#sorry. i’m really irritated this last week/end

[ev1lde4d]

aaggghfhdh

[kingtomura]

Cat and mouse

synopsis: Your ex boyfriend has some nerve texting you at three in the morning — an entire week after the disaster breakup you had. You should really go over there and give him a piece of your mind. Well, you know what they say about famous last words.  wc: 6.1k | crossposted to ao3 content: tomura shigaraki x female reader, no quirks au, toxic tomura, reader is kinda toxic too tbh, unhealthy relationships, breaking up and making up, vaginal fingering, overstim, breeding kink, piv, dubcon creampie, degredation, threats of baby trapping, hurt/comfort, sweet at the end idc

You’ve told your friends time and time again to stay out of your business. They never listen. 

“Oh my god, Kirishima? Is he even twenty yet?” You drag as you watch your friend flip through several pictures of the redheaded boy like he was a member of the bachelor. 

She smiles, scrolling her phone for more options, “no, but he will be in a couple of months!”

“No!” Your words are sharp. You love Mina but god, you don’t want her to play matchmaker with you. It’s not like you’re a charity case or something. 

She gasps and you swear you could see the lightbulb go off above her head. “What about Denki? He’s fun!” 

You groan, falling back onto the bed and covering your eyes with your arm. “Mina.” 

“Hey, just give her a break okay? It’s only been about a week.” Your saving grace Yaoyorozu speaks up and it’s nice to finally have someone on your side. 

“Thank you.”

“Seriously? So we’re just going to sit around and watch you mope about all day?” Mina questions, irritation clear in her voice and it grates your ears.  

“Preferably, yes! Just let me be.” You roll over, face officially shoved into your pillow. It’s been a rough couple of days and you haven’t gotten a single call or text from Tomura. Not that you should be expecting one. You broke up with him after all. 

It’s just.. this time feels different. Usually there’s more arguing and he’s fighting for you to stay around, but this time there was nothing. No quips, no insults, just “fine, get out then.”

That hurt the most. 

You had no idea what he was up to. 

Maybe he was as depressed as you were. 

Maybe he’s found someone else. 

The thought makes you stop in your tracks. The idea of Tomura, your tomura with someone else is enough to make you nauseous. 

You jump to your feet and rush to the bathroom, locking yourself in and falling to your knees. 

God, what if that was why it was so easy?

You pull out your phone, the device lighting up and unlocking with your facial id. 

Tomura doesn’t use social media much but you could still check to see if he’d blocked you. 

To your surprise, he hadn’t. 

He hasn't posted anything either and there’s no new person in his followers. 

You feel yourself exhale a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. No change is a good thing. 

There’s knocking on the door and you thank the stars you locked it. Your friends would judge you so hard if they saw you lurking through your ex’s social media. 

“Hey, are you okay in there?” It’s your saving grace Yaoyorozu again and you almost feel bad for shutting her out. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry if it feels like I pressured you! I’ll give you some space.” Mina's regretful voice calls and it makes your heart clench. You know she means well but she just doesn’t understand. None of them do. 

Whether you want to admit it or not, you love Tomura. 

Yes, you argue and yes, you fight, but he just gets you. He’s so cynical, but so caring — in his own special way. Too bad he was such an asshole. The argument wasn’t even supposed to go that far. 

There are tears beginning to blur your vision and you wipe them away, willing the feelings down and standing to your feet. 

If he wanted you to stay away, then fine. You could do that. 

You splash cool water onto your face and take a breath, steeling yourself and getting ready to face your friend once more. It was Saturday and they were convinced you needed a fun girl’s night.

It takes a lot to refrain from cringing at the phrase, but you believe they held some truth with the idea. You definitely didn’t want to be alone right now.

You unlock the bathroom door, meeting Mina and Yaoyorozu’s worried expressions with a smile. 

“We should probably get ready now, huh?”

Mina’s eyes light up, smile blinding and excitement contagious.

“Yes! Jirou and the others are here now.” She starts to clap, excitement buzzing around her, “Girl’s night is going to be amazing!” 

—-

Girl’s night was a bust.

The moment everyone arrived the apartment quickly filled with chaos. Noisy and busy, it was all giving you a headache. Until someone decided it would be a good idea to pregame before going out.

In preparation for the night your friend’s insisted that you get dolled up, hair makeup and skimpy clothes you wouldn’t look twice at on any normal day. 

You had to admit it made you a little more excited to get out and at least feel like your world isn't crashing around you. It was supposed to be a fun little night out. Somehow one drink turned into two, which turned into three which turned into Mina swearing she could beat everyone in a dance battle. 

The group only got more riled up as everyone indulged in this silly challenge. 

One challenge leads to another, which leads to more drinking, which then ends in everyone being too drunk to function and knocking out — all laid out in odd places around your living room floor and couch. 

The groggy feeling came first, your arms radiating in dull pain as you vaguely recalled trying to beat Mina in a contest of who could do the most push ups. It sure as hell wasn't you, but the drunk version of you thought it was possible to move mountains. 

You blink a few times, trying to will your eyes to rapidly adjust to the darkness of the room and find out what this odd buzzing noise beside you had been. Turning over, you find your phone, squinting as the too bright screen lights up your face and you see that it is three a.m.

You had fallen asleep with everyone else.

The phone buzzes again, lighting up and you have to squint further to read the contact name.

Tomura. 

Your eyes widen as you scan over the three texts he’s sent you. 

Wasting no time, you rush to your feet and into the bathroom so you can look at your phone without the chance of prying eyes overlooking your shoulder. Even though they were probably going to be out until late morning.

Tomura’s messages were short, no paragraphs, no essays but three different messages sent in succession. 

When are you coming to get your shit?

I’m tired of waiting.

And I’m deleting our farm btw. 

The first two messages don’t get much of a reaction from you, especially since it’s three a.m and he knows you’re usually asleep around this time. 

But the third message…

Your Stardew Valley farm that you’ve had and worked on together for almost two years being put on the line and threatened? What the fuck was his problem?

This farm was a constant in your relationship. Throughout the ups and downs and back and forths. You were sure that hell would freeze over before you both would give up that progress. But here he is, threatening you while you would have been asleep. What an asshole.

Your feet are moving before your brain can stop them and you make your way to the front door. Since your friends were all passed out it would be easy to sneak over to Shigaraki’s place, give him a piece of your mind and then sneak back. In and out, quick and easy. 

Your decision is made and you grab your coat, deciding to just go over there as you are. You hadn’t changed out of your outfit that was supposed to be for the night out, but it didn’t matter. You only needed to get over there and get there fast.

Once you arrive at Tomura’s doorstep you waste no time knocking. It’s around three in the morning so he should still very much be awake. 

There's a chill in the air as you wait for his answer and you wrap your jacket closer to your body. A rumble of thunder caught your attention and it's then you notice the rain clouds rolling in. You knew it would only be a matter of time before the bottom of the sky falls out and rain drenches everything. You were on borrowed time if you wanted to make it back before then.

After what feels like forever the door finally opens, revealing a very cozy pajama-clad Tomura, who seemed a little too pleased for his own good — if that sly smile he was doing a bad job at hiding was anything to go by. 

You don't give him a chance to greet you or say anything for that matter, stopping his words in their tracks as you cut him off. “What do you want?”

He doesn’t bother hiding his smirk now, the expression making your fists clench and your anger boil. “What do I want? You’re at my door, in front of my apartment.” He scoffs, clearly getting the exact reaction he had wanted from you, “I should be asking what do you want?” 

Caught like a deer in headlights. Whatever, you don't let that stop you as you pull out your phone to show him his text. “You sent this, I know you’re bluffing. What do you want?”

Tomura shrugs, leaning against his door frame and giving you a pleased look. Expression relaxed and content. Not a care in the world. “To talk.”

“Well, I'm here now, so let’s talk.” You spit, crossing your arms and waiting for whatever else he would throw at you. 

“Sure, but you should come in first.” He starts, looking up towards the darkened sky, confirming his assessment. “It’s gonna rain soon, you know.”

Of course you knew that. 

You just didn’t want to give him more time than you had. But you agree and go in, ignoring the fighting feeling in the back of your mind screaming at you to turn away and hightail it out of there. 

Tomura’s home is the exact way it was the day you left, give or take a few more containers of takeout littered around the place. You have half a mind to scold him about it, but quickly remember that it isn’t your place to do that anymore. 

So instead you stay quiet, following him into the apartment and into the living room. Opting to stand as he sat, and resisted the urge to get comfortable. 

“So, what do you want to talk about?” You try, done watching him pick up a controller and boot up a video game. Seriously? 

Your patience was wearing thin now as you watched him ignore you to play some stupid game. You try calling to him again, knowing this was probably a waste of your time and groans.

“I was in the middle of something before you got here. Let me finish and we’ll talk.” It's flippant the way he waves you off and continues the game. The lack of care only hurting your feelings further and making you realize this may have all been a big mistake on your part.

You shouldn’t be at your ex boyfriend’s house being ignored. You should be at your house getting drunk and hanging out with your best friends. There was no reason to stay somewhere you’re obviously not valued.

It’s a simple choice when you put it into perspective. 

But things are always easier said than done. 

You sigh, the air puffing out your cheeks, a bad habit you had when angry, and walk right in front of Tomura’s TV. There was more satisfaction in making him lose the game and then announcing your departure than just leaving quietly. 

He cranes his neck to see around you, but it doesn’t work, finally giving up as his character inevitably dies. “What!?”

“I’m leaving!” You announced, turning on your heel and heading towards the front door.

“You had to make me lose first? I said I was almost done!” He spat back, rising from the couch to follow you.

You shrug, “I don’t care. Why invite me in if you’re just going to ignore me?”

“Didn’t think you had the patience of a child.'' Tomura stands in front of you, cutting through your path and stopping you in your tracks.

It's almost comical the way he insults you. “Okay pot, meet kettle.” You try to brush past him, but he side steps with you. 

“What are you dressed like that for anyway? Did you go out tonight or something?”

“No!” You deny, a little louder than intended and then pause. “But it’s none of your business what I do anyway.”

Tomura hums at this, taking the words in and running them through his mind as he gives you a once over, eyes scanning from the too-tight shirt you wore — showing a generous amount of cleavage, down to your mini skirt that left little to the imagination. 

“Could've fooled me.”

“What do you mean by that?” You hate when he gives you cryptic answers, like it’s impossible to pry into his mind to see what he was thinking at the moment. 

“You knew you were coming to see me so I dont get why you're wearing that skimpy shit. Unless you wanted me to check you out.”

“Not everything is about you, Tomura. Maybe I just wanted to dress up and look nice.”

“Bullshit—”

“God, Tomura you always fucking do this!” You yell, walking right up into his face. The excitement in his scarlet eyes sends a chill up your spin, but you can’t back down. 

He gets closer, matching your tone and you can still see the grin he’s trying to hide. It makes you see red. “Do what? Tell you the truth? You know I’m not wrong.”

“Yeah, you think you know everything, but you don’t. I’m dressed up because I want to be, not because of you.” You’re insisting at this point, frustration threatening to tip over and spill out into the form of another pointless argument. Why did you think you could actually come over and have a decent conversation with him?

Tomura is a master at getting under your skin and hitting where it hurts. In all of your arguments he’s never really pulled out the big shots but you wouldn’t put it past him to do so now. 

“Oh, so you come over to my place dressed like a slut and you expect me to believe you don’t have some hidden motive?”

And there it is.

Your last straw. He could be so egotistical and mean — you’ve had it. 

You regret it the moment you do it, but your body moves before your brain can process your actions. You push Tomura. Hard. 

He doesn’t fall back far but you know it’s enough to piss him off. And he’s never been one to hold anything back, so he shoves you back and your back hits the wall. 

Tomura has you pinned before you know it and there’s a thrill that runs through your body in a way you know you shouldn’t be feeling. Your knees feel weak for reasons that are not related to fear and your panties were gradually becoming more wet. 

His voice is low and his eyes are narrowed as he pins you against the wall, pressing your cheeks together with his other hand. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

You have to bite back a smile, knowing this has taken a turn and you aren’t strong enough to stop where it’s going. Not that you would want to. 

“Oh yeah? If I piss you off so badly then why are you hard?”

He doesn’t look down. He can feel his own arousal just as well as you can while it’s pressed against your abdomen. 

Tomura pushes off of you — maintaining some distance as he turns away. 

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Sure am.” You supply, chipper and certain as you trail behind him. 

He’s walking further into the apartment, and you follow. Legs moving on their own accord as you go further into the lion's den, exchanging quips and insults. You jab your finger into his shoulder, bothered by the way he continues to ignore you, it's a pathetic attempt at catching his attention and it works. Kind of. 

The only response being him slapping your hand away with a glare and muttering a soft fuck off as he walked on. 

You both went back and forth. Like the sun and moon, you just can’t stay away from each other.  

It was how these things usually went between you and Tomura. He would start up, make a petty argument and you would never back down. Tomura is someone who was used to getting his way and others simply did what he said with no objections. 

But that was not how you were.

And he loved it.

You knew by the way he would get that devious glimmer in his eye when you would challenge a point, starting up a debate. Sometimes they were heated enough to make you both break up. It never lasted more than a few days. A week being the longest.

Push and pull. 

Tomura made his way past you again, ignoring your calls about how you hate being ignored. At this point you’re sure he’s doing it on purpose to rile you up more but you can’t help but take the bait. You grab his shoulder, forcing him to turn around and face you as you point a finger in his face. 

“Stop walking away from me!” 

He grabs your wrist and pulls you closer, making you stumble on your feet and almost lose balance. You were so close you could feel the heat from his body and smell the fresh linen scent of his shirt. “Don’t tell me what to do.” 

You snatch your wrist away from him, tension between you two growing hotter by the second as the space between you got thinner. 

“What are you going to do about it?” 

The narrowing of his eyes only made your grin grow wider as you watched the gears turn in his head as he thought about just how many things he would do about it. All of it enticed you, so you beat him to the punch. 

You reach forward again, fully intending to shove his shoulder again for another reaction, another glare, maybe even more words, but he stops you. It was fast, the way you both tumbled through the hallway as Tomura crashed his lips to yours. The relief of finally feeling his lips again meshed with the excitement of how rough he was with you. 

You lose yourself in the kiss, welcoming him in with open arms as you vaguely register the dark walls of his room and posters plastered along the walls in your scuffle.

It was exciting, probably the best part of breaking up and making up. At this point you think the whole point of falling apart is coming back together again. An endless cycle where the reward is worth the punishment. 

Cat and mouse. 

You end up on top of him, straddling his hips while your smug smile beams down at him. Tomura gives you an unamused look in return, yet the way his hands rested on your thighs gave away the ill hidden interest. It was all the encouragement you needed as you leaned down, hovering above him with both hands on his chest. 

“Not so tough now, are you?”

It’s bait. You know it’s bait, he knows it’s bait, but he takes it anyway — the way you knew he would. 

Tomura wastes no time flipping the both of you over, quickly reversing your positions as he settled himself between your legs. It’s dangerous the way his actions riled you up further, and you have to bite your lip to keep the smile from betraying your false anger. You couldn’t let him know how excited you were to be back in his bed. 

He presses your cheeks together and rocks your head left to right, tone mocking and eyes wild with fever, “Oh, look who’s become a firecracker all of the sudden. Where did that flame come from, huh?”

You want to respond, but Tomura beats you to it, releasing your cheeks and pointing a nimble finger against your forehead, “Don’t be dumb.”

His eyes trail from yours and then down to your lips, then finally down to your exposed cleavage. The movement was swift as he cupped one of your breasts in his hand and dipped down, claiming your lips again. It was softer than the first time but not by much, especially not when he matched his pace by grinding his clothed erection into you, making you moan at the contact. 

Your skirt was so short and it made you feel even more exposed than you already were. Tomura had easy access to you and the thin fabric of your panties made everything feel so much closer. 

You moan at the contact, swiping your tongue against Tomura’s bottom lip and wasting no time deepening the kiss as you pull him closer. You needed more and you needed it as soon as possible. 

Tomura pulled the low cut front of your shirt down, easily exposing your breasts from the confines of the shirt and massaged them, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your nipples and making you cry out from the sensitivity. 

He pulls away from you, eyes gazing into yours and you swore in that moment he put you in a trance. Tomura’s ruby red gaze always left you mesmerized and you can’t help the whimper that leaves your lips, brows furrowed and eyes wanting, “Please.”

“Please what?” And he’s not taunting you, he’s not mocking you. His eyes are soft as he brings a hand to your cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” Fuck, you’ve missed him. “I just want you.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face as he strokes your cheek, soft look in his eyes making your heart flutter, and then it’s gone. Replaced by a hardened gaze as he moves to remove your shirt and bra, fully exposing you to his hungry eyes, and then moves to remove your short skirt. 

His hands hover there for a moment, debating whether or not he should keep it on and fuck you in it, but then decides against the idea and pulls it off, taking your soaked panties down with it as well. 

The air in the room feels cool against your skin as you shiver in anticipation. 

“Fuck,” Tomura whispers, now eye level with your cunt. You gasp as he runs two fingers between your wet folds and holds the digits up to show you. Syrupy clear slick clung to them, slowly trailing down as Tomura rose back up, eye level with you once more. 

“You’re so wet…” He murmured, bringing the digits to your mouth and you opened, taking them into your mouth and tasting yourself. You kept eye contact as you watched his eyes widen in delight — Tomura loved it when you put on a show for him.

There’s another moment of Tomura pressing against your tongue with his fingers and then he pulls them out, opting for a kiss in exchange, his tongue dipping into your mouth and groaning  as he could taste what’s left of your slick on you as well.

The pleasant feeling and linguid action of your movements made your shoulders relax as you practically melted into his soft bed, the feeling of his body above yours bringing you mountains of comfort. It was a distraction, of course. 

You felt the same two of Tomura’s fingers prod at your slick entrance before pressing in fully and all the way down to the knuckle. The stretch was intense but the pressure was euphoric, making you squeeze your eyes shut and grip him closer. 

He didn’t make you wait long as he pumped his fingers, quickly finding that sensitive spot so deep inside of you that only he could pinpoint and brushing against it over and over. 

The feeling was so good it made you pull away from the kiss to breathe, thighs twitching and toes curling in pleasure. You wouldn’t last long like this.

“Tomura, fuck..!” You moaned, drowning in ecstasy as he continued his abuse of your spot, never letting up or slowing down, aiming to make you cum as quickly as he could. It was obvious he wanted you to come undone as soon as possible by the way he watched your every expression. 

The way your brows furrowed to the way you bit your lip. Tomura eagerly drank every expression and gave it back to you in the form of pleasure. 

“What?” He started, unphased by your dilemma, “Gonna cum?”

It took a lot of focus and effort, but you nod — done with fighting for the night and accepting the fact that you will come apart quickly. So you give in to the pleasure. 

Tomura smiles, a devious grin splitting his features as he curls his fingers, hitting the spot one more time for good measure and you lose composure, your climax crashing into you like a tidal wave. There was nothing you could do besides ride the feeling while holding on to Tomura tight — like you would get swept away if you didn’t. 

He fucks you through it with his fingers, eyes never leaving your face as you come down from your high. 

“Pent up, huh?” He questions, and this time there is that little hint of teasing. It brings you back to reality. 

Yes, you have been pent up. You haven’t been able to get off to anything since you’ve broken up and it’s been hell. 

You have no time for the games, you just want him and you want him now. 

So, you take Tomura’s face in your hands, making him look you in the eyes. The flecks of black in his carmine eyes always makes you remember why you come back. Every single time. 

“Fuck me, please, Tomura.” It's soft and filled with desire that you cannot be bothered to hide, and Tomura has never been one to deny you.

He quickly discards his own clothes, making sure to not stay away from you for long. His cock is hard and leaking precum from the head as he strokes it in preparation. You feel giddy at the thought and watch as he slides the head of his cock between your folds, coating it with your slick, and rubbing against your clit. The action makes your hips twitch up towards him. 

He loves to tease and make you wait, but today he doesn’t make you wait long. Tomura leans down after lining himself up with your entrance and places his free hand behind your head, right above the nape of your neck. His hands were warm and the feeling of those hands cradling your head felt so comforting in the space of his familiar dark bedroom. 

You bring a hand to his hair, tangling your fingers in his ashen locks as he pushes forward. The stretch makes you whimper and Tomura captures your lips in a kiss again, swallowing the noises and releasing a groan of his own as your walls tighten around his cock. 

There's something about the way Tomura drags his hips, the way he starts off at a slow pace, winding you up as he steadily increases his speed and force. It happens so gradually that you don't realize you’re screaming his name until he tells you to shut up — threatening to cover your mouth because he didn't want his neighbors to hear how much of a slut you were.

It drove you mad the way he said it all with a smile and fucked you harder. Almost daring you to be louder so he can punish you with a hand over your mouth.

Tomura knew how rough you liked it and he always delivered, giving you back arching pleasure as he pounded into you. It leaves you gasping and struggling to keep your voice down. Your hands find the surface of his back, trying to hold on as much as you could with building pleasure on the horizon. 

“Tomu— Tomura..! Please,” you cry and he doesn’t miss a beat, driving his cock so deep against your sweet spot it makes you see stars. “Fuck..!” 

“Yeah, that’s it.” Tomura cooed, eyes filled with mischief as he brought you closer to the edge. “Cry for me.”

And you do, your body feeling euphoric as the feeling buzzed up your spine and filled your brain with the fuzz of ecstasy. 

“What are you gonna do, huh?” He starts, his hips grinding against you, the closeness of his pelvis rubs against your clit, making you cry out again, “What are you gonna do when I breed this pretty cunt and make sure you’re stuck with me forever?”

He’s bluffing, you know Tomura doesn’t want kids. He’s just trying to gauge your reaction. Your dedication. 

“Tomura…” You only moan, breath catching as he hits that spot inside you that he knows so well. 

Tomura is smiling, wild and devious, as you look up at him with glossy eyes, so close to crying from the feelings, “I’m gonna do it. I’ll make you mine forever and you can’t do anything about it.” 

“Ah!” You should stop him, tell him to calm down but he has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your back arching off of the bed. Everything is blurring together and you can only slur words as the drool from your earlier kiss trails down your cheek. 

You are completely at his mercy like this and you know your friends would be beyond disappointed.  

It just feels so good the way his cock drags in and out of your body pulling moans and whines from your throat. He was relentless in the way he pounded into you — beyond the point of being soft and slow because he knows that’s exactly you like it. 

“Say you want it.” The command comes with the slowing of his hips and you whine, high and needy as Tomura slows to a near stop.

“Tomura, I—“

“Say you want it or I swear to god I’ll stop right now.” It’s a threat and you don’t want to find out if he’ll go through with it. Tomura never goes back on his word. 

“No, please, don’t— I want it!” you pant, frustrated and aching for more movement.

“I want you to,” you stammer, desperate to have your release. “I don’t care if you cum in me. I need you so bad.”

“That’s my girl,” He coos, dipping his head down onto your shoulder, “Fuck.. love you s’much”

You stop — you’ve never heard him say that. Ever. You doubted he would ever say it since it’s been so long. 

He doesn’t give you a chance to ruminate on it because he's picking up the pace again and giving you the friction you were so deeply in need of. The feelings are swimming in your head as your cries reach new heights. Tomura is too far gone to stop you or care and you’re thankful. You couldn’t stop yourself if you tried. 

The build of your orgasm crashes down and sends you with it, making your thighs quiver in pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut. Tomura’s mouth meets yours before you could cry out, the warmth of his tongue guiding you as he fucked you through it. 

He didn’t last long after, the way your walls tightened around him with the force of your orgasm has Tomura’s pace erratic as he chased his own high. 

The bed shook as Tomura finally finished, hips stuttered as he released inside of you, hot seed coating your insides and making heat rise to your cheeks. He really did it.

You watch as he slows to a stop above you, his eyes closed as he enjoys the feeling of release. Tomura’s breathing was heavy and you couldn’t stop yourself from bringing him down into another kiss, traveling from his lips to his cheeks and then back again. 

It was intimate and you were worried it may have been too much, given the reason you were both in this situation was because of a stupid breakup. 

Tomura’s pulls out of you, making you wince and taking the feeling of being so full away from you. He doesn’t go far, opting to stay on top of you and rest his head on your shoulder, wanting to keep you as close as possible. 

“You really piss me off.” He mumbles into your shoulder, out of breath and tired. “God, why can’t you just stay with me.”

“Tomura…” Your hands run through his hair, the sweat is making it stick to his forehead as you wait for him to keep talking. 

“Stop leaving me.” His voice is firm, unwavering.

“You told me to go.” 

“I didn’t think you fucking would. I would never actually want you to.”

“I can’t read between the lines Tomura, I’m not in your head.” You make him look at you this time, pulling his hair a little to get him to raise his head. “Did you mean it?”

“I just said I didn’t—“

“No, the other thing you said.” He gives you a look of pure confusion and you lose a little bit of hope, “when you said you loved me?” 

You stare into his carmine eyes, hoping, praying it wasn’t just pillow talk from the heat of the moment. 

He looks at you for a long time, frustration still wearing on his features. If you didn’t know any better you would say he was pouting. “Of course I meant it. I’ve always felt like that.”

“But you’ve never said it!”

“I show it!”

“How?” This is getting frustrating and going in circles. 

He groans, sitting up and taking his warmth with him. “I’m not going to sit here and list everything I’ve ever done for you. I don’t think it works like that.”

You open your mouth to counter, irritation on your tongue because that’s not what you meant, but Tomura stops you again. 

“I don’t know how to explain it, okay?” He shakes his head and sighs, laying next to you on the bed and looking up at his ceiling. “It’s weird. I have these strong feelings, but it’s not hate, it's not anger. It's the opposite of that.”

You stare at him as he focuses ahead, keeping his eyes trained on the uninteresting ceiling above.

“Father said it’s a weakness and I should feel that way but,” There’s a pause as he looks away from the ceiling, meeting your eyes finally, “if it’s so weak of me, then why are the feelings so strong?” 

Your heart aches. It's clear that he’s torn, and with the strange way he was raised you know that he can’t help the way he is. 

“Tomura…” 

“And it won’t go away. I can’t fight them down or push them away like I can with everything else. It eats me up and I… guess I lash out because of it.” He shakes his head and for the first time Tomura looks defeated. You’ve never seen him this way — he’s always been filled with confidence and self assured. “I just don’t know what to do.”

You bring a hand to his cheek as you press your forehead against his. It kills you that this is what’s been on his mind and you aren’t sure what you could do to fix it. Maybe there was nothing you could do, physically, but you would do your best to be there for him emotionally.

“Sometimes,” you try to be careful with your words, knowing how much Tomura looks up to his foster father even though the man has been nothing but strange to him. “People say things that aren’t true because they don’t know how to live with it.”

Tomura’s guardian cannot live with love nor the idea of it. 

“That doesn't mean you have to live that way.” 

And it’s the truth. 

Tomura doesn’t say anything, just watches you with heavy lidded eyes, ruby red nearly glowing in the low light of the room. He was so much more than what people thought they knew of him and you didn’t care if it took time for others to see that.

He leans in, closing his eyes and you meet him halfway into a kiss. 

It's warm and it's soft and you know that even when your phone is buzzing from dozens of missed calls and texts from your friends, it will be fine. 

You and Tomura would take things one day at a time.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

You look like a fun place to sit.

Gif credits

Pairing: Neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader

Words count: 2667

Rating: + 18, MDNI

Summary: You decide to enjoy a night at the movies, your neighbor Frankie ruins it all. Or maybe not?

Tags: pov second person, no use of y/n, fluff, sort of romcom vibes (?), smut, enemies to lovers, age unspecified but they are both full grown adults, Frankie is annoying but also cute and lovely and fucking gorgeous, reader has hair, breasts and vagina, other than that no other description of her is given, fingering (f receiving), sexual acts in public places (again? Again. I'm not even particularly interested in doing that irl I don't know what to say to you, please forgive me), pet names (honey, baby, princess), arguing, kissing, no use of Spanish because I terribly suck at it and I don't want to butcher another language LOL. If by chance I realize I forgot something I'll add it right away.

It’s my first Frankie ff and I’m so incredibly nervous to post it you all! I really hope it doesn’t sucks because I had so much fun writing it today in one sitting ‘cause I’m just an impulsive impatient mess. (Leo sun and Aries moon, what do you expect from me if not chaos? I had nothing a few hours ago, I even skipped WIP Wednesday and btw thanks for the tag @almostempty 🩷)

Title comes from a gif of Karen Walker from Will and Grace that I saw last night, it made me laugh a lot and this thing was born LOL

As usual, English is not my first language so please be gentle, no beta and no proofreading, it’s tiny and it’s all my fault, I’m sorry 💀 Thanks to anyone who will read this!

“Excuse me, you should stand up, that’s my seat” 

Frankie turns, looking at you with a surprised expression “I don’t think so, you’re wrong” he replies. 

Ugh, your neighbor.

Frankie lives two houses away from you. Last winter you had a fight at a neighborhood meeting because you pointed out that he keeps forgetting to put the recycling bins back in, and he told you to mind your own business and called you an hysterical witch.

A stupid fight that ended up with you not saying hello to each other and various other arguments about your flashy Christmas lights or his overgrown yard. You and Frankie fight constantly, about everything. And now he's here.

You glare at him “I’m not wrong at all, look” and you wave your ticket under his nose “P10, see? It’s my seat and you’re rude”. 

A grin spreads across his face “listen, honey, I don’t know where you got this ticket, you probably made it yourself, I bought it a moment ago and it’s the same seat” 

He takes a card out of his pocket and hands it to you, remaining comfortably seated with a large popcorn box. 

You look at the ticket, him again, the ticket again “how the hell is that possible?! I booked it on their website a week ago” 

He sneers “I told you! It must be a system error, I don’t know, I’m not getting up from here”

You are furious. The theater is filling up and you absolutely don’t want to leave, you have been waiting for this movie for months and you have inspected the theater map choosing a seat that would guarantee you the very best view.

“I bought it first, so I have more right to be here than you do,” you say firmly and Frankie laughs. 

“Where are we, elementary school? Listen, honey, go buy yourself another ticket and leave me alone.” He replies crunching on popcorn.

The way he calls you “honey” irritates you deeply, it sounds like an insult.

“I’m not going anywhere, YOU get the fuck out of here” you hiss. 

“No” he simply replies and then he turns back at the screen pretending you’re not there. 

“Truly a gentleman, as usual. I have no words.” you roll your eyes and search for an usher to ask for help. No one is there. 

The movie starts in 5 minutes and you don’t want to miss anything you paid for. If you went to the box office right now to complain it would take forever to get back in. 

“Fuck” you exclaim and sit down next to him huffing. You are sure that someone will make you get up very early and it pisses you off.

Frankie continues to nibble on his popcorn and looks at you with an extremely amused expression, it seems like the show has become you.

“Why do you care so much about this movie anyway?” he asks you. “Does any of your relatives happen to be in it?“ 

You’re fuming. 

His teasing tone, his vaguely Spanish accent, his smirk, the sound of him chewing, everything bothers you.

“No. Shut the fuck up” you tell him with a death stare. 

You won’t tell him that your favorite actor stars in it, that you have every photo from the set of this movie saved on your phone, that you’ve read every article about it, and that you couldn’t wait to enjoy it on the first day of screening.

You can already hear his raucous laughter. No, you would never tell Frankie anything like that.

“You're not one of that guy's crazy fans, are you?” 

“What guy?” you ask him, pretending not to know what he's talking about. “Gladiator is one of my favorite movies, that's all. I just wanted to watch the sequel in peace. Someone is stopping me, though” 

“That guy, I bet you like him, what’s his name? Paul Pascal?” he stares at you searching for every little involuntary movement on your face that might give you away. 

“Oh for God’s sake, what are you doing here anyway? Do you even know what you're about to see? They are Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal, two different people, you uncultered swine.” You yell. This guy is impossible.

“Yeah, whatever, so which one do you fancy?”

“Fucking nobody” you lie “I just want to watch a movie after a horrible week at work, okay?” You try to play on his guilt. If he has one, you think.

“Well, I've had a rough week too, okay?” he shrugs without stopping to give you that annoying little smile. “And it's not my fault that this theater is having problems with its computer system.”

You glance at him, wondering if he's telling the truth, it's impossible to guess from his face.

People keep sitting in the front rows and you start hoping that luck will be on your side and that no one will make you get up.

“Okay, look, now we're going to watch this movie and then we'll go our separate ways, please don't bother me anymore"

“As you wish, princess” he replies ironically.

You don't even answer him, you're too busy checking that no other people come in.

Finally the opening credits start to roll and the doors close with a dull thud.

You made it, despite this unbearable guy, you feel victorious.

You begin to relax in your chair and you don't know why you turn to look at him, lingering on his face for the first time in months.

His eyes are fixed on the screen. In the dim light you observe his raven curly hair tucked under his baseball cap, his dark eyes, the line of his prominent nose, his scruffy beard, his mustache, just above a pair of lips that seem made for kissing.

Really, truly, gorgeous.

You're so busy arguing with him all the time that you never realized how handsome he is.

He's wearing a grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans, you can’t help but admire the way the fabrics hug his body so deliciously. 

He’s just your type, built up in all the right ways, you find yourself unable to take your eyes off him until the last second. Then the movie starts and you look away.

He’s still your number one enemy, what the hell were you thinking?

When Pedro first appears, you shift in your seat, crossing your legs.

“FUCK” you scream internally “here we go”

Unbelievably stunning in his armor, you’re basically drooling. 

You try to stay as composed as possible but Frankie is next to you and notices.

He comes closer to you and whispers in your ear “So it was all about this guy… the fuss before” You feel one of his large hand brushing your arm that is resting on the armchair and you try with all your strength to remain still even if he causes a storm inside you and especially in your panties. 

“Shut. Up.” You hiss, without moving your gaze. You feel his breath on your skin and it’s intoxicating. 

He chuckles “Yeah, that was I was thinking” and throws another popcorn into his mouth.

Your cheeks burn and you're thankful you're in the cinema, in the dark.

“What’s so special about this guy?” Frankie approaches again “is his penis platinum by any chance? All my female colleagues at work are crazy about him”

You turn to look at him with the desire to slap him “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” 

“Okay, okay, I was just asking”

You hate people talking at the movies. You wonder if you could have a more annoying guy than Frankie next to you. Probably. 

Hotter? Probably not.

This dude hits on your last nerve but he makes you horny at the same time. 

Terrible combination. 

Frankie settles back into his seat and resumes watching the film.

You can't help but look at him from time to time and your desire grows. even if you're offended that he didn't even offer you his popcorn. Rude. 

His mouth pouted and his eyebrows furrowed as he seems all focused on the movie makes you want to cup his face and kiss him.

You can still feel the warmth of his hand on your arm and his breath on your neck.

Concentrate, you tell yourself, it's the neighbor you hate, the neighbor you hate, the neighbor you hate. Fuck. You want him so bad. This revelation drives you crazier than Pedro half naked on screen.

At a particularly bloody scene you involuntarily turn around and hide your face on his shoulder.

You feel his arm around you “hey, it’s okay. I’ll tell you when it’s over” and he holds you tight the whole time.

He smells clean and fresh, like citrus and sage with a light hint of cigarette that you assume he smoked right before entering. 

Your mind goes fuzzy and your pulse races at an impossibly high rate. 

“You can look now” and it takes you a few seconds too long to register his words. 

“Th-Thanks” you mutter, shifting back to your place. 

Halfway through the movie the lights come back on and Frankie bursts out laughing looking at you. “What?” you ask him with wide eyes “what is it that makes you laugh so much?”

“Your face” he grins “it's clearly painted on it how much you want that guy. He turns you on, huh?”

You roll your eyes “Oh my God! Can't you go sit somewhere else? Two rows down, look how many free seats there are”

“I like it better here” 

You cuss, there’s no way to get rid of him.

He has something magnetic that destabilizes you, your eyes fall involuntarily on his neck, slide along his broad chest and stop at the crotch of his pants. From the way he sits you can clearly see that he is quite big.

“What are you looking at?” he asks you amusedly. 

You immediately look up. “Nothing” 

“Nothing my ass. Did you like what you saw?” 

Fuck. He noticed. You're done for. You hate to make him understand that after all, yes, you like what you saw. He seems pleased, proud, you would so much like to wipe that little smile off his face. As much as you struggle to admit it to yourself, you like him.

“Well, maybe…after all, you look like a fun place to sit” 

You can't believe you actually said that.

Frankie's response is not long in coming, his eyes immediately darken and his smile twists in a mischievous way.

The lights go out again and you feel him tug gently on your arm “come here, pretty”

He sits you down on his lap and as the movie starts again he whispers “was that what you wanted the whole time? Were you offended that I didn’t invite you?” you can clearly feel his smile spread across your skin just before he places his lips on your neck.

You would like to say something back but his closeness makes you confused and excited.

He sucks your skin like he's hungry and you moan in the dark "shh baby you gotta stay quiet while I give you what you want”

You don't know how but you find the strength to reply, "God, you're so arrogant.”

He tightens his hands on your hips, pulling you towards him, now you are practically sitting on his cock. You feel it pressing against your ass, trapped in his pants.

A rush of pleasure wets your pussy and you bite your lips to hold back another moan, you hear his hoarse voice in your ear “Maybe. You like it though” You hate to admit that he is right. 

The heat of his body envelops you pleasantly, he raises a hand to one of your breasts and squeezes it over your shirt. You like his hands. They are big, expert and eager to touch you, they make your head spin. 

You completely forgot about the movie, which seemed impossible to you, if they had told you you would have laughed in their face. In no universe would you have expected this.

“God” you whine “oh my God” His hand slides under your shirt and reveals your breast pulling down your bra, it is still covered but now you can feel his skin against yours. His fingers gently grasp one of your nipples, pulling and twisting it.

“Open your eyes, baby. Watch the movie like a good girl” his voice sounds authoritative, it irritates you and another rush of pleasure floods you at the same time.

“It’s not that easy” you mutter between your teeth as you feel his other hand dangerously approaching the hem of your skirt. He slowly goes up, as you try to hold back and make sure no one notices what he’s doing to you. Luckily, everyone seems enthralled by the film.

At this moment you don't even know why you started arguing so fiercely, if you had known before you would have tried to smooth things over a long time ago.

His fingers reach your panties, you feel them barely touching you and you already feel yourself burning with anticipation.

They move under your skirt, pushing your panties aside, grazing at your outer lips and then dipping inside you “Fuck, you’re soaking” 

He moves them up and down between your folds, gathering your wetness towards your clit.

You feel his heavy breathing on your neck, his tongue running over your skin and his teeth nibbling on you.

“Fuck, Frankie” you cry 

“Eyes to the movie”

You want to turn around and straddle him but there isn't enough room and Frankie holds you firmly anyway.

He applies pressure on your clit just right, starting to move two of his thick fingers in circle over it, the motion of his hand is partially hidden by the fabric of your skirt and your moans die in your throat one after the other. Frankie is rubbing away your sanity, you feel possessed and delirious under his touch.

Your last shred of control is torn by his fingers entering inside you, claiming your cunt as his, curling and scratching at your spongy spot.

Your eyes are still fixed on the screen but your vision is totally blurred, you see nothing, you understand nothing, you only feel Frankie pumping incessantly inside you while continuing to rub your clit with his thumb.

You feel the soft reverberation of his voice behind you, close to your ear “good girl, you're taking me so well”

The subtle Spanish accent in his voice now seems to you the most erotic sound in the world, sweet, melodious, addictive.

He takes you to the edge, you throw your head on his shoulder, shutting your eyes so everything goes black and you only feel him, until even biting your lips doesn't help anymore. He covers your mouth with his hand as you explode in a devastating orgasm, you moan against his skin, between his thick fingers that have just left your breast and you already miss them, feeling full and satiated by him.

He uncovers your mouth and kisses your neck, pressing his hand to your hip to keep you from slipping off his lap as your body trembles against his.

“Shit” you mutter “Frankie…oh my god”

“Do you think we can stop arguing all the time now?” He playfully says as he nuzzles at your hair.

“I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked, you know, I’m just like that” you reply, grinning and turning around to finally fix your eyes on his. 

“I noticed it”

You take off his cap laughing and put it on backwards and before he starts to protest you kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth, tasting butter and salt on his tongue.

“Take me home”

“The movie isn't over yet,” Frankie observes, and you reply, “that means you'll have to take me to see it again and you’ll pay”

“Fine to me, princess” 

[themeraldee]

The Lucky Winner - Part 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, I’ll pick you up then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded towards the bouquet, raising his eyebrows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s no shame in being a fan.” 

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

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

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

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

“You don’t think that’s it?” 

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

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

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

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

So you continue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do I get a goodbye kiss?” 

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

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

At first he comes back to you seeking comfort.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You call him out on that one day. 

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

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

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

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

He breaks your thoughts with a simple sentence.

“Maybe I want to treat my girl.” 

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

“Your girl?”

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

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

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

“I love you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Again.” 

“I love you.”

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

“Again.” 

And each time he asks he sounds more wrecked. 

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe I should give you more reminders then.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait.

Where is everything?

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

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

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

His stomach flips. 

No. Nonono. This can’t be happening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exactly. It can’t be. You wouldn’t.

This has to be some kind of a mistake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not sell it all?”

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

“What if I sign them?”

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

“Nonsense, come on. Bring it out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@morishitoshi @ker0senebunny @itsvaleriesucka @thychuvaluswife

@nervoussystemss @littlegaaby @natliecole @thatvintagefanboy

@infinetlyforgotten @rafecamsgirlll @hom3landr @mrsdesade

@nommingonfood

[fireinmoonshot]

idea for a tyler owens one shot. he broke off the relationship years ago and then you see each other again. maybe you go out for drinks and one thing leads to another. kinda inspired by the song bad idea right by olivia rodrigo.

A/N: Thank you so much for sending this request in. I'm sorry it took me like a week to get around to writing and posting. I hope you like it. I honestly had so much fun writing this one. I'm not sure how closely inspired it is by the song, but I tried my best to give it that same kind of vibe! 😊💗

You knew that going home was probably a bad idea, but it’d been years since you’d gone back and after a particularly hard couple of months, home was the only place you wanted to be – even with the threat of seeing Tyler around. That’s why, when you’d gone out with friends two nights ago to celebrate your return to town, you hadn’t been surprised to run into him.

The two of you had exchanged pleasantries, saying a quick hello before you’d headed back to your friends. You weren’t avoiding him, but you weren’t particularly interested in a conversation with him either. After all, he had been the one to break things off between the two of you a few years ago. 

It’d been a fairly amicable break-up, but that didn’t mean you wanted to be best friends. Especially since you hadn’t seen him in years. 

You’d assumed that the one interaction at the bar would be the only one. That you likely wouldn’t see him again before you headed back home or before he headed off chasing storms again. Until you woke up to a text the next morning. 

It was nice seeing you again last night. Would you wanna catch up over a drink?

Every fibre of your being told you to say no, but somehow you’d texted Yes back. 

You didn’t put too much effort into your appearance or dress up to meet him at the bar he’d suggested – one you used to go to a fair bit when you’d been together. You hadn’t been there since. Tyler had seen the best and worst sides of you, so you knew he wasn’t going to care if you showed up in your best outfit or your pyjamas. 

It was the smile he gave you when you walked towards the bar and saw him waiting outside for you that made you question whether thiswas a bad idea. You pushed down the feeling in your stomach – the same one you used to get around him before. 

“So, how’s the city treating you?” Tyler finally asked when you were both sat down inside, a drink in front of each of you. “Not being tempted into moving back home?”

You laughed and shook your head. “No, it’d have to take a miracle to bring me back home, I think. The city is nice. I wouldn’t call it home, but it’s as good as these days.” You decided to refrain from telling him about the stressful few months at your job, as well as some drama with your landlord. He didn’t need to know about those things.

Tyler, though, had always been able to see through you.

“It’s nice? It’s as good as home? I’m not convinced.”

You stared at him for a moment. He could still do that, even after not seeing or speaking to you for years? It felt like the time had never passed between you, and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not. You leant towards not, and you knew your friends would agree. 

And… was it possible for Tyler Owens to have gotten more attractive?

“How’s the team? Have you blown up on Youtube yet?” You decided to attempt to change the topic before you got off track or before you said something you’d probably end up regretting. Tyler had asked you out here tonight to catch up, not to rekindle. 

Tyler let out a long sigh, obviously irritated with you changing the subject, and then  switched, his annoyed expression breaking into a grin. “You mean you haven’t been keeping up with our Youtube channel? C’mon, darlin’, we’ve got a million subscribers and you’re telling me you’re not one of them?”

“I’m really not,” you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “I don’t make it a habit to keep up with what my ex-boyfriends do, funnily enough. But I’m glad to hear the channel has worked out for you guys. I guess there’s a real market for storm chasing these days.”

“I mean, I tried to keep up with what you were doing, but Boone eventually convinced me to stop once he caught me checking your Instagram right before a chase,” Tyler laughed softly, then paused, as if he was surprised at himself for admitting that right to your face. “Anyway, Youtube is going well and the team are great. Storm season starts soon, we’re all hoping it’s gonna be a good one.”

You paused, your drink half way to your mouth. “You check my Instagram?”

“Key word there was checking, darlin’,” Tyler said. “But yeah, at the start, of course I did. I broke up with you, you left not long after. I had it in my head that I was the reason you moved away, even though you told me I wasn’t, but I still wanted to know that you were okay, that the city was all right and that you were safe.” 

The desire to come clean and tell Tyler everything about your life in the city had never been stronger. You wanted to tell him about your irritating landlord, about the way your refrigerator in your apartment kept breaking down and the air conditioning never worked, about how everyone at work kept looking down on you despite your experience, about the fact that you’d been on so many dates in the last few years since you moved, but none of them came close to Tyler. 

But you couldn’t.

Instead, you took a very long drink from your glass and then sat it back on the table. All the while, Tyler looked at you, reading you with those eyes that he could see through you with. 

“Things aren’t great in the city, are they?” He asked softly.

You didn’t have to tell Tyler anything because he already knew. 

Hearing his words, the soft way in which he spoke them, and seeing the way he looked at you, suddenly became overwhelming. This man, the one you’d been in love with years ago, the one you used to tell everything to, the one who used to be your home, was sitting right in front of you again and making you feel like you mattered again, after months of being made to feel invisible in the city.

“Will you excuse me for a second?” You didn’t give Tyler a chance to respond before you were up, making a beeline for the front door, desperate to get some air. If you stayed in that bar any longer, you were sure you’d end up making a bad decision. If Tyler kept looking at you like that and making you feel like the version of yourself you were years ago, you worried you were going to become that person again. 

You let out a breath of relief as you stepped outside the bar, the cool evening air hitting you. It was still spring, the air not quite cold but nice enough to be refreshing on your skin as you walked to an emptier spot just down the street, away from the crowd which had spilled out of the bar the later it got in the night. 

It didn’t come as a surprise to you that Tyler followed you. He always wanted to make sure you were okay when you had been together, and that clearly hadn’t changed, especially with the way he’d just been talking to you. 

He sidled up beside you, making sure to give you enough space, knowing that you needed it. “Sweetheart,” he started. “I know I’m probably the last person you wanna talk to right now, but you know you can talk to me, don’t you?”

You met his eyes and nodded. 

“I know I’m your ex, but I still care about you. Probably more than I should.”

You’d never wanted to kiss a man more in your whole life.

“Why more than you should?” You asked, taking a step towards him and noticing the way the look in his eyes changed as he looked at you. 

“Because I should’ve moved on by now.”

“But you haven’t?”

Tyler swallowed. “It’s only ever been you.”

In that moment, nothing could stop you from closing the distance between the two of you, cupping Tyler’s cheeks in your hands and pressing your lips to his. Tyler was quick to kiss you back and you could tell that for the both of you, it was just like coming up for air after years of drowning without each other.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to his body as his lips moved against yours, tongue sweeping across your bottom lip. The fact that you were out on a public street, not far from a crowded bar, didn’t cross either of your minds. All that you could think about was each other and the feeling of each others lips.

When, eventually, you needed to stop for a breather, Tyler rested his forehead against the top of your head, his breathing heavy. “I take it we’re not just talking tonight, darlin’?”

“Not tonight,” you admitted. “We probably shouldn’t have done this, y’know?”

“I know,” Tyler agreed. “But if you think I’m ever letting you go again, you’re wrong.”

You let out a small laugh. “I said it’d take a miracle to bring me back home, Ty.”

His face broke out into a grin. “Didn’t I tell you miracle is my middle name?”

[l0vem41l]

something's wrong with the morning.

「 tws + notes: no tws, unedited 2 the max, potentially ooc but WHO GAF (me. igaf), he misreads tone over text and it's totally not me projecting, bros just a little anxious and its totally not me projecting, richard "acts of service" grayson in the real, pretty heavily romantic implied but it can be interpreted as platonic becuz we fw that here!!!!! 」

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

↳ ft. richard "dick" grayson/nightwing

author's note: yes i am uh. doing More dc stuff. guys im really sorry but its literally leeching off my brain like a parasite i fear. enjoy!!!!!!! ♪(´▽｀) <3 the lyric below is what i based this off of but as usual, GENDER NEUTRAL READER!!!

"and how something's wrong with the morning / when he doesn't phone to say he loves me"

dick has been staring at the text since the minute he received it.

“gm.”

you sent two letters. and a period at the end.

immediately, there's a weird feeling he gets— a pit forming in the depths of his stomach as he reads it over and over again, as if he expects it to magically change in front of his eyes.

you usually send something… more in the morning. you greet him happily and use a silly nickname, he greets you and uses a silly nickname back. it's sort of tradition for the two of you, mainly built on the fact that him being a vigilante leaves very little time for the two of you.

so what the hell happened to that tradition? where’s his “good morning pookie!” or “hope you slept well, sunshine :]” that he's grown so accustomed to?

of course, he has to go on with his day like usual. at least, he's trying his best. to his credit, he does pretty well. after all, dick grayson is a performer at heart! even if it secretly feels like a part of his world just collapsed in on itself, he does not sulk about it.

but to the observant, there's obviously been a shift.

the slightly irritable mood he’s been in? definitely normal. the fact that he’s been swiping away every notification with disinterest if it’s not you? totally nothing.

more astute criminals in blüdhaven are a little off put by the fact that nightwing is still at full quip capacity while hitting just a little harder and being just a teeny bit more bitchy.

there nervous speculation going around that next week he'll be in the discowing fit

nightwing notices that his mask is slipping a bit. but does he care? well... not really. what's more important to him is what's going on inside his head. and he's been thinking— hardcore reflecting on every single recent previous interaction with you, looking back to everything that must’ve made things go wrong.

maybe he should’ve let you win that one argument last monday, even though he’d been pretty certain he was right because you really aren't supposed to stack cards in uno that way.

or maybe “anything’s fine” as a response to you asking what he wanted for dinner was the wrong move— he knew you hated when he didn’t help your indecisiveness.

was it the movie he picked for movie night on your hangout? fuck, that might've been it, you totally hate the main actor. how could he have forgotten?

either way, he’s dead set on the fact he did something to piss you off and now you won’t even greet him good morning.

later in the afternoon, you find a cute little basket on your doorstep containing your favorite flowers, your favorite snacks… and an apology note??

“dick,” you message, “what’s going on?”

he doesn’t reply back. instead, he calls you.

before you can even greet him, his voice chimes in with a whole spiel you didn't expect to be hit with.

“i messed up. i know i did and i should've done better. and i’m so sorry, i wanna make this work and i just— from the bottom of my heart— i really, truly apologize—”

you blink several times at your phone before interrupting. “oookay, woah, woah, woah. let's slow down. the fuck are you apologizing for?”

“...your message this morning.” he mumbles out, barely audible. you can hear the pout in his voice somehow.

“what? the one i typed up while rushing to work?” it’s hard to stifle your laughter. “dude, i just woke up a little late. i promise i still love you.”

he doesn't know whether to feel more relieved that you're not actually upset with him or embarrassed about the drastic, immediate measures he took to make things right. things being absolutely nothing, because obviously you weren't gonna be petty over uno rules, nondecisions, or movies.

"you should come over. we can share the snacks if you get here in time." click.

he'll be at your door the minute patrol is done. not for the snacks though it is a nice bonus but to see you. lord knows you need the time together.

— reblogs always appreciated!

[penny00dreadful]

Before He Cheats

AO3

“Munson Home for the Recently Deceased, you stab ‘em we slab ‘em. How may I direct your call?”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds before a light chuckle crackled through the speaker.

“Is that really how you answer the phone?”

Eddie smiled to himself. “Got you to laugh didn’t it?”

“Suppose.”

“Plus, no one calls the landline anymore unless they’re trying to sell something. You trying to sell me something?”

“No. No, I uh… I’m looking for an Eddie Munson?”

“Only an Eddie Munson? Only one? What a terrible fate. Well you’re in luck, my good sir. This is he. What can I do you for?”

The voice on the end of the line gave a light laugh once again but went silent almost immediately after. 

Eddie stared at the wall in his apartment, waiting for something to happen. In the quiet he could hear the guy letting out little nervous breaths before one big inhale.

“I um. I’m sorry to have to tell you like this, I’d prefer to do it face to face but I don’t know where you live and you probably wouldn’t even want me at your house afterwards and I did find you on social media but it’s not something I wanted to do in DM’s, you deserve better than that-”

“Okay, hold on, slow down.” Eddie tried to ignore the panic starting to kick around in his heart. “Is someone dead? Is someone injured?”

“No! No, Jesus, I’m sorry. I told Robin that I’d be terrible at this but I couldn’t just let it go on without saying anything-”

“You haven’t really said anything. You’re just rambling.”

“Right. Sorry. Again, blame Robin. I’m around her too much. But… okay. Do you know Rick Lipton?”

Eddie felt the panic leave him, replaced only by irritation as he sighed through his nose. “What did he do now?”

“He… um. I’m sorry to ask this but are you his partner? Like, romantic partner?”

Eddie scowled. “And if I am?”

There was movement against the line, almost as if the other guy was nodding. 

“Shit.” He muttered before picking back up in volume again. “Listen, I didn’t know. He told me he was single and I only found out because Robin lives in the same building as you and she saw him with you and asked the neighbours and they said you’d been a thing for like two years and you have to believe me if I’d known I wouldn’t have touched him, I don’t fuck around with cheaters-”

“How long?”

Eddie had expected to feel betrayal or sadness, devastation or heartbreak and they were there. 

They were just lost under a tidal wave of anger and indignation. He was even surprised at himself that he didn’t feel more caught off guard. 

Rick had never cheated before (that Eddie was aware of) but he had always had a wandering eye and a few off-colour jokes about 'going to find someone more his speed’. 

They’d never really felt all that funny.

Maybe it was because their relationship had felt dead for the last few months. 

They barely talked, they just existed around each other. The sex had all but dried up as well and whenever they did have it, it was completely impersonal. Get in, get out, move back to separate parts of the apartment if either of them even bothered to stay over. 

More often than not one of them would make a quick exit back to their home.

Eddie had been thinking a breakup was on the horizon for a while. 

But that was no excuse to cheat. 

At least have the fucking decency to end the relationship first before going out and chasing tail. 

“Um, like four or five weeks." The guy on the phone muttered, clearly ashamed. "I’m so sorry Eddie, I swear to god if I knew I would never… I have- I have proof if you need it.”

“If it’s a sex tape I don’t think I want to see it.” Eddie was trying really hard to maintain his calm and not snap through the phone. 

If what the guy was saying was true, then he was an innocent party in this.

Didn’t make it hurt any fucking less though.

Didn’t make him any less pissed.

“If- no it’s not a sex tape.” The voice sounded scandalised. “Fucking hell, do people actually do that?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause, as though the guy was waiting for Eddie to continue but Eddie just let it hang in the air. He wasn’t ashamed. 

But he was definitely going to have to purge those files now.

“Okay well… It's just a photo. I posted it to my insta a week ago but he was really weird about it being up, which in hindsight makes a lot of sense, so I took it down.” He said, quiet and sad. “I can send it to you if you want.”

Eddie pursed his lips. 

“Please hold.”

He unceremoniously dropped the phone with a clatter, leaving it dangling from the cord, bouncing against the wall and probably blowing the guy’s ear out. 

Maybe in the morning Eddie would feel a little bad about that, but for now it just felt very satisfying. 

He rifled around in his bedsheets for his phone before making his way back to the landline. 

“Still there?”

“Yes. Ow, by the way.”

Eddie just shrugged, well aware the guy couldn’t see him but whatever. He wasn’t in the mood. 

“Send it on.”

Only a moment later his phone pinged with a notification and Eddie opened the photo.

Well. 

Shit. 

There was Rick, in amongst a crowd at some nightclub, plastered to the side of some pretty boy who looked like he had a regular workout routine. 

Ugh.

Eddie couldn’t handle gym bunnies, the amount they could bench or whatever was all they ever talked about. But this must be the guy on the other end of the phone. 

@King.Steve.Of.House.Hair

Rick had King Steve’s earlobe in between his teeth and from the angle of the selfie Eddie could see his hands were wandering.

It looked like some kind of Halloween night, if the teeny tiny little sailor outfit was anything to go by.

God damn.

But even so, Eddie still wanted to be sure that what he was seeing was… well. What he was seeing. 

“Steve, is it?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry, I didn’t realise I hadn’t given you my name yet.” Steve let out a nervous laugh, like he was expecting Eddie to jump through the phone and strangle him.

Eddie was fit to strangle someone but Steve wasn’t in his crosshairs.

“Don’t worry about it. Tell me, what does Rick have tattooed on his ass?”

“Uh…” Steve paused. “He doesn’t have a tattoo on his ass? Not that I’ve seen anyway. But I can tell you he does have his taint pierced. For some fucking reason.”

Eddie gave a quiet laugh at that, despite the monumentally fucked up situation and the final cracking piece of his heart breaking away. Rick had that piercing by the time Eddie had met him. He insisted he’d gotten it because it was sexy. Eddie was pretty sure he’d just lost a bet.

Eddie was no stranger to intimate piercings himself. He had his frenum done a while back. 

That one he’d definitely done because it felt sexy.

He looked back down at his phone, idly flipping through Steve’s profile and all of his other photos. 

He probably shouldn’t be thinking about how hot Steve was, how it was juxtaposed with a soft cuteness that almost felt like it didn’t belong to someone with such broad shoulders and defined arms. 

He hated himself for thinking about Steve’s attractiveness. 

It felt wrong.

Even though he was pretty much single now.

Even if Rick didn’t know it yet. 

But fuck him. 

He’d find out.

One way or the other.

And Eddie was nothing if not a drama queen.

But he wouldn’t do anything tonight.

No tonight he would just… hurt.

And smoke.

A lot.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice came through to him. “You okay?”

Eddie swallowed, finding it a little more difficult than he expected it to be and realised he’d just been staring down at his phone in silence. 

The screen had gone black.

“Yeah.” He answered, his voice thick. “I’m fine.”

Steve hummed. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Eddie laughed. It was wet and sniffly and vulnerable and horrible. “What are you gonna do from over the phone far away… wherever you are?”

“I dunno. I could just… talk to you I guess? Help you plot Rick's murder?”

Eddie laughed again, a little brighter this time. "Yeah, that could be good. But if I'm plotting murder I want to be a little more comfortable." He unlocked his phone and hit the follow button on Steve’s account. “This conversation requires lounging, not standing by the landline.”

“Oh-”

“How do you feel about a video call?”

A notification popped up on his phone, letting him know Steve had followed him back.

“A video call is fine.”

“Great.” Eddie paused. He wasn’t even sure how to end this call with the guy his boyfriend of two years had been cheating on him with and who he’d just asked if he wanted to video call so Eddie could smoke his feelings away. 

He just didn’t want to feel alone right now. 

He could have called Chrissy or one of the boys to come hang out with him but that would require explaining everything over again and he really didn’t want to do that right now. 

Before he could think much more on it Eddie said a quick “Okay bye,” and hung up.

Steve knew the story and Steve had been wronged too and maybe they could just be mad and sad together. 

He unlocked his phone again as he walked back into his bedroom and hit the video call button, not even bothering to turn his light on, leaving himself and his room shrouded in darkness. He propped his phone up on his desk, angled towards the window where he sat on the sil and started to roll, using the streetlights streaming in the window to see.

Steve picked up only a moment later and Eddie got his first good look at the guy live in action and not through a photo online.

He was sitting at what looked like a kitchen table fully lit by the overhead lights, a pair of wire framed glasses perched on his nose and his hair messy and dishevelled, like he’d been stressfully running his hands through it, which he probably had been. 

Eddie didn’t know how stressed he would be if he had to make a call to someone to tell them their long term partner had been cheating.

He was leaning forward, elbows on the table in a cosy yellow sweater with a slight worry between his eyebrows. 

He looked so soft. 

Nothing at all like the nautical sea queen look he’d been giving in those photos. He looked comfortable and gentle and a little worried.

“Eddie?”

“Mm-hm?” He hummed, bringing the joint to his mouth and lighting it up before pushing open the window a little more and exhaling out into the dark rainfall outside.

“You okay?”

He shrugged. “I will be.”

“I’m not asking about whether you will be, I‘m asking about now.”

Eddie looked over and watched Steve as Steve watched him through the screen.

“Alright, then no. I’m not okay.” He took another drag. “I’m fucking pissed. I’m sad, I’m upset, I’m hurt, I’m angry, I’m disappointed and I don’t know if all of that is directed more at him for doing this to me or me for not expecting it.”

“How were you supposed to expect it?” Steve shook his head in disbelief. “No one should have to expect to be cheated on.”

“Dunno.” Eddie shrugged, looking back out the window. “Relationship was dying anyway.”

“Okay, and? That doesn’t make cheating okay.”

“Suppose not.”

“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. For my part in it.”

Eddie glanced back over, taking in the downward tilt of Steve’s mouth and his big sad eyes.

“S’not your fault. You were wronged too.”

“I guess, but…” Steve bit his lip and looked up from the screen, casting his eyes around his kitchen like something was going to pop out and answer whatever question was running through his head. 

Eddie waited. The guy had been very gracious so far and he seemed to genuinely feel bad for all the mess he’d been wrapped up in. 

“I…” Steve continued. “I know how this thing usually goes. You find out you’ve been cheated on and you still love your partner so you tend to focus all your anger towards the person they cheated with rather than the person who actually wronged you.” He looked down, fiddling with some kind of flash card on the table in front of him.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” Eddie stubbed his joint out, happy enough with his current buzz. He was sufficiently mellowed, he hadn’t cried yet though that would probably come once he was in bed, but his anger had simmered down to a level where he didn’t feel like putting his fist through a wall but still angry enough to plot.

“I am, I guess.”

Eddie nodded. “This happened to you before?” 

That was probably rude. His filter malfunctioned at the best of times but when he smoked it was all but gone.

“Yeah.” Steve stared down at the cards in his hands. “My mom had to put up with my dad’s infidelity a lot. And my ex-girlfriend cheated on me a while back.” Steve paused before taking a deep breath. “Rick was actually my first attempt to get back into the dating world so…”

“So we can both be sad and angry together.”

“Yeah.” Steve smiled and Eddie stood up, plucking his phone from his desk and settling it on his bedside table, switching his lamp on and throwing himself face down on his bed, probably barely visible to Steve.

“We can be sad and angry together.”

Eddie glanced up. Now that he was closer to his phone, he could better see exactly what Steve was fiddling with, he could read some of the text on the card.

“Stevie.” Eddie sat up, moving closer to the phone and unable to stop the smirk running over his face. Steve’s eyes snapped up towards him. “Did you write out flash cards for when you called me?”

Steve’s eyes widened before he unceremoniously swept all the cards off the table in front of him, his cheeks turning a terrific shade of red and he leaned his face on his hand, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. 

“No.”

It was adorable. Incredibly dorky and adorable.

Eddie laughed, full on braying belly laughs, collapsing backwards onto his bed. When he peeked back up to look at his phone through his giggles, Steve’s face was somehow even redder. 

“Oh my god.” Eddie breathed. “That’s darling.”

“Shut up.”

“No, no. It’s really very sweet.”

“Ugh. Whatever.” Steve rolled his eyes but was still smiling, still had a blush lighting up his cheeks.

Eddie settled himself back against his headboard. “Actually, listen, let me ask you something.”

“Okay?”

“Does Rick know? Does he know that you know? Or that you told me?”

“No.” Steve answered, finally relaxing his fake nonchalance into real relaxation, folding his hands on the table and propping his chin up on them. “I figured if anyone had the right to rip his balls off it would be you.”

Eddie nodded. 

That he could understand. 

“I get that, but there’ll be no ball ripping from where I stand. No, I want to hit him where it hurts.”

“Woulda hurt me plenty.”

“Oh, I’m sure. But the only thing Rick loves more than his own balls is his car.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, he’s like, obsessed with that thing. It’s weird. It’s not even that nice of a car.”

“I’d love to say he has bad taste but considering he picked the both of us, I’m pretty sure his tastes are actually immaculate.”

“Just his decisions are bad.”

“Exactly.”

“Well.” Steve sighed. “I’d love to help any way I can. I hate that I was involved in this, in what he did to you.”

“To us, Stevie. To us.”

“Right, so what’s the plan then?”

“When are you due to see him next?”

Eddie pulled his van into the parking lot of the bar. It was halfway across town and a place that he never frequented if he could help it. Rick liked it though, always had. Eddie just liked other places around town more.

But it could be cute, he supposed. A small little country and sports type place that had a rainbow flag behind the bar and a small number of regulars who, according to Steve, wouldn’t do anything unless you got between them and their drink. 

He knew that Steve was inside with Rick, playing up the flirty angle and acting tipsier than he actually was to put him at ease.

Steve had mentioned one of his signature moves involved pool, bending over the table and wiggling a little bit to keep the attention on him. Pulling out a little pout whenever he missed a shot or asking for help to line up his cue.

Eddie would be more upset by the fact that he was missing the sight of it if he didn't know he'd have the opportunity to see it himself at some point in the future.

They had talked for so long that first night, long enough that the sun was starting to come up by the time they'd both dragged themselves away from their phones to sleep.

They’d talked about their families, their friends, what they were doing in life right now as opposed to what they had hoped they would be doing when they were teenagers. They talked about their school selves and their dating lives and as the conversation wore on Eddie found himself thinking again and again about how long it had been since it had felt so easy to talk to someone like that.

It had been a very long time since Rick had put any effort into getting to know him as he grew through their two years together, like he expected Eddie to stay the same person as he was at the start of the relationship.

After that first night where they’d figured out their master plan, he and Steve had just… kept talking. Throughout the rest of the week up until tonight, they were in almost constant contact, only really taking a break to sleep and work.

Eddie felt connected to Steve and in some roundabout way he was thankful to Rick for bringing him into his life.

He’d even met Robin in passing one day, living two floors below him, holding the door open for him as he tried to wrestle with grocery bags. 

She was so weird. He kind of loved her the second she opened her mouth. Honest, but with the sharpest tongue he’d ever met on a person. 

She had knocked on his apartment door later that evening to tell him Steve was calling over to visit and asking if he wanted to come around to meet him. 

Steve had apparently delegated the asking to her because he was too nervous to do it himself.

Again, adorable.

Steve was somehow even sweeter and even saltier in person than he was over the phone and Eddie tried hard, he tried really hard not to look too much or let his fucking horomones run away with him but Jesus. H. Christ it was difficult. 

The sweetness of his soft sweaters and polos, his gentle smiles and understanding words matched with his salty mean girl attitude that would slip out every so often and the bitchiest of eye rolls that made Eddie’s heart jump.

Eddie was also trying to feel bad about what was happening but honestly, he was losing reasons to care that much.

He hadn’t texted or called Rick once in the last week and Rick himself had never reached out which all at once made Eddie realise he was the primary communicator in the relationship and it hadn’t been reciprocated in a long, long time. 

Adding onto that was the knowledge that Rick was still fucking cheating on him and was in regular contact with Steve left Eddie only half heartedly feeling bad.

He and Steve would go over the screenshots of the conversation together every night and every night Eddie found it harder and harder to hang up the phone.

He was pretty sure Steve was feeling the same way. 

They kept just catching each other staring. Or smiling or, pulling back from touching too much and he was almost sure that as soon as Rick was out of the picture for the both of them, something was going to blossom.

Even now, with Steve inside, flirting up a storm with Eddie’s ex-boyfriend who didn’t know he was an ex yet, they would be ending the night together. 

Robin was waiting back at her apartment with an alibi ready if Eddie needed it though he suspected he wouldn’t.

Neither he nor Rick had a great track record with the police and it would be more trouble than it was worth to get them involved.

Speaking of, Eddie spotted Rick’s car, some souped up four wheel drive monstrosity of small dick syndrome sitting in the shadows and away from the cameras of the bar where Steve had convinced him to park with a suggestion of something happening in those shadows later on. 

He hopped out of his van and threw open the back doors, grabbing his bag of goodies before sidling around Rick’s car to wait.

When the chords of some Shania Twain number started to leak through the walls, the signal he’d been waiting for, the sound loud enough to drown out what Eddie would be doing, he dropped his bag to the floor.

Curling his keys into his fingers and with almost a skip in his step Eddie began to carve a stripe through the immaculate and expensive paint work. Working his way around to the drivers side, he lifted the key up before bringing it back down.

With a little bit of sickening glee, he hacked the word CHEATER into the side of the car, the side that would be immediately visible from the bar door and the side Rick would have to see every time he wanted to get in and get out of the driver's seat.

At least until he paid a bomb to get it fixed.

Eddie had connections in this town. Working as a mechanic here for years would do wonderful things to extend this pain. 

Rick knew fuck all about cars. 

Tucking his keys back into his pocket, he sidled back around to his duffel bag, unzipping it and pulling out his Stanley blade.

Unsheathing it, he gripped it tight in his hand and punched it down into the nearest tyre, listening with satisfaction as the thing slowly deflated before moving onto the other three.

A second Shania song had started up. 

He could hear Steve crooning out from inside, getting louder and Eddie knew he was running out of time. 

He pulled Steve’s baseball bat from the duffle and gave it a little twirl, the same one he’d seen Steve do when he’d first handed it off and he had tried so hard not to be attracted to it. 

He’d failed miserably. 

Maybe Eddie could deal with a gym bunny if that gym bunny was Steve.

With an almighty swing, he brought the bat down, shattering one of the headlights with an almighty crash that wasn’t quite drowned out by the karaoke inside.

Rearing back Eddie swung again, smashing the other headlight and while the music didn’t cut off, he could clearly hear Steve inside calling out for Rick to “Wait!”

Okay, only a few seconds left.

Pulling the bat back and letting the anger and betrayal and indignation flow through him, he brought the bat down hard into the windshield where it embedded itself, the spider cracks of the tempered glass making the thing practically opaque.

The bat was fucking stuck.

Eddie knew that if he was able to pull hard enough he would be able to release the whole windshield from the car but he didn’t even have the strength in him to budge the bat.

“What the fuck?!”

Eddie slowly released his hands from the bat and turned, looking at Rick standing in the doorway of the bar, his mouth hanging wide open in shock, unable to believe what he was seeing. Steve was standing just behind him, with one hand over Rick’s chest.

To anyone else it would look like a comforting gesture, maybe. A show of support. 

But Eddie could tell the hand was there to hold Rick back if he decided to lunge. 

Both Steve and Rick dragged their gaze over the flat tyres, the word carved into the side, the bat stuck in the windshield.

“Hey sweetheart.” Eddie called across the distance, feeling comfortable enough to turn his back to pick up his bag, trusting Steve to at least shout if Rick was about to tackle him.

“Eddie,” Rick breathed, still open-mouthed somehow. “What in the god damned hell has gotten into you?!”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” He slung the bag over his shoulder and held his hand out.

Steve patted Rick twice on the chest and stepped out from behind him. 

Rick watched him walk away looking even more bewildered than before.

With one hand Steve took Eddie’s and with the other he grabbed the bat, wiggling it a few times before pulling it free. 

They broke apart as they reached Eddie’s van, Steve climbing into the passenger seat and Eddie throwing his bag in the back before starting up the van from his position in the driver's seat.

He leaned over Steve to shout out of the window, “Have a nice life, asshole!”

As the van tore out of the lot, Steve stretched both hands out of the window, two middle fingers extended until Rick, still frozen on the spot, was out of sight.

When he pulled himself back inside, Eddie saw him glance his way, a huge grin on his face.

Eddie had a smile to match, whooping into the night as they sped down the road.

AO3

@geekymagicalpotato

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation.

[alwaysanundertone]

Day 15: sensation play | poly! marauders x reader

smut

TW: use of nipple clamps/Wartenberg wheel, oral (male AND fem receiving), edging, piv, bondage, use of “daddy”

You were sprawled on the bed, ankles and wrists tied, as you watched Sirius and Remus position different items on your drawer.

This time you really fucked it up, but who could blame you? It was the week before your period and you were extremely irritated, but it was also your finals week, meaning that you had never felt more on edge than during this time. So, sue you if you were behaving like a brat.

“Now, love, remember, why are we doing this?”

You huffed. “It’s fucking unfair, it’s not my fault I’m stressed out, you aren’t fucking helping me, you and your fucking binds!”

James scoffed. “I’m failing to find any link between you being stressed out for your exams and teasing Barty right in front of us, darling” You lowered your eyes, utterly ashamed.

Remus raised a brow at you. “If you don’t want this, you just have to say your safe word, you know” He waited as you gnawed on your bottom lip: you weren’t going to chicken out of this. As much as you hated being punished, you knew it would be good at grounding you, you needed to focus on the present moment, not on the future, not on your anxiety, and your boyfriends were experts at doing so. Plus, you chose this dom/sub dynamic with them, you knew what you were getting yourself into when you consented to this. “Exactly. Now, why are we punishing you?”

“Because I acted like a bitch”

Sirius laughed. “Yeah, that’s an understatement.”

You rolled your eyes.  “Because I behaved like a brat, and I made you jealous on purpose.”

Remus raised a pointed eyebrow. “And…?”

You exhaled a breath. “And because I didn’t look after myself, not drinking water, not eating enough”

James coughed. “Don’t forget about you touching yourself without our consent, honey.”

You averted your gaze.

“So, we planned a pretty heavy session. You can always tap out, just say your safe word and we’re done, okay? It’s important, love, I don’t want you to ignore what you’re feeling like last time.” Remus bent over to kiss your lips, you melted under the soft press of his lips.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Sirius picking up something little and metallic, only when he got in front of you did you realize what he was holding. You shook your head violently, you hated those damn things, and they knew it.

“Hush, honey, relax f’me” You tried to take  a deep breath while he opened the clamps, securing them on your nipples. Immediately, you felt a sharp sting, you forced yourself to breath it through.

“Are these new?” You looked down: they were new, and you could tell because from them hung two little lilac pendants.

“Yes, wait” He repositioned the jewellery so that it was hanging, the weight tugging your nipple down, making you hiss. “Yeah, that’s how they are supposed to feel. You look so pretty, love.”

You closed your eyes, trying to ground yourself, trying to push away the sharp pain, but it was nearly impossible. The nipple clamps ended with two pairs of little claws, it felt like someone was constantly biting at your sensitive skin.

Suddenly, a ticklish sensation spread all over you: looking down, Remus was trailing what looked like a feather all over your belly, you’d giggle, if it wasn’t for the sharp pain coming from your breast area. He trailed it slowly, softly, until it reached your mound. “Remus” You sighed, jumping when he slapped your inner thigh harshly.

“It’s not Remus, love. What do you call me?”

You sighed, you felt yourself getting wetter by the minute, knowing that they probably wouldn’t let you come was pure torture. “Sorry daddy”

He smiled down at you, kissing your forehead. You felt the soft texture of the feather caressing your clit, going up and down repeatedly, excruciatingly slow. You held your moans, trying so hard to think about something gross but failing to. “That’s right baby, doing so good, you ruined the feather, look” He held the object in front of you: it was wet. You blushed furiously, looking down, eliciting a chuckle from your boyfriend.

You felt a tingling sensation on your stomach, looking down you saw James holding a Wartenberg wheel, dragging it lightly on the valley between your breasts, on your clavicles, and then down. He started to apply more pressure, the tingly sensation transforming into a sting. Sirius had started to apply pressure on your clit with his fingers, while Remus still dragged the feather on your now sensitive skin.

You arched your back, moaning: you knew you weren’t allowed to come, but if they kept this up you didn’t know if you could hold back.

“Do you want to come, baby?” You nodded furiously, whining when Sirius stopped touching you altogether. He positioned himself on top of you, his knees on the sides of your head. “You have to make us come first, open up” His dick traced your lips, and you opened, sucking on it before he thrusted harshly into your mouth, triggering your gag reflex. You were quite helpless, his thighs stopping you from moving your head, from seeing what was happening.

Soon, you felt Sirius nearing the edge. “Oh, fuck, you’re so good, baby” He whimpered.

“Are you going to make him come, angel?” You moaned as Remus kissed your clit, your thighs shaking as you tried to hold back, you hated when they edged you.

Soon, Sirius found his release down your throat, grinning down at you as you swallowed. You didn’t have time to process what had just happened because James entered you in one harsh thrust, making you whine in pain.

“Hush, baby” You refrained from cursing, knowing that what you didn’t need at the moment was adding to the punishment. “She’s so wet” Sirius tugged on the nipple clamps, making you jolt in pain.

“Oh, God do it again” You widened your eyes as Sirius obeyed, this time he pulled on the clamps more harshly, so much so that one of the two lost its grasp. “Oh, sorry love I have to reposition this”

This time the sting was ten times worse; your already sensitive skin being tortured by those damn plastic claws. “Siri, she clenches so much when you do that, it feels like heaven, fuck” He sped up his rhythm, you felt really overwhelmed: Remus had the wheel in his head, and he was focusing once again on your breasts, James was pounding into you at an unruly speed, and Sirius wouldn’t let go of those clamps.

“Please, please I need to come” They didn’t respond you immediately, making you anxious over the fact that they could have been planning on denying you, it wouldn’t have been the first time.

“Okay darling, let go for us” Sirius pressed down on your clit, as James found his release you finally came, your back arching, vision blacking out as you lost consciousness for a few seconds.

When you came down, Remus was untying your ankles, pressing a gentle kiss on each one before smiling up at you. “You did so good, baby, how are you feeling?” You groaned in response. James cradled you cheek softly. “We need to hear it, love”

“Better, I guess” You averted your gaze, Sirius kissed your lips softly.

“That’s good to hear, love. We’re going to clean you up, then we can cuddle. No studying for today”

You slumped on the bed, not ready to let go of the post-orgasm bliss.

tags: @sxmnc @peterparkerspersonalplaything @riaaavm @iamawkwardandshy @eeviee4 @mysterialee @famouscrusadeluminary @el1smells @rishofkf @mooonyxoxo @happymaeday @yourfiendlyneighbourspiderman @whyshouldihaveanam3 @amazing-bobinsky @barnesandmetal @just-here-for-ff @remussbitch @sammyreid

[littlelamy]

reader wins an award at the country club maybe something with tennis but rafe gets so busy and ends up missing it

a/n: thank you sending a request 🤍 i hope you like it! 🐑

the day should have been perfect—a culmination of your hard work and dedication. you’d spent weeks preparing for the tennis tournament at the country club, and you’d been so excited to have rafe there, watching from the stands, cheering you on. he had promised he wouldn’t miss it.

but, of course, rafe was nowhere to be found.

you stood there on the podium, accepting the first-place trophy with a hollow smile plastered on your face, scanning the crowd one last time. nothing. no familiar face, no smirk, no quick thumbs-up from him. the excitement of your victory felt overshadowed by the emptiness gnawing in your chest.

back in the locker room, you stared at your phone, willing it to buzz with an explanation, a half-assed apology—anything. but nothing came through until you were already back at the after-party, trying to ignore the pang of disappointment every time someone asked where rafe was.

finally, your phone buzzed.

rafey💗: sorry. got tied up. i’ll make it up to you. let’s talk when you’re home.

you read the text, feeling the familiar frustration boil up inside you. he was always “tied up,” always “busy.” he’d promised he would be there today—he had sworn he’d make it.

you: you promised you’d be here. you missed it.

the reply came through quickly.

rafey💗: i said i’ll make it up to you. just come home.

you scoffed, locking your phone and deciding you’d finish your drink before leaving. maybe this time you wouldn’t let him off so easy.

when you got home, the house was dimly lit, and the smell of food hit you immediately. candles flickered around the room, and soft music played in the background. he was trying, you could see that. but as sweet as the setup was, it wasn’t enough to completely erase the frustration bubbling under your skin.

rafe appeared in the doorway, watching you with that familiar cocky glint in his eye. "you made it," he said, his voice low as he approached.

you crossed your arms, leaning back against the door. "yeah. i made it. too bad you couldn’t say the same for the tournament."

rafe sighed, his hands slipping into his pockets. "i told you—i got caught up. work shit. you know how it is."

"yeah, i know how it is. you’re always ‘caught up.’ it’s always the same excuse, rafe," you shot back, your voice sharper than usual. you couldn’t help it. you’d been holding it in all day.

he frowned, his expression shifting from apologetic to defensive. "jesus, are you really going to make this a big thing? i already said i was sorry. what more do you want?"

you let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "i wanted you to be there, rafe. just once, to actually keep your word. is that too much to ask?"

his jaw clenched, his hands falling to his sides as he took a step closer, towering over you. "i do a lot for you, you know that? don’t act like i don’t try. i’m here now, aren’t i?"

you glared up at him, refusing to back down. "yeah, now that it’s convenient for you."

rafe’s eyes flashed with irritation as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. "watch it."

the tension hung in the air between you for a moment, both of you silently daring the other to say more. then, just as quickly as his anger had flared up, it seemed to cool. he stepped back, running a hand through his hair and sighing. "look, i messed up. i know. but i’m here now, and i’m trying to fix it. do you wanna keep arguing, or do you want me to make it up to you?"

his words were sharp, but you could see the frustration in his eyes—the way he was trying to pull himself back from snapping completely. he always did this, always danced on that line between anger and remorse.

you exhaled heavily, shaking your head. "fine. but this doesn’t just go away, rafe. you can’t keep missing things like this."

rafe’s lips twitched into a half-smirk, the edge of arrogance still lingering as he closed the distance between you again. his fingers grazed your waist, pulling you closer. "you’ll forgive me," he murmured, his voice softer now, but still laced with that confidence that always made your stomach flip. "you always do."

you hated how right he was.

he pressed his lips to your neck, trailing kisses slowly upward until his breath was hot against your ear. "let me make it up to you tonight," he whispered, his hands tightening around your waist, grounding you in that familiar pull he always had over you.

you sighed, the frustration still simmering, but already slipping away as you leaned into his touch. "you’ve got a lot of making up to do," you muttered, not wanting to give in too easily.

rafe chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "i plan on it."

he scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you toward the bedroom as the tension between you shifted from frustration to something far more intoxicating. and even though you were still mad at him, even though you knew this didn’t fix everything, it was hard to resist him when he looked at you like that.

he set you down gently on the bed, leaning over you with a grin that was half apology, half arrogance. "let me make you forget all about that stupid tournament, baby," he murmured, his lips hovering over yours.

for now, you let him. you’d deal with everything else later.

[cloudwhisper23]

I'm too lazy to format, so if you want proper formatting on this, I've posted it on Ao3! This is a continuation from the last art trade I did with @pixlokita about their Werebunny Jeremy AU (we've decided to call it Cut Right Through Me)

Below the cut is the link to the story on Ao3, and the full part that I just completed! Fair warning, this is a pretty decent length, roughly 9k words. Enjoy!

“You’re mean, you know that?” Jeremy said irritably as he dropped into the passenger seat.

“I don’t care. He’s dangerous, Jeremy.”

“Dangerous, yet you apparently have been calling him,” Jeremy muttered, slouching in the chair.

“To find you! Speaking of, where were you this week?”

“Around.”

“Not home.” Ramona shot him a glare as she backed out of the driveway. “Which by the way, I went to your house. It’s an absolute mess. And you know how to get bloodstains out of things-“

“I was going to get to it.” Don’t mention Percy, please don’t remind me. Jeremy wished he was back in Michael’s house, still being interrogated for being there. It was much better than the absolute grilling he was getting from his sister.

“You’re lucky I helped clean up,” Ramona sniffed. “And you owe me for Percy’s vet bills, by the way. I know you’re a disaster on a regular basis, but whatever crisis you had will not get you out of your responsibilities mister.”

“Vet bills?” Jeremy echoed, flinching slightly when she mentioned Percy.

“Yeah, I had to take Percy to the vet. Some animal must’ve broken into your house after you ran off or something because he was hiding in your room scared out of his wits and covered in dried blood. He’ll be fine, but honestly. What could’ve been so important that you ran off and left Percy to fend for himself?”

“I didn’t know Percy survived,” Jeremy answered quietly.

“Well, you should’ve checked,” Ramona replied grimly. “He’s only still alive because I went to find you.”

“Yeah…” Jeremy pulled his shirt up over his head to bury the way his eyes were swimming. Everything was just too much for him right now. “Can you just- Can we go back to your house? I don’t think I can go home right now.”

“That’s where we’re headed,” Ramona answered gently. “I’m sorry to yell at you, Jer. I really am. I was just worried.”

“I know…” Jeremy rubbed his face into the soft fabric of the shirt. He wished he could’ve had a chance to apologize or make some kind of effort to befriend Michael before they’d abruptly left. “If it helps, I hardly remember anything from the last few days.”

“I noticed.” Ramona’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Hey, maybe we could go visit Becky for a bit. I know it’s been a while since I’ve seen her. I’m guessing you haven’t seen her lately either.”

“I can’t,” Jeremy said softly. He didn’t know when he’d transform again, and he couldn’t bear to have it happen around his family, not when he knew that Becky would dig straight for the cause of it, probably making him have to go through it longer than he wanted anyway. He wanted to have something for his friend to work with when he shared the problem.

Or maybe he wanted to handle something himself for once.

“Jer, are you sure? Not to push you or anything, but I’m probably going to head there at the end of the week. I was already planning the trip before you vanished, and now that you’re back-“

“I wouldn’t want to stop you from going,” Jeremy interrupted firmly. “I need to finish up some loose ends around here before I’d go. But if you could take Percy with you, I’d appreciate it.”

Maybe it would be best to just disappear. To be hunted and killed like the monster he was while Ramona was out of town. While she was safe.

“If you’re sure,” Ramona said, sounding hesitant still. “I’ll take Percy with me. I’m sure Becky misses him as much as he probably misses her.”

“Well, he is the son of her old dog. I’d be surprised if she didn’t miss him,” Jeremy answered, finally peeking out of his shirt.

“You’re such a big baby sometimes, Jeremy,” Ramona said softly, shaking his shoulder. “We’ll get you sorted out. Maybe find you a man to help you relieve your stress. You certainly need that-“

“Stop, stop. We’re not having this conversation-“

“If you just tried to have a relationship-“

“I thought you were all about not having a man to rely on for everything,” Jeremy countered.

“Well, I have different biases.”

“You only agreed because Becky said it first,” Jeremy accused, elbowing his sister.

“Hey, no assaulting the driver. Besides, I never said you have to rely on him for everything. Just… some things.”

“I’m less shallow than you,” Jeremy replied, huffing as he returned his gaze to the window.

“Oh, I doubt that. I saw the way you were eying up Michael. You wanted him,” Ramona teased.

“Oh, come on, I’m allowed to think a guy is hot, Mona! And he’s-“

“Just your type. Except I don’t think his personality is right for you. He’s too bitter, too grouchy. Not good enough for my little ball of sunshine.”

“I have four inches on you,” Jeremy argued.

“Not where it counts,” Ramona hummed in reply. “But seriously. I’m going to emphasize this, so pay attention. Don’t you dare go pining after Michael Afton.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “I think you already burned that bridge too badly to rebuild.”

“Good. But if there’s still a silver of doubt in your mind, I’m going to update you on everything once we get home. That man has a bloody history.”

“So you’re calling him some kind of monster?” Jeremy scoffed. “Come on, he called you right away when he found me, didn’t he?”

“How do we know it was right away? Maybe he drugs people for kicks and-“

“Just because I don’t remember the last few days does not mean I don’t remember last night. And nothing happened! We didn’t have sex, I promise you.”

“Mhm,” Ramona sounded unconvinced. “If you say so.”

“I’m never going to get you to believe me on any of this stuff, am I?” Jeremy groaned hiding his face as it burned. He shouldn’t be thinking of Michael in that context, especially now. “You’re so mean to me.”

“I love you too, Jeremy.”

Jeremy went to take a nap when he got to his sister’s apartment, crashing immediately on the couch. He needed to fix his sleep for work later that night anyway.

Ramona dragged him away from his nap to give him a bunch of information about the background of Fazbear Entertainment, and the whole reason she was suspicious of Michael. Clearly, she wasn’t done with their earlier conversation. She really doesn’t believe that I’ll leave it alone, Jeremy thought to himself as she dropped a bunch of newspaper clippings into his lap.

“He killed his little brother, Jeremy.”

“Allegedly.” Jeremy’s eyebrows furrowed as he skimmed the newspaper.

“And his father killed a bunch of kids back in 1985. At the same location you’ve been working at.”

“They never proved that,” Jeremy argued. He shoved the paper away, avoiding looking at the image of Evan Afton. The kid gave him an uneasy feeling.

“You can’t deny the evidence. Just because they weren’t convicted of murder doesn’t mean they didn’t kill anyone.”

That’s exactly what that’s supposed to mean, actually. Jeremy’s mouth thinned. He gave the newspapers back to his sister. “Okay, fine. Whatever.”

“Jeremy-“

“Can I please just take a nap in peace?” Jeremy begged. “I don’t need this extra stuff.”

Jeremy was glad to be able to get away again later that day. He knew his sleep was skewed, and he’d probably be exhausted for work, but he didn’t care. That was one thing he could rely on to be consistent. They’d be fine so long as he clocked in on time and clocked out. And if the animatronics caught him off guard, so be it.

He’d missed enough shifts already, and even without his uniform, he’d be fine going into work. Who was going to see him anyway?

He clocked in early, fiddling with his flashlight as he started his patrol. It was considered dumb to do things like this, he knew, but he hadn’t had any issues with walking around during his shift yet. And even if he did, he doubted the animatronics could do much to him anyway, now that he remembered the incident with Toy Bonnie.

The only real question was whether or not that golden bear would come back to kick him out again, but since Jeremy had never seen the bear before that time, he guessed it was a very rare occurrence thing that only happened if an animatronic was hurt or damaged. Then why wouldn’t it be protecting Mangle?

Shaking the weird thought out of his head, Jeremy stepped into Parts and Service, hoping he’d see the glint of his keys somewhere on the floor. Fritz usually forgot to lock up, and Jeremy had taken up the habit of locking up behind him. Since he’d lost his keys the last time he’d been in for a shift, he figured they’d be around somewhere.

He found himself out of luck. Sighing, Jeremy checked that all the old animatronics were still on the floor. Bonnie was still around, and with a twinge of guilt, Jeremy spotted Toy Bonnie’s mangled remains tucked between Bonnie’s torso and his arm. Best not to think too hard about that, Jeremy told himself, turning the beam to the rest of the room.

The faintest rustling noise had Jeremy immediately back on his guard. He turned to see a locker door falling open, revealing a golden suit. His grip on his flashlight tightened as he stared at the golden rabbit costume. It didn’t seem to move much more.

Maybe it was something they used during the day shifts? They were short a Bonnie after all. Still, a golden variation seemed odd as it was on the complete opposite end of the color spectrum from the other two Bonnie models Jeremy had seen.

He was almost tempted to look closer it at, but he knew better than to mess with the animatronics. Especially after his run-in with Toy Bonnie. He did not want to stir up the crazy bear thing again, no thank you.

Shaking his head, Jeremy turned back toward the door. Then he hesitated. The red light on the security camera was blinking at him. Who was in the security office?

Deciding to forget the rest of his early patrol for now, Jeremy made his way back to the office to see a very grumpy Michael shining a flashlight down the hall at him, a small boy also looking at him from a perch on top of the desk.

“Uh… hi?” That’s not Scott, Jeremy’s mind supplied. The realization hit him a moment later as he recognized the boy from Ramona’s newspaper clippings. Evan Afton.

His eyes seemed almost hypnotizing as he glared at Jeremy. “Huh. So you did survive then. Fancy that.”

“I… thanks?” Jeremy finished making his way into the office, weary of the kid on the desk. “Do I know you?”

Evan snorted. “Don’t be stupid. No.”

“Oh. Okay?”

Michael made an impatient noise. “Jeremy, don’t just stand in the doorway like a lost animatronic. Sit down if you’re going to bother me.”

“Right. Sorry.” Jeremy hurriedly went to sit down in the rusty folding chair next to Michael. “How did you know I’d be here?”

“I didn’t. That chair has just been here every shift I’ve worked,” Michael answered, checking through the cameras. “I can’t believe you’re insane enough to do that though.”

“Do what?”

“Go into Parts and Service. Cassidy doesn’t like it when people come in there,” Evan supplied. “Nobody’s supposed to go in there at night.”

“It’s part of my patrol,” Jeremy said defensively.

“You’re insane for doing a patrol in the first place!” Michael exclaimed. “I thought you’d broken in or something, and I was going to handle it, but Evan said that’s Cassidy’s job. Which, you had to be testing her patience with how long you stuck around in there.”

“I feel like I should be worried.”

“You should be.” Evan assessed him as Michael went back to focusing on the cameras. “I thought the rabbit thing killed you, you know.”

“Should I know what you’re talking about?” Jeremy asked, uncomfortable as the ghost boy studied him. He made Jeremy exceedingly uneasy, and he couldn’t describe why.

A helpful thought decided to interject for a moment, thankfully making him feel a little bit safer. Michael couldn’t have killed his brother. Otherwise, why would they be working together like this?

“Yeah.” Evan tossed a crumpled hat into Jeremy’s lap. “This is yours, right?”

Startled, Jeremy scrambled to catch it, seeing the black stains spotting the rim and front of his hat. Because it was his hat, the one he’d been wearing the last time he transformed. Battered and covered in black oil and whatever that other fluid was, his hat was mostly still intact.

“Where did you get this?” Jeremy asked, smoothing it out to shove it back over his head.

Amused, Evan let out another scoff. “Do you even have a brain? I lost half mine, and I can still connect the dots.”

“His sister is much quicker than he is, that’s for sure,” Michael replied before Jeremy could sputter out a reply.

“You guys are mean.” Jeremy crossed his arms with a pout.

“If you’re going to be here, you can check the hallway and the left vent.” Michael tapped his flashlight, ignoring his words.

“Right, yeah okay.” Jeremy shone the beam of his flashlight down the hallway. “So, what? You’ve just been in the pizzeria the entire time?”

“Yeeep,” Evan answered, leaning across the desk to change the camera and wind the music box. “Most don’t usually live to see the sunrise after they’ve seen me though.”

“Lucky them,” Michael muttered, pulling the camera monitor out of his brother’s reach. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re a big grouch,” Evan retorted. He peered into the left vent. “Eugh, that stupid balloon kid is here. Scram!” His shout made whatever was in the vent squeal and scramble away.

Jeremy blinked. “So the animatronics are just scared of you?”

“Not all of them.” Evan answered with a meaningful look at the camera. “Just the insignificant ones.”

“Which translates to, all of them except the Puppet,” Michael added.

“I don’t scare Cassidy.”

“Cassidy’s not an animatronic, Evan.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Evan sighed. “She hates me.”

“I still doubt that.” Michael clicked to the Parts and Service camera, frowning. “You didn’t touch anything while you were back there, did you?”

“Not a thing. I was hoping to find my keys, but-“ Jeremy yelped as Evan tossed a set of keys at him. His flashlight crashed to the ground as he scrambled to catch them before they hit him. “Oh. Thanks, I guess?”

“You’re welcome.” Evan peered at the camera his brother was looking at. “You’re sure you didn’t touch anything?”

“I didn’t!” Jeremy protested, even as both brothers looked at him suspiciously. “I was tempted to touch the yellow rabbit guy when he fell out of that locker, but I didn’t, I promise.”

“Yellow rabbit?” Evan’s eyebrows scrunched. “I’ll be right back.”

Michael seemed worried too, his own mouth tightening into a thin line.

“What’s the deal with the… yellow rabbit?” Jeremy ventured to ask.

“Don’t worry about it I’m guessing you must not have seen him the night he was in here. Were you attacked by Toy Bonnie or something?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jeremy chuckled nervously, his spine prickling as he realized that they were probably talking about him. “But I can’t say I’ve seen any yellow rabbits before today.”

“Weird. Evan said he and Cassidy scared it off the last time.” Michael frowned deeper. “It crammed itself into a locker?”

“Well, I don’t know about that. But it was in a locker. I thought it was an animatronic though.”

“It is,” Michael supplied stiffly. “But it’s harmless. It shouldn’t be able to move at all.

“…” Jeremy opened his mouth to ask another question, but he didn’t know how to phrase it.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? Evan’s got it handled,” Michael replied sharply. “Just keep checking the vents.”

“Right, got it.” Jeremy retrieved his flashlight. “You seem to have a bad experience with it.”

“I guess you could say that,” Michael answered shortly. “And you really never saw it when Toy Bonnie attacked you?”

“Uh, nope. I remember working on my shift and then waking up naked in your house. That’s… about it…” Jeremy lied awkwardly.

“Hmm…” Michael didn’t seem too sure about that, but he let it go. “So you didn’t see the giant golden bunny in my house either?”

“Nope!” Jeremy scratched his neck nervously. “Do you think it was the same one Evan was worried about?”

“Can’t be,” Michael replied. “The one I saw was a literal rabbit. This one is animatronic. There’s no way those two are the same thing.”

“I suppose not.” Jeremy shrugged, regretting holding up this conversation. “You seem… less grouchy than earlier.”

Michael turned to Jeremy wearily. “I had a rough morning.”

“Yeah, no, I get that. I just… I wanted to apologize for my sister’s behavior this morning.” Jeremy cleared his throat. “And um. I was wondering if, like, there was a way to sort things out?”

“Oh, you mean about borrowing my clothes? Don’t even sweat it, I don’t need them back.” Michael returned his focus to his work.

“I know Ramona can be awful sometimes-“

“I don’t care about that, Jeremy.” Michael finally gave him proper eye contact, shooting a jolt up Jeremy’s spine. Damn, that was hot. “I don’t care that your sister thinks I’m a killer, or that she thinks my father is also a killer. I couldn’t care less, because she’s right.”

“Oh.” Jeremy shifted uncomfortably, surprised. “Who did you…?”

“Evan. My baby brother.” Michael turned away again, his voice leaving no room to continue the conversation. Jeremy struggled to find a way to resume it, but he couldn’t.

It was all too comforting when Evan reappeared to confirm that Jeremy hadn’t touched the suit.

“Cassidy can’t figure out why it would have moved,” Evan said, peering at the camera suspiciously. “Music box.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” Michael grumbled, but he wound the music box.

“Hey, so how did you die?” Jeremy asked, even though he knew the answer.

Evan raised a surprised eyebrow at him. “That’s such a brash question to ask a nine-year-old.”

“Yeah, but depending on how long you’ve been dead, technically you aren’t nine anymore.”

“Leave him alone,” Michael growled.

“You don’t need to coddle me, Mikey.” Evan rolled his eyes. “What year is it?”

“1987,” Jeremy supplied, pretending to be less afraid of the way Michael was glaring at him. He checked the hallway with his vent to try to divert attention. “It is November.”

“So I’ve been dead for like four years then. My dad killed me.”

“He did?” Jeremy raised an eyebrow at Michael, who scowled.

“He’s lying to you. I was the one who killed him.”

“The accident was an accident,” Evan argued. “You’re not a murderer, Mike.”

“I’m close enough to one,” he shot back.

“So wait, why would you say your father killed you?”

“Because he did.” Evan crossed his legs and peered at Jeremy. “I see why the others like you so much.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“You’re so…” Evan snapped his fingers, trying to think of the word. “Honest. Genuine. Something like that.”

“Candid, maybe?” Jeremy offered.

Michael made an irritated noise as Evan brightened. “That’s the word! Yeah, you’re just so candid and blunt about everything. It’s refreshing. No handholding or coddling.”

“I don’t coddle you more than you try to coddle me,” Michael grumbled.

“Anyway,” Evan shot a pointed look at his brother. “What actually happened was Mikey tried to play a prank on me regarding Fredbear. One of the animatronics of the original diner.” When Jeremy looked confused, Evan elaborated. “The first place wasn’t Freddy’s. Our father and Uncle Henry opened the business as Fredbear’s Family Diner. There were two original animatronics. Fredbear and Spring Bonnie.”

Michael made an impatient noise. “I stuck him in Fredbear’s mouth, and the bloody bear bit down on his head. It was my fault.”

“Your fault I was in the hospital, but not your fault I died,” Evan countered. “Michael was all about apologizing, promising to be a better brother if I just woke up. But when Father came to visit, he told me that this attention-seeking was ridiculous, that I should just open my eyes so the bad press would go away.”

Evan’s tone grew quieter, and even Michael paused, his expression softening. “He said that if I didn’t get up, I didn’t deserve to live. And then I was in the suit, with only Fredbear to keep me company.”

That’s the golden bear then, Jeremy thought. “So, your father is your killer?”

“Not just mine. All the missing kids too.” Evan shrugged. “We’d tear him to pieces if we could find him, but there’s only so many hours ghosts are awake.”

“Presumably only during this shift,” Michael added. “I don’t think Phil ever mentioned the haunted animatronics, and Ramona only mentioned rumors about them.”

Evan and Michael both didn’t seem very inclined to speak much after that. Michael did try to stop him when he went for his next patrol, but he didn’t care too much. The patrol was something he’d always done, and just because he was sharing a shift with someone in the office now didn’t mean he was going to stop doing it. It just gave him a longer time limit.

Maybe at some point he could ask about this mysterious ‘Cassidy’ that Evan kept mentioning. But for now, he checked corners and looked in the camera blind spots, knowing that most didn’t ever bother to check. Toy Freddy and Toy Chica didn’t seem too interested in leaving the stage tonight, which Jeremy was grateful for. The Puppet was sealed away, the music box wound tightly to keep the music playing.

And he remembered Evan’s words about Cassidy preferring to have people stay out of Parts and Service. Instead of entering the room, he just whispered at the door, “I’m trusting you to have everything handled in there Cassidy.”

A cold feeling enveloped him, and he shuddered as he walked away. It was weird to miss Mangle on a shift, but he supposed they wouldn’t come around while Evan was guarding the office. He checked the back door quickly to ensure it was locked and was glad to find that Michael had indeed locked it behind him.

“I wish I could complain about the job you’re doing here, but it seems to be fantastic,” Jeremy said with a sigh as he plopped back into his chair.

Michael raised an eyebrow at that, the constant frown relenting slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Got the door locked and everything. Better than Fritz does, anyway.”

“Door was already locked when I got here,” Michael said. “But I’ll take the compliment.”

Huh. Interesting. Jeremy was curious about Michael’s sense of humor though, so he poked a little more. “Of course, I can’t really give you all the credit, since it seems that Evan and Cassidy are the ones who are actually in charge around here. They just tolerate you.”

Evan snorted at that, covering his mouth as Michael’s expression returned to a scowl. “I don’t know that you can say you’ve been doing much either, Jeremy.”

“I’m not claiming to. But the animatronics like me, according to Evan, so I have a one-up on you.”

Michael shook his head, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

The rest of the night passed in somewhat stiff silence.

“See you tomorrow night, I guess. Fitzgerald.” Michael rose, offering a hand for Jeremy to shake.

“Same to you, dude.” Jeremy shook his hand cheerily, trying not to visibly wince as Michael crushed his hand in the shake. “Until next time, Afton-“

As soon as he started to say the last word, Michael shoved him back against the wall, covering his mouth. A thrill ran through Jeremy as pain shot up his back. He couldn’t help a startled whimper as Michael glared at him with icy blue eyes.

“Never call me that. Understand? Never.”

“I… I understand! Yep! Never going to call you that ever again, never ever!” Jeremy chirped back, knowing his enthusiasm was way more than the situation required.

“It’s Schmidt. Michael Schmidt.”

“Then… I’ll see you tonight, Schmidt.”

Michael rolled his eyes, pulling a stick of gum from his pocket to start chewing it before he walked out of the security office. Evan had disappeared somewhere around 5, so Jeremy remained to tidy up a tiny bit before walking out to his car.

Michael was still on the sidewalk, presumably going to walk home, and Jeremy did not accept that he was just going to be walking in the chilly air in only his work uniform. He drove alongside Michael, rolling down his window. “Need a ride home?”

“No.” Michael kept walking, not even glancing at the car. “I’m used to walking everywhere.”

“You could catch a cold!” Jeremy protested.

“Good thing I’m not the only one on shift then,” he shot back, blowing a bubble with his gum. “Go home, Fitzgerald.”

“Alright fine. But if you get sick, I’m going to say ‘I told you so.’”

“I’m so terrified of the threat,” Michael replied sarcastically. “Goodbye.”

Rude, Jeremy thought with mild annoyance. But this was progress from last time! Last time, Michael hadn’t had much to say except “fuck off,” so at least Jeremy got through it this time without that. And he’d also gotten information that Ramona hadn’t had, which meant she was wrong about Michael Afton.

“So ghosts are real?” Ramona pressed as Jeremy hung up the phone after receiving a call from his friend Sebastian.

He was so lucky Seb was willing to give him a discount, so lucky he was willing to do repairs without questioning things. Jeremy had already gotten rid of the couch and burned his old sheets. The last step to making the whole rabbit nightmare a forgotten memory was the torn flooring.

“Yeah. And Evan has a much better sense of humor than his brother.” Jeremy shot his sister a skeptical look. “You’re not surprised by anything else I said?”

“Like what? The kid forgiving his older brother? You said he was like nine?”

Jeremy didn’t know how to respond to that. She wasn’t wrong. But it didn’t feel like she was completely right either. “But-“

“Jer, you’re being dumb about all this. You need to think with your brain at least some of the time.”

“I am using my brain! I was asking all the questions I needed answers to.”

“Yeah? Then why are you still so blatantly defending Michael Afton?”

Because if he’s a monster, then so am I, Jeremy thought to himself, but he didn’t say it out loud. “Forget it.”

“Jeremy-“

“No, it’s not worth arguing about. But Evan gave me back my keys.” Jeremy stood up moodily. “It was nice talking with you, Ramona, but I gotta get some sleep before tonight’s shift.”

“Jer, what’s bothering you? You know you can tell me about it, right?” Ramona pressed.

“I know. I just don’t feel like getting into it right now. That’s all. Have a good day, Mona.”

“You too, Jer.” Ramona hesitated for another moment. “I’m here for you, if you need anything.”

“I know.”

Ramona shot him a worried look as she got through the door, careful to avoid catching her pants on the splintered wood that Sebastian was going to replace.

After his sister left, Jeremy stripped, unsure of what triggered him to turn into the rabbit. He didn’t want to ruin clothes that didn’t belong to him though, so he wasn’t taking chances as he went to rest properly for the first time in ages.

Michael let himself back into his house with a heavy sigh. That shift had been long. He undid his tie, ignoring the impatient meowing at his feet while he changed out of his work clothes. “Give me some time, Logan.”

Logan meowed again, pawing at his empty bowl.

“One second, Logan.” Michael pulled a new shirt over his head before giving the cat a scratch behind his ear. “I’ll get that bowl filled in no time.”

After feeding Logan, Michael was tempted to go out and look for the bunny again. Surely it couldn’t have gone far, right? Even if it had been gone for a day, maybe it was just hungry and hunting. Maybe it had tried to return while Michael was gone and couldn’t get back in. Maybe-

You’re overthinking this. God, you are such a freak Michael. Michael shook his head, walking toward the place where he’d last seen the rabbit. Maybe the dumpster was its home?

His hopefulness diminished as he approached the dumpster. He couldn’t see any sign of it anyway. Shoulders slumping, he prepared to walk back, so he could let Logan have his own walk.

A soft thumb behind him made him hesitate though. Michael turned, excitement growing as he saw the giant shape of the golden rabbit who’d appeared very suddenly. “There you are!” Michael exclaimed, beaming as he reached out for the bunny.

His new friend nuzzled into his hand immediately, rubbing its fluffy face against his hand. “I missed you buddy,” Michael whispered into the overwhelmingly soft fur.

A soft rumble in the bunny’s throat soothed him, making all the irritation and torment from the last day completely vanishing. “You can’t just disappear on me, you know,” Michael said, trying for a scolding tone.

The bunny thumped his back foot as a reply.

“What? Are you going to say you didn’t miss me? Because I think you’d be lying.”

The bunny nosed at his neck. A soft, wet feeling made Michael’s neck prickle in the cold.

“Is that a way of saying you did miss me?” Michael asked, scratching up behind the rabbit’s ear.

He stumbled a bit as the rabbit rocked forward, knocking him off-balance a little bit. The rabbit kept nuzzling him until he was completely knocked to the ground. Startled, he didn’t even attempt to get up before he was completely enveloped in soft, warm, golden fur.

“Hey, hang on a sec-“ Michael tried to protest before the bunny squished its head down over his, keeping him even more safely enveloped in warmth. “I need to let Logan out for a bit! You’re going to make it so a poor little kitty can’t stretch his legs, is that what you want?”

A grumbling noise resonated in the back of the bunny’s throat, but it let Michael get to his feet. “Thank you.”

Michael walked back, knowing that the bunny was going to follow him back this time. He didn’t even need to stress about it. Michael grabbed his mail from the box on his way back into the house, tossing the pile onto his table before shaking the harness to get Logan to come running.

“Time for your walk, you crazy cat,” Michael said, pretending to ignore the rabbit who’d opted to lurk on the front lawn instead of coming in this time. Maybe it likes to be free to roam, he thought to himself.

Logan was happy enough to take his walk, purring as they returned. Shortly after Michael walked through the door and started undoing Logan’s harness, the rabbit wriggled into the house, looming behind Michael.

After he’d shut the door, Michael let out a big yawn, rubbing his eyes briefly. Gotta check the mail first, he scolded himself as he yawned again.

Glancing at the top of the stack, Michael felt himself pale. It was another letter from his father, this time marked as urgent. He hadn’t even opened the last one, and now he was getting another? Michael was just grateful his father didn’t know his phone number, but then actual horror struck him. He could just come to my house.

Michael twitched, grabbing the letter so tightly the edges crinkled. With a solid grip, he ripped the envelope and the contents in half. The rabbit flinched, clearly not expecting such a violent action. Logan was unaffected, as usual.

He tossed the torn remains into his trash bin and stalked to his bedroom, trying so hard not to start trembling or crying. The bunny nudged the door open and sniffed at the edge of his bed. Michael patted the side of his bed, giving it permission to jump up. The bunny took the permission easily, pressing comforting warmth into Michael’s back as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

“Why can’t he just leave me alone?” Michael sobbed quietly. “It’s bad enough knowing that I did something monstrous, but he does it on purpose. I bet he’s out there doing it to some other poor kids now, and I’m just not strong enough to stand up to him.”

The bunny rumbled out a growl at the blame Michael placed on himself, but it still soothed his pain with soft fur. He rolled over and buried his face properly into the fur, his fingers tangling into the strands. So soft, he thought to himself, tears dampening the fur of the bunny’s chest.

Not that it seemed to mind, pulling Michael closer as he started drifting off to sleep. “I just don’t get it…” Michael trailed off, finally relaxing enough to let go of consciousness.

Jeremy woke up with his arms wrapped around a sleeping Michael. Why am I not surprised? he thought to himself, carefully untangling himself from his sleeping coworker. He’d kill me if he knew I was here.

Unease sank into Jeremy as he realized he was yet again left to try to sneak out without clothing. But at least he was in Michael’s room this time, and he could just grab clothes without getting caught.

His foot hit something soft and warm, and a disgruntled meow made Jeremy realize the cat was also here. Oh shit. Directing a glare at the cat, Jeremy climbed out of the bed without causing the cat or Michael to wake up completely. The black cat nestled back into his paws, purring loudly as Jeremy snuck a new pair of clothing out of Michael’s drawer.

He left quickly, pushing open a window and crawling out of it, ignoring the pain that shot through his feet as he landed on rocks. Jeremy glanced around before hurrying toward his house, memorizing the address as he left the place.

He felt bad for ditching, but he also knew he could not just stay after all that. Not after how upset Michael had seemed the first time. Until he could control when he turned into a rabbit and maybe stay as a rabbit when around Michael, then he wasn’t taking any chances.

Back home, Jeremy slipped socks onto his feet and glanced at the time. He had plenty of time to spare before work, but he still couldn’t help but feel a bit antsy. I’m not supposed to know where he lives, Jeremy thought glumly.

The phone ringing pulled Jeremy away from spiraling in his obsession. Maybe Ramona was right about all that stuff anyway. “Hello? Jeremy Fitzgerald here.”

“Jeremy! What a pleasant surprise to hear your voice. No offense, but we all thought you were dead!”

“Yeah, that’s what Michael told me,” Jeremy chuckled nervously, wondering why Lloyd was calling him.

“Hey, you’re not too opposed to just sharing that shift with him, right? I mean, I know you said you absolutely did not want to have to deal with kids, and I completely understand. Michael had the same qualms about the shift, but this is the only shift where no one is stuck hanging around children. But you’re all good with that? You’re fine sharing the workload? It's probably better anyway, having two people check on the place during those hours. Keeps the place safer- I mean, more secure!” Lloyd blabbed on, talking so fast Jeremy could barely keep up with what he was saying.

“I’m okay with it. Is he?” Jeremy leaned back against the wall, a finger hooked absently into the phone cord. An excuse to spend more time with Michael? No way was he turning that down.

“Oh! Yeah, uh, he actually seemed more than happy to have someone else there. I guess he doesn’t have the same familiarity you have with the job yet. He’s probably a bit jittery about the atmosphere. You know, he’s never had a nighttime security job before, actually.”

“Lloyd, is that all you needed from me, or is there something else?”

“Oh, that’s it. Uh, except one thing. We found a bunch of the torn remains of your uniform. Did you want a new one? I’m guessing that you’ve been using the spare, but you should really have more than one.”

“By that logic, I should have at least three,” Jeremy pointed out. “In case one is misplaced or ruined, or another incident like the other night happens.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“Toy Bonnie came after me. I don’t really remember what happened after that,” Jeremy replied swiftly. “I don’t need to fill out an incident report or anything do I? I mean, as far as I’m aware, no one got hurt.”

“Nobody was hurt in the incident. We didn’t actually know that until just now actually.” Lloyd laughed nervously. “No, we don’t need anything from you, don’t worry! It just would’ve helped us if you’d remembered something about Toy Bonnie attacking, or maybe Fritz coming in-“

“I don’t know anything about that, sorry.” Jeremy cleared his throat awkwardly. “But I can be in in a couple minutes if you have extra uniforms ready.”

“Oh! Yeah, I can totally do that. Yeah, if you come in before 6, I can totally get you set up with some new uniforms.”

“Great, I’ll see you at 5 then.”

“Fantastic!”

Jeremy hung up the phone feeling more awkward than ever before. At least he’d have a uniform again.

When he saw Michael at the next shift, he set out by tipping his hat at the other man. No response. Evan seemed a bit distracted today as well, somewhat of a frown crossing his face.

Jeremy sat down awkwardly in his chair, remembering Lloyd’s words from earlier. If he had to guess, maybe Michael had been relieved to have an excuse to make sure Jeremy wasn’t in any danger after all the personal risks he took at work.

“I’m going to do a patrol,” he announced abruptly, picking up his flashlight.

“Don’t die,” Evan said, peering over Michael’s shoulder.

“Right…” Jeremy looked at Michael hopefully, but the other man gave him no indication that he was going to say anything in reply.

The night was somewhat quiet. It was weird having the toy animatronics remaining onstage every night, and Jeremy almost wished they’d move so he could at least know that Toy Bonnie hadn’t been a fluke. Even Mangle hadn’t sought him out since he’d turned, presumably too afraid of him now to approach.

It made sense, considering how Percy was taking the exact same approach with him, but it still stung to know that his dog and his favorite animatronic no longer seemed to see him as a safe person. Even Evan didn’t trust him in that form, if Jeremy’s memory served correctly.

Nobody saw him as more than a monster aside from Michael. Was that why he was so magnetized to the other man? Physical attributes aside, Michael seemed well-guarded, not trusting other people. But he seemed to have a secret affection for animals. Even with the amount he swore at his cat, he seemed to love the cat enough to care for it when he was not in the mood to care for the poor thing.

Sighing, Jeremy started to head back toward the cold atmosphere of the main office. He stopped upon hearing what sounded like sobbing coming from Parts and Service.

“Hey, everything okay in there?” Jeremy asked, hoping for a gentle tone.

“No!” The door flew open, nearly hitting Jeremy in the face, and he couldn’t help but flinch at the small girl glowering at him with thick black tear streaks running down her face. “He’s come back, and I can’t stop him!”

“Who came back?” Jeremy asked, crouching down to her level. “Sorry for asking, but I seem to be a bit out of the loop.”

“You take things more seriously than most,” she huffed. Then she blinked at him. “Wait, you’re that security guard guy. We all thought you died!”

“That seems to be the common consensus,” Jeremy sighed. “But who came back? Clearly he’s no one good if you are unhappy about it.”

“No. He killed me, and he’s gonna kill more kids.”

“Oh.” A prickle of fear made Jeremy tremble a bit at that. “When did he come back?”

“Not too long ago. We didn’t notice the changes in his suit, but-“ she glanced at the darkened area for a moment. “Here, I’ll just show you.”

Cold fingers wrapped around Jeremy’s wrist, and he was startled to discover that apparently ghosts could in fact touch people.

“So, originally, he was in that locker there, right?” the girl gestured at the locker Jeremy had originally spotted the animatronic at.

“Yeah…”

“Well, he’s not anymore. Now he’s on the floor over here,” Cassidy pointed directly at where the golden bunny suit was slumped next to the old Freddy model.

“Oh. And this suit’s not possessed right? Nobody should be moving it?”

“No one should be moving it. Employees can get fired for touching it, much less moving it. And I haven’t seen it move on its own.”

“Ghosts can only do things at this time of night…” Jeremy trailed off thoughtfully. “You think it’s the same guy who killed you?”

“I know it is. I had to ask a bunch of times to get anywhere with Evan. That kid is so tight-lipped, I swear.” The girl shook her head. “But apparently, this suit here can only be activated by a key. One person had that key.”

“Your killer.”

“William Afton,” she confirmed. “At least, that’s what Evan says, but he’s been wrong about so much lately, that I’m just worried he’s wrong about that too.”

“Did you try asking Michael?”

“Evan doesn’t think I should talk to the security guards.” The girl shrugged. “He thinks I’ll just kill you guys. But I’m not that murderous. I still have a brain, unlike some people.”

“So you must be Cassidy?”

“Yep.” Cassidy sighed. “I mean, I don’t want to complain because it makes sense that Evan wants to spend time with his brother, but I miss being able to roam the pizzeria freely. Ever since Toy Bonnie got dinged, I’ve been checking in here to make sure Spring Bonnie hasn’t been used. I think we scared him off pretty well though.”

“Spring Bonnie…?”

“The yellow rabbit suit,” Cassidy pointed, rolling her eyes. “Oh! One more thing. I know you’re like, nocturnal or whatever like we are. But you can actually wake up during the day. Could you like, keep an eye out for someone wearing the suit?”

“I mean, I suppose. Did Evan bring that up to Michael?”

“I doubt it. He hates the idea of getting you guys involved.” Cassidy wrinkled her nose. “Something about trying not to cause more deaths than necessary, but he’s not going to kill an adult out in the open like that. I think it’s fine.”

“Huh. Okay. I mean, I can try…”

“Whatever works.” Cassidy seemed satisfied, finally noticing the red light on in the camera. “Oh! Say cheese!”

“That’s a live feed, Cassidy. It’s not a picture camera.”

“You’re no fun.” Cassidy stuck her tongue out at him. “Bye bye for now. I’ll expect results later.”

“I hope I’ll have results for you.”

“That’s the spirit!” Cassidy said cheerfully before disappearing.

Resigning himself to the blinking light of the security camera, Jeremy went back to the office. If he hadn’t been sure before, Evan’s scowl told him plenty about what he needed to know.

“What were you thinking?” Evan hissed, his eyes so dark there was absolutely no color aside from the darkest of dark pits.

“Uhh…”

“She could’ve killed you!”

“She dragged me in there!” Jeremy said in protest.

“Did she now? Maybe she’s just lonely because she lost her best friend.” Michael shot a pointed look at his brother.

“Cassidy can’t stand me,” Evan scoffed, but he let up on Jeremy a little bit. “What did she want?”

“Help with her little investigation into Spring Bonnie.” Jeremy dropped into his chair and peered at the camera monitor in Michael’s hands. “Still no animatronic movement, huh? Almost like they were told to stay put.”

He raised an eyebrow at Evan. The kid rolled his eyes, the frown not relenting. “Toys aren’t our thing. We watch over the others.”

“So the toys not moving is also suspicious behavior?” Jeremy asked. “Hey, not to be dumb or anything, but how much did your dad work with the animatronics?”

“He helped create them, so a pretty significant amount,” Michael answered. “Evan, I just think you should make up with her.”

“There’s nothing to make up! She doesn’t want anything to do with me, and that’s fine. I’ll stay out of her space, and she can take care of the others!”

“She said you told her to stay in Parts and Service,” Jeremy said.

“You’re going to believe her over me? Mikey, you can’t believe this, surely!”

“I mean, I don’t know what to believe. I’ve never spoken to Cassidy before, and if its your word or Jeremy’s, then I’ll take your word for it. But I do still think you should try to resolve this conflict you have with her-“

“Think what you want then! I don’t care!” Evan’s eyes flashed before he abruptly vanished.

Jeremy sat in stunned silence as Michael just continued checking things. “Well that was…”

“He’s just pouting. We’ve had this argument before, don’t worry.” Michael didn’t glance over at Jeremy as he talked. “So, Cassidy let you off with a warning or something I’m guessing?”

“I already said she dragged me in. She wants me to go in during the day and look out for a guy in a rabbit costume.”

“That could only be one person, you know,” Michael said grimly, sitting back to start giving Jeremy his attention. “My father only made one key for that suit.”

“Cassidy said that. She also seems a bit weary of taking information from Evan since he seems a little…”

“Mixed up?” Michael shrugged. “Yeah, don’t put too much stock in what he says. I don’t think he fully knows where he’s at.”

“That’s fair, I guess…” Jeremy wasn’t fully appreciative of that response. “So, you still think your dad killed those kids?”

“Without a doubt. He was always a bit more bitter when he had to deal with them, and if the other kids say it was the golden bunny man, then who am I to say they’re wrong? It makes sense.” Michael shook his head. “I still don’t understand what kind of monster could willingly decide that kids couldn’t get to live their lives though.”

“A kind that’s actually a monster as opposed to someone who thinks of himself as one?” Jeremy offered.

Michael turned his gaze on Jeremy lazily. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Is it working?”

“Not more than Evan’s assurances. Listen, I made my peace with what I did a long time ago.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.” Jeremy laid a reassuring hand on Michael’s arm. “You didn’t mean it. There’s no way you and your dad are even remotely in the same league-“

“Yeah, but a monster is a monster, aren’t they? Killers are monsters, Jeremy. Simple as that.” Michael slipped his hand away and went back to the cameras. “It’s not like it’s possible to always spot a monster on the surface anyway. Maybe you’re just telling yourself I can’t be a monster because I don’t look like one.”

Jeremy stiffened at that. You don’t have to look like a monster to be a monster. Did that mean the opposite was true too? He wanted desperately to know the answer.

Michael tried to give him a smile. “Look, it’s no big deal, really. If you aren’t actively saying I’m following in my father’s footsteps, then I think things are okay, you know? Like, I may not really like you, but I don’t think you’re a complete twat.”

“Uh, thanks?” Jeremy didn’t know how to respond to that, instead shining his light into the vent to avoid the heat that rose to his face at what he was guessing was meant to be a compliment.

“Anytime.” Michael chuckled softly. “Looks like he’s going for a full night sulk tonight. Guess it’s just us now.”

“Think you’ll be able to handle the office once I go on my next patrol?” Jeremy asked teasingly.

Michael snorted. “With the animatronics the way they are? I’ll be more than fine.”

“Good to know.”

A few nights passed like this, Michael offering minimal conversation during the shift, Jeremy taking his time to do patrols and update Cassidy on what he saw during the days.

It wasn’t much more than he had during the night, but Cassidy seemed to appreciate it nonetheless. And if he showed up to work tired, then that was fine too. Michael would shake his head, and Evan was still pouting about his argument with Cassidy, so he didn’t care.

Still, he felt a little bit bad whenever he realized he’d nodded off, insisting that Michael wake him. And evidently, that was not happening every time it happened. It hadn’t hurt anything so far though, so Jeremy was willing to let it slide.

It had taken him ages, quietly arguing with Evan while Jeremy slumped in his chair, to convince his brother to try and work things out with Cassidy. Evan had been furious that Cassidy was putting Jeremy in harm’s way, but Michael thought he probably knew the risks of what he was getting into.

Why should Cassidy get the blame anyway? She wanted help, not to doom another man to die. And Evan had given plenty of warning, so Jeremy could’ve backed out whenever he wanted to, so it was fine. There was simply no need to keep blaming Cassidy.

Michael spared a glance away from his constant checking to look at the uncomfortable way Jeremy had passed out in his chair, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth, hat knocked askew. On impulse, he reached over and fixed Jeremy’s hat, before deciding to move him to the floor.

Jeremy’s head knocked into Michael’s chest, and he felt sure that the man would wake. Jeremy hardly stirred, so Michael continued to lay him down, removing Jeremy’s jacket to tuck it beneath his head like a pillow. There, Michael thought to himself, somewhat satisfied before he went back to flick through the cameras absently.

Unfortunately for Mike, however, he’d missed the sound of an animatronic crawling into the vent, too focused on making sure he didn’t wake up Jeremy to pay much attention to the world around him.

The loud static did eventually catch Michael’s attention, and he set the monitor down, forgetting to wind the music box as he glanced at the phone. It was in its cradle, and belatedly Michael realized that noise meant animatronic, and he turned to check the vent just as Mangle swung down to attack.

Michael yowled in pain as the impact knocked him from his chair and plastic teeth tore through his face. The edge of the desk caught the other side of his face, making his vision blurry as he faintly caught the sound of tearing fabric and an angry growl.

Something warm ran down his face as the animatronic screeched, hiding away from the giant shadow looming over Michael. Struggling to push himself upright, he found himself surrounded by golden fur. Oh. Michael blinked blood out of his eye, struggling to process the scene around him, only slightly frightened now that he knew his rabbit friend had somehow appeared to aid him. I hope it doesn’t step on my coworker. That’d be awkward to explain.

“Mikey!” Evan’s voice echoed in the quiet environment. “Michael?”

The bunny was growling, a low rumble vibrating through its body. Cool hands cupped both sides of Michael’s face as Evan’s face came into view.

“Oh my god,” Evan breathed, smudging the blood stream ever so slightly. “Where did Jeremy go? I thought you knew what you were doing!”

“Glad you’ve got your priorities in order,” Michael answered slowly, still struggling to focus on his brother’s face. “Your hands are cold.”

“Of course they are.” Evan huffed in exasperation. “Wait, you’re totally in shock. Mikey…”

“The music box…” Michael trailed off as he registered that a completely quiet room was not a good thing.

Evan’s eye widened. “Oh no.”

The sound of aggressive music echoed in the halls as the Puppet made its approach. Not that it was much of a problem, seeing as Michael’s bunny pinned the animatronic to the ground before it could do much.

“Wait, don’t do that,” Evan said hurriedly. “Uh, I need to-“

“Yeah, no, go ahead.” Michael’s eyelids fluttered shut as Evan went away to shout at the bunny who was currently having a very intense stare down with the Puppet.

Jeremy hadn’t known he’d fallen asleep on shift that night. Waking up tangled in bindings made of shimmery thread had not been the most reassuring thing. More startling than that, however, was the pooling blood around Michael’s head as Evan argued with an unfamiliar girl.

Cautiously he untangled himself and dug into the duffel bag he started to bring to every shift, grateful for his planning as the remains of his uniform remained littered across the floor. The bickering children didn’t notice as he slipped his uniform on quickly before pressing his jacket (which for some reason was folded on the floor) to the wound on Michael’s head. Jeremy managed to pull the man close so he could hold the fabric to the wound while still being able to dial for the hospital.

Jeremy didn’t know how Michael had been injured, but based on the teeth marks, he had a sinking feeling Mangle had done something to the poor man. He did look a bit too similar to his father for Jeremy’s liking. That had to be the real reason Michael was so vigilant and why Evan was so paranoid about him missing things in the cameras.

The children stopped arguing to look at him when he was explaining things to the emergency operator, seeming to realize that maybe there were more urgent things to deal with than whatever they’d been arguing about. Jeremy clutched the plastic tightly in one hand as he clutched to Michael’s injury with the other.

Evan was the first to approach Jeremy, looking more disheveled than Jeremy even knew ghosts could be. “You’re the rabbit thing.”

Jeremy nodded awkwardly. He knew they’d discovered him the minute he’d woken up and was tangled in that same shimmery stuff that he’d seen under his skin before he transformed the first time.

“Our conversation isn’t over, Evan,” the girl said, impatiently. “Sure, Mike takes priority, but the fact that you guys tried to lock me away is absolutely insane.”

“How about we skip the interrogation until we know that Michael’s okay,” Jeremy said weakly.

“I guess that’s a good way to put things.” The girl crouched at Michael’s side, brushing bloodied hair out of his face. “Although you and me need a talk at some point, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

“I’m long overdue for talks with a bunch of people now,” Jeremy muttered.

Please be okay.

[solarmorrigan]

Open Doors, Part 1

Ao3

Everyone was so kind about the first fic I wrote about Steve and Eddie's neighbor adopting them that I had a few more thoughts about it! I owe you all thanks for the inspiration and I hope this is also an enjoyable read <3 Part two will be up later this week

Tags: POV Outsider, Steve Harrington Has Migraines, Protective Eddie Munson, past minor character death, car accident mention, the looming specter of period-typical homophobia

-

Gladys isn’t a churchgoing woman. She’s never even been particularly religious, beyond a performative sort of faith for the sake of her God-fearing mother (God rest her soul, Gladys supposes), but Sundays are sacred, all the same.

Sundays are for Murder She Wrote. And, more recently, they’re for dinner with her boys.

Neither Eddie nor Steve are the religious sort, either (she’d brought it up once, just to see, and they’d laughed a little in an uncomfortable sort of way that had told Gladys all she’d really needed to know), but Steve is a fellow fan of Jessica Fletcher, and Eddie is happy enough to join them on the couch after a good meal and watch them compete to see who can guess the solution first.

It’s something they all look forward to, so Gladys isn’t sure why she’s been left standing in front of the boys’ front door a full minute after she’s knocked. They ought to be expecting her, after all; they take turns hosting, and Gladys is sure it had been her turn last week. She knocks again, a little louder this time.

After another few moments, she hears the thud of hurried footsteps coming towards the door, and then Eddie’s voice is hissing out at her before he’s even finished opening it.

“I’m here already, now will you keep it–” he falters when he sees her standing before him on the doormat, “–down?”

“Well, if I’d known that was the kind of welcome I’d receive, I would have stayed home,” Gladys says dryly.

Eddie’s face morphs quickly from irritation to confusion and, finally, to a kind of horrified understanding.

“Oh, shit, it’s Sunday,” he realizes, voice still pitched low.

Taking in the state of him, it seems as though Gladys has interrupted some kind of lazy day; his hair is a mess (more so than usual), and he’s in pajamas and bare feet.

It smarts a little to think their evening has been so easily forgotten.

“It is Sunday,” Gladys confirms, maybe a little sharply. “But I can see you’ve had other things to do, so maybe we’ll just try again for next week.”

“I’m sorry, Gladys,” Eddie sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Today’s been… stressful. I swear I meant to call, I just got distracted.”

Gladys softens. She doubts if she could stay mad terribly long even if they had forgotten, but it’s nice to know they hadn’t, exactly. “It’s fine, Eddie,” she says, reaching out to pat his hand.

“It’s not, I seriously meant to let you know,” Eddie insists. “We can make it up to you next week? Or maybe, like, Tuesday? Tomorrow’s not gonna work, but–”

Whatever else Eddie has to say is lost when the door at the end of the hall, the one Gladys knows from the layout of her own apartment leads to the larger of two bedrooms, swings open with a creak. It’s dark beyond the threshold, but Steve is standing in the doorway, holding onto the edge of it and looking far more disheveled than Eddie.

With a faint flush of embarrassment, Gladys wonders if she’s walked in on some sort of… private time between them, but then Steve takes a few unsteady steps into the hallway and has to brace himself against the wall, and she realizes that something else altogether must be going on.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie says softly, leaving Gladys at the front door to rush down the hall and support Steve. “What’re you doing up?”

Steve, also clad in pajamas, his face almost shock-pale and his hair flatter than Gladys has ever seen it, makes a little noise of discomfort as Eddie pulls him away from the wall. It’s jarring to see when Gladys is so used to Steve moving with the confidence and easy grace of the athlete he’d told her he once was. His eyes are scrunched shut, but he moves from leaning heavily on the wall to leaning heavily on Eddie without hesitation.

“You were gone,” Steve mumbles, his head falling to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie glances down the hall to where Gladys stands at the still-open front door, something almost like nervous, but he doesn’t make Steve move away. Instead, he moves his hands to Steve’s shoulders, kneading gently. “I had to get the door. Gladys is here.”

“Gladys?” Steve mutters, and then, after another moment of silence, groans, “Oh, shit, it’s Sunday.”

Gladys almost laughs at the way he unwittingly echoes Eddie. Eddie does laugh; just a little breath of a thing, something helplessly fond crossing his face.

“It’s fine, Steve. We’ll take a raincheck,” Gladys says, just loud enough that she’ll still be heard from the other end of the short hall.

Steve makes a protesting noise, straightening a little so he can face the front door. He opens his eyes just enough to squint at her, and it really only serves to make him look more pained and tired. “’m sorry,” he mutters, his words stumbling worryingly into each other. “Wasn’xpecting this today.”

“It’s fine,” Gladys says again. “You just feel better.”

He’s still frowning, and Gladys gets the feeling it’s as much out of displeasure with the situation as it is out of discomfort, but then Eddie tugs gently at his shoulders, turning him back towards the bedroom.

“C’mon, ba– Steve. Let’s get you back to bed.” Eddie glances down the hall at Gladys one more time before leading Steve away.

Silence falls over the apartment, and Gladys takes the opportunity to invite herself in, shutting the door behind her. She won’t stay long, of course, she just wants to be certain that Steve—and Eddie, who had looked awfully stressed—will be alright. The low tone of Eddie’s voice drifts out of the bedroom, quiet and indecipherable, followed by a grumbling that must be Steve, and then Eddie is slipping back out into the hall, shutting the bedroom door as he goes.

“Everything alright?” Gladys asks, keeping her voice low.

Eddie sighs. “He, uh – he gets migraines, sometimes.” He raises a fist and raps his knuckles against his temple. “Took a couple’a knocks to the head when we were younger and– yeah. Today’s a bad one.”

Gladys itches to ask, to press for more information, but she does actually possess a filter; she knows when to hold her tongue, even if she usually chooses not to. Instead, she says, “But he’ll be alright,” not really sure if she’s asking or reassuring.

“No, yeah, he’ll be fine, he just needs to rest.” Eddie nods, as much to himself as to Gladys.

“And you’ll be alright?” Gladys goes on.

Eddie shoots her a funny little look. “Yeah?” His voice quirks up at the end, like he isn’t sure why she’s asking. “I mean, I’m not the one whose brain is staging a full-scale revolt.”

“But you’re here with him,” Gladys says. “It’s hard to watch someone you care about be in pain.”

It had been a car accident that had taken Avery from her, not illness, but the few days she’d spent in the hospital with him, keeping vigil until his damaged body had given up, had been some of the worst of her life.

“I guess.” Eddie sighs, rubbing roughly at his chin. “It’s– They make medication for this shit, but it’s expensive, so we can’t– Sleep is really the only thing that helps, and it just sucks to sit around knowing I can’t do a damn thing for him while he’s– he’s suffering.”

“You’re here with him,” Gladys says again. “It seems like he appreciates that enough that he came looking for you when you’d gone.”

The ghost of a smile crosses over Eddie’s face. “Yeah…”

“I think you’re doing just fine.” Gladys reaches out and gives Eddie’s arm a little squeeze, and his smile grows.

He reaches up and twists his fingers into the ends of his hair, half-ducking behind it, as if he’s trying to hide the smile from her, but she can hear it in his voice when he tosses out a quick, “Well– thanks.”

“You just keep taking care of your boy, and I’ll see you two later in the week,” Gladys says, and Eddie nods.

“Yeah, I’ll–” he stops, blinking at Gladys as the full sentence hits him. “Uh–”

Gladys offers him a smile, seeing herself out the door. “Let me know if you need anything,” she tosses back over her shoulder quietly as she can, and shuts the door on his confounded expression.

She doesn’t know much about migraines, but she supposes she could learn. In the meantime, she decides that no matter what the ailment is, chicken soup is always an appropriate answer.

[sunvmars]

sour | s.r. [2]

pairing: steve rogers x afab/fem reader

↞ previous | next ↠

word count: 3.2k

warnings: swearing, brief mentions of abortion, pregnancy/pregnant reader- that's ab it

summary: you and steve discuss plans for the pregnancy, steve faces the consequences of his actions

a/n: oh boy have i got a little plot twist coming for y'all soon. also, the chapters will get longer as more of the story is revealed!

“I’m pregnant, Steve.”

Steve's hold on you became a little tighter. He found himself unable to fully process the information you'd just dropped on him; you being pregnant wasn't something he had even considered. You stood still in his arms, allowing him time to process the news and awaiting any type of response from him. He took a deep breath, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions. The words kept repeating in his head; she’s pregnant, she's pregnant, she's…pregnant.

"Steve? Did you hear me?" you questioned, voice slightly muffled by how you were being pressed into his chest.

Only after hearing your voice again did he move. He released his grip on you and took a step back to look you in the eyes. His eyebrows furrowed, his expression containing a mix of disbelief and confusion. There was something else hidden below the surface of his gaze too- a deep-rooted concern. A concern not only for you but for the tiny little life growing inside of you too, the life both of you created.

"What..? I'm sorry, this is just, uhm, wow."

You cock an eyebrow up at him, "That's all you've got to say?"

When he doesn't respond, you scoff. His eyes search the room as he tries to avoid direct eye contact with you.

"Well, now that you've made this abnormally awkward, I think I'm gonna go home now," you chuckle, trying to hide your irritation, ''Since I'm having your baby, please feel free to call me when you've got something else to add, alright?"

He grabs your arm when you turn to leave, "Wait. I'm sorry, y/n. Come inside, please. We can talk in here.”

Reluctantly, you allowed Steve to guide you into the apartment. His grip on your arm stayed gentle but firm like he thought you were gonna turn and run away at any moment. Once fully inside, you noticed how everything seemed so familiar yet foreign at the same time. Most of the pictures were off the wall except for two.

One picture was one that Tony had taken at the beach a year ago. The photo was of you, Steve, and Bucky sitting in the sand. You were laying in Steve's lap with your head resting on his chest while playing rock, paper, scissors with Bucky for the last slice of Steve's birthday cake.

The other photo just had you and Steve on your first date. You'd made him take a picture with you in front of the movie theater you went to. It was the oldest theater in town and, at some point during the night, you made a joke about how the theater was the only thing as old as him in the city.

He'd rolled his eyes at the joke but found himself unable to contain a smile when he saw your face light up as you laughed. You were witty, and that was his favorite thing about you, even if he was on the butt end of the joke. As long as you still had that pretty smile on your face, he didn't care how many jokes you made about him.

The soft, white couch you'd picked out together when the two of you first moved in was still there too and so was your favorite vase. The vase was missing the flowers though- the flowers he'd come home with every Friday without fail. More often than not, the ones he bought the week before weren't even dead yet, but he'd buy you new ones anyways.

"Ma used to tell me that if someone buys you flowers and they don't die for a long time, that means they really love you. But it's unavoidable that they'll die eventually, right? So I figured that if I buy you new ones before the old ones die then you'll never get the chance to forget how much I love you," he explained, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead.

"Right, but what if I forget anyway?" you joked with a smile.

And then he shrugged and gave you a peck on your nose, "Then it's a good thing I'll be right here to remind you, honey," he cooed.

You bit your tongue, forcing the lump in your throat to go back down upon remembering all of the moments you shared. This was your home until just a couple of months ago, and now it felt like you were standing in a shell of what used to be your safe space.

Steve led you to the living room, the last room you'd been in before he gave up on your future together. He gestured for you to take a seat and you plopped into your favorite recliner that didn't even seem like it'd been touched since you left. The tension in the room was palpable as he sat on the far end of the couch, the side farthest away from you.

"You scared I'm gonna bite you or something?" you joked, rubbing a hand over your aching stomach.

He gave a short-lived chuckle before speaking, "Listen, I'm sorry for my reaction," he began, his voice filled with sincerity, "I didn't expect this, and I'm sure you didn't either."

You nodded to show your understanding, "It's alright, this is a lot for both of us."

"What do you wanna do..?"

"Me?"

His brain blanks as he tries to think of whether or not he'd said something wrong.

"Yeah?" he finally says, almost saying it like a question.

"It's not just my decision, Steven. You get a say in this too."

"I do?"

You laugh a little at his confusion, "Yes. You do."

"I'm sorry, it's just that with everything that happened I... I'm trying to say that I'd understand if you didn't want me involved in this decision," he says, looking down at the floor to avoid your eyes.

"Steve, look at me," you begin, pausing until he looks back up at you, "I wouldn't leave this choice up to just me. Whatever decision we make has to work for both of us though."

He looks up at you with surprise etched all over his face, "Thank you, y/n. It's more than I deserve."

"Mhm, tell me about it," you sigh while still rubbing a hand soothingly over your stomach, trying to ease the nausea.

He's silent, avoiding the dreaded breakup conversation. Luckily enough, neither of you are ready to have that discussion yet. He claps his hands together in his lap quietly and clears his throat to get rid of the silence.

"Do you know how far along you are?"

"No, not yet. I have to find a doctor. I'll ask Tony to make the call for me tomorrow."

"So, what do you wanna do?" he asks again, emphasizing the 'you,' "Have you thought about...you know?"

"The alternative? Yeah, I thought about it for a bit, but I think I wanna keep it. I've only known about the little guy for less than an hour and I'm already attached."

What you said was true, you did think about every possible alternative from abortion to adoption; but at some point on the way here, you'd decided on keeping it. You feel a bit of hope when you look down at your stomach. You smile to yourself, momentarily forgetting all your troubles. Though your smile is quickly replaced with a frown when you remember the situation at hand. You look up to lock eyes with him, seeing he's clearly hesitating to respond.

"But if you don't want this, I can raise him or her alone. Y'know, move out of town or move a few states away to be closer to family so there are no unwanted run-ins. The whole nine yards," you say softly, wiping a stray tear off your cheek.

"Oh, y/n," he mumbles, "I'm sorry. I didn't want it to be like this- I didn't want any of this."

You take in his words, trying to make sense of them. You felt your heart beginning to break as he remained silent. How can he just give up so easily before it even gets hard? Not that you'd pressure him into raising a kid he didn't want, I mean you did give him the choice, but his words still come as a surprise.

"So, the whole nine yards it is then?"

"I'm sorry, y/n..."

“I need you to look at me and say it, please.”

Steve looked around the room, appearing as though he was about to cry. His eyes finally land on you and you swear there's bits of guilt and regret in them.

"I don't want this baby."

That was all you needed. Hearing him say the words to you only solidified that y/n l/n and Steve Rogers didn't stand another damn chance. You sniffled as you stood up, trying to conceal any glimpse of sadness he could possibly see in you. You make your way to the door and go to turn the handle only for him to start speaking and stop you in your tracks.

"Y/n. I'm sorry, okay? I wasn't expecting any of this. I don't know what I want yet."

"Of course you do, Steven, you just said it," you say with a fake smile as you turn to look at him, "I'm not upset with you for not wanting this, but I'm disappointed that you're not the man I thought you were. If you change your mind, you know where to find me, but decide soon because I won't let you be in and out of our lives."

With that, you leave and quietly shut the door behind you.

The drive back to the tower is entirely too slow and painful. You slipped your shoes off once back inside the comfort of your room and made your way to the bathroom to run a bath. After sinking in the warm bubbles and water, you unlocked your phone to unblock Steve's number. You awaited a text as you bathed- a text that never came, that is. You felt a little silly for ever thinking he'd want this with you but brush the feeling off quickly as it makes you feel physically sick.

You dry off, slip into your favorite night clothes, then slip under your covers. After trying to fall asleep for four hours and either waking up after a few minutes or not being able to fall asleep at all, you text Bucky to see if he's awake. It's about 3 a.m., but he responds after only five minutes to tell you he's coming to your room. The fact that he knew you wanted him to come over without saying it had a smile spreading across your lips.

When he arrived, you hugged him tightly and let out a shaky breath you'd been holding. He pulled away from the hug and looked at you with a concerned expression painted on his face.

"What's wrong?" he asks, hands resting on your arms.

"I'm pregnant, Buck."

You laugh a little to hide the way your voice cracked but Bucky sees right through it. He frowns at the sight of you, taking in the dark bags under your eyes and your skin that was paler than your usual tone.

"Let's go sit down, yeah?" he smiles warmly.

The two of you sit on your bed in silence as you lay your head on his shoulder. You make small talk after a few minutes, Bucky mainly asking questions about what you plan to do and how you feel.

"I'm guessing you told Steve?" he inquires.

He feels you nod slowly against his shoulder and he takes it as a sign to continue.

"And how did he take it?"

You shrug before speaking, "It seemed like he wanted to be a part of it all at first...then he said he didn't want this, but then he said he wasn't sure."

"Huh," he sighs out of confusion, "You know I'm here for you though, right? Both of you are my best friends, no matter how stupid he's being."

"I know you are," you reply.

"I know it's early and all, but have you thought about if you want a girl or boy?" he asks cautiously, worried the topic might upset you, "If you keep it, that is," he quickly adds.

"Buck, can I be honest with you?"

"Of course."

"I went to Steve's to get his input, but I think I decided to keep it as soon as I found out about it. I hate Steve so much right now, but this baby is a piece of both of us. I can't bring myself to get rid of something so innocent just for being a part of him," you explain, "I know it's not that simple for other people, but I did want kids with him eventually. I'm not unhappy with the pregnancy, I'm unhappy with the circumstances. Boy or girl, I'll be overjoyed either way."

He smiles to himself briefly, "You've got the biggest heart, you know that? You'll be a wonderful mother, y/n, and I mean that."

As hard as he tries to come up with an explanation for his friend's odd behavior, he can't. He'd promised you that he wouldn't go digging for answers when you broke up, you'd told him you didn't care to know and that it wasn't his problem. You're his friend, so he respected that. But now? Now it wasn't just you that Steve was abandoning, which meant that now he had to have answers.

Your breathing slows after a little bit, a sign that he recognizes as you getting sleepy. Slowly, he lays down, cradling your body so that you lay down with him. He lets you rest your head on him as he strokes your hair back soothingly. He waits until he hears your soft snores to gently ease your head onto your pillow before getting off the bed. He'd decided that he was going to get answers, even if it was three-forty in the morning.

Back at the apartment, Steve had only moved once to turn off the lights, pour a glass of alcohol, and sit in your recliner. He would never say it now but he hated being alone in the apartment without you. This wasn't his home, and it never was, not without you there with him. The space that used to be filled with your laughter and your love now felt void of anything other than cold. He sat in the dark, alone with his thoughts, as he did almost every night since you broke up.

His phone buzzed, startling him out of his thoughts. The timing of him getting a message was unusual given the late hour. He picked up the phone and saw it was from Bucky, he smiled softly in hopes that his friend would offer some sort of help. He was sadly mistaken.

Bucky: We need to talk.

Steve frowned at the cryptic message as he typed a response.

Steve: About what?

Bucky's reply was swift.

Bucky: You know exactly what.

A knock sounded at the door no more than ten minutes later. He sighed, mentally preparing himself for whatever talking to he was about to get.

"It's open," he called out.

The door opened to reveal Bucky. As he walked in, the light from outside lit up his face and allowed Steve to see his expression of concern and irritation. He closed the door behind him and then turned to face Steve.

"I'm starting to worry you're turning into a vampire or something, punk. Why are you sitting with all the lights off again? Haven't we had this talk before?" he questions, flipping the overhead light on, "Have you been crying again?"

Steve groans and rubs his wet eyes with his free hand, "No," he lies.

His eyes narrow in Bucky's direction as he walks towards where he's sitting. Steve then brings the drink up to his lips to take a sip only to have it yanked away.

"Buck-"

"Now this is new, is this alcohol?" Bucky asks, bringing the glass up to his nose only to recoil at the scent, "Steve, oh my God, What is in this?"

"Whiskey, tequila, a little bit of everything. Well, everything she left here."

Bucky looks away, desperately trying to contain a laugh, "You can't even get drunk. What are you doing? What's the end goal here?"

"The taste helps me forget how big of an idiot I am," Steve confesses as he snatches his drink back, "It's like a punishment."

"Glad you know you're an idiot, it makes my job here easier."

"Did she send you over here," Steve asks, looking up at Bucky through his eyelashes.

"No, she didn't. But she told me what happened and I came here on my own," Bucky responds, "You know as well as I do that she can fight her own battles."

"Then why are you here?"

"To check on you. And like you said, you're an idiot. I'm here to figure out why you're being such an idiot, though. Whatever Steve you've been for the last four months isn't the Steve I know."

When he doesn't answer, Bucky continues talking, "I've let this go on for far too long. I should've asked when I noticed you were acting weird, but I chalked it up to how rough that last Hydra mission was. But this whole baby thing is the last straw, Steve. I've had to put up with your dumb decisions recently, I deserve an explanation. The woman carrying your child does more so, but we'll get to that."

Steve let out a heavy sigh and his shoulders slumped as he realized there was no escaping the conversation. Bucky had always been a straightforward friend. For as long as they knew each other, he was never one to beat around the bush, and he wasn't about to start letting Steve get away with stuff now.

"I don't even know where to start," Steve admits, his voice laced with frustration.

He takes another sip of his drink, hoping it might give him the kick he needs to explain himself. His face turns up at the taste and Bucky tries yet again to conceal a laugh.

"Okay, enough of that," he says, taking the drink back out of Steve's hands.

Bucky crosses his arms and sits on the end of the couch closest to Steve, giving him a stern look, "How about you try starting with why you decided to walk away from her? She's the best thing that ever happened to you, Steve, we both know that."

Steve winces at his words. He knew Bucky was right, as he usually was, but facing the same truth every day didn't make it hurt any less. It actually hurt worse since he knew that this entire situation was his fault.

"So?" Bucky says, urging Steve to speak.

Bucky instinctively brings the glass up to his lips and takes a sip. His expression turns from understanding to disgust as he spits the drink back into the cup.

Steve chuckles under his breath, "Habit?"

"Think it was the feeling of the cup in my hand, not sure why I did that. Guess old habits do die hard," Bucky explains, "Anyways, get to the explaining."

"I... I don't know, Buck. I messed up, bad."

"We already know that, care to elaborate?" Bucky prodded.

"It wasn't up to me, Buck," Steve sighs, speaking again when he sees Bucky's confused look, "Remember that Hydra mission you were just talking about?"

taglist! @vicmc624 @tooruen @athenabarnes @blackhawkfanatic

to be added to or removed from the tag list for this series, leave a comment or message me :) submissions and asks are now also open

[tomura-complex]

ღ A helpful dose of assistance ღ

Pairing: Employee!Tomura X CEO!Reader Synopsis: Tomura gets a raise after many years of hard work meeting you, his boss. The promotion sends him to a higher position becoming your personal assistant. And with this whole new job comes new responsibilities. Warning: cunnilingus, p in v sex, oral (F recieving), creampie, office sex, kinda power dynamics, fluff at the end

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Tomura was working really hard for the last two years. Working overtime and… quite isolating himself from everyone. Always looking formal and spending most of his break time working. The time of the year comes along again. Promoting. You thought about one person to promote. You are the CEO and every statistic spoke to itself. Tomura was the best. He deserves a promotion. You called him in your office before the end of the shift. “Tomura, nice to see you.” You smiled at him and saw his confused and… scared face. He looks so nervous. “Sit down, I have something to tell you.” You smile at him and he nervously sits down in front of you. “I went through the data and the statistics. And it speaks to itself. You did an amazing job here and I’m really happy.” You smile at him. “Are you firing me?” He mumbles and you stare at him confused. “No! Of course not. I… I’m promoting you for a better position. You will be my assistant.” You beam at him and he looks at you slightly confused but then relieved. “Thank you so much Miss.” You smile at him. You give him all the instructions. He will be your first assistant.

Weeks flew by and he finally got comfortable with his new job. You are quite routine based. He knocks on your office door and walks inside, placing a cup of coffee on your table. Today is different. You are exhausted since you came to work and irritated. “Do you need help with anything?” He mumbles and hands you your planner for today. “No, not really Tomu. It’s okay. Oh and please don’t forget to call the radio for the interview. We need to plan it for next week on Tuesday.” You smile at him, but he feels that the smile isn’t genuine. Something naggs you in your head. Tomura silently leaves your office and starts working. But the thought of you always lingers in his mind. He spends so much time with you. Your body, your attitude, your everything. You are always on his mind. Maybe it is not healthy. You are the CEO, his boss, he shouldn’t think of you this way.

The time flew by and he is recently taking notes from a meeting that you lead. Everyone can sense that you are irritated. The meeting ends and everyone leaves. You huff and start looking through your phone. Then you groan and tuck the phone away. Something is definitely going on. “Um. Your shift ends in half an hour.” Tomura tries to lighten the mood. You look at him and smile at him. That smile. That beautiful caring smile. “Tomu, I’m sorry but… Can you get me a coffee please?” You mumbled and he nodded. He hands you the notes and then leaves for your coffee. You sat down in the office and groaned. You need a savior. You need a D. A proper and passionate fuck. It was so long. Since you started the firm. You never found the time for anyone and you can feel that your body needs it. Your pussy throbs the whole day and it’s annoying you want to cry. You whimper and lay your head on the table. This is so bad. You don’t know what to do. You don’t hear Tomu walk in and place your coffee down. “You okay?” He whispers and you look at him with tears in your eyes you didn’t know were there. “What’s wrong?” He said worried. You sat up and rub your eyes. “OH um Nothing I.” You mumbled and then sigh. “I have such a primitive problem. It’s stupid.” You mumble and he looks at you. Then he kneels before you. “What is wrong. It won’t be stupid. I won’t laugh.” He promises and you blush. Your whole face is red and you cover it in your hands. “I need to make out.” You whisper into your hands and Tomura looks at you confused. “What?” You chuckle. “No, It’s really stupid. Thank you for the coffee.” You mumble, totally mortified. Why did you say it? In front of him. He stands up and silently leaves. He heard you. He heard you clearly. You were irritated because of this? He sits down by his desk and notices his tent in his pants. He gulps and tries to stop thinking about you and your… perfect cleavage. The phone rings and he takes it. “Good evening, We have got a delivery for Miss Y/n L/n.” Tomura quickly answers it and goes to pick it up. 

Tomura walks into your office with a package. “I have a package for you.” He mumbles and gives it to you. You look at it and almost choke on your coffee. “Thank you so much Tomu. Um. You can leave.” You smile at him. When he closed the door, you quickly opened the box. It’s your new two toys. You send it to the wrong address. Thank god that Tomura didn’t see it. You  pick up the tentacle dildo and look at it. It’s beautiful. So long and… The design is great. You gulp and hide it. You don’t know if you can wait till the night. You really need it. Tomura barges in and walks to you with a paper. You quickly stand up and push the box out of the way. “We just got an important message from our biggest partner. They want us to-” The box hit the floor and the plastic filling scatters all over the floor. “I’m really sorry Miss.” He says and hands you the papers then kneels down grabbing the box. You look at the paper and groan. It is not important. It was just a notice, nothing important. He is still nervous in his position. Then you realize it. The box. You quickly kneel down, but it is late. Tomura is already holding it in his hands. A tentacle dildo and a bullet vibrator. You blush madly and look at him, noticing his raging boner. “Ah, this is so inappropriate. I’m really sorry.” You mumble and quickly grab it and hide it in the box and under your desk. Tomura can’t help but look at your thighs. Those big silk thighs. He gulps and bears himself with every courage he has. “I. I heard you before.” He whispers quickly and closes his eyes. Ready for anything. Even for you firing him. “Ugh, I’m really sorry. I’m just.” You sighed. “I’m really desperate, you know. It has been so long and… I’m the one working and every guy is like oh, you are a strong woman, you can be independent. And other things. Nothing helps me now and my body is on fire all day. I don’t even know what to do anymore. No one ever made time for me-” “I will make time for you.” He says and kisses you. The kiss is firm, but also sweet and caring. You pull away and look into his eyes. “I’m your assistant. I will help you with everything.” He whispers with lustful eyes. You look at the clock. It’s 6 pm. Everyone should have left already. “Will this be our secret?” You whisper and he smirks. “Our little secret. Whatever you need, boss.” He whispers and kisses you passionately. He grabs your hips and sits you on your desk.

This is going to end up badly. He is your assistant… Thoughts quickly left your head when he started kissing you on your neck. You started unbuttoning your shirt. Tomura kneels down and unstraps your heels. He looks at you with hunger in your eyes and kisses your feet. “You must be so swollen and tired.” He whispers and starts to massage your foot. “Ugh, fuck it. Come with me.” You mumble and stand up. You grabbed the box, your bag and quickly drag him out of the office. “Let’s continue in my apartment, shall we?” You mumble. Tomura smiles and grabs his things. “Perfect plan boss.” He smiles and walks you to your car.

The ride home was pretty quick. But you couldn’t help it. Your body couldn't handle it. You and Tomura got into your apartment and locked your door. His kisses travel from your neck to your shoulders and to your breasts. You fall with him on your bed and start to undress. Both of your clothes fall on the floor. You blush. He looks so stunning. Lean, but toned body, visible V-line and a small happy trail from black hair. And then his dick. Only slightly trimmed, slightly hairly, quite big, pretty large and veiny. His balls heavy. You gulp and look into his eyes. He looks at you and then at your breasts. Two perfect big mounds. He grabs them and smirks. They are spilling out of his hands. His hands travel down your tummy and his fingers hook under your panties. Lace black panties. Perfect. He slips them down and throws them on the floor. He kisses your thighs and slowly nears your hand. Your fingers in his hair stop him. He looks at you confused. “Please. I need you. I need all of you. I can’t wait.” You whine out and he chuckles. “So needy.” He smirks and slowly sinks his tip in your core. You whimper and wiggle your hips. You slowly feel him sink into you, filling you to the brim. You moan and relax. Finally. You look at him and then at the place where he enters you. He grabs you and lays you down in the center of the bed between pillows. “I shall treat you like a real princess.” He smiles at you and you giggle. You grab his cheek and he leans closer. You look into his beautiful dark eyes and kiss him. His lips were rough, but so sweet. “I wanted this.” He smiles. “I wanted you for so long.” He sighs and you smile. You grab his tie and lower his face to yours. “Then be a good assistant and fuck me properly.” You grin at him and he grins at you. He firmly grips your shoulders and starts pounding into you. You mewl out and throw your head back. You were missing this. He looks at you and smiles. He grabs your legs and pushes them to your chest. He starts ramming into you with full force, his balls slamming against your ass. You moan out grabbing his hand. You can feel your climax coming. Maybe it is too much? “T-tomu.” You moan out and he whines. “That’s it. Say it. Say it louder.” He grins and kisses you. Then he starts kissing your breasts. “Tomu… I can’t. Oh, Tomu.” You moan and close your eyes. Maybe it is too much. Then it hits you. The sudden wave of your orgasm. You moan out in his arms, feeling his hands holding you. In his embrace. He quickly pulls away and comes on your tummy. He huffs and looks at you. “Sorry… for not lasting longer.” He mumbles. You chuckle and let him lay down beside you. “Thank you so much.” You smile and cuddle into him.

The next week was amazing. Everyone felt your happy aura. You beamed at everyone and helped everyone. The meetings were more productive. But the biggest change is the smile that was on your face when you looked at Tomura. That honest smile with… love in your eyes. Tomu always brought you coffee. Three times in a day and lunch. But everytime he stays for a little longer. Making you feel happy and satisfied. It was one of those times. Tomura brought you coffee ten minutes ago and now, you are resting in your chair, eyes closed and enjoying the feeling of Tomu’s skillful tongue. You look at your planner. Just two more hours and you are finally done. You hum happily and look at Tomura. He is enjoying it so much down there. Kneeling on the carpet in his clothes that are too tight for his liking, focusing everything on the little bundle of nerves that was glistening with his spit. He huffs and pulls away smiling at you. “I… I thought about something…” He mumbled kissing your pearl. Your fingers entangled in his beautiful hair. “What is it?” You mused. He looks at you. His eyes are sparkling and wide. Just this one look and something just snapped. Something inside of you. “Can it wait a little longer?” You huff and he looks at you and then nods. You quickly sit down on your desk and he stands up. He quickly unbuckles his belt and frees his painfully throbbing dick. His left hand grabs your hips and his right hand helps his cock to nudge at your heated center. His dick slowly sinks right into you. You whimper and look at the door. “Don’t worry. No one will come in.” He whispers and kisses you passionately. You moan into his mouth and kiss him back. His hips start moving, his pelvis brushing against yours. He grins and holds your beautiful silk legs, pulling them to his chest and hugging your legs. You quietly moan out. Oh how you loved your service, your personal assistant. You grab his tie and hold him close, kissing his lips. This happened too many times. Files scattered around the floor, coffee almost spilled, the smell of the sex everywhere and the picture of him above you. Sweaty, but confident about his work. His pace sped up and became sloppy. His thumb encircled your clit, steadying at the perfect pace that has you speechless. You mewl out and come on the spot, squirting a little. And then you felt it. His cock pumps you full of his white seed, making you feel full. He huffs and slowly pulls out, quickly covering your fluttering hole with your black panties. Your eyes slowly close and he helps you sit on your chair. He held before you your coffee and you slowly drank it. “Feeling better?” He smiles and you nod while arranging your businesswoman dress. “What did you want to tell me?” You smile at him, watching him trying to look formal again. He looks at you and tries to look confident. “I… I want to ask if you would like to go on a date with me? To a restaurant… or to get a coffee… A warm coffee.” He mumbles and looks away feeling stressed. He wanted to tell you this for so long. The hookups were amazing, truly, but since the first time, he caught feelings for you. “Of course. I… Of course I will go out with you. That is so amazing.” You smile at him and stand up, holding his hands. He smiles at you. “That’s great! If you want, we can go to dinner together. Wherever. It’s up to you.” He beams at you. “So we will meet out of your office at 17:05?” He smiles and you nod. He beams and leaves to his desk.

You look at your work and smile. So it’s the first official date… It will be nice and pretty. And you can’t catch feelings for him. Because you had caught them long ago… 

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading this oneshot, it makes me really happy that someone enjoys my writing!

[malarign]

please don’t yell at me

(when you cry after he raised his voice on you)

contains: idolbf!Sunghoon x fem!reader | genre: angst with a fluffy ending | tw! arguing, raising voice, crying, accusing of cheating, kissing (or maybe making out) lmk if i missed anything! | wc: 0,8k

reblogs, likes and comments are highly appreciated!!!

author’s note: i don’t really have the energy or motivation to post lately, so just enjoy this old draft i wrote a while ago 🫶 i promise the next thing i’ll write will be the heeseung request from a while ago (sorry anon 😅)

In contrast to the ride home, your voices were echoing with anger in your apartment in a heated argument. Having enough of the tension between you two you decided to finally bring up the touchy subject that had been avoided for way too long, which was Sunghoon slowly drifting apart from you.

You tried to understand him for a very long time now; their first tour just ended, and they still had lots of work to prepare for their new album and comeback. It had been weeks if not months since you actually felt close to him for more time than that one date he took you on during this time. But you didn’t want dates, you didn’t expect anything big knowing how much work he had, all you asked was just a little bit of his attention and affection. Yet he seemed so preoccupied with his work he couldn’t spare you at least one hug that lasted longer than half a minute. And when he brushed your hand off of his shoulder when you tried to hug him after his dance practice you just snapped, not minding 6 other pairs of eyes that watched the scene with horror in them.

And here you were arguing like you never did before in your long-term relationship.

“You really had to make a scene next to the guys, right? Who are you, a baby? Everything has to revolve around you, y/n?” Sunghoon asked highly irritated, after slamming the front door behind him.

“Revolve around me? You can’t be serious.” You raised your eyebrows at his words in pure shock. “Sunghoon how can anything revolve around me when you literally don’t spare me any of your attention?”

“Oh please, you’re going overboard about it.” Sunghoon rolled his eyes and watched with his arms crossed as you paced the floor.

“No, I’m not! I can’t even remember when you genuinely hugged or kissed me. I can’t remember when was the last time I felt loved by you! All you do is go to work, come home late, and leave for work again. Sometimes I doubt you still love me, because all you love is your work, or maybe you love somebody new?” you asked, not knowing how your words wounded his sensibilities.

“Enough!” Sunghoon burst out. He didn’t realize how the impact and volume of his voice affected you. All he saw was how your eyes slowly disappeared under thick tears that now cascaded down your cheeks. His expression softened and his lips parted in shock at the sight. It happened. His worst nightmare happened. He made you cry and didn’t know how to fix this situation. He froze as he stood when he raised his voice and watched as you turn around and close the bathroom door behind you.

You slid down on the floor and sobbed your heart out. Feeling pathetic you thought of all those years of your beautiful relationship full of love and communication and what it had become. For the last months, you were nothing like the couple everybody envied. Now it was you who envied yourself from a year ago.

Does it mean he really found somebody new? Were you really going overboard with this situation? And maybe you were selfish for not helping him while he worked hard for his and his bandmate’s future.

Your train of thought was stopped when the bathroom door opened revealing Sunghoon. He hunkered down next to you and you looked at him. His eyes were just as puffy as yours, filled with regret and love. He hesitantly opened his arms inviting you into his embrace. You hugged him tightly and sobbed uncontrollably, choking out quietly: “Please don’t yell at me”.

Your words and tone broke his heart, the thought of you being scared of him crossing his mind. He brushed it off and left a long kiss on your forehead to soothe your pain.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I will never raise my voice at you again. I promise.”

Both of you cried on the cold bathroom floor until he pulled away and dried up your cheeks. He looked you in the eyes seeing a glimpse of a smile in their corners.

“I’m sorry for accusing you of cheating. And I’m sorry in general. I know how hard you work,” you admitted taking his hands in yours.

“No, love, just because I work hard doesn’t give me the authority to be an asshole to my girlfriend. I’m sorry for pushing you away and distancing from you,” Sunghoon rubbed his thumbs on the palms of your hands as he spoke.

You raised your hand and cupped his cheek, smiling as he melted at the feeling of your touch. You leaned in to give him a short peck on his lips but landed on his lap when he pulled you closer by the waist, plunging into a tears-salty and heated kiss. Both of you needed that kind of intimacy, hands wandering on your bodies searching for that one spot. You pulled away, to take a breath and he whined at the loss of contact.

“Sunghoon,” you called out his name drawing his attention. He looked at you, eyes opened wide waiting for what you wanted to tell him. “Let’s not argue again. Like ever.”

He smiled coming closer to you, lips brushing your skin as he whispered: “Of course, my love.”

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

[lila-lou]

✨Needy - Pt. 1/5✨

Summary: Jensen finally comes home after weeks of filming and shows you how much he missed you.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Language, smut, pregnant reader

Word Count: 2477

A/N: No hate towards anybody. It's just fiction.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

"How do you feel?".

You were currently laying on your large sofa in the living room, your head resting on your left hand while your right hand caressed your belly.

“I’m fine Jay, really”, you smiled at your boyfriend, who was walking over to you with a beer and an orange juice. He looked beyond tired and exhausted. Not surprising considering he only landed four hours ago.

Austin wasn't known for large snowfalls in the winter, so this exceptional situation had led to complications with flights. Jensen's already long flight landed over three hours late, which didn't help his mood. When he saw his pregnant fiancée curled up on the sofa with a broken rib, he was more than pissed. Jensen had only endured the last few weeks on set because he was clinging to the thought that he would soon be able to hold you in his arms again. You and your unborn baby. You've been calling each other every night for the past two weeks to pass the wait, but not once have you mentioned your broken rib.

“Here you go”, Jensen tried to say as nicely as he could while handing you the orange juice, but all the words that came out of his mouth were mumbled. He actually knew that he shouldn't ruin the evening with a bad mood, but the last few weeks had taken a toll on him and his nerves were frayed. Not only was everything going haywire on set, but he also missed you. You were five months pregnant and he felt like he had already missed everything.

You gratefully accepted the glass and took a long sip before setting it aside. Jensen stared blankly at the television, which was playing a horror movie.

“Hey”, you sighed, taking his free hand in yours. “I just didn’t want to burden you unnecessarily. You were always so worried about me and the Baby and with all the stress on set, I thought you wouldn't have to worry about more. I went to the doctor and it’s not that bad”, you tried to explain yourself, but Jensen just rolled his eyes.

“(y/n), you are carrying our child! Do you really think there is something more important at the moment than you and your well-being?”, he replied, still slightly irritated. Of course Jensen was worried and you loved him more than anything for that, but sometimes he could be really overprotective.

“If I promise you, that I won't withhold anything from you anymore, can we please end the evening somewhat peacefully? You didn’t even kiss me when you came in”, you murmur towards the end. Jensen took a long sip of beer and sighed in resignation. Of course he knew he was acting like an ass and that you absolutely didn't deserve that, but he was just worried and stressed.

"You're right. I'm sorry. It's just... the last few weeks have been really stressful and... I feel like I've already missed so much with the little worm", Jensen admitted a little desperately before gently pulling you into his arms. “Besides, I missed you terribly”, he kissed your head lightly.

“Jay… I’m only five months pregnant. We still have four long and wonderful months ahead of us before things get tricky with you being away. You haven't missed anything yet. Except maybe my morning sickness and trust me, you should be glad you weren't there". You tried your best to lighten the mood a little, even if it really wasn't easy. Slowly but surely you could feel him relax. “I hope so”, he murmured before pulling your face to his and finally placing his lips on yours.

“Now tell me about the shoot”, you whispered against his lips with a big grin. While Jensen started talking about his new colleagues and the set, you made yourself comfortable in his arms and pulled the blanket a little higher.

Almost a year ago you moved in with Jensen. You previously had a pretty stressful long-distance relationship. While you were completing your studies in Seattle, Jensen was mostly in Toronto filming “The Boys”. In his free time, he often took the opportunity to spend time with his three children in Austin. Since he was always on the plane, jumping from appointment to appointment, you were usually the one who visited him. It quickly became clear that Jensen wasn't leaving Austin to move in with you, so you had no choice but to leave Seattle.

Luckily you already liked Austin and settled in very quickly.

Jensen had no plans to have any more children, and you hadn't thought about children either. But after your delayed and somewhat escalated housewarming party, contraception wasn't particularly emphasized.

The moment you finally told Jensen about the pregnancy was probably the worst moment of your life. You were so afraid to tell him that it took you forever to say the words without them being swallowed up by your sobs.

Of course, Jensen was anything but enthusiastic, after all, he already had three wonderful children and after his divorce from Danneel, he was happy to take things a little slower with you. However, it didn't take long for him to come to terms with the idea of becoming a father for the fourth time. He still had bad days every now and then where he worried it would all be too much, but overall, he did very well. And now he couldn't wait to finally hold the little munchkin in his arms.

While Jensen told you about his time on set, now in more detail than on the phone, his hand, somewhat distracted, stroked your small baby bump.

“Are you coming to the doctor’s appointment tomorrow? My doctor said we might be able to tell the gender”. Jensen continued to hold you tightly in his arms, your legs crossed over his lap and your head resting lightly on his biceps as he looked down at you.

“Of course, I’ll come”, he kissed your nose. “It’s just the three of us for the next two weeks”. His gaze moved from your eyes down to your belly.

“Is it kicking yet?”, Jensen’s eyes sparkled slightly. You'd think that after three kids he would already know it all, but unfortunately, he was on set for most of his ex-wife's two pregnancies and so wasn't as involved as he would have liked.

“Well, I definitely feel the movements, but they are hardly real kicks. In about 6 weeks you should be able to feel the kicks”, you told him as you watched his hand move in light circles over your belly.

After a while Jensen looked up again. “Being pregnant suits you”, he grinned at you, making you roll your eyes with a chuckle.

“You know how to make a woman blush”, you replied, playfully hitting his chest.

Jensen leaned down to you and pressed his lips lightly to the spot under your ear.

“I know damn well how to make a woman come too”, he whispered harshly to you.

You couldn't help but press your thighs together as a shiver ran down your spine. Despite the fact that you had been together for so long, Jensen still had a strong effect on you. "You think so?", You breathed as he started kissing your neck.

You giggled, your breath hitching slightly. You did not receive an immediate response. Instead, Jensen pulled you onto his lap in one quick movement. As you straddled his legs, he grabbed your ass somewhat roughly with both hands and pushed you closer to him. His lips slid down your neck, leaving wet kisses behind.

“It’s been far too long, sweetheart,” he murmured deeply, his breath hot against your soft skin.

While he kept one hand flat on your lower back, he slipped his other hand into your sweatpants before leaning in to kiss you.

“Actually, I imagined our reunion a little differently”, you whispered against his slightly parted lips, which only lightly touched yours. “With fancy and hot underwear, you know?”.

Jensen couldn't help but laugh lightly, but he stopped with a deep moan when he felt how wet you already were. “Shit baby, I’ve barely touched you and you’re already dripping”, he grinned slightly arrogant. If you weren't so incredibly turned on, you probably would have rolled your eyes. Jensen gently rubbed his fingertips over your soaked clit, making you moan immediately.

“Jensen”, you whined as he continued to tease your clit.

Your eyes were barely open, but you knew Jensen was grinning to himself. You could feel it on your lips.

“Pleaaaase,” you grabbed his thighs and leaned back further so he could get a perfect angle, despite your little baby bump.

“I´ve got you”, he grinned, slipping his middle finger inside you. A soft gasp escaped you as Jensen curled his finger and hit your sweet spot. As he added a second finger, you dug your nails into his skin. “Fuck”, you let out a throaty moan.

“You’re even tighter than usual, baby. I guess I really left you alone for too long”. Your eyes were closed as you were completely absorbed in the feeling your fiancé was giving you.

“Ugh… you did”, you agreed as your eyes met.

With a jerk he pushed your upper body closer to his again and pulled his fingers out of you. No matter how much he loved teasing you, it had been far too long since the last time he could truly feel you.

His arms wrapped tightly around you as he pressed his lips to yours again. “Shit, I missed you so much”, Jensen murmured against your lips, making your heart beat faster.

“I missed you too”, you answered barely audible.

Within seconds, Jensen laid you on your back, tugging your sweatpants and panties off your legs before kneeling on the sofa in front of you, looking at you expectantly. “Touch yourself”, he ordered before you watched as he deftly unbuckled his belt. He loved watching you, almost as much as you loved watching him.

Even though you did this a thousand times, you couldn't stop the blush from rising on your face.

Nevertheless, your fingers found their way to your wet heat as if by themselves. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you felt your own wetness. You carefully dip a finger inside yourself, making you breath heavily. By now Jensen already had his throbbing erection in his hand.

“Just like this Babygirl”, he groaned, switching his gaze between your heated face and your spread legs. Your head fell back into the soft couch cushions as you adjusted to the feeling of your finger sliding through your wet folds. Jensen tried everything to hold onto himself and watch you longer, but the desire to bury himself inside you overwhelmed him.

“Fuck it”, he muttered, freeing himself from his jeans and boxers before leaning over you and pressing his lips greedily to yours. You could already feel his hardness against your pussy when Jensen broke the kiss to take off your shirt. “Fuck, they’ve gotten huge”, he whispered as he massaged your left breast over your bra. You couldn't help but grin when you saw his lustful look. “Do you want to keep talking and teasing or finally start fucking me, Ackles?”, you challenged him, your hands sliding under his shirt and tugging at the hem impatiently.

“So needy”, he grinned down at you, pulling his shirt over his head so you could immediately run your hands over his strong chest and broad shoulders before pulling him closer to you by his biceps.

“I’m going to fuck your tight pussy so good”, he groaned, hovering over you again as he took his cock in his hand and lined himself up with your wet folds.

You shuddered as he pushed himself into you until he bottomed out, stretching you almost painfully and letting out the deepest moan you've ever heard.

"Shit honey, you´re okay?", he chuckled, but actually looked a little worried. It took a few seconds until you found your breath and therefore your voice again. "Yeah... I just... almost forgot how big you are", you admitted.

“Well, after tonight you won’t forget it in a hurry”, he winked at you with a grin.

With that, he withdrew completely and spread your wetness with his tip, sliding it between your glistening folds. Jensen's gaze was literally glued between your legs and you could see in his eyes how much that turned him on. “Jay…please,” you begged, wiggling your hips, trying so hard to get him back in. He responded instantly to your requests and pushed his swollen cock into you again, making you moan loudly. As he thrusted into you harder than he had since you were pregnant, he firmly grabbed your hips and pushed them up from the soft fabric of the couch to thrust into you from a better angle. He hit your sweet spot over and over again, which had got you close within a few minutes. “Jay… I’m…”, your hands grip his wrist as you arch your back desperately. "I know, baby. Just a few more minutes", he moaned, watching your breast bounce in your bra with every hard thrust he gave you. Your lips met again, taking the breath away from both of you. You could feel his hot breath in your mouth again and again as he tried to suppress his moans. “You’re so fucking tight, baby”, he groaned against your swollen lips.

By now you were just mumbling pleas and desperately wanted him to allow you to come.

“Cum for me (y/n)”, his lips trailed down your neck, sucking on your delicate skin. Those few words were all you needed to squeeze his cock even tighter. With loud moans and closed eyes, you finally came.

“Fuck baby”, his voice cracked as he felt you clenching around him.

Seconds later, you could feel him spilling his cum inside you as his head fell back down on your shoulder. His deep moan against your collarbone sends shivers down your spine, creating even more sparks in your stomach as you live out the rest of your orgasm.

It took you both quite a while to catch your breath, still overwhelmed by the feeling.

Jensen held his position a little longer. When you finally felt your heart stop racing, you let out a quiet chuckle, brought on by your thoughts, which you immediately said out loud. “I’m not on the pill”, you whispered, stroking strands of his soft hair while his face was still buried in the croock of your neck.

"Well, I can't knock you up any more than I already did, can I?", he grinned and slowly raised his head.

“I guess not”, you grin, pulling his face to yours and kissing him gently.

“I really missed you”, he whispered as your eyes met.

-

Part2

[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Starlight - Part 15

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 7.2k

warning; smut :)))

notes; Hey everyone, I hope that you have enjoyed the story so far. Unfortunately we are getting close to the end, the next part is the last one before the epilogue of the story :(((( I really love reading your comments so please do not hesitate to write literally anything ! I was also wondering if you would enjoy a bonus part, taking place when Feyre and her sisters are in the night court ( so like 200 year after the story) ? bisous bisous <333

here is the link for part 14 or part 16

---

Cassian lounged on one of the sofas in the Townhouse living room, idly swirling a glass of whiskey as he stared at the ceiling. He sighed heavily, his wings draped over the back of the couch, as he glanced over at Mor, who was curled up in a chair with a book.

“Well,” Cassian began, a smirk playing on his lips, “it’s been three weeks, I think.”

Mor looked up from her book, raising an eyebrow. “Three weeks since what?”

Cassian chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. “Three weeks since Azriel vanished into Y/N’s apartment and hasn’t shown his face around here.”

Mor rolled her eyes, setting her book down on the arm of the chair. “When I told Az not to come home, I didn’t think he would take it that seriously.”

Cassian laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that filled the room. “You know our dear brother, Mor. When it comes to Y/N, he’s always been a bit… intense.”

Mor shook her head, but there was a fond smile on her lips. “I think it’s time we remind him that he’s not a prisoner in her apartment. What do you say we go pay them a visit?”

Cassian grinned, setting his glass down on the table. “I’m in. Let’s go rescue them from their self-imposed isolation.”

With that, they both stood up and made their way out of the Townhouse, the cool air of Velaris refreshing after the warmth of the living room. As they approached your apartment, Cassian exchanged a knowing glance with Mor, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Cassian knocked on the door, a little louder than necessary, and the two of them waited. There was a moment of silence before the door creaked open, revealing you standing there in a nightgown that looked like it had seen better days. Your hair was tousled, and your neck was covered in hickeys, evidence of the past few weeks spent in Azriel’s company.

“Hello, everyone,” you greeted them, your voice a little groggy from sleep.

Cassian’s eyes widened, and he let out a bark of laughter. “It’s been three weeks, guys. Three weeks!”

Before you could respond, Azriel appeared behind you, looking just as disheveled, if not more so. He was wearing nothing but his underwear, his chest and neck also adorned with a series of hickeys. His expression was a mix of irritation and exhaustion as he took in the sight of Mor and Cassian standing at the door.

Azriel scowled at Cassian. “And it’s not enough,” he grumbled, before reaching past you and slamming the door shut in their faces.

Cassian and Mor burst into laughter, leaning against each other for support. Inside, they could hear you scolding Azriel, your voice muffled but clearly annoyed.

“Azriel, get back here!” you snapped, your tone exasperated.

Cassian shook his head, still chuckling. “Azriel needs to stop being so horny all the time.”

The door opened again, and you stood there with an exasperated expression, though there was a hint of a smile on your lips. “Sorry about that,” you said, stepping aside to let them in. “Come on in.”

Cassian grinned as he entered, opening his arms to hug you. “It’s good to see you, Y/N—”

Before he could finish, Azriel reappeared, his eyes narrowed as he saw Cassian approaching you. Without warning, he delivered a swift, powerful punch to Cassian’s jaw, sending him stumbling back.

“Hands off,” Azriel growled, his voice deadly serious, his eyes flashing with a protective fury that left no room for doubt—he wasn’t joking.

Cassian rubbed his jaw, wincing at the impact, but his eyes gleamed with a mixture of surprise and a bit of respect. “Alright, alright, Az. Point taken.”

You stepped between them, placing a hand on Azriel’s chest as you shot him a stern look. “Az, that’s enough. He’s just being friendly.”

Azriel’s gaze softened slightly as he looked down at you, his jaw still clenched. “He needs to know his place.”

Mor sighed, stepping forward to place a hand on Cassian’s arm. “Let’s not start a fight in the middle of Y/N’s living room, okay?”

You shook your head, laughing at the scene in front of you. “Az, go put some pants on,” you said, pushing him gently towards the bedroom.

Azriel grumbled something under his breath but complied, disappearing down the hallway to find something more appropriate to wear. Meanwhile, you led Mor and Cassian into the living room, where you started preparing tea for everyone.

As the water boiled, Mor leaned against the counter, watching you with an amused expression. “So, I take it things have been… intense?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You could say that. But it’s been good. Really good.”

Cassian, now nursing a sore jaw from Azriel’s earlier punch, grinned as he sat down at the table. “It’s good to see you both so happy. Even if Az has apparently decided to take his obsession with you to a whole new level.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a warmth in your expression. “He’s just… dedicated.”

Mor smirked. “That’s one way to put it.”

Azriel returned, now dressed in a pair of pants, though his protective stance was still evident as he sat down next to you, his hand resting on your thigh. His eyes flicked over to Cassian, making sure there were no lingering thoughts of challenging his claim.

The four of you spent the next hour catching up, the tension between Azriel and Cassian easing into a playful, if still slightly cautious, banter. Mor teased you both relentlessly, but there was an underlying warmth in her words that made it clear she was happy for you.

As you all sipped your tea, the conversation flowed easily, laughter filling the room. And though Azriel’s protective nature was still on full display, it was clear that he was content, happy even, to share this part of his life with the people he cared about most.

As you leaned into his side, feeling the warmth of his presence, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that this was just the beginning of a new chapter—one filled with love, friendship, and a healthy dose of Azriel’s fierce loyalty.

Life slowly began to return to a semblance of normalcy, or at least as normal as it could be after the whirlwind of emotions and events that had taken place over the past few weeks. You found yourself diving more deeply into your work with Rhysand, focusing on strengthening the relationships between the Night Court and the other courts, as well as various factions across the continent. It was a role that came naturally to you, given your extensive network and experience, and it allowed you to channel your energy into something productive, something that helped you heal.

Every morning, you would rise early and head to the Townhouse or the House of Wind, where Rhysand would be waiting with a new project or a new challenge. The two of you would pour over maps, letters, and contracts, discussing strategies and potential alliances. You found solace in the work, in the familiar rhythms of negotiation and diplomacy. It was a way to anchor yourself, to find purpose in the aftermath of loss.

But the smithy—the heart of your old life—remained cold and silent. The forge, once alive with the heat of fire and the rhythmic clang of metal on metal, now stood still. The tools were neatly arranged, untouched, waiting for the day when you would be ready to pick them up again. The weapons that lined the walls were dusted and polished, but they hung there like silent sentinels, reminders of a time when the shop was bustling with activity, with Alexander’s laughter echoing through the space.

You couldn’t bring yourself to light the forge just yet. The memories of Alex and Sellan were too fresh, too raw. The thought of stepping into the workshop without them there, without their voices and their presence, was more than you could bear. So, the smithy remained closed, its windows darkened, the door locked. A sign hung outside, simple and straightforward: “Closed for now. Come back soon.”

The villagers of Velaris understood, of course. Many had known Alex and had been touched by his enthusiasm and charm. They respected your need for time, for space, and they waited patiently for the day when the forge would come alive again.

In the meantime, your apartment became your sanctuary. It was where you spent your evenings, often in the company of Azriel. He had practically moved in, spending all of his nights and any free time he had with you. His presence was a comfort, a constant reminder that you were not alone. He had become your anchor, the one who held you together when the grief threatened to pull you under.

Azriel was careful not to push you, not to force you into anything you weren’t ready for. He was there when you needed him, whether it was for a quiet evening of reading by the fire, a late-night walk along the Sidra, or simply holding you as you drifted off to sleep. He seemed to understand that you needed time to heal, that the process couldn’t be rushed.

But even with the quiet comfort of Azriel’s presence, there were moments when the weight of your grief felt too heavy to bear. The nights were the hardest. Despite Azriel’s warmth beside you, there were times when you would wake in the middle of the night, your heart aching with the loss of Alex, with the memories of the life you had once led.

On those nights, Azriel would wake with you, sensing your distress even in his sleep. He would pull you close, his wings wrapping around you like a shield, and he would murmur words of comfort, his voice a soothing balm against the pain. In those moments, you would cling to him, finding strength in his unwavering support.

The apartment itself had undergone a transformation. Where once it had been a place of work and rest, it was now a place of healing. You had cleared out much of the old clutter, making space for new memories, new beginnings. The walls, once adorned with the tools of your trade, now held framed maps of the courts, gifts from Rhysand and Mor as a way of marking your new role in the Night Court’s diplomacy. The swords that had once been your pride and joy were now carefully arranged in a display case, a tribute to the craft that you still loved, even if you couldn’t bring yourself to practice it just yet.

And then there were the small touches of Azriel’s presence—his favorite books on your shelves, his jacket draped over the back of a chair, his boots by the door. It was as if he had always been there, a natural extension of your life, of your home.

The two of you settled into a routine, one that was both comforting and new. Azriel would leave early in the mornings for his duties as the Night Court’s spymaster, but he would always return to you in the evenings, bringing with him a quiet strength that helped you through the day. You would cook dinner together, often laughing at his attempts to assist in the kitchen, and then spend the rest of the night curled up together, talking about your day, sharing stories from the past, or simply enjoying each other’s company in silence.

Despite the new roles and the changes in your life, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. The smithy, cold and quiet, was a constant reminder of the life you had left behind, of the boy who had been taken from you too soon. You knew that one day, you would have to face it, to open the doors and light the forge once more. But for now, you allowed yourself the time to grieve, to heal, and to find your way back to the craft that had once brought you so much joy.

And through it all, Azriel was there, a steady presence in the storm, his love for you unwavering. You knew that no matter how long it took, he would be by your side, helping you find your way back to the light.

——

You sat in the meeting room at the House of Wind, the soft murmur of conversation filling the space as you gathered with Rhysand and some members of the Inner Circle. The view from the large windows was breathtaking, the rolling mountains and the sparkling Sidra river below a constant reminder of the beauty and power of the Night Court. But today, your focus was on the task at hand—the next step in your work to strengthen the alliances between the courts.

For the past few weeks, you had been exchanging letters with Helion, the High Lord of the Day Court. The two of you had been discussing potential alliances, trade agreements, and exchanges of knowledge that could benefit both courts. Helion had always been a keen negotiator, and your conversations had been both challenging and rewarding, the two of you sparring with words as you hammered out the details of a possible agreement.

Today, you were to discuss the final details with Rhysand and the others before making your way to Helion’s court to solidify the arrangement. As you sipped your tea, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. This was a significant step, not just for the Night Court, but for you personally. It was your first major diplomatic mission since you had taken on this role, and you were determined to see it through successfully.

Rhysand, seated at the head of the table, smiled warmly at you as he called the meeting to order. “Y/N, I want to start by saying how impressed we all are with the work you’ve done so far. Helion is not an easy man to negotiate with, but you’ve managed to make remarkable progress. I think I speak for everyone when I say we’re grateful to have you on our side.”

There was a murmur of agreement from the others—Mor, Cassian, and Amren—all of whom had been kept in the loop about your ongoing discussions with Helion.

“Thank you, Rhys,” you replied, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “But it’s not over yet. Helion is… well, he’s Helion. He’s charming and brilliant, but he’s also as stubborn as they come. We’ve agreed on most of the terms, but I’ll need to be there in person to finalize everything.”

Amren raised an eyebrow, her sharp gaze fixed on you. “And you’re prepared for that? Helion can be… persuasive when he wants to be.”

You nodded, understanding the weight behind her words. Helion’s reputation as a flirt was well-known, but you had handled his charm well enough during your correspondence. “I’m ready. We’ve built a good rapport, and I’m confident we can come to an agreement that benefits both courts.”

Cassian leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “And what exactly are we looking at in terms of this alliance? What’s Helion bringing to the table?”

You took a deep breath, ready to present the details. “Helion has proposed a mutual exchange of resources and knowledge. The Day Court is known for its vast libraries and magical artifacts, some of which they’re willing to share in exchange for our expertise in certain areas—specifically, some of the innovations we’ve developed in the Night Court. There’s also talk of a joint military training exercise between our forces and theirs, which could help strengthen both our defenses.”

Cassian nodded, his expression thoughtful. “A joint training exercise could be beneficial, especially with the state of things between the other courts. We could learn a lot from each other.”

Mor chimed in, a knowing smile on her face. “And let’s not forget the cultural exchange. Helion has expressed interest in visiting more often, perhaps even hosting some of our artists and scholars in his court.”

You nodded. “Exactly. It’s not just about trade and military might—it’s about fostering a deeper connection between our people. That’s something Helion values as much as we do.”

Rhysand steepled his fingers, his expression one of deep consideration. “It sounds like you’ve covered all the bases, Y/N. But I want to make sure you’re comfortable with this. Helion can be unpredictable, and we don’t want to put you in a situation where you feel out of your depth.”

You met Rhysand’s gaze, appreciating his concern. “I’m confident, Rhys. I’ve been through worse negotiations in my time, and I know how to handle Helion. Besides, this is important—for both our courts. I’m ready.”

There was a moment of silence as Rhysand considered your words. Finally, he nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “Very well. We’ll make the necessary arrangements for your trip to the Day Court. And don’t worry—you’ll have all the support you need.”

Azriel, who had been sitting quietly beside you, his presence a comforting anchor throughout the meeting, finally spoke up. “I’ll accompany Y/N to the Day Court. It’s best if she has someone there who knows how to navigate Helion’s court, and I can ensure her safety.”

You shot Azriel a grateful look, knowing that his presence would not only offer protection but also give you an added layer of confidence. “Thank you, Az. I’d appreciate that.”

Rhysand’s smile widened slightly as he glanced between the two of you, clearly approving of Azriel’s suggestion. “Perfect. You’ll both leave in a few days, once the final details are settled.”

As the meeting wrapped up, the others began discussing the logistical aspects of the trip—travel plans, security measures, and what to expect once you arrived at the Day Court. But your mind was already turning to the task ahead, to the negotiations that awaited you.

When the meeting finally concluded, Rhysand placed a hand on your shoulder, his expression serious. “You’ve got this, Y/N. I have complete faith in you. Helion will find that the Night Court doesn’t back down easily.”

You smiled, the weight of the responsibility settling comfortably on your shoulders. “I won’t let you down, Rhys. We’ll make this alliance happen.”

With that, you and Azriel left the House of Wind, ready to prepare for your journey to the Day Court. As you walked side by side, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation—a feeling that this trip would mark a new chapter in your life, one where you were no longer just the blacksmith who had lost so much, but someone who was ready to forge new paths, to create new alliances, and to find strength in the bonds you were building.

The morning of your departure was crisp and clear, the kind of day that promised good weather for travel. You stood outside the House of Wind, waiting for Azriel to join you. The anticipation of the journey ahead filled you with a mix of excitement and a touch of nervousness. This was your first diplomatic mission in your new role, and though you were confident in your abilities, there was always an element of the unknown when dealing with someone as formidable as Helion.

Azriel arrived shortly, dressed in his usual black attire, his wings tucked neatly behind him. His presence was reassuring, a steady anchor amidst the swirling thoughts in your mind. He carried your travel pack easily, slinging it over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing.

“Ready?” he asked, his gaze softening as it met yours.

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

With a final glance at the House of Wind, the two of you took to the skies, Azriel’s powerful wings beating steadily as he carried you across the lands toward the Day Court. The flight was long, but the scenery was breathtaking—rolling hills, dense forests, and sparkling rivers spread out beneath you, a patchwork of Prythian’s diverse landscapes.

As you neared the borders of the Day Court, the air grew warmer, the sunlight more intense. The transition between courts was marked by a change in the landscape, with the lush green of the Night Court giving way to the golden fields and vibrant flowers that characterized Helion’s domain. The Day Court was known for its perpetual sunshine, a stark contrast to the shadows and mystery of the Night Court.

When you finally arrived, the grandeur of the Day Court’s palace took your breath away. It was a sprawling structure of gleaming white marble, with towering columns and wide terraces that overlooked gardens bursting with color. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers, and the sound of laughter and music drifted from the open windows. It was a place of light and life, a perfect reflection of the High Lord who ruled it.

Azriel landed gracefully on one of the palace’s terraces, setting you down gently before folding his wings behind him. A pair of Day Court guards approached, their golden armor glinting in the sunlight.

“Lady Y/N, Lord Azriel,” one of the guards said with a respectful bow. “Lord Helion is expecting you. Please, follow us.”

You exchanged a glance with Azriel before following the guards into the palace. The interior was just as magnificent as the exterior, with sunlight streaming through large windows, casting intricate patterns on the polished floors. The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of history and legend, and the air was filled with the scent of citrus and jasmine.

The guards led you to a grand hall where Helion was waiting, seated on a large, ornate chair that was less a throne and more a comfortable seat for a man who enjoyed his luxuries. He rose as you entered, a broad smile spreading across his handsome face.

“Y/N, Azriel,” Helion greeted, his voice warm and welcoming. “It’s a pleasure to see you both. Welcome to the Day Court.”

You inclined your head in respect, but before you could say anything, Helion was already crossing the room with that easy, confident stride of his. He took your hands in his, his golden eyes shining with genuine warmth. “Y/N, it feels oddly right seeing you here as an emissary rather than delivering weapons. Although, I must say, your craftsmanship still impresses me every time I hold one of your creations.”

You smiled, appreciating the compliment and the familiarity. “Thank you, Helion. It’s a different role, but one I’m finding I enjoy more than I expected.”

Helion’s smile widened, and he gestured for you and Azriel to sit. “Indeed. You seem well-suited to it. I always knew there was more to you than just a talented blacksmith.”

Azriel, ever vigilant, took a seat beside you, his gaze never wavering from Helion. The High Lord of the Day Court seemed to notice Azriel’s protective demeanor, and a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes, but he said nothing of it.

The negotiations that followed were intense but cordial. Helion was every bit the shrewd negotiator you had expected, his mind sharp as he navigated the terms of the proposed alliance. You discussed the mutual exchange of resources, with Helion offering access to the Day Court’s extensive libraries and magical artifacts in exchange for some of the Night Court’s innovations and expertise.

The joint military training exercises were also a point of discussion, with Helion expressing interest in strengthening the ties between your forces. He saw the benefit of learning from each other, particularly in a time when the other courts were constantly shifting their alliances and power dynamics.

“You’ll find that the Day Court’s warriors are formidable,” Helion said with a glint in his eye. “But there’s always room for improvement. I believe our forces could learn much from each other.”

Cassian’s earlier thoughts echoed in your mind as you nodded. “I agree. A strong alliance between our courts, both militarily and culturally, would benefit us all.”

The conversation then shifted to the cultural exchange, with Helion suggesting visits between the courts’ scholars, artists, and musicians. He seemed genuinely excited at the prospect of bringing more art and culture into his court, and the idea of fostering deeper connections between your people resonated with him.

“We have much to offer each other,” Helion mused, leaning back in his chair. “Not just in terms of knowledge and power, but in understanding and friendship. That’s something we can’t put a price on.”

As the day wore on, the negotiations continued, with both sides making concessions and adjustments. Helion was a skilled negotiator, but so were you, and by the time the sun began to dip toward the horizon, you felt confident that you had laid the groundwork for a strong and mutually beneficial alliance.

Helion stood, signaling the end of the formal discussions. “I believe we’ve made excellent progress today, Y/N. We’ll finalize the details tomorrow, but for now, I’d like to invite you both to join me for dinner. We can continue our discussions in a more relaxed setting.”

You exchanged a glance with Azriel, who gave you a small nod. “We’d be honored, Lord Helion,” you replied.

Helion’s smile was genuine as he led you both toward a dining hall, where a feast had been prepared. The atmosphere was lighter, the tension of the negotiations giving way to a more casual and friendly tone. Helion was a gracious host, ensuring that you and Azriel were comfortable and well taken care of.

As the evening progressed, you found yourself enjoying Helion’s company more than you had anticipated. He was charming, yes, but there was also a depth to him, a genuine interest in building something lasting between your courts. The more you spoke with him, the more you realized that this alliance was not just a matter of convenience, but a step toward something greater—a bond that could bring lasting peace and prosperity to both the Night and Day Courts.

As the night drew to a close, Helion raised his glass in a toast. “To new beginnings,” he said, his gaze lingering on you. “May this be the start of a fruitful partnership between our courts.”

You raised your glass in return, feeling a sense of accomplishment and hope for the future. “To new beginnings,” you echoed, your voice firm with conviction.

The night had settled peacefully over the Day Court, and you and Azriel found yourselves in the room Helion had graciously provided for your stay. The space was luxurious yet comfortable, with a large bed draped in soft linens and a balcony that offered a breathtaking view of the golden fields and the distant, twinkling lights of the Day Court’s palace grounds.

You stood on the balcony, leaning against the railing as you took in the view. The air was warm, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of jasmine and citrus. The stars above were bright, unobstructed by clouds, and the moon cast a silver glow over the landscape.

Azriel joined you, his presence quiet and calming as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you gently against his side. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as you both admired the serene beauty of the night.

“It’s beautiful here,” you murmured, your voice soft in the stillness. “So different from the Night Court, but beautiful in its own way.”

Azriel nodded, his gaze sweeping over the horizon. “It is. Helion’s court has its own kind of magic, a warmth and light that’s unique. But…” He paused, glancing down at you with a small smile. “I think I still prefer the shadows and stars of our home.”

You smiled, understanding exactly what he meant. “There’s something about the Night Court that feels… like home. Even after all this time.”

Azriel’s hand gently caressed your back, his touch soothing. “It is home. For both of us.”

The two of you stood in comfortable silence for a while, simply enjoying each other’s presence and the peaceful night. The events of the day—the negotiations, the formalities—seemed distant now, as if they belonged to another world. Here, on this balcony, it was just the two of you, away from the pressures and responsibilities that came with your roles.

After a few moments, Azriel broke the silence. “You handled today exceptionally well, Y/N. Helion’s not an easy person to negotiate with, but you held your own.”

You turned your head slightly to look up at him, your eyes meeting his. “Thank you, Az. I have to admit, it was challenging, but… it felt good. It felt like I was doing something important, something that mattered.”

He nodded, his gaze filled with admiration. “You were. And you did it with such grace and strength. I’m proud of you.”

The sincerity in his voice warmed your heart, and you reached up to place a hand on his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his skin. “I couldn’t have done it without you by my side.”

Azriel’s eyes softened, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll always be by your side, no matter what.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for the male who had become such an integral part of your life. “I know. And I’m grateful for that.”

Another comfortable silence settled between you, the two of you simply basking in the tranquility of the moment. The bond between you thrummed with a quiet contentment, a reminder of the connection you shared, one that went beyond words or actions.

After a while, you turned to face Azriel fully, your hands resting on his chest as you looked up at him. “Do you ever think about the future, Az? About what it might hold for us?”

He looked down at you, his expression thoughtful. “I do. More than I ever used to.”

“And?” you prompted, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“And I see us together,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “I see us building a life together, one where we’re both happy, where we continue to support each other and face whatever challenges come our way.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart flutter, and you found yourself leaning up to kiss him softly. “That’s exactly what I see too,” you whispered against his lips.

Azriel smiled against your mouth before deepening the kiss, his hands sliding up to cup your face. The kiss was tender, filled with love and promise, a reflection of the bond you shared. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, but the contentment in your hearts was undeniable.

“Let’s go inside,” you suggested, your voice soft as you took his hand.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you both, the atmosphere shifted, thickening with anticipation. The quiet intimacy of the room, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, only served to heighten the tension that had been building between you all evening. You could feel the heat radiating from Azriel as he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the best way possible.

His eyes, usually calm and calculating, were dark with desire as they locked onto yours. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver down your spine.

You didn’t need words to respond. The way you reached for him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, said everything you needed to say. With a swift movement, you pulled him closer, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was a clash of tongues and teeth, a desperate need that had been simmering under the surface, now unleashed.

Azriel’s hands found your waist, tugging you against him as if he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between your bodies. The kiss deepened, grew hungrier, more insistent, as if you both were starved for each other. You could feel the hard planes of his chest beneath your fingers as you slid them under his shirt, craving the feel of his skin.

He broke the kiss just long enough to yank his shirt over his head, discarding it carelessly onto the floor. The sight of him, all toned muscle and shadow-kissed skin, made your breath hitch. Before you could fully take him in, his lips were on yours again, his hands roaming over your body with a possessive need.

He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed and laying you down with a gentleness that belied the fire burning in his eyes. He followed you down, his weight pressing you into the mattress as his lips trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down your neck, and across your collarbone. Every brush of his lips against your skin sent sparks of pleasure through you, making you arch into him. He laid you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours as he hovered over you, his body heat radiating against your skin. The look in his eyes was intense, filled with a hunger that matched your own.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he whispered, his voice rough as he leaned down to kiss along your jawline, trailing down to the sensitive skin of your neck.

You gasped softly at the sensation, your fingers tangling in his dark hair. “I think I’m starting to get the idea.”

Azriel’s hands were everywhere—pushing up your shirt, skimming over your bare skin, as he made quick work of undressing you. Soon, your clothes joined his on the floor, leaving you both bare to each other, every inch of skin tingling with anticipation.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his eyes devouring every inch of you. He hovered above you, his hands framing your face as he kissed you deeply, passionately, his body pressing you down into the soft bed. The feel of him against you, hard and ready, made you ache with need.

Your hands roamed over his body, tracing the lines of his muscles, the scars that marked his skin, each one telling a story of battles fought and won. But right now, all that mattered was this moment, the feel of him, the way he made you feel—desired, cherished, needed.

Azriel’s lips found yours again, his kiss searing and demanding. He pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, “Tell me what you want, Y/N.”

You gasped as his fingers brushed between your thighs, teasing but not giving you what you desperately craved. “You, Azriel. I want you.”

His eyes darkened with a feral hunger at your words, and with a groan, he positioned himself at your entrance. The anticipation made your heart race, your body tense with need.

Azriel entered you slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to the stretch of him. The sensation was overwhelming, the way he filled you completely, making you feel whole in a way you hadn’t even realized you needed. You moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders as you arched up to meet him, craving more.

He started moving, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm that made you dizzy with pleasure. Each thrust was deep, controlled, sending waves of sensation through your entire body. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing more, needing everything he could give.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control. But you could feel it—the tension coiling within him, the same tension that was building within you, ready to snap at any moment.

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands as you pulled him down for a kiss. It was a messy, desperate kiss, filled with all the emotions you couldn’t put into words. His thrusts became harder, faster, as if he was losing himself in you, in the sensation, in the bond that tied you together.

“Azriel,” you gasped, your voice a breathless plea as you felt your climax approaching, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. “I’m close…”

“Me too,” he rasped, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he drove into you with a fierce, unrelenting need.

The tension snapped, and your climax washed over you in a wave of pleasure so intense it left you trembling. You cried out his name, your body clenching around him as you rode out the aftershocks of your release.

Azriel followed you over the edge moments later, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he buried himself deep inside you, his release flooding through him. He held you close, his body shuddering against yours as he found his own pleasure in you.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The only sounds were your ragged breaths and the pounding of your hearts, beating in sync. Azriel stayed buried inside you, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath.

When he finally moved, it was to kiss you again—soft, tender, filled with all the love he had for you. He rolled to his side, pulling you with him so that you were curled against his chest, his arms wrapped around you protectively.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, his fingers brushing through your hair.

You nodded, feeling a contentment settle over you as you snuggled closer to him. “I’m perfect, Az.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

A laugh bubbled up from your chest as you looked up at him, seeing the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh? Is that so?”

The room was still filled with the heady scent of sex, the warmth of your shared pleasure lingering in the air as you lay curled up against Azriel’s chest. His fingers traced lazy patterns along your back, a satisfied hum vibrating from him as he pressed soft kisses to the top of your head. The bond between you thrummed with a deep sense of contentment, but beneath it, there was still a simmering heat, a desire that hadn’t quite been quenched.

You felt it too—a restless need that made you shift against him, your skin tingling with anticipation. Azriel must have sensed the change in you, because his fingers stilled, and he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble that sent shivers down your spine. “What are you thinking?”

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you pushed yourself up, straddling his hips as you looked down at him, a wicked smile playing on your lips. The way his eyes darkened in response, the way his hands automatically came to rest on your thighs, told you everything you needed to know—he wanted this as much as you did.

Slowly, you rolled your hips against him, feeling his length harden beneath you as you moved. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. Azriel’s grip on your thighs tightened, his gaze locked on yours, a silent plea for more.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he growled, his voice rough with desire.

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his in a teasing kiss. “Then I guess I’ll just have to make it worth it,” you whispered against his mouth.

With that, you reached between your bodies, guiding him to your entrance. The sensation of him pressing against you, hard and ready, made your breath hitch, and you couldn’t resist teasing him a little more, rubbing the head of his cock against your wetness, making him groan in frustration.

“Y/N…” he warned, his voice strained as he fought to keep control.

You smiled, a little triumphant, before you finally sank down onto him, taking him in inch by inch. The feeling of him stretching you, filling you so completely, made your head spin with pleasure. You moaned, your hands braced against his chest as you took a moment to adjust to the fullness of him inside you.

Azriel’s hands moved to your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he tried to hold himself still, letting you set the pace. But you could feel the tension in him, the way he was struggling not to thrust up into you, to let you take your time. It was heady, knowing how much control you had in this moment, and it only fueled your desire.

Slowly, you began to move, rolling your hips in a steady rhythm that sent waves of pleasure through both of you. Azriel’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his head falling back against the pillows as a low groan rumbled from his chest.

“You feel so good,” he rasped, his voice tight with restraint as he let you ride him at your own pace. “Gods, Y/N…”

You smiled at the praise, the sound of his voice, the way he looked beneath you—completely undone—making you feel powerful, beautiful, desired. You leaned forward, pressing your hands against his chest for leverage as you began to move faster, the friction between your bodies sparking something wild and uncontrollable within you.

Azriel’s hands gripped your hips tighter, his control slipping as he started to meet your movements with upward thrusts of his own. The change in angle made him hit deeper, harder, and you gasped at the intense pleasure that radiated through you with each thrust.

Your rhythm grew faster, more desperate, as you chased the pleasure building inside you. The feeling of Azriel beneath you, his body strong and solid, his cock filling you so perfectly, was almost too much to bear. You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment.

Azriel opened his eyes, the dark intensity in his gaze locking onto yours as he thrust up into you, meeting your movements with a ferocity that made you cry out his name. “Y/N… I’m so close.”

You gasped, your movements becoming erratic as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of release. The tension inside you snapped, and your orgasm crashed over you, your body convulsing with pleasure as you cried out, your nails digging into Azriel’s chest.

Azriel followed you over the edge, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he found his release, his hands gripping you tightly as he buried himself deep inside you, filling you with his warmth.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop, leaving only the sound of your ragged breaths and the pounding of your hearts in the quiet aftermath. You collapsed against Azriel’s chest, both of you spent and sated, the bond between you humming with contentment.

Azriel wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you both caught your breath. The connection between you felt deeper, more intimate, after what you’d just shared, and as you lay there in the quiet of the night, you couldn’t help but smile.

“I love you,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your lips.

Azriel’s arms tightened around you, his voice a soft whisper in the darkness. “And I love you, Y/N. More than anything.”

You stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, savoring the warmth and comfort of being together. And as you drifted off to sleep in Azriel’s arms, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, bound by a love that was as strong as the night itself.

---

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