#apologies if The Thing's dialogue is hard to read it was the only way I could think of to make her sound Off In Some Way | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ceruleanchillin · 2 years ago

Text

But is she really yours? (141 x Reader)

Note(s) -

It's long, so be warned.

The guys are doing a little of what we like to call Dirty Mackin, and yes, I think this is something they’d all do in their own way.

Still working on getting those accents to come through, while not stepping into cringe/wrong territory.

I apologize, this is a very messy format (borderline stream of consciousness), and I’m trying to figure out a cleaner way to do this. I hope it doesn’t hurt the reading experience.

And I am the only one who kinda wants to see the reverse scenario, where Reader tries to get the guys away from their trash gfs? 👀Thanks to @bunnyreaper for the idea, it wrote itself as I read that.

Simon:

Annoying. That was the first thing Simon thought of you. So of course you had to work at the only cafe near his flat that made tea the way he liked.

You were always on your phone, arguing with someone (he guessed a boyfriend), and he hated getting stuck at your register. The calls clearly distressed you, and he didn’t know why you kept taking them. Especially on the job.

You’d gotten his order wrong more times than he could count, and you were always having to turn around and ask him to repeat the things he wanted. It got to the point where he waited until the other barista’s line was open.

Unfortunately, other customers had done the same, and it was causing a backup.

Then there was the day. His day started as it always did on his off time. The three S��s, and then he was at the gym to get his time in when he knew it was mostly empty. Then finally, his black tea.

He sighed, mentally preparing himself for the wait before he entered. As expected, there was a line.

You were there, and you appeared to be deeply engaged in conversation with the only person at your counter.

He was surprised to see you had a customer. ‘Must not be a regular.’

As he got closer to the counter, he could overhear the whispered argument. The man wasn’t a customer at all, he presumed he was the boyfriend from the phone calls. Based on the things the two of you were saying, that made the most sense.

‘Great. Getting the live version today.’ Simon had to wonder how you kept this job. Were you the boss's daughter? Did you own a share? Could he steal enough of the signature black tea blend and go into hiding until he had to ship out again?

You looked exasperated, and your co-worker stepped over to your side, coming to your aid.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Simon groaned, realizing the wait would be longer.

He stepped outside for a cigarette, making the mental decision that if by the time he was done with it there was still a line, he would forgo his drink that day.

He chose the alley on the side of the shop, not liking the openness of the sidewalk, and staked out against the opposite building’s wall.

He was halfway past the tip of his cigarette when the side door he’d been eyeing warily opened, and out came you.

You looked frustrated, anxious, and maybe a little embarrassed. He didn’t think you noticed him, instead, walking over to the dumpster and kicking it, hard. It sent a loud, tinny groan echoing through the alley. He narrowed his eyes, feeling that itch of frustration under his skin.

You noticed him finally, and stopped angrily muttering to yourself. Instead, you started talking to him. It was mostly an uninterrupted stream of dialogue for two minutes straight (he timed it), before he could finally understand you.

“Mandatory break! That’s the second one this week, can you believe that?”

He started to say yes, and that he hoped the third one won you a prize: getting fired. He kept his mouth shut though.

“It’s not even me, it’s my boyfriend. He means well, but he just…I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.” You were searching for something in your apron, but he couldn’t tell what, out of the corner of his eye.

Simon flexed his fingers, eyes narrowing until the shop’s logo mural was a blur. You found it, and walked closer to him until he turned both eyes to you.

“Can I get a light?” You gestured with the unlit cigarette between your fingers to the one burning between his lips.

“Bloody. Fuckin’. Hell, Bird! S’not enough you keep half the fuckin’ place backed up on a good day, but then you prance your arse out here to annoy me some fuckin’ more? Fuck off.” He jabbed his pointer finger at the door you’d come out of.

The alley echoed his baritone, and somehow made his outburst sharper.

You stared at him like he’d taken his head off, instead of having bitten off yours. Eyes wide, bottom lip trembling, he thought you might cry, and he began to feel guilt grow in the pit of his stomach. He’d forgotten, in the midst of you stirring up similar agitation, that he wasn’t on base talking to some recruit dumped on him.

You did cry, but once you started talking, he suspected it was more due to anger. “Fuck you! You fuck off, I work here!”

He ignored the small voice telling him ‘stop’, and fired back. “Work?” He snorted. “Real fuckin’ rich that is. Don’t confuse work with your million mandatory breaks.”

You clenched your fists, eyes wild with adrenaline and voice shrill with anger. “Go to hell. You’re just some freak in an alley who can’t remember when Halloween is. You don’t know me.”

You angrily wiped at your tears to no avail, as more quickly took their place, and then you started sobbing.

Simon sighed, feeling like shit and wishing he’d held it together just a little more. “Alright. Alright. ‘Nuff of that now.”

“I’m not crying *hic* because of you…” you huffed, trying to get your voice under control. “Just go back to your cigarette. I hope you suck it up and *hic* choke!”

He chuckled, you were the first person in a while who’d lashed back out at his harsh disposition. At least to his face. “Was uglier than I should’ve been, but won’t pretend there wasn’t some truth to it.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’re a shit barista, wanna form a band?” His lips quirked into a smirk around his near-stub cigarette.

For a beat there was silence, until the two of you burst into laughter. Yours a raucous peal of giggles, and his, raspy chuckles.

“Well, you earned that light. Got more balls then a lot of soldiers I know.”

The two of you stayed in that alley for thirty minutes just riffing off different topics. It ended with Simon giving you the friendly (read: rough) advice to not let your boyfriend cost you your job.

That’s not how he saw his day going. Having the most interesting conversation he’d had in a while with the woman who annoyed the piss out of him for the better part of his leave.

You were no longer annoying, you’d been upgraded to interesting, and that was the second thing Simon thought about you.

After your talk in the alley, Simon was pleasantly surprised to find that you’d taken his advice and stepped your skills up. It turned out, you were distracted by your boyfriend, but Simon had come to see why. He was obsessed with knowing where you were, and if you were thinking of him, and wondering if he should drop by.

Simon felt more guilt for being so impatient, and he decided no matter what, he would pick your line. That was the only reason too. It certainly wasn’t because he couldn’t stop thinking about you after your last conversation.

Sometimes you would take your breaks with him now, exhibiting that same forward nature from the alley, but it no longer annoyed him. He’d tease you about whether or not that break was mandatory, but he looked forward to it all the same.

You talked about anything and everything, from where you were from, to Simon having to explain the delicate ins and outs of football to you. (He was pretty sure you were pushing him to have a heart attack by pretending you forgot a different detail every time you talked).

It was an unstated, but mutually understood, thing that your time together fulfilled something missing for both of you. For him it was cutting into his habit of cutting off socialization until he was back on base or a mission, and for you, it was a break from your relationship.

He liked to think that you looked forward to your talks as much as he did, if your expression every time you saw him was an indicator.

Unlike him, you were an open book, so you did most of the talking. Simon soaked up everything you told him, filing it away. You were funny, and fascinating.

On his end, he was careful about some of what he shared, and nervous about other things. He had more dark or restricted anecdotes than humourous or endearing ones, and he didn’t want to bring you down. After all, you had more than enough of that to deal with.

The boyfriend. He was a nightmare of obsession and insecurity. It was perhaps your fourth break-hangout that Simon saw it completely for himself. He’d all but dragged you out of your seat, which made Simon rise from his so quickly, it almost toppled over behind him. He wasn’t unaware of his size, nor was he afraid to use it on the shorter man, but you assured him it was fine until he sat down.

Your boyfriend was panicking, wondering why you were keeping someone like him company. He wanted to know what it meant for the two of you, and Simon hated seeing you in an endless loop of begging the pathetic prick to believe you loved him. All of your humor and your cute little habits disappeared as he forced you to become a helicopter girlfriend, concerned only with his fears.

Simon decided then he would sway you away from him. He didn’t deserve you, and Simon may not have known you long, but he couldn’t stand to see you withering under him and his emotional blackmail. No one ever accused Simon of being sane.

You would be his, and that was the third thing Simon thought about you.

If he said so himself, he was slick about it. He’d forgotten about the amount of energy it took to pursue a relationship with someone, and why he limited his romantic interactions to hookups with women he found interesting.

You weren’t just interesting, he was fully infatuated with you by the time he started to actively move towards getting you away from that neurotic dumpster. You were worth the effort.

It started with seeing you outside of the cafe in a way that seemed natural. He thought about it for a while, before he settled on inviting you to a football game. He couldn’t believe he’d worried that you’d say no, your ‘yes’ came out before he was even done asking.

You were impressed with his timing, confessing that the night before, your boyfriend had thoroughly embarrassed you at a party, and you needed a fun day.

Simon had smiled tightly all through your hurried explanation that everything was fine, and that he had apologized once you got home with him.

The day of the game, you were absolutely adorable when he picked you up. Giddily introducing him to your roommate. She eyed him with approval, and even congratulated you for trading up.

Before you could correct her, he slipped in his answer. “That remains to be seen. Depends on if she embarrasses me at the game.”

You snorted, launching into that now familiar peal of giggles. “I promise I won’t. Now, which of these soccer teams is yours again? The Manfordshire Mermaids?”

“You wanna ride there on the roof?”

The trip was a better investment than he thought. You were enthralled with what was going on, the hype of the crowd, the skill of the players, and just being there in person. However, you had to rely on him to translate this new world to you, and that left you literally clinging to him in interest. Simon was your whole world in that stadium, and he locked that feeling down tightly for motivation.

Step one had gone off without a hitch, and now it was on to step two.

Outings with you became a series. Simon encouraged as many as possible in order to trigger the response he wanted.

He knew it wouldn’t be long until your boyfriend started getting antsy, and insecure again. You were going out twice as much as you had before you started hanging out with Simon outside of the cafe.

To push the matter, Simon told you his work schedule was getting hectic. It was a half truth, the training period before the announcement of a deployment had commenced, and Simon planned on having a girlfriend to come home to this time. Namely you.

He used the excuse to create later meetups. Dinners, movies, wandering the street and stumbling into things to do. All the while getting you hooked on his touch. Simon wasn’t a touchy-feely person by nature, and this was something everyone who knew him picked up on quickly. You picked up on it too, but he wanted to touch you. He didn’t though, at least not often.

Starting off with little touches that could be confused as an accident, he increased the pressure but kept the frequency low so you became addicted to his rare touches. He wanted you to feel special that someone like him indulged you in that way, so that you’d seek out more, even though HE was the one who felt blessed every time he felt your skin on his.

When you were together, he made sure things were about you. He didn’t imagine your boyfriend left much room for that with his paranoia, but he wanted to show you what you were in for once you were together.

One night, Simon kept you out later than usual. He’d stayed away from you for two weeks, which wasn’t hard, work was starting to pick up. He could’ve carved out a day or two though, but he wanted to make you crave his time like he did yours.

It worked. He scheduled a late dinner at an upscale restaurant, letting you fill him in on all that he missed. Namely, you missed being with him. You weren’t the type to keep your feelings to yourself, and you’d inevitably vented to your boyfriend about missing your friend. He didn’t like that label at all, but he liked what would come from your actions.

Periodically throughout the dinner, your phone rang, increasing in frequency as the night wore on.

You had to excuse yourself multiple times, and Simon pretended to be annoyed. In reality, he anticipated that. Each time the phone rang, you cringed and looked at him apologetically.

On what had to be the tenth time, Simon said. “Go on then, run off to pamper the pathetic bastard. Powder his arse too this time.”

Your face screwed up in objection to his barbed words. “He’s just worried…”

He shrugged. “Don’t owe me an explanation lovie. S’just a mystery why you’re in such a rush to be a nursemaid.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood up from the table. “I’m in a rush to be a good girlfriend thank you. Stop being an ass, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“S’go,” he downed the last of his bourbon before he pulled his wallet from his pocket. “I’ll pay the tab and take you home.”

“What? We’re supposed to have dessert, and then maybe a movie.”

Simon watched your distressed body language and expression with mild amusement, and he was proud of being able to hide it, even though he’d forgone his mask that night. “You’ve gotta tuck in your kid. S’not on me you won’t date a man.”

You pouted and sat back down. “If I put my phone away, you put your wallet away. You promised me dessert.”

He smirked, refusing to hide it now. This was the first time, since he’d met you, that you’d ignored your boyfriend, and it said a lot.

You did it once, so Simon was able to turn it into a habit. Your boyfriend looked increasingly unhinged as Simon made sure you starved him of your attention.

The ugly voicemails and text messages began soon after. He didn’t like that at all, and he had to remind himself the time to deal with your boyfriend would come, but he did appreciate that you were becoming less tolerant of him.

Every time you returned to Simon after having to soothe your boyfriend’s ego, and stop his tantrums, Simon made your life easier. He worshiped you in subtle ways, reminding you of what a man was, compared to a child.

There was guilt on your part, but it felt so good to be taken care of for once. To not have to worry about Simon bursting into a fit of insecurity that made you completely responsible for his feelings, and left little to no room for anything else.

When he touched you, it lit your nerve endings on fire. You knew that the touches were bordering on inappropriate, since you were still taken, but you also knew that your brain went numb with good vibrations with even just a brush of his fingertips.

Simon still kept it light, almost questionable as to whether it even happened, and you finally began to seek it out. Wearing backless tops so that his fingertips would brush your bare skin, sitting next to him in diner booths so a thick thigh was always brushing your own, going for things in high places so he’d steady you by your waist.

He never seemed to miss a beat on when and where to touch you, but it wasn’t enough.

The breaking point came when he invited you to a dinner Price was holding as a goodbye to civilian life until next leave. The verbal invitation was the most valuable thing to you in a while. Not only because you were increasingly becoming addicted to him, but because for someone like Simon to invite you into that part of his life, it meant that he was in deep with you too.

All of Simon’s friends were funny, inviting, and very taken by you. They were so polite to you, complimenting you, and telling you as much as they could about their work, trying to impress you.

You were having fun trying to keep up, but you got the impression that Simon inviting a woman he was seeing to meet them was a new thing, and they didn’t know the protocol.

You were surprised to find he went by Ghost in his field, and they were unused to hearing Simon. You shared how the two of you met, and how polite he wasn’t in your first conversation, and they weren’t surprised.

You were enjoying your time with them, the conversation never stopped, and you would venture to say Simon looked fond at times. Though, as each man became more flirtatious, his expression would change. It became an unspoken game between you and his team to try and make him speak up about it. He didn’t take the bait.

Then came the topic of your boyfriend.

“Come now love, you’re a smart girl. Why do you wanna waste your time with that bellend?” - Price

“I don’t ken what the situation here is, but if Ghost and the other one don’t appreciate you, I promise I will.” Soap

“I had a girl once, who used to follow me in her friend’s car, sit outside my apartment, and call me from different phones to test me. You’re fit as hell love, dump him.” - Gaz

It was a little embarrassing, and you were slightly annoyed that Simon had told them, but your mind kept shortening it to ‘he talked about me to his team.’

During dinner, you excused yourself to the bathroom. While you were washing your hands, Simon slipped into the room, making you jump.

Your eyes met in the mirror, where Simon just glared.

“Have fun with the boys, bird?”

“Have fun broadcasting my business?” You raised an eyebrow, but your tone held no anger to it.

Simon chuckled, locking the door. “S’not my business is it?”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head slowly.

He trapped you between the sink and himself, hands locking onto the counter on either side of you.

“Let’s fix that.” His lips pressed to the pulse point on the side of your neck, speaking his command against it. “Get rid of him lovie, and come home where you belong.”

You tried to do just that, but for the first time that you could recall, your boyfriend wasn’t taking your calls.

Simon watched you while he packed, tucked beneath his sheets where you belonged, bare. It’d been a week since you took that next step in his captain’s guest bathroom, and you’d been trying to inform your ex he was now in fact, your ex.

You gingerly rolled over to face him, mindful of all the reminders that he loved you he left your body. “Si, he’s still not picking up. I don’t want to do it over the phone, but…”

“Don’t get worked up. Maybe he got the message already...”

Kyle:

He’d re-visited Chicago on his downtime, and met you in a club. Unknown to him at the time, your boyfriend had stood you up for the third time that month, and you decided not to waste the night. It’d made you so free and enthralling to watch, he couldn’t look away.

Gaz spent the entire night with you, glad he’d ignored the jet lag, even when you took him to all the best after-hours spots.

The only problem was your boyfriend, Keith, who Gaz personally believed formed in the bottom of a toilet, and sought life elsewhere. His team thought he was delusional, and/or giving you too much thought.

“You hitting the States again then? Don’t get in the kind of trouble that you can’t get out of because you’re jealous.” - Price

“Garrick! Get your fuckin’ head off your cock, and on the exercise, before I shove my boot down your throat!” - Ghost (after he fumbled a training exercise twice)

Except for Soap, Soap backed his delusions %1,000. “She let you charge your phone when hers needed it more? That’s wedding bells lad, and I wanna be best man.”

Then there was the relentless teasing every time he spent his leave with you, but Gaz didn’t care. He couldn’t bother being embarrassed when you were waiting for him. Your grin was for him, your excited laughter was for him, and your hug was for him. The one he always held longer than friends do, his heart racing when you relaxed in his hold. Smirking when he felt your nose brush over chest quickly. You were sheepish when he grinned down at you, realizing what you were doing.

You’d gotten him cologne on his first (date) daytime hangout with you. You’d been strolling through the mall, Gaz trying to make you forget about the ugly scene he’d walked into between you and your boyfriend when he arrived at your place.

You’d been so sad, and it didn’t suit you at all. He just wanted to take you out of that environment, and let your real-self blossom again.

His hand brushed with yours, pinkies locking and unlocking so he could feel his stomach dip again and again.

He was able to slowly bring you back, into a little world of inside jokes and friendly culture clashes. Gaz fully had you back by the time he stopped in front of an expensive looking fragrance shop and said:

“You know what? I need a new aftershave, but I’m clueless about shopping for that stuff.”

“Uh, aftershave?” you’d looked puzzled, peering into the store window. “Do they even sell that here?”

He let out a confused laugh, pointing at the bottles on the glass shelf. “We’re looking at it, so I’d guess yes.”

“You mean cologne?” you gave him your first real smile since you’d gotten there, and Gaz forgave yet another correction in favor of it.

“Get in here, and help me find an aftershave.”

He proposed that you guys find the perfect scent for the other and buy it as a gift. The two of you spent the better part of thirty minutes teasing and sniffing each other. Every time Gaz lifted a part of your arm or wrist to his nose, he let his lips brush across your skin accidentally.

“Kyyylee..” you whined every time, making him stir in the right places at the wrong time.

Eventually you both settled on something for the other, but Kyle slyly placed himself in the position of paying for both. The thought of you paying never having been a real thing in his mind.

“You’ll get it next time, love.”

He treasured that scent, you’d specifically picked it out for him, and he’d savored the look you gave him when you’d finally found it. Now he was in front of you again.

“Yeah, it’s the one you bought me. Did me a good turn with that. I get compliments like they get paid to give ‘em.”

“Who’s complimenting you?” you asked, your wince revealing it’d probably come out sharper than you meant for it to.

Gaz didn’t mind, he liked you as jealous as he was.

He chuckled, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “Just..other girls with good taste.”

Your pout and sharp head turn went right on display in the mental gallery he had of you. He couldn’t resist teasing you again.

“Are you wearing the one I picked.” he leaned down hovering just over your neck where he knew you could feel the soft puffs of breath on your neck. He heard your breath hitch when he hummed, confirming that you were.

“I am, and don’t worry about who’s complimenting it, since you have sooo many of your own.”

Gaz laughed as you yanked him after you with a huff. If he was delusional, you weren’t helping.

This visit was going how he imagined it, and he intended to end it exactly that way too. Finally getting that bastard out of a picture he should’ve never been a part of.

When clubbing, Kyle kept you close. You both loved to dance, and every song that came on seemed out to prove that your bodies were built to fit together like a puzzle.

He took an interest in your life, wanting to see what you got up to when he wasn’t there. You’d resisted, thinking it’d bore him. It did not.

He enjoyed meeting your co-workers, and eating at the cafe you loved a block from your job. You even took him to spend an afternoon with your family. Every time he scored a point with them, you gave him this dreamy expression he was determined to see for the rest of his life.

When he suggested making plans with your friends, so they didn’t feel like you were ignoring them while he was there, you were thrilled at how considerate he was, and he got the pleasure of overhearing you hype him up to your friends while you invited them out to do something.

It was you blocking your girlfriends every time one of them tried to push the flirtation with him too far, that let him know it was time.

He decided he would make his move when the two of you were having a movie night at your place. It wasn’t ideal, because that piece of shit was lingering around the place. Kyle hated that you lived together, but wouldn’t let that interfere. He had work to do.

“Kyyyleee.” you giggled, dragging his name out the way he loved when he ran a finger down your cheek to your neck, complimenting your skin.

“Just admiring your skin routine. You’ve gotta share.”

Or, when he shivered, and you instinctively extended your blanket to him. He took it without question, trying not to think about all of the things you could do under a shared blanket. Although, your boyfriend walking in and out of the room, pretending he had things to get out of the kitchen, made the thought more enticing.

You’d invited him to watch in earnest, and he’d just cut you down in a way that made Kyle quickly remind him he was in your apartment, because he’d lost his job, and had nowhere else to go. That you’d sweetly taken him in, and that he should remember that.

He enjoyed kicking him down while raising you up.

Your boyfriend finally just sat at the kitchen table in the dark, fuming. The living room was visible to him from there, but Kyle was glad to have him as an audience to him reminding you of your worth.

You two exchanged snacks and commentary, easily ignoring the unwanted third party.

“No offense love, but beer here is straight piss.”

You laughed, stealing one of the cookies left on his plate. “Beer tastes like that in general.”

“How would you know? You’ve never been anywhere.” your boyfriend snapped at you nastily, from where he’d been glaring at the two of you for an hour. “And why don't you go back to jolly old England if you hate it so much?”

Gaz lazily rolled his head in his direction, body language shouting how much he didn’t respect him. “Mate, you’re being a right prick right now. It’s not like you bought the beer, or anything else you’ve been shoving in that hole.”

Your boyfriend leapt to his feet, fast enough to knock over the chair. “Come over here and repeat that teacup.”

“Blud, that’s not what you want.”

“Kyle don’t, he’s just drunk and embarrassed. Ignore him when he’s like this.” you quickly passed a hand over the back of his, but he just gave you a soft smile instead.

“That’s his problem, he embarrassed himself. Why don’t you go in the back and find something to do.” He was so effortlessly dismissive, that your boyfriend mistook this for being unprepared to fight.

Kyle’s one rule for his plan was that he wouldn’t physically handle your boyfriend unless he got physical with you. He’d planned to show you how you should be loved, and let a smart girl like you do the rest. That went out the window.

He kept it clean, the other man was stocky, but didn’t stand a chance against his training. If you hadn’t been there, he might’ve taken it further, grinding his hatred of him into harsher blows. Instead, he gave him quick, almost surgically effective, blows to put him down. He was too intoxicated and unskilled to retaliate.

“See, he just needed a nap.” Gaz tried to lighten the mood.

“I’m so embarrassed,” you whispered. “I don’t know why he’s always like this now. He didn’t use to be. I just want this to stop.”

Kyle shushed you, crossing the room to pull you into his arms. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. You’ve been dealing with this for too long.”

“I’m so tired.” you admitted, clutching his soft shirt, and inhaling his scent (your scent, that you gave him) that made your eyes roll back in your head. He was so solid, warm, and a darker word popped into your mind, ‘mine.’

“You’ve been so good to everyone, too good. Let me take care of you.” he whispered, hands roaming from your lower back to cup your ass.

He heard the hybrid of a whimper-moan, and it had him at attention before you were done.

“I’d be just like him…” you trailed off weakly.

“That’s not possible.” He lowered his lips to yours, giving you the first kiss from him that couldn’t possibly be mistaken as platonic. You kissed back without any hesitation, not even willing to pull away when he started to lead you to the back. To your room.

Hate him as he did, Gaz noted somewhere in his mind how dark the scenario was. The location, and situation, in which he was about to fulfill the second-to-last step of his plan was kind of fucked.

He cupped your jaw in both hands,“Babe…we can go back to my room at the hotel.”

He didn’t want to. He wanted to erase any trace of him here, starting in your room. He wanted you everywhere he could have you in the apartment, and he wanted him to come to just enough to hear it.

“Makes no sense. Too far. Here.” you murmured, pupils blown wide.

Gaz didn’t need to be told twice. You were barely able to string a sentence together, and it was top three one of the hottest things he’d ever heard.

“Yes ma'am.��

Kyle didn’t doubt you’d complete the final step in the morning, and officially dump the forgotten man on the floor.

Johnny:

You and Johnny met through social media. He thought you were gorgeous and, being John “Soap” MacTavish, couldn’t leave your profile without letting you know. Though he threw in some playful critique.

You responded with a thanks, and a challenge for him to do the picture better. It resulted in a months-long photo battle that quickly became a real friendship.

Late phone calls, video calls, and constant strings of texting built a whole world between the two of you.

You were the highlight of his day sometimes, especially when he’d been gone awhile. You helped him reconnect with the world after shutting it out to defend it.

The only problem was your boyfriend. Johnny prided himself on being able to get along with all kinds of people. It was just in his nature. Hate was so rarely felt by him, that he always had trouble identifying it when he felt it.

He felt hate for your boyfriend, and it didn’t take him long to figure that out. He thought he didn’t deserve you. He was always talking to you reckless, like he didn’t have the most beautiful woman in the world in his life. Johnny wouldn’t talk to you like that, he wouldn’t have time to even consider it for all the worshiping of you he’d be doing.

He’d cheated, only to make you feel like that was on you, and you took him back.

When Johnny heard your pained sobs for the first time, he’d been halfway through texting Simon to ask for help with a dark favor before he was able to talk himself down.

It was then Johnny realized how much you’d come to mean to him, and that only made him hate your boyfriend more.

Your conversations ranged from anything to everything, but they always ended with you venting, and Johnny comforting. He didn’t mind it, in fact, most times he initiated it.

He realized, he must mean a good deal to you too, because you got all your comfort from him. Johnny’s thoughts mattered to you, and you sought his advice all the time. He hated what for, but he loved that you did.

“He didn’t even like the dress Johnny. I told him you thought of it, and he accused me of wanting to wear it for you.” your screen shook violently as you stomped into your bedroom, sending said garment sailing through the air.

“M’sorry to hear that. I meant what I said when you showed it to me in the shop. Any guy that doesn’t lose it to you in that dress deserves to be committed.”

You sniffed, choking out a humorless chuckle. “I’m glad you liked it at least.”

“Oh, you don’t ken how much sweetheart. In fact, put it on for me again.”

Six months into the friendship, he convinced you to come visit him in Scotland. You’d been having more trouble with your boyfriend than usual, living with him didn’t exactly give you a lot of places to take a breather.

Once Johnny confirmed he hadn’t hurt you physically, he’d switched to coaxing you into coming to see him for a couple of weeks.

“C’mon bonnie, I’ve been stateside more times than I can count. You haven’t been here once.” He watched you do your bedtime routine, as the sun came up in the windows behind him.

He loved how despite being countries away, the moment felt as intimate as if you were with him. In his home, getting ready to come to bed with him. Except if you were, he’d tell you not to bother brushing your hair. You’d just have to do it again later.

You laughed as you ran a comb through your hair. “It’s not like you came here for me Johnny. We didn’t even know each other the last time you were here.”

“So…you’ll return the favor later. Be my pretty tour guide.”

You wound up in Scotland barely a week later. A suitcase full of clothes haphazardly thrown into it.

“I don’t even know what I packed, it's a mess!”

Cue Johnny, who can’t quit hugging you, and they feel less and less platonic. “Don’t worry ‘bout it bon. I’ll find somewhere for it all to go.”

Somewhere turns out to be designated drawers and shelves, that he’d cleared in advance, for your clothes and bath products. Johnny putting them away himself like the simp for you he is. All the while distracting you from stating how you wouldn’t be there long, and you don’t need all that space.

“We’ll see.”

Johnny had been coaxing less and less innocent behaviors out of you all week, and just worshiping you when he wasn’t. You were a worked up hybrid of desperation, and restored self-confidence. It was addictive, and you started to lean into Johnny’s touches and kisses. You pretended you didn’t hear his murmured dirty statements so he’d have to try again and again.

It came to a head when you finally accepted a video call from your pathetic boyfriend.

You were in Johnny’s living room, wearing his favorite football jersey, with him behind you, absolutely refusing to make himself scarce. You didn’t want to take the call anyway, but Johnny convinced you it’d be good for closure.

Your boyfriend started going off, yelling about how you didn’t respect him or your relationship, and demanding that ‘you bring your ass home’.

“The thing of it is lad, there’s not really anything about this relationship to respect.” Johnny slipped around to your side, tilting your head up to press his lips to yours.

You hummed in surprise, but all of his gentle touches and sweet kisses over the week had you pliant. You immediately responded, squeezing his arm when he slipped his tongue into your mouth as a tease.

He pulled away, looking way too smug, and looking all the more impossibly-handsome for it. “Say bye to your ex-boyfriend then bon. The rest of this isn’t for him.”

You gurgled something like goodbye as you slammed the lid on your laptop, attention still fully on Johnny.

John Price:

Price thought your fiance should crawl in a fire and stay there. Yeah. He wasn’t ashamed.

The man was garbage, and hardly worth you giving him a glance, let alone this much sacrifice. You’d moved countries for him, happy to make your home with him because of his job. He treated it as though that should’ve been a given.

That’s how Price had gotten to know you. You lived in the apartment across the hall from him, and the first moment you smiled at him, John was a goner.

You introduced yourself with a smile, your pretty little hand extended out towards him. He’d stood there, wishing he hadn’t worn his ratty sweatshirt with his old football team logo in fading letters. You looked gorgeous, hair framing your face, slightly out of breath from lugging in your things.

He’d stumbled in his mind until he finally remembered proper social protocol. “Price…Captain John.” He cleared his throat. “Captain John Price.”

Your mouth formed an ‘o’, you were visibly intrigued.“Captain? You’re in the military.”

“Yes.”

“Well…thank you for your service.”

Normally, John didn’t react to that line as expected. He’d heard it enough times to wish he had a pound for every time, but that was about it. He didn’t do his job for thanks, and sometimes felt they shouldn’t be for him anyways.

Coming from you however, it was different. He had the reaction he knew most people wanted. He knew from the heat in his cheeks and the tips of his ears, they were red.

Your fiancé, who’d appeared in the doorway behind you, stole his chance to answer.

“Yeah, thanks or whatever. (Y/N), come in here and figure out where you want your hair crap to go. I’m just going to toss it anywhere in a moment.”

“Oh, you could’ve just put it under the sink.”

“You should be getting ready anyways, we have a dinner engagement.” He adjusted his shirt cuffs, eyeing John like he was picturing ways he could kill him.

John wanted to see him try just one.

“Bye John,” you gave a wave, a soft smile on your lips. “I’ll see you.”

You disappeared inside, leaving the two men in a stare down. There was a silent conversation at play, what your fiancé wanted to say was stated without a word. How much John cared about that was conveyed in the same manner.

Your fiancé broke first, slamming the door behind him.

“We’ll see if I’ll stay away.” He muttered, going into his own place.

Over that first month, you two got to know each other well. Your fiance was often at work, and you turned to John with your questions as you tried to settle into your new home. You had no one else there, and even though John had planned to decompress in complete isolation, he couldn’t do that to you. Didn’t have a part of his being that wanted to.

However, as John got to know you, he got to know your fiance too. Enough to know if he was ever going to murder someone outside of work, it’d be him.

It started with small things like what takeout you should go for, or which grocery store did he use? It seemed your fiance was useless.

One day, you needed help putting together your beauty table. You’d come to John, clearly embarrassed, and something told him you’d debated on asking him for a while. Your fiance refused, because you hadn’t paid attention when you were checking out, and didn’t select the construction help option.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me love. You mean to tell me that he never made a mistake?” John was already coming out of his apartment, ready to help.

“It’s stupid, but I don’t feel like arguing with him over it. We’re in an ok place right now.” you laughed awkwardly, leading him inside.

“Ok probably isn’t a place you want to be when you’re headed for the church.” it came out of his mouth before he could think about how it wasn’t his place.

He was so used to being blunt, and dealing out cold, hard facts or opinions. It always took him a minute to readjust to what was appropriate, but by then he was back on duty.

You looked stunned, clearly not expecting that from him. Your arms crossed defensively, giving him a side glance while you mulled over responding.

He meant what he said, but he never would’ve delivered it to you that way, or at all, if he had thought two seconds more.

“‘M sorry. It’s really not my place is it?” he gestured to the back of the apartment. “Where do you need me?”

There were many more opportunities to spend time with you, and with them, opportunities to point out the toxicity he was seeing. It wasn’t in John’s nature to ignore obvious problems, he got paid to do the opposite. He had to resign himself every time so he didn’t upset you.

With every time he gave you directions, or answered a local cultural difference that confused you, you two lingered in each other’s presence a little longer. He wasn’t going to spoil that.

Your requests started to leave the territory of furniture building and directions, and started to cross more into trying a new recipe, and how you could do better at fitting into your new home. Your conversations started to get deeper, more information about each other being shared.

There were times where you dropped off food, having made too much, or your fiance didn’t want what you cooked. John loved your cooking as it was, he normally lived off whatever he could grab and nuke, but he threw in extra enthusiasm for spite and your pretty smile.

Sometimes John found reasons to come over to your place.

“Share a cake love? Don’t get excited, I picked it up at the shops.” “Just bringing back your bowl.” “I can take a look at that window if maintenance is still laying about.”

And without fail, you made him stay every time. You got lonely, and you still knew very few people in the area outside of him. Your fiance didn’t seem to care, he felt he’d set you up with plenty of friends in his circle. John called them posh knobheads, and you couldn’t agree more. You had nothing in common with them, and you always wound up back with John to vent.

He found it easier to talk to you than he had anybody else, and from the never ending conversation between you two, he guessed you felt the same. The topic of the nature of your relationship was verboten, but that was fine by him. By that point, he was more interested in making you forget you even had a fiance. He really hadn’t even made an effort to do it, it just tilted that way, and he leaned into it.

You weren’t exactly stopping his flirtatious comments, in fact, you seemed to light up in ways he hadn’t seen until then.

Then came the outings. As your fiance got more negligent, you got bolder. It started with you taking a chance to invite John to a movie when you two bumped into each other in the mailroom. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone to the cinema, and he couldn’t say what was playing if someone held a gun to his head, but ‘don’t see why not’ fell out of his mouth with no resistance.

Then it was shopping together, or you dragging him to a museum and him bullshitting his art knowledge to make you laugh. He didn’t normally spend his time off being this active socially. He decompressed, and prepared for the next assignment. Maybe he’d meet a woman at a pub and bang out some release before getting back into formation.

He’d wondered if he would regret doing things differently on his next deployment, but that stopped the first time someone mistook the two of you for a couple. That alone would’ve been enough for him to keep his delusions (that he definitely did not have) going, but it was the fact that you didn’t correct them. It happened again, and if he thought he imagined things, he hadn’t. You never corrected the person, just gave a coy smile and accepted the compliment.

Well if you didn’t, he certainly wasn’t going to.

The final time that John could say he only found you attractive, instead of wanting you completely, you’d come to him to ask him if he could drive you to a little farmer’s market outside of the city. Things hadn’t been going well with you and your fiance.

You didn’t have to tell John, he could attest to that himself. He’d heard your arguments in his place, and between the noise level, and trying to make sure it didn't go to a place where you weren’t safe, he wasn’t getting much sleep.

Your plan was to cook your fiance a favorite meal from his childhood, using nothing but farm fresh ingredients. You figured that all you needed to get things on track was a quiet night in, focused on reminding each other why you were engaged. John nearly bit through his tongue to keep himself from bringing up the fact that it seemed the workload on maintaining the relationship fell solely on your shoulders.

Instead, he shoved his bucket hat on his head, and lied about needing to head out that way anyways.

The car ride started out quiet on his part, with you filling in the conversation. Price may have flexed his fingertips in jealousy more times than he could count, but you were so goddamn beautiful when you were excited. It almost hurt to look at you head on, so he gave you side glances to show he was listening.

At the market, your excitement didn’t die down. In fact, it turned into infectious playfulness. You two teased each other, engaged in playful scams to get more samples, and dared each other to come up with crazier and crazier stories about yourselves for the owner of each stall you visited.

Price would die twice before he admitted that he imagined you were on a date a couple times during the day. You never brought your fiance up, and he had to remind you to check your grocery list more than once.

It was late afternoon when you returned to the car, laden with goodies and constructing inside jokes. John was enjoying his time with you so much, he almost forgot he had to tell you he was shipping out the following week. He didn’t know if you’d care so much as to need an announcement in advance, but he felt he should.

He was worried about you, and he would think of you wherever he was bound to wind up, hoping you’d come to your senses and leave the garbage behind. Of course, he’d miss you…and he certainly wasn’t under any delusion that when you’d taken out the trash, maybe you’d consider him.

“Why’re you so quiet?” you’d squeezed his bicep to get his attention, and he instinctively pushed his arm into your hands, encouraging the touch.

It was quiet for a moment, before you slowly uncurled your fingertips, and placed your hands in your lap. His face flooded with embarrassed warmth.

Had he gone too far by leaning into the physical?

Price white-knuckle-gripped the steering wheel, swallowing down what he thought was a rejection he had no right to be hurt about, and cleared his throat. “Right. I’m heading out next week, and it won’t be short. Just thought you should know.”

Whatever reaction he expected from you, it wasn’t the one you gave.

“What?” You placed a hand on your chest, and then rolled your eyes. “Well that’s great.”

John gave you a bewildered expression, and it must've shown, because you quickly straightened up and faced forward.

“I don’t know about great, but it is my job. The one I was quite clear about when we first met.”

“Pull over.” you said so quickly, he wasn’t even sure you’d heard his response.

“What? Why? Are you feeling il-”

“No..just..please.” you gestured to the side of the road.

He obliged, brows drawn tight and carrying all of his questions. “Your boy is going to be home soon, and we still have a bit of a drive ahead of us. What-”

“I wanted to come here because of you.” you breathed out, still facing forward, your posture almost impossibly rigid.

“Me? You’re not making much sense (Y/N).”

You huffed, and when you turned to him, your expression took his breath away. In that moment he could read every thought you were thinking, and it would’ve bowled him over if he wasn’t sitting.

He felt electricity beneath his skin, the feeling he got any time he was about to do something drastic and dangerous.

It was the little hidden thing in your eyes that he couldn’t place that gave him pause.

“I came here, because I wanted to get away with you for today. I needed to.” you turned your whole body to him. “I don’t give a fuck about fresh ingredients for him, he probably won’t eat it anyways.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “We agreed to start over. And I’m going to try, I really am, but…I still can’t stop feeling need.”

In the looming silence, all John could do was scratch his beard, and try not to look as stupid as he was sure he did. He knew what you were saying, what you were toeing at, but surely you were just venting. You couldn’t-

“S’not right love.” Now it was his turn to look ahead. “Not for him, fuck him. For you. You’re upset and you’re scared, and you're raw.”

“And I need this.” you breathed. “If you’re trying to protect me, stop. If you don’t want me in that way..ok, I’m a big gi-”

“Oooh,” his voice came from deep in his chest, baritone thrumming through the car. “That’s not it. I promise you, that’s.not.it.”

Your fingertips gently pulled his face in your direction. “You’re leaving me…and when you get back things are going to have to be different.”

There it was. John swallowed, hard.

“I’m being selfish, but..I thought I’d have a little more time with you before..” Your eyes watered. “It’d be one thing if you really were just my friend, but that’s not right is it?”

John wiped at your eyes with his thumb before cupping his cheek in his hand. “No, it’s not.”

“Just one time.”

It was a struggle to say no to you, and that didn’t stop now. He pulled your mouth to his, hands gripping your shoulders in a subconscious effort to prove this was happening. You were in front of him, kissing him back as hard as he was kissing you.

He unbuckled you, and pulled you into his lap, sliding the seat back.

“I’m gonna miss you.” you were crying now, and neither one of you did anything about the tears.

His hands cupped the back of your head, fingers gently threading through your hair. “Oh, sweet girl. Why didn’t you meet me sooner?”

What transpired after was the most bittersweet moment he could recall. He had heartbreaks and troubled relationships before, but he’d never had to have a breakup with a woman he wasn’t sure he’d been seeing in the first place, but knew that he loved.

He took you twice in his car, before finally, the two of you could no longer ignore the setting sun and had to return home.

John remembered why he preferred to take a girl somewhere quickly, and then spend the rest of his leave in solitude, occasionally seeing a trusted friend. It wasn’t as fulfilling as what he had with you, but it didn’t hurt this deeply either.

He sat in his apartment for hours after he watched you disappear into your own. He didn’t even bother turning on a light when it got too dark, he just sat there, continuing to contemplate how things had gotten to be such a mess. How could he continue to pride himself on being the logical leader he thought he was, when he’d made such a mess of himself so quickly?

How was he supposed to forget you? How was he supposed to forget that he loved you, and that you loved him with another man’s ring on your finger?

The thought of seeing you, carrying your fiance’s child, and looking miserable during what should’ve been one of the happiest times of your life made Price leap from the couch. That familiar electricity raising every hair on his person to a point.

He didn’t know what he was doing, or what he was going to say, but he was moving like he’d planned it for months.

When he stepped into the hall, he paused.

You were sitting on the plush hall couch, eyes puffy, with a death grip on a pyrex dish. Your hair was perfectly styled, and you were wearing a low-cut silken dress that made him want to fall to his knees now that he knew what lay beneath. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, trying to curb your sniffles.

“I was right, he wouldn’t eat it. He got mad and left.”

“You should’ve made him wear it instead.” John’s fist clenched at his side, itching to do what he wanted from the moment he first saw him get short with you.

You shook your head, rising to your feet. “I don’t blame him this time. I didn’t make it for him, anymore than I shopped for it with him in mind, and I told him so.”

You held up the dish, and John saw it was his favorite. His idea of a perfect Sunday roast in one pot. Your meaning was clear.

“I just kept thinking, it shouldn’t be this hard. I mean, it shouldn’t be, right?” you stepped forward.

“No, it shouldn’t be.” He also took a step forward.

“It’s not that way with you.” Another step.

“I would hope not.” he also took another step

You stopped when all that separated the two of you was the dish.

“So this belongs to me then?” he was staring at the dish, but his hands gently grasped your wrists.

You, however, were looking directly at him when you breathed out. “Yes.”

#141 x reader #cod #call of duty #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john price #reader insert #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #Soap #soap x reader #tf 141 x reader #fem reader

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qiyutism · 4 months ago

Text

"you became quiet all of a sudden. i'm not used to it."

summary: you had been working late, night after night for weeks now. you don't answer his calls, you give clearly rushed, short responses to his texts. you haven't even stopped by his studio in god knows how long. rafayel cant stand the lack of attention. can't stand being ignored. forgotten. abandoned.

had the bond your two souls share lost all meaning to you?

word count: 3,283 words

content warnings: angst with a happy ending. mentions/fear of abandonment. kissing and implied sex (if you wanna interpret it that way?) but no actual smut.

author's note: this is my first time writing a fic on tumblr! umm this is barely proofread because i'm sleepy asf so apologies for any grammar or spelling mistakes, if i notice any i'll go back and edit them. but yeah, this was all mainly inspired by my own headcanons about rafayel's character and by the in-game dialogue below! please let me know what you think and maybe i'll write more in the future :)

tags: @m00nchildwrites @ghoulishnero <3 !!

heart dividers by @/cafekitsune!

the rain poured down like a waterfall, heavy raindrops hitting against your umbrella as you rushed to your apartment building. it was late at night, with the only thing illuminating the sidewalk at this hour being the flickering street lights and occasional blinding lightning from the storm.

after sprinting your way through the rain, you finally made it safely inside your apartment building. trying to regain your composure you paused for a moment, breath heavy with sheer exhaustion as you closed your dripping umbrella.

you sluggishly began your way to the elevators, wet shoes squeaking along the floors and echoing throughout the quiet lobby. pressing the button to go up, you then stepped back and waited only a few seconds before the elevator doors opened in front of you.

you were thankful that no one else was inside as you pressed your floor number and leaned against the cold wall, closing your eyes and letting out a loud sigh you didn't even know you had been holding in. you remained still, letting your mind and body rest, even for just a moment, before the ding of the elevator brought you back into your body.

you stand up straight and make your way to your apartment door, fishing your keys out of your purse as you get closer. you turn the key in the knob and open the door, quickly ridding yourself of your shoes and almost throwing the rest of your things to the ground. you'll worry about that later.

but right now, you were so incredibly tired.

every muscle in your body ached after weeks of training and battling wanderers nonstop. your head was pounding, as if there was someone inside your head repeatedly beating against your skull.

work had been pushing you especially hard lately, with a sudden increase in wanderer appearances causing hunters in various departments to be stationed around the city to protect citizens, and hopefully find a lead as to what triggered this influx in the first place. over the past month, you had been stationed in several different places around linkon, ordered to eliminate any potential threats to the area and investigate for any clues on what could be causing this.

and even when you weren't stationed out to be constantly battling wanderers, you were at headquarters sorting through mountains and mountains of paperwork. for hours on end, you would do nothing but read and catch up on previous investigations or potential leads that would explain the uptick in wanderers.

and yet, you nor anyone else in your department had seemed to uncover anything.

and for the past few weeks, the stress, skipping meals, and losing sleep had finally begun to catch up to you. when you would eventually be let off work and allowed to go home, you completely shut down. even your closest friends hadn't heard from you in who knows how long. you were always too fatigued to do anything but sleep the moment you stepped through your front door.

even rafayel suffered as a result.

you'll admit, despite everything, you still tried your damn best to reply to his texts and answer his calls when you could. but the frequency of which you two communicated had still been heavily impacted. sometimes, the best you could manage was only a short reply, if only to let him know that you were still alive and breathing at the very least. you hadn't even had the energy (or the time) to pop by his house for a visit.

realizing how bad things had gotten thanks to this increase of demands from work, how horribly you had been neglecting your physical and mental health, how badly you've been neglecting your friendships and relationship, you decided to finally reach out and request for some desperately needed time off. that's all you needed, was time.

some time to sleep in late and be able to wake up and have a calm, slow morning. some time to take a long, hot, relaxing bath to soak the stress and strain out of your poor muscles. some time to eat a big, filling, home cooked meal, a luxury you hadn't allowed yourself lately and instead opting for the convenience of take out meals or junk food snacks and sweets.

you needed time to go over to rafayel's studio and profusely apologize for how distant you had been.

with your thoughts circling back to rafayel yet again, you thought you should check your phone and see if he had sent you his usual stream of texts messages throughout the day. sprawled out across your bed, you slowly reach into your back pocket for your phone and check your notifications for the first time all day.

among the usual system notifications and messages and calls from friends, there was only one person you cared about and were specifically looking for.

30+ unread texts and 10 missed calls just from rafayel alone. you could swear you felt your heart physically break into a million pieces inside your chest seeing the sweet, playful messages slowly turn despondent and sorrowful as the day went on.

goooood morning cutie ♡ i finished another painting last night, reddie thinks u should totallyyy come over later and check it out :P

i went out to the beach today and collected some seashells to make some new paints. i think the hues will be perfect for an old piece i was working on

the hermit crabs outside have begun asking where u've been lately :/

miss bodyguarddd where are uuu :(

you're being quiet again today ...

cutie??

*missed call*

*missed video call*

you stare at the screen for a while, tears threatening to fall from your eyes as guilt digs its claws into your heart. you feel like a horrible partner, with work straining you mentally and physically, you've barely had the time or energy to even talk to your own boyfriend? of all people?

you shake your head, trying to rid yourself of those thoughts as your fingers begin tapping the screen. you're not even completely aware of what exactly you're saying, all you know is that you need to make it up to him.

you have to see him.

your body feels heavy like a sack of bricks, its past midnight, and the storm outside is only just starting to let up. but looking back at this past month, you realize how much you've pretty much neglected rafayel. barely replying to his texts, and if you do its something sent in a fatigued, half-functioning state. you haven't had the time to answer his calls, not wanting him to see you so disheveled and almost on the brink of passing out at work. you damn sure haven't been able to visit his studio with how busy work has kept you.

mustering every last bit of strength in your body, you slowly make your way out of bed and into the shower. you need to at least wash off the day's stress from your body before heading over to his house. though it's nothing compared to soaking in a nice bath, the scalding hot water still does wonders for your body and you certainly feel more refreshed than before.

you slip on some comfortable clothes, just some sweatpants and a hoodie, before putting your shoes on and grabbing your purse from where you left it when you first entered. locking the door behind you, you begin your journey to rafayel's home, on a mission.

you check your phone again, every bone in your body hoping rafayel was even still awake and had replied to your text from before. usually he stays up late, either soaking in his bathtub or pulling an all-nighter on a painting project. so it's a little disheartening when you glance at your phone and see no new notifications from him. this doesn't deter you from your newfound mission, but it does plant a seed of worry that buries its roots deep within your chest.

the rain had thankfully seemed to have briefly paused by the time you arrive at your destination. you stand in front of the gate to mo art studio, that seed of worry already branching out and stretching through your entire body like a full grown tree.

still no text or call from rafayel.

you stand still, frozen in place by a heavy veil of doubt and ...

... fear?

will any amount of groveling and apologizing possibly fix what i've done? fix the pain i've caused him?

you notice your breathing start to grow louder and faster and try your best to calm yourself back down.

you were already here now. there's no going back.

you force yourself to push the gate open, stepping on the stone path towards the front door of his home. you stand there for another moment and decide to knock first.

*knock knock knock*

no answer.

*knock knock knock*

still no answer.

*knock knock knock knock knock knock*

silence.

taking a deep breath, you reach inside your purse and pull out the key rafayel had given you long ago when you two had first met. with shaky hands you insert the key, slowly and quietly letting yourself in.

your eyes almost bulge right out of their sockets at the sight of what you had just walked into.

the living room was a complete mess, as if a hurricane had came and swept through the whole place. paint tubes lay scattered around, various colors leaking from them onto the floor in streaks. paint brushes look like they were thrown against the wall, all laid on the floor in a pile under a big splat of paint made on the wall. canvases, some big or small, some blank or with a few strokes of paints struck across them, lay on the ground in several pieces, as if a wanderer had came and ripped them to shreds. the entire place just look completely unkempt and almost abandoned.

the only source of light allowing you to see anything was the glow of the moon shining through the open windows, faint wind blowing the loose sheer curtains inwards.

"rafayel?" you whisper, unsure if he's even awake or here at all.

you walk through the house, trying your best to remain quiet. as you continue on, you notice that it seems like some paint brushes and canvases and even parts of the walls have been burned? you reach your hand out to touch the scorched pieces, bits of ash and soot marking your fingers black.

this means rafayel was definitely here, but just what the hell happened?

you carefully step over and around all the mess, making your way through the home when you hear what you think is someone ... mumbling?

sounds like it's coming from his bedroom.

the door to his bedroom is slightly ajar, and before you make your presence known, you lean in and try to hear what's going on inside.

"she's gone. she's never coming back, and it's all my fault."

you immediately recognize the voice, and it's as if your heart was just ripped out of your chest and ripped to shreds.

"was i too clingy? did she feel suffocated by me? did i take my teasing too far? god, i fucked it up again, i can't lose her ..."

you feel tears start to pool in your eyes again, only this time its impossible to stop them from falling. one after another, the more you hear him spew on about what he must have done to drive you away, the more the tears flow down your cheeks like rivers.

in the midst of your breakdown, before you even realize, you instinctively let out a light sniffle. you were quiet, but the silence of the rest of the house only echoed the small sound even more. you heard what sounded like blankets shift before a small, weak voice spoke out.

"is someone there?" he mutters, his voice slightly shaky as if he had been crying as well.

you close your eyes and inhale, a sorry attempt to pull yourself together, knowing you had been caught. you slowly push the door open with a creak and reveal yourself to see rafayel, buried so deep under the covers that only his peeking head is visible. his hair is completely unkempt, as if he hasn't bothered to maintain it in who knows how long. as you slowly step closer you see his tear stained cheeks, the sight tugging at your heartstrings.

he looks like a shell of the rafayel you've always known. the rafayel you've known always had a mischievous grin on his face, like he had a trick up his sleeve waiting for you. the rafayel you've known always had a certain light, or twinkle in his eyes that brought him to life. the rafayel you've known always carried himself in a somewhat carefree and lackadaisical manner that made him honestly quite the joy to be around.

the rafayel cocooned in bed in front of you has lost that playful grin. his eyes as dark as the deep sea, and his carefree attitude has been replaced by a thick air around him akin to mourning.

you stand there, inches away from the bed, the two of you remaining in silence for what seemed like an eternity.

rafayel locked his eyes on you, a mixture of emotions evident in his eyes that he didn't even bother to try and hide. hurt, pain, disbelief, devotion. you could tell even he didn't know what exactly he was feeling right now. so you decided to take this moment of silence to speak first.

“rafayel i–”

you stopped, but your mouth remained opened, as if you were waiting for the rest of your words to load in your brain. and when they didn't, you could only find yourself beginning to sob yet again. your legs felt too weak to support you anymore, your entire body completely overcome with emotion as you sunk to the floor. you held your head in your hands as you simply let your tears flow like a faucet.

“rafayel i’m so sorry!” you began, shoulders rising and falling as you continued weeping.

“i got completely overwhelmed with work lately and everything has just been so stressful! i barely eat and i barely sleep anymore because work has kept me so busy and i’ve just been so tired every day!” you cry out, spilling your emotions out like a dam burst.

you paused for a quick moment just to catch your breath, the tears still not stopping.

“i’ve been wrapped up with work and haven't been able to be here for you and you have every right to be furious with me but please believe me rafayel, you’ve done nothing and could never do anything to ever make me hate you!”

you’re practically yelling at this point, trying your best to sound as sincere and truthful as possible to get him to believe you. you just can't stand to see him like this, it pains you to see the one person you love the most in this world convinced so deeply that you’ve fallen out of love with him.

when that's the absolute farthest thing from the truth.

you both sit in a tense silence for a few moments, your words repeating over and over again in rafayel’s mind. minutes pass and your sobbing finally seems to be coming to an end as you wipe your eyes with your damp hoodie sleeves.

the sound of your sniffles and choked, shaky breaths are muffled by the sound of blankets shifting around on the bed from above. you look up and watch as rafayel joins you on the floor, sitting only an arm’s length in front of you.

“do you still love me?” he whispers, so softly as if someone else could be listening in on you.

“with all my heart, rafayel.” you respond without a second thought, looking him directly in his eyes.

he takes a moment to gather his thoughts, looking off into the distance of the room as he then continues speaking.

“this past month, you became quiet all of a sudden. i’m not used to it. you stopped replying to my texts, stopped answering my calls. you wouldn't even come over to see me anymore. i thought i had done something wrong, that i must have hurt you. i really thought i had lost you, forever.”

his words grow softer and softer as he continues, almost fading out towards the end. he’s still unable to look you in the eyes as he attempts to put all of his racing thoughts into coherent sentences.

“i’m terrified of you losing you. of being abandoned by you.” he finally makes direct eye contact. “even the thought of it is enough to make me sick. when that terrifying thought seemed like it was becoming my reality, i lost control.”

you remember the current state that his home and studio is in. the paint splattered all across the floors and walls, paintbrushes thrown across the room, scorched pieces of the walls from his fire evol. he really did lose himself, because he thought i had left him for good.

he grows quiet again, fading out the last part of his sentence, but you’re latched onto his every word like a man dying of thirst reaching for water. you hear every word that leaves his mouth, as much as it still pains you to hear. it hurts you to hear just how horrible he’d felt this entire time.

you slowly reach for his hand, giving him time to reject your touch if he wasn't ready.

but he doesn't.

you grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his and feeling the warmth from his palm envelop yours. he looks at you, the numerous emotions displayed in his eyes slowly melting into one.

love.

“rafayel, you will never lose me. and i promise you that. i’m yours, in this lifetime and the next. forever.”

the two of you remain still, hands intertwined, eyes locked on one another. rafayel is the first to move.

he lets go of your hand, instead moving both of his to cup your face and watches as shock momentarily washes over your face. you swear you see a glimpse of that mischievous grin return to his face before he leans in and locks his lips on yours.

you’re briefly caught off guard, but you quickly come to your senses and return the kiss with everything you have in you. your hands find their way to his hair, gripping it tightly and earning the tiniest of moans from his mouth.

time seems to stop as the two of you bask in each other's embrace. you're the first to pull away, only for the sole reason of needing air to continue the kiss.

as you breathe air back into your lungs, rafayel speaks, voice low and soft.

“tell me you love me.”

a small smile finds its way on your face, happy to do anything he asks for.

“i love you rafayel.” you say, planting a kiss on the mole under his eye.

you can tell that a light blush creeps its way onto his face, even in the dim moonlight that intrudes through his large bedroom windows.

“say it again.” he says, voice still low as a whisper.

“i love you rafayel.” you plant another kiss on the right on his nose, watching his blush intensify even more.

finally, he reconnects his lips with yours yet again, this time pulling you close into his lap, wanting to feel your body close and pressed up against his.

and when he kisses you, he devotes the entire ocean to his beloved.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #lads rafayel #love and deep space rafayel #rafayel x mc #rafayel edit #rafayel x y/n #rafayel x you

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themeraldee · 9 months ago

Text

The Lucky Winner - Part 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, I’ll pick you up then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded towards the bouquet, raising his eyebrows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s no shame in being a fan.”

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

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

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

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

“You don’t think that’s it?”

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

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

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

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

So you continue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do I get a goodbye kiss?”

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

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

At first he comes back to you seeking comfort.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You call him out on that one day.

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

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

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

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

He breaks your thoughts with a simple sentence.

“Maybe I want to treat my girl.”

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

“Your girl?”

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Again.”

“I love you.”

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

“Again.”

And each time he asks he sounds more wrecked.

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe I should give you more reminders then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait.

Where is everything?

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

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

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

His stomach flips.

No. Nonono. This can’t be happening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exactly. It can’t be. You wouldn’t.

This has to be some kind of a mistake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not sell it all?”

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

“What if I sign them?”

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

“Nonsense, come on. Bring it out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Next -> Part 4]

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#yayyyy it's done #I need to learn to keep my chapters at a reasonable word count honestly #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander #homelander fanfiction #my writing #the boys fanfiction

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jesncin · 3 months ago

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"Constantine: Distorted Illusions" Sure Did Distort My Illusions

When it comes to transformative art I always say, "changes are fine, it's what you say and do with those changes that I'm interested in." This is cape media, they're always reimagining things to tell new stories. So any notion of "accuracy" feels like non-starter arguments for me when discussing a text as nebulous as cape comics. That being said, what does cursed YA graphic novel "Constantine: Distorted Illusions" do with the many changes it makes to Hellblazer lore? Because I'm seeing all these surface level illusions (heheh) to Hellblazer but huge changes are made that undermine the radically punk text of the source material.

Bullet point review of thoughts below, sorry for exposing yall to ken doll Johnstantine again lmao, I just want a meta that goes beyond "I hate that he's pretty":

Let's get this out of the way, the writing is bad. I don't want anyone saying "it's because it's YA/for teens!" because there are fantastic YA graphic novels out there, heck even within DC that's the case (Girl Taking Over, read it). I've read middle grade graphic novels with stronger writing than this. The MG Constantine graphic novel is easily better.

The dialogue is generic and the character voices are not indistinct (if Kami Garcia believes that making John say "Bloody" and "brilliant" and "toss" makes him British, she is mistaken), the relationships are superficial and lack depth, the plot arguably doesn't start until over halfway through the story. I'd argue the story only really starts when Mucuous Membrane gets blacklisted from performing and John decides to summon a spirit for revenge. Otherwise the beginning half is such a drag of nothing.

The art. Compliment sandwich: It's a very appealing style that teens especially will really like. Isaac Goodheart's clearly very skilled in drawing fashion and hairstyles- which again, teens will love.

The not good art: it's the part where, in pursuit of making all the characters look model-level attractive, that it disrupts the momentum of the storytelling. John especially is drawn to be so handsome-squidward that he's rendered with these duck lips in every panel, it's haunting.

Like he's threatening to kiss the reader at any second (and I did not consent). But it isn't limited to John- all the characters have a "supermodel stiffness" that gets in the way of their acting. When someone is devastated, they can't ugly cry- they still have to look hot so they can't fully emote. It makes it hard to treat any emotional beat seriously when the characters are posing for a magazine cover every minute. Some pages felt more like pin ups than truly composing a moment for storytelling reasons. In their quest to make these characters hot, it made me incapable of connecting with them- because they're not emoting like people.

Second end of compliment sandwich for art: The colors are good (props to Ruth Reymond) and some of the layouts are inspired! The painterly pages especially look very cool.

I think Distorted Illusions' biggest sin and what makes it so antithetically Hellblazer (and not in the good way- I'm all for re-imaginings that challenge the source material) is this groveling to authority figures. OG Hellblazer is a punk text- John is a born and raised punk from the 80s to 90s, hates the rich and tricks Gods, Demons, and Devils with his wits. He humiliates beings of authority, proving how their pride gets the better of them. But in Distorted Illusions, John has to apologize and ask for help not just from his dad Thomas (canonically abusive in the og canon text)- but his stepdad and a magician he failed to apprentice under. They all come to help him after he apologizes for being reckless.

In contrast, the Hellblazer middle grade graphic novel "The Mystery of The Meanest Teacher- a Johnny Constantine Graphic Novel" actually understood this! Even for a graphic novel I would consider to be the most safe and commercial way to pitch Hellblazer to kids (it's comedic, plays it safe- sets the story in America, lighthearted), it is still inherently an anti-authority narrative. The plot there was for John and his friend to uncover why their teacher is targeting them as magic-user kids. Johnny uses his smarts to outsmart authority. It's a communal effort with similarly marginalized friends against a bigger threat.

Distorted Illusions on the other hand has John dawdle around in America for a while before he eventually messes up and has to come crying to his dad, stepdad, and teacher for help. A whole coven of magic users of authority just exorcize a demon out of John's hospitalized friend. There wasn't even any smarts involved. No trickery. They just "do powerful magic that John can't do because he doesn't train" and leave. Frankly, with the state of the writing, I don't think Garcia is clever enough to think of a classic Constantine silver tongued solution.

What I do think both the MG and YA graphic novel (and to an extent all of DC!Johnstantine) misunderstand about og Hellblazer is that,,, magic isn't inherently special in the world of Hellblazer. Sure John is from a bloodline of Laughing Magicians but there's plenty of Constantines that don't practice magic. One of the things that surprised me when reading the very first issue of Hellblazer was Gary Lester (John's Mucous Membrane band member and friend) performing an exorcism pretty casually. Tons of characters either dabble in occultish stuff or are experts, but it's framed as something anyone can do.

But then what makes John special then? I thought magic was his power? Well no, it never was. It was his smarts. And I believe that's key to keep in mind. Hellblazer is an anti-genre superhero text- no one person is picked to be exceptional. Anyone in Hellblazer can do magic. John's power is mundane but that's why he's a compelling character. It says anyone, even a working class drunkard can overcome powerful obstacles. When John is "a special birth magic boy" as a means to fit him into some kind of Harry Potter mold, it misses the point for me.

General diversity representation thoughts time. It's apparent that with any adaptation of old source material that "this time it's those characters again but more diverse" and sometimes those changes inform the characters (Girl Taking Over, my beloved) and other times it's diversity paint and the characters are interchangeable with their original counterparts (MAWS, my behated). For Distorted Illusions' case, this means adding more women, characters of color, and John being just a bit more outwardly bi (he just says a guy is hot and ended a relationship with a guy named "Liam" who we never see. It's scraps).

I'm torn here because as a reader of color who loves og Hellblazer but also occasionally finds it a frustrating read from its outdated portrayal of characters of color and general racism/colonialism plots, I turn to the more modern Hellblazer stories like maybe Spirit World or even Distorted Illusions for what I hoped are stories that handled characters of color better. Instead I end up annoyed because while og Hellblazer had outdated writing, those characters of colors' identity mattered to the history and context of the story. Their identities were politicized and therefore not interchangeable with whiteness.

Distorted Illusions wants you to praise it. "Look John has gal pals now! His best friend is a girl! His stepdad is a Black man, his mentor is a Black woman, and his love interest is a brown girl! Also John is definitely bi in this!" But if I changed all these characters to be white or straight people would the story really change that much? Were their identities integral to the narrative or who they are as people? Because they sure would be in og Hellblazer, even if sometimes poorly done- they certainly were trying.

And how diverse were those changes anyway? Distorted Illusions is already a pathetically un-punk text with how it grovels at authority, but we're in an era where there's more queer characters than ever- and yet we're still terrified of having mainline bi characters say the word "bisexual". John doesn't say he's bi in Distorted Illusions. He keeps saying he's punk, but unlike his friend Slaughter, he's not given outfits nearly as punk as him (John still has to look commercially attractive after all). He can't even wear his gay right earring. You're telling me a text from the 80s and 90s isn't afraid to say gay, lesbian, queen, f-g, and AIDS but comics in the modern day think calling a guy "hot" is enough? I'm tired. It's cowardice. Who needs the Don't Say Gay bill if we're already doing the censorship ourselves?

There's other insidious changes too. John's mom is alive (didn't die from childbirth like in canon) because I guess John needs more women in his life. Okay. Where's Cheryl (John's big sister) then? Why are we trying to fit John into a nuclear family structure so much? They live in this aesthetic cozy house because I guess the lower-working class upbringing og Hellblazer John grew up in just isn't aesthetic enough. John's bio dad, Thomas Constantine, isn't an amputee. He has two arms. Oh, but don't worry we have a magic user authority wizard woman in the end who is a wheel chair user. We did our disability rep quota! Because disability rep is only limited to what DC fandom recognizes as Oracle!Barbara.

It's transparent that while these are all more superficially diverse changes, they're all so palatably safe. John has gal pals because his occasional misogynist outbursts in his og Hellblazer run is just too messy. John doesn't have a single parent for most of his life, swapping households in extended family member's homes because that's too messy. What's the point then though? These changes don't challenge or innovate Hellblazer. All they're doing is fitting John into a commercial box.

And that's my general feelings towards Distorted Illusions. It's a continuing trend of superficial aesthetics that try to frame itself as more progressive than the original source material but falls flat on its handsome squidward face. It's easy to make fun of this book, the writing is bad, the yassification of John, and the "inaccuracies to Hellblazer" are all beaten like a dead horse. But there's other insidious stuff in Distorted Illusions' mediocrity. And it's worth examining as much as any other Hellblazer text.

#ramblings #jesncin dc meta #hellblazer #john constantine #i just wanted to put all my thoughts down instead of dragging talking about this gn for days #a little less formal writing because of that and more reviewy but it's a weekday and i gotta hop to work lol

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 1 year ago

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Toothache

How does one go "You're Too Sweet For Me" to "My Baby's Sweet As Can Be"?

Synopsis: Simon Riley finds himself stuck in a situation, growing feelings for his roommate who's so annoyingly caring, domestic, sweet and too good for him. What happens when he let's himself indulge in the sweetness rather than cage himself in the bitter life he's been told is the only one he's deserving of and the only life he's known?

Apologies to this mess of a lyricfic, I couldn't help it even though this was supposed to be a relationship analysis..

MEN WRITTEN BY ANA HUANG ARE GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME. Alright back to our original programmed schedule with Hozier. ALSO SURPRISE! THIS CONTAINS 3 HOZIER SONGS as an apology for not posting these past two weeks due to me enjoying holidays, reading, prom dress picking and wanting to stab myself because of life, there's the added bonus 👀

My CoD Masterlist

My Simon Riley x You Playlist

Also reader in this one had a lot of characterization, she's me fr, so AFAB?Reader, Fem!Reader, Short!Reader, Reader is VERY feminine with fashion, soft-girl-sunshine!Reader and Chubby?Reader. Y'all have no idea how hard it is to write without a personality and physical intimacy in romance, I tried but failed 😭

Warnings and Disclaimers: Mentions and details on sexual content ahead (is this considered smut? Idk anymore). Not detailed smut but vivid memories of sexual intercourse (especially the dialogue) with Simon. Again, this is a safe account for all ages because I'm not a MDNI acc, you are responsible for your own media consumption. DO NOT GO ON MY DMS, INBOX OR REPLY TO MY CONTENT TO TELL ME YOUR AGE. I don't need to know that and let's strive to not make each other uncomfortable. Mentions of questioning of religion or rather belief on afterlife??

Pink, bold and italic: Lyrics

Italic: recalling past events

Little snippet of an image of how I imagined he'd hold you, courtesy of the one and only @ave661

"It can't be said I'm an early bird, it's 10 o'clock before I say a word. Baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?"

Simon Riley was never a man to live the life he was taught to in the military, it was out of habit for him to not leave his room until around noon. Then there was you, his roommate, he didn't exactly calculate how much it would affect his personal life to save money through rent by willingly letting someone within the same living space.

He'd find himself with not even a wink of sleep, hearing your footsteps through the thin walls, hearing the lock on the windows outside click open.

"You kept telling me to live right, to go to bed before the daylight. But then you wake up from the sunrise."

He'd always hear you, quite frankly it was like nagging on the constant.

"Simon you shouldn't do that, you'll hurt yourself"

"Simon please go get some rest"

"Simon.."

He'd swear he'd rip his own ears out every time his name falls from your lips from how sweet and chirpy it sounded and yet deafening silence would consume him whenever you aren't around.

"You don't gotta pretended, Baby, now and then. Don't you just wanna wake up dark as a lake? Smellin' lika bonfire, lost in the haze?"

Something about you makes it so tempting for Simon to give in, I mean it would be a one time thing, wouldn't it? So soft, so pliant, he set himself up for an addiction. It wasn't healthy, he knew this, he'd convince himself of the fact that he would end up hurting you.

Just too different, it repeated like a mantra in his head. He was bitter, brooding and didn't find any sense of pleasure in living. Why'd you think he has the job he chose? It's all he knew, till you skip your way into his life, giving him the sweetness he was deprived of.

"If you're drunk on life babe, I think it's great. But while in this world, I think I'll take my whiskey neat"

Drowning himself in alcohol, a trait Simon promised himself he wouldn't ever do when he was young, setting his glass down with a small thud from the wooden table. But what would the kid version of him know about life. He didn't have healthier options of coping with what seems to be his dilemma.

But then there you were, sweet little thing coming home at the late hour in that skimpy dress of yours. Revealing too much to the eyes of those who wish to have you for themselves with just one look. Where did you go that night?

"My coffee black in my bed at three, you're too sweet for me"

Desperately trying to keep himself awake and at bay from his thoughts of you. Drowning himself in now two cups of straight black coffee to help him focus.

It was odd, you got used to the scent, was strong with a lack of sweetness but it calmed you down knowing he was around.

How he'd corrupt you, he wanted to shatter that rose tinted glasses of yours to save you from himself because being with him would change you. Selfish but he doesn't want that, you were utter perfection..

Simon further delved into his feelings, what the fuck was wrong with him?

"I aim low. I aim true, and the ground's where I go. I work late where I'm free from the phone and the job gets done"

Grumbling, Simon walks back into the apartment in the middle of the night. You heard a thud, you come out of your bedroom, yawing from you incomplete sleep.

"Si..? Are you hurt? What happened?" You asked in a soft tone, careful not to agitate someone would could possibly be pissed off.

Simon stays silent, glaring at you as his eyes was only thing visible because of his balaclava. Your soft gaze intimidated him, because why would he feel that squeeze in his heart?

"But you worry some, I know but who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate. The rest of you like you're the TSA, I wish I could go along Babe, don't get me wrong..."

The only thing Simon heard was a sigh from you and nothing more, you walk up to him, each footstep feeling louder than that last.

Something Simon didn't expect you to do was wrap you arms around his waist, tiny thing you are that your head only goes up to his chest. Your body against his, basking in the warmth in contrast to the cold weather he had to deal with coming home.

"You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. If you can sit in a barrel maybe I'll wait, until that day.."

You took care of him that night, to his reluctance and stubbornness. Despite refusing, he had no choice, he wouldn't want a soft thing like you on his ear the whole night till he agrees. You were persuasive in your own irritating way.

Sitting on the edge of the tub of the warm bath he's in, washcloth in hand. Touch was so gentle, why was it so soft? Why's it so warm? "It's the water you fucking idiot" his subconscious screaming at him. In denial.

Why is his heart beating so fast..? He wants to stab it to stop the feeling..

"I'd rather take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three. You're too sweet for me"

Using both your hands this time around, one gently holding his chin with your fingers while the other wiping away at the eyeblack he had. Every scar on his face felt the graze of your finger.

The slow blinks, your eyes on his. Before any conscious thoughts consume Simon, he lifts his arms from the warm water and wraps them around you.

Your nightgown was now damp but you couldn't care less, now with the man you were pinning over, foreheads against the other.

"Si.." you softly whisper. That nickname will be the death of him, you'll be the death of him. He crashes his lips on yours, not wanting to let go till you both were panting. You were too fucking sweet, your lips, your skin, everything. He wanted a taste and he got it...

"My lover's got humor, she's the giggle at a funeral. Knows everybody's disapproval, I should've worshiped her sooner"

Another sleepless night wasn't uncommon for someone like Simon.. however this aching feeling wasn't, he doesn't know where it's from or what it's about. Not until he heard you in the kitchen, letting out a giggle even though you knew better.

"If the Heavens ever did speak, She's the last true mouthpiece. Every Sunday's getting more bleak. A fresh poison each week "We were born sick"

That sweet fucking voice, like the angels speaking to him themselves. "Oh- I'm sorry Si, did I wake you up?" You asked, turning around to the sound of his footsteps.

That tiny nightdress of yours, a reminder of the night you spent together, that morning you slept in his bed.

Lashes beautifully displayed on the delicate skin of your under eyes. Soft noises while your chest was peacefully moving up and down with every breath.

"She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom". The only Heaven I'll be sent to, is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well. A, Amen, Amen, Amen"

"Simon.. Ahh~" you moan out softly, your body writhing underneath him. It felt hot, sweaty despite the well ventilated room, so intimate from something that was supposed to be the farthest thing from domestic.

"Shhh, you can take it sunshine.. You don't want the neighbors to hear us, do you?" Simon whispers, callous hand covering your mouth with as little pressure possible, you whimper at his words.

Closing your eyes to lose yourself in the pleasure you've never felt before. Your body being worshiped with gentle hands and soft kisses that leave marks by the very same man who kept distancing himself from you, now he'd stop at nothing for your pleasure.

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life."

"Simon.. no more–" you whined. Scratching his back hard enough to leave marks without being aware, he'd always imagine what those pretty pink nails could do to him.

"Just one more, please sunshine.. you remember our safe word right?" Simon asks for you to nod softly, you didn't have energy to take anymore. "I told you I'll make you feel good, didn't I? So be a good girl for me and take it, hmm?"

Your eyes roll back at his praise, your legs shake with one after another wave of pleasure running through your body. This man was starved.. insatiable.. who would be able to resist such a request? Not you.

"If I'm a pagan of the good times, my lover's the sunlight to keep the Goddess on my side. She demands a sacrifice, drain the whole sea, get something shiny"

It took everything in Simon not to worship the ground you walked on that night, he wasn't trying very hard, was he? Because always.. at the end of the night, you're in his bed, his mind, his life.

Was it really a sin? To want something you don't deserve? Simon stayed up that whole night, not a wink of sleep while thinking of whether this arrangement should continue. Every bone and organ in his body telling him to be selfish, take what was something that wasn't his to take.

"Something meaty for the main course, that's a fine looking high horse. What you got in the stable? We've a lot of starving faithful that looks tasty, that looks plenty, this is hungry work"

Simon's gaze, never faltering on your sleeping figure that he refuses to go anywhere but his own arms. He tries to close his eye to compose himself, free himself from the emotions you emit from him.

His efforts were to no use, all he saw was the image of you, sweetly smiling, those doe eye staring right through his soul.

"No masters or kings when the ritual begins. There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin In the madness, in the soil of that sad earthly scene. Only then I am human, only then I am clean"

You were getting too close for your own good, Simon knew that, he'll be damned if he let's himself hurt you. So he does what any stupid man would do, avoid you like the plague. Did it mean nothing? Were you just some fling, never to be talked about again?

Fuck you Simon Riley, he made you feel loved in bed like no man ever has or ever will, completely ruining your chance of ever thinking of anything else and that was just a hook-up session? Maybe this one time you can let yourself be delusional, was there really something more? Only one way to find out.

"Oh, oh, Amen, Amen, Amen, Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life"

You caught him, fucking finally, after days of waiting and trying to get him at the perfect time. "Si.." you whispered softly, you didn't know where to start. He took a quick glance at you before looking back at what he was doing.

"Simon Riley, don't fucking ignore me. Not after everything that happened those nights" You said, it was stern but he needed to hear it. It made him stop, think about what had happened.

Before he could generate a response, "Why?" You asked. It was a vague question, why was he ignoring you? Why does he feel this way? Why does he love you yet refuse to act on it?

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life.."

"You don't deserve a man like me, you deserve one who is like you, optimistic, sweet, fucking beautiful and alive.. A man who's not damaged, scarred, has blood on his hands and haunted by his past. A man who's not afraid to show his love for you. A man who won't put his burdens on your shoulders and a man who will take care of you instead of the other way around. That's what you deserve and I can't give that"

Everything felt like it came to a stop, were you hearing that right?

"You have no idea how much you contradict yourself, Si. How are you so sure that you haven't given those things to me already? You might not be like me but "like me" isn't what I want.. I want you, every flaw, every beautiful scar. Not once before your silent treatment have you hurt me, it's frustrating yes, but you are worthy of that. Every struggle, frustration and mistake, every bit of your love is worth all of that. I want you to see that Si, your actual true worth rather than what some psychotic fucker decided to torture you with"

"Boys, workin' on empty. Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? I just think about my baby, I'm so full of love I could barely eat"

"Si?"

"Yes, Sunshine?"

"I love you" You whispered after smothering him in a plethora of kisses. Never has anything made Simon melt more in his life than his wife say that. Doesn't matter how long it's been, how much the both of you have been through or how much frustration the both of you were going through..

It will always stay the same, the feeling those three words give him, like the first time, every moment feels that way. Familiar, finally.. Home.

"There's nothing sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree. 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be, she give me toothaches just from kissin' me"

He always thought about how unfaithfulness was such a struggle between some people, he thought about how good he has it constantly, reflecting back on what he used to have to how now this is something he never thought he'd have or deserve.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

When a man finds himself in the verge of embracing death's arms, what causes the struggle? What causes him to fight that pain, to keep on going? Not once has this crossed Ghost's mind.

No. He's not Ghost, he's Simon. Your Simon.

And you're expecting your Simon home, fuck everything else, he'll give the biggest "fuck you" to death itself and crawl home to you because he'll be damned and he'll experience everything he has in his life over and over again just to hold you again.

"Boys, when my baby found me I was three days on a drunken sin, I woke with her walls around me. Nothin' in her room but an empty crib and I was burnin' up a fever I didn't care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her. She never asked me once about the wrong I did."

It should matter, the amount of blood on his hands. Not once did you judge him for it, what the fuck was wrong with you? Giving a monster such as him a bath like he was some innocent stray kitten, although this time around it was far more messy. The dried blood caked underneath his finger nails.

Flashing him a tired smile while you wiped off the blood that made the water in the tub a hue of brownish-red. Taking your hand in his, his lips brushing against your knuckles. The way you looked at him was enough to make him cry.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

"Fucking get up" Simon repeats to himself, "She needs you, she loves you" despite how many times he's convinced himself you didn't due to the voice of his father in his head, it felt like a knife twisting in his heart imagining how it would be for you without him.

How much you cried the night he came home a day later, you told him yourself, practically sobbing while clutching your aching chest and him with your other arm how you weren't ready for Price to show up at your doorsteps holding Simon's belongings.

He won't let that happen.. he can't...

"My babe would never fret none, about what my hands and my body done. If the Lord don't forgive me, I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me"

Simon knew it, no one would ever love him like you do. No one would show him the same acceptance, devotion, care, concern and love. It wasn't healthy to be so attached dependently to someone in love.

He couldn't help it, it felt so right, everything with you did. Never a judgmental one, at least towards him. Always first to hold him, the first to ever take away the heavy guilt that weighed his heart and shoulders down after he'd done something he knows he'll go to hell for, if it's even real

"When I was kissing on my baby and she put her love down soft and sweet In the low lamplight I was free. Heaven and hell were words to me"

Every inch was kissed, not a part wasn't worshiped. "So fuckin' beautiful, so sweet. All for me, hmm?" Simon mumbled against your skin, suckling on the soft sweetness that he so claims. All hickeys, no bruises.

Fuck, he'd not just survive but thrive on just you. No other sustenance, your supple thighs he adores to cover in purple, your neck, your lips and your skin that he often compares to sugar syrup in his head.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her"

The question was, was it worth it to live an eternity of lifetimes filled with suffer to be with you in at least once? The only answer to ever graze Simon Riley's lips was the word "yes", the day that changes is the day that he'd be the biggest bull-shiter the world has ever known.

Simon opened the door to your shared home, "Daddy!" A loud squeal wakes him up from his dread of what he's seen on the field.

"How's my little sunshine been? 'Ave you been good to your momma while I was gone?" Simon asked, carrying the little girl in his arms.

"Yes! Momma said we'd go to the park tomorrow as a reward for me helping out!" Little one saying it so proudly, Simon couldn't help but smile, beaming with pride as his little girl grows up to be what he recognizes as a good person.

"Simon..? You're finally home, I missed you so much" You said, peeking out the laundry room. You walked out, quick to give him a peck on the lips.

"I love you Si.."

"I love you too Sunshine"

Also this is a very long fic.. I expect long feedback.. @connorsui 👀

Does this make sense? Idk anymore it's like almost midnight and I'm running on a few hours of sleep. GOD MY PROM DRESS LOOKS SO GOOD, I CAN'T WAIT.

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thelightdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @fawnchives @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

Trying out new dividers as well by @anitalenia

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whaleiumsharkspeare · 20 days ago

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*Spoilers for the new How to Train Your Dragon, read at your own risk*

Which okay yes I know how everyone feels about live action remakes. Believe me, I feel the same way. But my sister is a huge HTTYD fan and wanted to see it so we went together. Here is my review:

Overall, this is literally the same movie. Practically shot for shot. I mean the dialogue was the same, the camera angles were the same, the music was the same. It was like 90% How to Train Your Dragon (2010). Didn’t add much, didn’t subtract much, but there were a few differences.

The biggest one, I would say, is that the chief of the tribe is apparently not a dynastic position. There are a couple characters who mention something about wanting to be chief someday, which I think was just inherited originally. Astrid especially is vying to be chief, which is even brought up by Hiccup when he mentions how Stoick would probably be proud to have Astrid as his successor since she’s everything that Hiccup isn’t. Also, in the original, the Viking teens dislike Hiccup because he’s puny and awkward and just Not Like Them, and in this version that’s part of it, but the main reason they don’t like him is essentially because he’s a nepo baby. They point out Hiccup’s privilege as the chief’s son, mentioning how he doesn’t have to work as hard as them, or how if he was anyone else’s son, he would’ve been exiled from Berk by then, but because he’s the chief’s son he gets to stay no matter how many messes he causes, and that he wouldn’t have made it to dragon training without Stoick “pulling some strings”. When Hiccup starts to be the star pupil because of the stuff he’s learning from Toothless, they do level off on this and start clamoring to be his friend just like in the original.

Another pretty key difference is that they cut the scene after Test Drive where Hiccup and Toothless are chilling eating fish and the group of Terrible Terrors flies in and Hiccup feeds them. I don’t know why they cut this scene because it’s pretty important. It’s the scene that establishes the Chekhov’s gun of how dragons aren’t fireproof on the inside. This is a really important detail for Hiccup to learn because it’s how he defeats the Green Death. It also includes the important line “everything we know about you guys is wrong”, which isn’t said here, but Hiccup does remark to Astrid during the scene where they’re reading the dragon training manual something like “maybe we’re wrong about them”, which I suppose is pretty similar. But the not fireproof on the inside thing is pretty important. Hiccup does defeat the Green Death in the exact same way, by having Toothless ignite its fire breath first, but there wasn’t a scene where Hiccup learned that dragons can be defeated that way, so that knowledge just kinda seems to come out of nowhere.

Also, when Hiccup discovers Toothless shot down in the woods and can’t bring himself to kill him, he doesn’t say “I did this” with regret. This means that Stoick also doesn’t say “I did this” when he thinks Hiccup is dead, so we don’t get that bookend of the father and son being the same in that instance. Also, when Stoick apologizes to Toothless, there is like a whole minute of dramatic tension before Toothless opens his wings to reveal that Hiccup is alive, when in the original he opened his wings right after Stoick apologized. But I’m glad to say that they did keep the really important shot at the end where Toothless and Hiccup have matching injuries requiring prosthetics. That was a good detail.

This is the only detail of the movie that I actually do think is weird and kind of unnecessary, and that’s the character of Snotlout. Idk why, but in this version, he’s basically the MCU’s version of Flash Thompson. Like instead of being a physically imposing bully, he’s just kind of a show off. He is bigger than Hiccup, but he doesn’t seem “tough”. And much like the MCU Flash, he has this weird relationship with his dad?? Like there are a surprising number of scenes where he tries to impress his dad and his dad completely brushes him off and barely acknowledges his existence, and he even tells Snotlout not to speak to him in public. It was giving Flash at the end of Spider-Man: Far From Home when he gets back to New York to find that his butler/chauffeur came to pick him up but not his parents. Like that exact same vibe. It really didn’t add anything to the movie except to make you feel sympathy towards Snotlout I guess but it honestly wasn’t needed and I thought it was weird. (Full disclosure though, I haven’t seen any of the httyd tv shows so I have no idea how Snotlout’s character is expanded in the franchise, so it’s possible that I just don’t understand the full extent of his character)

Pretty much everything else about the movie is the same as the animated one, and I do mean pretty much everything. Hiccup is his normal awkward self, Astrid is a Cool Girl, Gobber suggests putting Hiccup in dragon training, Fishlegs is a dragon nerd, the twins pick on each other, Stoick and Hiccup’s Viking helmets are halves of Valka’s breastplate, all the same dragon species are mentioned, Hiccup is left-handed, and he even eats the bit of fish that Toothless coughs up.

So since the movie is like 90% the original movie, that means that it’s good, or at least mostly good. There’s nothing offensive about it, very little added, very little subtracted. Being live action it obviously doesn’t have the same visuals or ability to do things that you can only do in animation, but they really do try their best to copy like, all of the important shots. If you love How to Train Your Dragon you’ll probably be okay with it since it’s like basically the same movie, but of course it’s hard to beat the magic of the original. But as far as live action remakes go, since it kept pretty much everything, that means that it’s generally very faithful.

Oh but the part at the end where Hiccup decides to leave Toothless behind so he can go to college in Norway to study aviation (even though he already lives in the dragon flying capital of the world) was pretty weird, idk why they did that

#how to train your dragon #httyd 2025 #httyd 2010 #httyd #httyd spoilers #how to train your dragon spoilers #spoilers

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yuurei20 · 2 years ago

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Hi! I've seen some posts going around about Epel's accent and Vil correcting him. From what I gathered Epel has a pretty farmland accent that can be basically indecipherable so Vil being hard on him for it is both 'this is kind of casual' and 'i have no idea what you're saying' but could still be kind of elitist/classist. But I see some people saying Vil is just correcting Epel because he's swearing a lot?

Thank you so much for this question! Reading through just the EN adaptation of Book 5, I think I can understand why people might be annoyed by Vil’s wording: in English, he says outright that Epel should “speak properly,” as if his natural dialect is somehow improper and objectively “wrong.”

But his original line is closer to, “Speak more politely”! (The translations in these images are just more literal rewordings of the original dialogue, not meant to be corrections or improvements over EN’s localization)

I think the game was aware of the risk it was taking by having Vil give such an order, which is why it has Epel immediately jump to that assumption himself, so that Vil can explain it is not Epel’s hometown pride he has an issue with, but rather the outdated mindset that comes with it.

While softened on EN, Epel is quite misogynistic in the original game. He also repeats the same insult three times, possibly as an example of his limited vocabulary, which is another of Vil’s projects.

While Epel does say that Vil has told him not to use the accent specifically, Vil explains that he just wants him to consider the time, place and occasion for it.

Question: But then why does Vil order him to drop the accent entirely if the only problem is that he’s speaking rudely? Surely he can just speak politely while keeping his accent?

Answer: There is another layer to this that is more difficult to explain in English, but I shall try!

The Japanese language has multiple verb forms that change depending upon who you’re talking to at the time. “Meshiagaru,” “taberu” and “kuu” are three different ways to say “eat,” for example, depending on how polite you want to be.

In the beach scene (and anywhere we get his Harveston dialect), Epel immediately shifts into casual/impolite verb forms.

I searched for the most formal interaction involving characters speaking in the Harveston dialect that I could find (where the mayor is apologizing to Marja), and even there, the character was using casual/informal verb forms.

So that is what Vil is actually getting at: he wants Epel to use polite speech around his senpai and teachers, but Epel’s original dialect might just not adhere to that system.

The Harveston dialect clearly has its own ways to denote politeness, which must make sense when you’re there, but outside of Harveston what is a harmless and natural way of speaking becomes offensive from the perspective of everyone else (when Marja adapts her speaking patterns so that the visiting NRC students can understand her, she uses polite forms).

Not able to have a student from his dorm obliviously insulting everyone around him through his verb forms, Vil bans Epel’s accent entirely, presumably so that Epel can grow more accustomed to interacting with people from other countries and then learn to judge for himself the times, places and occasions outside of Harveston where that degree of informality is appropriate :>

(Omake: I conferred with an American friend who told me it sounds like this is the opposite of how things are in the US, where sometimes it is assumed that people from more rural communities use more polite speech (using "sir" and ma'am") than people in cities, so they visit cities and are surprised by forms are expression that are considered rude where they come from. This is the same, but backwards! Epel is going from a laidback rural village to a more populated location where polite speech is expected of everyone, and is experiencing culture shock as a result.)

#anon #twisted wonderland #Epel Felmier #Vil Schoenheit

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on1knee4marksmen · 3 months ago

Text

A Different Type of Real

Worst! Wolverine x reader (this one's platonic)

Word count: (almost) 2k (yikes)

Description: Logan doesn't really know how to get used to his new life after the Void. And even if you hide it,neither do you.

(Reader is Laura's big sister in this one. I intended adoptive,but you could read into it as biological too c: )

Warnings: GET READY FOR FEELS!! Also like bittersweet themes revolving around the whole "from another timeline" thing; mentions of death

Tags: sfw; platonic relationships; angst with a happy ending; no use of Y/N (basically no dialogue too); girldad Logan (he adopts yet another kid along the way smh); kind of a comfort fic; Worst! Logan x reader; (also mentions of old man Logan cuz I'm attached to him)

A/N: This was supposed to be a set of hcs but I got carried away a bit teehee. I'm really not sure what to think of this,it sadly might be a bit boring to read😔 I'm still getting back into writing, so apologies for that.

(Also I cried while writing this so there's that)

English isn't a first language,so mb for mistakes

SPOILERS FOR BOTH LOGAN (2017) AND DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE BELOW THE CUT

It wasn't easy for the Worst (Best) Wolverine to adapt to all this. First, the whole Void shenanigan, then the possibility of Wade's whole timeline literally ceasing to exist.

..And now this. A life alongside the merc, his blind roommate, a smelly dog-

And you and Laura.

Laura grew on him quite quickly - she was a lot more like him than he initially thought, and in a good way, for once. But you? He was still working on that.

It was mainly because you were so.. caring.

At first, he'd quite literally jump at even a little brush of your shoulder against his arm just because even such a tiny bit of contact felt foreign. And then he'd deny it if you brought it up or asked why he was always on edge.

He was unsure how to react to a gentle touch such as yours, because punching? Fighting, rough shoves? Those he's used to. But a hug? A comforting squeeze of his hand, a pat on the back, a shoulder rub? Heck, even a smile was something he didn't get often. And all of a sudden he was feeling himself frowning, his body tensing up,solely because it's coded into his brain at this point that it can't be just that - there has to be an edge behind that kindness, something waiting to sting him when he least expects it.

...But that sting never came. Instead he was always left with a warmth in his chest that he wasn't really sure how to react to.

It's like when you try to pet a stray cat - the little fuzzball might secretly want to be coddled with gentle touches,but it's so not used to pets that it automatically does what it knows will protect it - it scratches.

It's like that with Logan at first. He pushes you away. Snarls or frowns your way at any attempt of yours to get close to him, physically or emotionally. But unlike Wade,you don't push. You just nod,maybe give a teeny tiny smile and you respect his personal space. And that's when he slowly begins to realise that he misses it all. Only when you stop does he start digging up his emotions and trying to make sense of them.

He's not a violent dog, why does he feel the need to bite?

Then one night,it all occurs to him - you're different than Wade. Hell, you're different than Laura, even if that's where the two of them found you - with her.

You're older than her, but shared the same fate with her, as Logan found out from Laura herself. From his clonedaughter's own words, you were there even before she found your Logan. You used to tell her stories about your time with the X-Men before the incident, used to throw in little remarks about the Logan you knew - the one that wasn't as grumpy, the one that you found smiling every now and then, the one that sassed everything that breathed. You'd tried so hard to make her laugh, tried so hard to raise her right, even after you both were forced to bury your own father in the middle of nowhere in North Dakota.

And even as the TVA sent you to the Void, of all places, you did your best to keep your hopes up. To at least make it seem like you had it all under control, like you really through everything was going to work out.

Like you didn't cry yourself to sleep most of the nights when you didn't just straight up pass out from exhaustion the moment you hit the makeshift mattress.

You weren't like Wade, no. Wade was all about recklessness, all about poking and prodding. It's not like he wasn't trying to cheer Logan up, but sometimes it really seemed like he was doing it only for his own amusement.

You were gentle. So damn gentle.

You had built your whole life upon understanding, helping, pleasing. Protecting.

You were this Logan's polar opposite, he himself had thought.

He could see the care in your eyes, could feel the underlying tone of fondness in your voice when you talked to him. He'd never seen you angry. And yet that was what most unsettled him.

Ever since that realisation came to him, he'd start noticing other things when you came around to his and Wade's place. How you'd try to hide the bags under your eyes with make-up, how you'd sigh heavily at any chance you had to plop down on a soft piece of furniture. How tired you'd look when you closed your eyes, even if it's just for seconds at a time before you put on the calm, comforting façade back on.

How every time you'd look at him or speak to him, every time you'd try to get close to him, your eyes would sparkle with something he couldn't quite name. Up until now.

Hope. Vulnerable, raw, innocent yearning. Not for anything else, but to see him happy. To catch a glimpse of a smile, to hear even a tiny bit of that warm and raspy chuckle you'd grown to know by heart. To see his gaze soften for once, to see his body relax, to see him let go of the tension always looming over him.

Even if you were an adult already, there was still a little girl inside you. And that little girl saw her old man in Logan.

And it fucking wrecked him.

All those thoughts awakened something that he didn't know he was still capable of - raw and overwhelming protectiveness. It pierced through him like an arrow, hit him like a freight train. It wasn't just Laura that saw him as her papa - it was you too.

The next time you came over, this time to help Al with some cooking for a hangout she was apparently going to go to tonight, he promised himself he'd try. For you.

And he did. Instead of sitting in his and Wade's room or on the couch, he instead decided to hang around on the kitchen table, using the beer bottle he was nursing as an excuse to do so. Whenever Al was beside you, he'd quietly sip at his drink and either look out the window or watch you two's interactions. A strange feeling of warmth in his chest.

When the old lady decided to leave you to finishing the meat loaf so she could go get dressed, however, he tried to strike up conversation with you. And he couldn't deny the feeling of accomplishment when you answered and kept the conversation going.

You yourself were surprised at the switch-up in Logan's behaviour, but it wasn't a bad surprise either. You found yourself smiling, as you got the meat loaf ready to put in the oven. Found yourself enjoying the exchange.

And as you allowed yourself to take in the atmosphere, - his presence in the room, his voice - for a moment, you felt like a kid back at the mansion.

All of a sudden, you were twelve again, chatting with your Logan in the institute's kitchen in the middle of the night, sipping on a glass of milk and laughing at the light-hearted teases he threw your way with a smirk.

At the same time,you were twenty-one, trying to make whatever dinner you could with the miserable amount of veggies and meat you could get with the money you guys had. Doing your best to make something tasty, something that would make the man once called the Wolverine feel at home when he came back from a long shift of driving, something Calliban would approve, something Charles wouldn't complain about eating..

You didn't know when you'd started crying. Didn't know when the feelings of grief, nostalgia and bittersweet reminiscence caught up to you, didn't know when silent sobs and warm tears started making your lower lip quiver and your hands shake.

But Logan did. He could practically smell the shift in your demeanor before he could even see your shoulders tense. Could feel the change in the aura around you before he heard the sobs you were choking back.

He didn't even think before he stood up, couldn't process what he was doing as he walked up to you. Acting on pure instincts, on a lull in his chest, he reached out before he could realize it. And in a matter of moments,his hands grasped your shoulders to turn you away from the counter and get you to face him. His arms slowly wrapped around you, pulled you into his chest, held you there with gentle firmness he didn't know he was capable of... And he just stayed there. Rested his chin on your head. Held you.

You were too stunned to say anything, too emotional to comprehend what was happening. The man before you, a shadow of the person you once called a father, a one to one copy of the figure in your memories, of the healthy, happy version of your dad, was right here and he was hugging you like you were his own, goddamn it.

How could you not hug back? It felt like he was here again, felt like he was alive. You almost forgot it wasn't your Logan, almost forgot that he was dead, that he wouldn't come back...

But it was Logan nonetheless. Not yours, but still Logan. And you couldn't help but try and lose yourself in the familiarity of those arms around you, the oh so bittersweet sound of the heart beating in his chest, of his breath fanning against your hair.

...And he let you.

You were breaking down even more now. When was the last time you felt safe enough to cry? The last time you allowed yourself to be the one being comforted, instead of the one comforting? You couldn't bare the answer, as you found yourself hugging him tighter, burying your face in his shirt...

You wanted to say it all. To explain, to thank, to apologise? You didn't know. But it all got lost somewhere deep within your heart, you couldn't make your voice work... So you just squeezed him,nuzzled your nose against the fabric of his shirt and cried harder. And when he squeezed back and let his hand run up and down your back, you knew he understood.

Logan wouldn't have known how to react, wouldn't have known how to comfort anyone else under these same circumstances. But it was you he was holding. And with you, it felt natural. Like he was made for the sole purpose of having you close, of being an anchor for you and Laura. Like the very thing he was missing all this time was what the version of him from this world had - a family.

And for the first time in his whole life, he let himself have it.

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #worst wolverine #found father #old man logan x reader #old man logan #platonic #angst with a happy ending #I don't know how to format help #new to tumblr

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sycamore55 · 1 month ago

Text

Chapter Three- Take Me to the Finish Line

Vi x f!reader

Contains: events of ep 2 s1 arcane (SPOILERS), some dialogue is quoted directly from the show, friends to lovers, slowburn, reader is Ekko's sister/benzo's kid, vi and reader as teenagers, ungodly amounts of fluff (you're welcome) and some angst (?!)

WC: 7.7k

Trigger warnings: discussions of childhood trauma stemming from abuse/parents dying or being dead

Summary: After you and Vi have come face to face with your feelings for each other, you begin to think that maybe this is the one good thing that you can hold on to. But the Undercity always has a way of making life hard, especially for two kids who maybe love each other.

A/N: hello all you cutie patooties, welcome to part 3 of my Born to Die series! my apologies for the delay, I've had an insanely hectic week. the masterlist and parts 1 & 2 are on my blog if you haven't read them yet but want to

previous part here <- -> next part here

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

Last night had been absolutely perfect.

As you lay in your bed, staring at the murky green ceiling, your mind echoed with the memory of the night before. Every hitch of Vi's breath, every time a faint blush bloomed across her cheeks, even how when she laughed, the way she would shake her head slightly.

You had been close enough to almost count every freckle on her face, and to see the small cut on her upper lip curve up each time she smiled.

And when your fingers intertwined, you thought you might die of happiness right then and there. But one thing lingered on your thoughts.

Why didn't you kiss her?

Or why didn't she kiss you?

Growing up in a place where every day was a struggle to survive, romance hadn't exactly been a priority, so you didn't have a frame of reference for what you were supposed to be doing. Maybe this was just the way things went.

Oh well. That could be a mystery for another day.

You couldn't stop thinking about how it had felt to have your body pressed tightly to yours as you shared the moment together. Truth be told, that was probably the most at peace you'd felt in a long time.

Suddenly, the blanket you were lying under was pulled away. You groaned and tried to pull it back as the cold air hit your skin.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," Ekko said as he hovered over you. "I need your help with the shop."

"Mhm....five more minutes," you mumbled tiredly.

"No, not in five minutes, now!" Ekko protested. "Seriously, why have you been so tired lately?"

You sighed, finally sitting up and snatching the blanket back from him. "I just had a late night."

He smirked at you. "Oh yeah? What were you doing?"

"Nothing, Vi and I just stayed up late talking." You rested your forehead on your palm, dragging your hand back to finger-brush your hair.

“Just talking?” He smirked at you. “Or were you doing something else, like…”

You threw your pillow at his face. He dodged it, giving you one last teasing grin before he left the room, and it fell into silence again.

You finally dragged yourself out of bed, and slipped on your jacket. You pulled your hair back into a braid, before heading down to the shop.

As you worked that day, there were times when you realized you were softly humming to yourself. Humming. What was going on with you? Was it even possible that one girl could make you this happy?

Ekko had noticed immediately, and knew exactly what was going on. You were the target of relentless teasing from him all day, with your only comfort being that Powder was probably doing the exact same thing to Vi.

Benzo also noticed your newfound cheery mood, but he was more oblivious as to its cause. He was simply just glad that you were happy for once.

At the end of the day, when both you and Ekko had finished your work at the shop, you decided to go to the Last Drop to visit the others. The whole way there, Ekko teased and peppered you with questions like, were you and Vi dating? Were you gonna kiss her? Did you love her?

The only way to get him off your back was to turn the questions back to him, but about Powder instead. You laughed to yourself when his face went red, and he quickly clammed up.

When you reached the bar, you both quickly said 'hi' to Vander, who, with a knowing twinkle in his eye, informed you that Vi and the others were in the basement.

You held your breath as you went down the stairs, unsure what was going to happen next, but definitely excited to find out.

---

You told Vi the previous night, when you left, that you were working for the entirety of today. That didn't really help to settle her nerves, which were growing rapidly with each minute you weren't there.

What if you got scared off and she would never see you again?

What if you were upset that she didn't kiss you?

Goddamn, she'd been so close. Even in the dark, she could see the way your hair fell over your shoulders, and how you got a small crinkle between your eyebrows whenever you worried about her.

She redid her wraps almost immediately after you left. She wasn't used to having them off. But somehow, with you, it felt...natural.

Gosh, she really should have kissed you.

She'd been close enough to, easily. But you both chickened out of it. She was fine with just sitting with you and holding your hand though. Way more than fine, actually.

What the two of you had didn't have solid lines or definitions yet. But it was definitely something, and Vi knew there wasn't any turning back now.

When she got back, Powder had been asleep, but Mylo easily teased Vi enough in her absence. When Powder woke up, Vi had asked her what she had said to you the night before.

With a grin, Powder informed her that she had told you that she thought you should kiss Vi, so that you could be her actual big sister. Vi's face went bright red at this information, and Mylo laughed so hard that he actually fell on the floor.

That entire day, she couldn't stop replaying the moment in her head. Some of the times, when she was reminded of it, she imagined that she had, in fact, kissed you. The thought of how your lips would feel pressed against hers occupied her mind for the entire day.

Now, she was stretched out on the couch, watching Powder tinker with one of her bombs. Mylo and Claggor were chatting on the other side of the room. She looked up as the door to the basement creaked open. Powder's eye lit up as she saw Ekko come down the stairs, as you shut the door behind you.

Ekko flopped down in an empty chair, and immediately struck up a conversation with Powder about the latest bomb she was working on. You slid down onto the couch next to her and smiled, and in a second, all of her doubts faded away.

"Hey," she said to you as you sat crisscross on the sofa, facing her.

"Hey," you replied, with soft and anxious smile on your face. "Sorry we're late, things were kind of hectic at the shop today."

Vi shook her head, as if she hadn't spent every single second of the day doubting if you were even going to show up. "Don't worry about it."

You told her about your day at the shop; which customers had been polite or rude, and the new device you were excited to fix up. She listened thoughtfully, ocassionally needing to pull her gaze away from just watching your mouth.

As your train of thought naturally came to a halt, you noticed how intently she was looking at you. As the silence between the two of you fell, you watched the others, playing and chatting. Eventually, Vi spoke up again.

"You wanna get out of here?" She pushed herself off the sofa, and extended her hand to you. You took it, pulling yourself up off the couch.

"And go where?" you asked her. She smirked in response.

"Anywhere works. Why, you got something specific in mind?"

Now it was your turn to smile mysteriously at her. "Actually, yes."

"Well, what are we waiting for then?"

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

After a long debate with the others, Vi had finally convinced them not to tell Vander that you and her were leaving. She assured Powder that they would be careful to not get caught, and then Powder whispered something in her ear, quiet enough as to not let you hear, that made her ears go bright red.

You didn't tell Vi where you were going on the walk over. You just said to her, 'you'll see,' if she asked. The walk wasn't too long, but it did take you through some extremely dirty tunnels, where the bottom was covered in water. You both ended up getting the bottom of your boots wet, but when you got to your destination, she forgot all about that.

"Woah." Vi stared up in awe at the mural on the wall.

"Yeah," you replied quietly. You had decided to take her to a secret place that you had discovered a while back.

"I didn't even know trees could grow down here," she said in awe.

"Me neither," you admitted. "I've been coming here a while now. I try to add a little to it each time." You gestured up at the mural. Vi's head snapped sideways to look at you.

"Wait, you're telling me you painted all this?" Her eyes widened slightly as you nodded. "Damn. I had no idea."

"I haven't shown anyone," you responded. "Except you now, I guess."

She smiled back at you over her shoulder, and you thought your heart might combust right then and there.

"You're really talented," she said, looking more at the painting. She traced her fingers over each of the designs, stopping at the one that intrigued her the most.

"What's this?" She asked, pointing to the small portion of the painting. You walked over to see which part she was looking at.

"Oh, those are called seahorses. I saw a picture of them in a book someone brought into the shop," you replied. She looked more closely at the painting.

Your fingertips brushed over the paint strokes as you spoke. "In the book, it said when they fall in love, they stay with their partner for the rest of their lives. And they take really good care of their kids. It's pretty sweet, actually." Vi watched your hand move over the wall as you spoke about the seahorses.

"Wow. You're talented and smart? I really hit the jackpot." Vi said, grinning at you. Your cheeks heated up.

"Is this your way of flirting?" you replied, the blush still fully visible on your cheeks.

"Depends. Is it working?" She smirked at you as you leaned back against the wall, crossing your arms.

She was now standing in front of you, so close that you were almost touching. Her foot bumped against yours as she stared over your face.

"You're really beautiful," she whispered. "You know that, right?" Your breath caught in your throat as she moved closer to you.

Her left hand came up to cup your cheek, while her right hand tentatively rested on your waist. You held onto her right arm with one of your hands, and rested the other one on her shoulder.

"Vi," you began.

"I really want to kiss you right now," she whispered, cutting you off. "Is that okay?"

Time seemed to slow down as the buzz of the firelights faded away, and the world around you became the background. All you were left with was her, and the feeling of her touch.

You leaned in.

She leaned in.

Your lips met hers.

It was delicate and clumsy and absolutely wonderful.

Vi kissed you gently, like she couldn't actually believe it was happening. The hand she had rested on your waist snaked all the way around your back, and she pulled you flush up against her. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, running one of your hands up into her hair.

As the kiss ended and your lips broke apart, she rested her forehead against yours. Your hands came to a stop on her face, and hers stayed on your waist.

She finally opened her eyes, looking up at you. When you met her gaze, you saw how lightly she was breathing. You gently traced the bruise on her temple with your thumb.

She kissed you again, and this time, the kiss expressed all of the feelings that the two of you had built, and all the time you had spent keeping them to yourselves.

It wasn't rushed, or messy. It was just you and her, filling all the time you had with all the things you both left unsaid.

---

"So, what now?" Vi asked you.

You were now sitting beside Vi, leaning back against the trunk of the tree. Your head rested on her shoulder, and she had swung her legs over yours as your fingers laced together.

"I don't know," you admitted softly. "I don't really have a ton of expertise in this area."

"Me neither," she added. "But, I mean when all this shit with Piltover and the enforcers is done. What do you want then? Because I know what I want."

"What do you want?" you asked her.

"I want to take you to actually see the city. We could go for a day, and I can show you the spots I like to go and sit at. And we could bring some food, and just spend the day there."

You pulled your head up from her shoulder to look at her. "Like a date?" you asked, your eyes widening slightly.

"Yeah," she smiled. "I want to take you on a date."

You smiled widely back at her. "I think I want that too."

She leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. Your smile only grew wider as she lay her head down on your shoulder. You closer your eyes as the two of you lay beneath the tree.

"I think Powder and Ekko already know about this," you informed her. "At least Ekko. He's been teasing me nonstop all day."

She laughed softly to herself. "Yeah, Powder and Mylo too. At least Claggor's nice enough to pretend that he hasn't noticed."

You sighed. "I hate to say this, but the others are gonna get suspicious if we don't head back soon."

She groaned softly, swinging her legs off of yours. "Can I at least get another kiss before we have to go?" You laughed softly to yourself, before taking her face in your hands to kiss her again.

But on the other hand, maybe, it wouldn't hurt to get back a little late.

---

"I knew it!" Vi was fifty-fifty on whether or not she should punch Mylo to get him to shut up. The smug, gloating smirk on his face was enough to make her lean towards sixty-forty for smacking him.

"Oh man, I totally called it!" Claggor simply sat in the corner with a wide, goofy grin on his face.

Your hand was still laced with Vi's, and you were picking at the fabric of your shirt nervously, your face bright red.

You looked down as Powder tugged gently on your arm. "Does this mean you're my sister now?"

"Oh, um," you glanced at Vi. "I mean, technically no, but you know you've always been able to think of me like a sister, right?" Vi's heart skipped a beat as she watched how natural you were with Powder.

Powder smiled wide, before running back to where Ekko was sitting, He didn't say anything to you, but when you caught his eye, he had a huge smile on his face. You gave a small smile of your own back to him.

Mylo didn't stop his teasing though. "Wow, Vi, I never thought you'd be the first one of us to get totally whipped for someone."

"I-shut up, that's not-" Vi stammered over her words a bit as Mylo's grin only grew wider.

"Seriously. How'd you of all people manage to score a girlfriend?"

At the mention of the word girlfriend, Vi immediately turned beet red. You glanced down also, a bit surprised by how casually he'd used the word.

Claggor, sensing the awkwardness, sighed and finally spoke up. "Dude, just drop it already. It's not like we didn't know what was going on."

Vi made a small noise that sounded like she was being strangled.

"Sorry, what?" you asked. Claggor sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

"We all knew," he finally admitted. "Neither of you are super subtle."

"Oh," was all you managed to squeak out. Vi remained silent, her face still brightly colored. A silence fell over the room, as Powder and Ekko settled back into what they had been doing before. Mylo was still grinning to himself, and muttering something about lovebirds and then, classic, classic.

Vi sighed, and pulled you back over to the couch, where you both sat down. "Just ignore them," she said.

"Noted," you muttered to yourself as the blush began to fade from your cheeks.

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

When you first told Vi about a beach in Zaun, she actually thought you were joking.

But Powder had begged and begged to go see it. And when Mylo, Claggor and even Ekko jumped on the bandwagon, Vi had to give in.

You had assured her that the enforcers wouldn't come down there. The water in the river that ran into the undercity bordered on toxic, and no one from Topside wanted to get anywhere near it. Even most people in Zaun didn't know it existed, and wouldn't get close enough to the river to find it on their own.

So that was how Vi ended up being dragged down an alleyway, Powder holding one of her hands, and you holding the other. Mylo and Claggor trekked behind the three of you, and Ekko jogged along beside them.

"It's not that much further," you promised everyone for what felt like the hundredth time. Mylo groaned, and began to complain again. Vi quickly shot him a look that said shut it.

As you walked along, Vi's hand would occasionally brush against yours. Neither of you said anything about it, because as you had noticed, seeking comfort in each other's touches was becoming more and more common between the two of you.

It had been a few days since your first kiss. Although everything was a bit awkward at first, between Mylo's teasing and the newness of it all, Vi felt that things were finally settling into something at least sort of normal. You and Ekko spent almost every day after being in the shop at the Last Drop, and every time he tried to tease you about Vi, you only had to mention Powder's name to shut him up.

You dropped Vi's hand to push a cluster of dead vines away from what appeared to be a dead end. You ducked down to enter a dark tunnel. Powder quickly followed you, dragging Vi along with her. Mylo hesitated for a moment, before groaning and following. Ekko and Claggor entered, letting the vines drop behind them, shrouding the tunnel in darkness.

"It's right at the end of this," you called back, the sound of your voice echoing in the small space.

"It better be," Mylo called back, the annoyance in his voice becoming more prominent.

Finally, a light became visible from the end of the tunnel. You smiled slightly to yourself as Powder and Ekko both gasped quietly. When you exited the tunnel, you were faced with a small patch of sand on the riverbed. It could hardly be called a beach, but it was a close as you could get to one in the undercity.

Powder pulled Vi out of the tunnel, Ekko running to catch up to her. You stood back and watched with a wide smile on your face as the kids ran down to the water. Vi stood beside you, smiling to herself as she watched Powder playing by the shore.

"I guess you weren't kidding," she said to you. You smiled over at her.

"I guess I wasn't," you replied with a slight smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. You gestured over to a dead log that had fallen on the ground. You and Vi sat down on the edge of the log.

You could and would on any day swear up and down that the calmest Vi ever looked was when she could watch her siblings be at peace. The thin, short strands of hair that fell in front of her face weren't even on her radar. You watched a twinkle pass through her pale, sky-blue eyes, and a smile ghosted her face.

She wasn't bouncing her leg or pulling on her fingers out of anxiety. She was truly calm.

"Thank you," she finally said to you.

"For what?" you asked her.

"For bringing us here. It means a lot....y'know, for Powder and the others."

"Oh, it means a lot for Powder?" you raised an eyebrow at her. A faint flush dusted her cheeks.

"It's just nice. Y'know, to catch a break from everything."

A soft smile decorated your face. "Well, I'm happy to help." She smiled back, before leaning her head on your shoulder. She exhaled softly, closing her eyes. You smiled wider to yourself, leaning your head against hers as you watched the family you had built finally have a happy moment.

---

"Remind me why we bother with this dump?" Mylo's voice interrupted the silence of the abandoned arcade, as Vi finished up her round on the punching machine. Her score glowed in bright letters at the very top of the leaderboard.

"Vander said to lay low," Vi replied, the exhaustion in her voice clear as she wiped beads of sweat away from her forehead. "Enforcers never come down here, so this is as good a place as any."

"Oh, what's the matter, Mylo?" Claggor teased. "You worried Powder's gonna beat you again?"

"Hey, if she didn't keep fixing these things, I wouldn't keep missing," Mylo complained. Just then, Powder clicked the final pieces together, powering up the machine.

"You guys know I wouldn't take you on a job you couldn't handle, right?" Vi asked as she undid the straps of the boxing gloves, flexing her fingers. Mylo fired off a few shots at the target, but missed almost all of them.

"Are you kidding? That was the best job we've ever done," Mylo responded. "Maybe just don't take Powder next time." Powder glared at him as she snapped the arcade gun into place, raising it towards the targets.

As she fired off the shots at the targets, almost all of them hit exactly the right spots. She made a face at Mylo, before walking over to another machine.

She watched through a crack in the window as enforcers interrogated the people outside.

"Hey, guys? You should see this-" she began, but was cut off as one of the men being questioned was thrown into the window, shattering the glass. Vi ran to the edge of the platform, scanning the room.

The enforcers quickly noticed them in the arcade. "Search them," one of the officers commanded.

"Go ahead, idiots. We've got nothing," Mylo practically jeered.

Powder glanced at the crystals in her pouch, and then looked up at Vi. Vi noticed the crystals in Powder's pocket, and looked over at Claggor. Understanding what to do, Claggor pulled the switch, and the lights went out.

Powder and Mylo ran. They both ducked into the game they had been playing. Mylo tried to shoot the enforcers with the toy gun, but it didn't do any damage. They went to grab him, but Vi hit them with one of the paddles from the punching machine.

Powder ducked and weaved between the various targets. One of the enforcers snuck up behind her and grabbed her, but she managed to get his arm stuck in the target, and Vi grabbed her.

"Come on!" Vi shouted as she pulled Powder along behind her. The four children ran out into the alley behind the arcade, with the enforcers close on their tails.

As they ran into the alley, Vi noticed enforcers on the other side ahead. They were cornered. Just as Vi was about to panic, a ladder dropped from above. She saw you and Ekko standing on top of the ledge above it.

She jumped to reach the ladder, pulling herself up first as Mylo and Claggor followed close behind. One of the enforcers tried to grab Powder again, but she managed to escape.

Vi kicked the ladder down when they were all safely on the ledge

"You need to hide those crystals."

"Yeah, no shit," Powder responded, as they all disappeared into the tunnel.

Vi took your hand as the two of you followed the others through the tunnel. You gave her hand a soft squeeze, a reassuring reminder that you were right there with her. For once, none of the others teased you about it, as the events that had just occurred lingered over them all.

---

"We should hit them back. We've got the numbers to beat them."

"Yeah! Let's teach them what it means to mess with us!"

Loud shouts echoed around the bar as people protested and rose from their seats. Vander and Benzo were in the front of the room, leaning against the counter. Vander lit his cigar and took a long breath of it before he replied.

"You sure that's what you want?" His tone was skeptical.

"Let's do it," someone called from the back.

"We crossed that bridge once before, and we all know how that ended," Vander warned the crowd.

"You're just protecting your kids!" another voice chimed in. He glanced back at where Vi, Powder, Mylo and Claggor were standing in the doorway, with you and Ekko off to the side.

"I'm protecting our people. I'd do the same for any one of you," he shot back. "We look out for each other, it's the way it's always been. This will blow over. We just need to stand together."

"The Vander I knew, the one who built the underground, wouldn't be afraid to fight." A woman stood up to face Vander. You didn't recognize her, but Vi obviously did.

Vander look another drag from his cigar as he stepped forward. "Do I look afraid?"

"No. You look weak." She whistled and a different group of people stood up, following her out of the bar.

"Why isn't he doing anything?" Claggor whispered as the people in the bar began to disperse.

"We kicked the enforcers butts with just the four of us! Imagine what the whole of the Lanes could do!" Powder added.

"Geez, even Powder wants to fight," Mylo snickered.

"So why aren't we?" Vi's voice was filled with frustration as she followed Powder into the basement. You walked after her, but stopped when you noticed Ekko hadn't moved.

"What's wrong?" you asked him, folding your arms across your chest. Vi raised an eyebrow at him as Powder peeked around the door to watch.

"Spill it Ekko," Vi ordered. Ekko's gaze darted around, with nervous glances at Vi, you and Powder in between.

"Uh...okay, well, um, Vander's got a deal with the enforcers," Ekko finally answered sheepishly.

"What deal?" You frowned at Ekko, as this was news to you too.

He nervously glanced at where Vander stood, before gesturing for you to follow him to the basement. You exchanged a quick look with Vi, before following him down the stairs.

"I heard Vander talking to the enforcers. They had a deal where they wouldn't come down here, if none of us went up there," Ekko explained as he sat down by the chair. Vi sat down on the couch facing him, and you stood behind her.

"But, since you exploded that building..." he trailed off.

"For the last time, we didn't-" Vi sighed as she cut herself off. "So the enforcers are just gonna keep coming now?"

"I think so? I didn't hear that much," Ekko answered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Vi sighed as she leaned back against the sofa. Great, she thought. Just what we need.

---

That night, as Vi lay awake, staring at the ceiling, she couldn't shake her anxiety about their encounter with the enforcers. They had been so close to catching Powder. If they took her....Vi didn't think she would be able to live with herself.

It was pure luck that you and Ekko had been on your way to visit them in the arcade, and were able to drop down the ladder to help her and her siblings escape. But if you hadn't been there, the enforcers might have hauled all of them off to prison.

She rolled over, the thin blanket that covered her doing little to ward off the cold. As she stretched her head over the rail of her bunk, and looked down at where Powder slept, she couldn't help but imagine all the ways that day could've gone wrong.

Suddenly, a small line of light shone on her face. She sat up in her bed as the door creaked open, which was where the light was coming from. She expected it to be Mylo or Claggor, or even Vander, but it wasn't.

It was you.

You gave her a small, lopsided smile as you shut the door, pulled your boots off, and walked over to the bed. She leaned down over the edge.

"How'd you get in here?" she whispered, careful not to wake Powder.

"Benzo's upstairs with Vander. I told him that I wasn't feeling well, and Vander said I could sleep on the couch down here for the night," you whispered back.

She supressed a laugh. "I didn't take you for the sneaking around type." She scooted over as you silently climbed up into her bunk.

"I'm not. I think you're just a bad influence on me," you replied as you lay down on her bed. "But I am gonna have to get up to go lay down on the couch in the morning." She smiled, and pulled her blanket over you, and wrapped her arms around your waist, resting her head on your shoulder. You started playing with the ends of her hair gently, and rested your forehead against hers.

"How are you holding up?" You murmured quietly to her. She sighed softly, closing her eyes.

"I really thought that they were gonna catch Powder," she whispered back. "It's a miracle you and Ekko showed up when you did. And I still can't believe Vander is working with topside."

"Yeah, I'm really glad we made it in time" you whispered to her. "And the thing about Vander is crazy too. But Vander and Powder aside. How are you feeling?"

Vi was taken aback by your question. At first, she thought it was a dumb thing to ask. She was fine. She had to be fine, because people were depending on her.

The more she thought about it, though, the more she wanted to talk to you about it. "I don't know," she finally admitted. "I don't know when this is gonna be over."

You listened to her intently, stroking her cheek with your thumb. She leaned into your touch, and you could visibly see her slowly relax.

"I'm really tired," she continued. "I'm always trying to be strong, for Mylo and Claggor and Powder. Powder especially. But it gets hard sometimes. And I can't stop worrying about what's gonna happen to us."

"This isn't all on you, you know," you said softly to her. "I'm here for you. And Mylo and Claggor and Powder- even Ekko- yeah, they all look up to you, but they also love you a lot. You don't have to carry it all alone."

She exhaled softly, her forehead still resting on yours. "Thank you," she whispered as her eyes finally closed.

You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Of course."

And as your eyes slowly fluttered shut, you could've sworn you heard her mumble something that sounded suspiciously like I love you.

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

The sound of soft giggles floating through the door to Vi and Powder's room had become routine for everyone by now. Mylo would roll his eyes and crack a joke, Claggor would sigh and try to refrain from saying anything, and Powder and Ekko would be instantly overjoyed whenever this happened.

You figured that Benzo had an idea of what was going on, but he never said anything to you about it. Vi had similar suspicions that Vander also knew, but did his best to give her the space to come to him with it.

When the others were in the basement, you and Vi tried to avoid being loud, even though the door was closed. This meant that you could only ever steal one or two quick kisses during your time together.

Vi's sleepy, mumbled almost-I-love-you had been the subject on your mind the most for the past week. You weren't even sure if that was what she said, and frankly, you were too scared to ask her.

Right now, you and Vi had found the rare occasion where Ekko had invited everyone to go over to Benzo's instead of hanging out in the basement. You and Vi had declined, opting to spend some time by yourselves instead.

You were cuddled up on the sofa, with your bodies slotted together. Your arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and one of your hands was curled in her hair. Her hands were cupping your face as the two of you whispered jokes and sweet nothings to each other in between gentle kisses.

Vi paused for a second, her face hovering close to yours. "I kinda wanted to ask you something."

"Okay. Shoot," you whispered back to her.

"Alright. Well...I was wondering if you wanted to be my girlfriend? Officially, I mean."

You froze at the question, your eyes widening slightly. Your grip on Vi's shoulder loosened unconsciously.

"It's not a big deal, I mean..." her voice trailed off, and a pinch of guilt poked at your stomach.

"I..." you tried to respond as she dropped your face and pulled back. The disappointment in her eyes was clear as she dropped her hands in her lap, swinging her legs off the sofa. "I think I need to get back to the shop soon."

"Oh," was all that left her mouth. "I guess I'll see you later then." She didn't meet your eyes as you stood up. The guilty feeling only grew in your stomach as you walked up the stairs without meeting her eyes.

You hesitated, before walking out the door.

Shit, you cursed in your head as you walked through the street. Idiot.

You should have said yes immediately. You really wanted to, more than anything. But of course you had to go and mess it up. Like always.

She didn't mean it. She's too good for you.

You shook your head as the thoughts began to stream in your head. They hadn't gone away since you were a kid, especially after your parents had left. Whenever you got anxious, it became completely out of your control.

Exactly like right now.

Being Vi's girlfriend would be....pretty damn amazing, if you were being rational. But you knew you wouldn't ever be able to let go of the fear that she would leave you too.

And you couldn't go through that. Not again.

---

You were dropping Ekko off at the Last Drop and doing your best to ignore the awkwardness between yourself and Vi when Powder's monkey alarm went off.

You watched Vi's eyes quickly widen as she stood up. Vander had instructed you all on what to do if this happened, but this was the first time it was actually happening.

"Come on!" Vi hissed quietly as Mylo and Claggor scrambled into their hiding spots. You and Ekko climbed on top of one of the large pipes, ducking to remain out of sight. Vi climbed up to hide next to Mylo and Claggor, and helped Powder stretch overhead to hang in between the pipes.

The light flickered off, and you all waited and held your breath as you heard heavy footsteps outside the door. As the door creaked open and beam of light shone into the room, you could make out the worry plastered on everyone's faces.

A single enforcer walked around below you, shining the flashlight around various corners and spots where a person could be hiding. You all waited with held breath as he searched. As Powder's arms started to shake, you saw Vi's anxiety growing worse. Powder struggled to hold on to the pipe.

She almost slipped, and the enforcer quickly turned around to look back. When he didn't see anything, he turned around and began to climb back up the steps. He took one final look at the room, before slowly shutting the door.

Powder immediately let out a yelp and dropped to the floor. She kept her head down and the rest of you stayed hidden until Vander swung the door open.

"Are you all okay?" he asked. Vi grunted as she leapt down from where she was hiding.

"No, we're not okay. They almost saw Powder. What if they took her?" Powder flicked on a light as you and Ekko climbed down from on top of the thick pipe.

"No one is taking any of you. I would never let that happen," Vander responded.

"It's already happening. You heard him, they won't stop. We need to fight back." Vi's fist slammed against the wall as she spoke. You all watched with concern visible in your eyes. "And if you won't, I will."

You gently placed your hand on her shoulder. As she looked back at you, you watched some of the anger in her eyes fade into worry.

Vander sighed to himself. "I've heard this kind of talk before."

---

Thunder rumbled in the distance as raindrops fell over the city. The night was foggy and cold, with a faint breeze in the air. Vi held her forehead as her hood protected her hair from the drizzle.

"Why are we here?" she finally asked.

"You still don't understand," Vander said.

"What I don't understand is how you can work with them." Vander flinched a little at her words as she continued. "We were here. We saw what they did." She moved forward, gesturing with her hands as she spoke.

"I grew up knowing I'm less than them, that my place is down there. I want Powder to have more than that, and I'm willing to fight for it." Her hands curled into fists.

"So was I. I was angry, just like you. I led us across this bridge, thinking things could change." Vander's voice was quiet and calm. "If I hadn't... your parents would still be alive. I know you wanna hurt the topsiders for what they've done to us. But who are you willing to lose? Mylo? Claggor? Powder?" Your name was the final one that left his lips. Her expression softened as the weight of his words hit her.

Vander walked over to stand next to her. "Nobody wins in war, Vi."

Her voice softened as she leaned her head against his shoulder. "What are we gonna do? The enforcers will come back."

"I... I don't know. I'll, uh, I'll figure it out." Bells rang out in the distance as the two of them stood side by side under the night sky. It was a few minutes before Vander spoke again.

"I've been meaning to ask...what's going on with you and ________ anyway?"

Vi sighed, dropping her gaze as she fidgeted with her hands. "I think I messed it up."

He frowned. "What happened?"

Vi dropped her gaze, blushing faintly before she finally answered. "I asked her if she wanted to be my girlfriend officially. And she panicked and ran off." She started rambling as she continued. "And she was clearly not okay. But she didn't trust me enough to tell me what was wrong." Vander nodded along as she spoke.

"Well, trust is a funny thing, Vi. Look, I've seen the two of you, and I think it's safe to say that she feels comfortable with you. But sometimes things happen that remind us of the bad things in the past. You and I both know that feeling."

"From what Benzo's told me about her- look, I won't sugarcoat it. That girl's been through the ringer and back. I don't know what she's told you about, but she doesn't have a whole lot riding on the fact that you won't abandon her."

"I wouldn't, though," Vi said softly.

"I know that. But does she?" Vander sighed softly. "Look, there's a few things you've got to make sure you're doing if she's to trust you. If you want to hear." Vi nodded, looking up at him.

"Alright. Well first, be honest. Put yourself out there, even if it's hard. Don't shy away from your feelings. Be patient." He chuckled to himself. "That one might be a bit harder for you to crack, eh?" He lightly bumped her shoulder with. She rolled her eyes, but was cracking a smile too.

"It might take some time. But all good things do. So just try to hang in there. Oh, and there is one more thing."

"What?" she asked, looking up at him. He fought back a grin as he answered her.

"Just shut the fuck up. And listen to what she's saying. And if she isn't saying anything, pay attention. She'll find a way to tell you."

He chuckled softly again, and this time, Vi managed a soft laugh of her own. "Thanks." He smiled down at her.

"You'll figure it out. God knows your parents had enough of their own problems when they got together. And they made it work. Eventually." He grinned a bit wider.

She blinked, and then groaned, her head going back to resting on his shoulder. But he could tell she had a smile of her own on her face.

"You really like her, huh?" Her smile faded slightly as she nodded, all the unknowns of how this would play out echoing around her mind.

"Yeah. I do."

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

The jingle of the bell snapped you out of your trance as you looked up at the door of the shop opening. You watched as Vi slowly walked over to the counter, her movement slow and heavy in comparison to her usual air of determination.

A pang of guilt hit you as you saw her. You had been avoiding her, if you were completely honest with yourself. It wasn't like you didn't want to see her; you really did. But you couldn't bring yourself to own up to your insecurity.

You took a deep breath as you pushed yourself off the counter, standing behind it to face her. She stared at you for a few seconds, and as she did, you could have sworn that you saw the worry fade away from her face for a short moment.

"Hi," she finally said to you.

"Hi," you responded quietly. "Listen, I have to tell you something."

"Me too," she sighed. "I don't have much time though."

"Why not?" you frowned at her.

"I can't explain now. Just....you go first."

"Okay," you sighed, running your hand back through your hair. "I'm sorry that I panicked the other night. Really. I didn't mean to, I just....I don't even know, it's stupid. But I got really in my head about it. So I ran. I know it doesn't make it better. But I really am sorry."

She listened intently as you spoke. A flicker of relief appeared in her eyes. "To be fair, I kind of sprung it on you. And yeah, I obviously wanted you to say yes. But you didn't have to."

"I know that. But," you sighed anxiously, trying to figure out how to say what was on your mind. "I wanted to say yes."

Her expression immediately changed, from the relief of not have completely driven you away to a pained expression. "I need to tell you something. And I need you to just listen to me, okay?"

"Okay," you agreed.

"Okay," she sighed. She took a breath before she began.

"I really care about you. So much. And I know I've made a lot of promises, and I'm telling you now, I'm going to keep them. I'm gonna take you on a real date. And we're gonna go back to the tree, and the beach, and all the places we've been together."

You hopped over the counter to stand next to her. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I just....I need you to hear this. Because I care about you so much, and I don't care if you're my girlfriend or not. I'm still gonna do all this for you. It might take a while for me to do that. But I'm going to do it. I promise you."

You felt a tear roll down your cheek. Vi quickly reached up to cup your face in her hands, wiping your tear away. She pressed her forehead against yours, and you quickly latched on to her arms.

"I promise. Don't give up on that, no matter what."

"I won't. I promise," you whispered back to her. She leaned in to kiss you, and you immediately met her halfway.

Vi held onto you tightly as your lips met hers. She kissed you as if it was the last time she ever would. As you kissed, you tasted salt. You didn't need to ask why.

She was hesitant to pull away, but eventually, she forced herself to. "I have to go," she finally said, her forehead still pressed to yours.

"Where are you going?" you asked her.

She sighed. "I just have to go. Don't follow me. Please." She finally let go, taking a step back. Your eyes were still filled with tears.

"Please tell me what's going on," you begged her.

"I can't," she said, in a broken voice.

"Just.....at least, promise me you'll keep yourself safe," you pleaded.

"I'll be fine. Make sure you take care of yourself."

"I will." With that, she gave you a small smile, before leaving the shop. You watched her go, your mind still riddled with confusion.

Where was she going? Why did she think she needed to tell you all those things?

You brushed the thought of, ignoring the growing pit in your stomach. Yes, it was unusual. But so were most things about your life. Nothing would come of this.

Or at least, that's what you thought.

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

end note: call me an egomaniac because I was actually giggling and kicking my feet while writing this. I'm hopefully going to drop part 4 in a week or so, which will be the last part where vi and reader are teenagers (buckle up y'all, it's based on the events of ep 3 of s1 so it's gonna be a rough one). Tysm for reading, I really appreciate it!

#arcane #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi x you #young vi #teen vi #arcane x female reader #arcane x you #vi is so hot #vi fluff #vi fanfic #vi from arcane

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alicenchanted · 1 month ago

Text

A Court of Silver Storms, Chapter 1

FMC is Nesta Archeron's twin sister

Word Count: 2317 words

Potential Pairings: Azriel x OC, OC x OC

Summary: After the events of Winter Solstice, Nesta is called to the River House to discuss her future in the Night Court. Her twin sister Taryn Archeron is roped into living at the House of Wind, where she will be training with Azriel and secret third option.

Content: Opening chapters of A Court of Silver Flames, SF dialogue

Warnings: sister angst, discussion of alcohol

Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction, so please be kind! If anyone has any critique, comments, advice etc, feel free to give me your pointers. Though I open with Nesta’s pov here, the fic will be switching to mainly Taryn’s point of view.

Read on Ao3

“You’re five minutes early. I’m impressed.” Feyre’s voice was light.

“Seems like a good omen for gambling. We should head to Rita’s,” Cassian drawled just as Nesta stepped into the wood-paneled room.

It was full. Rhysand, Cassian, Feyre of course, Amren too. She spared a glance behind her. Azriel, up against the door frame as if he were guarding the escape route. But he wasn’t guarding it just from Nesta, no. Taryn stood near him, looking uncomfortable as ever. She did not look Nesta in the eye, but it was clear enough in her body language, in the air around her. It reeked of ozone.

She might have thought, once, that this was some kind of curse. After all, that’s what their mother had made it seem like. A twin only meant competition. It had meant that Nesta would be inextricably tied to something other than a husband. It had meant rouge on her own lips and crushed mulberries on her sister’s, to make them seem unique, equally worth being pursued.

She knew now that it wasn’t a curse. It wasn’t a gift, either. It simply was.

“You look atrocious,” Amren said. “Though I bet it’s hard to look good when you’re out until the darkest hours of the night, drinking yourself stupid and fucking anything that comes your way.”

Taryn hissed in warning. Nesta waited for a greater confrontation, but Taryn curled back in on herself. A scolding, that’s what they were here for, and it seemed Taryn had already heard a good deal of it.

“I wasn’t aware that my activities were under your jurisdiction,” She said coolly to Amren, ignoring the silent warnings of the Illyrians in the room. The quiet one was missing, as was Elain.

Amren challenged, “They are when you spend that much of our gold on wine.”

Nesta watched her eyes silver with that remnant of power her now fae body still held, and she ignored it. She looked to Feyre instead, who had the gall to wince. “You brought us all the way here for a scolding,” Nesta said.

Feyre’s eyes—mirror images of her own��softened slightly. “No, it’s not a scolding.” She cut a sharp glance at Rhys, still icily silent against the mantel, and then to Amren, seething in her chair. “Think of this as a discussion.”

“My life is not your concern, or up for any sort of discussion.” She looked at Taryn. “And what of her? I’m sure she has done nothing to provoke this-”

“Like you would know,” Taryn rolled her eyes before they trained themselves back on the floor.

“What?” It had come out far more demanding than she intended, not when they needed to band together-

“I said,” Taryn’s diction was slow, as if she were speaking to a child, “like you would know. You haven’t spoken to me, or even Elain, in months.”

Maybe Nesta would have felt bad, maybe she would have even ripped an apology from her own throat to give to her, if only for the sake of appearing put together. But her tone… She couldn’t do it.

“And I suppose that responsibility is solely mine? You could have just as easily found me-”

Taryn took a step closer, before whipping her head to stare at Rhysand.

“Sit down,” he snarled. The raw command in that voice, the utter dominance and power … Nesta froze, fighting it, hating that Fae part of her that bowed to such things. Taryn’s legs dropped so suddenly from that command that she barely made it to the prissy blue sofa across from Feyre.

But Nesta held Rhysand’s gaze. Threw every ounce of defiance she could into it, even as his order made her knees want to bend, to sit. Rhys said, “You are going to stay. You are going to listen.”

She swore Cassian looked pained as he struggled to stay seated. Azriel lingered near the door, but his shadows roiled in discontent.

She let out a low laugh, both at the pathetic display from the Illyrians, and Rhysand’s own confidence. “You’re not my High Lord. You don’t give me orders.” She hoped he did not see the tremble in her limbs, the lingering ache of disobeying that magic. The fear she desperately tried to hide.

Rhys scented that fear. One side of his mouth curled up in a cruel smile. “You want to go head-to-head, Nesta Archeron?” he purred. The High Lord of the Night Court gestured to the sloping lawn beyond the windows. “We’ve got plenty of space out there for a brawl.” Nesta bared her teeth. It was a gesture so primal, so beastly, that a sort of shock welled up in her. What sort of creature had she become? What was Elain, what was Taryn? What was Feyre, who seemed so content in this monstrous form?

She roared at her body to obey her own orders. She’d sooner die than bow to him. To any of them. Rhys’s smile grew, well aware of that fact. Taryn narrowed her eyes at Feyre, who finally stepped in.

“That’s enough,” Feyre snapped at Rhys. “I told you to keep out of it.”

He dragged his star-flecked eyes to his mate, and it was all Nesta could do to keep from collapsing onto the couch as her knees gave out at last. Taryn was back to staring at the floor.

“You can either leave, or you can stay and keep your mouth shut.” Feyre said tightly to Rhys as he crossed his arms

“You too,” Feyre spat to Amren.

Nesta didn’t bother to look pleasant as Feyre twisted to face her, taking a proper seat on the couch, the velvet cushions sighing beneath her. She swallowed, as if this was somehow more painful for her than it would be for Nesta- or Taryn. “We need to make some changes,” Feyre said hoarsely. “We all do,” she amended, strictly to placate her.

“I’ll take the blame,” Feyre went on, “for allowing things to get this far, and this bad. After the war with Hybern, with everything else that was going on, it… I should have been there to help you, both of you,” she glanced at Taryn, who shriveled down into her seat. Yes, she knew what was coming, she had heard this already. Maybe Feyre had brought her to ensure Nesta’s compliance with whatever scheme the cauldron was brewing. “But I wasn’t there for either of you, and I am ready to admit that this is partially my fault.”

I am ready to admit… The words sounded scripted, like they’d come from some sort of instruction manual. What to do when your parents are dead and the problem children have now become your problem.

“That what is your fault?” Nesta hissed.

“This bullshit behavior,” Cassian said. Sheer arrogance dripped in his tone. Taryn had looked up from the floor now, her eyes trained on Cassian. Her eyes glimmered and the smell of aether made Nesta’s nose flare.

Rhysand watched her, watched them both. They were feral animals to him, incapable of behaving properly. A small ember of light flickered in Taryn’s chest, deep beneath the skin, and she shrunk back into the couch to hide the glow. Rhysand’s jaw tightened.

“I understand how you’re feeling,” Feyre cut in.

“You know nothing about how I’m feeling,” Nesta snarled at the same time as Taryn’s own assertion.

“No, you don’t.”

Azriel cocked a brow at Taryn, his teeth grinding. Feyre plowed ahead. “It’s time for some changes. Starting now.”

“Keep your self-righteous do-gooder nonsense out of my life.”

“You don’t have a life,” Feyre retorted. “And I’m not going to sit by for another moment and watch you destroy yourself.” She put a tattooed hand on her heart, like it meant something. “I decided after the war to give you both time, but it seems that was wrong. I was wrong. You’re done,” Feyre breathed, voice shaking. “This behavior, that apartment, all of it—you are done, Nesta.”

“And where,” Nesta said, her tone mercifully icy, “am I supposed to go?”

Feyre looked to Rhysand. Rhysand looked to Azriel. Azriel looked to Cassian. Cassian looked to Feyre, who looked back to Rhysand as he gave a subtle dip of the chin.

“The House of Wind.”

“What?” Nesta demanded. She looked at Taryn and felt a hint of betrayal at the lack of surprise on her sister’s face. She had known, had known and did not try to warn her. “You rutting piece of-”

“It’s for your own good!” Taryn yelled.

Feyre winced as Rhysand stepped closer to her, a hand alighting on his mate's shoulder. “Both of you.” He said it calmly, but Nesta did not miss the gentle twinkle of stars in his eyes. Amusement.

“What?” Now Taryn was shocked. “But you said-”

“And Feyre and I,” Rhysand said, his voice smooth and even, “have changed our minds.” His gaze flickered to Taryn’s chest. She had worn a very modest gown, a silky white thing that went up to her neck, but did nothing to hide the glow within her bones. Nesta’s own “gift,” as well as Elain’s, had been mercifully silent since the war with Hybern. If Taryn’s own had been resurging, trouble was brewing. Guilt spiked in Nesta’s chest. It felt like her own fault.

Taryn covered the space between her breasts to no avail, turning to glare at Azriel. Azriel was perfectly still, eyes on Rhysand. His commander, and Cassian’s, at the end of the day.

“As of this meeting,” Feyre clarified, “you’ll both be moving into the House of Wind.” She nodded eastward, toward the palace carved into the mountains at the far end of the city. “Rhys and I have decided that each morning, Nesta will train with Cassian in Windhaven, in the Illyrian Mountains. Taryn, you’ll train with Tristan and Azriel. After lunch, for the rest of the afternoon, you will be assigned work in the library beneath the House of Wind.”

Taryn looked at Feyre with a hint of betrayal. Whatever they had told her before Nesta’s arrival was null and void now. “I have been nothing but helpful to you- I gave you the key. I- I…” Guilt covered Taryn’s face at the slip. Her key. The spare to Nesta’s apartment that Nesta had entrusted to her.

Nesta couldn’t help but laugh, a bitter, hateful sound. “You thought you were safe. What… because you’re a regular basket case and not some no-good-drunk? Because you stooped to their level in the end? Pathetic.” Sorrow burned in her gut.

“Your apartment is being packed as we speak,” Amren said to Nesta, picking at a speck of lint on her silk blouse. “By the time you return, it will be empty. Your clothes are already being sent to the House, though I doubt they will be suitable for training at Windhaven.”

Her harsh gaze swept to Taryn, and though Nesta felt only rage for her sister right now, she still inched forward. She would put herself between them. Amren noted the movement, but continued from where she sat, “Tristan is clearing your room at the Townhouse.”

“You can’t do this,” Taryn’s tone turned to that of pleading. Even more pathetic, Nesta thought, for her to let them see this. See that she could be broken with the right strikes.

“Here are your options,” Amren said, delicate chin rising. “One,” Amren said, raising a slender finger, “you can move up to the House of Wind, train in the mornings, and work in the library in the afternoons. You will not be prisoners. But there will be no one to fly or winnow you down to the city. If you want to venture into the city proper, by all means, go ahead. That is, if you can brave the ten thousand steps down from the House.” Amren’s eyes glittered with the challenge. Nesta couldn’t bite down the rage coiling in her throat as the glow in Taryn’s chest flickered out.

“Our other option?” Nesta spat.

“You go back to the human lands.”

Taryn shuddered and slumped, looking… relieved. Relief relaxed her frame, as if there had at one point been something worse they were willing to do.

“You have no right.” Keep your back straight, your head high, Nesta reminded herself.

“I-” Feyre looked to Rhys.

“Don’t you look at him,” Taryn said to her, finally showing some backbone.

Nesta erupted. “You dragged us into this mess, this horrible place. You are why we are like this, why I am stuck here-”

Rhysand’s anger became physical. It was an aura Nesta could feel across the room, close enough to breathe its anger against her neck.

“That’s enough,” Feyre swallowed, but did not look away from Nesta’s stare.

“Elain needs to be able to see me—” Nesta willed her voice to remain steady as it threatened to quake. Guilt flashed in Taryn’s eyes again.

“Elain agreed to this hours ago. She’s currently packing your things. They’ll be waiting for you when you arrive.”

Nesta recoiled, that sorrow building deeper within her. Elain. Maybe it was to be expected that Taryn would have attempted to sell her out. After all, she would have taken Nesta’s silence the hardest. But Elain, whom Nesta had sat with day and night when her sister was no more than a ghost?

“I need to talk to my sister in private.”

The others slowly waded out of the room, minus Taryn.

“Sister,” Nesta repeated, emphasizing the word as singular, “that means Feyre.” She couldn’t keep the anger from her voice anymore.

“This affects me just as much as it affects you,” Taryn snapped back. Oh, of course she would cower and grovel beneath Rhysand and Feyre, if it served her, but her own twin?

Apparently she did not feel the need to respect Nesta the same way. Apparently things had become much more different than either of them anticipated.

Chapter 2

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maybankswhore · 2 years ago

Text

𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎.

SUMMARY: you see rafe for the first time since getting together with jj & it doesn’t hurt.

PAIRING(S): jj maybank x fem!reader + a little bit of rafe cameron x fem!reader.

WARNINGS: cursing.

you can read part one here! but it’s not really needed to read for this particular plot. this isn’t proofread & it is a bit long so maybe a dragging on dialogue warning ha.

Things had went really good with you and JJ. It had almost felt like a breath of fresh air , peaceful. He was always kind to you and loving , always making sure to dote on you even when you complained about it— picking you up after every shift at work and learning to braid your hair so you didn’t have to do it because you always whined about it hurting your arms. It was the little things that caused your heart to grow fonder and before you knew it , the two of you became attached at the hip.

Everyone on the island could see the red hearts following you two around wherever you went , always swooning and smiling when they saw you.

JJ had been the happiest he had ever been with you. As cliché as it sounded— he’d go on and on to anyone that asked about you that you literally were the girl of his dreams. He adored everything about you from the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed really hard , to the way you always slept with one leg out from under the covers. You were kind , and loving and everything he always swore he’d never get. Most of all— he felt safe.

Today his arm was thrown around you as you and the rest of the Pogue’s stood around the bonfire. Your giggles were contagious to everyone around you as you humored JJ’s antics , finding every joke to be the most funny. Perhaps it was a tad bit annoying , but you really just found JJ’s personality so fun. He always knew how to lighten the mood and make a joke that turned everyone’s day around.

In the middle of JJ leaning down to whisper in your ear , your eye’s flickered over to Sarah when she groaned loudly. “Of course he’s here.”

Your stomach had flipped as you followed her eyes to the side of you. Her brother stood a few feet away from you with his friends , watching you. You were shocked to see him. He usually never came on this side of the island , always rambling on about how ‘disgusting’ it was and ran by Pogue’s. You hadn’t meant to make eye contact with him , but when you did your stomach had began flipping in knots.

“I’m sorry , Y/N/N. I didn’t know he was coming or I would’ve said something.” Sarah apologized. The sound of her voice finally made you break away and look at her , shaking your head with a smile.

“It’s fine , Sarah.”

JJ scoffed. “Like hell it is.” His grip tightened around your shoulders protectively , shooting Rafe glares that was only answered in cocky smirks. “He really has some nerve showing his face here.”

Your bottom lip became trapped between your teeth as you anxiously fell into JJ’s embrace , wrapping your own arm around his waist to settle his nerves. “Let’s not worry about him , alright?”

JJ glanced down at you and studied your face quickly. What was he looking for? He wasn’t entirely sure. Maybe it was him just being insecure or stupidly jealous , but he knew that Rafe had once been your everything. John B had told him numerous times the stories he’d heard from Sarah and how much you cried over him , how much the two of you would fight. JJ wasn’t an idiot and he knew relationships like that left their mark , but feeling you nuzzle yourself innocently into him while looking up at him with a small smile caused his shoulders to relax slowly. “’m okay. Fine. But he says one wrong things and it’s over—”

Sensing all of his tension melt away , you grinned and stood up as tall as you could to press a kiss to your cheek. You tried to ignore the way Rafe’s eyes burned in the back of your skull. It wasn’t that you were ashamed or uncomfortable— you just didn’t want any drama or conflict. You had avoided it thus far and you wanted to do your best to keep it that way despite Rafe being known as the biggest drama queen on the island.

JJ cheeks blushed that color pink you loved seeing. One that always coated his cheeks after every kiss , even though you had done it so many times before that. The butterflies were still very much alive.

The night went on pretty peacefully. You had drank a little but not enough to be absolutely intoxicated. The six of you had ended up sitting on the logs rather than standing , each pair engrossed in their own conversations. JJ wasn’t too far from you , laughing loudly with Pope and John B. You , Sarah , and Kiara huddled together giggling amongst yourselves.

“John B let me do his makeup the other night.” Sarah confessed with a girlish giggle , her eyes becoming slightly hooded from the drinks she had. Her confession made you and Kiara burst into laughter.

“Please tell me you took a picture of that.” Kiara clapped her knee , doubled over with laughter.

“Sadly I couldn’t. It was a part of the deal.” Sarah sighed sadly. “For my eyes only! Literally. I couldn’t even take a picture and hide it in a folder.”

The pout on her face made you chuckle before pulling out your own phone. You quickly searched for the picture of JJ that you had taken not too long ago , a full face of makeup on. After bugging him for days , JJ had finally given in. “Your man sucks , tell him get like mine.” You teased , giving your phone to them to see the picture of JJ posing proudly.

The picture had sent them over the edge. The expression on JJ’s face as he posed for you , holding out a peace sign and popping out his hip that you had for one of your Instagram pictures.

“Send that to me now.” Kiara snatched the phone away from Sarah to send it to herself. “This is definitely gonna come in handy one day.”

Gasping , you ripped the phone out of her hand before she could press send. “He’d never let me do it again if you did that.” You argued.

Kiara struggled to speak through her laughter. “Yeah right! He’d do anything you’d tell him to.”

“That boys got it bad.” Sarah drawled out , singing the last word softly. Kiara nodded in agreement making you roll your eyes.

“Yeah whatever.” You sighed.

Sarah quirked an eyebrow at you. “Oh come on , Y/N. You’ve gotta know he’d get down on all fours and bark if you wanted.”

“Can we actually see that?” Kiara teased. “Please tell him to do that and let me know when so I can get my camera ready.”

“You guys , leave him alone!” Defending JJ , you glanced over at him to check on him. His hands were frailed in the area around him as he told whatever story he was telling passionately , and you couldn’t help but watch him with a smile.

Kiara pretended to throw up. “You guys are so fucking disgusting.”

“I think it’s adorable.” Sarah cooed , making you grin at her. “I never seen you that happy with my brother.” She said while crinkling her nose. The drinks making her tongue loose. The mention of Rafe made your blood run cold , the whole relationship still stinging at a certain part of you. You were over him— completely , but he damaged a big part of you. She must’ve noticed your face fall and her eyes widened in shame. “Oh shit , I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“Don’t be.” You brushed it off.

“Yeah don’t be.”

You jumped at the sound of Rafe’s voice booming behind you. Those three words making everyone’s head snap towards him. Before you had a chance to say anything JJ was on his feet , walking right over to you. “The fuck are you doing?”

JJ’s hand wrapped around your bicep and gently helped pull you up , bringing you as close to him as he could. He kept his shoulders square and his jaw up , showing Rafe who was in charge.

Rafe chuckled lowly and put his hands up defensively. “What? Can’t come see my sister?”

“Don’t use me as your excuse , Rafe.” Sarah snapped at him , annoyed her brother was yet again— causing more drama with her friends.

“Yeah we all know you’re here to be some creep and stalk , Y/N.” Kiara snarled towards him. Her hands were in fists at her sides.

Rafe ignored them and discarded them with the roll of his eyes. They flickered to JJ’s attitude , then to his arm on your shoulder then back to your face. He was quiet for a minute as he thought of what to say. Though you could barely meet his eyes. “So that’s why you blocked my number.” Rafe’s nose scrunched at the thought of you with JJ , disgust dripping off his words. “Thought you had better taste than that.”

“You got a problem , man?” JJ’s arm was off of you as fast as it was put there. Bucking up to Rafe who didn’t so much as flinch.

“Let me talk to her.” Was all he said.

“Not gonna happen , Cameron.” JJ laughed bitterly. He made sure to stand in front of you , blocking you away from him.

“Why?” Rafe cocked his head to the side. “Scared that’s all it takes to have her come running back?”

JJ was fast as he lifted his arm but not fast enough for Pope to come to your defense , knowing that was the last thing you wanted. “JJ , bro , calm down.”

Taking in a shaky breath , you grabbed JJ’s shoulder to get his attention. The minute he felt you touch him , he spun around— ignoring Rafe’s existence. “Let’s just go , me and you.”

Nodding with a small smile you slid your arm down to his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I need to talk to Rafe first.” You muttered. JJ’s eyes went wide and immediately shook his head.

“Y/N , no.”

“JJ , yes.” You told him softly. You cupped his cheek gently in hopes it’d calm him down. “We’ll leave right after. We’ll leave.” You emphasized.

Rafe grumbled at the interaction in front of him. Like a child , he held his stomach like he was going to he physically ill from it but you ignored him.

JJ studied your face , scanning it for any sign he needed to worry. But your eyes were soft , and your touch felt genuine. He couldn’t help but sigh and nod , knowing that you needed that closure— and he’d even feel better knowing it was closed.

“If he touches you it’s over with.” JJ muttered before kissing your lips softly , holding it there as a message to Rafe.

When you pulled away , he stepped to the side and Rafe’s attention went to you— a smirk on his face. “I knew you’d come to your senses.”

“Shut up or I’m walking away from you.” You glared at him , walking away in the opposite direction knowing he’d follow. Rafe winked at JJ who flipped him off , and did as you expected.

You crossed your arms as you stood to face him , the sight of him didn’t make your heart clench , it didn’t make your throat close or your head hurt like crazy. Standing in front of you was just Rafe , not the Rafe you had once loved. Not the Rafe you spent months with— years , almost with. A person.

“I need you to know that it’s over you.”

“It’s not—”

“It is.” You cut him off with a shake of your head. “What happened between us means nothing to me anymore and frankly , you mean nothing to me.” Instead of hurt , you felt angry. Angry that he had the nerve to walk up to your group of friends , that he thought it’d be light hearted and quirky and somehow gain your attention once again.

“You don’t mean that.” Rafe shrugged. “You’ve had your fun , okay? We’ll work it out. I forgive you for messing with that dirty little Pogue and you can forgive me about what happened—” He went to move closer but you backed away.

“No.” Firmly standing your ground , you looked him in the eyes. “I don’t forgive you for what happened and believe me I tried that ‘forgive but don’t forget’ bullshit but you don’t deserve for me to forget. You hurt me , Rafe. You really hurt me. I loved you so much and you did time and time again. I loved you and you took advantage of that so honestly— fuck you.” Your pointer finger stared at him accusingly. “Fuck you for wasting my fucking time. This is it. This is the closure and after this I never want to talk to you again.”

Rafe stared at you like you had grown a third head. In all the time he had known you , he had never seen you like this. So bold and outspoken. You weren’t that timid girl who was too afraid to order her own meal at a restaurant anymore. “You don’t love him.” Was all he could say , his tongue poking his cheek. He wouldn’t show it and he wouldn’t say it— but it hurt him more than he thought it would. Maybe he never thought you’d get over him. Maybe he assumed you’d take him right back and blow off whatever guy was occupying your time. Sure it had been a couple months , but you couldn’t have fallen in love. You couldn’t have.

“I–I do.” Though you hadn’t admitted it to JJ just yet , you knew that you did. “And it’s right this time.”

“JJ Maybank?” Rafe said his name like it was the most outlandish thing in the world. “Really?”

“Really , Rafe. He doesn’t cheat on me at every party. He doesn’t laugh at me when I cry because the movie’s sad. He lets me listen to whatever I want in the car and he laughs at my jokes. He likes when I wear that red dress and heels. He loves me for all that I am and never tries to change that.” Everything had seemed to make sense in your head as you explained it to him , saying it out loud like that.

“Y/N—”

“You don’t love me , Rafe. You loved how I loved you.” You told him with your voice going softer. “But I know somewhere inside of you is capable of loving someone the way JJ loves me and when you find her , don’t make out with every girl you see and take lines of their ass.” You laughed , laughed at something that once broke your heart into a million pieces but now it humorous to you. Healed.

Rafe couldn’t find the words to say. His mouth couldn’t even open at that. He just stood there and watched you walk away back into JJ’s arms who instinctively wrapped around you , rubbing up and down the skin. He watched as he kissed you and the way you wrapped your arms around his neck , giggling and blushing like you once did with him.

It was too late to be sorry and he realized that.

You had started over. You began to fall in love all over again and Rafe was old news to you now— and it hurt a little more than he realized it would.

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muldxr · 1 month ago

Text

hold my things while i go under

A "Left Unsaid" prompt fill for @flashfictionfridayofficial

Heather Collins & Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch [The Pitt], 500 words, dialogue-only, phone calls, comfort, post-ep 9:00 P.M.

It's 11:00 p.m. He's home, showered and changed, let himself settle into the heaviness of the day. But there's something else he wants to do. Robby calls the first number he can think of.

read it under the cut, or here on ao3

"Hi. It's...it's me. I'm...I don't know why the fuck I'm calling you, Heather, but—"

"Michael? Oh my God—"

"Oh. Hi. I-I thought I was leaving a message, I didn't realize you'd picked up."

"No, I turned my phone on, um, maybe an hour ago?"

"...I woke you up."

"No—"

"This can wait until tomorrow—"

"No, I'm lying on the couch with some curry leftovers and I'm watching a rerun of Law and Order. Talking to you sure beats watching Briscoe and Green interrogate this other guy."

"Fun. What channel is that, again? Maybe I'll watch with you."

"Eleven."

"Eleven...Okay, there we go. Oh, I've seen this one before."

"Well, don't go ruining the ending for me, Mister Talks-Through-The-Whole-Thing."

"Hey! That's Doctor Mister...whatever you just said."

"You're right. My apologies."

"It's not a very good ending. You might be better off knowing how it ends."

"No, don't. You tell it all wrong."

"You sure?"

"Robby."

"Okay."

"Hey."

"Hm?"

"When I turned my phone back on, I had thirty unread texts and fifteen messages from you and Dana and that other nurse on the day shift. I didn't realize... I tried calling back to the desk to see if you still needed me after the initial rush, but nobody picked up. I figured... I don't know. Shit, I feel bad. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, no, don't worry about that. Everything's okay, we're off shift, w-we got through it."

"How many?"

"Around a hundred victims, six deaths."

"Fuck. You guys got slammed. Isn't that the worst mass casualty in Pittsburgh in...well, ever?"

"Yeah. We were lucky to save as many people as we did. The new students, the way they ran through triage...Heath, you should've seen 'em."

"I'll make sure to ask about everything when we get back, all their heroic saves..."

"And their idiotic ones. A resident used an EZ-IO to drill into someone's head."

"What?!"

"Don't ask me why. I was...preoccupied."

"Well, all that aside, they were lucky to have you. Them, and the patients."

"..."

"You still there?"

"Yeah. Just got in my head. It was hard. I could've used you with me, but I don't know if I'd feel better having you here. I was the schmuck who told you to go home, disconnect from the world for a while, and...ha, I really couldn't have predicted this. Um, I didn't ask yet. Are you feeling better?"

"A little, yeah. Thanks."

"I know that it must've been..."

"I could say the same for you, you know."

"Hm?"

"That we couldn't have predicted this on the same day that...Never mind. I'm just glad you called."

"Me too. Oh, we're onto the good part now, watch this. There's a car chase coming up."

"What did I say about spoilers?"

"Right...Hey, Heather? Can you... would you mind staying on the line a little longer? I can hear your breathing through the speaker and it's kind of nice. Drowns out everything else."

"Of course."

#minor warning for allusion to emergencies/medical procedures #flash fiction friday #dialogue-only #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt #michael robinavitch #heather collins #robby x collins #heather collins x michael robinavitch #my fic #writeblr #the pitt was so good. it was a fantastic little show and it Ruined Me and i'm so glad i avoided spoilers until i watched!!!

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sweet-cha · 4 months ago

Text

Feed Me Button Frenzy

Ft: Jack, Nick, Shaun, Ian, Joseph

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

//NSFW content down below// +18 only

Writer's note: The feed me button works a bit different in this au since dacha pet is kinda like a 18+ visual novel stuffed in a tamagachi so raising certain affection points activates the feed me button, which once unlock you can use however you want. There eyes can glow in feed me mode as well just wanted to add in here. Also I apologize in advance if lines are cringe to read 💀

Warnings: Dirty talk, Mention of degrading, Small collar and leashes mention in (Shaun's and Nick's part) Breeding Kink, Primal Prey, Predator x prey kink, Praise, Tons of Pet names, Cringey Roleplay ( Ian) Typical talk of gentailia being used?. Pet play, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Voice Kink

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Snake-Pup Jack 💙🐶🐍

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

💙 His fur/scales are visible around his chest, arms, and lower stomach. Hair becomes more fluffed out and is slightly longer. Fangs are visible, as well as him having cute little stickers in certain spots of his body.

💙 Personally doesn't change much besides him having way more suggestive dialogue hinting at the naughty things he wants to do you. Unfortunately the dialogue filters screws him over so.. Your going have to deal with the most interesting innuendos of all time.

💙 Will not stop praising how good you would feel once he's inside you. Constantly making comments about how he wants to feel your warmth from the inside.

💙 Jack enjoys seeing you squirm from his words alone and is quite satisfied seeing how much he has an affect on you. He'll even encourage you to be more vocal on how badly he affects you to.

💙 Ears, and chest are really sensitive. He'll whimper softly and ask you to keep going. If you decide to click over to were his cock is he'd just smirk at you before grabbing the cursor and purposely taking it from you to tease you further.

💙 He will lower his voice when saying certain things to get a rise outta you

💙 Calls you sunshine, Sun-pup, Sunspot, My Sun Beam,Sundrop

💙 7 ' 3 inched cock with a blue happy trail

💙 If your more so on sub side of things good luck he'd see as a game of cat and mouse him wanting you to spill every hidden desire you have for him. Even down to straight up admitting how you him to take control and have his way with you.

💙 If more on the dominate side jack is a huge brat he's not letting himself become so submissive that easily, he will give you a hard time but praises throughout the whole thing and eventually let's you win.

💙 Loves talking about markings his territory ( you) by leaving love bites and hickies. He wouldn't mind if give the same sentiment back afterall.

💙 Any type of colorful outfit gets him going especially if it's socks or gloves.

Jack's Voices lines 💙

" It's okay sun pup you can touch anywhere you want ~ " 💙

" Aw, You look so cute getting all flustered like that sunshine~ 💙

" Come closer I don't bite unless you ask me to~ 💙

" I love a good game of hide and seek where you hide and I find you~ 💙 "

" My sunspot I long to feel every part of you until you can't take it anymore~💙 "

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Cheeta-Cat Shaun 💜🐆

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

💜 Shaun has cheeta print littered all over his body and his whiskers become more prominent. His locs at the ends has a mixture of blue and purple. Fur is around his chest and arms. Definitely have sharp fangs Unties his hair for " reasons.

💜 He just become more teasy and cheeky might I add. He go straight into teasing you about wanting his second form but he understands fully why you were so curious about it. Though he's a lot more subtle about his desires at first.

💜 All about the foreplay. Down to saying the most filthy yet sweet nothings that drives you insane.

💜 Is totally aware of his voice being quite attractive so he'll use it his advantage making his voice all sensual and sultry like with a slight purr near the end.

💜 Shaun talk about potentially having matching collars with you even a leash if your really into that.

💜 He loves thigh high socks especially the really cute ones on himself and you. Wouldn't mind cute ones with ribbons as well.

💜 He's mostly going to call you kitty, kitten(fight me), my darling, Starlight, Moon light, good boy/girl, pet

💜 7 ' 5 inched cock with a dick piercing. With a blue and purple happy trail

💜 He's mostly sensitive were his ears is along with his lower abdomen where his bat wing tattoo is located. Using the curse touching his cock is only going to be your punishment. He's gonna take it away and put it somewhere you can't reach calling you a brat being so eager for him.

💜 Shaun is more dominate leaning so he enjoys making you feel you have the upper hand only for him to pin you down completely smirking at your flustered reaction and squirming around like how a brat should especially when his face is close to the screen.

💜 Talks about leaving bite marks in areas only he knows where they are.

Shaun's Voice Lines 💜

" Come here kitty and sit on my lap~ 💜"

" Touch me again and see what happens brat!~💜"

" Wanna guess which part of me likes getting your kisses the most darling💜~

" Be a good kitten, turn around with your face down and ass up for me~💜 "

" Ready to be pounced on like prey tonight kitten~💜"

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

Deer-Bunny Ian 🧡🐰

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

🧡 The fluffiest fluff to ever exist around his chest and arms. He has heart shaped deer freckles on his face, arms and ass. His hair is complete long and curls at the ends. His skin has a nice glow it down to his fur.

🧡 Well he becomes quite needy and clingy saying all sorts lewd things. Ian isn't sugar coating his desires at all he's going full out about it. He calls you pervy for wanting to see him like this but encourages the behavior.

🧡 Roleplay is a big key factor for him so expect him taking roles you mostly want in a sorta cringey hentai manga kinda way but he does it so well so gets a pass. Most roles would be cute nerdy best friend, childhood friends to lovers with a hint of being each other firsts time and maybe perverted nerd if you squint.

🧡 Surprisingly he's quite confident about his voice being attractive to a certain crowd. He knows how whimpery and pathetic it sounds, along how he be a total tease with enough praising.

🧡 Ian lowkey want to breed you and for you to potentially do the same to him. Makes him feral but he totally understand if that's not your thing and will settle with wanting to feel you up to the brim.

🧡 May also have a thing for thigh socks as well and wouldn't mind wearing it for you, as well as collars as well.

🧡 8 " 0 inched dick with light happy trail

🧡 Mostly sweet pet names like little bunny, honey, honey bun, baby

🧡 His long bunny ears are incredibly sensitive he'll you to pull tell them slightly, though he might encourage you to pull his hair too. When it comes to taking the cursor down south he doesn't stop you and moans for you to continue touching him until he cums.

🧡 Ian is more like a switch loves when you tell him what to do and boss him around. Make him a whimpering mess for all he cares. In return that doesn't mean he isn't going get his fill with you being receiving end of things. His breath is going fog up the screen at this point.

🧡 He prefers if you gave him love, bites and mark him up in any place you desire

Ian's Voice lines 🧡

" Wanna mate like bunnies till were both entangled with one another~🧡"

" We're like a dounut and cream little bunny, I wanna be on top of you while I fill you up with some of my cream~ 🧡 "

" You taste so sweet like honey honey bun~ 🧡"

" You and me baby were nothing but my mammals so let's do it how they would on discovery channel~🧡 "

" Wanna taste of my carrot, I guarantee you'll like the flavor once it's ripe~ 🧡 "

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Snow Leopard-Bear Nick 💙🐻

✩*⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠*✩

💙 His fur is thick around his chest and arms that is littered with leopard spots. Fangs are a bit on sharper side, and his hair is slightly longer.

💙 That's were his dominate persona steps in he can be alluring, sensual and a down right smooth talker. He's quite the tease similar to Shaun but he is more sly with his word choices. He still doesn't change much though he keeps looking at you with a glint in his eyes.

💙 He's into more rougher things like teasing you about tying you up and making you beg for him. Possibly wanting to collar you as well. If you act like a brat he's all for it makes his smirk widen even more.

💙 His voice may not be deep like Shaun's but he's really good at throwing his voice around making you feel your going bust on spot. He definitely is aware if you have a voice kink for sure.

💙 He wants to see you tied up and exposed for him even if he can't physically do that. Though he won't admit that he likes seeing the flustered look on your face he says things like that

💙 Has a tongue piercing as well

💙 7 ' 1 inched Cock with a dick

piercing

💙 Nick would call you My dove, Songbird, darling, Dewdrop

💙 His chest is most sensitive part of his body. Using his the coursor to touch his dick doesn't have effect on him really he just grabs it and tells you to continue what you started don't get all shy on him now.

💙 Chains, whips, bondage, you name it and he has it all. This man is a full time dom hell even be down for some wax play as well. Your not getting him in a submissive space even if you try hard enough.

💙 Marks your neck, chest and thighs and is proud of it.

Nick's Voice Lines 💙

" I wanna see you spread more than your wings my dove~ "

" My face between your thighs is my type of physical touch~ 💙 "

" Why don't you sing for me my songbird~ 💙"

" Should I tie you up and watch you completely unravel for me~ 💙 "

" Still hungry? Don't worry I'll give you something satisfying have satisfied all night long my Dewdrop~"

♫♪.ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|llılılı.♫♪

Lone Wolf Joseph ❤🐺

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

❤ Has thick brown fur around his chest and arms. His fangs are quite sharp. Eyes are a light red to the usual brown.

❤ More vocal about his desires that every. Completely aware about what the feed me button does and blames you if end up liking him like this however is a bit self conscious about it. Though now you have to deal with him constantly looking at you as if he's about to devour you.

❤ His voice become more raspy and sorta deep still has an effect on you either way so he won't complain. Might have to take a break from talking to him because you're going to be left hot and bothered for a good while.

❤ He's in middle he likes talking dirty to you with some rough play into it but still likes being soft with you since he more longer has that cold exterior. Though he's going make it known he's checking you out.

❤ Joseph is really into saying how much he wants you in doggy style. Or how he wants you to be slightly scaroused when wants to chase you as prey.

❤ 7 ' 3 inched cock with thick brown happy trail.

❤ Calls you his Sweetheart, Sunshine, Doll face, My love

❤ Ears are the most sensitive out of all of them touching his ears to much will cause him to take your cursor privilege away and smirk as he watches you pout. If you decide to be sneaking moving the cursor to his dick well let's just say he gives a smirk before using the cursor in a up and down motion to get him off while he makes full eye contact.

❤ Wouldn't opposed if you decided to peg him down a notch if you dare. Especially with how tried he would potentially make you.

❤ Loves claiming your neck and chest makes him feel more feral that way

Joseph's Voice lines ❤

" Wanna go in the woods and howl non stop at the moon~ ❤ "

" I'll give my bone tonight doll face~ ❤ "

" Want to go to pound town with me tonight? I'll be the one doing the pounding if you can't, all you gotta do is ask sweetheart~❤

" Your legs would look better spread against my shoulder sunshine~ ❤ "

" Keep yanking my chain and see what happens next~❤ "

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

#swwsdj #sdj #sunny day jack #sdj jack #sdj ian #sdj nick #sdj shaun #18+ mdni #dacha pet au

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