren’t sure if it was the booze or his confession. “All my big moments, always wished you were there.”

“You know I would’ve been if I knew you wanted me to, Harry.”

“I know,” he mumbled, watching his own trainer-clad feet kicking little rocks around. “My mum and dad went to a few of your shows with Anne, watched the Brits and the Grammys every year you were nominated.” You swallowed thickly, before continuing, “I’m really proud of you, we all are.”

Harry turned his head slightly to the sound of music blaring from inside, before asking you, “dance with me?” He extended a hand to help you up, placing his glass down before wrapping an arm around your waist. You stepped together slowly, bodies moving in unison with your head rested softly against his chest. The skies had gotten gradually darker as you’d spoken, closing in around you until only a faint glow seeped out from the open church doors. Harry pushed you out, spinning you around before tugging you back into him. You smacked against his chest with a little ‘umph’, the wind knocked out of you. Your eyes met his, a little dazed, and all you could do was stare.

It felt like a betrayal of your childhood self to find him so attractive now. He was your best friend, your first friend, the only one to ever understand you fully. He’d guided you through your awkward pre-teen stage, the extra years he had on you put to good use when he showed you cool bands and songs to make boys like you. But now, you wanted him to be the boy that liked you. You were so flustered under his gaze, heat tearing through your body. “Let’s head back in,” you told Harry, words shaky. He kept an arm tight around your shoulder, shaking you about as you approached the church. ‘I’ve got my little Boo back’ he laughed in a sing-song tune. You could feel the happiness radiating off his body, knowing without even looking that his toothy grin would be firmly nestled between two deep dimples.

Your parents were sat around a table with Anne, Michal and Gemma still doing the rounds. You could tell they were drunk from a mile away - your dads cheeks stained red with merriment and Anne’s hands gesturing wildly as your mum roared with laughter. You’d missed this. You still went home as often as you could, never missing an opportunity to enjoy time with your loved ones, but before seeing Harry today it always felt different. Gemma, your sister, and Harry had all moved on, never fully present. But being the youngest, you were the one left behind. Harry pulled around two chairs for you both, plopping down between you and his mum. She draped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. “My special boy, where have you been?” she slurred.

“Been catching up,” Harry told her, a blush creeping up his cheeks as she looked between the two of you before winking at him. She was far from subtle before getting wine drunk, so now her entire head moved with her wink. She highlighted it with a loud “wink, wink” in Harry’s direction. “Anne!” you spluttered, choking out a laugh. Your dad reached over to snatch the two empty glasses from in front of you and Harry, promising to fill them to the brim so you could ‘get on their bloody level’.

The evening continued like that, the 5 of you drinking and laughing, reminiscing on your younger days. Your parents and Anne managing to bring up enough embarrassing stories about you both to put you off ever speaking to them again. “I think it’s time we all go to bed,” Harry started, holding his hands up. “Because we’re all fucking PISSED!”, he continued, yelling at the table. You banged on the table in hysterics, eyes screwed up tight as you and Anne fell into each other in laughter. Most of the venue had cleared out by now, guests dropping by your table to congratulate Anne on their way out. You’d barely seen Gemma all night, so content in her little love bubble that she’d spent the majority of the evening alone with Michal, feeding each other cake and slow-dancing.

“Come on, you big lump,” you tugged at your dad’s wrists who in turn pulled at your mum to stand up. Your dad swung his arms around you both, Harry and Anne joining onto the end, and you stumbled towards the exit in a fit of laughter. Harry tried to start a can-can line, kicking one big foot up into the air, but the 5 of you put together had far less coordination than even one sober person, so the idea was quickly abandoned.

The church had a converted barn outside, with rooms purpose-built for immediate family and friends to stay in. You hugged and kissed your goodnights to your parents and Anne, making sure they all got into bed without mischief. Now it was only you and Harry left, buzzed but significantly less drunk than your elders. “Care for one last round?” Harry asked you, slipping a little hip flask out from his blazer pocket. You knew this was a bad idea, a drunken evening alone with the man you’d been lusting after all day. But you certainly wouldn’t make the first move, and you were almost sure he didn’t think of you as anything other than the little girl who used to run around with him.

You followed him into his room, laughing to drown out the alarm bells ringing in your head. Once you saw the empty bed in front of you, you couldn’t help but just flop down on it, suddenly needing to be as comfortable as you could. The room was aged and rustic, but the bed was far more comfortable than it looked. Harry sat against the pillows beside you, long legs stretched out before him as he took a swig from the flask.

For the first time that day, the silence around you was peaceful. Just two old friends enjoying each others presence. Harry watched you as you took the flask from him, grimacing as the liquor went down with a burn. His green eyes were studying every little line on your face, every freckle dotted across your bare shoulders. There was so much new about you, so many little details and marks you’d gained as you grew older, all the little telltale signs of the years he’d missed. What he’d said to you earlier was true, he’d missed you with his whole heart from the second he’d left you behind, spent so many lonely nights wishing he had you by his side. He thought he’d outgrown you, his new-found fame taking precedence over the little girl he’d shared his dreams and aspirations with. But sitting here now with you, he knew you’d grown with him, no matter how far removed your life had become from his. “‘M nearly 30, you know,” he drawled, voice hoarse from the singing and the sting of alcohol in his throat.

“Huh?” you turned to him confused. “I’m 30 next year,” he told you. “Yeah I know, H. What does that have to do with anything?” you laughed, poking at the side of his head. “Means we have to get married next year,” he grinned. You gasped, remembering the pact you’d thought about earlier in the day, “you didn’t forget!” you laughed, sitting up against the soft pillows.

“Can’t do it next year though, two weddings in a year would send our parents insane,” you told him. “‘M finished with my tour now. Got nothing on next year,” Harry shrugged, a familiar cheeky smirk sitting pretty between his dimpled cheeks. You felt something shift in the air as he spoke, and he seemed to feel it too, edging closer to you until his face was only centimetres away from yours. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?” he cooed, one hand coming up to cup your cheek. His touch shot electricity through your core, a tingling sensation starting where his fingers touched you before washing over your whole body. You shook your head lightly, eyes fixed on him. He leaned in at this, his parted lips meeting yours. The beginnings of a moustache tickled your upper lip, his hot breath flowing into your mouth with every lick of his tongue. You shifted your body towards him as the kiss deepened, four legs and the now-crumpled duvet tangling together as you rushed to close the distance between your bodies. Harry licked into your mouth with the passion of a million years of unspoken longing, his movements saying more than he ever could with words. It was the kind of kiss you’d expect from someone who’d loved you for a lifetime, who wanted to love you for a lifetime, your tongues working alongside each other like this was routine, like you’d done it a thousand times before.

“Harry,” you whispered, hands pushing his blazer from his shoulders. He let you pull it off him, then stroked a hand up your thigh as you admired his upper body. One arm was littered in patchwork tattoos, though all you could focus on was his muscles, illuminated beautifully in the evening light. “Let me get you out of this,” he rasped, twisting your shoulders around to access the zip running down the back of your dress. He smoothed his fingers down your waist and to your hips before unzipping you, your body dwarfed by his strong hands. Harry pressed a kiss into the top of your back, then kissed up and down your spine, hungry for a taste of you as he unveiled more of your skin. You stood up to help him pull your dress down, resting one hand on his shoulder to steady yourself as you stepped out of it, leaving it discarded on the floor. “Matches my eyes,” he smiled. His gaze trailed from your toes, up to your knees, to where your panties wrapped around your hips, and higher still. Up your tanned abdomen to your bare breasts where your rosebud nipples sat perky, to your neck, and finally his gaze rested on your eyes. “Y’so beautiful,” he groaned, running a soft touch along the curve of your neck.

Harry pulled his tank top over his head, stepping out of his slacks as they collapsed at his feet. His body was unbelievable. So tanned and toned, firm in all the right places yet soft in the best ones. You could see the outline of his hard shaft through the thin fabric of his boxers, an almost silent moan slipping out as you took in the sight before you.

He stepped closer to you, backing you up until the side of the bed hit the back of your knees, then held a hand to your back to guide you down onto it. His hot, drunken breath washed over you as he climbed on top of you, one hand balancing his body as the other explored you. His fingers groped your breast firmly, mouth finding the opposite nipple, sucking it into his lips in one quick movement. Your back arched off the bed, pleasure so built up that it only took one touch to send you into a frenzy. Harry licked a circle around your areola, chuckling against your skin as you writhed under his touch. “Barely even started yet, little Boo,” he drawled, moving upwards to kiss along your clenched jaw.

His fingers danced down your body, smoothing over your mound as you gasped and groaned. They slipped under the soft material of your panties, blissfully cold against the heat of your entrance. You were already soaked through, much to his surprise, so he swiped a finger through your folds to collect your juices before landing straight on your clit. Harry rubbed you in circles, the friction leaving you a panting mess under him, head jutting out to press open-mouthed kisses on his throat.

He pulled your panties down your thighs tenderly, kissing every inch of skin they passed over. In the dim light of the room, mouth moving up and down your body, he’d never looked so handsome. His cock brushed against you as he moved back up your body to focus again on your folds, your juices spread across your mound in a mess. Two long fingers dived straight in, his rings leaving a harsh chill against your sensitive skin. The stretch of his fingers alone had you panting, a familiar burning starting in your core. Harry found your sweet spot insanely fast, fingers moving in a perfect beckoning motion just as you liked. He navigated your body like you’d done this before, like the muscle memory just guided him to what he knew made you feel good. “I want more, want you inside of me,” you whined, hips bucking towards Harry’s groin as he silenced you with a deep kiss. “Got to get you ready for me first, Boo”, he told you. You winced as he used your nickname, knowing you’d never be able to hear your dad call you that without thinking of this night.

Harry’s mouth found your breast again, sucking deep purple bruises onto the gentle skin as you whimpered beneath him. He smacked at your pussy as your moans got louder, causing your eyes to shoot up to meet his. “Gotta keep the noise down, sweet girl.” You nodded in response, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip to keep yourself as quiet as you could be. The second his tongue found your nipple, you felt your orgasm bubbling up in your core. Harry noticed the way your head lulled back, slipping a third finger inside of you and using his thumb to brush against your clit. It was like the holy trinity of foreplay, his skilled tongue and fingers hitting your three most pleasurable zones at once. Your climax hit quickly, walls tightening around his digits as you clamped your forearm across your mouth, desperately trying not to scream his name. He peppered kisses down your throat as his fingers rode you through your high, only pulling them away when you went limp under him. Harry held his fingers to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick off every trace of your creamy come.

He backed off you to kick his boxers down his legs, stroking his erection as it oozed precum. He found his wallet, pulling out a condom and rolling it down the length of his cock. “How do you want me, sweet girl?” he asked you, cock twitching in his hand. “Wanna go on top,” you told him, suddenly eager to impress. If his cock was anywhere near as good to you as his hands and mouth had been, you couldn’t only have him once. You needed to show him how good your pretty pussy could take him, make him want to come back for more.

Harry rolled onto the centre of the bed, hands guiding your hips down over his groin. His hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you towards him for a sloppy kiss. His mouth tasted of you, the familiar tingle of juices on his tongue. You stroked his member up and down quickly, before lining it up with your entrance and pushing yourself down onto his tip. “Fuck, H. You’re so big,” you whined, thighs burning as you hovered above him. He used his hands to move you up, then down, down, down, helping you to take him fully. The burn was like nothing you’d experienced before, his girthy cock crammed into every corner of your pussy. You stilled for a moment, hands resting against his butterfly tattoo, chest rising and falling quickly as you tried to push past the ache. He held a thumb under your chin, tilting your head to look at him. “You ok, pet?” he asked, needing to be sure before you continued. You nodded, moving one arm to pull his finger into your mouth. You licked circles around his fingertip, sucking it in down to his knuckle before releasing with it a pop.

Harry’s hands guided your hips to grind against him, helping you until you found your rhythm. He pulled them away, one landing with a loud smack on your ass cheek as the other crept up the front of your body, resting at your throat. He squeezed lightly, the sensation only spurring you on to bounce up and down on him, the combination of your juices squelching as your cheeks slapped against his groin. It was the kind of hot, dirty sex you’d only ever dreamed of, and it had you falling apart on top of him. You cried out a strangled moan, expletives falling out of both of your mouths. “Feel so good around me,” Harry groaned, “so fucking wet. S’that all for me?”

“All for you, H. M’all yours,” you whimpered. His hips bucked against you as you told him you were his, fingers pulling away from your supple ass. He spat on them before dancing them back across your asscheek and smoothing the spit around your second hole, eyes fixed on your pussy bouncing on his cock. “Can I?” he asked you. “Please, H.”

He pushed a finger into your tightness, filling you up so well. You felt so full you could burst. His eyes were clouded over with lust, tiny hairs slick to his forehead with sweat. He looked feral, and you loved it. He repositioned his feet to where they were flat against the bed, hips knocking into you as you moved up and down his cock, his thrusts sending him deeper and deeper inside of you. You were both panting now, barely able to contain your highs for a second longer. “Come with me, come with me please,” you begged him, your second orgasm of the night starting to rise through your core. His thrusts got faster and sloppier, obscene sounds echoing around the room, a clear sign of what you were doing to anyone who could hear you right now. Your orgasm crept up on you quickly, thanks to Harry tightening his grip around your neck and pushing his finger further into your tight hole. Your head was thrown back as you came, back arched making his cock feel as though it could burst through your belly button. Harry moaned loudly, hips jutting one last time as he flooded the condom with his come. You collapsed in a sweaty heap, totally unable to hold yourself up any longer.

“Took me so well, angel girl,” Harry drawled as he pulled out of you, padding across the room to toss the condom and rinse his hands. You lay there in total bliss, comfortable in the knowledge that your friendship was long gone.

—

“Let me go first and you can come after,” you told Harry, holding a finger up to shush him when he started to laugh. “We’re grown adults, Y/N, it doesn’t matter if anyone sees us come out together.”

“I don’t write songs about sex and drugs. My body is still untouched in my parents eyes,” you told him, hand slipping from the doorknob as he pulled you in for another kiss. “Just don’t come until you hear me leaving.”

You crept out of the room as silently as you could, heels and dress bundled under one arm. You’d heard Anne, your parents and Gemma head out to the courtyard already, so there was no danger of being caught by prying eyes - or so you thought. As you were padding across the hallway to your room, Anne appeared round the corner. “I was just coming to see if you were awake,” she told you, eyes sparkling with glee. “No wonder your mum said your bed was untouched.” She knocked on Harry’s door with a tight-lipped smile lighting up her face. He opened the door wide-eyed as Anne pulled him into a firm hug, pressing a sticky lipgloss kiss to his cheek. “I always hoped you two would get together.” She disappeared back down the hall as quickly as she appeared, leaving you and Harry blushing.

You decided to make your way outside together, knowing it wouldn’t be long before your parents put two and two together anyway. Plus, you knew Anne wouldn’t be able to resist telling your mum and Gemma what she saw.

—

You decided to spend the day on the beach, you and Harry with your parents and Anne, since Gemma and Michal had already left for their honeymoon. It was a perfect summers day, the sun warm enough to enjoy but not hot enough to irritate you, the gentle sea breeze cooling you down as it washed over you. Your mum and Anne were sprawled across a linen blanket, two bottles of wine stood in the sand next to their feet. They called you over, instant dread washing over you as Anne excitedly shouted your name. “Do you have anything to tell us?” she asked you, and you were sure there would be mischief glinting in her eyes under her big sunglasses. They sat up and scooted over on their blanket, leaving space for you to slot in between. “Nothing that I’m sure you don’t already know,” you smirked, a deep blush creeping up your cheeks. Your mum looked between Anne and you, gasping as she swatted at your leg. “So it’s true! You dirty little minx.”

You held your head in your hands, mortified that your parents knew you’d slept with Harry. “Oh relax,” your mum told you. “It’s nothing we haven’t done before,” she smirked, throwing herself towards Anne as they howled in laughter. Anne stopped suddenly, her hand tapping at your mum’s thigh incessantly. “If they get married, we’ll be real family!” she gasped, face pink with joy. “Well, the pact is what got us there in the first place,” Harry told them, sitting down next to you and snaking a hand around your waist.

“I forgot all about that,” your mum’s jaw went slack. “Do you still have it?” she asked Anne. “Of course I do. Kept it safe to show them when they found their way back to each other, always knew this day would come.”

part two

taglist: @sleutherclaw @harrysolaf @slutforcoffein

[felinecyan]

Trust Issues

[Katsuki Bakugo x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Some friendly advice: don’t ever go to the rival of your spar partner for help.

WC: 4893

Category: Fluff, Slight Angst,

This blog is a MHA fan page at this point HAHAHA

But since you guys REALLY liked the first oneshot of him, I felt inclined to write another one. So, here you go! 💞

『••✎••』

You didn’t think it would come to this.

In all honesty, you had never intended to hurt your friend.

All you had wanted was a fair fight. After all, that was why you were training, wasn't it?

So you could become a hero?

Now, granted, it was not a secret that Izuku Midoriya had always been on the… opposing end of Katsuki Bakugo's wrath ever since childhood. The boy was a spitfire; you had known that from the moment he had first stepped into class.

The Sports Festival only proved it. He was strong, powerful, and unafraid to let anyone who stood in his way know. It was that sort of determination that you had hoped to one day achieve, the will to succeed and not allow anything to hold you back.

It wasn't that you were star-struck or even jealous when he had been crowned first place at the festival. It was just inspiring, in a sense. He had fought tooth and nail to win, and in the end, he had come out on top.

However, his victory did not mean he could rest easy.

After the Sports Festival, Bakugo had taken a sort of… interest in you. You supposed he liked the way he fought against you, or maybe it was because he saw potential in you as a rival, but when class was over the next day, and the blonde had approached you, telling you to meet him out back, you were overjoyed.

Until he started to beat the ever-living crap out of you, that is.

And he still was, even now.

Every time you believe to be gaining more and more strength, he only proves to have become stronger. It was quite disheartening, actually.

Still, you did your best to keep up with him. It was no surprise to you, though, that he was better at you in almost everything.

That's why it seemed like a great idea for you to start sparring with Deku, right? Maybe the green-haired could teach you a few things and help you gain a bit of an advantage over the hothead.

But, as pure intentions would have it, the choice you made that day had landed you here.

You were at your locker, picking up books for Aizawa’s lesson when a hand rested atop the door of your locker. He didn’t close it, only using it as a resting place for his arm, so you didn't immediately look up to see him, instead pretending that you hadn't noticed him.

"Hey,"

Not a voice you were familiar with. You glanced around the area before looking over at the source—a tall boy with short black hair and dark brown eyes.

You blinked a couple of times. "Hi…?"

He flashed a grin and leaned a bit closer to you, his voice dropping low. "Nice weather we're having, don't you think?"

"Uhm… sure, I guess." The confusion was obvious on your face, and he laughed at your expression. "It's nice, yeah."

"Well, the weather seems a lot nicer on the roof, I think." His words were slow, and his smile was growing a bit too much for you to be comfortable with. "I could take you there, show you the view. What do you—"

He was caught off by the large hand that suddenly slammed down on the top of your locker, shutting it. You were about to tell the person that the door had hit your head when you looked up at those glaring crimson eyes and felt your stomach drop.

Katsuki Bakugo.

"Hey, what the hell?!" The boy exclaimed. "What's the big deal?!"

Bakugo didn't seem to acknowledge the other, simply glaring down at you only. You were frozen in place. You had never seen the boy this angry, not even at the USJ attack.

"You." His voice was quiet, unnervingly calm, but the undertone was filled with enough venom to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. "You lied."

"Uh—" You began but were cut off.

"You told me you had to bail yesterday. That you had homework to do." He was staring right through you, and you felt a cold shiver run down your spine.

You swallowed, and his eyes flickered to your throat for a split second. "I did, though."

"You didn't," He hissed, teeth gritting together. "You were with him."

"With who—"

You had no chance to react before he slammed his fist against the lockers again, right beside your face, and the boy who had been trying to talk to you only watched as you were cornered.

"Don't lie to me, damnit!" He was snarling, eyes alight with fury. His hand moved from the lockers and back to his side. "You were with that shitty nerd. Don't you fucking deny it."

"I—" You tried, but your voice was shaking, and he interrupted you before you could say anything.

"Do you think I'm a fucking idiot?" He leaned down to your level, his red eyes burning into yours. "Do you really think I wouldn't find out about your little play date with Deku?"

"Play date?" Your eyebrows furrowed. "I was just training, Bakugo. It's not that big a deal."

He scoffed, pulling his hands into his pockets. The rage was still in his eyes, but he didn't appear to want to act on it, instead turning his head to the side.

And despite it not being a good time, the dude beside you was still here, and he had a comment.

"Hey, I was here first, dude." He said, stepping forward. "It’s clear you two have a problem, but this chick isn’t yours. Beat it."

You were honestly expecting Bakugo to explode on him, maybe even punch the guy. He was always so aggressive.

Instead, he simply stared at him for a long moment, blinking at his audacity, only to roll his eyes and turn back to you.

"If you think Deku can help you, then go ahead." He shrugged, taking a step back. "We’ll see how good his teaching is if it can get you to stand a chance against me."

"You think—"

He interrupted you, not even giving you the chance to finish.

"Five o’clock, gymnasium." He smirked, but his eyes were hard. "Don't make me wait."

"But, you said—"

He had already turned his back and began to walk away, the other boy watching him with a dumbfounded expression.

Bakugo only nudged him aside with his shoulder, not giving him a glance as he left the hallway. He might’ve called over his shoulder, calling the kid an extra.

You weren't sure, and frankly, you didn't care. The only thing you cared about at that moment was what just happened, what was going to happen, and kicking the ever-loving shit out of the tattletale who just ruined everything.

The guy was still staring at the hallway Bakugo had disappeared in, his eyebrows scrunched together.

"Did he just—"

"Don’t." You held up a hand, and his mouth shut immediately. "Just don't."

The boy didn't say anything after that. You left him as he was, not caring if he was confused or not. He shouldn't have interrupted in the first place.

You walked to the classroom, immediately hunting down the other blonde, who happened to be your betrayer. He was sitting down, talking to Sero and Kirishima, but you didn't hesitate to grab him by the ear and drag him away.

"Hey!" He cried out, struggling to escape. "What the hell?! Lemme go!"

"Why'd you do that?!" You demanded, turning to him and letting him go. "You ratted me out!"

He blinked, not understanding. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, Denks!" You pointed at him accusingly, glaring at him. "You told Bakugo that I was training with Midoriya."

"I… was under a lot of pressure, okay?" He raised his hands defensively, leaning back. "Bakugo came to me after school and demanded where you were. He threatened to blow my face off!"

"Oh, yeah, real mature." You rolled your eyes. "Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?! He’s going to actually blow my face off."

"He didn't seem that mad," He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe it'll be okay."

"He talked like a regular person," You crossed your arms. "He was terrifyingly calm, Kaminari! And now he wants to meet me in the gym at five o'clock."

"Dude,” Sero extended the vowel, sitting forward in his seat as he had heard the conversation. "You’re so screwed."

You couldn’t help the glare you threw at him.

"You're not helping."

Kirishima also turned, frowning. "No, dude, he's right. You are screwed. I mean, you were sparring with Midobro behind his back." He shook his head. "He probably wouldn’t have cared much if it was me or anyone else, but—"

"You picked his mortal enemy." Sero finished, raising an eyebrow. "Like, seriously, dude. What did you expect?"

"Kaminari not to snitch on me?" You threw a look at the yellow-haired boy. "So much for being friends, huh?"

"Hey, I warned you," Kaminari huffed, crossing his arms. "But no, you wanted to hang out with his rival. If I didn’t tell him, I'm pretty sure he would've killed me. Like, literally, he would've killed me. No doubt."

"But you're fine with me dying?" You asked, a teasing smile pulling at your lips. "I see how it is."

"I thought I would have until after lunch to warn you," He defended himself, shrugging. "Guess he warned you instead, huh?"

You sighed, shaking your head.

"You guys aren't helping," You turned, running a hand through your hair. "I'm dead. So dead. Oh my god."

"Alright, who pissed off the chihuahua?"

You spun around at the sound of Mina's voice, seeing her, Jiro, and Hagakure all standing together.

How wonderful. The gang's all here.

"What are you talking about, Ashido?" Kirishima questioned, tilting his head.

"Bakugo's pissed," Jiro explained, pointing a thumb in his direction. "He’s storming through the hallways like someone just took a dump in his cereal."

"And it's not like he was in a good mood this morning, either," Hagakure added, bouncing on her toes. "Did something happen?"

You groaned and flopped down into a chair, hiding your face in your hands.

"Idiocy happened," Sero answered, shrugging. "That's what happened."

"Shut it, Tape Boy."

"You should probably tell us," Mina advised, sitting down next to you. She pulled you into a side hug, patting your shoulder. "What's up? Talk to me."

"Bakugo found out that I've been training with Midoriya," You mumbled, and the three girls nodded. "I’m dead. Aizawa can’t even save me."

"Aw, c'mon, it's not that bad." Jiro rolled her eyes, walking over to join the group. "Bakugo's all bark and no bite."

"He's not… all bark." You muttered, not meeting her eyes.

"I can vouch for that." Kaminari grinned, but the glare you shot him made him falter. "But uh, no, yeah, he's definitely more bite than bark."

"Oh, you poor baby." Hagakure cooed, leaning forward to ruffle your hair. You couldn't see her face, obviously, but you had a feeling she was smiling. "You can do it, though. It can't be that bad."

"You know what you should do?" Kirishima suggested a bright smile on his face. "Talk to him."

"I think that would make things worse, dude." You rubbed your eyes, sighing.

"I mean, tell him why you were doing it." He shrugged. "He’s feeling all types of betrayed right now, I bet. If you just explain your reasoning, he might let it slide."

"Doubtful."

"But it's worth a shot, isn't it?" He raised an eyebrow, his smile still intact. "Plus, you’d be showing him that you aren't afraid to take the initiative. Maybe he'll be a bit nicer."

"Do it at lunch so that if he tries to kill you, there'll be teachers nearby." Sero grinned.

"You're really not helping." You glared at him, but the group just laughed, leaving you to your sulking.

Mina was about to say something when the door to the classroom opened, and the very loved and grumpy Aizawa walked in. He didn't say a word; instead, he just shot a look at the group before sitting down to wait for the last few minutes before class started.

As much as you wanted to believe it, the only thing the group's conversation managed to do was make you more worried. You spent the entire class staring off into space, staring at the blonde boy who sat two seats in front of you.

His shoulders were tense, and his pencil was practically snapping in half as he scribbled notes on the paper. Every once in a while, his eyes would flicker back and forth, his teeth gritted, and his pencil would move a bit faster.

You couldn’t focus on what Aizawa was saying, too distracted by the blonde's behavior.

The class seemed to go on forever, but eventually, the bell rang, and the class began to shuffle out, chatting and laughing with their friends.

"Hey, Bakubro!" Kirishima walked over to the hothead, who had stayed behind to pack up his things. "You okay, man?"

He was a real one, that Kirishima.

"Peachy." He replied, throwing his bag over his shoulder. His tone was dry, and his eyes were tired, but there was a hint of anger in them.

"You sure? You seem a bit—"

"I'm fine, Shitty Hair." He hissed, his patience wearing thin. "Back off."

The redhead only nodded and backed away, holding his hands up. "Alright, man. Whatever you say."

He looked over at you, his eyes flickering between you and Bakugo.

He didn't need to say a word. You understood. You slowly approached the blonde, your heart in your throat.

"Uhm," You started, your voice cracking. You cleared your throat, trying to seem as unthreatening as possible. "Can we talk? I'll buy lunch."

He glanced at you, his jaw clenching. His eyes flickered down to the floor before meeting yours again.

"What makes you think I need you to buy me lunch?" He huffed, his grip on his bag tightening.

"It's an offer, dude," You shrugged, trying to sound more casual than you felt. It didn’t work. "I just want to talk, okay?"

He stared at you for a long moment, the gears in his head working. He looked over at Kirishima and Kaminari, who had been watching, before rolling his eyes and huffing.

"Fine. Whatever."

He pushed past you and made his way to the door, not bothering to check if you were following. You gave the other two a small, awkward smile and hurried after him, following close behind as he stomped his way through the hall.

You kept a bit of distance but stayed close enough so that he knew you were still there. He didn't speak, didn't even look at you, and his shoulders were still tense.

This was not going to end well.

But he hadn’t said no, so maybe there was a chance.

"So," You began, breaking the silence. "I—"

"Why?" He cut you off, not slowing his pace. His eyes were forward. "I already know your damn reasoning, so don't give me some bullshit excuse. Just tell me the truth."

He had stopped walking, now turning to face you. There were students milling about the hallway, and a couple were giving the two of you strange looks. You tried to ignore them.

You focused on the blonde's gaze.

"You're strong," You confessed, your voice wavering. "I want to be stronger."

His eyes narrowed at that.

"You could've asked," He growled. "You didn't have to sneak around and hide shit."

"Asked to… what? To kick my ass harder during our spars?" You huffed. "Because, as much as I hate to say it, I'm not winning in those."

He paused, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Is that what this is about?" He asked. "You wanted me to go easier on you? Are you kidding me?"

"No, that's not—"

"If you think villains are gonna hold back," He cut you off again, and the volume of his voice was getting higher. "You're out of your damn mind. You can't always depend on some shitty extra to bail your ass out."

"That's not—"

"Then what the fuck do you want from me, huh?!" He demanded, throwing his hands up. "You want me to hold your hand through heroics?! Is that what it is?!"

"I'm not asking you to do anything," You defended yourself, glaring. "All I wanted was a different perspective, damn."

"Yeah, what a nice perspective you got." He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Get perspective off the kid who can’t even use his quirk without breaking his fucking body. What a brilliant idea."

"Oh, come on!" You crossed your arms. "There is no reason for you to be so petty. I did this for you, and for me. What's the problem?"

"For me? " He echoed, his eyes widening. "The hell do you mean, 'for me'? Going behind my back and training with the nerd is not doing something for me."

"I did it to be a better opponent to you!" You raised your voice, ignoring the stares of your classmates. "I'm tired of losing all the time! You're my friend, and I don't want to constantly have my ass handed to me!"

"We're not friends," He hissed. "Friends don't do this kind of shit."

You faltered, taken aback.

"I'm— You're—"

"Save it," He snapped, not meeting your gaze. "I'm done. Fuck this. Fuck you. Go find someone else to train with."

He pushed past you, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stomped away. You stood there, gaping, unable to understand what just happened.

"Bakugo," You tried, your voice cracking. You didn't turn, too busy staring at the tile floor.

"Fuck off, idiot." He spat, not bothering to look back. "You can forget about the sparring later."

He didn't wait for you to respond. Instead, he shoved his way past the crowd, disappearing from sight.

You were still frozen, and you couldn't tell if the tears welling up in your eyes were from frustration or sadness.

The students rushing around you began to slow, staring at you with pity, confusion, or both.

But you didn’t have time to care because, at that moment, you couldn’t think of anything else.

Your stomach twisted. Your head throbbed. Your heart broke.

And you felt like you were going to throw up.

"Dude," Kaminari said, appearing next to you. "That was rough."

You didn't reply. You couldn't.

"Shut up, man," Kirishima said, placing a hand on your shoulder. He was frowning, his eyes full of worry. "She doesn't need that right now."

"This is some B-lister movie shit right here," Sero commented, shaking his head. "Seriously, what a drama queen."

Bakugo… he was… hurt. You could see it in his eyes. He was angry, obviously, but there was something else. Something that you had never seen before.

"He’s…"

"An idiot?" Sero guessed.

"A jerk?" Kaminari added.

"Emotionally constipated?"

At that, Kirishima punched Sero in the shoulder, causing him to groan and rub the spot.

"Ow, what was that for?!"

"He's just mad," Kirishima ignored the question, turning to face you. "Just give him some space. He'll come around."

"This is different," You argued, your throat burning. "I've never seen him like that. Never. It’s like he’s— I don't know."

"He's an asshole," Kaminari muttered, glaring down the hallway. "Don't waste your time on him."

"You didn't see the look in his eyes," You shook your head. "It was so different. He was almost… dejected."

"Hurt?" Sero repeated, raising an eyebrow. "The guy didn't look like he was in pain. He looked pissed."

"I… did this," You said, and the three boys frowned. "He said we weren't friends because I went behind his back. I didn’t realize he saw us as friends, and I— I ruined it."

"Hey, man, you didn't ruin anything." Kirishima shook his head, his voice firm. "He’ll realize the things he said and—"

You needed to apologize. You needed to go to him, and apologize, and explain in a way that doesn’t leave room for questions.

"I'm sorry," You spoke, interrupting the redhead. "I just— I gotta— I'm gonna go."

"Wait, I wouldn’t—"

But it was too late. You were already pushing your way through the crowd, not caring about the future consequences.

You were on a mission, and you were going to get shit done.

It was easy enough to find him. The Pomeranian hair was a dead giveaway. He never made it to the cafeteria and was instead standing off to the side, staring out the window.

He didn’t look up when you approached him, but you could see the tension in his shoulders.

"I'm sorry."

You didn’t beat around the bush or try to ease him into the conversation. You just came out and said it because there was no point in hiding it.

"Just…" He sighed, not bothering to look at you. "Just leave me alone, alright? We're done."

"Look, I didn’t—"

"Why can't you just listen?!" He yelled, whipping around to glare at you. Despite his angry expression, though, you could see the hesitation.

He wasn't as confident as usual.

"You're not listening to me," You argued. "I'm apologizing. Why can't you—"

"Because I don't need you to apologize," He snarled, his eyes narrowing. "I don't want your fucking apologies. You did what you did, and I'm over it."

"It's obvious that you aren't over it."

"What, and you are?"

"No, not at all," You shrugged, trying not to flinch. "I’m trying to fix the problem."

"Well, don't." He huffed, turning back towards the window. "There is no problem."

"You were going to take your anger out on me," You said, not daring to step any closer. "How the hell is there no problem?"

"I told you," He turned to face you. "I don't care. I don't give a shit anymore. I'm not going to spar with you. Not anymore."

"You can't—"

"I can't, or I won't?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Neither," You said. "I didn't— I didn't train with Midoriya because I didn't trust you."

He laughed. Actually, genuinely laughed, his eyes crinkling in amusement. You thought the most terrifying moment of his was when he spoke calmly, but that?

That, right there?

That was the scariest moment of your life.

"Are you joking?" He snorted, the smile disappearing just as fast as it had come. "You think that’s why I'm pissed?"

"It's— it's part of it, right?"

"Oh, no," He shook his head. "No, you don't get it, do you? Do I have to spell it out for you, dumbass? Do you want me to fucking say it?"

You hesitated, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.

"Say what?"

He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands.

"I was fine with the spars," He explained, his voice quiet. "I was fine with the competition. It was fun. You were a good match, and it made me a better fighter. I liked it."

He stopped, taking a deep breath.

"But when you went behind my back," He continued, his voice tight. "And when you didn't bother to tell me and instead told Dunce Face? Of all people?! That's where I had a problem."

"What does—"

"It means you're a coward."

You felt as if you'd been punched in the stomach, the air being knocked out of your lungs.

"You couldn't even look me in the eye and tell me, so instead, you went behind my back." He continued, and the volume of his voice was increasing. "You were too scared to face me, and you ran off and hid like a child."

"That's not true—"

"It is," He growled. "You know it, I know it, and the rest of the class knows it."

"So, you're telling me you're pissed because I'm a coward?" You asked, trying to keep the quiver from your voice.

"Partly," He replied, and the look in his eyes made you flinch.

"Partly," You repeated, your eyebrows furrowing. "So, what's the other part?"

"That I trusted you."

The words stung. They burned through your skin and pierced through your heart, making you feel as if you were the one with the explosion quirk.

He didn’t let you respond and instead walked up to you, his eyes dark.

"I trusted you," He repeated, his voice low. "I trusted you to come to me if you needed something, and I trusted that you would be honest with me. I thought we were at least close enough for that, but it turns out I was wrong."

"You— you weren't wrong—"

"If I was wrong, then why the hell did I go to Deku?! Why not me?! Why did you not trust me?!"

"I did trust you!" You cried, your eyes stinging.

"You went to the one person who could break his body with every punch," He snapped, his hands curling into fists. "You went to the kid who can’t control his damn quirk, and you went to the one person that I—"

He stopped himself, his face twisting in anger.

"What?" You pressed, taking a small step forward. "What were you going to say?"

"Nothing." He spat, turning his head. "Forget it. It's none of your damn business."

"Tell me."

"No."

"Bakugo," You pressed, trying to sound more demanding.

"Fuck off."

"Bakugo!"

He didn't answer and, instead, began to walk away.

"Damn it," You hissed, running up and grabbing his arm.

"Let go." He warned, not meeting your gaze.

"I'm sorry." You pleaded. "Okay? I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you already said that."

"I do trust you," You said. "You're an ass, and you're annoying, and you can be a bit too hardheaded, but I still trust you."

He paused, not looking at you.

"Then why didn't you go to me first?" He asked, his voice wavering. "You were my damn partner, and yet you—"

"I didn’t want you to make me feel bad," You answered. "I wanted to surprise you and prove myself. I know I can do it. I'm strong, and I'm fast, and I can be better than what I am now, and I wanted to show you that."

He was silent, but he still didn’t pull his arm from your grasp.

"I couldn’t ask for your help," You continued. "Because I didn’t want you to treat me any differently. I wanted you to see what I could do without any outside influence."

"What a stupid reason."

"You don't have to agree," You muttered. "But it was my reasoning, nonetheless."

He didn't say anything, and you sighed, letting go of his arm.

"I'm sorry," You apologized again, trying not to cringe. "I should have told you sooner, and I should have come to you. I should have trusted the way you'd react and not predicted how you would act. I was being selfish, and I should have considered you."

He turned his head, his eyes still narrowed. But it wasn't angry. No, it wasn't anger at all anymore. It was pure curiosity.

"What were you trying to prove?"

"Huh?"

"To me," He said, his eyebrows furrowing. "If you were training with me, then what were you trying to prove?"

You bit the inside of your cheek.

"I'm not sure." You answered, not daring to meet his gaze. "I guess I just wanted to impress you."

"Impress me?" He scoffed again, rolling his eyes. "You really are an idiot."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"It means I don't need to be impressed," He explained, his voice softer than before. "I don't give a shit about being impressed. I just want you to be stronger."

"So you can still kick my ass? But be more proud of it?" You guessed, smiling.

"Something like that," He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I want to be able to fight you without holding back."

"Oh, come on," You complained, rolling your eyes. "That's a load of crap, and you know it. You wouldn't have to hold back against me."

"Oh, yeah?" He asked, his voice lowering. "An hour with the nerd, and you think you're on my level now? You're delusional."

"You underestimate me."

"I'm not underestimating shit." He scoffed, leaning down slightly. "I can tell you, right here, right now, two minutes. I'd give it two minutes, tops, and then your ass would be on the floor."

"Really?"

"Really," He nodded, smirking. "Two minutes. That's it."

"Five o'clock?"

"Tch, fine," He agreed, taking a step back. "Don't be late, idiot."

"I won't." You assured, turning to leave. "I'll see you then, Bakugo."

"You'll see my foot up your ass."

And, just like that, the two of you were back to normal.

Did you win? Hell no. But your plan with Deku did come in handy, and you were able to put up a pretty good fight.

He did still beat you, of course, and the time was 4:57 when he finally got you on the floor.

But, it wasn't as humiliating as the previous spars, and you weren't nearly as embarrassed.

Instead, he just grinned, pulling you up by your hand and offering some tips.

And, honestly, they were better than the ones Midoriya had given you.

So, maybe going to the firecracker wasn't a terrible idea after all.

[enigmatist17]

I was right in the path of the snowstorm that hit us this week (and another coming this weekend yaaaay), and thought of my boys :)

This is part of the Mecha Pilot AU by @keferon :)

My other AU fics here

---

"RATTY, WHAT IS ALL THIS STUFF?"

Deadlock didn't yell, at least not that Ratchet had ever heard, and he sure as hell never sounded uncertain.

"What're you goin' on about?" The mechanic certainly didn't have some pep in his step as he hurried to his Cybertronian, a wrench gripped in one hand as he headed to the personal bay he'd set up for Deadlock. The door was open, revealing a heavy snowfall that Ratchet had forgotten about, the mech staring at the weather with a glare.

"What is it?!" His plating rattled in slight discomfort as Ratchet raised an optic ridge (no, eyebrow? Eh, he'll ask later) at him, clearly unconcerned by the strange weather. "The sky hasn't done this before."

"That would be because it hasn't gotten cold enough 'til now." The wrench in his hand gets shoved into his toolbelt, and despite the lack of his jacket, Ratchet steps out into the snow with an amused smirk. "See? Safe an' sound." True to his words, Ratchet didn't appear in any pain, aside from a shiver that wracked his frame as the white flakes started to coat him. "It's called snow."

"Why is there snow? It has been cold for days now, your bitching about it has told me that enough." Slowly, the mech reached out to Ratchet, his digit twitching when the first few flakes landed on it, but no warnings popped up in his HUD.

"We didn't have the right temperature for the water vapor in the air to condense, but we do now. I forgot we were even gettin' a storm, which means getting home is going to be a bitch and a half."

"You drive in this stuff?" The Cybertronian asked, letting the curiosity running through his processor bleed through more than he usually would have done. "Is it not dangerous?"

"Well yea, but we've adapted over the years." The human responded as he moved to come in from the snow, Deadlock using his hand as a cover. "Sit here, let me go get my jacket and other boots on."

"Alright." Deadlock watched Ratchet head back inside his shop floor before returning his optics to the snowy landscape in front of him. He had seen something resembling this snow a few times, but it had been through quick pit stops at planets to scavenge shards of energon that left him no time to actually examine the frozen precipitation. It's cold against his servo when Deadlock scoops up a generous helping of the snow, compacting into a vague ball shape when he closes his servo into a fist, remaining solid even after he grabs it with his other servo.

"We call that a snowball." Ratchet had also put on a hat and some servo coverings, crouching to scoop up his own snow. "I'd rather you not throw that one at me, but pick and target and launch."

"Is this snow a weapon?" Now that got his attention, the assassin picked out a random tree and launched the snowball as hard as he could, all of the collected snow on the branches falling off as it connected with a loud thud.

"Not as effective ones, that's for sure." Ratchet snorted, nailing a nearby parked car right in the windshield. "Nah, it's for fun usually, though you're gonna kill me with how hard you threw yours."

"I'd never hurt you Ratty." Deadlock purred, offering his servo with a grin. "I want to see more."

"C'mon, the lake might be frozen over." Ratchet hopped up onto the offered limb, bracing himself against the wind as Deadlock began to venture out into the snowy forest, pausing every so often to look at the snow-covered trees and rocks in interest. "So Cybertron doesn't have snow?"

"Not that I was ever aware of? What we consider organic on Cybertron isn't the same definition for you."

"Fair enough." Ratchet lapsed into silence as Deadlock headed to the lake he had crash-landed next to what felt like a lifetime ago, the mech clearly surprised by the sight when they reached the clearing. "Well?"

"..." Deadlock carefully set his human down before approaching the water's edge, the surface now solid to the touch. "This is...cool."

"Yes it is." Ratchet snorted as he joined the mech, testing the ice with one foot. "Hm, might be strong enough..."

"For what?" The mechanic looked up with an amused look before taking a step forward, Deadlock watching in slight awe as he began to walk on water like he was strolling on normal ground.

"You can't always do this, but sometimes we get lucky. It is pretty cool." He grinned, the alien reaching over to steady him with a digit when Ratchet wobbled slightly. "Thanks."

"As much as I kinda don't like your planet all this much, I could come to like this snow and ice." The assassin purred, using his digit to lazily pull Ratchet around on the ice in a random pattern.

"Not the biggest fan, but I do enjoy the occasional snow day myself." Ratchet shrugged as he did a poor man's version of ice skating, only upright do to his tight hold on Deadlock's digit. "Glad you're enjoying it."

"Only because I'm with you." The look on Ratchet's face made the corny line more than worth it, Deadlock chuckling as he continued pulling the human around on the ice. "How long will it be like this?"

"I don't know, probably a few days. Best enjoy it while we've got it."

"Works for me." Sure, Ratchet can't feel much of his body by the time Deadlock decides he's done enjoying the view, but it wasn't all bad when he's carefully placed inside the mech's warm interior for the trek back. They end up dozing off in Ratchet's workshop when neither of them feels like dealing with what would be a nasty drive to Ratchet's home, the falling snow filtering through the moonlight lulling them both to sleep.

[baocean]

boy next door

jjmaybank x neighbor!reader

you’d just moved to the outer banks, borderline obsessed with your super cool, friendly neighbors. one in particular, the cute blond who happens to have noticed you too.

warnings - smut, unprotected sex (don’t do that! be safe!), swearing

you had only moved in a few weeks prior. into a gorgeous house right on the water, with a beautiful wrapped around porch and a dock a few hundred feet from your back steps.

almost immediately, you were intrigued by the loud, messy teenagers who lived next door. who were out by the fire until late and who woke up early to go run their shop.

particularly, you were fascinated by the pretty, tall blond who walked around in loose shorts and no shirt, always had a cap on backwards, always fishing. the perfect boy next door.

the first part of your summer home from college was spent helping your parents unpack, learning your way around town, tanning, and watching the blond from your window.

you weren’t sure what his name was. you’d heard plenty of names being called, ones like ‘sarah’, ‘pope’, ‘j-b’. you had never been able to track down his.

you knew sarah was the girl with long blonde hair. she was pregnant, a little bump showing after a while.

john b was her boyfriend, or partner, or whatever. he was always wearing a bandana, liked surfing and loved sarah.

pope was the dark skinned boy, he always groaned when his name was called like ‘pooooopppppeeee’.

they seemed like nice, good people. looking out for each other, helping out when one needed another’s help, sitting out at the picnic table for dinners and laughing for hours on end.

you kind of longed to be a part of them. you had your friends at school, plenty of them, actually. but you were new here, with nobody but the guys at the bar who hit on you.

and that’s how you found yourself at their front door one day. home alone, parents at work, you were baking some cookies.

you had wandered over, knocking on the door, rocking back and forth on your feet as you waited for an answer.

and like god himself answered your prayers, the blond’s head peaked into your view. he did a once over on you, deeming you not dangerous, and opened the screen door a touch.

“hey there, pretty.” he greeted. ah, so he was a sweet talker. you smiled at him, tucking your cheek in between your teeth.

“hi, um, i’m yn. i moved in next door a few weeks ago. i was wondering if i could borrow some sugar?” you teetered back and forth.

“yn,” he tasted your name, let it sit on his tongue, “yeah i’ve seen you around. you go running at ten every morning right? and you’re always tanning.”

you nodded, kind of taken aback that he noticed you like you had him.

“oh, sugar, yea, let me grab you some. sarahhhhhhhh?” he turned to call into the house.

the girl trudged slowly down the stairs, her stomach a little bigger from the last time you noticed it. you wondered what it was like, being pregnant.

“oh hi! what’s up?” she greeted you, turning to the blond to question him.

“do we have sugar?” he ran a hand through his hair, an unfamiliar motion for you, he’d always had a cap on when you’d watch him.

“yeah, how much do you need?” she turned back to you, a kind, warm smile on her face. she was even more beautiful up close.

“about two cups should be good.” you nodded, giving her a polite smile.

“okay, i’ll be right back!” she cheerfully walked away, leaving you alone with the boy again.

he turned to you, brazenly giving you a once over. “where’d you move from?”

“oh, uh, wisconsin.” you answered. your parents had moved here for work, thankful you’d have less snow and much more sun.

“wow, crazy move. didn’t know they had such pretty things in a place like…wisconsin.” he laughed quietly. you noticed his dimples, simply another thing to add to your fascination. you blushed and turned away, but his eyes stayed on you as you turned to take in their porch.

“this is a really pretty house.” you admired. there was a few wind chimes, some lounge chairs, a couple abandoned beer cans. it was homely, truly lived in.

“yeah, i guess so.” he nodded, his gaze never leaving you.

right there, after no more of a minute after meeting yoy, he decided you were the best thing this earth had to offer. the way your hair sat perfectly on your shoulders, your legs, the bracelets on your wrists, the dot of flour on your cheek.

“oh shit, sorry. i’m jj, by the way.” you turned back to him. you’d heard that name, usually followed by some scolding comment.

you smiled at him, earning yourself another dimpled one in return.

sarah returned, handing you a baggie filled with sugar, smiling at you again. being so close, you noticed the ring on her finger. so john b was her husband.

“here you go…” she trailed off. “yn.” both you and jj answered at the same time, you chuckled.

“well, it’s nice to meet you yn. you’re always welcome to any of our baking supplies.” sarah handed you the baggie, smiling once more before disappearing into the house.

“what are you making, girlie?” jj asked you, not quite ready for you to leave his view yet. he wanted to drink you in just a tiny bit more, not caring if it was greedy.

you giggled at the nickname, you were sure you hadn’t been called that since you were six years old.

“chocolate chip cookies.” you replied, two hands in front of you, holding your newly acquired sugar.

“well, if you have any extra, don’t be shy.” he grinned at you, you laughed, then nodded. deciding this was your time to leave, you turned and started down their driveway.

jj stood shamelessly at the screen door, still cracked open a tad. he watched as you walked to your door, glancing over at their house one last time, then disappeared.

you got back to baking, ignoring the bag of sugar abandoned on your kitchen counter, no need for it. you already had plenty.

only a day later, you were back on their front door. a box of cookies occupied your hands.

this time around, you were a little bit more comfortable with knocking, a little bit more familiar.

a girl answered, black hair and a suspicious look on her face.

“yea?” she was more blunt than her friends. of course, you’d seen her before. she would be the one cooking, or the one sharpening a stick into a shiv. you always found it humorous. what could she possibly need a weapon for?

“hi, i’m yn. we’re neighbors, i, uh, borrowed some sugar yesterday and thought i would return the favor.” you shyly replied.

“who’s at the door, cleo? oh! hi yn!” sarah wobbled into frame from somewhere in the house, with the same inviting smile.

“hi sarah! i thought i would bring you some of the cookies, as a thank you for the sugar.” you offered the cookies to the girls, sarah stepping around cleo to open the door for you.

“thank you! that’s so sweet of you, really. you didn’t have to.” her eyes softened, taking the box into her own hands.

“when did you move in?” cleo asked you, you told her the same story you told everyone else who didn’t recognize you around the island.

you kept glancing over the girl’s shoulders, hoping to catch a passing glance at jj.

“do you have dinner plans tonight?” sarah asked you, breaking you out of your trance. you shrugged, “usually i just eat with my parents at the club.”

“eat with us tonight! we can have your cookies as dessert.” sarah chimed, cracking open the leftover box and digging her hand into the cookies.

“yeah, if you don’t eat them all first. yn, we would love to have you. i always make too much food anyways.” cleo offered a smile to you for the first time since you’d met.

you tried not to accept their offer too quickly. but after they bid their goodbyes, thank you’s, and see you tonight’s, you ran giddy as ever back to your own home.

after an everything shower, blow dryer and sprawl of makeup thrown carelessly onto your bathroom counter, and a pile of clothes on your bed, you were walking over to the front door of your neighbors house.

you knocked, although you were unsure it would be heard over the music playing from the speaker inside the house. thankfully, cleo voice’s called ‘come in’.

she was leaning over the pots and pans on the stove top, singing along to the lyrics of the music. john b and sarah were at the table, looking at directions to assemble some baby product. pope was dancing, coming close to cleo, wrapping his arms around her and forcing her to swing with him, despite her protests.

jj, much to your dismay, was no where to be found.

cleo turned away from pope’s kiss, smiling when she saw you, “hey yn.”

this got sarah’s attention, your name ringing through the house as she stood up to greet you with a hug.

john b and pope curiously stared at you, not a clue in the world who you are.

“j-b, pope, this is our neighbor yn. oh my god, you have to meet kie! kieeeeee!” sarah pulled away from you, showing you off to her husband and her friend.

jj came bounding down the steps, catching sight of you in his kitchen. you sighed happily at his normal attire, only a pair of shorts lowly hanging at his hips.

“hey, girlie. how’re you?” he asked, never neglecting a chance to drink you in.

“i’m good, how are you?” you asked him, he shrugged and gave you an infamous dimpled smile. “better now.”

you couldn’t help but hope it was because of you, blushing at the thought.

another girl came in from the back door, one you presumed was kie. she saw you, eyebrows raised at a stranger in her kitchen.

“kie! kie, this is yn. yn, this is kie.” sarah grabbed kie, throwing an arm around her.

“hi, nice to meet you.” kie gave you a hug, instantly comfortable around you, you liked her already.

“we’re having burgers.” cleo informed the group, a bunch of ‘mhmmm’s earned in return.

only a few minutes later, everyone was gathered around the table. you were sitting particularly close to jj, you pretended not to notice when he silently forced john b away from you, so he could be the one to sit next to you.

sarah gave everyone a look and the group joined hands, naturally gaining a confused expression from you.

“we pray before every meal.” jj whispered to you, gathering your hand in his before you had time to think.

only, when everyone chanted ‘amen’ and let go of each other, jj kept your hand in his for a beat longer. only because you were so warm, of course.

his eyes were on you the whole night, shameless and curious. he engraved the way you laughed into his mind, how well you got along with everyone, how you could dish back the meaningless trash talk, how you could actually keep up with pope’s smart talk.

you didn’t mind, of course. you were just the same, sneaking peaks at him when he would tussle with his best friends. you noticed the time when he took a bite of his food, the juice sliding down his chin, making your stomach flutter.

as expected, the night turned into roasting marshmallows around the fire, everyone snuggled up in blankets and sweatshirts, music from a speaker being drowned out by the conversation.

you had a blanket wrapped around you, trying to hide the fact you were still shivering.

“yn, come with me, i’ll grab you a sweatshirt.” jj popped up from his seat, abandoning the beer and cookie he had coddled.

his friends eyed the two of you as you silently walked into the house, hushed whispers and giggles about the way jj was acting around you.

you’d pictured the way his room looked, you pictured you in it. it was pretty much exactly how you imagined. dresser with clothes deserted on top of it, a bed with a dark blanket hastily thrown on top, a bedside table with…a bright pink stanley tumblr placed on top of it.

jj saw you eyeing it, only assuming you were imagining the worst. a girl. “uh, sarah got it for me for christmas. i kept stealing hers. she thought pink would be funny. does a hell of a job keeping my shit cold, though.”

you let out a betraying sigh of relief, and jj chuckled to himself.

he pulled open his closet door, holding an arm out as a signal for you to pick whatever you wanted out of it.

you eyed the selection, lots of t-shirts with the sleeves cut off, a few jackets. but, you decided on a thick sweatshirt, one you knew would keep you warm.

you picked it off the hanger, throwing it on. the scent of boy hit you, hard.

jj, completely entranced with how you looked in his clothes, cleared his throat. “looks good on you, pretty.”

“you think so?” you looked up at him with sweet eyes, and jj almost moaned right there.

he nodded much quicker than he should have, giving you that silent push of validation that had you craving more.

you spent the night nuzzled in a chair with jj, the hood over your head and a blanket up to your chin. he insisted you sit with him, to make sure you’d stay warm.

at midnight, john b finally decided to call it a night, heading inside to join his wife, who had tapped out long ago.

“i should probably head home.” you sighed, blissfully in tune with jj’s head on your shoulder, his hand resting on the outer side of your thigh.

“shame, really.” he chuckled, pulling you up and discarding the blanket back into the chair.

you went to ease the sweatshirt off your body, but jj stopped you. “nah, keep it. gonna need it if you’re gonna be spending more time here.”

you slept in his hoodie that night, couldn’t bring yourself to take it off.

it had been a week since that night. you kept cooking small, mindless meals and bringing it over, finding some excuse. ‘i made too much’, ‘i thought sarah would like this’, ‘i tried out a new recipe, what do you think?’.

after the second time, jj caught on. he’d make any excuse to stay home from whatever ordeal the pogues were up to, just to get some extra alone from you.

like usual, you had a leftover container filled with some recipe, trotting over to your neighbors house.

jj was out front, fixing up some old bike. shirt off, ball cap on backwards, like always. just the way you liked him.

when he noticed you, he smiled and stepped away from the bike. “hey, pretty thing.”

“hi, jj.” you sang, music to the blond’s ears.

“whatcha got for me this time?” he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him.

“some buffalo chicken dip. sarah said she was craving it last night, so i thought i’d make her some.” he nodded, wondering how you got to be so sweet, and took the container from you.

“hey, it’s hot as fuck out here, wanna go swimming?” jj asked you, throwing the container on the porch, he swear he’d take it in later.

your eyes danced around the property to see if any other strays were running around. “i’m home alone, everyone else is out. if that’s what’re wondering.”

so, you nodded. “i gotta grab my suit. come?” jj jumped at the chance, following you like a lost puppy dog into your yard, staying a step or two behind so he could look at your ass as you walked.

this was new territory for him. the newly furnished home, obviously belonging to someone with some wealth.

but, he was surprised when he got to your room. it lacked…personality. something he’d learned you had so much of. there were a few photos, some books, and some nicknacks, but nothing that was really, you. all your things were in your college apartment. the things that really showed who you were.

you reached into a neatly arranged drawer, pulling out a too tiny bikini and turned towards your bathroom. “be right back.”

jj stood in your bedroom, examining the few photos you did have.

the door opened and he spun around, breath flying out of his lungs when he saw you.

“can you tie this for me?” you asked him, turning around to show him the two strings of fabric you had scrunched in your fist.

“f’course, girlie.” he closed the space between you, grabbing the fabric from you.

delicate fingers grazed the skin of your tanned back as he tied the strings into a little bow. jj couldn’t help but think ‘lord if you can hear me, please let me take this thing off her later’.

once he was done, his hands dropped, his right hand tapping your hip once. you turned around, smiling innocently.

the both of you made your way out to his boat dock, small talk and jokes and ‘girlie’s.

“let’s go on the boat. i’ll let you drive it.” jj smiled, his words laced with sarcasm, made you laugh.

jj was playing music, the sun was shining down, you were tanning on the bow as jj sunk the anchor. you’d been admiring him through your sunglasses. his shirt had been forgotten long ago, sunglasses over his eyes, hair in his face. he looked like a dream.

you closed your eyes again, sighing contently. then, the boat rocked, and you got hit with a splash of water.

you shot straight up, gasping at the cold water hitting your warm skin. jj popped up to the surface, laughing loudly.

“come in, pretty girl. it’s refreshing.” jj called. you went to tell him off, but his hair wet and his dimples had your brain foggy, so you laughed instead.

you slid in, wanting to let yourself get used to the water. jj, didn’t. he grabbed your legs, pulling you under the water completely.

by instinct, you grabbed onto his arm, completely unaware that jj had just accidentally grabbed your ass, simply just trying to get back to the surface.

you met his laughing face back up in the air. yours, stone cold. you were pissed.

“jj. that was not funny at all. what if i drowned? you could have killed me! i should ki-” you went quiet, because jj’s lips were on yours, drowning out the sound of your dramatic, but warranted rant.

your hand left his bicep, crossing over his hard shoulders. his hands stayed on your hips, a pinky pushing itself under the string of your bikini bottoms.

you pulled away, decidedly not done, “i’m mad at you.”

jj grinned, pulling you somehow even closer to him. he gave you another peck.

“don’t. i am actually extremely mad at you, jj.” you muttered, a smile fighting its way to the surface.

“yeah?” he mumbled, kissing you again.

you made a sound resembling a ‘mhm’ but the irritated mood you were in was soon long forgotten.

it was much later in the day. the sun lowering in the sky creating warm golden hue falling over the obx.

jj had fallen asleep with you slotted beside him. you were falling in and out of it, but couldn’t bear without water for another second.

you moved to get up, but jj’s freakishly strong arm tightened around your waist, when did that get there?

“did i fall asleep?” jj groaned, running his free hand over his face.

you looked at him, all messy haired and sleepy eyed, and you had to have him.

“yeah, you did. we should probably get back soon.” you smiled against his lips, pecking them.

“mmm, let’s spend some more time here.” jj mumbled, pulling you close.

in an attempt to get comfortable again, you moved your hips against jj, only realizing what you were doing when jj tensed up.

“girlie, so glad you’re comfortable, but please stop doing that.” jj cleared his throat, grabbing your hips to stop your motion.

“oh, whoops!” you giggled, twisting your head to lay kisses on his neck.

in a matter of seconds, jj was awake and alert, sitting up to pull you over his lap.

jj’s hands came to wrap around you waist, squeeze once.

you rolled your hips once, making jj groan out and drop his head to where you shoulder and neck met. only a second later, he was kissing your neck, jaw, shoulder.

smiling, you grabbed at the back of his neck, pulling him up to meet your lips again.

you’d been so lost in the kiss you didn’t notice jj’s hand reach up to your bikini top.

you pulled away to watch his reaction as he pushed the material aside.

his lips slightly parted before he poked his tongue out to lick them, leaning in a placing a kiss in the middle of your ribcage.

he took your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.

throwing your head back, your hands laced up through his hair, breathing rapidly at the sensation.

the sound of a motor snapped you out of a trance. you smacked his shoulder, jj not faltering besides looking up at you with blue eyes, filled with humor.

“jj, someone could see us.” you shunned, pushing him away.

jj just smirked, grabbing your waist and using his body to push you off the seat and onto the floor of the boat.

your body landed on his, jj moving so fast you barely had time to register him flipping you two over.

you gasped his name, laughing at him, but he was too busy kissing down your stomach to notice.

his face disappeared between your legs, a small breath leaving you when your bikini bottoms were pushed to the side.

watching him through thick lashes, he looked up and offered a smile.

his arms pushed your legs further apart, face connecting with you.

jj sucked on your clit, a finger pushing into you. the sudden sensation sent you upwards, pulling you away from him. it didn’t matter much, jj’s arms had you locked around him.

he continued, earning a moan from you, only motivation to keep him going.

it almost embarrassed you how quick you were to finishing, but with a man who looked like that doing this? who could blame you?

his hand left your thigh, pushing up your stomach, stopping in the middle of your chest. you grabbed his hand, squeezing it hard.

jj’s eyes looked up at your face every few moments, a smile spreading across his face when he noticed your nose scrunched and eyes shut.

“go ‘head, pretty.” jj’s words were muffled by your cunt, chuckling when you jolted.

your eyesight went black, crashing so hard you couldn’t do anything but whine.

a string of moans fell from your mouth, body tensing up as your entire body warmed, jj not letting up until your body fell limp.

jj was back up in line with your face in seconds, kissing you.

“you okay, girlie?” jj asked, a laugh falling from his lips.

you smiled, nodding as you laughed. he licked his lips, looking down at you.

“you know, might as well finish what we started, while we’re down here.” jj shrugged, a sly smile accompanying.

his hands traced your body as your hands fell to his shorts.

“i mean, might as well.” you followed his motion, sarcasm lacing your voice.

jj was kissing you again, moving clothes aside as your hands snaked around his neck.

he pulled away from you, a humorous smile on his face, truly in bliss.

he looked down to line himself up with you, his hair falling in his face. it was sunkissed from the sun, a yellowly blond resulting.

you’d been so focused on the color of his hair and how it felt you forgot all about the situation, jolting as he pushed into you.

his mouth hung slightly open, eyes screwed shut as he bottomed out.

“holy shit, girlie.” he groaned, his head falling into the crevice of your collarbone. he bit down lightly, rolling his hips into you.

he evened out his rhythm, starting to pull out almost completely before thrusting back in, a moan falling from your lips each time.

jj’s hands were everywhere, your hips, tits, throat, pushing your legs up to get a better angle.

he’d look down at where you two connected, then look back up at you to see how you were reacting, gaining confidence when your eyes practically rolled back into your head.

his hand slipped between your lips, rubbing lazy circles around your clit, making you clench around him.

jj gasped, slowing his pace for a moment.

“you okay?” you asked him, concern filling your eyes.

“i’m thanking the lord, hold on.” jj’s eyes closed as he kissed his finger and pointed it towards the sky.

you laughed, smacking his chest. he gave you a chaste kiss, pulling out and slamming back into you.

his hand started moving again, watching as your face scrunched up the same way as before.

“fuck, okay, i’m right behind you.” jj mumbled, staying with his pace as he watched you cum.

you cried out, nails scratching jj’s back as your back arched into him.

jj, just like he said, thrusted once more before he was tensing up.

your name and a bunch of curses were uttered from jj, his eyes closing as he came inside you.

his body fell limp on top of you, breathing heavy as his hand slid into your hair.

you could feel his smile against your skin, turning his head and kissing your cheek.

he pulled out, a groan accompanied, before falling against the seat, throwing a towel at you.

“so, you want to come to dinner tonight?” he asked, gifting you a dimpled smile.

“sure, gotta eat that buffalo dip at some point.” you smiled, getting up to grab your bikini.

when you got back to the dock, it was practically sundown. the backyard was decorated with string lights and tiki torches. your friends were outside at the picnic table, laughing.

sarah turned to you, eyes flickering between the two of you. she clocked your messy hair and jj’s red cheeks and her mouth fell open.

“you guys fucked on the boat, didn’t you?”

taglist of my lovelies - @murdockcastleslut @rudypankowisbae @ethanthequeefqueen @str4wb3rrym1lkl0v3r @coralineyouareinterribledanger @lmaowhatt @grungefck @coriiiioooooo @iluvhot-moms @doesnt-care @lilygrxcem @h3r-h3arts-with-obx @whatididforlove333 @rafegetinmybed @evjilcesa

[nep-neptune-0]

Seeking You

Dan Heng x Reader

Summary: Dan Heng never liked to be disturbed in his room, especially when he was sleeping. Even the slightest disturbance outside the door easily woke him up, much to his dismay. But he never felt troubled when you were the one who disturbed him.

Content: fluff, reader is injured, description of injury (not too detailed), male Trailblazer mentioned (sorry I luv him)

Word Count: 2k

a/n: I'm not a medical expert or anything like that, sorry if I got it wrong 😭

It was rare for the archivist of the Astral Express to get quality sleep. If he wasn’t out and running into all sorts of trouble with the Trailblazer and March 7th, you could find him in his room, so immersed in his work that he often forgot to sleep. The only semblance of rest he got was from blacking out from fatigue, but he never felt truly energized from it. He was also unfortunate enough to be a light sleeper, so during those rare times he decided to actually sleep in his bed and not pass out on his chair, all passengers made sure to take another route to their destination if their original path crossed his door. Of course, there were instances when they didn’t know he was sleeping, and later during that day his team would notice his fighting became just a tad more jagged, irritated. Though he never got properly upset at any of them.

Tonight was one of those rare nights where all Dan Heng wanted was to sleep, new data be damned. He had been pulled along for some new trouble the Trailblazer found himself in, which obviously triggered a chain reaction of even more trouble, as it always did. The archivist wasn’t sure how long they spent outside the Astral Express before they decided to call it a night. 

As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out, and he intended to be out for at least a couple of hours if possible. Since both March 7th and Caelus had fatigue clinging on to them before they went to their rooms, it was safe to say he would remain undisturbed. But he failed to take another potential factor that would threaten his sleep time into consideration.

That factor was you. 

His door was slammed open, a thud following close after. At first, he thought it was one of the troublemakers. He sat up, ready to tell them he wasn’t in the mood for another adventure. 

All words he had thought of died in his throat. There was a lot of blood pooling under you, who collapsed onto your stomach. The faint light pulsing from the data bank illuminated your knitted eyebrows, trembling lips, and the sheen of sweat over your skin. 

It wasn’t the first time you visited his room in the dead of night. Both of you had gotten into some rhythm of keeping each other company without saying much whenever you visited his room. While he was updating and refining data entries, you would be at his desk, sketching and scribbling notes of the new plants and enemies you had found during missions. 

You were a curious soul with a thirst for knowledge that could rival any high-esteemed scholar or researcher. The first time you were there, you merely stood on the other side of the doorstep, asking him with a quivering voice if there were any data entries that matched something particularly eye-catching you had seen on your latest mission. When he had given you an answer, you had scurried away to your room after thanking him. 

The next time you were there, you had bravely stepped into his room to observe him while he found the correct file. And before long it became a common occurrence for you to swing by after a mission, sketches in hand and questions burning at the tip of your tongue. After a few more times, Dan Heng had told you you were free to look through the information yourself.

At first, you thought he was telling you to stop bothering him, but the newest troublemaker on the express had other thoughts about it. He had pointed a shaking finger at you, sputtering about how the coldest person on the Astral Express had given you permission to touch his precious data without any consequences, something that he never thought was possible. Not that others weren’t allowed to, of course, but Dan Heng usually kept an eye on Caelus whenever he wanted to check something. A laugh had escaped you at that, and you waved his words away, saying that it was natural since Caelus somehow managed to cause trouble wherever he went. You weren’t special. In response you got a smug look from him. Whatever that meant.

One day, you were too caught up in information hunting you didn’t notice how much time had passed since you sat down by his desk. But before you could gather your papers and bolt out of the room with a flurry of apologies, he had stopped you and said you were allowed to stay as long as you wanted, so you sat back down. 

You had wondered if he was actually alright with it. Occasionally, you would glance at him, trying to read his body language or facial expression for any sign of annoyance. At one instance, your eyes met his, and you couldn’t look away, but after a few seconds, you forcefully tore your focus away from him, back to the photographs. You felt the tips of your ears burning as intensely as the sun. 

While you promised yourself to not look again in fear of embarrassing yourself, you couldn’t help but sneak some longing gazes at him. And if you had rested your eyes at him for a bit longer, you would have noticed his eyes being drawn to you more than a few times too. 

That night, you had fallen asleep on his desk, face planted on all the photos you printed out to analyze. His coat had been draped over your frame as a makeshift blanket when you woke up and your phone had an unread message. You’re welcome to continue looking through the database even if I’m not there. I hope you slept well, it said. You remembered feeling flustered, not only from the message but also the faint smell of him lingering in the coat.

Soon enough an additional chair was placed by his desk. The surface was spacious enough to fit two people working on their own thing, only occasional talk filling the otherwise silent air. Sometimes, only you were there when he was out with Caelus and March 7th. The Database practically became your second room. 

There were also times you opened the door to find him sleeping, and despite being a light sleeper that became grumpy the day after, he didn’t seem to be moody at all during the days after he was briefly woken up by you. He would merely peer up at you before shutting his eyes again, hand lazily beckoning you in. You had asked him more than once if your visits while he was resting disturbed his performance the day after, but every time he had told you not to worry about it. So you continued to visit him whenever you were finished with a mission, even if he happened to be sleeping. Though, you became more careful when opening his door. 

Dan Heng would never admit that he slept better when you were in the room. The comforting sound of your pen scratching against paper and the occasional sighs or hums you let out somehow made him feel warm, a stark contrast to the coldness that enveloped him when he slept alone in the room. He really didn’t mind you waking him up more often in the middle of the night if it meant he got to experience that warmth.

Although, you had never arrived when he was sleeping with a gash on your stomach. 

A metallic smell had spread through the air. Your breathing was shallow, body twitching from hiccups. 

“What the hell happened?” Dan Heng breathed, though he didn’t expect a response. Before he could think, he was out the door, heading to the infirmary. He gathered all the supplies he could think of getting. 

Detrimental thoughts swirled in his head like a typhoon. What mission were you sent to? Did they not check the danger levels before dispatching you? Did you get distracted? He should’ve come with you, but you were already gone by the time he met up with the troublemakers in the Parlor Car. You could’ve gone to him before heading out and he would gladly have accompanied you to the mission. What if you were gone by the time he came back?

When he had everything he needed, he hurried back. You still seemed to be in some state of consciousness when he entered his room, not dead. Good. 

Dan Heng started wiping off the sweat that collected on your forehead, then he tentatively rolled you onto your back. The wound wasn’t as deep as he thought it was, it wasn’t life-threatening. You’d survive.

“I’m gonna clean your wound.” He shut the door and gave you a towel to bite on before unscrewing the bottle of antiseptic. “... it’s going to hurt.”

Guttural whines and sobs escaped your throat as soon as the alcohol touched your wound. Biting down hard on the cloth, your hand flailed to find purchase in anything that could ground you. The victim happened to be Dan Heng’s thigh. You were sure it would leave crescent shaped indents at the end of the procedure, but you could not be less bothered to care. 

How you managed to stay somewhat lucid was beyond you. The shock probably helped you through the stitching part. Though Dan Heng’s gentle voice, mumbling something you could not quite make out, tethered you the most. If you had heard, you definitely would have been reeling from the profanities and apologies he was spewing out of concern. 

When it was time for him to bandage you up, the pressure on your abdomen relieved you. Your jaw slackened and the archivist removed the now soggy towel. 

“Sorry about the floor,” you slurred. “I’ll clean it up tomorrow.”

“You will not. Now, care to tell me what happened?” 

“Hm.” Tiredness washed over you like a wave. The worst was over, and now you just wanted to sleep. “Found a treasure map, didn’t expect a Reaver to be in the way.”

“Hmph.” His disappointment was evident. “You’re lucky your wound wasn’t that dangerous. Who knows what could’ve happened. Did you go to that place alone? I would have gone with you if you wanted to find the treasure. You could’ve died, [Name]. Why didn’t you just go to Natasha when–”

“I couldn’t think straight,” you muttered, letting your eyes flutter shut. Your voice dropped down to a fragile whisper. “After I got injured– I don’t know– all I could think about was getting back to you first. I wanted to see you.” 

There, you said it. A few seconds went by and he had nothing to say back. Great. When you had gathered enough energy you were heading – crawling if you needed to – straight to your room and–

“You absolute idiot.” Gentle hands lifted you up, trying to avoid agitating your wound. You were half-expecting him to carry you back to your bedroom, but you felt him taking a few steps before you were lowered again, onto something soft. His bed. 

Dan Heng laid himself slowly beside you in fear of making you uncomfortable. He laid on his side, using his arm as his pillow as he gazed at your side profile. His free hand inched forward to brush some hair away from your face.

“I’ll always be here,” he murmured. “Next time you get injured, which I rather wouldn’t happen, give me a call and head to Natasha’s immediately. I will be there as quickly as I can.” 

Your eyes hesitantly cracked open. Upon seeing the worry etched onto his face you brought your hand to intertwine with his.

“Promise?” you asked meekly. 

“I promise.” His lips ghosted over your cheek before he casted his blanket over the both of you with the utmost care. “I’ll clean the blanket tomorrow, so don’t worry about it. Now, get some sleep. After the troublemakers roping me into their schemes and you nearly giving me a heart attack, I really need some rest. We’ll go to Natasha’s Clinic tomorrow.”

“Yeah… good night.” 

“Good night, love.”