#I know that the way I exist the happiest is something that other people almost frown upon at least sarcastically which even when it’s not | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tokoyamisstuff · 3 months ago

Text

Fragments Pt. 3/3

Homelander / GN! Reader

Summary: Before he'd be able to meet you again, Homelander has a realization.

Warnings: None.

A/N: Let's be fr he would not fucking say that, but let's pretend he's self-aware. Not proofread and pretty messy.

“I care not for his sanity. I care for his happiness. I care for his soul. Let him be mad if mad is what he needs.” - Queen Charlotte (Bridgerton)

Homelander fit seamlessly into his old life - or rather role.

There wasn't any time to process what had happened, since a throughoutly investigation was quickly followed by bland boring routine again.

Vought almost immediately released a statement concerning Homelanders abscence, something about a secret mission that required him to be undercover. They're even planning to make a movie about this fake bullshit already, unbelievable.

The physical examination that followed was the worst part, at least if you asked him. He loathed hospitals for obvious reasons, their bright white enterior reminding him just a tad bit too much of the Bad Room. Yet in the end they were unable to find any residue of the drug, poison or whatever depowered him in his system.

And while yes, the threat of an unknown enemy having the basis to one day potentially render all supes human again sure was concerning - but the fact that the short time Homelander spent without his powers was the happiest he's ever been left a bitter aftertaste.

You on the other hand had been released after a brief interrogation and background-check. Even now they still worried you might leak top-secret information to the public, but they feared Homelander's fury even more - and he made it absolutely clear that anyone daring to lay just a finger on you would meet a terrifying end.

Both of you had never spoken a word about what else happened between you back in the arctic, but that was none of their business either way.

After all, you were no one.

Your whole existence was insignificant compared to his greatness, there's no way you could ever become a threat to him. Simply live your measly little life and stay out of his one...

...easier said than done when you've practically ingrained yourself into his heart, still consuming his every waking moment.

For the people at Vought somehow a quiet Homelander was even more unsettling than his usual, duplicitous benignity.

They are used to randomly fall victim to his whims, constantly being on edge around him. Basically anything could happen at any time, to anyone and without even so much as a warning.

But as of late...

"Homelander?" Maeve was the only one bold enough to wave in front of his face, making him break the reminiscing. "You there?"

"Hmm?" The man looked around, seeing all eyes on him - business as usual. Ashley was standing in front of the Seven, yet whatever she was babbling about went on deaf ears with her superior.

It was like this ever since his return, this nagging feeling as if he was only physically present. He heard people talk and go about their day but everything was so far away...most of the time he just dozed off into the distance, eyes staring right through until he lost focus of his surroundings.

One corner of his mouth begins to twitch, feeling even more irritated by those oppressing trifles than ever before. He takes a moment to collect himself, hands folded neatly on the table. "Do what you want, I couldn't care less" was his firm answer, even though he didn't know the question - or if he was even asked one. "Excuse me."

"The fuck is his deal lately?" A-Train dared adressing the elephant in the room, albeit still being in super-hearing range, pointing over his shoulder to the door their leader had just rushed out of.

The Deep shrugged, tension leaving his shoulders now that Homelander's overwhelming presence was gone. "Beats me. Let's just hope it stays this way for a while."

He would make a quick getaway, his firm, aggravated steps audible before the man itself came into one's field of view. Anyone who had the misfortune to run into him in this state lowered their heads in hope they wouldn't meet an untimely end just for him to let off some steam.

There's a stench of fear lingering in the air, in every corner of this damn building.

"Vermin" he clenched his jaw as he turned around the corner, slamming the door to his penthouse with so much force that the frame breaks. "Every single one of them."

Ordinary humans were so pathetic-fucking weak, and yet they dictated simply everything. It shouldn't be this way! They should worship the ground he walked - or floated - on, build monuments in his name, but instead what?!

The masses idolized him of course, but that fact came at the extend of his own dignity. He had to perform in order to put on this perfect disguise, always smile and say his lines like a damn puppet...with Vought pulling all of the strings.

Was that really the only thing he was good for? So many abilities, all this potential and yet there he was, doing nothing substantial.

Right now he had everything: The greatest power in the world, wealth he could never fully spent even if he tried and influence beyond one's imagination - and yet he felt as empty as never before.

What a fucking joke.

Employees at Vought knew about his true wicked nature, so he had to rely on fear to control them. It was all he ever knew and felt comfortable with, after all...

...until you came along and willingly chose him. You had peeked into a part of himself he swore to never let anyone too close to - and embraced it. Saw him at his lowest, hell, even got hurt in the process and chose to stay at his side nevertheless.

Even though you missed the whole picture among fragments of himself, he was sure you'd be the only one worthy to know his story.

What he had with you may have been make-believe, but still way realer than anything about his corrupted existence.

Was his heart really nothing but a bottomless pit that could never stop aching?

Homelander's suit had always been like a metaphorical armor - functioning against inconsensual touches of fans as well as sort of a disguise, so people would always only see the hero and never the broken shell of a man beneath it.

But now it felt as if the fabric was burning into his skin, eating away what's left of him. Feeling as if suffocating, he curses beneath heavy breaths as he tossed it away.

It wasn't even the same suit you had repaired for him back then - and right now he painfully regretted having Ashley get rid of it.

There was still the oversized shirt he had worn when he left you, though your scent was only faintly lingering now, even to his keen nose. Well hidden under his pillow to lull him to sleep, he now puts it on as he feverishly tried to imagine the sensation of your warm embrace encoating him like a safety west.

That night, he was woken by an eerie realistic dream. No nightmare for a change, no - and yet it was leaving him just as exasperated.

A memory, about that one time you had convinced him to travel to that small village near your ecological research station. Apparently a bunch of savages were holding a festival to celebrate the returning of daylight, and opposite to his expectations it was actually quite enjoyable - mostly thanks to your presence, of course.

He could still hear echoes of your laughter spinning in his head, goosebumps rising where you had touched him as you danced in the cold streets. Snowflakes were entangled in your hair, making it shimmer ever so slightly as you took his hands, trying to steady yourself on the ice. Your breath was visible as white mist, holding onto him for dear life.

Just when he had mustered up the courage to bend down to your height, maybe steal a kiss or two, even if it was only at the crown of your head, both of you lost balance and fell right on your asses.

Homelander heard his own boisterous laughter mixing with yours, remembered how absolutely flabbergasted he was when you suddenly tackle hugged and started kissing him senseless.

"Shit. Shit!"

"Yeah, sure is." Oh for fuck's sake, not this again. But the voices kept returning, it's not like he had a say in the matter of his own mental illness. He never really has a say in anything, not even regarding his own life. "What are you so upset about?"

Well, it's not like he'd be able to fall back asleep anytime soon either way, so he followed the sound of his own voice back to the great mirror across the room.

"You're new" he states the obvious, seeing a reflection that doesn't resemble his current state at all. The man in the mirror was unkempt, with a scruffy beard and greyed strands standing out from his blonde scalp...

...and yet he seemed as happy as Homelander could only hope to one day comprehend. "Did we really look this shitty back in the Arctic?"

"Well, there's not exactly a stylist in the middle of nowhere" his counterpart shrugged, smugly adding "And Y/N liked it."

Homelander exaggeratedly rolled with his eyes, but the verbal jab had hit his weak spot. "You're just a farce, a cheap excuse of me, the real deal!"

"Nope" his amnesic alter ego scoffed at the insult, his smile never faltering. "I'm everything you always wished to be! What you could still become" he adds, his remark yet another fatal blow to Homelander's fragile ego. "You've got all the means to find her, so what's holding you back?"

"Because this is beneath me!" he roars so loudly, it's good that his apartment is big enough that no one could eavesdrop. "Why the fuck would I miss playing house with some nobody?"

However John is not accepting this bullshit for an answer, waving a scolding index finger. "Nah-ah, the real reason. Say. It."

With more force than necessary, Homelander scatters the mirror - would be too easy if that'd make them shut up, though.

"You know we don't just disappear." Several copies of himself are now talking, a medley of misery from each shard, reopening gaping wounds that never had the chance to heal.

"You think Y/N was just nice out of basic human decency. You think the kiss and everything else only happened because of the isolation before you came to that doorstep."

"You're afraid you won't live up to the John Y/N met. The ideal version of yourself that doesn't exist."

"That Y/N will find out what a freak you really are and runs away scared and disgusted, just like they all do eventually."

"You'll get bored of this at some point. Why bother?"

"Y/N will break under the pressure of this burden. It'd be selfish to do this. You can't expect this from anybody."

"Maybe you're even afraid of her coming in harms way because you know exactly what you're capable of."

"You already managed to destroy her life even without being your true self, just imagine what could happen. Stay away, at least for Y/N's sake."

"This whole farce just weakened you, and will continue to do so. We should just get rid of-"

"Shut. Up!" Homelander warns the last one, menacingly calm. "Don't you dare implying I could ever hurt Y/N. I-I'd rather fly myself into the fucking sun!"

"Oh boo-hoo. Someone gives you breadcrumbs of affection and you wag your tail like a dog in heat" the more depraved materialization of himself mocks, "Fucking pathetic, as always. Did you forget that people only exist for our fickle amusement?!"

"Don't listen to them, John." The only shard still attached to the wall was what he'd like to believe is his good aspects. "Listen to me: This is the one and only chance to get what you've always craved for - a real, loving home. Try it, at least. Remember Y/N's words - you deserve happiness."

There was no use in trying to catch up with sleeping. In fact it took all of his patience to wait the few hours until sunrise to wait for this confrontation...

...not with you, however.

Of course Madelyn would come to work this early. Typical. But Homelander was already expecting her - not waiting in front of her door to avoid seeming desperate, but a safe distance away, his glare seeping through the walls.

As soon as she appeared at the tower, he let himself into her office like so many times before. She was pouring herself a cup of coffee, and at the sight of him adds some liquor to it. Hard to believe she was bothered because of something important. "This early? Seriously?"

"You know what's funny?" he didn't really acknowledge her question as he jumped onto the sofa, picking up a decorative snow globe to fidget with. "I thought the enemy had somehow deactivated my transponder...but a quick visit at the tech department later, I found out it worked just fine. This whole time."

Madelyn quirked a brow at the hero, tentatively leaning forwards over her desk. Showing some cleavage usually never failed to soothe his nerves, but not today. "If you want to imply that we're the ones behind all this, I can assure you tha-"

"No" he raised a warning hand, softly shaking the snow globe before putting it down again. "Nonono, I'm sure if you had the means to threaten me, you would've long since done it by now."

Homelander then leapt to his feet, strolling through the room filled with countless photographs of himself - but right now, it was like looking at a person he doesn't recognize anymore.

"Here's another interesting thing I found out: Not even a full week after my disappearance, you made the pathetic attempt to replace me with Black Noir. It wasn't until the public and your sponsors demanded answers to my whereabouts that you gave in and started actively searching for me. Isn't that correct?"

Checkpoint.

"Hey, I've been gone so long, I need to make up for all our missed conversations, don't I?" he huffed bitterly, viewing a snapshot of him and her without being able to feel anything but nauseous. "I've lived among...inferior people for the first time in my life. No fans, no people of Vought, just...Y/N and I. Living the life I only ever knew from textbooks or scripts. And it made me have a realization, wanna hear?"

The vice president closed her eyes in negative anticipation, taking in a deep breath but not being able to bring out a single word before being interjected again. Homelander knew her ways of manipulation and the effect he could have on her if he let her talk too much.

This time it was his turn, and he'd be heard.

The woman in front of of him crosses her arms in defense, giving an approving hum as she knew denying him was never an option.

"Let me tell you my theory first, you're gonna love this: So a boy of sixteen years is finally released from the laboratory he was raised in. Despite all the horrible things he had to endure there, he wanted to use his powers for good, so no one has to suffer like he did. He knows nothing about the real world, let alone care about profit or any of that bullshit. And then he meets this aspiring woman who sees her chance to be influental through him. Can you follow me until now?"

She nods and nothing more, her expression unreadable. "Good, very good. So the boy is now kept around the most rotten, selfish and greedy people on the planet. He was never inheritly evil, he simply adapted to his environment, as clueless as he was thinking this is how the world operates. And at the time any of you realized you had created a monster it was too late. You regretted it - but not out of moral concerns, no. Simply because you knew you couldn't possibly control him forever."

The silence was so loud that it was deafening, automatically answering everything.

"Even if that person was your most valuable asset, your figurehead, you'd be damned if you didn't use the lucky coincidence of him disappearing, no questions asked. Right? Right?!"

Madelyn Stillwell was a lot, but not a liar - at least not in the easy definition. She knew how to twist words, to withheld information just enough to get through with whatever she wanted. But she'd never lie so openly, so blatantly. Especially if it served no purpose, like right now that there was no use anyway. "We'd be damned if we didn't."

"So then why do you keep acting like any of this is right?" He looks deep into her, quite literally for his abilities wouldn't tolerate deceit. "Look, we've located you and the dot was moving. We knew you were alive. I do care about you, Jo-"

"Don't call me by that name. You don't deserve it." His jaw tightens into an almost-snarl, slapping Stillwell's hand away at her disgusting attempt to distract him through seduction. "Don't you dare touching me, and don't fucking lie to me again! Ive been lied to all my life...I'm so, so sick of this shit!"

Homelander's eyes turned from cold coal into glistening embers, threatening to destroy everything in their path shall the answer not be to his satisfaction. "Say. It!" he orders, his hands slamming on the table punctuating every word.

"Goddamnit, I'm afraid of you!"

"...what?" His voice was barely audible, laced with a hurt that surprised him - since deep down he knew the truth for a long time already.

"I'm afraid of you" she repeats, voice shaky at first but then practically yelling as if she knew it could be her last words. "I am fucking afraid of you, John! We all are! Everyone was relieved when you were finally gone, because no money is worth being subjected to you!"

"You- Vought...destroyed me for fucking nothing" he practically whines, his face running through various expressions at once as the last remains of his sanity crumbled. "I was robbed of any chance at normalcry and then tossed away like a broken weapon, and you seriously expected me to not return for a vengeance?!"

Countless possibilities rushed through his brain, one atrocious act more vile than the other - about how he could make the responsible pay the price for their wrongdoings, with Madelyn being the first one...

...but all his fury vanished when for the fraction of a second, his mind wandered back to you, who was still out there somewhere.

Maybe it was not too late for him after all.

All his life Homelander was comfortable trapping himself in a cage that was never locked, fearing whatever awaited outside could be even worse - but you, without even trying, had given him the hope to set himself free.

"Thanks for finally being honest with me." John shakes his head as if to cast all his violent impulses off, musing "I allowed you to use me because I never knew anything else...but that stops right now."

He breaks one of the windows with ease, grossed out by past memories when she dares taking ahold of his wrist. "Wha- where do you think you're going?" She looks sickishly pale, dreading that this would be the day he would go on a murderous rampage all those decades of madness had inevitably caused.

"I'm the Homelander, and I can do whatever the fuck I want." He rose into the air, not biding her another last look. "If anyone of Vought even tries to come near me again, I swear to god I'll end every single one of you."

___

Being in the US for the first time since your childhood made you realize: Damn, you didn't miss this shit a bit. Nostalgia is a real phenomenom, as it seems.

And even in this small town your...is it right to call him 'ex'? Anyways, his face is plastered on every square centimeter you'd fix your eyes on. Posters, screens, even goddamn groceries!

Hard to heal from something you couldn't even label, especially when basically everything reminds you of the love your heart still holds for John - or rather an illusion of a man that never actually existed.

You currently sat in front of your laptop, several tabs opened that made you feel pathetically nosy - but hey, there was hope that harvesting information about the real Homelander would help you overcome those silly, irrational emotions.

Then it should be good for you that everything you found out about him was freaking disappointing.

Vought...you were sure you had heard that name before. Typical monopolist corporate with a finger in every pie, unethical practices and too much influence on politics. It was as obvious as it was enraging, and yet no one cared enough to act against them - not that you were any better. To their defense, supes can be pretty scary so you get the sentiment of not wanting any beef with their bosses...especially after seeing John go apeshit in the past.

But as they all did, Vought still cared about their public image, and so they did a lot of charity to appear ethical. Not that it actually helped to cover any of their crimes up - this was more like an unofficial etiquette, a rule to behave like they're actually the good guys.

A few years ago you had applied for sponsoring your cause, and of course they denied the request. Vought couldn't give two shits about the environment, and if you didn't know any better they'd even go so far as destroying it themselves if the cause - profit, in this case - justifies the means.

Interesting enough, shortly after your return to society an official letter of the company magically appeared at your new address: A pledge of secrecy in return for money, summed up.

No thank you, metaphorically selling your soul to the devil wasn't your kind of thing.

A walking incarnate product, you thought as you closed the interview. No civil life, always performing. And that fabricated all-american backstory...ugh.

And about Homelander...

All videos you sporadically saw of him were kind of unsettling. His eyes were just as empty as his words, movements robotic and fake as if he had only learned to mimick normal behavior. Seeing him like this made you wonder if he even had a soul, or if Vought had sucked all humanity out of him decades ago.

How comes no one seems to notice...or do people simply don't want to acknowledge the truth about their heroes and the ones that lead them?

You sound like a dang conspiracy-theorist for someone that just got dumped by a supe in the most humiliating way possible. It's possibly just a coping mechanism to cover up the hurt caused by the indeniable truth: Someone like you was inadequate to the infamous Homelander in every single way.

The display of your old laptop almost snapped as you closed it in sadness and frustration, turning your attention to building that stubborn IKEA shelf again.

Wanting to regain an objective view on the situation at hand, you remind yourself that the two of you led fundamentally different lives that could never work out together. You hate modern civilization, you hate being the center of attention, you hate events and big cities...

...but you don't hate him. And maybe with him, for him, you could have endured.

Funny, isn't it? You've been alone ever since the death of your parents, keeping to yourself even while pursuing your education. Never able to form any close bonds, even if you tried. Ironically, you were exactly as lonely as him - not made to be among others just the same.

"Still a horrible taste for furniture, I see."

That familiar voice made your blood run cold, collecting yourself impossible as the blue-reddish silhouette belonging to it came into your field of view just seconds after.

All questions and accusations died on your tongue when you reminded yourself just who was standing in your living room right now. Homelander could find you no matter where, and literally tear away the roof of your house without anyone ever daring to object.

"You look great" he cannot help but notice, but you grimace as you see your own reflection in the window: grey sweatpants, a messy bun and an old T-shirt of his. Sure.

"Well, in case you forgot: I'm still in tremendous debt, so I'm not exactly drowning in luxury" you scoff, face fixated on the clash of wood and screws. John narrows his eyes in confusion, stating "Vought was supposed to recompensate you."

"Financially? Well, not without a catch." For a moment he thinks loudly, talking about 'ripping Ashley's head off', which made you finally turn to look at him. "Metaphorically" he added, raising his hands in a placating manner.

"Oh, yeah...Ashley." The name only forcedly escaped your throat, which did not go unnoticed by Homelander. "Your girlfriend and I had a long talk back then. She explained your outburst was caused by PTSD. So no worries."

"My wha-" John made a dramatical gagging sound, crinkling his nose at you. His fists were on his hips, expression grim ike always when he was about to rant about something, making your lips twitch as you resisted smiling at the adorable sight. "Gosh, no. Ew. She's everything but that."

You had almost forgotten how cute he could be when one pushed his buttons - good to know it's still this way. "So, what brings you here all of a sudden?"

"Well, I-" He opened and closed his mouth several times in an attempt to come up with something, anything, but it sure took him a while. "Y-You didn't publish anything."

"I searched for your article. You've been talking about it nonstop back then." He dared stepping closer, making himself as small as humanly possible. "Actually I hoped to be mentioned and showered in praise as your assistant."

"Huh?" You narrow your eyes at him, and his tension is barely veiled. Great, just great Mr. Charming.

Okay, that one made you laugh. You had almost forgotten how refreshing those little exchanges were. "Well well well...I had to start from scratch after a certain someone wrecked my laboratory." He nervously rubs the back of his head, unintelligibly chuckling "Right...sorry about that."

"It's alright" you dismiss the guilt in his voice with a cheerful remark, "I'm teaching at a university temporarily, until I got enough money for another try." He knew. All this time he never lost track of you, craving to walk this path together with you but too cowardly to ask for your permission to join. "Seriously, Homel-"

"John" he corrects you, showing no ill intend. "Please, just call me John." Oh, how he missed the way his name sounded in your voice: Neither shallow, nor demanding or afraid - just John, no strings attached.

"Oh. Oh. Okay, John. But..." you intertwine your fingers to keep them from trembling, biting the inside of your cheek. "Really, you don't owe me anythi-"

"I owe you every-fucking-thing!" John blurts out, his insistance showing as he softly grabbed your shoulders. "Y/N, you helped me despite gaining nothing from it. If that isn't heroic, I don't know what is. I mean, without you I'd be a fucking icicle right now."

How often did he say this corny trademark quote 'You are the real hero(es)' before? This is the first time that it felt genuine - after all, you had saved him in more ways than just one.

You cackle shortly, more out of attachment to the man than his joke actually being funny. But the longer his hands remained stubbornly on your body, the harder it became to act like acquaintances merely sharing a crazy story that's long in the past.

"But you can't give me what I want..." You don't know what moved you to speak from the heart, but after all that had happened you deserved to drown in some self-pity. John's forehead wrinkled in an attempt to make sense out of you, insisting "C'mon, let me indulge you a little. For old time's sake."

Nothing to lose after already having everything taken away from you, right?

"It's my fault, honestly" you try to keep it together, but you knew there was no hiding your choked sobs from his senses either way. "I fell for something fake. And I know, I know it's stupid, but-"

"Not everything was fake" you rudely got interrupted again, but the content of his rambling made you forgive him easily. "My feelings weren't."

It took you a while to have John's confession actually dawn on you, releasing a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. "Your...what?"

"Took me long enough to realize" he snickered as he pulled you into a long-due hug, pressing a wet kiss into your hair out of habit. "I've tried to continue my old life, I really did. But fuck it...this whole time all my thoughts revolved around you."

He could barely hear over the sound of his own fastened heartbeat, but clearly your pulse was racing as well - not out of fear, that much he could tell.

And yet as much as the shared sentiment partially relieved you, there was something else laying heavy on your chest.

"I- don't know what to say, John" you try to wring yourself out of his embrace, but he stubbornly narrows the space between you, making you gasp in surprise.

Homelander was not someone taking no for an answer, used to always get what he wants no matter how. And people not acting like he anticipated was like hitting the bulls eye of his fragile psyche.

He'd be damned to just accept his loss after everything he put at risk.

"Hey big guy...look at me."

Your voice alone made him snap out of a downward-spiral that usually was an unstoppable force, always ending in tragedy. As he met your eyes he detected the plea in them, a vulnerability he had yet to allow himself.

"I have very strong feelings for you, John." Good. Then where's the fucking problem?! "But I've spent a lot of time thinking about" you pause, awkwardly gesticulating between the two of you. "This. You and me, us...John, you were talking in your sleep a lot back then. If you were not busy screaming your lungs out, I mean. About burning, drowning or being cut up alive..."

Your eyes begin to water at the memory, clawing a fistful of blue fabric from his suit. "Just...tell me the truth, and not that fancy propaganda bullshit. If we continue this, then I want to know you inside and out."

"What if..." John's voice cracks, only notices he'd been crying as he feelsbthe salt of his own tears prickle on his lips. He fucking hates this weakness, this sickness of his, especially if he cannot hide behind a facade. "What if the truth if so much more horribe than you could ever imagine?" His hands squeeze yours now, as if he fears you'd disappear if he let go off of this emotional anchor you had become.

John was about to pull back, bracing himself for the rejection. His only solace was the thought that it's probably the best for you.

If you'd know this relationship would eventually turn you into the moral support of a malignant narcissist and subsequent homicidal maniac, there was no way on earth you'd still voluntarily be a part of his life.

"Then I guess we've got to figure it out."

Whatever the extend of his pain, you are aware it's going to put a huge toll onto you as well. He most likely can't live normally, let alone love.

You cradle his face in your hands and he subconsciously leans into the touch, whining at his own neediness. "I can't say that my love is going to erase your hurt, but I can promise to be at your side through all of it."

"That's about the best fucking thing someone has ever said to me" he half-cries, half-laughs when you finally pull the man on his collar down to your height, sealing your promise with a kiss.

"And now get out of that costume" you tease, pinching one of the pads on his chest. "Looks even more hilarious now that I know you're not all that muscular underneath."

"Well, to my defense, other clothes aren't really fit for breaking sonic speed." He twirls you around skillfully, embracing you from behind as close as humanly possible. "And besides, that makes me the perfect candidate for a long-distance relationship, don't you think? You stay in this boring chaff, hell even the end of the world if you want to, and I could still visit you everyday. Or I'll just kidnap you to wherever you want."

Seems like he had already planned it all out. Not the most concerning action of his, though. Almost sweet, if you want to see it this way.

Won't be the last time, surely.

"But what do you want?" The question was so simple, so downright basic that not knowing the answer left him empty inside. His wishes? Does he even have any dreams or aspirations?

There was never a 'John' - the boy with this name died in that lab so Homelander could rise. For so long he had existed for the sole purpose of others that he completely forgot he was in charge of his own fate...

He leans to kiss you again, more tender this time as he savours the way your tears mix with his."I want to enjoy this until I can give you a proper answer one day."

...until you opened his eyes, through sheer kindness and willpower.

Maybe humans aren't so weak after all.

Finally, he smiles. It's the kind of smile that reaches up to his ears, making his whole face crinkly. One that matches with his eyes, genuine and radiant just like back when you first met.

"There you are...welcome home, John."

#the boys #homelander #homelander / reader #self insert #writing #fanfiction

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hanamukes · 9 days ago

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To feel saved by your words (Taki and Uika)

While I believe you could compile endless comparisons between any two members of MyGO and Ave Mujica, something that's been on my mind a lot recently are the similarities found between Taki and Uika. Tomori and Sakiko are the ones who pull the story along, but I think Taki and Uika both hold a similar position within the contexts of their relationships with them that warrants a closer look.

This isn't a "complete" and cohesive analysis, so much as a collection of observations I've made as I've been combing through Uika's scenes again lately.

Small disclaimer, but given that Uika as we know her exists in approximately 10 minutes of It's MyGO footage, a lot of this will be my own interpretation of her few existing scenes. Your mileage may vary! I analyze Uika a bit more than Taki here, but this is simply because I honestly feel as if Taki's writing is more blunt and explicit―to "analyze" her almost feels more like a summary of the events and dialogue, whereas with Uika, all we can do is piece together the small crumbs that we have.

To start, I want to talk a little bit about their positions in their respective bands. In ways, they feel similar, but in many more ways, they feel completely different.

Uika is not the "leader" of Ave Mujica in any sense of the word. Sakiko is―Uika is figuratively and literally a puppet Sakiko is playing with. However, she is the "protagonist" of Ave Mujica's stage plays. This is an important distinction to make because while Uika is not the one pulling the strings as we've seen proven in the anime, it's not entirely unfounded for anyone to claim that she may have a special position within the context of the band (even ignoring the fact that vocalists tend to be the "face" of the band which many misconstrue to mean they are the leader).

Taki is an interesting case because she's not the front and center of her band, nor does she have "protagonist" traits, nor does she have something that draws people to her―but nonetheless, through her hard work alone, she has become the primary force that keeps MyGO held together (even if it, at times, feels like duct tape).

I like this distinction between them. Uika gets her special little place just by being popular and having had past connections with Sakiko, while Taki affirms hers by working harder than any one person would have to in order to keep a band together. One of them gets what they want with sheer luck alone, while the other must cling to this band as if it's the last thing she'll ever get the grace of doing.

Though, just what do Tomori and Sakiko mean to Taki and Uika?

Tomori's words save Taki and let her breathe, while if we're to interpret the Ave Mujica doll lore shown in their concerts as applying to their actresses, Doloris repeatedly talks about having a special somebody who accepts her for who she really is deep down, and how she wants to stay alone with them for an eternity―perhaps this is a hint as to how Uika views Sakiko (which has some support in the anime, as I think Sakiko's message to Uika has more to it than meets the eye).

I think there's something to be said about how Taki and Uika seem unhappy with their circumstances (Taki lives her life compared to her sister, while one of Uika's only solo scenes being her dropping the happy idol facade is telling to me), but it's Tomori and Sakiko's words that save them. For Taki, this is Tomori's songs (specifically Haruhikage), for Uika, this takes form in rereading Sakiko's consoling message from her idol debut over and over.

Notably with Taki, this is the happiest we ever see her! Tomori and Sakiko's words save them, and it's absolutely written all over their faces. It's not subtle at all.

Also, how we're (formally) introduced to both characters is in the context of their respective separation with Tomori and Sakiko: Taki is yelling at Anon for scaring Tomori away (after she finally found her again) while this text message scene is Uika's.

Now, separation is of course a huge theme with these bands in general, so what makes their examples special?

Where I think they differ from the others is in the way they approach these separations. Here's the thing: in a way, Taki feels as if her life purpose hinges on being around Tomori, but despite this, she never tracked her down in her absence. Uika always pulls out Sakiko's comforting message to her, so much to the point that she can recite it word for word on the fly, and yet despite having her phone number, she never messaged her. We can see the last message sent between Uika and Sakiko was that conversation from a year ago, and this has to be deliberate.

She probably wants nothing more than to see Sakiko again (when Sakiko calls her in episode 7, she literally blushes and shifts her hair in excitement about it, and I will also mention the director implied the reason she goes to the planetarium is because it reminds her of the stargazing she did on the island with Sakiko), and yet she respects Sakiko to be the one to take that step in contacting her first.

This is also something prevalent with Taki: Soyo exists as proof that if she really wanted to, she could have stalked or harassed Tomori into getting her back in her life, but instead she was patient. She valued Tomori needing space. She put Tomori's feelings above and before her own.

There's just this level of yearning behind their words and actions―of wanting someone in your life so badly, of thinking about them every single day, of looking back at all of your memories together and hoping and praying for the day they will reach out to you once more but not taking that first step yourself out of modesty for your own feelings―that I think separates them from the others. (Ironically, the closest that comes to this is actually Tomori herself but in regards to Sakiko.)

Another big theme they share is that they're rather open with their affection for Tomori/Sakiko, but the way they convey those feelings isn't always interpreted the way they intended for it to be.

(One could perhaps interpret Sakiko's reaction here as embarrassment, and I do think this is a part of it, but given this is the one interaction she's had this series that isn't someone trying to dox her or begging her to be with them, I think she'd be well within her rights to be confused at why Uika's also so obsessively fixated on her.)

Taki falls more under the "awkward" umbrella than Uika (so I'm not about to insinuate I think this will be as common with Uika and Sakiko going forward as it has been for Taki and Tomori), but they both share this trait of "I want to express how much you mean to me" and it being met with confusion.

The way they respond to said rejection is similar as well.

(This anime is very good at expression via a character's eyes alone, and I think this is conveyed really well with both Taki and Uika.)

And of course, because their intent was never to hurt and rather was the opposite (to cherish), they're not afraid to apologize, no matter how "insignificant" their offense may have been.

(The framing on these shots fascinates me, as if the camera needs to zoom out to capture the recipient of the apology in the frame in order for it to land.)

Everything is with Tomori/Sakiko's best interest in mind, but sometimes, just your thoughts and feelings isn't enough. You need to convey those feelings appropriately to the person you're saying them to, and Tomori/Sakiko are of course not the world's easiest people to get through to.

I think on the surface, Uika is presented to us as a character who Taki could aspire to be like. She's calm, collected, and she's able to get through to Tomori as a fellow vocalist. What was that planetarium scene for if not to point out that Uika could present herself as a threat to Taki? But on the other hand, we've seen Sakiko shut Uika down twice already; it's not like her one moment with Tomori makes her better than Taki at communicating with the one she cherishes most, even if she seems more sociable. Tomori is even a bit weirded out that Uika called her by name despite her never telling it to her. When you get down to it and look past their exteriors, they have the same struggles at hand.

Speaking of Sakiko's rejection of Uika, this brings me to what I believe is the most striking parallel between their scenes.

The last episode is fascinating because one of the two examples of Sakiko shutting down Uika is when Uika asks if she can go home with her on the train. We know this is something Taki does with Tomori as well, but that's not what I want to point out here (though that's also noteworthy in its own way):

Earlier in that same episode, Taki was also rejected when she wanted to walk Tomori home! The reasons of course differ (Soyo wanted to talk with Tomori so it's not as if Tomori herself rejected Taki, while I get the impression that at this point Uika still doesn't know of Sakiko's home situation which seems to be the real reason Sakiko said no fun side note though: a Sumimi commercial is very much on screen in the following frame of Sakiko on the train), but the framing of both scenes is very similar, and I honestly find this hard to ignore. The Taki one of course makes sense as it's a well-established thing between her and Tomori to ride the train home together, but Uika had no reason to ask to go home with Sakiko on the train. She got to the venue in a cab just fine! It feels very deliberate to me to have both of these happen in the same episode and to also put narrative weight on both moments as well. When I saw the Taki scene, I thought "Huh, so we're just not getting Taki closure?" and while the Uika scene was too late in the episode for me to really expect an actual scene even had Sakiko said yes, they're similar in that both of these scenes work to set up future developments in the sequel. We're still owed the closure Soyo pulling Tomori away from Taki robbed us from, and we're owed seeing Uika learn about Sakiko's home life.

Something else that I think about often is how Taki and Uika are involved in the songwriting process for their respective bands:

Taki and Sakiko are composers while Tomori and Uika are lyricists

Sakiko and Uika both read Tomori's poetry/ventings in her notebook and attribute it to being lyrical. (Taki does as well but this isn't a discovery she makes through having a one-to-one with Tomori)

Sakiko and Taki both feel inspired by Tomori's writing and do whatever they can to make compositions fitting for her words

While we don't know much about the Ave Mujica songwriting process as of yet, one of the interviews confirms that Uika does the lyrics for Ave Mujica songs. This leaves a lot to be considered regarding 1. why Sakiko wanted her for her band 2. what Sakiko would see in her writing and if it's comparable to how she feels reading Tomori's writing (as a note here: Tomori's writing makes her human, while Uika's writing turns her into a monster), and 3. Uika writes to other people's ideas, but she still feels as though singing is something that conveys her heart to others

Those are some general observations I have regarding this. To both Taki and Uika, they want to see out Tomori/Sakiko's musical ambitions, and they pour their heart into what they do. Of course all the band members are doing this (by playing their respective instruments, and Raana does contribute to MyGO songs in her own ways), but these two go above and beyond in their motivations.

As a much more subtle thing, I want to point out something interesting It's MyGO did: the various Sumimi shills throughout the series that happen during major scenes where characters are trying to communicate how they want to reconcile moving forward. Honestly this is a topic so fascinating I'd love to make its own post dedicated to it, but I want to talk about it here briefly as well because it does relate to Taki. Notably, I want to talk about the example of this in episode 5, because the framing of it felt the most deliberate there.

To set the scene, Tomori just expressed that she doesn't want to hold a concert because that'll end their band, which leaves Taki and Soyo hanging as they're unsure how to move forward from there if Tomori doesn't want to. The scene changes to Taki and Soyo, with Taki overlooking Sumimi's music video.

(The way the shots are composed makes it seem like Taki is staring at the music video, complete with the light of the scenes reflecting on her face, but when we get this zoomed out shot with Soyo in frame, it looks more like she's looking off to the side.)

As Soyo's talking about how unsure Tomori feels and how she's still thinking about CRYCHIC, Here the World is playing in the background. We can hear it pretty clearly; even more clearly than we heard it in the literal karaoke scene! The song continues until it fades out at this line:

The sudden silence almost feels deafening. Taki starts talking about how Tomori's words saved her, and how they made her feel seen. The MV is still playing in the background, we just can't see or hear it. But it comes back on screen to be a backdrop to these lines:

(Interesting how they chose this specific angle that captures the Sumimi MV in the backdrop, when they could have done a different one or turned the video off entirely since the song isn't even playing anymore. Also for the last line, Uika and Mana's silhouettes are no longer on the screen.)

What is the purpose of this? Is it to foreshadow that Sakiko would invite Uika to her band a few episodes later? Do Taki's words apply to Uika as well?

Soyo then continues on and says in order to avoid having things go south again, they need to communicate with one another. Then she says Taki needs to tell Tomori how she feels.

I think the most compelling shot in this scene is this one though.

Because 2 episodes later, this exact shot in the MV is what Sakiko scrunches her face at post-Haruhikage.

(Well, even if Taki's feelings didn't get through to Tomori, Uika did finally get through to Sakiko given she calls her immediately after this. Interesting.)

Taki is trying to express how much Tomori means to her and Sakiko is trying to get over MyGO playing Haruhikage, and there's Uika; happy, smiling, sparkling, and getting everything handed to her. It almost feels as if the MV is there to mock these characters, who are struggling so much to even keep a band together. She's an outsider who doesn't even know that Crychic has disbanded.

It's just one of those things that feels so meaningless, and yet at the same time, the Sumimi MV would not be playing during these scenes unless the writers wanted it to, for whatever reason that may be.

To wrap this post up, I want to mention that I find it very amusing how the director mentioned that Uika was actually not originally intended to be shown in a school setting (like Nyamu is), but when they were thinking about what school to put her in, they put her in the same classroom as Taki because of potential interactions between them. I am very eager to see those interactions in future content, and how Taki will react once she realizes that Uika (and Umiri) are in a band with Sakiko. It'll be interesting to see whether or not these two become proper foils to each other, as I see a lot of potential here given both of their respective relationships with our protagonists. Going back to what I said about Uika being presented to us as something Taki could aspire to be like, I actually hope it turns out to be the opposite: I hope that Taki sees Uika's relationship with Sakiko and learns what not to do with Tomori. This may just me being hopeful though (as in the Ave Mujica concerts, Oblivionis takes advantage of Doloris' dedication to her and turns her into a monster―I want to see something akin to this happen with Sakiko and Uika). We'll truly just have to see!

#seine writes #takitomo #uisaki #have so much i could add regarding things we know about doloris #but i dont want to go tooooooooo deep into assumption land #given we dont even know how much doloris reflects uika let alone if the one she talks about is oblivionis/sakiko #based on their concerts being gay as hell uisaki agenda constantly its an estimated guess though so #source: trust me bro <--this user has translated everything ave mujica

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kkurami · 10 months ago

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( LOVE LETTER 2 U ! ) 💌 ² ˚ ༘ fluff

୨୧ ‧ megumi didn’t think he was anything special, not until he received a carefully written love letter just for him <3

like petals unfurling at dawn, my love for you blossoms as each waking day arises.

there’s something so enchanting about being in love, don’t you agree?

i like to believe it gives people a deeper understanding of themselves and their emotions. most people i have seen turn poetic and elegiac when talking about the one they love, which i never quite understood until i fell in love myself. after all, how much can one change just because of another person? the thought had always seemed silly to me.

but if someone were to ask me to describe my feelings for you, i guess i would be a victim of just that.

loving you is a rather unpredictable experience. at times, you make me feel like the happiest person on earth. i get so giddy and whimsical just being around your presence, because you’re the most ethereal person. however, there are times when i’m worried you won’t burn for me the way i do for you. do you feel a fire light up in your soul whenever you see me?

my dearest, your presence is the melody that dances through the corridors of my heart. in the realm of moonlit whispers and star-kissed dreams, your love blooms in the garden of my soul, a symphony of sounds that show we coexist under the same sky. in every heartbeat, i find the rhythm of our connection, a serenade that weaves its way throughout our world. together, we compose a timeless sonnet of boundless affection.

i need to confess… i’ve loved you from the start ♡

a faint blush overtook her features and sat mockingly on her cheeks, as if it waited to expose her inner feelings. she could barely feel the heat that radiated off it, everything in sync with the fast beating of her heart. the inconsistent rise and fall of her chest was synonymous the turmoil she felt deep inside.

her widened eyes held nothing less than affection for the boy who stood in front of her, as his eyes scanned the ivory paper in his hands.

fushiguro megumi, the one who had captured her heart with such grace.

it almost seemed silly, how much the boy had managed to enrapture ever fiber of her soul. after all— they hardly knew each other. she was astonished to find out that he had even known her name.

“this is a love letter?” megumi inquired, an inquisitive eyebrow raised almost as if to think it was silly. “for me?”

y/n’s head bobbed up and down in nervousness. she couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that she was speaking to megumi. “yes! i know we don’t know each other well and you probably don’t like me like that, but i just-!”

“why… me?” y/n put a hold on her rambling to scan her eyes over to megumi, who had his eyeline focused on the letter in his hands.

y/n quirked her head to the side. “why not you?” the question was silly to her. “you probably think people don’t notice you, but they do. i do. i've always admired you, megumi.”

like delicate petals falling from a sakura painted sky, y/n was a blessing that had graced the earth- at least, in megumi’s eyes. he never considered he was anything special, and opted to just live his life as it passed him by. however with just one letter, y/n seemed to reweave the tapestry of his existence. the page, filled with words of love and heartfelt serenades, seemed to hold megumi’s heart within its grasp- and y/n was at the forefront of it all.

“but,” y/n began to speak again when she noticed megumi deep in thought. “you don’t need to like me back. i just wanted to let you know how i feel!”

a sad smile graced her face, and megumi hated being the cause of it.

“let’s get lunch.” megumi roughy stated without thinking, before correcting himself. “i meant, um, let’s get lunch together.” he couldn’t stop the blush the threatened its way up to his face, nor the fast pace of his heart.

with hushed tones and soft smiles, y/n and megumi began their way towards the lunch room. the air was adorned with the subtle symphony of love as their hearts synchronized. amidst the delicate cadence, the world melted into the background, leaving only the warmth of companionship and the promise of countless conversations yet to unfold.

it was the beginning of a perfect love.

#jujutsu kaisen #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #megumi x you #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fluff #jujutsu megumi #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #megumi x y/n #megumi imagine #jjk

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year ago

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Build Me Up and Let Me Down

Dating him was everything she wanted it to be, apart from one thing.

They hadn’t had sex yet.

-x-

Hi friends,

The idea for this came to me when I was having my nails done today (what can I say, my mind wonders) and then I posted here talking about it, and you guys all went crazy for it so here we are. Several hours and 4.9k words later!!

I hope you all enjoy it and that it lives up to what you wanted <3

Please do let me know what you think

-x-

Words: 4.9k

Warnings: Smut, 18+

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Dating Aaron was, mostly, everything she wanted it to be.

He was kind. Funny in a way she never would have guessed when they first met, his sense of humour dry. Quick-witted in a way that made her almost spray wine out of her nose on their first date, something that would have embarrassed her had he not already been her best friend.

They’d worked together to get to this point, their friendship slowly but surely transforming into something more. The kind of relationship she’d spent her whole life chasing, forever looking for it in the wrong people and the wrong places until she became convinced that maybe she just wasn’t meant to have something like that.

Until she realised she could see it all with him, someone who had been right in front of her all along.

She’d kissed him first. A soft, delicate thing she’d pressed against his lips after he dropped her home one night after a long case that had made her sleep on the jet the entire journey back to DC. He’d insisted he didn’t want her to drive, assured her he’d pick her back up in the morning so she didn’t have to worry about her car, and suddenly every reason she’d had for not taking the next step with him no longer existed. He’d parked outside her building and turned to look at her, a soft smile on his face reserved for just her and Jack, and she’d leant across the centre console and kissed him. She’d been nothing short of delighted to see he was still smiling when she pulled back, his eyes now dazed.

He took her on a date and they discussed everything, spoke about what they both wanted and agreed to move forward as a couple. That had been a month ago, one of the happiest months of her life, and she had never looked back.

He bought her things, quickly teaching her that one of his love languages was definitely gift-giving. Whether it was a coffee on the way to work with a pasty she knew came from a bakery across town from where he lives, a book he said he saw and thought of her, or a candy bar he’d pull out of seemingly nowhere when she needed it most, they were all tokens of his affection for her. Small moments that made her cheeks flush and her heart race in her chest as she had to stop herself from telling him she loved him, sure that it was far too soon to admit something like that.

Dating him was everything she wanted it to be, apart from one thing.

They hadn’t had sex yet.

They’d made out. A lot. Their dates often ending at his apartment or hers, just like tonight’s had. Another drink shared as they sat on the couch together, soft kisses giving way to more passionate ones, but he’d always stop them. He’d slam on the breaks just as she started to feel her blood warming up and what she had initially considered sweet and gentlemanly was now frustrating her.

They’d slept next to each other. She’d woken up curled around him, or with him curled around her, but they’d never gone any further than making out. The brief touches of his warm skin against hers, usually his palm sneaking under her shirt as they slept, as if when he was unconscious he couldn’t stop himself, all she had to go on. She felt like a woman starved, driven crazy by the small bits of him he’d allowed her to have, and she knew she was near her breaking point. The threads of her patience fraying, so close to snapping, she knew it would only take one more gentle assurance against her lips, one more soft squeeze of her waist, before she broke.

She was starting to wonder if it was her. If there was something about her he couldn’t see past, and she hated it. Hated that he’d become so important to her he had burrowed underneath her usually unflappable confidence. She knew sex wasn’t everything, but it was still important. She wanted to have that connection with him, to make him feel good and let him do the same for her.

“You ok, sweetheart?” He asks, and she turns to look at him, smiling and nodding as she takes the glass of wine from him and has a sip before she places the glass down on the coffee table next to her couch.

“I’m good,” she replies, tilting her head to stamp her lips against his, sighing contentedly as he wraps his arm around her shoulders. She smiles as she pulls back, her eyes focused on his lips as she shifts, throwing her legs over his lap as she tries to get closer, “I’m more than good.”

“You’re perfect,” he says, kissing her again. She beams at him, his compliment warming her from the inside out, she settles further into his lap, her knees on either side of his hips, as they continue to get lost in each other on her couch. She can feel him go hard beneath her, can feel the material of her dark green desk inch up her thighs as she sinks deeper into his embrace.

She rolls her hips against his and scratches the back of his head, her blunt nails rasping against his short hair. She feels pride and arousal in equal measure spread through her when he groans, the taste of it, of him, on her tongue spurring her on. She trails her hands down his neck, her fingers soft against his skin as she reaches for the buttons on his shirt, the way it was slightly open already, his tie left at his upon her insistence and teasing, something she had memorised back at the restaurant. She feels a familiar grip on her waist before his hands travel downwards, his thumbs pressing into her hip bones before he pulls back.

“Em,” he says, his voice thick, and when she opens her eyes to look at him, she sees a now familiar look in his eyes. A mix of barely restrained desire and hesitance that finally makes her snap.

She growls in frustration as she removes herself from his lap, ignoring his attempts to keep her on the couch with him as she pulls at the hem of her dress, tugging it back down the parts of her thighs that had been exposed. Her skin tinged pink with arousal and embarrassment as she crosses her arms over her chest and looks at him, a determined frown on her face.

“What is going on, Aaron?” She asks, her voice strained as she clenches her teeth, “We’ve been dating for a month and you keep…putting on the brakes.”

He sighs and stands up, all too aware of the tightness in his pants, of how the material strains against him. He feels guilt race through his blood, chasing the need he has for her around his body, snapping at its heels in a way he’s worried will allow it to overtake.

“Em-”

“I’d ask if it’s because you’re not attracted to me,” she says, cutting him off, scoffing as she points to his crotch, “But you could see that thing from space.” She’d felt him hard underneath every time they’d done this. The way he’d press into her, just enough for her to rock against as they made out or into her back on the rare mornings they’d slept next to each other, was enough of a taste of what she wanted to drive her insane. “Is it because you just don’t see this going anywhere and you don’t see the point? Because you’ve never seemed like the ‘fuck them and leave them’ kind of guy, so why should you start now I guess.”

He steps towards her as she laughs bitterly, his hand reaching out to touch her arm, but she stops him, taking a step back again, “Of course not-”

She shakes her head, her tongue licking her kiss-swollen lips, chasing the already fading taste of him as a thought occurs to her, the very idea enough to steal the air from her lungs as she interrupts him once again.

“It’s…it’s not because of Ian is it?”

It’s something she hadn’t considered before, something that hadn’t even crossed her mind, but now it’s all she can think about. He knew what she’d done, who she’d become in the time she spent with Ian, and maybe he couldn’t get past it.

He watches as she folds in on herself, as she visibly shrinks in front of him, and he immediately feels worse. Horrified that she’d think he thought that, that he considered her anything other than brave and honourable and a dozen other things he thought whenever he looked at her.

“Emily, sweetheart,” he says, grateful when she doesn’t step back his time, reaching out to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, “It’s not that,” he says firmly, his heart aching when she still looks unsure, a new insecurity unlocked because he couldn’t get past his own. “I promise.”

She stares at him for a moment and she knows he’s telling the truth, the vulnerability in his eyes matching her own, and she nods, clearing her throat before she speaks again, “Then what is it? Do you…just not want to?”

“I want to,” he says, the words spilling out so quickly they merge together, tripping over each other in a way that has her raising her eyebrows at him, “It’s just…” he sighs, embarrassment warming his cheeks as he shakes his head at himself, “Come sit down.”

She lets herself be led to her couch, his hand wrapped around hers, and she looks at him expectantly. They fall into silence and she watches him carefully, a flurry of emotions washing over his face again and again that makes her feel nothing but love and affection for him. She swallows thickly and decides she needs to break the tension, falling back onto humour in a way she knows her therapist would chastise her for.

“Is this some macho concern about the size of your dick?” She asks, smiling when he looks up at her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Because I can assure you, honey, what I’ve felt so far is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Aaron laughs, some of the tension in his chest caused by something he knew was only an issue for him dissipating, “No, it’s not that,” he says, squeezing her hand to silently show his gratitude for her attempt to calm him down. He sighs and closes his eyes, looking down at their joint hands, “I’ve only ever had sex with Haley before.”

Whatever she had been expecting, it hadn’t been that, and she stares at him for a moment even though he was avoiding her eye contact, “Oh.”

He looks up at her, her expression unreadable as she looks at him, and he offers her a half smile, “I did marry my high school sweetheart,” he says, “It can’t be that much of a surprise.”

“You got divorced years ago,” she says, thinking out loud more than anything, trying to figure out how this man, this gorgeous, huge giant of a man could have gone without for so long. “What about Kate Joyner?”

He chuckles, “Despite popular belief, we never liaised,” he says, laughing again when her eyes go comically wide, “You’re not as quiet as you think you are sweetheart.”

She clears her throat, shaking off the embarrassment as best she can as she takes in everything he’d told her. “What I mean is, it’s not like you wouldn’t have had the opportunity if you’d gone looking for it.”

He lifts their joint hands and kisses her knuckles, “After a while I kind of realised I wanted it to mean something, as ridiculous as that might sound-”

“Not ridiculous-”

“And then we started dating, and you’re…well you’re everything,” he says, “But then I started to worry about letting you down, something Dave said-”

“What did Dave say?” She asks, frowning as she interrupts, irritation at their friend already building in her chest. Aaron can see the tension in her shoulders, the irritation etched into her face, and he chooses his words carefully.

“He said something about you being a firecracker,” he says, watching as her eyebrows shoot into her hairline, a scoff escaping her before she can stop it.

“Lo ucciderò,” she mutters under her breath before she turns her attention back to Aaron, “For a start, never take romantic advice from a man who pays more attention to pasta than he does to women,” she says, breaking into a smile when Aaron does, “And secondly, you could never let me down,” she bites her lip and reaches out for him, her hand against his cheek as she gently strokes his skin. She knew if it was anyone else, if it was somebody other than him, that she’d think he was judging her for how much more experienced she was than him. But she knows him, she loves him, and she knows it would never have even crossed his mind, “You have no idea what you do to me.”

It was unlike anything she’d ever known. How he could set fire to her with nothing but a look across a room. How the simplest touch could steal her breath away, leaving her silently begging for more, thinking of any reason she could brush against him in the office just to get that close again.

He scoffs, unsure how he could affect her like she affected him. Her touch burned into his skin every time she so much as touched his hand when handing him a file. He shakes his head, “Em-”

“I mean it,” she says, stopping him from putting himself down, leaning forward to kiss him, smiling as he chases the kiss when she pulls back, “Come with me,” she says, kissing him again before she stands up and pulls him with her, leading him to her bedroom, “Let me show you.”

He follows closely behind her, the hand not tangled with hers finding its way around her waist, his lips against her throat. She tilts her head to give him more access, sighing softly as they make it across the threshold into her bedroom. She turns in his arms, pulling him in for a gentle kiss, a soft thing that reminds them of what they’d gone through to get here, and she smiles at him when it ends.

He watches as she steps back, just putting enough distance between them that his hands slip off her waist. She turns and pushes her hair out of the way, revealing the zipper on the back of her dress. She looks at him over her shoulder her request silent as their eyes meet, and he nods, closing the gap between them as he reaches for the zipper, gentle as he tugs it downwards, unable to tear his eyes off of her pale skin as it gets revealed to him.

Emily closes her eyes, her breath catching in her chest as she feels his skip over her exposed skin, the warmth of his hands so close and yet so far as he pulls the zip all the way down. Then he touches her, his hands gentle as his knuckles skim across her whilst he pulls the material of her dress down her shoulders, leaning in to press a kiss to her shoulder blade as he does so.

She turns to look at him again, their eyes meeting as she lets the dress fall to the ground, revealing the matching dark green lingerie she’d bought for tonight, so determined that this would happen she’d thought to herself that she could just strip in front of him if it came to it. She feels pride and nerves mix in her belly as he looks her up and down, his eyes lingering ever so slightly on the scar on her abdomen. Silver skin that was as good as it would ever get that still hurt sometimes if she thought about it too much standing out beneath the lace material of her bra. She places her hand over the centre of the scar without meaning to, a reflex she didn’t know she had, whilst she starts to talk.

“I know it’s not-”

“No,” he says, cutting her off, closing the gap between them again as he places his hands on her bare waist, “You’re beautiful,” he says, leaning in to kiss her, his lips briefly against hers before he moves to her cheek, then her jaw, before travelling back to her lips, “So fucking beautiful.”

She pulls him in for a kiss, a fierceness to it that had been missing since he put a stop to them making out on the couch, and she groans as she presses herself against him, the scratch of his shirt, of his pants, against her setting her on edge. He hauls her closer, lifting her up so quickly she squeals, her arms tight around his shoulders and her legs around his hips. His hands are on her back, securing her in place as he walks them the short distance to the bed.

She doesn’t break the kiss as he lays her down on the bed, her hands grasping at his shirt collar as she holds him close. She pulls back when oxygen becomes an issue, her vision already blurring at the edges, and she rests her forehead against his, smiling when she realises the awkward position he was half standing in as he hovered over her in the bed.

“You’re wearing entirely too many clothes,” she breathes out, her voice not sounding like her own, and he nods in response, stamping another kiss against her lips before he pulls back.

He makes quick work of undressing himself and she presses her thighs together as she watches him, desperate for some relief as she finally sees what she’d been imagining for weeks. For years if she was honest with herself. She swallows thickly when he steps out of his pants and boxers in one go, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she watches him spring free.

“Definitely nothing to be embarrassed about,” she mutters, winking at him when he raises an eyebrow at her, any of his previous shyness he’d felt left in her living room. She giggles, something she’d later deny, and goes quiet again as he removes his shirt, the material rumbled by her attention falling to the floor with the rest of their clothes.

She takes a moment to look at the scars she’d spent years imagining, taking in the varying thickness of them, the distribution that would seem random if you didn’t know any better.

“I know they’re not-”

“No,” she says, cutting him off, repeating the interaction they’d had only minutes ago, one of the many ways they were similar, one of the many reasons she thought they were right for each other, making itself known. She reaches out a hand for him and he walks over, lowering himself onto the bed over her, “You’re beautiful,” she says, smiling softly as she runs her fingers through his hair, kissing his cheek and then the corner of his mouth, “So fucking beautiful.”

He kisses her fiercely, his tongue swiping through her mouth in a way that steals any further conversation from her lungs. She tightens her fingers in his hair and pushes her hips up into his, letting her thighs drift apart so he can lay in the cradle of them. He hides a growl in her skin as he pulls away from the kiss, licking and nipping at her neck as he works his way down her throat and to her collarbone.

She lifts herself up just enough for his hand to sneak underneath her. He deftly undoes her bra in one attempt and he sits up long enough to pull it off of her, throwing it somewhere over his shoulder into her room. He mutters against her skin as he explores it, words of appreciation lost against her as he sucks a bruise next to the brand mark he’d only ever read about before.

By the time he’s done, she’s writhing beneath him, her fingers so tight in his hair she thinks she might rip some of it out as she holds him against her breasts, her nipples sore and aching for more of the attention he’d paid them.

She fights her need to take over, the desire to push him onto the mattress and mount him, because she knows he needs this, he needs to take her apart slowly, to prove to himself something she already knew. So she lays there, lets him kiss down her abdomen, pausing to pay special attention to her scar, his lips and tongue against skin she doesn’t have full sensation in. She can feel it building in her stomach, a spark she knows will soon catch fire, and her condensed sigh turns into a moan as he licks her through her underwear. She looks up at him, resting on her elbows as their eyes meet and she bites her lip as he does it again, taking the opportunity to smell her before he pulls her underwear down her legs, his hands immediately pressing her thighs further apart as he dives back in.

He groans at the taste of her, at the feel of her thighs tensing in his hands, and he looks up, their eyes meeting again as he continues to lick through her, making note of what draws sounds of her that he knows he’ll never tire of hearing. She looks wrecked, her eyes almost blown black from desire, and he feels proud he’s the one to do this to her, that he’s the one who has done this when he’s barely touched her. He removes one of his hands from her thigh and slips one finger and then another into her, curling them in what he knows is just the right way when a guttural sound escapes her.

“Fuck, yes,” she groans, her eyes drifting closed for a moment before she opens them again, wanting to maintain eye contact with him, the intensity of it pushing her closer and closer to the edge, “Just like that baby, don’t stop, please.”

He builds her up, his tongue insistent on her clit as he pumps his fingers in and out of her, her moans and the way she was begging for more, her words getting more and more breathless spurring him on. They only break eye contact when she comes, her head thrown back as she clenches around him, her thighs shaking around his head. Her elbows give way underneath her and she feels the bed dip next to her as he lays over her again, his hand next to her head as he’s careful not to squash her.

“You okay?”

She opens her eyes and nods, finding herself incapable of being irritated at the self-satisfied grin on his face before she pulls him in for a kiss, tasting herself on his tongue.

“More than okay,” she mutters against his lips, “Sit up by the headboard.”

He nods, kissing her once more before he does what she’s asked. She moves with him, her limbs still a little shaky as she crawls up the bed, sitting next to him once he’s settled. She gets on her knees and kisses him quickly before she pulls back, reaching between his legs and pumping him up and down a few times, the groan he lets out music to her ears. She leans down and licks the tip of him, pressing her thighs together again, already needing more relief, when he thrusts up towards her at the slightest of touches.

“Sweetheart-”

“I want to,” she says, assuring him before he can say what she knows he’s going to say, the look in his eyes almost feral, “I want to,” she repeats, smiling at him before she leans down again, taking him in her mouth this time, one of her hands at his base, still slowly pumping him, and the other on his thigh to keep her balance. Aaron groans, one of his hands wrapping itself into her hair, holding her in place as he once again thrusts involuntarily. It makes him hit the back of her throat and causes her to gag, something that briefly worries him until she carries on, seemingly spurred on by his enjoyment of it.

“You’re so fucking good at that,” he says, watching as she bobs up and down on him, moaning around him at the praise, “So good.”

He feels himself getting closer, so he stops her, the hand in her hair encouraging her upwards, and she frowns as she looks at him, wiping her mouth as he pulls her closer.

“I was enjoying myself,” she says as he encourages her onto his lap, her complaint turning into a moan as he notches against her, making her toll her hips over him again.

“I was too,” he assures her, the soft way he kisses her at odds with the desperation in his grip on her hips, enough to make her know she’ll have bruises in the morning, “But thats not how I want things to end tonight.”

She nods and leans in to kiss him, biting at his lip as she pulls back, “Next time then.”

He smiles and pushes her hair behind her head, “Next time.”

She reaches between them and lines him up with her. She presses her forehead into his as she sinks down onto him, her moan catching in her chest at the stretch, the pleasant burn she knew she’d feel the moment she first felt him get hard beneath her.

“Fuck,” he says, his breath stolen from him at the feel of her around him, the tight heat that far surpassed anything he’d imagined whenever he thought about doing this with her. He bands his arms tight around her back, his forehead still against hers, “You feel so good.”

“You too,” she replies, clenching around him as she tries to encourage him to move, “So good.”

He thrusts up into her and she rolls her hips, the two of them quickly finding a rhythm, an ease to it that makes her forget this is their first time doing this. She gets lost in it, in him, letting herself memorise the feel of him, all of the ways they were connected. Cataloguing every single detail of what she knew would be her last first time.

She feels the spark in her belly again, her orgasm building quickly, her body so overwhelmed by everything she was feeling physically and emotionally. She cups his cheek and kisses him, “Close.”

“Me too,” he says, feeling himself lose his rhythm. He reaches between them and rubs at her clit, grunting when she clenches around him again, her hips getting faster and faster as she tumbles over the edge, her teeth sinking into his shoulder as he comes. He feels a familiar tightening in his gut, a sensation that had for so long been something he’d only felt in the shower, his own fist on his skin rougher than hers had been, and he grunts, “Where?”

“In me,” she replies, her voice ragged, as she places a hand on each of his cheeks, holding his head in place as she says it again, her lips soft against his, “In me, please.”

He buries his face against her collarbone as he comes, finding solace in the part of her he knows will become one of his favourites. The hollow of skin sure to drive him crazy every time he caught a peek of it across a conference room now he knew how it tasted.

They take a moment as they come down from their highs, exchanging soft kisses before she climbs off of him, both of them lying down on the bed next to each other.

“If that’s you letting me down,” she says, desperately trying to catch her breath as she turns her head to look at him, “You can let me down as often as you want.”

Aaron chuckles and pulls her towards him, his lips against the top of her head as she immediately curls around his side, “I might let you down in the shower if you give me thirty minutes.”

She hides her smile in his chest and looks up at him, catching his chin so she can pull him in for a kiss, “I…I love you.

She doesn’t know she’s going to say it until she has, the words hanging between them for the longest second of her life before he smiles, kissing her fiercely as he rolls them onto the bed, pressing her back into the mattress, stealing away her anxiety and her breath in equal measure.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice husky as he kisses her again, “I love you so much.”

Her response is lost as he kisses down her throat and shifts down her body. She raises an eyebrow at him as she half sits up, watching as he pushes her thighs apart, “What happened to 30 minutes?”

He smiles devilishly at her, “I need 30 minutes,” he says, dropping a kiss to her belly, “You don’t.”

Her eyes roll back as he continues to move downwards, and she sighs contentedly.

Dating him truly was everything she wanted it to be.

-x-

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7-wonders · 2 years ago

Text

Our Very Own Greek Tragedy (Pt. 1 of 2)

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: You love Morpheus, and Morpheus loves you. You're the happiest that you've ever been in your life, and your love's intention to propose to you is just the icing on top of the cake.

Too bad you don't remember any of this when you wake up.

Or, yes this is based on that post that I made about Reader and Morpheus being in a relationship in the Dreaming but then you don't remember your dreams when you wake up.

Word Count: 5.9k

Notes: First off, a huge thank you to @writethrough for reading this over and editing it for me. I had spent so much time on it that none of it made sense anymore and I'm SO thankful to you for offering to help me out. Seriously, I cannot thank you enough.

This is part one of a two-shot! I want to say that now bc this is so angsty, and I don't want anybody to think that I'm leaving things as they are in this fic. There will be more, and it is being written. Don't worry.

Part Two of Two

The village that lies to the east of Dream’s palace is quaint and fairy tale-esque with the cottages lining a cobblestoned street, a small market, and the general whimsy that comes with places such as this. It’s a village that you take your time meandering through, saying hello to every member of the dreamfolk that you come across (something they take great delight in), and enjoying yourself and the gift of lucidity in the Dreaming. Today, though, you’re nearly running through the village with one mission in mind: making it to Fiddler’s Green as quickly as possible.

Morpheus had left a note for you tucked into the book you were reading in the library, instructing you to meet him, and after not seeing him for a few days, you’re almost desperate to find him now. You wonder what people would say if they knew that the brooding King of Dreams and Nightmares that’s forever dressed in all-black is a romantic at heart, but it also doesn’t matter what they would say–you love it.

Fiddler’s Green is just as beautiful as always with grass swaying gently in the breeze and all manner of plant and animal life inhabiting it. It’s as if every picturesque meadow has been rolled up into one, and standing under a tree taking in his masterpiece is your favorite work of art. Though he claims he doesn’t have a favorite area of the Dreaming, that he loves every part of his realm equally, you know that Dream of the Endless is especially fond of Fiddler’s Green.

“Morpheus!” He turns around when you call his name, even though you know he sensed you the moment you arrived here. Again–he’s the most romantic sap you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

You feel almost ridiculous as you run towards him, like some left-behind lover whose soldier has returned from war. But that’s how Morpheus, and the act of loving him, makes you feel–like you’re living every great love affair and love story all wrapped into one. Even though it’s been mere days, you missed him.

Morpheus is already waiting for you with arms open, and you throw yourself into his embrace hard enough to send you both onto the lush grass. Considering Morpheus is strong enough to not even move when you collide with him—having the preternatural strength all beings that should not exist have—you think he just enjoys the feeling of collapsing into an undignified heap with you. Somehow, even in the blur of a few seconds, he’s managed to maneuver your positions so you’re under him when it should most definitely be the other way around.

You certainly won’t complain about this.

As you stare up at Morpheus, his head haloed by the rays of the sun, you can’t help but think that he looks ethereal. He’s always unfairly beautiful–it comes with the territory of being Endless, of being unable to be fully contained in a regular human body. Still, looking upon him today feels almost too much to bear, like you’re staring straight into the sun instead of just seeing the edges of it. You would gladly burn your eyes beyond repair if this was the last thing you were to see.

“Hi.” You smile at him radiantly before leaning up and kissing him. Everything feels so heightened in the Dreaming, especially emotions. You can’t just be happy here. No, it’s happiness that feels incandescent. Not that you’re complaining, of course.

His hand comes to cup your face, and you nuzzle your cheek into it. “Hello.”

There’s so much you want to say to him, but it all feels too overwhelming to even attempt to verbalize. Instead, you settle on, “I missed you.”

“As I have missed you.” The stars in his dark eyes sparkle with mirth. “You have not been sleeping properly.”

Your ears grow hot; you should have known better than to assume Morpheus wouldn’t bring this up. “I have a good reason though.”

He raises an eyebrow, daring you to try him. “Oh?”

“I’ve been busy?”

Morpheus looks entirely unimpressed at this, but you had to try.

“Listen, it’s hard for me to properly relax when I’m busy and I know that I have stuff that needs to get done!”

“You could have called upon me. I would have granted you rest.”

“Y’know, contrary to popular belief, I was able to take care of myself during rough patches prior to meeting you.”

“How you ever survived is beyond me,” he says dryly, a small chuckle forming deep in his chest when you smack at his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t ask you to leave your realm for something as stupid as me not falling asleep at a reasonable hour.”

“Nothing involving you is ever,” he makes a face because he hates cursing, finds it crude, but he’s trying to get a point across here, “‘stupid’.”

“It’s very sweet of you to offer,” you lean up in order to kiss him again, the urge becoming too strong to resist, “but I’m able to get through a couple of restless nights without you.”

The conversation comes to a stop as words are replaced with kisses. It’s only been a couple of days, but you both feel the need to reacquaint yourselves with the other’s body. Morpheus is extremely gifted with words, and that doesn’t stop when his mouth is otherwise occupied–when he touches you, he writes all the poetry he wishes to say along the surface of your skin. Long after the sensation of his fingers on your skin has faded, you’ll still feel, see, his declarations of love like an invisible tattoo.

Morpheus finally pulls his lips away from yours, making you whine as you chase after the kisses you’re being unjustly deprived of. He doesn’t move too far away, thankfully, and rests his forehead on yours.

“I believe I have a better solution to you not finding enough rest to visit me.”

“Yeah?” You’re intrigued now. “And what’s that?”

“You could simply stay here. With me.”

“While I would love nothing more than to spend both my day and my night with you, I have responsibilities that I have to, y’know, be responsible for. Besides, isn’t it you who always says that I ‘can’t live the entirety of my life in the Dreaming when the Waking is awaiting’?” You try to deepen your voice in an attempt to mock him, but it only serves to make a fond smile appear on his face.

“I have said that, but because you have always been a mere visitor to my realm.” He sits up, bringing you along with him, and holds both of your hands in his. “What if we made your residency here permanent?”

“What?”

You know what he means, but it’s a little difficult for you to wrap your brain around. You’ve discussed subjects such as marriage before, but only ever in the abstract. Never has he been so clear with his wants as he is right now.

“You want me to live here?” You were going to ask if he wants you to move in with him, but there’s a pretty big difference between moving into an apartment with someone and moving to the realm that one rules over. “With you?”

Morpheus nods. “You should be aware, though, that I am a selfish being. Were you to say yes to me, I would want it all.”

“And what is it that you want?” A smile plays at your lips, and you try desperately to hide it and act as cool and unbothered as he looks. It’s surely not working, but you at least feel like you’re holding your cards close to your chest in a situation where you’re about to burst.

“Is it really not obvious? My love, I want you. As my wife, as the queen of my realm, as my lover and best friend and companion. And in return, you would have it all as well. Everything that I have, everything that I am, would be yours—has been yours for a long time. I simply did not know it was you that I was waiting for.”

You put a hand over your mouth to hide the huge grin you’re now sporting. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“No. When I formally ask you, it shall be an occasion befitting what you deserve for a proposal. Consider this…me speaking my intention to soon ask you for your hand.”

“Can I give you my answer now?” You can’t not tell him your answer–you think you’ll burst if you have to keep it to yourself.

“You may, but I will still ask you when the time comes.”

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” You kiss a different part of his face after every ‘yes’, finally kissing his lips. “I’ll marry you, and I’ll–I’ll be your queen. Whatever you want. You say you’re mine, but I’m just as wholly and completely yours. I always have been, and I always will be.”

Never have you seen Morpheus fully smile before. You consider yourself lucky to see his lips just barely quirk up in a fond smirk–sometimes he will have an actual smile, but it’s always barely there, and one needs to know what to look for when he does. Now, he grins at you, and you see why his smiles are so rare. If you thought his mere countenance rivaled the sun, his smile could put a damn supernova to shame.

When you throw yourself at him for the second time, Dream has the foresight to transport both of you to his chambers in a whirlwind of sand before your passion fully envelops you; you and a very abashed Dream Lord have taken more than enough verbal scoldings from Gilbert, who has physically manifested into his human form to admonish you against coupling at Fiddler’s Green. (You’re still ashamed when you recall the time where he said, “I am happy for you both, truly, but I must beg of you to please keep your affections to a—I believe it is called PG-13 rating—while you are here.”)

It’s a good thing that he does, because it feels impossible to keep your hands off of each other as your surroundings melt away to nothing. All there is, all you need, is you and Morpheus and this moment. The world could be burning to ash around you and you wouldn’t care, so long as Morpheus was touching you the way that he is.

You used to never understand why books and other forms of media referred to sex as “making love”. It sounded ridiculous, in your opinion; sex is…sex. Something carnal and pleasurable. If anything, you thought it should be called “making pleasure” instead. But then you met Morpheus, and suddenly it all made sense. Sexual intimacy with him is just a physical manifestation of the love you share—a love so potent it bubbles over your ability to contain it.

And oh, does that love manifest most pleasurably when you’re in bed with the King of Dreams and Nightmares. It makes your head spin just how devoted Morpheus is to you. In all situations, really, but especially in this one. It’s his realm you’re in, and he’s the one that has been mistaken for a god or deity by more cultures than can be named. He’s more powerful than any god that has ever existed or will ever exist, and yet he worships you as if you’re the one who’s holy. He would lay himself bare at your altar as a willing sacrifice, and the realization leaves you breathless. (As well as the way he’s moving his hips–that leaves you breathless, too)

Later, you’re attempting to recover your brain cells as Morpheus has you in his embrace, listening to your breathing as it finally evens out

“Do you think you’ll ever come to visit me? In the Waking?”

It’s a conversation you’ve had many times before, with Morpheus’s answer always remaining the same: no. He’s explained to you that it’s not that he doesn’t want to see you, it’s that he’s not sure if there still remains a threat in the Waking. Though you’ll never say it to him, you think he’s avoiding his trauma instead of dealing with it head-on.

“Perhaps,” Morpheus says, “if Lucienne can find out what became of the Magdalene Grimoire and the Order of Ancient Mysteries.”

“I’d protect you, you know.”

“You would?”

“Mhm. I’m scrappy.” You hold your fists up to illustrate this.

Instead of fearing your fighting prowess, Morpheus grabs one of your fists and kisses each knuckle. “Yes, you look the part.”

“I get the feeling that you’re not taking me very seriously.”

“How ever did you gather such an impression?” He smirks as he says it, your cheeky love, before brushing his thumb over your ring finger. “I confess that I’m not very familiar with the concept of wedding rings, but I do look forward to creating one for you to wear.”

“Will you wear one, too? After all, if you get to let everyone know that I’m taken, I want the same for you.”

He tries to act unaffected by your words, but you’ve known and loved him long enough to see the faintest tinge of pink on his cheeks that lets you know you’ve gotten to him. You’re about to tease him when your vision tilts for a moment before becoming fuzzy around the edges, and you frown in disappointment when you realize the familiar feeling: you’re waking up.

Morpheus senses it too, holding onto you a bit tighter as if this can keep you tethered to his realm. Unfortunately, he’s given the advice about you not living your life in the Dreaming more than you could count. To not follow it would make him a hypocrite. More often lately, it seems as though he’s regretting those words–hence him voicing his intention to propose to you.

You laugh at the obvious displeasure on his face. “Better get on that proposal sooner rather than later, huh?”

Though he scowls, he refuses to let you leave without a kiss. “Until we meet again, darling mine,” he says, his words echoing as you’re pulled back to the Waking.

•••

Whoever invented alarms must have been a sadist; there’s no other reason for them to be so loud (certainly not to be loud enough to actually wake you up). You groan at the harsh sound that repeats over and over, refusing to open your eyes as you fumble a hand along your nightstand until you feel the glass surface of your phone. Hitting it harshly a couple of times, you finally manage to turn it off and bask in the sudden, blissful silence of your room.

As you yawn and rub at your eyes, slowly stretching your limbs and procrastinating actually getting up, you try to hold onto the fleeting fragments of your dreams before they’re gone for good. You’ve never remembered the things you dream about; it’s always random glimpses, if that. More often than not, the dream completely fades by the time you’ve gotten out of bed.

Though you can’t remember your dreams, you do know that, lately, they must be rather nice. With the way you’re consistently left with residual contentment and happiness, it’s impossible that you’ve dreamt about anything not completely and totally wonderful.

What you do remember, at least before you get out of bed, are certain feelings. Before consciousness invades and wipes the slate clean to prepare you for the day ahead, there’s flashes of what you might have dreamt of. The feeling of soft skin under your fingertips, or the way the sun shines on an unruly mop of black hair. Your head in someone’s lap, and the brush of lips against yours.

You really wish you could remember those dreams.

When enough time has passed that your second alarm goes off, you grab your phone this time instead of shutting the alarm off. Though it’s certainly not the healthiest morning routine, you’ve gotten into the habit of scrolling through your phone until you’re nearly rushing to make it out the door on time. With this self-awareness in mind, you unplug your phone from your charger and roll onto your other side to lazily scroll through your notifications and apps.

Instagram and Snapchat stories show that a surprising number of people you’re acquainted with go out on weeknights, which makes you a little envious of their stamina and fortitude. Twitter hasn’t sunk like the Titanic yet–you’re not sure if you’re happy or sad about this. The couple of TikToks your friends have sent make you exhale harshly through your nose in a lazy laugh, and you respond with the appropriate emojis. There’s a few matches on Tinder and Bumble you should probably respond to, but you’re not feeling very into them at the moment (they don’t have the dark hair, alabaster complexion, and starry eyes that you’re unknowingly looking for), so you ignore the messages for now.

Finally, when you can’t put off getting out of bed any longer, you throw the covers off of you and rush through the rest of your morning routine. Brushing your teeth, making your hair look some semblance of tamed, grabbing whatever clothes are sitting on top of the basket of clean laundry you still haven’t folded, snagging something quick for breakfast, and predictably, rushing out the door. Just another boring, mundane day in your boring, mundane life.

•••

Dream of the Endless stands across the street from a small coffee shop, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. He knows why he’s so nervous, of course. Though he can claim to his trusted emissary that he’s wary of any fringe members of Burgess’s cult, it’s actually because he’s seeing you for the first time in the Waking world. In your world.

This would be so much easier in the Dreaming. In the Dreaming, he feels entirely at ease; after all, he is the Dreaming, and the Dreaming is him. But now, in a world in which he wants no part of, he feels entirely lost and out of his element.

For over 100 years, he had remained locked up in a glass prison underground. An entire century had passed by, one where he had no idea of anything that occurred in this world or any other. Fates’ sake, he hadn’t even been aware of the Second World War until he had escaped, what with Fawney Rig being too far away from any locations of significance to be hit during the Blitz, and Morpheus doing his best to tune out any of the drivel from the guards trying to pass the time.

Morpheus is still trying to get “up to speed,” so to say, in the current era. Something he is failing miserably at, if Matthew is to be believed. All of this to say, he’s regretting his spur-of-the-moment decision to visit (well, as spur-of-the-moment as a Dream Lord who is a stickler for rules can get), and he’s almost tempted to put this whole surprise to rest and wait until you arrive in the Dreaming later. It is a surprise, which means you have no idea he’s been planning this.

Those closest to him (read: Lucienne and Matthew, the only two with the balls to actually try in the first place) expressed their concern for this idea of his. After all, “Morpheus” and “surprise” are not two words that often go together. But Hob Gadling, his dear immortal human friend, had so liked it when Morpheus made an unexpected appearance that he was sure that surprise visits from those they care for must be something all humans enjoy. Besides, it’s not as if you haven’t specifically requested for him to come and see you in the Waking.

Though his mind is, and has been, made up, a certain raven holds a grudge and decides that, for once, he’s going to attempt to be the voice of reason instead of the voice of chaos. Looking up at him from where he stands on the ground next to Dream’s boot, Matthew says, “Look, I’m just saying! What if she’s not happy to see you?”

“While your concern is appreciated, Matthew, it is unwarranted. I can assure you that we last parted only because we were forced to.”

If Matthew could roll his eyes, Dream imagines that’s what he would be doing right now. “Yuck, got it. Please don’t continue with that. But, like, I thought we were chill the last time that I saw her! And then today you’ve got me running messages so I figured I’d stop and say hi, and she just ignores me when she sees me?” He scoffs in disbelief. “No, she didn’t just ignore me. She looked at me like I was a nuisance!”

“Perhaps she had you mistaken for another raven.” Morpheus’s lips twitch as he tries his hardest not to smirk at Matthew’s outrage.

“Yeah, one of the other talking ravens she knows.”

Up until now, Morpheus was unaware that such a small being could hold so much disgruntlement. It almost makes him relax. Almost.

But then he makes the mistake of seeking you out through the windows. When he finds you, the breath he doesn’t need catches in his throat.

His beloved. His soon-to-be betrothed. His future wife and queen.

You’re sitting at one of the tables against the large window, head down as you read without a care in the world. The hand not holding your book open is loosely wrapped around a paper cup sitting on the table. Late afternoon sun bathes you in warmth, and Morpheus is struck by the image you make. Oh, the beautiful dreams he could create with you as his muse (yes, he’s aware of the irony, seeing that he was married to an actual Muse (capitalized) at one time). Suddenly, Morpheus understands what you mean when you tell him he has such a ‘kingly air’ in the Dreaming. It’s because he’s in his element, somewhere he’s familiar with. Here, in the Waking, you look much the same.

Any thoughts of leaving and returning to the sanctity of his realm fled his mind the moment he saw you. Morpheus steps off of the curb to make it across the street, and it’s only Matthew’s panicked squawking and his jerking on his coat with his beak that keeps him from getting hit by a car. Right, traffic rules are much different now than they were before his imprisonment. For one, cars can go above 20 miles per hour.

“Try not to get yourself killed, lover boy.”

Morpheus glares at his raven, but finally nods once. “Stay here.”

This time, he steps onto the road after making sure there are no vehicles coming his way.

A small bell chimes above him as he opens the door of the coffee shop. Morpheus supposes this shop is the same as all others, but he hasn’t had the opportunity to experience such novelties yet, so he takes a moment to appreciate the relaxing atmosphere and the aroma of coffee beans in the air. Though he doesn’t need human food or drink to survive, he can still appreciate such things.

Finally, finally, Morpheus approaches the table you’re seated at with his hands shoved deeply into his coat pockets. You don’t look up at him, too lost in your own world, and he takes a moment to admire you before he says, “Is this seat taken?”

When you look up at him, he’s expecting you to jump up and hug him, as you do almost every time you see him (though he’s never been especially fond of hugs, he’s learning to quite like them when they come from you). At the very least, he’s expecting you to grace him with the smile he adores so much.

What he’s not expecting is what he gets, which is the complete lack of recognition in your eyes and the small, awkward smile you give him. The type of smile reserved for strangers, or people one doesn’t very much like. A cold chill runs down his spine, and he tries to push away the dread that comes along with it.

“No, I guess not,” you say begrudgingly.

You’re simply teasing him, Morpheus attempts to reassure himself as he sits down across from you. In a couple of seconds you’ll break and laugh at him for getting so worried, and everything will be alright. Convinced of this, and determined to make you break sooner rather than later, he places his hands on the table, knowing how much you love to hold hands with him.

Morpheus realizes something is wrong when you jerk your own hands away from him, sliding them into your lap protectively. Your gaze becomes guarded, and he can see the way you straighten up to try and give off an aura that you are not to be trifled with. Scrappy indeed, he thinks dryly as he tries not to immediately panic.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” you ask.

Okay, now he’s panicking. Morpheus always knows when he’s being lied to, but especially when it’s a mortal lying to him. As he looks at you, he can sense none of that deception within you. You genuinely do not recognize him, and that hurts so much worse than if this were a joke taken too far.

You’re staring at him expectantly, and Morpheus realizes you’re still waiting for an answer from him. “I–” he stutters uncharacteristically, clearing his throat before trying again. “I…apologize. It appears I have mistaken you for someone else.”

The tension you held at the potential of someone seeking to do you harm melts from your body, and your smile returns. “Ah. Sorry I’m not that person.”

“No, the fault lies with me.”

His voice is trembling, and he has to force the words out of him. This visit has gone so terribly wrong, and Morpheus needs to abscond before his emotions tear this building apart. So he stands, though it pains him to do so, and gives you a polite nod and a, “Good day to you,” before stumbling (well, stumbling as much as an Endless can) out of the coffee shop.

Matthew, who had been sitting on a bench down the street enjoying pieces of popcorn left behind, looks up at Dream in alarm when he sees the tears building in his eyes. That’s always been the one flaw of this human body–how easily tears come. At least this time, they’re warranted.

“Hey, Boss, what happened?” Matthew asks, abandoning his snack to land on Dream’s shoulder. “You didn’t…oh no, you broke up, didn’t you?”

He shakes his head. If only it were that simple. “No. She did not recognize me. I was a mere stranger, interrupting her day.”

“What? How is that even possible?”

“I do not know.”

He’s completely and utterly lost right now, and wouldn’t even mind his sister throwing a loaf of bread at him as she did the last time he felt this lost. If it would give him the same sense of clarity as that visit with dear sister Death had, then he would take it. But instead, he takes one last look at you, back to reading your book, before fleeing to sulk in the Dreaming and wonder how it all went wrong.

•••

The weird interaction you had earlier sticks with you as you get ready for bed. It had just been so odd, how sure this man was that you were whoever he assumed you to be. Though you felt bad for his obvious disappointment when he learned otherwise, you were glad to be rid of his presence after he briskly left the café. Sure, he was attractive (like, otherworldly, would-make-a-model-burst-into-jealous-tears attractive), but the intensity he carried with him…well, it scared you a little bit.

Apparently, though, it didn’t scare you enough to not think about him. There was just something about him that made him impossible to forget. You huff angrily, not wanting to think of the man with pitch black hair and starry blue eyes, but your brain seems to have other ideas as you try and fall asleep. No matter, because sleep thankfully comes quickly to you tonight, aided by a cup of tea that, while not your favorite, did give you the desired effect of actually falling asleep at a normal hour.

It’s when you find yourself in the Dreaming’s library, wondering if you’ll need to track Morpheus down today, when it hits you. The stranger at the café who you didn’t know at all was actually the love of your life…the love of your life that you didn’t recognize when he was standing right in front of you.

Why hadn’t you recognized him?

Your heart drops, and keeps falling, when you think about how upset Morpheus must be. This, in turn, makes you extremely upset as well. What the hell is going on right now? You need answers, and since you’re in the Dreaming, there’s only one person (well, two people, but that’s neither here nor there) that can give you some.

“Lucienne?” you call out, knowing she’ll appear sooner rather than later and that it’s no use to go looking for her.

Sure enough, she’s standing in front of you in a matter of seconds, wearing a purple overcoat and with her glasses perfectly polished. Seeing a friendly face such as hers would normally make you smile, but you’re too anxious right now to do such a thing.

“Where’s Morpheus right now?”

“His Lordship is in the throne room, conducting some research. May I–”

You’re already running out of the library before she can finish, calling out, “Thanks, Luc! Sorry!”

As you sprint along the hallways that you know as well as your own home now (but do you? would you remember them when you wake up?), you take note of the dreary weather outside and the rain rolling down the windows in fat beads. Morpheus once told you the realm’s weather was often dependent on his mood. If it was raining right now, then surely he’s upset. Worse, you’re the cause of it.

“Morpheus?” You seek him out the moment the heavy doors to the throne room open ahead of you. He’s sitting on his throne at the top of the long stairway, piles of books haphazardly scattered around him. He’s been crying, you can tell, which makes the tears you’ve been holding back spill forth. “Oh, Dream.”

Rather than take the stairs down to you, Morpheus simply magics himself in front of you as you cry at how heartbroken he looks. Wordlessly, he hugs you. If this weren’t such a dire situation, you’d be thrilled he took the initiative for once.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t–Why didn’t I recognize you? I’m sorry, I wasn’t doing that on purpose.”

“Do not apologize. Please, for you have nothing to apologize for,” he soothes.

“Yeah, I do.” You pull away from his hold to look at him. “I asked you to come and visit me, and you were nice enough to actually plan to surprise me, all for me to not even know you. You must have been crushed.”

“It was not your fault.” His eyes grow a bit distant as he thinks for a moment. “I should have known, actually. Matthew was very upset that you ignored him, and believed that you did not care for him any longer.”

That memory suddenly comes back to you, of a raven who landed in your path and refused to move no matter how harshly you shooed him away, and you groan. “Oh no! Great, now I have to apologize to him too.”

“There will be no apologizing for anything from you.” His tone of voice leaves no room for argument, so you simply nod. You’ll just slip Matthew a bagel when Morpheus isn’t paying attention.

“Why can I not remember you?”

“I confess that I do not know.” He reluctantly releases you from the warmth of his arms, only so he can hold his hand out to you. “Come.”

When you grab his hand, you feel the whooshing of sand around you before you find yourself with him in the library. Inexplicably, the books he had been reading are sitting on a table next to the plush reading chairs. You’ve long since learned not to question “how” or “why” when in the Dreaming.

“Lucienne has graciously offered her services in helping me discover why you cannot remember the Dreaming, and how we can remedy that,” he explains, taking a seat. You go to sit next to him, only for him to pull you into his lap instead. You should have known better than to sit away from your touch-starved Endless. “I have a couple of contacts in the Waking as well, who may be able to help should we not find answers here.”

You’re touched, but your natural reaction is to joke. “All this for little old me?”

“You will find that there is nothing that I would not do for you, beloved.”

It’s such a simple phrase, uttered quickly before Morpheus picks up the book he had been reading and begins to peruse again. Yet, coming from him, it sounds like the sweetest music, sweet enough to have your heart thumping against your rib cage. You know Morpheus can feel it, because he always does, so you tamp down the embarrassment and grab a book of your own.

If the evening wasn’t spent searching for why you can’t remember the Dreaming, this would be a pleasant way to pass the time with your lover. The rain has slowed from a torrential downpour to a regular rainstorm, making the library feel cozy and peaceful. It’s quiet, save for turning pages and the occasional note from you or Morpheus. Best of all, you get to simply be with Morpheus, with no expectations for either of you.

You almost forget the reason you’re here until your vision tilts familiarly and your body feels heavy. Sitting up, you grab onto Morpheus’s coat in a last-ditch effort to keep yourself in the Dreaming as panic consumes you.

“No, don’t make me wake up,” you plead, even though he can’t do anything about it. “Please, I don’t want to forget you again.”

“Shh,” he attempts to soothe. “It will all be alright. You will wake up with no memory of this, and go about your day, and when you come back to me, I will have found a way for you to remember your time here. I swear to you that I will find a way.”

He’s sincere in his promises, you know that, but none of it helps the animal terror that comes with knowing you’re going to forget. You try to voice this, but can only continue to repeat, “No, no, no, it’s–”

You shoot up in bed, one hand on your heaving chest as your eyes dart wildly around the room for some perceived threat. Once you become aware enough to realize it was simply a nightmare, you groan and rub the tear tracks (when did you start crying?) from your face. After so many nights of wonderful dreams, you forgot how terrible nightmares can be.

It’s times like these where you’re glad you don’t remember what it was about.

You’re tempted to go back to sleep so you can wake up again on a better note, but your alarm, that old enemy, chooses that moment to go off. Rolling your eyes, you huff before shutting it off and reluctantly getting out of bed to start your morning routine. Brushing your teeth, making your hair look some semblance of tamed, grabbing whatever clothes are sitting on top of the basket of clean laundry you still haven’t folded, snagging something quick for breakfast, and predictably, rushing out the door.

Just another boring, mundane day in your boring, mundane life.

•••

Tag list of those who asked to be tagged on the original post (let me know if you'd like to be tagged in Part Two!): @igotanidea @chocogoths @kiwistarfruit @crafygamerscrafts @aspenmushroom69

#morpheus #morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman imagine #the sandman

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chameleon66 · 10 months ago

Text

Laugh for Me!

Ships: Intrulogical (Logan x Remus)

Word count: 2785

Warnings: Censored swearing, Remus being Remus, mild angst, tickling, pranks, teasing (Let me know if I need to add anyhting)

Remus was unhinged in every way possible, good and bad. Part of the reasoning behind it was just who he was. I mean he is the personification of every morbid, sexual or intrusive thought that danced its way through Thomas’s head so no one could really blame him for being himself. But another part of it was because he enjoyed others' reactions to it, every reaction he got.

When Patton would scream in terror or when Virgil would hiss at him, it all filled him with glee. He loved observing the other sides reactions to his antics and figuring out what freaked them out and what didn’t freak them out.

But one reaction he did love getting from others was laughter, other’s laughing just made his heart figuratively explode in his chest. So after stewing on the fact that he enjoyed making other people laugh for a fraction of a second he created a new experiment and so began “Operation make every side laugh and figure out what makes them laugh so he can exploit it whenever necessary and also think of a shorter name for this operation.”

Surprisingly Virgil was the easiest one to figure out with minimal research, he laughed whenever Patton made a pun and Remus couldn’t tell at first if it was because it annoyed Logan when Patton made puns or if he actually liked them, so he would have to gather more data.

Luckily after some spying, he found that even when Logan wasn’t in the room when Patton made puns, the jokes always made Virgil laugh, quite honestly he was expecting something very different from ‘Charlie Frown’. But he wrote it down in his notes nonetheless as Virgil’s Hysterical Hacker (That's the name he came up with).

Patton was also elementary to figure out, as the happiest side he would laugh at a lot of things. At first Remus thought that Patton’s Hysterical Hacker would also be puns but it occurred to him Patton didn’t really laugh at puns, even if they weren’t made by himself but then Remus made a discovery.

One day as he went to the kitchen to fetch one of his Cock shaped popsicles from the fridge he found Patton sitting in the kitchen on the computer laughing like a hyena of helium, Remus almost had to be concerned if he was breathing or not.

When he asked Patton what was so funny he was shown a twenty minute compilation video of cat videos on youtube. Some cat’s fell into boxes and others played with balls of yarn but regardless it all made Patton squeal so Remus wrote ‘Cat videos’ down as Patton’s Hysterical Hacker.

Roman took a bit of investigating but as it turned out the answer was right in front of Remus' face, it was rooted in his dear twin brother’s love of Disney. One family love night it was Roman’s turn to choose the movie and he went with a Winnie the Pooh movie much to Remus’s, Janus’s and Logan’s displeasure.

Watching the movie was like folding socks level boring but then something caught Remus interest, after the gang tried to catch a ‘Backson’ all of them fell down a hole except for Piglet who then was challenged to find something to get them out of the hole with.

Piglet’s attempts were all stupid and fueled by miscommunication between Piglet and Rabbit. The scene wasn’t what caught Remus’s interest though it was Prince's not so charming reaction that got him listening.

Roman was rolling with laughter throughout the scene which led Remus’s to the ever so boring conclusion that Roman’s hysterical hacker was, family humor. Something that could be found in every Disney movie ever to exist.

Remus still wrote it down though and moved to the next side.

Janus was a challenge, despite having lived with him in the darkisde of the mindscape for most of his life, Janus never really went into hysterics, sure he’d chuckle but that was all Remus usually saw out of him.

But Remus did get an idea, Janus always seemed to be amused at other’s pain or displeasure like when Logan would get a papercut and Patton would insist on kissing it better or when Virgil’s pet spider Kat would escape his room and Patton would jump on the table and scream.

So as an experiment Remus poured a big helping of salt into Roman’s coffee one morning and when Roman began screaming of how it felt like he was ‘drinking the water of cold, unforgiving and salty seas’ Janus went into his deep villainous belly laugh at the scene. While Logan just rolled his eyes and Patton ran up to Roman all concerned like the father figment he was.

(Virgil was still asleep because he’s not a morning person)

That result said it all, Janus’s Hysterical hacker was another's pain/misfortune. Remus beamed as he wrote it down in his notes.

Hysterical Hackers

Emo widow — puns

Daddy — cat videos

Romano Cheese — family friendly humor

Lies and dulls — other’s pain

Logie bear —

But as Remus finished writing he came to a realization, there was one side left to figure out. His boyfriend. Logan.

You’d think that being his lover Remus could figure out his Hysterical Hacker with ease but now that Remus was thinking about it, he hadn’t really seen Logan laugh before. Maybe he had seen him chuckle once or twice but Remus couldn’t even recall a specific time he saw Logan do that.

That realization made Remus feel sad, He couldn’t remember a time his own boyfriend, the freaking light of his light, had laughed.

But that realization also made Remus more determined than ever to complete his research project. He'd make Logan laugh even if it was the last thing he would ever do.

It was time to get serious. Logan as the logical side didn’t spend time doodling on emotions or things like that so Remus had little to go off of. So that meant he’d need to experiment.

Remus cracked joke after joke around Logan day after day but came up empty handed each time.

Remus upped his pranking game on all of the other sides but each time Logan observed a prank happening he would only roll his eyes at the display.

Remus spied on Logan for hours on end but he got nothing even, when Logan was alone he wouldn’t laugh at anything.

Remus kept trying day after day to get Logan to laugh, he kept getting more and more desperate for it. It almost became like a craving to hear Logan laugh; it was starting to drive Remus insane. He just had to hear Logan laugh, he just had to!

After a full week, Remus had run out of patience so that meant he would need to get information straight from the source and not through spying, experiments or research.

“Logan, I need your help.” Remus rose up into Logan’s room with no warning and interrupted the rhythm of clattering keys of Logan’s computer.

Logan turned in his spinnable desk chair to face his boyfriend, Logan’s rise teemed with interest. They had collaborated on many different projects together and it only made sense really, they were a perfect pair for answering questions.

“Yes Remus, how may I be of assistance?” Logan asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Remus didn’t hesitate before he started explaining his predicament to Logan.

“So I started this research project a few weeks ago about what each of the sides hysterical hackers are.”

Logan’s head tilted to the side like a curious puppy’s would.

“Hysterical Hacker?”

“What makes each side laugh, like really laugh.” Remus contextualized

“Ok, please continue.”

“So after I figured out the other’s Hysterical Hackers and I moved on to yours but I couldn’t really find anything that makes you laugh even after I did experiments, observations, you know that sciency stuff you're supposed to do.”

Logan gave a hum of understanding before he got up from his desk chair before speaking again. “I must admit I don’t have much of a sense of humor.”

“Well I could tell that much.” Remus joked sarcastically but inside he was bursting with curiosity. He had come to find out what makes Logan laugh but it appeared that even Logan didn’t know.

“But if you wish, I can help you gather more data.” Logan offered and Remus didn’t hesitate before he responded.

“Yes, so where do we start Logie?”

“Firstly I’d like to hear what results you got with the other’s”

“Well P*ssys is family disney humor, papa bear’s is cat videos, Double dee’s is other pain and tickle me emo ‘s is pun of all things.”

Logan's face tinged with a blush and Remus wondered for a minute if it was something he said. Logan didn’t mind Remus’s colorful vocabulary and his usual reaction to it was an eyeroll, so what prompted the blushing?

Logan centered himself and pushed more words out. “I see, well then since everyone’s Hysterical Hacker is different, we can assume that mine is different too.”

“Lo lo are you ok, your face is all red?”

“I’m quite alright Remus.” Logan’s answer however did not satisfy Remus and he didn’t need the snake like lie detector to know Logan wasn’t telling him the truth. So Remus did the only Logical thing.

Remus ran forward full speed at Logan and tackled Logan down to the floor, sitting on his hips and hands pushing down on his belly to keep him down

“Re–Remus what are you doing?” Logan’s voice was up a few ocatives and the blush on his face got redder and spread across his face.

“You are going to tell me why you are all blushy or I will leave at the top of a broken ferris wheel until you confess!” Remus never made an empty threat and Logan knew this all too well.

“I’m fine–just get your hands off–off me!” Logan's voice also sounded a bit strained and Remus could help but wonder why. That’s when he noticed Logan’s belly trembling under his hands and before Remus could truly think it through he began skimming his fingers over Logan’s tummy.

Logan’s lips flattened and he bit down on his bottom lip which was enough for Remus to understand.

“Aww… is the nerd ticklish?” Remus asked in a baby voice that made Logan so flustered he couldn’t even get words out.

But that still answered Remus' question, Remus found a way to make Logan laugh and he’d say now was a pretty good time to exploit it.

Given Logan seemed to be able to hold in his laughter while Remus was tickling his tummy that meant it wasn’t his weak spot and that meant Remus would need to experiment some.

“Where are you ticklish Starlight?” Remus asked, pausing the movement of his hands for Logan to catch his breath and answer. Remus, being smart, also pulled both of Logan's hands above his head and put them both in his left hand freeing his right hand for tickling.

“I am not ticklish!” Logan insisted, which was the biggest lie Remus ever heard.

“Oh ok, so if I were to pinch your side then you wouldn’t react?” Remus' hand went to pinch Logan’s side and Logan’s mouth tightened around itself probably in an effort to not laugh.

“You need to laugh!” Remus stated. “I command you to laugh for me!” With that being said Remus started scribbling his nails into Logan’s side and then it was all over.

“Ahhhhhahahahahahah no no no REEhehehmush nohahahahahahaht there.” Logan’s laugh was so sweet and light and Remus became addicted to it almost instantly.

“No way Jose, now I need to find all of your tickle spots, so you make things easy and just tell me where your tickle spot is or I can tickle you everywhere until I find it.” Both of Remus’s options were not what Logan was hoping for but Remus was so adorable and maybe he would go easy on him if just told him.

All taken into consideration Logan got out in between laughs “Knees” and Remus did not need to told twice.

Remus let go of Logan’s hands and turned around and sat on Logan’s thighs. Remus' hands went onto Logan's knees and gave them each a squeeze, Logan let out a squeal and his leg began thrashing around, trying to escape.

“Someone’s got very ticklish knees.” Remus smirked at Logan as he began to trace circles around them which got Logan giggling. “But I don’t think your knees are what I’m looking for.”

“Wehehehehehell whahahahat are you lohohohahahaking for?” Logan’s speech was infested with giggles and it made the ever so stoic logical side look a little sillier.

“Your Hysterical Hacker of course!” Remus exclaimed, punctuating the sentence with a squeeze of Logan’s kneecap. “If you won’t laugh on your own, then I’ll make you.”

Well if Logan wasn’t flustered before, he most certainly was now. Remus stopped tickling his knees and Logan took the chance to catch his breath because he knew that Remus wasn’t done with him yet.

Remus carefully examined Logan trying to decide on where else to try tickling him. His sides and knees were certainly good spots but not the best spot clearly. Then Remus’s eyes fell on Logan’s feet which were still dressed in shoes and socks.

In all of the time Remus had spent spying on Logan he hadn’t really seen Logan take off his shoes much. Except when just before he went to bed.

Oh Remus was good.

Wasting no time Remus moved down and sat on Logan’s legs and began to untie the laces on Logan’s shoes, it didn’t take long for Logan to catch on to Remus' devious plan.

“No, no Remus! No, not there!” Logan tried pulling his legs out from Remus but with no success due to Remus’s weight being on top of him.

“Actually Lo lo you said you’d help me find your Hysterical Hacker and if you really want to help me then you’ll sit nice and still and let me experiment.” Remus’s voice had gone uncharacteristically flat as he talked to Logan and Logan found himself with no other options than just to sit there and wait.

Once Logan’s socks were off his feet Remus started Gently running his fingers down the arch of Logan’s foot and he was not expecting the reaction that he got.

“AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA *Snort* HAHAHAHA REHEHAHAHAH *Snort*”

Remus’s finger’s stopped and he looked back at Logan, who was bright red and now had a hand covering his mouth in embarrassment.

“Jesus f*cking christ Logan, did you just snort?” Remus asked in disbelief, were his ears playing tricks on him?

Logan looked away but nodded, Remus shocked expression turned into an ear splitting grin as he squealed to Logan. “Oh my f*ck that’s so adorkable!”

“No it’s not, it's embarrassing!” Logan argued, Remus's gears were now turning. Was this why Logan never laughed? Because he was embarrassed. Well wouldn’t do at all.

Remus grabbed Logan's foot again and began tickling the skin under his toes and that got Logan screaming.

“AAAHAHAHAHAHA *Snort* NHOHOHOHOHOHO *Snort* REHEHEHEHAHAHAMUHUHS.”

“Logan, you listen to me, and listen well!” Remus ordered to the laughing side beneath him. “Your laugh is amazing and you had better start laughing more often and if you don’t then I’ll tickle you until you pass out everyday, ok?”

“YEHEHEHEHAHAHAHSHSHSH OK JUHUHUHSTSTST STSTAHAHAP!”

Remus let go of Logan’s foot and got up off of him. Remus sat and watched his Boyfriend catch his breath and once he saw Logan lay limp on his bedroom floor he spoke to him.

“Hey, you alive?”

“Well no thanks to you.” Logan grumbled back to him.

“It was for science, my laughy Logie.” Remus insisted to Logan.

“Don’t call me that.” Logan though found himself giggling at the silly pet name.

“But it suits you so well.” Remus came down to Logan and gave him a kiss on the cheek which must have changed Logan’s mind because he didn’t argue back anymore.

“Well then I need to go update notes, I love you my laughy Logie.” Remus sunk down and rose back into his room to finish up his notes.

Hysterical Hackers

Emo widow — puns

Daddy — cat videos

Romano cheese — family friendly humor

Lies and dulls — other’s pain

Logie bear — tickling his sides, knees or feet (further research might be needed for my laughy Logie)

#random #remus sanders #sander sides #logan sanders #sanders sides tickles #sanders sides #ticklish!logan #sanders side fic #intrulogical #i love them #logan x remus #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #lee!logan

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sohychocochips · 4 months ago

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favorite fan — a triple s sohyun fanfic

image cr: pinterest

synopsis: you've always been a wav, since you can remeber and you've always had a huge crush on your bias, park sohyun, since you can remember

warning: im still a baby wav! so i don't know much about triple s and etc, still learning. but i saw there is only one fic abt sohyun here so i had to step up ♡♡ also, english is not my first language !!!! pls correct me if i type anything wrong !!!! thank youu ♡♡♡

dinamics: triple s idol sohyun x cute fan f!reader

info: so so much fluff and cute interactions + a little suggestive

start reading here:

you think you've never been that cheerful in your life, you're a fan of triple s since their debut and now you're gonna watch their first ever tour! isn't that cool? you lost a bit of your enthusiasm while waiting on the line tho, but you were happy your favorite group had so many fans supporting them. the stadium is full of people and you make sure that you ran enough to get a place close enough to see sohyun live well. you don't say it out loud, you think people are gonna find weird, even your friends, but you are romanticaly obsessed with sohyun. c'mon, who isn't !? but you're not obsessed in a weird way, you just love her so much and wants her to be so happy even if it's not if you. cause she would never choose a silly 18 years old to date, right? you didn't even know if she likes girls and you don't like assuming people's sexualities. while you distract yourself thinking how gorgeous she will be live, the concert starts. the intro was awesome! all 24 girls sing incredibly well live, and dance and rap well and of course are sooooo pretty. you can't take your eyes of sohyun, as always, and you didn't notice, but she noticed you, the only fan that was not recording. you know you're gonna miss the videos later but you want to enjoy the view without caring about camera angles. as you scream for her, she thinks you're just so cute. she also thinks you have such a beautiful smile and pretty makeup with a lot of blush, that makes you even cuter. she loved to know that you exist. the entire concert was amazing, and of course you used all your family's money to go on every single one of the concerts that tour, you're not rich, but your grandparents are, and sometimes the right thing is just taking advantage of that! ypu had so much fun in each one of them, even if they all had the same tracklist. and, can't skip that little fact: in the middle of the tour sohyun started interacting with you, she was always near you and talking to you and even asked for your phone to record a little, you were just soooo happy, the happiest you ever been. months have gone by and you still re watch that video everyday, especially today! after many tries and albums you got it, you're going to a fansign of the queens. it's just so fun talking to them, you just finished your 2 minutes with kotone and xinyu, almost the last members, but the last one was actually sohyun, you move to her space very nervous, you gulp.

"hello" she says, not looking at you yet. "wait, it's you! what's your name, darling?"

"hm, hello. it's y-y/n"

"eyyy, you were not that nervous with other members" she jokes and smiles. oh, that smile, you were hypnotized by it.

she gets your album, signs and draws or writes something else, whathever, her looks and sweetness with you are more important now.

"so, y/n, tell me a lil more about you" she asks flirty while taking your hands and massaging them. you look at her hands in yours and think you need to be brave, you only have this chance to talk to her and cause a good impression

"im 18 years old, i like to dye my hair, also bows and bunnies and cute things in gerenal and of course i love triple s" you're a little awkward, but you hear her saying "cute" in a low volume and laughing.

"it'll be little bunny then" she smirks

"hm?" you're lost in confusion

"you're nickname! think of one for me too!" why is she so flirty with you? you try to forget that, you're probably being too delulu. she must be like that with everybody

"your time is over" the staff says, being a little too harsh with you for sohyun's taste

while leaving, you can hear her saying "don't talk like that to her, she's such a good girl" and that made you so happy you almost screamed, but had to hold it in.

when you got home you remembered the sign, you were there for it! when you open your album on sohyun's page you have a surprise, a little text and a phone number. it says "love, you really like me, right? please send me a text soon! i'll be waiting, i trust in you, i'm sure you'll never share my number with anyone xx xxxx-xxxx"

you won't lie, you cry a little, keep looking at the paper thinking "how the fuck is that real?" and suddently "what if it's not real!?" then you remembered, she was waiting for you. you pick your phone on the maximum speed you can and type sohyun's number. add to contacts, talk to.

"hello!" you say

"hi! who is it?" she says

"it's y/n 🥺🥺 is this the right number 🥺🥺" you felt a little awkward

"little bunnyy" ok, it must be her

"you though on a nickname for me?"

"i like to call you sohy unnie"

"cute ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ"

"as expected from my little bunny"

hers? hers little bunny? you've never been hapier, laying on your bed, kicking your feet, because THE PARK SOHYUN called you her little bunny. you want to be hers so bad.

"yah, don't stop talking to me" she's a little possessive too?? oh my god! when will you two marry?

"im here, don't worry" you never know what to say around her, you get your favorite juice to make everything the most confortable the possible

"i can't be mad at you! cutie!"

"do you happen to want to go on a date with me?" you spill your juice.

PART 2 SOON ! THANKS FOR READING TILL THE END LOVE YOUU ♡♡

#sohyun #triple s #kpop #fanfic #triple s sohyun #fluff

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sordidmusings · 1 month ago

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Update! (Again lol): plans, loss, and music

Howdy doody! I’ll get to the fic stuff lickety split cuz I imagine that’s the most pertinent for most. Next TLC soon to be posted and the part after that under way again! Just have to finish up checking up the next section as it was done before but was one of the fics claimed by one of my cringy “want to delete my existence” moods 💀🤡 that’s where my ao3 and masterlist went too so whoops lol did save my stuff from getting posted under someone else’s name once so sometimes that cringe instinct works out for the better 👌🏻 still trying to kick the habit tho 💀 but yeah just gotta clean it over and get it back up again! Thank you for your patience 🤍

Comfort fic with Croc is well underway! Sorry that that’s taking longer than expected and an even bigger sorry to the request for Croc and reader team bonding smut cuz that boys been taking ten million years. Both of you, I appreciate your patience too and hope to make it worth the wait!!

X Marine reader headcanons almost done in their first part! Doing the first installment as general headcanons/vibe and the backstory for them, the second being a detailed how they met, and the third being a big event for the relationship like a confession or one saving the other or coming to terms with the relationship being doomed etc etc. it kinda spiraled out of control on ideas as I have a tendency to do sorry 😅

Besides a Law fic, those are the priorities right now tho there’s also kinktober to discuss. I’ve always always wanted to do kinktober but I’m still not good enough. I’ve been trying to do some prep for it and think I may be able to get many headcanons out for the month on it but again I’m not at a quality or in life circumstances where I can make it happen with actual fic this year.

And with life circumstances, yeah there’s business with jobs and obligations and taking care of people and trying to take care of myself, but my great struggle for the past stretch of weeks and onwards is the death of my mentor, friend, and father figure who was my piano teacher. He was older but it was very sudden and we’ve all been scrambling to contend with the loss of him and try to keep all the programs he was running afloat and keep his memory and influence alive. His reach in the music community and the genuine depth with which he connected to others is now a huge wound for many of us. He was a person of exceptional quality and heart. There’s a memorial concert for him mid October that I’m one of the performers in and I’m glad it’s forcing me to practice because piano has been really hurting. Everything has been. I was already struggling to keep on top of things and in the face of this I really am floundering pretty bad, despite trying to take care of it myself cuz I know I was already asking much of others having to listen to me sometimes and most people go mute in the face of death and I don’t want that to be my experience with others right now.

So to share something more positive in this experience, here is a snippet of the piece I’m polishing back up for the memorial concert.

You’ll hear me mention briefly in the middle a “church bells section”. I was talking with @gingernut1314 about this piece while showing her some other stuff and so I gave context about why I chose it for his memorial. For ease imma just pop in a copy of that lol

{This is from the piece that I’m polishing back up for Ian’s memorial concert! It’s the second movement of Debussy’s Images for Piano. I finished learning all three with Ian. The first is likely my favorite, the third is a MONSTER (but that atm just kinda makes me want to get that back up again too to Conquer it lol), but the second one has the right mood for a memorial and is the one I spent the most time working on with him for expression (took forever to get it right and some of it was still only like just almost there when my recital came around 🤡) and it was the one I think he was happiest with how I played in the end. The final bit of the movement is just breathtaking and peaceful tho it does end sad. Ian talked about his time studying in Europe and visiting France and church bells echo on the mountainside there and that that’s the type of imagery to evoke there. He was a devout man himself and I thought that that being the end to something I play for his memory would make him happy.}

Thank again sweet pea for your time listening to me play and talk about classical piano and such in general!!! I appreciate you 🧡🧡🧡 and thank you to any of you who give this vid a listen and have this post a read. I hope to bring actual substance and treats to you all soon!!! I working on it I swear 💀💀💀

On a final note that sums basically all this shit up, that mentioned Law fic is something I’ve been mucking through to process some by engaging with a death that isn’t related to me. So! It is a fic where reader helps Law finally open up all the festering feelings and thoughts he wouldn’t let himself express around Cora’s death. I’ll give a more proper shout out there, but thank you to the people who have shown me kindness and understanding and friendship in the past couple months. You all know who you are (hopefully haha) - I try to impress these things directly to you as well but it felt right to say it here as well. Interacting with you all has impacted me positivity and you all make the world a more welcoming and loving place 🤍🤍🤍

I’d also like to extend a thank you to anyone interacting with any of my posts! I often feel invisible and unworthy so acknowledgements even small and passing are a nice !!!! to my brain and I appreciate it❣️

Talk to yall soon!

Oh and as a stupid ps cuz I forget things and have nowhere else to put this random thought - expect some One Piece crochet content sometime dhdjfhkdnd I’m finally almost fuckin done with a damn Bepo design that’s been fighting me forever 😤😤😤 same with a Cora swan lol might sneak some regular crochet and more piano in there too for shits and giggles but we’ll see - anyone else get The Guilt when you post things that don’t feel like the thing you promised or should ehcjfjldmccl cuz this bitch do and it keeps me from doing like anything cuz I’ve got a clinical case of the Brain Sillies 🤷🏼‍♀️ anyway - smooches!!!!

Oh and if you’re afraid to comment or like cuz the death topic - I won’t think anyone is being an ass for not mentioning it lol I brought it up for context and because he is so important to me not because I expect people on a post to do something about it. So as with all my content, no worries!! This is a Chill Zone that just so happens to have sad hours semi regularly but we vibe lol

#life update #writing update #tw death #piano #piano music #the rambles they’re here

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hmserebusadjacent · 4 months ago

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Don't have to be ok

I came up with the idea for this story this morning, and wanted to write and post it within a day to give myself a little boost after a rough start to the week. Reading this back, I realised this story is essentially me projecting my need to be comforted by Emmrich. But I hope you find the story enjoyable nonetheless.

So please enjoy Emmrich comforting Rook, saying that he doesn't have to be ok, that he will always be there for him.

Emmrich Volkarin x Trans Male Rook (Pining, longing, comfort, implied gender dysphoria on Rook's part, cloud gazing).

Word count: 2,677

AO3 link

Rook hadn't been his usual self today. He'd drifted off into the recesses of his own mind so often that each time it felt harder for Emmrich to pull him back. There was so much anxiety stored in the way Rook fussed with his hair or pulled at the fingers on his gloves, all of that energy just pouring out into his aura too.

Emmrich wasn't the only one to notice, of course. Davrin kept on shooting Rook sideways glances and then looking to Emmrich as if he had the answers. For once, Emmrich didn't have many words to give. It was the subtler signs that also gave him pause, like the way Rook fussed with the way his clothes hung around his hips and thighs. The way he had chewed the inside of his lips so much that Emmrich wouldn't be surprised if it was bleeding.

The necromancer couldn't blame their fearless leader for feeling the strain of leadership, helping to keep his team alive and stopping the world from ending. All that would have been enough but Rook also had to worry about not going mad from anxiety, grief, stress, any of the above or indeed every emotion under the sun.

He couldn't blame Rook for having off days at all. He just wished he knew how to help better. To ease the strain even if he couldn't shoulder any of it. Emmrich did try, he really did. From ensuring Rook slept well, ate well and always being a willing ear if Rook needed to talk to someone about anything or nothing.

It was the least he could do for the man who had given his life purpose, for reminding him that life could be lived with other people rather than with the dead who no longer needed the spark of existence. Rook truly enlivened Emmrich Volkarin, and maybe one day he would have the courage to tell him.

And to tell him that he loved him above all things too. More than he had ever loved anyone before.

And when he held Rook in his arms whilst they hugged, or when Rook linked arms with him whilst they walked, or when they shared those late evenings chatting about everything and nothing over tea, Emmrich knew that this was what he wanted for the rest of his life.

To be his, in whatever form that took. If Rook also wanted to be his? It would be the happiest day of Emmrich’s life if he found out that Rook liked him half as much as he liked him.

When Rook designated their camping spot for the night, Emmrich's heart clenched with just how tired and fatigued Rook looked. Not just emotionally but physically, and the way he dropped his bag to the floor with a final thud made the mage’s heart jump in his chest.

“Will you two be alright setting up the smaller stuff while I have some time to myself?”, Rook asked, gaze almost pleading even as he willed something like a reassuring smile to his lips.

A niggling voice in the back of Emmrich’s mind said that Rook shouldn’t be by himself, even if he needed it. Maybe it was partly his perpetual need to have Rook in sight so that all felt right with the world.

But he also recognised that Rook had done more than enough today. They had walked miles and Rook hadn’t once complained, even with the evidence of his fatigue present in the dark rings under his eyes. If Rook needed time away from he and Davrin to recharge, to remind himself of where he was in the world, then that was what would happen.

“Of course. Do let us know if you need anything, Rook. We’re here for you.”

Rook’s bottom lip trembled at that, as if he might burst into tears and just give in to the reckless abandon of exhausted crying. But instead he smiled and gave Davrin a nod, and his gaze lingered on Emmrich for longer than it had their companion when he said

“Thank you. I won’t be far.”

When Rook had disappeared off with a blanket under his arm, Emmrich turned back to Davrin to find the elf giving him a look he knew very well by this point. All of the others had sent it his way too, and Emmrich felt his cheeks flushing with heat and just how very obvious he seemed to be. Well, obvious to everyone but Rook, apparently.

Trying to push his worries of Rook to the side for a moment (and failing miserably), Emmrich dived into getting their camp set up, casting glances in the direction that Rook had walked off in every so often.

—----

Emmrich managed half an hour before his mind was worrying so much about Rook that he could barely sit still and allow himself to rest. He’d been counting the minutes, every one that Rook spent wherever he was making the mage’s gut clench with nerves.

“Go and see where he is. I think he would appreciate it”, Davrin announced from across the other side of camp, making Emmrich jump as he was pulled from his looping thoughts. That Davrin thought he would be the best one to comfort Rook was gratifying, that other people thought Emmrich himself made Rook feel so comforted and safe.

He’d never take the trust Rook placed him and the strength he gained from their friendship lightly. If he could always use that power for good, Emmrich would be a happy man.

He also didn’t need to be told twice to go and check on Rook, finding his way to his feet almost instantaneously as the mage’s mind was already far ahead of him planning just what to say to their friend and leader.

It didn’t take long to find Rook, his energy seemingly having given out on him in a nice little clearing in the woods nearby. The clearing was so pleasingly symmetrical, a beautifully wide circle glade filled with all sorts of wildflowers and buzzing bees. In the middle of this haven was Rook, spread out on his blanket, silhouetted by the sun in a way that only made him look more beautiful. Rook looked so at home here, amongst the wildflowers and beauties of nature that he adored so much, one of the other myriad of things he indulged in to help keep himself sane.

In that moment, Emmrich was visibly reminded of his wish to take Rook to see the gardens of Nevarra City when the lilies in the ponds were in bloom, to marvel at the brightly coloured fish that came up to the water’s surface to snap at insects. If Rook would allow him he would also take him to see some of the gardens in the Necropolis on the higher levels to see the gardens borne of love and kept going by ongoing devotion that Emmrich wished so badly to feel for his own. If Rook would indulge him, Emmrich would tuck a flower behind one of his pointed ears and lead him on a dance in the magelights he would conjure to light their impromptu ballroom. Maybe if he was lucky Rook would allow Emmrich to artfully drape him over the back of his knee at the end of it all, his eyes shining as they both came back together and chanced a glance down at the other’s lips…

“Emmrich? You ok over there?”

Shattered shards of his hopeful visions cracked apart in Emmrich’s mind as he remembered where he was, gaze focusing back on Rook more clearly and the look of soft amusement on his face. Had Emmrich been staring at him slack jawed for a little while then? It wouldn’t be the first time and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Ah, yes! I just wanted to ensure that you were alright. Perhaps ask if you wanted some company?”

The beaming smile Rook sent his way was so utterly bright compared to the thin lipped smiles the rogue had been putting on earlier. Like something had genuinely managed to lift his spirits in the last half an hour and seeing Emmrich again was the icing on the proverbial cake. Whatever the case was, Emmrich was just glad to see the man smiling and looking hopeful again. Maker, he looked pretty.

“You can cloud gaze with me, if you like. Come on over.”

Cloud gazing? Emmrich couldn’t remember the last time he had done that. The last time was probably with his mother, lying down on the ground on a picnic blanket as they both giggled to themselves over heart and nug shaped wisps of clouds. A time before he had come into his magic, even, before the whole world had taken on a different hue and cast different shadows across all of their lives.

“I’d love to!” Emmrich replied cheerfully, already making his way through the tall grass and flowers, trying his level best not to trip over or to disturb the fuzzy lazy bees too much. With every advancing step Rook came into even lovelier focus, a scabious flower to the left of his head making his eyes shine an even deeper blue. It didn’t seem possible that the space could be lightening too, that the rogue was making the sun shine brighter by his very joy at seeing Emmrich approaching him.

By the time Emmrich reached the blanket and the sitting Rook, his heart was beating out a joyous yet nervous rhythm against the inside of his ribs. How the rogue looked so effortlessly beautiful all the time was beyond Emmrich, having decided long ago to simply bask in the man’s magnificence whilst he could.

“Come on then, you”, Rook murmured as he patted the space on the blanket beside him and fuck did Emmrich want to swoon on so many levels. That their closeness meant he was described using such soft words, commanded with such a fond tone of voice. Besotted wasn't enough of a word to describe the feelings Emmrich had for Rook. Maybe there weren't words strong enough.

But if looks could convey even half of those feelings, Emmrich was sure he was showing them now as he gently lowered himself to sit beside Rook, immediately feeling more calm for being in his presence. As he studied the man across from him for a moment, it did genuinely seem that Rook had found solace in this little space. He couldn't take all the credit for this change, of course, but Emmrich hoped that he had contributed a fraction of that ease that Rook now felt within himself.

When Emmrich laid down fully on the comfortable blanket a minute later, he was more than settled in for the pair of them to remain where they were, to bask in their semi closeness where he could easily brush their hands together if they went to point at the same cloud.

But Rook surprised the mage once again by asking an earth shattering question.

“Would you hold my hand?”

Emmrich turned his attention from the sky and was almost immediately disarmed by the fond look in Rook’s eyes, the entire question such an open quest for comfort that Emmrich couldn’t resist. He put his romantic feelings aside for the moment as he nodded, hand inching across the blanket till he could feel Rook’s hand next to his. Emmrich wouldn’t describe himself as a particularly brave man, but the way he gently placed his hand on top of the rogue’s hand and laced their fingers together might be one of the bravest things he had ever done.

And Rook’s smile was more than worth the risk.

After that, it was just a case of both men turning their faces to the sky and watching the world go by. There were a number of clouds available for perusal, all being blown slowly across the expanse by a thermal wind much higher up. A collage of mist and cloud fluff that still couldn’t compare to the beauty of the man next to Emmrich.

Rook offered his first suggestion for a cloud lookalike, pointing upwards and to the left.

“If you squint, that one looks like a nug. I’ve heard that the Divine has all but filled the Grand Cathedral with the little buggers.”

“There’s got to be someone who adores those creatures, I suppose. Lake Calenhad looks a bit like a rabbit if you squint, or so I’ve been told”, Emmrich replied, glad to hear the little huff of a laugh Rook uttered under his breath.

As Emmrich pointed to a cloud to his right, he felt Rook squeeze his hand as if the rogue worried that the mage wanted to pull away.

“That one looks like an Ocularum. Researchers within the Inquisition produced a fascinating paper on them a few years ago”, Emmrich ventured, delighting in Rook’s smile of intrigue.

“I’ll have to look at it one day.”

The two men continued in this way for maybe ten minutes, occasionally lapsing into silence when no new shapes presented themselves. Emmrich was enjoying himself immensely, and it felt good to see that Rook was too. Sure he still had the dark rings under his eyes and his hand lingered nervously near his own hip sometimes, but the rogue did seem to be calmer and more present than he did before. He often squeezed Emmrich’s hand, and Emmrich was all too happy to provide reassurances that he was still there with him and present in the moment.

When Rook had lapsed into a longer silence than the others before it, Emmrich turned his head and found Rook still looking at the sky but with a bit more of a distant look on his face. Emmrich’s heart ached for him, it truly did, and he wanted to be exactly what Rook needed, whatever he needed.

In the end, Emmrich simply said

“Are you alright? You don’t have to be, you know. None of us would judge you for it.”

Rook’s lower lip trembled again as if he was on the verge of tears, the rogue gently biting down on it a moment later to stop it from shaking. A gloved hand went to cover his eyes for a moment as the man took a long, deep breath in and out. He was clearly grounding himself, and Emmrich didn’t want to disrupt that.

Eventually Rook lifted his hand away from his eyes and turned to look at Emmrich once more, a sad sort of resignation in his eyes.

“Today I’m not. But I’m happy to be here with you.”

The man's voice was distinctly wobbly, and Emmrich's heart knew exactly how that feeling felt. That Rook found his presence so comforting, that he was looking at him with such trust and fondness in his eyes was star shattering. That he allowed Emmrich to comfort him, asked him to hold his hand, made Emmrich feel just as safe and treasured in reverse!

Joy beyond description.

“I'll always be happy to be by your side”, Emmrich murmured, deciding to be brave for the second time today as he let go of Rook's hand and opened his arms instead. With something that sounded like a soft sob, Rook was quick to slot himself against the necromancer's side, throwing an arm over Emmrich's middle. With a soft sigh that matched Rook's own, Emmrich gently wrapped his arms around Rook and gave him a soft little squeeze, resigned to the fact that the man in his arms would hear his racing heart.

“I'll always be here, whatever you need. You can always count on me and my affection for you, my dear.”

A delightful giggle from Rook made Emmrich's chest vibrate, and his heart leapt into his stomach as the rogue threw a leg over the mage's own for good measure.

“Thank you, Emmrich. You really are one of a kind, and a true treasure to me.”

If heaven existed on this mortal plain, Emmrich Volkarin would have sworn that this was what it felt like.

#emmrich volkarin #emmrich volkarin x rook #emmrich volkarin x trans male rook #emmrich volkahrin #dragon age the veilguard #erebus adjacent writing adventures #erebus adjacent writes emmrich volkarin

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bangtanphilee · 2 months ago

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࣪ ִֶָ☾.⋆.˚🦋༘⋆๋࣭⭑ֶֶָָ֢֢֢𖹭 HAPPY BIRTHDAY JUNGKOOK-ah࣪ ִֶָ☾.⋆.˚🦋༘⋆๋࣭⭑ֶֶָָ֢֢֢𖹭

𖹭 To the loveliest soul..

𖹭 To the personification of comfort, warmth, safety and love..

𖹭 Happiest birthday Jungkook-ah 𖹭

It's 00:00 (KST) now and just like that you turned a year older with me not even realising that a whole year has been passed..

I'm wish for you all the warmth, comfort, safety and love that I feel whenever I look at you..

I have never met you, never seen you in person, not even from distance, but your existence alone made me feel warm. Through screen you gave me more love and warmth than any other human around me gave.

I'd be wrong to say army loves you more when you love us more than we do for ourselves. You taught us self love, taught us passion, loved us for all our flaws, smiled at as, cried along with us, you've been with us through thick and thin, you never seen us as anything but family, you made us your own world of spring and summer, and became our spring that comes after winter.

I was never aware of the amount of love I had in me until you came into my life. Until you, I don't know that I could love so much, that I could even love without expecting anything in return. Love so pure that I wonder if I can ever love anyone else this way, cause it is only you that awakened this unconditional love in me that I otherwise didn't even know exists.

Everything feels alright when I look into your eyes, those big doe eyes, as taylor said : "starry eyes sparking up my darkest night", they spark up my life, the spark bringing warmth to my being, one look into your eyes and I would forget the whole world and smile, a smile so genuine that I wonder how long it has been ever since I did that.

Everything feels okay when I see you smile, your toothy grins and mischievous smirks only making me fall ever so deep for you, that I know I'm never getting out of this deep abyss of your love. That smile that melts all my worries away and stripes me off of my agony, that smile that warms me up inside out, that smile whenever I look at makes me giggle and kick my legs like a teenager with her first crush. That smile, it has the ability to heal something in me, something that has been brutally hurt and crying for help, something that even I couldn't nurture back to it's former state, is finally healing.

Did I said that your voice has the ability to literally calm my nerves, making me survive through days with a hopeful smile whenever I hear you, the voice that I hear to calm myself, the voice that let me go through nights of cries and overwhelming thoughts, it might not heal me overnight but your voice let's me survive through a night, survive the inner battles with my darkest and most horrifying demons of my own self.. no matter how exhausted I am, no matter how done i am with the world around me, your voice engulf me into a warm hug, telling me it'll be alright, giving my naive heart a hope to survive till the next sunrise, the safety I feel in your voice is something that I don't think even science could explain.. you're my comfort person, my safe space..

What can I even say, I might sound romantic or obsessed, people might judge me for being so in love with you, even I wondered if it's the right thing to do, but at the end it's inevitable, for me to fall for you is what I call fate. I might have my own phases of romanticizing life with you like every other fangirl did, but for me, and i suppose to all other armys, it's more than romanticizing, it's more than just a celebrity crush. It's a pure form of love beyond the limits of romance. We love you not romantically nor platonically..

We love you in an almost spiritual way, as if my soul, my entire being is cherishing your existence, cherishing your love for us, cherishing the bond we share with each other. I don't want our love for you to be ridiculed in any negative form, it's pure. We love you for who you are, just like how you love us for who we are, without judging us, without expecting anything from us, you gave us your love and in return we shall return every bit of love, warmth, safety, and comfort back to you with the same admiration we see in your eyes every time you look at us. If love can happen just because, no reasons, no expectations, no limits, then it is that same love that is flowing through every thread of the bond that is made between us.

I don't know what to say much, you don't even see this, but I'm overwhelmed, by the amounts of love you throw at us, by the abundant adoration your eyes leak for us, by the warmth and comfort your smile brings, and the safety you give to us.. it's overwhelming, in the bests ways possible, you're the best thing ever happened to me.

I think about you all the time and everytime I smile, that's the effect you had on me and the others. I don't know, that loving someone could feels this good, that loving someone means being loved equally, that being loved is the bests feeling ever. Now that i get to experience this because of you, I guess I'm never ever loving you any less again, not for a lifetime would my love decrease a bit, nor can I love anyone like I love you.. I love in ways I never know I can..

Everything reminds me of you..

spring.. sky.. sun sets.. moon.. stars.. breeze.. clouds.. rustling leaves.. flying birds.. street lights.. rain.. hills.. my favourite music.. Ice cream on a summer afternoon..

A tight warm hug.. a safe space.. a home..

I associate every good thing in life with you..

Because everything reminds me of you..

You're in everything I love..

You're everything that I love..

And so I repeated the words love, warmth, comfort and safety, many times and that's cause these words remind me of you, they remind me of the feeling flutters inside me whenever i think about you. You're just a person made of everything that brings joy to my being.. Thank you for existing, thank you for making me know that love is a great thing that can ever happen to anyone.. so kook, please live happily, and safely.. for my own happiness is bound to yours.. own peace is when you're fine and happy along with your family and hyungs and your loved one's.. so kookie, at last I'm running out of words to describe my love, nothing is ever enough than love itself.. so..

I love you.. I purple you.. I really love you..

So Jungkook-ah.. once again..

Happiest birthday..

𖹭𖹭𖹭

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an-au-blog · 10 months ago

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People often talk about the main or relevant characters in Horrid Henry.. but I don't think people realize just how interesting some other characters are.

Gurinder, Nicola, Soraya, Linda, and Susan, all members of the secret club, are overshadowed by Margaret. But there's so much to them

We know nothing about Soraya's dad, just her mom, and according to the books, it seems their relationship is up for interpretation, but it does seem like her mom supports her, and she has a bunny rabbit that we see twice in the show, the way she gently holds it and so close to her body might just be me but it seems she's very loving and caring towards it. We see she's one of if not the nicest girl in the secret club, while there's not much to explore, her special interest for music and singing is something I feel can be explored, call me crazy but she also seems autistic coded to me ( as an autistic person )

Nicola strays from the norms of the show, both in terms of mannerisms, gender, accent, and relationships, they're not exactly anyone's friend, they like messing with people and watching the world burn seemingly just for the fuck of it. Whether they're just an ass or have reasons for it, it would still be nice to see more of them.

Linda, in the books, is confirmed to have a SHIT sleep schedule because of her parents, making her sleep at the wrong time, but yet even when asleep, according to that Mastermind episode, she's still conscious of her surroundings in some way and is still able to learn, and even as seen in another episode, she can work well while drowsy, even at her age. So we have her parents and her insane intelligence and skill to explore.

And oh

Gurinder and Susan.. I'll save the most complex for last.

Susan, Margaret's little puppet, het shadow, her magnet, we almost never see Susan alone or away from Margaret, she does whatever Margaret does and just copies her sometimes. We see she's nicer, more apologetic, considerate, and isn't just some broken record, but she lets Margaret take lead and do whatever she says. We don't see her have any other friends, we don't see her talking much to others at all, and Margaret doesn't exactly seem to care, in the red roof hang episode she seems to notice how Susan goes unnoticed but doesn't really care, she gets pissy with Susan over small mistakes and slip ups.. and she just takes it

Now. Remember when Susan said that her mom got her to change her little sister's diapers all the time ? And now her littlr sister is vicious ?

The way she responds to and follows Margaret, the way her little sister acts, and that line about diaper changing alone could say a lot about her life.

Gurinder

Where are your parents.

We've got confirmation of the others' parents existing minus Nicola. What about you ?

You've mentioned your mother twice, we've never seen her. You never mention a father figure.

And if the wiki is correct, how are there so many siblings in your family ?

We've seen Gurinder at that Happiest Family contest, and alone

When the official Twitter account talks about parents, we never hear about Gurinder's family. Is it possible Gurinder's parents are gone ?

We rarely hear him talk about his family in general outside of a mention of his little sister.

And he seems very obsessed with his appearance, likely more than Margaret, even the smallest thing like a needle can make him worry, he's very nervous about it, but why is that ? What makes him seem so obsessed and nervous ? Almost everything revolving around his character relates to beauty and we don't go much into it.

And what sparked the implied friendship between him and Henry ? Out of everyone in the secret club, he seems most comfortable with Gurinder

And will we ever talk about his transmasc coding ?????

There's so much unanswered about the other club members

Perhaps an AU can exist where we have a spinoff of watching the other characters like the other 5 SC members to get more lore on them

Aaaaa! I love overanalysing bg characters!

About Vicky, I was actually so surprised that she's Susan's sister. It's very interesting to me because they seem so different and not even as in a "sisters who act and like different things"... but maybe I'm looking way too much into it. I feel like their family situation is interesting and I'm assuming that the kids kind of self-parent and maybe that's why Susan is so easy to latch onto Margaret, because she doesn't have to be the one making the decisions or taking care of things. (Even though she's kind of used as a secretary anyway... though that would still mean she's not completely in charge because she doesn't take the executive decisions and I'm not a big sister but I've been in a position where I have to decide everything and take charge and it's really tiring sometimes...)

Nicola is very interesting because, yes, they are an agent of chaos and don't really fit in either of the two clubs/gangs. But what stunned me was that in the first episode, when she was asked who she wanted as a "guide", they chose Henry because (in my opinion) she thought he would be an easy mark. It was kind of evident that the teacher wasn't very fond of him from the start, so blaming him would be easy? She didn't expect so many people to back her up. And they wouldn't have! If it weren't for the oddly fitting circumstances that gave him the perfect alibi. It's mind-boggling how well she deduced that situation and later on, she keeps reminding the audience how observant she is and how well they can strategies (especially for a kid this age). She's kind of the best type of antagonist - always in the shadows and lurking I love Nicola so much!

Idk about Gurinder's gender, but I love that both the Secret Club and the Purple Hand gang have a member that is on good terms with the "other side". (I'm talking about Brainy Brian.)

Here's one of the boys I love seeing: Brainy Brian is also really interesting to me because, in all 7-to-10-year-old logic, he shouldn't really be considered as cool as he is. And yes, I'm getting into stereotypes here, he asks a lot of questions in class, and as far as I remember he also reminded the teacher about homework/tests, but he's also well-loved and treated as an equal. And I get that it's (again) strongly stereotypical, but I love seeing him do all his smart shenanigan stuff and the rest of them getting all invested in it (like in that one ep where they made a machine to pass on a message for Henry).

#i love this aaaa thank you for making me think about them again :))#horrid henry #brainy brian #nasty nicola #vicious vicky #answers #hh

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rowdyhughesy · 2 years ago

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The Calm - Jack Hughes

“ I would not wish any companion in the world but you.” - William Shakespeare

Water. It’s seen as calming, comforting. Something that brings peace in madness. You used to think of it as that too. Letting the shower run or taking a bath when you’ve had a bad day. Listening to it or simply watching its movements. Right now you couldn’t help but think about drowning, letting it submerge you just for a second to block the noise. But it’s hard to block out something that is inside your own head. Constantly wondering if people were programmed to be their own demise because no one is as judging of you as yourself.

Life wasn’t supposed to be this way. You at least hoped it wasn’t because if this is how life is then you’d rather crawl into a dark hole and forget it ever existed.

Growing up is hard. All you hear are things that you need to achieve, things that need to be done, ways you’re supposed to act and it’s suffocating. The days seem to blend together after a while. Everyday the same as the last. Things that used to be fun suddenly feels like everything else. A chore.

Sitting on the cold tile of your shower floor you let the water cascade down. Drops falling on your eyelashes, down your face until it lands on the arms that are wrapped around your legs. You didn’t even bother to take your clothes off. The material of your pyjamas sticking to every part of skin it can reach.

It’s quiet except for the shower, every surface of the bathroom fogged up from heat. You don’t even notice the front door of the apartment open and closing. To focused on the noise inside you and the water. Phone laying discarded on the bedside table, it’s been turned off for almost a week. You just wanted to get away even if it was only for a short while. Everything just felt too much and you wanted to get out. Out of your own body.

You hear running footsteps down the hall before the bathroom door flings open. Then you hear it, the loud strangled sobs and you can’t place where it comes from. Until you do. The sobs are tumbling out of your throat and hands frantically pulling at your hair. You hadn’t even noticed that you’re no longer holding your legs but rather your head. The only sounds are your cries and the occasional word you can’t place.

It seems as if you come back to your body when Jacks eyes meet yours. They’re staring at you, wide open and full of panic. He’s blindly trying to turn off the shower while one arm wraps around you, tugging you closer to his chest. He gives up after a few seconds and just focuses on pressing you against him. One hand one the back of your head, fingers tangled in the strands of wet hair. His skin is warm, lips pressed to the top of your head as he holds you close.

You try to focus on that, focus on the feeling of Jack and his warmth, the smell of his shampoo and the soft material of his T-shirt against your arms. “Let it out. Just let it out and I’ll be here alright?” His words are muffled as he still has his head pressed against the top of yours. “I’m here.” He’s always been there, even when you barely knew each other and you were just someone that worked for the Devils organisation. Always the smiley guy that takes life in strides. Calm and collected, just like water. Then the same smiley boy became your best friend, someone you told your darkest secrets, happiest memories and deepest worries. Now he’s the love of your life but nothing has changed but the fact that he now is your best friend that you kiss, sometimes share a bed with and you love. You loved him before but this is different. It’s deeper.

It takes a couple of minutes but the sobs slow down and subside to hiccups, the tingling in your fingers have disappeared and you can breath better. “You don’t have to talk, just focus on my heartbeat and listen to what I’m about to say.” You muster up a nod in response so that Jack knows that you’ve heard him. “I love you baby, so much. I know it’s been a rough week and that you’ve gotten inside your own head. It’s okey. Just know you’ll never be alone in this, I’m not running away. Life is scary and unpredictable but we’ll take it on together. We became a team the day you first smiled at me and told me your name. It’s you and me.” He places a soft kiss on your hair and one of his hands are drawing circles on your back in a comforting manner.

Jack is soaked from head to toe but he doesn’t mind. He would move mountains if it meant that you would be okay and he knows that you will be. It will take some time but he will gladly wait if it means that you’ll still be here. You were the one to pull him down when you felt he needed to sit down and breath, always making sure that he was alright after a bad hit, cheering the loudest when he scores a goal, he needed you as much as you needed him. He was the storm and you were the calm that came after. Jack couldn’t be more thankful that you walked into his life when you did and he knew that you were his present and his future.

The ring hidden in his hockey bag just waiting but it would have to wait a little bit more. Just a little. Until you were okey.

#jack hughes x reader #nhl imagine #jack hughes imagine #hockey blurb #new jersey devils

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cleake · 5 months ago

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hi! can you do a fic or hcs about Neville having a crush on his male best friend? like they're both kinda unpopular losers so they've stuck together throughout the years and Neville tries to hide his feelings for him because he's shy and nervous it'll ruin their friendship (maybe some internalised homophobia or fear since it's set in the 90s who knows)

(thank you!!!)

Hi, hi! I like this idea a lot. I hope that you will like it :) (I also forgot that Tumblr exists, so sorry for the long wait)

Being friends is easy, at least most of the time. You get to be with your favourite person. You can talk to them, tell them anything, and always come to them when you need help. And they will always help you because you are friends. But when does that line cross? When does friendship become something more? And what is that something more? Why does it happen? To whom and where? What actions can be considered friendship, and what is the other thing? How can you tell if something is more than a friendship? How can you stop seeing someone as your friend and maybe something more? How can you love your friends without loving them with all honesty? How does it work? Why does it happen? And why does it happen to Neville?

You two have been friends for a long time, two boys standing together against all the rest of the world, it seems. You two always have stuck together, always been together, from the first moment you saw each other. Is that destiny? Is that a provided friendship? Is it more? Who knows? But to Neviile, it felt like fate. It felt like you got brought to this world for him and him alone. Is that something more than friendship?

He has always been in awe of you. You were the most fantastic person he had ever known! Or at least the one he had ever known. He never had a lot of friends. But that didn't matter to him because you were the greatest. You were his ideal of a brave person, a brave young man who faced lots of difficulties in life. Yes, you had moments of failure and sadness, but they never held you back. You had people who disliked and openly disgraced you, but you didn't care about them. But, most importantly, you never turned your back on Neville. You have always been there whenever he needed someone. And that was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever done for him.

You and Neville. Neville and you. It was such a thing for Neville to have you as a friend. He was always grateful for your time and company, for your compassion and loyalty. Neville had never experienced those things and was so happy you gave them to him! But maybe he liked you so much because you were the only one. The only one who was kind to him. The only one who was his friend. But then again, he didn't have a problem with that. He was the happiest to call you his only friend, his only, his only boy, no one else’s.

And Neville was happy. Very happy.

It was so natural for you two to hang out, and talk to each other about everything your minds could understand and see, sharing moments of vulnerability and trust in ways that many people wouldn't understand. Neville felt like you were his safe place, his home, his boy that he could always nuzzle in a warm embrace that felt true and tender. Neville slowly started to wonder how your lips felt and how they could kiss his, how would you kiss him? But that's just theoretical speculation, nothing real.

You two would often sit together on the school’s porch, talking and smiling together, sharing soft glances and brief touches that seemed accidental but felt like held secret intent. Neville would feel his heart beating faster in your presence, loving your smile, your voice rumbling deep in your chest that echoed sweetly in his eyes, your delicate eyes, skin, and hair, all so inviting and warm. Almost as if they belonged to him alone, as if he was the only one to understand the meaning behind every little detail of your features. He almost wouldn't notice some Griffindors passing you two to only stop and stare, perfidious grins on their lips and eyes glaring at you two with malicious goals. Neville and you only noticed them when they started to speak, their voices loud and ridiculous as they started to call you two “fairies”, sitting next to each other like two girls. Neville felt his heart clench in his chest and his eyes remorsefully glanced down while his lips twitched, the laughter and giggles of the Griffindor students made him feel embarrassed. But then he was broken out of his shame when he felt your soft hand over his, your fingers gently intertwining with his making his mind ease and his heart breathe freely. He shifted his shy eyes towards you as you scolded the stupid Griffindors with confidence only you had, making Neville smile softly. The boys made a few more comments, mocking you two and the way you held Neville’s hand but they moved on, getting bored with harassing you both. Neville felt relieved, staying only with you again, safe again. You looked at him with the caring eyes that you'd often offer him and asked him if he was alright to which Neville nodded his head. Both of you smiled again, your hands staying linked between you two in a soft and gentle embrace and Neville was happy again with you. You leaned towards him and pressed a sweet peck on his curly locks, making him pause for a moment as he processed your gesture, his heart beating faster with hope. He smiled and kissed your head in return, causing you to chuckle happily.

#x reader #reader insert #headcanon #harry potter #neville longbottom x reader #neville x reader #mlm #male reader #fluff #crush #neville longbottom #short and sweet #sweethearts #friends to lovers

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annerbhp · 1 year ago

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20 questions for fic writers!

@runawaymarbles tagged me, but she said I could do it anyway if I liked.

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

114

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

1,436,497

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The big ones were Stargate and Harry Potter and The Untamed. I've also dabbled briefly in CSI, Leverage, Firefly, Pirates of the Caribbean, and Last of the Mohicans.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

It's all HP fic, which I think speaks both to the size of that fandom, but also that I started writing for that fandom as I moved to AO3.

The Changeling (HP, Ginny) The Armistice Series (going to cheat and put these all together, HP, Harry/Ginny) we can't control (watch me unfold) (HP, Harry/Ginny) gone was any trace of you (HP, Harry/Ginny) half awake and almost there (HP, Harry/Ginny)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do try to respond to comments, because each and every one of them mean a lot to me. But I am not always great about it. I think I kind of respond in giant bursts? So there are times when I just don't, often because I am totally focused on getting the next chapter out or something, but then I will just sit down on day and just mass respond to a lot. I could always be better at it though.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Interesting. I am in no way afraid of angst, but I usually like to at least have a hopeful ending, if not a wildly happy pay off ending. I'm not sure I've ever done a full tragedy ending. Outside some one-off comment fic or ficlet posted here or there.

I think down here among the wreckage (Sam/Jack, SG-1) is my most infamously angsty fic of all time, and I never completely got to finish it? So it ends pretty darn angsty. Though maybe Beneath the Stains of Time (boy, I used to love a good apocafic!)

my kingdom come undone (Untamed, wangxian) is pretty darn angsty too, I suppose.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hopefully almost all of them? Though, I suppose I mostly like to exist in the "here's some pay off after angst, but I'm never gonna say everything is all good because it never is" area.

Maybe Life is What Happens which is sort of a coda to who Harry/Ginny could have ended up being?

8. Do you get hate on fic?

Occasionally, but not that often. I've only gotten something I would consider straight up hate speech twice, and those just get immediately deleted. Otherwise it's mostly someone telling me what they don't like. Some people really hated The Changeling. And some people really think I hate Hermione for some reason and hated that. Oh, boy and now I'm remembering the time I mentioned the mere possibility of a different pairing (Sam/Daniel) than my usual ship at the time (Sam/Jack) and got a lot of hate about that!

9. Do you write smut?

Not in the beginning, no. I distinctly remembering @holdouttrout and I being like "how can people write smut! I could never!" and then not so long later we had a good time coming back and laughing at ourselves and each other as we wrote smut. Lol. Good times, Trout!

These days, yes, I am known to sometimes write smut. I don't do a lot of PWP, but I think smut can be a great part of storytelling and character development. I'm not sure I'm any good at it, and it's probably the kind of writing I am least confident in, but I'm usually willing to try a hand at it.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Very occasionally I have. Mostly in response to a challenge or a fest or some sort of organized event. It can be fun to just take two things you like and brainstorm what it would possibly look like to smoosh them together. I think the biggest crossovers I ever wrote were a SG-1/Firely one (Raggedy Edge) and a SG-1/House MD one (Unexpected). Both were fics I wrote for someone else. (Man, I have this SG-1/Leverage fic that I always wanted to write but doubt I ever will. I think I had Maggie as one of Jack's cousins or something.)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. People have occasionally posted one of my fics in weird archive or something. But no one's ever tried to claim one of my stories as their own.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, a few! I know there are a few languages for The Changeling. Though I'm not sure if any were ever finished. I've had a few requests for various things over the years. And then I put up a "feel free to do without asking" disclaimer, so who knows!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, that is not something I've ever done. I'm always impressed by that. And some of the best fics I've ever read have been team written. (A Narrow Bridge by @frameofmind9 and Jo Lasalle, it's AMAZING.) I find it such an interesting and impressive idea. Not sure I'd be able to do it, but it's interesting!

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

I feel attacked. What kind of a question to ask a shipper. Well, there is always what takes up all my brain space in the moment, which is Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian in The Untamed. But Sam/Jack (SG-1) was my first and will always own a part of my brain.

It's interesting too, because there are ships I adore, ships I love to read about, and ships I love to write about. And those three don't always align. I think Sam/Jack and Wangxian have been the two biggest ships for me that touch all three of those at once.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

Excuse me as I open my writing folder and gesture at everything all at once. Okay, I'll be nicer to myself. I am in a space where I feel like I will never finish anything ever again, but I will have faith!!

There's really too much. So many HP fics that I am sad that I will probably never get to. There's a time travel fic, there's a Harry never went to Hogwarts AU, oh, man, the zombie fic. So many.

There's a ton of SG-1 fics I left half-imagined, but it's been a decade since I stopped writing for that fandom, so I'm more distant from it now.

I want to finish them all!!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Hm. This is hard. Probably because saying nice things about ourselves is hard and feels like being egotistical or something. Lol. I think I really like weaving various plot lines, themes, and character development, probably because that is the thing I love doing and so have spent a lot of time experimenting and practicing. I think I also have an ability to trust my instincts with what is working and what isn't, even if I'm stubborn about ignoring it sometimes. Can being stubborn as hell being a writing strength. Because that, honestly.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I have very little discipline. People who can outline something and then just knock a draft out are amazing to me. I am very slow and only tend to write when I'm in the mood. I think I can also be overly sensitive to unsolicited criticism. And in some cases solicited criticism from someone I haven't built trust with. That might mostly be the giant case of imposter syndrome I lug around with myself. So I might be sensitive, but I've been trying to build my skills in hearing it and reacting appropriately in a constructive way. I feel like brevity is another problem! Just look at this darn post!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Honestly, I don't attempt it. If someone is speaking a different language, I am more likely to just put the dialogue in italics or something, if whoever the POV is understands that language.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Stargate SG-1. At least the first I ever wrote and shared. I think I wrote fanfic in my head for decades before realizing what it even was. (Let's say that I had quite the crush on Wesley Crusher and fantasized ways some OC self-insert might be able to marry him while also being adopted by Picard. Ah...the early 90s. What a time to be alive.)

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Wow, and I thought some of these earlier questions were rude. 😂

I'm going to cheat and say that whatever i am currently working on is always my favorite.

Also, I really liked who i am at the end of the day which is so obscure that no one ever read it. (I think it has like 2 comments and one of them was @runawaymarbles being nice to me. <3 )But I just love a lot about it. Sometimes I daydream about removing the serial numbers and turning it into it's own thing.

Tagging @pepperf, @holdouttrout, @narukoibito, @mylittleredgirl, and YOU that person who wants to do this.

#20 questions writing memes

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