#homelander bedroom experience

[xieyaohuan]

@deliciouskeys it was a sports themed room! It had gymnastics rings and a dumbbell:

I was actually excited about it. I like it when a hotel room is a little different. But the most remarkable thing (which I didn’t notice until I was in bed lol) was that the room recreated the Homelander bedroom experience!

Mirrors on the left side of the bed:

Two smaller mirrors and a big window that had a mirror effect at night on the right side of the bed:

No ceiling mirror, but there was a tv directly over the bed, creating a mirror effect:

There were three more large mirrors in the room that I didn’t take pictures of lol.

So yeah. A different type of Homelander room.

[annwrites]

⸻ tell me i'm your national anthem. part two. ⸻

· pairing: homelander x collegestudent!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you & john have dinner together again & you finally come to understand him a bit better. at the very least, what you think he wants. and he lets you in just once, wondering if you can be trusted after all. · word count: 2,736

You sleep fitfully that night.

It takes hours before your body manages to calm enough for you to find rest after having exhausted yourself from crying, hugging a pillow to your chest for comfort—utterly terrified that he’ll come back.

Every small noise you hear makes you shoot up in bed, staring at your now-curtained balcony doors, praying to God that he’s gone. That he hadn’t meant what he said about returning. He’d been bluffing, you’re sure.

You need for him to have not been serious.

You drag the next day during your classes.

You stay fairly to yourself, not wishing to talk to anyone. But, of course, all that any of them have on their minds, and seem able to discuss as you pass them in the halls is him. Including your best friend, Emma.

It only serves to turn your stomach. The fact that she worships the ground that his corrupting boots walk upon—that she has no idea that he’s a soulless monster. That he had so easily threatened your life before proceeding to humiliate you before stealing away your first sexual experience for his own benefit.

He’d done it to be cruel, you’re sure. To disrespect you like he’d felt you’d done toward him.

As if refusing to make eye contact while hundreds of others gazed upon him with admiration was anything like what he’d done to you.

Trying to wrap your mind around the incredible difference between who he is in front of a camera versus who he had turned into in your apartment last night… He’s a psychopath, clearly. All you can manage to return to time and again was him staring at you with red eyes, threatening your life. A threat that had rolled off his tongue as easily as asking you about the weather.

You wonder how many lives he’s taken that no one knows about, or that Vought has taken diligent measures to cover up. Wondering why they do it—why they would protect him—has a simple answer: he’s indestructible…right? A man with that much power, and with no remorse—with no weaknesses—is a terrifying thought.

You really fucking hope you never see him again. That whatever he was after he managed to get out of his system last evening. After all, what’re you compared to Queen Maeve, or a model, or fellow actress, or supe?

Thankfully, it’s a slow day at work. Usually it is, in truth. Not many people seem to have much of an appreciation for buying and collecting antiques anymore. Unless it’s Christmas time…the store is almost always dead. A fact you’re quite grateful for today as you arrange a shelf of Precious Moments figurines, avoiding the section of the store dedicated to superheros at all costs.

You ring up maybe half-a-dozen customers in not quite as many hours before heading home for the day, practically dead on your feet.

You take a long shower—the pleasant feel of the hot water nearly serves to put you to sleep—repeatedly telling yourself that you’re safe here. He’s not coming back. This is your home. You’re okay. Everything is okay. You’re sure he’s already forgotten about you by now, anyway.

When you emerge back into your bedroom dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of soft gray sweatpants—ready to just throw something in the microwave so you can go to bed straight after—you halt in your tracks when you see a silhouette with wide shoulders and a billowing cape on the other side of your closed curtains.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

You’re seeing things. He’s been on your mind all day and you’re exhausted on top of that, not to mention starving.

It’s not real. He’s not—

There’s a gentle knock against the glass. “I know you’re in there. I can hear your heart. So, you can either open the door, or I’ll just break a window and let myself in. But, then you’ll end up having to pay to replace the glass, and you’ll have to explain things to your landlord, and, well—”

You come over to the door then, frustrated tears stinging your eyes, and you flip the lock, heading in the direction of the kitchen without a word.

You know it’s useless to try and hide, or pretend like you’re not home.

He lets himself in, gently closing the door behind him.

“Honey, I’m home!” He says in a sing-song tune, following you into the kitchen, leaning against a counter with crossed arms and a smug look on his face.

“So, what’s for dinner?”

You open the freezer, throwing a microwavable dinner on the counter, refusing to even look at him.

And then he sighs, grabbing the meal away from you, throwing it back into the freezer.

He leans down toward you. “What? No home-cooked meal for your favorite superhero tonight? And after all that hard work I put into making a meal out of you just twenty-four hours ago.”

You grip the edges of the counter in each of your hands, dragging your nails across it. “I never asked for any of that. I begged you not to.”

He leans in closer, grabbing your hip painfully as he brings his lips to the shell of your ear. “You’re being very ungrateful right now.”

He pauses. “You’re hurting my feelings.”

Your chin wobbles and your stomach fills with lead.

“Now,” he starts again, sliding his gloved fingers into your hair, gently massaging your scalp. “You are going to be a good little girl and get to cooking. I’m not asking twice. I’ve been hard at work all day. It’s the least you can do for me after bothering to fly all the way here to keep you company.”

You bite your lower lip to try and keep your tears at bay. “What do you want from me?”

“I’ve already told you.”

You turn to the side, facing him, reluctantly looking up, meeting his empty blue eyes. “Thousands—no, millions—of women across the world would love nothing more than to throw themselves at you. To be at your beck and call. What the hell do you want with me?”

He gently caresses your chin between his fingers, smirking softly. “I’m no A-Train, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still love a good chase, sweetheart.”

He smacks your rear then, causing you to squeak in surprise. “Now, feed your man.”

You raid a brow at that. Your what?

You watch as he leans down, removing the milk jug from your fridge and you cross your arms. “I’m not doing all the work while you just sit there and watch.”

He looks at you with a displeased expression from your back-talk, but you don’t back down.

You remove a loaf of bread from the bread box, tossing it on the counter in front of him. “You’re in charge of making toast.”

Quite astonishingly, he doesn’t argue. Instead, he looks at you with a surprised look in his eyes and a gentle smile. “How many slices do you want?”

You have no idea that it gives him a sense of normalcy and home, even if just for a moment. Like you’re a mother instructing her child, giving them a small responsibility to see to at dinner time. You’re making him a part of the process, and he likes that. Appreciates it, even.

You’d begun giggling ridiculously from nerves in the middle of making spaghetti.

Homelander had looked at you with a raised brow and a sour look on his face, until you’d explained, with tears streaming down your own. “I’m cooking dinner with Homelander. You’re—”

You’d gasped for breath, doubling over. “You’re in my apartment! Making toast!”

And then you’d begun to actually cry—your exhaustion catching up to you all at once—hysterically, at that. He’d considered multiple courses of action. One: simply leaving. Two: threatening you to shut the hell up or he’d really give you something to cry about. He’d taken the third option with no fucking idea as to why.

He’d gathered you in his arms, ignored your tiny fists beating against his chest and your demands that he let you go, and held you until you calmed.

Once you did, and your breathing and heart-rate had both returned to normal—the smell of adrenaline no longer coming off of you in waves—he told you it was time to eat.

So, here you sit, slowly eating spaghetti and toast in silence with America’s poster boy.

He takes a long sip of milk, studying you.

“You’re very attractive,” he says, briefly pausing. “In an ordinary ‘girl-next-door’ sort of way, I suppose.”

Your eyes flit to his, swallowing your noodles. “T-thank you.”

He hums in response, a small smile on his lips, fingers splaying outward expectantly.

Your brows furrow for only a moment. “You’re…handsome.”

His smile fades at your unsure tone of empty platitudes. “Why don’t you like me?”

Oh God, not this again.

You shake your head, taking a bite of your toast. “You’re asking that after what you did to me?”

“You mean what I did for you? You seem to forget that I gave you an orgasm without so much as asking for anything in return.”

Bile rises in your throat. “You stole my first sexual experience away from me.”

“I think stolen is a nasty way to word it. I gifted it to you.”

You grip your fork tightly in your fist, having half-a-mind to drive it through the back of his hand. But you know you can’t. You don’t want to even imagine how such an action would end. Probably with your apartment becoming a bloody mess and your twenty-one-year-old life at an end before it ever got a chance to truly begin.

So you set the utensil down.

“You want me to like you?” You ask quietly, having no clue as to why your meaningless opinion of him should matter in the first place.

He shrugs lightly, brow twitching in response.

You fold your hands in your lap, leaning back, staring at him. “Tell me something, then. Something real and that no one else knows.”

He stays quiet, so you continue.

“Because the very opposite of that is why I dislike—no, scratch that—despise you: because you just look like an empty suit to me. Something manufactured by the media. A man unable to think for himself without a teleprompter in front of him instructing his every move.”

He grinds his teeth, his face twitching, his gloved hands now squeezed tightly into fists.

And you immediately fill with regret. Being exhausted typically left you one of three ways—all of which you’d experienced in one evening alone. Giggly and easily amused, emotional, or irritable.

The first two he’d tolerated. This one…you worry it ends with your landlord discovering your corpse the next time rent is due.

“You think they control me?” He asks with a sneer.

“I have yet to find a reason to think otherwise.”

“You think,” he says, leaning in toward you, his boot pressing against your foot beneath the table. “I’m just some puppet manufactured by Big Media? Hm?”

He stands abruptly, chair scraping loudly against the floor and you stand as well, your own toppling over in your panic as he backs you into a corner.

He must like doing this—intimidating. Invoking fear.

He chuckles, cupping your face in his hands. “I’ve done things… Things that would horrify you. Things that even Vought doesn’t know about.”

He shrugs. “They’re just the ones who sign my paychecks. See, they work for me. The whole fuckin’ world does. Including you, honey. I’m the real hero. My little tagline where I say otherwise? It’s bullshit. But the people eat it up. They swallow the garbage I feed them with a grateful smile. You think you’re so…different, though, don’t you?”

You brows furrow and you feel completely terrified, but quickly decide upon trying a new approach.

Aggression is getting you nowhere—it’s only begetting more on his part. And you worry how far you can push him before it ends in catastrophe.

And it’s then that you realize that he does have a weakness after all: he’s desperate for approval. Why the hell else would he be here yet again, demanding to know why he doesn’t yet have yours? Is he just that much of a narcissist, or is it something deeper?

You slowly reach up then, cupping his cheek, your other trembling hand coming to rest gently upon his chest.

Touching him in such a familiar fashion may end horribly for you, but something tells you it's well worth a try.

“What happened to you?” You ask in a whisper.

His features shift—softening—the look in his eyes that of…confusion. He even goes so far as to lean in slightly to your warm, comforting touch.

Your eyes flit between his, taken aback by his embracing your kind, physical gesture. “You haven’t always been like this, have you?”

You take a tiny step closer, bridging the gap between your bodies, since you think this attempt might just finally be getting you somewhere.

“You want me to like you? Trust you? Actually enjoy your company, and, much more, want it? Tell me something no one else knows, then. Something that will make me see past all of it.”

Your eyes trail along his suit, before meeting his own again. “Past this. I have no interest in getting to know Homelander. Because that’s not who you really are, even if you’ve forgotten it. There’s still a man in this costume. A human being.”

You watch with shock as tears gather in his eyes that continue to stare into your own, his lips pressed into a firm line as he remains silent.

You shoosh him softly. “It’s okay. It’s just the two of us. You may not want to believe it, but you can trust me. I haven’t even told anyone about you coming here last night, because I’m not the type to gossip. I have no interest in it.”

That’s not the reason whatsoever, but he can think whatever the hell he likes, so long as it gets him to calm down and give you a moment of vulnerability.

You brush a tear away as it slips down his cheek.

“You want to know what people have told me time and again since I was little? That they feel like they can trust me—even complete strangers. They’ll share things with me that they won’t even tell their closest friends and family. For the longest time I couldn’t understand why—what it was about me—and then I figured it out.”

You gently run your fingertips along his cheek. “I know what it feels like when someone betrays your trust repeatedly. When that one person in all the world you’re supposed to be able to rely and lean upon just…uses the things you tell them against you just to hurt you. Because they’re incapable of empathy. And I refuse to do that to others. Because I won’t be like her. I can’t. I just…I guess people can sense that about me. I hope so, at least. It’s the only explanation I have.”

You pause. “What I’m trying to get at is that you can, too: trust me. You’re safe here.”

He blinks, another tear slipping down his cheek, which you softly wipe away.

“John,” he whispers, finally speaking. “My name is John.”

You smile.

“John,” you repeat, and his chin wobbles at the sound of his name leaving your lips.

“Thank you for telling me. That’s all I wanted: to know something about you. Something that comes from you.”

His face shifts then, his vulnerability quickly vanishing. “If you tell anyone—”

You slip your fingers into his hair. “I won’t. I promise. You have nothing to worry about. It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

His eyes flit between yours, debating, considering.

And then he nods and you release a breath of relief.

He leans down then, pressing his lips to yours—tenderly. A wholly different sensation to how he’d been with you last night.

It’d worked.

You pull back slightly.

“Y/N,” you whisper against his lips.

His own twitches. “I already knew that.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Who was it? You said ‘her’.”

You swallow, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Can we talk about it tomorrow night?”

He likes that you want him back again. That you’re admitting it. That you’re planning on it.

He smirks. “Sounds like we’re finally on the same page, sweetheart.”

[homelanderbutbig]

There's Still A Part Of Me Here (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1912 words. Hurt/comfort, and a bit of angst. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

Homelander is forced to be alone for one night and it's a struggle. Inspired by this ask.

When Homelander developed feelings for you, he made a promise to himself that he would never be alone again. He would never allow himself to drown in the crushing waves of solitude that plagued him from birth. As long as he had you by his side, you would be his anchor that helped him sail across the stormy oceans of his fractured mind.

That was why he couldn't believe when you informed him you'd be leaving for a family funeral… and he couldn't come too. You insisted that you would keep it as brief as possible, and while you would be gone overnight you'd return first thing in the morning. However, your attempts to quell his unease did nothing but further fuel the fire burning in the pit of his stomach.

He tried his damndest to persuade you to stay, that your family wouldn't miss your presence for a measly day, but he found himself helpless to change your decision. Although you were worried about how he could handle this, he did his best to put on a brave face for you, trying to switch from his fretful disposition just a moment ago to something 'cool and collected'. It wasn't much to fool you as you've gotten to know him well enough to see right through his façade, but he continued to reassure you that he would be fine, practically pushing you out to the elevator. He's gone through his entire life alone, and one night without you wasn't going to kill him.

And now, here he stands alone in his penthouse. It's late at night and he can't sleep, not with the soul crushing silence surrounding him. Something about the atmosphere is different than normal… empty. He finds that this feeling isn't something he can placate by turning on meaningless background noise from the television or radio. Before, he preferred the peace and quiet of his penthouse. It protected him from the irritating chatter from the rest of society and gave him the time to ruminate on his thoughts, for better or worse. But over the last few months he's been with you, he's grown accustomed to the way you've brought light into his life. It's every little thing about you… your scent, your voice, your laugh, your heartbeat. Your humanity.

It's all gone, and Homelander doesn't know how to handle it.

He's in front of the window in his living room, staring blankly into the dark sky. If he could, he'd be launching into the air to fly off and locate you. Instead he's fighting an internal battle in his brain, planted firmly in place and unable to walk over to his balcony. Before you left, the two of you agreed that he was not to come find you while you attended the funeral, lest you both be spotted together and your secret relationship be discovered. He would never risk that, and so he's left alone to dissociate.

Increasingly, the pressure builds in his chest as he is forced to grapple with his unrelenting anxieties. He tends to not experience the sensation of powerlessness, but presently he is lost in what to do. There has always been a hole in his heart, the need for unconditional love that's been purposefully kept from him. You so effortlessly fit that puzzle piece, making him feel… complete. And now that piece of him has been bloodily ripped out of his ribcage. It doesn't even matter you haven't really left him. Right now, all he comprehends is you're not here. His eyes twitch as the ringing in his ears builds in volume, until it feels like he's at the brink.

Until something has to give.

"John," a voice suddenly calls out from his bedroom, breaking him from his detached thoughts. He recognizes that voice in an instant, it's the friend who helped him through his traumas of the lab. The only companion he's ever had. His reflection.

"John, come here," the voice calls again. Like a dog with its tail tucked in between its legs Homelander cannot help but obey, and slowly saunters over to face the mirror at his bedside. He nervously rubs his hands along his wrists, knowing full well his 'friend' is not going to be a source of empathy for him.

"Look at you tiger," his counterpart berates him, shaking his head at the sorry sight. "This worked up over what, a human? This is a pathetic thing to see, pal. I thought you were better than this."

"N-no…" he mumbles faintly, tears beginning to build up in his eyes. He struggles to even look into the mirror, feeling the intense stare his 'friend' is burning straight through him.

"You're weak," his reflection scoffs. "You're a god to these mudpeople, and yet you're letting one control you so easily? Tsk tsk. You need to man up, and remove this sickness already."

"…H-how?" he asks.

"Kill them," his replica states bluntly, showing no emotion. "Fly over to their worthless little funeral, and remove the hold they have over you."

Homelander clenches his hands into fists, apprehension choking him. Hearing those words… kill them. Since you first came into his life, his 'friend' has always hated you. He'd put years of work in dragging this pitiful little boy out of the ashes to mold him into a perfect being. One that could no longer be vulnerable. But you've undone everything, whittling away his armour to break through to that… longing for affection he could never fully destroy. The way you baby him, like you actually care. Humans are incapable of concern for him; all they ever want is to hurt him, always leaving him begging for their approval.

And one way or another, he's going to make sure it's only the two of them left alive.

"This ant isn't eye-level with you, they don't even reach your fucking chest. They are not your equal. No human is," he keeps pushing, the venom saturating each word. "Was I not the one who protected you from the Bad Room? Don't things always work out when you listen to me?" he questions, waiting momentarily for Homelander to give a timid nod in response. "Then do it. Kill them. DO. IT."

His reflection continues aggressively repeating this phrase, his shouting getting louder and louder.

DO IT. DO IT. DO IT.

Shutting his eyes tight, he futilely attempts to block out the outside world. But he's already totally overwhelmed; his breathing is staggered and his face is drenched with his tears. He tries to push his 'friend' out of his mind but he can't do it. All he hears is his own voice demanding your death. Coupled with the returning ringing in his ears, it's getting to be too much for him to handle.

"John," a voice once again calls out to him, cutting through the discordant racket. However, this time it sounds unusual. It's not his voice.

It's yours.

However, he refuses to peek at the mirror, terrified of what he's going to see in front of him. He just knows his brain is playing a trick on him. He has to be, it can't really be you. He-

"It's okay baby boy. You can open your eyes," your voice says, so soothingly.

With a trembling lower lip, Homelander swallows his nerves and obeys your request. To his surprise, his 'friend' is nowhere to be seen in the mirror; your form has taken his counterpart's place, and is gazing directly at him. And not even at your regular vantage point, he doesn't have to bend down to look at you. Instead, you're magically floating up at his eye-level… like you truly are his equal.

He knows he must look absolutely pathetic to you right now, a giant of a man crying to himself in the mirror. But you don't show any contempt for him, you never do. It doesn't take much for you to prove his 'friend' wrong, the way you display nothing but pure compassion to his mental suffering.

"Having a bit of a rough time, huh?" you sympathize.

"I-I need h-help," he sniffles, nodding his head roughly. His weepy eyes are so bloodshot, so desperate for relief from his burdens. "P-please, I can't do this a-alone…"

"You aren't alone sweetie," you remind him, your voice so smooth that every word sounds like music to his ears. "There's still a part of me here. You keep it safe just for times like this. And I think it wants to help."

At first your reply confuses him, but the memories begin flooding back once you point over to the dresser on the other side of his bedroom. On your one-month anniversary, you gifted him the most precious thing he's ever received from anyone, your childhood teddy bear. When Homelander first told you about his past, he was so nervous you would use it against him, like so many have before. But of course you're nothing like those vermin. You kept his secrets close to your heart, and in turn decided to allow him to share your childhood. Something nobody has ever done for him before, just letting him be, well… human.

Rushing over to the dresser, he lifts up the top to reveal the keepsakes he's stashed away from those he's been close to over the years. And smack dab in the middle of his collection, is your brown teddy bear. He rips off his leather gloves and drops them unceremoniously to the floor as he takes the bear out of the dresser. It's so miniscule in his large hands, but his hypersensitive skin makes him feel like the small one engulfed by the plush toy. Amazingly, his stress dissipates the longer his fingers dance along the bear's well-loved fur, completely hushing the city noise around him.

He raises it up to his nose, inhaling the faint scent of you that lingers on its pelt. It's enough to wrap him in the warmth he's been urgently wishing for all night. You might not be currently with him in person, but he feels your aura surrounding him, embracing him. Protecting him.

Finally, Homelander is calm.

Stripping off his suit, he lies down in his bed, keeping the bear held against his chest. It's funny how when all else fails something so childish, a toy, can bring him down to reality so fast. How much it reminds him of you. He moves the bear to his face, resting it on his cheek as he nuzzles deeper into its fuzzy coat. Not to deprive his arms of their own comfort, he reaches for your pillow and hugs it snuggly to his chest, lightly petting it with his thumbs, like he does with your hair when he's hugging you. He lets out a deep sigh and flutters his eyes closed, letting the remaining tension drain from his body. He's lulled into sleep from a combination of his exhaustion and of the solace you've brought to his overworked senses.

By the time the morning comes and you return to the penthouse, he's got you buried in his arms, refusing to let you go for even a second. You laugh to yourself, happy to see he's at least survived the night alone, unaware of the evening's turmoil. Giving Ashley a call, you inform her that you and Homelander will both be unavailable for the rest of the day so you can catch up on some cuddle time. You know he deserves it.

[chaoticcollectivenightmare]

🟦My Homelander Headcanons [V1]🟦

Picture from: @redchikittymeow ! Spoilers to The Boys Show (1,2,3,4)

✰ I think Homelander doesn't like his hair to be long now and always keeps it short. His long hair always reminds him of his time in the bad room and his teenage years.

✰ But as a teenager he liked his long hair because he could always play with it when he was nervous or bored. It was the only distraction he had between experiments and so on.

✰ Whenever he sees a camera he automatically smiles because that's how he's trained. Even when he's angry or whatever. When he notices he's being filmed he immediately calms down and smiles at the camera.

✰ He has multiple personality disorder. His two main personalities are John and Homelander.

✰ He can't swim. The scientists never taught him because he couldn't leave the lab and as an adult he never had any desire to learn to swim.

✰ That's why he hardly ever performs with the Deep alone, just for that reason and many others. And when he and the Deep do, they are never at sea or near water.

✰ He’s insecure. He has many different things to be insecure and he is afraid to admit it and if someone finds out they will be killed immediately.

✰ He sometimes has nightmares about Madelyn Stillwell, Stormfront, Queen Maeve, Soldier Boy and sometimes even Starlight and Ryan.

✰ With Madelyn Stillwell Nightmares, I think he would dream that he had used her but could have actually changed the ending. That he shouldn't have killed Madelyn and should have entered into a relationship with her that wasn't just sexual. That he might even have been a father to her son if it had turned out differently. That she might not be afraid of him if they were in a relationship. And then he remembered in the dreams that he was an asshole and had killed her.

✰ In Stormfront Nightmares he would definitely dream of a "normal healthy" relationship with her and the American lifestyle. That they would get married, have children and grow old together and then he would be hit by reality. She was a n*zi, she had committed suicide, she was just using him and then he would remember her condition after Ryan had hurt her and everything bad about the relationship.

✰ In Queen Maeve Nightmares he dreams of how he saw this relationship in his eyes and just loves it. He had the perfect relationship with Maeve but then suddenly Elena would come and take her away and then Homelander would be alone and beg Queen Maeve to come back to him but then he realized the reality. She hated him. She never loved him.

✰ In Soldier Boy Nightmares he dreams of growing up as his son and that Soldier Boy was proud of him and stood in the spotlight with him. Everything would be perfect until the dream goes black and he wakes up again and he fights with Soldier Boy and Soldier Boy lets out his hatred on him. He yells at him and fights until Homelander is bloody and then he grabs him by the collar and strangles him and Homelander says with tears in his eyes.

"Please don't Dad….. I'm scared"

"You're not my son, you just a scared Pussy"

Soldier Boy then said full of hatred and the dream ends there.

✰ With Starlight Nightmares it would be that he dreams that Starlight wins or that he is replaced by her. These nightmares don't happen often but when they do happen they are really graphic and show his fear of losing or being replaced.

✰ Ryan's Nightmares are like Starlight Nightmares but I add a dream type where Ryan is very afraid of Homelander in these dreams and doesn't see him as his dad, so it's a reversed Soldier Boy Nightmare because Soldier Boy doesn't see him as his son and Ryan doesn't see him as his father in the nightmares.

✰ And he has general nightmares about the bad room and so on.

✰ He has actually always been afraid of sleeping since he was born because he is paranoid and because of his nightmares.

✰ If he has the chance, he would never like to sleep alone and tries to have someone nearby.

✰ I headcanon that Ryan's bedroom was very close to Homelander's bedroom because when Homelander wakes up from a nightmare, he gets confirmation from his X-Ray that Ryan is okay and that he is sleeping. He always tries to calm himself down by doing this.

That's all that came to mind right now. Maybe I'll make a V2 or if you want you can message me for headcanons for the boys.

[samdeancass]

Past Experience

Requested by Anonymous

Pairing: Homelander x reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Characters: Homelander, Y/N

A/N: MENTIONS PAST SEXUAL ASSAULT BY EX-PARTNER. If you're not comfortable, please don't read. Feel free to message me if you need to.

Description: Y/N has had very bad experiences with their ex-partner in the past, which has had a knock-on effect on their life. When Homelander and Y/N begin to become intimate, Y/N pulls away and confides in him.

He was always confused when you abruptly stopped kissing him when things began getting heated. Still, he never pressed the issue, honouring your wishes.

You used to be the most outgoing and confident person in the past, so full of life and passion until the one horrible night that changed your life forever. You were totally and completely in love with him; you thought he was the one, but you were sorely mistaken. He took advantage of you when you pleaded with him not to, that you didn't want it, but he didn't listen. He just kept going and left you in a crumpled mess on your bed, unable to move or contemplate what had just happened. That night completely broke you, and it took forever to build yourself back up again.

Everything changed, though, when you met Homelander. He made you feel safe and comforted, like nothing or nobody would hurt you again. At first, you kept him at arm's length. You hadn't been in a relationship with anyone since it happened, but he slowly broke down your defences and told you how much he cared for you through his words and actions. No matter how close you got, you never told him about what happened. You didn't want it to taint how he saw you.

You had been together for just over two years and still had not been very intimate. You knew how confusing this could be to him, but you could never bring yourself to tell Homelander the reason why. That was until you were both in the bedroom, him on top of you, kissing your neck, his hands beginning to roam your body, when images from that night washed over your memory. You pushed Homelander off, gasping for air with tears in your eyes.

Worry washed over Homelander's face as he watched the scene unfold. He gathered you in his arms, whispered soothing words into your ear and pressed soft kisses to the top of your head. Once you had calmed down, he manoeuvred the both of you so he was facing you, his eyes boring into yours.

"Y/n, what happened just now?" You moved your head down and fixated your gaze on the bed, your fingers fiddling with the covers, not wanting to meet his eyes again. His hand moved from your cheek to underneath your chin, and you tilted your head to meet his eyes again. "Please, Y/N, tell me. I want to know. Is it me? Do I scare you? I promise what I do out there is done by a completely different person; it's all for show. I won't ever hurt you."

Tears flowed down your cheeks as he finished what he was saying and shook your head. You couldn't believe he was blaming himself for your actions. He was the sweetest and most caring person with you; you never once thought that he would hurt you like you have been. A pang of hurt and regret exploded in your chest that you hadn't told him about what had happened sooner; you never wanted him to blame himself for the lack of intimacy you gave.

You looked at him through teary eyes and touched his cheek. He leaned into it and smiled, placing his hand on yours. "It's nothing to do with you; it's all me. I have never been scared of you, nor will I ever be. I know you would never hurt me." He took your other hand and rubbed soothing circles into the skin. "So, what's the matter, Y/N? Please tell me so I can help you."

As you looked into his eyes, you knew he would never blame you for what happened; you knew you could trust him. "Before we met, I-I was with this guy. I-I thought he w-was the one. He u-used my f-feelings f-for him, and…he…assaulted me. H-he r-r-raped m-me." You burst into tears as the memories you had tried so hard to keep hidden blurted into your mind once again.

"Oh my god! Y/N, I'm so sorry, I never knew." He gathered you in his arms and cradled you, letting you exhaust all of your emotions before continuing. "Why did you never tell me? If I knew, I never would have thought of touching you like that." You looked up at him, eyes still sparkling with tears.

"I never wanted you to know. I didn't want you to picture me as broken, someone tainted. I wanted you to see me as the person I was before that happened; that is the real me. What happened utterly broke me; I became a shell of who I was, but you, my darling, have helped me build my confidence again."

He shook his head, placing both his hands on your cheeks, before laying down on the bed, bringing you with him, and holding you close to his chest. "You are not broken, my love; you are the most perfect person I have ever met, and nothing will change my mind. I promise nothing like that will ever happen to you again."

You captured his lips in a slow kiss, silently thanking him for his sweet words. "Thank you for accepting me, knowing what happened." "You never need to thank me for anything. I do need you to tell me something, though." You looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah?" "Where does this fucker live so I can kill him?"

[thepeachtre]

NSFW alphabet with homelander since you guys voted for him more below the cut also this is my first time doing anything remotely NSFW

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) homelander would see you better then everyone so he would clean you up and probably carry you back to bed

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) the breast he loves to see them bounce he would probably pay a lot of attention to them

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) he loves to see his cum all over you on your breast and ass to basically see his creation or to see that your his but I also feel he loves to cum inside you for that same feeling over you

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) he secretly likes to be the sub sometimes or he likes to be peg he may not say it or he may ask you one day If you could switch roles

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) homelander would be pretty experience definitely slept with others in the pass

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) anything where he can see your face or he loves to see your face buried in the pillows to

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) he pretty serious during sex probably a couple moans and some praise

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) he really well groomed and would probably Focus extra hard on grooming before sex and probably except you to be well groomed to

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) it probably depends but if you are in a relationship or not If you are in a relationship he would probably see you as better then everyone so he would be pretty romantic in that since

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) he would probably go to you if he feel horny probably see jacking off as something lesser then having sex

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) punishment loves to put you in your place though fucking you to daylight or spanking you or etc

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) the bedroom would hate for someone to walk in and see what his but if he feeling risky would probably do it at one of the many room in Vought

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) seeing you in revealing clothes like a matching bra and panties set or lingerie

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) nothing that involves other people he see you as his and only his

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) when receiving he definitely whimpering and moaning mess when receiving and when giving he really skillfull

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) he really fast and rough due to you know the super human speed he has through the compound v

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) doesn’t like them but will do one if he really in the mood and needs to get it over with but likes to take a lot of time though so I don’t see him liking quickies

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) he probably would love to experiment as longs as it doesn’t involve othe people he would welcome the idea of experiment also is willing to take risks

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) he could probably go on for a pretty long time probably can’t stop until he wants to so he probably can on for a super long time

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) probably would use vibraters on you but would definitely ask you to use something on him if he in the mood

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) he a pretty big tease probably will hold of on making you cum until the last second or until you really beg for it

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make) makes a lot of noise during sex definitely moans and whimpers if he the one receiving

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) loves to hear you beg during sex it a massive turn on and will definitely motivated him

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) avg size but is definitely girthy and will definitely be a challenge for you to take and is definitely not going to be easy

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) It is pretty high gets turn on pretty quickly

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) probably falls asleep after a while after sex I feel like the compond v enhances how long he can stay up for so he probably reads or does something else while you sleep

Also thanks for reading if you did cause this is my first time writing for homelander and thanks for al them support I appreciate it

[blindmagdalena]

I know people have suggested before that Homelander's bedroom in his penthouse is that kinda strange open plan design because he's never really had any personal privacy. I think that's definitely part of it. But I also wonder if it's like that because having an open plan bedroom with a massive window and no door is pretty much the exact opposite of the bad room.

i completely agree with you!!! i've always thought of Homelander to be lowkey claustrophobic due to his experiences. it doesn't really matter that he can't physically be kept anywhere anymore; the trauma is there.

it's funny that you mention this because i wrote a segment relating to this for gilded cage's update tomorrow that i'm gonna share here as a little sneak peak!

When he first moved into it, Homelander loved everything about his penthouse. He’d given extensive feedback to the interior design team, even going so far as to offer crude sketches of what he wanted. He’d always had a specific vision for his home: spacious and open, but not vacant. Rich colors that wouldn’t strain his eyes. Windows and mirrors that gave and reflected as much light and space as possible.  No white walls.  Not a single blank space.  He wanted art on the walls, but not just any art. He wanted historic portraits and moments of history. A face on every wall, the same way that the people on TV have pictures of people on their walls. Pictures of their family. He doesn't have a family, so familiar figures from his studies would have to do instead. His favorite place was his bedroom. The mirrors give not only the illusion of space, but company. To this day the bed is as plush as it was then. It’s stacked with fluffy pillows, and the sheets are made of soft cotton. They’re always vibrant, always colorful. The staff washes them in gentle detergent instead of bleach. He spent his first night in that bed with his face buried in the pillow just smelling it. It smelled like a home.

[impval]

do you wanna feel how it feels? pt.2

Cate Dunlap x fem! empath reader Warnings: loss of arm, mind control.

The sheer size of the ego on Homelander was something that almost amazed you. Homelander was a walking, talking ball of contradictions. With the presence of a monster and the emotional maturity of a toddler, he's more insecure and fragile than Cate ever has been.

Cate's emotions about him are interesting.

She's afraid of the repercussions, if she doesn't smile. If she doesn't act like a good little lap-dog; if she doesn't do everything he asks of her.

She hated listening to his incessant, petulant whining.

The way he spoke about everybody else—like they were toys to be played with, tossed around, discarded. Even other Supes he looked down upon. And when she looks at him, she can't help but think of Indira.

The first person to show her some kindness. Someone who treated her like a person. Who, for the first time in her life, made her feel... seen.

It was his fault. He'd made Indira cold and manipulative, changed her into a terrible person...all of which had led to her death.

It was a confusing jumble of feelings, of grief and love and hatred. She'd killed her, yet you could feel the part of Cate that still loved Indira, regardless of everything else.

It's all clear as day to you. Everything she feels, you can sense it like a tidal wave. The loss of her arm and the shame that came with it, even if everyone keeps saying what a hero she is. Her anger at herself, for being weak and stupid and a goddamn child.

Her grief over Indira, even if she can't admit it herself.

Vought let her keep you to keep her distracted, to give her something to take her mind off. After all, she knows how to wield her words. To get people to listen.

Your powers made you almost impossible to relate to by others, for who can really understand the weight of knowing other people on a deep, intimate level? There were no secrets; your thoughts, your emotions, your feelings—everything was laid out, completely bare for the other to experience and to pick into as you both pleased.

And that's the real reason why she wants you. Cate can't lie to you, can't fake any part of her act. You can tell when she's feeling frustrated, or angry, or upset.

And with Cate, you didn't have to speak—no lies or half-truths, nothing. She could always sense your real reactions. Your thoughts. The thoughts you didn't even know you had until she found them.

She'd dig through your brain, pick it apart till you were exposed and bare. And that both scared you and made you crave her all the more.

Hate is what you'd sensed in her, even if she feigned sweetness and played along by Homelander's games.

You feel bad for Frenchie and Kimiko —the despair, the pain and the horror in Kimiko's eyes as she watched her boyfriend fall to Cate's touch.

She knew you could feel it all, sense everything. The internal struggle in her heart, the hatred she felt for herself in that moment.

But it was Frenchie that tore your heart straight to pieces. You feel his despair and it was so much worse than anyone else's. More than Kimiko, more than Cate.

The memory of Sam, his chest emptied out, the sheer emptiness in his eyes. The quietness of his mind. Cate had manipulated his emotions so that he felt nothing—nothing but a void that chilled you to your core. And while Kimiko fought and flailed in his grasp, his face showed no sign of emotion, no hint that he even recognized her in the slightest.

Some of your best conversations happened at night in the privacy of your bedroom. There was just something special about those night time conversations...

Being in the tower gave you an headache—there were so many different emotions to feel. But Cate helped, in her own way.

You couldn't help but notice that Cate was wearing your clothes as pajamas again. It had become a habit lately: she would steal your T-shirt or shorts whenever she could, claiming they were comfortable and smelled like you.

There was no hiding the way your heart fluttered whenever you caught sight of her in one of your shirts. You loved it.

She knew you weren't comfortable here and she helped to drown out the noise. Kept the attention focused on her and her alone.

At the beginning, she was careful around you—nervous, cautious. She'd ask permission before doing anything, she kept asking you if things were okay, if you still wanted her.

Over time though, she grew more confident.

She was observant. It was sweet, how dedicated she was to memorizing everything about you. The way you took your coffee, all the things you like to eat, the songs you hum when you think no one else can hear.

And she made it a point that the two of you would never be separated for long. Whenever she could, she'd find a excuse to keep you close.

But everything felt more unstable, like a powder keg about to explode. You could feel the dread in your heart for what was to come. And you knew it would all affect you and Cate both. Where you went, she went. You couldn't have one without the other. Your fates were sealed the moment she'd touched you.

"We could run away. Just you and me." Your words are a whisper in the silence of the night, yet the weight of them hangs heavily over both of you.

Cate's face was pressed between your shoulder blades from behind, her chin resting on your shoulder as she listened. Your idea was tempting; the thought of leaving, of running away and never coming back, of defying Homelander and Vought.

"Or we could rebel." You add like on second thought. Like it's nothing.

It was dark in the bedroom but you didn't need the light, not when you can feel each other's presence.

"Leave, rebel...right," Cate laughs bitterly in response. "Rebellion doesn't always end well," she continued. And she'd know; Godolkin hadn't exactly gone over well, even if people were singing her praises now.

There was no denying that Homelander was going off the deep end, and he was getting desperate. It was only a matter of time before he did something drastic. Very drastic. And you were both fully aware how precarious your situation was. It felt like you were teetering on a cliff, seconds from falling off.

The thought of the two of you having to run, to hide and look over your shoulder the rest of your lives—it was hard to imagine. You weren't a coward, but the prospect was still scary.

And the other option, joining the "rebels"—was a dangerous game. Working with people who’d likely see Cate as a traitor (or a monster) and have no reason to trust her.

The Boys. Victoria Neuman. Marie and others.

Cate dreaded the thought of meeting her old friends.

She tried her best to suppress her feelings of guilt and shame, but they were like knives—always digging and pressing into her skin, no matter what she did. She should bring them back to Vought's cells, but...

Some part of her just couldn't bring herself to. They were (had been?) her friends, despite everything that happened (everything she did).

Cate still couldn't forget the pain, the shock, or how terrified she'd been. Gods, her hand..

She let out a small gasp, shivering as your lips grazed against her sensitive skin—the scarred stump of where her arm was taken away. It's an instinct that drives you, to make her feel better, to soothe the pain and the tension that she's struggling with.

You don't bother to say your thoughts out loud. After all, there's no point to it—Cate reads your thoughts with ease.

She knows, without any doubt, what you're thinking. She knows your opinions, your thoughts on the matter, everything.

And she understands how you see things; the inevitability of violence, the fact that death and blood would come, no matter what you chose.

Even if you did run. It'd catch up to you, eventually.

The choice you preferred was simple, and Cate could read that decision as clear as day. You didn't want to flee, to hide.

"There is no escaping the violence." she whispered.

The smile was a permanent fixture on your face at this point. Despite the burden your powers came with, you remained cheerful—you smiled.

You were doing it right now; a small, reassuring smile as you held Cate's gaze, unbothered by the decision you'd both just made. The choice that would change everything.

Because in the end, you two were together. You'd get through this together, no matter what might happen along the way.

You needed allies, there was no question for that. But the question was who could you count on. The Boys were a possibility, but the risk of them attacking Cate on sight was too high. They tended to act without thinking and you needed allies, not more enemies.

Victoria Neuman was an option, of course. There were rumors and whispers about her; that she had survived the assassination attempt and returned almost unharmed.

And finally, there were Cate's former friends. You knew it was only a matter of time before you came face-to-face with them (again). They were searching for Sam, to take him from Cate's hold. And, in hindsight, it probably would have been the better option to help them.

But, Gods, you hated them.

Her so-called friends had no problem using Cate's power to their own advantage, to get what they wanted when they wanted. They'd gotten too comfortable using her, always asking for favors.

But in the end, when the truth came out—when they discovered how far she'd gone—they left her. They were scared of her—of her power, her touch.

Honestly, considering everything she'd been though, you figured her snapping was inevitable.

You couldn't help but feel a stirring of anger and dislike in your heart. They had caused Cate so much pain and suffering back at God-U. You didn't want them anywhere near her.

Cate laughs softly, the sound a little hoarse in her throat. You sense the smile on her face, even with her head resting against you. She clearly entertained by your thoughts.

You bury your head in the crook of Cate's neck, breathing in her scent and letting out a soft grumble. "They're such hypocrites."

She lets out a small hum, her hand resting against your back, tracing soft circles across your skin. "I know," she murmurs in reply.

But they could still be useful.

The morning found you dressing as you would for any other day; masks firmly in place. Cate acted like her usual self, as if everything was normal. Sam and Frenchie watched her like obedient puppies, never once questioning her orders or intentions. As for you, you were carefully studying the plans of the cell where Kimiko was being held.

If there is no way of escaping the violence, why not face it head-on?

[cas-backwards-tie]

Golden

Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Reader

Summary: Johnny reminisces on his summer fling with you. Horizons broaden and world shaken, he comes to a realization.

Words: 600+

Warnings: None!

Mentions of: past one night stands, sexual intimacy,

A/N: I forgot about this for a sec, but @bumblebeesfromvenus reminded me, and I was bound to write this drabble. also, line divider credit to @enchanthings . I repeat- I repeat- I’m not really a Swiftie or anything BUT 🙈😳👀😭 I keep seeing this snippet of the song on my fyp on tiktok and I just can’t help but think about how:

Johnny is definitely no chump when it comes to lacking experience in the bedroom… yet when it comes to love? That’s another story altogether. Sure, he may not have been caught fraternizing, and he’d never put his career in jeopardy for anything long term. That’s why it’s so unexpected when you suddenly pop into his life after a much needed leave.

You’re a civilian, but much like him you too travel for work. Yet your vacations just so happened to line up with one another. While his might have been more of an obligated leave of absence for recovery, yours was to adventure and see the world.

That’s what brought you to his homeland of Scotland. Though more specifically, the Highlands. What’d started out as a coincidental bump into each other turned into playful flirting before he fully knew what he’d gotten himself roped into by offering to show you around all the more niche points of interest that might’ve not been in the airport’s pamphlets or kept off the popular blogs online.

After a series of ambitious expeditions; a haphazard picnic made up of the snacks you’d brought atop a hill after hiking all day, braving the chilly ocean at the Isle of Skye, a kayaking adventure gone wrong, and many more stories… it never left him. Even after months of traveling back and forth to see one another in different parts of the world, that trip… you… never left his mind.

Truth be told, it didn’t take him until now to realize what he felt, in fact, he’d swear part of him knew all along. And while, yes, it may have been the prodding and poking his teammates did that sparked the realization of what his feelings truly were, it didn’t take away from the fact that you’d changed his world.

John always thought that love would be simple. It was something that you’d know once you felt it, once you’d experienced it. Like a snap of fingers, that was love. Once you were in it, it was done, unchanging, a stagnant blissful feeling that’d never fade, and yet… that wasn’t true at all.

You’d shown him that.

Love was… the exact opposite. It wasn’t some sudden onset of passion, a fleeting whirlwind of fiery fervor that eventually fizzled out. Love is… ever changing.

It’s the mischievous little moments the two of you share together that leave you laughing like children when you decide to sneak into his childhood bedroom in the middle of the night, or the sparkle in your eye when you’ve accomplished something you’d only ever dreamed of.

The easiness and comfortability that’d lead him to falsely believe he’s known you his entire life, the way you’d slipped right into his grasp and he never wanted, even for a second, to let you go. Maybe it was the vulnerability that seemed so effortless between the both of you, one saying something that lead the other to let a personal fact or story slip past their lips, with no embarrassment or regret to follow.

Perhaps it’s the way you linger in his mind, images of your time spent together consuming him what feels like every waking moment. From the friendly interactions to the naughtier memories slipping toward the forefront of his mind as he reminisces on the way you’d stared at him, eyes full of adoration as he’d held you close, soft skin just beneath his fingertips as he inhaled the scent of your mixed sweat and the sweetly shampoo you use. He never wanted to lose the visceral remembrance of those intimate moments.

Yes, he knows now that he was so wrong to think that love was nothing more than simply black or white. Every single day he’d spent with you only proved that fact as he fell more and more in love, the emotions expanding and shifting, adapting with every breath of the wind. Oh, how wrong he was, he thinks back on it, smiling to himself like an idiot as the only thing he knows is that he needs to tell you how he feels. Solidify that fact and take a chance, make a move to tie you down… tie you to him. That is, if you’ll let him, or it’s not too late. He could care less if his brothers see him like this, it’d be worth it for you. It always will.

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @jynzandtonic , @safarigirlsp , @moonlightsolo , @penelopepine

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

What is Deserved: Bigby Wolf x Reader

You could smell the stench of those disgusting cigarettes the second the elevator doors opened up. It usually wouldn’t worry you that he smoked a pack a day of those cheap cigarettes, but it quickly started to worry you when you noticed empty packs in trash cans around the business office, his own office, and his trash cans. They were becoming more frequent. You had only hoped that Bigby had been cleaning and found yet another carton of Huff an��� Puffs to throw away. But even as you knocked on his door, foregoing the key now sitting head as lead in your pocket, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

You heard something from inside of Bigby’s apartment. Slow, lumbering, grumbling something under his breath. For a moment, you had thought Colin had gotten back into Bigby’s apartment after yet another escape from The Farm, but as the door unlocked and opened, you were taken back by Bigby standing before you.

He looked awful.

Sure, he came home most nights with bruised knuckles and bloody noses and scratches and whatever… But the heavy and dark bags under his eyes and his stubble he shaved at twice a day - before going to bed and after waking up - was longer than usual and dark, blood still crusted under his nose and scratched scabbed up on his face and neck. A cigarette loosely clamped between his sharp teeth, lit, smoke curling out from his chapped lips. He smelled like death itself.

“Bigby, what happened to you?” you murmured.

“My job,” he bit at the cigarette bud.

“Your job is to look like your dying?”

Bigby took the cigarette out of his mouth and stamped it out somewhere next to the door, an ashtray or onto a small mountain of other cigarette buds.

“I’ve had a long week.”

“Is that why Snow called me and said yo-”

“Don’t,” he gave you a pointed look.

“Bigby, I’m worried about you.”

With a sigh, Bigby left the door open as he wandered back into his apartment, allowing you inside which you quickly followed in after the wolf. You sneered at the stench radiating around his apartment. No windows had been cracked open, no fans going, no candles lit or anything. Stale, old, cigarette air. You eyed what you thought would be a small mountain of cigarette in an ashtray like there normally was, but to your shock, it was big. Bigger than the one formed during the Crooked Man case when he had to do all that paperwork as fast as he could before King Cole came back. And that was a good few inches high.

You eyed Bigby moving towards his trusty chair.

“No,” you called out. “The bed.”

Bigby tossed you another look over his shoulder before he slowly trekked away from his beloved recliner to his bedroom door. You never knew why Bigby avoided his bedroom like the plauge, and you didn’t feel comfortable asking Snow due to hers and Bigby’s past… experiences and such and you weren’t about to ask Colin because… well you weren’t really going to ask Colin much about Bigby.

The Sheriff sat down at the foot of the bed, his broad and muscular back facing you still.

“Bigby…”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

His bedroom was so different from the rest of his apartment. With what little light from the lamp in his living room, you could see the rustic styled furniture, the old and thick flannel sheets, paintings of the forests in the Homelands before the shit hit the fan, and it seemed to be the one place that didn’t reek of cigarette smoke shockingly. It looked so comfortable in here, why would he not relax in here? Sleep in here?

“This isn’t healthy, Bigby.”

“It doesn’t affect me like it does with Mundies.”

“I’m not talking about the cheap ass shit you smoke, fucker. I’m talking about why you’re avoiding help and comfort and friends and love.” Bigby hunched in on himself, russet hair falling in his face, shoulders tensing. You knew you should stop, but you couldn’t stand to see Bigby like this. “Why are you doing this to yourself? You’re only going to make things worse, Bigby!”

“Because I don’t deserve it!” he roared, suddenly standing up and looking at you.

You gasped softly at how quickly he had turned. You eyed the black claws twitching and his sharp teeth bared at you, those wicked yellow eyes tortured and pained.

“What do you mean you don’t deserve it? You don’t deserve love and kindness?” His thick brows furrowed, he recoiled at your questions. You saw his shoulders shake for a brief second. “Oh, Bigby,” you murmured.

You barely held your arms outstretched for him when he launched himself and snatched you up. Arms around you, his strong knees now trembling, head buried in your shoulder as you heard his unsteady breathing and sniffling. You felt the fabric on your shoulder become wet the more he clawed at your person, refusing to let go anytime soon.

You felt yourself start to tear up, shaky hands grasping at his broad back, fingers crinkling against the wrinkles of his loose dress shirt. You whimpered into his shoulder, hiccuping as you held him in your arms.

You could barely believe it yourself. the big bad wolf had come apart in your arms.

How many years had it been since he last cried? Since he showed any real emotion? How many years of abuse, lies, betrayal, and suffering did he have to go through just to have you walk into his life and change it for the better? How many years was he treated like a monster to actually be treated normal tonight?

You knew what he did in the past, but a lot of Fables were no different. Some have done way worse than Bigby and yet they’re treated better than he is. It wasn’t fair to him, it was disgustingly cruel. To think, the people he keeps safe on a daily basis treat him worse than most of the criminals he locks up.

Disgusting.

You were caught off guard as Bigby let out a pained sob, fingertips digging into your back, trembling against your back like you would vanish if he let go. You softly shushed him, a hand coming up to his thick russet locks to scratch gently at his scalp, slowly swaying with him side to side as you both stood there in his empty bedroom.

[yoonia]

the bedroom hymns ● chapter xi

⟶ Chapter summary | Never before would you ever look at yourself as a damsel in need of a rescue. But when a handsome stranger comes to help you escape a possible danger, you make no effort to deny his helping hand. As you continue your stroll through the market town with your hero by your side, things between you begin to unravel, leaving you to question whether or not he is truly a stranger at all.  

⟶ Title | The Bedroom Hymns: a Bluebeard’s twist ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader  ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Crown Princess!reader, Fantasy au, Fairy Tale retelling au ⟶ Word count | 7,060 words ⟶ Ratings | PG-13, +18 / M for Mature for future chapters 

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chapter xi. wanderers-2

The market town of Narlès has turned out to be quite an intriguing place for you to visit. 

The astonishment that you felt upon your first arrival may have stemmed from the joy your felt from finally traveling away from Smotia, and being able to experience a new place that seems to be a complete opposite to the homeland that you have known your entire life.

Despite the fact that the Land of Smotia and this market town are separated merely by the rough terrain of Mount Orrum as their main border, what you see here makes you feel as if you have arrived at an entirely different world. 

The green hills of Narlès where the town’s main residential area is built—with rows and rows of magnificent houses and mansions lining up the foot of the hills—seem to be the most fertile area of the town, compared to the rest of the town. 

The town’s harbour where ships would berth for days is filled with the scent of sea and hot breeze that feels dry on the skin. Yet it does nothing to dissuade the busy merchants and their men who are there to trade imported goods with the locals. And then there is the true heart of Narlès, the marketplace that has been bustling since early dawn and would not quiet down until late at night, where the air around you feels stale and arid, with fine dust from the dry ground king airborne under the feet of the busy crowd.  

Every part of the market town that you have seen so far seems so new and riveting to your eyes that you just want to take your time to relish the moment and observe closely.

The more you learn, the more you can admit that compared to your previous excursions, this may be the first trip that feels more insightful. Not only for learning firsthand about the foreign land and experiencing a different kind of freedom, but also for learning a bit more about your father. 

Through your expeditions through the portals, you have learned a small part about his magic. 

But it wasn’t until today, when you came upon this place and got to follow your father’s traces that had been left behind, that you began to understand the merit of his magic and how he was making use of it to help him rule the empire as the King. 

As the center point of business tradings between kingdoms, Narlès may have been the place where your father has been running most of the empire’s business dealings which involve obtaining rare goods from other nations or kingdoms that Nythelean Empire has never officially associated or formed an alliance with. 

You first learned about the market town and your father’s activities here by browsing through the merchant’s house to find clues before leaving the place. Upon noticing the foreign atmosphere which led you to believe that the where you had ended up in might no longer be a part of Smotia, you knew that you would need to have some insight about where you were before going further with your expedition. 

At first glance, the merchant’s house may seem comfortable enough for someone to live in. But it didn’t take long for you to realise that the house had been nothing more but a secret transit for your father during his visits. 

The first giveaway was his disguises, the ones that had been no doubt something that the King would use to impersonate a local merchant or a Baron to blend in with the locals. Then you went to find the study desk which provided you with more information—the paperworks and notes from your father’s business trades, all signed under a different name, and his personal ledger that contained everything you needed to know about the business deals that he made and the people that may come in contact during his work visits.

His ledger became your guide as you went to find the town’s harbour. As someone who had never seen the sight of sea before coming to Flagon, watching the large ships at the harbour put you in complete awe. You marvelled at their massive sails that are flowing with the ocean breeze, and also at the men who were working to bring delivered goods to and fro the large ships without rest.

You pictured your father in a local merchant’s place that you watched working at the docks. His thick, greying hair and his neatly-trimmed beard hidden under the fake curly wig and bushy beard while he came in to gather all the goods to send back to Smotia, while the men around him remained oblivious that they were dealing with the ruler of the neighbouring empire. 

And that image was enough to put a smile on your face, when you saw him not as the usual stoic and cold ruler of the empire and just a merchant who would be barking out commands while joking here and there with his workers—just like the old merchant who greeted you at the harbour when you walked past by. 

It was the image of your father in his disguise while blending in with the people that went through your head as you weaved through the marketplace. The bustling crowd, the shops and stalls and the captivating goods that they were offering, and the lively atmosphere completely entranced you that they all made you forget the reason why you were there in the first place. 

Instead of following your father’s shadows, you were beginning to forget who you were, as if you were simply one of the common folks browsing through the market in search for a souvenir of a trinket to bring home with. 

His presence was what finally snapped you back to present. Him. Your mysterious shadow who is now guiding you to weave through the dark alleyways to escape a possible danger. Something that you had been foolishly unaware of coming your way until he managed to come find you first. 

With Yoongi, not only are you made to feel safe in his company, he also helps you continue to pretend to be someone else. Suddenly, you are no different than a stranger that he met while strolling through the market, a simple girl who was enjoying her moment of freedom and was in need of a rescue, instead of someone with the crown waiting for her back home.

It feels fleeting, as if you have become a rue dove that is free to flap her wings and fly without a care. Helping you forget all the things that have been weighing you down as you are haunted by the plaguing questions regarding your forgotten past. 

The journey through the dark alleys continues as if there is no end. But Yoongi’s presence alleviates all of your worries. In fact, he continues to make you feel comfortable being close to him, which shouldn’t make sense at all, as he is nothing but a stranger that you have only met today. 

Yet the familiar feeling that you feel sensing from him continues to grow stronger, even if your memory seems foggy each time you try to remember where you might have seen him before. Your eyes fall on your entwined hands, as Yoongi has yet to release you ever since he brought you through this escape route. 

The longer you remain to be this close with your new companion, the more you feel an invisible force pulling you closer to him. You have no idea what this means, or if you should grow wary about it, as the more you try to fight it, the more you find it hard to breathe. The darkness around you becomes the least of your worries as you begin to wonder if Yoongi has somehow put a spell on you, something that you should have thought possible to happen now that you  have proven that magic truly exists.

Your fight against your own mind as it drifts into the dark side of wonders, until Yoongi suddenly gives you a gentle pull to snap you out of your thoughts and whispers, “Here we are.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief as you come out of the darkness and get to meet the golden sunlight once again. And what you see around you is enough to draw an astounded gasp right out of your lips.

Emerging from the dark alleys almost makes you feel as if you have been walking through a different portal, sending you to a different world that shows no sign of similarity to the hectic marketplace that you left far behind you.

“Come, let’s go this way,” Yoongi speaks for the first time after a long period of silence as he guides you to follow the path in front you, taking you away from the dark alleyway and allowing you to observe your new surrounding more properly.

The streets here are much cleaner, more narrow in width, all covered in cobblestones instead of dirt and gravel. You see bigger shops on either side of the street and stalls selling luxury souvenirs made with high-quality materials that you would often see noblemen and women wear. 

Looking around, it is quite obvious to you that you have found your way into the more fancy and exclusive part of the market town. 

There are shops here that offer elegant gowns and dashing suits, while others offer leather-made goods, such as ladies’ heels, boots, and fancy handbags. You also get to see stores selling out pieces of jewellery, fancy accessories, and even decorations made of gold and silver plates that you can see through the display windows as you walk past. 

Between the busy shoppers, you get to occasionally see Lords and Barons roaming the streets and looking closely at the items shown on the display, as if they are here to find gifts to take home for their wives and children, while ladies in wait walk in and out of the shops with their guardians in preparations of their debutante. 

Yoongi gently pulls you closer just as you are getting so entranced by the sights around you that you fall a step behind. You look up, unable to stop yourself from smiling when you get to see his face from up close. 

“I’m pretty sure we’ve gotten far enough to lose those thugs back there, don’t you think?” you question him while pointing out that it may no longer be necessary for him to protect you this intensely. 

Yet Yoongi merely responds to you with a grin. “Just wanted to make sure that I’m doing my duty properly,” he says in response to your comment. Clearing his throat, he slowly releases his tight hold on your hand, before subtly moving his hand to the small of your back to guide you with a light touch that to make it seem like he isn’t being overly intrusive as he continues guarding you. 

“You don’t seem to feel uncomfortable travelling through the back alleys. Have you done something like this before?” he suddenly asks you. He sounds genuinely curious, which you cannot help but respond with a nervous laugh. 

“I suppose you can say that,” you try to answer him without giving away too much about your secrets. 

“I’ve been travelling quite often as of late, as you may have noticed already—” you say this with a mocking tone of voice which draws a smile to his face, “and not many of those places are safe for a lone traveller like myself to roam about.” You let out a deep sigh. “Let’s just say there have been times when I had to slip through dark alleyways to escape situations that made me feel uneasy or to merely avoid being swept in the crowd. Sometimes I’d also slip into quiet places just to have some peace and quiet.” 

As you are saying this, the thrilling nights that you spent lurking in the shadows back home in Smotia return to you. Reminding you of those moments when you had to slip through one dark alleyway to another to be able to enjoy the town without being caught or having people noticing you, and recalling your wish to be able to blend with the townspeople without having to race against time to return home. 

Compared to the unpleasant experiences you met while slipping into the back alleys in the slum area of the business district, your current great escape seems like a breeze. Especially when you have a cloaked gentleman walking with you, keeping you safe with his hand remaining at the small of your back, sometimes pressing down harder when he needs to give you a silent warning moments before you are about to collide against another pedestrian. 

When you turn to look at him again, Yoongi has his eyebrows furrowed. Looking concerned after hearing your answer. “Have you been searching for something?” he gently asks you again as you both slow down your pace between the shops, giving you the chance to do some more sightseeing.

For a brief moment, you have your rapt attention on the shops around you, causing you to almost misread his question. “I’m sorry. Are you asking if I’m looking for something to buy here?”

Yoongi shakes his head a little and smiles. “No, that’s not what I was asking,” he says. “It’s just that you said so yourself, that you’ve been going to different places lately. May I ask why? Is it because you simply enjoy travelling and finding new places, or do you have something that you are looking for?” 

“Oh,” you softly laugh. “It’s nothing like that. Not particularly.” 

You stop for a moment, taking the time to think deeper about your purpose. Because the truth is, you really do have something that you have been searching for. 

At first, you started going through the magic portals in search for answers. After being haunted by all the dark rumours surrounding your father over the years, you were in desperate need to figure out what kind of secrets that your father might have had, determined to find proof that he isn’t as wicked as his own people made it seem with all the tales that have been established around the stories of his past. 

Once you were introduced to the secret magic that he once said as a part of your family’s legacy, you kept using it to learn more about the family that you know almost nothing about. Perhaps you also had some hope to feel some kind of a bond with your father, as the King has always been so busy with the matters around the empire that he rarely spends time with you outside of the royal events and the short period of time you share whenever he summons you to see him. 

Then, you found a new purpose for your excursions as you wished to find a way back to the summer palace. A wish that the magic portals has yet to grant you with no matter how often you tried. 

But is there any other reason why you have continued with your secret trips through the portals? Do you really have other things that you are still searching for? 

And how are you supposed to share all of this with a complete stranger, without revealing your true identity?  

“Let’s just say that I may have some undying hunger for adventure. It gives me a little sense of freedom whenever I am in a place where nobody knows who I am,” you find yourself sharing this once you realise what your soul has truly been searching for. When the freedom you currently feel seems to make you feel more alive than ever, to finally be able to experience what you have been seeking each time you slipping outside of The Citadel at night.

“I think, in a way, I’ve been searching for my own identity. I wanted to understand a bit more about myself that I couldn’t possibly learn just by sitting idly and waiting for the answer to come to me,” you continue, “does that make sense?”  

Yoongi surprises you when he nods and says, “It does, and I actually know exactly what you mean.” 

“Do you?” you ask him, only to receive no answer as he keeps his eyes on the street ahead, completely focused on his task to guide you through the busy part of the street where there are visiting nobles going in and out of the stores around you. Feeling uneasy with the silence between you and wanting to know more about him, you gently nudge against his side and question him, “How about you?” 

This draws his attention back to you. “What about me?” 

“You’ve been travelling too.” You shrug. “Coincidentally, you have also been there in some of the places I’ve been to.” You stop for a moment, before wondering out loud, “How was that even possible?” 

“Perhaps the Fates wanted us to meet each other?” he teases you with a sly grin on his face. “As for travelling—” he looks away briefly, “as a mercenary, I do have to travel a lot for work. Lords, Barons, and rich merchants often hire me and anyone from the brotherhood to either guard them during their travels or to protect the goods that they must deliver for business.” 

As you take all of this new information in, you recall sensing his presence back at the royal winery and feeling the need to question him, “And what about that day at the royal orchard house?” You turn to look at him. “Had that been another one of your work duties?” 

As Yoongi returns your gaze, there is a look in his eyes that is hard for you to make out of. But the look disappears when he gives you a small smile. 

“If I must recall, I was hired by Baron Gawin, the nobleman living in the Southern district of Smotia who is also a regular customer of the royal winery. Thanks to the deal we made, I am required to make regular visits to the royal winery. Be it to accompany the Baron or to visit the orchard house by myself under Baron’s orders to supervise the wine delivery for House Gawin,” he easily explains. “And what were you doing at the royal orchard house the day I saw you?”

Unprepared for him to return your question with his own, you are taken aback and left speechless. You feel a sudden guilt for bringing up the day at the royal winery which may risk revealing too much as a result. 

Which may include revealing your identity. 

Because how are you supposed to explain appearing at a royal property when you were supposed to be a lone traveller, someone who was merely passing through, and not anyone who is related to the royals or a part of the nobles who would easily have access to the royal property as they please?

“I was merely sightseeing,” you finally answer him while desperately hoping that he wouldn’t be able to see right through your lies. The lies that keep flowing right out of your mouth the moment they are unleashed. 

“I had been staying in Smotia for a while at the time and found my way to the orchard house. I had no idea at first that it was a private property of the royal family. I was half expecting to be caught by the royal guards,” you softly laugh. “But when nobody seemed to notice me, I simply took the chance that I was given to take a look around. I figured that it would be a waste of a trip if I didn’t get to see all the interesting places I could find during my travels, although I tried to keep away from the workers while avoiding the guards, and quickly left after I had enough of a good time so I wouldn’t be interrupting their work. It’s still sad that I didn’t get to taste the wine while I was there, though.”

Yoongi says nothing as he listens to your excuses. Though the small, cryptic smile that he is wearing on his face and his lack of response makes you feel quite doubtful. You are just wondering what might be going inside his mind when he nods to himself and says to you, “Ah, I see. So that’s how you got there.” 

He turns to look at you with a gentle smile. “I’m glad you didn’t get into trouble that day.”

You respond to him with a wary smile. “Would you have rescued me and also be my hero if I had gotten caught that day?” 

“Hmm—” he hums, acting as if he is genuinely considering his options. “I’m not sure. Those were royal guards watching over the property, after all. They are the last people I would want to get in trouble with.” 

You feign a gasp. “So you would’ve just ignored me and let them catch me?” 

Yoongi laughs at your reaction. “I might be a man of a hired service that doesn’t work under the sovereign law, but if I want to protect myself and make sure not to lose my job, I’d still choose to follow the rules,” he says with a hint of mirth in his eyes. 

“I mean, facing thugs is one thing, and you are really pretty”—he winks, making you flush in the cheeks with his compliment—”but I don’t think it would be enough to risk losing my neck by challenging the royal guards for you.” 

You laugh at this. “I’m offended. But well played, Sir.” 

The topic of your previous encounters and why you have been going to all the different places in Smotia is pushed aside as you continue walking through the streets of the upper side of Narlès. It gives you a bit of a reprieve the moment Yoongi seems to lose interest and is no longer trying to pry about your identity and where you came from, as you have no idea what kind of lies that you must give him to protect yourself if he continues. 

Instead, Yoongi fills the moment by answering your questions about the town and sharing everything that he has learned so far—from its history and its livelihood, to the all kinds of people and communities that would often come here to do their business or to just simply pay a visit for leisure.

He also shares various stories that he has heard or encountered during the times he came to visit this place, including all the intriguing ones that you could have never experienced all through your sheltered life. 

“Narlès isn’t governed by any reigning kingdom, but by its own people. The local townsfolk and the ring of merchants that are in charge of running the business trades here,” he explains to you while he joins you in taking shelter in one of the stores, finding the chance to have a short break while giving you the chance to admire the various accessories that they have on their display which seem to have been brought in from foreign lands. 

“So any representatives and merchants from the neighbouring kingdoms or any surrounding nations that come in to trade goods would have to put aside their animosity should they ever encounter any of their adversaries or rivals to keep the peace,” Yoongi continues. “The rules are mainly placed to keep all the business activities within the territory of Narlès in order and to keep everyone here safe. Even if these kingdoms are at war out there, they are forbidden to bring that fight here.” 

“A neutral land where your origin matters only to yourself,” you mutter as it starts to dawn on you the reason why your father had exclusively connected this place to the home castle by using his magic portal. 

As the ruler of a budding empire that is currently caught in the middle of a conflict, making sure that he would remain undetected during his visits to this place would only make sense. The heavy terrain between Smotia and Narlès would have also been a challenge for your father to travel back and forth between his busy schedule. 

That is, if he had always been in Smotia during all of those times at all. 

One of the things that you have been suspecting from your father’s work activities is his strong connection to the home castle. Ever since you started to learn more about the existence of the portals in the home castle, you have been wondering if this had been His Majesty’s ways to be able to travel out of the palace so easily, completely undetected and untraceable, even if it includes travelling to The Citadel from his royal study back at the home palace. 

Though you may not know the true answers until the day your father returns home and you will get the chance to ask him directly.

For now, you try to focus on the present, as you indulge in the moment of luxury as the shop attendant helps you with various accessories made of gold which are also embellished with your favourite gemstone—ruby stone—to try on. 

Once you have enough of the experience, you leave the store with a heart full of joy to continue your sightseeing and window shopping. You have no answer when Yoongi inquires you about leaving without buying a souvenir for you to bring home with, but he makes no complaints and seems to be enjoying himself even as he acts as your personal guard. 

As you walk beside him while enjoying his company, you recall the previous conversation you had with him about the reason why he has always been moving from one place to the other that has allowed you to keep crossing paths. 

“Were you not also on the job today? Was that the reason why you were at the marketplace today? Am I taking you away from your duties by having you as my personal escort?”

A smile grows on his face, as if he has been expecting you to question why he remains by your side after your glorious escape. The danger has long gone, and he has helped you get to safety. While you don’t mind his company, you would hate to think that you have made him leave his obligation behind because of your recklessness. 

“You were quite lucky that we came across while I was not on duty. So you shouldn’t worry about any angry employer interrupting our relaxing stroll,” he simply says. 

The way he speaks sure sounds convincing. Yet for some odd reason, there is something about the way he explains himself which tells you that he isn’t telling you everything. You can also see it in his eyes, when the look that he is giving you seems to be telling you that there is a secret that he is keeping from you. 

But you decide not to pry any further. 

Not when you barely know him, even if his presence seems to fill the hollowness inside you that you may have overlooked for quite some time. And certainly not when you also have your own secrets to keep. 

Yet your deepest wish is to savour this moment without feeling doubtful. To be able to enjoy this excursion with a companion who makes the insides of your chest flutter with his little gestures and his deep, calming voice. 

“That’s good to hear. I’d hate to know that I’m giving you trouble for saving me and keeping me company when you’re supposed to be on the job,” is what you simply say to him. “I do have to say that I am worried that I might have to pay for your service. Not only did you save my life, now you’re showing me around to make sure I don’t get lost. I know I’m going to feel like I owe you a lot.” 

Yoongi laughs. “I am being quite generous today, so I’ll give this service as a favour. Take it as an introduction gift.” 

“Ooh, why thank you, my kind Sir. I feel honoured,” you tease him with a curtsy, before surprising him by slipping your hand around his arm. Although you are quite surprised yourself when it feels as if a natural thing for you to do this with him. 

“Then, let’s continue our little date now, shall we?” you continue to tease him, and you are pleased when you get to see a part of his cheeks turning crimson while he tries—and fails—to hide his bashful smile.

As the rows of the luxury stores come to an end—also putting an end to your window shopping and your impromptu shopping spree as you managed to buy a couple of trinkets as a memento—you are met with a different kind of atmosphere as the street opens up to new scene. 

Around you, various quaint dining lounges, pubs, and bakery shops start to replace the glimmering stores. Instead of displays of gowns, leather goods, and jewelries, you begin to see displays of baked goods, local delicacies, and the sight of people sitting around small tables—both indoors and outdoors—while enjoying their dinner or having drinks. 

The aroma of fragrant spices and fresh herbs and the sound of sizzling pans begin to fill the air. There are also the wafting scents of alcohol and the sound of clinking glasses and boastful laughter that you are quite familiar with coming from the nearest pubs. You can also see street food stalls lining up along the sidewalk, offering a colourful array of culinary delights.

Here, the streets seem even more vibrant. Not only for the colours and decorations that you get to see from the shops and food displays all around you, but also for the hustle and bustle of people in the streets and those coming and going into the lounges and pubs, and for the liveliness that you get to feel as you walk down past the rows of different shops and dining lounges. 

You continue weaving through the crowd, drawn by the enticing scents that are wafting through the air and mixing into the scent of the sea coming from the harbour that keeps fading in and out as you go. Your hand still holds onto Yoongi’s upper arm, which is starting to help you find comfort through the contact, while Yoongi shows no complaints about it as it makes things easier for him to guide you through the moving patrons while you take in the moment. 

But the vibrant atmosphere and the intricate shops are not the only things that have taken your interest as you continue to stroll down the street. 

Now that the buildings around you are not so close together and the narrow streets are no longer filled with rows of displayed luxury goods, you finally get to appreciate the nature around you a bit more. 

The sun has set by the time you are strolling between the local diners. The sky is slowly evolving into a magnificent spectacle of gradients of colours, transitioning from the vibrant hues of the golden retreating sun to the deep blues and purples of the approaching night. 

Looking at the sky above, you are getting a clear view of the spread of starlights faintly making their appearance, and for the first time ever, you find yourself yearning to see the display of lights that you would normally see dancing on the sky above the Stargrave Castle. 

It is quite staggering to know just how soon you have adjusted to considering the Stargrave Castle as your new home. It may not have been easy to find comfort living inside the cold, old castle, yet in your mind, you have grown more familiar with the place much sooner than you had expected that you are feeling homesick after merely hours of being away. 

As the sky grows darker, and the golden hue of the setting sun continues descending out of view, you realise that it is almost time for you to start making your way home. You have always made sure to return to the magic portal long before it was time for it to close and disappear, and you remind yourself that you might be running out of time if you do not leave this place soon. 

Yet it seems so hard to make up your mind about leaving. 

As the lamps hanging on the side of the streets and on the front of the busy shops begin to light up for the evening, Yoongi’s presence seems to radiate even more. Looking at him, you realise that you simply aren’t ready to part ways with him. Time seems to fly by so quickly while you are spending time with your new companion, and it still feels too soon to say goodbye.

Just as you are about to say something about this, Yoongi turns and walks off towards the nearest street food stall. You watch as he hands a handful of coins to the seller and returns to you while holding something in his hands. 

“You talked about making the most of your time while travelling and wanting to experience everything when the opportunity is presented to you,” he says as he offers you a small bag of delights. A mixed aroma of spice and sweetness wafts around you as you accept his offer, only realising then that you are famished from all the long walk and constantly moving through town. 

“This one is my treat. It’s one of my favourite snacks from this town that I’d often buy whenever I came here,” he adds. “You should try it.” 

He guides you away from the main street, finding a corner right across from a rowdy pub where the two of you can take another break and give you the chance to savour your treat. The moment you open the bag in your hands, the strong aroma of spice immediately hits you, and you can almost swear that your stomach makes a certain sound to confirm your hunger. 

You pick up one piece of the pastry you find inside, and as you take the first bite, a multitude of layers of flavour erupt inside your mouth. It tastes like nothing that you have ever savoured before, not even the meal provided by the royal chef back home. The marinated meat inside the pastry seems to melt in your mouth, before the spice fills your mouth with the kind of richness that you have never experienced before. 

You keep humming and moaning at the taste, not forgetting to offer Yoongi a few pieces while you enjoy your meal, and all thoughts about saying goodbye just vanishes and you simply relax by his side.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Yoongi muses, nearly forgetting to enjoy the food that you share as he seems unable to look away from you.

“That’s because I am,” you say this with a giggle, suddenly feeling embarrassed at how completely unrestrained you are being. A smile grows on your face as you try to imagine how Nanny Abigail would react when she sees you like this—sitting on a worn-down bench on the side of the street while devouring local-made pastries with a strange man sitting by your side. 

“I have to be honest with you and admit that I had come to this place with no expectations at all. But here I am, sitting on the side of the street, eating a local delicacy that I’ve never had the privilege to try before.” You stop with a chuckle. “I also had a short run-in with danger until a mysterious man in a cloak rescued me and took me to safety. I tried out a fancy-looking tiara with no reason whatsoever and a headscarf made of lotus silk.” 

You let out a content sigh. “After experiencing so many wonderful things for the first time in one day, how am I not supposed to enjoy this moment?” 

Yoongi softly laughs. “I’m glad that you’re having a good time.” 

“A marvellous time,” you correct him before quickly biting your tongue to refrain yourself from saying—

And it’s mostly because I got to spend it with you.

Clearing your throat, you look away from Yoongi for a brief moment. “Thank you, for watching over me and making this trip all the more pleasurable by staying by my side and keeping me company.” 

But it is already time for me to go. 

“It’s a pleasure of mine to be your escort,” he says with a gentle smile that makes his eyes twinkle. “May I ask where you will be staying the night?” 

You blink. Unprepared to receive such a question coming from him. Of course, he would be wondering where you would be staying as you are merely here as a traveler passing by. “I have…a place,” you hesitantly say, only to quickly change your tone when Yoongi furrows his eyebrows in response. 

“The place is safe and accounted for, I promise.” Yoongi opens his mouth, and when you realise that he is going to offer to escort you home, you panic and immediately stop him from saying it out loud.

Because there is no possible way you are going to lead him back to the merchant’s house—where the magic portal is waiting for your return—and risk exposing both your father’s secret hideout and the family’s secret magic that you are obligated to protect. 

“I can walk back on my own. You know that I can protect myself,” you try to convince him, while praying that he would concede and leave you be—despite how much it would hurt to see him go. 

Yoongi looks reluctant about this, which only furthers your guilt for deceiving him. But he closes his eyes and releases a deep sigh as he gives in to your request. “Very well, if that’s your wish.” 

Once you are done with your quick meal, you immediately request Yoongi to show you the way back to the residential area at the hillside of the town. And he keeps his words not to remain with you as you head back to the merchant’s house. He merely accompanies you until you reach the junction between the marketplace and the residential area. 

As you stand there with him, preparing yourself to say goodbye to your saviour, you can easily tell that he is feeling the exact same way you are—not ready yet to let go and part ways, and unwilling to watch you walk away. 

“I guess this is where we share our farewell?” you question him while forcing a smile on your face. 

“It shouldn’t be.” Returning your smile with his own, Yoongi takes a step closer. He bends down and takes your hand, bringing it up to his lips. “We will be seeing each other again. I have a feeling that it will be soon,” he whispers as he gently presses a kiss on the back of your hand, while you can only smile at his chivalry.

The heaviness in your chest that you feel from having to say goodbye fades as your heartbeat rises the moment his lips touches your skin. There is a spark that you feel surging through your body once your skin comes in contact with his, yet it dissipates rather quickly when he lets you go. 

“We’ll see about that,” you respond to him while feigning a calm voice, trying to lighten things up before the air around you grow more intense. 

But just Yoongi rises to his height, something flashes through your mind. You keep your eyes on his face as a glimpse of your past dream returns to you. 

The same dream that came to visit you in your slumber the night before you departed from Smotia.

Over the time, the dream has grown fainter from your memory that you are starting to forget about it. And so did the face of the man who was waiting for you at the top of the cliff. 

The face that had made you feel a deep yearning that was so foreign yet so strong that it filled your heart with love and hope, and made you feel as if your tired and lonely soul had come alive. The same yearning that you felt the first time you spoke to Yoongi and coming close to him to feel his entire presence embracing you. 

Within a blink of a moment, you are suddenly taken back to the top of that same cliff, with the faint sound of rushing waves echoing from the back of your mind before the man’s voice whispers back to you, 

“We will see each other soon, though. I can feel it.”

A gasp slips out of your lips, right as a smile grows on Yoongi’s face. The smile that has become familiar to you even before you met back in the market. Your heart flutters wildly in your chest, while your words fail you as you are trying to remain focused on the present, even as small parts of your dream keep coming and going through your thoughts as if forcing you to remember. The deep voice of the mysterious man from your dream echoing through your mind to say,

“I’ll come find you, Princess. I promise. This time, I’ll be able to catch up with you.” 

Before you can say or do anything to stop him, Yoongi lifts the hood of his cloak to cover his head and starts backing away from you, taking all the distorted images of your forgotten dream with him and snapping you back to the present just to hear him say, 

“I’ll come find you again. I know I will. Good night, ______.” 

Yoongi’s final words linger around you like an echo, slipping between the other voice that keeps whispering to you from the back of your mind. Left speechless, you can only remain standing there in silence, listening to the sound of your racing heartbeat as you watch him slip back into the moving crowd making their way into the market center of Narlès, before he slowly disappears into the night. 

— © 2023 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. unsolicited translations are not allowed.

[sehtoast]

Remember Me (Homelander x OC)

2.7k | memory loss, drunk homelander, mild angst, slight starlight appearance, new first kiss, spidersona oc | Fic Directory

Original Request: Forgotten hl x Ben. Ben loses his memory and doesn't remember hl.

If there was a form of torture to be found in the entire world that could truly hurt him, it was this.

Watching the love of his life, the star in his sky, the pulse in his very veins run around without a care in the world for him.  See, his little Benjamin suffered quite a blow to the head a while back.  That’s all it should’ve been. Just a bump on the head.  But, no.  No, the supe who hit him had to go ahead and hit him so fucking hard that he gave the bug amnesia of all things.

It was a knife in Homelander’s heart when those beautiful brown eyes looked at him without an ounce of recognition.  He was there when Ben woke, but he almost wished he wasn’t.

He circled the planet 30 times that day to keep from burning the world to ash.

Worse than all of that, though, was watching him change.  Sure, John tried to interact with his little spider and renew the spark, but it was impossible to do when the only thing he knew was the old Benjamin.  The one that loved him, that cared about him more than anything in the world.  This new  one was… just not the same, and Homelander didn’t know how to start at square one again.

The others did, however.  Especially Starlight, who seemingly seized the opportunity to tell Benjamin of every dirty deed he’d ever done.  Homelander knows because he’s heard it.  Lingered outside the wall of Benjamin’s suite and heard every word Starlight said about him, each over dramatized detail about how he was every fucking thing under the sun.  A murderer, a thief, a nazi-fucker, a tyrant– every goddamn insult she could possibly find.

She did it in such a clever way, too.  Wiggled her way into his life with her sickly sweet kindness, spent time with him, introduced him to Butcher and his band of supe-killing pieces of shit.  Ben had already been weirded out by his attempts to woo him once more, so it apparently wasn’t all that hard to convince him that his former lover was the devil incarnate.

Homelander had to watch as the love of his life began to conspire against him.  Had to see the look on his face as he listened to every accusation, every truth and half-truth, and it was the most agonizing experience he’s ever gone through.  Not even the torture of his childhood could cut this deep.

He’s never been one for attempting to drown his sorrows.  Normally, Homelander would go destroy something– maybe punch furiously through a glacier or launch himself into one side of a mountain and emerge from the other, but he felt truly and wholly weak.  Vought had been crafting an experimental alcohol that could intoxicate even the most powerful supes.  He never intended to be their first test subject.

Four and a half bottles of the stuff later and he was three sheets to the wind.  He stumbled through his penthouse for a time, snuggled up to Ben’s favorite also-forgotten blanket, ranted and raved with his other self in the mirror, and generally did all sorts of unbecoming things.  By the time he unscrewed the fifth bottle, he had managed to find enough courage to enter Benjamin’s apartment through the access panel he once used every day.

His normally graceful footsteps were anything but as he stumbled through the kitchen, back the hall, and into Benjamin’s bedroom.  The web-head had been sitting cross legged in bed and fiddling about on his laptop, and he certainly looked more than a little startled.  Homelander stood there for but a moment, staring, before breaking down into weak sobs.

“Miss you s’much!”  He sniffles, lip quivering.

Benjamin rose from the bed and approached him slowly, as if expecting a threat or violent act.

“Uhh… Homelander?  You okay?”  Ben asks carefully.  He’s unsure of how to handle the possibly nuclear situation that all but broken through his door, but he couldn’t just sit there.  “Hey, c’mon buddy, I got you.  Here, come sit down.”

Homelander lets the love of his life lead him to the desk chair he used to sit in regularly.  The thought makes him cry more.

“Can I have that?” Ben inquires with an outstretched hand.

Homelander forks over the bottle immediately.  He’d give his little spider the whole world if he asked for it.

The wall crawler reads the label for a moment before huffing a laugh.  “How many of these have you had?”

“Like four or seven. I dunno…” Homelander shrugs.

“That’s… a lot.” Ben declares.  He sets the bottle on the desk and spins the chair to face the bed, where he sits.  “Why so many?”

Homlander’s lip quivers again as he mulls over the possible answers.  His drunken mind can only muster one, though.

“I miss’ou s’much!”  He slurs in a way that would have his sober self feeling thoroughly humiliated.  “Y’were my world, but now I have no world ‘cuz you don’t like me anymore.”

Ben sighs softly.  This song and dance again… 

“For once I fuckin’ liked my life, but now you’re gone and I got nothin’ but your fuckin’ blankets to remember you by!”  Homelander lurches forward, startling the bug.  He presses his face to Ben’s thighs and cries against him.  “Meant everything t’me, please… Please come back!”

Ben can’t deny that there is a certain ache in his chest when he’s near Homelander.  But he doesn’t know  this man, only what he’s heard– which has not been good.  A part of him believes Homelander’s confessions, believes they really were an item, but he doesn’t know what to think of it.

He’s drawn away from his thoughts by Homelander’s knees hitting the ground with a heavy thud.  The god of the supes clings desperately to his dangling legs, crying his heart out.

He recalls Starlight’s words.  He always did have a soft spot for you.  We could use it to our advantage.

But that feels… wrong.

His hand smooths over the top of Homelander’s head and he swears the cries grow louder.

“Here, c’mon.”  Ben tugs at him to help him stand.  “Sit up here with me.  You don’t have to grovel, y’know?”  He directs Homelander to sit beside him.   Seeing the man with splotches of red on his tear stained face was certainly a huge difference compared to his usual cold, commanding expression.  Something about it made every cell in Benjamin’s body scream to give him a hug, so he did.

“What’s your name?”  The wall crawler asks.  “Like, your actual name.”

“J-John…”  Homelander sniffles.  “Y’used to call me–”

“Johnny?”  Ben doesn’t know if he was just able to assume that or if he somehow knew it, which is such an incredibly odd feeling. It wouldn't be the first thing he's known without actually knowing. 

Queue another lurching sob from his drunken visitor.

“Yeah!”  Homelander cries. He looks almost hopeful. 

“Look,”  the web-head moves away from him.  “I’m not… How do I wanna say this…”

John’s shoulders hunch as he prepares himself for disappointment. He should've known better… 

“I don’t know you.  But I guess I did– like, really well.  I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you, but… I just don’t know you.”  He explains softly.  “But I’m willing to give it a shot.”

Homelander’s eyes light up with excitement.  Hope stirs in his core and he swears the alcohol practically leaves his system in one go.  He feels a little more alert, at least.

“So… why don’t you stay with me tonight.  We can watch some shitty movies and talk about things.  Hopefully you’ll sober up a bit and you’ll be okay to go home tomorrow.”

At that, Homelander gave a laugh.  “I live two floors above you, silly!”  Feeling happiness bubbling in his gut had become such a foreign feeling over the past few weeks.  He thought he’d never feel it again.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ben laughs.  “But no supposed boyfriend of mine is gonna be allowed to drink and fly, so you’re stuck here till you’re good.”

By morning, Ben wakes to find Homelander curled against his side.  There’s an odd tranquility to it, and he even kind of likes it.  They decide to do it all over again the next night– sober, this time.  

And then the next night.

Two weeks go by and Benjamin finds himself elated to see Homelander every time.  He wonders how mad Annie must be with him, but ultimately can’t find it in his heart to care when he’s being flown around in those strong arms.  They touch down on top of the Queensboro Bridge– a location Homelander had described as one of their spots.  

They used to like to watch the sun set over the river, just as it was doing now.

“Pretty,” Ben lifts his mask and wears it more like a beanie.  Easier to bask in the beauty of the golden rays without the lenses.

“Sure is,” Homelander breathes, lips twitching into a smile when Benjamin catches him staring.  “Sun’s nice, too.”

“Psssh,” the bug giggles.  He chooses to recline on the rusty platform and Homelander follows.  Below, they hear the honks and insults of an instance of road rage.  They share a laugh and it all feels so familiar. 

Ben turns on his side to face Homelander.

“You’re not like everyone says, y’know.”  He declares softly.  Before Homelander can ask, he’s already elaborating.  “You’re sweet.  You're a hard ass with the team and you torture Ashley a bit too much, but you’re a good guy underneath all that badness.”

“Yeah, right.” John rolls his eyes.  “I’m actually evil, don’tcha know?”  He didn’t mean for that to sound as dejected as it did.

“Mm, well, I’ve always had a thing for bad boys,” Ben smiles sweetly.  “Especially ones with blonde hair.”

“It’s not naturally blonde.” John retorts, though he’s more than pleased when a gloveless hand rakes through his locks.  He didn’t even notice Ben taking it off.

“Still nice.” Benjamin replies, giving a gentle tug.  He scoots in a little closer, propping himself onto his elbow to lean just slightly over him.  

Homelander stares up at him with soft, doe-like eyes.  It practically makes him melt.

“I’m glad you got drunk that night.” Benjamin confesses. He can see the embarrassment flicker in Homelander’s eyes, but he only smiles wider.  “No, really.  You– I dunno if we’d have ended up spending time together if you hadn't just barged in like that. God knows I'm too nervous to ever make the first move.  But, I’m really glad you did.”

He traces the faint lines on John’s forehead with his forefinger.  As he trails it lower, he can see those beautiful blues dilate.  A tinge of red blooms in John’s cheeks.

“Cute when you blush…” Benjamin grins.  They still hadn’t done more than this.  Just laying next to each other, sharing mostly innocent touches. Not even a single fucking kiss. The sound of leather creaking preludes a bare palm resting on the back of his neck, and Ben swears the touch alone sends a shiver down his spine.

Homelander bites back every impulse to lean up and kiss his little spider like his life depends on it.  He’s fucking petrified of scaring him away, of losing what little progress he’s made.  So many times now he could’ve had him.  Could’ve swooped the boy off his feet and into bed if he’d just had the goddamn audacity to take what he wanted.  

But he was so afraid of driving him away.   He can’t lose him twice.  

He can’t.

So he shuts his eyes, sighs through his nose. Of course he was blushing like some sort of love struck fool.  That’s exactly what he is.

That finger brushes over his lips and he parts them on instinct.  It feels so good, so fucking good every time Benjamin touches him.  He aches for more, but he knows he must wait.  It’s why he doesn’t just dart his tongue out and suck that curious digit into his mouth. Ben has to want it too. 

“Sometimes I get flashes of things,” Ben tells him.  “The other night I remembered that you like this.”  

Homelander practically sings a moan when Ben dips his finger inside.

“You like milk, like… a lot.  You wear red briefs that always give you a little wedgie, but you don’t like wearing boxers– at least not in the suit.”  Benjamin begins, smiling fondly at him.  “You like pepperoni and bacon on your pizza, but you’d never admit it because you think it’s a bad look to even eat the stuff.”

He laves his tongue over Ben’s finger as he listens, staring up through clouded vision.  Had he really started to remember?  Such little things, but… maybe one day his precious Benjamin’s mind would be whole again.

“You think the funniest thing in the world is eating seafood in front of The Deep.”

With each musing of recalled memories, Benjamin leans a little closer until the only thing truly separating them is his own hand.

“We flew to a beach in New Zealand a few times. I got stung by a jellyfish that one time and you convinced me to actually let you pee on my leg!”  Ben laughs happily.  “Turns out it’s just a myth that pee helps the sting.”

Homelander chuckles at the memory, but tears up too.  His little spider was remembering.  Bit by bit, their life together was coming back.  Small things, but he’d take anything.

“We used to sit on the Chrysler Building a lot… I think I fed you ice cream up there once.”  Benjamin slips his finger free slowly, tracing it back over Homelander’s lower lip before cupping his cheek.  “We kissed for the first time on my couch…”

Even the slightest breeze would fucking knock their lips together.  John laid perfectly still, scared out of his mind that somehow the moment would be ruined if he so much as moved.  His lips parted and he fucking prayed.

“Much as I can't remember stuff about myself, I'm starting to remember you. And I really, really like you…” Ben breathed before finally closing the gap, sealing their new first kiss with a smile.  The bug felt fireworks explode in his body, tingling everywhere, searing his heart and mind with a fresh memory that felt so very old.

And Homelander… he’d be humiliated by the weak cry that shook him were he with anyone else.  He couldn’t help it.  The relief, the joy, the bliss– it was too much not to.  His head began to swim with every breath, every taste, and he could’ve sworn he was floating because–

Wait… He was. Just a little.

“Sorry,” he gasped against Ben’s lips, making the bug giggle that adorable sound that always sent a tingle straight to his heart.  “I got a bit–”

“I don’t mind,” Ben murmurs so sweetly.  The web-head plants the most tender kiss to his forehead before leaning back.  

It’s like seeing stars, the way those eyes sparkle above him.  It makes his heart feel fit to burst, like he could vibrate out of his skin from how happy he was. There was more than just a simple chance for them.  So much more.

“I don’t mind at all.”

From that moment on, he felt whole again– or, at least, as much as he ever truly could.  It took time, but Benjamin’s mind started to return.  Some things were still hazy, but he was there to fill in the blanks until the day came when he didn’t have to.   Eventually, it felt like nothing had ever gone wrong– save for Starlight’s attempts to woo his little spider over to the opposition’s side.

Homelander admittedly ended up taking an opportunity to roll Ben’s mask up a smidge and kiss him silly right in front of her, much to his little spider’s embarrassment. The look on Starlight’s face was fucking priceless, but that wasn’t the best part of it all.

The best of the best was waking up beside his little love bug every day.  When they would send their cute back and forth texts, spend their breaks together, eat dinner, relax, chase each other around the city– just… everything.  Every single thing they could possibly do together was the best part of it all.

Every second is a gift.

[phoenixtakaramono]

SUGAR BABY AU THREADFIC - PART III

(You can read the rest of the threadfic update here!)

Keep in mind, all of my AU Butchlander threadfics on Twitter are the unpolished first draft versions of what'll eventually be polished up into long fics on AO3 under the Shock and Awe series. So you may regard this threadfic as an experimental first prototype and exclusive preview whose contents may or may not be changed in the future final draft version. We’re just loosely playing around with ideas and concepts for now!

If you don't have a Twitter account, screenshots are provided below the line break so you can read this update on Tumblr as well:

TBC

(A/N) - Notice how the Evian bottled water mentioned earlier finally serves its purpose here? And peep at the mention of Billy's bare wrist—when it'd been mentioned he'd been wearing a Rolex watch prior when he'd entered Homelander's penthouse. :) The watch will come into play later; a classic underhanded CIA tactic to orchestrate a second meeting with the target.

Cut Content: Mirrorlander almost made an appearance in this update, where HL would see his own reflection approaching Billy's reflection in his mirrored bedroom...and being all handsy and just, in general, kinda creepy about it, haha. Reason why it was cut: pacing. It's also very similar to what'll show up in Truce ch4 and I didn't want to essentially rehash the same desperate obsession and tense introspection here, especially this early into this threadfic.

(The spicy 🔞 Part II 🔞 can be read here!)

If you are following along on Twitter, do let me know if you can't see the thread. 🙏 This is an ongoing experiment to see if continuing writing 🔞 threadfics is still feasible without getting sh@dowb@nned again.

[homelanderbutbig]

With You By My Side (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1842 words. Hurt/comfort, and a bit of angst. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

Homelander hurts you during a nightmare, and somehow he's more affected. Inspired by this ask.

While you don't know the full extent of Homelander's past, you know how he struggles to sleep at night. He may start out normally, but like clockwork, there is always a nightmare. Remnants of his traumatic childhood that still infest his psyche, jolting him from his slumber. You've seen him in the morning, waking from his horrid memories with a haunting gasp. Despite his heightened fear he still allows you to comfort him, snuggling his head into your chest and calming him down with your soothing words.

It isn't a perfect way to deal with his trauma, but it helps having someone there to guide him through it. Knowing that he can be safe in your arms no matter what he's dreamt brings him a meager level of solace he never was allowed to experience.

But this time, that didn't happen.

The evening comes and goes as normal, ending with the both of you sleeping in his bed. It must have been very late when you stirred awake hearing noises coming from beside you. You usually are a pretty sound sleeper, this was the first time you've caught him mid-nightmare. He's in an absolute state of disarray; his breaths are frenzied, his eyes are twitching uncontrollably, and his fists are clenching his bedsheets so tightly you swear he ripped them.

"Hey, wake up honey," you whisper, reaching out to touch his hand. You aren't really sure of the protocol to wake someone experiencing night terrors, but all you understand in this moment is Homelander needs help.

What ensues is faster than you can react. Your nudging indeed jolts him from his dreams, but even just a simple touch creates an automatic fight-or-flight response. With a guttural yell he launches upwards, eyes alight with a crimson heat as he swats fiercely at the imagined danger laying a finger on him.

In his dreams he was reliving a crystal clear memory of when he was a child in the lab, surrounded by doctors preparing another experiment on him. They were poking and prodding, sharp instruments gliding all over his body, his skin perceiving the searing and stabbing pain like it was truly real. When one particular touch pushes him over the edge, he awakes and immediately attacks in an attempt to protect himself.

However, instead of the familiar faces of the doctors he grew to despise, Homelander sees nobody in front of him. The ghosts of his past have released him from their grasp. Catching his breath he scans what is in front him, and begins to recognize his surroundings. He's safe, he's in his bedroom… but then…

Oh no.

In his bid to force whatever was touching him away, his large hand struck you so hard that he broke your wrist. He can easily see the extent of the damage with his X-ray vision. And you're glancing up at him in utter shock, clearly in pain but the extent of it not entirely hitting you yet.

His lasers dissipate as he stares directly at you, eyes wide and unblinking, mouth slightly open but unable to form a sentence. Everything around him no longer feels like reality. His heart is beating out of his chest, tears flowing down his cheeks as he is consumed by the realization of what he's done. The one thing he swore he would never do, hurt the sole person on earth that he loves.

He doesn't say one word to you before he frantically runs out of the bed and flies away from the balcony launchpad. He doesn't even take the 20 seconds to put his suit on, he couldn't stand the sight of what he'd done any longer.

Now you're alone to deal with the injury he's caused.

~~~

You're eternally grateful that there was still security roaming the Tower floors so late at night, and that nobody was questioning why you were walking around Vought wearing your pajamas. Everything that happened after Homelander broke your wrist was a blur, you were running on pure adrenaline. After he flew away, you rushed out to the elevator and went down to the main floor, calling out for help which luckily was not too far away. You were whisked away to the hospital, where your wrist was X-rayed and a cast was applied. Now with your pain under control, the doctor asked where you would be staying while you healed.

By the time you return to the penthouse, it's late in the afternoon. You considered not going back at all, perhaps just renting a hotel room and spending some time away from Homelander to process what transpired. But realistically you knew that was never going to happen, when you're dating a man who can hear your heartbeat from across the city. It's best to just confront him, and hash out these problems together.

Walking through the rooms, you notice how it doesn't seem like he's been back yet. Or so you thought, as peering into the bedroom reveals that his suit is missing from his bedside stand. He must have returned at some point to dress himself, but making certain that you weren't there. You can't say that it isn't something out of the ordinary; he will avoid you if he's feeling guilty about upsetting you with one of his shenanigans. And this time what he did was a doozy.

While contemplating in his bedroom, you hear the familiar sound of Homelander touching down on his balcony. He couldn't bear the long elevator ride up to the penthouse, and he's had enough time to be alone with his thoughts. After fleeing last night he hid out in the only place he can find reprieve in, his cabin. Yet he couldn't sleep, he was relentlessly pacing back and forth trying to come to terms with what occurred. He's always so careful to mind his strength, but he always knew this would happen eventually. There was a reason Madelyn never let him touch her; she was like you, a measly human. You might be intellectually on the same playing field, but physically... not only does he tower above you, he can also crush your skull with a flick of his wrist. One wrong move on his part and your life would be snuffed out.

And now you both have to come to the conclusion he's been obsessed with since he's gotten close to you. Your relationship was never going to work, it was doomed from the start.

You sigh to yourself, seeing him standing like a statue in the living room. Although he's facing your direction, his eyes are strictly planted on the ground. He's clearly held captive by his thoughts, the fear of what might happen next overtaking any rationality he usually possesses.

"Homelander," you call out to him, snapping him out of his dissociation as he jerks his head up. Now being able to see his face, you can tell how distressed this accident has been for him. His hair is unkempt from a lack of styling, his expression is dishevelled and drained, his eyes are bloodshot, and the residue of tears shed not long ago stain his face. He is a mess, but a mess of his own creation.

Because he was worried about you.

"Come lie down with me," you coax him as you use the stepping stool placed on the ground to maneuver on top of the bed. At first he refuses to move, but he can tell by the determined look in your eyes that you won't be taking no for an answer.

Tensing his jaw, he walks to the side opposite of you and hesitantly descends onto the bed. He's as still as a corpse in a coffin, petrified to move even in the slightest bit. Even moreso when he sees you shift closer to him, leaning against his pillow so you can look down at his big head.

"S-sorry…" you hear him mumble. The silence between you two was beginning to eat at him, and he had to say something… even if he was scared that you wouldn't forgive him.

"Sweetheart, it's okay. It wasn't your fault, I still love you," you reassure him. You can tell he's still struggling to accept your unconditional affection, especially now that's his greatest fear has been realized. He's hurt you, how can you even think of staying with him?

You're aware Homelander had an isolated childhood, and as a result he tends to overexamine his relationships. Every time he gets close to someone, he must look for the slightest hint of that person getting ready to leave him. They always do. It's times like these that really exemplify how despite being a foreboding eight foot tall giant, breaking through his 'tough guy persona' reveals that he's just a lonely, vulnerable child at heart. One who's only ever been abandoned, and who's desperate to never let that happen again.

"You know what humans and supes have in common?" you question him, smiling as he shakes his head no. He hasn't taken his eyes off you since he's lied down. "We're resilient. We might get hurt, but we all have the strength to heal the best we can. And I will heal too, with you by my side, there to help me."

With your one good arm you stroke his cheek with your palm. He wastes no time in angling his head into your delicate touch, craving this intimacy that he fretted he was going to lose forever. And the longer you pet him, the more his self-imposed burdens ease. The creases on his forehead and his furrowed brows have finally relaxed, leaving him with nothing more than to melt into your affection.

"You look like you're exhausted baby boy, you haven't gotten any sleep huh?" you ask, observing how Homelander is fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. And you're feeling quite tired yourself; you've been wired awake since your wrist was broken.

"I-I… I can't…" he stutters, tears once more forming in his eyes as a fresh wave of anxiety builds in his chest. "W-what i-if…"

"What if nothing," you cut him off, halting his crying once you lean down to kiss his forehead. "I'm not going to abandon you. If you have another nightmare, so be it. I will be here for you when you wake up, same as always. I promise to help you heal too."

Sighing deeply through his nose, he gives a nod in agreement to your words. He's too tired to fight back against your suicidal decision to stay with him… not that he'd want to anyway. Resting his big head against your chest, he's quickly lulled into slumber by the dulcet sounds of your heart in his ears, and the pleasant sensations of your fingers running along his scalp.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, Homelander wakes up in the morning feeling peaceful. He's safely snuggled up against the love of his life, and you kept your promise. You helped protect him from a nightmare.

[plasticfangtastic]

Quiet Rooms

A Homelander fanfic

A/N: solely inspired by the one line of Homelander liking Smash Mouth from the S4 clip, also I have no idea where the lab that held Homelander is located. Hopefully we will find out in s4 but I decided it's still located in the state of new york.

Tags: fluff, depressive, young Homelander, Jonah Voguelbaum trigger warning, mirrorlander is here.

Sypnosis: Jonah realizes Homelander is feeling down and decides to act like a parent for the first time since he was a wean allowing the boy to experience some child-like wonder.

word count: 3K approx.

It had been months since he’d first debuted, his life had been given a new spark, a world full of new experience every day before bedtime, of new things to try and see but more often than not he was surrounded by unfamiliar faces– nameless shareholders, marketing heads, costume designers, photographers but above all… fans.

But they were strangers.

The outside world had been bigger than he’d anticipated, no matter how high he flew he never touched the ceiling, he would fly until the air thinned out and faded all together, the earth did had a limit tho– it would loop beneath him after a couple minutes of flying yet it still felt endless compared to his bedroom, soon enough he had been given new shinier confines, everyday since his debut and specially due to his freakout at the shareholders meeting he’s been keep on a leash, Madelyn would come and entertain him from time to time but whenever she came it seemed she had 2 things in mind work and well… other things… but no matter what he was still going straight from the tower back to the lab, he’d been promised that when he turned 18 he’d be allowed to stay in his new confines, but in the meantime he still had to go back home.

Sometimes he wondered if Voguelbaum will be upset if he took a detour before coming home– if he stopped by for a couple more minutes atop of a mountain or walk thru a park just to enjoy all these new smells and sensations, would he be mad if he came home covered in mud and twigs? Would he get yelled at and given time out?

But as he looked at the other teenagers wondering about with their friend groups around New York he couldn’t help but to wish to join them, sometimes he would get closer from the roof, practice a line that he would never deliver in hopes to befriend these strangers but the voice in his head told him all he would do was embarrass himself, ask him what would they do if they found him lame? Sure he was The Homelander! A superhero! The Superhero! but he also had begun to notice that he was awkward, without his friend he couldn't take the lead, he wasn’t the confident one of the two and his friend loudly refused to help him here. 

So he stayed on the rooftops watching.

At home, he at least had the comfort of the familiar, he’d be decontaminated, his suit removed and he’d be changed to his white loungewear, he’d be served dinner promptly at 7 pm and be allowed TV or book time till 10 pm, here he knew there was no risk of embarrassing himself or saying the wrong thing, sure they weren’t his friends but he knew orderly James would always hung out for a couple minutes after picking up his dinner to ask about whatever book he was reading, and how nurse Catherine would sneak him candy and talk to him a bit after her visitations, nothing he’d said to them ever resulted in mockery.

He couldn’t say the same about those in the tower.

Everyday he’d seem to be performing worse, he could hear Mr. Marathon mocking the way he talk down the hallway, hear some assistant complain about his costume, the irritation on Madelyn’s team when he took too long to make a decision, Edgar and Jonah arguing about how much money the company was loosing and how they shouldn’t have rushed his debut, Madelyn disappointment when his numbers still weren’t up to part… It worsens every day.

He’d sat in his bed reading when the door opened at an unusual hour.

“What are you reading?” Jonah said softly, Homelander looked up to catch him not wearing his white coat, he’d looked as if he had driven straight from home.

“The Children of Henry the VII” John muttered softly, lowering his book– you bought it for me last week, remember?”

“Oh, my bad I got you a whole stack didn’t I? Hope you haven’t finished them all already”

Homelander put his book aside, standing up, pulling his shirt in hopes of straightening all the creases.

“I haven’t… is everything alright?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“It's 9:43 pm. You don’t visit on Thursdays anymore– your daughter Sonia has ballet practice on Thursdays.”

Jonah looks at the clock positioned behind Homelander and wonders if the boy has been counting the ticking of the clock to time himself instead of looking up. Jonah scratched his chin and forced a smile.

“I heard you've been feeling a little down lately, Nurse Micheals told me you seemed a little unenthused these past few days.”

Homelander felt his cheeks reddened, wishing Catherine hadn’t said a thing.

“She said you’d been wanting to go to the pictures.”

They'd also mentioned how he’d been eating less and been sleeping more lately, he had become less chatty which had begun to worry the doctors in his care as he usually liked to converse a bit before experimentation or during his lessons.

What had dragged him out of the office and straight to the lab today had been a phone call from the head of security who’d asked if something had held John back an hour, he who was a punctual and obedient child never in his 17 years been tardy for anything even when he was a baby he’d followed his scheduled.

Jonah hated admitting it but he found it perturbing, Homelander was finally given some degree of independence and for the past few months he hadn’t done anything to lose trust nor privileges, so this felt urgent.

The world couldn’t survive a bout of his teenage rebellion.

So he drove on his day off straight to this compound, sure to have run at least 1 red light on his way here.

“... I… did I do something wrong?” His voice is quiet, soft even if puberty has deepened quite a lot.

“No, no, no” He can help the slight panic in his voice, taking a big leap to take him by the shoulders, his hand firm against him– I was thinking maybe we could go for a drive, I have a surprise for you, we are all so worried about you… your happiness is of utmost importance to the team.”

Homelander eyes beamed with curiosity, his nose working double time to see if some special treat was on its way but it was only bleach and stale air conditioner but that still didn’t wash away his curiosity.

He follows Dr. Vogelbaum worries when nobody hands him his suit in the decontamination room, instead he’s given a pair of civilian clothing, he looks around for permission to wear these alien clothes, the clothes look too big for him, they both think. Jonah would chastise the doctor who picked these up later but now he wanted to hurry up and deal with his wife later.

The air is chilly and the buzzing of the generator tickles Homelander’s ears, the underground parking is lit poorly at night he notes, the fluorescent lights don’t burn as bright in here, not as obnoxious like in the lab.

Jonah keeps the conversation at minimum, his mind elsewhere, Homelander who much preferred to fly still enjoyed the drive, whether Dr. Vogelbaum realized whether or not this was the first time they had ever been in the car alone… no drivers, assistants or doctors– just the two of them.

The faint smell of women’s perfume, stuck to the leather seats, the rattling of a leftover toy car rolling back and forth underneath his seat, the hair-tie left over and dirt that doesn’t belong to any soil around the compound, this was his personal vehicle, it made Homelander’s heart flutter, thinking he was in the same car as Jonah’s other kids, he smile lightly enjoying the warmth in his chest trying to contain the giddiness inside him.

“So what’s worrying you lately, John. You know you can always talk to me.”

Homelander’s smile faded, the world flying by so slowly it was unbearable, he wriggled in his seat squeezing at his sleeve.

“You've never been home late before… Did somebody keep you back?”

“No… I was… I was just sightseeing… sorry I didn’t mean to worry you… I promise I will be on time tomorrow!” Homelander panicked thinking he would never be allowed outside anymore– I… am sorry, Dr. Vogelbaum” He was starting to tear up– I promise not to worry you!”

“Is alright, John. I hadn’t considered how boring it must be for a young boy to go to a thousand meetings all day every day– it drives me nuts! I should’ve been more considerate… You must be so exhausted from all that… thought we could do something fun.”

Homelander had no idea what to say, before those fun activities were relegated to the lab, or in the tower in recent days, so he had no idea what this could possibly be.

“Where are we going then?”

“The pictures, son.”

All his worries vanished as his tender heart heard that three letter word, they talked a bit about work, allowing himself to share some of his worries about the rest of The Seven.

“You have to be assertive, John. You are meant to be their leader, so assert, show them who's the head honcho.” He spoke with the same paternal tone he’d given his son the other day after losing his last football game– "you won’t get anywhere in life if you let those under you know they can walk all over you.”

Homelander felt he’d listen to the one true gospel.

Before he knew it they arrived at the nearest town by the compound, the town was quaint and a little dead at this hour, Hoemlander began to wonder if any cinema would be showing films at this hour.

The town cinema was an old building, lights illuminated the marquee, they only seem to be showcasing a small selection of films based on the few titles across the white illuminated board, a few movie posters decorated the walls beside the entrance where a ticket box laid in the center, Jonah parked right on the front, a couple people walked past minding their business as Homelander emerged from the car.

“Is empty.” Homelander had scanned the entire building seeing none of the rooms were occupied– it's close isn’t it?”

“I thought it would be best if we had it all for ourselves– Is one of the perks of owning a cinema chain, John.”

The girl in the ticket booth smiled nervously, it was already past the end of her shift but when your manager gets a call from corporate saying that the owner is coming to visit, you keep your mouth shut and stay back– so she stared at the pair as they approached.

“So what you’d like to see, John?”

Homelander looked at the list behind the girl.

“Hannibal…?”

“Oh no no that’s not appropriate, John… you’re still not 18 yet.”

“What about ‘Bridget Jones Diary’? I think Ms. Teeger was talking about it with Nurse Choi” Jonah’s grimace was enough of an answer– Pearl Harbor… Ben Afflect is pretty good… never seen him in a bad movie…”

Jonah looked at his wristwatch mentally preparing himself to sit thru a 3 hour film, knowing he’d be home past midnight.

“Everybody is raving about Shrek! Been full rooms non-stop this week.” She says with a charming smile– It’s pretty funny.” 

Homelander ears perked up.

“Isn’t it a kids movie?” Jonah asked.

“I want to see it! I never… I've never seen a 3D film…” He said with a meek voice.

Jonah for a second saw a glimpse of a much younger Homelander, he’d promised to take him see ‘Toy Story’ after seeing an ad for it on the television but that never came to be, with a touch of guilt in his system Jonah shook his head in defeat taking his wallet out as the girl begun to print their tickets, she stared at the 50 dollar bill as the pair left without taking their change, Jonah keep his hand on Homelander’s back keeping him straight as he saw his nose wrinkle, the aroma of flavacol too strong for the young man, thick syrups and salted pretzels were both as enticing as they were revolting, his excitement began to dwindle as he approached the counter, the 30 something year old manager look at them with a mixture anxiety and discomfort, his eyes darted at Homelander unable to shake the feeling the young man look faintly familiar, he brushed it aside telling himself this was just a millionaire wanting to spend some private time with his kid, or at least he hoped it was his kid.

“What can I get you, buddy?” The guy spoke with his finest customer service voice.

Homelander looked shyly at the menu board feeling a lot smaller than his physique was, he felt like a ten year old being asked by Doctor Kim if he wanted to try ice cream or sorbet for the first time, he felt overwhelmed by the salty stickiness of the popcorn oil irritating his sinuses.

He looked hesitantly at Vogelbaum but his words echoed back, so he took charge and cleared his throat.

“A large Dr. Pepper and popcorn… please.”

“He’ll have a medium diet coke and popcorn, too much sugar and you won’t get any sleep John. Don’t want to hear Nurse Catherine complain about your glucose levels” Jonah says firmly– "I'll just have a coke and…” He scans the selection– some twizzlers.”

“Could… could I have a pretzel too?… am a little hungry…” He felt embarrassed to ask but if Dr. Vogelbaum said it wasn’t okay to order things he mustn’t doubt his judgment– just a salted one…”

Hearing that twang of disappointment touched a cold heartstring for Jonah, John wasn’t a little kid anymore, he would be 18 soon, but as he made that sad expression all he saw was that sweet kid from before… All he saw was his little girl sad that her daddy refused to listen to her again.

“... you got any cinnamon sugar ones left?”

“Sure do, sir.” He looked at the pair and worried about what was going on. Never had he seen a teenager so meek, he wished they all came like that instead of the feral beast that patronized his establishment.

“Don’t tell Nurse Catherine I let you have this much sugar after 9, it be our secret” he whispered.

Homelander carried the tray without difficulty, ignoring the curious eyes of the manager who was still uncertain if his face was familiar or not.

The room had been freshly vacuumed but the stench of spilled soda permeated in the air– yet for once Homelander didn’t mind, he glided towards his perfect seat just in the middle of the aisle, high enough that the screen was perfectly positioned before them and even with the projector, his ears picked up the worker as he quickly finish setting the projector, putting the film and clicking on his computer to make sure everything was in working order.

“I… I forgot to ask the lady but what’s this movie about?” Homelander asked as he took a short sip of his diet coke.

“I have no idea. When you get to my age you don’t pay attention to kids' movies unless you take your kids out.”

“Should've picked ‘Bridget Jones Diary’…” He mumbles.

“John men don’t go watch Romcoms on their own unless they have a girl with them. Maybe one day you’ll bring a lady friend and sit thru it– trust me chick flicks are a modern day form of torture for us men.”

Homelander who had heard Ms. Teeger and Nurse Choi talked about it and seemed quite excited, it didn’t sound lame in the least… altho most of it was fawning over Hugh Grant, so maybe he made the dull plot bearable.

He nodded and took a bite out of his pretzel, moaning with delight at the sugary treat, his head snapped forward when the trailers began.

Nothing they advertised caught his fancy, altho he wouldn’t say out loud about wanting to see ‘Harry Potter’ as if he hadn’t voraciously consumed the book a few years ago… something about a boy living under the staircase got to him.

The screen turned a pale blue and violet as the ‘Dreamworks’ logo got his attention, whimsical music played over the speakers as a book open as a man with a weird accent narrated a story of dragons and true love, before he could sink in his seat with embarrassment a green hand ripped the page and a weird smile crossed his thin lips as a weird green creature came out the toilet, his ears perked up as a catchy tune that he knew would be stuck in his brain played, before he knew it he was laughing at fart jokes and even Jonah couldn’t help to snicker at the montage.

He smiled so much both from awe and fun as he heard the ogre and the Donkey’s banter, every scene had him hooked.

It made him anxious, it made him giggle, it made him excited, it made him feel hopeful.

It made him almost envious of the kiss shared between Fiona and Shrek.

Maybe one day he’ll meet his princess.

But he loved it.

Jonah didn’t really paid attention to the film, he watched Homelander most of the time.

Wondering what’s going on in his head, wondering why this movie enthralled him so much, that was quite a smile that he’d never seen before… not a smile he’d seen in years.

Even if he was beginning to grow tired and he knew the drive back would be dangerous if he didn’t get a coffee somewhere.

He was glad the boy was enjoying himself.

And John was glad to spend the time with Dr. Vogelbaum.

As the credits began to roll, Jonah stood up eager to leave but Homelander stayed firmly planted in his seat.

“what?”

“I just wanna know who sang the first song” He said with a grin.

“... I’ll wait for you outside…” Jonah left, leaving his half-empty cup and twizzlers on the seat.

Homelander found himself in a quiet room, trying to remember the lyrics of that intro song.

It would be stuck in his head for days.

Even alone in this room, he still could feel Jonah’s presence beside him, his cologne and his breath still lingered.

He’d buy him the ‘astro lounge’ album soon after.

As he sat in the concert hall trying to shake that annoying brit off his mind, he looked at Ryan and pictured a rather quiet room, all the meaningless faces faded away and it was just him and his boy listening to Smash Mouth play.

“Y’know the first album I ever got was theirs?”

Ryan raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Don’t tell anybody but… Shrek is my favorite movie– have you seen it?” he said into his ear– I saw it with Doc– with my dad when it came out.”

It felt bitter but he still hadn’t gotten around telling him about the lab… about his childhood just yet…

“No. Mom didn’t like cartoons… she told me her favorite movie was “Bridget Jones’s Diary’ but she said I had to wait to be a bit older to watch that.”

Homelander chuckled sardonically.

“Y’know… I never seen that one either… let’s get Ashley to get us the blu-ray and we can have a movie night when we get home” 

“Are you sure I can watch it?”

“Don’t worry you’re old enough now.”

He ruffled his hair as his favorite song began to play, turning to give the band his full attention looking forward to Movie night, wondering if he should clear a cinema for the evening just as Jonah had done for him.

[vitasmp]

The Call Home

Despite how much he had traveled in the last half of his life, how much of the world he had seen, the son of Odin had learned more in the last few months about what it meant to live than he he had in the last twelve years. He had Xianjun to thank for that, for guiding him to new experiences like the steadfast northern star that Vitas cherished. He felt comfortable in the beekeeper's presence, more at home than he had ever felt anyone else.

But just when Vitas had started to fall into a regular routine, he was struck by another serious cardiac episode which resulted in another hospital admission and, upon discharge, the usual few days spent recovering at Xianjun's apartment. He spent more time at the Mayan demigod's apartment than his own, not that Gui complained about the extra attention the feline received from cool fingers that deeply appreciated the sensation of the soft fur. And it was while he lie in bed, watching a comet among the constellations projected upon the bedroom ceiling, that he finally decided he had enough of this weakness. There had to be a solution to all of this. He wanted to be healthy. He wanted to be healthy and enjoy a long life full of nights just like this one.

Fate had other plans.

And it was in that moment he heard a tapping at the nearby window which understandably did not disturb the demigod sleeping beside him. A slow roll of his head to the side granted him the image of a large raven on the other side of the glass. Huginn. Huginn with two apples. Golden apples that Vitas recognized immediately. But two of them? Gingerly, he moved the cat from his chest to rest the feline upon the pillow beside his owner, and carefully Vitas moved from the bed to stand, quiet steps leading him to the window which he opened.

Staring into the raven's eyes, he understood. Idunn's apples were for him...and his companion. But why? Because Odin was calling him home.

Vitas had three years.

Three years until he left this world for Valhalla.

Why did that make him feel...sad? Vitas had always known he could die at any moment, had been prepared for that, he did not fear it, but now that he had a time limit, he felt sad. Or perhaps it was because his priorities had shifted, because now he lived for more than just acquiring knowledge. With a deep inhale, he finally nodded and took the apples, Huginn flying off as Vitas closed the window.

That morning, when Xianjun awoke, Vitas told him everything, the apples sitting on the counter between them, apples that would ensure their health for the next three years and...how would Xianjun feel...about experiencing the world with him? With the time they had left together? Vitas had the wealth to take them anywhere...and he could start by showing the beekeeper his homeland, all of his favorite places.

Because the truth was, if Vitas only had three years left...he wanted to spend them with the one he cared for the most.

And when Xianjun agreed to join him on this journey, it was perhaps...the first time...that a very small, shadow of a smile dared to ghost over the archivist's lips. It was settled. They ate the apples together.

For the rest of the day, Vitas made arrangements and packed his suitcases. His poetry journals were donated to the archives and Tau received several old books that had been slated for restoration as well as a promise to send him any other texts Vitas found in his travels. Yingyue and Itotia both received a vow that he would write or at least text, perhaps even send a postcard--very open and honest about his reasons for leaving, that he only had three years left. But above all, he thanked them for their friendship. He stopped by Hui Wei Cha, again to personally thank Wang Yanluo for granting him a new perspective and guiding him through his existential crisis.

His farewells to Skadi and Athena were also done in person. Finally, with the aid of Idunn's apple, he had managed to visit them in their natural habitat--the mountains. For Athena, he had been to her parthenon and library many times...though this time, he was without the portable oxygen tank. He assured her that he may visit from time to time, just to peruse the ancient texts and to catch up. But for Skadi? Oh, he had finally made it, finally able to join her at her cabin, to take her up on that offer for a night full of stories and mulled wine. And again, he thanked her for all she had done for him, for what she continued to do for the demigods on the island. He would visit her again for Yule in the winter, but most of all...he looked forward to seeing her again. On the other side.

Until then, he would certainly keep in touch. And he would send her a photo--and a stone--from the peak of Mount Denali.

By the next day, all arrangements had been made and his car was loaded with their luggage as well as Gui in his carrier (not to worry, he would be let out to stretch once they were on the road). Scyther and Nutty Buzz were also granted their own space within the car. Once everyone was comfortable and Xianjun was properly belted in, it was off they went to the international airport in Seoul to take a private flight to Iceland.

It was time to live.

Mentioned: @xianjunmp @mpitotia @mpxyingyue @mpskadi @tau-mp @mpyanluo @mpathena