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bowieandqueen11 · 2 years

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Dating Hughie Campbell Would Include...

Request: Hello Cee! Would it be okay to please request some headcanons about dating Hughie Campbell, please? Thank you so much for your beautiful writing <3

Hello my darling, of course you can! Hughie’s nervous energy is literally me lmaooo he’s so chaotic

Warning slightly NSFW, and some swearing!

(I do not own the Boys or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @therealhughiecampbell.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Hughie... my wet towel poor meow bundle of chaotic and nervous energy, dear lord you just need someone to give you a big warm hug my man but also just shake you around a bit I love you so much.

Dates out on park benches around the city (I mean, mainly to get away from Butcher and his complaining at least for a couple of hours.) He’s so cute, he always brings a little lunchbox in his satchel bag, with immaculately cut down the middle peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in them. He always sits thigh to thigh with you, and you can feel the embarrassed heat radiate off him every time your hand brushes against his and he twitches. Looking out over the rolling hills and mellow city top in the hazy afternoon, the two of you share the food - but he always ends up hand feeding you his half, giggling as you turn and try to bite his fingers as they rest against your lips.

The two of you ignore the concerned looks you get from passer-by's when, on the way back, you jump on him and the two of you roll onto the grass. He cradles your head, making sure you’re not hurt as he lands on his back, and you on top of his chest. He just giggles, spreading his fingers over your cheeks and cradling your face as you lie on top of him, pressing a thousand kisses over your cheeks and nose. He only stops for a minute when he stops Butcher watching the two of you from behind a nearby bush, and he yells at him to get lost.

The two of you go out bowling a lot, mainly because he uses it as an excuse to lay some heavy PDA on you without anyone in the safe house coming between you. Every time you’re up at the alley, focusing only on your bowling ball and the pins, he always gives himself away by the sound of his squeaky shoes running up behind you. He tries to win by distracting you, wrapping his arms around your waist and heaving you up into the air, spinning you around tightly against his chest. At the same time, he can’t help but want you to do well, so he agrees a sort of challenge with you. Every time you manage to get a strike, or a spare, he’ll happily jump up from the row of sticky seats and rush up to arch his back towards you and eclipse you with a sentimental kiss to your lips.

He’s really, really into absolutely awful corny jokes. ‘Are you related to Frenchie? Because, Y/n... Eiffel for you so quickly. I know, I know I regret it already... nah, actually, that was great I have no regrets.’

Although he’ll get flustered as heck, and honestly really annoyed if Frenchie keeps making kissy noises at him for weeks afterwards, he loves having soft little make out sessions at the safe house. Sometimes he just needs to get out of the mess of his head, and to ground himself in something he knows is real, is true, is the best thing he knows he’ll ever has. As soon as the two of you get back in from a hairy Supe fight, he’s so desperate to just feel you that your feet are moving back to the hallway wall before you can even blink. Although his hands are currently resting against the back of your neck, curled against your skin like a vice to keep you against his plush and needy lips, he flips the two of you so he hits the wall instead of you. His hands eventually dance their way down your shoulders, gracing down your sides until they fist into the meat of your hips, and a guttural, breathless groan looses itself into your mouth.

Eventually the two of you end up tripping down the few stairs and collapsing down against the cracked cushion of the sofa. He’s pulling against the back of your thighs, gently, until you’re sitting with your knees pressed tightly into his abdomen, and your feet resting on his knees. Every time you try to pull away to breathe, he shuts his eyes in bliss and whimpers, arching his back up and chasing your lips until he can feel your teeth stretch his bottom lip. It’s so cute, the little squeaky moans every time he can feel your stomach press against the buttons of his shirt, or your legs slip down between his waist - a strangled cry somewhere between ruination and euphoria.

When the tension finally becomes too much, and he eventually has to try and unlatch his lips from where they’re currently slid between your top lip before he bursts, he’ll pull back and just keep whispering ‘I love you. I love you so much’, over and over again. He brushes the hair back from your eyes with his left thumb, his cold fingers splaying over your cheek as he pulls your head down to rest against his forehead.

‘aHEM. Daddy’s home, you dirty dogs.’

‘Jeez, Butcher, a little warning next time.’

‘There’s only one room in this place you daft cunt, the ‘eck else am I supposed to go?’

He drives Billy absolutely around the bend, because he’ll be trying to force Hughie to go scope out some Supe riddled festival, and the man will be too busy twirling his hair and kicking his feet on the sofa because he’s talking to you on the phone lmao. You’ve only been out for about forty five minutes, and eventually Butcher just rolls his eyes and drags Hughie up and out the door by the collar. Even while he’s driving in the van, Hughie seems suspiciously quiet while he’s trying to talk to him, so he’s less than surprised when he peers through the rear-view mirror and sees him hunched up, texting fervently.

One time you fell asleep on Hughie’s shoulder while Butcher was driving the five of you back home in Frenchie’s new van. You woke up a couple of hours later, still in the back of the vehicle. Hughie hasn’t slept a wink; he’s just sitting there, trying not to breath too heavily and stay stock still, but he has managed to shuffle his jacket down his shoulders and clumsily laid it over your torso. He’s just humming a bit of ‘Uptown Girl’ to himself, glancing down at you from time to time to check he hasn’t woken you up, with all the love in the world beaming out of his swirling eyes, and his heart-breaking grin (as well as a sweaty ass forehead from how blooming hot it is). When he begins to see you blink awake, the first thing he wants you to do is laugh, so he bends down and flutters his nose against the pulse point on your neck like a lovestruck puppy.

During intense group meetings with the other Boys, the poor man gets so nervous about some of Butcher’s plans that the only way you can get him to calm down and stop a panic attack coming on is to give him your hands. Although he’s staring straight ahead at the wall; his eyebrows are furrowed, breath uneven and ragged, and eyes wide and terrified, he grips onto your fingers like a lifeline. After a sharp gasp, he manages to entangle your fingers within his slender ones and press them just above his heart, throwing you a dorky smile to let you both know that he’s alright, and how thankful he is for you.

Speaking of, as soon as you come back home from being out literally anywhere dangerous, he immediately seeks you out. He can’t calm down and settle himself until he knows you’re safe, so expect him to to run and crash into you in a bug hug until you’re completely squeezed out.

He’s SUPER protective though, when needs come to must. If any of the Seven comes in a hundred mile radius of you, he’s grabbed your arm and thrown you behind his back so he can take any and all of the incoming damage. My man would give his life up over and over for you if it came to that, because without you, he would die. You have saved his life every day, and without you, he knows Hughie Campbell would no longer exist. He would be lost to the darkness and the hatred, and so he’s prepared to give himself up to and for you whenever the chance arises.

#the boys #hughie campbell #the boys imagine #hughie campbell imagine #hughie campbell x reader #hughie campbell headcanons #jack quaid #the boys x reader #the boys fanfic #the boys fanfiction #hughie the boys #hughie campbell the boys #hughie campbell fluff #hughie campbell angst

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yourmomxx · 2 years

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SPOILERS for THE BOYS SEASON 3 part1 without context:

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seancekitsch · 2 years

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Requesting for a nervous but willing Hughie getting smooched, felt up, and eventually pegged/banged by the reader in order to get some intel.

unedited and i got carried away !!

It felt good, all of the kissing, the groping, the mindlessness of it all. He had played his cards right, flirting with the plant powered supe at an event for Vought to try to regain its good name. There was a carnival, a beer garden, live music, and you. A newbie, not unlike Annie, which is why she herself suggested the woman to be Hughie’s target.

The woman rocked back on top of him, coming apart from their kiss. Every time she rolls her hips, Hughie feels like he needs a cold shower. He’s never been with a woman so domineering, so willing to take.

It wasn’t hard to get to this point, at your apartment in Vought’s secondary housing for their extra supes. ‘The spares and unwanteds’ as Annie and now you had both mentioned, in that exact phrasing. He recognizes it as a clear Homelander-ism. He flirted, in his opinion poorly, but you hung onto every word. And you weren’t hard to flirt with; you were funny, gorgeous, and you had enough in common that he could have easily seen himself swiping right on you on Tinder in a normal circumstance. You seemed bored of the little PR stunt, and bluntly asked him to come back to your place, as simply as that. You grope at his sides, letting him squirm under you as you dive back in to kiss and suck at his neck.

“Wanna take this to the next level, pretty boy?” you whisper against his neck, and he hesitates, only for a moment.

And then you’re immediately climbing off his lap, and he thinks he’s immediately fucked this up. If he can’t get this intel, if you tell him to leave, he might run out of time. There have been so many moving pieces at Vought, so many new developments that—

“Earth to Hughie?” you ask, gentler than he expects you to.

“Hey, hey dude,” you move to sit next to him, a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “If you don’t wanna continue we don’t have to. We can stop it’s fine! I’ll still give you the information you want.”

His blood runs cold.

“Wh-why do you think I want… information from you?” his voice is quiet, distant. If you knew, what do others know?

“Oh I’m not stupid,” you laugh, “I recognize you, from the news? From Vought? And then it also begs the question of: why would a man as cute as you go after little old me, hmm? Supes complicate things. We’re not exactly easy to date.”

You had him there. He nods, understanding. Relief washing over him.

“Oh thank god,” he sighs, and leans into your touch.

“I was worried you’d strangle me with vines or some shit.”

You laugh, hard; it’s beautiful. Sounds like angels to him.

“I could still do that,” you joke, “but in a different context.”

He’s still hard, and he notices that joke only excites him more. You seem to notice too.

You stand up, walking towards the open door to your bedroom.

“Now Hughie, I’m going to give you the information no matter what, but I think I think we might both have more fun in here.”

You watch as his hands clench and unclench on the couch, his nerves sparking your nerves. He’s so handsome, really, in a boyish and incorruptible way. You want him to stay.

And steadily, Hughie rises from the couch, walks over to you, and kisses you eagerly. Harder than you expect. You pull him through the doorway, no breaking the kiss until you tumble onto the bed with him, yanking at his flannel to try to pull it off.

“You uh, have a lot more plants in here,” he remarks between kisses.

“Better for…. soundproofing,” you offer, “Thin walls.”

And Hughie pauses to watch, amused, as easily the worlds biggest pothos begins to trail its vines across the walls, one particular vine actually using the door handle to shut the bedroom door behind the two of you. His eyes then travel around your room, around all of your personal belongings, your civilian clothes on the floor, to…

Your dresser, where you forgot to put your strap on away. You feel your face heat up even though it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Part of you, you think, doesn’t want to scare him away.

“That’s— oh god— I forgot to put that away, I was moving stuff and…” you trail off when Hughie’s eyes meet yours.

“Dude, you totally don’t have to explain. I’ve been around,” He says with an air of confidence, which you don’t deny.

“Have you ever—?” the question hangs in the air, and you use this as the perfect time to fling his discarded flannel across the room.

“Have I? No, never. But maybe next time?” He let’s that question hang in the air next to yours, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he starts to unlatch the corset of your Supe costume.

“Oh, next time?” you ask, pausing to moan at his teeth scraping your pulse, “There’s gonna be a next time?”

You hope you don’t sound too eager.

He shrugs, and mumbles something that sounds like “sure” against your skin. Good enough. You hook your thigh around his hip and push, maneuvering him on his back under your straddled legs. You throw the corset top off somewhere near where you aimed his flannel, and lean down to kiss him, his hands almost immediately cupping your chest. You grind against him again, and he whimpers against your lips. Fuck, he sounds so sweet.

You break the kiss to reach for his belt, not missing the way his chest heaves and a dreamy smile spreads across his face.

“You want me to fuck you, Pretty Boy?”

“God, please,” he begs, and you smile as you get to work on the button of his pants as well, quickly pushing the jeans down and letting him kick them the rest of the way off.

He’s wearing boxers with penguins all over them.

“Are these your seduction plot underwear?” you ask, not hiding your laughter.

He sits up to grabs your hips, all while laughing with you.

“They’re lucky!”

“Says who?”

“Stop making fun of me and take your pants off so we match.”

You’ve never laughed this much with someone you were sleeping with. He was fun.

You shimmy out of your tighter than hell pants and then climb back on top of him as he wolf whisked jokingly at you.

“No penguins,” he comments.

“You like these better though.”

You’re right, he does. He dips his fingers under the dark lace, only to revel in the shuddering gasp in response. His head falls back into the pillow as his thumbs massage circles into your hips, guiding you to rock back and forth on top of him again. You can feel him, straining through his gaudy underwear, and fuck you want him inside you.

He whimpers below you, eyes screwed shut, and you shift away, pulling the elastic of his boxers down the same way you pulled at his pants. He springs free, his cock bouncing up to slap against his stomach, and you smile as you crawl down lower on the bed.

“Can I have a taste?” you ask, batting your lashes at him.

“You can have whatever you want,” he moans as your hand wraps around his length. You dip your head down, taking a curious lick of his tip, before taking him into your mouth without warning. He moans again, hands scrambling to find purchase in your hair and planting them there as you bob up and down on his cock.

You can feel him twitch in your mouth already. Fuck, how long has it been since he’s…? Well, you’re about to rock his world.

You rise up quickly, removing him from your mouth but not your hand, and a shiver runs through his body at the sensation of the cool air on his dick.

“You gonna be a good boy for me?”

He looks at you, eyes blown wide with lust, as he nods affirmative.

“I asked,” you squeeze the base of his cock and his mouth falls open, “Are you gonna be a good boy for me?”

“Yes! Yeah, please.”

“Please what?” you ask, one handedly working your underwear down (more easily said than done, but Hughie doesn’t mind the awkwardness).

“Please fuck me, I’ll be good.”

You smile at him like the cat who’s caught the canary.

Once your panties are thrown carelessly next to you at the end of the bed, you crawl up, hands and knees, until you’re hovering above him. You lean down to kiss him, sloppy, lots of tongue, before pressing the absolute sweetest kiss to his forehead.

You line yourself up with his cock and impale yourself on it, gasping in surprise at your own reaction. He feels even bigger than he did in your hand. You take a second, deep breathing.

“Are you okay?” he asks so earnestly it could kill you.

You let out a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, you’re just, god— you’re big. Give me a second.”

And you both do, with Hughie letting out a sharp whine when you finally do move, at first a slow grind against each other’s bodies, and then honest thrusting.

Your thighs burn as you work yourself up to a rhythm, rising and falling on Hughie’s cock. His hands find your chest again, big calloused fingers massaging you, and genuine affection for this man blooms in your chest.

“Oh fuck this feels amazing,” he groans, bucking his hips up to meet your thrust and you scream, completely involuntarily, at how deep he really is.

“Oh!” you gasp, “you’re telling me, Pretty Boy.”

He meets your thrusts in rhythm now, letting you bounce on his cock as your thumb finds its way to his lips; first tracing them, then delving between them as he eagerly opens his mouth to accept it. Hughie sucks on your thumb and it sends shockwaves up your arm. You’re thankful for your plants, because you’re sure people in the apartments around you would hate to hear the creaking bedframe, to hear you chant his name.

His hips stutter, bucking you slightly.

“Gonna cum pretty boy?”

He nods furiously, still sucking your thumb.

“Beg for it, and I’ll let you,” you coo, teasing him.

He pushes your thumb away with his tongue, and starts absolutely babbling.

“Please fuck holy fuck, shit ahhh— let me cum? Please? I’ll be good I’ll make you cum i’ll do fuck— anything!”

Good enough!

You grab his hands from their place on your chest and move them to your headboard. Immediately his hands white knuckle the railings. You speed up, thighs now absolutely burning, calves ready to cramp, but it’s all worth it. You feel amazing.

He flinches, twitches, a familiar heat floods you, and you slow down, chuckling breathlessly. His right hand leaves the headboard, and reaches down to where your bodies meet. He rubs his thumb against your clit, and it takes only seconds for you to me shaking on top of him, whispering his name as you cum for him.

There isn’t cuddling after, but more flirting; joking and playful jabs at each other. It’s comfy. You freely give him all the information he wants, and then some. He watches in awe again as the vines of your pothos retreat to their normal tangles around their pots and stands.

“If you ever want more information, you know where to find me now,” you say nonchalantly after you throw on a big tee shirt from your drawer, hoping he takes the hint for more. He smiles, about to respond, when you notice something peeking out of his pocket.

“Are those my panties?” you exclaim, “Is that where they went?!”

He looks down, sheepish and bright red, but doesn’t move to empty his pockets.

“Guilty,” he shrugs, “I did say I liked these better.”

You smile, willing to give up the pair. Both of you drift to the door slowly, like a waltz, and when he’s in the door frame, he surprises you.

“So, next time I need information, I’ll just drop by, okay?”

You nod enthusiastically.

“No games or seduction plot but uhhh. If you want to use that thing…”

“Strap on,” you supply, deadpan.

“Yeah, right!” Strap on. If you want to use it.”

“Okay, Hughie.”

Both of you laugh, he presses a kiss to your forehead, and then he’s gone.

Until next time.

#hughie campbell imagine #hughie campbell x reader

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stranger-nightmare · 2 years

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𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 | 𝐏𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥

requested by my lief

A/N: we’re taking Queen Maeve’s comment about Hughie’s energy just screaming ‘raw dog me, I’m a bottom’ and were rolling with it besties, enjoy!!

“Aw, my poor baby,” you coo mockingly. “Rough day at work?”

Hughie just nods silently, his head shifting where it was buried in your lap. You hum gently and stroke his hair.

“You want me to take care of you, hmm?” You ask invitingly, knowing exactly what it was he wanted; what he needed.

He looks up your with his puppy-dog eyes, nodding again and murmuring a soft ‘please’ against your stomach. You stroke his face again and lean down to place a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Okay baby,” you whisper, “why don’t you go get ready for me on the bed, yeah? And I’ll go get dressed.”

Hughie nods again before quickly getting up and padding his way over to the bedroom. You follow suit quickly after. Hughie strips immediately and moves to climb onto the bed, situating himself on all fours, his ass facing towards you as he looks back at you with need etched on his face. You smirk to yourself as you grab the strap and harness from the bottom of the cupboard, quickly shedding yourself of your own clothes and equipping yourself with the black harness and purple strap-on. You quickly spread some lube onto the dildo before making your way over to where Hughie was waiting for you.

“Hmm, that’s a good boy,” you hum as you reach the edge of the be.

You continue to hum gently, soothing and reassuring Hughie as you caress his hips gently, pulling him back so that he was lined up with your hips where you stood at the base of the bed.

“You ready baby?” You ask gently as you rub the tip of the dildo between his cheeks.

“Yes, please. Please. Need you,” Hughie mumbles pathetically, pushing his hips back against your strap.

“Don’t worry babyboy, I’m gonna take good care of you,” you coo as you slowly start to push into him.

Hughie whimpers and mewls, his arms giving way as he collapses onto the mattress, his ass lifting even higher as you start to fuck into him. You smirk to yourself lightly as you look at him, a whimpering and fucked-out mess already, and you’d barely even begun. You were going to fuck the living daylights out of this boy. This man who was willing to stand against Homelander despite being only mortal himself. This man who knew no fear when it came to protecting those he loves.

And he was a complete wreck under your touch.

If only the boys could see Petite Hughie now...

Main Masterlist // Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

#stranger nightmare #kinktober 2022 #hughie campbell #hughie campbell smut #hughie campbell imagine #hughie campbell x reader #hughie campbell x you #hughie campbell x y/n #the boys smut #hughie campbell x female reader

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corrodedseraphine · 2 years

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stray heart | hughie campbell x fem!reader | one shot

Pairing: hughie campbell x fem!reader

Summary: After the mission is accomplished, the whole group allows themselves an evening of relaxation and celebration. In the course of it, you find out that too long-hidden feelings and wine are not a good combination.

The one shot is also avaliable on Ao3

5 226 words

Songs which I used here: Green Day - Stray Heart and Ed Sheeran - Tenerife Sea

hughie campbell masterlist | general masterlist

"I can't believe we managed to kill that asshole!" you shouted as you entered the house. For weeks the whole team had been hunting one of the supes, and today you finally managed to get rid of him.

"Let's not forget that he almost killed you too." Hughie sighed, extinguishing your enthusiasm.

"If it weren't for Kimiko you would have been lying dead a long time ago!"

"If it hadn't been for her distracting that cunt, we never would have caught him." interjected Butcher.

"You acted like a real badass!" Kimiko added, handing you the phone on which she had written the message.

"We... deserved a reward!" exclaimed Frenchie. "I will prepare the most wonderful supper, feel invited!"

"And I have to risk being poisoned?" M.M. laughed.

"That was a blow straight to my poor heart, bastard!" shouted Frenchie putting his hands to his chest. "Still, in two hours I invite you, dress up as if you were going on a date with the president or receiving an Oscar. This evening belongs to us!" After these words, you all dispersed to separate rooms to freshen up a bit and change clothes. From the moment you discovered that Neuman also had superpowers you knew that you had to be more careful, so a change of residence seemed to make sense. Together with Kimiko and Frenchie, you moved into a small house on the outskirts of New York City that you had inherited from your grandmother. Hughie, Butcher and Marvin had their own apartments, but you still spent most of your time at your place. It was a base of sorts, since no one knew of its existence. At least that's what you hoped.

After taking a shower, you started looking through your clothes. You didn't have a lot of them with you, but there were a few summer dresses. You liked the idea of Frenchie. After days of hunting supes, running and playing with death, you really deserved one evening of pleasure. You looked at the mirror standing against the wall. The reflection in the mirror showed you a person you couldn't recognize. Scuffed up eyes, bruises and cuts almost all over your body, scars that will probably never disappear again. A wreck of a person stood before you. You never thought of yourself as someone who could be called beautiful. Now you knew that you were far from beautiful. Especially when Annie appeared nearby. She was your friend, no doubt, but no matter how hard you tried you couldn't stop the feeling of jealousy. She had everything, a beautiful face, hair and a perfect figure. Something that, in your mind, you would never be able to match. When you were alone it didn't bother you so much, you had long accepted the fact that you wouldn't be like her. However, the green monster in you was awakened every time you saw how Hughie could not take his eyes off her. Every time you looked in his direction, his eyes were on her. For months you defended yourself against the thought that you felt something more for him. However, it was all stronger. Every night you lay staring at the ceiling wondering what to do so that he would finally give you the attention you so desperately craved. You prayed that for once he would look at you the way you looked at him. Every night before you went to sleep, you made up fake scenarios in which he would finally see something more in you. For a long time now, you no longer had the strength to hold back the storm of emotions that was inside you when he stayed intimately close to you. The warmth that filled you from the inside whenever you saw his smile, or heard his laugh. The chills that ran through your body every time you accidentally touched each other. Even a gentle flick of his hand was enough, nothing more. The way you are always there for each other and no matter how messed up the situation becomes you never leave each other. Every time one of you nearly died in the middle of the action, afterwards you threw yourselves into each other's arms feeling grateful that you made it. When you were still living in the basement under the pawn shop, every time you were haunted by nightmares and couldn't manage to sleep he always let you sleep with him. He told you silly stories just to occupy your thoughts with something and let you fall asleep peacefully. Even if at first you fell asleep with your backs to each other, in the morning you woke up in his embrace every time. You missed it so damn much. Along with the nostalgia, you also felt pain each time you were reminded that he would always see you as a friend. You sent your reflection a sad smile and began to change into a dress, and later decided to put on some makeup, hoping that maybe without the visible bruises and the cut wound on your forehead, Hughie would see at least some beauty in you. In the meantime, you heard a quiet knock on the door.

"Come in!" you shouted and saw Kimiko enter the room uncertainly. You grinned at the sight of her. The two of you had grown very close over the past few weeks.

"I need help." she signed. When you moved in together you began to teach her how to write and use the phone, and in return she taught you and Frenchie her language. So far you only knew basic phrases, so she communicated with you over the phone most of the time.

"Is something wrong?" you asked worriedly, and she shook her head negatively.

"Frenchie told us to look nice, and I don't know how to do it." she handed you a device.

"Let me just finish my makeup quickly and take care of you, 'kay?" you grinned. She answered you with the same. "In the meantime you can look through my clothes, maybe you'll find something you like."

Excitedly, she ran over to the clothes and started browsing. Every now and then she changed the idea by showing you more and more strange combinations, and when it was time for makeup she couldn't sit still as the brushes tickled her skin. When you were finished, you both stood in front of the mirror.

"You look beautiful." you said. She was wearing a slightly oversized red dress with open shoulders. It perfectly matched the red lips. At first she didn't want to agree, but you persisted and after a moment, she agreed. You could see little happy sparks in her eyes. She momentarily infected you with all the positive emotions that were from her.

"You too." she replied. You were dressed in a cream-colored floral dress with a large neckline, and a silver necklace sparkled around your neck. Kimiko insisted that since she had painted her lips such a conspicuous color you must too so you decided on a strong, bright pink. For the first time in a long time you looked at yourself in the mirror and saw someone you didn't want to look away from right away. Satisfied, you left the room. It turned out that everyone was just waiting for you.

"Ah! belles femmes!" shouted Frenchie. He was dressed in black pants and a shirt over which he wore a gold jacket. "Do you see, you yahoos? The girls understood the assignment! They look like a million dollars!" he excitedly grabbed both of you by the hands and pulled you towards the table. "y/n" he kissed your hand and pushed back the chair. When you sat down he squatted you back down. "mon cœur" He did the same with Kimiko. "I knew I could count on you. As punishment, the rest of you should only get a piece of dry bread and a glass of water, the feast should be for those who can appreciate the situation." He rolled his eyes. You were amused by this. In fact, Hughie, M.M and Butcher were sitting at the table in jeans and T-shirts.

"I think this one time we can forgive them," you laughed looking ahead.

"Frenchie is right, you do look beautiful." Hughie commented looking straight into your eyes. You felt a strange nervousness. You can't remember the last time you received eye contact.

"Ha, a homeless person would dress better than you!" Frenchie continued his dramatic performance pretending to be offended. However, at some point you zooned out completely focusing on the person sitting in front of you. Even in a simple T-shirt, he looked good. He didn't need a suit to impress you. He might as well have been sitting there now in a stretched out tracksuit, and you could still admire him for hours.

"Do I have something on my face?" his voice snapped you out of your reverie.

"Oh! N-no..." you choked out. You felt your cheeks burning from the embarrassment of being caught staring at him. You quickly got up from the table and went to the kitchen with the intention of helping to bring down the food. Once everything was set up on the table you turned on the music in the background and got busy eating. You were so hungry that no one even tried to talk. Only when your stomachs were finally full did Frenchie get up from his seat.

"I propose a toast, to a successful mission!" he grabbed a bottle of red wine and poured for everyone. After the first few sips, you felt your muscles gently relax. You sat like this recalling the course of the last mission. The wine was pouring at an amazingly fast tempo, thanks to which even Butcher seemed to be relaxed and joked with you like never before. The mask of the tough guy was put away for a while, you could even tell that he was enjoying sitting with you at that moment. At one point, a familiar tune reached your ears.

I lost my way, oh baby, this stray heart

Went to another

Can you recover, baby?

Oh, you're the only one that I'm dreamin' of

Your precious heart

Was torn apart by me

"I love this song!" Kimiko signed.

"Then let's dance," Frenchie pulled her by the hand to the middle of the living room where they began to move and jump to the rhythm of the music. "Petit Hughie! Invite y/n to dance!" he shouted. "Be a gentleman!"

And you, you're not alone, oh-oh

And now I'm where I belong

We're not alone, oh-oh

I'll hold your heart and never let go

The boy looked at you with uncertain eyes, and you responded with a slight smile. He drunk up the rest of his wine and extended his hand toward you sending you the most charming smile you had ever seen. It's a good thing you were still sitting at the time because you were sure your knees would have bent momentarily. Joining "the dance floor," you got close enough to smell his cologne. You had a feeling that your head was spinning, you didn't know if it was because of his presence and that smell or because of the wine. At that moment it was all the same to you, all that mattered was Hughie all the time smiling broadly at you as you moved to the rhythm of the music.

Everything that I want, I want from you

But I just can't have you

Everything that I need, I need from you

But I just can't have you

"I never thought I would dance to Green Day songs." he laughed, moving closer to you.

"I didn't either. But tonight we can do whatever we like!" you laughed feeling happy. He grabbed your hand and turned you around a few times.

"Everything?" he asked having his lips right next to your ear.

"No limits," you answered on the inhale.

I said a thousand times, and now a thousand one

We'll never part

I'll never stray again from you

This dog is destined for a home to your heart

We'll never part

I'll never stray again from you

Not wanting to interrupt the touch, you placed your other hand on his shoulder and he placed his own on your waist. A familiar shiver ran through your body, but you hoped he didn't notice.

You're not alone, oh-oh

And now I'm where I belong

We're not alone, oh-oh

I'll hold your heart and never let go

It's been a long time since you were as close to each other as you are now. Again you could feel the warmth that you so badly missed. The closer you got to the source, the more all the rest seemed distant to you. Suddenly everyone who was with you in the living room dissolved into nothingness leaving you alone.

Everything that I want, I want from you

But I just can't have you

Everything that I need, I need from you

But I just can't have you

"Everything that I want, I want from you..." you sang softly. You lifted your gaze meeting his bright eyes. Soft wrinkles appeared at their corners when he once again smiled. Then it occurred to you that despite the countless times you had cuddled and slept in the same bed, your faces had never been as close together as they were now. With your gaze you wandered over his face until you finally stopped at his lips.

Everything that I want, I want from you

But I just can't have you

The words of the song rumbled in your head as you decided to close the minimal gap that was between you. His lips were exactly as you had imagined. Warm and soft. The kind you might never have pulled away from again. However, a shocked Hughie violently drew in air and put his hands on your shoulders gently moving away. The confusion on his face terrified you and before he could say anything you panickedly ran out of the house.

"What the hell just happened?" he asked looking around the room.

"I'll ask it another way, what the hell are you still doing here?" asked M.M. Kimiko aggressively signed to him, telling him he was an idiot and ran off after you. "You've been playing cat and mouse for months. You stare at each other as if you were the eighth wonder of the world, but only when the other one isn't looking, like in some damn kindergarten, Hughie."

"We can feel your hearts getting off the hook, Petit Hughie." interjected Frenchie.

"After all, we're just friends!" he said sitting down on the couch wiping his sweaty palms in his pants.

"And you want to be just friends?"

"No...but that would ruin the whole relationship between us. W-what if it doesn't work out between us?" he combed his hand through his hair.

"I've never seen anyone look at someone with so much love in their eyes as she does at you! With that kiss she gives you her heart on a tray, and you threw it on the floor and trampled it!" At the sound of these words, he felt a strange pain in his chest. And the thought you feeling rejected only intensified it. He remembered the moment when he first felt that you meant much more to him than he would have expected.

A quiet knock on the door rang through the room. Puzzled, he looked at his watch, which showed three o'clock in the morning.

"Yeah?" he asked loudly and turned on the lamp. The door opened and there stood you with a far too large t-shirt and fabric shorts that revealed your bruised legs. When he shifted his gaze to your face he noticed swollen and glazed eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly, sitting up straight.

"I can't sleep... I don't even know why I came here... These nightmares don't let me rest, I can't handle them alone." The sound of your breaking voice awakened in him the desire to protect you from all the evil of the world. He never wanted to hear it again. Without thinking, he quickly jumped out of bed and took you in his arms. You stood like that for a long moment, until he felt you shivering.

"Shit, are you cold? Come on, cover yourself." He pulled you to the bed, where you sat with your legs crossed, which he immediately covered with a quilt, then he went to close the door and when he returned, he sat down opposite you. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know... every time I close my eyes I see blood. Blood everywhere. Blood, guts and limbs scattered all over the room. And then I'm in a completely different place, tied to a chair when Homelander makes me choose who to kill first. There you all are M.M, Kimiko, Frenchie, and Butcher. He makes me watch as he slowly kills each of you. Every night I'm afraid to go to sleep because I know I'll have to relive it all over again like I'm in some kind of cursed hell loop!" tears began to run down your cheeks. The sight of you at that moment was breaking his heart, he couldn't explain why, but he couldn't stand it and felt an incredibly great need to hug you and take from you all the pain you were feeling.

"Y/n, listen to me please." he began, grabbing your hands. "I'm here, okay?" he started moving closer. "We're all okay, I think even Butcher, who is rambling God knows where, is okay. After all, a bad things never dies." A quiet giggle came out of your mouth hearing the last sentence. However, his touch also made the fear slowly begin to retreat. "Everything will be fine, I promise. You're not alone in all this, you know. You're always welcome here, even in the middle of the night." he assured. Unexpectedly, you took your hands from his and shifted so that you could hug him. A pleasant warmth spread over his body, and a smile crept onto his lips.

"Thank you." you whispered.

"You're welcome, that's what ... friends are for." the last words didn't want to pass his lips. Until now he had no problem calling you his friend, but now he wasn't quite sure if what he felt for you at that moment could be described as a purely friendly reaction. He wanted to kiss every tear from your face ending with your lips. He quickly shook his head to rid himself of these thoughts. Unfortunately, feeling his sudden movement, you moved away, and the warmth in which he could have drowned just a moment ago was replaced by a cold longing.

"I should go back, I'm sorry I woke you up." You said getting out of bed.

"No!" his mouth was faster than his brain. "I mean..." he grunted. "You can stay here if you want, I haven't been sleeping very well lately either." He scratched his neck nervously while watching your reaction. He was relieved to see the corners of your mouth lift up and you were next to him again. "Maybe in company we can get over it." Without a word you both lay down with your backs touching.

"I can't stop thinking about it, Hughie..." you whispered.

"Maybe you want to listen to music?" he suggested, remembering how he always played his favorite playlist during sleepless nights and focused only on it.

"Will you pick something for me?" you asked uncertainly. You had several songs in your head that you could listen to, but you felt that you wanted him to choose one. Something special, something just for you. After a while, a quiet melody reached your ears.

"Just don't make fun of me!" he laughed. He didn't care if you laughed at him. At that moment, all he cared about was driving all the bad thoughts away from you and putting you to sleep. "And um- try not to think too much, okay? Just focus on the song." he instructed.

You closed your eyes focusing on the pleasant sounds of the guitar and Sheeran's soothing voice. You smiled to yourself, wondering if the choice of singer was intentional. You had mentioned several times in the past how much you liked him. There was a veritable storm going on in Campbell's head. He wondered if he had not exaggerated, if the choice of just this song was too obvious and if it would scare you off. What he didn't know was that you would never in your life be able to believe that he could dedicate any love song to you under any circumstances. Focusing only and only on the song, just as he told you to, you fell asleep with the conviction that he had chosen it only because it was peaceful and soothing. One that allowed you to feel safe enough to fall asleep. Nothing more.

Should this be the last thing I see

I want you to know it's enough for me

'Cause all that you are is all that I'll ever need

I'm so in love

So in love...

Listening to the words of the song himself, he wondered if what he was feeling now could be called falling in love? Tonight he felt as if these feelings fell on him suddenly and powerfully. But he didn't want to defend himself against them. There was something about you that made him want to go further. Unfortunately, he didn't know how. Nor did he know how to find out if you would feel the same. So he decided that for the foreseeable future he would act as if nothing had ever changed. Good old friend Hughie. Except for tonight. Making sure you were definitely asleep he gently put his arm around you pulling you closer. "Fuck it." he thought and dipped his nose into your hair sniffing it. Intoxicated by the fruity scent, he couldn't stop the thought that he wanted to be like this forever. Cursing himself in his soul for his selfish attitude, he prayed that the nightmares would haunt you more often, if that was the only way to spend the night with you by his side.

"Jesus Hughie, quit being a pussy and run for her you moron! I'm not going to buy you chocolate ice cream for a broken heart later!" Said Butcher while topping up his wine. "Go before it's too late."

"But what should I tell her?" he asked panicked.

"The truth!" the loud voice of M.M brought him down to earth a bit. Without waiting any longer he went out in front of the house to look for you.

You were sitting on a bench looking up at the sky. Kimiko silently sat next to you holding your hand. The makeup you had put so much effort into was already smudged by tears. You felt ugly again. In the simplest sense of the word. Simply ugly. You knew that when you got home and looked in the mirror you would feel bad.

"He's a douche." Kimiko signed.

"Nice, you say, but it's not true." you said sending her a sad smile. "We can't blame him for not feeling the same way I do."

"But..." sadness and sympathy were painted on her face.

"It's okay." interrupted her by grabbing both her hands. "I've made peace with it, you know? I'll never be beautiful enough or my character equal to Annie's." She sent you a questioning look.

"Every time I look at him, his gaze is on her. I am not surprised at all, probably for him she is a walking ideal. You don't even know how much I would give to have him look at me like that even once..." You sighed, returning your gaze to the stars.

"You don't even know how many times I looked at you with such admiration that it hurt." you heard a voice say. Kimiko immediately stood up and walked towards it. "Kimiko, please let me talk to her." he said. Under the influence of his voice, you became still. You didn't dare turn around. After a moment, however, out of the corner of your eye you saw him sit down next to you.

"You don't have to be here Hughie, I can handle it." you said quietly.

"But I want to. I want to be by your side." he grabbed your hand. Feeling his touch, you felt another wave of tears come to your eyes. "Do you know why you keep catching me staring at Annie?" He continued. "Because you are always next to her. And when I see that your sight wanders in my direction I panic and stare at her. It's not that I don't like your eyes! No, I love your eyes and could stare into them for hours! Sometimes I feel like you hide all the stars in the sky in them, especially when you talk about something you like, they get so glassy and shiny then." he laughed nervously.

"Hughie, you don't have to lie, you know that?" the words struggled to pass through your throat.

"What are you talking about? I'm just trying to tell you that I love you, and you think I'm lying?" you could sense the irritation in his voice, but that's not what you focused on. His confession completely caught you off guard.

"Y-you love me?" you howled.

"Yes!" he exclaimed. "From the moment you first came to my bed in the middle of the night in that damn basement! Wasn't it obvious? The song I played?"

"I... I thought you only played it because it was peaceful and was able to put me to sleep," you said.

"From that night I started to create a special playlist that I could play to you every time you came to see me again." he confessed.

"Why didn't you ever play it?" you asked disappointedly.

"I was panicking. Every time I wanted to do it I thought that if you guessed that I felt something more you would run away from me and never come back. That's why I preferred to tell you silly stories not at all related to my feelings." you answered nothing. You still couldn't believe that everything he said was true, and then, as if reading your mind, he went on. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that I can love you y/n? I know I didn't show it. I was a coward. I always waited for the right moment to tell you, but it never came. But I'm here now and I have to finally get it off my chest because I can't take it anymore! You did something today that I should have done months ago. Something I've dreamed of every time I've seen you!" He squated in front of you forcing you to look at him. "Now I know what a big mistake I made keeping it a secret all this time. You deserve the truth, y/n. You deserve to know that you are the most beautiful in the world and about how I feel about you."

"But... I'm not like Annie. I will never be. I don't have a perfect figure, most of my body is bruises and scars that I won't get rid of too soon because I'm not one of the supes and I don't have the ability to heal myself." you let out a torrent of words. " For the rest of your life looking at my face you will see this nasty scar." you said pointing with your hand to your forehead.

"They make you even more beautiful." he commented without thinking.

"What are you talking about?"

"Every scar makes you more beautiful. And this one here?" he said putting your hair behind your ear. "It will always remind me how without hesitation you threw yourself at one psycho with superpowers just to save me and M.M from being sawed through by a laser in that asshole's eyes. If you hadn't distracted him then we would have been long gone. This is a reminder that in addition to your beautiful appearance, you also have a beautiful inside. And about not messing with you, because if you weren't scared at that time, that means you could easily kick my ass."

"I was terrified Hughie..." you said.

"I am so sorry for my reaction. I shouldn't have pulled away from you, but I was in complete shock."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

"No, I'm glad you did. Now I have confidence that you feel the same." A familiar charming smile appeared on his face. The one that always made your heart melt irrevocably. The one that always infected you and made you smile too. "I love this view."

"What?" you asked.

"Your smile. I sometimes feel that it's your superpower. All you have to do is smile and everything bad disappears."

"Stop it, I probably look awful," you jokingly regarded him in the shoulder. "With that smeared makeup? As if some psycho clown escaped from the circus."

"As for me, even with smeared makeup you look awfully beautiful." Feeling the atmosphere between the two of you improving, he stood up and pulled you behind him. You were now standing facing each other. With a gentle flick of his hand, he rubbed your cheeks wanting to get rid of the mascara marks. "Damn. I think I smeared it even more." he laughed. He heard your giggle in response. You stood there with your head facing up and watched him. In the moonlight, he looked as if he wasn't real. He looked fairy-tale, almost mystical. As if it was just another dream starring him. "Still beautiful." he whispered while hugging you close. Both of you wanted to stop time in that moment. Your hearts, after a moment, synced up beating just as hard as if they wanted to tear your ribs apart and merge into one.

"If this is a dream, I never want to wake up again." you muttered into his chest.

"Y/n." he said quietly. "This is not a dream, please believe me that everything I said is true. If you don't believe me I will never forgive myself for how I lost the greatest person in the world through my own cowardice."

"I believe you, Hughie." you replied touched. Was that really it? Was this really the evening in which your dreams came true? You thought back to all the fake scenarios you created in your head with him in the lead role. None of them could match the beauty of that moment. Nothing could.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked even more quietly. You nodded, and as he slowly began to lean toward you, unable to wait you stood on tiptoe connecting your lips. This time no one pushed anyone away. On the contrary, you desperately tried to be as close to each other as possible.

"Everything that I want, I want from you," you sang softly pulling away from his lips.

"And you can have me. You have all of me." He assured again finding your lips with a smile.

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eternal-armin · 1 year

Text

something in the way.

after nearly destroying the group during a mission, you're incredulous that hughie still wants to help you. reader: masculine. cw: descriptions of pain, near-death experience.

the world around you was silent. too bleary to see through the tears welling in your red and puffy eyes. it wasn't just the physical pain that had you frozen and crying, but it was certainly a large fucking part of it. it felt like lava was lapping at your body, like you were made of needles, like you were filled with hot, heavy sand and broken glass. all you could do was stare into space, trying to escape into the back of your mind but just getting nauseated when you tried. you sat like that for hours, just resting weakly against the couch cushions, trying not to put too much tension in your body in a fragile attempt not to worsen the pain. it was a way of punishing yourself, maybe. it was all your fault.

you had been properly taken care of, m.m. was sure of that, but because of your issues with other... stuff, you couldn't take too many painkillers. you were stuck between two identical hells, maybe even three or four, trapping you into a little bubble that was slowly closing in on you, making it hard to breathe or think.

someone sat beside you, eyes focused on you with a subtly sweet and deeply worried gaze.

"i-i, uh, got you some food. in case you were hungry." hughie's voice was quiet. even just looking at the sandwich he set down on the coffee table, cut diagonally in half with your perfect ratio of ingredient to ingredient, made you want to vomit. usually you liked food. you ate to live, however indulgences weren't uncommon. but thinking about food at all, even crackers—hell, even water, made your head hurt and your body shake. shake more, anyway.

you sniffled, shaking your head slightly. you regretted that quite a bit. "thank you, but i really don't think i can eat right now." never before had you sounded so completely and utterly defeated.

hughie nodded, which faded into shaking his head. "no. no, no, yeah, that's fine. that's... perfectly understandable, actually. i don't blame you. but, uhm, i-if you can, eventually, i'll be here. just holler, and..." he trailed off, realizing he was just going to sound dumb if he kept rambling and repeating the same thing. he summoned a smile for you. and for half a second, you just barely managed to return it. "...yeah. do you want to talk about it?"

you pressed your lips into a fine line, but you nodded, ever so slightly. you were desperate to talk about it with someone, because god knows that if you didn't, you'd implode. it would haunt you until you died of some equally terrible and traumatic thing. being able to talk about it with hughie just seemed to be good luck; there was no one else in this goddamned place that you had the stomach to even look at. maybe you never could again. but would you complain about it? "i'm sorry."

"sorry? if anyone should apologize, it isn't y—"

"hughie, i fucked it up. all of you would be fine if i hadn't gone with you."

you weren't one to interrupt. you were unpredictable and eccentric and completely weird, but you were decently respectful. that one little detail shut hughie up immediately, mostly out of surprise, which was evident in his wide eyes. you glanced at him, then back down at your knees, bandaged under clean sweatpants. it gave you shivers just to think about how much that had hurt. the getting out of pants, the bandaging, the pulling on of new bottoms.

"i nearly got you killed, hughie. you shouldn't be making me food. you shouldn't be concerned about me. you shouldn't even be able to look at me. i-i don't deserve that—" you were cut off by a hiss of pain. the emotion seeping into your body and voice made you move, sending strikes of fire through your veins. you grew a bit paler, flushed, unable to say or hear anything until your body found that ever-delicate and ever-illusive equilibrium.

you barely felt hughie helping you settle back. partially because you felt like you were being cooked from the inside out, partially because his touch was so gentle. it was a shame that you weren't very familiar with it. hughie was perhaps more inclined to you than you realized; he could wait and recognize when your breathing had calmed, when the pain stopped clouding your glazed eyes. you needn't say a word or move a muscle.

"i don't care if you nearly got me killed because i'm pretty sure i'm alive right now. and i'm also not the one paralyzed by pain." that came out almost condescending and snarky, something that hughie would never intend. he mumbled a very sincere "sorry" under his breath. for some reason, that was enough to make the world feel a little brighter and your body more your own. "i-i really—i really do want to help you. it doesn't... matter if you screwed something up. you did something, you messed it up, and you can't take it back, so i can't hold it against you."

hughie was too good for you, that was sure.

hughie was too good for anyone. so why was he here, with you, in this dump, thinking that you were somehow on the same standing as he was? out of the two of you, he had no powers, he wasn't very physically strong, and he had formed no apathy toward the dark shit in life, and yet he was leagues above you. he was the sweetest, kindest, most sympathetic person you'd ever met—a low bar to cross, but credit where it's due—and you hated him for it.

not literally. you could never hate him. your heart wouldn't be able to handle that.

"you can't just coast through this world forgiving people." your voice became a bit quieter and a bit more hollow. and for a moment you wished you could say the same to your younger self, because he needed to hear it, too. "when someone does something unforgivable, you don't need to... stay around them. you can't just not hold it against them." you spoke very carefully, keep your emotion under wraps. "you could've—you would've died. to my own recklessness. i don't want you to be around me." your voice began to crack.

out of everything today, and everything yesterday, hearing your voice break like that haunted him.

hughie didn't yet have a response. not that he was in much of a rush. his gaze lingered on you, on every aspect of your expression, from the tears in your eyes to the very slight frown on your lips. he slowly leaned back against the couch. the subtle show of solidarity and unconditional empathy made you feel a lot better. in any other universe you would've moved to lean against him, but no, you were stuck in this dumbass place where merely blinking made you break a sweat.

"maybe i'm just naive. or dumb. or something. but i really, really don't think that anything is... unforgivable, and you—you definitely aren't. i mean, come on." he began to chuckle through his words. "you're you. this world would be a whole lot worse without you in it. hot take, i know, but i'm gonna stand behind it."

he watched you very carefully. saw how the frown faded and how the smile began, so soft and so slight that it was damn near unnoticeable. but it was still very pretty.

"like it or not, i'm—i'm staying. right here. i'm staying until you can eat and heal and move. i don't care how long it takes. i can get comfortable anywhere." as if to accentuate his point, hughie adjusted beside you, and settled. as envious as you were, you found it rather comforting. in some weird way.

"hughie," you began.

"nope. don't even say it. you're worth it and i'm staying. you can be mad at me all you want later, but i'm not leaving."

"how dare you."

"horrible, right?"

you giggled. it was a slight noise, and very short. hughie treasured it in its fractured entirety.

you hadn't really noticed, but talking, reigniting the charming friendship you were so fortunate to share, made the pain fade away quite a bit. it tamed the emotional agony you had been steeping in. you could move freely, just a bit, and food no longer made you want to throw up. but you couldn't be too careful.

"can you get, like, a bucket or something?"

"wh—... oh. oh, uh, yeah. yeah, i can." hughie hesitated to leave you, even if he was only gone for a few seconds. you could hear him running to and from. and it cracked you up. "you're gonna try and eat?" he sounded so utterly excited. cautiously but utterly excited.

you nodded, smiling with the same cautious hope. he lifted the plate and rested it now on your lap, glancing at you every other half-second to be sure the pressure wasn't painful, and it wasn't at all. that was such a great relief. you would eat on your own. it would be less awkward that way. you had to keep some sense of your dignity, right? and not be completely dependent on someone else.

who would have thought that eating would be so stressful? maybe just because you were terrified of throwing up. how it felt, mostly. you'd do anything to avoid it in your life. and with this level of pain and internal turmoil, keeping down food or drink may be impossible, even after hours of snail-slow healing.

hughie gave you a bright encouraging grin and a nod. you broke into a smile yourself. there was just something about that look.

"i... can't tell what that expression means."

"i have a proposition."

"... okay," you said, dragging out the word with obvious suspicion.

"if you can get down food and eat enough to heal, then i will take you to your favorite restaurant or bakery."

"don't you dare."

"[y/n], you have no choice." his smile was very contagious. "with all due love and respect, you have absolutely no choice."

"love? that's new."

"nah, not really," he shrugged. he cleared his throat lightly, and, despite some very weak pangs of pain throughout your arm, you could manage to take a bite. your preoccupation with why on earth would he want to buy me food after what i did? distracted you from the pain. the taste and texture was strange and disgusting twisted from usually being comfortable and easy to eat, but you got it down. you put the sandwich back on the plate in a temporary surrender. the nausea did not get worse. maybe it got better—you hadn't really eaten much in the last day, give or take, your stomach was probably about to start digesting itself.

hughie's reassurance turned into a gentle pride. he did not underestimate how stressful even the small things can be.

"i... am very, very proud of you."

"don't patronize me, hughie. it was a bite of a sandwich, not exactly a marathon." your voice held a bit of giddiness itself. you were sounding more like you, not as hollow or weak in tone. now you felt desperate to eat, because the more food you could eat, the quicker you could heal—otherwise, you would be running on fumes. or until those, too, were extinguished.

"yeah, it was a bite of a sandwich when you can barely move and you're not healing properly. i think that's something worth being proud of. even like—e-even just a little. just a little pride. okay?"

with hughie's words of encouragement and your own thirst for control over your body, you finished the food. and, much to your delight, your nausea was quelled and you did not throw up. now that you had food and water in your stomach, the gashes, bruises, scrapes, and all those internal injuries which lit you on fire were mending. it was incredible to watch the more shallow injuries leave your skin, a time-lapse at 300% speed. hughie was entranced by it, and was able to admire it without being judged by you.

never before had you been so happy to feel alive. you put the plate back on the coffee table, and you stretched. the good kind of stretch that steals your soul for a while and makes you shake like an earthquake. for a while, your tired nerves still hissed at you, an aching reminder of what you had done and what it felt like. your smile was a little less slight this time around, and without having injuries to watch heal, hughie was staring at it. at you. your smile, your eyes. the pain fading from your expression. you settled back, slouched, against the couch, pulling up one leg to take off the unneeded bandages and repeating the process with the other. your movements were slow and sluggish, more like you were drunk, and not recovering from torture.

"... do you feel better?" hughie panicked for a second. dumb question, right? but when you looked at him, with that glint of pure glee and its paired smile, those feelings of social panic fizzled out. he really did admire that look. there was nothing in the world he would rather look at.

"thank you for this." how someone like you could speak with such admiration toward hughie made him feel concerningly good. "i really need to start saying that more often, don't i? it's the least you deserve, saint hughie."

"i'm—i'm not a, uh, a saint."

"could've fooled me."

#the boys #hughie campbell #the boys tv #hughie the boys #hughie x reader #hughie campbell x reader #hughie campbell imagine #hughie x male reader #the boys x you #the boys x male reader #the boys x reader

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voxmortuus · 2 years

Note

Hey baby! ♥ Since you said your requests for The Boys are open, may I make a request for a Hughie fic, please? Something fluffy about him learning about what a Daddy kink is. Smut is optional, I'll leave that up to you.

Thank you. ~

PAIRING: Hughie Campbell x Little Female!Reader

UNIVERSE: The Boys

WORDS: 898

SUMMARY/PROMPT: See Above

Trigger Warning(s): DD/lg Theme | Daddy Kink | Nothing but Fluff | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this…

NOTE: Sorry if this isn't what you expected, I'm hoping this finds you well love! I did get in contact with the requester to make sure they felt accurately represented in this fic.

IMAGE CREDIT: Google I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF THESE IMAGES. If these are yours or you know who the creator(s) is, please INBOX me and let me know.

My Master Masterlist | Taglist

Today was the day. You were going to sit down with Hughie and explain it all. You get to tell him what it was to be a Daddy. You begin to prep yourself on how to explain it. As you sit on the train with your teddy bear backpack in your lap and your light pink cat ear headphones on, drowning out the outside sounds with a Little Time playlist you created. Nodding now and then as you made points you wanted to explain. Hughie always thought your little actions were cute and adorable, but now, you get to explain why you had these little actions.

The train comes to a stop and standing up, you put your backpack on and head out the door. Looking up, you see Hughie standing there. He's never done that before. You smile. Sliding your headphones to sit on your neck, you giggle.

"What are you doing here? You never meet me here." You smile.

"Well, I wanted to make sure no one kidnapped you on the way to my apartment."

"Well, that has yet to happen. I'm pretty sure I would be returned anyway. I talk too much." You chuckle.

"Well, still, little girls shouldn't walk alone." Hughie nodded and held his hand out for you to take.

His words caught you off guard a bit. Taking his hand, you look over his face and nod, letting his words sink in. The walk was short and quiet, but you didn't mind; the weather was lovely.

Walking into the apartment, you slip your shoes off, and he wanders further into the apartment.

"Y/N! Come here! I have something to show you!" he calls out to you.

Taking in a deep breath, you walk to his voice and see him sitting on the couch with books and notebooks on the back of the couch and floor, a laptop on the coffee table, and a gift bag on the floor. Tilting your head, you slide your head phones into your backpack and bite at your lower lip.

"Yes? What is all this?" You ask with a soft voice.

"Okay, so I've been doing some research, some thinking, some serious digging. I picked up some of your habits, and Billy kind of smacked me upside the head, Frenchie laughted at me, and MM told me I needed to look into some things. So... sit...sit..." He pats the empty cushion next to him. "Okay, so you know how you do this little happy wiggle thing? How you like girly things but don't really wanna be girly? How you're always putting things in your mouth, the change in your voice...." He just kept going. You take a deep breath and chuckle.

"Hughie, are you trying to tell me you researched me?"

"Yes... that." He turns the screen and noticed you had posted something on Fetlife a long while ago about DD/lg, good and bad, do's and don'ts. "What exactly is this....?"

Letting out a heavy breath, you chuckle. Hughie looks over at you and chuckles, then shakes his head. "What? Did I do something bad like posted in there? I need to understand this."

"No, Hughie, you didn't do anything wong. Honestly, it's fuckin' adorable. You actually researched me... and then found me where I never expected you to... Umm. How do I even begin to explain this." You take a moment and pull your legs up on the couch to sit cross-legged. Thinking as to how you're going to explain it, you close the laptop and place the books and notebooks on the table, you turn to face him. "Okay, so every little is different, and every daddy, is also different. No one is the same. Let me ask you this... What do you think being a Daddy or a Care Giver means?" You ask him.

Taking a brief moment to think, he looks at you and gives you this perplexed look. "Well, taking care of you, holding your hand when crossing the street, bath times. Brushing your hair, sometimes helping you brush your teeth, helping you get dressed, cuddles and cartoons, reminding you to drink your water, but to use both hands. Cutting crusts off your sandwiches, and making sure they're in triangle cuts, treats, and visits to the toy store. Making sure you're safe, and healthy, and umm... well there's more but am I close?" He asks you.

Looking over his face, you give him a smile and a nod biting your lip, tilting your head, looking over his face, and you point. "What's in the bag?"

"Oh... umm... Can I learn to be your Daddy? It'll be a learning curve, but I mean..." He picks up the bag and hands it to you.

Opening the bag you see a stuffed lamb and inside is a card, tilting your head again you open the card. Clearly a Valentine's Day card that says "Can You Be Mine?" But instead he crossed it out and says. "Can I Be Your Daddy?" He chuckles. "There's no market for those kinda cards... so ya know? Improvization." He gave a nervous chuckle.

"You're so fuckin cute." You chuckle and throw your arms around his neck after grabbing the stuffy and kiss his cheek. After pulling back a bit you nod. "Okay Daddy... Feed me, I'm hungry... and Powerpuff Girls please." You nod handing him the remote with a grin.

#Hughie Campbell imagine #Hughie Campbell x you #Hughie Campbell x reader #Hughie Campbell headcanon #The Boys Fanfiction #Hughie Campbell #Hughie Campbell is daddy #Hughie Campbell fanfiction #Hughie Campbell fluff #Hughie Campbell angst #Hughie Campbell smut #Hughie Campbell x female reader #Hughie Campbell drabble #Jack Quaid #The Boys #Smutty Smut Smut #Smut Under The Cut #tellingyouastory

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romeulusroy · 1 year

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Imagine Hughie being scared of your powers:

You'd never shown any of The Boys your powers. They all knew you were a Supe and that you never used your powers. The most you'd ever said that being a Supe would ruin your life if anyone knew what you could do, that you could hurt a lot of people. Billy poked fun at you, questioning if you even had abilities or it was some silly lie, but the others didn't push the subject. Hughie saw how you changed when you talked about it. You weren't just ashamed or embarrassed, you were scared. Scared of yourself. He knew the most about your past, how you'd been sent away by your family, growing up all alone, warned endlessly that you weren't special or gifted or talented, that you were cursed. You shrugged it off, not wanting to get into it, but you agreed with them. People were safer when they were far, far away. Some people got powers, some didn't. It was out of your control. He couldn't understand why anyone would tell a child that, until now. You were terrifying, floating above everyone.Your eyes were red. Your scream, like a banshee, making eyes and ears bleed, people choke on their own blood. You were liquidating their insides. He cowered, covering his ears, understanding now why you were so adamant. You weren't even using your powers to their fullest potential and people were falling apart. Literally. What would happen when you did? No one was safe. . .

#hughie campbell #hughie campbell imagine #hughie campbell x reader #the boys #the boys imagine #the boys x reader #ennasfavorites

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amazingmaeve · 1 year

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hughie campbell back to the boys masterlist

A MESSAGE —

⚔️ currently I don't write for any ships but when I do I'll tell you guys which ships.

⚔️ also I do my best to write all the readers /ocs so that anyone can relate but if you want me to write a story with the reader being POC just tell me when you request!

⚔️ also some of these fics will be dark since they involve homelander who as we know is a very dark character. so ill be putting warnings for those don't worry.

⚔️ feel free to request for hughie campbell!

🌧️ = angst | 🤍 = fluff | 💋 = smut | ♟️ = dark

#hughie campbell x reader #hughie campbell smut #hughie campbell x you #hughie campbell headcannon #hughie campbell imagine #hughie campbell #the boys x reader #the boys x you #the boys imagine #the boys headcanons #the boys smut #the boys #HUGHIE campbell masterlist

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goodbyetothenight · 4 months

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deanoheartspie · 6 months

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hi:) can you please do soldier boy x reader where reader is from Butcher's team and very shy and kinda afraid of soldier boy and one night when everyone is sleeping she is awake (in her fluffy pyjamas which soldier boy finds cute) and eating she realizes soldier boys shield is there and starts examining/touching it AND of course suddenly soldier boy is right behind her so she gets scared but he makes jokes etc so they start talking

Well aren't you cute

Pairing: Y/n fem! x Soldier boy

Warnings: none.

A/n: feel free to send me more asks! I hope I did well!

Y/n had been with Butcher for a few months, working along his side with a few others like Hughie. Butcher complained and cussed as he wondered how they'd possibly take down Homlander little did he know what was coming.

••••

Next thing Y/n knew she was sitting in a motel quietly watching the news when Butcher and Hughie walked in with no other than Soldier Boy... “Well well, what do we have here... A cute lady it seems” the man states with a teasing smirk, her ears red and she turns off the TV disappearing off to the bathroom to hide out.

The woman was never good at being around new people, it made her nervous and shy so sometimes she needed a moment to herself to ease the nerves. When she came out she was dressed in her favorite pink fluffy pajamas that kept her nice in warm in shitty motels such as this one.

Butcher and Hughie were nowhere in sight, they had sent her a text that they had separate motel rooms but that she was in charge of Soldier Boy. She didn't see the man around so she assumed he was tucked away in bed, so digging through her backpack she pulled some snacks out and watched TV. The sound of her bag rustling, chatter coming from the screen of people trying to guess the answers on a game show that was rigged when she heard footsteps behind her causing the woman to freeze.

“Seems like you know how to dress for a party” He snickered, looking her up and down in all honesty he found the pajama set fitting and overall cute since that was exactly what she was.

She blushed and pulled her hands out of the chip bag ripping her hands on some napkins, she didn't say a single word to him but she couldn't help but notice the shield proped up against the bed. “Woah...” the details on the shield were beautiful, she's never been this close to something like this before and honestly? It was pretty cool, it was quite heavier then she thought it would be.

“How did you carry this all the time?” she softly asks her eyes sparkling curiosity.

“Theres handle on the back of it sweetcheeks.” Ben lifts it up like it weighs nothing, which it most likely wasn't heavy at all for him.

As they night went on, the tv was still playing in the background as they both cuddled in the bed while she tried her hardest to explain technology to him, it was not going very well.

“This shit is stupid. Why make everything harder then it needs to be?” Ben huffed out trying to figure out how to work an iPhone.

“You can ask all the rich people that” she whispered with a slight shrug.

•••••

“Good night sweetcheeks.”

#soldier boy x reader #the boys #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x you #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy #butcher x reader #hughie x reader #billy butcher #hughie campbell #jensen ackles #the boys amazon

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geminiwritten · 1 year

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i’m yours ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you find out that butcher slept with maeve, and attempt to ignore your feelings by going m.i.a. and going home with a complete stranger, only to awake the green-eyed monster living inside of butcher

preface: this isn’t set in canon timeline, it’s basically just using the bit where butcher sleeps with maeve as a bit of a jealousy catalyst

notes: this man has a hold on me... and i feel like this got a little rushed at the end but i still kind of like it, please let me know what y’all think! (also, i’m sorry all my stuff has the same formula, i promise i’m trying to mix it up!)

warnings: a lot of swearing, the ‘sewer-slide’ word, google-translated french, sexual content, and some soft smut

word count: 5315

Things are good, too good, but you’re doing your best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Hughie and Annie are happy, MM is content, and Frenchie is excitedly creating new methods of blowing up Supes almost daily. Butcher is… well, Butcher. He’s grumpy and brash, but seems to be feeling a little more positive lately, focusing more on recon and intel rather than running in with guns blazing.

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, you had managed to go grocery shopping without anyone stumbling home bloody and bruised. Frenchie is humming along to the song that had been playing on the radio, carrying most of the plastic bags while MM carries one with you on his back. You were all in such high spirits that he had let you jump on his back at the bottom of the apartment stairs, carrying you up four flights as if you weighed no more than a hiking backpack.

Frenchie chuckles at the two of you as he unlocks the apartment door, entering first and pushing it open all the way. You have to duck a little, giggling and holding on to MM for dear life as he starts jogging toward the couch. He drops the bag on the floor before falling into the sofa, and you squeal as he squashes you.

“Hey,” you exclaim, still laughing, “what the fuck? Steeds don’t sit on their riders!”

“You want to ride me next, petit ange?” Frenchie calls from the kitchen.

You writhe until MM moves, standing up with a satisfied grin across his lips. You flip him your middle finger as he turns away, ushering Frenchie out of the kitchen so he can put the groceries away. You find the TV remote buried in the couch cushions, and just as the old screen flickers to life, Kimiko emerges from the hallway. She looks at Frenchie with a small smile, signing hello before her nose crinkles, and she signs another sentence you struggle to catch as your attention is called toward the master bedroom doors.

Frenchie frowns curiously, “She says that it smells in here.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you lot are stinkin’ up my fuckin’ apartment,” Butcher says, running a hand through his hair.

He looks like shit. His shirt is wrinkled and the buttons are fastened crookedly, his hair is standing up in all directions, and the circles beneath his eyes are several shades darker than usual.

“It is our apartment, Butcher,” Frenchie states, “it is the least you can after making me blow up my last two places, eh?”

Butcher rolls his eyes before dropping into one of the dining room chairs, holding his face in his hands as he takes several deep breaths.

Frenchie looks to Kimiko again before translating, “She says it smells like alcohol and sweat, and a perfume that she has not smelt before.”

“I don’t wear perfume,” you note, “every time we have to haul ass and run, the bottles end up broken or missing, so I gave up.”

MM raises his hands in defence, “Don’t look at me, I haven’t seen anyone but you lot in the past twelve hours.”

“Perhaps it is something we picked up at the shops,” Frenchie shrugs.

Kimiko signs again, and you watch her to listen.

“You can smell a stranger?” you ask with a frown.

“To reiterate,” MM says, “I stayed at a motel alone last night, I was too tired to drive all the way here after visiting Janine.”

“I stayed with Annie,” you point out, “is that who you can smell?”

Kimiko shakes her head, and your heart begins to race anxiously. Neither she nor Frenchie stayed here last night either, opting for one of his old hideouts after scouring the city for any possible missed traces that Vought could use to find you all.

MM turns to Butcher, “Was there someone here last night?”

“Why would you not tell us that there was a break in?” Frenchie demands, his face a mixture of irritation and concern.

Butcher sighs, “There wasn’t a fuckin’ break in, calm down.”

Kimiko pads quietly around the room, subtly sniffing the air around MM and then Frenchie before moving toward you. She inhales above your head and grimaces, before moving to the side and taking a deep breath over the couch.

You shoot up from your seat and stumble toward the kitchen, “Me or the couch?”

She points at the sofa.

“Butcher,” MM says, his voice demanding, “explain before I slap your hungover ass.”

Its only then that you notice the two empty bottles of whiskey, one on the coffee table and one laying on the floor. You back up slowly toward the kitchen, a fresh wave of panic washing over you.

“Someone stopped by,” Butcher mutters into his hands, “that’s all.”

You reach the kitchen bench at the same time Kimiko does, still sniffing like a police dog, and her face twists into a disgusted frown. You startle again, jumping back from the bench as if it had burnt you.

“Care to elaborate?” MM presses.

Butcher sighs, and you can feel a lump growing in your throat.

“We all sleep here too, Butcher,” Frenchie states, “and we deserve to know if it is still safe to do so.”

“‘Course it’s fuckin’ safe,” Butcher says, finally turning his head to face the room. “Maeve came by, alrigh’? Just her, ‘n’ she had some information, so we had a chat and a drink. Is that alrigh’ with you nosey bastards?”

A weight drops in your stomach, anchoring you to the floor as moisture begins to blur your vision.

Kimiko stops sniffing when she reaches Butcher, cringing and stumbling several paces back until she is beside Frenchie.

“You slept with a Supe?” MM gasps.

Butcher huffs and pushes himself up from the chair, “No fuckin’ privacy with you lot, is there?”

MM raises his hands again, “Hey, I’m not judging, just shocked.”

Frenchie’s concern melts into taunting smirk, “No need to be defensive, Monsieur Charcutier, we all have our needs, and I am surprised that you managed to woo such a beautiful woman.”

“Fuck off, Frenchie,” Butcher sighs, dragging his feet toward the fridge.

Their voices blur into white noise as you focus on the slow inhale and exhale of your breath. You wriggle your toes in your boots, forcing yourself to feel your physical body instead of the whirlwind of emotions swirling through your head. It feels like your skull is fracturing with the effort that it takes to contain the storm, but you refuse to let your feelings win. You find a bottle and push them inside, jamming the cork in just as Frenchie snaps his fingers in front of your nose.

You blink, “What?”

“Are you okay?” he asks, a soft crease between his brows.

“Yeah, sorry,” you blink again to quell your watery eyes, “what’s up?”

“Are you hungry?”

You glance over his shoulder at Butcher, his head in the fridge as he ignores MM’s demands to get out of the way.

“Not really,” you reply, “I was actually thinking about going back over to Annie’s, I think I forgot my… my socks.”

The concern between Frenchie’s brows deepens, “You forgot your socks?”

You nod, “My favourite socks.”

“Didn’t know you had favourite socks,” Butcher mumbles as he steps out of the kitchen.

“You don’t know a lot of things,” you state, plastering on a smile that you know doesn’t reach your eyes.

You can feel their curious gazes on you as you turn, retrieving your wallet and keys from the couch before striding out of the apartment door without a second glance. You pull your phone out of your pocket and text Annie to let her know that you’re on your way before switching it to ‘do not disturb’ and zipping it inside your jacket pocket, determined to forget about it until you’ve got a handle on your emotions.

The sun is setting by the time you reach the familiar street on which Hughie and Annie’s apartment is located, and you’re rather proud of the fact that you managed to focus on nothing but your steady steps the whole way here. You look up at the brick building on your left, but instead of turning toward the front steps, your feet carrying you across the street toward the park, not stopping until you’re standing in front of an empty bench.

“Something wrong with that one?” a voice asks, and you startle toward the source of it.

A young man is standing beside you, clad in running shorts and a tight exercise jacket. He doesn’t look menacing, but your whole body tenses as your fight or flight instincts battle for dominance.

“I’m sorry?”

He chuckles, “The bench, I mean. You’re frowning at it as if it’s diseased or something.”

“Oh,” you look back at the moss-ridden seat, “no, I just- I don’t know.”

“Are you alright?”

He buries his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and you let yourself relax, deciding that he isn’t a threat, just an overly friendly stranger.

“I’m fine, sorry,” you sigh, “just had a weird day.”

“That’s nothing to apologise for,” he says, sitting on the bench and looking up at you. “I know the feeling.”

You sit beside him, watching his side profile and slowly realising how attractive he is. His hair is cropped short, shorter than you usually liked, but his eyes are a stunning green and the faint shadow of stubble across his jaw is definitely something you can appreciate.

“Do you often approach strangers in the park?” you ask.

He laughs again, his eyes sparkling under the orange sky, “No, not really, especially not strangers as gorgeous as you.”

You blush at the ground, deciding to focus on your fraying shoelaces rather than the handsome stranger.

“But I figured,” he goes on, “that if I didn’t ask this pretty girl if she was okay, I might not be able to stop thinking about her for the rest of my life.”

You actually giggle, immediately cursing yourself for being so easy, “That’s a long time.”

“I know, right? I didn’t fancy the risk, and hey,” he smiles at you, “looks like it might have been worth it.”

“Maybe,” you smile back, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Nate.”

You’re not sure if you’re an idiot or if you’ve just given up on your own personal safety, but you sit and talk to Nate until the sun is well below the horizon. You learn that he’s a journalist and a dog person, and lately he’s been more afraid of Supes than comforted by their presence. You tell him you’re a freelancer, because it isn’t technically a lie, and that you’re in between gigs at the moment but questioning whether you’re really doing what you want to be doing. Also, not a lie.

“I know that this is probably very forward,” he says, his knee bouncing nervously, “but did you want to come back to my place for a drink? I would suggest a bar, but I’m not really dressed for it, and I just get this feeling that as soon as we say goodbye, you’re going to disappear forever.”

You frown, “You’re a real long-term guy, aren’t you?”

His cheeks flush pink, “I don’t have to be.”

As you walk alongside the man you met mere hours ago, you come to the conclusion that you must be suicidal. In the current state that the world is in, who in their right mind goes home with a complete stranger? You, apparently.

His apartment isn’t far from the park, which is a little comforting, knowing that you will have a speedy escape to Annie’s place if this guy does end up being a psycho serial killer. The buildings all look the same as you approach a row of tall brick blocks, climbing the few concrete steps up to the lobby doors before scaling three flights to reach his apartment door.

It’s surprisingly well decorated inside, and you can eye a few expensive items that make you wonder if he really is a struggling journalist, or perhaps a shady underground arts dealer. You take a seat at the kitchen bench as he babbles about how crappy his landlord is and how much money he’s had to spend on the place to make it liveable. The glass of wine he places in front of you is gone within two gulps, and he happily pours you another.

“I feel like I probably should have asked this a few hours ago,” he says with a sheepish smile, “but you aren’t with anyone, are you? Engaged or married, or anything like that.”

You choke on your mouthful of cheap wine, coughing the burn away while he hurries to get you a glass of water.

“No,” you finally reply, “I’m not, at all.”

“Good,” he replies, his earnest grin returning, “I mean, it’s surprising because you’re incredible, but I’m glad.”

You offer him a smile that you hope appears coy and not at all forced before drinking down the rest of your second glass of wine. He moves into the lounge room, and you take the opportunity to pour yourself another generous glass, quickly swallowing the two mouthfuls left in the bottle while his back is still turned. You gingerly place the empty bottle in the sink before following him, dropping onto the soft leather couch as he turns on the television.

A news broadcast lights up the screen, and fiery images of a truck collision flash behind the breaking news banner that reads: ‘QUEEN MAEVE SAVES THE DAY’. Your stomach twists into a knot as the bottle of emotions you had managed to almost forget about begins to break, the glass fracturing and threatening to send you into a full-blown mental breakdown.

“Damn,” Nate sighs, “I know the Supes are pretty sketchy these days, but Queen Maeve is just gorgeous.”

With one last burning gulp of wine, you turn to the man beside you and take his head between your hands, crushing your lips against his. He gasps, but responds quickly, his hands finding your hips and guiding you onto his lap.

The rest of the night is a blur as you attempt to give all of your attention to this stranger that you barely know instead of confronting the green-eyed monster roaring in your belly. He finishes once on the couch, pretty quickly, but you’re not one to judge, before you drag him into the bedroom and away from the incessant news broadcasts of Queen Maeve’s heroic act.

It isn’t your alarm that wakes you, or the sound of Frenchie and MM arguing about how to cook eggs, but rather the unfamiliar scent that douses your breath. Your body trembles with anxiety and your eyes snap open, darting around the strange room as your thoughts scramble to remember how you got here.

“Fuck,” you sigh at the sound of someone snoring beside you.

You gently roll over and slip out of the sheets, cold air immediately nipping at your naked body. You find the nearest item of clothing and slip it over your head before tiptoeing out of the bedroom and into the lounge room. Nerves and hunger mingle inside of your stomach, making you overwhelmingly nauseous by the time you find your jacket thrown over the back of the couch.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter as you retrieve your phone from the pocket.

Dozens of missed calls and text messages fill your lock screen, several from Annie and Frenchie, a couple from Hughie and MM, but the majority of them listed under Butcher’s contact name, ‘Big Willy’. You thought it was funny a few days ago.

You quickly text Annie that you’re okay, you’re incredibly sorry, and that you’ll fill her in as soon as you see her. You find your jeans and wriggle into them before finding your panties and tucking them into your back pocket. You scoop your bra and your shirt off the floor on your way to the kitchen, and check your phone again for a reply from Annie. Nothing yet.

You drink the glass of untouched water from the kitchen bench before splashing your face and trying to calm the vibration of nerves coursing through your body.

“Hey.”

You startle at the sudden voice, turning to find Nate in nothing but sweatpants as he emerges from the bedroom.

“Hey,” you murmur.

He frowns, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I-I’m fine, just- uh, my friends have been calling me,” you gesture to your phone, “and they’re pretty worried.”

“Oh,” he lets out a long breath, “I didn’t even hear it ringing last night.”

You smile weakly, not bothering to explain that you were intentionally avoiding your phone all afternoon.

He steps forward, “So, did you-”

The apartment door bursts open, splinters of wood scattering across the floor as you squeal and Nate jumps away from the blow. Your heart is racing, but your body reacts as it was trained to do, and you dive for a knife from the block beside the stove before freezing as you recognise the figure stalking through the broken door.

“Butcher,” you say, “what the fuck?”

His head snaps toward you, the crease between his brows softening and his eyes looking almost vulnerable as realises that it’s you.

“I’m sorry, but who the fuck are you and why did you just break my door?” Nate speaks up.

Your stomach sinks as Butcher’s attention is turned toward the shirtless man, murderous intent returning to his face.

“Who the fuck am I?” he spits, “Who the fuck are you?”

Nate looks tiny compared to Butcher, his narrow frame absolutely dwarfed by Butcher’s broad height and intimidating stance.

“I-I’m Nate,” the smaller man says, “and this is my apartment, that’s my door that you just destroyed.”

“Yeah?” Butcher taunts, stalking forward, “An’ what’re you gon’a do ‘bout it?”

Nate looks at you, his eyes frantic and begging for help.

“Butcher, calm down, he’s-”

“Calm down?” he whirls toward you, “You want me to fuckin’ calm down?!”

“Hey, man,” Nate says, “we can talk, you don’t have to-”

“Nate,” you put your hand up, “I’m sorry, but please shut up.”

“Nate,” Butcher repeats mockingly, “if you value your life, I’d listen to ‘er.”

You drop the knife on the bench, “Butcher, can we just leave, please?”

“You don’t get to make any requests right now, sweethear’,” he says, taking a heavy step toward you, “not after the shit you put me through for the past twelve fuckin’ hours.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls sarcastically, “maybe ‘bout the fact that you fuckin’ disappeared! You didn’t answer your damn phone, didn’t tell anyone where you fuckin’ were! I got a call from Hughie askin’ if you were back home, ‘cause you texted Annie ‘n’ told her you were comin’, but didn’t fuckin’ show up!”

A pebble of guilt drops into your stomach, but you ignore it, squaring up to him with a scowl.

“So?” you shrug, “I’m an adult, I can do as I fucking please.”

“Not without tellin’ me!” he exclaims, “Not if I don’t know where you fuckin’ are or if you’re even fuckin’ alive!”

“You’re not my fucking father, Butcher!” you shout back, feeling another fissure in the bottle of emotions. “I don’t belong to you, I don’t have to ask you for permission to live my own fucking life!”

His jaw twitches, a tidal wave of emotion crashing through his eyes all too quickly for you to try and discern any of them.

“A-Are you Y/N’s boyfriend?” Nate asks timidly.

You and Butcher turn to him in unison, exclaiming at the same time, “No!”

A beat of silence passes, and Butcher’s glare doesn’t falter. You take a deep breath to try and sooth the storm of frustration threatening to consume you.

“Butcher,” you say softly, “can we please leave?”

His head snaps back toward you, his eyes scanning your body as they fill with realisation.

“Did you fuck her?” he asks, turning back to Nate.

He doesn’t respond, his mouth hanging open as he takes several steps back.

“You gon’a answer me?”

“Butcher,” you say again, “cut it out.”

He takes another menacing step toward Nate, “I asked you a question.”

“W-We slept together, yes,” Nate stammers.

The laugh that leaves Butcher’s lips is chilling, sounding almost mad.

“Oh, pardon my French,” he says, “perhaps I should’a asked if you made sweet fuckin’ love to this gorgeous woman right ‘ere.”

“For fuck’s sake!” you shout, “Stop it, stop whatever the fuck this is, and let’s just fucking go!”

“You’re tellin’ me that you fuckin’ disappeared so you could hide out with this fuckin’ twat?” Butcher exclaims, “You let me worry myself fuckin’ sick so you could get a lousy fuck?”

The bottle explodes, shards of glass cutting you from the inside and sending white hot waves of frustration and anger, and despair rolling through your body.

“I can fuck whoever I want, Butcher!” you scream, startled by the volume of your own voice.

His eyes narrow, but his lips don’t move.

“And you can fuck whoever the fuck you want,” you spit, “obviously.”

You snatch your phone off the bench and stomp toward the door, turning to Nate with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, about… this.”

You continue down the hall and the three flights of stairs, not bothering to check if Butcher is following until you’re outside. The temperature is significantly lower than it was yesterday, but your stubbornness doesn’t let you show it as Butcher strides past you toward the car haphazardly parked at the curb.

You climb into the passenger’s seat, sitting as close as you can to the door and hugging your clothes against your chest as you stare out the window. Tears fill your eyes, your nose growing hot and your cheeks undoubtedly red as you use every ounce of self-control you still have to stave of the inevitable. All you need to do is make it home and make it to your bedroom, and then you can cry. You can curl up with your face in your pillow and sob, and admit that you’re jealous, that you’re hurt, and that you love a man who doesn’t even understand the meaning of that word anymore.

“You look like shit,” he grunts.

You sniffle, keeping your face turned away from him, “So do you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get much fuckin’ sleep,” he says as the car comes to a halt, “I was up all night worryin’ ‘bout whether or not you were fuckin’ alive.”

“Well, I didn’t get much sleep either,” you retort, before pushing the passenger door open and stumbling out.

You hear the car door slam as you hurry up the stairs and into the building, taking the steps two at a time until you reach the apartment door. To your great relief, it’s unlocked, and you let yourself in before Butcher has even made it into the hallway.

“Oh, my goodness, mon amour,” Frenchie gasps, “you’re alive! You’re okay… are you okay?”

You don’t realise your crying until you try to look at him, your vision blurred by heavy tears as they fall in fat droplets down your cheeks.

MM steps forward, “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, “I’m fine, I was with a-a friend.”

“A friend?” Butcher echoes, the door slamming behind him.

Your blood sizzles in your veins, heated by the overwhelming frustration coiling in your chest.

“How the fuck did you know where I was?” you demand, spinning around to face him.

He doesn’t answer.

“Do you have my fucking phone bugged?”

Butcher blows a long breath out of his nose, the thick vein in his neck throbbing under his red skin. “Look,” he says, “I know that whatever the fuck just happened wasn’t ideal, but why can’t you fuckin’ see this from my point of view?”

“Our point of view,” MM corrects, “we were all worried.”

“I get that!” you exclaim, “I fucking understand that, but what I don’t understand is why Butcher is still acting like such a fucking cunt. You can see that I’m fine! I’m alive, so what’s your problem?”

“What’s your problem?” he snaps, “Why didn’t you answer your fuckin’ phone? Why didn’t you tell anyone where you fuckin’ were? And why the fuck did you go home with a complete fuckin’ stranger?”

“Oh, shit,” Frenchie murmurs.

“Maybe I just needed a fucking break.”

The room falls quiet, the only sound being Frenchie’s soft footsteps as he backs away. You use the clothes in your arms to wipe the fresh fall of tears from your cheeks and try to ease your shaky breaths as you wait for another onslaught of reprimands.

Butcher sighs, “Go shower.”

“What?”

“You need to shower,” he says, stepping forward.

You frown, “Why?”

“You look like shit, and you sm-” he stops himself, pausing when you take a small step back.

“I look like shit and I smell,” you finish for him, “thanks, Butcher.”

You drag your feet toward the bathroom, dropping your clothes on the floor and staring at your wrecked face in the mirror. Your hair is a mess and your face is blotchy and red, with streaks of black painting your cheeks. The shirt hanging loosely from your shoulders is unfamiliar, and something akin to disgust settles in the pit of your stomach.

“Give me your clothes,” Butcher says as he appears in the reflection behind you.

“Why can’t you just fucking leave me alone?”

He sighs, “I’m tryin’ to help.”

“I don’t want your fucking help,” you turn to him and lean against the vanity, “go offer it to someone else. I’m sure Maeve would love to see your fucking name pop up on her phone.”

His frown disappears, and you can feel the air shift. Fuck. Now you’ve done it. The shards of glass sticking you from the inside have cut right through your chest, slicing it open as your ribcage cracks and unfolds, presenting your pathetic heart to the man who already held it in his hands.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them back with determination.

“I-Is that what this is-” he struggles for words, running his hands through his hair, “for fuck’s sake, Y/N.”

Your breath comes and goes in short gasps, the lump in your throat crushing your windpipe as it demands to be felt.

“For fuck’s sake!” he exclaims, before taking one step forward and slamming the bathroom door shut.

Fear sparks through you, and you whimper, “Butcher, please don’t-”

Before you can finish, he pulls you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you in a vice hold as he rests his chin on the top of your head. You sob into his shirt, tremors wracking your exhausted body as every bit of fear and frustration tears you apart from the inside. You’re not sure how you let yourself get this emotional. Maybe it’s the fact that the world is falling apart, and you’re supposed to act like you’re ready to save it? Or maybe it’s because you’re fucking tired of having everything you love ripped away from you, every chance you think you might have at happiness taken from you by the cunts in the sky who call themselves ‘Superheroes’.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

The turbulence inside of you quells simply because you finally acknowledged it, and you manage to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Butcher,” you croak, looking up at him through tear laced lashes, “kiss me?”

He hooks a finger beneath your chin and tilts it up, leaning in to meet you the rest of the way before his lips brush yours. It’s hesitant and soft, barely a touch, and he pulls away too soon.

“You need to shower.”

“Oh,” you try to wriggle out of his arms, but they’re too strong.

“I can smell that fuckin’ twat all over you,” he growls, “an’ it’s makin’ me fuckin’ sick.”

Realisation slaps you across the face, giving you the strength to remember how to hold yourself up as he pulls away. His fingers curl into the material at the neck of your shirt, ripping it apart right down the middle before pushing it off your shoulders and tossing it on the floor.

Another growl rumbles through his chest and the air in the room shifts again, now thick with a tension that has your heart throbbing in anticipation. Your mind races, your thoughts riding rollercoasters as you struggle to catch up with his fast hands. Your jeans are unbuttoned and pooled around your ankles in less than a second, and he takes another moment to devour your naked body before moving to turn on the shower.

You stumble out of your jeans as he quickly sheds his own clothes before wrapping an arm around your waist. He pulls you under the warm stream of water and holds your body against his, the feeling of his bare skin making your head spin. He takes the bottle of bodywash from the small shelf and pops the cap with one hand, turning it upside down and squirting a ridiculous amount all over your chest and his.

You giggle and he grins, returning the bottle to the shelf before crushing his lips against yours. The soap makes your skin slide against his in the most delicious way and you can feel your core clench, eliciting a wanton moan from your open mouth. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth and claiming you with hungry, sloppy kisses.

“Didn’t think you’d be jealous,” he murmurs against your mouth, “didn’t think you fuckin’ cared about me.”

You slide your hands across his bare shoulders and behind his neck, finding purchase in his wet hair and tugging gently as you kiss him with every ounce of passion that you have.

“I do care,” you sigh when his lips leave yours to lap at your neck, “I am fucking jealous.”

“Sweethear’,” he whispers, his hands moving to your breasts, “you’ve got nothin’ to be fuckin’ jealous ‘bout.”

His mouth leaves your skin as he turns you to face the wall, pressing his body against your back before pushing you into the tiled wall. You gasp first at the sudden cold, and then at the feeling of him grinding himself against your ass.

“I’m yours,” he growls, his lips against your shoulder, “always fuckin’ have been.”

You still manage to speak despite the pleasure of him threatening to overwhelm you. “Then why?”

One hand wraps gently around your throat while the other splays across your lower belly, teasing the place just below that aches for his touch.

“‘Cause I never fuckin’ dreamed that I’d have you,” he says, his lips at your ear now.

You reach back with one hand, holding the nape of his neck as you turn so that your mouth can meet his in a messy kiss.

“You’ve always had me,” you murmur, “I belonged to you the day I met you.”

His hips buck against your ass, pressing you against the wall and making you whimper.

“You’re mine,” he says, moving back just enough for you to turn around.

You nod as you lean down to kiss his neck. Your tongue laving at his wet skin before your teeth sink in and he hisses, one hand squeezing your hip as the other smacks against the tiled wall.

“All yours.”

You place your hands against his chest, pushing him back enough for you to drop to your knees, your hands trailing down his body until they reach his hips. You dig your fingers in and look up at him through your wet lashes.

“Show me who I belong to.”

END.

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