#reader POV

[lennadanvers]

The Heartbreak Chronicles

 Edward The Freak Munson was your first love.

(In more than one way).

(None of them ended up well).

High school Edward was something. Jean and leather, band t-shirts and patches. The shiny chains were still there. He had picked up guitar and stuck with it, as you found out at the talent show. His hair and his opinions had grown.

And his big, sad eyes were still there.

He had a reputation now: dangerous, freaky, dark. Maybe it was true. Maybe it had always been. It was just that people took a while to realize. He was the same over dramatic, fun, imaginative boy you had lost. Except that he took his drama all the way up to the tabletops of the cafeteria now.

It was hard not to enjoy the show. It was even harder to wonder how would it be to know him again. He had so much determination and sarcasm, he was so over the way the world worked, so full of disdain and passion… As someone who had served under the Queen’s orders- even if it was a fantasy queen, years ago, in the battlefield that was kindergarten-, you wanted to be loved by him.

How would anyone not want to be worthy of his love?

You knew better, of course. He had distanced himself. And yeah, maybe it had been a long time ago, but why should you give him another chance? No, sir. You didn’t have many things, but your pride was something no one could take from you.

Besides, he had never asked for another chance.

But he was fucking everywhere. He had founded the coolest club in the whole state. His van took up half the parking lot, a lighthouse in the middle of a naked shore. His hair was impossible to miss in the hallway, and your lunches were plagued by him and his stupidly interesting speeches. He even showed up at every party, ready to supply the sheeples with the only best weed in Hawkins.

And not once, in any of those scenarios, were you the object of his attention.

You could have stayed away, of course. It was just a matter of willpower. But your curiosity was bigger. Also, the sheet to sign up for Hellfire Club ended up being taped to the wall right next to your locker. It had to be a sign, if fate could be any more literal: just sign the sign.

It was a terrible idea. Made your nerves skyrocket and your appetite disappear, and your hands were trembling more than usual. You promised yourself you wouldn’t go back if it turned out to be as awful of an experience as you feared.

It was much, much worse: your first day at Hellfire was amazing. You had actual fun- something you hadn’t had in years, if you were honest. The boys were nice in a warm way, talking over each other and, frankly, more excited about the game than you. It was great, because it didn’t make you feel like a guest, but like you belonged.

And Edward welcomed you.

After years without talking to you, without even glancing at you, he smiled and bowed, arms wide as if to show you his kingdom.

“Be welcome to our humble table, mighty lady. Be prepared to face more adventure than you’ve ever heard of, more danger than you can fear and to conquer more victories than anyone can dream.”

He acted that way with everyone. And he lied.

You had heard of that much adventure, sure as hell. Actually, some of his adventures sounded familiar- they were detailed evolutions of childhood games.

But you fell for it anyway. It was good to be back home.

Even if he stabbed you in the back every now and then.

After the first session, as everyone was tidying up, he had cocked his head at you.

“We used to play together when we were kids, didn’t we? You’re not as boring as you look.”

And he had the audacity to wink, as if it would do anything but burn. So you punched back.

“Oh… Did we? I have a pretty bad memory. Sorry.”

Cue innocent and nonchalant shoulder shrug, finished off with a tight lip smile.

The second time Edward Munson broke your heart was worse, because you saw it coming. And you still followed him, like a reflection on a dark mirror, like you had no choice but to help him shatter you.

Second part! The next one is Eddie's POV! Please comment or reblog if you like it, that really motivates me to keep writing! Also, my inbox is always open (not just for requests and ideas about fics, you can also come say hi and tell me about your day or whatever you want to talk about). If you want me to add you to the taglist, just let me know!

Taglist: @arabellagreenleaf , @stylesxmunson , @am0iur

[anomalyaly]

right where you left me

Summary: You died. Sebastian secretly had a portrait of you commissioned.

I profusely apologize for the pain.

Inspired by @sychenb for the prompt idea. Also crediting @sloanesallow for her headcanon about Sebastian keeping track of numbers.

(also sort of inspired by Unus Annus - iykyk - and Taylor Swift, if you couldn't guess by the title)

Tags: Angst, F!Reader POV (you), unreliable narrator, vague ship (Sebastian x reader/Ominis x reader), Sebastian was in love with you but never confessed, death, grief, ambiguous ending, overall the sads in general, I cried while writing this

AO3/Wattpad

It had been 279 days since you died.

At least, that’s what Sebastian tells you — your portrait, anyway. It was all that was left of you after the devastating battle you had fought and never walked away from. You hadn’t even known he’d had a portrait of you commissioned when you were alive until you woke up, your body cold, your face illuminated by the flickering candles of the Undercroft.

He comes to visit you every day — some days, he simply sits in front of you, cross-legged and silent. You creep into the frame and study him, the shadows on his face, a haunted look in his eye — unfamiliar. You can only recall a bright, talkative, charming boy with whom you were once close. You didn’t recognize him the first time he visited you, yet his presence brings you comfort.

On other days, you see traces of the boy he was before. He bursts in through the gate talking nonstop about everyone who misses you, about something he saw that you would have liked or that reminded him of you. Sometimes, he even brings you gifts and places them in front of your frame so you can admire them when he’s away.

That’s where he keeps you — hidden behind a wooden crate in the Undercroft like a sacred shrine, untouched by anyone but him. He only speaks with you when he is alone.

Another boy comes in on occasion, and you only know because of the sound of his voice and the pulsing red light of his wand that you can see from behind the pile of crates. Ominis, you remember Sebastian telling you, another friend from when you were alive. Sometimes they argue, other times they refuse to acknowledge each other. But Sebastian always keeps you tucked away, his own personal secret.

“It’s almost Christmas,” he sighs as he plops down in front of you. “300 days since you…well, since— ”

He could never bring himself to finish that sentence, even after almost a year. You never finish it for him.

“Are you going back to Feldcroft?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t leave you here alone. I couldn’t do that to you.”

You knew he probably hadn’t been back since that dreadful day. He had only spoken of it once to refresh your memory. He never brought it up again.

“Sebastian,” you say, and he perks up at the sound of his name leaving your painted lips, “how come you always hide me away when Ominis comes in? Doesn’t he want to talk to me, too?”

His eyes flash with something — anger, perhaps, it was hard to tell from your two-dimensional world — and he stands, approaching your portrait. “He wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m only a portrait,” you tease, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s not like you’ve been practicing necromancy.”

It wasn’t the right thing to say, but you don’t completely understand why. He turns away from you, fists clenched, shoulders tense and hunched over, before running his fingers through his hair and repeating himself more adamantly. “He wouldn’t understand.”

You remember him uttering a similar statement throughout your short life at Hogwarts — secrets that only the two of you shared, unbeknownst to Ominis until it was too late. “Surely he misses me, too— ”

“Did you love him?”

The question takes you by surprise, though you think it’s not the first time he’s asked it. “What?”

Sebastian whirls to face you, his gaze intense, demanding. “Did you love him? Or did you love me?”

Your portrait blinks, confused. Truthfully, you hadn’t been alive nearly long enough to confirm your feelings for either of them, but you knew that both boys had been important to you during your last few months of life. The portrait of you had only been a time capsule of your fifteen-year-old self — undecided and immature. You’re not even certain if the emotions you feel now are real or remnants of what you experienced when you were alive. “I…I cared deeply for both of you if that’s what you’re asking.”

Your answer nearly breaks him, as if he’s heard it a million times before. He tugs at his hair, the movement causing him to look frenzied and mad. “That’s not what I asked! Who did you — ”

“Sebastian?”

The voice of the intruder causes both of you to freeze. Sebastian pulls himself out from behind the crate and holds a finger to his lips before pushing it in front of you once more.

“Over here, Ominis.”

You hear footsteps and see the red glow of the other boy’s wand, then shuffling as Sebastian strategically places himself in front of the wooden box. The echoing footsteps grow closer, and you straighten at Ominis’s frantic tone as he speaks.

“Who were you talking to?” he asks. “I…I thought I heard…her.”

“No one else is here but me,” Sebastian says, guarded.

You can practically feel Ominis’s internal struggle to believe him. You decide that there have been enough secrets between the three of you — you’re not going to let it carry on post-mortem.

“Ominis? Is that you?” you call out. You hear Sebastian press his body against the crate in front of you. Ominis pushes past him, and they both tumble into it, knocking it over and exposing your portrait.

Chaos ensues at Ominis’s realization. The two boys are shouting at each other in front of you as you are helpless to stop them — Ominis, for having yet another secret kept from him, and Sebastian, for defending his reasonings. You aren’t sure if it’s because of jealousy, grief, or some combination of the two, but all you want is for the noise to stop.

You call out helplessly from your portrait, wishing you could step between them, just as you had done time and time again all those months ago. Before everything had gone so wrong.

Suddenly, hot, angry tears are pouring down both of their faces, and you are overcome with just how useless you are at this moment — a fragmented memory, trapped within the confines of your magical canvas. You want nothing more than to hug each of them, to let them feel your arms around them in comfort and take their pain away.

But you are gone.

The two boys now stand solemn and silent in front of you. Ominis takes a step closer, his wand hovering over your portrait before he runs his fingers along the gilded frame. “Is it…really you?”

“No.” You can hear the flatness in Sebastian’s voice, how tired and worn he truly is. He repeats exactly what you thought only moments before as if to confirm it. “She hardly remembers what happened, or even who we are. She’s just a fragment. A memory.”

You want to argue that it is you, but you know that he’s right. You barely remembered your living self until Sebastian explained everything to you on his daily visits. Whispers of your personality still shine through on occasion, but you are otherwise simply existing.

Ominis sighs, and you can hear the weight behind it, as if he had been holding his breath and finally allowed himself to release it. He traces his fingers along the divots of the frame once more, and you try to will yourself to feel it.

The two boys exchange an unspoken conversation that thickens the tension in the air. They seem to come to an agreement, and you let out a small breath — if you can call it that — of relief when they sit down in front of you and appear to bask in your presence. You stay quiet and allow them this moment — it’s the only thing you can do.

The days that follow are the same. No longer is Sebastian coming in alone for covert meetings with your portrait. Now, you see both Sebastian and Ominis at the same time every single day, a religious appointment that they’ve set aside just for you. They take turns talking to you, even if they can only manage a few words, and you learn to appreciate their company, knowing that you were loved by both of them in life.

Just like old times, Sebastian says, and the three of you laugh.

Christmas approaches quickly, or that’s what they say when they come to visit a short while later. They bring your favorite things from when you were alive — chocolate frogs, flowers, even books, which Sebastian reads to you — and they tell you stories about you and the kind of person they knew you to be. You wonder if it’s true, or if they have created an idealistic image of you since you are no longer there with them. Not really.

Kind, they say that you were, thoughtful, loving, self-sacrificial, and maybe a bit idealistic. You were friends with both of them, after all, the mischievous pair that they were, before everything was taken away from them, before life was unfair. They try to smile for you and remind you that Christmas at the castle is a time for celebration, but you can tell that it’s a weak facade.

You smile back at them anyway.

The anniversary of your death approaches. Neither of them can bring themselves to say anything, aside from a few words to honor you. So the three of you sit in tearful silence, admiring the flowers that they decorated your portrait with. You think you can almost smell the sweet aroma of the bouquets.

Something changes in the air — you can sense it — though you aren’t sure what. You notice it when their visits become shorter, with fewer stories to tell, and fewer presents left in front of your frame. Sebastian and Ominis start showing up at separate times, stopping in for a brief hello before leaving with an excuse. You start to wonder what they are doing when they are gone, but you are unable to leave your frame — only one portrait of you was ever commissioned.

Soon, they start missing days, returning at a later time with profuse apologies about how life was busy, but they still miss you. Difficult classes, detention, studying for NEWTs, and preparing for a career — all of these seem to take precedence over you. But they still manage to make time in all of the hectic day-to-day activities, and you look forward to the days when they do come.

You wake up one morning and realize you are in a different location — Feldcroft, most likely, though you hadn’t seen it since that fateful day. Sebastian hangs your frame up on the wall, promising that he and Ominis will come to visit you more often now that they have graduated.

They don’t.

The length of time in between seeing them grows longer, you’re certain of it. Each time one of them arrives, they look a little bit different — sometimes they have longer hair, other times a bit of scruff around their chins, but they always come in looking more weathered than they had when you last saw them.

You realize that they are doing something that you will never again be able to join them in — growing older. You start to wonder about their lives outside of you, yet your painted mind cannot comprehend what an adult life looks like, forever frozen in your adolescent state. You find that you are unable to relate to any of their stories, and they seem to be holding back in what they choose to share.

I wish you were still here, they always say before they go, and you start to wonder if they mean it.

At long last, the visits from your once two closest friends become scarce, and you aren’t certain how much time has passed since someone last spoke to you. The bright flowers that once decorated your golden frame wither and die, and the little gifts they used to leave stay untouched and unopened. The tiny cottage in Feldcroft becomes a sepulcher of your essence — a permanent reminder that you are no longer among the living.

You can’t help but wonder if it was something you did, if their reasons for not returning were your fault. You can feel the stories that they used to tell you fading away, unable to retain the memories in your current form.

You decide that it’s time to rest.

In the quiet house, just south of Hogwarts, your portrait closes its eyes. You do not wake again.

[thepinkdreamganjaqueen]

Run Rabbit

Homelander x Fem Reader 

Masterlist 🩷

Summary: Homelander spots you assisting first responders helping those less fortunate in a building fire. People he wouldn’t normally bother helping or even caring about. It’s just his job and a mundane and boring one at that. But you caught his eye. You selflessly cared for them, helping them. It disgusts him. HE needs your help! It makes him want to make you dirty, to spoil your spirit, to make you like him, and what the Homelander wants, he takes.

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, oral (m and f receiving), piv, unprotected sex, breeding, gaslighting, coercion, DUBCON, praise, begging, mentions of violence, stalking, swearing, obsession, D/S implications, mentions of death (implied), blood play, choking, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, dacryphilia, mommy issues (brief mention)… It’s homelander… 

A/N: My head Is so full of fuck! I had to get a Homelander fic out in the midst of all these fics I’m grinding on! This man, being of pure perfection, got me in a damn chokehold!! Why do we always tend to go for the guys that are walking red flags? Like, I can fix him! On a more serious note, these characters are all endearing in their own way. Trauma can manifest into some pretty terrible things, and I think we can all relate to that in some way or another. I tried to keep it short... that did not happen you know how it goes. Please, I hope y’all enjoy this one! And as always, I welcome, ideas, comments and criticisms, but please be nice. Cheeers! 

Word Count: 6.3k

Tags: fem!reader, smut, dark content 

RUN RABBIT 

He watched as you helped those around you. He had been for a while now, just out of view of the bustling crowds beginning to form and watch the commotion. He watched as you gave aid to those less fortunate. The vulnerable people you had pledged to help so long ago. It was your job and came naturally to you. He watched as the building continued to burn growing fiercer with each moment that passed. Fire reflected in his eyes with a look of discernment, perhaps even disgust, but all he could seem to focus on was you. He watched as you gave people solace and respite, watched as your hair clung to the sweat on your face from the heat of the flames, how your ample chest rose and fell as you breathed shakily, helping the local paramedics and EMT’s. You gathered supplies and handed out bottled water to those affected. A fire had broken out at the shelter. It was an old building, probably not up to date on fire regulations and things of that nature. It housed approximately 80 people that evening. You rushed about frantically helping in any way you could. A bleeding heart, he thought.  

He felt a mixture of abhorrence and lust. Something about the way you cared for those he considered beneath him. He couldn’t understand, his distaste for humanity growing every day. Yet, something about the way you cared for them, in a loving, and motherly way, so perfect. It stirred his loins and a deep longing simmered within him, a feeling he was quick to extinguish. He often had these troubled thoughts paired with erections. It was nothing new. Trauma manifesting into sexual desires as a coping mechanism. He hastily grabbed at his crotch, shifting his bulge within his suit.  

He was above it all anyway. Humans merely play things for him, entertainment. Like a fox chasing a rabbit, you became his prey. He would make you his new toy and break you. He wanted to make you dirty, to make you like him. He wanted to ruin you. He had to be methodical about this, but still, it would be easy, he thought. Conquests were never a challenge for him. He was handsome, had charm, and could put on a “friendly” demeanor if he needed to. Plus, he was a supe. If he couldn’t get a woman with his A lister status alone, he could simply force her to be with him. He would do what was necessary. He preferred little to no effort, but he couldn’t lie to himself. Sometimes, he liked the chase. Both literally and figuratively. He was like a predator. Cold, calculated. Run little rabbit, he’d think to himself. Seeing lesser beings and their pathetic attempts to escape him was his favorite kind of entertainment and maybe even gave him the feeling of joy. If only for a short time. He often found himself bored, tired of the mundane. Meetings at Vought HQ, Ashley up his ass, saving…. People. His disgust caused a visceral reaction. Tonight, he would find entertainment to chase that elusive high.  

He flew over, hovering then lowering himself as he outstretched his arms, palms down as if to quell the crowd’s murmurs and bestow peace. A façade, he couldn’t care less. He had ulterior motives. “Don’t worry, everyone, everything’s under control” he spoke. Sure, he initially showed up to do what The Homelander does… be a hero. But you caught his eye, something more interesting and surer to be more giving than the appreciation of his adoring fans and the thrill of an applauding crowd. He wanted the pleasure of seeing you beg for him. Soon. He thinks to himself with a mischievous look crossing his lips. He is staring at you as he lands. You thought he looked your way but couldn't be sure. He began that repetitive, mundane, and ever so grueling process of saving these pathetic souls. He darts in and out of the building, grabbing them one by one at a crawling pace ‘for him’. Everyone in the crowds cheered on as you watched this man help people.  

It was no unordinary feat truly. Supes were common, and Homelander was the most well-known. The leader of the seven, Americas hero. Nevertheless, you watched on as he effortlessly helped people get out safely. You caught yourself admiring his physique, he was essentially perfect. No wonder, you thought. It’s as if he was made to be perfect. His charismatic smile, striking blue eyes, chiseled jawline, and athletic build. You found yourself breathing heavier, face flushed, racy thoughts manifesting. You were still in that moment, watching how his suit would singe from the flames that brushed and flicked against him. Embers flew from the fabric and fizzled out, skin remaining untouched but revealed underneath. The glint of the gold eagle shoulder accents on his suit shined in the light of the raging fames that burst through every opening of the building, returning once more.  

The building erupted in what must have been a gas line explosion you thought. Homelander walked out through the flames with the last individual hurled over his shoulders. He sauntered over to your direction where you stood with a few EMTs who were supporting victims in a pop-up tent. Next to you, a bare stretcher. Homelander stopped next to you and dropped the smoking body onto the stretcher, eyes locking with yours as he did. He could hear your heartbeat quicken and your breathing go shallow. You were unsure if it was fear or excitement in this moment, he scared you in a way. You couldn't tell if he was disingenuous. Too many things were happening all at once, it was a state of high emotion and your head was spinning. You felt like you were helpless and had no control. He did though. He behaved as if this was nothing to him, as if he could do this one hundred times over. Of course he could, yet you could sense the arrogance behind his charismatic demeanor. 

You manage to speak in his presence. Something you had tried to do for several unending moments now under his gaze. “Thank you” you manage to mumble in a timid manner. You found it hard to maintain eye contact with him. He was so sure, so confident, and so… beautiful. You had never had the opportunity to be in the presence of a supe, let alone meet one. You had only seen them on TV, in the news, or in movies. Simmering in what you thought to be embarrassment or intimidation, you hastily make you way out of the tent, brushing by him as you passed. He watched over his shoulder as you disappeared behind him, feeling the warmth from you as you passed. He inhaled deeply as you walked away. You were so flustered but didn’t know why… You knew why, truly you did. It just didn’t make sense. You didn’t want it to make sense. You felt attraction to him, and you felt guilty for it for whatever reason. For many reasons. But mainly, you felt bad that in this moment, you felt lust and your attention drawn away from the people that needed your help the most. 

You made it behind the tent and had begun fidgeting with a worry stone you kept in your pocket. Rubbing it furiously when you hear the wet splat of steps behind you. You look down, the grounds wet; the fire fighters must be here, you think. A firm hand grabs your shoulder and spins you around. He looks at you matter of factly with a smirk. “You know, I wanted to tell you back there, thank you, for the work you do and for helping these fine people” he said, hand still on your shoulder. His eyes beaming into yours a deep sapphire. “I also wanted to let you know that there were some folks over there that could really use your help! That is, if you still want to help people.” He watched as shame crossed your face, then guilt and confusion. Easy, he thought. They’re so fucking easy! His smile, perfect white teeth gleaming at you. You recoil at his words, struck by how kind he sounded with the contrast of his delivery. You felt immediately inclined to help, like you didn’t have a choice but to prove it to yourself, and to him, for whatever reason. 

You nod your head in agreement, convinced by him you needed to. You feel a weight take over your entire body, pulling you down. Before you realize you were being flown away from the scene. The Homelander had picked you up and shot towards the sky. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you against his body. Terror filled you, but you were too high up to scream, the force of wind hindering your speech and breathing as it forcefully blew past your face. What did you agree to? You think. Where is he taking me? As quickly as the thoughts came to fruition, you were on your feet once more. He was looking down at you, still clinging tightly to your lower back. His face is indifferent and uncaring, almost empty. The suit he wore felt ridged where flames made contact. Soft in some places where the fabric was still intact and cool, where his skin peeked through. Your arms still grasped his biceps until you became aware you were doing so and let go. You wondered how he felt under the suit. He’s invincible, is his skin like that of a rock, or is he soft and pliable. He caught you gazing at the areas where his suit had melted away. He watched as you admired him. He knew the thoughts running through your head. He could see them cross your face. He was amused. That mixture of lust, exhilaration, and fear. He craved that from you, and you were abundantly insatiable. 

“Just through there.” He gestured kindly toward a door as he let go of your waist. You took a second to observe your surroundings, still fearful of what exactly you were doing and where the hell you were. For an educated girl, you felt like this was a really stupid decision. You were standing on a white tiled balcony about fifty, maybe sixty stories up. The city sprawled out before you. You could see city lights and in the distance a plume of smoke sure to be the fire you just came from. You remarked at how far away you were. Looking towards the door you saw white curtains billowing through the opening leading into a dark room. “This way” he gestures once more. His hand at the small of your back pushing you towards the entrance. 

You step inside, looking for someone, anyone. A large room with a couple connecting hall ways it looked like. Seems to be an apartment. A very nice one. You begin searching the room familiarizing yourself with it, it’s pretty dark except for the light of a modular fire place that hung from the ceiling. There’s a four-post bed with sheer white curtains, lace pillows, and a velvet duvet. Some accents, art, and statues, it looked very high class, very luxurious. Who did it belong to? You thought. It didn't matter though. 

Homelander had stepped behind you watching you roam the apartment you were now essentially trapped in. He stood behind you, shedding off pieces of his torched suit, exposing himself completely. He playfully tugged at his cock, already hard. Pulling it to his abdomen and letting it slap down onto his leg in a spring like motion. SLAP! He was hard watching you at the building fire, the intensity only grew. Especially when he held you close. He watched you search the room, calling out to no one. He snickered to himself. How much is she really willing to help hmm? He thought about you begging for him, praying he would let you come, but only after he tore you to shreds and broke you down mentally. He needed you to crave him, needed you to need him. Appreciate him, respect him, and most of all, obey him! Look at her, stupid enough to go along with this, she’s so sweet. It sickened him and only made his fervent lust grow. 

The realization finally began to hit, and a pit dropped in your stomach. There was no one here to help. In a way, you already knew but held onto some kind of hope, albeit for nothing. You began to spiral in your mind when a loud slap could be heard behind you. You spin around quickly on your heels, already on edge when your eyes are drawn to Homelander. The doors had closed behind him, and there he stood, completely nude in front of you. You stood with your mouth agape when he said “sorry, my suit was burned, practically tarnished, I had to take it off.” He shrugged his shoulders and chuckled with a sly smile. Hs eyes narrowed as he grabbed his cock and pulled it up once more to his abdomen and let it slap down onto his leg. SLAP! He was throbbing, watching your reaction to him so boldly lying to your face and exposing himself to you, jacking off in front of you with zero consequences. He knew he could do anything he wanted- get anything he wanted, and anyone would give it to him, even you. Whether you liked it or not. 

You recoiled in disgust and shock, eyes wide with fear. Although earlier you had thought about him like this maybe even slightly, not like this! “Where are they?!” you tried to say in a tone that was stern yet confident enough to not show fear. He could hear the fear in your voice, the pulse that raced through your veins that told everything in your mind and body to run away. “Who?” he replied teasingly. SLAP! “The people! The people you said needed help!” you shot back, starting to lose your cool. Heat rose to your cheeks and you felt hot, dizzy and angry. The light of the fireplace danced gently over his features illuminating him in an amber glow. Every muscle, every shape and curve on his body, shrouded in firelight.  

He stepped forward, walking briskly towards you. You stammered back, glancing behind you, looking for a place to run but hitting a wall. You tried to look for an exit, but the room was dimly lit, and it was too late. He was already right in front of you. You leaned against the wall and clasped your hands behind your back as he pressed his hand against the wall next to your head, the other hand holding his throbbing length… SLAP!  

“It’s me!” he said in a curt tone, almost annoyed you didn’t know. His eyes traveled, looking you up then down. “I need your help!” he stated. You turned your head sideways as he leaned in, whispering in your ear “My suit was burned, I could have been hurt saving those people, don’t you care?” A brief flicker of red lit up behind each eye, and you felt yourself shrink in his presence. You were scared, unsure of yourself. He’s invincible, you thought. Your head spun; you didn’t understand the weight of the situation. Except that he lied to you to get you here. He grabbed your chin with his free hand and turned your face to his, looking at you behind a furrowed brow. “Don’t you care about me?!” SLAP! His face scrunched, examining your reaction, waiting for a reply. “Y-Yes.. I care about you.” You chimed apprehensively and unconvincingly. He doesn't even know your name, you thought. He doesn't care. 

He let go of your chin. “Show me” he demanded behind a mischievous smile that curled at the ends of his lips. He placed his hands on your shoulders gripping the fabric of your shirt underneath and ripping it off, pulling it apart, you heard the buttons pop off and hit the floor with a ting as it ripped down the center. Your heart leapt into your throat as he devours you with his eyes, reeling in the sight of your ample breasts and the soft fleshy skin beneath your bra. He was all but salivating for you. He wanted to rip your bra off and nuzzle himself between your breasts, to inhale the skin, to feel their warmth. But he wanted you to prove yourself. Did you really care about him? Were you really a good girl? 

At this point, you realize what he brought you here for. But why you? He was a supe. He could literally kill you without a thought, and he would be protected. Your mind was hazy, but you couldn’t stop your own eyes from wandering. He was, in all his glory, vulnerable and bearing himself to you. Part of you thought it irresistable, intimate even. His body against yours felt like fire, and your senses began to tingle and go haywire. SLAP! You found yourself at the will of your hormones as your thoughts and body took over. He pushed his body closer, his hard length now pushing into your abdomen with force. A gasp fell from your lips as he looked into your eyes, a deep blue sea of burning blue ice. Entranced by his physique. Another whisper, more stern this time “I said, show me!”  

He stepped back, and you dropped to your knees in front of him. His hand on top of your head caressed the side of your face and slid to the underside of your chin, forcing you to look up at him, he gave a cursory look, eyebrows raised as if to say ‘I’m waiting’. Not wanting to disappoint him or make him angry, you quickly raise your hands up and rest them on his thighs. Feeling the softness of his skin. Leaning in, you open your mouth and take him in. His hands were immediately in your hair, pulling you in closer. Sticking out your tongue and forcing his length down the back of your throat. Tears begin to stream down your face. He put a finger to your face, catching a tear as it fell and pressing it to his tongue. His throbbing cock twitched in your throat. It was substantially thick and unreasonably big, the force stretching your throat was enough to make you cry.  

He threw his head back, letting out a low groan. Your mouth is so warm, so wet, and so tight. He imagined stretching your pussy, pounding you into oblivion until you either cried and begged for him to stop or climaxed and cried for more. You continued sucking, taking him in as deep as you could each time, hoping to please him and show him you were truly a good person. That you did care about him, you cared about everyone truly...but especially him. He created a feeling in you- you had not had previously, a desire for him. You used your hands to explore his body as you gulped him down, mesmerized by him. Caressing his abdomen, his buttocks and his balls. He had his hands twisted in your hair, rocking with the motion of your mouth. Every once in a while, taking your time to gently circle his tip with your tongue while sucking, ending in a kiss to his tip. Each time your lips pulled from him, a trail of precum would string from your lips.  

You looked up at him, licking your lips clean. “Mmm, that’s a good girl. Show me more.” He growled through his passion as he pulled you to your feet and directed you to get on the bed. He smacked your ass with force as you walked, it rang out with a snap, even against the fabric, it stung. You lurched forward falling into the bed face first. He quickly stood behind you spreading you knees apart on the bed with his legs as he approached. He began tearing your remaining clothes from you in shreds laughing. You felt defeated and ashamed, but you wanted more. Embarrassment filled your face with heat, a bright red hue colored your nose and cheeks.  

Your bra, snapped and torn. Your jeans, off, split in two, your underwear, lacy and white, torn from between your legs. You whimpered as they dug in while being ripped off of your body. Quick and painful. Grabbing your hips, he pulled you closer to the end of the bed where he stood. A cold breeze drifted across your back, buttocks, and exposed legs. He had you right where he wanted you. He liked it when you squirmed, when you whimpered. You thought perhaps you liked it as well. You found yourself helpless, at his mercy, and obeying his every command.  

He smacked you again and again. The sound of your flesh being abused rang out into the empty room, bellowing out and echoing back to you. Your skin again burning from the impact of his open hands leaving red hand prints sprinkled over your flesh. He joyfully continued. His face in a half smirk with eyes narrowed as he reveled in every cry that escaped your mouth. Your skin, now mottled with bruises and scratches. Smack! Again, he slaps your ass and drags his fingers down. Pinching you, squeezing hard, and watching you recoil, helpless to get away. You could feel the wetness spread between your legs. “Who’s my good girl, huh?” he said confidently in a gruff. “I aam” you cried out in a huff, face buried in the blankets. He placed both palms on your cheeks and placed his thumbs close to your crevice, pulling with his thumbs and exposing your most intimate parts to him. The brisk air on the wetness of your cunt sent a shiver up your back and goosebumps peppered your skin. Homelander took notice and began smoothing his hands over the surface of your legs and back as you lay before him, relishing in the work he’s created. An artwork of purple and red now enhanced by the prickling of your skin. 

What a sweet little cunt, he thought to himself. He then pushed against the surface of your opening with a single finger, taunting you, teasing you in a cruel way. You rocked your hips back toward him but couldn’t move, not unless he decided to let you. “what’s wrong bleeding heart? Not so sweet now, are you?” You whined as he toyed with you. Slowly drawing circles around your labia, clit, and opening, spreading your wetness around his fingers and your vulva. “Please, Homelander, please!” you begged him, a muffled plea distorted from the blankets below. You turn your head to look back at him, the only thing you could manage to move. You watched as he brought his face down, placing his tongue along your slit, flat, wide, and slowly licking up towards your entrance. You couldn’t take it anymore; he was teasing you and you were putty in his unforgiving hands. You melted into his touch. Pure bliss and euphoria filled your body as your mind released a load of dopamine to your receptors. Telling you, you wanted him, no- you needed him. Now! 

Slowly, he pushed two fingers in. The sheets below you, clutched within your hands as you lay on top of them. His hand held tightly, gripping your left cheek, holding you open as he explored, pushing in harder and deeper as he went. He could manage his strength sure, but he wanted so badly to fuck you into the bed, and you wanted to feel just a fraction of his strength, you thought you could handle it. In his mind he knew you couldn't. You, a delicate little thing. A rabbit he had caught. But just the same he held back, he needed time to play, to be entertained. 

The room filled with the aches and moans coming from your mouth as he pulled his fingers in and out of you, licking up and down your slit, and fucking you with his tongue. You wanted to move, but he had a hold of you. But you wanted to see his face, to watch him as he pleasured you so lovingly, a stark contrast to how you got here. They way his tongue traveled so freely between your folds and into your core, both tender and firm. There was no escape. You didn't want him to stop, your walls quivered around his fingers. 

He stopped, his fingers sopping, his face covered in your fluid. You feel his arm reach under you and pull you, turning you around. You lay before him on your elbows, knees bent. He pulls your forward, his face stern, as he gazed at your chest. He kneels in front of you and without words opens his mouth and laps at your breast flesh with his tongue. Sucking, licking, biting, lightly flicking your nipple with his tongue. A low hum building in the back of his throat. Your juices now smeared all over your chest as he paws and devours your breasts. You moan in ecstasy, a high-pitched squeal that reverberated in the room. You could feel his lips curl into a smile around your areola as he consumed all of you. Inhaling you in deeply.  

Your hand roamed his body, such a powerful being, and you had the pleasure of taming him. Your hands, rubbing along the muscles on his back, your fingers tracing the veins sticking out on his arms as he cradled your chest. In this moment, you weren't scared of him. You knew his power that he could kill you with his dick if he wanted to. But in this moment, he was vulnerable, weak even. He was the most human right now with you than he had felt in a while. Something about a woman with ample breasts opening up for him, opening everything up for him, filled him with a sense of true belonging. The elusive high he was truly trying to chase but always evaded him so eagerly. It was true compassion, isn't that why he chose you? You, specifically. Not just a beautiful woman, a beautiful woman with a pure heart.  

"You’re being such a good girl," he moaned into your chest. You move your hands from his shoulders to his face, pulling him up. He looks up at you. You observe an innocent, unassuming look in his eyes. He follows where you guide him. Your lips push against his in a heavy kiss. He pushes your shoulders down and pins you to the bed, enveloping you in his own passionate kiss. He swirls his tongue in your mouth and bites your bottom lip hard. You could taste the tinge of blood, like pennies in your mouth. Blood pooled at the corner or your mouth. With a flick of his thumb, he wiped it away and kissed you again. He found the taste of your blood mixed with your essence to be intoxicating, making him drunk with lust. 

 "Are you ready for your reward?" He said nefariously. That smile, no matter how menacing you thought it was, still made you crumble. "Mhmm" was all you could manage. He stood, quickly lifting you from the bed so you were face to face with him once more. He cradled your legs in his arms, holding you to him effortlessly. Slowly, you felt his arms drop you down, his hardness, now piercing your slick wet opening just barely. You groaned, once again trying to motion yourself closer to him, to feel him inside you, but he wouldn't let you move. It was his decision and his alone. With your arms wrapped around him, you began kissing his face and neck. Lightly with delicate pecks.  

Her lips were so soft and moist, he thought to himself as you indulged in him. Leaving traces of saliva trailed down his neck as you pulled your lips from his skin. Soft breaths from your mouth, creating a cool sensation on the surface. He growled deeply and with sudden force, dropped you down, sliding his whole length into you without hesitation or effort. He chuckles as you cry out. His swollen cock, so stiff, so large. It hurt sliding in. You were dripping with him just sticking the tip of his head at your surface, so he entered you easily. But you could feel the pressure inside stretching you from within, a painful yet satisfying fullness. His face was focused on yours as you cried in ecstasy and pain. The pain only amplifying the pleasure of him forcefully ramming you, lifting you up and down, sliding you on and off his cock. He could feel the pressure of your walls closing up and gripping him every time he slid hid length out of you. Then having to forcefully push back in again, opening you up. “So. Fucking. Tight.” He said with each grunt as he proceeded. 

Homelander’s thoughts had ceased at this point. He was enveloped in euphoria, acting on pure instinct but somehow still able to hold back. He concentrated on your face, watched as beads of sweat pooled on your forehead, then dropped down your face and onto your chest, glistening on your breasts. How your eyebrows curled up in the middle as your voice rang out into the room. Your screams only made him more crazed. He pounded you in a frenzy. Meeting each thrust with a grunt as he hit your cervix harder and faster with each push, causing you to cry out in moans of pure passion intermixed with pain. 

He dropped you back on the bed and stood at the end, parting your thighs once more with his legs. You thoughtlessly wrap them around him pulling him closer almost instant as if it was a natural reaction. You were too out of breath to speak; you could only mumble 3 words “I'll be good”. Homelander leans into the bed, a hand placed at either side of your face as he enters you.  

With your legs wrapped around him and his hands not holding you down, you were now free to meet his thrusts with your own, something he did not expect. He stopped for a moment and watched as you had become what he made you. Craving him, only wanting him, and willing to do anything for it. His body was rigid and still as you bucked and rocked underneath him, trying to meet his pelvis with your own thrusts when his right hand reaches over and closes over your throat He enters you. “Fuck!” you whisper in a harsh tone, unable to fully speak. He shoves his throbbing member into your cunt, squeezing your neck tighter with every slam into you, you fuck him back looking into his eyes as you moan his name.  

He sucks in through his teeth and lets out a long sigh, loosening his grip on your neck. “Now be a good girl and finish me off” he says in a deep whisper. You nod your head in agreement, wanting it just as bad as he did. He lightly pecks your lips before releasing his grip and lying next to you. You lift your legs to straddle him on the bed, knees pressed to his hips. His hands wander to your chest, squeezing and pulling the flesh. With your hands placed firmly on his abdomen, you allow yourself to sit down on him, giving yourself he time to adjust to him, which he had not done. He thought this to be tedious. Were you teasing him? He would not allow it. His hands reach out and grip your hips, pushing you onto him. There was nothing you could do; his strength was unimaginable. The power of his cock expanding you within was a testament to this. 

You didn't need him to push you down, you thought. You would happily ride him regardless of the pain. This was worth it, something you didn't know you needed and never thought you wanted. The earlier nights troubles were miles away in your mind, you could only think about him now, pleasing him. You felt a yearning for him brew deeply within your loins, and a longing in your heart. 

You propped yourself up, crouching above him on your feet, still stranding him. Your body had accepted him now, and you were wetter than ever, sopping around his manhood. Each bounce met with a loud exhausted moan from you, and a wet slap could be heard echoing off the walls of the room. Music to Homelanders ears, internalizing you moans. Mesmerizing to hear, indifferent to the pain it may have caused you.  

With your arms outstretched behind you gripping his thighs, you bounced on him, each time taking him in fully, rocking forward, as you did. The brush of his pubic hair against your clit as you grinded into him sent you into hysterics. You began slamming yourself on top of him, breathing heavily. He used his hands to cup your breasts and playfully tug at your nipples as you found your climax. He had never heard someone scream so loud while taking his cock. Your pace slowed as your orgasm took over, your body convulsing with every contraction of your cunt around him. “You’re not done yet!” he growled “How greedy” he chuckled maliciously. His words barely registered in your fucked out brain, still swimming from the intensity of your climax.  

“I said you're not done yet! Keep going!” He said in an insistent and unsympathetic manner, slapping your breasts, leaving a large red hand print that stung. He then grabbed your face, pinching your cheeks in his hand and pulling you down. “Fuck me.” You immediately slink back and do as you are told. His good girl. Taken aback by exhaustion and overstimulated, but not wanting to disappoint this work of perfection, not wanting to disappoint The Homelander, you find the strength to continue on. You use all of your strength incomparable to his, to please him, hoping it was good, that it was enough. You were eager to please him and wanted your reward for it.  

You planted yourself on him, over and over again, easing his tip in and out each time. His hands had reached to your backside, clutching the flesh in each fist, pulling you forward with each fall. Looking into his eyes, those piercing sapphire blue eyes sparkling with adoration. You watched as his lashes futtered and his face scrunched, his lips parting as he looked down watching himself slide in and out of you, hands latched onto you. He lets out a low breathy grunt, and his hands go limp on your cheeks, his eyes roll back. You reveled in the moment, soaking up the feeling of him spasming inside you while bursts of his seed shot deep within you. His cum dripping out and collecting around the base as you continued to slowly fuck him. Each burst causing his body to buck and convulse. You maintained your gaze on him, seeing him in his weakest moments. It was sweet. This man you had feared, turned from a monster into something beautiful to you. He was this anamorphic being you could now see clearly. He wanted to be loved, adored, cared for, appreciated, and feared. You wanted to be that person for him. You didn't want to let go or cease this moment. 

He helped you off of him, and you lay sprawled out on the bed. A mess of exhaustion. Pearls of his essence are still leaking out. He sat calmly next to you, enjoying the last bit of euphoria from this high as his orgasm subsided. A coy smile crossed his lips as he caressed the side of your face with his fingers. With no explanation and no words spoken, he left. Just like that. Out the balcony door and into the cloudy night. Still in a daze, you lay there admiring the bites, bruises, scratches, and hand prints that freckled your body, playfully tracing along all the marks he gifted you. Waiting eagerly for is return. 

[slytherinzz]

Breaking point

Summary: Two years after the turmoil of her fifth year at Hogwarts, MC returns for her seventh year, haunted by past trauma and the ghosts of broken friendships. Reconnecting with Ominis and Sebastian, her once closest friends, is no easy feat. As she drowns her pain in reckless parties, endless boys and destructive behavior, both boys watch helplessly, knowing she’s spiraling. When a night takes a dark turn, they intervene, and MC is forced to face the pain she’s been hiding. But Sebastian, with his own regrets, is determined to help her heal—and to prove that he’s not letting her go.

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!reader (fluff at the end/protective Seb)

Warnings: mentions of alcohol abuse and slutshaming. Characters aged up to 7th year!

a/n: is this fandom still alive? Maybe I'm to late to the party ;) But I'm really enjoying myself haha. Plan to do more in the future: preparing some prompts and headcanons en requests are open. Give me a follow for more.

It had been two years since their fateful fifth year, and though the dust had settled, the wounds had not. Life at Hogwarts carried on, but for MC, every hallway, every classroom, and every face served as a reminder of what she had endured. She returned to Hogwarts for her seventh year, her path winding her back to the two people who had once been her closest friends: Ominis Gaunt and Sebastian Sallow.

It wasn’t immediate, this reconnection. Time had a way of healing and, at the same time, pushing people apart. Their sixth year had been quiet—MC had needed space to deal with everything, to step back from the chaos that had consumed her life. But now, in their final year, they had found each other again, tentatively rebuilding their friendship.

And yet, something was different.

Sebastian had never stopped loving her. That much was obvious to Ominis, even if Sebastian refused to admit it outright. The way his eyes softened when she entered the room, the protective edge in his tone whenever someone so much as teased her—it was clear to anyone paying attention. But MC, though she cared deeply for him, was terrified of letting herself feel the same.

She couldn’t.

If she allowed herself to feel for Sebastian, she risked everything. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if it ruined their fragile friendship? She couldn’t afford to lose anyone else. Not again. And so, she buried her feelings and found other ways to cope.

At first, it had been small things. A few late nights at parties, a glass of Firewhisky here and there. But as the year wore on, her coping mechanisms became destructive. She was at every party, taking shot after shot until the world blurred around her. She laughed too loudly, danced too wildly, and left with boys who didn’t know her name and didn’t care to.

It wasn’t long before Ominis and Sebastian noticed.

“She’s not herself,” Ominis said one night, pacing the floor of their shared dormitory. “She’s drinking too much. She is searching for validation in other people arms. She’s… reckless.”

Sebastian sat on his bed, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists. He didn’t need Ominis to tell him what he already knew.

“I’ve seen her,” he muttered. “I’ve seen her, throw herself to others, going way behond her own limits, Ominis. She doesn’t even look like herself anymore.”

Ominis stopped pacing, his expression grim. “She’s hurting, Sebastian. She’s been hurting for years, and we didn’t help. She needed us, and we weren’t there. After everything she has done for us”

Sebastian flinched at the words. He couldn’t deny it. In their fifth year, he had hurt her—his obsession with saving Anne, the lies, the dark magic. He had driven a wedge between them, and the guilt of it still weighed heavily on him.

“But what do we do now?” Sebastian asked, his voice low. “She won’t listen to us. She doesn’t even look at me anymore.”

Ominis sighed. “We keep an eye on her. We make sure she’s safe, even if she doesn’t want us to. And when the time is right, we talk to her. Really talk to her.”

The Slytherin common room was packed, the air thick with the smell of Firewhisky and the sound of laughter. It was one of the biggest parties of the year, and MC was right in the center of it.

She looked radiant, her cheeks flushed, her laughter ringing out above the noise. But to Sebastian and Ominis, who watched from the corner of the room, there was a sadness in her eyes that no one else seemed to notice.

“She’s already drunk,” Ominis said quietly, his gaze fixed on her as she stumbled slightly, leaning on a nearby table for support.

Sebastian’s fists clenched. “I’m not letting her leave with anyone tonight.”

They continued to watch as she floated from group to group, her laughter louder, her movements more erratic. And then Weasley approached her.

It started innocently enough. Garreth poured her another drink, cracking jokes that made her laugh. But as the night wore on, his intentions became clearer. He moved closer to her, his hand brushing against her arm, then her waist. MC, too drunk to notice—or too drunk to care—didn’t push him away.

Sebastian’s blood boiled.

“She’s too far gone for this,” he growled, stepping forward, but Ominis grabbed his arm.

“Not yet. Let’s see if she pushes him off.”

But she didn’t. Garreth led her to a quieter corner of the room, away from the crowd. She swayed on her feet, barely able to keep her balance, but Garreth steadied her.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t soft or gentle. It was rough, his hands gripping her waist, pulling her against him. MC stiffened, her hands pressing weakly against his chest, but she was too drunk to fight back. His hands began to wander, slipping down to her thighs, and that was when Sebastian snapped.

“Get your hands off her!”

He was across the room in seconds, shoving Garreth away with a force that sent him stumbling. Garreth glared, his face red with anger and embarrassment.

“She wanted it” Garreth spat, but Sebastian didn’t let him finish.

“She’s drunk,” Sebastian snarled, his voice low and dangerous. “She couldn’t consent even if she did want it. You’re pathetic.”

Ominis stepped in, his hand on Sebastian’s arm. “Enough. Let’s get her out of here.”

MC was barely coherent, her head lolling against Sebastian’s chest as he scooped her into his arms.

The Room of Requirement was quiet, the chaos of the party far behind them. Sebastian laid MC gently on a plush sofa, pulling a blanket over her as Ominis conjured a glass of water.

“She’s going to hate us for this,” Ominis said softly.

“I don’t care,” Sebastian replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m not letting her destroy herself.”

They stayed by her side through the night, refusing to leave her alone. When she finally stirred, the early morning light filtering through the room, she groaned softly, her head pounding.

“Where… where am I?” she mumbled.

“The Room of Requirement,” Sebastian said, his voice gentle. “You drank too much. We brought you here.”

She sat up slowly, her eyes darting between the two boys. “Did I… did something happen?”

Sebastian hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Garreth crossed a line. We stopped him.”

Her face crumpled, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Stop,” Ominis said firmly. “You don’t need to apologize to us. But you do need to stop doing this to yourself.”

Sebastian knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his. “Why, MC? Why are you doing this? Drinking, partying… pushing us away?”

She shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know how to feel anymore. I can’t… I can’t risk losing you. Either of you. If I let myself feel anything, it’ll destroy me.”

“You’re not going to lose us,” he said again, his voice steadier this time. “But you have to stop hurting yourself. You have to let someone in, MC.”

Her lips quivered, and she shook her head. “I can’t. What if I mess it up? What if I ruin everything? You don’t understand, Sebastian. You… you mean everything to me. You both do. If I lose you, I don’t know how to keep going.”

Sebastian felt his heart crack open. Every word she spoke was another piece of armor he hadn’t realized he’d been wearing, falling away. “And you think I don’t feel the same?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She blinked at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “You… what?”

“I love you,” he said, firmer now. “I’ve been in love with you since Fifth Year. And seeing you like this—seeing you with Garreth, seeing you destroy yourself—it’s killing me. I can’t stand it anymore, MC. I can’t.”

Her breath hitched, her hands tightening around his as though he might disappear if she let go. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t think I deserved you,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “Not after everything I did. Not after how much I hurt you back then.”

“You didn’t hurt me, Sebastian,” she said, her voice trembling. “You were trying to save Anne. You were trying to save your family. I could never hate you for that.”

Sebastian let out a shaky laugh, his forehead falling to hers. “And I could never hate you for what you’ve done this year. But you have to stop punishing yourself. You’re not alone. You never were.”

The words hit her like a tidal wave. For years, she had carried the weight of her guilt, her grief, her fear—alone. And now, here was Sebastian, promising to share it with her. To stay by her side no matter what.

She let out a choked sob and pulled him into a fierce hug. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, over and over again.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he murmured, his arms wrapping tightly around her. “Just let me be here for you. Please.”

For the first time in years, she let herself believe that she wasn’t alone.

When the three of them returned to the Great Hall the next morning, the whispers began almost immediately.

“Look at her. The hero of Hogwarts, brought home by her two protectors again.”

“Bet she’s gone through half the boys in Slytherin by now.”

“She’ll probably ditch Sebastian and take Ominis next. What’s another name on the list?”

MC’s face burned as the whispers reached her ears. She felt every judgmental gaze, every smirk. It was suffocating. She tried to retreat into herself, but Sebastian caught her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers.

“Don’t listen to them,” he said quietly. “They don’t know you.”

But the words lingered.

Over the next week, the rumors only grew worse. Despite the clear shift in MC’s behavior—she avoided parties, stopped behaving recklessly, and spent most of her time with Sebastian and Ominis—the whispers followed her wherever she went. And it didn’t take long for people to start turning their attention to Sebastian.

“She’s just using him. He’s the next notch on her wand.”

“Poor Sebastian. He’s in over his head with her.”

It boiled under his skin, every cruel word igniting his frustration. But he knew MC was the one who was truly suffering.

“You don’t believe them, do you?” he asked her one night as they sat by the fire in the Room of Requirement.

“No,” she said quietly, but her voice betrayed her doubt. “But it’s hard not to. After everything I’ve done… maybe they’re right.”

Sebastian cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “They are not right. You’re more than their stupid gossip, MC. You’re more than your mistakes.” He leaned closer, his voice softening. “You’re mine.”

Her eyes widened, her lips parting as his words settled over her.

“I mean it,” he continued. “I don’t care what they say. I don’t care what they think. You’re mine, and I’m not letting anyone take you away from me.”

The breaking point came a week later during a Potions class. Garreth Weasley had taken to making sly comments under his breath whenever MC or Sebastian walked by. Most of the time, Sebastian ignored him, but today, something snapped.

“Well, well,” Garreth said, loud enough for the whole class to hear. “Looks like Sallow finally got his turn. Tell me, MC, how does he compare to the others?”

The room fell silent.

Sebastian shot out of his seat, his wand already drawn. “Take that back,” he snarled, his voice deadly calm.

Garreth smirked. “What? I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

“Take. It. Back.”

“Sebastian!” MC’s voice cut through the tension, pulling him back. He turned to her, his face twisted in anger and pain.

“Let them say what they want,” she said softly, her hand brushing against his. “They don’t matter. You do.”

For a moment, the room was frozen. And then, without hesitation, Sebastian cupped her face and kissed her.

It wasn’t a soft, tentative kiss. It was fierce and full of fire, a declaration for everyone in the room to see. When he pulled away, he turned back to Garreth, his hand still on MC’s cheek.

“She’s not some name on a list,” he said coldly. “She’s mine. And if I hear you—or anyone else—talk about her like that again, you’ll regret it.”

The class erupted into murmurs as the professor returned, breaking the moment. But the damage was done. The rumors didn’t stop entirely, but they shifted.

In the days that followed, MC felt something she hadn’t felt in years: peace. Sebastian was by her side at every turn, his presence a constant reminder that she wasn’t alone anymore.

They spent their days together in quiet moments—reading by the fire, sneaking out to the Forbidden Forest for walks, or simply sitting in the Great Hall, their fingers brushing under the table.

And when the whispers started up again, Sebastian was quick to silence them with a sharp glare or a cutting remark. Ominis, ever loyal, had even taken to redirecting conversations when he overheard anything cruel.

For the first time in years, MC felt like she could breathe again.

One evening, as they sat together in the Room of Requirement, Sebastian turned to her, his expression serious.

“Promise me something,” he said.

“Anything,” she replied.

“Promise me you won’t shut me out again. No matter how bad things get, no matter how scared you are, you come to me. Always.”

She smiled, her eyes shining with tears. “I promise.”

And when she kissed him this time, it wasn’t about proving anything to anyone. It was just for them.

For once, she was finally home.

[kaijunouhhhhhhhhhhummmm]

Share With Me

4.4k/ Reader pov x soshiro build up/ reader has a big family/ it's chaotic but in a good way/ some drama with soshiro/  angy soshiro/ trying my darndest to be gn with my reader POV but im sure i missed somethin/ i guess hurt and comfort?/ where are all my ppl with loud and invasive families at haha

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Soshiro has yelled before. “Get those legs up!” “More! C’mon I know you got more in you!” “Ten more reps then we’ll call it a day!” all commands in training or shouting orders when on a mission. Sure, he’s yelled and shouted at all of you a whole lot. But always in your best interest. For your protection, strength, encouragement, to make you better. But this time was different. 

It got very silent after he did. This time he wasn't shouting from his usual place of care. He was angry. Almost menacing even. Worse, it was directed at you. 

You dropped your staff in the middle of armed combat training. It happens. Not a big deal. Usually. People drop staffs, swords, guns, all the time and then everyone corrects form and  moves on. Not today. 

You’re frozen in place. For the first time you find yourself afraid of the vice captain. There is always the knowledge that he could kill you if he really wanted to. He is extremely talented and could take a whole school of trainees. Of course. There is the reverence of his ability at all times. But to feel like it could be used against you? You’ve never felt fear quite like that sink into your bones. You’re sure your skin has gone pale and your basic bodily functions like breathing and heartbeat faltered. Everyone else feels it too. His eyes, a brilliant violet, are staring into yours and you can't move. The strength you were using a moment ago vanishes.The tension in his body seems ready to pounce on you. What did you do wrong? You couldn't understand. You go through all your movements in your head. Everyone drops fighting props. What did you do wrong? He berated you infront of everyone and internally you're doing it to yourself now too.

Kafka breaks the silence in the room and the panic in your head. “Hey, uh, vice captain, I’ll work with them.” He puts his hand on your shoulder and with a tug pulls you out of your frozen state and guides you away from Soshiro’s glare to a far corner of the gymnasium. Soshiro doesn't argue and you feel his eyes on the both of you as you’re guided away. The tension is still heavy in the air as you both walk. 

Practice continues quietly and with hesitancy from everyone as they avoid being on the receiving end of any more of his ire. You can feel eyes on you and murmurs of “Shit, that was intense.” “They okay?” “I wouldn't be.” You're still shaking a bit as Kafaka tries to guide you through the movements. A pitying look on his face you're half grateful for. You’re still trying to figure out what happened. What did you do that was so incorrect? Maybe something you did before this? 

“Hey.” Kafka’s low soft voice snaps you back from your spiral again. “Keep your eyes on me okay?” 

You nod trying to steel your nerves but you’re too afraid to look back at the vice captain. God, you think you’re going to cry actually. His anger is so frightening but more so is the thought of disappointing him. Kafka is fighting you with the same gentleness he would use on a kitten. 

Practice ends and your friends practically run to you. You're grateful for the shield they provide as you all put your weapons away and leave the gym. You still don't dare to look at the vice captain. Embarrassed, hurt and tired you let them guide you to the cafeteria. 

“Okay what the fuck was that?” Iharu asks once you're all out of earshot from Soshiro. 

“Yeah, that was a bit much.” Reno says.

“A bit? It was uncalled for.” Kikoru says, noticeably upset. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for berating people when it's called for but (y/n) wasn't doing anything wrong. We all drop our staff sometimes.” 

“Yeah, especially during sparring.” says Reno

“You didn't do anything to piss him off before training did ‘ya?” Iharu asks you.

“No? I don't think so?” It's not like you havent been thinking about it. It's all youve been thinking about. What did you do that was so wrong? 

“Hey, even if they did, that kind of reaction is uncalled for.” Kikoru says.

“She’s right.” Reno says. “Even if (y/n) had, vice captain still has to be mindful of how he carries out punishment. Obviously after he did that it affected morale.”

“Was he acting a bit off to any of you before training started?” Kikoru asks. 

“Nah, I didn't notice anything.” Iharu says. 

“What else is new?” Reno remarks. 

“Hey!” Iharu says, punching Renos arm. 

“Yeah, way to have self awareness, Iharu.” Kikoru adds. 

You all laugh at Iharu’s expense and his many failed objections to having some level of self awareness. 

Kafka sighs “I don't know what that was but I bet it's got nothing to do with you, yeah?” he rests a heavy arm over your shoulders as you all reach the cafeteria. “At least you won't be here for the rest of the week.”

“Oh yeah, your big family gathering and all.” Iharu pinches your arm.

That brings a smile to your face. You haven't seen your family in months, much less extended family and you're excited to have some home cooking and for your parents to buy your dinners for you when you all go sightseeing. You appreciate your friends so much for trying to make you feel better. A family away from your own. Kafka is probably right. Maybe something did happen to Soshiro before training. It still stung though. 

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Five days go by in a very turbulent cyclone of hugs, sometimes the bear kind, kisses, hand shaking, other times straight up picking you up and shaking your whole body greetings. “Cousin!” “Sister!” “Mom!” “Uncle!” “Dad!” “Look at you! You’re real strong now, huh?” “Can we fight?” “How many kaiju have you killed?” “Any cute guys you got your eye on?” “Do you travel a lot?” “Do you get to keep body parts?” “Where can I get their body parts?” “Gross.” “I bet it's fun.” “I bet it's gross.” “Stop talking about it. I hate thinking about my baby in that situation.” “They arent your baby anymore!” “Yeah they are. Just a bigger baby now.” And on and on like that constantly for days. It doesn't particularly end at night either. 

You’ve all gathered at your grandfather's house managing to squeeze something like 15 people (with more coming and going) into four bedrooms, two living rooms, four closets and some even camping in the kitchen. Still more come for dinners and outings but do not stay the night. At night you can hear your mother and aunts cackle and chat about old boyfriends, girlfriends, some information you could have gone your whole life not hearing about your uncles and who in the family died recently. They talk outside for hours and still get up before everyone else to make breakfast. Your uncles outside talking about work and how their jobs are treating them. Maybe find new contacts through each other. Not everyone could take the time off for the reunion. Some come and go for work. Some drop by for lunch. Some relatives you only see briefly, some you spend the whole week with. Your grandfather half heartedly watching the kids with your other grandfather. Your afternoons with your cousins are left chatting about who's dating who, who's going to work where, accepted to what school, marrying someone here, going on a trip elsewhere. 

Long walks, shopping trips, hikes, several grocery runs, long drives, sleeping in cramped seats, lots of cleaning after dinner, arguing about bathroom order. You figure every single minute was used for something. It feels like a lof once you reflect on it but it's familiar and comforting even if stressful at times. Finding the quiet moments to speak in the silence of a tired house late at night are some of the best conversations you ever have. They happen in bedrooms, on the patio, in the backyard, in the kitchen, outside past the gate on the sidewalk, the bathroom. Whispers of gossip, your aunt's new young boyfriend, your cousin's way too expensive car that has your aunt shake her head when mentioned. Tense moments that are forced to pass, laughter that hurts your sides when you breathe, honestly that brings some to cry, reminiscing of days that make everyone silent and listen intently. Understanding this is passed wisdom you may not get the chance to hear again. Sometimes this all happens at once in the same room.

Your mom announces she wants to have a big dinner tonight since most of your family will leave the following day. All day all hands are helping cook, clean, shop, set tables, chairs, speakers, putting on makeup, doing hair, choosing outfits and shopping some more.

Finally everyone is in for the evening and once again settling down for long conversations, drinking, playing games, eating and dancing. You are often on your feet getting this for that uncle, helping an aunt with that, giving a cousin this, talking to grandma about some other thing you haven't thought about since you were eight. 

You finally get a chance to sit at a crowded table breathing in for a moment. So many family and friends showed up that the dinner had to spill out to the patio from inside. Then more friends and family arrived and then it spilled out into the front yard. All the young, too cool teens in the backyard, your cousins closer to your age crowded around you talking, well, more like yelling but that's just how they speak. Your older aunts and uncles half singing half telling stories to laugh at each other too. Some others helping set up hanging lights on the trees. Soshiro casually speaking with one of your uncles by the gate. The kids chase each other with toys or beg for a water slide. 

Wait.

Soshiro casually speaking with your uncle by the front gate?

No, you weren't drinking unlike your other cousins so you definitely were not imagining Soshiro casually holding a conversation with your uncle. Now one of your aunts is walking towards him with a drink. Oh god what is going on. 

You shoot up to your feet and try as fast as you can to get to him but have to shove past chairs and tables set tightly by each other. Push by family standing and talking. Squeeze around others carrying food and barely managing not to trip past spatially challenged adults and children. 

“Vice captain!” You shout although you don't mean to be so loud but you are still not convinced this is really happening. You’re actually not sure if you didn't drink something earlier while being tossed around for chores and taking a sip from anything to quench your thirst and forgot. 

Soshiro turns to you with his usual unreadable expression. He’s holding what looks like orange soda in his hand. “Hello (y/n). I hope you don't mind my intrusion but I really wanted to talk to you-”

“(y/n)! Why didn't you say you were going to have guests come today?” your aunt that handed him his drink asks.

“I didn't know I had any.” you say to her confused, worried, and maybe a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry I wasn't expecting anyone from the division to show up. What are you doing here?” you ask him. A million scenarios of how this evening could go horribly wrong play out. You're suddenly very self conscious. 

Before Soshiro can say anything you see one of your uncles walk towards you and give you both a look. You know that look. It's the look every family member in the history of family has always given when they are about to ask the dreaded question. You are too late to stop him from asking: “Boyfriend?” 

“NO!” you shout just as the word comes out of his mouth. But now you’ve managed to attract everyone's attention within earshot. You hope the music drowned out your uncle asking that. You dare a quick look at Soshiro’s face but it's unmoving. Thank god he's always had such a good poker face. 

Cousins begin to walk up “Hey, there (y/n)’s friend that is definitely not a boyfriend! What's your name?” 

This is gonna be a long evening. 

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You're both sitting next to each other. It's been something like three hours and they have not stopped asking Soshiro questions. It's not everyday a famous kaiju killing officer shows up to a family gathering. You’re exhausted from trying to protect Soshiro from evasive questions but he takes it all in stride. He answers all questions promptly and gives just the right amount of information. He’s so tactful with your rude family it's admirable. There's no point in you telling them not to ask something because Soshiro has already responded. You stop trying to stop it. He's perfectly trained in combat and intrusive family conversation too it seems.

“So vice captain, is (y/n) any good at what they do?” a cousin asks with a baby on his lap. 

You’re about to say something but then remember the last training session you had with your division. You’re actually not so certain yourself. 

“(y/n) has exceeded all of my expectations.” he turns to you. “I couldn't have asked for a better officer to be in my platoon.” 

You search his face for a clue of him joking or waiting for a punchline. But his smile is sincere. You want to be moved by his response but you think he's probably just trying to make you look good in front of your family. 

Your cousins murmur their comments of approval among themselves. “Hey, vice captain, would you like something else to drink?” one of your cousins asks from further down the table. 

“Please, I’ll get my own drink. Don't trouble yourself.” he stands and turns to you. “Would you like anything?” 

You're still not quite sure what to make of all of this. A refill is not really a thought you're having. 

“(y/n) probably wants some of the cake we have at the table by the drinks.” someone else chimes in. 

“I can get that myself.” you do want the cake but having your superior serve you is too weird to handle. You start to get up from your chair when he interjects. 

“It's okay. I’m happy to. Enjoy your time with your family.” he says smiling then scooting past everyone towards the drink table.

“He’s nice.” “Yeah, I figured defense force officers were kinda meat heads, you know?” “He has real good manners.” “He's sitting so straight.” “I didn't know they made them like that anymore.” your cousins comment. 

One of them shoves your shoulder playfully. “He’s super cute!” she gestures to Soshiro speaking with your lively little cousin swinging a stick like a sword. “Why didn't you say you were inviting someone?” 

“I didn't.” you continue to watch him making sure nobody is being rude towards him. Who knows how this is going to affect your job if your family does something offensive or stupid. 

“He just showed up?” 

“Yeah. I mean I have to report where I’m going to be but I didn't invite anyone.” 

“He just wanted to show up?” another cousin asks. 

You nod. They give knowing looks to each other. 

“What?” you ask firmly. Who knows what mischievous things they're communicating with each other telepathically it seems. “Don't say anything stupid in front of him please.”

“Hey, we aren't gonna have you lose your job.”

“Does he do this a lot? Just show up to officers' houses unannounced?” your cousin who asked about inviting him wonders. She has a tone that you can tell is heading this conversation somewhere you don't want it to. 

You sigh irritated. “It’s not like that.” 

“Why not?” another cousin asks. 

Some of them are giggling now. They are enjoying this excruciating line of questions. 

“Because.” you say wanting this conversation to end before he comes back. 

“Are you not allowed to date superiors?” 

“No- I- well, I don't know.” You shake your head frustrated that they're leading you on the exact conversation you're trying to avoid. “It doesn't matter, okay! It’s not going to happen!” 

“Do you want it to?” someone further down the table asks. You had no idea the conversation had reached that far down. You can feel your face start to burn and you don't want to give them anymore ammo. It's time to make your escape before they realize your face is a giveaway. 

You stand up. “I’m gonna check on him.” you begin to walk away and some of them start to whistle a love song, giggle or whisper little comments. They definitely saw your face turn red. 

You get to Soshiro as he was about to head back to the table. He's holding your cake and his drink “You mind if I eat that somewhere else? It's getting stuffy at the table.” 

Soshiro smiles, not looking eager to return to his interrogation. “Sure. I’ll follow your lead.” 

“Let's go out to the sidewalk.” You both begin to walk towards the gate. You wish you could shrink your head into your body like a turtle. The looks you both are getting as you walk out is enough to make you want to disappear. 

You give a long exhale when you're both finally out the gate. You lean against the wall that borders your grandfathers home. The music and noise from the party faded considerably behind the brick. Soshiro hands you your food. 

“Thank you for getting this for me.” 

“Of course.” he takes a drink from his cup. 

“It's been such a whirlwind I didn't ask you why you're here.” you cut a smaller piece of cake to eat. 

“You did. Earlier. I just didn't get a chance to respond.” 

You stop chewing. “I did?” 

A smile grows on his face. “Yes. But I understand. I’m so sorry for showing up like this. I just needed to speak with you about last week.” 

“Last week?” 

He nods. A pained expression taking over his face. He places his cup down on the sidewalk. “(y/n),-” he faces you with a determined look. His voice is serious. You tense up not sure why he suddenly had to put his cup down for whatever he's about to do. For a moment you think hes going to kick your ass for having such a loud fucking family. He bows. “Please forgive me for my extremely rude behavior.” 

Your brain stops. “What?” is all you manage to squeak out. 

He rises up. He’s looking down but you can tell from his face that he means this. “Last week. I lashed out at you. It was uncalled for. I immediately regretted it after it happened.” 

You think for a second, still trying to catch up to the fact that Soshiro Hoshina just bowed to you. Then you remember. “Oh!” 

He gives you a look that says ‘Seriously? I’m trying to apologize and you don't even remember?’

“Sorry, it's just, well, this week has been so busy I kinda forgot about that. I mean until you showed up anyways.” you clear your throat. “I didn't expect you’d apologize for it. Much less show up here to do it.” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I shouldnt’ve’ shown up.” 

“No! Its fine that you did! It was just shocking.” 

He takes a deep breath and exhales. “I wanted to talk to you the next day but then I was told you were on break for a week. And, well, I didn't want to wait any longer. It was…” he trailed off before starting again. “It was botherin’ me too much. You looked real hurt so… I’m sorry.” 

A pause between you two follows and the only sounds are the nighttime insects and your family's music and laughter that echoes past the wall. Then it hits you. You're five hours away from Tokyo right now. Your vacation ends the day after tomorrow. He could have waited another day. He could have called. Even a text if he really wanted to apologize that way. But more importantly you never expected he’d apologize to begin with. It hurt and you were scared but you figured that was just part of the territory of being in the defense force. You get your commanding officers ire sometimes. 

“... I accept your apology.” You say looking at your half eaten cake suddenly too shy to face him.

He sighs in relief. “Good.” 

Another pause. 

“You came all this way to apologize?” you ask, looking at him. Searching his eyes. 

He looks at your eyes in return and doesn't respond for a moment. “Yeah.” he smiles. “Can I have some of that?” 

“Huh? Oh, yeah but I dont have another fork-” He steals your fork and takes a piece of the cake. 

He chews and swallows. “It's good.” 

You watch him chew. Stunned that he just did that. “Yes.” 

“Homemade?” 

“Yes.” 

“You like it a lot too, huh?” 

“Yes.” That's the only response you can say apparently. 

He chuckles then his voice drops when he speaks. “I have so much fun with you. I didn't want what happened to affect us.” 

You watch him not sure what to think right now so you say the first thing that comes to mind. “I have fun with you too.” You suck your lips into your mouth directly after saying that because never would you have imagined you'd have the bravery to say something like that to him. 

He laughs. “What's with that face?” 

You pretend not to know what he's talking about, raising an eyebrow still sucking on your lips. 

He laughs more and you try to hold your lips in but end up bursting out in a laugh too. It's so good to hear him laugh. It's so contagious. It always makes you smile without fail. You both go on until the laughing subsides on its own. You now remember what happened after the training session. 

“Can I ask you if something happened before the session that made you do that? I was afraid I did something to disappoint you.” 

His expression visibly shifts to a serious one as you say that. His eye brows furrow slightly like he's mad at you for saying that. “You could never disappoint me.” 

You once again are at a loss for words so you give a nod instead. 

He joins you leaning on the wall. He silently looks down at his shoes for a moment as if thinking of what to say before facing you. “I don't want to give you excuses.” 

You shake your head slowly. “Not an excuse. We were wondering if something had happened. You're not usually like that.” 

Soshiro looked hesitant to say anything. He seemed to look everywhere except back at you. He opened and closed his mouth several times before speaking. “My family isn't like yours ya’ know.” 

There had always been whispers about the Hoshina family. Not very good ones. Soshiro also doesn't often volunteer information about himself. But maybe tonight he's making an exception because he feels guilty. 

“My brother called me and…” he sighs irritatedly and drags a hand across his face. "I'd rather not bore you with the details.” he says with a breathy half assed laugh. “It’s a nice night with your family. I dont wanna ruin that.”

He's uncomfortable and you can see it. It stings a little bit that he won't tell you. 

He picks up on changes in your facial expression as you look away. “Sorry. I know I just spent the whole evening with your family but…” he sighs. “It’s just a lot that you really don't need to worry about.” he’s trying to sound like he's doing you a favor. 

You give him a sad smile. You want to know. You want to know everything about him. “I understand.” You understand that he's your boss and there's always going to be an invisible boundary between the two of you because of that. Can't get too close. That's always it isn't it? You both can laugh, joke, he can show up to your family gathering unannounced, charm all of them, get you cake, but no. You can't get too close. “But I want you to know you don't have to keep it to yourself. I mean you tried that and look where you are now.” 

He snorts. “Yeah you’re right.” He looks at the top of the wall then the gate. “It's not such a bad place to be though.” A sudden wave of laughter comes from behind the wall. Your family's joy makes you smile. 

“Yeah I guess they aren't so bad.” You eat more of your cake. “But it's not always like this, you know.” He looks at you curiously. “I just want you to know families are complicated. But I'm sure you know that.” 

He nods knowingly. “Yeah. I get it.” He stretches and takes the fork from your hand, swiping the last piece of cake for himself before you can say anything. He picks up the cup and chugs down his drink. He grimaces “Yeah your uncle for sure put somethin’ in that.” You laugh. “Well I'm gonna head out.” He checks the time on his phone. “I’ll catch the last train to Tokyo if I leave 10 minutes ago.”

You start to panic. “Are you gonna be able to get home?” 

He shrugs and starts to walk away. “If anything I’ll stay at the nearest base.” He waves as he walks backwards. “Thank your family for me! They were great! I’ve never heard someone be asked if they were my (girlfriend/ boyfriend/ partner) sa’ many times and be so cool ‘bout it!” 

You blush. You become the shade of a ripe strawberry. The inside of a watermelon perhaps. “What!?” 

He chuckles. “I’ll see you back at base soon!” 

You watch him walk away casting long shadows by lamp posts as he passes them. You ask him in a whisper “Why didn't you just wait until I got back?” 

[sometimes-i-write-good]

Abs Sans Brain

Top Gun: Maverick - Jake “Hangman” Seresin x f!pilotreader [no use of y/n]

2.6k || Your date with Jake at the Hard Deck is crashed by the rest of the squad.

==== Genre: Fluffy, flirty, and funky

CW: Swearing, drinking

Author’s Note: I’m writing this before I start writing the fic itself. I’m shooting for 600 - 800 words. Please laugh at me when we see how wrong I end up being. Oh, and the reader is best friends with Bob because I said so. || cross-posted on ao3

===

===

There were very few things you had asked for in life. Good health, good people, and the entire sky at your disposal. A small list, if a bit demanding. One thing you hadn’t been expecting when you’d asked for the Heavens was all those who came with it. In particular, Jake Seresin, who slid into the booth across from you. Beers in hand, grin in place.

“Come here often, doll?”

You roll your eyes at him. A movement that does little to hide the smile blooming across your lips. “I can’t believe I ever let that line work on me.”

“In your defense,” he said, taking a long swig of his beer. “The first time I used that line, we were thousands of feet in the sky. It’s where I’m at my most irresistible.”

“Ah, yes. That must have been it. Everywhere else you’re just insufferable.” You laughed and took a significantly smaller sip of your beer. It’s your second one in ten minutes. “If I didn’t know you any better, Seresin, I’d say you’re trying to get me drunk here.”

“Tryin’?” he scoffed, “and you say you know me.”

The unfortunate thing about this whole situation was that you did know Jake. You knew him well, better than Coyote. You knew his favorite color was yellow. That’s why it had been put in his helmet. (He’d also left off the ‘a’ in his helmet because the idea of filling it in to say ‘Hungman’ fit his sixth grade sense of humor). You knew he over-exaggerated his southern drawl whenever you walked into a room because you’d once drunkenly admitted to him that hearing him talk flooded your mind with dirty thoughts. You knew Jake’s mind was fifty percent dirty thoughts, twenty-five percent sky, twenty percent you, five percent ways to school you at cards and five percent cheeky comebacks he was sitting on to annoy the rest of the squad with. And, most disheartening of all, you knew Jake was not a romantic.

It didn’t bother him that date night was a few beers, fried food, and a game of pool. It didn’t bother you either. Not entirely, but you were hoping for one night where you could dress up nice and go out somewhere fancy. Somewhere along the lines of joining the military and ending up at TOPGUN the line of being feminine had been blurred. Commanders couldn’t understand why you’d want to put on a bit of mascara to fly a plane. In the same stretch of imagination, Hangman seemingly couldn’t put it together that you’d like a bit of romance in your life beyond the cheesy pickup lines and pet names.

If you could add anything to your list of ‘good health, good people, and the entire sky’ it would be a few nice dates. You’d say nothing fancy, but you wouldn’t mean it. You wanted fancy. Even if it was just to realize that fancy is actually not what you wanted at all. Something to change up the pace of playing pool with Jake and being hit on by him like you were his latest conquest and not his girlfriend of six months.

Part of you felt like you were being slightly unfair.

“Your turn, doll,” Jake said, but when you went to pass in front of him he grabbed you by your belt loop. He pulled you back towards him, matching your laugh, and captured your lips with his.

Moments like these almost had you convinced that maybe you could push those selfish date ideas off to the side. Jake liked showing off. He liked being able to flirt with you in a place where you could laugh loudly and no one would look at you weird. He liked being able to slip out the back door to walk down the beach with you under the stars.

“If it’s my turn,” you said between kisses, “then let me shoot the ball.”

Reluctantly, he let go of your waist and you positioned yourself to sink yet another ball into the pocket. You planned to kick his ass in an embarrassingly short amount of time to get the pettiness out of your system, then enjoy your night together.

Except for the fact that the front bell chimed, and familiar shouts filled the bar. Familiar because you’d heard them less than an hour ago. You considered altering your list once more. ‘Good people who knew when not to come get a drink.’

“Hangman!” Payback shouted across the bar. “Rack ‘em up. Rooster was just telling me how the two of you ended in a tie game last week.”

Jake’s laughter filled your ears. He still had a hand on the small of your back, but his attention was entirely on your group of friends trailing through the door. “Chicken doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about. I smoked his ass.”

“I’d like to see you put your money where your mouth is, Seresin. Unless you’re still broke from the last time I kicked your ass.”

Rooster headed over to the pool table followed closely by Fanboy and Coyote. Payback, scribbling in a notebook, hung back for a moment. Then opened his mouth to edge the tension on a bit more. You knew your date night had been pushed aside, so you took it upon yourself to step off to the side yourself.

Phoenix smiled at you, waving, and tilted her head. “I thought you guys were on a date?” She asked. You shot her a look that said ‘We’ll talk later.’ Natasha let out a laugh. “Sorry. Look, I’ll get you something strong to drink.”

“Make it a double!” You called out after her as she made her way over to the bar where she’d be trapped by millions of questions from Penny. The sound of your name, your government name, being called by a certain southern drawl caught your attention. “Yes, love?” You asked, hoping that your boyfriend was about to make an unexpected promise that the two of you could leave after one game.

“What’s the matter, darlin’?” Jake nudged you softly with his shoulder then threw his head over in Bradley’s direction. “We can always just ask the peanut squad to leave. The small man will only get so much smaller when I whoop his ass for the hundredth time”

Rooster stiffens, almost to attention. He holds the pool cue next to him. Straight and tall. “I’m taller than you are, Bagman.”

It had become a trend of sorts to refer to Jake with various insults that fell so effortlessly from Bob’s mouth. You had tried your hardest to resist, out of solidarity for your boyfriend, some of the nicknames were too creative to avoid… and it gave you an excuse to make Jake try and draw his true name from your lips.

“I wasn’t referring to that kind of height, Chick.”

“C’mon, Jake,” you whine, “can you please just be the polite Jake I know you to be?”

“Oxymoron!” Rooster calls from across the pool table to which Jake whirls around and says, “What the fuck did you just call me?”

You shoot a glare in Bradley’s direction. “Seriously?” Out of the corner of your eye you see Payback pulling that same little notebook out of his pocket to make a mark. You turn on him. “And what the hell are you doing?”

He turns the page towards you. On it in crude, unintelligible handwriting is what you can only assume to be two columns labeled “Hangman” and “Rooster” with a series of ticks beneath them. Jake in the lead by a long shot. “I like to keep track.”

In the corner, you noticed when you squinted to read the handwriting, was a third little box. Completely full of ticks. “Who is that?”

“Bob,” Payback said at the same time Bob said, “Mine.”

You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to Jake. “Can I talk to you?”

Your tone is enough to etch worry on his face. He set his pool cue against the table, grabbed you by the waist, and pulled you off to the side. “What’s wrong, doll?”

“This isn’t a date.” The whiny lit to your voice didn’t make you feel the most sexy, but you’d tried seducing Jake to go to a movie so the two of you could make out in the dark instead and that hadn’t worked. Pouting was your last resort. “Every time we go on a date, they show up. They’re like fleas!”

“At least fleas can do tricks.” Jake turned to look over his shoulder. “Rooster can’t even hit a ball straight.”

“Jake, I’m being serious. Why won’t you just take me on a date? A real one.”

“Look, pretty girl, I’ll make a deal with you.”

You side-eyed him, unconvinced, and sighed. “Lucky me.”

“Play me in darts. I win, we stay and hang out with everyone. Lord knows Rooster and Phoenix need to be humbled in pool. Plus, you’re the only one here who can get Bob to do enough shots to start doing karaoke.” He rests his forehead against yours. “I know how much you love his drunk renditions of ‘Sweet Caroline.’”

Jake had a point. There had been one night - shockingly, another date night at the Hard Deck turned into a group activity - where you went to sulk in a booth while your schmooze of a boyfriend fueled his bromance with Coyote, Rooster, and Payback. Bob, still not the biggest partier, had grown tired of the swapping insults over darts and was worn out from dodging Phoenix and Fanboy’s attempts to get him to dance with them. So he’d ended up in the booth across from you.

You’d been pounding back shots of tequila like they were water. “He’s stupid,” you had slurred to Bob, “but you’re not stupid. You’re fun. Here, do a shot with me. Let’s be fun.”

He would tell you the next day that he had only intended to do one shot but one turned into two which turned into four which turned into Bob unplugging the jukebox to sing a melody of songs from your Grandma’s playlist with impressive range. After each one he would make sure to point you out of the gathering crowd of dazzled patrons. “This one’s for her!” He’d shout in dedication and start up singing again.

It hadn’t been a bad night then, and, even though you’d never admit it to Jake, you had a lot of fun. Tonight would be the same if you could let yourself stop moping long enough to enjoy it. But there was still the matter of:

“What if I win?” You ask. Competition was the reason you were here on the West Coast to begin with. You were the best of the best because you refused to let anyone else get the upper hand on you. “What do I get then, Seresin?”

“If you win,” Jake said, slowly kneading your hips with his hands. “I will take you out on another date - a fancy one. With roses and the opening of doors and the biggest bottle of wine this nice restaurant downtown has to offer. I’ll dress up and give you the most romantic night of your life. But tonight we’ll stay here and do everything we’d do anyway if I had win.”

“If I win.”

“If you win… but you won’t.”

He didn’t have to say it for you to know it was true. He threw darts the same way he flew planes: with deadly precision. There was a reason Hangman was the only one out of everyone in their generation with two confirmed kills. He could land a shot with his eyes closed. In the air and with two feet planted firmly on the hardwood floors of the Hard Deck.

“That’s not fair at all.”

“I don’t make the rules, sweet thing.” That stupid smirk was back on his face. The two of you hadn’t made it back to your booth yet for appetizers, otherwise there’d surely be a toothpick rolling between those lips of his too.  “C’mon, we’ll make it easy. Three darts each. Most points win.”

“That’s not how you play darts, Jake. Even I know that.”

“Bagman,” Payback called out, “what are you doing, the balls are racked?”

You went to grab the darts from the board as Jake said, “Kicking my girl’s ass in darts as a warm up for kicking your sorry asses in every game after.”

“Ladies first,” you gestured, mimicking his smug smirk. He glared playfully at you but stepped up to throw the first dart in a movement almost too quick for you to see. A perfect bullseye. “Show off.”

“Got to put some skin in the game.” Jake moved you in front of him. His hands gripping your waist to hold you in place as he pressed kisses to your neck. “I like your skin better, darlin’.”

You shooed him away. The dart felt heavy in your hand. Screwing this up would essentially be throwing away your only sure shot at the date of your dreams. You lifted your arm and threw the dart. It flew, fitting itself snugly into the single bull.

Jake’s turn. He moved just as quickly as the first time, but the angle he shot at landed the dart in a single scoring 18. Winning was still well within your grasp. A decent date was inching closer and closer.

Your turn. A deep steady breath. This dart felt weightless. An extension of yourself. You throw the dart in a less fluid motion than Jake, but manage to stick it in the bullseye right next to his.

“Look at that!” You shouted, pointing and jumping. Joy overwhelmed you not just because you were currently winning, but because this had been the first bullseye you’d made without Jake helping you in the slightest. He’d likely still claim this victory as his. It was his silly deal that made you so determined in the first place.

Jake’s final turn. He still had the chance to put you in the dust. Your eyes were glued to the board, but the dart never came. When you turned to look at him, Jake threw the dart at the ground. “You win,” he said, but you shook your head. Eyes back to the board. You won even without throwing this last dart.

You snapped your head in his direction, ready to call him out for cheating, but you were cut off by Jake’s lips crashing onto yours. He pulled away quickly, muttered a small, “You really think I’d deny you anything, doll?” then rushed off to join the restless group at the pool table. Leaving you to glance from the stray dart stuck in the floor and the man you were beginning to fall for at the pool table.

Phoenix saddled up next to you, drink in hand, and passed one over to you. “What did he promise you if you won?”

“A real date.”

“The fancy one with all that inspiration you’ve been sending me on Pintrest.”

“That’s the one.”

She let out a low whistle. “Wow, and I thought he loved you just by the way he looked at you, but this is something else. He’s smitten.”

“I guess I have that effect on some people,” you said and hid your giddy grin with a sip of your drink. “Did you ask Penny to get the tequila shots ready?”

“The real question is if we’re ready to hear Bob signing.”

This might just be one of your favorite dates yet.

===

oneshot taglist: 

@rosiahills22 @pono-pura-vida @gizmodear​

[olicitymckono]

TOGETHER

Best friends are always there for each other. Yes they will fight and not always agree on everything but if one of them is hurting, it’s the best friends job to help in an way they can. Charles Leclerc and Yn D’Marco were two such friends. They had met in Kindergarten when a young boy had pushed her off the swings. Charles had pushed the boy back and helped her up and since that day they had been inseparable. The Leclerc family had become her second family especially since her mom had disappeared when she was 2. Maria D’Marco had not been built for motherhood as she said and had decided she wanted to see the world with her hippie boyfriend Tommy. Her father Alistair was a wonderful man who loved life and especially his daughter. Having no siblings, she had quickly been adopted by Lorenzo and Arthur as their little sister. Yn had been there through all the trials and tribulations, the death of Jules and Hervé. His highs and lows and even his girlfriends. Yn was unfortunately the typical girl best friend having realised her feelings for him when he had started dating Giada. But thankfully she was not the type of girl to mope around and pine for him. It also helped that for the most part she got along great with his girlfriends. Except his latest girlfriend Alexandra. For some reason Alex had an attitude with the blonde and hated whenever Charles would spend time with his friend going so far as to worm her way into their plans and even manipulating him into cancelling them. One such occasion was about to occur. Yn’s 26th birthday was approaching and since it fell in the 3 week break between races the Leclerc boys and Yn had organised a week long trip/birthday celebration in Las Vegas. It was something Yn had been looking forward to for months. With her ever growing photography business and his races they hadn’t gotten to see each other in months and Facetiming wasn’t the same. She missed her friend terribly and so had he.

Two weeks before the trip Alex was laying on the bed watching Charles get ready for some event. She didn’t want to join him so her friends were coming over. She saw his phone ping indicating a message and she rolled her eyes seeing her name. Yn had not done anything to her other than being his friend and she was jealous of the girl because Alexandra believed he had feelings for the girl. When Charles headed into the bathroom, she grabbed his phone. “Hey Charlie. Good luck tonight. I know how much you hate these things. 😊 But Las Vegas is almost here.”

“Not if I can help it,” she thought. That night while Charles was gone she and her friends began planning to keep the two friends apart. By the time he had gotten back, she had talked or more so guilted him into a romantic getaway for the two of them to Bali. And the temptress had even made him forget about how he was going to lie to Yn.

 

“Hey Charlie,” Yn smiled as she answered the phone. “You started packing yet?”

“Hey Ynn,” he sighed. “About that.”

“Everything ok?”

“I won’t be able to make it this year.”

“What?”

“The team hasn’t done particularly well so far and they want to work over the break to improve if we stand a chance at the championship. I’m sorry Cherie. But I’ll make it up to you.”

“I understand. Sucks though.”

“I know. Believe me I would rather be spending time with you but I need to do this.” He lied to spare her feelings but he seemed to forget that he was famous and sooner or later she would find out the truth.

Three days into the trip Yn was sitting at the hotel pool, laughing at something stupid Arthur had done. Carla was sitting next to her on Instagram when she turned to Yn. “Hey, I thought Charles was working?”

Yn turned and shrugged, “That’s what he said. Why?”

“So why’s he in Bali?”

“Huh?” Carla passed her the phone. Alexandra had posted pictures of the couple enjoying the white blue beaches of Bali capturing them “Bali vaca with my ❤️.” Had Charles really lied to her? “Maybe I misunderstood.” But she knew she hadn’t. For the first time in their friendship he had lied to her.

The vacation and her birthday suddenly felt different. The others could see she was trying hard not to let Charles’ lie spoil it and so they tried to make it unforgettable.

Charles knew something was off when he face timed her for her birthday. “Happy Birthday Cherie.”

“Thanks Charlie,” she forced a smile. “How’s the training?

“Boring as hell. Wish I was there with you.” She simply nodded. “Maman can’t wait for you to get back and neither can I. I’m going to make it up to you.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“I want to Cherie. We haven’t missed each others birthday since we were 3.”

“We’ve never lied to each other either,” she mumbled soft enough that he didn’t hear.

“Are you okay Yn?” he asked concerned.

“I’m fine. Think I’m just tired from all the sun. I’m going to go lie down for a while before dinner. Thank you for calling Charlie.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, “Ill call you later ok?”

“Sure, goodbye Cherie.”

Even though she hadn’t said anything Lorenzo had decided not to let his brother get a pass. While the others were around the table he decided to give his little brother a call and excused himself. “Hey man, how’s Vegas?”

“What’s wrong with you?” Lorenzo skipped the pleasantries. As much as he loved his brother he loved Yn too, she was a little sister to him.

“Excuse me?”

“Why did you lie? You’re not in Maranello.”

Charles scoffed, “Where else would I be?”

“Bali.”

Charles’ face paled. “What?”

“We saw the pictures. Alex posted.”

Charles closed his eyes and sighed feeling guilty and realised that was why she had been so off. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologising to.”

“I’ll make it up to her.”

“You better. Since when do you lie?”

“Enzo, I just didn’t want a fight. I know Yn and Alex aren’t that close.”

“I wonder why,” Lorenzo replied sarcastically.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly how it sounds. Since when has a girl every made you lie not only to your best friend but your brothers too?”

“Lorenzo, I’m really sorry. I fucked up, I know.”

“You’re going to have to fix it.”

“I will.”

 

When the group returned from America, Charles was waiting for them and no Alex in sight. As frustrated and hurt as she was with him, Yn was happy to see Charles. The first person he reached for was her and he pulled her tightly into his arms. “Cherie, I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“You, me, my apartment tonight. We’re having a movie night.”

“I thought you’re leaving for Spa tomorrow?” she asked.

He shook his head, “I postponed my flight till Wednesday. That way we can spend time together. I missed you.”

“I missed you too Charlie.”

Unfortunately things were only going to get worse.

Arriving at Charles’ apartment that night Yn was surprised to see Alexandra there. He saw her deflate slightly trying her best to be polite as she greeted the brunette. He followed her into the kitchen as she grabbed a glass filling it with water. “She just showed up. I thought she was in Paris.”

“It’s ok Charles.”

“Are you sure? I know it was just supposed to be us.”

She placed a smile on her lips, “I’m sure.”

Throughout the evening Yn noticed how Alexandra would try to make it all about her. Every time Charles would try talking to Yn, she wasn’t even able to get to finish her answer before the other girl took his attention away. And it was beginning to piss Yn off.

Before the movie was even done, Yn had had enough. Alexandra had become increasingly touchy with her boyfriend and Yn happened to notice a moment when it was painfully obvious that the girl had placed her hand into his shorts. He had unknowing let out a soft moan and Yn saw how Alexandra had looked at her with a smirk. Yn was done. She silently grabbed her bag and got up.

“Where are you going?” Alexandra asked acting dumb. Charles had opened his eyes and adjusted himself looking at his friend in concern.

“I forgot I have an early start tomorrow. But you have fun.” She didn’t wait for a answer and headed for the door. She made it to the elevator when he reached her.

“Why are you leaving?”

She looked at him disappointment in her eyes. “You obviously have better things to do.”

“Why do you not like her?”

“This has nothing to do with Alexandra.”

“Really?” he asked sarcastically. “Then why leave.”

“Kinda awkward when you two are practically wanting to fuck each other right there.”

“I’ll tell her to cool it.”

She shook her head, “Don’t worry about it.” She hit the button waiting for the elevator to open.

“Why do you do this?”

“Do what Charles?”

“Make her feel so uncomfortable?”

“I told you this isn’t about her!”

“Right, so you’re not pissed because I choose to spend my break with MY girlfriend!”

“I’m pissed because you LIED! If you wanted to be with her then you should have said that!”

“You are so suffocating!”

Yn felt her heart break and he could see in her eyes he had hurt her and had gone too far. Hell he didn’t even mean what he said, but as he opened his mouth to apologise Alexandra called from his door about a phone call. The elevator doors opened and she climbed in pushing the ground floor button. She waited for the doors to close before letting the tears fall.

“Cherie I’m sorry!”

“I didn’t mean it!”

“Please pick up.”

 

A few weeks had passed and Yn had not spoken to Charles or even replied to his messages. Their friends knew something was wrong even some of the fans were picking up on something. Charles was not himself and Yn who was a regular face in the paddock hadn’t been to any races since the break. She no longer commented or liked his posts. No more good luck messages before races, no more messages at all. He missed her. It was hard for her too. When he had a bad race she wanted to message him, but she didn’t. She missed her friend so much but she couldn’t forget what he had said. She had been there for him through everything; Jules, his father, when Ferrari let him down. Even when she had needed her friend, like when she had caught her ex boyfriend in bed with someone else, she pushed it aside because he had needed her. But she was suffocating him!

She put all her time and energy into her little photography business and it was after a photoshoot that she ran into David. Well actually he ran into her, literally.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” He rushed to help her get up.

“It’s ok. I should have looked where I was going.”

“No it’s my fault. Is anything broken?”

She shook her head, “Doesn’t look like it.” She noticed to he had spilt coffee all over himself. “Seems like your shirt got the brunt.”

“Huh?” She pointed at his shirt. “Oh, I didn’t even realise.”

“Can I buy you another?” she really did feel bad.

“You don’t have to do that. But I won’t say no. I’m David.”

“Yn.”

David turned out to be a really nice guy. He was from South Africa and was a professional cricket player. Yn had never heard about the sport but could tell how passionate he was. They got along so well and really enjoyed each others company that they spent the rest of the day talking. As day entered night, David asked if she would like to have dinner with him and she found herself accepting happily.

Coming home one evening after having been on another date, Yn found Charles waiting at her apartment door. He looked so sad and lost. “Hi.”

“What do you want Charles?”

“Can I come in?”

“Fine.” She heard him sigh in relief as she unlocked her door and let them in.

“You look pretty Cherie.”

She pulled off her heels and headed for her room. She quickly changed out of her dress into some sweats and a hoodie. Walking back into the kitchen she found Charles making her some tea. She opened a cupboard and pulled out some Macaroons before going to sit on the balcony. Charles joined her a few minutes later.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine thanks. You?”

“Been better. I miss you.”

“What is it that you want Charles?”

“A chance to make it up to you. I know I screwed up and I’m so sorry. I never meant it.”

She nodded sadly. “Doesn’t change the fact that you said it.”

“I never meant to hurt you Belle. Never you.”

“I miss you too Charlie. But you hurt me, twice.”

He took her hand in his and slowly began to run his thumb across her skin. “I can’t take away what I said. But I just want to prove to you that I’m sorry.”

“When my mom left, I thought it was my fault. Like I was too needy. I promised myself that I wouldn’t be like that with the people I love. That I would make sure they were ok. If me being there for you is suffocating I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no your not suffocating. I think I was projecting. Alexandra just showed up that night and I was already frustrated because it was supposed to be just you and me. I was really looking forward to it. But I’m weak. She basically threatened to with hold sex if she couldn’t join.”

“So you caved?”

He nodded. “Please forgive me?”

“You have to earn it.” But she said that with a smile.

For several weeks things seemed like they were back to normal and friends and fans alike were happy. The only one who wasn’t was Alexandra. Unfortunately for her she was stuck in Paris for a while. David had to return to South Africa for a few games and he had asked Yn to come with him. As her job wasn’t office bound and she had no scheduled jobs she agreed. Charles wasn’t happy about it though. Ever since he had met David, he had felt different. Yn had dated before but other then Adrian; her ex; she had never been serious about a guy. He had liked Adrian but he wasn’t mad that she had broken up with him. But something was different this time. Seeing her happy and possibly falling in love with this guy didn’t sit right with Charles. He just didn’t know why. She was his best friend, that was all right? A few nights before they left for South Africa, David had suggested a double date with Charles and Alexandra. He knew that Yn wasn’t a fan of hers but he also knew how important Charles was to her and that they wouldn’t be seeing each other for a while. It was at dinner that Charles realised that he was in love with his best friend and that all the fights he had with Alexandra was because she knew it. He remembered one night they were in the middle of sex and he had accidentally called her Yn. At the time he thought it was because he had spent the day with his friend but Alexandra had lashed out at him convinced he was in love with her. He had denied it then but now he knew it was true. Those weeks when she hadn’t spoken to him, had been the most pain he had ever felt. And now the thought of her leaving even if just for a few weeks clawed at his heart. Worse was the feeling he got when he had to watch David touch her, kiss her and make her smile. He wanted to be the one to do that. Hearing her laugh at something he said drew Charles out of his thoughts. He made up his mind on what he was going to do, he just hoped he didn’t end up losing her for good.

She had just kissed David good night and run a hot bubble bath when there was a knock on her door. She frowned slightly wondering if he had forgotten something. She was a little shocked to see her friend standing there. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

She moved aside to let him in. “I was just about to take a bath.”

“I’m sorry, I need to talk to you about something.”

She could tell it must be something important, “Ok, let me just change quick. Can you put the kettle on?”

He nodded.

“Charles?” she called a few seconds later.

“Yeah?”

“Can you help me please?” she leaned her head out the door.

“Sure,” he headed into the room. “What’s wrong?”

“The damn zipper is stuck.”

He chuckled, “Turn around Belle.”

Turning around she moves her hair onto her shoulder allowing him to grab the zip. It was a bit stuck but with some effort he was able to get it to move. Problem was the more he moved the zip down the more his fingers trailed along her skin. It was having an effect on him and by the sound of her breathe intake he knew she was too. Without thinking he moved his hand across her back into the fabric stopping against her bare waist, while at the same time placing his lips against one of her shoulders after he moved the strap with his other hand.

“Charles?”

“Mhmm,” he murmured as he moved his lips across her throat.

“What are you doing?” She asked breathy.

“I want you.”

She turned around causing his hand to slip out. “What?”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “I love you.” He pressed his lips against hers but she didn’t respond except to pull away.

“I’m sorry?” she sat down on her bed where he joined her.

“I love you.”

“I love you too Charlie but what just happened?”

He shook his head, “I’m in love with you.”

Her eyes widen, “You’re in.....what?”

He brushed a strand of hair from her face, “I’m in love with you Belle.”

“Since when?”

“A while. Forever. I was just blind. But Alex knew. That’s why she’s been acting the way she has. She’s jealous.”

“Why now?”

“I wasn’t 100 percent sure until tonight.”

“Nothing happened tonight.”

“I watched you with him.”

“David?”

He nodded, “Its supposed to be me. I’m supposed to be the one who makes you happy.”

“Charlie, you’re my best friend. You do make me happy.”

“Not in everyway. Yn I want to spend my life with you not just as you’re best friend.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“Do you know why none of my relationships last?” she shook her head. “Neither did I. Not till I realised it was because they were not you.”

“Charlie,”

“Yn the whole night I have been going over my thoughts, why I hate seeing you with someone else, why Alexandra is so jealous, why it was your name on my lips in my dreams and that night.”

“What night?” she asked furrowing her brow in confusion.

He sighed, “A couple nights before I lied about Maranello, Alex and I were......having sex.”

“Ok and?”

“I called her you.”

“You called Alex Yn?”

“Yes. I didn’t realise it in the moment but she suddenly got mad and we started arguing. I guess that’s why I agreed to go to Bali. I felt guilty.”

She stood up. “I’m supposed to be leaving in a few days. With David, my boyfriend.”

“Don’t go.” He stood up and took her hand pulling her close. “Belle please I know I don’t deserve it but give me a chance?” He drew her into a kiss and she knew she was in trouble. Separating their lips he placed his head gently against hers. “Tell me you feel nothing and I’ll walk away.” She couldn’t respond, she was so conflicted. When she didn’t answer him he lifted his head and kissed her cheek. “I love you Yn never forget that.”

He walked out her room and headed for the door but just as he reached for the handle she was behind him and grabbing his hand. “I love you too Charlie.” This time she was the one to pull him into a kiss and they both knew this was were they belonged, together.

 Author Note: Hi guys I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for all the love on my Max story, Verstappen's Heart. It means alot.

Please feel free to send any requests for your favourite drivers ❤️

[daisies-daydreams]

Uhhhhhhh, doggy style with Price? (reader is fem) 🫠

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader Category: Smut (18+) Warnings: Oral Sex (F!Receiving), Doggy Style, Cervix Fucking, Penis in Vagina Sex, Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex (You Know the Drill), Creampie, Praise/Dirty Talk, Spanking, Hair Pulling, Dom!Price Word Count: 1k+

Author’s Note: Hello! Thank you for your request! I can definitely see Price as someone who’d take his girl from behind. 🤭 I hope you enjoy!

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

You moaned as John licked a long, languid stripe over your slit. Your ass was raised in the air, John’s large hands spreading your cheeks as he eagerly ate your juicy, aching cunt.

“Fuck, you taste so good, sweetheart,” John groaned. You squealed when he laid a sudden smack on your ass. Not enough to sting, but enough to grab your attention. You wagged your hips as he pressed open mouth kisses to your folds.

“P-Please, John. I need you now,” you whined as you arched your back. His hearty chuckle reverberated deep into your core, sending sparks flying through your cunt. John gently tugged on your labia with his teeth before giving them a gentle peck.

“I’m here, doll. I’ve got you,” he reassured. It drove you up the wall to not see his rugged face, how his stormy blue eyes would grow with hunger for you when he’d fuck you like he usually would. How you'd grip onto his taut forearms, your legs spread wide open as he drilled his thick cock into you. But tonight was different. John came home frustrated...pissed, even. You, already pent up yourself, not so subtly offered to help him let off some steam. Thus, here you were: ass up, face down, and ready to be fucked senseless from behind.

John adjusted his hips, the tip of his cock kissing at your soaked entrance. You breathed through your nose as you heard him pump his cock a few times in his fist. Your mouth shaped into a wide “O” as his head breached your entrance. John groaned as he pressed into you, your walls greedily sucking him in. Both of you moaned as he bottomed out inside of you, his balls bouncing against your puffy clit.

“How are you feelin’, love?” your husband asked. You swallowed a lump in your throat, the fullness in your lower abdomen sending shivers down your spine.

“G-Good. So good,” you keened as his dick twitched inside of you. John grunted, his hands kneading the flesh of your hips.

“Good. You know…you look amazing like this: stuffed full of my cock from behind,” he murmured, his fingers tracing over the globes of your asscheeks. You shuddered and bit your bottom lip. “Maybe I’ll fuck a baby into you this way,” he said offhandedly. The comment made a whine bubble from your throat. He chuckled and rubbed your hips. “Would you like that? Like for me to make you a mommy?” John muttered with a sudden jolt of his hips. Your hands squeezed at the pillow, your breasts pressed flush against the crumpled, white sheets.

“Please, John,” you gasped. You weren’t sure if you were answering his question or just begging him to fuck you. Your mind was too drunk on the feeling of his cock molding your gummy walls to its shape.

“Can't leave my lady waiting,” John hummed. You whimpered as he pulled out, leaving his head snug inside. Chills ran down your spine as John slowly drove himself back into you, spreading you out deliciously. You clawed and gripped at the pillow as he rocked into you at a steady pace.

“God-you're so beautiful, you know that?” he murmured with a tender thrust. You moaned as his tip rubbed against your g-spot, making your vision blurry and toes curl. You shoved your face into the pillow to hide your loud moaning. His hand wrapped around your hair, tugging on it suddenly and making you hiss.

“Don’t you dare hide those sounds from me,” he snarled with a snap of his hips. You cried out, the succulent pleasure shooting into the deepest parts of you.

“Y-Yes,” you slurred. John grunted in approval, though he still kept your hair wound around his hand.

“I want to hear every little peep that spills from those pretty lips of yours,” he huffed. You gurgled beneath him, pussy clenching and uncleaning around his length. “Understand?” he said with another sharp tug. You nodded, your movements restrained with how tightly he held your locks.

“Yes!” you wailed when his cock drove into the right spot. He hummed.

“Good girl. Such a good girl,” he praised. You didn’t stop the cries and moans that erupted from your mouth as he picked up his pace. His heavy balls slapped against your clit, sending bolts of arousal straight into your womb.

“Love how your perfect pussy swallows my cock,” Price growled. "Fuck, you take me so well," he hissed through gritted teeth. You lurched forward as he slid his cock back into you, stretching your hole in all the right ways. You slurred out incoherently as you felt him release your hair to grab your waist, pushing your ass back to meet his hips. You quickly turned your head to the side. John's eyes were blown wide with lust, watching the way your ass would jiggle each time he thrusted into your plush, tight cunt. Wet slapping sounds filled the room as you pushed your ass back into his hips.

“You feel so good-fuck-gripping me like this,” he moaned loudly. Your walls squeezed and rubbed against his cock as he pressed himself deep inside you with each delicious thrust. Your mouth was agape as you rested the side of your head on your pillow, drool slipping down onto the white fabric.

“J-John,” you keened when the head of his dick pounded into your cervix. Your back arched as he leaned forward, his sweat-soaked chest pressed flush against your upper back. Just when you thought you were catching a break, he started to piston into you. Your throat felt torn up with how loudly you were moaning, hot tears of pleasure streaking down your cheeks. Your pussy was absolutely gushing, creating a ring of cream around his thick girth. Each slap of his heavy balls against your clit sent you closer to the edge.

“Gonna cum for me, (Y/N)? You gonna cum on my cock like a good girl?” John mused. You shook wildly beneath him, your body feeling like a freight train careening off the tracks. You clawed at the pillow and sheets as your clit throbbed, your walls tightening painfully.

“Yes, p-please don’t stop!” you begged. He groaned before snaking a hand below, pinching your clit. Your whole body tensed as you released a reverberant wail, the room growing dim to your bliss.

“Fuck,” John cursed as he felt your pussy clamp down around his pulsing length. You felt him still inside you, keening as ropes of his hot cum lathered your juicy walls. You panted below him, feeling every contraction of your walls milk him dry. You shuddered as you felt his cum leak from where he was plugged into your cunt. Your mind was warm and dizzy as you drifted down from your orgasm. John licked his lips before pulling out of you, which earned him a defiant whine.

“Shh. It’s alright, love,” he cooed as his softening cock fell from between your lips. He watched hungrily as his cum began to drip from your stretched hole. You squeaked as he massaged the red marks on your plush ass. "Oh, love. I'm sorry. Didn't realize how rough I was bein' with you," John apologized, genuine concern heavy in his voice. You shook your head and turned to him.

"N-No. I actually...liked it," you admitted, a dark shade of red crossing your cheeks. He raised his dark brows before a small, sly smirk stretched across his face.

"Yeah?" he hummed before shoving his loose cum back into your pussy with a loud squelch. You moaned at the feeling of his fingers reaching into your sensitive walls. "Well then, I guess we'll both have something to look forward to the next time I come home cross," John chuckled. You nodded and gave an airy laugh. Your eyelids began to feel heavy as he slid his fingers out. You flipped yourself onto your back, carefully to not let any more of his seed spill out of you. He smoothed some hair out of your face and kissed you deeply on the lips. His blue eyes were gentle now, watching as you smiled while he pulled away.

“I'll be right back. Gonna get something to clean you up,” John said softly. You could only nod, mind still reeling and drunk from your high. He pecked your lips before slipping through the door. When he stepped back into your room, you were already fast asleep. He smiled before sliding beneath the covers and softly kissing your temple, letting his own deep slumber overtake him.

____

Thank you for reading! ❤️

[joka13]

FANFICTION: Weasley Twins x Reader (Slytherin Girl) - Part 31

WARNINGS: light kissing

"Merlin's beard..." Fred whispers in disbelief.

"We've done it!" you exclaim, squealing cheerily and clapping your hands together.

"No," George says. "You've done it!" He stands up, taking your hand and leading you into an energetic dance. You both laugh as he spins you around.

"I hardly did anything," you humbly point out. "The Room gave me the last ingredient."

Before you can think about it, George passes you to Fred, who rolls his eyes and says, "Whatever! You found all of the other pieces." He ends the dance with a dip. As he cradles you in his arms, Fred leans down so his face is only inches away from yours. You can't help but giggle as he proceeds to plant multiple kisses all over your face. "Thank you, y/n," Fred says sincerely, then kisses you once more on the lips.

"Aww," you swoon and blush as Fred lifts you upright. "It was nothing really..."

"Let's collect the remaining nougat!" George says, rubbing his hands together excitedly before placing his bag on the table by the cauldron. "We can start selling tomorrow!"

Fred goes to help his twin carefully cut the purple candy into small rectangles. "Our Skiving Snackboxes are now complete!"

At hearing these words, a feeling of dread wells up inside you. The first time you'd felt this particular dread, you'd told yourself to simply stop worrying. But now that the moment had come in which the Weasley twins would no longer have use for your academic skills, you begin to panic.

"No... no, no, no, no..." you whisper. You turn away so that Fred and George don't see the tears in your eyes. But, before you can pull yourself together, the twins notice that something is wrong. The shuffling sounds at the table behind you stop.

"Y/n?" Fred asks.

"Are you alright?" George finishes.

"I-I'm fine," you reply, though your shaky voice betrays you.

You cover your face in shame as you hear the twins' footsteps coming toward you.

"Hey, hey," Fred's voice says softly, concerned. You feel his fingers try to coax your hands away from your face, but you keep your palms tight over your leaking eyes, moving away and accidentally bumping into George.

George steadies you with a gentle hug. "What's the matter?" he asks.

You choke. "It's stupid..."

"Your feelings aren't stupid," Fred consoles. His fingers pry at yours once again, and this time you let him pull your hands away from your face. You look up to meet his eyes as he stands behind George, resting his chin on his brother's shoulder. He gives you an empathetic, crooked smile. The sight of it overwhelms you, bringing more tears to your eyes, and you hide your face against George's chest.

"Talk to us," George encourages. He rubs your back soothingly.

You take in a deep breath. "I... I got t-the idea into m-my head a while back... that when I was finished h-helping you with project nosebleed..." you sniff. "You wouldn't... w-want me around anymore..."

For a moment that felt like a lifetime, neither of the twins speak. Then you feel George's hold loosen around you, and you look up at his face in confusion.

"You're right," George says, his brow furrowing and his mouth in a frown. "That is stupid."

"George!" Fred hisses at him, but you just chuckle gingerly.

"I know, I know..."

George takes a step back as Fred quickly comes forward to hold your hands. He kisses the top of each. You won't look him in the eyes, so he crouches down to where he can see yours.

"Y/n," Fred sighs, shaking his head and smiling. "Have our previous affections meant nothing to you?"

You start to defend yourself. "W-well, there are some people in this world—"

You hadn't noticed him come up behind you, so you gasp in surprise when George's arms snake around your waist. He kisses the top of your head and continues, going down your temple and to your ear. He nibbles at it, causing you to giggle and squirm, but he holds you in place.

"We have no intention of ever leaving you," George whispers into your ear, and you love the sound of his voice, for something about it makes you sure he's telling the truth.

"In fact," Fred begins, pausing to glance at George attentively. You sense a moment of tension, and then George nods. Fred grins ecstatically and goes on. "We were hoping you would leave with us."

TAG LIST: @tomhockstetter7-111 @jasm-1ne @costheticbabe @luthien-elvenia-asher @megablonde22 @thecuteavocado @weasleylady92 @websfromallthespiders @rubyintheforest @weasleylover4eva @georgeweasleyslostearhq @im-coolrat @them-cute-boys @xmadigurlx @keirasinbin @huayan

[coffeexafterxmidnight]

The Token Human - part 1

So that Welcome Home ARG eh? Eh? You know it right, my followers? You should look into it some, it looks like it's shaping up to be something really, really good.

Anyway I'm a sucker for well-made evil children's characters in horror media so I tried to capture the ✨vibes ✨. I don't feel I succeeded, but oh well. Part 1 of a possible series? We'll see.

Reader [gender not stated] pov CW: Body horror, eye horror, size horror[?], creepy puppets, memory alteration, whump? ask to tag Part 2

Nobody else in Home was quite like you. But nobody in Home was quite like anyone else, either! Everyone was different, and unique, and special! That's what Wally told you when you first moved in. And he was right, like he always was. 

But still. Nobody was quite like you. Nobody had hair like yours, on your head, on your arms and legs. Nobody had skin like yours, soft and squishy in a different way than everyone else. Nobody had eyes like yours or ears like yours.

Nobody had hands like yours. And you noticed that right away the first time you held hands with them in a game. You had five fingers total. They had four.

You were pretty sure you were human. Julie was human too, but… a different kind of human, you were pretty sure of that, too. Really, everyone just seemed to be… them. Frank was Frank and Howdy was Howdy, Eddie and Julie and Poppy and Sally and Barnaby were all themselves too.

And Wally…

Wally was your best friend.

That's why when he invited you to his Home, to prepare a surprise party, you jumped right at it. You were always up for a party! You were too big for most of the games they played but you could put up the decorations and light the candles on the cake and clean the hard to reach spots your friends couldn't! You were a perfect fit in Home-

Wally called your name.

"Be careful!"

Bit late for that. In your little thought train you stepped back and right off the little ladder you'd been standing on to clean. It wasn't a bad fall, the step ladder was built for your friends after all. No, it just knocked the air out of you. But it reminded you of something else.

Your friends… didn't really seem to feel pain.

"I'm okay!" You called out as the air returned to you.

Wally had been standing nearby with one hand over his mouth, but lowered it slowly. His smile returned, and he laughed.

"Silly, silly," he said between the distinctive sound of his amusement. "You were thinking too hard!"

Yeah, you were. You laughed with him and sat up. He stood over you now, his soft little hands helping you stand. 

"What were you thinking about?" He asked. "Was it the party?"

You hummed, backtracking your thoughts. What had you been thinking about, really? What set that train of thought rolling…? 

"I think I'm forgetting something again," you said, looking at him.

Wally tilted his head to the side.

"Silly," he said. "You're always forgetting things. What is it this time?"

"I don't know!" You said, smiling. "If I knew, I wouldn't have forgotten it, would I?"

You both laughed, but yours faded sooner than his. Your smile fell. What had you forgotten?

A door creaked and swung open. You and Wally turned towards the sound.

"Maybe," Wally said, "you forgot to eat. Let's go in the kitchen!"

"Okay!" You couldn't remember anything else you could've forgotten so into the kitchen with him you went. 

It was a nice little kitchen, though Wally never seemed to use it much unless you were here. He didn't like anyone seeing him eat. In fact, other than apples, you didn't know what he liked to eat at all. He liked sweets, you knew that much…

As you looked down at the colorful kitchen table, you frowned. You didn't feel hungry, now that you thought about it. You couldn't remember the last time you ate but it didn't seem that long ago. 

Maybe, you thought, running your hand over a scratch on the table, Wally was the hungry one but didn't want to say it. That didn't seem like him though, he was so open and sincere…

Your hand ran over and over the scratch. 

"Hey Wally?" You asked. "What happened to your table?"

Everything seemed quiet.

You lifted your eyes up towards the wall. The quiet stretched on and on. 

You had forgotten something. You had. You knew you had. It was close to you, slipping away from you like dangling strings every time you reached towards it.

It was close to you. Right there. So important. 

What did you forget?

"Wally?"

You looked over your shoulder.

You looked up at him.

Your stomach dropped. With a gasp, you stumbled backwards, away, your eyes wide as you looked at him. Looked up at him.

Wally once proudly told you he was twelve apples tall. You, uh, weren't. You were taller than him by a lot. But now he was tall, taller than you, looking down at you.

He tilted his head.

"Is something wrong, friend?" He said. "You don't look well. Maybe you should… sit down…"

"Wally," you said. "What happened to you?"

His mouth curled up, and your gut churned. That kind of smile didn't fit on Wally's face. That kind of smile shouldn't be possible on his face. He was a puppet - 

A puppet? What was a puppet?

Wally laughed. It shook his shoulders, every syllable moving them in a rhythm. As if string moved his shoulders, but he wasn't that kind of puppet so he couldn't-

What was a puppet?

He tilted his head the other way. Jerked it, really. 

"You're thinking too loud, friend." He jerked his head to the other side. "What do you mean, what's a puppet?" He laughed, ha ha ha. "Silly, silly, silly. That's you. You're my puppet."

His pupils went wide, and it was horrible how familiar it was, the feeling of teeth clenching down on - not your skin not your flesh not your head or your arms or any part of you.

You were. So tired. Like the energy poured out of you into a tiny drain.

My fear, you thought, he's eating my fear.

When he stepped towards you, you heard the click of his shoes on the kitchen tile. Had you ever heard that before? Your mind spun, you stepped away from him again.

"Don't-" you started.

Your name comes from his mouth in a tone you've never heard before.

"I won't," he said. "If you promise to stay."

And you knew exactly what he meant. And you knew you would do anything you had to, so you could go home.

You ran for the door.

It slammed shut.

The handle was meant for puppet hands, not human ones. Your legs gave out from under you as you scrambled with it, nails scratching the wood behind it as you tried to open it. Behind you his footsteps clicked, clicked, clicked towards you.

He said your name again, so sweet, so hungry.

"You don't really want to leave," he said. "I don't believe that at all. I know how much you love it here. We'd all miss you so much."

His arm reached out. His hand, with four fingers, took your wrist and pulled it away from the door. You shook your head, your throat wouldn't make a sound.

"Hey now," he whispered. "No more mysteries this time, okay? Don't go digging into things you don't understand. And everything will be fine."

You felt the teeth again, biting chunks into your mind. The panic. The fear. The dread. Gone, gone, gone. 

My memories - you thought. He's going to eat my memories, too. He's going to eat my memories and put me back at square one. I was so close. I was almost-

You took a deep breath and groaned. Your eyes opened to a strange place, one you didn't recognize for a moment or two. The evening sun streamed in through a window, onto the couch you laid on. You groaned again and covered your eyes with your arm.

"Where am I?"

A familiar voice called from another room. You lifted up your arm, and smiled. Of course. You were at Wally's Home.

"What happened?" You asked.

"You fell off the ladder!" Wally said. "You must've been thinking too hard again. You think too much, I think."

You laughed a bit. "Maybe I do. Falling off a ladder? That's a bad time to get distracted."

You frowned. Wally watched for a moment.

"Did you forget something again?" He said 

You sat up fully with the realization.

"The games!" You cried. "I left the games for the party at my house!"

Wally laughed. Was it just your imagination or did it seem… relieved almost?

"You can get them tomorrow," he said. "It's getting dark. You should stay here for tonight. I don't want you to trip on anything."

You thought about it, frowning at the patchwork blanket draped over you.

It would definitely be bad if you tripped and hurt yourself in the dark, you thought. Wally was right, like he always was.

"Okay!" You said at last. "Thanks Wally." You smiled. "You're a good friend."

[ivyflowers13]

Sleepover with Spencer

[lennadanvers]

The Heartbreak Chronicles

Eddie Munson x Reader

Edward The Freak Munson was your first love.

(He preferred to be called Eddie).

(That’s why you called him Edward. It was his father’s name, too).

He was also your first heartbreak. And the worst one yet.

It started in Hawkins. All the bad things in your life had started there. You couldn’t have been more than five years old, and Edward was almost adorable back then. He was fun, had an amazing imagination, and loved playing with you. You loved him, too.

You slew dragons and fought in the name of Queen Buttons- your stuffed hippo- for years, so when his first actual battle came, you expected to be by his side.

He didn’t, apparently. His mom was gone and his father abandoned him. Eddie ended up living with his uncle in a place that held little resemblance to a castle.

Of course, he didn’t tell you any of that. Instead, he described the infinite garden he had in his new home; how it was full of adventures and characters out of a tale. He told you about the dangers he faced- the monsters in the hallway, the darkness wanting to take him, the fae that stole his lunch. He explained that the way to his abode was long and full of traps and risks. He didn’t want you to venture into such a dangerous path.

So you didn’t. With Eddie, imagination and reality were always too close to see the difference. Besides, he was just as energetic as always. He even gained some weight; it was easy to tell.

There were other changes, though. Ones that happened slowly. Seamlessly. His favorite color went from red to black. He said once it reminded him of his mom, and proceeded to ask what colors you liked best in the same breath. His childlike interest for shiny things evolved into a collection of chains. They started appearing clasped onto every pair of jeans he owned. His laugh was louder every time you said something even remotely funny.

And his eyes were weaker and weaker.

They used to have a wild spark. Two dark bonfires, the promise of well-intentioned mischief. But his laugh was a gush of wind, and every time he opened his mouth it was like blowing at the agonizing embers.

It was a dark spell, a silent curse that poisoned him- or so you thought. He bailed on you one time, and you forgave him instantly. Who woulnd’t? He said he was sorry. And did it again a couple weeks later. Nothing to worry about. He hadn’t bailed in literal years; you could cut him some slack. Until there weren’t any more sleepovers or playdates, no more walks to find treasures by the forest or cheap ice cream listening to his stories.

Then came the summer break, and Edward disappeared. Not really, of course. You saw him once with his uncle at the grocery store. Once. He was alive and healthy, as far as you could tell. Then where had he been? Why hadn’t he been with you, as usual? You didn’t even remember summers without him.

The last day of vacation, you found a silly little dragon ring. It was most definitely made out of plastic, but it was gold and has two fake diamonds as eyes. With a little bit of imagination, it could pass as a dragon rider’s ring. It was meant for Edward, of course. Who, if not him, would wear it with pride?

But he never wore it. Not even to try it on when you gave it to him.

It was the first day of school, and, after years of friendship, the first day you sat alone in class. Which was stupid because he also sat alone. His hair was gone, and his eyes looked even bigger. It just made it worse when he smiled and nodded as a thank you, because there was no light in them. The fire had gone out, at last.

You had tried, alright. Over and over. But if the princess didn’t let his hair fall, then there was no way for you to climb the tower and save him.

You made friends with other people, life went by. It never stopped for things like this.

That was the first time Edward Munson broke your heart. At least, that time he had the decency to do it slowly, carefully. A death by natural causes. He didn’t have the same consideration the next time.

A/N: new series!! A little old, actually, but new for you guys! Hopefully it's at least entertaining. Chapters will be short but bitter, just the way I like my writing ;)) If you want me to, I can make a taglist (I have one for Pure Imagination, but I don't know if anyone will be interested in being tagged for this one), just comment or send an ask and I'll add you. Have a nice week! ♥️

[dear-november19]

you are theo's girl

[thepinkdreamganjaqueen]

Subway Obsessions Arthur's POV ch.1

Arthur Fleck POV x Fem!Reader  

Masterlist 🩷

Summary: From Arthurs POV. It's just another night on the subway. A typical ride on the Gotham train on his way home from a long day of running errands and away from his tedious depressive thoughts. Perhaps he would catch a glimpse of the woman he could only seem to catch in passing, the woman he’d been secretly watching, following, fantasizing about nightly. Perhaps the unending misery that is the city above had him thinking of change, of something new to obsess about. Something to draw his mind away from the blistering and the mundane. Would he finally get the courage to talk to her? 

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, public exhibitionism, subway cruising, swearing, stalking, obsession, mentions of violence, fem!reader, romantic smut, fluff

A/N: Beginning to a series? Who knows. May add things later. First fic, btw! I'm hyper fixated now, so expect more. This is something I've been mulling around with for a while. I've done this story from both the readers' POV and from Arthur's because I can't get enough!! So, make sure to read both! I loved writing from this perspective so much, btw! Literally! Send ideas, edits, etc. my way!! And be nice please. The first chapter is mostly fluff/ descriptive plot/character building. Cheers! Enjoyyy!

Word Count: 3.9k

SERIES: Subway Obsessions 

CHAPTER 1: Chance Meeting 

Today was another mundane day. Arthur had been out earlier in the evening running errands for his mother. Picking up T.V. dinners at the grocer and medications for him and her at the local pharmacy. Still, getting around the city was a chore in of itself. He figured the subway would be the easiest and quickest way home. It was nearing 10 o'clock pm. His mother would be worried, and it was getting late. He knew the dangers of roaming Gotham city at these hours. His mother used to say, "That's when the colorful people come out." A way to make something serious, completely unserious. Still, he knew the dangers and tried as hard as he might to keep his wits about him. Easier said than done when you're a man with a neurological disorder, apparently so many people hate you for. He wished they’d understood or tried at least.  

He always pondered why the people of Gotham were so... well so mean! Everyone he encountered save for the very, very few were just assholes to him. Perhaps it was the political climate? With Thomas Wayne running for government placement, it probably didn't help. Make the rich richer and the poor poorer he thought. Perhaps it was the state of the city itself, the infrastructure, the lack of resources. He sure has been on the wrong end of that stick one too many times. "Good people suffer Happy," his mother would say. But he never understood why it had to be that way. Life was circumstantial. He didn't ask to have what little he did. He didn't even ask to be born and thought life was the real joke.

It doesn't have to make sense to be funny! He jested internally. Because its fucked! And there lies the comedy for those broken enough to see, yet perhaps healed enough to laugh at the pain. Because, what else can you do?  

His mind wandered through these endless fields of thought when a train car stopped in front of him. He had been standing on the platform disassociating for some time. Perhaps he even forgot where he was for a moment, ruminating over the wrongs of life and playing them out differently in his head. The things he didn't say or do, what he could have done differently... 

The brisk hiss and click of the air brakes as they screeched to a halt brought him back to reality. He blinked a couple of times, waiting for the doors to open. As he did, a disheveled looking figure pushed past him while exiting. He burst out in a cry of compulsory laughter and stepped on the train. He was in the last car and immediately noticed it was bearable, as bearable as riding the subway can be he postulated. 

In his search for a seat towards the end of the train car, he noticed a large putrid looking spill in the back. It melted off the seats and slid across the aisle. It looked sticky. Best to avoid that then, he thought. He opted for a bench seat away from the offending area and sat down, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back, arm outstretched on the head of the seat next to him. No one was in this car except for him. He found a moment of solace and drank it in, filling himself with the noiseless satisfaction of silence and peace when a warbled voice broke over the loud speaker. He couldn't really understand it, but the semblance of words spoke what sounded like “platform 19”. It was all he could understand through the robot whine. He felt anticipation rising within him. 

At approximately 10:15 p.m., the doors of the subway train broke open with a gush of cold night air. At the other end of the subway, he watched as a woman stepped onto the train like a fawn. Scared and unsure of where to go or sit. She was bright and colorful; she immediately caught his eye. Was this what his mother meant by colorful people? He thought to himself. He quickly realized it was her! The girl he had fantasized about daily and nightly, hoping to catch her on the train but only seeming to in his thoughts and dreams, remembering her face, her scent that penetrated her surroundings. He had tirelessly followed her the first time he saw her. She was the only person to smile at him that day. He had to know more and had to know why. But she wasn't always on the same train. He always hoped to run into her and had almost given up, thinking she must have been some sort of hallucination he created for himself to lessen his own pain. But there she was.  

She looked different tonight. She looked like a predator, displaying colors brightly in the face of possible danger. She was a force; he felt the atmosphere change as soon as she stepped in through the steel doors, a thickness lifted in the air and he could feel himself tense in his seat. His clothes were suddenly uncomfortable, his collar too tight, his hands, sweaty. She always looked beautiful when he saw her, she always looked content and comfortable. Hair in a messy bun with strands falling about her face swayed by the wind that surged through the train car. Sweats he could still make out her figure through, leaving him wanting more every time, it drove him crazy! But today she looked like she was straight out of the films on the TV! He thought to himself. She made him think of glamour, it's the only word that truly fit, like the old films he would watch with his mom. Wow! Was she a sight to see, a cool pristine liquid flowing over his burning eyes. A soothing image of pure proclivity. An unknown sense of calm swept over him. 

He watched, frozen, as she cautiously observed the train car searching for a seat. He looked at her from top to bottom. She was significantly smaller than him, petite, probably around five feet three he gauged. Fuzzy black boots, blue jeans tightly hugging her figure, full thick thighs, his mouth began to water - he thirsted for her, wanted to drink in her every essence. He felt a lump in his throat as he tried to choke it down. A tight black shirt under a small cropped pink sweater with red hearts all over. It perfectly displayed her large soft breasts. Brown curls bounced about her shoulders as she walked, strands of them fell daintily on her face and cheeks. As she walked, she would flick it away with a quick movement of her head. The way she did that, moving her hair out of her face without using her hands. It made him tingle in all the right places. His mind raced. What else can she do without using her hands? he thought.  

There was something pink in her hair too, he saw as she walked past. She didn't notice him at first. Most people don't he thought to himself. Although this thought disappointed him, he didn't fault her for it. He had the urge to make her notice him. To be a presence and to be objectified by her, he only wished he could hold that kind of power.  

As she passed, the scent he had come to know as her- wafted past him, he sucked in through his teeth sharply. It was heaven on earth. Stimulating. He would follow that scent hoping to find her, mercilessly searching. It was like a drug, an aphrodisiac, and he felt his cock spasm. She was eyeing the seats towards the back where that odd spill was. A butterfly he thought. It's a pink butterfly in her hair. He immediately felt like a school boy again, fawning over and wanting to get the attention of the pretty girl and for her to return it.  

"This one's fine!" He blurted out, not really knowing what he was saying. She turned around, her beauty, dark, striking, and he found it hard to speak again. He stammered and was able to get the lump out of his throat to follow up with; "I don't know what that is back there but these are not so bad" his voice felt cracked but he tried to contain his composure, he didn't want to scare her off. He was the only other person on the train, and it must have jolted her since she didn't see him at first. Plus, she probably thinks I'm some kind of creep or weirdo, he thought to himself. There was some truth behind those thoughts, but that didn't make him a bad person, he thought. All day, he spends trying to have a nice day to make himself and others happy, trying to think good thoughts, trying not to let the bad influence the good he can salvage. 

"Oh, thank you!" A sweet voice broke the monotony of thought, and immediately he was flung back into the present. She made her way to the seats laid out in front of him. A row of sideways seating. He watched her sit gracefully, slowly, like a calculated ballet dancer, he thought. Every move fluid, every move perfect. When she sat, she arranged her things on the seat next to her and settled in. He wondered to himself where she was going. Why she had so many bags, why she was riding the subway so late, as a woman, she should be terrified. This city is not safe, especially for someone as strikingly beautiful as her. She was like a beacon of light, too bright to stare at, but he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame and simply couldn't resist the allure. 

She actually sat next to me! He thought. Only one seat away, actually next to me. But that wasn't all. She saw him, noticed him, heard him, and listened to him. The weight of these simple gestures made his hands sweaty, and he tried his best to remain aloof. The doors of the train opened on the other side of her, and a breeze blew her hair behind her and over her face. He couldn't help but see her, every aspect of her. He studied her every move, every inch of her body. He wanted this to last, for this image to never leave his mind.  

The wind that blew past her carried on it her scent. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the sweet alluring scent of peach? No. Some kind of berry? No. When the doors shut and the pressure created another breeze, the scent wafted to him again. Taking it all in, he identified the smell as watermelon. Some kind of fruity smell filled his senses with the feeling of euphoria. It was intoxicating. He wondered what it would be like to be pressed up against her, inhaling her deeply. He looked down with a deep sigh when he looked back over. She was moving a strand of hair out of her face and caught a glimpse of her looking at him as well. Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she broke her gaze. She was fire, burning too hot near him, and he wanted so badly to play, to burn himself, engulf himself in her flames breathlessly.  

He tried to come up with something to say, anything. How do I talk to her? What would I even say without sounding stupid? He thought. He watched on as the florescent lights above her flickered. It lit up parts of her he hadn't seen upon first observation. Glitter decorated her collar bones and cheeks. Her sweater was slightly unzipped. He could see the peeking out of her cleavage. Sparkling with glitter, so pretty, she reminded him of the stars of the night sky. Unmistakably beautiful, yet so. Far. Away. He had been working up the courage to say something to her, to hear her voice again, he didn't want to forget it. A symphony replayed in his mind. He needed more.  

He stumbled over his words, "Sorry, I-it's hard for me to talk, I meant to introduce myself. I'm Arthur, " he said in the kindest, most unassuming voice he could muster. She looked up and locked eyes. They burned his insides like hot coals. He anticipated her reply, not knowing if she would even engage in conversation with him. "No worries!" She spoke in a reassuring way that made his heart flutter. "I know how it can be, trust me!" She sounded genuine. Kind. There was something underneath her voice, though he couldn't quite conceptualize. Fear? Doubt, maybe? He wanted to take it away.  

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, Arthur!" Again, her voice beaming so light and so lifting. She reached out to shake his hand that he had offered. Her hand was small and was practically swallowed by his. Her fingers were warm, sweeping softly over his palm as she grasped his hand in hers. It's a simple thing, he thought. It was a small touch, but it was enough to make him crumble inside. She felt so nice! "Y/N," he said. "I like that." He lamented. Such a beautiful name. But everything about her was beautiful. Her presence was wholesome and welcoming. Is this real? he pondered. Thoughts took over again, and not knowing how to continue the conversation, they sat in silence for a moment as he worked up the courage to speak again. 

Moments passed that felt like a lifetime, but he was content in her presence, soaking up her aura. As he went to ask her a question, she moved to speak as well. Catching each other off guard, Arthur profusely apologized "No it's okay, go ahead," he said, not wanting to interrupt her. "No, no, that's okay, what were you going to say?" She insisted back. Her voice was small and mousey, she seemed so shy. Why would she be? She screams confidence and power. Even in her apprehensive movements, she seems calculated, he thought to himself. He stole another glance at her. Her eyes sparkled reminiscent of a smokey quartz gem in a bracelet he once saw in a shop window. A thought of her adorned in nothing but gems crossed his mind. He tried to hold onto the image before it left his mind's eye. He felt a flush in his cheeks again, and his eyes darted. He couldn't look her in the eyes for too long. It made him nervous. He was working up the urge to speak again, to say something, anything.  

He broke the silence and asked, "So what brings you to ride the subway so late at night? Aren't you scared?" He uttered jokingly. After saying it, he felt immediate stupidity. Why would I say that? He thought and started an inner spiral. As if seeing his reaction to his own question and wanting to ease the tension building within him, Y/N said, " Well, I work at the Gotham shelter overnight. So, having to ride the train every night, I guess, I've gotten used to it for the most part. But, yeah, I do get scared sometimes. The city can be super sketchy, and I've been attacked twice already, so I had to buy mace and stuff to try and protect myself."  

The words spilled out of her mouth like a wave of glass, he couldn't fathom her ever saying this of all things, it was jolting for him and triggered something within him he had tried so long to hide. His mind raced. He felt anger and rage well up inside of him it hardened his sternum and burned in his throat. He became stiff but was unaware. The spiraling began to start again. This city was ruining people, hurting people, good people! He thought. She helps people, and then people hurt her?! Pieces of shit! He screamed internally. The emotions he felt were at war within himself. He felt rage for her pain and suffering at the hands of this city's denizens, he felt fear for her life knowing she rides the train every night, he felt regret, why couldn't he have been there to help, to do something? He all but took the pain on as his own, it soaked through to his core. He too had been at the mercy of some of the worst people he has ever had the displeasure of encountering in this god forsaken city, he too had been attacked, hurt, mercilessly tortured by these fucking terrible people.  

Lost in his train of thought and looking straight ahead he couldn't help but sternly say in sympathy "These people are just fucking terrible!" She must have noticed his change in demeanor at this declaration. He suddenly felt a warmth cross his leg, and lightly squeeze. It was smooth and comforting. His concentration broke completely. Pulled out of a trance by her as if the thoughts were just zapped out of his brain. His eyes quickly darted back to her where they followed the length of her shoulder, to her arm, and from her arm to her hand that rested upon his thigh. He felt the muscles in his face relax, his shoulders dropped, jaw unclenched. The sheer power she had over him he thought. The warmth emanating off of her palm was like security, a blanket of nostalgia. He couldn't remember the last time he felt what felt like love, like connection, or attachment. He couldn't help but see flashes of images in his mind, her moving her hand closer to his cock which had began to throb. He tried to brush away those thoughts but they plagued him. She was touching him. Something that never happens to him. He immediately craved her touch, he wanted more, he wondered how that would be possible. He thought this couldn't be real. Not this time.  

Once again, breaking his thought pattern she spoke, and he gave her his full attention. "Yeah, but I'm ok now!" She said in a reassuring tone. Her voice, like petals on velvet. Soft, gentle. "You're here now! And so, I feel safe." Safe? He thought, with me? Like she trusts me? He could feel the negative thoughts start to brim to the surface of his mind but quelled them by responding instead. He needed clarification. The words she spoke just didn't make sense to him. He couldn't see why she would or should trust him, although he so badly wanted her to, for this to be true, he needed it to be. He suddenly felt the urge to never leave her, to always be by her side. He would watch, he would follow, and he would do anything for her.  

He only imagined what it would be like to know her both romantically and intimately. "You feel safe? W-with me?" He spoke haphazardly, unsure of the answer he wanted to hear, hoped to hear. "I do." She looked into his eyes sincerely. His heart leapt into his throat; he couldn't breathe. She was so fucking beautiful. He wanted to grab her, to feel her against him. He shifted his legs at the thought. Looking up at him like that weakened him in so many ways. Most noticeably, in his pants, where he tried to conceal the results of his dirty thoughts. "Then I will protect you Y/N" he proclaimed proudly. A shy smile touched her lips and she continued to gaze into his eyes. He smiled back. I make her feel safe, he thought. She is comfortable in my presence. No one even bothers talking to me, no one ever wants to talk to me. He had the urge to speak once more but couldn't find the words.  

Before either of them could speak, the subway speaker rang out once again in that barely audible robotic toned voice announcing the next stop as the harsh brakes squeaked heavily to a stop. As if anticipating her to leave, he just as quickly stood up and offered out his hand. "Thank you," her voice sang. She turned to face him, her small stature looking up at him once more. He held his composure but felt the heat well up inside him. "It was so nice having someone to ride the train with tonight for a change!" She cheerfully exclaimed with a smile.  

She had grabbed her things and had let go of his hand. What sweet bliss it was for the few seconds he had held it. Her fingers, so dainty and soft. The train screeched to a halt, and he instinctively grabbed her hand again and put his other hand at the small of her back to steady her. He could feel the soft curve of her spine. He slowly moved a pinky closer, hoping she wouldn't notice, tracing the line of her jeans as he did, feeling the line of her panty through the fabric. He quickly pulled away as she exited the train. He had held back. He wanted to do so much more. He wanted to turn her around, grab her face and kiss her, shove her onto the subway seats, and have his way with her, make her cry out. He wanted her to miss work. He wanted her to quit! He wanted her all to himself.  

This moment was too perfect. It felt like a dream. As she stepped off the platform and began to walk away, he stood as the doors shut, helplessly watching her as she slowly walked. Unable to stop time. As the train brakes hissed and cranked, he saw her stop and turn around. She had stepped to the doors, but it was too late. He watched on as her figure shrunk into the distance as the train traveled once again into the dark tunnel. He waved. He would see her again. He would make sure of that. Platform 19. He thought, I'll remember this time. 

[iluv-m]

Mine Mine Mine.

I haven’t uploaded in years omg, I hope someone sees this 😭 Enjoy~

This was in my drafts a while back, This is not my original idea, I lost the tumblr writer who wrote this post originally.

——————————————————————————

You decided to surprise your boyfriend by visiting him at his university. He had given you a spare key to his dorm, just in case. You let yourself in quietly, taking in the soft glow of the room lit only by the dim desk lamp. The blinds were closed, and you could see a large figure under the blanket, lying on the bed. Obviously, it was your boyfriend—he must’ve been exhausted after his long lecture, which lasted four hours. You smiled, thinking he probably needed his rest. You figured you’d let him sleep while you grabbed some ramen for your movie night.

But just before you could sneak out the door, you couldn’t resist. You leaned over, pressing a quick, soft kiss to his cheek. It was a peck, nothing too big, but you missed him so much. After all, it’d been a while since you’d seen him. When you pulled away, feeling satisfied, you heard him shuffle a little, mumbling in his sleep.

Grinning to yourself, you started walking toward the door when—wham—you felt his hand shoot out and grab your wrist, yanking you back toward the bed.

You couldn’t help but laugh at how adorable he was, thinking of you even in his sleep.

“Babe, let go. I need to go get ramen for us!” You wiggled in his arms, trying to get free, but his grip only tightened. He wrapped his legs around yours like a human octopus, trapping you with a soft, sleepy growl.

“Mine…” he mumbled. The way he said it sounded so possessive and cute that you couldn’t help but smile. “Mine…mine…mine…” He kept repeating it, almost like he was in a trance.

You tried to shake him awake, but he only responded by squeezing you tighter, as if he was trying to make you disappear inside the blankets with him. It was adorable—but also kind of annoying.

You squirmed, trying to free your legs, but his grip just got stronger, his body practically cocooning you. “I need to go get ramen, seriously. You can’t keep me here all day…”

“Mine…” he muttered again, this time wrapping the blanket around you like a burrito. “Mine…mine…mine…”

There was no way out of this. He was too strong, and the blanket was way too snug. You shifted, trying to get comfortable, but your legs were quickly starting to lose feeling. “Okay, fine. Mine,” you said with a playful eye-roll, hoping he would let you go.

Hearing no response, only his arms slightly tightening around you like you hug your stuffed bear and his legs putting yours in a lock making them close to numb, you admitted defeat.

It felt like hours and you even tried to sleep but the thought of ramen kept waking you up and trying to get free from your boyfriend’s hold. Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Shit you totally forgot you had it with you. You reached for it with your free hand—only one hand free, by the way—and saw it was your boyfriend’s roommate.

You pressed the phone to your ear. “Hello?” you whispered, trying not to wake the monster clinging to you.

“Hey, Y/N, have you seen BF/N? He was supposed to be at the library 20 minutes ago, but no one can find him. I’ve called everyone. Where is he?”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. “Uh, yeah, I know where he is.”

“Wait, why are you whispering? Where are you?” he asked, clearly confused.

You glanced at your boyfriend, still sleeping soundly, and groaned. “I’m stuck in his dorm. He kidnapped me in his sleep and won’t let me leave.”

There was a brief silence on the other end. Then, his roommate burst out laughing. “No way! He’s literally holding you hostage? I’m coming to rescue you, don’t worry! I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

You glanced at your boyfriend, who was still mumbling “mine” over and over, and sighed. “Alright. I’ll wait. Wait! Do you mind getting some ramen on the way, you know the kind we like.”

“Uh, sure. I’ll be right there,” his roommate said, chuckling.

After what felt like an eternity (11 minutes to be exact), you heard the door unlock. The light from the hallway flooded into the room, and you squinted as his roommate walked in, looking way too pleased with himself.

“Hey, I’m here for the rescue and the delivery!” he said with a smug grin, snapping a picture of you and your boyfriend, who was still snuggled under the blanket, holding you hostage.

You groaned. “Hey!”

But, of course, your boyfriend didn’t wake up. He just kept mumbling, “Mine…mine…mine…” and pulled you closer. It was adorable, but also way too much.

His roommate smirked and grabbed a pillow from his bed. “Sorry, bro, this is for your own good,” he said before smacking it straight onto your boyfriend’s head.

Everything went quiet. You could practically hear your boyfriend’s brain rebooting. Then he jolted upright, blinking and rubbing his face. “What. Did. You. Just .Do?”

“Sorry! It was the only way to wake you up! Don’t kill me! Your girlfriend told me to do it!”

Your boyfriend looked at you, then down at your cocooned body. “Wait…when did you get here?”

You sighed dramatically. “You kidnapped me, remember? I’ve been stuck here for-“ You pulled out your phone checking the time, “-2 HOURS?!”

Your boyfriend’s eyes widened. “Oh…whoops.”

You tried to get up from the bed, but when you shifted, your legs, completely numb, gave out from under you and you fell . “Oh, come on! My legs are DEAD.”

Your boyfriend’s face turned into full-on panic mode. “Shit, are you okay?!”

“No, you’ve basically paralyzed me with your cuddle attack.” You looked over at his roommate, who was trying to hold back laughter. “I’m never letting you live this down.”

His roommate chuckled. “Well, at least you’re not dead, right?”

You shot him a playful glare. “I would kill him, but it seems he’s too cute to murder.”

Your boyfriend’s guilt melted into a grin, and he helped you back onto the bed, making sure you were settled. “Alright, movie night still on?”

You looked at him suspiciously. “You’re lucky I’m still willing to hang out with you.”

“Well, you know, because you’re mine,” he teased, pulling you back under the blanket and trapping you once again. You were surrounded by soft, fluffy fabric, and there was no escaping. Not that you really wanted to, anyway.

“Did you just trap me again?” you asked, half-laughing, half-exasperated.

“Yep. You’re mine, remember?” he said smugly.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m yours, but you’re lucky I’m too comfy to move.”

“Exactly. Mine,” he whispered into your hair, and you melted into his arms.

Meanwhile, his roommate just stood there awkwardly. “Uh… guys? Still here?”

You shot him a teasing grin. “Who told you to stick around? Get out.”

“Why do you always have to be so mean? 😭 Y/N, tell him to let me leave.”

You giggled from inside your blanket cocoon, rolling your eyes. “Bye bye~ Wait, our ramen!”

His roommate sighed dramatically. “Here you go . I’m leaving before you two make me throw up.”

With that, he left the room, and the two of you were left alone to snuggle up for your movie night, with your boyfriend repeating his favorite word: Mine

[littlecorpselady]

Coney island baby

House of wax fanfic - part 3

Content: Stockholm syndrome, mentions of Vincent, mostly focused on readers mindset tbh

Note- didn't really proofread sooo :p

You spent hours scrubbing just as you did wandering around. The walls around weren't as grimy or old as the last ones but they still confined you. Just in a bigger space. It was hard to tell what bothered you more, the silence or the isolation. Besides the odd run in with Vincent, you have yet to see anybody else. The odd attempt to try to interact with Vincent when he isn't busy wasn't worth the silent glare you received in return. It was hard to tell whether or not the silence was a choice or something permanent. It wasn't like you cared all that much anyway, coping was just difficult. Said coping consisted of reading one of the multiple books laid around the house, usually the cover had to be dusted off first or scrubbing at the hard woods blood stains. Occasionally though, youd flip through the old Polaroids to get the picture of Bos upbringing. They displayed various general activities, playing on the piano and with legos along side his brother but the stuff you found told a different story. Specially the highchairs in the museum, something you stumbled upon whilst Bo worked on a broken light in the other room. The restraints were painted with dry blood and scratch marks. It was easy to put the pieces together, the highchairs spoke enough volumes for themselves.

The heavy sound of the gravel crunching outside, snaps you hard into reality again. Interrupting your session of daydreaming as the front door swings open and in steps a disgruntled Bo. The door is kicked shut behind him without being locked, not really necessary anyway considering the circumstances.

It's hard to tell whether or not he noticed you or he's just plain ignoring you but Bo walks right past into the kitchen. His hand clings to his side where blood seeps through the overalls. The grumbles are followed up by several curses as he sloppily tends to it. Pouring disinfectant on it and soon yanking open drawers until he finds the painkillers. From a distance it was hard not to watch, it was a sight you would have soaked in happily just not too long ago. Now you couldn't help but feel a pang of pity tug at you watching him like this. Almost tempting enough to offer help, maybe reassurance. Almost. Instead just watching as he stumbles off out of sight to do god knows what. Nowadays all you did was watch, sit idly by the side lines taking in whatever bo did. Watching him chase down tourists from the living room window or sometimes when you were allowed in the garage watching him work under a rusty old car. Not only did you watch but you also admired him. It was hard not to at times even if you forced your own thoughts to shame yourself for it. No amount of shame could stop these thoughts from flowing through. It was almost a infection, disgusting and spreading. It spread rapidly, each day becoming harder to cope with reality. It was too much to accept at times. Sometimes despite the shame which followed, it was just so much easier to let your eyes squeeze shut. Pretend there was nothing wrong, nothing off with your life. The warm sheets of his bed feeding into your delusion, the strong scent of his cologne and the lingering cigarette smell.

He disappeared that night to go smoke away the pain in his side. Slowly blowing the smoke out and watching it fade off into nothing. Shifting his focus to watching the pale night sky as you settled down besides him, unsure and slow. His eyes only flicker over momentarily before returning to the sky. Barely a recognising the presence settled by his side but enough to let you know you were atleast acknowledged this time around. Clasping your palms together tightly and following his mindless gaze, the few seconds passing by begins to feel stretched out. Nothing interrupts the silence either, atleast not until the cigarette is stubbed out and he rises to his feet. "Comin' in?" After a moment, you nod and rise up to your feet as well. The porch light flickering off with the flip of the switch and Bos hand ushering you inside. Resting on your lower back before sliding over to your side and pulling you close besides him. Instead of his hand leaving a clinging cold mark, his touch felt almost warm. Warm enough to be mistaken for tenderness, the sweet embrace of being loved.